Date: Mon, 17 Feb 2020 18:18:54 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Last of the Line 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 40 Jack's birthday was eventful. He was really pleased with the three books I'd bought for him - detailed technical stuff about fruit trees, vegetables and cereal crops. I thought it a heavy diet for a 14-year-old, but his genuine delight as he riffled through, looking at the contents, was enough to convince me that this sort of stuff was in his blood. It helped, perhaps, that I'd got Rivers to look out several of his glossy books of a stimulating nature, and these were also the source of deep interest. That afternoon, when he finished work for the day, he came bounding in to tell me that he'd shown the three suitable books to Hester, who had been impressed that he was so excited by them (she told me later that he hadn't stopped going on all day about how much he was looking forward to studying them). She had given him a gardening book which set out what tasks should be done in each week of the year, and he had pored over that while a celebratory birthday dose of ginger cordial was consumed. Jorrocks had given him another of his osier constructions - this time a pair of birds in a bush. It was a spherical thing, light as a feather, and the birds were made from tiny pieces of wool. I asked Jorrocks how it had been made, and he told me his wife had made the birds "from scraps of this and that, Master Dab, you know how women are" (I didn't, of course), and that the weaving of the osiers had kept him occupied for a few nights. "He's a joy, that boy, and time spent with him makes me remember being a lad myself." That night was also one of celebration. The 14-year-old in our bed was even more up for wickedness than he had been a mere week earlier. Neither Billy nor I had been fucked, as we were that night, by quite so well provided-for a 14-year-old as Jack then was. ***** A couple of days before Christmas Eve, when Seb and Dodo were due, I went up to see my mother. As I'd just finished breakfast the timing seemed opportune. I knocked gently on her sitting-room door and it was opened by her carer. "She's not dressed yet, your Lordship." (I realise with some shame that, while all the other members of the household are known to you, I have never set down her name: it was Norman - Miss Norman. She had been with us since I was a little boy, and I think it must have been shortly after my father did a runner.) I turned to go, but she asked me to come in. "If you have a few minutes, Sir, I'd like a few words with you." She offered me a chair and a cup of tea, and despite having just finished breakfast I found I had room for another cup. "What can I do for you?" "I thought you ought to be aware of your mother's state of mind," she said. "I can't tell you too much, but it's clear to me that she is becoming more and more dependent on her liquor." This was hardly news. "What do you see happening, Norman?" "One day she will either do herself an injury while she's intoxicated, or she will be lucky - if it can be called that - and we decide that she needs 24-hour institutional care. I can't give her what she needs once she's that far gone." It seemed strange to be discussing my mother's condition in such a detached manner, but then my mother's condition was pretty strange anyway. Over the years I knew that she had been to clinics, but they had been useless in helping her to be weaned off the bottle. "What is to be done now?" I asked. Norman smiled. "Nothing, Sir. The new staff members have made a big difference to her though." I must have looked perplexed, because she smiled again. "Oh Sir, you of all people can't have missed what is happening." "I've been away at school, Norman, so if there have been interesting things happening no-one has told me about them. Why don't you fill me in?" Just then my mother's bedroom door opened and she came through, still in her nightie. "Dab, how nice!" she said, "have you come to see how we women misbehave?" Norman looked at her. "I was just about to tell him," she said. "Tell me what?" - and then it hit me. 'You of all people', 'we women misbehave', 'new staff members'. Luckily I had never been in the position of having to declare my sexuality to my parents - a rite of passage which I knew was usually fraught with dread. I was now faced with the opposite situation - coming to terms with my parent's sexuality. My father had been queer, and that was part of history. And my mother is a lesbian, as presumably is Miss Norman. You could hardly blame her. What fun! I stood up and held out my arms. My mother accepted the embrace. "Now there are no secrets left, Dab, are there?" "No, Mother, none." "And will you bring your boys up to see me - us - on Christmas morning? That would be nice - I'd like to meet them. Perhaps we can allow ourselves a little glass of something nice." I smiled. "Yes, Mother, it would be very nice." I turned to go. "Make sure you have enough glasses," I said quietly to Norman, "we'll be five." "10 o'clock will be about right." I nodded. Billy wasn't surprised at my news. "Hester and Pam are often in that part of the house. Good for