Date: Sat, 28 Jan 2006 22:16:46 +0000 (GMT)
From: Mike Arram <david.crouch@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Henry in High Politics 5

The Michael Arram stories are now beginning to appear together at:
http://www.iomfats.org/storyshelf/hosted/arram

This story contains graphic depictions of sex between young males.  If the
reading or possessing of such material as this is illegal in your place of
residence please leave this site immediately and do not proceed further.
If you are under the legal age to read this, please do not do so.

V

The boys followed the obsequies for poor Ramon at a distance.  The funeral
was in Houston, where his family lived.  There was an unhappy scene at the
requiem when the family denied Terry a place amongst the lead mourners, and
there were some ugly words thrown at the gay section of the congregation
after the service.  It was only the powerful advocacy of Ramon's aunt, Mrs
Fuentas, Andy's former housekeeper, that stopped further humiliations.
Ramon's family had never come to terms with his relationship with Terry,
and they were not in a forgiving mood.  Terry was not even allowed to
contribute to the gravestone.  Andy told Ed that he was heartbroken and
looked years older.  He had not been allowed the normal mechanisms of
grieving.
  After the funeral, Terry went back to Los Angeles, to visit the places
where he and Ramon had first met, and then Matt and Andy lost track of him.
They confessed that they were a bit worried.  They got back to London on
Easter Monday, and Ed was summoned up to Highgate.  Henry waved him off at
Shrewsbury station, and he shouldered the burden of loneliness for a
fortnight.
  Henry had finally pulled off what his brother Ricky had failed to do, and
wore down his father on the subject of an internet connection.  In truth,
the diocese had also leant on him, as all clergy were supposed to be on an
e-mail directory.  The archdeacon had got quite shirty with Dad.  So,
although Henry and Ed were apart for a fortnight, they were at least in
close touch.  Henry more or less had a monopoly of its use.  His father was
not enthusiastic about the web, and his mother soon lost interest in it.
His big brother had gone on holiday to Ibiza with his new girlfriend, Mark
Peters's eldest sister, Helen.
  Henry applied himself to the new window on the world with his usual
industry.  Rothenia was bubbling with rumour and discontent.  Henry was
able to read the Rothenian news pages and blogs.  It gave him an edge over
the western media, which was taking little interest in the developing
crisis.  Regional elections in Husbrau had returned only Unity and RSDP
MPs, squeezing President Maritz's coalition down to a minority of one, and
the coalition was looking frail, as the RSDP's star was rising in opinion
polls in the rest of the country.  National elections were scheduled for
the end of June and the Unity party was expected to sweep the board, giving
the ethnic Germans the balance of power in Parliament, a development which
would only enrage the RSDP further.  A disturbing new trend was that gangs
were deliberately targetting German businesses and schools to foster a
further German backlash.  The RSDP was suspected of being behind them.
  It looked to Henry as though there were anti-democratic forces at work in
Rothenia, which wanted to get back to the brutal days of the former
communist dictator, Horvath.  There were also disturbing rumours that cells
of the former secret police were becoming active and were linked with the
RSDP.
  Henry often went to a particularly good blog site operated anonymously by
a Strelsener with good contacts with the Maritz government and the Strelzen
press.  His view was that the Second Republic was finished.  It had failed
to be what Rothenia desperately needed, a government and constitution that
all Rothenians could unite around.  The awful alternative that too many
Rothenians were willing to contemplate was a conservative, authoritarian
regime.  `Going back to Papa Horvath!' was the blogline to that entry.  `We
need Mama Flavia!' was the surprising next entry, a nostalgic reflection on
the only truly unifying government that Rothenia had enjoyed in the days of
the Elphberg monarchy.  `Where are the Elphbergs when you need them?'  The
blogger said.
  Henry had been startled to find that Will Vincent was mentioned a lot on
these sites.  His recent TV series on Rothenian history and its analysis of
the stresses and strains over the centuries had displaced a huge wave of
nostalgia amongst Rothenians for the old Ruritanian days.  The blogger was
actively encouraging this and he gave links to new monarchist sites that
were opening up and gathering support as an alternative to the RSDP's grim
solution.  Henry pursued these with great interest, but found that the
monarchists could only offer the unexciting prospect of the middle-aged
Prince Humbert of Savoy, the pretender to the Italian throne, as a possible
claimant.
  Fritz was a good correspondent, although all he really wanted to talk
about was his progress in getting inside the knickers of the unfortunate
Maria, who seemed for the time being all too willing to cooperate.  Fritz
was touchingly confident that Henry would not tell on him to his brother
and sister.  His description of his first blow job was exhaustive and
indeed exhausting.  He also wanted to compare notes on Ed's technique in
sucking off Henry and whether he came in Ed's mouth.  Coming in Maria's
mouth seemed to be the next great ambition of the precociously dissolute
prince of Tarlenheim.

