Date: Mon, 10 Nov 2014 10:43:05 +0800
From: ES
Subject: Flick (young friends)

The author does not claim to be a kid.


FLICK


ONLY PLEASANT FEELINGS

  When I was eleven years old, I was sent to boarding school
abroad. Everything was foreign, and for quite a while I barely knew what
the hell was going on.
  At first, I shared a small dormitory with three other boys, two of them
older. Lights out meant the two older boys would chat for a while, and then
we would all sleep.
  Later I was moved to a dorm with about ten boys, all my own age, and
there lights out meant traffic between the beds. I was utterly innocent of
matters sexual, and at first, I thought they just met up to talk. But when
a boy got into my bed and began to fondle my genitals, I realized what was
going on. The boy taught me mutual masturbation, and I found it intensely
exciting. Our climax was at this stage a sexual frisson with no ejaculate.
  In that dormitory, I was introduced to porn magazines, featuring men and
women, and classified ads that were read aloud. Some were for homosexual
liaisons, to which we all laughed louder. None of the images or text turned
me on, for I was still too innocent. The rare homosexual image (I remember
one of a supposed bank robber sucking a supposed bank assistant's dick)
evoked nothing in me but fleeting curiosity. The gropings between us boys
evoked no emotions in me either, only intensely pleasant feelings.
  I entered puberty early and quickly developed, with perhaps the largest
phallus in the dormitory. The size of my phallus and my ejaculate evoked
interest in some of the other boys, especially one Lauer. He'd bully me
during the day, and then at night get into my bed and jerk me off (perhaps
because his dick remained less than half the size of mine).
  One night, with several boys giggling in the torch light below, I looked
down from my upper bunk and saw Lauer kneeling between the thighs of a very
handsome boy, sucking the boy's dick. This really turned me on, and to this
day, I can recall the image of the handsome boy grinning up at me as his
dick was being sucked. I wanted to climb down and watch close up, but I was
too embarrassed. Lauer sometimes caressed and smacked my bum, although not
hard. And when he one night gave me a suck, I was keen to have him in my
bed, always hoping he'd give me a suck, which he did sometimes. Another
time, again in torchlight and amidst porn magazines, Lauer demonstrated to
an audience the pleasure of shoving two or three fingers up one's own
bum. But this was received with exclamations of disgust.
  Lauer told me how for pocket money he would sometimes suck his father's
dick. Again my innocence meant that I was no more horrified than if he had
told me his father put sugar in his beer. And when he one day told me his
father would ejaculate onto his boyish breast, there was again no
indignation. In spite of all Lauer's sexual attentions, which I enjoyed, I
actually disliked him, to the extent of even pitying him.
  On one of the last nights before the summer holidays, a boy called Rawson
invited me into his bed, and stark naked I climbed down. We sat on his bed
side by side against the wall, with his duvet over our knees, and wanked
each other. His dick was considerably smaller than mine, and was
circumcised, because his foreskin had refused to retract. I didn't know him
at all, but when he asked me if he could suck my dick, I willingly
agreed. As usual, I was almost overcome by the sensation, and would gladly
have let him continue, but he stopped and then asked me not to tell
anyone. The idea that one might come in another boy's mouth was at this
stage entirely alien to me.
  The boy in the bunk under me was Jasper. He had a pale delicate face with
light freckles, pouty lips, silken brown hair, and was soft spoken. His
genitals were still undeveloped. When he had an erection, his small phallus
retained its inward curve, and he did not ejaculate. One night, he invited
me into his bed and said he wanted to toss me off. I lay on his bed and he
kneeled beside me, with his back to me. And he undid my pyjama bottoms and
caressed my genitals. I remember being thrilled by the softness of his
hands and the gentleness of his movements. In utter silence, he masturbated
me with his silken hands, and I remember feeling some warmth towards him,
although we barely knew each other. He tossed me off so gently that I also
ejaculated gently. It all landed on his hand. He studied it in the
semi-darkness, and then he rushed out of the dormitory and into the
lavatory, holding his hand in the air. I followed him. Once in the light,
he studied fascinatedly the spunk that I had deposited on his hand. He
invited me maybe once or twice more, but adamantly refused to allow me to
caress his undeveloped phallus. So while he wanked me, I slipped my hand
into his pyjama bottoms and caressed his buttocks. Again, they were so
silken, I experienced a twinkle of affection for him. That I should rim him
or bugger him did not occur to me. The few sessions I had with him were the
sweetest and tenderest of all, but somehow we never became friends. I do
remember that he on a later occasion excitedly told me he had been home
with his younger brother, wanking in the local woods, when a fly settled on
his glans penis. The tickle caused him to have his first ejaculation.
  The next term, I was in a dormitory with only five boys. There was a
partition in the middle, with three boys on one side and two boys on the
other, Rawson and me. On the very first night, he came over to my bed,
whispered, 'Is it stiff?', and groped me between the legs. To my utter
delight, I soon felt his hot mouth close round my dick.
  How to make him continue? I thought perhaps I should reciprocate, in that
way, the intense sensations would be prolonged. So, for the first time
ever, I sucked another's dick. He was clean, well-formed, with soft skin
and a tight little arse, so I didn't mind sucking his dick. My strategy had
the desired effect, and soon we would every now and then engage in a
SOIXANTE-NEUF, sucking each other's balls and dick at the same time. When
we felt an orgasm approaching, we would push the other away, and either
ejaculate at once onto our own stomach, or masturbate ourselves to an
orgasm. This was as far as we went.
  Once, as I was sitting on my bed, with him sitting beside me, his face in
my crotch, I leaned over and parted his buttocks and licked his arsehole,
but he was horrified and called me stark raving mad. Another time, he tried
to penetrate me from behind, but we were too innocent to know about
lubricant, so even though I wanted him to penetrate my arse (for no reason
other than that penetration was what we were trying), his dick just
wouldn't enter. Another time, he tried to impale himself on my dick, but
again with no lubricant, so all he got was a sore arse.
  Our sessions didn't add up to very many, because I never made the first
move, and because I actually disliked him. I considered him a girl's
blouse, and sometimes he would talk about our 'heavenly' sessions, which I
thought in extreme bad taste. He had a budgerigar that he kept in a cage,
and would sometimes let it fly around in our room. I not only thought it
idiotic for a thirteen year old boy to have a budgerigar, I also thought it
the height of cruelty towards the poor bird.
  At this time, there was also a boy called Thirsby. He was fairly tall,
good looking, with light brown hair, a prominent nose, and a small mouth
with pouty lips that always glistened. But he was odd; quiet to the point
of timidity, but if teased, he'd break into a frenzy, tearfully hurling
things at people. So he'd be left severely alone. Every now and then, he'd
come into my room in the afternoon, when I would invariably lie on my bed
reading. Without a word, he'd reach for my crotch, fondle me, and then undo
my trousers, pull my phallus out through the fly in my underpants, and toss
me off. He'd also pull out his own genitals, which were of about the same
dimensions as mine, and out of a sense of duty, I'd wank him, but off-hand
really. He'd toss me off, and then I'd tuck my phallus back into my
underpants (pubes wet with sperm) and re-do my trousers. In the meantime,
he'd toss himself off. I'm sure I could have pressed his head down and that
he would very happily have sucked me off, but I was too innocent to think
of such a thing. Sometimes, he'd take me into the lavatory and toss me off,
and a few times he tossed me off in the showers. But I never initiated
anything with him, nor did I ever toss him off. Again, I didn't like him,
only the sensation of his hands wanking me. He seemed slightly obsessed
with tossing me off, and in later years I wondered whether he had been in
love with me. At the time, I didn't know boys could fall in love with each
other. He was so odd, I barely talked to him.
  Still friendless, I was later moved to another dormitory.

FLICK KNIFE!

