The author does not claim to be a kid.
It was early morning twilight by the time I went to bed. Early summer twilight, very early. I was sharing with his younger brother, Kim. I crept in as quietly as I could, my shoes in hand, but he was awake. The curtains were open and he was lying on his bed looking out. He turned and looked at me. Did I wake him up? No, he was always awake at this time in the summer. His nimble body was hid in a large sailor's blouse, a French thing with stripes, the sleeves rolled up, and as he turned, I saw he was naked underneath. His long bare boyish legs were ravishing. Pale, slender and devoid of hair. That blouse was a lure.
`When you're ready for bed, I want to show you something.' He was leaning on an elbow, watching me. We were boarding-school boys so we were used to undressing in the presence of another boy. He had been placed in a boarding school other than his elder brother, to foster independence, so they said. He was also an athlete but not beefy as his brother. He had his brother's chocolate brown hair and broad thick eyebrows, but his skin was fairer, his chocolate eyes softer, and he had fuller lips. His hair was short, but in need of a trim.
I put my shoes under the sofa bed, removed my socks and put them in the shoes, took off my jacket and hung it in the wardrobe, removed my cuff-links and put them inside the breast-pocket of my jacket, undid my tie. He watched me as I undressed and said he liked my tie. I threw it over to him and he examined the label.
`Ooh la-la, Christian Dior!' It was a end-of-school gift from my Grandmama, she had awfully good taste. She always went to Paris in the spring. My shirt was stuffed into my suitcase, my trousers were hanging inside the jacket, and I was in my underpants. I was ready for bed. I couldn't be bothered to brush my teeth.
`Are those white undies also a gift from your Grandmama?' Hardly from Paris, silly, schoolboy regulars weren't they? From my school's outfitter's. He giggled and patted the mattress.
`Come here.' Oh, God, I'd been gloating over him all evening, and now he was inviting me into his bed! But it wasn't with glee I lay down beside him, for I was in the closet, and our environment was severely homophobic. I was always wary of lovely boys, fearsome of what they might make me say or do. I sank down on my belly beside him, the outline of his little bum obvious under his blouse, his bed smell in my nose, his legs bent at the knees, bare feet and shins in the air, his body naked under that blouse. He pointed out through the window into the park that surrounded the house. Old trees and manicured lawns, and flower beds. He swung his naked feet about in the air, bumping them into mine. I wanted to grab those naked feet and cover them with kisses.
`Look over there.' I moved my head closer to his. (His hair touched my hair, his smell!) What?
`Deer. Can you see them?' There, three deer strolling about, grazing, their little tails twitching. And two fawns. I pretended not to see, and moved closer so our bodies touched, our shoulders, our thighs, his feet entangled with mine, no longer moving, just rubbing slightly. Aaah! And he didn't move away. His bare forearm rested on my bare arm. Skin to skin. His smell.
`Can you see them?' Yes, I could. And I could smell his warm smell and feel his warm body touching mine. He was fourteen and I was seventeen and he was ravishing beside me, naked underneath. Naked thighs, smooth and soft, tight bum. Those kissable lips, suckable.
`Here', he leaned forward and picked up a large pair of binoculars from the window sill. Leaned onto me as he held them before my face. Our hands touched as I held them before my eyes and adjusted them. His arm went round my neck as he leaned into me, his soft hair tickling my neck, his breath on my face. My cock was hard as stone. (Kiss me... kiss me... take off your blouse... I love you... I love you.)
`I watch them every morning. They're always there.' I pretended to watch them with great interest, leaning against him, our feet warm and rubbing, my cock leaking now. (Kiss me, please!) Where were they in the winter? (His nose, the little nostrils, the skin so fair and smooth, and those lips. His breath.)
`Oh, they go about, but we have a special barn for them in the winter', he turned and lay on his back. Aaah! His feet disengaged from mine. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him pull the blouse down his front. I wanted to turn my head and discern the bulge, his bare thighs.
`With hay and things.' He turned back onto his stomach and again out of the corner of my eye I saw his bottom bared and then he pulled the shirt down again. (Oh, to caress it, kiss it, and kiss his pretty mouth.) My cock was aching and dripping. (And his?)
`Every year there are young ones. The does get pregnant in the autumn.' He smiled. `I've seen them at it.' I smiled. Making babies.
`Yes. So fast. Wham, wham, wham, and squirt, squirt, and back to grazing.' I giggled. He smiled. Lay on his side, pulled his blouse down in front. We watched each other. Was there sexual tension between us? Probably not, just wishful thinking.
Where did he get the blouse? `It's French. Found it in the Sunday Times.' I liked it. `This one's rather big; it's my father's. We both got one, but he wore his only once. Let me have it. Perfect for bed, although a bit short.' He grinned and pulled it down in front, just above those thighs.
I looked out of the window with feigned interest. Great view.
`Mmmm.' And we lay quietly. What the hell to say? I daren't roll over. My cock was pulsing. He looked at me intently. What?