them, I say." "Why didn't you tell me, Billy?" "It is not for a footman to tell tales on a Countess, nor for a man to divulge his mother-in-law's secrets." "I still love you, Billy Wilkins, even though you are a useless queer. You do know that, don't you?" ***** I went through the same routine with the staff presents as I had a year earlier, involving this time Hester and Pam as well. This was done during the morning of Christmas Eve in order not to interfere with the preparations going on for the entertaining that would take place. We queers would be five for each meal, and my mother had made it abundantly clear that the lesbians would be four - "and we shall eat in my sitting room, Dab, tell Mrs Morley please". That was a facer: who would take their food up to them? Billy was the obvious choice, but Billy would be eating with me. Billy, when the problem was put to him, said it was simple. "They know about us, don't they? Well, you and I will take their food up, and if we need a third pair of hands Jack can come up too. It'll do him good to see how the indoor staff have duties as well. And the other two can surely find something to talk about while we're busy attending on the lesbians." My mother was going to have a very merry Christmas, I thought, what with one thing and another. That afternoon Seb and Dodo arrived just as it was getting dark. Much hugging and kissing took place before Jack dragged Dodo up to our room. Seb and I watched them disappear. "He's missed Jack more than I expected," he said, "it's nice to see them so fond of each other." "How is he doing in the shop?" "Couldn't be better, Dab, he's a natural. He greets everyone who comes in like a long-lost friend and the punters seem to lap it up. He takes in plenty of money too - through the till, that is. We agreed, the two of us, that the sort of service I provided for you isn't something he wants to do. Not yet anyway. And I'll tell you the truth - apart from visiting you and the sling I haven't done any more outside work. It's terrible what love does to you, Dab, isn't it." I laughed. Love was great, but it could so easily interfere with one's illicit earnings. When Jack and Dodo came back down I explained what would be happening over the next couple of days. Seb and Dodo were amused that they were to be transported into a nest of Sapphists (as Seb explained, that was the preferred term in the shop), but Jack was alarmed. "Will Hester be there too?" "Of course she will, Jack, she and Pam live together - you know that." Jack said that he knew that perfectly well, but that he and Hester had never spoken of their personal lives, "although she's very friendly and talks about all kinds of things as well as all the gardening stuff." "Well, it's about to change, so you'll have to be brave and drink a glass of something and be very grown up," said Billy, "don't worry, if Pam makes a dart for that cock of yours wondering about what she's missing I'll rescue you." Jack grinned, "I could show her if you like." "Stop it, you two," I said, "perfect manners will be displayed at all times. It's Christmas, after all." Dinner was fun. Dodo was bursting to tell us all about working in the shop, and he told a good story. I asked if he had had the opportunity of selling anything that required demonstration in one of the back rooms. He had, he said, and the experience had been interesting. "Interesting?" I said, "surely there's a better word than that, Dodo." Seb invited Dodo to be more forthcoming. "Tell them, Dodo, it's a good story." About three weeks into Dodo's service Seb and the shop manager agreed that he had learnt enough about the stock, and how to deal with customers, that he could be left on his own. "I'll always be around if you run into any difficulty," Seb had said, "but it's time you went solo. The next one in the door is yours." The next one in the door had been dealt with efficiently since all he wanted was lube. By the end of the week Dodo was handling more than his fair share of customers, and he asked Seb why when they were in bed that night. "It's because you tick several of the customers' boxes, Dodo. You're young, the youngest of us by a good 3 years; you're slim and sexy-looking; you're black, and that's the biggest plus of all." Dodo said that was nonsense, as his experience out in the big wide world was that most people hated blacks. "But the shop isn't the big wide world, Dodo, it's where queers come to buy stuff, and they like to be served by sexy young men. A lot of people hate queers too. You, Dodo, rate very high on the 'my-god-what-a-sexy-kid-I-want-to-fuck-him' scale that queers have in their heads, and that, my friend, is why you get more customers coming up to you." As Seb was holding Dodo's cock while this conversation was taking place it - the conversation - petered out at that point and more intimate matters were dealt with. Dodo went on with his story. "One day the next week a young guy came in, and I went up to him to see if I could help. 'Indeed you can,' he said, looking me up and down. 'I need some leather gear.' I took him over to the display case with all the leather stuff in and waited while he looked at it. 