Date: Sun, 22 Oct 2006 21:31:46 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: Mystery and Mayhem at St Mark's: Chs: 1-2
This is the first installment of a new story - begun after rather a long
break. I had the by- pass and am now fitter than before! Thank you to all
the readers of my other stories here on Nifty, or on Awesomedude.com ,and
especially to the many who wrote such kind messages of approval and with
best wishes. [See for a listing: High School: May 20 2004 Aladdin's
Awakening; Revised version on Awesomedude.com]
This story is based in a contemporary fictional - but maybe recognisable -
Cambridge College here in England and does feature some characters who have
appeared in previous stories - now generally much older and filling in some
detail of future happenings in their lives. This story was sparked off by
reading another story - by Michael Arram - on Nifty where one of Michael's
characters was denied a place at the College. In retaliation for that
injustice I have made some recompense as readers will see. However, I must
add, none of the characters should be equated with anyone living or dead!
Also, events described should not be taken other than with the customary
pinch of salt. As is usual, if any of the customs, words, etc. need any
explication just drop me an e-mail. There is also the customary warning
that anyone who is not of an age, or in the wrong State/Country, or of any
persuasion which makes their mental processes such that rational discourse
of a sexual nature is anathema to them, should desist from reading any
further. To all other readers - greetings. My e-mail - coded to prevent
spam! - is joad130 (at) hotmail.com.
Mystery and Mayhem At St Mark's
by
Joel
Some of the Characters Appearing: [Year 2000]
Mark Henry Foster 16 rising 17, 5ft 11in and
still growing
Tristan (Tris) Price-Williams 17 just about 18, 6ft and
well-proportioned
Francis Michael [Microbe] Foster Almost 14 just growing and wondering
Shelley Price-Williams 13 horse-mad and blonde
Ivo Richie Carr 19 5ft 10in, chunky and
cheeky with it
Adam Benjamin Carr 19 ditto as his twin
Jack Goldman 14 Francis's friend, growing and
slightly knowledgeable
Laurent de Villiers 14 French, growing and full of
knowledge
Gordon Foster Father of Mark and Francis
Fiddles for a living
Maria (Angelica Matteoli) Foster Mother of Mark and Francis Teaches
singing
Nicholas Price-Williams QC Father of Tristan and Shelley Lawyer and
opera lover
Dilys Price-Williams Mother of Tristan and Shelley A
poetess manque
George Carr Farmer and father of the twins
Sophia Carr Gordon's sister and mother of
the twins
Francesco Matteoli Designer and Uncle of Mark and
Francis
Aldo Leopardi Companion of Uncle Francesco with a
surprise in store
1. Decisions: Easter Vacation [May] 2000
"For fuck's sake, Mark, make your bloody mind up! Apply for it! It'll be
a cinch! All you've got to do is to go for the interview, play..."
"....And pass all the bloody A levels 'at the required level'...," I
interrupted Tris in full flow putting on a fair imitation of old Kenny
Cardew our Careers Master for the admonition.
"...which will be a doddle for you, brainbox," Tris continued,
unhindered by my interjection. "Look what you got last year. GCSE with
ten bloody A's with six of them starred. Better than me, nerd!"
That was accompanied by a thump to my naked side. I wriggled away a
bit.
"Bloody hell!" he continued, "You've already got three lots of Grade
Eight music. Piano, organ and clarinet and Mr Prentice says you'd get your
Associateship quite easily at Christmas if you put your mind to it. You've
had all those extra lessons at the RCM Juniors on Saturdays, dammit!" He
drew breath. "I don't know why I bother. You're just too fucking
stubborn!"
I lay silent. This was continual harassment on Tris's part. All this
Easter vac he'd been at me. He wasn't finished.
"Good God! Mark, I know it'll make your head swell even further, but
last Sunday everyone sat and listened while you played that Karg-Elert at
the end of the service and even Reggie Prentice doesn't get that when he
plays."
"..All bombast and bluster...." I tried again to avert the flow.
