Date: Sat, 18 Oct 2003 23:29:22 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: Aladdin's Awakening:  Part 67

Usual Disclaimer: If you are not of an age to read this because of the laws
of your country or district please desist.  If you are a bigot or
prod-nosed fundamentalist of any persuasion find your monkey-spanking
literature elsewhere and keep your predilections and opinions to
yourself. Everyone else welcome and comments more than welcome.

This is a very long tale.  It unfolds over a good number of years.  What is 
true, is true: what is
not is otherwise.

			    ALADDIN'S AWAKENING

				    By

				   Joel


			       CHAPTER   39

				  Part 1

	    Friday 22nd December - Thursday 28th December 1944

About ten o'clock in the morning I was just contemplating a number of
choices having just downed a large slice of bread and honey as a
post-breakfast snack in the kitchen.  These included, a) doing some of the
mountain of homework set by unfeeling beaks, b) practising for a try at
Grade Eight at Easter, or c) having a wank.  I had just decided on the
third option and was about to go upstairs to my room when the back doorbell
rang.

     I sauntered to the door thinking it might be a delivery boy with
Christmas goodies but was rather startled when I opened it to find a figure
dressed in Air Force uniform with the regulation not-quite-handlebar
moustache clutching a cardboard box rather awkwardly.

     "Hello, you must be Jacko, I'm Chris Gardiner," he said rather
jovially.  He shifted the box.  "Brought some veggies over for your mother.
Dad's really dug for victory this year!"

     I could see the way he was holding the box there was something wrong
with his shoulder.  I opened the door wide.

     "Yeah, I'm Jacko, come in," I said, feeling my face go red at the same
time.  Whether this was from the realisation that if the bell had rung two
minutes later I would have been in my bedroom, trousers round my ankles,
tossing myself off, or, whether it was the sudden awareness that this was
the Chris whose oh-so-revealing photos were upstairs in my hidey- hole.

     "Thank God," he said with feeling as he dumped the box on the kitchen
table.  "It's a bit much trying to ride a bike with a gammy shoulder and
hold on to that lot as well." He let out a sigh.

     I could see he was a bit tired so I suggested he sat down and I would
make a pot of tea.  He smiled appreciatively at that and I set to and put
the kettle on the gas and rooted round until I found the precious store of
tea.  I also noted he seemed a bit restless and kept looking around as if
he expected someone else to be in the house.

     As I placed the cups and pot on the table I said I'd heard he'd been
injured and asked if he was OK now.  He smiled again and said he'd been
struck by a bit of shrapnel which had lodged in the deltoid muscle on his
left shoulder.  He'd had the piece removed and the docs had patched him up
but he wasn't able to fly again until they had tested his co-ordination as
his left arm was still weak.  He thought it was OK as it had happened in
October but he wasn't able to get a message to his parents while he was in
hospital in Italy and then found himself shipped back suddenly to England.
He said he wondered if he might be put on training duties.

     After two cups of tea he seemed a bit more relaxed.  "Mum says she
cleared out all my old clobber and gave it to you," he said, brushing a
drop of tea off his moustache.  "Did it fit you OK?"

     I said it did and that I'd passed on his old Scout kit and too-small
shorts to others.

     He smiled wryly.  "I noticed the drawers had been cleared as well."

     I took the cue.  What was there to lose.  I had most probably saved
him severe embarrassment with his mother if she or some other person had
discovered the other contents.

     I laughed.  "I've kept everything safe and sound for you."

     "Thank God for that!" he said with feeling, "I've had a few sleepless
nights I can tell you."  He laughed too.  "I clean forgot as I joined up
pretty quickly even before my last term ended.  I've been away all this
time so first thing I did was look and there was nothing there.  Thank God
you've got it all."  He looked at me quizzically.  "I suppose you've got it
all?"

     I didn't say anything but got up and hurried upstairs.  It was a
matter of moments to open my secret cache and to get out the envelopes and
the opened packet of French letters.  On returning to the kitchen I laid
the items out in front of him.  He gave a rueful smile.

     "I suppose you've inspected my youthful indiscretions?"

     I nodded and he grinned.

     "Nothing too dreadful there?"

     I shook my head.

     "Boys will be boys, I suppose?"

     I nodded and laughed.

     "Who took them?" I asked, pointing at the pack of snapshots.

     "Bloody Vaughan Pugh," he said with feeling.  "Or at least it was his
camera and he developed them."

     "I didn't know Huggy had a son until recently," I said, "I heard he
left school before he took his Higher School Cert."

     Chris seemed so much more relaxed now.  Relief, I suppose.  He
chuckled.

     "Bloody Vaughan!"  He looked around the room as if expecting Ma or Pa
to pop out of the pantry.  "Couldn't keep his prick in his pants, pardon my
French!"  He looked at me steadily as if he might be breaching a confidence
or had gone too far with his colourful language with a much younger lad.
He had decided, though, to tell me more.  "Got himself into some trouble
over a girl at the High School.  They thought she was in the club."  He
paused.  "You know what I mean?"  I nodded.  "Anyway, Huggy said it would
be best for him to join up and off he went.  Then they found out it was a
false alarm but he was already in training.  Serve him right, he was always
boasting!  Still, he was a great pal and I met up with him at the base in
Italy.  He's flying out there, too, but a different squadron."

