Date: Sun, 14 Dec 2014 23:58:17 +0000 (UTC)
From: fiveholepunch@comcast.net
Subject: The Luddington Correspondence

Fragmentary Remains of Alfred Luddington's Pre-War Correspondence

Much of the private correspondence of financier Alfred Luddington was
destroyed by family members after his death in 1925.  The following were
recently found in the papers of his nephew John Luddington and lend some
support to certain rumors that surrounded the pre-war events at
Luddington's summer estate on Long Island, the construction of which
occurred during the years 1901 to 1903.


						Summer Estate
						Long Island, New York
						July 3, 1903

Dear John,

I have sent you this second confidential letter separate from the my other
missive because it contains a narrative about a most extraordinary
observation that modesty would proscribe from being made available to more
innocent natures such as your wife's.  As I mentioned in my more general
description of my activities while here on the Island, I have been riding
the property for the purposes of inspecting the recent architectural work
done in creating grottoes and belvederes at the wild edges of the estate as
well as engaging in healthful recreation whilst on vacation.  It is while
engaged in a solitary ride to inspect the work done to create the gated
balustrade that is to set off the morning light so wonderfully on the
eastern horizon that I happened upon, dare I say, a Dionysian tableaux that
I will relate herein.

I had ridden out after lunch out to examine the quality of said
construction.  It was a splendid sunny day with a light breeze; yes it was
warm, but delightfully summery.  Having dismounted to look over the masonry
on the ascending promenade after a vigorous ride, I had wandered to rest
beneath the shade afforded by the overhanging marble lintel that spanned
the Corinthian capped columns.  Let's not argue architectural philosophy on
this point John, I know your views are quite traditional in this regard.  I
was casually leaning against one of the fluted shafts looking along the
coast when my gaze was drawn to youthful voices in a clearing amongst the
scrubby trees about twenty yards distant.

From my vantage point in the shade of the column and the lintel I could
see, off in the irregular brush surrounding the trees, two boys.  One, the
larger of the two, was entirely naked from head to toe. The other, about a
half a foot shorter, still had his shirt on, but was naked from the waist
down. I immediately secreted myself behind the column in order not to be
seen, just peeking my head out enough to observe what went on below. The
larger lad, dark-haired, was standing, legs spread and arms uncomfortably
back, looking down upon his flaxen-haired compatriot who was bent at the
waist before him. It was immediately obvious to me that the younger boy was
engaged in an act of fellatio upon the older.  John, seeing such a carnal
sight aroused an immediate quickening in my own generative engine.

From my angle I was not able to see the older boy's privates, but being
visually lined up almost directly behind the younger boy, I could see
between the twigs and branches of the brush his smooth, naked nates
displayed beneath the hem of his shirt.  Between his spread legs a tight,
hairless scrotum was readily apparent.  As I watched the younger boy
bobbing up and down, I came to realize that he was simultaneously involved
in manually stroking his penis as he orally ministered to his friend's
unseen phallus. The actions of the boys and the display of those youthful
buttocks resulted in my member rising to its full dimension in less than
two shakes, if I might be granted the near pun John, of a lamb's tail.

After a short interval the younger boy rose enough to voice a biological
query to his older companion, "Are you close to making your juice?"

"I'm almost there. Keep sucking," was the earnest reply.

The younger boy went back to work. The older boy hadn't moved from his
awkward and uncomfortable stance one iota. But, it became apparent there
was a change being affected by his young friend's effort; the fellated
boy's visage took on a more tense aspect, especially at the corners of his
mouth. His nose wrinkled as if to sneeze.

"My juice is a-comin' Benji," the naked youth announced with no
uncertainty.

The only outward indication that the standing boy had reached the acme of
satisfaction was a repeated, slight forward thrust of his hips accompanied
by a satisfied exhalation. After a suitable ejaculatory interval, Benji
arose expectorating his companion's just-loosed seed. That accomplished,
Benji undertook a vigorous excitation of his own, unseen by me, member. His
older companion, looking relaxed, watched as his playmate masturbated
determinedly. Within thirty seconds it was apparent that the younger boy
had achieved his own climax.

