Date: Mon, 6 Feb 2012 08:40:43 -0800 (PST)
From: Tony Williams <tonywill9999@yahoo.com>
Subject: Upton Abbey

Upton Abbey

Any resemblance to the PBS series "Downton Abbey" might not be accidental.

My father, the Earl of Upton, had one overriding ambition.  He was
determined that I should grow up to be gay.  He spared no effort to make
sure that it would happen and that the heir to his title would be, as he
was, a faggot, a shirt-lifter, a pillow-biter, an arse bandit and a fucking
cocksucker, as some of the coarser members of his household would say.  He
longed for a world in which homosexuality was the norm and heterosexuals
were in the minority, a world with less bigotry and conflict, with more
tolerance and freedom.  He was way ahead of his time.  He made no secret of
his sexual orientation, in fact it was his habit to flaunt it at every
opportunity, unlike his own father who'd lived in a more repressive age and
had been merely a closet queen.  Father, still in his thirties, was
painfully good looking, forever being chased by ambitous society women
whose efforts went unrewarded.  The press loved him, calling him "one of
England's stately homos", his picture appearing often in newspapers and
magazines, the less tasteful ones making crude puns about "Earl Gay Tea".

He'd married solely in order to produce a male heir, and as far as I know,
only ever had sex with his bride for that specific purpose, and the instant
she became pregnant with me, he moved to a separate bedroom.  When I was
two years old, she ran off with an American who had an even bigger fortune
than he.  I have no memory of her and have never missed her.  I don’t image
he has, either.

Although by the dawn of the twenty first century many of the British
aristocracy had fallen on hard times, the Upton estate, dating back to
Tudor times, still had extensive acreage and quite a large staff.
Naturally, they were all male.  The chambermaids of an earlier era had been
replaced by men, called assistant housekeepers, and the cook was a
celebrated chef with an all male staff, bribed away from a West End
restaurant.  The principal qualification for employment at Upton was a
taste for sex that mirrored my father’s.  Prospective employees were
interviewed by Carston the butler, in the privacy of his office and the
rumour was that a blow job had to take place to ensure acceptance, though
who blew whom is lost to history.  Not that it mattered.  All the staff
were as queer as three-pound notes.

I never attended primary school.  My father didn’t want me coming into
contact with pretty young girls at an impressionable age.  Instead I had a
tutor, Mr. Hardwick, recently down from Cambridge with a fancy degree, long
wavy hair and a very limp wrist.  Hardwick, swishy as he was, never hit up
on me, though we did spent an inordinate amount of time talking about sex.
He confessed to me that he was a total bottom, and never made advances to
anyone, other than inviting them to molest, abuse and thoroughly satisfy
him.  A prepubescent boy like me, adorable though I was, was safe in his
hands.

For a lad of my age I was somewhat sexually sophisticated.  I'd always been
present those times when the stable staff were trying to get a stallion to
cover a mare, and the previous year the head groom had been helping events
along by taking hold of the stallions dick and inserting it into her.  "Let
me do it!" I cried and took hold of the two foot long horse's penis and
pushed its tip into her.  I received a smattering of applause from the head
groom and his staff as the horse thrust it home into her.  As a result of
my performance my father wanted to know how much I knew about sex.
"Hardwick's told me things, and Peter Handcock knows a lot of stuff," I
informed him.  Peter was the son of one of the grooms.  His father,
although totally gay, had suffered through a short marriage for long enough
to produce a son who became one of my few playmates near my own age, being
just a year older than I.  They lived above the stables.

"Have you started wanking yet, Richard?" asked my father.  I suppose that
most eleven year old kids would be embarrassed my a question like that
coming from a parent, but I wasn't in the least put off by it.  Sex was not
a taboo subject in Upton Abbey.

"Not really, Father.  I get a hard-on from time to time, but that's about
it."

"As I remember, I was wanking at your age, several times a day, and not
always with my own dick.  Yhe first time you cum, I want you to tell me,"
he said.  "There are many things a man can do with his dick and I doubt if
Handcock's son is an encyclopaedia of sexual gratification."

"I will, Father, I promise you."

________________________________________________



Bordered by acres of green lawn, Upton Abbey had a small lake which had a
wooden jetty from which one could swim.  One hot summer's afternoon, Peter
and I were swimming, dressed only in our white briefs.  I had to admit he
looked pretty sexy.  After we climbed out of the water, he said, "We should
take our underpants off and let them dry."  He was looking intently at me
as I pulled my briefs down and stepped out of them.  He peeled his own off
and we spread them out on the hot wooden planks.  "You're dick's shrunk,
Dick," he said, looking at my little cock.  "And so's mine.  It's the cold
water.  I'm gonna make it bigger."  He leaned back on one elbow and started
stroking his cock with his other hand.  In just a few seconds it was stiff,
much bigger than my own.  "You try it," he said and I duely started to wank
my shrunken member.  Not much happened.

He watched me for a few seconds then said, "Let me help."  He reached
across and took over from me.  "It feels much nicer when someone else does
it, don't you agree?"  I did.  My first reaction was to resist his efforts,
but politeness compelled me to submit.  One is not rude to one's servants.
Immediately, my cock began to stiffen until it became completely hard.  It
was much more exciting than when I did it to myself.  Peter's dick, now
abandoned, still stayed quite stiff and I felt it only proper that I should
return the favour he was bestowing on me, noblesse oblige and all that, so
I took hold of it and began to wank him, gently at first, until he said,
"Faster, faster!"  He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, clearly
in ecstacy as, with three fingers, I pulled his foreskin back and forth
over the little acorn head of his dick.  I was fascinated by his reaction,
thrilled by the fact that we were allowing each other to touch our most
intimate parts, and by the excitement he was showing.  He let out several
loud groans, the end of his dick swelled up and then I watched, enthralled
as three little blobs of white cum splashed on to his chest.  I kept on
stroking him until he pushed my hand away.  "Fuck, that felt good!" he
said, smiling at me.  "That was the best wank I ever had."

"I enjoyed it too," I said.  The gulf between master and servant was
rapidly shrinking.

"But you didn't cum.  Maybe in a few months you will.  It feels fantastic,
believe me."

"I still enjoyed wanking you," I said.  "I like playing with your dick.
Can we do this again soon?"

"Absolutely.  Every chance we get."

Thereafter, we spent many happy afternoons by the lake or in the stables,
anywhere we could be alone.  Making him cum gave me a sense of power that
was addictive, and he always did his best to get me aroused, which wasn't
hard, but my longed-for orgasm didn't happen for weeks.  One afternoon, we
were deep in the woods sitting with our backs to a huge oak tree, our pants
round our ankles, our underpants round our knees, furiously wanking each
other, when I had a sudden urge to take his cock in my mouth.  I leaned
down and placed my lips round his dick.

"Fuck, that feels good!" he groaned.  "You're driving me crazy."  I'd never
done anything so intimate with another person before, and I was astonished
and thrilled by my own daring.  I sucked his dick in and out, hoping he
would cum in my mouth and the thought of it set my head spinning.  His hand
was still working on my dick, then suddently it happened.  I thought he was
going to cum, but it was I who came first.  A wonderful thrill ran through
the whole of my body, rushing into my dick, my tailbone tingled and my cock
pulsed.  I let go of Peter's dick and looked down.  I didn't see any cum.
So that was an orgasm, I thought.  It was as good as I'd hoped, but I
didn't like the empty feeling afterwards.

"Did you cum?" asked Peter.

"Yes," I said. "But nothing came out of my dick."

"Patience, it won't be long now."  He pulled his underpants and pants back
up, knowing that for me, for the moment, it was over.

"You can finish me off another time," he said.  "And I'll suck yours, too.
It felt amazing."  We headed back to the big house and I left him and went
to find my father.  I found him in his study.

"I had my first orgasm today, Father," I blurted.

He turned and gave me a big smile, holding his hand out.  "Congratulations,
Son," he said, shaking my hand.  "You're growing up.  Want to tell me about
it?"

I wasn't sure that Peter would want me to tell our secrets, but I was eager
to share my happiness with someone.  I hesitated then said, "Peter Handcock
and I were in the woods, playing with each other's dicks, and I started to
suck him off."

"Bravo," said Dad.  "Did he cum?"

"No, it was I who came.  He was wanking me, but having his dick in my mouth
was so exciting that I came in just a few seconds.  It was a dry ogasm,
Father.  I didn't shoot any cum."

He put his arms round me and gave me a hug. "I'm proud of you, my boy.
Don't tell anyone else, but you should suck him off every chance you get.
Let him suck you, too."  He kissed me on the cheek, reached his hand down
and gave the front of my pants a squeeze.  He'd never touched me there
before, but I loved my father and I'd let him do whatever he liked to me.