He blushed and grinned. Opened his mouth as if to speak, and then didn't. I smiled: what? Now he smiled shyly. Doe eyes, young boy smile. He rolled onto his side again. He was so near, so near.
`D'you have a girlfriend?' No. If I did, we'd be sharing a room, fucking like the deer. That was why I was here, I had no girlfriend.
`I'm the spare girlfriend, am I?' We giggled. And he punched my shoulder playfully. Rolled over onto his back. His hand resting in his crotch. Looked at me again. (Oh, say something about spare girlfriend. Something naughty about boys. Please.)
`I don't have a girlfriend either.' He was looking at me in a meaningful way. Smiled.
`D'you want a girlfriend? Is there a girl you fancy?' I shrugged my shoulders. Don't know really. (I couldn't tell him the truth, could I?) He picked up my tie, and began to fold it nicely. Those thighs. When his knees went up, I could see the beginning of his buttocks. The curve.
`There's no girl I fancy, either.' He unfolded my tie and ran his fingers along the whole length, up and down. (What did he mean by `either?') Again silence. Just his fingers running along the thick silk.
`My brother says you're a film buff.' Yes, I liked going to the cinema. I got if from my mother. She liked it too. She'd take me to see films other mothers wouldn't.
`Like what?' When I was fifteen, we saw Don't Look Now. With Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie. There's a long sex scene and later she told me she was embarrassed. A mother watching a lengthy scene like that with her teenage son.
`Was it explicit?' What?
`The sex scene was explicit?' No, but they were both naked, but it wasn't pornographic. Donald Sutherland didn't have an erection. Kim was still playing with my tie. His knees were up, the blouse had ridden up a bit. More thigh, a bit of bum, a suggestion of his scrotum. I moved closer to him, to keep his mind off his blouse. He looked at me with those doe eyes.
`What's the best film you ever saw?' I looked him in the face. Those eyebrows, those lips. The best film? I didn't know. A couple of best films though.
`Like?' Dr Zhivago? Cromwell? Beckett?
`Yeah, I've seen all those.' Alec Guinness was fantastic as King Charles. He looked just as the portraits of the king. Lord Of The Flies? He giggled.
`Yeah, yeah, I liked that. Black and white, all those naked boys.' (Indeed, the boys were lovely, especially the two naked twins with their curvy bums.) I giggled and playfully punched his shoulder. That wasn't why it was a good film. He giggled and grabbed my hand briefly.
`I know, I know.' Then there was Get Carter, and Lawrence Of Arabia.
`Yeah, I've seen Lawrence Of Arabia four times. He's so beautiful.' Beautiful? Who?
`Peter O'Toole, silly. Those piercing blue eyes and golden hair.' He punched my shoulder again. Yeah, I suppose he was all right. (Divine, more likely. Divine.)
`All right? All right? Bloody hell. Even my brother said he was damn handsome, even my father... my mother said he was glorious.' All right, he was damn handsome, damn, damn, damn, handsome. (Touch me again, playfully. Further down.) He didn't, just smiled very sweetly, doe eyes gazing at me.
`D'you know Death In Venice?' (What kind of a question was that? This boy was the end. Casual, now, keep it casual.) What, Visconti's thing? With Dirk Bogarde?
`Yes. And the Swedish boy.' Yes, I knew it.
`No, I mean, have you seen it?' (Now, real casual. Pick up the tie and fiddle with it, distracted.) Yeah, I saw it. Matinée performance.
`What's it about?' A man falls in love with a beautiful boy... in Venice. (Shouldn't have said `beautiful'.) Some boy on the Lido... that's why it's called Death In Venice. He dies in the end. Kim grinned. (Did he know what I was doing?)
`How many times have you seen it?' (This was getting dangerous.) Why did he ask?
`Come on, I've seen it three times. How many times have you seen it?' I grinned. (All right, I wasn't alone.) Thrice. I'd seen it three times too. I was going to see it ten times more, but I didn't tell him that. (Oh, Tadzio when he smiled at Aschenbach! His boyish bum when he wrestled.)
`Remember the scene with the musicians who come and play for the guests?' Mmm. When Aschenbach asks about the lime being splashed around the city?
`Yeah, that ghastly musician with the pasty face. Ha, ha, ha, ha. And Tadzio's leaning on the balustrade?' I nodded.
`And he keeps turning his head to catch Aschenbach looking him?' (This was getting uncomfortable.) Mmmm. Kim wasn't looking at me now, just twirling his fingers in his chocolate hair.
`Well, that was you and me tonight, wasn't it? Sort of, nearly. Well, to all intents and purposes anyway.' He'd jumped me. I didn't even blush. Just stared as he played innocently with his chocolate hair. Told him he was one articulate fourteen-year-old. I felt my mouth twitch, and watched him smile as he played with his hair.
`That was you and me, wasn't it?' And he glanced at me with a smile. Really?
