Date: Wed, 4 May 2016 20:01:39 -0400
From: Pete Bruno <farmboy7456@gmail.com>
Subject: Noblesse Oblige Chapter 13

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Noblesse Oblige
By Henry H. Hilliard
with Pete Bruno
Book 2
An Indian Summer
Chapter 13
Renovations


There was a hammering at the door.  Martin looked at his watch.  It was
just after six.  He found his dressing gown and went down and opened the
door.  There, in the first pink light of dawn, stood the grinning H?lias
with his bicycle and tool bag, a cigarette clinging to his lips.

"Bonjour, mon seigneur.  Je suis pr?t," he said and added, "et
enthousiaste."

"Bonjour, H?lias" replied Martin.  But ready for what?

Martin explained that Stephen wanted to talk to him about the shop window

but was still asleep.  H?lias threw his bicycle aside and ran up the
stairs.  Martin laughed and shifted the bicycle off the footpath and
brought the tools inside.

When Martin ascended to the bedroom there were the two beautiful boys,
naked

and sitting up eagerly in the bed grinning at him.

"H?lias says he had a bath especially for you, Mala, although it is not

Saturday night."

"I am honoured," replied Martin as he sniffed the hairy chest and armpits,
which smelt of some appallingly perfumed soap-perhaps his sister's.  Martin
shed his dressing gown and stood for a moment so that H?lias could admire
him, then got back into bed between them.  The three shared kisses, Martin
feeling excited as he watched H?lias kiss Stephen.

Stephen produced a pr?servatif and explained that H?lias must wear it.

"? utiliser avec vous?"

"Non.  Pour lui," said Stephen pointing to Martin.

H?lias' eyes widened with pleasure and he removed the cigarette from his
mouth.

Two loving tongues prepared Martin and then Stephen and Martin both used
their mouths to get H?lias' cock hard.  Stephen took charge of the oil, as
he wanted to make sure his Mala was comfortable.

Martin insisted on fitting the pr?servatif then got H?lias to lie on his
back before mounting him and taking his length.  Stephen watched, stroking
his own cock as Martin bobbed up and down.  He kept asking Martin how it
felt but Martin was barely able to vocalise.

When Martin was comfortable with being fucked, positions were changed and
now Martin was laid on his back while Stephen pulled back his legs to save
his tired arms.  Martin was lost in lust and the Frenchman was covered in
sweat, his straight black hair was now plastered flat on his forehead.
There was a burning intensity to his dark eyes.

"Arr?te!" cried Stephen.

H?lias looked with alarm, not sure that he could stop. "Qu'est-ce que
c'est?"

"M. H?lias, combien ?a co?te pour r?parer ma maison?" said Stephen,
thinking this would be a fine moment to get a fixed quote from the slippery
tradesman.

H?lias looked aghast. "M. Etienne, Je vous en supplie!  Amour pas
enterprise."

"Combien?" demanded Stephen, not worried at this moment that love was
supplanting business.

H?lias looked thoughtful for a moment.  "9000 francs."

"7000."

"7500 et des mat?riaux."

"Tr?s bon.  Continuez."

"Les Anglais sont si impitoyable," muttered H?lias as he tried to remember
where he was up to and the pleasuring of Martin was resumed.



*****



The other work of the day was well under way and the old shop window had
been pulled out when the plombier arrived at 9:00.  The main room was now
naked to the street and the townspeople gathered to stare and pass comment.
Martin left off the work of chopping up the old window to join Stephen.
Martin explained about the bathroom under the stairs and pointed to his
chalk marks.  They inspected the garden where the septic tank would go-part
of the asparagus bed having to be sacrificed.  The plumber then suggested
that a door from the outside might be preferable to a door from the inside.

"Could we have both?" asked Martin.

"There would be no room for a bathtub then," said M. Lucatz.  "What about
if you had a shower instead of a bath; it would be cheaper."

Stephen was enthusiastic and realised that he could make the floor of the
shower out of concrete-having become familiar with the material.  He then
told Martin that he was also thinking of making a concrete table for
outside-the Proven?al stone ones being lovely but far too costly.