Trinity term began, and Henry was by now aching to be with Ed.  On a warm
and sunny late April morning, they made their restrained greetings in the
sixth form block.  It was very difficult for both of them.  Kissing and
hugging was not an option in school, let alone the other things which they
desperately wanted to do.  In the end it got too much.  Henry dragged Ed
into his carrel, jammed a chair against the door, covered the window with
his prefect's gown and threw off his clothes.  Ed was not far behind him,
but then there was the problem.
  `How do we do it, Ed?' Henry whispered, `There's no space to lie on the
floor, and the furniture won't take the strain.'
  `Never mind that, got some lube?'  Henry produced a small tube of KY he
kept in his suit jacket in hopes.  `OK,' said Ed, slick me up and then I'll
slick your bum, little babe.'  Ed stood up behind Henry and made him squat
on the desk.  `Ooh, you look so sexy like that, as if you were going to
take a dump.'
  `Pervert,' smiled Henry over his shoulder.
  `OK babe, I'm going to come up behind you, hold the back of your thighs,
and you're going to fall back on to my very stiff dick.'
  `What, you going to do me standing!  Are you that strong?'
  `We're about to find out.  I worked out with Matt in his gym with his
personal trainer.  He was impressed with my abs.  Now, Henry, go for it.'
  Henry let his bum drop down until he could feel Ed's hot dickhead at his
anus.  He knew by now that if he got it at the right angle, Ed would just
slide up into him.  He felt Ed adjusting his position, and whisper `Now'.
Ed rose as Henry fell.  His dick engaged and Henry's own weight forced Ed's
sizable member deep into him.  It was all he could do not to shout with the
mingled shock and pleasure.  He found himself hanging in mid air, with Ed
deep inside him held and balanced by Ed's powerful hands hooked under his
buttocks, his legs up to his chest.
  Ed was grunting with the effort, but seemed not to be in any danger of
dropping him.  And then the steady pumping began up into him.  It was
necessarily a short fuck, but it was blissful for Henry.  The position in
which he was held meant that his prostate gland was being powerfully
stimulated.  And as Ed was groaning his own orgasm into Henry's ear, Henry
was stunned and ecstatic to find himself arching back against Ed's body and
see several spurts erupt from his own dick over his study table.  He had
achieved an anal orgasm.  As Ed let him drop to the floor, he could hardly
believe the feeling of fulfiment that their coupling had given him.  They
kissed passionately before cleaning up and dressing.  Before he left, Ed
held Henry and simply stared into his eyes.  `Babe, that was just the best.
No wonder I love you.'
  `Funny smell in here,' said David as he knocked on the carrel door and
came in.
  `Yeah ... must be the furniture polish.'
  `Doesn't smell like furniture polish ... oh well.  Henry.  I've come to a
decision.'
  `You're going to make more of an effort with Rudi?'
  `Huh.  Be real.  No, I'm going to join a gay support network online.
I've already got three sites and I'm ready to register with one that's
specifically for teens.'
  `Oh ... great.'
  `Thanks for the enthusiasm.'
  `Sorry, Davey.  No, it's good that you're doing this.  I'm sure it'll
help.'
  `Yeah and I've also taken out a subscription to a gay porn site.  It's
totally amazing what these guys do.  I'm blowing my nuts three times a
day.'
  `Aah, OK.  Less socially responsible, but whatever turns you on.  What if
you get caught?'
  `I'm using the wi-fi modem on my laptop, and deleting the logs.  Should
be OK providing no one walks in on me.  Hey, why don't you come round one
evening and we can wank off together?'
  `Davey, somehow I should have realised there was a getting-Henry-naked
subtext to all this.  It is not going to happen.  Enjoy your cyber sex.'
  `Curses,' David said, but grinned very fetchingly, and reminded Henry as
he did that there was part of Henry which very much wanted to be naked with
Davey.