`Really. You were looking at me all evening.' I was stone cold sober now, and I needed a piss. I got up with my back to him and ran into the bathroom, so he couldn't see the wet bulge. My cock had softened with all those questions, so I had no difficulty pissing. I heard him draw the heavy curtains.
I returned to a dark room, except for the lamp on his bedside-table. He had a hand under his head, the other on his inner thigh under the blouse. I sat down on the sofa bed. Unzipped the sleeping bag. He'd found me out, the little rascal.
`No hair on your chest. How old are you?' Seventeen. I blushed for no reason at all.
`You're younger than my brother.' Yeah, I skipped a class along the way.
`Clever dick.' Clever parrot, more likely. Don't think, just parrot. He was smiling very sweetly, his doe eyes sparkling, a genuine boy smile. I held up a folded sheet.
`That's an inner sleeve for the sleeping bag, Keeps the bag clean inside. You just button it on inside.' He jumped up. As he climbed off his bed I saw darkness between his legs. Oh, to plunge my head under that blouse. Dark and warm and smooth thighs and my mouth making love. He bent over and buttoned the sheet onto the inside, big white buttons. His bottom round, oh, so round and small. Stood up and smiled, the outline of his cock faintly visible under his blouse.
`There! Now you can have a wet dream and it won't stain the sleeping bag proper.' I giggled uneasily. Not sure which way to jump now. He plonked himself back onto his bed. The blouse rode up and exposed a long slim cock with the head half-sheathed some pubes, and his bum. He just grinned, and turned onto his side, pulled the blouse down between his thighs, the bum still bare. Lovely, lovely bum. Boy's bum. I leaned back into the sofa, my crotch swelling.
`My brother says you're always getting top marks and don't do a thing.' I laughed and he grinned. I was falling in love. His thighs and the bum still bare.
`He's dead jealous, you know. You're not a swat, you're very good at sports, captain of the swimming team, and you're top of the class.' I did study. And I liked reading. What was this, an interview? He giggled.
`I want to tell you a secret.' Me? He nodded. What for? We'd hardly met.
`No, but I want to tell you this secret.' Yes, but why me? He pulled the blouse down behind, the bastard. I wanted to tell him he could tell me his secret if he pulled his blouse up again, pulled it off.
`Why tell you? Because you're the right person. I want to tell someone, and you're the first person I can tell. You'll understand when I tell you.' All right, all right. What's the secret then?
`Promise you won't tell?' Promise. Scout's honour and all that rot. He lay back and stared at the ceiling. His hands on his belly, the bulge of his crotch visible under the blouse now.
`Last year, I fell utterly in love... completely infatuated... with this...this... this boy! (he almost cried out the word)... I fell in love with... a boy... I'm still in love with him... That's why I don't fancy girls... That's why I caught you looking at me.' I watched his face. No expression. I didn't know what to say. We were silent. No owl hooted in the dark. Slowly, he raised his head and looked over at me. I could see his eyes were glistening now.
`I'm in love with a boy.' He spoke quietly, his voice a bit weak, as if he was about to cry. I sat up. Told him I didn't really have anything to say.
`I've just told you I'm a poof, haven't I?' No, not a poof. That had all sorts of nasty connotations. Gay was better. But falling in love with another boy didn't have to mean he was gay. He looked at me. Wiped an eye.
`If a boy's in love with another boy the way I'm in love, he's gay, believe me.' All right. But why tell me?
`'cause you were looking at me like von Aschenbach.' (Oh Goddamn Aschenbach!)
`You were, weren't you?' We looked at each other. I blushed. Blushed more... and more. I could feel my face burning with humiliation. He'd jumped the fence, and here was I still dithering, not even sitting on the fence. He was three years younger than me and had more guts than I did.
I slipped down onto the sofa bed, out of his sight. My bare feet hanging over the end. Looked over at his wet eyes. Looked at the ceiling and then let it all out. Yes, damn, blast and hell, I had been looking at him. It WAS Aschenbach and Tadzio, yes, yes. I'd never told anyone, I'd never let anyone suspect. I couldn't, it was simply unthinkable. I had this whole thing lined up and I couldn't go and do something else, and I couldn't tell anyone, for you couldn't, you just couldn't, could you? He knew that as well as I did. I didn't know why I hadn't been able to keep my eyes off him. There were pretty boys in school and somehow I managed to keep my eyes off them most of the time.
`It's because I stare at my beloved, so I see it when someone stares at me.' I looked at him. Others stared at him that way?
`Oh, yes. Everywhere. In the tube, on the train, everywhere. Boys and men. Even family members, I suspect. Teenage boys are historically an object of beauty... Except now everyone's trying to undo history, turn it into a crime. The lower middle classes and their paedo witchhunt.'
We lay silently, corpses in a mausoleum, looking at the ceiling, not speaking.
I heard him move on his bed. Looked over again. He was lying on his side, leaning onto an elbow, watching me. I turned and watched him. His bottom was exposed again. What to do? What to say? I love you? He was twirling his fingers in his chocolate hair again, and sort of peering at me over his bare bottom and his slender thighs. He slapped his buttock lightly.
