Date: Tue, 17 Mar 2020 19:44:37 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Last of the Line Chapter 46 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 46 Rupert, no doubt because of having a twin, was much more inventive and frisky in bed than Solly. Solly and Morry were several years apart, and although Morry and he had fooled around their relationship can't possibly have been as open to experiment as one between two boys differing in age by only a few minutes. By the end of our second session the pair of us had agreed that an afternoon spent with Will and Malcolm might be fun. "Will Malcolm be up for it?" I said. "You bet, Cunliffe (we hadn't got to 'Dab' yet), but what about Aitken? Isn't he too grand?" I assured him that if Malcolm was keen I could guarantee to bring Will aboard. "You find out about your brother and leave Aitken to me, Rupert." Rupert's pleasure in the hoped-for afternoon showed itself in the usual manner. Even though he had come in my mouth ten minutes earlier his cock responded to a friendly feel. "You're a horny little bugger," I whispered. "Mmm, and I can tell you're a horny big one. Will you fuck me now?" "No, but I'll start the gradual process of getting you ready. I'll fuck you when I've got you so desperate that you're about to explode." "Cohen says you're an expert." "Is he wishing you hadn't appeared to deprive him of all the ecstasy my lips and cock can deliver this term?" Rupert giggled. "A bit, but he's found bags of consolation in Walpole. They call themselves the Village Whores." I turned his face to mine and kissed him. "I know, Rupert, I've been here nearly five years. He and the rest of them in Walpole are there for any of the seniors to fuck. You, on the other hand, have the inestimable privilege of being fucked by the House champion fucker of all time." "Mmm. Yesterday was great - what's in store for me today?" Yesterday had been a fairly straightforward affair. We were both too keen to come - he with a decent-sized cock up him and I with a new, a very pretty, 13-year-old - and our juices flowed - gushed, rather - sooner than either of us would have wished. We both agreed that today's time together would be more leisured, and the orgasms likely all the better. "And all the more," Rupert had added, "I can do two easily - can you, Cunliffe?" I had given him the usual reply about sucking and seeing, and his eyes had shown that he was up for experimentation of that kind. Rupert was agreeably forward in matters sexual. Today he had appeared bushy-tailed and eager, and two minutes later we were naked on the bed. His uncut five-and-a-bit inches were irresistible, and I knelt over him, taking his cock into my mouth. Rupert had automatically caressed my head, murmuring incoherently while his hips signalled that this was an orgasm which was already on its way. Having a twin he was accustomed to coming in someone's mouth, so he didn't insult my intelligence by either advising me of its approach or implying it might not be welcome if it was delivered directly onto my tonsils. "Aaah! yesss ... " and I felt four warm squirts, each accompanied by a groan of uninhibited boy joy. When I'd savoured what he delivered, and swallowed, I moved up to kiss him. He was ready for me, his mouth open, his tongue visibly signalling that a major smooch was needed. "You taste good, Rupert, nice creamy spunk -" but he leaned forward and his lips clamped onto mine, smothering the rest of my sentence. I think he got the drift though. We stayed like that, our tongues making friends, until my back protested. I leaned back. "You kiss better than Malcolm," he said quietly. "That's what five years in this place teaches you. When you're 17 you'll be the same." I lay down beside him. He turned towards me and his fingers traced round my nipples. The sensation was like tiny jolts of electricity and I decided that this term was going to be a great deal more thrilling that I'd expected it to be. That was when I felt for his cock and found it hard again. After we'd finished and Rupert's breathing had returned to normal he turned to me (we were lying chastely side by side, our only contact held hands) and simply said, "thanks, Cunliffe. That was the best hour I've ever spent". "It was bloody good for me too, Rupert. You are one hot little monkey." The hot little monkey had earned such high praise because he automatically disengaged when he'd given my cock time to squeeze out the last dribble, and had whipped round for a clean-up 69. As he was a good six or more inches shorter than I I was able - having spent some minutes ensuring his cock bore no lingering evidence of activity - to attend to the considerable amount of my spunk visible as it leaked from his arse. As he felt my tongue busy at its harvesting he gave a little push and a small stream emerged, making more work for me. "I want some of that," he murmured before resuming his duties. When I'd got as much as I was going to I prodded him and beckoned him to attend to the delivery of what he had sought. Naturally that lasted longer than was strictly necessary. Eventually we both sat up. He had been in bed with me for over an hour and a half. "I like this," he said. "I like you," I replied, "and this term is going to be very pleasing for both of us." "I'll talk to Malcolm, but do we