Date: Sun, 17 May 2020 07:56:26 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Last of the Line Chapter 61 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. NOTE to the reader: "Peter Brown" aka badboi666 is, as you might guess, not in the first flush of youth: indeed he is well into the you'll-die-if-you-get-this-fucking-thing age cohort. It has been his habit in all his stories published here to be two or three chapters ahead of publication. If he gets a nasty cough and a temperature he will post all outstanding chapters together with a synopsis of what is still to come. Then, if he snuffs it, you can at least have some idea of what befell Dab in the end. A bit like Edwin Dro 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 61 The first hurdle was overcome when she announced herself as Monica Goodenough. I had not known Gordon's surname. "My son has been pestering me to call you - what should I call you, by the way?" "I think you should call me what your son and his friend Edward call me - Dab," I said, "we're very informal in the choir. I have some inkling of what this may be about, thanks to Gordon's alerting me." "That makes like a great deal easier, Dab. My husband and I have to leave at short notice for a posting to Canada, and we will be away for two months, perhaps three. In the past when this has happened we've asked my sister to have him, but last time, when he was just 9, his cousins made life hell for him. We didn't know, of course, and they can behave like little angels, but my sister and I were pretty evil occasionally when we were that age, and - well, I needn't explain - I'm sure you understand." I felt I had to show keenness to help solve her problem. "I can understand why Gordon doesn't want to encounter a band of female cousins. Mind you, it will probably be different when he's 16. But that doesn't help you. He's very welcome here, and that seems to be what he wants. Jack - he's 15 this month - will be much more agreeable company for Gordon and he won't be bored." She didn't ask who Jack was, and I allowed her to think - which I'm sure she did - that Jack was my kid brother. I also allowed her to think that Gordon and Jack might spend more than about an hour in each other's company before he shot off with Seb and Dodo. "Are you sure, Dab? It seems an awful imposition." "Imposition or not - which it isn't, Monica, we'll be happy to have him. He's easy company and it's a big house. I will take him back to Fisher at the beginning of his term. Is that the same day as ours?" "He has to be back by 4 on the afternoon of January 8th - that's a Friday. Will that be possible?" I assured her that her pride and joy would be outside the school at least two minutes before the deadline. I was supposed to be back on the Sunday, but I assumed there would be no problem if I rolled up two days early. She couldn't thank me enough. "We live outside Harrogate and we will be driving to London in two days. May we drop Gordon with you?" "Rather than do that - we're not easy to find, drop him at the southbound Stafford services on the M6 - that will be on your way - and we'll pick him up in the cafeteria." "That's most kind, Dab, I'm really glad he'll be safe and not at the mercy of his cousins. Shall we say 1.30 the day after tomorrow?" Christmas was going to be more eventful than any of us had thought. I went to find Billy. After days of rain it was bright and cold, and Jack was out somewhere doing Hester's bidding. I ran Billy to earth with Mrs Morley, so I was able to kill two birds with one stone (I would need to tell Mrs Tallis later, but that conversation would need careful thought). "I'm glad to find you both. We're going to have an unexpected guest for the next three weeks," and I explained about Gordon's parents being suddenly called away. "He will have the appetite of a horse, I'm afraid." Mrs Morley seemed unconcerned, one more mouth, even one of equine proportions, was well within her capacity. Billy and I left her to the preparations for lunch. "Is this fixed then?" "Yes. I'm picking him up in Stafford in a couple of days. I think I'll take the electro - I don't want to appear with Rivers in the Rolls. Do you mind not coming? There won't be room for three if he's got luggage." "Of course not, you idiot. He's yours and you must collect him. I assume his parents know nothing of our domestic arrangements." I nodded, "nor does he." "Is that going to be a problem?" "I shouldn't think so, Billy. He and I are very unrestrained in Cambridge and I imagine when he sees you and Jack he'll be even more willing to join in than when it's just me. The only down side is that Seb and Dodo will be picking up Jack as soon as I get him here." "He can sleep with us, Billy. The only problem might be Mrs Tallis. She's blind to what we get up to, but Gordon's not 13 yet." "Leave me to deal with that, Dab. I'll talk to Dunstable. He knows what's what, and he may have an idea. For all we know she may not be bothered." I wasn't confident about that, but Billy was certain he could fix it, so I agreed. "We need to know by tomorrow." In the end it couldn't have been easier. Billy told me that he'd had a word with Dunstable. "What did you say?" "I said that you were taking a College refugee to your bosom and that the refugee was 12." "What did he say?" "'Ah!' Then I said 'Mrs Tallis?' And he said 'time she had a nice break over Christmas. How long is Dab entertaining the child?' 