Date: Thu, 7 Sep 2017 21:00:04 +0000 From: Zack McNaught Subject: Six Weeks with Jack - Chapter 7 Author's notes: (1) All this is written in British English. Hence, arse (ass), willy (penis), wank (masturbate), pants (underwear), fanny (vulva). (2) There is a historical inaccuracy - the Nintendo game, Super Mario World, was not released for the SNES console in the UK until 9 months or so after this story takes place. Please forgive me for warping that little bit of reality. (3) Part of this story (but by no means all) is accurate to real life, and it is written about my youth, and so rather than using my alter-ego, Zack, I've used my real name throughout. Anyway, enough of that - on with the story. Six Weeks with Jack, by Zack McNaught Chapter 7 It came as as shock to find we had only a week left together. Where the hell did the previous five go? But it struck me one Saturday evening that the Tuesday after the next was the date I would be leaving home, and heading off for boarding school. I'd boarded in the past, for a year, so it wasn't quite as scary a prospect as it might have been. No, the fear came from not seeing Jack any more. `Close' didn't really do our relationship justice. He woke in my bed every morning, tangled in my arms more often than not. At night, we would kiss and hump and wank and suck until we had nothing left to give and were both too exhausted to carry on, but we were young and energetic, and we could easily wake up in the morning, empty our bladders, and just carry on. If anything, I was the hornier of the two of us, but that didn't mean Jack would ever refuse. Quite the opposite - I only had to suggest something to Jack and he would be standing to attention, ready to go. One time, we were on the way back from town having watched another movie (I forget which now) and I got the overpowering urge to wank off. Just sitting in the dark in the back of the car, feeling sleepy and with the gentle hum of the tyres on the road left me with a rock-hard willy. Feeling naughty, I fished it out from my pants and tapped Jack on the shoulder. He spun round and was about to ask "what?" when his eyes landed on the protuberance at my crotch, and instead he clamped his hand over his mouth and stifled a giggle. Without me having to suggest it, he leaned across and started to play with it, pulling and tugging at the foreskin. He could only get to the top inch and a bit with my jeans in the way, but that was enough. As we barrelled along on country lanes on the way back to the village, I slipped into a semi-conscious state as Jack deftly manipulated me. I drifted along as if in a dream, somewhere between fantasy and reality, my world focussed on the green lights on mum's dashboard and the incredible sensation of Jack's hot fingers kneading the bulbous tip of my dick through my skin. When I came, I almost passed out from the pleasure, and it was only thanks to Jack nudging me and pointing out the very tip of my now-soft willy poking out of my fly that I didn't get caught when we pulled into the driveway. - - - During that last week, Jack and I finally took the most serious step we could, and I proved my devotion to him beyond any doubt. I'm sure you can guess what act that would be. Jack had been fingering me ever since the first time he tried it, because it clearly drove me mad. Whether he was wanking me off or (somewhat less often) sucking me, he would gently probe at the opening, and sometimes even slip a spit-slicked finger inside, just a tiny bit. One day in the shower, he even made me more aware than ever of the pleasure to be had. We weren't even supposed to be messing around, we were meant to be being quick, because it wasn't often we had a chance to shower together without raising suspicions. But on this occasion, mum had gone out for just a little bit, and left us alone together, trusting us to behave. So, we'd decided to shower together, though with our ill-judged logic, we'd agreed not to do any naughty stuff in there. I don't know what we thought the fun of having the shower together would have been in that case, but there you go - that's horny eleven-year-old boy logic for you. So Jack cleaning my back was meant to be just that - soapy lover's hands caressing my back with the sole intention of making it clean. Nothing at all untoward was happening. But of course I had a massive stiffy, and I knew Jack did too, because when he reached around to playfully tug at my erection, his own slid into the crack of my arse. Now, hard as it is to believe, that's the first time that had happened. It felt amazing, though - not at all like his finger. It was fatter, blunter, hotter, softer to the touch but steel hard within. I groaned at the feeling of it brushing past my hole, but then it was gone, and I was left panting slightly. But no bother, because Jack's wonderful hands were on my back again, now moving lower, now cupping my bum, now slipping inside my crack. His finger brushed across my wrinkled pucker, and I pushed back without thinking. It passed over again, and again I pushed back, more urgently than before. He returned the digit to my opening, and this time angled it to point upward, and without effort