"...Yeah, we know. But, it's all those lovely chords and fancy
footwork...." He leaned over and kissed my cheek. He managed a vestige of
a chuckle. "...But it's the way you play. You're good and I'll say that
only once." He paused to let the 'Ello, Ello' reference sink in. "Hell's
bells, I'll repeat it once more. The fucking College wants an Organ
Scholar, there's family connections, you're dear departed grandfather was
there, your twin cousins are there, you're named after the bloody place
and, last but not least, I'll be fucking there next year, don't forget
that!"
I spoke up at last as he'd exhausted his frequently repeated diatribe.
"I hope you won't be fucking there," I said in measured tones, " I
sincerely hope I'm the only one being fucked by you."
"Oh God! You pedantic little prick. You know what I mean." He
sighed.
"And my prick is not little as you so often comment favourably on its
general dimensions."
I rolled over him and put my arms round him as he shifted towards me.
"Tris, let's get this straight. I do not want to do music as a
profession. There's a lot of it around at home and I like it too much....
...I don't know what I want to do. I am only sweet sixteen..."
"....Seventeen in a fortnight's time...."
"...OK, OK, seventeen in a fortnight's time... ....but you know you
want to be a lawyer like your Dad. My family's all music and I'd rather
keep it as a hobby ."
"Yeah, so you keep saying, so why not do bloody Maths or fucking
Physics? You're doing those for A's as well as manky-arsed Music. Make up
your tiny mind, please!"
I nuzzled his ear. "I will make up my mind all in good time and it
won't be helped by your foul tongue. A well brought up young man of your
standing shouldn't have to resort to peppering his arguments with such
unseemly adjectives... Ouch, you fucking bastard!!"
I was caught. A hand had encircled my pendant testes and had squeezed
them, none too gently.
"Whose adjectives are unseemly, young Mark?" came a throaty chuckle,
"Make your mind up quickly or you'll be back to singing treble in the choir
again."
I had made my mind up. Actually at the beginning of the Easter vac
but I'd decided I wasn't going to let on so easily. We always had these
friendly battles of wills and this one had gone on long enough. I thought
I'd better tell Tris now before irreparable damage might ensue, not to our
friendship but to my precious bollocks. I knew there wouldn't be damage
but he was getting desperate with my procrastination.
"If I tell you you'll let go?" I asked in as stern a tone as I could
muster, but giggling internally.
His hand relaxed then gripped my rather sturdy young erection.
"Tell," he said and squeezed my rigidity.
"I am applying," I said, "In fact, I sent the letter to the Dean the
week before we broke up. I had a reply yesterday." I stroked his back.
"If you can spare the time you may accompany me to Cambridge on Friday to
St Mark's College where I am to play three pieces and have two interviews."
I paused for effect. "I have to play Bach's BWV 534 and two pieces of my
own choosing, as you know, but I am also to see some Maths don later in the
day."
He sighed deeply. "You bastard," he whispered, "You mangy, weasly,
mingy, scabby little article! So that's why I've been turning the pages of
that Bach while you practice every blasted phrase ninety-nine times." He
laughed. "You bastard! You've had me on a string for weeks! And that's
why you've had your bloody nose in that Pure Maths book when I've suggested
we go up to town!"
He rolled us over so he was now on top of me and kissed me fiercely.
"We've got an hour before your Mum gets back and Frankie's not likely
to tear himself away from his pal's Playstation for ages so I'm going to
give you the loveliest and hardest fuck you've had in the last
fortnight....... ....I love you so much, I forgive you....."
.............................................
Tristan and I had been pals from the time our families moved almost
simultaneously into adjacent rather large houses in this leafy South London
suburb. Admittedly he was a year older than me, but we joined the same
local Junior School, me aged seven, he aged eight, on the same day and had
defended ourselves against all the slings and arrows of adversity showered
on newbies by all the old hands. We had survived. We had been friends ever
since. In due time both of us had won substantial scholarships to the
fee-paying independent school a mile away. We had both been well-scrubbed,
fresh-faced young choirboys in the rather High Anglican church at the end
of the road. With voices broken we had carried on into the ranks of the
men's section of the choir and I had become assistant to the organist,
Reginald Prentice FRCO, at the ripe old age of fourteen.