'Till they both go back to Fisher.' 'In that case let's give Mrs Tallis a nice surprise. Ask her to come and see me in 20 minutes, Billy.' So I went to tell her." "And?" "I've no idea, Dab, but I think she's going to be very grateful to you. You'd better find out from Dunstable what you've done." I went to see Dunstable before Mrs Tallis could thank me for whatever act of generosity I had bestowed upon her. "Mrs Tallis has always wanted to go to Jamaica, Dab, and she can't think how you knew how much she wished to be able to afford it. She flies out in two days and she will be back the day after you go back up to Fisher." He gave me a look over his glasses. "We can't afford First Class, I'm afraid." I thanked him. "It's what you pay me for, Dab," he said quietly. "I'll see that Weelkes is well rewarded for all the extra work your young friend will doubtless cause." "Will she keep her mouth shut?" "Oh yes, did you not know? She and the Sapphic ladies have formed a little coterie. Your dalliance will not cause comment." My household was stranger than I thought. My mother and her lover Alice, Hester and Pam, and now Weelkes. Must be something in the water. Not a heterosexual in sight. ***** There was no mistaking Gordon's parents. His father was tall and blond just like his son, and I got up from my table near the door and waved. He and Monica waited for me - they clearly didn't want to stay any longer than they had to. I introduced myself. "I am very grateful to you, Dab, for taking responsibility for our tearaway. You and he are choristers at Fisher, is that right?" "Oh Dad," said Gordon, "I've told you all about the choir. Dab's been kind to Edward and me," and I was treated to a wide beam from the object of my kindness, and at the same time absolved from answering the parental enquiry about my bona fides. "If you're sure you've got everything, dear," said Monica, checking that two cases had been deposited at her son's feet. She turned to me. "This really is a lifesaver for us. My nieces are a pain, and I expect they'll grow out of it, but Gordon, poor lamb, has been their victim. I saw Gordon's eyes roll behind his mother's back. "This case is his school stuff, and this one is what he'll wear in the holidays." Had not her husband - whose name I still didn't know - looked pointedly at his watch and say, "come along, dear," I think she would have taken me through an inventory of all the contents. She bent to give Gordon a kiss. "Be good, dear." After another handshake her husband firmly took her arm and led her away. "Can I be bad instead?" "Not till I get you home. What you don't know is how my household works. I think you'll find it fun. Come on, let's get these cases into the electro." By half past two Gordon was installed in the bedroom next to ours. "Can I not sleep with you, Dab?" he said. I explained about Billy. "You'll be sharing with us, Gordon, but officially your stuff has to be in here. Come and see the room I share with Billy." "Wow! That's a huge bed." "Now go through there and unpack your case." I followed him. Unpacking took about 60 seconds as his clothes were stuffed into two drawers. "Can we go to bed now?" he said, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. "No. We have to meet Billy and Jack. It's not like Cambridge, Gordon, there's no hurry and no secrecy." "You mean everyone here knows you'll be fucking me?" I explained briefly how it worked, glad that Mrs Tallis was on her way to sunnier climes. Mrs Morley never left the kitchen, as far as I could tell, and would certainly not be aware of any nocturnal goings-on on the upper floors, be they male-male or female-female. That shut him up. "Just don't flaunt it, that's all, Gordon. Now let's go and see what we can find." It seemed sensible to introduce him to Mrs Morley and the treats she might provide. Dunstable had evidently briefed the staff, for Gordon was greeted almost as an old friend. "You must be Gordon," she said, "and your parents have fled to Canada leaving you at our mercies. Well, here's a bit of cake to welcome you." The bit of cake disappeared where many cocks would over the coming weeks. I expected Billy would be toiling away with Mr W. in the Library, and so he was. "This is Gordon, Billy. He's quite friendly and is trained not to bite." Gordon grinned. "Can I show how good I am at not biting, Billy? Later, maybe?" Billy said that he would look forward to getting to know Gordon "as well as my lover does". Gordon wasn't accustomed to words like that, but soon ceased to be taken aback by them. "You love each other, right?" "Right," said Billy. "And Jack, what about him? Do you love him too?" "Nosy little bugger, your boy, isn't he?" said Billy, "in the words my old grandmother taught me, Gordon, 'suck it and see'." It was going to be that kind of a day. "Stay here with Billy, Gordon, I'm off to find Jack. Billy, explain about Jack, would you." I was looking forward to Gordon's face when he first encountered Jack, for I had told him no more than that he was 15. Jack