or ceremony, he pushed and I pushed, and it slipped right up inside me, and pressed against something I didn't know even existed. I cried out at the sensation, and that was it, I was cumming. Jack had touched something inside me which turned my legs to jelly, and which could send me into an earth-shattering orgasm at one touch. A magic button. I grabbed his wrist and pulled his finger out, and then lunged into him, holding on for dear life as the aftershocks pulsed through my backside. When I was finally able to stand on my own two feet, he stepped back a little and looked at me strangely. "What the hell was that?" he asked, a concerned look on his face. "I don't know," I panted in reply. But there was no chance to investigate further, because at that moment we heard mum's car pull up onto the gravel outside, and we had to grab our stuff and sprint back to the relative safety behind my closed and locked bedroom door. - - - The next morning, Jack was in a huggy mood. He was like that about half the time, spooning up behind me in the night and sticking his damp self to me. If he woke with a stiffy - which was basically every time - he would playfully hump it into my bum cheeks until the need to wee got too great. On this occasion, we both got up and ran naked to the toilet - a little dare we had each morning if we woke up before mum - and then hopped back into bed and into each other's arms, having a little morning smooch and humping our willies vaguely together, before we got down to the serious business of getting off. "Hang on," Jack said after a short while, "turn over, I want to hug you like that again." Dutifully I did so, and felt the wonderful sensation of my lover's arms snaking around me, and then the contact as he shifted himself forward. His little dick poked me in the lower back, so he shifted slightly until it was instead lying along my crack, and then settled down. We lay there for what seemed like ages, with me wondering if he was ever going to get around to starting to hump his dick alone my crack, before he started the gentlest movements. I think he thought he would have to do it subtly, and didn't realise that I was just as eager for the contact as he was. After a little while he'd built up a decent rhythm, and my sweaty crack was providing just enough slickness to make it fun, but that wasn't what Jack wanted. My heart skipped a beat and my stomach started doing backflips when I felt him reach down between us and reposition himself so the blunt tip of his dick was resting right on my hole. I was shaking with anticipation as I felt him press slightly forward. But something was wrong - we were amateurs, and didn't realise that without something slippery, it wouldn't go in. Jack kept pushing, but it was no use, and eventually he gave up trying, and slipped off to the side. I turned over to face him, and he was looking really disgruntled. "What are we doing wrong?" he asked, as if I would know. But suddenly it occurred to me that maybe I did. "You remember in the shower when your finger went inside? You had soap on it." "You think I should put some on my willy?" he asked. "Yeah, go on. Go and put some on!" I urged. I needed to feel what it was like with him inside me. He scampered out of bed, and put on his shorts and t-shirt - we didn't really need to take a risk with what we were doing, even if mum probably wouldn't have realised just from seeing Jack naked - and disappeared off. He was gone for a little while, and I was beginning to wonder what was keeping him, when he came back into the room with his hand down the front of his shorts, making an obscene tent. "I had to stop it getting all over my shorts!" he explained with a giggle. When he shucked them, and awkwardly wriggled out of his t-shirt, I wanted to burst out laughing. He had lathered up his whole crotch. "I just wanted to be certain!" he whispered, and I nodded - I wanted him to be certain, too. Nothing was going to stand in the way of getting his willy up my bum. I rolled onto my tummy, humping my sheets a bit in my rampant excitement, and he climbed on the bed, sitting on the backs of my thighs. Then I felt him lean forward, and his left hand came to rest on the bed by my left shoulder. Then something incredibly slippery and a little cold touched my bum, and I realised it was his dick. I shivered violently when it slipped between my cheeks, and then once more when it pressed up against my pucker. "Are you ready?" he whispered, and with my face buried in the crook of my arm, I nodded. He entered me easily, on a slick of soap bubbles which stung the sensitive skin of my ring. It was fatter than his finger, and just as long, and at the same moment I felt his crotch come to rest on my bum, it touched that magic place inside and I growled. It felt like an uncontrollable pleasure, one which I had to suffer and enjoy, not one in which I participated. I couldn't speed up or slow down, clench harder or go softer. My pleasure was utterly at Jack's whim, and that both scared and delighted me. He lay full length atop me, and only his hips moved, gently pistoning his chubby little dick in and out of my backside. He chin was on my shoulder, his breath