Date: Sat, 19 Sep 2020 13:55:19 +0100 (BST) From: Peter Brown Subject: Last of the Line - Chapter 90 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 90 Matt and Thomas, like me naked and with full bladders, were standing on the sheet on the lawn behind the lodge. They had expressed a desire to have certain piss-related secrets explained to them. I was in no hurry, however, because the greater the pressure the more exciting its eventual release. I saw that Thomas was finding it difficult to keep still: I reckoned I had three or four minutes at most. "Puzzle time," I said, "I'll start with an easy one. What comes out of your cocks?" "Piss of course," muttered Thomas, whose delight in having puzzles set was not great - he had more urgent matters to deal with. "What else?" "Spunk," said Matt with a grin. "Good, Matt. And where does spunk often end up when it's not wasted on some boy's belly?" "Up his arse." "Good, but that's not the only place. Where else, Thomas?" "In his mouth, Bertie. Please can I piss? I really need to." "I promise you can piss in less than two minutes, Thomas. Where would you like it to go?" "I don't know - in the bushes?" "Matt, where does stuff that comes out of my cock go?" Matt's grin grew wider. "Up my arse or in my mouth. Is that where you want Thomas's piss to go?" I nodded. "I can't piss in your mouth, Bertie," wailed Thomas. "Why not? You pour your spunk into it. What's the difference?" Thomas was in a state of intense torture, his bladder's need countered by his belief that certain fluids ought not to be swallowed. Matt came to his rescue. "Go on, Thomas, he obviously wants it. If you do I'll do it after." Poor Thomas! To give him the final go-ahead I knelt and took his cock in my mouth. "Go on," whispered Matt, "fill him up, Thomas." Thomas, still deeply worried, could hold it in no longer, and I felt a trickle - for that was all he allowed himself. "Mmm," I murmured, nodding happily. "Oh hell!" said Thomas, who surrendered to his bladder's insistence. The trickle became a torrent as the urinary power of an adolescent took over. I swallowed as fast as I could. "Fuck!" muttered Matt, "that's so hot and disgusting, all at the same time. Doesn't it make you want to puke, Bertie?" I was in no position to reply as Thomas was still at it. When the flow stopped I did what all good piss-receivers should do: I squeezed the last drops onto my tongue and gave his cockhead a kiss. "Thanks, Thomas." Thomas looked stunned. "You drank it!" I nodded, "just like your spunk, Thomas. It all comes out of the same delicious tap." "Yes, but ... it's piss." A truly feeble argument, but one I let pass. Matt, having contracted to copy Thomas, moved in front of me. "No," I said, "I know you promised to do it if Thomas did, and you will do it, but not in my mouth. Where else did you say spunk ended up?" A pause ensued during which I imagined Matt considered what I might be suggesting. "You want me to piss up your arse, Bertie?" I nodded, "more than 'want', Matt." "How?" I explained that I would kneel and Matt would put his cock in - he had, I reminded him, done this before - and instead of fucking me he would just relax and let nature take its course. "But it's all floppy." "Yes, but I'm sure Thomas will get it nice and hard for you. Not too hard, Thomas, just hard enough for it to go in. He can't piss with a proper stiffy." Thomas shook his head, but in amazement rather than refusal. His hand grasped Matt's cock, and 20 seconds later Matt was hard enough to effect entry. As always I was lubed and when I knelt Matt wasted no time. Thomas knelt next to me, keen to observe the spectacle. I kept up a running commentary, feeling pretty confident that both of them would be curious to feel for themselves the sensations I would describe. "It's in, Matt ... further if you can ... that's better. Now relax and let it go." Inevitably nothing happened. "I can't!" "Just wait - I promise your brain will let it start soon - I've never had to wait more than half a minute." "You've done this before!" said Thomas. "Of course I have, I've just not done it with either of you two before ... ah! I feel it, Thomas, yes, now let it happen ... you pushed: that was good ... I feel it filling me up and you're pissing a lot more than my arse can hold ... it's not like swallowing Thomas's ... it's about to leak -" A cry from Thomas announced that piss was squirting out of my arse 'like a fucking fountain' and some of it had gone on him. "Lucky you, Thomas, we'll all be sharing soon." Piss kept flowing in; piss kept flowing out; Thomas did not move. Was that because he was frozen in the headlights, or because he was thrilled? Matt's torrent ceased. He pulled out and I was gratified to feel him shake the last drops onto my back. "Thank you." Now for the next phase. "Thomas's is in my stomach and won't come out again for an hour or two, mixed with my two pints of beer. Yours, Matt, on the other hand - or half of it - is still up my arse and will come out the moment I get up. The two of you can choose what happens to it. I can let it out on Thomas or I can let it out on Matt." I wasn't going to mention the third possibility - that I let it out on neither. "Sort out what you'd like, but don't take too long. I was pleased to see that Matt immediately started to whisper in Thomas's ear, his hand shielding