When Stephen explained that he wanted the water connected to his outdoor
bathtub, the plumber was astounded at the curious ways of the English and
their unnatural passion for washing, but he said it could be done.

"Did monsieur want the tub moved to a more private area?"

No, Stephen said; he liked to be out in the garden so he could look at the
vegetables.

They climbed to the attic to see where a tank could be installed.
Adjustments were made to the chalk marks on the floor and the plans were
carefully explained to H?lias.

The plumber then gave them a hand to position the new window, which was to
be held in by temporary timbers so they could gauge the appearance and to
better estimate how much stone would be required for the three-foot gaps on
either side.  H?lias was just calculating the quantity he would have to
order when Mrs. Chadwick arrived.

She admired the work and had the boys step out into the street to see how
less like a shop and more like a house the building had suddenly become
with its new window, despite the thin air either side.

Stephen was ecstatic.  "We will have to get shutters made to match the ones
upstairs," said Stephen.  Mrs. Chadwick recommended the man who made their
rush-bottomed chairs.  She then went on to interrogate H?lias while Martin
and Stephen used the pump to clean up and changed their clothes.

At last they set off to the convent, which was situated behind a walled
garden on the edge of the town.  "You do not miss England, Mrs Chadwick?"
asked Martin.

"I do, Lord Martin, but there is nothing for me there now; I have no
family."  There was a pause. "No family now.  This place is now my home and
I feel I belong here.  I feel I have a responsibility to the people.  Does
that sound silly to you?"

"No, not at all, Mrs Chadwick.  I know exactly what you mean."

"Yes, I shall die here," she said softly, almost to herself.

Mrs Chadwick was greeted with warmth by the Sisters and the warmth was
extended to Stephen and Martin when they learnt of their proposal to buy
the old table for cash.  Several small children emerged from somewhere.
They were shy about Martin and Stephen but evidently were familiar with Mrs
Chadwick who scooped up one little mite and carried her as she continued
her conversation with the Mother Superior.

The table was certainly a beauty.  It must have been twelve-feet long and
the presence of drawers seemed to indicate it was the sort that had once
been placed in big old kitchens like the one at Croome.  The surface had
been well scrubbed by generations of nuns and had a lovely silky feel.

The bargaining commenced along strict Proven?al lines, according with Mrs
Chadwick's instructions, and a sale was affected.  Then Stephen offered the
remaining money as a gift to the orphans.  The nun was very grateful and
suggested that the handyman and his two sons who were out in the garden
could deliver it for a modest fee.  She sent another sister to find them.

When they returned to the house, tea was made on the spirit stove and
H?lias put down his tools and joined them.  Mrs Chadwick was busy giving
him instructions.

"Are you getting a stove, Mr Knight?"  She asked, "You will need one in
winter as it can get quite cold here when the terrible sirocco blows."

"I suppose we should," said Stephen."

"Why don't we get one of the Croome ranges sent out here?" said Martin.
"We are getting them cheaply and it could come here by ship from the
factory."

"Would that be fair?" asked Stephen, and Martin replied that it wouldn't be
robbing either Croome or the stove company.  They then had to explain to
Mrs Chadwick what they had been doing at Croome and then they showed her
the article in Country Life.  She began to see that these were good boys
indeed and who felt something like the same sense of responsibility she
valued so highly in herself.

Mrs Chadwick departed, reminding Martin about her f?te, and went across to
compare notes with Mme de Blezon.

The window was freed and swung sideways in its gaping hole, awaiting the
arrival of the table.  The three boys were now working on the brackets for
shelving in the small room.  Their shirts came off and Martin insisted that
H?lias and Stephen work with their trousers off as well, but still wearing
the leather belts from which hung the carpenter's tools.  They boys were
laughing and not much work was being accomplished.  Martin took a
screwdriver and pretended to insert it into Stephen who pretended to be
pleasured by it.  H?lias took a chisel and sucked on the handle and then
pretended to insert it in himself crying in mock alarm, "Il est trop gros,
Monsieur!"  Stephen then took the mallet and pretended to hammer it in.
Martin was just kissing their buttocks when a great noise out in the street
indicated that the table had arrived.  He rushed down while the other two
struggled to put their clothes on.

Once again the narrow street was blocked by a wagon, and, as usual, a crowd
had gathered to offer helpful advice.  Several volunteers were found and
the table was lifted to the opening and, by pulling and pushing, it was
brought inside where it naturally gravitated to the central space where it
settled.  There was a small cheer from the crowd and Martin and H?lias
swung the window frame back where it was held fast with some large nails.
They then turned their attention to the new table where they took turns in
sitting in the rush-bottomed chair and running their hands over the
surface.

At 1:00 they broke for lunch and Stephen supplied a bottle of wine from
which they took turns to swig as they sat and ate bread and cheese under
the olive tree.  After their sieste, H?lias was keen to use the remaining
stone to begin closing the gap around the window so Martin and Stephen set
to work mixing the mortar and bringing a selection of stones for H?lias to
choose from.  It was wonderful to see him work, and a deft tap wrought each
rough stone into the shape desired by the mason.

It was late afternoon when the stone was exhausted and Martin was busy
putting up canvas and scraps of wood over the remaining void.  H?lias
departed to order more stone, promising to return early 'to begin his
labours'.

While the spirit stove was boiling some water for the bath, the boys sat
and admired their new table, which really made the room seem homely.  "We
will be able to have The Plunger and Douglas and Christopher here and
anyone else we'd like.  Perhaps Moss would like to come?" said Martin.

"Yes, but nothing could compare to this time here with you, Mala," said
Stephen.  He took a knife and bobbed beneath the table where Martin could
hear scraping for a minute or so.  When he emerged, Stephen told him to
look.  Martin put the lamp on the floor so he could see.  There, in a heart
was carved `M & D' and the date.  Martin stood and kissed Stephen and then
undressed him and led him outside to the bath.

After dinner they walked along the dark plage where a gentle breeze floated
in from the Mediterranean.  Stephen took his hand and held it until they
emerged into the light of the town.



*****



The following day H?lias arrived early, but not quite so early as he had
the previous day, but he was in time to help Martin and Stephen dress for
the day's work which involved the pleasuring of them both while the boys
set to work to milk him dry, although they feared that he would be too weak
to work on the house.  These fears were unfounded and by midmorning, when
Martin and Stephen had returned with two second-hand bicycles and had
placed an order for a pair of shutters, the shelves were finished and a
fresh load of stone and cement had arrived and was being unloaded into the
garden, one corner of which now resembled a quarry.  Martin mixed cement
for H?lias and Stephen built the formwork for his shower under the stairs.
The walling was proceeding slowly but the arrival of a cousin of H?lias'
sped matters up, with H?lias insisting that a further 25 francs be found
for him and that H?lias himself would take the money and make sure that he
received the payment later, lest he get drunk.

The next day was Mrs Chadwick's f?te and H?lias didn't appear for work.
Martin went off to do his duty while Stephen finished a set of pegs to be
used instead of wardrobes for the few clothes they intended to have.  By
the time he dressed and joined Martin, the occasion was already a marked
success, not the least of which was due to the desire of many residents to
meet the curious English lord who was doing things to the old
coffin-maker's shop.

Martin confessed that he had been lucky in awarding the prize for the best
marmalade to Mrs Chadwick, whilst the best pickled mushrooms went to Mme de
Blezon who revealed her secret was to add chopped truffles.  They were
talking to the apothecary who spoke some English; Martin had handed out the
ribbon and cup for the best rose to this man, although he was thankful that
he didn't have to make the judgement himself, for it was a hotly contested
honour and there was a great rivalry between the Proven?ales and the
English who both claimed roses as their national emblem.

"Mme Chadwick told me of the old table you gentlemen acquired from the
Little Sisters.  I wonder if you would be interested in an old shop counter
with drawers in it.  My father-no, my grandfather-had it made especially
for the shop and we are now modernising and find we do not require it.  It
is quite large and I think you would find it useful for 200 francs."

"M. Jacme, we may well be interested but we could only pay 150 francs, I
regret, and that is if it suited and could fit through the door," said
Stephen.

"I would be reluctant to part with it at that price as my father was very
attached to it and my wife made sure our maid polished it every Monday,
despite her rhumatisme.  Shall we say 175 francs?  I would be pleased to
show it to you later today."

Honour satisfied, the boys agreed.  They circulated among the crowd,
stopping to buy things at the stalls and were amazed at how many people
knew them.  Mrs Chadwick said that they had raised 25000 francs for the
orphans and invited them to Sunday dinner.

The apothecary's counter proved to be another massive piece of furniture.
It was too big for the front door but was carried with difficulty by a gang
of people through the back.  When it was in place along the blank wall and
opposite the stairs, it looked very handsome.  There were many useful
drawers and cupboards of various sizes, some of which had brass holders for
name cards.  Cut glass knobs were the chief decorative feature, save for a
little carving on the dull wood.  Stephen had already worked out a system
for organizing what went where, but first the carriers had to be taken
across to the bistro and provided with wine, sausages and olives.

The following day was Sunday and H?lias didn't appear again so the boys did
a number of small jobs themselves in an atmosphere of great joy.  Stephen
had developed his own anarchic language for working.  Inserted between
conventional French and German terms for things like saws and pencils, he
would invent words of his own or redeploy perfectly innocent words:
naturally a marteau became a Martin, but the clous with which the hammer
was used upon became belles cousines.  The ladder or ?chelle became
Ellenbogen-a German elbow.  For some reason a small piece of wood was an
Aristide Briand and the folding bed or chalit became Caillaux in doubtful
tribute to the President of the Republic.  To use the privy was to have un
poisson and there were many other rude ones that had Martin in stitches.

They downed tools (saucisses) to have their mid-day meal with Mrs Chadwick
and her guests, which included the vicar from the English church.  The
guests plied Martin with questions about Croome, one lady recalling a visit
when Martin was an infant.  Stephen supplied cricket news to the starved
expatriates.

Prompted by the conversation at the luncheon, the boys decided to cycle
over to Cannes to inspect the progress of the giant Hotel Carlton.  They
found it nearing completion and it was an impressive and rather daunting
structure with breast-like cupolas and couldn't be more different to their
own dwelling in Antibes.  "At least I feel I can see something for my
father's investment," said Martin with a sigh of relief.

The boys stripped off their clothes and walked along the Promenade in their
bathing costumes.  They talked to two sailors but didn't go with them,
despite Stephen being brazenly felt up until he was hard with only the
protection of an oleander bush screening them from public gaze.

It was sunset when they rode into Antibes and Stephen said that he had to
fuck Martin right away and it had to be in the sea.  These requirements
were met by cycling down to the deserted bay at Cap-Eden Roc where they
waded in to the warm sea and slid off their costumes.  Stephen was hard and
frantic and he slid his cock along Martin's crack and then between his
thighs.  Martin locked his arms around Stephen, holding him close, while
Stephen thrust in and out with his hips.

"Come on Derby, I want you to spill.  Let me feel that seed.  I need you to
do it," Martin repeated softly and urgently until, at last Stephen erupted,
Martin struggling to hold the heavy lad up as he went limp, but he managed
to do so and, thus satisfied, they rode home in the dark to their little
house.



*****



The following morning there was no H?lias again.  At 11 o'clock Mme de
Blezon came bustling across and reported that her nephew had told his
sister who had reported to her cook that H?lias was gone off to another
town to do some work for a friend.  Stephen just sighed and Mme de Blezon
made them coffee while Stephen told M. de Blezon that half the asparagus
bed would be going.  He didn't seem worried and prophesized that the
wastewater would be good for the crops.

Stephen looked again at the bathroom outline.  "I think I may need to see
you when you're showering, Mala," he said stroking his chin, "or you may
need to look at me," he added, quite sure that others would not want to be
deprived of his nudity.

"But it might not be quite so convenient when Mrs Chadwick is visiting,"
said Martin.

"Well, I would like a window and a door so I can walk out on the terrace
and dry off in the sun and I'll make the shower big enough for the both of
us-I'm not sure that you are washing every part, Mala, so I might have to
supervise you."

"Better make it big enough for three.  What about a door with a window in
it?  It will be cold in winter so what about some hot water too?"

"Three good ideas.  I'll go and see the plumber when I've finished making a
new set of formwork for the concrete base and get him to order a
geyser-although I can't imagine what the French for that is."

"Chauffe-eau," called out Martin, as Stephen went for his tools.

"Very good, Mala!"

Stephen returned from the excursion pushing a handcart instead of his
cycle.  On it were two old lead cisterns with raised designs on them.  "I
brought these for 25 francs each.  They're for geraniums-one for the new
window and one for our balcony."



Martin was made to stand down in the street and sit in the bistro while a
cistern was carefully positioned on the balcony with Stephen standing
behind it, simulating his morning nudity with the aid of the handle of the
hammer.  Martin, by means of hand signals and cries, was able to find the
optimum position for this horticultural fig leaf, to the bewilderment of
the Patron.  He concluded that he was doubtful of only one spot where a
tall customer wanting to closely examine the blackboard, might be able to
see something but, as he later explained to Stephen, if they were so short
sighted as to need to stand that close, then they would not be likely to
see much across the street.  Stephen agreed, but with a tinge of
disappointment.

Stephen had also found four fauteuils en rotin for just a few francs each.
He took Martin to the shop.  "Could we could have Prims make cushions out
of canvas or something?"

"Get them Derbs, they look comfortable."

Two trips were made back to the house and the cane chairs were installed in
the big room and properly tested, Stephen and Martin both slumped in their
own, with their boots on the others.

They finished their day at a caf? near the seafront.  It was a rough place
but it was lively.  They ordered the house wine and had fish and then
another type of wine with some tough meat that they mostly had to leave.
Sailors and longshoremen came and went.  A girl asked Stephen for a
cigarette, but he could not oblige and he spoke to her for a few minutes in
halting French.  Martin thought he might like to try cognac as that is what
the other customers were having, so he ordered a glass which he sipped
slowly and then another which he didn't remember drinking at all.  Two more
women approached Stephen and now he was now talking to a sailor who had
stopped at their table and was leaning with a tattooed hand on Stephen's
shoulder.  Martin said something and Stephen looked over.  His face was
flushed and his eyes were unfocussed.  Stephen saw that he was drunk.

"Come on Mala, we'd better go," he said rising and putting his hand on
Martin's elbow.  Martin shook it off.  "I don't want to go," he said
viciously, "Why don't you go and fuck your sailor friend or perhaps you'd
rather that girl; you're not particular.  Or do you want me to watch?
You'd like that.  I don't even know why I came here with you.  This is a
place for the dregs," he hissed, unconscious of his assertion of a moment
before.  "At least I could have got myself a faithful boyfriend from down
in the village, but I had to go and choose the one that was hung like a
horse but had the morals of a bitch in heat.  It's my own fucking fault.
Just fuck off and leave me alone."

Stephen managed to leave some money on the table and propel Martin out into
the street where he kept up his tirade of invective, people turning to
stare.  At one point Martin expected Stephen to strike him, knowing that he
would surely have a broken nose or jaw had he wanted to, but Stephen merely
turned on his heel and walked off while Martin slumped on a low wall.  When
he looked up, Stephen was nowhere to be seen.

Martin made his way back to the house and climbed the stairs, stumbling
twice, and collapsed onto the bed.

The first rays of the sun woke him because the shutters had not been
closed.  He was still dressed.  Opening one eye he managed to see with a
groan that it was 6 o'clock.  Stephen was not next to him, nor could he see
his clothes.  With an effort he got down the stairs and drank some water
from the pump.  He looked about for Stephen and there was no sign.  He
searched the garden and then went out into the street.  Panic was rising in
his throat.

The bistro wasn't open yet and the streets were mostly deserted.  Twice he
saw a figure in the distance that he thought was Stephen and once he cried
out to the astonishment of a local.  At last he wandered down to the plage
and was trudging along the sand thinking that Stephen may have departed and
caught an early train.  Had his bicycle been parked in the yard?  Oh how he
hated himself and how dreadful were the little vignettes of his future
without Stephen that he was busily painting and then erasing in his
feverish mind.

Ahead on the sand he saw a body.  He knew from the shape and the colour of
the clothing that it was Stephen, even from a distance.  He broke into a
run, the sand agonisingly slowing his traction, until the form grew larger
and larger only confirming that it was indeed Stephen.  "Stephen!" he
screamed as he fell to his knees.

Stephen woke and sat up.

"Oh my God!" cried Martin I thought..."  Stephen said nothing.  "Oh
Stephen, please don't be cross.  I'm so sorry about last night.  I was
drunk and didn't know what I was saying."

"Are you all right now?" said Stephen at last but with no warmth in his
voice.

Martin nodded vigorously.  Stephen got up and commenced to walk away.
Martin grabbed him by the arm and said, "Please forgive me, Derby, I will
die if you don't."

Stephen said: "That is going to be very hard to do, Martin.  You said some
terrible things to me.  Now that I know what you think I don't see how I
can."

"But I don't think those things really.  I said them but I don't believe
them."  There was a pause.  "Unless perhaps," he said slowly, "unless
perhaps I think those bad things deep down inside and don't really know
that I do and can't say them unless I'm drunk.  Could I be so wicked on the
inside Derby?"  He was genuinely upset at this prospect.

"No, you're not bad inside, Mala, not any more than anyone else.  But you
hurt me."

"But you hurt me with Mrs Buckweet, remember, and I forgave you."

"Yes, I did but that was different."

"How?"

"I hurt you accidently; I didn't mean you to find out or rather I didn't
think you would be hurt.  Last night you tried to hurt me.  You threw
everything at me.  That was cruel, Mala.  It was deliberate."

Martin saw that this was true.  "But if you leave me I'll die; I'll never
be happy again and my whole life will be ruined."

"So you are asking for forgiveness because there is something in it for
you?  That's prudential remorse -you're only sorry for yourself."

Again Martin was chastened.  "I'll do anything for you Derby.  I'll cut off
my finger...I'll ...I'll crawl back to the house on my knees.  You can hit
me, go ahead, I deserve it."

"Now that's stupid.  How will that make me feel less hurt?  And now tell me
why I wouldn't hit you."

Martin was puzzled for a minute. "You wouldn't want to hurt me...because
you love me?"

"Yes, Martin, I love you.  When you are hurt you may want to hit back, but
that only leads to everyone being hurt.  You should know that, and you of
all people should know what to do if you are hurt by someone- especially by
someone whom you love-shouldn't you, Mala?"

"Oh!" he replied in realization, "You should turn the other one."  Stephen
looked at him squarely, his mouth a firm line, and he nodded slowly.

"Then how do you get forgiveness, Derby, tell me please.  Get me out of
this hell."

"Only through love, Mala.  Love and time."

"Oh but Derby, I do love you.  For that reason I am so sorry I hurt you.  I
hurt the person I love.  Please forgive me."  Stephen but his arm around
his shoulder and they walked together back to the house.  "Why are you so
good?  I must be horrible inside and you're good through and through.  It
almost shines out of you, Derby."

"Steady on, Mala, I'm not that good.  You said so yourself last night,
remember.  And I'm only repeating what my stepfather told me."

When they reached the house H?lias was already there and unpacking his
tools.  He looked up in surprise.  "You will have to work by yourself
today," Stephen explained in French, "We are spending the day in bed."

"Ah!" thought H?lias, "now the Englishmen think like a Frenchman."

H?lias set to work closing the gap either side of the new window, mixing
his own mud and hauling stones in from the garden.  It was on towards
midday that he heard noises from above.  There were grunts and groans and
little screams.  The bed was scraping on the floor.  He smiled to himself.
The noises grew alarmingly louder and he felt that he should begin to take
the mallet and bolster to shape some stones in the street and drag the
shovel nosily and unpleasantly across the flagstones.  He even tried to hum
loudly and the pedestrians were starting to stare at him.  He returned
inside and the continuing ruckus made him hard in his trousers.  He felt
himself.  Then the noises ceased and he resumed his work.

A short time later Stephen appeared, naked and with his big cock still
dripping, carrying the equally naked Martin who had his arm wrapped around
his neck.  Stephen, with his burden, descended the stairs and he marched
out the back door.  The next thing H?lias saw was Martin in the bathtub and
Stephen kneeling beside it lovingly soaping his body.  It was such an
intimate scene that H?lias felt he must turn away and hunt for his spirit
level, although it was difficult to locate it with tears in his eyes.



*****



All too soon the boys were on the express headed north.  There was a
feeling of satisfaction knowing that two rooms were habitable.  H?lias had
been left instructions and some extra money had been handed over so that he
might employ his cousin to rebuild the other room upstairs and complete the
bathroom with the plombier.  Mrs Chadwick had been a great help and had
promised to oversee H?lias and collect their letters from the post office.

The boys had vowed to return for their half-term break and were debating
whom to invite.  "What about your friend Julian?" asked Martin.  Stephen
frowned.

"He doesn't know about you and me, Mala.  I'm not ashamed; it's just that
it's complicated.  We do have to hide."

"I know.  I understand," said Martin.

"Could I take him up to London with Christopher one weekend and stay in
Piccadilly?  He's leaving school at the end of term.  I'll miss him a lot."

"Of course, Stephen, it's your house too.  That's a good idea.  You can
have fun with ladies, but Stephen...not too much fun."

Stephen grinned. "Then we could have the others-and Douglas too-to Antibes.
We'll have the cellar and the other bedroom set up by then.  I'm sure
they'd help us finish whatever is left to be done.  Knowing the Proven?ale,
it will probably be just as we left it, except with chickens inside."

"No, Mrs Chadwick and the Patronne will keep them up to the mark.  We are
very lucky aren't we?"

Stephen nodded and they started to undress in their compartment.  Martin
took hold of Stephen's penis.  He glided his hand backwards and forwards in
easy motions, watching the head poke through the long foreskin.  "I wish I
was uncircumcised.  It feels so beautiful," he sighed, thinking of his own
cock with so much less skin to play with.

Stephen stretched out his foreskin with two hands and invited Martin to
place his shiny helmet-shaped head into the generous folds.  "This is
nice," said Martin as Stephen pleasured both penises inside the one skin.
"I feel like I have mine back again.  I wish I had a cock like yours."

"But your cock is beautiful as it is.  I think about it all the time, Mala.
I wish mine were bigger."

"Yours, bigger?  Why?"

"So I could have more of me inside you when I love you, Mala."

"But I don't think I could take any more Derby.  It's already huge."

Stephen then embraced Martin and his lips were softly breathing on Martin's
left ear in the most thrilling fashion.  "But you'd try for me, wouldn't
you Mala?" he said barely audibly.  "You'd try terribly hard.  You'd
stretch and take me-open up and take all of me inside you; so I could be
deep inside you; so I could show how much I really love you and so I'd know
how much you love me too."

Martin was finding it hard to breath and think.  He thought he was dying of
love.  His cock was leaking terribly and, because it was a hypothetical
scenario and fortunately likely to remain so, he said: "Yes I would, Derby.
I'd do anything for you."

Martin departed the train in Paris, still dizzy from their night's
lovemaking.  He caught the train to Boulogne to see William while Stephen
continued on to England so as to be in time for cricket-even though the
days of pouring rain promised that there would be no play after all, but
little dampening his conviction that Life was quite wonderful-quite
wonderful indeed.

To be continued?

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