Date: Sun, 19 Apr 2020 08:16:54 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Last of the Line Chapter 54 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 54 We agreed that Henry and John would remain in the bedroom after our two hours were up. "Gather such possessions as you have, in case the Master throws you upon our mercies tonight," said Arthur, who had taken charge of the matter. "If I represent myself as your Steward, Seth, I may be able to drive a better bargain if it comes to the push," he said. We spent our remaining time very enjoyably, the more so, I think, in John's case because a door had opened in his mind, as well as the now-acknowledged one in his heart. As we embraced as we came down from our spending he kissed me, tears again upon his cheeks. "I am so happy," he whispered. I prayed that the Master would not stand in the way of his happiness continuing, but said nothing of my worry to the boy. Arthur and I waited upon the settee, having told Luke that we wished converse with the Master. When he appeared Arthur stood. "Master, I wish to talk privately with you. Is there a room where we might go?" The Master looked surprised - alarmed, almost. Did he perhaps wonder if we were spies sent to gather evidence in order to have him arraigned? "Very well, Arthur. Do you speak for Seth in this matter?" Many minutes passed. Luke came with a brandy and sat down close. "What is afoot, Seth? Henry and John are very close, and I can sense that they are excited about something." I affected not to know, since if our plans went awry it were better that no-one else knew of them. It might be that we should have to find a way of spiriting the boys away, though I knew not how such a thing might be arranged. The brandy was a comfort. "Arthur is with the Master discussing a delicate matter," I said, "I think it may have to do with visiting other houses." I clutched at this as the only reason I could think of, knowing that there were arrangements, and knowing that a new initiate might wish to discuss them privately. Just then Jason walked by with a satisfied look on his face. I knew that I should never visit this house again, and for a brief moment a regret passed through my mind that I should never become familiar with the monster which hung between his legs. It was but a brief passing, for I thought of John, and how he and I had had the good fortune at last to find ourselves safely together after perilous days. As I waited anxiously to learn whether Arthur had been successful I thought again of Gabriel and Tom, and how much more joy John had brought to my soul - and to my body - that either of those lusty lads had done. And I thought how powerful this little word 'love' is. All the poets in the world had written of it, but it took a 14-year-old boy to teach me what it really meant. The Master appeared with Arthur behind him. I stood as he approached. "Your Steward has driven a hard bargain, Seth. I am not pleased with his request, but my wrath has been assuaged, and we shall part as satisfied parties to an exchange, if not as friends. I shall be glad if neither of you will visit my house again, but if you both agree I will not revoke your names. You will be free to visit other houses using the names I have given you." He extended his hand. "I have shaken your Steward's hand, but it is fitting that the principals should be agreed." I shook his hand. "Good. The boys will be with you in a few minutes." He turned and left. Arthur sat beside me. "What was that about?" asked Luke, "you've not bought their freedom surely?" I nodded. "Yes, Luke, for I love John and I would not be parted from him." "But he's just a common boy who fucks for money," protested Luke. I turned to him. "He may be, Luke, but he is also a person with a heart, and he has opened his heart to me, and I mine to him." I put my hand on his arm. "Even common boys who go whoring are allowed to find love, Luke, and it is my earnest hope that one day you will find love, for it is a most welcome visitor." Luke smiled. "I am sorry I spoke so unkindly. I like John - I like both of them - and if when the Master said 'the boys' that means that Henry and John will be leaving then I shall be sad. I shall be the only young lad left." "Cheer up, Luke," said Arthur, "that means you'll get all the more fucks since only you will be able to offer the joys of a nice young arse." I was pleased that Arthur, as well as being an excellent business man - after all, he had obtained John's release - was also able to lighten an awkward conversation. Luke laughed. "There is that, I suppose," he said. Moments later John and Henry came to us, each with a small bundle. Luke embraced them both heartily, kissing each of them many times. When he freed them I saw that he too was in tears. "God bless you both," he murmured, throwing a wan smile at me before scurrying away. "Come, lads," said Arthur, "before anyone else has to take a tearful farewell of you." Soon after we were in the inn. It was very late, but we had much to talk about. The four of us went to my room where Arthur explained what he and the Master had agreed. "He wanted £100 for each of you, but I suggested that a more reasonable figure would ensure that 'my Master' - as I allowed him to think of you, Seth - would find it much easier to forget the location of such a house of wickedness were he ever called to think of it by a constable if a more agreeable sum could be found. 