I sat up in bed and watched him. He wasn't smiling or anything. Just watching me. Absolute silence except for his light slapping of his buttock. Then the hand slapping more loudly. And he caressed his buttocks, round and round and stopped. Slap, slap, slap. He rubbed in between his buttocks, all four fingers up and down. He was too far away for me to see his anus in detail, but I could see the skin was slightly darker than his buttocks, and I could see his anus relax and open slightly, a dark little hole. Then he stopped and just lay there watching me, his left hand playing with his hair, his right hand resting on his buttock, pulling it up to expose his slightly open anus, letting go, so the buttock bounced a bit back into place. I told him his anus was slightly open.
`I can open and close it. Look.' And his anus closed and then opened, closed and then opened. I caught my breath. How the hell did he do that?
`I put my fingers inside.' And he stuck his fingers in his mouth, between those lovely lips, and sucked and sucked loudly, still watching me. And then he spread his anus with his fingers and slipped the middle finger in. Wriggled it round and round and all the way in. And then he pulled it out and sucked it again and the index finger. And then a gob of spit on his fingertips and then onto his anus and he rubbed his fingertips into his anus and then slid the two fingers inside and wriggled them round and all the way in. And then again he sucked his fingers and now more spit and three fingers, and finally four fingers sliding in and out of his arsehole. His face hadn't changed except that his mouth was slight ajar. Those lips, ah, wet and sucking my cock, kissing me. Sucking his fingers, which had been inside his pretty arse.
`I can put my hand inside.' And he rolled over onto his back. Sat up and pulled off his blouse. At last! His body so pale, slender, the ribs visible, the collarbones. His cock was a work of art, long and swollen, lying on his belly. The foreskin half-retracted. Pubes at the base. I moved over and sat on the end of his bed. My cock was completely hard. This gorgeous boy playing with his gorgeous arse, just for me!
`I'd like to shave everything clean but you know, the other boys'd make a thing of it.' He pulled back the foreskin to reveal a glans slick with pre-cum. He squeezed out a big blob onto his fingertips. Raised a leg and applied it to his anus. Again and again till his fingers glistened with pre-cum. Then he rolled over onto his side again and watched me as he slid four fingers in and out, his mouth ajar again. Now copious amounts of pre-cum until his hand was slick. And four fingers in and out, squelching slightly now. And then he folded his thumb inside and niftily slid his whole hand in, and he sighed, his mouth open. He twisted his hand round and round, squish, suck. His eyes looked at me dreamily, dreamy open-mouthed smile. The smell of boy's arse, not of faeces mind you, no, just that sweet and sour fragrance of boy's arse. I knew it from my own arse. I'd fingered my own arse. It's a clean smell but heady with eroticism, like certain food. My breath was shallow and my underpants were soaked.
`You wanna try?' I'd never done it before.
`Easy peasy. Let's have a gander at your fingernails.' I leaned over. I held my fingers out. He looked at them.
`They look bloody manicured.' I smiled. My father's barber's woman.
`Are you wet?' Yes, I was dripping.
`'cause of meeee?' What did he expect? He laughed.
`You left a mighty wet patch here on my sheet, and it wasn't sweat or piss, it was Cowper's fluid brought on by arousal, no question about it.' And he grinned. `That's how I knew you were my kind of man.' We giggled. What had he expected? He was rubbing his feet with mine and hooking his arm round my neck, and showing off his bum. We giggled again. And now he was shoving his hand up his bum, for Christ's sake, of course I was dripping. He grinned and squelched with his hand up his arse.
`Slick up your fingers then.' I leaned back and exposed my tented white underpants. There was a large, sopping and translucent patch on the side, where my swollen cock had been leaking. I pulled down the waistband under my scrotum, pulled back my foreskin, and squeezed out a generous dollop of glistening pre-cum. He just lay there watching me, with his hand sliding slowly about in his rectum, with faint squeaks.
Why didn't he use Vaseline? It tasted bad. KY tasted bad too. Sometimes he used butter but pre-cum was the best. A bit difficult sometimes to get enough. But once you got going, your arse also produced juices. Squish.
I kept on squeezing out pre-cum because I kept on producing it in vast amounts because there was a lovely boy naked before me, with his hand up his arse. Finally, my fingers were all slimy and sticky and I held them up. He had pulled his hand out and was holding his buttock up, exposing the gaping hole.
`Stick in two fingers first.' Wasn't I gonna get dirty fingers?
`Don't worry, I flushed my arse out before going to bed. It's clean as a whistle.' He planned this?
`No, I shoved my hand up earlier on. A nightly ritual, instead of prayers.'
He pulled up his buttock, the anus was relaxed, and I pushed in two fingers, easily. It was hot and wet inside. I slid them in and out, barely able to breathe it was so damn erotic. He squeezed the fingers with his sphincter.