  It was in the new dormitory that I met Flick. I knew him by name, but he
was 'one of the boys', which I wasn't. As it turned out, he was in fact a
good-natured boy, and friendly towards me. I slept in the top bunk of a
bunk bed, and he in a single bed behind it.
  One night, we were all getting dressed for bed, but he was late. So a boy
called Vic took his pyjamas, intending to tie them into a knot. He tied the
pyjama bottoms into a tight knot and put them under the pillow. He had just
begun on the pyjama jacket, when Flick arrived. He stripped and then sat
naked on his bed untying his pyjama jacket. (This was the age of innocence,
when boys were perfectly blasé being naked together). He untied the
pyjama jacket and put it on, but the pyjama bottoms proved too
difficult. So he gave them to Vic and slipped under his duvet. Of course,
at that age, lying naked under the duvet, he got an erection, and as we
were also blasé about each other's erections (especially our morning
glories), he pulled back his duvet to show us his erection. I was sitting
at the far end of the room, talking to another boy, when I heard him call
my name.
  'Look!' he cried. And he pushed his phallus forward and let it flip back
onto his stomach. And again. He grinned: 'Flick knife! Flick knife!' His
phallus was long and slim, with a generous foreskin that covered the
glans. He flicked his phallus onto his stomach a number of times, till Vic
gave him back his pyjama bottoms untied. And that was how he got the
nickname Flick.
  His calling my name, his wide smile as he played with his phallus, his
pretty brown hair and svelte body, all these things in unison made me fall
in love. For the first time in my young life, I was in love. A frisson of
intense affection ran through me, and I wanted only to embrace him and kiss
him.
  I did not know I fell in love at that moment, it only dawned on me that I
had, as I found myself increasingly obsessed with the sound and sight of
him, even the mere mention of his name. He sat in front of me in class, and
I would gloat at his flowing hair, his little ears, those delicate hands,
and of course, the bulge in his jeans and his shapely bum. I was taller
than he and not so delicate of build, but our phalluses were about the same
length. In spite of his delicacy, he was in fact strong and wiry, and a top
athlete. There was no sport he did not excel in, especially football.
  In those pre-feminist days, boys were not compelled to conceal every sign
of their boyhood, so we wore small white shorts during PE and Speedo type
trunks when swimming. We also bathed in communal showers, walking carefree
about in the nude. And a great distraction for me at such times were
Flick's golden-haired legs, and his tight white shorts, hugging his shapely
bum, bulging in front, with the titillating curve of his long slim
dick. When he was naked, I would gloat over his dick, the long foreskin,
the two balls suspended underneath, and think his genitals the most
beautiful in the world.
  Somehow, we became friends and would do things together. One of my
favourites was going to the boys' urinal together. An extremely malodorous
place, but I loved seeing his long dick rest in his delicate hand as he
pissed, and especially I loved seeing him draw back the foreskin a number
of times when he was done, exposing his glans. I wanted nothing other than
to reach over and do it for him, and then get down on my knees and suck him
off. He was the first boy I wanted to come in my mouth.
  It was the first time in my life that I looked at someone's face and body
with lust. At night, when we were all discreetly masturbating, I'd lie
quiet as a mouse so I could hear his breath in the bed behind and below
me. We were now thirteen-fourteen years old, and mutual masturbation was no
longer the done thing. It was poofy. So masturbation had become a solitary
affair, to be done in private under one's duvet or in the lavatory.
  One night after lights out, Rawson appeared and persuaded me that he
needed to talk to me. Suspecting nothing, I followed him into the night
lavatory, and he sat down and said: 'I'm just dying to suck your dick.' But
I had now become one of the boys, and that was not on at all. Furthermore,
I was in love, so Rawson's attentions were in no way attractive. And I
refused, again disgusted at his girlishness.
  In the early summer, we'd all lie in our Speedos in the little meadow
behind the gym sunbathing, talking and even doing our homework. It was very
difficult for me to suppress a hard-on when I saw Flick lying there,
tanned, with his revealing little Speedos, the shapely buns, and his brown
hair turned golden by the sun, and that wide mouth with fine little teeth,
and the ever-ready grin and giggle. How I adored him.
  Every now and then, Flick and I would be in the showers by ourselves, and
on one occasion, his naked, solitary presence gave me an irrepressible
hard-on. All my gloating now meant I couldn't control myself. So I sat on
the tiled floor under the water both embarrassed and relieved. He playfully
prodded my phallus with his foot, and I dared to reach up and caress his
bum, and his genitals. This was not welcome: 'Don't touch me there!'
Luckily, he didn't make any more of it, but I realized that although we
were friends, sex was just not on the cards, in spite of the occasional
schoolboy innuendo. This was no more than I had expected, so I wasn't
disappointed as such.
  Towards the end of the term a new boy arrived, and took the bunk below
me. He was called Deere, and was in another class, but the three of us
became friends. And we asked the school inspector if we could share a room
the next school-year. He thought we were the bee's knees, so it was a sure
thing. I travelled home for the holidays, and returned to find I was
sleeping in the bottom bunk, Flick in the top bunk, and Deere in a single
bed on the other side of the room. How happy I was, even though I knew my
love would never be consummated.

YOU'LL BE LATE FOR CLASS

  Now I lived in intimate proximity to Flick. His desk was right beside our
bunk bed, and his wardrobe just behind. Every night, I'd lie in bed and
watch him undress and every morning, I'd watch him get dressed again. We
all wore white underpants, but his were very innocent. They reached up to
his navel, and the fly was down at the bottom. He took to sleeping in a
pair of underpants, so in the evening, I'd watch him remove one pair of
underpants to put on an identical pair of underpants. Our new friend,
Deere, was somewhat prim in the sex department, wanking only in the
lavatory, and never exposing himself. It may have been because both Flick
and I had dicks about twice as long as his, it may have been because he was
a latecomer to boarding school culture. So, to spare Deere's finer feelings
(and to my delight), Flick would always turn away from Deere when he was
undressing and dressing, giving me a full frontal view.
  In the morning, Deere and I would get up and go for breakfast, but Flick
would lie in. When we returned from breakfast, I'd usually bring him
buttered toast with cheese and jam. He would eat it, and then get up, with
a 'morning glory'. He'd stand behind the door of his wardrobe, shielding
himself from Deere, and would face me as he pulled down his sleeping
underpants, exposing his hard-on, and then get dressed. Every morning, he'd
delight me with this little exhibition. Of course, I'd pretend I was just
talking to him and not gloating.
  After lights out, after we had stopped talking, Flick and I would
masturbate in silence in our beds. Deere the ever prude would ceremoniously
wrap his blanket round himself so his erection was concealed, and go to the
lavatory to masturbate. When he was gone, Flick would sometimes call out to
me: 'Are you wanking?' which, of course, I was. And we'd wank together,
albeit in separate beds. He'd ejaculate into a pair of dirty underpants,
and when he was done, he'd climb down giggling, to stuff them into the
drawer in his wardrobe with dirty washing.
  Right next to me was his chair, with his clothes on, and very often I
would take the underpants he had left there, and suck them and sniff them
while I masturbated. This was, of course, done with extreme stealth.
  Already in the previous dormitory, I had raided Flick's wardrobe and
taken dirty underpants out, to sniff and wear. (Once, when Thirsby had
undone my trousers and wanted to pull out my phallus, he couldn't find the
fly, because I was wearing a pair of Flick's dirty underpants, with the fly
at the bottom.)
  One Thursday, Flick decided he was sick (which may or may not have been
true). During the longer break in the morning, I ran down to visit him. He
was in his pyjamas now, because the nurse would visit him. He smiled
sweetly when I asked him how he was.
  'I'm just lying here masturbating.' And he giggled: 'Wanking myself
silly.' This was an intimacy beyond the usual, and I trembled. Then he
pulled aside his duvet and showed me the erection in his pyjama bottoms. I
caught my breath. His face was soft and friendly. Gingerly, I pressed the
tips of my fingers onto the long bulge. There was no rejection. He was
still smiling sweetly at me. My heart in my mouth, I inserted my fingers
into the fly of his pyjamas and rubbed the silken skin of his phallus. Then
it was as if his body melted. His shoulders fell back, his thighs spread
open, and his face became completely soft and sweet. Gently, I levered his
phallus out of the fly and gripped it, my breath shallow and fast. I pulled
down the foreskin and feasted on the sight of his glistening glans penis,
gooey with pre-spunk. I wanked him gently, and as he just lay there
seemingly in submission, I put one foot on my bed, another on his desk, and
then up to sit on his bed beside him. In disbelief, I wanked him, smiling
uneasily at his benevolent face, his hair in a spray behind
him. Inexorably, I lowered my head, opened my mouth, and closed it over his
glans penis. He merely sighed and caressed my head with his hand. I could
feel my crotch wet with pre-spunk and my phallus hard as steel. The scent
of his crotch made me giddy as I slid my mouth up and down his phallus. The
sensation of his phallus in my mouth very quickly made me ejaculate in my
underpants, again and again. I gasped through my nose and felt spunk shoot
out and wet my crotch. I sucked noisily, Flick's hand resting on my head as
it bobbed up and down, and then he groaned and pushed his phallus into my
hot mouth. He gasped and gasped and groaned and I tasted his semen in my
mouth, and this made me ejaculate again. Hungrily, I swallowed and sucked
on, but he whispered: 'Stop! Stop!' And reluctantly I slid my mouth up his
phallus and off. I squeezed just under his glistening glans penis, more
spunk dribbled out and I sucked it up. Then I ran my lips greedily up and
down the underside of his phallus. But he giggled: 'Stop, stop. No more.'
And I sat up and looked him in the face. It was flushed but still gentle
and sweet.
  He smiled: 'You'll be late for class.' I leaned forward and kissed his
lips and then jumped down and ran out. Ecstatic with joy. I wanted to
scream and shout, and felt as if I could fly out of the building down to
the classrooms. The next lesson hadn't even begun. It had taken no more
than minutes. This world-shattering event had taken no more than minutes. I
could still taste his spunk in my mouth and looked down to see if there was
a stain from my ejaculations. There wasn't, but I ran into the lavatory and
pulled down my trousers and underpants and wiped away as much as I could
with lavatory paper. Throughout the lesson I re-lived those magic minutes,
his gorgeous face, his gentle whispers, his hand on my head. What did it
mean? Did it mean anything at all? Was it just a one-off?
  At the lunch break, I ran into our room. Deere was already there, talking
to Flick. How gorgeous he was, and I had sucked him off! How now?
  Nothing. He gave no indication of any change in our relationship. I dared
not take any initiative, but just behaved as ever before. He still
undressed and dressed before me, he still let me see his morning glory
every morning, but there was no hint of another world-shattering
event. Sometimes, however, I'd catch him watching me, and wondered what was
going through his mind.