'Vest certainly - no, the harness might be better - and something for below.' He turned to me. 'Do you recommend shorts or something longer?' 'It depends, Sir.' 'Upon what?' 'Upon what you might wish to do in them. If yellow is among your favourite colours I would not recommend longer trousers as they are a bugger to keep clean. Shorts can be washed much more easily. Even if yellow isn't relevant bare legs can be worth displaying.' He nodded. 'I need to try of a couple of pairs, is that possible?'" "Cut to the chase, Dodo," said Seb, "or we'll be here all night." "I measured his waist and picked three pairs for him to try - a black pair, a yellow pair and a pair with a double zip. I told him we were obliged to remain with a customer if goods valued at more than £80 were involved. He grinned, 'and these of course exceed that amount'. 'Naturally, Sir,' and the two of us went into the little room and I pressed the little button. 'I don't need the yellow ones.' 'No, but if I had brought in only two pairs they wouldn't have come to £80.' 'I see,' he said, 'and I understand why you are here.' I nodded. 'I'm here to sell you the goods you want, but that will only happen if the goods are exactly what you want, and making sure of that is part of the service we offer. May I suggest you try one of them on. Sir.' He smiled, 'I like the Sir bit, but just for today I'll set that aside.' He stripped, and I remembered what Seb had told me. Strip down to your jockstrap when the client strips. Let him be aware that you have a big one, but don't let him see it. The customer had a small cock, but I wasn't going to say anything about that. 'Only mention their cock if it's bigger than yours', Seb had said. I didn't expect I would be mentioning many cocks in that case. 'Always find something positive to say', had been the next piece of advice, and luckily the customer was completely shaved. 'Mmm, I love to see shaved balls,' I said. That's when he asked if I was shaved. 'Why don't you find out?' I said. Well, Dab, you know how it is when a new pair of eyes feasts on a new cock, especially one on a boy as sexy as I am." "Oh get on with it, Dodo," said Jack, "did you fuck him?" "He was there to buy stuff, Jack, so what I did was sell him a load of leather harness gear and a pair of very tight leather shorts with a double zip all the way from his belly button to the back of his arse crack." "Yes, but did you fuck him?" "He wanted to be certain he understood the back zip mechanism as he wanted to keep them on if he got fucked, so naturally I showed him how to arrange things." "Oh, for God's sake, Dodo," said Jack, "did you or didn't you?" "Of course I did, li'l bro, what did you expect?" As I said, dinner was fun. After dinner was fun too. Five in a bed was a major squash, but if you can't accommodate your friends on Christmas Eve, when can you? Too much of a squash, as it turned out, allowing for lots of much-needed cuddles and a certain amount of paired fucking. There was general agreement, at about one in the morning, that five was really too many. Seb and Dodo agreed that one of them would sleep in our bed (although 'sleep' isn't precisely the right word) while the other occupied the bed above Jorrocks's lair. The rest of us would visit as the mood took us over the rest of their stay. That way all the various permutations could be fitted in. ***** Christmas morning was an eye-opener. I'd alerted them all to the fact that we were on parade chez Mama at 10. Breakfast and a general exchange of presents was over by 9.45. "Come on then," I said, "duty calls." Jack was very unhappy about it all. "I'm scared," he said, what will your mother say, Dab?" "I've no idea, Jack, but she's not an ogre. If she asks you a question be honest. She knows we're all queer, so nothing you say will shock her." He didn't look convinced. "How about if I introduce you as the 14-year-old with the most enormous cock I've ever seen who fucks me rotten three times a week?" I don't think that helped ease his panic. I marshalled my gang of queers and at 10 on the dot I knocked on my mother's door. It had a sprig of mistletoe pinned about it, I noticed. Norman flung open the door. "Come in, gentlemen, come in, welcome to how the other half loves." It was going to be that kind of party. My mother was looking pretty spry, given how she spent most of her time. She was at that time in her early 40s, having been shackled to my father in 2018 when she was 25. I wondered how she and Norman had become a couple: my father had buggered off in 2023 when I was nearly 4, and my mother had been 30. Norman had been her maid as long as I could remember, and she was several years older than her mistress. Had they been lovers right from the word go? My father wouldn't have slept with a female any more frequently than was necessary to produce me - the lack of any brothers or sisters gave weight to that conclusion, and the arithmetic suggested that I had been conceived pretty soon after the last of the nuptial champagne had been guzzled. If she was a lesbian and he was queer maybe the champagne had been a necessary part of the latest episode in the Cunliffe breeding saga. I began to see my mother - my poor dipso