Date: Sun, 8 Nov 2020 14:37:02 +0000 (GMT) From: Peter Brown Subject: Last of the Line Chapter 101 Last of the Line by badboi666 =============================================================================== If sex with boys isn't your thing, go away. If, as is much more likely, you've come to this site precisely to get your rocks off reading about sex with 14-year-olds then make yourself comfortable - you're in the right place. Don't leave, however, without doing this: Donate to Nifty - these buggers may do it for love but they still have to eat. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html =============================================================================== Chapter 101 Jack of course wanted to set off right away, but Billy put a stop to that. "Think, Jack. If Hamish is coming to live here where will he sleep? Not where you and Dodo slept above Hester's place, I bet. So in the house here, but where? Think about what you'd like him to find when he gets here, with you, yes, but miles away from home and his familiar surroundings. Stop thinking with your cock and think about the welcome you want to give him to his new home." Jack was quiet. "Yeah, you're right, Billy, thanks. Quiet down there and let me think." This last was addressed to his cock. "Dab, can we have the room next to yours? Will you mind if I move in there with him?" "I shall mind desperately, but Billy will help me to put a brave face on it," I said with a smile. "Go on up after lunch and see what you'd like to do in there to make it yours and your boy-friend's." What with that news and the Widow it was a joyful lunch. ***** By bedtime that night Jack had made a lot of changes. It would no longer be a guest room but a home - Jack's first home of his own, it dawned on me. All the other places - when his parents were still alive, the room he shared with Dodo, the room he shared with Billy and me - all these were someone else's room, and although he's been very welcome (certainly in ours) having a room of one's own would be novel for him. "Once the two of you have settled in a few days let me know if you want to make any changes - furniture or whatever. You never know, Hamish may like lying naked on a sofa while you devour him with your lust-filled eyes." Jack grinned. "Or the other way round, Dab." ***** We left on the Sunday morning with Jack in charge. The day before he and I had sat down with the road map and I'd made him work out the route. "I know you've done it before, but you weren't driving then. You have to know where to go." He looked at the various pages. "We leave here and go west on the A50 and join the M6 - right?" I nodded, "it's signed all the way. What happens when the M6 stops?" He turned a dozen or so pages. "A74(M), M74. Hang on, it goes to Glasgow. We have to turn off." I nodded, "where?" "The M73 at Junction 4." "Well done. Did the instructor teach you this kind of thing?" He shook his head. "I like maps, Dab, and the Library's full of them. I read them sometimes, that's when I need a rest from your ancestor's dirty books. Now, what happens after the M73. It doesn't go very far." He paused. "We're not doing it in one day, are we? So where are we stopping? Have you booked anywhere?" "It's New Year, Jack, so if I haven't booked anywhere there won't be any free beds, especially in Scotland. They go a bit mad about New Year up there. Find Pitlochry - that's where we have to get to." "M73, M80, M8 - God, none of these motorways lasts more than a few miles - A9. How long will that take?" "6 hours if we were pushing it, but we'll stop and change drivers and be sensible. It gets dark there about 4, so we'll leave here at 8. Now look at the map and I'll tell you the rest of it." "A9, A836, dead easy," he said. "Dead easy, and that's where we'll go, but only because it's winter. There are far more scenic ways, but you can work them out and drive Hamish to see his parents in summer if you like. We're due for lunch, so arriving at 12 will be about right. 9 o'clock start. An hour and a half each, OK?" Jack's excitement was infectious - I was looking forward to seeing Hamish too, though my pleasure would be to see the two of them starting out on life together. Would they be able to keep their obvious feelings hidden from parental authority? Perhaps Hamish had already told them, but if he had he hadn't told Jack or me. ***** As with all well-planned long drives it was completely uneventful. Jack drove safely and sensibly and wasn't fazed by the motorway. Luckily Stoke was close enough for motorway driving to be part of the learning routine, but there's a difference between driving 10 miles between Junctions 16 and 15 on the M6 and driving the whole length of it. When we got to Pitlochry we both needed a rest though. I brought the small overnight case in. "Blow that up, would you," I said when we had been shown to out twin-bedded room. "What is it?" "Blow it up and you'll see." I looked into the bathroom. "Yes, we'll need it. I'll run a bath and you can join me. Bring it with you." When he joined me a couple of minutes later I was lying back in the water enjoying the relaxing heat. "You're at that end with the taps," I said, "and now you know why you brought a pillow." We who shower (for cleansing as well as for recreation) overlook