COMING UP?

  Every other Friday, the boarders would go home, and I would visit an
uncle and aunt. On the following Sunday evening, we'd take the train back
to boarding school.
  One Sunday, Flick and I got on the train to find that Deere was nowhere
to be seen. We asked the monitor in charge, and he said Deere was coming on
the Monday afternoon. As we walked into our room, Flick said: 'Just you and
me, lover boy, just you and me, for a night and a day.' I smiled at him,
not sure what he meant, but hoping, oh, hoping. We went into the common
room. Several times I caught him looking at me, and smirking when I caught
him looking.
  When it was time to go to bed, he didn't just strip and put on his
sleeping underpants, no, he stripped and walked about in the nude, sitting
naked on my bed, pleasing me and also frustrating me. I didn't dare reach
out and fondle him. Finally, right in front of me, he slipped on his
sleeping underpants, slipping his hand inside to adjust those gorgeous
genitals. Then he climbed up and I lay there not knowing what to
expect. The monitor came and turned the light out, and we lay in
darkness. I heard him shift above me, and then his face appeared. 'Coming
up?'
  Hallelujah! I jumped up and out of bed and up onto his desk and into his
bed. Into his bed! In the semi-darkness, I could see he had raised his
duvet for me to slip in beside him. Breathless I lay beside him, not sure
what to do.
  He took my hand and placed it on his phallus, already hard. I sat up and
fondled his genitals. He spread his thighs, and then I pulled down his
underpants. What a heavenly thing to do! He lifted his bum and I slid them
quite off. Now my beloved was stark naked, and I could feel his phallus
long and swollen on his abdomen. Waiting.
  I positioned myself between his legs and nuzzled his crotch, inhaling the
warm scent of boy's lap. Because it was so dark, I could barely see
anything, which made the sensations so much more intense. Then I grabbed
his phallus, pulled back his long foreskin, and proceeded to plunge my
mouth down as far as I could, greedily slurping and sucking. With no time
limit, I proceeded in slow motion, savouring every sensation; nuzzling my
face into his wavy pubes, pressing my face against his thighs, sucking his
balls one by one, running my lips up and down his phallus, caressing his
thighs and his buttocks, running my fingers over his anus, listening to his
quiet sobs, and feeling his hand gently caress my head, my ears, my neck,
and my cheeks. As I was sucking the soft skin beside his scrotum, I
ejaculated in my pyjama bottoms. I gasped through my nose as I spurted,
sucking and slurping his phallus, now wanting him to spurt into my
mouth. He began to sigh, and not long after, he grasped my head, thrust
forward, gasped and I tasted his spunk in my mouth. He thrust into my mouth
a few times, I swallowed a few times, slurped on, and then he whispered for
me to stop. In the darkness, I studied his glans, and then squeezed out the
remaining spunk and lapped it up. Again, I buried my face in his pubes,
sniffing quietly (so as not to appear too bestial), and lazily sucked and
licked every soft nook of his lap. Then I rested my face on his abdomen,
rubbing his phallus languorously in my face, slowly wanking it. He lay
quietly caressing my head and bade me move up. I lay beside him in an
romantic torpor, my hand sliding up and down his breast. In the dark, I
could detect a sweet smile on his face, and felt him grab my hand.
  'Shall I toss you off?'
  'No.'
  'Why not?'
  'I've already come.' How intimate and sweet it was!
  'You've already come?'
  'Yeah. Twice.' He put his hand down onto my crotch. I was still steel
hard but sopping with pre-spunk and spunk.
  'You're soaked.' He looked down into the dark.
  'I dripped and then came... twice.'
  'Twice? Were you wanking yourself?'
  'No... I just came twice.'
  He chuckled: 'How?'
  'Because I love you.' No response. I could blush as much as I wanted for
it was dark. Then he stroked my hair away from my forehead.
  'When I suck your dick, I come. When you come, I come... Because I love
you... I love you.' He just stroked my face.
  'Since when?' We spoke in half-whispers. I felt about to die with love,
it was so intimate and sweet.
  'Since last year.' And I told him everything, right from the start, when
he cried 'Flick knife! Flick knife!'
  He listened quietly, stroking my face all the while. I bared my heart to
him, and he treated me with the respect and love of a friend. My final
confession was my stealthy sucking of his underpants, and then we lay
quiet. He stroked my face and I stroked his chest, rubbing his nipples.
  'I've long known you wanted to have sex with me... You look at me with a
certain... a certain...'
  I interpolated: 'Unmitigated lust.' And he chuckled.
  'A certain longing. Like when I fancy a girl.'
  'Unbridled burning boiling sizzling lascivious desire and lust.'
  And giggling he put his hand over my mouth.
  'Shut up, I'm trying to say something. You've completely muddled me
up... with your DEPRAVED comments.' Giggle, giggle, and then silence.
  'That day, when I was sick, you just came at the right moment. You came
to see how I was, and I felt loved. I was also aroused, and I wanted you to
make love to me .... I can tell you, I didn't imagine you'd suck me off,
I'd thought more of a handjob. But I thought it was very beautiful. And I
loved you then. But I'm not homosexual. I don't think I'm even
bisexual. It's only you I feel like that with. And it's your love I love. I
don't lust for your body, I lust for the sensations you give me. I don't
have the desire to do to you what you do to me... D'you understand what I
mean?' I nodded.
  My mind said 'You lust for my hot mouth' but I kept quiet.
  He stroked my hair: 'Does it sound utterly callous?'
  'No... I don't expect anything... I'm not disappointed... I've never
expected anything... nothing at all.'
  And we lay in the dark, caressing each other.
  He squeezed my hand: 'I'm still hard.'
  I reached down and fondled his genitals. Wanked him slowly. And then I
sat up and caressed him with my two hands. He shifted into the middle of
the bed and spread his legs, and I lowered my head to make love to
him. Licked the underside of his phallus up and down, and then down to his
balls. He raised his knees and I moved further down and kissed and sucked
his perinaeum. The scent was intoxicating, and I pushed his knees back to
his shoulders to expose his arse, and hungrily sucked his
arsehole. Pressing my nose into the divide, and my lips against his anus
made me ejaculate again in my pyjama bottoms. I slurped and sucked the
silken skin around his arsehole, and he rubbed his hands about my head in
something of a frenzy, giving out long and deep sighs. Eventually, my face
was slick with my own spit, and then I sucked and licked my way up to his
glans penis. After only a few long sucks, he gasped and ejaculated into my
mouth. He gave a louder gasp and then whined, begging me to stop. I'm sure
if I hadn't already come three times, I would have come at this point. I
swallowed his spunk, squeezed out another drop, lapped it up, gave his
phallus a final suck, and then pulled up the foreskin so it covered his
glans. Then I sat up and leaned over and kissed him on the lips. He pulled
my head down and kissed me again on the lips.
  'Thank you, lover boy.'
  I climbed down, took a last look at his dark form, knowing he was naked
and spent, and then slipped under my duvet, with sopping wet crotch and
bursting with joy and adoration. I was his lover boy.
  The next morning, I brought him his usual buttered toast with cheese and
jam, and he ate it in bed. Then he climbed out of bed with his usual
morning glory in his underpants and went over to his wardrobe. Deere wasn't
there to hide from, but he opened the door, pulled down his sleeping
underpants, and threw them onto his bed. Then he stood there, stark naked
and aroused, with a saucy grin on his face, and pulled back the foreskin of
his erect phallus. `Come on, lover boy.'
  Quickly, I jumped over and kneeled before him, feverishly fellating him,
looking up at his smiling face. He cupped my head in his hand and I sucked
eagerly. Footsteps outside the door, a voice, and he giggled: 'It's too
dangerous ... Stop.' Giving it a last huge loud suck, I stopped and looked
up at him.
  He grinned: 'Give me my underpants', and I got up and picked up the prize
from his chair.
  'Suck my underpants', and I went up to him behind the wardrobe door and
rubbed my face with his underpants and made loud kissing and sniffing
noises. He snatched them from me with a grin and slipped them on, and then
I handed him his clothes item by item, giving him his trousers last.
  At lunch time, he lounged in the bottom of my bed, behind his wardrobe
and I rubbed my face in his crotch till he was as hard as I was. But we
decided it was still too risky for me to service him, because visitors were
more likely at that time of day, and indeed, one of our classmates walked
in. We sat up with knees pulled up, concealing the hard-on in our trousers.
  To my enormous disappointment, Deere was returning in the early
afternoon, so there was no opportunity for further naughties. The
boarding-school boy's eternal problem, where to do it? Resignedly, we
walked down to the station to meet Deere.