knew all about Gordon, however, for I'd explained everything to him when he discovered, not wholly without grumbling, that he would be missing out on Gordon completely. "Don't be too cut up, Jack. I'll be at Fisher for another eight terms, and Gordon's voice won't break for at least a year. You and Billy should come next summer." Jack perked up. "Come and meet him before Seb gets here." Jack and I went into the Library. Gordon's eyes opened wide. "Wow! You're Jack, right? And you're leaving in half an hour. Bugger!" He turned to me. "Does Jack have time to play?" I shook my head. "Afraid not. His brother and his brother's boyfriend are picking him up to go off to North Africa for two weeks. But your mother knows about Jack - she thinks he's my kid brother - so you must be able to tell her what a smashing time you and he had." Jack grinned, "but you'll not need to tell her that I'm as black as the Devil's arsehole and that I have a cock a foot long." "Fuck," breathed Gordon, "do you?" "Almost." "Now stop it, you two," I said, "I promise that Jack will come to Fisher and show you the proof in the summer, OK?" Gordon smiled. "I shall be very good, Dab. My mother will hear everything she expects to hear." There was a car horn. "That's them," said Jack excitedly, suddenly 12 himself. He kissed Billy and me and, after only a second's hesitation he kissed Gordon as well. While doing so I noticed that he grabbed a feel of Jack's cock, a gesture copied very quickly by Gordon. The kiss lasted several seconds before Jack broke off. "Nice one, Gordon, see it in summer!" and he was off. Billy and I waved the three of them away. "It felt like a foot," said Gordon. ***** After Dinner the three of us beat it back to the Library. "This is where Billy and I, and Jack when he's not working, spend most of our time in the winter. It's always warm, and as you can see, there's plenty to read." "Show him the interesting stuff," said Billy, "he's old enough, after all." I explained about Bertie's collection of erotic material, and he made a beeline for it. Twenty minutes later he looked up. "Your whatever-he-was was a dirty old bugger, Dab. Is it time for you and Billy and me to be dirty buggers now? Please?" Such a polite boy: Monica would have been proud. The three of us went upstairs. It wasn't yet nine o'clock. Less than three minutes later the three of us were in bed, Gordon in the middle. "I can't believe this is happening," he murmured, "in bed with you, Dab. And Billy," he added. Billy put his hand on Gordon's chin (the boy was lying on his back) and turned his head towards him. "Gordon," he said softly, "Dab and I do all kinds of stuff, but I have no idea what you like. I'd much rather you told me than Dab did." Gordon smiled. "I'd much rather show you than tell you, Billy." A few seconds later it was Billy's turn to smile as Gordon had burrowed down under the bedclothes and had Billy's cock in his mouth. "He's bloody good at it," I whispered. Billy nodded happily, "yes." Gordon stayed at his post until Billy groaned and came. From the look on his face it was pretty special. He turned to look at me, his face still red. "Christ, Dab, he's good," he panted. The lump under the bedclothes surged up into the fresh air, its mouth closed, its eyes asking a question. I pointed to Billy. "It's his - you'd better let him have it back." Seeing the two of them - the man I loved and the boy I was learning to think of as being special - smooching and sharing sent a tingle up my spine. This Christmas was going to be special. By the time Gordon had fallen asleep I had fucked him, as had Billy about an hour later. Before I fucked him I gave him a prolonged warm-up, getting three fingers in and having great fun teasing his prostate. I made him crouch over Billy (on his back) while I was adventuring up his arse, with the expected result that Billy's chest received Gordon's first cum on the holidays. Half an hour later, as Gordon was on fire with urgency (I still hadn't put my cock in his arse yet) he scooted a few inches further up Billy, making it possible for the second coming to be in Billy's mouth. As soon as he had stopped (I judged this by Billy's stopping swallowing) I plunged in - not hard, but slowly and without stopping until I was as far up him as I could get. "Oh fuck, Dab, that's good. I've waited so fucking long for this. Now do it hard - really hard." Billy looked a question. "He likes it hard sometimes, Billy, just like you and me. Hold his shoulders so I don't fuck him off the bed." I gave Gordon what he so desperately wanted. I knew that Colin was interested only in his own orgasm, and while he liked Edward and Gordon to come as well their pleasure was always secondary to his. Daft, I thought, you get more from a boy the more considerate you are. They had told me that three of the choirmen had fucked them, but during that first term there had been no mention of anyone else. The fact that the two of them showed up twice a week was pretty good proof that they liked what play we shared - sometimes hard, sometimes prolonged and - yes, say it, Dab - loving. Each of them had said that he loved what we did; neither of them had suggested for one moment that he loved me. I hoped it would remain