really want to share, Cunliffe?" "Oh yes, Rupert, but not every time. Just now and again. And it's Dab from now on, not Cunliffe. Only in here, of course." His pleasure in being admitted to the select circle of those permitted such close familiarity was almost up there with the pleasure my cock - and my skills and my winning personality, naturally - had brought him earlier. "Off you go then, you smell innocent enough," and he was dressed and away, no doubt to share with his twin the excitements each of them had experienced that afternoon. How do I know about Malcolm? Thin walls. After lights-out that day Will and I had our regular chat. Against all the rules our chat was carried out in highly civilized circumstances, and had been since the first week of the preceding Autumn term. Neither of us smoked - virtually nobody still did apart from people like Jorrocks who had probably started when he was a boy - but (apart from our preferred sexual habits) our secret vices extended to a decent-sized gin and tonic when we were satisfied that the lights were all out, and that such couplings as were planned for the night had been started (ours excepted, of course). Will's Den included a pair of armchairs, and he and I were well into out second G&T when I advised him that his afternoon with Malcolm had evidently been mutually satisfying. Will grinned, "noisy, wasn't he." Had Will any concern that Malcolm's enthusiasm might have occasioned enquiry? "You mean Jock?" I nodded. "Jock is no fool, Dab. Jock's well aware of what goes on, but he takes good care not to know in any formal sense. His attention is always where it's most needed - elsewhere." I wondered how Will knew this - was there a secret file to which only the Head of House was allowed access? Sadly I never found out, for Will's lips were sealed and I never ascended the final step of that particular ladder. "Rupert thought that he and Malcolm might be willing to have a foursome with us." Will snorted, "willing! Mine said he was more than willing. Desperately keen might have covered it." The two of them must have agreed a way to bring this desirable matter to a successful conclusion. "What about you, Will? Are you up for it? " He grinned, "of course, Dab, you know me." I raised my glass. "Here's to it then. I wonder if the two of them have anything else planned for us old men." I got up, the nightly ritual being concluded, and went next door. When I was pissing I heard my Den door open. Who the hell was this at this time of night? Not Jock, for he would have knocked. I said "who's there?" feeling like some clown in a Victorian melodrama, but answer came there none. As I was still pissing I couldn't turn round to look - perhaps someone had just brought a message of some kind. Teeth done I came back into my Den to find Malcolm in my bed. "Hello, Cunliffe, I hope you don't mind. Rupe said you liked young boys, and I'm younger than he is," and the child had the impertinence to pat the bed beside him in a seductive manner. Pyjamas and I are strangers to one another, so what Malcolm saw was Bertram d'Abernon Cunliffe raw and - very swiftly - ready. He actually smacked his lips! There was no escape - not that I sought one - but his presumption couldn't be ignored. "Breakspear minor, you are very forward. Has Aitken given you permission to play away tonight?" Breakspear mi had the grace to blush. "No, Cunliffe. Rupe and I thought neither of you would mind." "In that you are correct, although I can speak only for myself - Malcolm, is it not?" Malcolm nodded. "And your senior sibling is even now gracing Aitken's silken couch?" Malcolm giggled - always a nice sound emanating from an angel his age. "It isn't silken, Cunliffe, but after this afternoon it's jolly spunky." It was my earnest desire that my couch - silken or otherwise - would merit the same adjective before the night was out. Happily this was also Malcolm's desire, and I have to tell you that each of us contributed to the mutually-desired end no fewer than three times. That isn't strictly true (it will not surprise you to hear) for the couch was not itself blessed with spunk, although its two occupants were. And as he had been during the afternoon, Malcolm was noisy. ***** He got up several minutes before the early bell and padded off to the junior bogs, returning (so I learned later) to Goderich where his brother had returned from a similar engagement with Will just a couple of minutes earlier. The other two occupants of Goderich - for whom nocturnal visits were a thitherto unknown thing - were amused and somewhat envious of what the two new boys got up to. But despite their being new, and thus at the bottom of the totem pole, their being Will's Pup and mine gave them almost untouchable status. Satisfied smirks was all the information that their two-term seniors in Goderich got. ***** That afternoon when Rupert appeared I sat him down. "We need to talk, Rupert - or do you prefer Rupe, as your brother called you last night while he was whipped up in a sexual turmoil?" That wasn't strictly true, as you know, but I wanted to encourage my Pup. "I like Rupe, and he's Malc ... Dab." "I think I can safely say, Rupe, that Aitken and I like both Rupe and Malc. How did last night go?" He smiled in a contented sort of way. I know that look: I've seen it on Montgomery