  As we waited, Flick went into the gents and came out with some excitement
and told me to come inside. The stink was worse than our lavatories. It was
empty, but the walls had a number of obscenities on them, almost all
related to homosexual naughties. In one of the stalls was a fine drawing of
a man ejaculating over a smiling boy's face. There were a few telephone
numbers and obscene comments: 'Right here, I was fucked up the arse', 'Piss
on me', 'Schoolboy seeks extra pocket money', etc.
  Flick pulled me into one of the stalls and undid his jeans. There wasn't
much time, so I almost tore down his underpants, and was about to gobble
his phallus into my mouth when he turned and stuck out his arse with legs
wide open. He wanted me to rim him! Thrilled, I went to work, while he
masturbated. Again, the intensely erotic sights, sounds, scents and
physical sensations, made me drip copiously, and when he reached one hand
round behind him and caressed the back of my head, I ejaculated in my
underpants, panting through my nose. Then he turned, but before I could
begin sucking him off, he gaspingly ejaculated into my face and hair. The
last spurt I managed to catch in my mouth, and then I sucked him till he
begged me to stop. Giggling, he squeezed out another drop, I licked it off,
and forgetting where we were, we began to giggle as he tore off lavatory
paper to wipe my face.
   'I'm sorry, lover boy, sorreee. A slip-up.'
  'A spunk up.' And we giggled. 'Better spunk in the eye than a pointed
stick.' And we both got the giggles.
  I was looking up at him, and he gave a mildly quizzical smile.
  'Did you come in your underpants, lover boy?' I blushed as I giggled up
at him, nodding guiltily, like a naughty little boy. It was thrilling to
play the naughty little boy to my godling.
  Outside, the train was pulling in. Still giggling, I pulled up Flick's
underpants and jeans, zipped them and buttoned them, and he fastened his
belt. Then we unlocked the door and ran out to meet Deere. It felt as if I
had a membrane of Flick's dry spunk on my face. The spunk in my hair I
rubbed in; 'hair conditioner', I thought. I wanted him to do that again, I
wanted him to cover my face in spunk. I wondered, did my face smell of his
arse? Would Deere notice?
  Still giggling, we met Deere, took his bag and walked chatting back to
school. The three of us were very good friends, and in some ways, Deere was
the leader. But he was a latecomer to boarding-school life, and the
undercurrent of homo-eroticism that naturally existed between Flick and me
was alien to him. Indeed, sometimes he would remark upon it with some
good-natured impatience. So we tried not to offend his sensibilities by not
exposing ourselves, etc.
  Deere told us he had had another of his major nose bleeds on the Sunday,
because of holding his breath under water for too long, and had been to see
a specialist on the Monday. He was booked, he said, for an operation a
fortnight later, and would spend a few days convalescing, etc. So he'd be
away probably till the next Wednesday or Thursday. I was thrilled, of
course, three or four nights alone with Flick! I could barely wait.
  While Deere was around, Flick and I behaved as before, except that now he
smirked as I gloated over his morning strip-tease, which was now more
involved, and included twirling, to show off his bum. Now I had to make
effort not to look at him in the gym and the showers, for inevitably it
resulted in an unflaggable hard-on. A big bonus was that after wanking, he
didn't stuff his spunk-stained underpants into his wardrobe anymore, but
gave them to me. And I'd suck and sniff them and go to sleep with my face
buried in them, warm and damp . Sometimes he'd ask: 'Have you come in your
pants, lover boy?' and I'd say, 'No, but I'm dripping like a tap.' Or he'd
ask 'Are you wearing my dirty underpants, lover boy?' and I'd say, 'Yes,
but I sucked them clean.' And we'd both giggle wildly.
  In the boys' urinal there was a window so one could see if anyone was
coming, and when the coast was clear, he'd let me stand behind him and hold
his phallus as he pissed. The sensation of his piss passing through drove
me wild with lust, and then he'd let me pull the foreskin back and forth
and shake off the last drops. By the time I'd finished, he was semi-hard
and I was steel-hard and dripping. I whispered into his ear, `I want to
suck it dry.' But he said it was too dangerous. And he'd giggle as he
tucked his swollen phallus back in. His good-natured response to my
adoration made me adore him even more, and I was as besotted as one can
get. Just sitting next to him could give me a dripping hard-on, and when he
gave me his friendly smirk I'd feel a series of twitches in my crotch.
  After one of our pissing sessions (during which I'd by now unashamedly
press my hard-on against his buttocks), he became fully erect, and as he
struggled to fit his phallus back in, he said: 'I need succour, lover boy'
(succour was code for a blowjob). So we agreed to meet in the stinking
lavatories over by the classrooms, in the afternoon lull when everyone was
either in his room, playing sports, or in town.
  The main problem was, of course, keeping Deere in the dark. There was a
football match that afternoon, so Flick and Deere went to watch it. I was
never interested in watching sports, so I did my usual reading on my
bed. At a fixed time, Flick would go down to the lavatories, where I'd
await him. I'd service him, and he'd return to the football match.
  I went round the back, saw no one anywhere, and slipped in, down to the
last cubicle and eager anticipation. After what seemed an eternity, Flick
came casually in, saw me, and smiled, ran down to me, locked the door and
stood before me.
  'Quick, lover boy!' And breathless with excitement I undid his jeans, and
then pulled his underpants them down with my teeth. I turned him round so I
could pull them down over his arse, and to my delight, he leaned so far
forward that he rested on the door, and stuck his arse out with legs wide
open. I spread his cheeks and rimmed him, inhaling his anal scent, and he
sighed and masturbated. Then he turned and I quickly gobbled his phallus
into my mouth and sucked, cupping his bum cheeks in my hands. I slid a
finger down and rubbed his slippery arsehole.
  He was sighing and rubbing my hair all over the place, when I heard him
say, `Stop!' And he pushed my head back so his phallus flipped out and
slapped onto his abdomen.
  `Give me your finger.' I stuck out my finger. And he squeezed pre-spunk
onto my finger.
  `Rub it onto my arsehole.' And I rubbed it onto his arsehole. And again.
  `Inside, lover boy... Stick it in.' His voice rang in the empty lavatory
and breathless and unbelieving I pushed my gooey finger into his arse,
wriggling it. His arse clenched round my finger and then he said: 'In and
out, lover boy, in and out.' And I slid my finger in and out, trembling
with disbelief, and then he gasped, pulling my head into his crotch, and
ejaculated into my hot sucking mouth. And again, I spurted into my
underpants, gasping through my nose as I hungrily swallowed.
  When he was sucked and squeezed clean, I pulled up his underpants, gave
his crotch a quick rub with my face, and then his jeans, and zip and
button. All the while, Flick whispered Bowie's refrain: 'Suck, baby, suck,
give me your head, before you start professing that you're knocking me
dead.' He kissed me on the cheek and then ran off back to the football
match. I waited and then crept back to my book, sucking the finger that had
been up his arse. There was neither trace nor smell of faeces, but there
was the scent of hot boy's arsehole, a blend of sweet and sour.
  Flick returned alone from the match, and sat on my bed: 'Did you
ejaculate in your underpants?' And now I nodded gleefully: 'Buckets', and
we both laughed out loud.
  Only a few days later, when Deere went into town with some other chaps,
we had another quick session. But this time he wanted two fingers well
lubricated and up his arse. As soon as we were done, he walked out and
round the front of the school and back to our room. I sat waiting for five
minutes, sniffing my two fingers, and then I walked round the back to our
room. He was lounging on my bed. 'Did you ejaculate in your underpants?'
And again I nodded gleefully: 'Like a fire hose', and we both laughed out
loud.
  I raised my two fingers: 'These two went up your arse.'
  Blushing he grinned. 'Smell of shit?'
  'No... they smell of your arse. Another kettle of fish. Shit smells
disgusting, your arsehole smells sexy.' I sniffed my fingers
demonstratively. He giggled.
  I held them out to him: 'Wanna smell?'
  To my delight, he allowed me to hold my fingers under his nose. He
sniffed: 'Smells disgusting and not disgusting. You know?'
  I stuck them into my mouth and lovingly sucked them: 'Mmmm.'
  He punched my shoulder: 'You're naughty, that's what you are. A naughty
boy. Badly behaved and shameless. You should be spanked, lover boy.'
  I sucked on: 'Mmmm... will you spank my bottom?'
  And he pulled me over and smacked my bottom.
  'I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come!' and I cried out Bowie's lyrics, 'Smack,
baby smack, is that all that you feel!' I was dripping but I didn't
come. The wonderment of physical contact with him was fading. My godling
was becoming a mere boy of flesh and blood and sperm.