mother - in a new light. But she was entirely sober that Christmas morning. "Introduce me to all the boys you bed, Dab, they all look quite ravishing, were one susceptible to male charms." It was, as I said, that kind of party. I decided to play along. "Mother, this is Billy Wilkins. We love each other. Billy, the Countess of Inchkeith." My mother stood and held out her arms to Billy. Billy, wholly outside any comfort zone he might have had, stepped forward. I heard her say softly, "if you were a girl, Billy, and Dab said he loved you, I wouldn't be any happier than I am today. Every one of us in this room isn't what the world outside thinks of as normal, but in this house we are who we are. If you love Dab then I love you. Billy, this is Alice Norman. She and I are lovers too." Billy was engulfed in the embrace of two women - not, I think, a situation in which he had expected to find himself. Jack was soon after embosomed, this time by no fewer than three women: my mother, his boss and her lover. I saw Dodo and Seb exchange looks of utter consternation. "Mother," I said when Jack had been freed from their clutches, "these two renegades are Dodo and Sebastian. Would you believe that they work in a sex shop patronised by both gentlemen like us and ladies like you." "I've been in there," squeaked Pam, "last summer and you served me," pointing at Seb. The shrieks of laughter from the other three Sapphists at the unfortunate verb Pam had used gave Seb time to gather himself. "I'm afraid I don't remember, but I am occasionally sent to help in the ladies' department." Introductions being complete Norman - Alice - went to a side table and a healthy pop was heard. "Ah!" cried Mama, "champers!" It was a bit downhill after that. Before she got the second glass behind her teeth she cornered me. "Now, truth time, Dab. Do you really fuck all these gorgeous lads?" "Yes, Mother, but Billy is the one I love. Since Dodo went off to live with Seb Billy and I have taken Jack into our bed. He's very sweet, and for a mere 14-year-old he's very well developed." My mother gave me an old-fashioned look. "And that's important to you, is it?" "No, Mother, but it's important to Jack, every inch of it." "Your father would have approved, Dab, he was very keen on exotic boys. I'm sure you know all the disgusting details." But her face betrayed her: she no more thought the details disgusting than I did. "Be kind to him, Dab. Hester has told me a great deal about him and Dodo. They must have suffered dreadfully." I was discovering so much of the hidden lesbian network that morning. I assured her that Jack was loved only a tiny bit less that Billy was. "Good," she said, "now it's time you queers went away and left us women to our Christmas." Dodo and Seb were in deep conversation with Pam. Hester was listening intently: perhaps a run-through of interesting merchandise was being given. Billy and Jack were quietly talking to Alice, who kept glancing at me. I wondered what the three of them were saying. But we had been dismissed. A thought entered my mind that since it was Christmas, and since there were now no secrets between the queers and the lesbians, it might be amusing were Billy and Jack to bear in the ladies' food ungarbed - such is the potency of a couple of glasses of champagne. Happily the thought lingered but a moment before exiting my mind again. How would poor Jack have reacted had his inches proved irresistible? "Come on, we must leave the ladies," I said, feeling incredibly foolish as I said it. Glasses were emptied, thanks and wishes of 'Merry Christmas' were uttered, and we were out in the corridor. "Jesus," said Dodo, "that was weird." He spoke, I think, for all of us. ***** During the time Seb and Dodo were with us virtually all permutations of fucking and sucking were accomplished - certainly as far as I was concerned. The high spot, at around 11.45 on New Year's Eve after much - but not too much - drink had been taken on board, was when the four of us ganged up on Seb and told him that it was time he lost his virginity. "What d'you mean? I lost my virginity when I was 10." "You may have been fucked when you were 10, Seb, but you haven't fucked anyone yet, so technically you're still a virgin." This from Billy, of all people. Dodo smiled at his boyfriend. "You get to choose, Seb, and if it's really really horrible I'll never mention it again." Seb swallowed - he really looked nervous. This was far from the sexy charming smiley Seb I knew so well. After a few moments he said, "OK, but only because it's New Year, and it's got to be plain vanilla. No pissing." We all solemnly agreed, our solemnity only skin deep however. Whoever was going to be the lucky recipient would no doubt enjoy it: the other three would be observers at something unprecedented. Dodo knelt at Seb's side and took his hand. "Who's it to be, Seb? Choose." =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 41 as Seb makes his choice, and I learn more of Seth's life with Amos and Arthur in Wisbech. Drop me a line at badboi666@btinternet.com - that is after you've dropped nifty a few quid. ===============================================================================