     I absorbed that intelligence and noticed his eyes darting to the other
envelopes, especially the one with the professional-type photos.

     "I kept the lanyard," I said, drawing it out of my trouser pocket
where I'd placed it after I'd retrieved it from my top drawer just now.

     Chris didn't even blush!  He just laughed.

     "Oh, you can keep it," he said, "I've finished wearing that as well!".

     "Who took those?"  I asked, pointing at that second envelope.

     He just shook his head.  "Can't tell you that, but I can trust you to
keep what you saw to yourself, eh?"

     I nodded.  He obviously wasn't going to tell me and I thought it
better not to pry.

     I drew out the opened packet of French letters from my other pocket.

     "Sorry, but I experimented with one....." I realised the ambiguity of
that statement, "....Just on me," I added hastily.

     "Glad to hear that second bit!"  He chuckled.  "Would have done it
myself."  He looked at me slyly.  "Not tempted otherwise?"

     I shook my head.  "Don't know any girls," I said, "Anyway it wouldn't
have been any good.  The thing was perished."

     He roared with laughter.  "Serves you right for being nosey.  But I'm
not surprised, they're pretty old."  He laughed again.  "But Boy Scout's
'Be Prepared' has always been my motto!"

     He became serious again.  "Anyone else seen them?"

     I nodded.  "Matt."

     "Oh Christ," he said forcefully, "Julia's kid brother!"

     "Yeah," I said, "But he's not a kid anymore, he is sixteen now!  And
he's my best friend," I added.

     "And you did know about me and his sister?"

     I laughed and said "Yes".

     He grinned ruefully.  "And what did he say when he saw them?" he asked
as he pointed to the various items.

     "Not much," I said truthfully, "He did say he was glad that packet
wasn't opened."  I looked at him and grinned.  "I did say it might not be
the first packet and that got him a bit flustered."

     "You cheeky monkey!" Chris said, but laughed.  "It's OK, this was the
only packet."  He pulled over the envelopes and the French letter packet
and made a pile.  "Better put all these on the boiler fire before anyone
else sees them.  You'd better tell Matt I know and all the things have been
burned."

     I picked up the packages and went over to the boiler in the corner of
the kitchen, opened the door and poked the things in.  We watched as flames
licked the brown paper then consumed the contents in a roaring fire.  As I
watched I wondered if I might tell him that his possible future
brother-in-law beat him soundly in size of equipment.  I thought I hadn't
better.  It was a nugget of information to savour!

     "Good riddance!" Chris said with feeling as he sat down again having
watched the conflagration from close quarters.  "Been on my conscience."
He flexed his left shoulder a bit.  "This still gives me gip at times," he
explained, "Bit of muscle's gone."

     He had taken his greatcoat off when he had first arrived and sat down
and it wasn't till now I noticed he had a ribbon, purple and white diagonal
stripes, under the wings above the left breast pocket of his tunic.  He'd
won a medal!

     "What's that?" I asked, pointing at the strip.

     He did blush then.  "Oh, it's nothing," he began and then saw the look
on my face.  You don't get a medal for nothing!  "Sorry," he said, "I was
only doing my job."  I waited.  "I got it the same time as I got shot at,"
he said finally.  "I suppose I'd better tell you.  I haven't even told Mum
and Dad everything yet."

     I asked him if he would like some more tea and he nodded.  I boiled a
bit more water and added it to the tea already in the pot.  I daren't add
more tea as it was rationed and I knew what would emerge after adding the
water would be what was colloquially known as 'gnat's pee'.  I apologised
and he laughed and said as long as it was wet and warm it would be OK.

     I poured both of us another cup - it didn't look too bad.  He took a
sip and started on his story.

     "It all happened one day when I thought it would be a routine flight.
A couple of us had been flying out looking for stragglers amongst all the
Jerries retreating."  He grinned, "Bit like a sheepdog.  They see us coming
along flying low and they all get into ditches by the side of the road with
their hands up and wait to be rounded up by our boys.  Most look relieved
when they're marched off."  He look a long sip of tea.  "This day though,
there were these groups well dug in.  Luckily I saw some movement and
guessed there were machine- gun nests.  I shot up three before they had a
chance to do anything but just as I flew over there was a fourth that
opened fire and some of the rounds went through the wings and something hit
my shoulder.  I did a turn and got that lot and then managed to get back to
base.  I knew something had hit me but I wasn't really aware of it until
they had to get me out of the cockpit."

     I was transfixed and my tea was rapidly cooling.  He smiled and we
both drank some more before he continued.

     "I passed out and next thing I knew I was in the hospital waiting for
surgery.  They patched it up and a few days later the CO came to see me to
say what I had done had been witnessed and I'd been awarded the DFC. He
said taking that lot out saved a lot of our lives!"

     He did look a bit proud then.  The Distinguished Flying Cross!

     I murmured he must be very brave to fly a plane like that.  He just
shook his head.

