Date: Tue, 24 Sep 2019 14:03:54 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Last of the Line Chapter 5 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 =============================================================================== For reasons which will become apparent later I have had to insert a short paragraph where it belongs into Chapter 2, describing my daytime accommodation at school. Here it is: The twelve of us each had a small room with a table, a chair and a cupboard where we lived during the day. It was called a Den, rather pretentiously I thought, and there was barely enough room for anyone else apart from the occupant. From time to time the Housemaster would knock and put in an appearance (Archer said it was to make sure that nobody had hanged himself, but we were 99% sure he was kidding). It was only at night that we met up with any of the others. It seems ridiculous looking back, but that's how it was. As you progressed up the House hierarchy your Den became larger, and when one reached the giddy height of Prefect (ie. Trainer) one's Den was, in effect, a well-equipped bed sitter with its own bathroom. =============================================================================== Chapter 5 It wasn't unusual for me to talk to Jorrocks. When I was little he used to wheel me round the big garden in his wheelbarrow - I must have been about 3, because my father was still around. After he went Jorrocks became my best friend as there were trees to climb and places to hide - all under his control as it seemed to a small boy. As I got older and less interested in solitary play of that kind I used to talk to Jorrocks about the great problems of my life. Things that seemed all-consuming to a 9-year-old and now wholly forgotten. Thus going to chat to Jorrocks, even in the depths of winter, wasn't out of the ordinary. I chose my time well that Saturday. By 11 I reckoned that Billy Wilkins would have some idea of what his duties would be, so Jorrocks wouldn't resent my appearance. He was always very correct, calling me `Master Dab', and so he greeted me that morning. "Well, Master Dab, you've come at the right moment. Billy here is coming to work alongside me next month. I've just been showing him where everything is. Why don't you take him round the grounds and show him where he'll be working. When you both come back I'll have a little something for you both." His wink told me that the `little something' would be the usual tipple of his home-made ginger cordial. At this distance I can't remember if it was alcoholic - probably not - but it certainly had a kick which made me feel grown up. "Come on, Billy," I said, and led him off. I showed him the greenhouses and the orchard, the formal flower beds and the vegetable garden. I left the big lawn to the end. "Jorrocks lets me drive the mower," I said conspiratorially, "he's not supposed to, because I'm too young. You're supposed to be 14 to drive it. I love sitting on it and what I love best is that the throbbing makes my cock hard." I added conversationally, as though it were the most natural thing to ask, "does yours get hard all the time? Mine does." Billy's blush spoke volumes. "I see," I said, "it sounds like we're both made the same way. It's a pity the grass won't need to be cut until April. My balls'll be full to bursting by then." Over to you, Billy, I thought. "What should I call you?" he said after a moment. "Mr Jorrocks called you Master Dab. Is that really your name?" "Dab is what everyone calls me," I explained, without going into why. "You ought to call me `Sir' if there's anyone to hear, but if it's just you and me just call me Dab, and I'll call you Billy." Billy smiled. "OK, Dab. But if you're worried that your balls might burst I know a way to stop that." I put on an expression of interest. "Oh?" After that he was putty in my hands. As we walked back to Jorrocks's lair and his potent brew I discovered that Billy was to return the next day, and then for both days the following weekend. "When are you here tomorrow?" I asked. "Not sure. He said he'd tell me later." "We must talk after you're finished tomorrow, and you can tell me what to do." Jorrocks poured out three glasses. "Drink up, boys, it'll put hairs on your chest." As I've indicated this wasn't my idea of fun but I didn't think that hairiness was imminent - not on my chest anyway. "I've seen the grounds, Mr Jorrocks," said Billy, "and I'm looking forward to coming to work next month. When should I report tomorrow?" Jorrocks had given thought to this, as