`Three and then four.' He just glanced at me, dead serious. Those full lips. There was nothing flirtatious or romantic about it. Three fingers and then four. He'd relax his sphincter and then tighten it, gripping my fingers. He lifted a knee, exposing his genitals.
`Take my pre-cum for your knuckles.' And I pulled out my fingers and squeezed his swollen cock, rather big for his slight build, and smeared his pre-cum on my knuckles. Gorgeous balls snug in their silken sac. Gorgeous. My cock was leaking almost like a tap. I wanted to suck his pretty boy cock, suck his balls, eat his arse, kiss those lips. Maybe he'd let me later.
`Let me see.' So I held out my gooey hand.
`Put more on.' So I squeezed his cock for more and then my own.
`All right. First four fingers.' I slid them in. Christ, I was about to come, it was so erotic, and the odour of his arse. I wanted to rub my face in it. I slid my fingers in and out, squish, squish. He squeezed my fingers with his sphincter and then loosened it.
`Now slide your thumb into the palm of your hand.' I did so with ease.
`Gently twist the knuckle of your thumb inside.' With all that goo, my whole hand slid easily into his arse, almost swallowed up. His arse was tight, slippery and hot and he tilted his head back and sighed deeply as I slid in.
`Now clench your fist carefully.' His voice was breathless. I clenched and dreamily he sighed and for the first time smiled, and I twisted my hand round. Squish, squeak, suck. And he moaned behind his dreamy smile. Those lips.
`In and out'. I unclenched, slid my hand out and then slowly in and clenched it again. Slurp, slurp, like a mouth.
`No. Don't unclench and don't take your hand out. Slide it back as far as you can, but don't slide it out. And then in again. Not so slow, but not roughly either.' He groaned as I slid my hand back and forth. I was panting with desire, I was going to explode. His arse so hot and soft and wet and the sound of my hand.
`Twist your fist round when you're inside.' I twisted my hand.
`Your fist is a lot bigger than mine.' He gave a long shuddering sigh with open mouth.
I reached out for his cock and stroked it. It was slimy and hard as steel. I pulled down the foreskin and rubbed the corona. I pulled aside his knee and leaned forward and opened my mouth. Heaven! His cock filled my mouth and I sucked up and down, my other hand up his arse. He groaned and rolled over onto his back, trapping my hand, and grasped my head with one hand, pushing it into his crotch, and gasped deeply as he spurted his young teenage cum into my mouth. I had never done this before, but I had dreamed of it, oh so many times, so greedily I swallowed and swallowed. The taste of cum like my own, but it was his, a lovely boy, it was the taste of boy sex, the taste of ejaculation, the taste of forbidden love. As I savoured it in my mouth and down my throat, I ejaculated forcefully into my underpants. He begged me to stop, and pushed my head away from his crotch. And lay panting. Quietly, he asked me to pull out my hand, but carefully. Hardly a sound as I slid out my hand, and his arse wide open and red and glittering inside, and my cock throbbed sopping wet and the glorious smell, and then his arse closed up, as if to say, close sesame, no more treasures.
`Give me your hand', he whispered. I held it out. It glistened with precum and his juices. He pulled it down and cleaned it, licking and sucking. And then his own. Birds were twittering outside. Otherwise silence but for his slurping. I lay on my side, enchanted. How pretty he was. Then he lay back and sighed contented. Those lips all slick and glistening. Oh, for a kiss! He licked his lips, ah!
`That was the first time.' First time what?
`First time someone's fisted me.' Fisting. So that was fisting. Fist up the arse. He'd made it appear super erotic rather than extreme.
`First time someone's sucked me off too.' First time?
`Yes. Did a bit of mutual masturbation when I was thirteen, and that was it. Never anything else, and all those boys naked in the showers.' He turned and looked at me, licked his lips.
`Last year, I fell utterly in love with this boy, and I wanted to suck him and eat his arse and drink down his cum, but I didn't dare make any moves. The boy I had masturbated with was cute and fun, but I didn't love him like I loved the other boy... I still love him. But he doesn't know. Can't, you know?' I nodded knowingly. Kim stretched out an arm and pinched my nose like no one had done since I was a child. His hand smelled of arse.
`Anyone you love?' Can't tell can I? I took his hand and kissed it. The smell of boy's arse. Rubbed it in my face. First time for me too.
`What?' Fisting, certainly. But sucking him off, too, and kissing his hand. Talking about boy love, openly, that was really nice, really, really... liberating. Like living in a dream land. We both giggled like joyful children.
`You WERE perving over me at the party, weren't you?' Mmmm. Told him already. I thought he was gorgeous. Lovely bum. Sweet smile, sexy voice.
`D'you wanna fuck me?' I'd never done it before, never done anything. Had he?
`Nope. But I've got pictures of boys fucking each other. They look as if they're really enjoying it.' Was that where he learned about fisting? He giggled.