and I recall it from my own Pup years when Will - Nigger, as he was then - had fucked one of us. "It was great," he said. "You're both fantastic fuckers." I felt a response was called for. "You're both fantastic to fuck, Rupe, and not just to fuck. You're just as keen as we are." He grinned, " yeah. Aitken said we might party - his word - tomorrow night. He specifically asked me to give you a message. Here it is," and he handed me a sealed envelope. "Do you know what it says?" He shook his head. "He gave it to me before I left him this morning, but it was sealed." I opened it. "Dab, you and I are onto a good thing with these two - they're even more hot for it than we were as Pups. How about tomorrow night chez moi? DO NOT COME between now and then, eh? Will." I looked up. Rupe was waiting for a reaction. "I have good news and bad news, Rupe. The good news is that Aitken is inviting us both to inspect his spunk-stained silken sheets tomorrow night, and to add to the staining thereupon; the bad news is that any spunk you or I might have churning about within us has got to stay there for 32 hours." Breakspear major was torn, but his wiser side won. "Bugger," he said, "but the cums tomorrow will be all the bigger." What a grown-up attitude, I thought: Rupert Breakspear will go far in life. He got up. "Temptation is silly, Dab, I'm off before the memory of your cock makes me unable to comply with Aitken's wishes," and he was out of the door before I could utter a word. I echoed his thought: bugger. Still, tomorrow night would be explosive. ***** It was indeed. I rimmed Malc and Will rimmed Rupe, then we turned them over and fucked them. A quick cum each - some invisible up 13-year-old arses, those from the 13-year-olds arcing for all to see onto smooth innocent-looking bodies (though all four of us knew better). Later each of us fucked his own Pup in a much more leisurely fashion. Spunk was harvested and shared. Will's bed wasn't any more spunk-stained than it had been 24 hours earlier, though it contained eight balls, each of which had shed much hot white white-hot juice. At one point, after the long leisurely fucks, Rupe and Malc had 69ed, with much stroking. Will looked at me and I looked at Will. It had been some time since he and I had made the beast with two backs, but that night we 69ed too, just as we had done when we were the twins' age. It was all the nicer for being rare. Neither of us came, but the pleasure of re-acquaintance with a once-familiar cock was good. ***** By the nature of things foursomes of this kind couldn't be repeated too often: the other two in Goderich, deprived of any away fixtures by night (they made do with each other, I've no doubt), would have spilled the beans. We met three times in the rest of that term. We met as a foursome, that is. Naturally Pup duties on a one-to-one basis were performed daily. I taught Rupe how to fist, and I was pleased to hear from Will a few days later that he had evidently not kept his new knowledge to himself. ***** At last the end of term approached. Will and I were both leaving, as were Dugald MacDonald and Tom Bottomley. The four of us spent a somewhat boozy evening in Will's Den where a bottle of gin was put away and memories - increasingly maudlin - were recalled. We had all done just about everything with each other as Pups, but - such was the peculiar way in the House - had had virtually no sexual contact with each other since. (I exclude Will's and my occasional foursomes naturally.) Dugald, well into his third G&T, lamented that it was four years and more since last he had any piss-related contact with any one. "I pissfucked you, Dab, when we were Pups." "And I loved it. Why haven't you done it since?" Dugald shrugged his shoulders, managing to spill some of his drink. "I think you might have enough inside you to perform again," said Will, taking Dugald's glass, "and enough inhibition-inhibiting gin in you to make you want to." I grinned - I was up for it. Was Dugald? He heaved himself to his feet. Somewhat unsteadily he began to remove his trousers, and this was the signal for the rest of us to exchange quick looks and do the same. Soon all four of us were as naked as we had been when we were Pups. It was amusing to see that all four of us scanned the bodies with which we had been so familiar four and more years ago. Cocks not seen in public since then were admired, and their growth noted and - where particularly noteworthy - praised. Tom's had been on the small side, but no longer. He (like the rest of us) was gently stroking it and it slowly heaved itself up to a glorious 9 inches. "When did that happen?" I said. Tom smiled. "A couple of years ago Dab. Worth the wait though." One could not but agree. The G&Ts allowed an orderly queue to form in order to examine Tom's new inches more closely. I was quickest. The inches were tastier that I recalled them to have been when fewer. "Once Dugald's finished pissing up my arse I fancy having that in for afters," I murmured. "Deal, Dab," murmured Tom. Dugald and I adjourned to Will's shower while Will enjoyed time with Tom's new treasure. "Give us 5 minutes, Tom." I knelt down and Dugald did the business. It wasn't as good as it had been when we were Pups - was that the gin, or just the fact that we were now men rather than boys? After