     "I love flying.  You don't think of the dangers until afterwards."

     I said I still thought he was very brave and it was a good job we had
people like him.

     "Now don't get solemn with me, Jacko," he said, "We all have to do our
bit.  Your dad has done a lot more than me, you know!  If it wasn't for
people like him with brains we'd really be in the shit!"  He saw my
startled look.  "Sorry about the expletive, but it's true.  My dad told me
about those new shell casings and what they could do and he's working on
some new metals at the moment.  They produce the goods and we deliver
them!"

     He smiled again.  "Anyway, my pals were all pleased about this."  He
pointed at the ribbon. "One of them said the aircraft fitter said when he
saw the damage to the plane that another six inches to the right and I
would have got the DSO!"

     I laughed at that.  That joke had circulated at school many times, DSO
- not Distinguished Service Order but Dick Shot Off!

     "Good job it was your shoulder," I said.

     "Yeah, wouldn't have been much good in the marriage stakes, eh!"

     I then heard that Matt, his mother and Julia were going to spend
Christmas at the Gardiners old farmhouse.  I didn't pry but I guessed some
sort of announcement might be forthcoming.

     He said he'd better be off.  He thanked me for the tea and I thanked
him profusely for the box of vegetables and also for his story and
congratulated him again on the medal.  He said he hoped we'd meet again
before he had to return.  He said again he had a foreboding he wouldn't be
going abroad anymore but would be posted somewhere over here on training
duties.

     After he'd gone I sat and had another cup of tea and ruminated on what
he'd told me.  He was brave, no doubt, but he had been a schoolboy like me
just those few short years ago.  He was only twenty-two now and had spent
four years away from home fighting some enemy.  What enemy?  I couldn't see
Hans nor Herr Vogel as enemies.  I don't think they saw me, or Matt, or Tom
and certainly not Mrs Crossley and Miss P as enemies, either.  But then,
there were Lachlan and Flea.  Their father had been shot and killed when
retreating towards Dunkirk.  How does one reconcile all these things? .I
had to know more.

     I thought of Chris himself.  He was exceedingly nice.  He treated me
as an equal, not as a kid.  I hoped that if he did marry Julia they would
be happy even if Matt wasn't very enamoured with his sister and her moods!

     I went and played the first movement of a Beethoven Sonata which was
on the exam list.  He had been German.  How could he be an enemy?  More to
think about.

                              *
     Saturday morning I did my run and helped Tom to finish off his paper
round.  He said he was very pleased he and his mother were coming to
Christmas dinner.  That reminded me to cycle off into town later to get
some presents!

                              *
     Sunday morning about half past ten a very excited Tom came to the
backdoor with the announcement that Duncan had suddenly come home on leave.
Needless to say I followed the scurrying Tom back to number 22 and rushed
up the stairs behind him into Dunc's bedroom.

     Dunc was standing there in khaki shirt and his Black Watch kilt.  I
stood and goggled.  Not only was he kilted but he had red and black clocked
long socks on and a great hairy black and white sporran but the piece de
resistance was, oh no!, a pencil-thin black moustache!!  I couldn't help
it, I was so pleased to see him and also rather startled by his appearance,
I laughed.

     "God Almighty!" he said, before I could even greet him, "You pair!"
He pointed at his brother.  "He did exactly the same when I was standing on
the doorstep waiting to be let in!  The pair of you should be put on a
charge for insulting His Majesty's uniform.  On other thoughts I think you
both deserve a good thumping."

     He made as if to come at us.  It was the wrong thing to do.  The two
lads he'd last seen together in June had grown in the intervening months.
Also, both of us had been lifting weights assiduously and our upper body
muscles were much more developed.  Poor Dunc!  Instead of getting us both
in subjection across the bed he found himself lying on his back with Tom
across his chest and me holding him down by his legs.

     Tom was laughing.  "Got you now, big boy!"  He looked down at me and
nodded his head towards the hairy sporran slung round Dunc's waist.  "What
do'you think of that?  And he says it's true what they say about what's
worn under the kilt!"

     Actually the momentum of falling onto the bed meant that Dunc's kilt
was well up his thighs.

     "Go on Jacko, have a look!  We've got to check to see if he's telling
the truth!"

     Dunc was not in any position to retaliate, yet, so I held up the hem
of the kilt and raised it further.  True, true, true!  There was nothing
worn under the kilt!  There was Dunc's short, stubby cock and low-slung
balls.

     Tom was roaring with laughter.  "Can't see!  Pull it up higher!"

     I did so and he reached down and grabbed at Duncan's fully revealed
dong.  He squeezed it and Duncan, most uncharacteristically, swore.

     "What the fuck are you doing!"

     "Don't use language like that to me," said Tom, giving the appendage
another tug, "Second Lieutenant Buchanan you may be, but you're still my
horny brother."

     He was too, the few pulls on his prick had had an effect.  There was
no doubt, Second Lieutenant Duncan Buchanan, Black Watch, was experiencing
sexual arousal!  Tom was in his element.  He had Duncan under his command
now after all those years of not being able to retaliate fully.  He pulled
on the thickening object a few more times.  Duncan was now getting rather
worked up.