'My Master is not an unreasonable man,' I said, 'and he does not believe that you are unreasonable either. He values the service you, and other such houses provide, but one day ... well, Master, none of us can see the future.' That made him think. 'Very well,' he said, 'I will accept £100 for the pair of them, and neither you nor Seth come here again. I would find it hard to be welcoming to either of you. But if you agree to stay away from here I shall not revoke your names, and thus you may visit other houses at your pleasure.' He gave me a little book with the locations and I gave him 100 sovereigns. And now you two are free." "Let us sleep now," I said, "and tomorrow there will be a new life. Henry, can you bear to have Arthur snoring and farting beside you all night?" It was not hard for him to nod happily. Would Amos find the new arrangements hard to accept? I knew not, but that was a problem for the morrow. ***** I will not set down in detail what passed between Arthur and me and Amos when we returned home the next day. By evening all had been settled to the happiness of all five of us. Amos had been much amused by Arthur's passing himself off as my Steward, and from that day on often called him Steward when he was feeling roguish. Our household readily accommodated two young lads whose duties differed greatly between the hours of daylight and those of darkness. We were fortunate that, from the outset following Joel's death and Jane's departure, our servants were aware of - and shared, though not with us - our sexual preferences. Amos spoke to his Steward - the real one - and told him about Henry and John, making it very clear that they were to have ordinary tasks by day, but would sleep with us. The Steward - a good man of around 50 years whose bed was shared with the footman - assured Amos that there would be no difficulty. "Our household, below stairs as well as above, Sir, is unusual, but all who sleep under your roof share the house's secrets. They will remain safe." The household was unusual in other ways as well, for no other household of which I was aware had a man instead of a woman in charge of the kitchen, and the offices of housekeeper and maids were also occupied by members of our sex. This is not the place to record how these convenient positions were arrived at, but it meant that finding proper roles for the two newest members of the household was made simpler. By nightfall John had become a scullery boy and Henry the second footman. Each found their new positions strange at first, but soon accustomed himself to a new life. During the night such matters as took place served only to cement their places in our household and - in John's and my cases - in each other's heart. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ At Dinner I was able to tell Billy that my ancestor had found love, but with someone who would not fulfil the duty of motherhood. Jack and he pressed me for details, and that kept us throughout the whole meal. "Where on earth does Seth find a woman?" said Billy, "it doesn't sound like they met females, any of them. Not even a housemaid to tumble." I wasn't aware that Billy's experience of housemaids was so wide: it must have been all those novels he had been reading. "No sign yet," I agreed, "but he's only what - 26?" "When was your Bertie born then? He was 96 when you were born, so he must have been born in 1922. Seth would be his grandfather, wouldn't he, and he'd be 72 then. No immediate rush - he could have fathered a child at any time up to about 1900 or even later." It could be a long wait, I thought, because Amos hadn't fallen yet, nor the little affair with Royalty taken place. All of these things would have to wait until the Christmas holidays - or vacation, as I would learn to call it. Autre temps, autre moeurs. ***** Two weeks later I had far too much stuff to take up to Fisher than would fit in the electro, so Rivers drove me in the Rolls. It was as well that the road to Cambridge didn't pass the famous lay-by, for Rivers and I had gradually ceased to want to fuck each other. I knew he, like me, preferred young flesh (except where love was involved), so I assumed that Jack was providing such fun as they both wanted. Once I was settled into my rooms - rather grander than the one on D staircase I had entertained the boys in in February - I went to look in my pigeon hole in the Junior Common Room. As I hoped, there were several communications. Most of them were routine College ones advising me of the various things I was required to do, when and where lectures were held, that kind of thing, and useful stuff about whom to see if I felt lonely and unable to cope. I knew perfectly well where solace, if needed (and I planned most fervently that it would), would be found: in two well-rounded arses in my nice big bed. The final - was it luck which made me open it last? - note was brief and to the point. "See you in