`Yeah. There are a couple of pictures of a boys shoving their fingers up their arse and dildos and things, coming into their own mouth and all that. One boy has his whole hand inside. I almost fainted, it was so sexy. I must've wanked over it a zillion times. He's really pretty too, with long hair and a sweet smile, and his whole hand up his arse. I just couldn't believe it. So I thought I've gotta do that, I've just gotta. And now I'm pretty good at it.' Wasn't it going to permanently stretch his anus?
`You mean so I can't close it properly?' I nodded.
`I thought of that right from the start. So I do bum-clenching exercises all the time, to keep my anus tight. I can relax it as you saw, but normally, it's tight. Look!' He pulled his legs back to his shoulders and spread them. I pretended I was interested. I wasn't. All I wanted was to see his lovely arse. He relaxed his anus so it was open and then tightened it.
`Try to put your finger in now.' It was tight, I had to wriggle and press. Then he relaxed his anus and I could put it in easily. He tightened it round my finger, tight.
`That's how it is normally. I need to relax it on purpose.' I pulled my finger out, stuck it in his mouth and he sucked it. I lowered my head and kissed his anus. He didn't react. So I licked the divide up to his balls and sucked them one by one. Now he sighed and ran his fingers through my hair, holding on. I went down again and licked his anus. He relaxed it slightly and I stuck my tongue inside. Christ, the smell! And I held his buttocks apart with my hands and snogged and sucked and probed his anus with my tongue, wild with desire. He tightened it and relaxed it, again and again. And I ejaculated into my underpants.
`Hold my legs back, please.' And I pushed the back of his knees back and sucked on, and he masturbated. His corona was all wet with slime and I sucked it clean.
`No, my arse.' I went down again and fed on his anus and he wanked and panted and then gasped as he came. He kept on coming and I ate on, intoxicated with the smell and the taste. Then he gave a huge sigh and slowly lowered his legs, I raised my head. There were streaks of cum on his chest and his face and in his hair. I licked him clean. And then we kissed. A long slimy snog. His breath in my mouth as he grunted almost, writhing beneath me. And we lay in one another's arms, warm and panting. Grinned at each other, both of us delighted. He stroked back my hair, again pinched my nose affectionately.
`Another first time and another.' Me too. He was fourteen, three years ahead of me.
`We smell of bum and cum. Better clean up. My brother might come in later. I'll go first.' He jumped up and opened the window, and then went into the bathroom and I heard him piss and shower. I lay there excited over the thrill. I'd sucked him off, sucked his arse, fisted him, and kissed him, the beautiful boy. He hadn't done anything to me as such but I didn't care. He'd let me make love to him. I could taste his cum in my mouth, how warm it had been, I could smell his arse on my lips, and his sighs, and the sound of sucking and the squelching in his arse. Perhaps I could get him into a dreamy sixty-nine with my nose up his sweet arse.
He came out, again in his huge fisherman's blouse. Lifted it up and showed me his lean boy's body. `Clean and innocent again! Your turn!' And he threw himself on the bed with a giggle, his blouse uncovering his lovely buttocks, boyishly round instead of flat like a girl's.
I tried to soak up as much cum from my underpants as I could and then shower and back into them, stuffing them with bogroll to dry them. He was curled up in his bed asleep, turned away, so I lay on top of the sleeping bag, and watched him, savoured the curve of his bum under the sheet. How I wanted to cuddle with him, smell his warm boy smell.
A negro spiritual came to mind: He's got his whoole hand... up his bum; he's got his whoole hand... up his bum; he's got his whoole hand... up his bum... he's got his whole hand up his bum.
He'd like that. We'd sing it as he shoved his fist in and out of his bum. We could sing variations... his whole hand up my bum... I've got my whole hand up my bum... I've got my whole hand up his bum... you've got your whole hand up your bum... you've got your whole hand up my bum. I giggled to myself. And then I fell asleep.
His brother did come in later, to tell me breakfast in ten minutes. Kim was gone. My underpants were crusted inside and out. Wash my face, and jeans and yesterday's shirt. Bacon and sausages and eggs fried and scrambled and toast and butter and marmalade and jam and honey and fresh orange juice and coffee and tea, and everyone subdued, and Kim a huge T-shirt and baggy little shorts underneath, glancing at me occasionally, and a quick smirk, careful, don't give anything away. I'd had my hand up that fourteen-year-old bum. When he'd finished his breakfast, unseen he beckoned me from the hall. The cars were leaving about two o'clock. An hour and a half. I made a big show of wanting to rest a bit more and shower and shave. Hurried up to Kim's den.
He was on his bed in just his little shorts, and he locked the door behind me. I sat on the bed and removed his shoes, and with a whisper sang the Negro spiritual. He laughed and threw his arms around me from behind, and sang into my ear. We threw ourselves down as we sang it a second time. ... he's got his whole hand up his bum! And we giggled. I looked at his pretty face. What's up doc? What's the cloak and dagger? We were a bit short of time for any cock a doodle do. He grinned.