WANNA STAY?

  And then it was the Sunday, and he and I alone for three or four days. We
almost skipped down from the station, dropped our suitcases, and he flung
himself onto my bed. I flung myself behind him and rubbed my face wildly in
his arse. And we laughed and laughed.
  It was several hours before lights out, so we went into the common
room. The joy of anticipation made me almost delirious, and I'd watch Flick
unashamedly, and he'd glance back at me with his sweetest smile. It was
some of the most beautiful hours of my entire life. As if we were truly
lovers.
  In the gloom of night, there was only the sensation of his body and the
sound of his sighs. I rimmed him with wild abandon and sucked him off,
coming twice in my pyjamas. Then we lay side by side, he stroking my face
and I stroking him everywhere.
  'Wanna stay, lover boy?'
  'Sleep in your bed?'
  'Why not?'
  'I'd love it. I'd adore it.'
  'Ok, ok, don't go all delirious about it.'
  'I shall, I shall. I must. I shan't sleep at all. Just lie in beatific
ecstasy. Like St Teresa of Ávila.' And we giggled as he tousled my hair.
  'Take my underpants from under my pillow, lover boy.'
  I loved obeying sexy orders, and extracted them from under his pillow.
  'Rub your face in my underpants.' And I rubbed my face in them, kissing
them loudly. And he laughed.
  'Now, lover boy, dress me.' What a thrill to actually put them on him. He
lifted his bum as I slid them up and then we lay side by side, my hand
cupping his bulge.
  As always, I woke up five minutes before Madame Monitor came with her
bell from hell. Flick was lying on his side, with his head on my shoulder
and one arm across me. Gazing at him intensely, I dragged myself away, and
quickly down into my bed. My pyjama bottoms were as usual glued to my
abdomen by dried spunk.
  I brought him his usual buttered toast with cheese and jam, and he ate it
in bed, while I slipped a hand under his duvet and caressed his loins. When
it was time for him to climb down, I quickly sucked his glans clean of
pre-come. The night before, we had agreed only to make love at night and in
the darkroom. The darkroom was next to Deere's bed. It was disused and
under the stairs with a door in the wall where Deere's bed was. There was
electric light, a working surface, and a chair. It was about the size of a
bed, and we had used it a few times for surreptitious drinking parties.
  All day, I tingled with anticipation, and in the lunch break, as I was
rubbing his crotch, Flick said we should take a shower immediately after
our last lesson in the afternoon.
  When the bell finally rang we ran down to our room, grabbed a towel, and
then up to the gym. Luckily, there were other boys there, so my arousal was
automatically repressed. Flick was grinning widely as we dried ourselves,
and then we ran back, Flick took the tartan blanket from his bed, and we
crept into the darkroom, turned the light on, and closed and locked the
door.
  I was about to die with excitement, for this was all Flick's doing, which
meant he was keen. Quickly, I stripped to my underpants, but he said we
should both be naked.
  'I never last long. I'll squirt all over the place.'
  'Go get a dirty vest to dry up with.' So I surreptitiously ran out and
quickly did as he said. Anyone could have walked in and caught me there in
my underpants and an erection. Inside again, I found Flick lying on the
blanket on the floor, stark naked.
  'Better not talk too loudly, I think the sound goes through the stairs.'
  He sat up and then pulled down my underpants, my phallus almost in his
face.
  'Shall I give you a suck, lover boy?'
  'No you shan't.'
  'Why not?'
  'I don't want you to.' And I lay down beside him. We looked at each other
and he stroked my hair.
  'Why don't you want me to give you a suck?'
  'You're not a homo.' He smiled.
  'Are you?' I took his hand and kissed it.
  'I don't know if I'm a homo, but I know I love you. I don't love anyone
else like that, so I don't know if I'm a homo... But I don't want you to
change.'
  'I have changed, you know.'
  'No, for you it's just a lark, friendly fun.'
  'Let me toss you off then.' I hesitated.
  `Jason and I used to toss each other off.'
  'We all did... in those days.'
  'Yeah.' He giggled. We both giggled.
  'I saw Thirsby suck his dick.'
  'Yeah. But we only tossed off.' And Flick rubbed my phallus with his
finger.
  'If you touch me there, I'll just squirt instantaneously.' He leaned over
to study my crotch.
  'You're already wet! I've barely touched you, lover boy.' And he
laughed. Then he closed his hand round my phallus. The touch of his hand
sent a sexual frisson through me and I stopped breathing. Slowly, he pulled
his hand up so the foreskin covered the glans, and then slowly down, and
before my glans was quite uncovered squirt, squirt over my stomach.
  'You're unbelievable, lover boy.'
  I stroked his hair. 'I'm mad about the boy.' And he took my undervest and
wiped my spunk off and I whispered Noel Coward's refrain.
  'There, you're clean, lover boy.' And he lay back with a smile and spread
his legs. I needed no prompting and climbed in between his legs and began
to lick up and down the underside of his phallus. He stroked my head gently
with one hand and began to sob. I moved down and sucked his balls, but he
raised his knees and pushed my head down. Then he rocked back with his
knees on his chest, pushing them apart with his arms, exposing his
arsehole. He wanted me to suck his arsehole again. Breathless, I slid my
tongue down his perinaeum, down to his arsehole, quite fuddled by the
scent, greedily rimming him. He held his legs apart with his arms and
stroked the top of my head as I slavered over the most intimate part of his
body. Twice I moved up to resume fellating him but was pushed down
again. Eventually, there was a large wet patch of my spit on the blanket.
  Then I told him to squat over my face and I parted his cheeks and rimmed
his arsehole while he wanked himself. It was not long before his panting
changed to gasps and he splashed spunk onto my abdomen. This in turn made
me splash, but I held him in place as I continued to rim him. The sensation
of having my beloved's arse right there over my face was just too
heavenly. But he climbed off me and laughed.
  'There's a pool of spunk on your abdomen.'
  I raised my head and looked. My face was slick with my own spit. `Don't
wipe it off! Don't!'
  `What d'you want me to do, lover boy?'
  `Let me suck you dry.' And he positioned himself over my face and gave me
his glans penis to suck clean, squeezing out a few drops. He also let me
suck off some gobs on his hand.
  `Now feed me the spunk on my stomach.'
  `Oooh, man, you're such a pervert.'
  And he scooped up some of the spunk with his hand and I sucked it
off. Then he scooped up the rest and poured it into my mouth, and I sucked
his hand clean.
  'Drink, baby, drink, your afternoon tea.'
  'Cream tea.' And we giggled.
  'Cream tea for depraved lover boys.'
  Finally, my abdomen was clean. Lovingly and smiling, he took my vest and
wiped the spit off my face. Then we lay side by side facing each other. We
whispered.
  'Did you ever suck someone else off?' And I said never, but that Rawson
and I had had a number of sessions, FELLATIO INTERRUPTIO.
  'I never liked him, you know. Never. I liked when he gave me a suck. In
fact, I disliked him. But he was clean, and... There was something really
poofy about him. I hated it.'
  'You're not poofy.'
  'I know... Just because I love you doesn't mean I want to walk like a
caricature of a girl and talk like a caricature of a girl. You know? Rawson
talks with a kind of squeak, you know? A bit like a cartoon
character. Something between Donald Duck and Bugs Bunny.'
  `You're not completely innocent, you know. You do sometimes behave like a
homo.'
  `What d'you mean?'
  `Well, you're suggesting that your behaviour is no different from the
boys who are not homos.'
  `Isn't it?'
  `Not entirely, lover boy.' And he grinned.
  `What d'you mean?'
  `Well', and he giggled. `when you're sucking my arsehole or gulping down
my spunk, isn't that the behaviour of a homo?'
  And now I giggled. `I think it should be the behaviour of all boys.'
  `Yeah, yeah, I know you want me to suck your arse, but that's not what
I'm talking about.'
  `I told you I don't want you to suck my arse or my dick.' I rubbed his
thigh and then slipped my hand in and rubbed his wet anus. `I don't rub
your arse in public, do I?' And I leaned over and kissed him. `I don't kiss
you in public... We don't go around advertising it. There's no need to make
a spectacle of myself. I mean, what's it all for? "Look at me! Look at me!
I'm a poof!" Who cares?'
  `Some do care, y'know.'
  `Yes, the ones who want to beat you up... They're the only ones who
care... The Jews were forced by decree to wear a badge. It exposed them to
ridicule and violence. Poofs flaunt their badge voluntarily.'
  His phallus was again hard in my hand. I rolled him over onto his back
and then moved down between his thighs, sucking and savouring languorously
. I reached down to my dripping phallus and smeared two fingers with
pre-cum, and then slid the fingertips inside his arse, wriggling them. He
raised his knees and spread his legs further and I slid my fingers in all
the way, in and out, as I sucked his phallus, and he caressed my head. I
felt a continuous tingle of disbelief as I felt his arse hot and tight
about my two fingers, as I slurped, as he sobbed and fingered my
hair. `Your hair's so soft, lover boy. So soft.' We lay in silence, the
only sound my slurping and his sobs of pleasure, and then he whispered that
it was soon time for prep. So I sucked up and down more intensely and
buggered him with my two fingers. Quickly he gasped and gasped and spurted
and spurted, and I swallowed and swallowed, spurting onto his blanket, but
gently this time, almost diffidently. He ruffled my hair and grinned as I
looked up at him and lasciviously sniffed and sucked my two fingers.