Chapel. E x." It was only 3 o'clock. The three hours of anticipation would warm things nicely. But no mention of Gordon - I hoped that didn't mean his voice had broken. Still, even if it had provided Edward was able to pass messages they would both still be able to visit. Time would tell. As I had feared, there was an unfamiliar face beside Edward in Chapel - a small boy of no more than 9 or so. He was obviously awed by the whole proceedings, but he sang nicely, and Edward smiled encouragingly at him now and again. Edward was evidently mentoring a probationer, but where was Gordon? Edward smiled encouragingly at me too, I was glad to see. After Chapel, when the choir had processed out and - not for the first time - I rued the fact that such pretty arses were concealed under surplices, I found Edward alone waiting in the usual place. "Can't stop," he muttered, "got to get the shrimp back. What rooms are you in?" "C6. Where's Gordon?" "Chicken pox. He's OK, but he won't be back for two weeks, they say. Can I visit you tomorrow? Just after 4?" I nodded. Edward ran off to gather his shrimp from wherever he had been lurking. You and I will, I think, be much happier if I don't regale you with details of how I filled those parts of my days in Fisher which were the reason for my being there. Dedekind sections, del functions, Fourier transforms, Hilbert spaces, - all fascinating and all vital in getting a degree, but none as exciting to hear about as trebles and their cocks. And their arses too, of course. I shall therefore forbear, except to say that my enjoyment of the academic side of life in Cambridge was immense, and I did not neglect my studies. Many undergraduates spent too much time on the sports fields, or in the theatres; I spent time - too much? only you can judge - in bed with boys, but I still ended up with a First Class Degree three years later. I shall not weary you with any more maths, I promise. It was cold the next day and I thought it would be nice to welcome Edward to C6 in a civilized manner, so, as generations of undergraduates before me had done, I bought a dozen crumpets and settled down to entertain the boy to nourishment lest his energies flag when we went to bed. I wondered how many generations of undergraduates at Fisher spent the afternoons fucking trebles. Quite a lot, I guessed, but damn few on Day 2. It was ten past four when there was a single knock, and Edward came in before I had called out. I greeted him with a hug. "Did anyone see you come in?" He shook his head. "Don't sport your oak though. It's a dead give-away, and you've got a bedroom, so if anyone barges in he'll see no-one here and barge out again." "You've done this before, Edward, haven't you?" He grinned. "Sorry, Dab, there aren't any virgins round here. Don't worry though, last year's company has graduated. Gordon and I aren't whores, you know. Apart from the choir we keep ourselves strictly monogamous." "Big word, Edward, does it mean I'm the only one outside the choir who gets to fuck the pair of you?" "Mmm, yes, apart from Colin of course. Can I have a crumpet?" It is a truth universally acknowledged that the quickest way into a boy's arse is through his stomach., and three crumpets each soon paved the way most delightfully. C6 was on the second floor and the windows looked out onto a lawn; we could not be overlooked. Thus the third crumpets were eaten by two naked males with erections signalling urgently that a fourth crumpet would have been otiose. "Come on, child, bed," I said. Edward allowed himself to be led to the fate he had so keenly looked forward to all day (as he told me as we approached the sacrificial altar). "Tell me what you've been up to since I last saw you." ***** He would have told me sooner had not his mouth found more useful employment - employment which was soon productive of a reward. I saw no need to restrain myself from a quick come - after all, we had eight weeks, and in the immediate future well over an hour. "My turn," I said when he had drained every drop from me, "on your back, Edward, I think I've forgotten what a 13-year-old's arse tastes like." Edward grinned. "Sometimes it's Colin's spunk, Dab, but he hasn't been up there for days. Today I am pure and wholesome." Not for long, my boy, I thought. "If I am to be your only leisure outlet, Edward, you must tell me what you like best." This was spoken while I was preparing to verify the wholesomeness he had promised. "There's nothing I don't do." "Makes two, no three, of us," came from further up the bed. He added, "nothing we know about, that is. A big grown-up like you probably knows a few things we haven't come across yet. By the time Spotty Gordon gets back you will have taught me all kinds of wicked things, Dab, so you've only got two weeks to think of them." Spotty Gordon, poor lad, would have plenty of catching up to do with luck, I decided. "Fast or slow this time, Edward?" "Fast, Dab, fast and hard. I love the feeling of a cock as deep inside me as it can get, and then as it strains to get another inch in while the spunk pours out of it." "I'll do my best," I chuckled, resuming my rimming his arse, the arse that loved having men's cocks pounding