I suppose that was inevitable on my part given my heritage. My
grandmother on Dad's side had been to the Royal Academy and was a notable
piano teacher. She had started me off on my musical path at the age of
six. Dad had gone to the Royal College and was one of the first violins in
a big London symphony orchestra. He'd met Mum when she came over from
Italy to continue her singing studies and her father was the late Signor
Alberto Matteoli who had been a conductor at the opera house in Palermo.
So, I liked music - in fact, I loved it - but I didn't want it as a career
and that was why I'd been rather hesitant when Mum had seen the
announcement about the Augustus Pennefather Organ Scholar position which
would become vacant at St Mark's College, Cambridge, in October 2001. But,
then of course, grandfather Foster had been at the choir school there and
had graduated from the College before becoming one of Her Majesty's loyal
Civil Servants before being mown down by an errant taxi driver while posted
as Third Secretary at the Embassy in Paris.
I suppose it was also inevitable Tris and I would become friends.
With a name like Tristan it was patently obvious that at least Mr
Price-Williams was an opera fan - and Wagner to boot. As Mum was often in
the extra chorus at the Royal Opera House there were always tickets
available and Mr P-W, always accepted the offers with a grin on his face.
And we were always welcome next door especially for Sunday lunches as Mrs
P-W was a superb cook.
But, actually Tris and I were more than just pals. My Aunt Sophie had
remarked years ago we were joined at the hip, we were always together. We
were joined - as true boyfriends now, one to the other. We both knew we
wanted to be together and we had professed our love for each other exactly
two years ago.
It was just two years ago in 1998, almost to the week as I had just
celebrated my fifteenth birthday, when Mum came home early from her
teaching job at the RCM and found two sexually satiated boys asleep in each
other's arms in my bed. Tris and I had that afternoon fully consummated
our love for each other and had promised to be faithful to each other for
as long as we lived. A daunting promise for two highly sexed young
teenagers but we were adamant in our protestations of fidelity to each
other.
Mum, apparently, looked in on us and quietly closed the door and went
downstairs and put the kettle on. We didn't realise she was home until at
least half an hour later when we woke up, rather groggily got out of bed,
clasped each other once again with Tris remarking I stunk like a polecat.
I kissed his nose and said even polecats probably did what we'd just done
and led him to the bathroom where we showered, separately, and then doused
ourselves liberally with Dad's expensive Dior body lotion. Only then were
we aware that someone was home. I suppose rather guiltily, we went
downstairs. Mum was waiting, sitting at the kitchen table, a plate of
sandwiches and buns and a big pot of tea in front of her. She smiled. She
pointed at the food. Our guilt vanished.
"Anything to tell me?" she asked as hands retracted, bearing a
sandwich each. "But then, I know. You're more than friends?"
Tris and I looked at each other. We both smiled. We both nodded.
"Yes, Mum," I said, with not a quiver in my adolescent tenor. "I
think we know."
Tris's rather deeper voice cut in with authority. "We do most
certainly know. I love Mark and I know he loves me."
Quite a statement for a sixteen-year-old to impart to his lover's Mum.
"It's true, Mum," I added, "We certainly know."
"I thought so," she said, "The evidence was building up." She smiled
again. "The way you look at each other. I've seen it before."
I knew what she meant. My Uncle Francesco, her older brother, was gay
and lived with his long-term partner, Aldo, in a magnificent villa in
Southern Italy. He was a well- known designer, clothes, accessories and so
on, and was always in the glossies and celeb mags and the Sunday
supplements. Not that Tris nor I would be seen dead in some of his
creations for highly trendy young males. We had ogled the last lot of
hunky models pictured but had giggled over the so-tight shirts with
transparent panels showing off super-sized nipple rings and be-jewelled
navels. Tris had said that the lads must have stuffed at least three pairs
of football socks down their undies to get those bulges because the
strutting hunks we'd seen on the beach in Italy last summer didn't seem to
have a lot in their Speedos!
I went over to her and kissed her. "Mum, I love you, too. Thanks."
She beckoned Tris over and he kissed her as well. His eyes were
shining when he came back to me. Two tears rolled down his cheek.
"I'm so happy, but what about my Mum and Dad?" he whispered.
"I think that'll be OK," Mum said. "They've noticed, too." She
laughed, then looked serious. "It's a good job we've got Francis to carry
on the line but there's only your sister Shelley and she'll change the name
when she gets married."