a quick shower I went back out to Tom. Will lent us his bed for the performance, only complaining after 20 minutes that we'd better get on with it. "Come and join us," I said, "and bring Dugald as well." I shuffled over, managing to keep Tom inside (not difficult when it's that big) and a few minutes later both of us came at pretty much the same time as Will filled Dugald. Thank God there wasn't a jilly invasion that night or Jock would have had a heart attack. (The jillies had never returned, but I did learn why they were called jillies. According to Archer they were called that after some revolutionary called Jilly Jones. Where he got that titbit from we never knew. It was much later that I discovered the real reason.) Will and I had a last foursome with Rupe and Malc two days before the end of term. I thought I detected a more than ordinary warmth between Will and Malc, but of course I said nothing. It wasn't until the last afternoon, when Rupe and I were cosied up for the last time, that I quizzed him on the subject. He'd fucked me (we both found it pleasing that was round from time to time) and we were having our half-time break. "Oh," he said airily, "the two of them have been in love for weeks. Didn't you notice?" "Love? More than just fuck buddies?" "God yes. They cry when they're happy. You and I don't do that Dab." No, we didn't, but I was well aware that Billy and I did - so I had to assume that whatever was passing between Will and his Pup was more than the usual. "Where does that leave you, Rupe?" "Out alone in the unkind freezing wilderness, Dab, so will you fuck me now please? Good and hard." I judged that his twin's being in love didn't bother Rupert Breakspear too much. ***** Billy came the next morning with the electro and I waved school good-bye. Bell and I had had a useful hour the morning before when serious non-mathematical topics were covered. When we got home and Jack had finished his imitation of a Jack Russell the three of us went into the office. Billy had sorted out Jack's holiday arrangements with Dunstable, and he, Dodo and Seb were going to Morocco for three weeks. We would be paying half the costs, which seemed fair. They would be leaving in four days' time. "That means that we can set off on this mystery grand tour of yours, Dab, when they've gone." When Jack had gone back to the garden I told Billy what I had in mind. "My great-grandmother brought a Scottish estate when she married Bertie - the Third Earl. She was a d'Abernon, so that's where that came from. The place is called Inverthrum and it's way up in the north of Scotland. I've never been there and Wilbye says no-one's lived there for donkey's years. A local man keeps an eye on it, but we don't know what state it's in. That's where we're going, you and I, on a little adventure. He put his hand on mine. "Everything's an adventure with you, Dab, that's why I love you." A map was consulted and a route discussed. We would set off early in five days and stop for the night at what I judged to be half-way - somewhere well over the Border - and again at Ullapool. The motorway would get us as far as Glasgow but after that the roads weren't built for speed. "Who wants speed up there, Dab, when there's supposed to be so much scenery?" ***** We actually got as far as Loch Lomond that first day, and we spent a happy night in a huge double bed with a truly stunning view over the loch after a truly stunning dinner. A truly stunning fuck - our first in Scotland - made Loch Lomond a place we'd always look back on with happy memories. We were therefore in no hurry the next morning. We took turns at the wheel - two hours at a time - so that one of us could gawp at the unfolding drama: Glencoe, the Commando Memorial, Cluanie, Corrieshalloch, Ullapool. Another magical night. "If the magic keeps up when we get to Inverthrum," whispered Billy as we snuggled together, "we might move up here for good." Prophetic words but for the pronoun. Inverthrum is only an hour's drive from Ullapool, a good two miles up a private track. The electro managed it, but it wasn't happy. "If we do this again we must get something more substantial and keep it in Ullapool or somewhere," Billy said. The man who looked after Inverthrum lived in Lairg, and we'd arranged to meet him there. We found his house a mile or so out of the village and we pulled up at around 11 o'clock. He came out to greet us. "You'll be the laird," he said, "I'm McKenzie, Archie McKenzie." I introduced Billy and McKenzie - who didn't like being called Archie, so I didn't make that mistake again - invited us in. Mrs McKenzie bustled in with scones and coffee and bustled out again. "I'll leave Archie to the business, gentlemen." The scones were a delight, but Billy and I were keen to see Inverthrum, so after the required 20 minutes or so the three of us left in procession, the electro led by an ancient Land Rover. "That's what we need," said Billy, "only a 21st Century model." Fifteen minutes later McKenzie turned off the road and two miles further on there was Inverthrum. "Blimey," said Billy. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 47 as we go in. Drop me a line at badboi666@btinternet.com - that is after you've dropped nifty a few quid. ===============================================================================