DAMN IT

  Having only three or four days ahead of us, we also had an evening
session in the darkroom, and this time Flick brought his pillow. He lay on
his back, with his head on his pillow, and I sucked his phallus
languorously waiting for, indeed hoping, he would want me to rim him. After
a while, he gently pushed my head down and hungrily I moved down and
pressed my face into his arse, hungrily slavering over his perinaeum, his
anus, and his buttocks, inhaling the scent of boy. Then he bade me stop and
rolled over onto his stomach, and placed his pillow under his hips, so his
arse was raised. I caressed his beautiful buttocks, rubbed my face in them,
covering them with wet kisses, and resumed my sniffing and slavering. He
squirmed from side to side, sighing and moaning. He would pull his slick
buttocks wide apart to give me better access, and then let go and squirm
this side and that side, and then reach back and caress my head, and then
let go and clutch the blanket, and back and forth restless with desire.
  After a while, his arsehole opened up and I inserted my tongue, licking
the inside. Flick was sobbing and I was sighing through my nose, dripping
into my underpants, on the verge of an orgasm.
  Flick gasped desperately. 'Stick it in, lover boy, stick it in!'
  I pulled away from his arse and studied the glistening cavity between his
buttocks. What did he mean? He rose up on his hands and knees, his head
down, and I got eye contact between his thighs. His face was twisted with
desire and he whispered: 'Damn it, lover boy, bugger me; bugger me up the
arse!'
  My heart pounding like crazy, I positioned myself on my knees behind
him. My whole phallus was glistening with pre-spunk, and I squeezed out
more to smear it all over. Then I slipped a hand underneath and squeezed
his glans, and pre-cum flowed into my fingers. I did this a few times,
smearing the goo onto his anus and inside his rectum, sliding two fingers
into the tight heat. He was gasping and sighing almost frantically. Then I
rubbed my glans against his arsehole. It was slippery and I whined like a
child: 'I'm gonna come, can't stop it.'
  `Wait.' He rolled over onto his back. Pulled his knees right back so they
rested on his shoulders and I manoeuvred my slick phallus onto his slick
arse, rubbing it against his perinaeum. I pressed against his anus, there
was some resistance, but when I pressed a little harder my whole phallus
was sort of gobbled into his arse. The sight of my phallus sliding deep
into his body, and the sensation of heat, smooth friction, and tightness
brought me to a series of orgasmic paroxysms, ejaculating what seemed to be
my very soul into his torrid bowels. Flick gave out a deep gasp, looked at
me with astonishment, mouth half open, and I watched in wonder as he
spurted onto his chest, then onto his face with an audible splash, and
again onto his chest. Then we just froze, me on my hands over him, both of
us panting. He wrapped his legs round my torso and then pulled me down so
we were face to face. Looked at me with the sweet submissive smile of that
memorable morning when I first made love to him. Like a loving cat, I
licked the gobs of spunk off his face. `Mmmm... Mmmm.'
  Flick embraced me and held me tight, kissing my face. Then I just
collapsed onto him, my loins burning, his scorching bowels clasping me
tight, and it seemed the slightest movement would cause a heart attack. He
pressed his lips to mine, and for the first time we snogged. Moaning as if
in agony, I sucked and slurped his hot mouth and tongue. Eventually, he
held me tight and whispered: 'You made me come like crazy, lover boy. You
made me come. Hands free.' And he gave me a huge wet kiss on the
cheek. `Did you come up my bum, lover boy?'
  'Up your bum. Up your bum. I came up your beautiful bum. I'm going to
melt into a pool... a pool of orgasmic ecstasy.'
  'Your willy hasn't melted, it's still hard.' And we giggled quietly.
  'In a state of paralysis.' And still we giggled.
  His eyes sparkled. 'Do it again. I want it again. Hands free.' And he
clenched his arse round my phallus.
  `Wait a bit. It's too much... I can't... please. Don't move. Just wait.'
And he clenched his arse again.
  `Come on, lover boy, come on. Bugger me again.'
  I panted into his neck. 'You'll have to write to my mother and say I died
of an orgasmic haemorrhage. Hedonic seizure... ah... mortal hedonic
seizure... Ah... erogenous superfluity... acute erogenous superfluity
syndrome.'
   He clenched his arse again, and pressed his mouth against mine. I sighed
through my nose as we snogged, my heart fluttering wildly at this new
development. In an attempt not to spurt at once, I tried very gently to
pull out a bit and then very slowly in again. His rectum was if anything
hotter and the friction more acute than before, because his arse was now
lubricated by my first ejaculation. I managed five very gentle thrusts and
on the sixth I was again overcome, a drawn-out spasm of ejaculating into
his bowels. The spunk came out with such force it stung in my
urethra. Flick was gasping quietly, but he didn't come again. He pressed
his lips to mine
  `Not so gentle, lover boy, more oomph.'
  `I can't. It's too much. My dick's on fire.'
  Again he hugged me. `I love you, lover boy.'
  `Don't be stupid. Don't be bloody stupid.'
  `Wait, wait. Wait and recover. Then bugger me again. Just
wait. Recuperate.'
  My phallus was still hard but somehow numb. I tried to slide it back and
forth a bit, and even though there was a very pleasant sensation, it was no
longer so intense. His arse squelched with my two loads of semen, and
wasn't as tight as before. So I commenced to bugger him
properly. Vigorously in and out, his calves resting on my shoulders, his
mouth half open, and a gasp every time I thrust. He was rocking his head
from side to side, and moaning quietly. `Oh, oh, lover boy, oh, oh.'
  He pulled me down and held me tight. `Bugger me forever, lover boy. Never
stop, never stop.' Tingling with disbelief, I buggered him frenziedly,
sliding my whole length in and out, slap, slap, slap, and he grunting in my
ear. And then a gasping groan. Audibly, he splashed onto my chin from
below, and onto his face. And again. And I licked his face clean and to my
breathless wonder, he licked my chin clean. We snogged spermy lips and I
pumped on, and he grunted on. Finally I came, but it was a tame affair
compared with my first two ejaculations. Flick grinned.
  `Three times up my arse. Three times, lover boy!' And then he began to
wank. `Don't pull out! Don't pull out!' But I pulled away his hand and
wanked him. He pulled me close, so my phallus remained deep inside,
clenched it with his arse and then just lay there watching my face,
breathing quietly. A single gasp, and a single squirt over my hand, and
then we were done. He watched me as I licked my hand clean and then we
snogged. We looked each other in the eye. I looked at Flick with adoration
and wonderment, now that I had actually buggered him. What was he thinking
about?
  He grinned and stroked my cheek. `You buggered me, lover boy. You
buggered me.'
  `You didn't resist.' And we giggled and snogged.
  I pulled out at last. My phallus was streaked with spunk and the inside
of my foreskin was inflamed by all the friction. I took my undervest and
wiped my phallus clean.
  `Give it to me, please.' And Flick wiped his arse. I tilted him back
again and then sucked his little pucker, inflamed and puffy. It winked as I
sucked.