the pleasure of lying in a hot bath. Toes can do such interesting things. Jack leaned back, the pillow being adjusted for maximum comfort. "I do love you, you know, Dab," he said happily. "We're here for two nights," I said, "or you are anyway. Hamish and you can have this room tomorrow and I'll be in a cold lonely single along the corridor." "I love you even more now, Dab." I grinned. "Not as much as you love Hamish though. Just don't rip the sheets tomorrow - wait till you get him home." There was a contented silence while he rolled that word round. He looked at me very seriously. "Thanks," he said simply, "you, you and Billy, have really made it home for me." "And you're going to make it home for Hamish. No secrets there, Jack, everyone knows you'll be fucking like rabbits." I think we both felt a bit restrained when we went to bed - a combination of there being only single beds and the knowledge that, single beds or no single beds, there would be action in that room the next night and energy had to be preserved. I hadn't slept on my own since the end of term. 2040 had begun - a year which would, as had the year 99 years earlier, live forever in the annals of infamy. Though 'forever' rather implies that there will be anyone to read this. Without readers there is no meaning to history. But that's a few months off. We were still innocent. ***** Jack drove us as far as Aviemore the next morning - a glorious sunny January day. I took over there as I wanted him to be able to look at the scenery. I pointed out to the east. "Those are over 4000 feet," I said, "not like home." He couldn't keep still as the miles went on, though whether it was the view or the approach of his Hamish I couldn't tell. Both probably. We were early so instead of sticking to the A9 I went up over Struie, knowing what lay ahead. The sky was blue and almost cloudless and the air was crystal clear. Over the top of the hill ... "Jesus, Dab!" It was the reaction I'd hoped for. We stopped at the viewpoint. Jack drank it in silently. "Not like Uttoxeter; more like heaven," he whispered. "And you're dragging Hamish away from this. Are you sure?" He looked at me, making sure that I wasn't being serious. "Maybe he can bring this with us in his head for both of us," he said softly. "I do love him, Dab, but you know that. Sometimes I have to pinch myself to make it stay true." I smiled, "you won't have to do that any more, Jack, because he loves you too, and he can do all the pinching now you're together." We stayed there, seeing almost as far as the North Pole. "Come on, we've half an hour to go," I said at last, "it'll still be there next time." I doubted whether he would ever see that view quite as beautifully again - utterly still and utterly lovely. I could see why Bertie had fallen in love with Inverthrum, almost visible in the distance. Hamish was waiting for us as I drove up to their house. Hamish was as excited as Jack - two 6-year-olds, it seemed. "Do they know?" I asked him, "about you two, I mean." Hamish shook his head. "No way. Dad would have a fit." I wondered how well he had managed to conceal his excitement: lunch might be awkward if they didn't both behave. I should have had more faith in Jack who, as soon as he was in the house, behaved impeccably, exactly as a mentor should. Rob asked a lot of questions about the kind of work Hamish would be doing and I let Jack do the answering. Rose turned to me. "We're so grateful to you, Dab. Six months ago we were facing the prospect of Hamish having to go into the army and now here he is, a proper job with a proper estate and ... I don't know." "Don't know what, woman?" said Rob. "I mean I don't know how to thank him, Rob, and nor do you." I hastened to smooth things over. "There's no need to thank me - I'm getting cheap labour and Jack's getting someone to boss around. I imagine they'll keep each other busy." Rob looked at me and grunted. "He'll be back often enough," I said, "because Inverthrum needs attention now and again. He and Jack will need to be back in March to get the cabbages lifted and to plant whatever Jack decides." "You let Jack decide?" Rob asked. "Yes, with input from my head gardener, but it's very much Jack's domain. He's going to agricultural college in the autumn, and they've accepted him a year early because he's proved himself. Inverthrum's part of that. So, Rose, have a good look at your boy before he turns into a mighty-muscled hero." Rob and Hamish laughed and Rose looked wistful. I didn't dare look at Jack, sitting beside me. I drove back down to Pitlochry while the two of them renewed their fondness for each other in the back. They continued this process in the privacy of their room that night, so much so that at breakfast I seemed to be accompanied by two zombies. "Happy, boys?" I said. Two huge grins. Life would be good, I thought. ***** Hamish settled in quickly. He was delighted to be sharing a room - a bed - with Jack, and hardly stopped thanking me for days. The two of them joined us on the third night they were back to show us, as Jack put it, that young flesh was available to older people occasionally. "You do realise, Hamish, that when Jack buggers off to college, you'll be in here for us oldies to fuck every night," said Billy. Did I hear a 'can't wait'? - surely not. On