Tris looked suddenly worried. "But what will Mum and Dad really say?
Would you come in tonight when I tell them?"
"I think you and Mark should tell them together. I think they're
expecting something and it's something your Dad has had to deal with."
True. Mr Price-Williams was a QC who had led on the defence side in
two particular cases where well-known gays in public life had been
scurrilously attacked in the tabloids. From discussions at the
dinner-table I knew he'd won both cases and was very sympathetic towards
the victims of gutter-press journalism. So that was a minor hurdle to be
crossed. But what about my Dad?
"What about Dad?" I asked. I must have sounded rather plaintive as
Tris put an arm round me.
Mum shook her head. "What about Dad?" She laughed. "I should think
he bumps into more than his fair share of both males and females who only
like others of the same sex."
Yeah, I'd been to a couple of rehearsals when he was playing in the
orchestra for a ballet company and a couple of the young males at one were
arm in arm off-stage and grinned and winked at me when I stared rather too
long.
Mum became serious again. "But you've got to be careful. School, for
example. I should keep quiet about yourselves there at present." She
looked at Tris. "It'll be quite different when you both go to college.
You'll just have to be patient. And I wouldn't say anything just yet to
Francis or to Shelley."
So that was that. Mum knew. Major hurdle. That evening I went next
door and we stood together and said our piece to Tris's Mum and Dad. His
Dad put on a stern face and said he didn't like people in court who he knew
were guilty but wouldn't confess so he was glad we had come clean and the
sentence would be light he was sure. He then came and hugged us together
so tightly I thought I would suffocate and Tris's Mum cried and said she
hoped we were happy.
Dad next day at breakfast had obviously been primed by Mum. His only
comment was that he didn't know if he was the father of the bride or of the
groom and Mum told him not to be facetious, it was their son he was talking
about.
I told Francis over a year later when he was twelve and all he did was
sneer and say he was quite aware of our relationship and if we thought the
rest of the school didn't know we were much mistaken and as far as he knew
they couldn't care less and as long as he and his friend Jack didn't have
to be bridesmaids it didn't worry them, either. Being six foot to his four
feet ten I grabbed him and tickled him and all he did was screech and said
he loved me anyway. Shelley was informed at about the same time, but at
eleven she was much more interested in horses and whether she liked her
bedroom being painted in that shade of pink and the whole thing just washed
over her.
...........................................................
...I was panting heavily as Tris plunged his very familiar six inches
fully in for those last half-dozen thrusts before he shot his usual
capacious load of boy-cream as far as possible into me. I looked up at his
face as he leaned back from me. He was panting heavily too but that didn't
prevent him grabbing my equal six inches and bringing me to a squirting,
spluttering conclusion. He flopped down onto me. My arms went round his
back. I pulled him to me as tightly as possible. It was as if I wanted
him to be part of me. I was motionless, impaled on his still rigid prick,
I wanted to remain like that for ever. I felt we were one. I nuzzled his
cheek.
"I want you, always," I murmured.
He moved his head and his dry lips met mine. We wetted each other
with our darting tongues and I tasted the saltiness of the sweat above his
lip. I wanted more so licked up all I could from his cheeks, his chin and
down on his chest where a sweaty little river drained between his
well-defined pecs. I thought 'This hunk is mine. My Tris!'. I raised my
head and sought his lips again. We kissed and then lay still again.
"Oh, Marky, you're so beautiful," he whispered, "I want you in me
tomorrow. I want you to fuck me so slowly that all time stops and all I see
are your wonderful eyes looking down on me. Please love me. Please love
me."
All I could do was to whisper 'Please love me' in canon with him. My
big, hunky Tristan, still slightly golden from last summer's sun. No tan
line as we had made full use of Uncle Franceso's roof terrace while the
grownups had their afternoon siestas. Even young Francis had stripped and
lain naked.
He had followed us up the first afternoon and watched as we pulled off
our swimsuits. He stared a bit at the nakedness of his brother and his
friend, then rather hesitantly had pulled off the baggy shorts he wore.
Yes, he was just like me at the same age. A curled young prick with just a
hint of blackness of the hair which I now had in abundance at almost
seventeen. He would grow and develop just as I had. I thought back to the
time I had been initiated into the mysteries of developing adolescent
sexuality....