the conversation from me. Thomas thought for a few seconds, then whispered back. They looked at each other, them nodded. Matt said, "there's a third possibility." Bugger! I thought; still, it had been worth a try. "And that is?" "You do it on both of us." +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ I heard the door slam. They were back from their jaunt to Durness. I'd been reading for what seemed hours: it was getting on for 6 o'clock. I put Bertie, an arse full of piss, to one side. "Food in an hour?" I said. "We ate a big meal at lunch, so how about we eat later - 8 say?" "That suits me," I said, "all I'm going to do is stick things in the oven. Come into the kitchen and get yourselves outside some beer and tell me what you've been up to." Four pints were quickly downed and four glasses refilled. Hamish appointed himself the spokesman, possibly because only he knew the names of the places they'd visited. Billy had headed north up the A836, and he and Jack had been astonished by how bleak it was. "250 years ago these glens were full of people," Hamish had explained, "but the bloody laird kicked them all out." A lengthy discussion about the Clearances had lasted until they reached Tongue where Jack was excited to see the sea. "Just you wait," Hamish had said. When they first saw Loch Eriboll Hamish had pointed to the other side. "We have to go all the way round. It looks peaceful and empty now, but my Grandad told me that when his father was a boy in the War, it was full of ships going to Russia." Billy and Jack had voiced doubts about this, but Hamish had insisted it was true. "Come and meet Grandad and he'll tell you." They had arrived in Durness at the time their stomachs decided that refilling was needed, and the good place to eat was where Hamish remembered it, and satisfied their needs. Calories had been burned off climbing down to Smoo Cave - old hat to Hamish who had been there several times, but fascinating to Billy and Jack. "How far back does it go?" Jack had asked. Hamish shrugged his shoulders. "Half-way to Glasgow for all I know." They had returned by Loch Shin, and Hamish had pointed out where Inverthrum was. "You can't see it across the loch, but it's in those trees." "That sounds like a pretty good day's outing," I said, but I was curious to know more about whether Hamish had shown them where his family came from. "I took them up to where all my father's ancestors are buried." "It was so beautiful, and so lonely at the same time," said Billy, "I wouldn't mind being somewhere like that when it's my turn." Jack had been less romantically struck by the burial ground. "The wild flowers were amazing. So many different plants I'd never seen before." "You've all had plenty to think about then - Scottish history, ancient and not quite so ancient, Scottish botany and more as well, no doubt." We sat in companionable silence, each re-running the day's events. Then "what have you been up to?" asked Billy. "Several more years with my namesake." "Who's that?" asked Hamish. I explained that my great-grandfather had left his memoirs and I had been reading them. "He was in the War your great-grandfather told his son about - he flew bombers over Germany. He's just finished his years at Cambridge - the same college I'm at - and when you came back he was in the middle of a steamy session with two teenagers." "Just like us then!" exclaimed Hamish. I smiled. "Very like us, Hamish, because the things he likes doing run in the family. He was the first of my ancestors to live here, in this house. It belonged to his wife's family." "How come he had a wife if he was queer?" asked Jack. "I haven't got that far yet, but how do you think I got here?" Billy sought more detail about the steamy session. I couldn't remember how far Billy was in reading the Great Cunliffe Archive, so as I had two listeners who knew nothing about my forebears I gave them all a potted version of Bertie and his relationships. "He has a servant at home and another one at Cambridge?" said Hamish in awed tones. I nodded. "That's how the lairds you despise lived in those days." "But ... you're a laird, Dab." "Yes, but it's 2038. He was fucking his two in 1948. And immediately before you all came bursting in the three of them were naked in the garden - a bit like Adam and Eve - and his valet had filled his arse with piss, and the valet and his Cambridge servant had said they wanted him to get rid of it onto them. Brilliant timing, Billy." Hamish picked it up quickly. "So we burst in when your whatever-he-was was bursting too. What happened?" I shrugged my shoulders. "You lot appeared. But I don't mind leaving him with an arseful - after all, we all know how much hotter it is when your bursting and have to hold it in." I noticed that Hamish was wriggling, a bit like Thomas had been all of 90 years earlier. "Shall we play the same game?" I said. Another question expecting the answer 'yes'. "Only if we're naked in the garden as well," said Jack. No-one demurred, so we stripped off in the kitchen and I got a sheet. "We don't want any pebbles." There wasn't much unplanted ground round the back, but I found a bit just about big enough. It would have been much nicer, and more likely to be free from pebbles, at the front, but there was always the risk that someone might come up the drive. I spread the sheet. "In 