the other hand Hamish was well aware that the ring of love and loyalty round Billy and me dis not exclude fucking Jack or himself - or anyone at Fisher. "I know the rules, Dab - Jack's made them very clear - and I've told him that if he fancies an fuck with any of the other students at college he's not to hold back." I gave him a cuddle. "That's good, because he's bound to keep his eyes open, and when any of them see his cock they'll be queuing up for a taste." Jack, who at that moment - it was the third night - was happily allowing Billy a taste (though what Billy was enjoying was more of a meal than a mere taste), smiled at the prospect. "He understands all right, and that's because he's as hungry for it as the rest of us are, aren't you, my wee pal?" I hadn't realised that Jack was becoming bilingual. While he and Billy were busy I whispered in Hamish's ear that I wanted to give him a special welcome into my bed. "Lie on your back and let me do the work." I knelt between his legs and took his cock between my lips. He groaned, "oh yes, Dab." I was in no hurry, so I allowed my tongue to linger on his glans, to savour the drops of pre-cum he spilled, to dart away to his arsehole, to lick the piss-pipe along the underneath of his cock, drawing another large drop of boy-nectar, to take one of his hairless balls into my mouth, gently suckling it, to get his cock deep in my mouth as his groans signalled that he was beginning to boil, to put three fingers slowly up his arse as he jack-knifed and "aaaah!" came hot and hard in my mouth. I was surprised that after what had amounted to a honeymoon's-worth of fucking with Jack since he'd left Lairg that he still managed four good spurts. "Share, Dab," he sighed, "please." Reader, we shared. Half an hour later, when all four of us had come and we were lying spent together, Hamish raised the issue of pubic hair. He had smooth balls, as I've said, and a nice patch above his cock, and was curious to know why Billy and I had virtually none. "Will you tell him, or shall I?" said Jack. "Go on," I said, "it's time he knew all our secrets." "When Dodo and I first came here Dab got Mr Rivers - he's the chauffeur - to shave us - our balls, that is. Does he still do you and Billy, Dab?" I shook my head. "No, we do each other. How often does he do you?" It seemed that Jack's growth required trimming only every six weeks or so. "Why don't we show you how to do it, and then you can shave each other whenever you want? Billy and I like to be completely smooth, so we do it every few days." Hamish didn't seem all that keen. Like so many before him he saw fuzz as a sign of approaching manhood. It wasn't up to me to dissuade him though; he and Jack would find their own preference. Jack said that he and Dodo found that their hair was less noticeable than Billy's or mine. "Black boys' hair don't show like white boys', dat's on account of black hair bein' black, see." Billy and I had long been accustomed to Jack talking like that, but it was still unsettling to Hamish. I cuddled him. "He's winding us up, Hamish, don't take him too seriously." Jack grinned, "he'll get used to it." Hamish smiled, secure in my arms, in our bed, and in Jack's love. I had to remind myself that he was still only 15, and not used to his new way of life. ***** Hester and Hamish hit it off from the word go. I went to see her when Hamish had been here for four days to see how she was finding him. "He's so keen to learn." she said, "He naturally wants Jack to be proud of him, and when I told him that Jack had told me how he felt about him he relaxed. 'You know,' he said, 'about me and Jack? And you don't mind?' I assured him that I knew, and so did everybody else, and that nobody minded. I don't know how much he believed me, but he'll soon find out that it's true. The few that aren't in love with somebody else are happy to accept the rest of us. But you know that, even though Hamish doesn't yet." "How is he settling in on the work front?" "He's keen. As I say, he's desperate to have Jack's approval, and he's a quick learner. He hasn't got Jack's natural flair, but that's a good thing. In 20 years' time they'll make a great team: one brilliantly innovative and the other a dogged determined carrier-out of the master's plans." I roared with laughter. "You've got it all worked out. They're still only teenagers - anything could happen." Prophetic words. ***** I was due back at Fisher in two days' time. With Hamish busy all day with Hester and Jack Billy and I spent the days in the Library. I wanted to get on with Bertie's story, now less than 70 years in the past. Billy had still some way to go with Widmerpool's saga, but the end was in sight. "Nine down, Dab, well, nine and a half. Only two and a half to go." I was happy to leave the field clear for him. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ When I returned home I forced myself to think about my life. My night with Ben had been much more erotic than nights with Wilf, though the fact that Ben was 15 and Wilf 21 had a great deal to do with that. But an insistent voice kept suggesting that there was more to it than mere age. It was true that Ben's delight in watery games matched mine, but was there even more to my feelings? Was 'feelings' the nub of the argument: did Ben mean more to me than a boy's body and all the pleasures it could bring (and I to it)? I couldn't stop thinking about it. On the other hand I was a wealthy widowed Midlands landowner (and brewer!) with a son of almost 10. Unlike James I had resolved not to attempt to seduce my son however much he might attract me sexually - a resolution made when Arthur was a small boy. I was glad that I had never been tempted. Now we were about to celebrate his 10th birthday, an event to which he had been looking forward for months. I had asked him how he would like to mark the occasion of reaching double figures, and his reply had been instantaneous. "Blackpool, please. I want to go on the roller-coasters." And so, the day before his birthday, we set off for Blackpool. I had loved roller-coasters in Canada at his age and although I hadn't been on one since I was looking forward to it almost as much as Arthur was. We stayed in a hotel overlooking the sea, much to Arthur's delight. It did me good to just be a loving father, happy to share his son's excitement at the new sights and tastes (fish and chips in newspaper - to Arthur the most exotic meal imaginable) of a busy seaside resort. My eyes were not blind to the skimpily-clad adolescents, and I noticed that Arthur wasn't in the least interested. Was there at last to be a heterosexual Cunliffe? The roller-coasters lived up to their billing. We sampled all four and I told Arthur we could ride his favourite one again. As before his reply was immediate. "Big Dipper please." Naturally I had interspersed our many rides with other joys - candy floss, more fish and chips, having a street artist make a charcoal sketch of Birthday Boy, the Hall of Mirrors, a tram ride - so that by the time the reprise of the Big Dipper was complete we both agreed that Blackpool had little else to thrill us. We got in the car and two hours later - it was still light - we got home. I parked at the front instead of putting the car in the garage round the back. There was a bike leaning against the front steps. "It looks like we have a visitor," I said, "one of your pals maybe." Arthur got out to investigate and I drove round to put the car away. A scrunch of gravel beside me indicated that Arthur had taken possession of his new bike. "Thanks, Dad, it's super." I was glad he had a good birthday, and glad it had been the two of us having innocent fun on roller-coasters. I remembered my own 10th birthday. Francis had entertained me all evening and I had felt quite exhausted (and very, very happy) by the time I came - dry of course - for the umpteenth time while Francis fucked me. Who had the happier birthday, I wondered - father or son? In a month's time Arthur would be off to prep school. If, as was highly likely, he discovered sex there (unless he had discovered it already) he would at least do so in an environment of boys the same age. If he was going to be as queer as all the Cunliffes before him he would find that out without any influence from me. You must not think, Bertram, that I disdained bring queer - far from it, as I hope these pages make clear - but the fact that I rejoiced in my way of life did not give me either the right to assume my son would feel the same, or to lead him - even the tiniest amount - in that direction. I will spare you any suspense on this issue by telling you that in all his years at prep school and later his public school I saw no sign that Arthur was anything other than happy in his own skin. If he was queer he wasn't troubled by it. It wasn't until he was 16 and brought a girl friend to visit that I could be sure that my keeping my hands off had been right. That sounds dreadfully pious, Bertram, and you must forgive an old man for being maudlin: you will know that Arthur died when he was only a year or two older than I was when we went to Blackpool. ***** The years passed and I made regular trips to Inverthrum, often staying for several weeks in the summer. Naturally I dined with Larry and Ken and spent the night with Ben on my way (and often during my stay). One evening in June 1971 was of particular importance. Ben was 20 then, and still as exciting in bed as he had always been. There were only three diners that night. The other two were a couple - a man in his early 40s and another ten or twelve years younger. We exchanged 'good evenings' but as they were deep in conversation I sat contentedly alone looking forward to a night with the ever-inventive Ben. As I was ordering dessert from Ben Larry came up and spoke to the other couple. The older one seemed surprised, but nodded, looking over to me. Larry came over. "I think you would find it interesting to join the other two for a chat, Bertie. We know what delights you when you spend time with Ben and they have similar interests. And before you ask, yes they have, but not tonight. He's yours tonight." This seemed odd, but if Larry thought I ought to talk to these two I wasn't going to object. I walked across and pulled out a chair. "I'm Bertie," I said. "Ace. Ace Parry, and this is Jack." =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 102 as Fate weaves her web. Drop me a line at badboi666@btinternet.com - that is after you've dropped nifty a few quid. ===============================================================================