     "Will you stop that, Tom," he cried out with a hint of exasperation,
"Don't you muck my kilt up!"  He was panting a bit now.  "You'll be for it
if you....."

     He got no further.  I laughed.  ".....If you insult the King's uniform
any more, eh?  No, don't worry!"

     With that I did something I'd wanted to do for so long.  I leaned down
and, as Tom pulled down on Dunc's shaft and his foreskin unsheathed, I took
the head of his penis into my mouth.  Tom held onto the root with just a
finger and thumb as I sucked and licked and Duncan writhed and moaned and
finally shot a goodly load well into the back of my mouth.  I kept his
prick firmly in my mouth as I swallowed as much of his salty tasting cum as
I could.  I fished into my pocket and found my handkerchief which I draped
round his prick as I let it drop from mouth.  I swallowed again.

     "There," I said soothingly, "No mess.  The King will be pleased."

     Tom let out a hoot of laughter.  "Can we let you up now, Duncan?  All
OK?"

     I don't think Duncan was in a fit state to disagree.  He was still
panting heavily from what must have been quite a tremendous orgasm.  Both
of us got up from the recumbent, dishevelled figure.  I carefully drew the
hem of his kilt down but I had confirmed a suspicion I had.  Duncan had the
shortest cock of my growing or grown friends and relations.  If he'd told
Matt that time his cock was about six inches then he was either boasting or
had never measured it.  His prick, though meaty enough in girth, was just
on five inches long at a guess.  But, my, he would have been a good
candidate for Nobbo and Cleggy's data collection.  He had certainly flooded
my mouth.  Those low slung balls were making plenty of sperm!

     After that enlightening episode things became more normal.  That is,
with us two lads listening enthralled to Dunc's tale of how he had gone
through training and ending up in Edinburgh in the most prestigious, in his
opinion and ours seeing him once more tidied up and resplendent, Highland
regiment.

     From what we could get him to confess he must have really shone during
training.  So much so that the Colonel in charge of the training school had
recommended him to his own regiment - the Black Watch - and Duncan was
overjoyed at being singled out for this.  He was acting as an Education
Officer as he said quite a few of the young Jocks, especially from Glasgow
and other cities, were badly educated but once he'd won their trust he
found them to be great fun and very loyal.  I said Billy had told us about
his experiences with Scots lads in the barrack room next to him and Duncan
confirmed that once they had a pint or two in them they were always
fighting, even amongst themselves.  He said there was a great difference
between the strict Presbyterians and the others because they looked down on
the unruly drunkards as they called them.  I said it was a good job he
hadn't resisted when we got him down as I would have had to give him a
Glasgow kiss.  He laughed heartily at this.

     "What's a Glasgow kiss?" asked Tom, I should think expecting it to
have a sexual meaning.

     "Head butt, brother dear," laughed Duncan.  He looked at me.  "Billy
told you, no doubt."  I nodded.  He grinned again. "Nasty.  One of my lads
came in for his lesson one Monday after drill and he had the two biggest
black eyes I've ever seen.  I didn't ask but he had difficulty even reading
and he burst out that the fucking Sergeant had put him on a charge and it
'wis noo ma faut'.  I let that pass as I'd twigged what must have happened
when I remembered his name was Campbell.  I just said 'Glencoe' and he
nodded."

     He looked over at our rather puzzled looks.

     "Glencoe, massacre of, sixteen hundred and ninety-two.  The Scots have
a long memory.  I looked at the squad list and there was a lad in it named
MacDonald.  I just said 'Macdonald' and the lad nodded and looked pleased I
knew.  Not about MacDonald battering him but I knew Scots history."  He
looked at us intently and smiled.  "History is useful sometimes.  Anyway,
in sixteen ninety-two - William and Mary - " he looked at me, I nodded - I
knew Bank of England and I had a vague idea the Highlands had been
mentioned.  "- had an order for all clan chieftains to take an oath of
allegiance and the MacDonalds were late.  So they were massacred by their
old enemies the Campbells at a feast.  Didn't do the English crown much
good...."  He grinned.  "...Och, you Sassenachs.  But they do say that
every Scot that leaves his country to go to England raises the intelligence
level of both countries!"

     That went over Tom's head, but I sat digesting it as Duncan continued
with his tale.  We found out his CO had given him a leave pass for
Christmas as the Scots would be celebrating the New Year and he would be
required to be back for duty then so they could have their leave.  He'd
caught a train and then hitched a lift arriving in Kerslake just before
nine this morning.  He had until the day after Boxing Day and hadn't sorted
out trains to get him back to Edinburgh.  That meant, of course, he would
be joining us for Christmas Dinner!!

     Before I left to take the news of his arrival back home he slapped me
on the back.  "You got your own back, today, eh?  Thanks!"

                              *
     Christmas morning I was up bright and early rooting around in the
kitchen.  It must have been about half past eight and Ma and Pa weren't up
yet when I heard someone coming to the back door.  It was Tom with a sly
grin on his face and carrying two large carrier bags.  "Shh," he whispered
and nodded his head indicating we should go up to my bedroom.  There he
unloaded the contents of the two bags.