For a long while Trinity term was more tranquil than the term which had
preceded it, but with exams and assessed essays all coming due, that was
hardly a surprise.  It was at the end of May that normality resumed, and
the A2 courses commenced.  There was also a new challenge that took Ed and
Henry by surprise, although it shouldn't have.  The lower sixth was herded
into the lecture hall and the head of sixth began to go through the process
of university application with the boys.  They were taken through the UCAS
process, and the online form filling.  But so far as choice of university
was concerned, they were told to get on with it.  For most of the boys the
choice was limited: Oxbridge, St Andrews, Bristol or Durham.
  `We could go for Cambridge, babe,' suggested Ed.
  Henry was less keen.  `I'd be surprised if you didn't get a place, but
I'm not so confident.  Do we want to go to the same uni?'  As he said it he
looked up at Ed through his dark lashes.  He was not surprised to see a
look of shock at the idea of separating come over his lover's face.
  Ed gathered himself.  `It's together for me babe, or not at all.  That's
why Cambridge or Oxford would be best.  We could be in the same town but in
different colleges, and with plenty of social space around us.'
  `Yes, Ed, I see that, but what if you got in and I ended up somewhere
else, like, I dunno ...  Cardiff or Wolverhampton.  It's not an unlikely
scenario.  I'm not as academic as you.'
  The boys also had to register course preferences in advance.  Ed had
already decided on History, but Henry was torn as to whether he would
loyally carry on with his best A Level, Religious Studies, or not.  Ed
advised against it.  `Theology in university is not RS, little babe.  And
remember last year, how you were a totally brilliant researcher when we
were dealing with the case of Jed and Nathaniel.  Dr Mac said you were a
natural.'  Eventually Henry compromised on joint History and Theology,
although Ed insisted that he was making a mistake.  David, as it turned
out, was keen on St Andrews, and, when they talked about it, Rudi said that
he had a hereditary obligation to go to St Johns, Oxford, academic home of
the Rassendylls since the eighteenth century.
  Rudi had calmed down a lot at school, so much was clear.  But Henry had
an idea that it was not that he had become acclimatised to Medwardine, but
because he was being distracted by something else.  He was often on the web
till late at night in the study centre, Ed said, and he would disappear in
a rush outside on his mobile.
  `I think he's into online betting big time,' Ed suggested.
  `You seriously think so?'
  `Oh yeah.  That would account for the tenseness.  Maybe he's over his
head in debt and is scared his mum will find out.  It's what aristocrats
do, isn't it?'
  `It's not what Fritzy does.'
  `No, well Fritzy seems to have the other aristocratic obsession ... sex.
He's getting really tedious about him and Maria and their pubescent
fumblings.'
  `No,' said Ed.  `That was over two days ago.  He's now into Natasha,
although despite his bravado, I think Maria dropped him rather than the
other way round.'
  The news from Rothenia was not good, although things were getting no
worse.  The country seemed to be holding its breath before the June
elections, which would settle President Maritz's fortunes once and for all.
Ed tested out Andy as to whether he would be allowed to go to Rothenia
after school finished and stay with Fritzy and Helge.  Andy did not say no,
but was ominously reluctant to say yes either.  Henry got a downright
refusal from his parents, which was highly unusual.  It quite upset him.
It seemed that Dad had been advised by Dr Mac that it would be better for
Henry not to be there this summer.

In the last week of May upper sixth studies began, and a new lower sixth
was inducted into the block.  It was an unsettling time for all the boys,
and Ed and Henry quite frequently went off into the school grounds or into
town to escape the raucous celebration of their new status by the ex Year
11s.  It was as they were leaving one of the local cafés after a latté and
a cake one afternoon, that Ed thought he caught sight of a familiar face
above the heads of the crowded High Street.
  `Henry ... that's Terry O'Brien!'
  `Don't be daft.  He's supposed to be in the USA.  I don't see him.'
  `Yeah, but you'd need a box to stand on.  Come on.  He's turned down
Castle Street.  After him!'
  They pushed and manoeuvred their way through the crowds, but got
inextricably caught behind a young mother with a wide double buggy.  There
was no way of getting past her other than impolitely.  By the time they
were at the Castle Street corner, there was no Terry to be seen, or anyone
who looked like him.  Ed was convinced enough of what he had seen to pull
Henry down the street, and even check out the pubs.  But there was no luck.
  Discrete enquiries by e-mail to Ipswich and Highgate produced only the
information that Terry was thought to be still in the States, but that he
had said that he would eventually go down to his parents in Wiltshire.
  `That might explain it, Ed,' said Henry.  `He could be living with his
parents and taking his mind off stuff by doing tourism.  Medwardine's quite
the tourist magnet, and he could reach us easily on a day trip.'
  Ed was not convinced.  `If he was coming to Medwardine, you'd think he'd
remember we were here and say hello?'
  Henry looked a little solemn, `It may be that in his condition of grief,
avoiding people he knows could be his first priority.'
  They looked sadly at each other.