`We're not that rushed. Here, I wanna show you these.' He raised his pillow and extracted three little magazines.
`They're from Deutschland, Deutschland über alles.' Teenage boys on the covers. Ungezogene Knaben. What does that mean? Naughty boys. One a brunet in white underpants and long slender legs and a grin; one another brunet in a g-string snug between tight buttocks, looking over his shoulder with a grin; and one a blond and a brunet snogging, their tongues in each other's mouth. The covers alone swelled my crotch. I leafed through them frantically.
`How d'you get them?' He giggled, and I glanced inside. Scrumptious boys kissing and sucking and even fucking. All grinning and scrumptious smooth bodies, round bums, a bit of hair, and sperm!
`How d'you get them?' I slavered over the pages.
`A certain shop. I'm not telling where. Supposed to have found them.' Put on a false moustache?
`Nope. Old jeans and grubby sweatshirt. Tried to look scruffy... went in there on a week-day early afternoon, almost empty. The owner was really nice. Told me I could get him into serious trouble, and then he gave me these three maggies.' Gave them? Did he put his whole hand up his bum? Kim laughed.
`No, no payment in kind. He was really nice. Like a priest... soft-spoken, solicitous, asked me what I wanted... I wanted porn... what kind... boys like me... schoolboys... sucking and everything and he gave me these three. Said they should last a long time. Refused payment. Said he'd been a boy once, and knew what it was like. Really sweet man. Practically pushed me out of a back door, amidst rubbish bins and things... Told me I had found them in a public lavatory or a skip or something, but he said I had to make sure I knew exactly where, just in case. And then get the hell out of the neighbourhood.' We both giggled.
`Later I got his address and sent him a letter, thanking him. I told him it was the best gift anyone had given me ever, and I would never forget him.' Again we giggled. I was ravenously scanning the gorgeous photographs. Such pretty boys. They didn't look German, they looked Italian or Spanish, all grinning. Smooth thighs and bums, their little anuses had a few hairs, regular boy pubes, all boys, real boys. One on his hands and knees in a sixty-nine sucking another on his back, and a third long-haired beauty kneeling behind him with his hands on his hips, buggering him with a big grin. One grinning at the camera, someone's cock in his hand, his face covered in sperm, in his hair too, his tongue all white with sperm, a string connecting him to the ejaculating cock. A boy feeding on another boy's arse. I was hard, hard, hard, and dripping. So was Kim, his cock out of the right leg hole of his shorts, his hand smearing the glans with pre-cum. With his free hand, he turned the pages of the mag in my hand.
`Here, look, here's the self-fister.' There, long chocolate hair, sweet smiling innocent face, and fingers in a jar; fingers up his arse, and his whole hand, grinning. His whole hand up his pretty arse, and then out, his arse open, red inside, the boy laughing, holding his knees back. Another boy folded over, his crotch over his face, ejaculating into his own mouth. Another sitting on a boy's cock, as he sucked a third boy's cock. Two boys snogging, glistening lips, wanking each other, hands on bums. A pool of cum on a boy's stomach, another boy's hand all stringy with goo, both grinning. Kim had pulled down his shorts, his cock long and hard and beautiful and glistening, a large gob of pre-cum on the tip.
`Give me a suck before you leave. Please! Please!' Of bloody course. I leaned forward and opened my mouth. Suck, suck, suck, the sound of sucking loud in the room, quick, expertly, he unzipped my jeans and his hand warm inside my flies, pulled out my cock and wanked me, aaaah! We both ejaculated violently again and again. My mouth full of warm boy cum, gulp it down, gulp, gulp, and my crotch wet. Kim pushed me away, licking his hand, sucking his fingers, sucking my cock. His hair tickling my stomach. Aaaah! He took my hand and pulled me into the bathroom. We giggled like little boys as we cleaned up. My shirt was stained, sperm in my face. I turned him round and down on my knees, parted his cheeks and plunged in. Fed on his fourteen-year-old arsehole, hungrily. He pushed my face into the cleavage, suck, probe, sniff, aaaah! Relaxed his arsehole and I licked inside, oh, heaven.
`You've gotta take a bath, shave, clean shirt!' I ate his arse as I tore off my clothes. Reluctantly pulled away, a last kiss of his arse, and into the shower, and the water on. Quick, quick. Soap up my crotch, still hard, my face, wash my hair quickly, and rinse, rinse. Pull back the shower curtain, he was sitting on the lavatory holding a folded dark blue towel.
`Your clothes are inside. I've packed your things.' Rush inside, get dressed, clean shirt, spermy shirt rolled up into the suitcase. Comb in the mirror. Turn and embrace and snog, snog, snog, hand up his shorts, rub his arsehole, rub, rub, shove a finger in and out, in and out, two fingers, kiss his neck, his ear, his sighs, his breath in my mouth.