____________________________________________



That night, after we'd gone to bed, he came into my room.  He had on a
dressing gown, its belt untied, and I could see his white silk boxers which
had the Upton coat of arms embroidered on them, with its Latin motto "manus
auxiliabundus" which means "a helping hand".  I was wearing just my little
white briefs.  He sat on the bed beside me.  "I imagine it's been quite a
day for you, Richard," he said.  "I can well remember my first orgasm.  I
was at boarding school and one of my friends and I were behind the bike
shed sneaking a smoke.  He started fondling my cock, then unzipped my pants
and put his hand in.  Naturally, I eagerly returned the favour and the feel
of his hard little cock in my hand was thrilling.  I came pretty quickly.
Ever since then, I've stroked every cock I can put my hands on."  My
father's never been reticent about his gay past and even when I was much
younger, he'd talk quite openly about his adventures with young men.  He
continued, "So, young Peter Handcock wanked you off!  Well, well.  How did
it feel?"

"His hand on my dick felt amazing, but it was his cock in my mouth that got
me really going."

"You're a man after my own heart, son."  I lay down across the bed, my legs
hanging over the side, my hands behind my head.  He looked at me.  I know
that look.  Most of the staff look at me that way from time to time, as
though they want to eat me.  I smiled up at him.

"I can understand why young Peter wanked you off.  You're a very sexy young
boy."  I that moment I truly did feel sexy.  I know how good I look in just
my underpants and I've often stood in front of the mirror just looking at
myself, my dick stiff inside my briefs.  He reached his hand out and cupped
my basket.  I gave him an encouraging smile.  "Your dick's getting big," he
said.  "Do you have any pubic hair yet?  Let's take a look."  He could have
simply looked at my armpits, but he started to pull my briefs down, and I
let him.  It felt good, showing myself off like that.  My dick came into
view, more than half hard.  Father ran his hand down my abdomen, his
fingers either side of my cock, brushing the few tiny blond hairs there.
"You have a beautiful cock," he said, sliding his fingers up my shaft.  "A
nice big foreskin like mine.  You can have a lot of fun with foreskins."
He rolled mine back, bent down and inhaled the aroma of my dick.  "Mmm," he
murmured.

"Can I see yours?" I asked.  I'd seen my father's dick on other occasions
but never under intimate circumstances like this.  He shrugged off his robe
and lay back on the bed.

"Help yourself, dear boy," he said then took hold of my dick again.  I put
my hand in the fly of his boxers and pulled his cock out.  It was the first
time I'd ever touched it.  My heart began to pound.  It looked enormous,
rigid and moist at the end.  He let out a huge sigh of contentment and
turned his head to look at me.  "I love you so much, Son," he said.

"I love you too, Father," I responded and began to stroke his cock.

"You're good at this.  I imagine you've been practicing with young
Handcock."

"Every chance I get."  He laughed.

"Isn't this wonderful?" he said, "Father and son giving each other a
helping hand.  My father used to do it to me.  He was gay, too.  Oh, son, I
think I'm gonna cum.  Oh, shit!  Fuck me!"  I'd never heard him using
language like that before.  Cleary, he was too aroused to care.  Then he
let out a kind of yelp and several large blobs of cum shot from his dick on
to his chest, then more dribbled down my hand on on to his silk underpants.
I was overwhelmed with joy.  I'd made my father cum!  I was laughing as I
wiped my hands on his underpants, smearing his jism over the embroidered
family crest with its appropriate motto.

"Fantastic, Father.  That was a big load.  I can't wait until I'm shooting
cum too."

"Me, neither, Richard.  Do you want me to finish you off?"

"It's okay," I said, thinking he would be feeling empty, just as I did
after I came.  "I can do it myself.  You should go take a shower and wash
your cum off."

"Right," he said.  "Though maybe I'll just leave it on me.  I like the
smell of cum."

I smiled.  He blew me a kiss and left.  With my briefs still round my
thighs I began to wank, reliving the moment when the Earl sprayed himself
with jism and in less than a minute, I'd cum again, twice in one day.  I
was pround of myself.

____________________________________________________



 That September, I started at Upton Grammar, a nearby all-boys private
school.  Although England's class ridden society of yesteryear had now
become more egalitarian, most of the boys were from affluent homes, with
'posh' accents, well tailored school uniforms and emaculate underwear.  The
school hosted a few boarders living on the premises, but I was a day-boy,
riding to school and back on my bike, as most of us did.  I soon learned
that what they say about the British public schools (which, perversely, is
what we call private schools in this country) is true, namely that they're
hotbeds of homosexual depravity.  Well, that my be a bit extreme, because
most of the depraved things I've done I did elsewhere, but there was a
great deal of mutual masturbation and cocksucking going on, and everyone
knew about it.  I don't think there was much anal sex, at least not among
the junior boys, as the rectum of an eleven year old resists the insertion
of anything much bigger than a finger, and it didn't seem like it would be
much fun, though in later years, I changed my mind.  No one tried to fuck
me, though I was regularly groped, fondled and wanked by my classmates and
several of the teachers.  I didn't discourage them, but I suppose the boys
were too inexperienced to take it to the level of anal penetration and the
teachers too nervous.  Upon reflection, if anyone had blown the whistle on
a teacher, my father the Earl, who was on the school board, would have
quietly taken care of matters.  They may not have known it, but any of my
teachers could have groped molested me with impunity.  It would probably
have resulted in improved grades.

One of the highlights of the week was P.E., before and after which we were
required to change into and out of shorts and singlets.  I always watched
covertly as my classmates undressed.  I was secretly thrilled by the
strip-shows, until one day, a boy blurted out, "Richard's looking at my
penis!"  I started to deny it, but another boy jumped in and said, "So am
I.  It's just like a dick only smaller!"  Everyone laughed except the
victim, and after that, I didn't care who caught me staring at them.  Many
of them looked back at me, as I showed off in my white briefs.  One evening
I asked my dad if I could wear silk boxers with the family coat of arms
like he did.  He concurred and arranged for the tailoring of half a dozen
pairs in my size, which I wore proudly.  I was the envy of my class.
Unlike the baggy, plaid boxers displayed above low-hanging pants that are
worn by many young boys these days, my underpants fitted quite snugly, and
if I wasn't wearing trousers you could see the end of my dick up the short
leg.  My friends would ask to inspect the embroidered crest close up, but I
believed that that was just a cover to look at my dick.  On several
occasions, in secluded locations, I allowed them to try my underpants on,
to experience the silky feel, which usually lead to nice wanking and
sucking sessions.  I truly enjoyed my school years.

__________________________________________________

When I was twelve, one Sunday afternoon, bored out of my skull, I thought I
might take a ride, and wandered into the stable to ask Peter Handcock to
tack my horse for me.  I could hear familiar grunting noises from one of
the stalls, and when I looked in, there was Peter on his knees, in front of
the footman, Thomas, whose pants were round his ankles.

"Handcock!"  I called, sharply.  "What do you think you're doing?"

Peter, dressed in boots, jodhpurs and a white singlet, turned to face me.
"Forgive me, sir," he said in a deferential tone.  "I was merely sucking
Thomas's dick.  I was unaware that it might cause offence."

"You can't be sucking the cocks of servants during working hours," I said
in a pompous tone.  "You'll have to be punished.  Is there a horsewhip in
here?"

"No, sir," said Peter with a grin, "you'll have to make do with spanking
me."  Thomas, stood there watching, hands on his hips with his hard cock on
display, making no effort to hide it.

"Take your pants down, Handcock, and bend over."  He obligingly unzipped
his jodhpurs, slid them down to the tops of his boots and bent over.
"Underpants, too, man."

"Allow me, sir," said Thomas, stepping forward and pulling Peter's briefs
down.

"Thank you, Thomas, but don't think you've got away with anything.  You're
next."  I stood close to Peter, reached underneath him and took hold of his
rigid dick and with my other hand, caressed his bum, running my finger over
his hole.  He shivered with pleasure and then I gave him half a dozen
playful slaps on his cute behind.

"Ouch," he cried, playing along.  When I finished, he stood up facing us,
his cock if anything, even harder.

"Are you a cocksucker, too, Thomas?" I asked.

"No, sir.  I'm not a fuckin' queer."

"Well, someone has to finish him off, and if you're unwilling, I suppose
I'll have to." I said, exercising the priviledge of my class, dropping to
my knees and taking Peter's cock in my hand.  "I'll let you watch, so long
as you go back to work the instant I've finished."  When I started to suck
him it was not so much the feel of his dick between my lips that I found
exciting, as the knowledge that Thomas was pumping at his own cock as he
watched me suck his colleague, seeing my depravity and my apparent
submission to a junior servant.  I put my hands on Peter's bum and pulled
him so that his dick went right to the back of my throat.  He thrust away
at my face, groaning with pleasure, then I felt the end of his cock swell
up as he came in my mouth, four or five big squirts.  When he pulled out, I
looked up at his handsome face smiling down at me.  The taste of him was
intoxicating, slightly bitter but nice and creamy.  I opened my mouth so
that they could both see it was full of cum, then I swallowed.  "I never
realised that cum would taste so good," I said.  "Thank you, Handcock."  He
pulled up his underpants and jodhpurs.  "Time for a second helping, I
think," I said.  "Come here, Thomas."  I shuffled towards him on my knees
in the straw as he stepped up to me, his hard cock pointing at my face, his
hand still stroking it.  I put out my tongue so that it touched the end of
his dick, dripping with precum as he wanked away.  My big blue eyes were
gazing up at him in eager expectation.

"Oh, fuck me!" he grunted in his working-class Merseyside accent. "Suck my
fuckin' cock, you fuckin' queer."  This insubordinate sneer coming from an
uncouth, uneducated minion gave an added thrill and made a welcome change
from the snooty accents of my schoolmates.  I could see from the corner of
my eye that Peter was watching, and I hoped he was enjoying the scene, even
though he'd just cum.  It wasn't long before Thomas shot a squirt on to my
tongue, then I clamped my lips round his dick and sucked the remainder out.
He let out a contented sigh.  Like Peter's cum, his was delicious and I
eagerly swallowed it all, and collapsed on my butt into the straw.  Thomas
pulled his pants up.

"Thank you, sir," he said, remembering his manners.  "Please don't be
offended if I say that you did that rather well."

"Thank you, but I still owe you a spanking, Thomas."

"I can hardly fuckin' wait, Master Richard."  Neither could I.  When they'd
gone, I had a delicious wank.

_________________________________________________



The next morning, I went into my father's dressing room, looking for his
valet, Banes.  He was there, standing close to the Earl with his hand
thrust into the fly of my father's pants.

"What are you doing, Banes?" I asked.

"I wish you'd knock before coming into my personal quarters," said my
father.  I apologised.  "Banes was merely adjusting my clothing, Richard.
That's his job."

"I was simply trying to decide whether his Lordship should dress to the
left or the right," Banes said, straightfaced.

Yeah, right, I thought.  "I have a problem with my underpants, Banes," I
announced.

"Oh my God!" said my father in mock horror.  "Inform the media, Banes.
Heir to earldom has underwear problem, film at eleven!"  The valet laughed,
politely.  I had to smile.

"Two of the pairs in my room are the large size.  I think the housekeeper's
mixed them up.  You must have two small pairs, Father."

"Take a look, Banes," said father and Banes rumaged through a drawer,
producing two pairs of small silk boxers.  He held them up, showing the
crest.

"I shall have a word with housekeeping, my Lord," he said.

"Richard, I think it's time that Banes served as valet to you, too.  The
additional work load should not be too onerous, right, Banes?"  I couldn't
imagine exactly what his duties would be, but Banes, although only slightly
younger than my father, was a very attractive man, as befitted the personal
servant of a gay aristocrat.  He could help me dress any time he liked.  I
wondered what he'd look like in his underwear.  Did the household servants
have the family crest on their underwear?  Probably not, as neither Peter
nor Thomas did.

"Quite so, my Lord.  It would be my priviledge."  Turning to me he asked,
"Shall I take these to your room, Master Richard?"

"Thank you, Banes.  I'll come with you."  In my room, I looked through my
underwear drawer for two large pairs but could only find one pair.  "I must
have the other pair on," I said to the valet.

"Allow me, sir," he said, dropping to his knees and unzipping my pants.  I
stepped out of them and stood there, letting Banes admire me, as so many
men and boys seem eager to do.

"You're correct," he said.  "These are large size.  I'll give them back to
his Lordship."  He reached out and pulled them down over my hips.  I love
the smooth feel of silk sliding down my body.  Bane's face was just inches
in front of me as my dick came into view.  "I have to say, sir, that you
have quite a large penis for a twelve year old boy."

"Thank you, Banes.  It just appears big because I'm most of the way to
getting a hard-on.  My dick likes being looked at."

"You should be proud, sir."

"I think, Banes, if we're to share intimacies like this, you can call my by
my given name."

"Certainly, Richard."

"Dick.  I like Dick."

"Don't we all?" he murmured, taking my boxers from round my ankles.  I took
my shirt off, leaving just my white singlet covering my upper body.

He looked me up and down.  "Might I ask, Master Dick, at the upcoming fancy
dress party on halloween, what you intend to come dressed as?"

"I haven't decided.  Why are you asking now?"

He stretched the bottom of my singlet down until it reached my thighs.
"Because, one could imagine for a moment that this singlet is a dress and
you're a llttle girl.  I had the idea that you could attend dressed in
feminine attire.  I believe that many of the guests would enjoy having a
young girl at the party.  You'd be the only female there. "  I was
suddently excited.  He let go of the hem of my singlet which popped back up
to reveal my dick which had suddently become quite rigid.

"Banes, you're a genius!  What a splendid idea!  I could wear a wig."

"I would say that your hair is long enough."

"And knickers and a bra."  I became even more excited.  The staff would
love me.  Although some of them were quite butch, I believed that they
would react quite favourably to a transvestite.  The thought of a dick
inside my knickers would overcome their antipathy to women, I was sure.

"If you wish I can arrange for Branston to take you into town this
afternoon to make some purchases."  Branston was the chauffeur.  "His
Lordship is busy at this moment and I'm sure the Rolls is free."

"Excellent suggestion, Banes."  He was still gazing at my dick and I could
see an erection inside his pants.  I couldn't resist the temptation to
reach out and run my hand over it and then, of course, I just had to
unfasten his pants and let them fall.  His hard cock poked out of a pair of
my fathers silk boxers.

"Good Lord, Banes, are those the Earl's underpants?"

"I confess they are.  I took them out of the laundry hamper.  I find that
wearing another man's underwear to be extremely stimulating, especially
after he's been wearing them and if they have cum stains, so much the
better and his underpants always seem to have fresh stains. You're not
going to tell him are you?"

"Banes, you rogue!  I never knew you were such a pervert."

"It's a job requirement, sir."

"Well, I won't tell my father if you take care of me as you should and
right now you should stop looking at my dick and give me a helping hand."

"As you wish," he said, falling to his knees and wrapping his hand round my
shaft.

Remembering my manners, I said, "Would you be kind enough to allow me to
cum in your mouth?"

He looked up at me, an eager smile on his face."It would be my pleasure,
Dick."

"I'll return the favour in due course."

"I'm sure you will, Master Richard."



____________________________________________________



The Earl's Rolls Royce did not bear the coat of arms on its doors, which
would have been a little ostentatious, but we did have a carriage in the
stables, drawn by a pair of matched bays, skillfully driven by Branston,
which did display the crest.  It was only used on special occasions, county
fairs, visiting minor royalty etc.  Although rather young for the job,
being only eighteen, he was a skillful coachman and had won prizes in coach
driving competitions, but he'd been hired on the basis of his good looks,
like most of the staff at Upton.  He obligingly held the door of the Rolls
open for me as I climbed in.  In my grandfather's day, the chauffeurs at
Upton Abbey wore a traditional grey uniform with jodhpurs, but in the
modern century, Branston wore a dark suit and a peaked cap.  He looked
quite elegant.  We drove through the village of Upton and on to the nearby
town, which was big enough to boast a couple of department stores.
Together we looked for something to dress me in, but nothing seemed quite
right.  After looking at a number of outfits, Branston came up with an
excellent idea.

"If you try to look like a woman with tits and everything, given your
narrow hips, it's going to look phony.  What would you say to dressing as a
schoolgirl of your own age, with a plaid skirt and white socks?  You would
look a lot sexier, even with a flat chest, and if the skirt is short
enough, you could let people look up it."

"Brilliant, Branston.  You're a genius, but let's keep this a secret
between us.  I want to spring a surprise at the halloween party."

Half an hour later we were back in the Rolls, the boot loaded with
packages.  We drove back thrpough the country lanes and just before we
reached Upton, I said, "I have to take a pee.  Can you pull over?"

"Certainly, sir.  I need to pee myself."  He pulled off the road beside a
gate which led to a field and we left the car, opened the gate and stepped
behind the hedge.  We pulled our dicks out and started to relieve
ourselves.  Naturally, I had to look at Branston's dick.

"That's quite a big cock you have there, Branston."

"It's not that big," he said.  "It just looks that way because I've started
to get a hard-on."  He finished peeing and began to shake the drops of with
a masturbatory motion.

"I do believe you're wanking," I said with a grin, as my own dick began to
stiffen.

"Would that offend you?"

"Not at all.  I like watching guys wanking and I like it when they watch
me."  I did some drop-shaking motion myself and my cock became fully rigid.
I turned to face him and he stepped close to me.  The tips of our cocks
touched, sending a thrill through me, and then I felt his hand take hold of
me.

"You're a beautiful boy," he murmured.  "I've been wanting to fondle your
cock for ages now."

"I'm at your disposal, Branston.  Help yourself."  I was about to take hold
of his cock, but he dropped to his knees and took my dick in his mouth.  I
unfastened my pants and let them fall.  With my shirt bunched up round my
waist and my cock poking out of the fly of my boxers, I must have looked
quite lewd and I could sense his excitement as he started to suck me,
caressing my balls with one hand and running the other over my silk covered
bum.

"What if someone sees us through the hedge?" I asked.

He released my dick for long enough to say, "I wouldn't care a bit."

I thought about it.  I wouldn't care either.  In fact I'd be thrilled, and
if word got back to my father, he'd be thrilled, too.  Then I heard
footsteps and a couple of hikers marched past on the road.  They were
momentarily visible through the hedge, so I suppose we were visible to
them.  The thought of being seen with my cock in my chauffeur's mouth sent
me over the top and I suddenly came, flooding his mouth with cum.  He
milked me with his lips until I pulled out, tucked my cock back in my
underpants and pulled my pants up.  The hikers marched on, unaware of the
show they had just missed.

"Thank you, Branston.  You're very good at your job."

"My priviledge, Master Richard," he said, putting his cock away, smiling
broadly.

Back at the abbey, I took my purchases up to my bedroom and unwrapped them.
I undressed down to my underpants and looked at myself in the mirror.
Although it hadn't been long since I'd cum in Branston's mouth, my
customary randiness had returned in full force and my cock was hard in my
boxers.  I always got hard seeing myself in my underwear.  I slid them off
and pulled my singlet over my head.  I put my hands on my hips and thrust
my loins forwards in a provocative pose, then turned sideways to enjoy the
sight of my dick pointing upwards.  It had become quite large, more the
dick of a young man than a littly boy.  I took the white knickers we'd
bought and drew them up over my thighs and covered my cock.  I looked even
sexier than when I was naked.  I put on the little see-through training
bra, then the white blouse and plaid skirt.  White ankle socks completed
the picture.  I tied my long hair back in a pony tail.  I didn't need a
wig.  In the mirror stood a little schoolgirl.  On the night, I'd apply
just a touch of mascara, but for the moment, I looked quite perfect.  I
lifted my skirt and looked at my knickers concealing my hard cock.  For a
moment I wanted to wank again, but then I undressed and stowed everything
away.

______________________________________________



The halloween party had started and was well underway when I made my
entrance.  As I walked slowly down the wide staircase, the buzz of
conversation diminished and then died away as everyone turned to look up at
me.  The room was completely silent when I reached the landing half way
down.  I paused, letting them all gaze at me and then I lifted up my skirt
under my chin and showed off my white knickers.  For a second nothing
happened and then I heard one of the footmen say, "By God, it's young
Richard."  Immediately a thunderous burst of applause filled the room.  I
held the pose for several seconds, and as the clapping died away, I dropped
my skirt and continued down the stairs. At the bottom, my father greeted
me.

"Magnificent!" he said, gripping my hand.  "Absolutely splendid.  You're
the star of the show.  Well done, my boy, I'm proud of you."  The assembly
parted before me as I walked across the ballroom to the piano in the
corner, Roman centurions and Napoleons stepping aside, cowboys and ugly
witches making way for me. I sat down and played a few chords.  Silence
fell again as I began to sing: "You make me feel like a natural woman."  I
finished to another burst of enthusiastic applause.  I stood, bowed and
walked over the where the punchbowl sat on a sideboard and helped myself to
a glass of the sickly-sweet drink.  The servants, of course, were not
participating in the party, but the footmen and Carston the butler
witnessed my triumph and word would spread below stairs in a flash.

After a few minutes, a late-arriving guest was ushered in by Carston.  He
was a local magistrate by the name of Bellamy, looking ridiculous as a
furry rabbit, and he had his son Charles in tow.  I recognised Charles from
Upton Grammar.  He was a couple of years ahead of me and for a while I'd
had a bit of a crush on him, until other sexual encounters distracted me.
Dressed in a dark blazer and grey slacks, he looked most attractive.
Carston pointed him at the punch bowl and he headed towards me.

"Don't drink the punch," I said in a little girl's voice.  "It's awful."

"Hello," he said.

"I'm Richard's sister," I said.

"I've never seen you before," he replied, puzzled, clearly fooled by my
outfit.

"Oh, I'm just down from boarding school, only for the evening."

"You're not in fancy dress."

"No.  I was going to come as Cleopatra, but I was ironing my dress and set
it on fire.  This is all I have to wear.  Would you like some champagne?"

"I don't think they'll let us drink alcohol."

"They won't know.  I have a bottle stashed in the library.  Come with me."
We ducked into the library and I closed the door behind us.  I produced a
bottle from a bookshelf where I'd hidden it, pulled the cork, took a swig
and handed him the bottle.

He upended it and took a long drink, then said, "You're very pretty.  You
look just like your brother."

"Is my brother pretty, then?"

"Handsome would be a better word.  He's a popular boy."  I took the bottle
from his and and put it down on a table.  "So I've heard," I said with a
knowing look.  My reputation as a dick wanker and cocksucker had spread
through the school, so the implication of my remark was clear.  "I
understand a lot of boys like him."  I leaned in close and murmured in his
ear, "Did you know he has a big cock?"  He looked somewhat shocked.  "Oh
yes," I added, "I've seen it, lots of times.  He likes to show it off."

His eyebrows went up.  "To you?  To his sister?"

I smiled, enigmatically.  "He shows it to everyone he can."  I dropped my
voice to a whisper.  "Do you have a big cock?"  My hand went down to the
front of his pants and I groped him.  For a second he pulled away, but then
relaxed and let me fondle him.  "Oh, you do, you naughty boy, it is big.  I
think you're getting hard-on.  My brother would be excited if he knew."

"Is he here tonight?  I haven't seen him."

"Oh, yes, you'll meet him in just a moment."  I took hold of his hand and
placed it on my thigh, then gave him a kiss on the cheek.  As I expected,
his hand slid up until it reached the edge of my panties and then his eyes
went big as he realised what was inside them, and he jerked his hand away.

"It's you!  Richard, you fucker, it's you, dressed as a girl!"

I laughed.  "Yes, it's me.  I hope you're not too angry at me."  He looked
at me, then down at my hand which still cupped his basket.

"I suppose not," he said.  "You do look very sexy."

"I've been wanting to touch your cock for about a year now," I said,
unzipping his fly and putting my hand inside.  I could feel the pouch of
his briefs, his dick now as stiff as my own.  "Lot of boys at school think
you're hot, Bellamy.  I'm one of them."

"You have quite a reputation yourself, Richard," he said, "They say you
like to show off your underpants in the Gym."

"You missed it earlier when I came downstairs and did this in front of
everyone."  I pulled my hand out of his pants and lifted my skirt.  His
mouth fell open as he looked at my knickers, my cock making them bulge at
the front.

"Wow," he said.  "I bet they liked that.  You look so sexy."  He reached
out and stroked the front of my knickers where a wet patch showed where the
end of my dick was.  I knew I had him where I wanted him.  I stepped back,
letting my skirt fall.

"Let's go upstairs to my room.  Then you can look at my knickers as much as
you want.  I'll even let you try them on, and my underpants, too."  I took
him by the hand and led him up the back stairs to my room.  Closing the
door behind us, I put my arms round him and said, "Have you ever kissed a
girl?"

"Yes, I have."

"Right now, I'm a girl, and I've never been kissed.  Do it to me, Charles."
His lips touched mine and I opened my mouth to let his tongue in.  My first
kiss was more thrilling than I could have imagined.  He ground his hips
against mine and I could feel his hard cock pushing against me.  As soon as
we broke apart, I unfastened the top of his pants and pulled his zipper
down.  His pants fell, revealing a pair of blinding white cotton briefs.
He stepped out of his pants and let me unbutton his shirt.  I stood back as
he shrugged it off his shoulders and stood there in his singlet and briefs,
a vision of provocative sexiness that set my pulse pounding.  "You're
fucking gorgeous, Bellamy," I said, unfastening my skirt and letting it
fall.  He stared at me, looking at my little bra visible through my cotton
blouse, and eyeing my knickers hungrily.  I smiled.  "I know you want to
try them on, don't you?"

He blushed.  "Must I?" he asked.

His reluctance was faked because he offered no resitance as I pulled his
briefs down.  His cock was gorgeous and I longed to suck it right there and
then, but I didn't want to get ahead of my self.

"Take my knickers off." I commanded.  My excitement mounted as he slid them
down my hips and my cock sprang out.

"Your sister was right," he grinned, "you do have a big cock.  I like it.
No wonder you're always showing it off."

"Have you ever sucked a dick?"

"No, not yet."

"I have.  Lots of times.  I love it.  You should try it, but first, let me
see what you look like in my knickers."  I held them open for him to step
into.  I was sorry to see his dick disappear inside them, but it was well
worth it.  His briefs had made hime look sexy, but the knickers took it
over the top.  I almost came, right there and then.  I stood back to admire
him.  He was staring at me in a way that made me want to be naked so I took
off my blouse and unfastened my bra.  We stood, admiring each other, dicks
erect, faces flushed.

"I want to see how you look in those famous underpants the whole school is
talking about," he said.  I produced a pair from my dresser drawer and
pulled them on.  "Fabulous!  I can why you're so popular.  I could look at
you all day long.  Can I try them on?"

"I thought you'd never ask.  Take them off me, you sexy fucker."  He pulled
them down my legs and then took the knickers off.  In my boxers with his
dick sticking out of the fly, he was a dream come true.  He looked at
himself in the mirror.

"I love them.  Just look at me.  I'm just as sexy as you are."  I was
speechless, struck dumb by pure lust.  He was hotter than Peter Handcock,
lewder than Thomas or any of the other servants, and just as eager as the
horniest of my class mates.  I couldn't possibly ignore what he clearly
desired and what I wanted so much myself and so, inevitably, my arms went
round his hips and I pulled his cock into my waiting mouth.  I could have
sucked him all night, but he was only able to last a few seconds before the
gave me a delicious mouthful of warm, creamy cum.

A few minutes later, he was back in his own clothes and I was a little girl
again, and we sneaked back into the party, feeling very pleased with
ourselves.  The evening ended with me playing "I enjoy being a girl" and
the whole event was judged a huge success.

____________________________________________________



The months went by with many more sexual encouters with the staff, for
example in the tool shed with one of the under-gardeners whom I caught
pushing the handle of a trowel up his arse; in the scullery with a sous
chef who wanted to wrap my dick in raw liver to simulate the feel of a
vagina; in the back of a van with a visiting chimney sweep's assistant, and
one memorable afternon when a window cleaner watched from the top of his
ladder as I undressed 'unaware' that he was there, until I slid the sash up
and helped him climb in.  They all wanted to suck me off, but I often
insisted on doing the sucking.  It was nice to come in a man's mouth, but
much more thrilling to have him cum in mine.  I was becoming an addict.  At
school, the problem was not so much finding a willing partner as I was
practically beating them off with a stick, it was finding a suitable moment
and a secluded place.  'The bogs' as we called the toilets, were frequently
used for sexual assignations, and not just by me.  Looking below the door
of a stall, one could often see two pairs of feet, and hear the heavy
breathing of young boys in heat.  The staff must have been aware of it,
especially when two boys would simultaneously raise their hands in class
and ask for permission go to the bathroom, while the rest of us smirked.
It was a way of keeping track of who was wanking with whom.  I'd developed
quite a reputation which pleased me no end.  I was now thirteen years old,
far more sexually experience than my contemporaries, and eager to teach
them all I'd learned about gay sex.

One morning I woke as Banes came into my room with my morning coffee.  He
opened the curtains.  I lay there in my boxers with my customary hard on
protruding from the front.  I hate to wear pajamas as they seem so middle
class.

"Good morning,” he said.  “I pleased to say that your father arrived
last night after you’d gone to bed.  He didn’t want me to wake you.”The
Earl had been spending long periods away from home, sitting in the House of
Lords and I felt guilty that I'd been so busy doing depraved thing with my
schoolfriends and the staff that I'd hardly missed him.

“Is he awake yet?”

"He is, Master Dick.  I've just taken his coffee to him.  He was having his
morning wank."  I jumped out of bed and not bothering to dress, went out
into the corridor and headed towards his room.  Thomas the footman was at
the top of the stairs.

He looked at me.  "Oh, my!" he said in his coarse manner.  "The future
earl's got a hard-on."  Although neatly dressed in a suit (footman's
liveries at Upton Abbey having been discarded decades ago), his Liverpool
accent betrayed his low-class origins.  I pretended to ignore him, even
though I liked showing myself off in underwear and walked past him.  "Nice
bum.  I'd really like to fuck that."  This sort of remark would normally be
intolerable coming from a servant, but the fact that I was guilty of having
sucked his cock had emboldened him.  This was no time to be in a
confrontation with a employee, so I merely said, "Careful, Thomas, remember
that I owe you a spanking," and walked on, knocked on my father's door and
went in.  He was sitting up in bed, naked, a laptop open on his thighs and
his cock in his hand, pumping away.

"Good morning, Father.  Sorry to interrupt."

"Good morning, Richard.  Come and look at this."  I climbed on to the bed
and lay beside him and looked at the screen.  It was a video of two men
having anal sex.  To be honest, the one with the cock up his arse, was only
a teenager, probably about sixteen, wearing just a singlet and a rapt
expression of intense enjoyment on his face and he was sitting on the cock
of the older man, with his back to him.  The older man was in an armchair,
and the younger supported himself with his arms on the chair and his feet
on the man's thighs.  As the man lunged up and down, his unbelievably large
cock going all the way in and then almost all the way out again, the boy's
own body movement caused his own cock, pretty impressive in itself, to
swing up and down through a large arc in an inviting way.  I wondered why
the older man didn't have the good manners to reach round and give the boy
a helping hand but perhaps he didn't want the lad to cum too soon.

"What a beautiful sight!" said my father, his hand still stroking his dick.

"Surely that must hurt," I said.

"Not necessarily.  One has to do a certain amount of preparation to be able
to take a big dick like that all the way up one's arse.  One needs be
stretched."

"Would that hurt?" I asked, thinking about Thomas and his desire to insert
his cock into me.  Although Thomas's cock, so familiar to me, wasn't as big
as the guy in the video, it was hard to imagine it being shoved up my bum.

"Not if one progresses gradually."  He reached for the bell pull and gave
it a yank.  We continued to watch the sexy lad being royally fucked until
the video faded out.  "I was hoping for the cum-shot," my father said.
Banes knocked and came into the room.  Father abandoned his wank.

"Banes, would you be good enough to let Richard borrow some of my butt
plugs, the smaller ones for now, I think."

"I'm afraid you only have the medium and large size, my Lord."

"Then talk to Patchmore."  Patchmore was the cook.  "Get some suitably
sized carrots until you can buy some sex toys appropriate for a thirteen
year old boy."

"Leave it in my hands, my Lord," said Banes, bowing out.

"Talking of cum-shots, Richard, take a look at this."  He opened a new
video clip which showed a close up of some guy, the elastic waistband of
his briefs hooked under his balls, wanking a long, slender dick just inches
in front of the camera.

"What's so special about this?" I asked.  I'd watched plenty of videos of
guys having a wank.

"Just wait."  After a short while, the guy took his hand away and just
stood there, a glimmer of moisture on the end of his dick. Every few
seconds, his dick would jerk up as he squeezed his arse muscle.  Suddenly
it jerked several times and a long stream of white cum flowed from the end.
It didn't shoot out, just dribbled down in a long string.  He still didn't
touch his cock.  Then another long string, then a third.  We could hear him
groaning.  Then his hand came into view and he milked another three drops
of cum.  Altogether it was an impressive load.

"Holy shit!" I said.  "How does he do that.  He didn't even touch his
cock!"

"All you need is to be sufficiently aroused.  I imagine that being in front
of the camera, knowing the whole world would eventually see him cum,
aroused him sufficiently to trigger his orgasm.  You know, I think I could
do that.  I love being watched when I cum, just like you, Son."

"And you know I'd like to watch," I said.  "Go for it, Father."

He sat up, put the laptop to one side, then straddled my chest, his still
hard cock directly above my mouth.  "Give it a little suck, just to get me
going."  I lifted my head up, took hold of his dick, inserted it where it
belonged and ran my tongue under his foreskin.  "Where did you learn to do
that?" he asked, his voice hoarse with lust.  "My God!  You're a wonderful
cocksucker.  You're a fucking expert!"  It wasn't often that the earl used
four letter words.  "Okay, that's enough.  I'm right on the edge."  I laid
my head back down and waited.  A drop of precum fell from the end of his
dick on to my cheek.  I scooped it with my finger and sucked it.  It was
slightlly bitter but not unpleasant.  Then his cock twitched and I knew it
was going to happen.  A few seconds later, another twitch and then, just as
in the video, cum poured from the end of his dick.  I opened my mouth as
wide as I could and most of it went in.  There was a short pause, his dick
pulse again and another stream of fell on to my tongue, then a third.  Then
he took his cock in his hand and vigourously pumped the last few drops out,
then rolled off me and collapsed beside me.

"Fuck me!" he said.  "That was awesome.  Having you staring at my dick from
inches away got me so turned on.  I couldn't have done that alone.  Thank
you, Son."

"I should thank you, Father," I mumbled through the cum in my mouth.  It
was completely full.  I'd never had the prividledge to have a load this big
before.  He looked over at me as I swallowed and swirled my tongue round my
mouth to get all of it.  We lay there, not speaking, father and son, bonded
as never before.

After a few minutes, he looked down at my still stiff cock sticking up out
the the fly of my boxers.  "Start with your finger," he said.  I assumed
we'd returned to the subject of stretching my arse.  "Then maybe a carrot.
Carrots are good because they're tapered.  You can push it in until it
starts to hurt, then stop.  Keep practicing until you can push the butt
plug in there with no pain and remember to use lots of lube.  Banes will
give you some.  If you prepare properly, your first fuck should be a
painless and enjoyable experience and if you're like me you'll grow to love
being fucked."  I was definitely like him.

"I was on the landing earlier, and Thomas remarked that he'd like to fuck
my arse."

"Thomas is getting a bit above his station, though he does have his
attractions.  He's what I like to call 'a bit of rough'.  He's buggered me
a few times, quite savagely.  If he could tone it down a bit, he might be
quite suitable to break you in, as it were."  I thought about it, about
what it would feel like to be shagged up the arse, sexually molested,
assaulted by a rough lout like Thomas, what it would feel like with his
cock inside me while he verbally abused me, and the thought made me realise
that I had to have a wank, right at that moment.  It wouldn't have done for
me to wank in front of my father just after he'd cum in such a spectacular
fashion, so I thanked him for his jism and hurried back to my own room.
Minutes later, I dropped my silk boxers, thoroughly soaked in my cum, into
the laundry hamper in my bathroom.  Perhaps Banes would like to wear them,
though they might be a bit small.

____________________________________________________



In the autumn term at Upton Grammar, we played rugby.  Unlike cricket which
is mindlessly boring or field and track which is too much like hard work, I
enjoyed rugby, not for the joy of competition but because, in the scrum, I
would be crouched with my head between the bums of two other boys, my hands
on their hips, with a couple of other boys pushing me from behind, all of
which allowed for the occasional grope.  The smell of fresh sweat from
horny boys was intoxicating.

One afternoon, after rugby, instead of enjoying the thrill of undressing
and showering with my team, comparing cock sizes, peeing on each other and
admiring each other's underwear, I decided to cycle straight home.  The
phys-ed teacher, seeing me leave, looked disappointed.  My father had
mentioned something about a photo shoot at the Abbey which I didn't want to
miss.  When I arrived, still muddy and sweaty from my game, instead of a
camera crew, I found only a single female reporter and her photographer, a
young man with nice blue eyes, taking pictures of the ballroom, library and
staircase.  Carston told me that they were merely doing an article for a
town-and-country style magazine.  Disappointed in not being interviewed for
television, I went upstairs to take a shower.  As I stepped out of the
shower stall, now nice and pink and clean, I heard my father vloice saying,
"This is my son's bedroom."  I came out of my bathroom, a towel wrapped
round my head but otherwise entirely naked.  My father was showing the
photographer the antique furniture.  "This is my son, Richard."  He held
out his hand and I shook it.  My father had no problem showing off his
stark naked son to a stranger, in fact I'm sure he revelled in it.

"Where's your lady friend?" I asked, not wishing to be seen in the nude by
a woman, although showing off in front of a guy was never a problem.

"She left," my father said.  "I've invited this gentleman to dinner.
Branston can drive him to the station afterwards."

At that moment, Carston stuck his head in the door.  "Telephone, my Lord."

"I'll take it in the library," said my father, and exited.

The photographer looked at me as I stood there, towel in hand, not
bothering to cover myself up.  He had that look of hunger that I know so
well.  "Come and see the view," I said, turning to the window.  I sensed
the flash going off and looked back over my shoulder, smiling.  "Did you
take a picture of my bum?"

"I did.  Come and see."  He showed me the picture on the display screen and
I have to confess, back lit by the sunlight coming in the window, I looked
as though I was surrounded by a halo of light, like a little angel.  "Nice
bum," he said, standing close behind me as we looked out of the window, his
hand on my bum, his loins pressed against my hip so I could feel his
hard-on, then his other hand went round my waist, fingering my belly button
then sliding down to tickle my pubic hair and finally taking hold of my
cock.  I stepped away from him and spun round, proud to show him my naked
body.

"A lot of people like my bum.  Take some more pictures of me, if you like."
Here was a heaven sent opportunity for me to show off, not just to him but
to whomever would get to see his pictures.  He clicked away as I posed
lewdly.  My cock was rigid.  He moved in for some close ups of my dick.
"Are you going to publish these in your magazine?"

He laughed.  "No, they'd lock me up.  I just want to keep them for my
personal use.  How about you lie down on the bed?  Yes like that, okay, now
open your legs."  All the while his camera was flashing away.  "Perfect,
now roll on to your face and push your bum up in the air.  Now, lie back
again, hands behind your head.  One more, that's it.  You've got a nice
little hard-on there."  Not so little, I thought, my cock is now almost
full sized.

I jumped off the bed.  "I have something you're gonna like," I said,
opening my underwear drawer, taking out a pair of silk boxers and holding
them up so he could see the coat of arms.

"Priceless!" he said.  "Put them on and let me take a few more shots."  I
pulled them up over my rigid cock and stood sideways to make my erection
more obvious.  Then I turned my back to him and pulled them down below my
buttocks, bending forward invitingly.  Then I faced him and pulled my dick
from the fly as he knelt down for another close up.

"Are you going to show these pictures to your friends?" I asked.

"A select few, if you don't mind."

"Not at all, in fact you can put them on the internet as long as I can
remain anonymous.  I'd love to have the world see me like this."  I lay
down again on my bed, my legs hanging over the end, took my dick out of my
underpants and began to seriously wank.  His camera was firing away as fast
as he could click it.  "Here we go!" I called as I felt my orgasm building.
I lifted my hips and I shot my load all over my chest, one blob landing on
my chin.  I smiled at him as I licked my lower lip and my hand.  "Did you
get that?"

"The perfect cum-shot," he said, showing me the screen.  He'd caught the
exact moment when an arc of cum was leaving my dick, arching towards my
waiting mouth.  This picture was going to get a lot of attention on the
internet, assuming he could manage it without being arrested.  I supposed a
picture of a thirteen year old boy cumming on himself amounted to child
pornography, but then I like the idea of myself as a porn-star.  I pulled
my underpants off, wiped my chest with them and gave them to him "To
remember me by," I said.

When I did finally see his pictures of me on the internet, I could see from
the eager smile on my face that the world would know how much I had
thoroughly enjoyed myself.



_________________________________________________



Peter Handcock and I decided to go sailing.  It was a Sunday afternoon and
most of the servants were enjoying their day off.  We walked down to the
lake, where a sailing dinghy was tied up to the jetty.  We were wearing
short and singlets, our feet bare.  Sitting beside the boat we found
Thomas, dressed in a T shirt and brown corduroy trousers with sneakers on
his feet.  It would have been impolite not to invite him, so we all climbed
into the boat, rigged the mast, hoisted the sail and headed out, myself at
the helm.  We decided to tack down the long lake, against the wind, to the
small island at the far end.  Peter and Thomas sat one on each side of the
boat, and I kept switching sides every time we tacked.  My shorts were not
much longer than the boxers I was wearing underneath, so I sat with my legs
apart, knowing that my friends would be able to see my cock up the leg.
Peter also spread his legs invitingly.  All this did not go unnoticed by
Thomas, who eyed us lewdly.  As we approached the island, I said to Thomas,
"You'd better take your sneakers off and roll your pants up or you'll get
wet when we land."

He pulled his footwear off and said, "Might as well take my pants off
altogether."  Now he looked even more attractive in his white trunks.  The
boat grounded at the island and we stepped over the side and pulled it up
on to dry land and I picked up the blanket, the sun tan oil and a package
of sandwiches I had brought.  We found a grassy clearing in the trees and
spread the blanket, Peter and I took our shorts and singlets off, and we
all sat down.  As always, when I undress in the presence of other males, I
was getting a hard-on.  The sexual tension mounted as we all looked at each
other, a young man of twenty or so, and two boys, thirteen and fourteen,
all in their underpants, all eager to arouse each other and be aroused, as
evidenced by the erections scarcely hidden under cotton and silk.

"Doesn't he look fuckin' gorgeous, Peter," said Thomas.  "I could really
fuck him."  Perhaps this was the moment I had been practicing for, pushing
butt plugs and vibrators up my arse, until it no longer hurt.  I knew I was
ready and a man like Thomas, crude though he was, could be the perfect
aggressor to my submissive body.  He lay back, lifted his hips and slid his
trunks down over his legs and took them off,then removed his T shirt.  I'd
never seen him totally naked before, and my pulse began to quicken.  His
cock was larger than average, bigger than my fathers, or Banes'.  I decided
to draw the game out.

"Would you like to fuck me, too?" I asked Peter.  "Take your briefs off and
let me see your dick."  He obliged, showing his cock, beautifully
proportioned, though not as big as Thomas's.  "Which of you get's to take
my virginity?"  Peter looked a little dubious as I imagine he'd never
fucked a bloke before, but Thomas was raring to go.  "I've decided.  I
shall suck Peter's cock while Thomas fucks me, doggy style."  Peter looked
relieved.  I stood and tantalisingly lowered my underpants then let them
fall and displayed my naked body for them.  Thomas was licking his lips.  I
picked up the sun tan oil and gave it to him.  "Put some of that on your
cock," I said, kneeling down with my arse presented to him, like a young
chimpanzee offering himself to the alpha male.  Peter knelt in front of me
and I took his cock, so familiar to me, into my mouth.  I felt Thomas place
his hands on my hips, the tip of his cock touching my hole.  I bore down,
as though I was taking a shit, opening my rectum for him.  This was the
moment I had been waiting for and thinking about since the talk I'd had
with my father, the moment that I'd discover that a dick was immensely more
exciting than a dildo.  He thrust it in.  I had prepared myself well.  It
didn't hurt a bit as the head of his cock pushed past my sphincter.  Then
the paused and with two more lunges, pushed it all the way home.  Having
one cock up my arse and one in my mouth was heaven.  This was about as
depraved as I could get.  I was being ravished by two lowly servants.  They
could do whatever they wanted with me.  Thomas was pumping away, his hips
slamming against my buttocks with a slapping noise, grunting and groaning
and best of all, verbally abusing me.

"You fuckin' slut!" he was saying.  "You little faggot!  You're a whore,
you queer little shit.  You love my big hard cock up your arse, don't you."
I took my mouth off Peter's cock for long enough to say, "I do!  I love it!
Fuck me harder, you brute!"  He was shoving his dick into me as hard and as
fast as he could.

"The heir to the Earl of Upton!" he sneered contemptously, "The Earl of
up-arse, more like.  You fuckin' posh cocksucker, you love being fucked."
I pushed my bum back against him, bearing down to open my sphincter as much
as I could so he could fuck me deeper, but he was already all the way in.
The feeling of being filled by his cock was making my heart pound and I
could feel my stiff dick swaying underneath me.  I thought about asking
Peter to crawl under me so we could sixty nine, but if he put my cock in
his mouth, I'd cum right away and I wanted to continue to enjoy Thomas's
nice big cock up my arse.  Of all the thrills of my young life, nothing was
quite so intoxication as being fucked.  I was almost swooning with ecstacy
as his cock seemed to fill my entire body.  I surrendered to his domination
with total willingness, loving the humiliation, and at that moment, I knew
that I would spend the rest of my life wanting men like Thomas, men from
any station in life, to satisfy their lust with me.

Then Peter started groaning.  "Oh, Jesus, I'm gonna cum," and I felt the
head of his dick swell up, then pulse as he filled my mouth with cum.  As
always, the thrill of having a man spend in my mouth was bringing me close
to orgasm and at the same time, Thomas's thrusts grew even harder and
faster.  With a loud cry and one final brutal lunge, I felt him come inside
me and this send me over the top, sending long ropes of jism pumping from
the end of my cock, as it hung below me, untouched by hand or mouth.  After
two or three more thrusts, Thomas pulled his cock out of me and I released
Peter's cock from between my lips.

We all collapsed on the blanket, the wet spot under my bum.  I was
supremely happy.  Thomas took a napkin from the package of sandwiches and
wiped his cock.  "Let's eat," he said, "then we can go for a swim.  After
that . . ?"  He looked at me enquiringly.

"Who knows?" I said with a smile.



____________________________________________________



A couple of years went by, hot lazy summers, with long hours spent lying in
the hayfields, listening to the buzz of insects as various staff members
and I stroked and sucked each other’s cocks.  The winters were not so good,
many outdoor venues being unsuitable, but I could often be found hiding in
the school basement behind a big iron boiler, the warmth contrasting with
the coolness of a hand on my dick, or in the back row of the local cinema,
using the cover of darkness to fondle a friend's cock.  By now, Thomas was
not the only man fucking me.  The choirmaster at Upton's church, even
though I declined his invitation to sing, showed me the view from the bell
tower, then pulled my pants and underpants down, bent me over the parapet
and gave me a royal buggering in full view of several villagers, although
they couldn't actually see us below the waist.  A local farmer taught me to
drive his tractor as I sat in his lap, his rock hard cock vibrating against
my bum in time with the engine.  When the fields were mowed and the hay
piled into stacks, they made good places to hide while I learned how good
it felt to have a tongue up my arse, or better yet, to tongue another man,
my head buried between his thighs.  These men always remarked how nice and
clean my bum tasted and I told them that every morning in the shower, I'd
finger-fuck myself with a well soaped finger, not just for a few thrusts,
but for a couple of minutes because it felt so nice.  The smell of decaying
hay is very like the smell of stale cum, and ever since, whenever that
particular odour assails me, I get a hard on.

I was now fifteen years old, no longer a cute little boy, more of a young
man with a dick I could be proud of, and happily, other men’s interest in
me did not diminish, as can happen to pubescent boys.  I was so popular at
school that I could select my sex partners from among many eager
contenders, not least among them, the school’s phys. ed. coach.  An
ex-marine of althletic build, he liked to shower with the boys, showing off
his oversized cock.  I would linger after the other boys had left, standing
in the shower while he peed on me, then let me suck him off until he was
stiff enough to push his cock, slick with soap, up my eager bum.  It was a
bit of a risk, being fucked in such a public space, but I doubted that
anyone would report if if we were discovered.  More likely they would want
to join in.  And my music teacher liked to run his hand up the inside of my
thigh as I stood beside him at the piano.  He would play chord progressions
with one hand, fondling my cock with the other until I’d cum in my pants,
much to the delight of Banes, who liked to sniff the still-wet underpants
that he fished out of the hamper after I got home.  My housemaster would
single me out at every opportunity to discipline me in his study, but once
the door was closed, he'd hand me a cane, bare his buttocks and bend over a
chair and I'd swipe the cane theatrically in the air, making a frightening
swishing noise, and give him six of the best as he abjectly apologised for
an imaginary transgression.

At about seven o’clock one evening, I was downstairs in the kitchen looking
for something to eat.  We didn’t dine until eight and I was getting hungry.
Patchmore the cook was snapping the thick ends off asparagus spears and
dropping the tips into a pot of boiling water.  He was too preoccupied to
see me.  I slipped into the pantry, thinking a chunk of cheese would hold
me until dinner.  I saw a figure partly concealed behind some shelving and
when I looked closer I saw it was Carston, his back to me, his elbow moving
rythmically.

“What’s going on, Carston?”

He turned towards me and I could see that he was masturbating, with a
silver sauce boat angled in front of his dick ready to catch his emissions.

“His Lordship asked me to cum in the hollandaise sauce,” he said, to
my astonishment.  “The bishop has been invited to dinner and your father
thought it would be amusing to play a trick on him.” The bishop, a fat,
ugly man, was in the habit of inviting himself for dinner a couple of times
each year in the hope of hitting my father up for a donation to the
Catholic church.  He was never successful.  “I was going to warn you to
avoid the hollandaise, Master Richard.”

“No need, Carston, I’m sure your cum is quite delicious.”

“Thank you.  His Lordship would agree.” Carston had been the butler
at Upton from as far back as my grandfather’s day and was now getting quite
old.  Most of our staff were laid off with generous severance pay when they
passed the age that pleased my father, but his butler was too valuable to
let go.  “I’m afraid I’ve lost my erection.  I’ll have to start over.”

“You need a helping hand.  Allow me.” I reached out and quickly got
him hard again, wanking his cock vigourously and very soon he fired several
generous spurts of cum into the sauce boat, not a bad load for a man of his
age.  “Thank you, Master Richard, that was a great help.” He stirred
it with a silver spoon.  I put a finger in it and licked it.

“How does it taste?” he asked.  "Your father, a good judge of fine
cum, would say it was quite refreshing, though a little pretentious, with a
hint of autumnal decadence.” This was the nearest Carston would ever
come to actual humour.  I rolled it round my mouth.

“I’d agree with my father.  Does Patchmore know about this?”

“Oh, no, he’d be mortified, although he does like to pee in his beer.
He says it improves the flavour.” I quite forgot about the cheese and
left to change for dinner.  The days when full evening dress was worn for
dinner were decades past, but when we had guests, I was required to wear a
tie and jacket.  I sat in the dining room with my father waiting for the
bishop to arrive.  He was always late.  Carson stood behind my father, a
napkin over his arm.  We were just about to begin without him when the door
opened and Carston announced, “His Grace, the Bishop.” We stood as he
entered.

“Good evening, Bishop,” said my father.  "A dry sherry?"

“Good evening, Upton, I believe I will.” he replied and Carston held
our chairs as we sat down and exchanged a few polite pleasantries.  The
butler than served us soup from a tureen and left to bring the main course.

“My gamekeeper managed to bag a brace of pheasant yesterday, which my
cook has roasted.  I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“I’m sure I shall,” said the bishop, slurping his soup.  He turned to
me.

“And what will you be when you grow up?” he asked, patronisingly.

“Gay!” my father interjected.

“I’m not amused, Upton.”

“I wasn’t joking, your Grace.”

“You can’t be in favour of homosexuality.  It’s against the teaching of
the church.” At that moment Carston returned with a large tray on which
stood dishes of vegetables and pheasant, already carved.  He proceeded to
serve us.

“What?” said my father.  “You can’t be serious.  When I was my
son’s age I’d already been buggered half a dozen times by the local vicar.
His teaching was extensive and I learned a lot from him.  You can hardly
say he was against homosexuality.  He was an advocate, at least to me.”

“Your vicar is Anglican.  The Catholic diocese cannot be responsible if
the Church of England’s clergy molest their congregations.”

“He didn’t molest me, bishop.  I invited him.” His Grace looked
shocked.  Carston placed dinner plates before us and served slices of
pheasant, roasted potatoes, peas and asparagus.

“Hollandaise sauce, your Grace?”

“Yes please, Carston.  A little more I think.  Thank you.” I was
having a hard time keeping a straight face.  The bishop tasted a slice of
meat.  “Quite delicious.” Then we watched, fascinated, as he speared
a couple of asparagus tips with his fork, brought them to his mouth and
popped them in.

“How is the sauce?” asked my father.

“Perfect.  You must give me the recipe.”

“I’ll have the cook email it to you.  Leave the sauce boat on the table,
Carston, so his Grace can help himself to more if he wishes.” Carston
bowed out, a faint smile on his face.

"A Urologist," I said.  "You were asking what I wanted to be when I grew
up.  A urologist."

"And why is that?"

"It's a part of the male anatomy I like to focus on."  My father smiled.
"I could specialize in erectile disfunction and perhaps discover new ways
to overcome it."  The bishop was unsure how to react, suspecting that I
might be joking and there was a moment of silence as he took another
forkful of sauce-laden asparagus.

“Tell me, bishop," said my father, "why is it that we never seem to hear
of choirgirls being molested?”

“Most choirs are made up of boys, because of their sweet, unbroken
voices.”

“And their sweet . . .” My father muttered something inaudible,
popped a potato in his mouth, then added, “Given your church’s record of
behaviour towards young boys, you’re hardly in a position to preach against
homosexuality.  You forbid priests to marry, provide them with a ready
supply of darling little boys, then expect them to behave themselves and
preach against gay sex.  Whom are you kidding?” My father's English
grammar was always faultless.

The bishop wisely changed the subject, mopping up the last of he
hollandaise with a piece of bread.  He finished his meal as quickly as was
decent, declined the dessert, made his excuses and left.

“What a pomous ass!” said my father.  “You didn’t have much to say
for yourself.”

“Not to that condescending prick.  Anyway, I was too busy enjoying the
hollandaise."

"Quite so.  Let's have a glass of port before we retire."



___________________________________________________



Later, my father and I mounted the stairs and walked to his bedroom and
paused outside the door.  "Do you know what the date is?" he asked me.

I thought for a moment, then exclaimed, "My gosh!  I'd forgotten that
tomorrow's my birthday."

"At midnight, you'll be sixteen, the age of consent, and to celebrate, I'd
like it very much if you would sleep in my bed tonight.  By the way, did
you know that in the nineteenth century, the age of consent was ten?  But
not for homosexual acts.  We were illegal back then.  We would both have
been hanged for what we consider is perfectly normal behaviour."

"I'd be delighted."  We went into his bedroom where Banes was laying out
Father's clothes for the morning.

"Banes, would you bring a dressing gown for my son?  Thank you."  Banes
departed on his errand and my father and I started to undress each other.
He was still a young man, in his thirties, quite slender and well muscled,
and being allowed to undress him was getting me excited.  When we stood
admiring each other in our silk boxers, cocks erect, I felt proud to be his
son.  Banes came in with my robe, gave us a lustful look, bade us goodnight
and left.  He'd have to wank his own dick tonight.  Father and I pulled
each others underpants down, a thing we both love to do, went into his
bathroom and got into the shower.  Before he turned the water on, he knelt
in front of me and asked me to pee on his face.  He opened his mouth and
swallowed some of it, with obvious relish.

"What's it taste like?" I asked him.

"Not bad.  Better if you'd drunk a lot of acidic stuff, like coke or fruit
juice, to cut the alkalinity, it would have been sweeter.  That's why I
won't ask you to drink mine.  You can do that another time when it'll taste
milder.  For the moments, just let me pee on your cock."  His hot piss
splashing on to my dick was a novel and exciting experience, a whole new
world of perversion to explore.  Then, feeling my father's hands on my body
as he soaped me all over was delicious, but not as nice as the thrill of
spreading suds all over him, finishing up with his bum and hard cock, which
I washed vigourously.  "Push a soapy finger in me, son," he said, doing the
same to me.  It felt like a prelude to a great buggery session and we
finger-fucked each other for several long minutes.  Then we toweled off and
came back into the bedroom and stood in front of his dressing mirror and
admired ourselves.  "Look at us," he said.  "Two hot gay guys with big hard
dicks.  Yours is fully grown, now, just a big as mine."

"Is it as beautiful?"

"It is, and as tasty, I imagine."  He pushed me back on to the bed and fell
on top of me, his head towards my feet and in an instant we had each
other's cocks in our mouths, slurping away, each trying to outdo the other
with our cocksucking skills.  After a while I was unable to resist the urge
to slide lower down and put my head between his legs and lick his arsehole.
I pushed my tongue in as far as it would go and I shivered as I felt him do
the same to me.  His clean body left no taste, but I wondered what it would
be like to rim him just after he'd been horse riding, for example, allowing
the heady aroma of his sweat to overwhelm me.  The thought almost made me
cum, and sensing it, he rolled off me and lay on his back, getting his
breath back, his dick pointing at the ceiling, bobbing gently in time with
his pulse.  Sucking a dick involves breathing through one's nose, and is
often described as a 'breathless' experience.

"I know you're being buggered on a regular basis," he said, "Young Thomas,
that uncouth lout, tells me all about it.  It's part of his humiliation
routine, describing us both you as a cocksucking sluts, which I happen to
enjoy, so I'm up to speed.  I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all, father, I have no secrets from you."

"So I take it you've never actuall fucked anyone."

"Not yet.  I've always been on the receiving end."

"Then tonight, I insist that you fuck me.  I want that gorgeous cock of
yours as far as it will go up my arse.  You're going to like it, I know."

"As you wish, father."

"Just lie there on your back and let me do all the work."  He took a tube
of lube from the bedside table and spread it all over my dick, then
straddled me.  "Ready?"  I nodded and he took hold of my dick, placed the
tip against his hole, then let his full weight fall on me.  I felt my
foreskin roll back as my cock went all the way into him, right up to the
hilt, and he let out a huge sigh of satisfaction.  I had never felt
anything like it, my whole dick encased in warm flesh, infinitely better
than when, in the scullery, it had been wrapped in raw liver.  This was my
father's warm, living body, and I was giving pleasure equal to or better
than my own, penetrating his bowels, and thrusting my hips up.  He threw
his head back, his eyes closed as I tweaked his nipples.  They became
instantly hard.  "Oh, fuck me, fuck me, son!" he groaned hoarsely.  "Ram
your dick up my arse!  Oh, I love it, I love it! Cum inside me, you darling
boy!"  His body was bouncing up and down, my dick almost coming free, then
plunging back into him.  "I'm a fucking slut, Richard!  I'm a dirty whore,
so just keep fucking me as hard as you can.  God, I love your cock.  I love
you!"  I could feel my orgasm just seconds away, so I took hold of his
dick, pointed it at my face and started to wank him.  My timing was
perfect.  Just as I felt my own cum rushing along the length of my dick and
into his arse, the end of his cock swelled and he shot his load, the first
spurt landing on my nose and cheek, the the second and third into my open,
waiting mouth.  The fourth and fifth landed on my chest and the last few
drops dribbled on to my hand.  It was an enormous volume of cum, more than
I'd ever seen before.  As all this was happening, my own cum was filling
him up and he continued to lift up and down, squeezing his arse on the
upstroke to milk me, then relaxing on the down stroke, until I was empty.

"Stop," I said.  "I'm spent."  He collapsed on top of me and I lay there,
bearing his weight, supremely happy that once again I'd made my father cum.
Finally, he rolled off me and lay on his back, panting.

"Thank you, son, that was about the best fuck I've ever had.  Thomas is
going to have to get in line from now on.  That was your last illegal act.
From now on, you can suck and fuck anyone who's willing, any time, and the
State will allow it.  Indeed, they'll applaud it.  The whole world is going
to love you."

"It's you I should thank, for teaching me about life, the unorthodox things
I might otherwise have missed."

"My arse feels so good, skillfully served.  How are you feeling?  Ready for
sleep?"

"I'm not sleepy, father."

"Let's take a walk before the evening gets too chilly."  We pulled on our
underpants, robes and slippers and went down the grand staircase, through
the main hall, the portraits of his ancestors looking down at us, and out
of the imposing front door of Upton Abbey.  We walked a little way out on
the great tree-lined lawn which stretched all the way down to the lake,
with its island where I had so thrillingly lost my virginity.  We turned
and looked back at the house, silhouetted against the faint glow still in
the Western sky.  I suddenly realised how deeply I loved my father, flawed
though he was.  I was happy, happier than I'd ever been, feeling that life
was wonderful and knowing that many exciting adventures were waiting for
me.  He put his arm round my shoulder, and I knew that he was happy too.

He had achieved his ambition.  I had grown up to be utterly, irretrievably
. . . . .gay!



The End.



For the rest of my stories, email me at tonywill9999@yahoo.com.  All emails
will be answered.