     "This is Dunc's spare kilt," he said pointing to the black and dark
green object on the bed, "And this is one Mum brought back when great-uncle
died.  It's a Cameron."

     I noticed there were also two leather sporrans and two pairs of long
socks.  Obviously Tom had a plan.

     "Let's play a joke on Duncan at dinner-time.  We can dress up in these
and -" he held up a soft black crayon, "- we can draw moustaches on and
come down looking just like him!"  He grinned at me.  "That moustache!"

     I must say neither of us had commented on that military attachment.
I'd noticed when seeing other young officers in Kerslake that sporting a
moustache, however straggly, was almost universal.  Chris's attempt at a
handlebar was brave.  It didn't seem quite right though on his face but the
photos of RAF officers in the paper always seemed o emphasize their hirsute
appearance. Yep, I thought it a good wheeze!  It was decided I would wear
the Cameron one and Tom the spare Black Watch.  Tom was away and off before
Ma and Pa emerged.  When I announced the day before that there would be one
more for lunch and it was Duncan, Ma had got a bit worried in case the
large capon she had ready for the oven would be big enough.  Pa and I were
told to mind the injunction, FHB, 'Family Hold Back'!  He said there were
plenty of vegetables thanks to Henry Gardiner and as long as I didn't stuff
more than two roast potatoes in my mouth at a time he thought we would just
about manage.

     After breakfast we opened our presents.  I had two books including a
very large German dictionary, new socks and a saddle bag for my new bike.
Then I was set to work to peel enough veggies to feed the five thousand
while Pa checked that the festive table had been relaid to accommodate
another hungry hunter before he disappeared off to the safety of his study.
I finished my chores and was told to make myself clean and tidy ready for
the guests who were scheduled to arrive at one o'clock.  Tom arrived at
half past twelve saying his mother had told him to make himself scarce as
he was getting in the way.
  A good excuse as he was directed up to my room and we immediately set out
to prepare ourselves.

     After we had exchanged our reminiscences of the encounter with Duncan
there was much more giggling as we shucked off our trousers and ordinary
socks.  The long socks were OK but tended to slip down until I remembered I
still had the tagged garters I wore with my long grey socks at school until
I went into long trousers.  Two sets were found and socks were safely
anchored.  Getting the kilts on needed assistance.  One part had to be
buckled to the left and the other part came right over the front and
buckled on the right and there was an ornate kilt-pin to be settled in,
just right.  My Cameron kilt was only a bit too big for me so the buckles
were drawn up tight right to their innermost hole.  Tom then threaded the
sporran belt through the two loops and adjusted it so it hung just so.
What with my pristine white shirt above with school tie and my black school
shoes below I looked the picture of a very handsome young Highlander when I
preened myself in front of the wardrobe mirror.  That was until Tom deftly
drew a black pencil thin moustache on my previously unadorned upper lip.  I
was then a good caricature of a very young Army officer - or so I fervently
hoped!  As Tom stood back and surveyed his handiwork I completed the
illusion by bending down and pulling off my underpants.  I was now in the
state of naked grace as befitted the true young Scot!

     Tom guffawed.  "You watch it, Jacko, don't you get any pee on that
kilt!"

     I laughed and said I would make sure I shook myself well.  Tom made
some rude remark that I was always shaking it well.

     I helped him on with the Black Watch kilt.  He was now just about as
big as Duncan who was a bit thinner after the rigorous training.  He looked
magnificent and I guessed when he was called up he would volunteer for a
Scottish regiment.  He pointedly didn't remove his underpants saying he
would be slaughtered if anything happened.  I applied the crayon and the
pair of us stood side by side and admired ourselves in the long mirror.

     We heard Mrs Cameron and Duncan arrive and there was the usual excited
babble of greetings.  Ma and Pa hadn't seen Dunc so we assumed the extra
excitedness was due to his appearance.  We looked at each other and grinned
and Tom led the way downstairs.  The others were in the drawing room,
standing, each with a glass of Pa's precious hoard of sherry.  Ma saw us
first as we entered the room and gave a startled little scream.  The others
turned and stared.  Pa creased with laughter, Mrs Buchanan took a quick
look and then shook with laughter.  Poor Dunc didn't know what had hit him.
He stared at us stony-faced until he just collapsed in laughter too.  The
ice was truly and fully broken.  Pa thrust a glass of sherry at us both and
nearly choked with laughing as he took a sip of his.  Duncan wagged a
finger at Tom as if to say 'Watch it, lad!' and Mrs Buchanan, much to Tom's
embarrassment, hugged him and gave him a peck on the cheek.

     After two glasses of sherry each dinner was announced and I was sent
into the kitchen with Pa to collect the veggie dishes.  As we got into the
kitchen Pa was behind me.  He lifted the back hem of my kilt swiftly,
laughed, and gave me quite a slap on my bare backside.  I don't know which
went the redder - the cheeks on my face, or the cheeks of my arse.