close by my ear. Trapped beneath him, our bodies in full contact, and his willy gently rubbing past the button inside me, I once again slipped into delirium. Nothing in the world existed except for him, and me, and the sensation of that small, hot, hard bit of him which possessed me completely. It made an obscene suckling squelch as it slipped in and out. The squelch of my behind being owned, and the thundering of his breath in my ear, and the pounding of my pulse, over and over, until something else drowned them out; a roaring sound which occupied my senses, making me unable to think straight. I rolled my head from side to side, trying to get the sound out of my head, but there was no relief. My bum started to quiver uncontrollably, and I felt something happening deep inside me, an uncomfortable, out of control feeling which spread to the base of my willy, then along its length to the tip, until with searing pain I came, crying out and grabbing handfuls of the sheet. I writhed and moaned and whimpered my way through the most indescribably intense feeling of my life, and I was only vaguely aware of Jack grunting and thrusting one last time, and the twitching and kicking of his stiffy in my behind, as he deposited what little seed he had to offer. - - - I was sore, but I was also content in a way I'd never before been. The same day we'd discovered the willy-in-bum game, we'd done it twice more - once in the afternoon and again before bed. Now, I lay awake while my lover snored next to me. I didn't use that word to describe him in my head, of course. He was just Jack, but I loved Jack. Loved him with all my heart. There was no denying that now. I also had to let him go only three days hence, and that hurt enough to keep me awake when I was utterly exhausted. I didn't want us to be parted, I really didn't. I didn't want to leave my home behind, either, even though it would only be for two years until dad's job was done, and then he would be back, he promised, for ever and ever, and would never take another job abroad. So there was an end in sight for that heartbreak. But for my separation from Jack there was no such protection. He would go back to his parents, and if I was lucky I might see him from time to time in the holidays, and maybe next year at summer. Already we had promised to write to each other (this was, of course, before the wide availability of the internet) and I really intended to stick to that, but even in my youthful naivety I knew these were the final hours. I knew deep down that what I had with Jack was as perfect as it would ever be, and that making it last beyond this single, perfect summer would never work. I woke him. He wasn't happy, but I needed him. I reached my hand down and tugged him into hardness, and as he lay there I climbed on top of him and lowered my bum down onto his stiff willy. He lay quite still while I bounced myself on him, needing to feel him within, needing to have that feeling again. He began to respond in the end, reaching up to hold my hips as I used his body for my pleasure. God, it felt good to do it like this - he went in so deep, and each downward thrust pummelled the little button inside me. When we were done, I collapsed, finally sated, and at last I slept. - - - He looked at me strangely in the morning. "What?" I demanded. "Um, what was that? In the middle of the night, I mean." "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have." "No, I mean, it was OK. I liked it. I like doing things with you. It's just... what do you... what do you feel about me?" "Feel about you?" "Sorry, I... don't know. Don't answer." I looked at him. He was wretched. There was something he needed me to say, and I had a feeling I might know what it was. "Jack." He looked up at me. "I love you, Jack." He stared at me. Emotions flashed across his face, each one chasing after the other. Fear, joy, unease, uncertainty, a host more. He stepped closer. His hand raised to land on my shoulder. He grinned, a lopsided grin. His other hand came to my face. He leaned forwards. Jack kissed me. - - - Epilogue I sighed and clicked off the screen on my phone. Three hours chatting on Messenger. I never spent that long chatting to anyone, in real life or online. Three hours with Jack. It didn't match six weeks with him, by any stretch of the imagination, but already I knew I wouldn't sleep that night. Three hours. Nowhere near enough to catch up on two missing decades, but sufficient to know one thing - the first love of my life was probably still the only one which mattered. I put my head in my hands and sighed heavily again. It explained everything, and yet nothing at all. Why hadn't I ever wanted to have a relationship with a man as an adult? Of course, the easy answer was that I wasn't gay, and that the only reason I thought I still felt that way about him was the golden memory of youth. But it simply didn't ring true. It turned out that I wasn't straight, or gay, or anything else. I had only love for Jack, and it mattered not that he was a man, or that he had been a boy. He was just Jack, and now we had plans to meet, and who knew? Maybe six weeks would become more. The End zackmcnaught@hotmail.com