2. Flashback - How it began
"....Geroff, stop it, that tickles.."
I could hear Tris. It was the first evening of our visit to
Disneyland Paris. It was the summer holiday when I was twelve and a bit
and it was all because my young brother had wanted to go and it was his
birthday present. Tris had looked a bit dejected when told so his parents
had stumped up for him to be included. Then Dad's older sister Sophie had
come to visit. She and her husband, Uncle George, had a farm down in
Dorset. They had twin sons, Adam and Ivo, who were two years older than
me. Aunt Sophie said they would come as well. Mum asked was it really for
boys of fourteen? Aunt Sophie asserted that she wanted to go and they were
coming as well, full stop!
I had been down to the farm a couple of times, the second time with
Tris, and the boys were real toughies. I was their townie cousin with his
townie friend and we had to be introduced to country ways. The ways were
various and devious. We had been introduced to the milking parlour,
washing udders, the churn steriliser, tractor driving, slurry pits, and
most intriguing, the artificial inseminator. I had no real idea about his
function other than watching the cows being lined up ready for his
ministrations and I don't think Tris was any the wiser. All we could get
from the lads, eleven at the time, was that whatever he poked into the
cows' rears provided the farm with calves a few months later.
My greater education on the mechanics of reproduction had occurred
only a few months before that visit to Disneyland when Mr Melhuish our
Biology teacher had provided us with all the knowledge we would need to
increase the rabbit population and, as a corollary, the human population.
As none of us seemed to be at the stage of development to provide the
essential sperm for this latter expansion to happen it was of little
interest. We dutifully looked at the exhibits in the Human Biology section
of the Natural History Museum on our class visit there and giggled over the
illustrations of the male and female forms and Jodie Fletcher had pointed
out in great detail the process of 'fucking' as he called it when he and I
had stood in front of the exhibit showing a cut-away engorged penis stuffed
into a similar illustration of the female parts. We were gobsmacked at the
sight of the developing foetus in the womb and if, like me, never having
had sight of a female 'down there', were left in wonderment at these most
graphic representations until Lee Besant informed us that was why girls had
to sit down to pee as they didn't have a dick. A bit later he commented on
the portrayal of a fully developed youth. "Huhn, that's my brother Tony,
he's eighteen and looks just like that, bloody wanker!" That evening Tris
wasn't any help either as he said he'd been the year before and couldn't
imagine crawling out of that hole and he'd heard all the boys in Year 9
called everyone else 'Wanker'.
Anyway, now we had arrived in the late afternoon in two cars, through
the Channel Tunnel, and were meeting up in the arrival lounge of Sequoia
Lodge. Mum, Dad, with we three lads in the back of the Volvo, had arrived
first and we three had been sent off to the swimming pool even before we
saw our room. An hour later we strolled back, hair wet, swinging damp
cozzies, but feeling more than alive after the long journey, to find Aunt,
Uncle, Adam and Ivo just coming through the door.
"Bloody kids," Uncle George was good-naturedly grumbling to Dad. "Had
to stop twice because boys with pint bladders drink quarts. And then they
wanted more Coke!"
"And who couldn't find the change for the toll road..." began the one
I recognised as Adam. He had a gap between his front teeth and a little
mole by his left ear.
"...Peage. Get it right. We're in Frogland now!" countered Ivo.
"Shut up, you two," said Uncle George, "Watch your language and say
hello to everyone."
Francis and I got kissed by Aunt Sophie who whispered about how much
I'd grown. Bloody hell, I was still a shrimp in relation to Tris who had
started his growth spurt early, and was minuscule against the hulking
brutes of fourteen who were my cousins. Still they bashed me on my back in
greeting then picked up my bag as well as their own and said 'Lead on,
MacDuff' as soon as Dad came up and handed Ivo the plastic card which was
the key to our room.
"Dinner at seven. Downstairs in the Hunter's Grill. Choose what you
want buffet. Don't be late. Just be clean and tidy," he announced. "And
don't lose that." Ivo nodded and pocketed the card carefully.
'Our room!' We four older ones were going to share. Ivo as the elder
twin by twenty minutes was in charge. The room was on the third level.