he'd promised. "Come at 11 and you'll be finished by 3. It'll be starting to get dark by then." I drank my little something and got up to go. "I expect I'll see you tomorrow," I said and left them to it. Billy was worth waiting for. He wasn't much taller than I was, and was as wiry as a ferret. He had light brown curly hair and the biggest crop of freckles I can remember seeing. To this day the sight of a boy with freckles immediately reminds me of Billy. I wondered if Billy slept as little that night thinking about what he might get up to with me as I did thinking about much the same thing. ***** At last it was nearly 3 the following afternoon. It was cold and grey, but at least it wasn't raining. I found the two of them in Jorrocks's lair, as I'd expected. "Hello, Billy, learnt it all yet?" "Give him a chance, Master Dab, it takes a lifetime to make a gardener." "Well, at least he's come to the right place," I said, and turning to Billy I said that if a lifetime were really needed the sooner he quit for the day and got some rest, the better he'd be the following weekend. "Come on, Billy, I want to show you something." Billy was reluctant. "Is it all right to leave, Mr Jorrocks?" "Yes Billy, it's 3 o'clock. Go with Master Dab - he'll have some mischief to share with you, I don't doubt. Be off with the pair of you!" "Is it really OK?" asked Billy nervously as I steered him to the smaller greenhouse. "Of course it is. Now come on, tell me this great piece of advice you've got for me - I'm dying to know." I timed it well as we got to the greenhouse just at that moment. "It's warm in here, Billy, and no-one ever comes in apart from Jorrocks. Now spill the beans." "Dab," he started, then hesitated. "Are you sure?" "Of course I'm sure. You said you could stop my balls exploding. How, for goodness sake?" I felt I was in great danger of overplaying my wide-eyed innocence, but Billy didn't seem to notice. "Don't you - you know, wank - play with it?" "Oh that," I said, "of course I do, but I thought you had some wonderful secret thing. I know a few, but I thought an older boy might know more." There, Billy, pick that up if you dare. I didn't have long to wait. "If you wank, then what wonderful other things do you know about, Dab?" "I'm not telling," I said. Billy looked disappointed, and I thought I detected a possible change in the geometry of his trousers. "But I'm happy to show you." Billy's beatific grin was all the encouragement I needed. It was almost dark apart from a bit of moonlight: there was enough light to see, but not enough to be seen by. It was also nice and warm. I started to remove my trousers. "You too Billy," I said "if I'm going to show you have to as well. Come on, no-one'll know." By then I was naked below the waist and my cock was pointing skywards. "Nice one, Dab," said Billy, "now what tricks does it do?" I smiled in the dark. "It gets you in here with me, Billy. Now get your trousers off and let's see what you've got." Billy was caught, and to his credit he gave in quickly. "OK, Dab, but not a bloody word. If I get kicked out my father'll half kill me." I assured him that my lips were sealed - an unfortunate way of putting it, as I fully intended they would shortly be clamped round Billy's cock. Billy's cock was appetising, rising and bobbing rhythmically with his heart beat. He stepped out of his trousers and kicked his pants off. "You're no beginner, Dab," he said. I knelt and positioned myself ready to get going on his cock. "Of course not," I said, "I'm an expert, Billy," and I moved a couple of inches forward and got my lips round his cock. It was a nice cock - I was able to examine it closely (and he mine) in a better light in Rivers's bedroom the following weekend - uncut and an inch or so bigger than mine. I slurped and Billy moaned. I slurped more, my left hand holding Billy's balls, caressing first one, then the other, rolling them gently in their soft suede pouch. My tongue bathed his glans and I tasted his precum for the first time. I looked up and said quietly, "you can squirt in my mouth if you like." Billy couldn't believe his luck, he told me after, and when he couldn't keep it back any longer he grabbed my ears and with a low growl pumped God knows how many squirts into my mouth. I swallowed as hard as I could, but Billy was a big comer and some of it leaked down my chin. "Fuck!" I said, "that's the biggest load I've had from a 14-year-old." "Had lots, have you?" panted Billy as he got his breath back. "A few," I lied: I hadn't actually had a boy of that age in my mouth before. 