"I still didn't get no seed, Eric," the younger lad said with a bit of
disappointment in his voice.

"Don't worry, Benji, you will," the older boy assured him.

With that, both boys quickly donned their rough attire and went off towards
the small village that lies outside of the estate property to the north.
When they were out of sight I quickly unbuttoned my jodhpurs, loosed my own
engine, and applied myself with a vigor befitting a teenage lad. My
discharge was copious and fell in a visible array upon the cool marble
beneath my feet.

I will admit that the arboreal, goatish sights of that noon provided me
with additional pleasure that evening in its recollection. I later found
that the two boys were offspring of my staff. The older lad, Eric, was my
assistant gardener's fourteen-year-old son and the younger, Benji, was the
thirteen-year-old son of a woman employed in the household laundry.  I, of
course, never see them about the house, but I will venture out to the
belvedere with keen expectation in the coming days and weeks. I will let
you know of any further rites of Eros that I may happen upon.

Fondly,

    Uncle Alfred

--------------------

The following loose pages, part of a much more extensive set of letters
from August 1903 now lost, were found gathered in an envelope titled with
the handwritten notation "Billy."  They appear to refer to William
Galbraith Luddington, a nephew on Alfred's wife's side and a second cousin
to John who attained a degree of notoriety in post-war Continental circles.
He died while at Capri in 1927 at the age of 38.

--------------------

(Page Two) ... After being warned away from venturing alone near the
eastern edifice, he had, of course, headed straight towards any possibility
of the hinted upon activity.  I had to manage some discretion in my arrival
in case Billy was in any way reticent to dismount and venture beyond the
property.  I needn't have worried.  Billy had already made his way down the
hill and had made the acquaintance of Eric and Benji who had arrived at the
precisely the hour of their meetings heretofore.

I was a bit more distant than usual so I was only able to hear snippets of
the conversation between the boys.  At first Eric and Benji appeared
deferentially reluctant to associate with someone of the house, as well as
disappointed to have their recreation interfered with, but Billy put them
at ease.  What I did hear was Billy expressing an interest in playing with
the boys.

"I haven't any companions my age at the house and I would be most grateful
to spend my time with other boys rather than those stuffy adults."

"Well ... I don't know," Eric pondered aloud with his companion, "maybe he
could join in with us, Benji."

Benji wasn't too sure about violating propriety.

"Gee, Eric what'f he tells?"

"I won't tell, I give you my solemn promise," our cousin averred.

"Well, here's what me and Benji do, see ..."

With this the older boy put his arm familiarly around our young cousin's
shoulder and closely confided at least some of the details of the noontime
liaisons shared by the boys.  After listening for a short while, Billy
responded with a boisterous declaration.

"I would be ever so glad to participate, it sounds like splendid fun!"

With this the boys went immediately to opening their breeches and
presenting each other pridefully with their respective boyhoods.  John, the
youthful encounter in the stand of half-denuded, stunted trees brought back
to mind my boyhood explorations!  My manhood hardened with uncomfortable
pleasure at a distinctly downward angle in my jodhpurs.  I refrained from
straightening my member or touching it in any way; I wanted only the
sensual delights of the eye to inflame my passion.  This mature restraint
on my part stood in complete opposition to the boy's energetic activities
below.

Each boy, in charmingly random, contrapuntal sympathy, vigorously handled
his penis; alternating an intense, determined stroking with an occasional
pause to delicately slide back his hood to fully expose his glans and to
display his fully erect state to his companions.  This bawdy puppetry went
on for several minutes before the oldest, Eric, made a demand of Benji.  He
complied, demonstrating only a brief shyness at Billy's presence.

As the younger boy kneeled before the older's aroused phallus, reddened at
its bulbous terminus, our cousin circled in for a more intimate
perspective.  Billy clasped his protruding boyhood tightly as he observed
the flaxen-haired supplicant accept the proffered flesh.  Eric guided the
devoted efforts, fingers entwined in the young boy's locks.