Easy to remember, 3330. I don't think Francis minded being in with Mum and
Dad as he wasn't too used to the rambunctiousness of lads like Ivo and Adam
and he had his favourite books and puzzles to keep him occupied.
The room seemed huge. Two big double beds. Then there was another
smaller room with washbasin, and a loo, and a shower. I needed to pee so
scurried into the loo while the others were sorting out which bed each pair
would have. I had a full pint-bladder so was at least a minute draining
off the accumulated residue of my own consumption of Coke. I had been for
a pee before getting into the swimming pool but somehow I had refilled my
tank. I washed my hands like a good little boy and was drying them when I
heard the noise from the room.
"...Stop it, let me up!..."
"Keep still, we're just having a look."
It was at that moment I come out of the door of the washroom and saw
Tris spreadeagled across the bed, his legs dangling, his shorts and
underpants round his ankles and his dick and balls on full display. I
hadn't seen him in that state of nudity for some time. At least not since
Easter when we went to the local swimming pool and shared a changing room
and today he had decorously kept his back to me when we'd put our bathing
costumes on.
The twins were holding him down and one put out his hand and lifted
Tris's penis. It was certainly a bit bigger than I remembered it. As
whoever it was lifted it so it straightened and took on a new appearance I
hadn't seen before. It was longer, not curled and looked quite different.
"Tristan's got a stiffy!" the other twin called out.
"Let me alone. Stop it!" said Tris in a rather exasperated tone. "I
can't help it. It does it all the time."
"What does it do all the time?" I demanded, stepping forward to have a
closer look.
Tris looked a bit distraught.
"Bloody hell boy, what d'you think happens to us!" said one of the
twins, his back to me.
The pair let go of Tris's arms and as he tried to sit up two pairs of
shorts and undies were lowered and two rampant nearly five-inch dicks were
revealed. Not only that, but they had neat bushes of almost black hair at
their roots.
"That's what!" said the other. He turned and I saw it was Ivo. "And
you, kiddo?"
I was grabbed and upended on the bed next to Tris who seemed frozen to
the spot, his dick still straight up his belly. My shorts and pants were
swiftly lowered and my young cock was fingered and with a low whistle from
Ivo and a 'By Christ!' from Adam my three and a half inches of boymeat rose
to the occasion. First time I'd ever seen it like that.
"Boy, Oh Boy!" breathed Ivo, "The bloody child's got a dick like a
young donkey.!"
"How old are you?" asked Adam.
"Twelve and a bit," I whispered.
"Bloody hell!" said Adam, "When I was that age I don't think I could
even get a stiffy." He ran two fingers up my shaft. I tingled. "Are you
wanking yet?" he demanded.
"What's that?" I asked rather querulously as this inquisition seemed
to be getting a bit out of hand.
My question was ignored. Their attention turned to Tris. "What about
you? We showed you at Easter but you said you didn't then."
Oh yes. Adam and Ivo had come up to London for a long weekend and
we'd all gone to Les Miserables as a treat for their fourteenth birthday.
I didn't know about what they'd shown Tris but I knew they'd gone next door
when I had a piano lesson with Madame Keech. Not fair! Why wasn't I
included. They must have twigged I was concerned.
"It's OK," said Adam and the pair let me go.
I squirmed around until I was sitting on the edge of the bed rather
fascinated by the rampant flesh jutting from my groin. I glanced at Tris
sitting by my side. He was in the same condition but a bit bigger. The
twins stood in front of us and the two identical stiff, somewhere near five
inch erections, were on display.
"Do you rub it like we told you?" asked Ivo. This question was
directed at Tris.
"I've tried but nothing much happens," he said, sounding rather
despondent and shaking his head. The twins looked at each other and
nodded.
"And what about you?" asked Adam who was standing in front of me.
I shook my head, too. I was in a whirl. My dick seemed to be doing
things all by itself which I couldn't control. I knew I could bend my
fingers. I could turn my head. I could open my mouth. All these I could
control but my dick was standing up, straight and stiff, and I couldn't
think how to make it lie down. I must have looked a bit puzzled.
"It's OK, Marky," Ivo said, nudging his brother. "It'll do that by
itself, anytime, anywhere. You just have to live with it."
