Date: Sat, 20 Jun 2020 11:08:14 +0000 (UTC) From: Peter Brown Subject: Last of the Line Chapter 69 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 69 "You want me to fuck you, Bertie, is that it?" I nodded, shifting myself quickly further up his body so that his cock was nestled in my arse crack. "Stick it in, Francis, please, I need it in me so I can cum all over you." Francis knew when speed was required. He reached down and carefully pulled out the butt plug, causing an involuntary deep sigh from me. "Clean, I see. Well done, Bertie, you liked having that up, didn't you." I nodded. In no time his cock, hot, hard, full of joy, was deep inside my arse. He grinned. "Is that what you wanted, Bertie? A big cock in your ass?" I nodded again, "yeah, it's magic up there. I can feel tingles right up to my stomach." He laughed - something which no-one had done before - at least not with his cock inches deep inside me. It was a wonderful feeling, and it brought me even closer to the edge. "Do it, Francis, fuck me, fuck me hard `cos I'm nearly ... aah, yes," and Francis did what I had begged him to. He was a very fast fucker when we both wanted it that way, and that day he was at me like a man possessed. I'd been on the brink for several minutes and his energetic thrusting got me there. I won my $5, in fact if the agreement had been $5 for each spurt on his face I should have won a lot more, because only the second and third landed where earnings had been promised. The first gout had sailed over his head and I saw it run slowly down the headboard. I didn't watch it for long as my cock shot more, reaching only to his belly button. By the time my balls had emptied Francis was on the final straight himself, and it was only a dozen or so seconds before I felt the longer-for swelling in his cock, the pause before the final deep deep thrust, and the boiling heat of his spunk - no, Bertie, do him the courtesy - his jizz, his lovely hot never-ending jizz pouring out of him into me - me, Bertie, who had loved him so much all those years ago. Did I love him still? Yes, a little, for you never quite stop loving your first love, especially when you were only just 8 when the thunderbolt first got you. By then, at 13, my feelings for him had changed, but there was still a memory. And at the moment of his orgasm, whether in my mouth or up my arse, the memory came roaring back overwhelming me again. "Oh Francis," I moaned as I fell forward onto his spunky belly and kissed his spunky face. Across the bed the other pair were still busy; neither had come yet, though things were getting close, judging from the moans and groans. Nicholas was straddled by Micky, but wasn't fucking him. Micky, head thrown back, was wanking himself fast, his whole body writhing. James's eyes were focused on his valet's belly. Francis and I watched as well, I in his arms, my spunk cementing us together, his jizz slowly trickling out of my arse, down my arse crack, onto his balls. Then Micky was there; his cock threw a jet of juice out, up in an arc, landing in a line a good four inches long down Nicholas's chest. "Bravo, Micky," cried James, "that was worth waiting four days for." Nicholas wasted no time before reaching round Micky's arse and pulling the butt plug out. Within a second Micky's arse was filled with hard urgent cock, and Nicholas started a fast fuck, a noisy fuck, and one which lasted less than two minutes before Micky's arse was blessed with - as he told me afterward - "more fuckin' jizz that you could imagine". After lunch we swopped and Micky had the delight of Francis to enjoy. Nicholas and I were old hands, and each of us knew what the other really liked, so we quickly got into a 69 (me on top) and spent a happy 15 minutes gently teasing spunk out of balls and into stomachs. James wasn't going to get to see those loads, but as his eyes remained focused on Micky (who could blame him?) he wasn't aware that he'd missed anything. Micky was on all fours, Francis fucking him from behind and reaching round occasionally to give the boy a feel. "I want to see it, remember, Francis," murmured James. A few minutes later, neither of them having come, Francis whipped his cock out. "On your back, Micky," and stuck it in again. During its brief spell out in the open air we could see it dark purple and glistening with all manner of tasty juices - but no-one got to taste them, not then. "Wank yourself," he muttered, "we're both close." It was spectacular when it happened a couple of minutes later. Francis got faster and faster, then suddenly pulled out and held his cock, aiming it carefully so that a fountain of jizz coated Micky's belly. Pausing only to gather a handful - and from where I was it looked as though there were many handfuls - of new hot lube, fresh from the tap, Micky finished what (as he told me in that same conversation when the two of us were alone in my room) was the biggest, best, hardest, furthest cum of his life. "Right on my fuckin' face, Bertie! Not bad, eh." James gave Micky little time