1948 Bertie had wanted Thomas to piss in his mouth. Thomas is his Cambridge boy, and he's 14." "Perfect," murmured Billy. "Matt - his valet (he's 17) - had pissed up Bertie's arse. Neither of the boys had done any piss things before, and Thomas wasn't all that keen at first. But when he saw Bertie being filled and lots of it poured out again - " "- and went on him, right? And he liked it?" said Jack. I nodded, "and the two boys whispered and said they wanted Bertie to unload the rest of it onto them. That's when you buggers appeared." "So Bertie's been pissed in at both ends," said Billy, "but there's two men here and two boys. That's one each. Who does what and to whom?" "Easy," I said, "the men pick the boy and the boy decides where he pisses. Then, when they're half empty we swop boys and orifices. Then we fill them and they choose where." By this time Hamish was unable to keep still. I looked at him. "You're the youngest, you choose first, but you can't choose Jack." His answer was immediate. "You, Dab." "Then you piss in my mouth, but not all of it. Leave plenty for Billy's arse." You don't need me to describe the next 15 minutes: you can work it out for yourselves. I love it when Jack pissfucks me, but even without the fucking it's very erotic having a big cock deep inside unloading the entire contents of a bladder. I doubt whether Billy's mouth got anything like half. When we had changed over and the men discharged into the boys Hamish had elected to have me up his arse, so Jack had first dibs of my cock. He greeted it like an old friend - which of course it was - and, my foreskin pulled back, he took hold of it and rubbed my cockhead, awash with what might have been precum or piss, over and over on his lips. "Get it in, I muttered, or I'll come." "So?" he said. "Later," I said softly. When Jack had filled my arse earlier I had merely stood up, allowing it all to run down my legs onto the sheet. As I filled Hamish I whispered that when I'd finished he should stay in position and clench to keep it in. "It won't be for more than a few seconds. Jack loves piss." Jack heard this, and understood what I had in mind. He got down next to us on his back. "On my cock," he whispered to Hamish, who managed to nod while enjoying the feeling of gallons of my piss filling every corner of his guts. I was astonished at how little leaked out. At last I was empty. "Over onto Jack's cock," I whispered, "and show him how much you can hold up your arse." All four of us were rather taken aback by the sheer quantity of what Hamish released, and all four of us were relieved that nothing else emerged apart from piss. I'd been aware of the possibility of its being otherwise, and my fingers had been metaphorically crossed. I felt a bit like Seth - shit games held no attraction for me. Piss, on the other hand ... Or, as Jack was revelling in, on the body. Hamish poured: Jack spread. Billy and I looked fondly at the scene before us. Only Billy still had a bladder to be emptied. He beckoned Hamish who grinned and got down on his knees. "You've been waiting a long time," he said softly, addressing Billy's cock rather than Billy, "and now it's time to play." No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Billy's cock was in it, and no sooner was it in than Billy - no slouch when it comes to pissing in unorthodox places - turned the tap on. Hamish groaned as he swallowed, and when Billy stopped he lingered over the farewell moments. "If someone had said to me a month ago that I'd be happily drinking someone's piss I'd have thought he was mad," he said quietly, "and it's all thanks to you, Dab. And you too, Billy." "Your turn, Jack," said Billy, "no - not on all fours. Let's try something different. Get on top of me as though I'm fucking you but you're doing the work." Jack's eyes lit up, as they always did when some new variation was suggested. Billy was on his back, his cock still half-hard with his need to piss. Jack was on board before there was any danger of a softening, and he held Billy's cock while he lowered himself onto it. His sigh and Billy's were equally intense - the position was a familiar, and highly favoured, one. I knelt at one side and motioned Hamish to kneel opposite me: Billy's chest had supporters like a lion and a unicorn. Subtle - or not so subtle - hand gestures indicated to Hamish that I was going to wank onto Billy and he should do the same. The sheet, already sopping with what Jack had pissed up my arse, would become even more in need of laundering. Billy pushed; piss flowed; Jack grinned; I started to wank, as did Hamish; Jack, seeing this, decided he would join the party: three males all wet with piss, all thrashing (for these were urgent wanks whose main purpose was covering a fourth male with spunk, rather than the orgasms themselves); billy still pissing, but only with difficulty as pissing uphill isn't as easy as it looks; Billy getting redder and redder; Hamish groaning and cuming, his spunk pulsing across Billy's chest; Jack cuming only ten seconds later. Jack rising without warning: piss cascading out onto Billy's cock, still pissing, but now in Hamish's hand as he directs the flow onto Billy's spunky chest: my spunk adding to the mixture a few seconds later: Billy's cock ceasing to piss and - I kid you not - being wanked by Billy to a fine orgasm less