     "Och, you're a true wee Scot, then," he said with an abominable Scots
accent and dropped the kilt.  "You and Tom were marvellous coming in like
that," he said, reverting to his ordinary voice.  "We played the same trick
on their father on one of his birthdays down at the Rugby Club.  Had to
make do with tartan car rugs and scrubbing brushes for sporrans, then.  You
and Tom really look the part today, though."  He laughed.  "Tom made us
prove we were true Scots then - " he dug me in the ribs, " - and we all
were, too!"

     Revelations!  Boys will be boys I suppose!

     Dinner was marvellous.  There was plenty to eat, even for me.  There
was wine too, so things got quite convivial.  When we'd finished eating and
were pulling the crackers Ma had made, we were watching Tom and his mother,
on the opposite side of the table to Duncan and me, pulling one of them
when Duncan suddenly dropped his right hand under the flowing white
table-cloth.  Next thing I knew his hand was on my bare knee, then it was
running up the inside of my thigh under my kilt with my knackers and prick
finally firmly gripped.  All done in seconds.  I froze. I hadn't even had
time to close my legs together in self-defence.  I knew if I moved he would
squeeze.  He did squeeze.  Gently.
  Then he let go.  No one noticed, it was all done so quickly.  Duncan had
checked if I was a true Scot as well.  Was he satisfied?  Time would tell.
He had felt my naked cock and balls but I knew how he used to tease Tom -
that playful grin on his face - things unsaid but hinted at.  I would have
to wait and see.

     Of course, during the course of the afternoon and evening there was
plenty of opportunity for him to tease me.  I should have guessed when he
offered to help me carry empty plates into the kitchen after tea he would
make some comment.  He said my dad was a card.  He said Pa had just sidled
up to him, fluttered his eyelashes and asked if he could have the next
dance.  I said that was nothing.  I'd received a whack on the bare bum and,
looking at him with a prune-like face, said I had also been groped by the
licentious soldiery.  He laughed and I got another hearty slap on the bare
bum and he whispered that at least I played the part properly, more than
his brother, even if my part wasn't fully grown yet.  I forbore to mention
that his cock wasn't the pride of the North even if his sporran was hiding
a secret weapon.  So, he'd also checked Tom's credentials which were found
wanting!  However, we did agree we were all having a wonderful time.

                              *
     We had tea with the Buchanans on Boxing Day and Dunc said he had to
set out early the next morning.  He'd discovered that he could hitch a lift
to Catterick on an Army lorry leaving at six in the morning and he thought
he'd be able to get from there to Edinburgh without any trouble.

                              *
     When I went for my run on Wednesday morning I caught up with Tom
delivering his papers.  He was very down now the festivities were over and
his brother had gone back to barracks.  As Ma and Pa were back at work he
came and kept me company for the day.  He was more cheerful after we'd
giggled over Dunc's surprise at being bested and finding himself
spreadeagled over the bed.  Tom said Duncan was rather startled by what I'd
done but had said it was quite terrific.  After two bouts ourselves we
decided, all in all, it was terrific!

               Friday 29th January - Monday 8th January 1945

     My next excitement was that Andrew was coming to stay.  He was setting
off from Suffolk with his brother to London, where they would part their
ways as Lachs was catching a train to Cumberland to go and stay with
Cartwright and his family and Andrew, of course, was coming to Kerslake.

     Matt was going to meet him with me at the station.  We had both
received Christmas cards from the boys and Matt was eager to meet Andrew
again.  He was sorry not to be able to spend more time with us but was off
to Scotland with his mother on Saturday morning to see his father at the
'stone frigate' as the naval station up there was known.

     So, we were ready and waiting as the train steamed in on Friday
afternoon.  A diminutive figure in regulation school overcoat and cap
accompanied by three bags got off the train to be greeted effusively by us.
He was beaming all over his face when he saw us and so we picked up two of
his larger bags and walked off to my house.

     Andrew was in fine form.  He had lots of news to tell us but said most
would have to wait until we got home as he was both hungry and thirsty.
Luckily Ma had instructed me to make some sandwiches and not to eat all the
bread for my lunch.  I had done the first and forbore from the second!

     However Flea was full of one piece of news.  We hadn't got far out of
the station when he turned to me.

     "Did you know Mummy's expecting?" he said, very excitedly.

     Dopey me asked, "Expecting what?"

     He looked at me with an almost Georgie-like withering stare.

     "A baby, of course!  You're going to have a new cousin and we're going
to have a brother or sister!"

     Aunt Della and Uncle Edward!!  I imagined only young people had
babies.  They were old!  Well, Uncle Edward was two years older than Pa so
he was about forty-three.  I had discovered that Aunt Della was about
thirty-eight because she'd said she married first when she was just twenty
and had Lachlan the next year.  So, I was rather surprised.  But it did
solve one of my ruminations.  Older people did still do things!!