It was at this point our Billy made an, unheard on my part, suggestion to
the gardener's son that was met with immediate, wide-eyed surprise on his
part.  Eric stilled Benji's incorporative zeal and appeared to ask several
questions of Billy.  Apparently the answers satisfied the older boy and
young Benji was pushed back on his heels freeing the erect youth's
saliva-slick shaft; it glistened, obscenely corpulent, in the dappled
sunlight.

I am sure, John that you can anticipate immediate turn of events. I, too,
foresaw what our Billy had undoubtedly proposed. To watch it in its
immediacy however, took it beyond a prosaic relating of the turn of events
of which I'm afraid, due to my lack of poetic talent, my missive
consists. No, the scene before me was lyrical, as if a spell had been cast
on the frieze from a red-glazed Classical libation cup animating Youth's
eternal essence.

Billy knelt before the gardener's son. After a breathless interval of
reverence, our cousin took in hand the prominent staff standing before
him. He looked upwards for permission. It was silently granted. He opened
his lips and took in the half-hooded glans of the older boy. There was a
pause, as if our cousin was considering a novel sensation, rather like
one's first taste of caviar.  Impatient, Eric's fingers found Billy's ears,
compelling less contemplation and more incorporation.  He drew our cousin
further forward and, jaws stretched, Billy was able to take most of the
older boy's prominence, only gagging slightly at the last.

It wasn't a minute before Billy had mastered sliding back and forward upon
the "tree of life" of my gardener's boy and the older lad was able to
release his hold on our cousin's ears; Billy would soon harvest the fruits
of his labors.

Eric must've indicated the approach of his climax with an inaudible, to me,
grunt, because I heard Benji venture a query.

"Are you goin' to make your juice in his mouth?"

Eric didn't answer the youngster, but he did momentarily stop Billy from
his efforts.  He appeared to be explaining what was to come to our servile
cousin.  The only instructions I heard clearly were near the end.

"Don't stop until I tell you to, whatever you do," and, "Try to swallow
it."

Our Billy nodded his affirmation.

Eric led our cousin to back his glistening shaft.

In it went.

In the next minute the gardener's son took Billy's fair locks in hand,
steadying our cousin's rhythm. I watched the older boy's thighs go rigid,
then his buttocks tense. The standing boy's lip curled as he climbed to
heavenly heights. His discharge came upon him.

I watched Billy choke and sputter. Our cousin tried to escape, but was held
in place by a clutching of his cherubic curls. It was but a few moments,
but, I am sure long moments for the participants, before our cousin's
distress eased the older boy's grip. Billy instinctively coughed and spit
the pearly essence upon the ground.  At this, unable to restrain myself, I
quickly loosed my rampant member and frantically stroked forth a flood of
salty, nacreous nectar upon the shaded pedestal of the marbled column I hid
behind.

Eric offered unheard words of congratulations and Billy arose from his
"first communion" rather unsteadily, but in excellent spirits.  It was at
this point that our Billy was afforded reciprocal hospitality, although the
boys moved behind some shrubbery and my view was quite restricted.  The
older boy made Benji service our cousin which sent him into transports
judging by how hard our Billy squinted.

Well John, I questioned our young cousin at dinner that night about the
agreeability of his visit and the recreational activities afforded him on
the estate.  He replied that he found the surroundings quite suitable for
adventure and exploration.  I allowed myself one query of a risqué
nature when I asked if he found any interesting wildlife while out and
about.  He replied, after a slight pause and a reddened blush, in the
affirmative.  I went no further along this line of inquiry as I did not
want our lad to suspect that his explorations may have been seen by another
party.

I will assiduously forward any further observations of seaside meetings as
they arise.

Uncle Alfred

--------------------

Third Fragment

(Only the last few pages of this letter survive)

-------------------

... it was like the frenzied rutting of animals. The circled boys, awaiting
their turn, pranced, scarcely able to contain themselves. Even though our
cousin was compelled to minister orally to the next boy ready to claim his
turn, they hadn't a hope of staying their lust and Billy was left
wanting. His moans were not solely from the forceful, repetitive
penetrations of his anus; no, they were in actuality a desperate desire to
taste the smegma besmeared coroni, the semi-hirsute scroti of his teenage
ravishers.