like that. A queer boy's first love should be with another queer boy roughly his own age, after all. ***** That was the pattern for the holidays. If it was dry we went out round the grounds for an hour or two. Gordon was amazed at the size of the Estate, and I saw it through 12-year-old eyes in the way I never had when I had been 12. I told him that Jack was responsible for quite a lot of what we were looking at. In the small greenhouse Billy told him that he was standing on the spot where he and I had first wanked each other. Gordon grinned. "You really are in love, aren't you? It's nice," and he gave us each a cuddle. We went to what I still thought of as Jorrocks's lair, but was now Hester's hide-out. Hester welcomed us. "No ginger cordial, but I have something just as wicked for wicked boys." Gordon wasn't sure what to make of this, but as Hester seemed friendly he allowed himself to be sat down next to her, while Billy and I sat opposite. "You are a very lucky lad," she said, "for not many boys of 12 -" (I had briefed her) "- get to drink vodka before lunch. And even fewer get fucked by nice men like these two," and she handed him a glass (which later she told me was 5% vodka and 95% tonic - unlike ours, being closer to 50/50). His bright red face on hearing a woman - a woman! - not only say 'fuck' but say that she knew he was being fucked, was a picture to see. "Drink up, Gordon, it'll put hairs on ... wherever you most want them," she said with a grin. "And a Merry Christmas to you too, Hester," I said. When it was raining we stayed in the Library. It was safer: no scary women , but no vodka either. With Jack unexpectedly off the reading list for the duration Billy had nearly caught up with me in the going-on in America. From time to time he made a grunt, or a laugh, and I made him tell me where he had got to. Gordon was steadily ploughing through Bertie's more exotically illustrated material (" I like the pictures, Dab, they give me lots of ideas." I bet, I thought, wondering which he might wish to emulate, and where. Here, I hoped, for the opportunities were much more suitable. He hadn't yet reached an area where we both knew we shared an interest. Soon though ...) With the two of them happily occupied, and Widmerpool back in his box for the time being, I decided to explore what Bertie had written. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ My name is Bertie, or rather Bertram Amos Cunliffe, Third Earl of Inchkeith. Today is Easter Sunday 2003 - I am 80. My ancestors' memoirs ceased in 1925 when my grandfather Seth was 74. They came into my possession on my Father James's death in 1949. He was aware of what they had written (though I never saw the papers) and was tempted to destroy them, but wiser counsel prevailed. On several occasions since they came into my possession over 50 years ago I have been tempted to add my own codicil, if you will, but until today I have resisted. Why now, I wonder. I suppose it is because my son Arthur's death three months ago has forced me to think more carefully about the future, and that inevitably has led me to think more carefully - and fondly - about the past. In turn that has led me, as the same thoughts must have led Joel, Amos and Seth before me, to set down certain events in my life in the hope that Gavin - and any son he might have - will be amused and entertained by the string of queer Cunliffes who came before them. Let me first, therefore, fill in the gap left by Seth in 1925. He died in 1930 a few months before his 80th birthday. He wrote nothing after 1925, when James's Countess sailed away to her new life with her lover in Washington. He remained in good health until his last illness - cancer of the colon - which was not treated in those days as it would be now. I am one of a lucky generation, I think. Medical science will keep me going well beyond 80, I trust. Seth was ill for several months. I was only 7 when he died, so my memory of those months is not good. I do remember a big oak of a man becoming smaller almost before my eyes, and being frightened by the change. Until the last few weeks he still read to me, though no longer able to have me on his knee. Besides, a big boy of 7 doesn't relish sitting on anyone's knee. I remember a nurse who came to live with us for a few months. She was kind to me, and I sometimes saw her looking at me with a strange look of sympathy, though of course I had no idea why. After Seth's funeral - a very grand affair, the excitement of which remains in my memory very clearly - the nurse went away and the house was suddenly empty. My Father James and I were alone, apart from the servants. I knew their names, and which of them gave me treats (biscuits from the cook, rides on his shoulders from the under-footman, finding slugs with the gardener's boy) and which to avoid (the Butler, who ran God a good second), but there was no child of my age anywhere. Everything was about to change. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 62 as Bertie goes to sea, and James and he forge a new relationship. Drop me a line at badboi666@btinternet.com - that is after you've dropped nifty a few quid. ===============================================================================