     With that revelation Matt then said that his sister and Chris Gardiner
got engaged on Christmas Day.  After Christmas dinner he had produced a
ring and proposed to her.  As she was over twenty-one she had said she
didn't need her father's permission.  Matt said no doubt he would be glad
to get rid of her.  We then found out she and her father always had a
blazing row whenever he came home and that was the reason she rarely went
to Scotland to see him.  I think that was also a reason why Matt was a
little wary of his sister.  Also, she thought he was a mucky boy, even if
I'd added to his perceived misdemeanours by making my contribution to her
defiled towel that time!  Still all that was plenty of gossip to last until
we arrived at No 18.

     Matt took Flea up to my bedroom to deposit his cases and to wash and
have the essential pee.  They were chatting away as I slaved in the kitchen
putting on the kettle and getting the sandwiches out of the pantry.  As
soon as they came back into the kitchen there were cups of tea and plates
plonked down before them.  Service with a smile.
  I was quite the little mother these days!  We sat and munched and drank
and, at last, Flea said he felt quite replete.  Like me, he was a growing
boy and I'd had to cut two more rounds of salmon paste sandwiches to
assuage our joint hungers.  Matt looked on with a resigned look on his
face.  Four sandwiches were quite enough for him.  Obviously his bodily
needs were less than ours, his cock must have finished growing!

     Flea sat back and burped softly.

     "Sorry, but I'd eaten the grub Nanny packed while I was on my way to
London.  I thought it would be easier to manage just the bags without the
packet of food.  Better in than out that time!" he said grinning at us.  He
then became serious.  "Did you know Lawson found out why the thugs didn't
come back to school?"

     The thugs?  Oh yes, Castleman and Fitzroy.  I remembered Flea's
distress that summer night and the news at the wedding that they had left
school in slightly mysterious circumstances.  Matt and I had discussed poor
Flea and his experience at their hands several times.  We both shook our
heads.

     "Yes," he said, "Lawson, that one Lachs thumped, went home on exeat at
half-term too.  You know, that weekend when Mummy and Edward got married."
He looked at us to see we knew who he meant.  We nodded.  "Well, Lawson
lives about five miles from the village that Castleman lives at so he
thought he'd go and see if he could find out anything.  He rides a lot so
he took his horse that way and just as he got to the village he saw a lad
in a field and asked him if he knew where the Castleman's lived.  It turned
out this lad was a farmer's son and had witnessed the whole thing."

     Flea was well away and I could see he was bursting to tell us it all.

     "Yeah, this lad, apparently, worked for his father.  I think Lawson
said he was a bit younger than him, about sixteen.  His father had the farm
at one end of the village and Mr Castleman owned a good deal of land at the
other."

     Flea looked at us to see we were paying attention.  We were, because
from his evident excitement there was to be a real denouement.

     "Well this lad was quite chatty and said that he'd been out near their
big barn when he saw Castleman and the other one walking towards it with a
girl from the village.  The lad got worried as the girl was a bit simple.
I think he said she was about sixteen or so, but he told Lawson the family
were all like her, you know, not quite all there.  The father worked on the
farm and the lad's father kept an eye on them all.

     "Anyway, he saw them go into the barn and he guessed they were up to
no good so he ran to fetch his father who was getting ready to shoot crows.
I think Lawson said the lad's name was Richards, but anyway, the lad's
father turned up and marched straight into the barn with the lad following
him.  He said one of them, Fitzroy, was holding the girl down and
slobbering all over her face and Castleman had got his trousers and pants
off and was just going to get the girl undressed."  Flea looked at us, we
were sitting transfixed.  "You know, he was going to get her knickers off.
Well, this lad's father said something like 'Alright Mr Castleman, stand
still and put your hands up above your head because if you move I'll fill
your backside with lead'.  The lad said he did that and his father ordered
Castleman out of the barn and told the girl to get home to her mother.
Fitzroy had rolled off and got into the hay in the barn and the father
ignored him."

     Flea was in his element, he giggled.  "When the farmer told Castleman
to march out of the barn he repeated he would shoot if he didn't do as he
was told.  The lad said that his father then marched him all the way
through the village, hands above his head, bare feet, with his shirt
flapping and his cock and so on all in view.  Lawson said the lad kept his
distance but he saw Fitzroy haring off across the fields.  When they
reached Mr Castleman's farm gates Mr Richards, or whatever his name was,
told Castleman to keep going.  Just then Mr Castleman turned up on a horse
and saw them approaching.  The farmer called out 'Mr Castleman, your son
has something to tell you'.  You can guess what happened next.  Castleman's
father demanded to know what it was all about, Castleman was bawling but he
had to confess he and Fitzroy were about to fuck the girl."  Flea smiled.
"I don't suppose in those words, but apparently Castleman's father told Mr
Richards to keep the gun aimed at his son and then he laid about him with
his riding crop until he was screaming for mercy."

     Andrew paused.  "What was interesting was that the lad said Mr
Castleman was raving on about how his son had let down the family name and
he was a no-good worthless scoundrel and he'd had enough of him as he was
certain he had also caused the trouble at the school the previous year.  He
said he would never enter his house again and he would decide what would be
done with him by the morning. He called for one of his grooms and the lad
said Castleman was almost dragged off as he was on his knees by then
bawling his eyes out and he saw him pushed in and locked in a stable."