Again and again our cousin applied himself industriously to the lustful
task. One after another, the boys before him emptied their seed, snorting
and grimacing in closed-eyed ecstasy. Spent, they withdrew; some still
hard, others drooping sloppily.

After an impressive interval of Sodomic endurance, Eric sputteringly
declared the impending acme of his efforts to our cousin.

"Get ready! You're going to get my juice."

With clenching haunches, the gardener's son planted deeply. Our cousin,
head hung, wet curls clinging to the nape of his neck, braced himself
against the lad's determined plowing. A short, panting interval elapsed
before the sated boy withdrew his spent member. An invitation ensued.

"Okay, Davey, I got `im loose for ya."

The gardener's son's taller companion lowered his trousers to his ankles
and kneeled behind our cousin. His Priapic fortitude, hitherto partially
concealed, now revealed itself to be more man than boy; not overly long,
but of noticeable girth. I had a momentary glimpse of the glans penis; it
was plum-like in both shape and deep, rich color. Would Billy be able to
accept the prize? I am proud to report, John that our young William proved
able.

The dominant boy rudely applied his engine to our cousin's posterior and,
after an initial struggle for entrance, proceeded to drive himself home
with the determined thrust of hip befitting a mounting bull.  After a short
interval of pained grimaces and groans, Billy's mien took on the air of
ecstatic transport seen depicted amongst the saints in the most impassioned
of Counter-Reformation paintings.  Their coupling was an enraptured pas de
deux of uninhibited sensuality and the sympathy engendered by such an
unbridled display of erotic fervor gave voice to the surrounding youthful
chorus.

"Give him that cock, Davey!"

"You show him what fer!"

"Pump that Nancy boy's ass hard!"

The dénouement was not long in coming. The dominant boy used our cousin
fully, his labored brow adrip with perspiration in the noonday sun. The
bestial vigor of the older boy's thrusts, their sheer penetrative power,
brought an increasing arch to Billy's back; head raised, mouth agape, our
cousin gave forth a goatish bleat.

"Ahh ... Ahh ... Ahhh!"

Frozen, delicate muscles taut in rapturous transport, Billy's undoubtedly
clenching anus brought his suitor to the zenith of celestial delight.
Discharging with a teeth-baring grimace, deep guttural grunts sounded from
the clearing below as the archaic, yet timeless scene played before me.

The heat of the afternoon and the overwhelming satyric display arrayed
below brought my personal resolution to this Symphony of Youth; an arcing
crescendo of rhythmic pulsations from my own high strung instrument.  I am
afraid that I soiled my jodhpurs quite noticeably, creating a bit of
knowing embarrassment later at the stables as I dismounted and handed off
the reins to my groom.

As a postscript to this bacchanal, John, it was brought to my attention
that night at dinner by Marjorie that Billy had suffered skinned knees
while at play that afternoon. Trying to suppress a smile, I asked the boy
how he came about his injuries. Billy replied that he tripped and fell over
a root whilst walking about in the woods. Marjorie, of course, admonished
Billy for taking such a dangerous course in leaving the manicured paths of
the estate to go off into the woods were such injurious things would
inevitably occur and forbade him from such adventures in the future. Billy
poutingly objected, with obvious disappointment in his voice, knowing well
his aunt could not be contradicted on these matters because it would
inevitably get back to his mother. I nobly came to the boy's defense and
said that was perfectly natural for a curious boy to go about exploring,
the "spirit of adventure," et cetera. Marjorie was miffed, but I concluded
with a bit of advice for our young William to "be careful exploring,
especially of roots sticking up in the woods, the consequences of which,
you now know, can be quite painful."

I will immediately forward any further observations on our cousin's
continuing rustic education.

Your Argus on the Island,

	Uncle Alfred




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