`Let's go!' Snog, snog, and unlock and run down. Not everyone's there. We're not late. I want to go back up and make love. His father and mother and his elder brother are there. Small talk. Yes, I was going to university. Yes. Yes. My love standing there smiling, his little shorts, his lovely legs, I sucked his arse, I stuck my hand inside. My two fingers went inside, smell of his arsehole, don't wash them. Now shake hands with everyone, with those fingers, all the fingertips rubbed his arsehole. Thank you ever so much, super party. See you around. My fingers smell of his lovely arsehole.
Walked down to the car and Kim came up to me. Tickled my palm as we shook hands. I whispered into his ear: `My fingers smell of your arsehole!' We giggled and he whispered: `Next time I want you to fuck me' and we giggled more. He moved away and then turned back and whispered again: `Up the arse. Fuck me up the arse!'
There never was a next time. I never saw him again for his brother and I weren't really friends, just fellow sportsmen, members of the school's in-crowd. He went to another university, and I didn't see him till several years later in one of the bars where people like us hung out. I asked about Kim. `Yeah, you shared a room with him, didn't you? At my graduation do.' I nodded.
`Tell me, did he make a pass at you?' A pass? He was fourteen!
`Doesn't mean a thing. They're at it already when they're twelve some of them, even ten.' He showed me the deer grazing in the early morning, if that counts as a pass.
`Maybe, maybe not. I ask because', he smiled, `in his last year, he was caught shagging another boy in the showers.' We both laughed. `The genuine article. Real rumpy-pumpy.' He took a sip of his beer.
`Big scandal, huge, but hush, hush. And they said they'd expel him. Both boys, in fact. And, ha-ha, know what he did? He said there was nothing in the school regulations that forbad sex between consenting adults, and since he was eighteen and the other boy was sixteen, they'd done nothing against the law. And if the school expelled them, they were doing it on account of their sexuality, and he'd sue them for it.' Again we both laughed.
`The headmaster threw a wobbly and called my dad. Dad was so cool. He said his son had a point, and that if his son wanted to sue the school, that was really none of his business. Although he'd get him a good lawyer, of course. Cool as a cucumber. Did he know his son was a homo? No, he didn't, but then again that was none of his business, was it? Dad was so fucking cool, I couldn't believe it. And my brother told the headmaster he'd go to the newspapers. "Schoolboy expelled for being gay." And the headmaster flew into a rage, ranting and raving, but Kim kept his cool. "Your choice", he said. And that was it. They probably could've somehow expelled him, but they didn't want the scandal. And both boys stayed on and were able to graduate. Hah! He was top of his year. Gave a speech at the farewell bash. Hah! I really admired him.' Yes, the winds of change, what? But we didn't exactly admire homos when we were pupils, did we?
`Well, it was the done thing, wasn't it? A load of bollocks, of course. Just being stupid. What the hell did we know about such things? Just another form of racism. But when Kim came out, I had to choose. Cherish my stupidity or cherish my beloved brother. Easy peasy. We were very close when we were younger, you know. I absolutely adored him. I still adore him but not in the same way. So I hugged him when he came home and told him I loved him and admired him and he cried and cried, my little man. And he and his boyfriend came to my wedding. And I'll probably go to theirs.' He was getting married?
`Probably, now that one can. The same boy. They'd been at it since Kim was fifteen and the other boy, what, thirteen, fourteen? At it for years! I already knew his boyfriend very well. Stayed over for week-ends many times, and, mind you, he never slept in any of the guest rooms. They went on camping trips by themselves, sleeping in a tiny tent, and when he'd finished school, they spent two month's hitchhiking around Europe. Hah! Had it all worked out, and we had no idea, of course, not even a suspicion. Two handsome athletic boys... it was simply impossible, inconceivable, you know? "But he plays excellent tennis! How can he be a pansy?" Pansies are limp-wristed and squeaky, so they got away with it right under our noses.' I giggled and giggled, thinking about him. Such brazen confidence. His brother laughed too.
`Makes you wonder, doesn't it? In our day, how many of the clean-cut boys were that way? In our year? Statistically someone must have been so inclined, but who? Pansiness isn't the measure. All those boys, some had to be so inclined, hiding it behind his public school demeanour.' I nodded vigorously. He didn't even suspect me the darling.
I almost blurted out a confession, but no. Kim had beaten me to that too. When was I going to stop pretending? Except for a couple of girls, I'd been completely celibate since that dreamy twilight session years ago; the fourteen-year-old boy moaning with open mouth as I twisted my hand up his hot arse. My first mouthful of cum. Our farewell snogs tasted of each other's cum. My only truly passionate kisses. A hundred percent desire and no pretence. Nothing since. Fancy flat, fancy car, fancy clothes, fancy cocktails, fancy food, and an empty bed. Breakfast alone. No smell but my own. I didn't even dare hire a boy for the night.
My last sight of him was as we pulled out onto the gravel drive, with the family waving good-bye. He'd run over to my open window and pumped his clenched fist in the air, crying `Black Power'. Everyone'd looked at him in mystification but he and I had giggled and pumped a fist in the air, for we had seen the promised land.