to recover. "I expect you'd like a really big cock up you now, Micky." Micky, still glazed from Francis, merely nodded. James shooed Nicholas and me off the bed and lay on his back. "Climb aboard, Micky." Micky rolled the two feet to where his third fuck would tale place. "It's oozin' outa me." "Don't worry about that, lad, it adds to my enjoyment to have spunk one me." Micky shrugged: if it was OK by my father to have jizz dripping onto him it was OK by Micky. Mick's third fuck of the day - and his first ever by anyone remotely close to James in age - was prolonged. James was good at keeping going, and I reckon it must have been well over half an hour before he roared that orgasm was imminent. (I wasn't too certain of the time, because Francis and Nicholas spent a pleasingly long time spit-roasting me, the result of which was a big mouthful of Francis and a back spattered by Nicholas.) Some minutes later, when all visible spunk and all visible jizz had been licked up by boys James pointed to his shower room. "Time to clean up. Youngest first, but you two can both go at the same time." We were both far too spent to do anything other than shower demurely, although we did wash each other's back. And if you're washing a guy's back you might as well make sure his arse is clean too - they're difficult to reach, arses. Well, you can pretend they are. That was when we had our conversation. Micky made it clear that he would be happy to call again if invited. As it happened he wasn't. James hadn't told me that his posting was about to end. That was the last time I saw 13-year-old Micky. ***** James came to the end of his posting to Ottawa in late April 1936. He decided to spend three weeks seeing America before we sailed home on Queen Mary in the summer. I was excited both at the prospect of seeing more of the vast country - we'd only been to Niagara and New York during our stay in Canada - as well as crossing the Atlantic on a much bigger and grander ship than Empress of Canada when I was only 7. I asked if Nicholas would be with us. "No, Bertie, it will just be you and me. Nicholas will be going home from Ottawa. You and I will just have to make do with each other." I laughed - making do with James was my idea of fun. I knew, of course, that Francis would be staying in Ottawa where he came from. I knew also that I would miss him, but there was nothing I could do about it. We had had a tearful (and spunkful) night two nights before James and I left Ottawa. Fucking with him and Nicholas had been great fun, but I found - not just with Micky - that I preferred boys my own age, as well as James of course. Looking back I can see that James was a very considerate lover and he taught me far more than anyone apart from Francis had done. We went by train to Toronto, then on to Detroit and Chicago, spending two days in each place. I remember being amazed at the skyscrapers and the noise. Ottawa had been like a village compared with these huge cities. From Chicago we took another train south to St Louis on the mighty Mississippi. I had read Mark Twain's stories from cover to cover, so it was exciting to see the river with my own eyes. James gave me a great treat there, because we flew - my first time in an aeroplane - to Washington where I was entertained by a nice young man (who plied me with cookies and ice cream) while James had a meeting with someone in the Embassy. I confess that there were other things I'd rather have done with the nice young man than eat cookies and ice cream, but (though I was pretty sure he found me as interesting as I found him) the opportunity was lost. Washington was fun, and James and I spent two full days being tourists - a thing we'd never really done before. Then, three days before we were due to sail home we took our last train back north to New York. I thought Chicago was big, but this - well, you know what New York is like. Imagine seeing it through the eyes of a 13-year-old! We went to the top of the Empire State Building, the tallest building in the World, opened only five years earlier. We went on a little boat out into New York Harbor (remember to spell it properly, Bertie!) across to Ellis Island where the immigrants had had to queue to be admitted. "This is where your great-grandfather Amos and his father Joel came into America in 1848, Bertie, nearly 90 years ago. Amos was your age." I looked about me at a vast unwelcoming space and tried to imagine how they must have felt. Then, at last, the day dawned when Queen Mary would arrive at the Pier and we would start our journey home. I little thought as we went up the gangway that adventure awaited me - us - there. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ That seemed like a good place to leave my ancestors for a while. If Bertie was signalling that adventure awaited them it would be all the better for its discovery being delayed a few days. I got up and stretched: I'd been reading for two hours without moving. I wondered if Billy was back from his shopping trip - he'd been gone for hours. I went to see whether the electro was back: it was, so Billy must be around somewhere. No doubt he would appear when he felt like it. It was hot - I felt a fool for having stayed in the library reading when I could have been outside - and I needed a drink. I went down to the cellar and poured myself a pint, deciding to drink it there where it was cool. "Who's there?" came a voice. "Dab," I said, recognising Dunstable. "I was checking the inventory," he said, dusting his hands, "it's much the same as it was three months ago. Do you not drink wine?" I said Billy and I did, but Jack didn't. "Jack's a beer man. Does Billy not drink wine while I'm at college?" "No, indeed he doesn't. That's something he and I have never spoken about, but he seems not to think it right to drink your wine if you're not here. He and Jack drink the beer though." I was pleased that Billy felt as he did - not because I thought he ought not to drink 'my' wine, but that if it was just him and Jack it would have made Jack feel, I don't know, inferior perhaps, if my lover was drinking wine and Jack wasn't. I'm not making a great deal of sense, I fear. I decided it was none of my business. "Do we need to re-stock?" "Good God, no. It's not as though you entertained like your ancestors. When the second Earl was giving parties before the second War there were several dozen bottles ordered every year. Now - I've just counted - there are fewer than 100. You'll be getting the bottling from your own vines soon." I wasn't an expert in those days - I'm not now, though I made it my business to understand the business at it flourished - and I tended to leave it to someone (but I never paused to think who) to select an appropriate bottle and put it on the sideboard for dinner. When the Estate vines started to produce we used to drink some of that, but naturally Dunstable still bought from the wine merchant - our stuff was light and we couldn't begin to produce anything like a decent claret. I finished my beer and poured a second pint, taking it upstairs in the hope that Billy might be visible. I was disappointed, but dinner was in half an hour, and I knew he'd be there then. ***** When he came in it was obvious there was bad news. "What's happened?" "It's Seb. Some queer-bashers came into the shop and started to break things. Dodo pressed the alarm button - did you know there was one under each counter? Apparently they had them installed ages ago when there was jilly trouble - but the cops didn't arrive for 10 minutes. By that time one of them had cracked Seb's head and he was down on the floor bleeding. Dodo and two of the other men got round him to protect him, but there were only 3 of them and there were 4 in the gang. Dodo dashed to one of the cabinets that had been broken into and grabbed an armful of some fancy deodorant. He started to spray it at the nearest thug, who jumped back. The others laughed. 'Think fucking queer scent will stop us, do you?' 'No,' said Dodo's colleague, 'but this might,' and he pulled out a lighter and suddenly Dodo had a bloody flame-thrower in his hand. 'Gimme,' said his colleague, and the two of them, with a flame-thrower in each hand, advanced on the queer-bashers who ran - right into the arms of the cops coming down the stairs. One of the cops took one look at Seb lying there and radioed for an ambulance. I arrived to do a little shopping for our Scottish expedition and saw the ambulance. I ran in - the cops tried to stop me, but I said I was family - and saw Seb being loaded onto a stretcher. I asked the paramedic whether he was OK, and they said he was unconscious but not dying or anything, so I grabbed Dodo and followed the ambulance. I'm sorry I didn't zip you, but I thought you'd be better not knowing until I could tell you everything." "Is he OK?" "Seb's still unconscious, but the doctors want him to stay like that until he comes round. They'll do tests and let us know - let Dodo know, that is. Dodo's still there. He's in a terrible state." Jack came in at that point. "What's wrong? Why's Dodo worried?" I told him as much as we knew. "Fuck! I hope Seb's OK. Should we go to the hospital?" "There's no point, Jack, there's nothing we can do." "Yes there is - Dodo's frantic. Can't we be with him?" I looked at Billy. Billy, wise as always, said, "let's eat first. Dodo will zip as soon as he has any news. Seb's not dying or anything, he's just concussed. He'll probably have a horrible headache in the morning, but he'll be fine in a day or two." Jack wasn't happy, but at that moment the food arrived, making his decision to eat first and act later easier to arrive at. Billy filled in the details as best he could while we were eating. I was cross with myself for having had two beers - that meant that Billy would have to drive if it was decided to go to the hospital. Luckily Dodo zipped me before we'd finished eating. "Seb still unconc but docs happy he's ok." I told the other two. "Zip back that we'll come and bring him back here for the night, Dab," said Billy, "and I'll