it, as mine would in not many more minutes. The scent of him was highly stimulating - clean but not redolent of scented soap, or of soap of any kind. Just boy. No trace of shit, sweat or even piss - not that any of those would have been unwelcome in teasingly small quantities (OK, big quantities in the case of piss) - just boy. Hot lusty willing available in-my-bed-right-now boy. Boy whose arse lips were twitching and opening as my tongue rubbed over them. Boy whose arse was like a dark pink flower screaming silently to the bee insolently demanding access. Come in, the lips screamed, come in and give me what I need. I will give you everything. My need suddenly matched his. I moved up the bed and kissed his lips. "At fucking last," he whispered. My wet cock traced a path along his arse crack and, finding a wet place to play, drove in - hard, as he had demanded - hard and deep. All the way in, and holding it in there, our bellies tight together, his legs tight behind my back, his arms tight round my chest, "oh fuck, Dab, nobody does it like you, now do me, do me hard". I grinned. "You bet, Edward, now hold tight." I wish I had lasted longer. I knew that in a week or two I would be able to, but that afternoon I fucked him as fiercely as I could, egged on by the fires of lust in the boy's eyes. Yes, yes, he kept saying, yes Dab, yes. I knew I would come massively, my balls being as energized by his mood as my cock. Two, three minutes passed and we were both drenched in sweat. Then suddenly, without warning, he came again, his cock pulsing against my belly as it shot a few ropes. His arse played its usual magic on my cock, squeezing and drawing gallons of hot spunk out of my balls, up my cock as deep in the boy as it could get - and then, if he believed it, an inch further - spewing spewing precious spunk deep deep in the warm wet tight velvet 13-year-old arse. "You're good, Dab," he whispered, "fucking good." "You're not bad either," I gasped as I lowered myself onto him, into the sticky offering his cock had brought to the party, "we must do this more often." After a couple of minutes I rolled off him. "I love feeling you on top of me," he said, "and you're not too heavy, but it's nice when you move off `cos I can get down and clean your cock." He matched his actions to his words. "You're a proper little cum-hound, aren't you?" I murmured happily: I loved what his lips and tongue were doing down there. "Yeah," he said, briefly breaking off from his task, "nice tasty cock with cum and my arse juice - couldn't be tastier." Edward, I decided, was quite as depraved as I had been at his age. "How often can we do this? Don't you have things you have to do - choir practice, lessons? Surely you can't have every afternoon free?" He didn't reply at once, busy as he was, and I was in no hurry for him to finish. Indeed, so skilled was he that my cock was firming up again nicely. "Long and slow next time?" "Mmm. And not long to wait either." Long and slow that afternoon turned out to be around three quarters of an hour. As he lay in my arms, sweaty and drained of his third cum, he purred happily. "I wish the others did the nice things you do, Dab." I asked him what he meant. "Oh, they fuck me all right - not as well as you of course - but none of them bothers cuddling like you do." He turned and planted a nice kiss on my lips. "You're special, Dab." I kissed him tenderly. "You're not bad either, Edward. But answer my question - how often can we do this?" "Every Monday and Thursday, just after four, like today. Can you contain yourself that long?" I grinned. "Depends whether any other sexy boys come visiting. What happens when Gordon gets back?" He thought for a while. "I could tell him you've become a monk and have promised only to fuck me, but I don't think he'd fall for it. Blonds are so up their own arses they can't see that anyone else can attract horny undergraduates. I like Gordon, but I like having you to myself, Dab. What about you?" I said I enjoyed them both, but it might be better if they presented themselves one at a time. He snorted. "No chance. I like being fucked far too much for that." I could see that I would need to tread delicately, and perhaps the only solution which would keep everybody happy was a threefold way - Edward one day, Gordon another, and both of them a third. Still, we had two weeks before that problem would arise. "Come on," I said, "it's 5.15 and we reek of spunk. I don't think Colin will approve." My rooms had a shower - those hours getting bloody good A-levels and a scholarship gave me such luxuries as a shower - and I washed him chastely before he got out, dried himself, dressed and was away. It was only after he'd gone that I remembered that we hadn't fixed his next visit. Still, his appetite would no doubt match mine by Monday afternoon. I did wonder about Sundays though. They can't spend all day in Chapel surely. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 55 as we continue to enjoy the delights of Fisher College. Drop me a line at badboi666@btinternet.com - that is after you've dropped nifty a few quid. ===============================================================================