13, 17 and four men, but no-one of 14 before. There was no need, I felt, for Billy to know this however. "Do you want me to do you now?" he said a few minutes later. I had kept my cock hard by stroking it while he recovered - not enough to bring it to the boil, but enough to keep it nice and perky. "Yeah. You can suck it or you can wank me. You have to do the other one next time." Billy thought about it. "I'll wank you this time, Dab. Then we can both look forward to next weekend when I get that cock of yours between my lips." That was fine by me as I was pretty sure that Billy and I would be spending a lot of time in Rivers's bed once he came to work here. Billy stood behind me and reached round with his right hand to grab my cock. He started to wank me and I relaxed back onto him. "Mmm, that's nice, Billy," I whispered, "do me hard. I'm close." Billy accelerated and a few dozen strokes later I juddered as spunk flew from my cock onto the ground. I groaned - I wasn't usually a noisy comer, but I knew there was no-one within 100 yards. To my surprise Billy came round to face me after I'd finished coming, and knelt down to take my still-cummy wilting cock in his mouth. "Can't have you going back stinking of spunk, Dab, can we." I decided that Billy and I were going to be good friends in the next year or two. It was then almost 4 and quite dark. "I better go," he said, "my dad will be wondering." I didn't feel confident enough to give him a brief kiss that day, so we both hauled up our trousers, checking that all was stowed safely. I was going up to the house and Billy down to the village. "See you on Saturday," I whispered. "Yeah." He paused. "Dab?" "What?" "I liked that." "So did I, Billy, and we're going to do it lots more. When you come to work here we'll have lots of times to do stuff. Now bugger off or you'll be in trouble." And then brave Billy did what I had chickened out of. He leant forward and very gently kissed me on the lips. "Bye, Dab." and he was gone. For the first time I could remember I was conscious that I would miss someone for the next six days. I went to see Rivers a day or two later to let him know what was what, and although he fucked me as usual it wasn't the same. At 13 I had no idea what was happening: at 80 - and to you, if anyone is reading this - it's only too obvious that I was suffering the first early pangs of love. I suppose it's all too common that the first stirrings of love - of queer love, that is - in a boy of my class will likely be for a bit of rough. It may be common, but to 13-year-old Bertram d'Abernon Cunliffe it was new, exciting and a tiny bit alarming. Jolly nice though. ***** When I went to find Billy the following Saturday afternoon I was in a fine old state. I'd had an hour with Rivers on the Wednesday, but had resolved to keep my hands - and anybody else's - off my cock from then until Billy and I were together. I don't remember having spent three wank-free days since I discovered that pleasure years earlier. It didn't help either that every time I thought of Billy and what we would get up to my cock thought it was time for action and went on parade. By 3 o'clock on Saturday I was knackered. I found Jorrocks and Billy sitting in the lair with a glass of the potion in front of each of them. Hello, Master Dab, we'd begun to think you didn't want to come to see us today." I assured Jorrocks that nothing would keep me away from his ginger cordial (or from Billy, but I kept that bit to myself) and sat down next to Billy. "Learnt it all then, have you?" I said stupidly. "Mr Jorrocks has told me what will happen when I come to work here properly. That will be on the Monday after New Year. I'm to get here at 8 and I'll work till 4 with an hour at midday for dinner. I didn't know that I'd be living here - I thought I'd be going back home each day, but Mr Jorrocks says that even the gardener's boy lives in. It'll be something special to live at the Big House. My dad'll be ever so proud." This was the longest speech I'd heard from Billy, and the news that he'd be living on the premises made my heart leap. "Where will he live, Jorrocks?" I said. I was only too familiar with Rivers's accommodation, and I was dimly aware that the indoor servants, right up to the Butler and Dunstable, lived in. The nocturnal whereabouts of the outdoor staff had been something about which I'd given no thought. "Upstairs, Master Dab," said Jorrocks. "There's no room in my cottage and Mrs Jorrocks says she can make a nice little room for him above here. Cosy it'll be too, with the warmth from this room." It was true: the room we were sitting in had always been a cosy place to a small boy as Jorrocks always had a good fire going. All this sounded ideally suited to the continuation of a passionate relationship with Billy, and I made a good job of concealing my excitement. "That sounds good. Billy, you must bring a few things from home to make it nice." We say such stupid things when our emotions are in turmoil, don't we. I turned to Jorrocks as though the idea had only just occurred to me. "Have you shown Billy where it is?" Jorrocks shook his head. "No, Master Dab, it's still a mess. Mrs Jorrocks and I are going to give it a good going-over." Exactly what I was planning to do with Billy, I thought. Billy nudged my leg with his, under the table out of sight from Jorrocks. It seemed likely that Billy's idea about a good going-over matched mine exactly. "Still, we can go up and look," I said and got up to carry out the inspection. "Come on, Billy." Billy looked questioningly at Jorrocks. "Off you go," he said, "but don't blame me, Billy, when you're all covered with cobwebs when you get home. I'll see you tomorrow morning sharpish. Master Dab, would you mind coming back for a word after Billy's gone home." It wasn't a question: Jorrocks had something on his mind. Still, it could keep, and Billy's trousers couldn't. Up the narrow stairs it was indeed cobwebby. Billy's room, or what would become Billy's room, was full of gardening junk of all kinds. It was clearly a storeroom for items no longer needed, for even the seasonal needs of spring and autumn had not led to any disturbance of the accumulated dust. We were directly above Jorrocks, and even if we'd been able to shut the door every sound we made would have been audible below. This was a blow, but only for a moment. "This is useless, Billy - Jorrocks'll hear everything. Come with me, and keep your mouth shut." I led the party of about-to-be sinners down the creaking stairs. "You're right, Jorrocks," I said brightly, "I hope you and Mrs Jorrocks can work miracles." Jorrocks cracked a smile. "Oh yes, Master Dab, Mrs Jorrocks is a dab hand with her dusters." This sally brought forth the necessary guffaws from Billy and me, allowing us to scuttle off into the gathering twilight. "Where are we going?" said Billy, "I thought we were set for a bit of fun." I assured him that not only would a bit of fun be on the cards, but it would be in a bed. That shut him up. Rivers was in when I tapped on his door. Polishing the Rolls and attending to its other needs must require full daylight. Rivers had a mug of tea in front of him and was reading something he quickly tucked away. "Hello, Dab - " then he stopped short. "Ah." "You know Billy," I said. Billy's face matched my hair. "Don't blush, Billy, Rivers knows all about my life of sin. We're going upstairs to a place I've sinned in hundreds of times, and Rivers will stay down here with his mug of tea and ... what was it Rivers?" It was Rivers's turn to emulate the fetching shade of my hair. "Tell you later, Dab," he muttered. "How does he get away with calling you Dab?" whispered Billy once we were safely in Rivers's bedroom with the door shut. "Simple," I said, "people I fuck with get to call me Dab. He shouldn't have used it in front of you, but ... oh hell, I might as well tell you. He's been fucking me since I was a tiddler, and he said I could use his bed if you were willing to play." Billy gasped. "He knows?" "Oh yes, Billy. All he wants by way of payment is that he gets to play with us sometimes. But not today," I added quickly. I didn't want Billy to think that our soon-to-be teenage orgy was about to be interrupted. "Come on, we've not got that long before you have to be home," and I started to get my clothes off. When my head emerged from my shirt Billy's lips found mine. "You're silly, Dab," he murmured, "I hoped we'd be doing stuff today, so I'm not expected home till after 5." It was then 3:15. Things were looking up. Literally. Until that moment all Billy and I had done together was me sucking him off (tasty!) and him wanking me. I pointed to Rivers's bed - neatly made, I was glad to see. Most times when I saw that bed it was somewhat used. I took Billy's hand and led him to my bower of delights, even though it was only on loan for an hour or so. "Come on, Billy," I whispered seductively. Billy's reluctance to get into bed with me was short-lived. I simply knelt in front of him and took his hard urgent cock between my lips. Billy, like all boys then apart from those ritually mutilated in the name of religion, was uncut. I took his cock, now nice and wet, out of my mouth and gently pulled back his foreskin - a very loose, generous foreskin - to reveal a purplish cock head with a dewdrop of precum leaking invitingly. I licked it up. "Oh Billy, I've been dreaming of this moment all week," I murmured. "Me too, Dab, let's get in bed and I can do you as well." Billy lay down on his back, expecting me to wriggle down and go on sucking his cock. When I turned to 69 him he was amazed to find my cock planted in front of his mouth. "Go on, Billy, we'll do each other at the same time. It's called 69ing - just be careful with your teeth." Billy took to it like a duck to water, and within three or four minutes we were both near the boil. I broke off to say that we shouldn't come just then, but should do other stuff first. "Like what?" said Billy, who would rather he came in my mouth right then. "Like this," I whispered, and lifted his knees to give me access to his arse. He practically jumped out of the bed when he felt my tongue travelling up his arse crack and swirling round his rosebud. "Aaah!" he moaned, "Dab, that's so hot. Don't stop, keep at it!" I found that the more pleasure I was giving Billy, the happier I was. I had no idea then what this phenomenon was called, but whatever it was I was hooked. So was Billy, who kept up a low moaning, which must have been music to Rivers's ears below. He and I knew that there would be a threesome in that bed come January. I reached for the lube which lived in the bedside drawer and greased a couple of fingers. I moved my mouth to Billy's balls (more moaning, somewhat louder than heretofore) and gently inserted a finger. "Ow!" "Sorry" but I didn't take it out. After half a minute I wriggled it a bit and Billy's `ow' became `mmm'. "Like that?" "Yeah. It was sore at first, but not any more. What is it - a finger?" "Yeah. Ready for a second?" Billy hesitated, so to help him decide I rotated the finger that was in there. I must have been lucky that his prostate was in the way, because he twitched convulsively and broke into a huge grin. "What the fuck was that, Dab?" I put on my most enigmatic smile. "Ah," I said, "that's the magic button all boys have up their arses. When we were born the Good Fairy gave all boys the gift of a magic button. It's like Aladdin's Lamp - if you rub it you get a wish and your cock grows longer. You've got to know the right spell of course." "Piss off, Dab, that's bollocks. Still, it felt bloody brilliant. What is it really?" "Tell you after you've come." I kept my face near his cock and two fingers (the second had slipped in during my tale about Aladdin) up his arse while I wanked him with my other hand. "Let it happen," I whispered, "this is for you." He didn't last long. Four ropes of glistening pearly spunk soon lay on his belly. Four ropes acted as four landing strips for my tongue, guiding me along from his cock past his nipples with the biggest spurts. Tasty, tasty essence of Billy. By now I was head over heels in love, although neither Billy nor I was aware of it. "Oh Dab," was all he could say. We lay in each other's arms while he got his breath back. "I've never come that much before, ever," he said. I smiled, happy that I had conjured from him what had made both of us so fulfilled. "D'you want to fuck me?" I said, "not now, obviously, but next time." He looked at me. "Are you sure, Dab?" I assured him that I could think of nothing more wonderful than being fucked by him. "I've been fucked plenty of times, Billy, at school, so I know what makes me tingly. And you and your cock - and your sweet spunk - make me tinglier than anybody else. Does that sound daft?" The eternal need of the lover not to be treated lightly, had I but known it at the time. "Course not, Dab." He paused: the silence grew. "Dab." "Mmm?" "Dab ... I feel ... oh, I don't know, you're who you are and I'm a village kid, but ... Dab, you're really special." I hugged him. I kissed him. He kissed me. I cried with happiness. He saw my tears and knew immediately what they meant. He gently kissed them away. After a while, still in each other's arms, he whispered, "is it OK to love you, Dab?" We both cried then. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 6 as we learn more about the inhabitants of Goderich. The story is, of course, fiction. Drop me a line at badboi666@btinternet.com - that is after you've dropped nifty a few quid. ===============================================================================