There was an audible sigh of relief from Tris. "Gosh, I was scared,"
he said. "It kept doing that in PE and even when we were doing Maths. Is
that true?"
Words of great wisdom from the older boys. "You can't control it,"
said Adam. "Look," said Ivo, "We're like this ninety times a day."
"Hundred and ten times on a good day," said Adam with a chuckle. He looked
at Ivo. "I think we have much knowledge to impart to this pair of virginal
townies after supper."
Tris was not to be outflanked. "We townies call it 'dinner' in the
evening. It's the lower classes and country bumpkins who have 'dinner' at
midday and 'supper' in the evening."
He disappeared under two larger boys and emerged red-faced and
cackling after having endured a good two minutes of serious tickling.
I was ready for my food. "You two had better have a shower and get
tidy. We had showers after our swim this afternoon so we've only got to
change. And Dad said not to be late and I'm hungry."
Ivo and Adam sprang to attention. "Bloody hell," said Ivo, "I thought
we'd left School Prefects behind. Yes sir!" He saluted smartly, his now
floppy cock jiggling from side to side as he did so.
We hadn't even unpacked our bags in all the excitement. Ivo decided
he would shower first and stripped off completely. I contemplated his
sturdy body. He was beginning to show the muscles he would have later when
he was a valued member of the St Mark's Rugby XV. I didn't quite lust
after his body then, that would come later!
But first, that which all young adolescent males lust for. As much
food as you can eat! We four lined up outside the next door room and Ivo
politely knocked. Unfortunately he had chosen the wrong room! A boy of
Francis's age opened the door and looked at us. A neatly dressed boy and I
guessed, correctly, he was French. Ivo must have guessed correctly, too.
"Pardon, j'ai frappe sur la porte fausse. J'ai pense que c'etait la
chambre de ses parents." Ivo said without hesitation, pointing at me.
Crikey, I was impressed! The boy smiled and I was impressed more.
"No, zis is my parents' room," he said in slightly accented English.
He looked at me. "You were wiz your brudder and that boy...," He pointed
at Tris. "...at the...." He hesitated. "...piscine..."
I knew that. "The swimming-pool..." I said.
"Yes, ....swimming-pool... We were arrived and he come... ...came
with you... I have no friend here..." He wrinkled his nose.
Good. Someone to keep Francis occupied.
"I will tell him to come here after dinner," I said slowly and
carefully.
The lad smiled again. "I would like that. We go to dinner, too." He
put out a hand. "I am Laurent."
We all shook hands and we all repeated our names and I told him my
brother was Francis.
So began another friendship. Not in the same vein as Tris and me but
Francis and Laurent became great buddies and during holidays they travelled
back and forth between Lille and London - the handiness of Eurostar being
the key!
But, to food. We located the right two rooms for our two sets of
parents and were soon sated with the open buffet in the Hunter's Grill. It
was odd though, Tris didn't have much to say to the other two and I
wondered why. This was revealed when we said goodnight to my parents and
the twins' parents and just about flopped down on the beds when we got back
to our room.
Tris was lying next to me but sat up and turned to where Ivo and Adam
were lying side by side on the other bed.
"I don't think you should have done that to Mark. It was like
attacking him." The boys sat up, too. "I didn't mind. We'd done that
showing each other at Easter and you did ask if I wanted to then." He
paused and the usual smiles had disappeared from the twins' faces. "You
just did it to Mark without asking and I think that was wrong."
The boys looked absolutely contrite.
"Oh, Marky," said Ivo, "I am really sorry if you're upset."
"We never thought," said Adam. He shook his head. "We shouldn't have
done that. We're too impulsive and they say that about us at school."
"I'm alright," I said. "I was a bit scared, but I'm OK now."
Tris hadn't finished. "I still think you ought to apologise to him.
He's your cousin and he's my best friend and I don't want any harm to come
to him."
The twins slid off their bed. One took my right hand and the other my
left. "Sorry." "Truly sorry."
I smiled at them. As far as I was concerned they were forgiven. Tris
looked at me. "I'm sorry, too, Marky. I should have stopped them. They
should have asked but all's forgiven, eh?"