DON'T BE BLOODY STUPID

  For the next two nights, I slept in Flick's bed. Waking up at night,
feeling his body press against mine, often a leg or arm entwined, sometimes
his hand on my thigh, once in my crotch, the sound of his breath, his
smell, his hair tickling my skin, I dared barely breathe for the sheer
poetry of it.
  Which was the sweeter? To watch him eat his breakfast as I fondled his
genitals and fingered his arsehole? Feel his phallus swell in my hand as he
pissed? Feel his thighs upon my shoulders as I slavered over his crotch?
His gently pushing my head down so I'd suck his arsehole? His sobs of
pleasure? His gasp and groan as he ejaculated into my mouth? His arsehole
slick with my spit as I sucked and slurped? His long sigh as my phallus
slid into his arsehole? His grunts and surrender as I buggered him? Or the
languorous tender intimacy of lying beside him, feeling his bare skin
against mine? His smirk across the table? Across the room? It was a time of
intense love. But eventually Wednesday, the dread day, arrived, and we
walked up to the station to meet Deere's train. We had buggered wildly in
the darkroom up to the last moment. The corona and neck of my glans were
sore and he said his bum was so sore he could barely sit down.
  We walked out onto the platform, the train was due in three or four
minutes. Flick pulled me into the public lavatory and into a cubicle and
snogged me wildly.
  `I love you' he whispered into my ear. `I love you.'
  `Don't be stupid. Don't be bloody stupid.' And I ran my hand up and down
between his legs, and then the train arrived.
  With Deere back in place, our options were limited. From sexual activity
early morning, late morning, noon, afternoon, evening, and night, suddenly
we found ourselves with none. Deere now became an obstacle, and I had
unfriendly thoughts such as if only he'd have to have another
operation. The lavatories were an option, but frequent use would lead to
detection. And buggery without sound was impossible. So we'd spend most
days glancing at each other, longing, and smirking as each one knew the
other's thoughts.
  With the onset of spring, we tried climbing a high and dense pine tree,
but one couldn't abandon oneself to pleasure while holding onto a branch
for life and limb. Then we tried the various roofs of the various buildings
at night, climbing up the drainpipes. The only accessible roofs were on low
buildings, which meant likely detection from passers by, and a naked bottom
is a moon at night.
  Term's end was a mere seven weeks away, and then I'd be flying home, and
the following year I'd transfer to an élite college. Flick was the only
son of a single mother, a social worker in a small council flat, and he was
sponsored by the state, and wasn't going to college. There was a huge class
difference between us, but we never spoke of it, and I very seldom thought
of it.
  One sunny spring afternoon, after five days of desperate non-activity, we
decided to try the countryside. There was a forest about three miles
away. We had only one bike, so I biked and Flick sat on the rack on the
back. Once we left the town, we were largely alone on the road, and Flick
leaned forward onto my back, and instead of holding on to my waist, he
rubbed my bare thighs and groped me in the crotch, so I got an immediate
hard-on. When it was his turn to drive, I reciprocated. At a steep incline,
we walked, both sporting an erection in our shorts. We got on, ready to
freewheel down and I told him to lean forward. I slipped my hand into my
shorts and squeezed pre-cum onto my finger, pushed the fabric between his
legs to one side and smeared the pre-cum onto his arsehole. Twice more, and
two fingers slipped easily in. Flick sat back on the saddle, with my hand
underneath, and my two fingers up his arse. As we freewheeled down, he
leaned forward, and I slid my fingers in and out of his arse. This I did
until there was again a steep incline. Again we got off, again with a tent
in our shorts, and stains of pre-cum.
  `Yum, yum', I giggled as I sucked my fingers, and he laughed.
  `You're such a pervert!'
  `Me? Who likes having my fingers up his arse? Who likes being buggered?'
And now he blushed slightly. Was he ashamed? Quickly I hugged him and
kissed him on the mouth.
  I wanted him to do it to me, but at the same time I wanted him not to. I
wanted him to remain Flick the dear friend who merely submitted in my
caresses, to please me, and for the sake of pleasant sensations, not
because of any homosexuality. That was why I adamantly resisted his
declarations of love, attributing them solely to the intense sensations he
was enjoying. And I maintained the one-way relationship of me doing the
doing and enjoying and he doing only the enjoying.
  The homo-erotic play continued until we got to the forest and then we hid
the bike and explored. There was a large patch of tightly packed fir trees,
where there was no wind, and it was completely quiet, the ground springy
with needles. It wasn't long before we had removed our shorts and
underpants. Flick lay down on his back but the needles were prickly, so
amidst giggles he got on his hands and knees. I sat behind him, spread his
buttocks, and gave his arse a good long slaver. It was slightly sweaty and
the scent richer than usual. He then rested his arms on the ground and his
head on his arms, so only his bum was in the air. We had never done it this
way, but the sight had me gagging for it. He was sobbing and squirming as
always, shifting his head from side to side, unable to keep still. I was
drunken with desire.
  `I'm dripping, lover boy, dripping. Stick it in, please. Come on.' I
reached between his thighs and squeezed his pre-cum onto my fingers and
lathered his arse with it, till my fingers slid easily in and out. He was
moaning, and raised himself so he was again on his hands and knees. Then I
got on my knees behind him, pressed my gooey phallus against his slick arse
and slid in, whimpering with the impact of heat, tightness, and smoothness.
  I was no longer so overwhelmingly aroused by sexual contact with him and
could with effort hold myself so I could slide in and out more than ten
times. This meant that he would often come as I buggered him. But apart
from two very rushed and cramped buggeries in the lavatories, I was for the
first time buggering him from behind. And the sight of my phallus sliding
back and forth between his beautiful buttocks, the sight of him swinging
back and forth to meet my thrusts, the sound of his buttocks slapping
against my hips, as well as the romantic surroundings, and the intense
naughtiness of wearing shoes and a T-shirt but no shorts, made me come
after only a few thrusts. I cried out and spurted into his bowels, my hands
on his hips. Then I just lay over his back panting, while he clenched his
arse round my phallus.
  `Did you come?'
  `Almost. The needles are prickly.' I reached down and began to wank him.
  `No, give me succour, please.' So I pulled out of him. As always, my
phallus remained hard, but now for the first time, I saw that his arsehole
remained a perfectly circular gaping hole for a while and then with a wink
closed up. Avidly I bent down and sucked his arse clean of my own
spunk. The scent of his sweaty arse and my sperm drove me crazy, I sucked
and sucked and sucked. Then he rolled onto his back with his knees up and I
dived down between his thighs to give him `succour'. Two fingers up his
arse, which squelched because of my spunk inside.
  `Three, lover boy, three!' And three fingers made their way into his
squelching heat. We were in such a frenzy that had we known about fisting,
no doubt I would have worked my whole hand in.
  The location was too good not to have another session, and very soon I
was buggering Flick with more oomph, slap, ah, slap, ah, slap, ah, and
eventually he ejaculated onto the pine needles and I into his torrid
bowels. When I pulled out, I immediately plunged my face into the gaping
cavity of his arse, sucking and licking as if my life depended on it. Oh,
bliss, my face smeared with spunk, spit, and Flick's anal juices.
  As we rode back, Flick was driving when he complained. `Damn it, lover
boy, I'm leaking your spunk. YOUR sperm is leaking out of MY arse.' And he