than thirty seconds later. "Fucking hell," said Jack, awed by what had happened. I could only agree. ***** The following morning breakfast was again rather late as our afternoon's exercise had not drained anybody's balls to a noticeable extent. We put that right in bed, hence the latish start to things. "Ogilvie's coming at 4," I reminded Hamish. "Jack, you're Hamish's boss. You are here for a few days to see what the state of the grounds are, and to work out what Hamish needs to keep his eye on while he's in charge. The two of you go out and note things down. Make two lists so that you can show Ogilvie what Hamish needs time off from school to do." "Why? Won't you be here?" asked Jack. "No, it's time you learned a new management skill. Don't worry, you'll be fine, Ogilvie is Hamish's teacher, not a government Inspector. He knows a lot less than you do about the crops you're growing and what care they need. And even if they don't need much, make up some essential maintenance - weeding or something. I don't know - you're the expert." Jack grinned, and Billy (who told me after) was amused to see Hamish's reaction to my putting Jack firmly in charge. "He suddenly saw Jack as being more than his boyfriend." "Are you OK with all that, Jack?" "Of course I am, Dab. What will I say when he asks for you?" "Tell him I'm sorry, but I've had to go to Inverness. Tell him I'm confident that you can handle everything. You can mention college if you like. He's not going to ask too many questions - all he wants to know id that Hamish will be doing essential work, and he knows we'll be paying him a wage until he starts land-service officially next year." Hamish had said nothing, but when I asked him if he was happy he nodded. "Off the two of you go then, and have some good stuff on paper that Ogilvie can take with him in case the head teacher needs to see evidence. I'll make us all something for lunch then Billy and I will leave you to it." ***** We didn't go to Inverness, of course. At half past three we drove the electro to the Falls of Shin - only a few miles away - and went for a walk hand-in-hand, not a thing we ever did at home. We encountered a few people on the way, but Billy's tighter grip on my hand was a signal I was only too happy to accept. Nobody gave us a second glance. We found a bench and sat like two old men contemplating the view. "That was an eye-opener yesterday," said Billy, "Hamish hasn't taken it in his mouth before, not from me anyway." "Nor me," I agreed, "but he didn't hesitate. D'you think he and Jack have been playing pissy games?" Billy shrugged. "Probably. They're very much in love, aren't they. Just like us." We two oldies sat happily contemplating more interesting things than the view. "How will they manage being apart until October?" "Zipping probably. Has Hamish got a zipper?" I nodded. "They'll zip each other all the time then," said Billy happily, the children's problem sorted. After a minute or two of companionable silence Billy said, "what about when Jack's at college? Hamish will be here doing things, but who'll be in charge? Won't the Inspectors have to know?" It was a problem I was aware of, but I hadn't given it any thought, not least because it wouldn't need to be addressed until the following summer. "I expect Dunstable might have an idea," I said, "he knows all the ins and outs." Billy laughed. "I'm sure you're right, but who does he share them with? It's not anyone on the Estate." I said I had no idea. "Maybe he doesn't have anyone - maybe he ... I don't know ... isn't interested any more." "Dab Cunliffe, how can you say that! How old do you think he is?" "He's 60." "And do you think you'll have dried up when you're 60? I bloody well hope not." I assured him that I was planning to keep everything in full working order for every moment of my life. "Well then. Don't write Dunstable off just because he doesn't do his fucking under our noses." I had touched a raw nerve, it seemed. I'm sorry, Billy, it was insensitive of me." "Curious though. I wonder where he goes." I got up. "It's time we started back. If Ogilvie's still there there's no harm done. He'll have seen Jack in charge and Jack will have done his stuff by now." There was no sign of any strange car when we got back, nor was there any sign of Jack or Hamish. At least, there was no sign until a loud cry came from upstairs. Not a worrying cry, but one which delivered a message that two boys were relaxing after their being on parade. Billy and I grinned: we'd been there ourselves. "I think I'll put the kettle on," he said, "they'll be down soon enough." He clattered about. The message that we were back reached the bedroom. The two of them appeared a few minutes later, clad only in their pants. "Why did you dress?" I said, "there's nobody here but us two queers." =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 91 as we go back to Uttoxeter, and I catch up with Bertie before I face my second year at Fisher. The next couple of weeks see me with a much heavier time commitment on other things than has been the case since before COVID-19 struck, and it's likely that longer intervals will occur between the next few chapters. Drop me a line at badboi666@btinternet.com - that is after you've dropped nifty a few quid. ===============================================================================