go and get him." Jack wanted to go as well so I said I would stay here as even three was a squash in the electro. A zip came back from Dodo very quickly. "Great thanks." When the two of them set off a few minutes later I went to tell Mrs Tallis that we'd have a guest for the night. She was upset to hear about Seb. "I'll have a bed made up in the room next to yours, sir." "That's good, thank you. I'll have a word with Mrs Morley and make sure there's something for Dodo when he gets here. I don't suppose he'll have had a chance to eat all day. "In that case if his appetite's anything like his brother's I should give her plenty of warning," she said. It was well over an hour before the electro got back, just after 10. Dodo looked terrible, but I propelled him (having given him a big hug) straight to the kitchen where Mrs Morley gave him a big hug too. "Oh Dodo, I'm so sorry about Sebastian. I'm sure he'll be fine, but you need feeding I can see." She had wisely produced filling nursery food, and two generous burgers were soon disposed of. "I suppose you three wouldn't turn your noses up at something either," she said with a wink, producing hot treacle pudding. It was only proper for me to complete the triangle by giving her a big hug too. "Thank you - that's really thoughtful." The four of us naturally fetched up in our bedroom to let Dodo talk himself out. We got a lot more detail about the affair, but we had far more questions than he could answer. "At least the police got them," said Jack. Dodo shrugged. "I just hope they don't let them go. We're not the most popular shop in the town." "There's a bed for you next door," I said, "why don't the pair of you sleep there. You don't want your big brother to be all alone, Jack." Two sad faces brightened a little. "Come on, I'll kiss it better," said Jack, taking Dodo by the hand. Dodo entered into the spirit of the thing and allowed himself to be led off. "Breakfast at 8," I said. After the door closed Billy and I talked for ages. "I don't want Jack going back to the hospital tomorrow," I said, "he can't do anything useful there and he's got a job here. Hester has a thing for him to do tomorrow which will keep his mind off worrying about Seb and Dodo. Will you take Dodo tomorrow morning?" "Of course. I'll zip you with the news. We're lucky, Dab, we've never had anything like that here. What about Cambridge?" "Nothing. There's a good few queers there, but no-one seems to bother. One of the Fellows told me that when he was an undergraduate 40 years ago there was a bit of hostility, but nothing like what there had been 40 years before that. It was illegal back then, did you know?" Billy shook his head, amazed. I asked if he had read anything by Oscar Wilde. He shook his head. "You should. He got two years in jail and it pretty well killed him." "Just for being queer?" I nodded. "He was too flamboyant for his own good, poor sod." The following morning Billy and Dodo left immediately after breakfast, Jack protesting but to no avail. "You have a job to do here, and there's nothing you can do at the hospital. Besides, they'll only let two people see him. Go and tell Hester what's happened and see what task she has for you. I'm joining the two of you for lunch to hear about yesterday's business." I think that news cheered him slightly. I went to ask Mrs Morley to make me something I could take take to Hester's for my lunch. "You'll want what they're having, I expect." It seemed reasonable, and it would be a surprise, whatever it was. Lunch turned out to be highly interesting. I thought it would make sense if I had time to talk to Hester before Jack was due back with the results of his task, so I went to find here shortly after midday. She was crouching down over the lawn in front of the house poking a thing into the grass. She explained that the combination of heat and very heavy rain was making it impossible to keep the lawn looking neat. "If the summers go on like this we'll end up with a parched lawn. We must either re-sow it with a strain that does well in the sort of climate we have now, or re-think the whole thing." "Re-think? How do you mean." "Ornamental flower beds full of exotic Mediterranean plants." "Not flower beds - too much trouble. At least cutting the lawn isn't terribly time-consuming. Who does it?" "Jack. He says you told Billy once how much you ... enjoyed sitting on the mower when you were little." A Cunliffe blush appeared: was nothing secret in this house any more? The subject required changing. "What task did he pick yesterday? Is he still headed for Kew in a few years?" She chuckled. "I hope not, for the latter, though he'll need college soon. The task is relevant to that. Come into my office and I'll show you." Jorrocks's lair had become an office, had it! =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 70 as Jack passes his test. Drop me a line at badboi666@btinternet.com - that is after you've dropped nifty a few quid. ===============================================================================