giggled: `My underpants are wet with YOUR sperm. I'm not sure if it's funny
or disgusting.' We stopped and slipped down into the ditch behind a bush,
and I had him squat over my face. I pulled aside his shorts and underpants
and sucked his arsehole clean of my own spunk.
  `Relax your bum. Let it open up.' And his arsehole opened up, so my spunk
trickled out, and I sucked and licked. Then I slid my finger inside, and it
came out covered in spunk, and I sucked it dry. That way I cleaned out his
arsehole. Then I sucked his underpants dry. By this time my phallus was
hard as steel and dripping like a tap.
  `We'd better get out of here, lover boy. There are lorries going by
now. They can probably see us.' So off we went with straining erections
that soon withered under the fear of detection. We returned to the forest
twice, but again it was tricky, because other boys might want to come with
us, and disappearing too often might lead to suspicions.
  And then hallelujah. The patron saint of lover boys intervened. Deere
announced with some pride that he was going to spend a week with some army
regiment, a foretaste of a possible career. I couldn't fathom how anyone
would want to join the army, but I didn't give a toss, only the glorious
prospect of a whole week alone with Flick! With much fuss and best wishes,
we saw him off at the station on the Sunday afternoon. The train had barely
pulled out, when Flick grinned at me: `Last man in the darkroom is a
limp-wristed, effeminate poof!' And off we went.
  He being the superior athlete, of course, won, and was lying naked on the
floor waiting. I entered and locked the door.
  `What are you?'
  I giggled. `A slowcoach.'
  `No, we didn't say a slowcoach. What did we say?'
  I giggled again. `Last man in the darkroom is a limp-wristed, effeminate
poof.' And we laughed.
  `And what do limp-wristed effeminate poofs have to do?'
  `Suck arse.' And Flick pulled his knees back to bare his arse.
  `Well, get on with it, lover boy.' And I got on with it. He was warm and
slightly damp from the run, which turned me on enormously. I even sucked
his armpits. But he was impatient for sodomy, and soon we were rocking. For
weeks, we had only had the odd rushed blowjob, and on the preceding Sunday
we had agreed not to ejaculate for a full week before Deere's departure.
  `Then our first session will be spectacular!' said Flick.
  `Spermatic show spec-tacular!' said I. So now, with my phallus sliding in
and out of Flick's arsehole, it wasn't long before we both had massive
orgasms. Gasping with the convulsions of passion, I ejaculated again and
again deep inside his arse, and he ejaculated again and again onto his own
face, his hair, and his chest and stomach. I wanted to rub my face in the
pool on his stomach, rub it into my hair, but dinner was very soon due, so
I just sucked it all up. Then I withdrew from his arse and watched with
wonder as the hole gaped and then closed up. There was no time to clean out
his arse, so Flick stuffed one of my hankies into his underpants, to work
as a `sanity' napkin. After dinner, we had another frenzied session, and
then he squatted over my face, and I gobbled up all the spunk that flowed
out of him. We stank like goats in rut and ran off to the gym for a
shower. The place was empty, so in an unprecedented dare, Flick got on his
hands and knees, and I buggered him under the hot showers. I came after a
goodly time, but Flick needed succour. After we had dried ourselves, I lay
on the bench and he squatted over my face, letting me clean him out
again. Then we both got hard again, and tossed each other off.
  We had five nights and five days of frantic love-making. Flick had become
obsessed with buggery, wanting it longer and deeper, and very often
ejaculated with no other stimulus. When he didn't, I buggered him with
three fingers as I sucked him off. And we went to sleep spoonways with my
phallus up his arse. (Buggery in bed was impossible because the bed
creaked.) To this day, I wonder that we were never caught literally with
our pants down. We became bolder and bolder as the end of term
approached. Yet throughout our torrid love affair, there was never a hint
that anyone even suspected anything.
  We didn't know that ours was a slightly strange arrangement, because
although I very willingly had him as the dominant one in our relationship,
he was the buggeree not the buggerer. He had made it clear that although he
enjoyed my anal ministrations, he was in no way interested in
reciprocating. `Sorry, lover boy, it doesn't turn me on. I can't stick it
up your bum.'
  I should have loved to lie with my ankles on his shoulders as he buggered
me but it was no big deal. Perhaps the greatest joy for me in our sexual
relations was his being turned on; his panting and sobbing with pleasure,
enjoying intense orgasms because of my ministrations.
  Eventually, Deere returned, and only weeks later, it was end of term. The
night before the fateful day, Flick and I went out to the trees at the back
of the football pitch. Lamp posts in the vicinity made it less safe, but we
sat down in the shade of a tree, where we were shielded, and from where we
could see anyone approach. And then we snogged and fondled, fearsome to go
any further.
  `I want to suck you off, lover boy.'
  `No, I told you, I don't want you to.'
  `It's our last time. Just this once. I want to do it for you.'
  `I don't want you to do anything for me, understand?' I resisted his
groping, but soon he had undone my jeans and was caressing my phallus. We
snogged as he worked my phallus out through the fly in my underpants, and
then he lowered his head and for the first and last time he sucked me off.
  There was something sacred about it, for he was doing it out of love for
me rather than out of lust. He was doing it to please me alone. I stroked
his soft locks and was on the verge of declaring my undying love for him,
but it seemed out of place. So I merely sat up against the tree, quietly
sighing in the dark, and then I gasped and ejaculated into his hot
mouth. It wasn't wildly erotic, it was wildly poetic. He sucked me dry and
raised his head with a spermy grin. He licked his lips and then grasped me
by the neck and we snogged. And he embraced me and rested his head on my
shoulder. `I liked that, lover boy. It was nice.' I stroked his head,
speechless with love.
  `I love you, lover boy.' This time I didn't protest. I wanted so much to
declare my love, but I knew if I did, I would cry. Instead I unzipped his
jeans and pushed down his white underpants to release his genitals. He was
only semi-hard. I pulled back the foreskin, touched my lips to the tacky
tip, and sacramentally I proceeded to fellate him. He spread his legs as I
wriggled my hand down into his jeans in order to finger his arse. (It
seemed unnecessary to stick my finger inside, it seemed unnecessary to pull
his jeans down.) I lay down on my stomach, and then with my hands on his
hips, languorously sucked his phallus and his balls, rested my face in his
pubes, sniffed the warm scent from his lap. It was a calm and deep passion,
abounding with love. He stroked my head, and slipped a hand inside my
jeans, inside my underpants, and for the first time ever, he caressed my
bare buttocks, and rubbed my anus. The night was quiet, save the soughing
of a breeze, and some night bird singing very prettily off and on, Flick's
gentle sobs, and my quiet, almost reverential slurps. I wanted it never to
stop, but in due course his gentle sobs became gentle gasps and he
ejaculated into my adoring mouth. I kept his ejaculate in my mouth,
swirling it round reverently, reluctant to swallow this last mouthful. Then
I gulped it down and sucked him dry.
  I rested my face in his lap, and ran his swollen phallus over my eyes,
nose, cheeks, ears, chin, and my lips, kissing it softly; pressed my face
against his pubes, against his scrotum and his upper thighs, sniffing and
kissing gently, around and around and over and over. I did this for what
seemed like ages, and Flick said nothing, just caressed me. Then I pulled
away, tucked his genitals back into his underpants and pressed my face
against the bulge, sniffing and kissing. Eventually, I zipped him up and we
embraced.
  And now I wept with wild abandon.