     Wow, that was a tale, but Flea wasn't finished.

     "From what the lad then told Lawson, Mr Castleman apologised to the
lad's father and asked where the other good-for-nothing was.  Mr Richards
said he didn't know and Mr Castleman went off to his house.  The lad said
he'd heard Castleman was taken to the Recruiting Office next morning by two
of the grooms and was shipped off that same afternoon to some barracks or
other.  He said he'd heard the same had happened to Fitzroy as well, his
parents had kicked him out of their house, too.  The rumour in the village
was that they were in different regiments now as ordinary squaddies and
being given a rough time as both Mr Castleman and Fitzroy's father had
plenty of Army connections."

     Flea was quite solemn now.  "I'm not sorry it happened to them but
what a punishment!  But Castleman's father must have known more about why
the boy left last year that we didn't know, so he wasn't surprised, just
absolutely angry."

     I put a hand out over the table and grasped Flea's hand.  "He got what
he deserved I expect.  You were very lucky to have got away with just what
you had to do.  It's all over now.  They're out of your hair now and I bet
the school's relieved."

     Flea nodded.  "Yes, Lachs told me the pair had been tormenting another
kid as well who hadn't said anything, but had told his room-mate when they
heard the news, that Castleman had made him suck him off and threatened to
tell everyone he liked it.  Lachs still says they'd better watch out they
don't cross his path."

     Matt had remained silent through the narrative but he got up and went
round to Flea and put his arm round his shoulder.

     "I don't suppose they'll ever cross my path but if they ever do..."
He left it at that.

     We were a solemn trio then as we had more tea and our reverie was
broken by a loud rapping on the back door.  It was Tom, curious because
he'd seen our arrival and so he was introduced to Andrew.  Of course it was
all Army talk after that as Tom had plenty to say about his brother and how
we'd dressed up like him and, also, that he was determined to join up after
finishing at school this year.  He announced he had been for an interview
at the Recruiting Office and the suggestion had been made that he should
apply to go to the Army Apprentices School which appealed to him.  So, if
both Tom and Matt were going off this coming summer I would be losing two
friends.  After another round of cups of tea Tom and Matt said their
farewells and went off just as the delivery boy from Mr Gale's butcher's
shop arrived with Ma's order for the weekend.  Sausages and a small joint
of beef.  Yum, yum.

     Ma and Pa arrived home early so there was plenty more chat.  I found
out that Ma and Pa knew already that Aunt Della was pregnant.  I also
noticed that Ma seemed a lot more relaxed and had been since Christmas.  I
suppose the rate the War was going was one factor.  Now her part of France
was no longer under German occupation must be a relief.  But, all over she
seemed to be much happier.  I found out another reason that evening as
Andrew suddenly said that his mother wanted to know how the book was going.
The book.  The mysterious parcel brought by Matt with the odd message from
Julia.  Of course, a typed up manuscript!

     Ma said all was going well.  It turned out Aunt Della had persuaded
her to have a go at writing when they met for the wedding.  The publisher
man said he would read a manuscript and give a decision.  Ma was writing a
detective story and the six chapters so far completed of 'The Affair at the
Pink Prawn' had been read and commented on favourably by him.  It was now
up to her to finish the story and send it off.  I asked if I could read it
and Pa ungraciously said I would be expected to buy a copy if it were
published to make sure there was at least one sale.  Andrew very stoutly
said he would buy a copy too.  That put Pa in his place.  He just grinned
and said he hoped the publisher would provide hyphenated versions for us
young readers.  Cheek!

     Andrew told us that they'd had a marvellous Christmas down in Suffolk.
He was very taken with his new step-father and recounted several of Uncle
Edward's remarks and how he and Lachs had tried to think up ways of playing
tricks on him but he always seemed to come out on top.  He said his mother
was very tired a good bit of the time but he was looking forward to having
a new brother or sister.  I think Ma and Pa had been very taken with his
bubbly personality at the time of the wedding and they both responded to
him now just as if he was another son.  I certainly was overjoyed to have
him with us - I, too, felt he was much more than a new cousin.

     In bed that night that bubbly personality came into play.  Young - by
a couple months - Andrew was growing fast.  The boyish cock now had length
and breadth.  It must have grown at least another half inch since October.
Andrew said he was now five feet tall and I could see his wiry body didn't
have an ounce of puppy fat on it.  He said he had persevered and was now
the scrum half in the Junior XV.  I told him about Matt and his selection
for the First XV at our school.  This impressed him and I could see there
would be another topic of conversation for the pair of them when they met
up again when Matt returned from Scotland.

     The cock was soon enveloped in my mouth as we soon took up our
favoured position head to toe - or head to groin to be more exact.  Three
times we sucked and drew each other's spunk in diminishing quantities
before we settled down and slept so soundly we were both woken in the
morning by Ma banging on the door saying breakfast was ready.  We grinned
at each other as two happy youngsters slid out of bed, morning hardons to
the fore, and agreed to wait until opportunity arose before satisfying any
need.  Our need wasn't urgent, it could wait.  We would be on the brink
until then, happy to be in each other's company.


To be Continued:.....