I smiled and gripped the twins' hands. "Forgiven. But you will tell
me more."
I think it was that interchange which showed me what a firm friend I
had in Tristan. He'd stood up and defended me before two older boys who
might have reacted quite differently. But Ivo and Adam were honest and
forthright boys. They accepted the rebuke and they saw I wasn't harmed.
They let go of my hands and simultaneously hugged me.
"Little cuz, we would never do you any harm," said Ivo.
"From what I've seen, he's not so little," said Adam.
"I second that," said Tristan. "He'll beat the lot of us before he's
much older!"
The situation was defused. Both Tristan and I wanted to know
everything that Ivo and Adam could tell us and initiate us fully into all
the mysteries of young adolescence. Over the next three nights I learned
that all boys were curious creatures and although I could not at the time
produce the creamy effusions of the twins, which enthralled Tris and me the
first night, I experienced the electric frisson of several dry cums. But,
my dear friend Tristan won the day. On the second night, after letting
both Ivo and Adam show him the practicalities of wanking, Adam brought him
to that most satisfactory climax where he spurted a few drops of almost
colourless liquid to the accompaniment of much loud groaning stifled by Ivo
clamping his mouth with his.
From the recumbent position he was in all we heard for the next five
minutes were the contented mews and whimpers of a greatly satisfied young
lad confident in the knowledge that he was now 'growing up' and had
accomplished an all-important 'rite de passage'. All this was accompanied
by grins, giggles and chuckles from three, also highly satisfied, young
lads who had witnessed, firsthand, such a momentous occasion for a friend.
"Shouldn't be long for you now, cuz," said Adam, putting an arm round
my shoulder. "We've seen six first-times now, with our dorm, and us and
him. Great, isn't it?"
"Bloody hell," breathed Tristan when he'd recovered some vestige of
calmness, "When can I have that again?"
"That again" happened next morning when Tris demanded that Ivo should
raise him to that indubitable pinnacle of enjoyment for his second time.
It was my turn to give him his third experience that evening which I have
been happy to repeat on countless occasions since then!
We heard about their boarding-school just outside Blandford, not too
far from their home in Dorset, and the fact that all their dorm were
certainly ardent wankers if only dealing mainly with their own needs. Both
had independently at some time tossed off the other three in their small
dorm but they pointed out one had to be careful or you might get labelled
'pouf' or 'perve' and as they were in the Under 15's XV that was not wanted
in the 'manly' circles they inhabited. "Doesn't mean the lot of don't do
it to themselves," averred Adam, "And we know the older ones do as well
'cause we've seen their spunk in the showers." "They just do it and leave
it to boast, we think," said Ivo, "'Bloody wankers' they call us but
they're just the same."
'Bloody wankers.' I told them about Lee Besant's description of his
brother. Ivo nodded sagely. "All boys wank," he said authoratively, "And
the ones who say they don't are bloody liars!" He looked Adam. "That big
lad Crossthwaite in the First XV told me that, and he should know, he said
he's got five brothers and said they were all doing it regularly."
"I didn't know that," said Adam, "You never told me."
"You were asleep on the coach coming back from those games in Cornwall
and he and his young brother in our team were on the back seat with us.
Bobby Crossthwaite blushed liked hell when his brother asked him if he'd
got a hard-on as he wouldn't stop wriggling. His brother said he'd have to
wait to take care of it until he got back to school as he didn't want his
juice squirting all over the seat and if he did he'd make him lick it up
'cause he was a Prefect. He then said to me 'The kid's like the rest of
the six of us. Can't keep his hands off it. And the rest of you!' Then
he winked." Ivo laughed. "Bobby Crossthwaite hasn't spoken to me since
and I have to pack down with him in the scrum!"
Adam giggled. "Bloody wankers, and so say all of us!"
I joined the ranks of teenage wankers earlier in age than Tris. I was
twelve years, nine months and four days when I thought I would try again.
Success. Four drops of faintly pearlescent liquid shot to just further
than my navel. I didn't see it happen. My eyes were tightly shut as the
stupendous subterranean sensations took over. I gasped and I knew. I was
there. Tris was ecstatic as well when I told him next day. Our dual
endeavours from then on cemented our friendship even further.
To be continued: