Date: Mon, 27 Oct 2003 00:33:52 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: Aladdin's Awakening:  Part 69

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 3

				 Ulvescott


				     *

Snow was still on the ground the next morning.  Mrs Crossley had asked if
we would stoke the boiler first thing in the morning.  I crept out of bed
at half-past six, washed - perhaps more of a catlick as I had bathed the
afternoon before! - dressed in rugger shirt and shorts in case the boiler
room was dirty and felt my way downstairs in the gloom.  Bran sensed it was
me.  He was lying at the bottom of the stairs and led me unerringly to the
door in the kitchen leading down to the cellars.  I switched on the light
and found the boiler room surprisingly clean.  I had to rake the embers of
a coke-damped fire, open the dampers two notches and put in six logs of
wood, according to the instructions.  Easy.  I'd helped to stoke a big
steam-engine, I knew how to get my small steam-engine running and now I was
heating a Manor.  If I didn't succeed in life in anything else I could
always sign on as a stoker in the Navy!  Ho Ho, I thought of that rhyme
Rhys kept adding verses to on holiday, all about the Good Ship Venus.

     'The stoker's name was Pratchet,
     And all he did was scratch it.
     His dick was sore,
     And rubbed red raw,
     By the teeth of the boy from Datchet.'

     Job done, I took Bran up to the bedroom with me.  He nuzzled Flea
awake by dabbing his face with his tongue.  Poor Flea he kept murmuring
"Jacko, stop it!"  until the insistent licking woke him and he stared
wide-eyed at the hairy head of Bran and the big pink tongue.  Bran gave him
a quiet 'Woof' and nudged him with his head.

     "Out!" I said and pulled the covers off him.  Bran then licked him
somewhere in the region of his navel and, like Matt in the past thinking
Bran liked boys' cocks for breakfast, he hurredly got out of bed the other
side and fled to the safety of the bathroom clutching his genitalia
accompanied by a giggle from me and another 'Woof' from Bran.

     After he'd washed I coaxed him back out saying there wasn't enough
there even as a little taster.  He came through the door wrapped in a towel
intent on giving me the benefit of his five feet of military unarmed combat
prowess.  I just circled him and whipped the towel away.  He was on his
back on the bed in seconds, my non-military combat prowess learned from
Mike and Tom helped me in this.  Bran was sitting by the bed just watching
as I tickled that lithe nude body as much as I could, fingers ranging up
and down, round and round, in and out until poor Flea was a quivering,
squirming mess, giggling and hooting.  In the end I leaned over him,
enclosing him completely with my body, and covered his mouth with mine.  We
tongue-fucked violently for some time until I knew I couldn't last much
longer.  I jerked my head back, much to his amazement.

     "Wait until tonight," I said, reaching down and giving his erect cock
a tweak.  "Keep like that all day.  I want that all in me tonight!"

     He grinned up at me and nodded.

     That day was busy again.  After breakfast Hans appeared and had a list
of small jobs to be done.  He had to re-stain some woodwork and sandpaper
some ledges ready for painting. We stayed with him and chatted in German
and English.  He corrected some of Flea's grammar and tested him on lots of
simple words.  I just stood and listened.  Flea was very attentive and then
he took over and taught Hans a few more useful English phrases.  Then I
said Flea and I ought to go and fetch the third box so we dressed up warmly
and set off trudging through the snow to the Post Office.

     Oh crumbs, who should be in the Post Office but young Sam Catt.
Luckily, because I knew we would never get rid of him, he was getting the
bus back to Kerslake that afternoon.  He didn't have the dog with him and
he said it was very sad.  The poor thing had ambled into the road in the
path of an Army lorry and had been so injured she had to be put down.

     On the way back I told Flea about seeing Bran fucking the bitch and
guessed she must have been pregnant.  That I told him all about Sam and his
cousins, especially the stories of seeing Big Jim being tossed off by the
other lad and the tale of the awful school that Big Jim's brother was at.
Flea said the beaks only whacked the kids who were really bad and that
wasn't often.  It was the Prefects and senior members of the school you had
to watch out for.  He said there was one Sixth Former when he was in his
First Year who had a fearsome reputation for beating kids who transgressed.
He said they all called him Flashman like the bully in Tom Brown's
Schooldays.  He laughed and said he'd been brought down a peg or two when
he'd slippered a fag who had angered him over something and the kid's big
brother was in the Sixth Form too.  The Flashman character had been
stripped and painted with whitewash and tied to the bannisters of the main
staircase and was found by one of the beaks.  Nothing was said but he
didn't beat kids after that.  I then had to repeat the tale of finding
Henry Gale and all that passed the time pushing the laden wheelbarrow back.

     The news when we arrived back was that Lady Bing had telephoned to
invite Flea and me to Ashburn House next morning.  She had been told by
young Timothy we were at Ulvescott and she would be pleased to see us.
That meant we wouldn't be able to catch the bus back to Kerslake on
Saturday and would have to stay until Monday.  Mrs Crossley said she was
more than happy for us to stay and she would telephone my mother before
dinner that evening.  I said I ought to practice as Tim was so much better
than me so I did two hours solid in the afternoon.  Flea listened for a
while but when I launched into scales and exercises he sloped off.

     I'd shown him Piers' diaries when we'd been through some of the boxes
in the cupboards in the bedroom.  When I finished playing I went up and
found him sitting by the bed reading through one of them.  He said school
life hadn't changed much because of the references Piers had made to things
that went on.  I'd told him about the code and he said Piers must have been
extremely horny as he'd counted up over seventy dots and crosses in one
month.  Flea said he generally did it once a day - with Titty.  He said
that when they had first shared a room last term they'd been very wary and
he was so relieved when he heard Titty grunting one night as he came he'd
immediately tossed himself off.  Titty heard him and the next evening when
they were in bed whispered that he didn't mind if they did it at the same
time.  Flea laughed.  He said that happened the next two nights but the
third night Titty had crept over to his bed and asked if they might do it
side by side in bed.
  And that was that.  They tossed each other off after that.  He said they
hadn't done anything else together and he was going to leave it like that.

     He said from what he'd heard from conversations that he thought most
of the boys knew their room-mates wanked and he was trying to work out
which ones beat each other's meat.  He was sure Sibs and Lachs did and he
thought they had got to sucking but he didn't like to ask Lachs.  I said he
shouldn't.  It was their business and I thought that whatever boys did
together was up to them.  He smiled and said he agreed but he was nosey.
  Potty said he was nosey, too!  I would love to meet Potty!

     Mrs Crossley said as I finished playing before dinner that evening
that my mother had agreed we could stay as long as we were behaving
ourselves.  She laughed.  Mothers always say that.  Us, two responsible
fifteen-year-olds misbehaving!  We never even gave it a thought.  But, if
intense sexual activity was misbehaving in a way, then we were guilty, but
for us that was the best behaviour we could imagine.

     Before bed that night I made sure I was as clean as possible.  It was
my turn to give myself completely but I had to prepare Flea for the task in
hand.  We lay side by side for ages while I explored his back, arms, sides
with slowly roving fingers.  This time he didn't react as if being tickled
but as if he could not get sufficient stimulation from my probing fingers.
His body pushed against my fingers, his muscles tensed and relaxed and he
sighed deeply as my fingers investigated every square inch of him finding
small areas where some thrill or tingle occurred.  I then examined his
neck, chest, stomach and belly with my tongue.  Probing, sucking, searching
out those points of contact where a gasp or momentary intake of breath
informed me that I had found a pleasure spot.  His head was back against
the pillow lolling from side to side.  The gasps became more intense as I
sought for the root of his stiff young rod with the tip of my tongue.  I
ran my tongue rapidly up its length and there, just on the wrinkled bud of
his foreskin, was a drop of the sweetest honey nectar I had ever tasted.
Flea had produced his first drop of that clear fluid I had only found in
any quantity with my friend Matt.  Flea's was sweet, delectable, fragrant.
I lapped at the tiny part of his pink glans that showed and he breathed in
sharply with the exquisiteness of the feeling.  If his end was as sensitive
as mine I would have to be very careful.

     Slowly I pressed my lips against his enveloping foreskin and drew it
downwards until his complete hard pink end was between my lips.  My tongue
found a second drop of his nectar and I thought of the descriptions I had
read of humming-birds or butterflies probing the interior of flowers to
draw out the goodness within.  I wanted all his goodness and I was resolved
to raise him to heights he'd never reached before.

     I gradually took as much of his five and a half inches into my mouth
as possible, coating the length with lots of my saliva.  I then licked his
twin eggs in their sac and gently sucked on each in turn.

     I was ready for him.  My interaction with him so far I knew had given
him untold pleasure.  Just doing these things to him had roused me too.  I
felt on the chair for the pieces of towel he'd laid there in preparation
and turned onto my back and gradually manoeuvred him over me.  It was his
turn to lick and suck at my lips and chin as I drew my legs up on either
side of him.  He reached out for the jar and I felt him exploring between
my outstretched legs with sticky fingers.  It was my turn to gasp as those
fingers caressed my slit and a finger probed inside me so quickly.  He
didn't force it in, I must have been so relaxed, waiting for him, wanting
him, I opened freely.  He was licking under my chin, a move guaranteed to
make me putty in anyone's hands or arms, as a second finger joined the
first.  What he did was just one continuous enjoyment for me because next
he moved on me slightly and the tip of his hard rod pressed on my rosebud
and he was in.  In one push he was buried completely.  We both gasped.
Mine of pleasure, his of surprise, I think.  There was no effort, no pain,
complete elation.

     Very slowly he moved back and forth.  The tip of his cock hit some
spot in me each time and a frisson of exhilaration pulsed up my spine then
concentrated in rapturous feelings below the root of my prick.  Those slow
movements raised me to heights as well.  I gasped as I felt those violent
throbs push my spunk from within me.  It squirted out coating both of us
warmly and stickily.  He gasped and after five extreme shudders he
collapsed on top of me tears streaming from his eyes wetting my chin and
dripping onto my chest.

     "Oh, Jacko," he said, his voice breaking up with emotion, "I'm so
happy.  I've never felt so happy.  You and Lachs, you make me so happy."

     He moved his face over mine and kissed me all over, my forehead,
brows, eyes, nose, cheeks, ears.  The emotionality was so intense I felt as
if I might come again, my thighs were jerking uncontrollably, the muscles
in my arms and chest flexing on their own accord.

     "Fuck me hard," I whispered, not knowing what I was saying, I knew I
wanted more and I wanted to give him more.

     He was still hardness itself in me and he took me at my word.  His
buttocks see-sawed in tight little jerks which increased until they became
powerful thrusts.  He never withdrew at all, he forced his body against me
and kept his cock in me as deep as possible all the time.  His thrusts
became more and more frantic until he came, this time with six so mighty
lunges it was a good job I was that much bigger than him in body size.  He
collapsed over me again just as I shot another load which cemented us
together.  I gathered him in my arms and we nuzzled each other until he
fell asleep in my arms still with that so-hard cock deep in me.  I was
asleep soon after holding him encased in my arms and my legs up supporting
him over me.  Gradually, just before falling off, I turned us onto our
sides.  How he kept in I don't know.  I think I was tight round his fully
engorged shaft just as my arms were tight round his upper body.

     We slept like this for some hours until I was awoken by those slow,
inexorable, unstoppable slight movements of his thighs before my legs as he
fucked me for the third time.  I did my best to match his moves with the
rhythmic clenching of my buttocks as I became aware of what he was doing.
I kissed his forehead and we rocked and fucked like this for at least half
an hour, perhaps more, until he grunted throatily several times as he
forced another load of his so precious love juice inside me.  I slept again
to be woken with Flea now out of me but tenderly sucking on my hard
boy-cock.  I poured out my offering to him with puffs and huffs at each
spasm as it flooded into his waiting mouth.

     I held him tight as he shared that offering with me, our tongues
coated with my semen.  Surely a night to remember.

				     *

     I was wide awake some time before seven thirty.  I had a task to
fulfil.  Again, I'd promised to stoke the boiler and slipped out of bed,
pulled back the curtains a bit, found my shorts and shirt and plimsolls and
padded off out of the room.  I nearly tripped over Bran.  He was lying just
outside the bedroom door.  He must have been guarding us all night.  I
stroked his head and he led me down the stairs in the dark.  As the day
before I carefully raked, fed logs into the fire and then pushed in the
three pieces of towel which had mopped up the juices of our love the night
before.  I watched as the towelling began to smoulder, then shut the door
of the huge stove.  Within minutes I was undressed and back in bed holding
my dear, dear friend in my enfolding arms.

     I woke him gently with featherings of my tongue.  The room was only
half-lit by the morning sun.  The morning sun!  A clear sky to welcome us
after such a momentous night!  Flea smiled at me and I grinned back.  No
words.  They were not necessary.  Silently we got up and quickly had a bath
together after we had peed and I had rid myself, reluctantly, of the debris
of the night.  We washed each other then dried each other, all in silence.
I had let Bran come back with me and he lay curled up by the bed as we
dressed.  As we went to the door to go down for breakfast he came over and
gave us both a lick on the hand.

     There was still snow on the ground, but a clear sky, as we set off for
Ashburn House.  Bran led the way, as muffled up well against the chill air,
we tramped through the snow down the lane.  We still hadn't discussed the
night's happenings.  We kept giving each other shy smiles and several times
Flea reached out a gloved hand and tapped me on the arm.  Our breath hung
in vapour trails as we walked steadily.  Gradually we started to play games
by trying to make our breath come out in long streams or short puffs and by
the time we reached Ashburn House we were giggling happily.

     We composed ourselves as we rang the bell to the imposing side door.
After a while it was opened cautiously by the ancient maid and we were
beckoned in with a smile.  It certainly wasn't so warm in the house as at
the manor and the maid was draped in two thick cardigans.  As soon as we
entered the house we could hear the piano being played in the distance.
The maid preceded us slowly up the corridor and into the main hall where
there were two oil stoves burning.  The drawing room door was ajar and the
piano sound increased as we went in.  Tim was playing with his back to us
with Lady Bing sitting upright in a chair by his side.  As we watched and
waited we heard her giving sotto voce instructions.  He finished the piece
and Lady Bing turned, held up her hands in welcome and called us over.

     After introductions she said she wanted me to play as well and
probably it would be nice to have a duet.  She drew out what I saw was a
volume of Moszkovski's Spanish Dances and set it up on the music-rest on
the piano.  I was instructed to play the second part on the bass end of the
piano.  After a couple of hesitant starts I found I could sight read most
of it and we got through the first one very well.  Tim was also
sight-reading but he was much more fluent than me.  We played through it
three times and by the third time it was sounding pretty good and it was
very jolly.

     I turned round at the end and found that Lady Bing's daughter, the
Duchess, had come in.  She said she hadn't heard the piece for years and
her mother said there had been plenty of opportunities for her to play it.
The Duchess just smiled.  I knew she must be used to her mother's rather
sharp tongue.  I was then asked if I had heard Sir Thomas' concert on the
wireless at the beginning of December.  I had.  She nodded.  She said she
had known Tommy Beecham for years and had visited Frederick Delius in
France in the 1920s long before he was too ill to receive visitors.  I
nodded.  I had heard the First Cuckoo in Spring and Brigg Fair as well, I
said.  Tim was then instructed to play again and while that was happening
the maid wheeled in a trolley with two large plates of sandwiches (with
crusts!)
  and a big tea- pot.  Good-ho!

     So the morning went.  Tim was playing so well now.  He came to the
door to see us off and said he had practised for nearly six hours the day
before and Lady Bing was very helpful and really very kind.

     Flea said he was very sad he had never learned to play an instrument
but he liked listening and he thought Tim had a great future if he wanted
to study music.
  I thought so, too.

     In the afternoon we rather plagued poor Hans who was busy repairing
the cellar stairs with some wood he'd found in one of the barns.  In the
end, as the impish Flea was making kissy noises and whispering "Dora, Dora,
Oh, sehr Schone", Hans turned round and picked him up bodily and deposited
him in one of the cellar rooms which was open, then shut and locked the
door on him.  He looked at me, grinned and shook his head.  I grinned.  All
we heard were giggles.  Then after a while silence while I handed nails to
Hans as he hammered away.  Then there were a few plaintive cries of
'Sorry'.  Hans relented and went over and unlocked the door.  Flea was
standing there expecting to walk out but Hans just lifted him up again put
him over his knee and tickled him.  I just stood and watched as Flea
squirmed and wriggled but was held firmly.  Hans whacked his backside in
the end and stood him up again.  "My brothers, I do," he said in English,
"They get..." Here he made a smacking gesture.  "They play the games... and
they laugh."

     Flea was laughing now.  Then he looked serious.  He went up to Hans
and in careful English said "I am sorry you haven't seen your brothers for
a long time," and put a hand on Hans' arm.

     I translated what he had said and poor Hans had tears in his eyes
again.  I expect having two boys with him, as old as his youngest brother
would be now, free and in their own country was very emotional for him.  I
said, in German, that I hoped this War would soon end and Hans nodded.

     After that work progressed steadily and it was soon tea-time.  Miss
Pike was there and said that as soon as they knew we were staying Mrs
Crossley had told the girls we would have a real dressed-up dinner party
that evening.  She said that when they had been tidying up she had found
some of Piers' old formal clothes.  She shook her head.  Nothing was ever
thrown away.  She said we should find something to fit us.  She laughed and
said whatever there was would smell of mothballs.  It was true.  The
wardrobe she had told us to look in, one of the huge ones in the African
room, reeked of camphor as soon as we opened the door.  Inside were about
six suits of various sizes and designs.  It was odd, one, a Cadet's Mess
uniform jacket and trousers was a perfect fit for Flea.  Piers must have
had it when he was in his First Year at the school.  The jacket was dark
blue with light blue facings and the black trousers had a light blue stripe
down the outside seams.  It looked as if it had hardly been worn.  Flea was
in his element.  He said Bradley had worn one just like it at the farewell
dinner for the Sixth Form leavers last summer.

     I found a proper dinner jacket, black with silk facings, which was
slightly tight.  The other one I tried on was definitely too big.  The
trousers were rather long for me but I found a pair of braces, which when
pulled right up drew the waist up and the trouser legs were perfect then.
These had a black braided stripe down the seam.

     We had both brought white shirts with us, not proper dress shirts with
stiff collars, but we would have to make do.  Thank goodness Flea knew how
to tie a black bow tie.  He did mine first and told me how to tie it and I
think the one I tied for him looked very good.  We preened ourselves before
the long mirror in the room and looked very smart even before cleaning
ourselves up properly.

     Well, well, a bit later, two very smart boys, suited and completed by
shining black shoes and smartly combed hair were ready for anything.
Lizzie Tilson wouldn't be seeing two snotty-nosed kids at the dinner table,
but two urbane, young men-about-town.

     Flea did say, as I sat down to play before dinner, that I looked just
like one of those pianists in the photographs in the Radio Times.  I said
he looked as if he was just about to go to a gentleman's club in...  I
couldn't remember which part of London, so I said, ...for dinner at the
Ritz!

     Even Lizzie Tilson complimented us so we must have made an impression.
She even said my playing was much improved - cheeky cow!  I nearly choked
on my glass of sherry when she said that.

     All the ladies were dressed to the nines too and Flea led Mrs Crossley
into dinner and I accompanied Miss Pike, and Mrs Brown and Dora, in black
dresses with white aprons and caps served us soup, chicken and a delicious
apple pie.  There was also a glass of wine each.

     After dinner we sat and talked and I had to say, really for Lizzie's
benefit, that I had met Chris Gardiner and he was now a Flying Officer and
had been awarded the DFC.  Miriam then announced she had also got engaged
at Christmas.  I think Lizzie was about to say 'Where's the ring?' when she
drew up the gold chain she had round her neck and there was the ring.  We
all told her she had to wear it.  She blushed and said she was shy.  Flea
very gallantly went down on one knee and said he would be honoured to slip
the ring on her finger.  She blushed again and said her fiance had already
done that but he could unclasp the chain at the back so she could do it
herself when the ring was off.

     When we went up to the bedroom I said he was a horny bugger, I'd seen
him rubbing himself against Miriam's chair when he was undoing the clasp.
I tipped him back on the bed amidst his protests I would ruin his uniform
and undid his flies and said I bet he had a hardon.  He didn't, but soon
did have as I sucked on his flaccid tool.

     We were laughing and giggling and so happy as we undressed and
carefully put the clothes on hangers.  As soon as we were fully undressed,
had had a pee and a quick wash, we were in bed, in the dark, head to toe,
completing the act I had started on him minutes earlier.  I think we both
came four times that night.  All I can remember about that last time was
holding his hard shaft gently in my mouth as his boy-cream more or less
oozed into my mouth.  My own rigid tool was now so sensitive that even the
slightest touch from his tongue on my glans sent great shivers all over me.
Finally, we hugged, sharing the remnants of that concluding, almost paltry,
outflow from both of us and slept the sleep of champions.

				     *

     I don't know what it was but I had noticed that the more sexual
excitement I had the more lively I felt in the morning.  I would have
thought that after four loads being shed and about three hours in the
process, I would be dead to the world for hours.  But, no, I was awake just
after six o'clock when I looked at my watch with its luminous hands.  I
crept out of bed as Flea was still sound asleep and pulled the curtain on
the side window back.  It hadn't snowed any more and I sat on the window
seat by the warm radiator staring out.  It was still half-light.  A cold,
clear sky. I thought how peaceful it all looked.  I was a very lucky boy.
I had wonderful friends.  I was staying in a beautiful house.  I was
comforted in my mind that I had some sort of closeness with someone who had
lived here in the past.  I got up and fetched the photograph of Piers and
Miles.  The head and shoulders one.  They both had slightly enigmatic
smiles on their faces.  I remembered seeing that famous painting in a book,
that Italian one, Mona...  Oh, yes, Mona Lisa.  They had that same sort of
quirky look, a knowing look of sharing some secret between them.  From the
mature look of their faces I guessed they had become friends in their last
year at school

     I then fetched the diary Flea had been looking at and had left on the
dressing-table.  It was the one for 1917.  I idly turned the pages and
found the entries where James Pike had stayed with him at Easter when Piers
was just on seventeen.  From the entries it was obvious they had a
wonderful time.  They went riding and visited a school friend on the farm
where he lived some miles away.  I would have to check a map.  He said they
had to ride two hours to get there and when they got home James complained
he was sore.  There was only one cross at the end of that day's entry.
But, I wondered when Miles had stayed.  I knew he'd stayed in 1916 and from
the diary entries they must have fucked then.  But I was drawn to this
final diary, the one I held in my hand.  I knew this one had the answer.
This was the important one.  This one sealed their friendship.

     I turned to the final entries in the book.  Although the diary should
have ended in December it continued for the first two weeks of January
1918.  I suppose to give people time to get their new diaries!  There it
was.

          Jan 2nd: Miles Buchan arrived.  Cold and wet.  Spent day warming
up.  Played Chopin Studies for him.  Well fed.

     Rather prosaic.  I read on.

          Jan 3rd: Snowed.  Spent day sorting through African stuff.  Miles
tried on Zulu costume.  I fell up, caught knee, early days, massive bruise.

          Jan 4th: Both v. cheerful.  Tried toboggan.  Miles sat while I
pulled..  Crafty, said he was tired.  What about me!

          Jan 5th: Had long talk on future plans.  Miles fancies umpiring
cricket.  Knows essentials.  Dinner most enjoyable.

     I looked again.  What on earth did those two rather strange sentences
mean?  If he had damaged his knee on the third, surely tobogganing on the
fourth wouldn't do it any good?  And he'd alluded to both being very
cheerful and implied he should be tired, too.  And what was that about
Miles fancying umpiring cricket.  Why write that in the middle of winter?
I stared at the page and I knew the answer.  It was as if those entries had
been written all that long time ago waiting for me to read them.  I don't
suppose anyone else would have bothered, or be in the least interested.
Here was Piers telling very simply what had happened and what might have
happened..  'Had a long talk on future plans'.  What was in those entries
would probably have settled both their futures if they had survived.  Those
odd sentences and the looks on their faces in that head and shoulders photo
told me all.

     On the same two days, twenty-seven years later, two boys had
re-enacted those happenings.  Initial letters were the answer.  On January
the third 1918 - I
  f - u - c - k - e - d - m - b.  On January the fifth 1918 - Miles f - u -
c - k - e - d - m - e.  On January the third 1945 I had fucked Flea and we
knew that Piers was there too.  On January the fifth1945 Andrew had filled
me not only with his wonderful boy-cream but with immense joy and
happiness.  I couldn't help it.  I wept.  Great salt tears dropped onto the
page of that diary written so many years ago.  This great dumb beast shook
with emotion.  Piers and Miles, Pierre and Andrew.  I hoped and prayed we
would survive.  They hadn't, but they had shown in their own way that love
and affection I felt both for Andrew and for his brother.  1918 was when
that last Great War had ended.  Would this one end in this year?

     I put the book back on the dressing-table and dressed just in shorts
and shirt and plimsolls.  Bran was outside the door again.  He licked my
hand after I'd stroked his head.  We went downstairs and I stoked the
boiler again.  All the time thinking of those two friends and thinking what
did the future hold for us.  Bran must have sensed I was lost in thought.
I must have stood looking at the cast-iron exterior of the boiler for ages.
At last he nudged me.  I sat on the floor and, warmed by the increasing
heat of the beginning to roar fire, I put my arms round his neck and
whispered about how much I loved Ulvescott and being here and how I was so
sorry that Piers hadn't lived to be master of the estate in his father's
place.  I said I knew he was descended from Piers' dog and he must love the
place too.
  Then, in his doggy fashion he gently licked my cheek as two tears rolled
down my face.  I was so happy and so sad all at the same time.

     I stood up and checked the boiler.  It was roaring lustily so I closed
the damper one notch and put another log on for luck.  We crept back
upstairs and I stripped as Bran sat by the bed.  I slipped in beside Andrew
and, although he was still fast asleep, we hugged each other as he nestled
his head against my chest.  I didn't sleep, I lay awake, feeling him
breathing and murmuring in his sleep.  He trusted me.  Lachs had asked me
to keep him safe.  He was away from his brother for almost the first time
in his life but he had another brother now, me!  He wasn't just a
married-in cousin.  I felt he was so much closer to me than that.  Both he
and Lachs were those brothers I could not have.  Pa had told me Ma couldn't
have any more children.  Was that miscarriage another brother?  I didn't
know.  I had that missing brother in my arms now.

     I was becoming more and more aware that young Flea was becoming
sexually aroused in his sleep.  He was muttering something and I felt his
soft cock curl upwards and stiffen against me.  Four times last night and
stiff again!  I stifled a laugh.  I couldn't help it.  I was rapidly rising
to the same condition myself.

     I peered at my watch.  Sunday morning breakfast was at nine.  It was
just before half past seven now.  I let Flea sleep on but he was well in
the throes of some erotic dream.  He pressed against me and murmured and
mumbled, rubbing his head against me as well.  I held him tighter and his
hand across my back began to stroke me persistently.  It was time for me to
wake him slowly or I guessed he might have a wet dream and I didn't want
him to waste his precious boy-cream without me being involved.  I wasn't
selfish, I just wanted to share another fulfilment of our togetherness.

     I moved him slightly so I could kiss his forehead.  His head raised up
and I very slowly and very gently touched his cheeks and then his lips with
the tip of my tongue.  He was half asleep but knew what we both wanted.

     "Let me suck you," he said softly, "I've been dreaming about you, me
and Lachs."

     Carefully, as he was still not yet fully awake, I moved down and
around so his steely rod was by my lips.  I felt him searching for mine
then, simultaneously our cocks were taken in, inch by inch, by our
respective mouths.  I had thought the night before that I couldn't endure
another touch, however light, on my over-used tool, but now the warmth of
that mouth was so beautiful I felt I wanted this to last forever.

     Slowly, gently, we laved each other's hardness.  Slowly, gently, we
raised each other to those heights where the flood gates opened once more.
The muscles under my cock convulsed as wave after wave of sheer ecstasy
rampaged in my groin and then spread until my whole body seemed to be
involved in one massive orgasm.  My seed pumped out inexorably in great
spurts which Flea accepted in full just as his own prick jerked and pulsed
and streams of his boy-juice was swallowed eagerly and wantonly by his more
than willing companion.

     A moment's breath-taking then two deliriously happy boys clung to each
and shared once more the final drops still within their mouths.  We lay,
content, serene, tranquil, satiated, stroking each other caringly,
devotedly, pledged to a lifetime of friendship.

     "You are my best, true friend," he murmured, "I couldn't do without
you and Lachs now."  He brushed my lips with his tongue.  "You're more than
that, though.  You're not even a cousin.  I want you to be my brother, just
like Lachs."

     I was so moved by this.  The same thoughts I'd had earlier, my tears
flowed again.  I whispered all the feelings I'd had already today.  We
hugged each other so tightly I thought I would collapse through loss of
breath.

     "We've shared our stuff, but we could do that with anyone," he said.
"We've shared more than that, though.  I know when we did that we weren't
two people, we were one."  He paused.  I let those profound thoughts sink
in.  "I felt it the same with Lachs," he continued, "I doubt if I will feel
it with anyone else in the same way.  We've shared each other so completely
haven't we?"

     I nodded.  "I know what you mean," I said.  "I felt the same with
Lachs, too, as I've felt with you.  I have to confess I've done the same
with others.  I have enjoyed it and so have they, but for us it was more
than enjoyment, wasn't it?"

     We lay just holding each other until I said it was time to get up or
we would miss breakfast.  He smiled and said he didn't think he'd need to
eat much as he'd been filled already.

     The ladies had already gone to church when we reached the breakfast
room, they would have breakfast on their return.  Mrs Brown was in the
kitchen and brought our breakfast through dead on the dot of nine.  She
smiled and said we had looked so smart the night before and we both thanked
her for cooking such a lovely meal.  "Amazing what you can do even with the
rationing," she said.

     Even though I had supped of that sustenance from Flea I was ravenous
as usual.  I got through my two poached eggs with relish.  I watched as
Flea mopped up his second poached egg with a third hunk of bread.  I said
he'd had enough that morning to feed an army, including nourishing soup as
a starter.

     "I'm a growing boy, aren't we all!" he said and I am sure that Bran
sitting on his haunches by the table winked!

      I had knowledge to impart so went back to the bedroom.  He was
curious as all I'd said to him I had something very important to show him.
I started off by explaining I'd got up early to stoke the boiler but before
that I had sat and looked at Piers' third diary, the one he had been
looking at the day before.

     I fetched the book and we sat side by side on the window seat.

     "How much did you read?" I asked.

     "Oh, bits and pieces, especially when he said what he'd done at
school.
  We still have the parades he said he'd been at and the rifle drill as
well."

     "Did you read the bits when he was on holiday here?"

     He nodded.  "He and the boy who stayed at Easter."  He laughed.  "Lots
of crosses."

     I opened the book at the end and gave it to him indicating the entries
at the beginning of 1918.

     "Did you get as far as this?" I asked.

     He shook his head.  "No, I was reading bits in the term before where
he was in the rugger team and said he hoped to get his cap.  He got it for
rowing anyway."

     "I want you to read what he wrote from January the First," I said.
"Then tell me what you think."

     Flea took the book and read it carefully.  He wrinkled his nose when
he came to the entry on the Fifth.

     "Why does he talk about cricket in January.  Seems odd."

     I laughed.  "It is odd.  You're getting warm."

     "What does he mean 'Knows essentials'?  If he meant rules, he would
put rules."  He looked at me.  He smiled knowingly.  "It's another code,
isn't it?  Like the dots and crosses."

     I nodded.  "Do you want a clue?"

     He shook his head.  I saw him go back to the entry for the third.
"That's odd, the way he's written that about hurting himself."  He read on.
"But he couldn't have.  You don't go out tobogganing with a badly bruised
knee."  His lips moved silently..  "F - u - c - k....."  He looked at me
again and shook his head.  "They did, too."

     I nodded and smiled.  "And the dates?"

     "The same as us!" He looked at me quite wide-eyed.  "You fucked me the
same day that Piers fucked Miles!  M B, that's Miles Buchan, isn't it?" He
looked at me for confirmation.  I nodded.  He checked the book.  "That's
right, then it says 'Miles f - u - c - k - e - d - m - e,'" he said,
spelling the letters out.  "Gosh!  Oh Jacko, just like us!"  He put the
book down carefully and hugged me.  "Just like us and I knew Piers was here
that first night.  I told you so.  I knew he wanted us to be happy.  And we
were, weren't we?"

     I had to tell him about those other incidents, those with Tom.  He
listened carefully, shaking his head in disbelief.  Then he smiled.

     "It's like everyone says, you belong here.  I saw Mrs Crossley looking
at you at dinner last night.  She knows you belong here.  And Tom," He
shook his head.  "He knows and I was aware of something, too."  He hugged
me again.  "I won't tell anyone.  It's your secret.  Please tell Lachs when
he comes and stays here 'cause he's part of you now, just like me."

     I hadn't thought of Lachs coming and staying.  Flea then said Mrs
Crossley said she hoped his brother would be able to come next time.  I
fervently hoped he could.

     We spent a lot of time that morning painstakingly going over the
diaries but that was the only example we could find of Piers using that
code.  Did he want me to find it?  I didn't know but Flea was convinced he
did.

     It was two solemn boys who went down for Sunday lunch.  Miss Pike
asked if we were OK.  We both said we were sorry we had to go back to
Kerslake the next day.  She smiled and said she knew we were welcome at any
time.  I knew we were and that Piers was happy, too.

     Of course, we cheered up when dinner was announced.  Mrs Fry and
another lady from the village were there and all three Land Army Girls.
Miriam was wearing her ring and I think Lizzie (I couldn't think of her as
Elizabeth) kept looking at it as if she was jealous.  Good luck to her.  I
pitied the man she snared.  Oh dear, wicked thoughts.  What did I know
about snaring and so on.  I must have a fertile imagination!  The other
girl, Diana, said she hoped to get engaged as soon as her boyfriend came
home.  I felt sorry for her, she seemed a little sad.

     Anyway, lunch was excellent.  Mrs Fry had been given a haunch of
venison that week and we had smelled the casserole all morning as Mrs Brown
had started cooking it as soon as she had arrived before breakfast.
Venison, red wine, herbs.  It was so rich even I couldn't manage any more
after two platefuls.

     Flea and I went into the library after lunch, replete and feeling
rather worn now.  Perhaps our activities were catching up on us.  We read
books and a bit later after there was no one else around I went and played,
with Bran as my solitary listener.  Actually, Flea came and stood by the
piano and watched me play my last piece.

     "It said in the diary some of the pieces Piers played.  You should
make a list," he said.

     Whatever happened that night is just a jumble.  Whatever happened was
long and slowly drawn out.  We held each other, then each caressed the
other with their tongues all over, as far as we could reach.  We ended up
in our favourite position, holding each other round the legs as we lay side
by side, mouths to cocks.  Once this morning and now three more times.  I
never went soft and Flea only had to be coaxed a little before he was so
erect that third time.  That third time was lost in dreams....  Of the
past, of the here and now, and feverish dreams of how I wanted to be, loved
and loving, happy and giving happiness.  I was so lost in thought I spurted
out that third time long after Andrew had reached his own climax.  I still
held some of his cum in my cheek so for the final time on this momentous
stay we shared, kissed, and slept.  If Piers was there he blessed two
grateful, fortunate, privileged to be together boys.

				     *

     Monday I was up bright and early again and did my duty stoking the
boiler.  It was fairly sunny and the snow had melted somewhat.  I am afraid
Mrs Crossley had tears in her eyes when we said goodbye.  I did make the
point of asking if Flea's brother could come with us next time.  She smiled
and said that was a firm invitation.  Flea was politeness itself.  He
looked the model schoolboy as he very politely said thank you to both Mrs
Brown and Dora before saying his au revoirs to Mrs Crossley and Miss Pike.
Bran accompanied us to the gate and gave a soft bark as we turned and waved
to him as we set off to the bus stop.

     After we got off at the Kerslake bus-station we walked quietly home.
I then reminded Flea about Hans beating his chest and saying he loved
himself.  I then told him about Tom and me peeking at him when he was
beating more than his chest.  Flea was even quieter after that.  Then he
turned.

     "Why didn't you tell me that while we were there?" he asked, sounding
rather hurt.

     "I didn't dare," I said, " I didn't want you going up to Hans and
saying 'Jacko says..'"

     He laughed and shook his head.  "I would never have said that to Hans.
I might have teased you about peeking in the window, spying on the Germans,
but I wouldn't tease Hans.  You saw something private.  That was him, you
weren't suppose to know."

     I was suitably abashed.  Yes.  We'd spied on him.  But I had seriously
underestimated Flea.  He wouldn't have teased Hans - he was very honest in
his dealings with people.  I had noticed that with young Georgie in
particular.  He used the 'Potty says..'  to tease those who needed to be
teased.  Flea, Flea, Flea!  You have a deep side to you!

     Ma was in when we arrived home.  She said she had a cold and didn't
want to pass it on.  After we had a good feed at lunch she went off to her
new writing-room and we went up to my bedroom to unpack.  I had found a
spare picture frame in a cupboard at Ulvescott and had asked Mrs Crossley
if I might have it for the photograph.  She had willingly said I could have
it and as Flea watched now I took it apart and then re-assembled it
complete with the picture.

     "They had that photo taken afterwards, didn't they?" said Flea as he
studied it intensely.  "You can see that."

     I had to agree.  That look had something in it which was, for me,
indescribable.

     Ma had said that we had both been invited to tea at the Marchams the
next day as Kats was having a birthday celebration.  Her birthday had been
before Christmas but she'd had a cold then - these colds must be going
round.  In the bedroom I was cross-questioned about the Marchams.  He knew
that Tony and I were great friends, ever since Infant School and that I was
related, through marriage, as I pointedly said.

     Being in my own bed that night seemed strange.  What we did, though,
was becoming quite familiar.  Flea said he definitely wasn't going to do
anything else with Titty other than wank.  From his exuberance each night
with me he was storing up memories to compensate for any lack of further
types of stimulation.  We only touched each other's cocks to see that they
were ready for the way we would then use to reach our climaxes.  That night
we both came twice in response to avid sucking.

				     *

     It was fairly slippery when we went out next morning for a run.  We
didn't venture far.  Another reason was we had both slept very soundly and
it was later than usual so we detoured and met up with Tom who said he was
freezing and helped him finish his round.  Pa was in the kitchen when we
got back.  He apologised in case the porridge was lumpy but Ma was staying
in bed and I was to see she was kept well fed and watered.  He said plenty
of hot fluids.  He said he was off to the labs and would leave the porridge
pot for us on the slow burner of the Aga.

     We scooted up to the bedroom and washed and jumped around to warm
ourselves up.  When we'd stripped off our running togs we had giggled at
the sight of two very shrunken cocks because of the chilliness outside.  I
had shushed Flea to stop him making so much noise hopping around in case it
disturbed Ma.  I had turned my back on him to get some clean underpants out
of my chest of drawers, as I turned round again he leapt on me and I found
myself on my back on the bed.  I had been taken completely by surprise.
But, surprise, surprise, warm mouths soon restore shrivelled cocks to a
more normal size.  'Morning cream' to go with the porridge he whispered
after we rolled off the bed and started to dress.

     Pa's porridge was decidedly unlumpy.  It was so good we emptied the
pot.  I took Ma a pot of tea and found her sitting up in bed reading
something in an exercise book.  She said she would have two aspirins and
probably get up later in the morning.  I caught a glimpse of what was in
the book as I handed her the aspirins.  It was in her writing.  It must be
a bit of her detective story.

     Flea and I spent the morning quite happily recalling things that had
happened over the past few days.  He did say, with his typical roguish
grin, that he thought Hans was probably bigger than Matt.  I said he was
taller and I thought possibly thicker but otherwise they matched in size.
He said of course he hadn't seen Hans fully erect, but it was impressive.
I had.  And it was!

     I helped him with some maths he wasn't sure about.  What I liked was
his assertion that when they did trigonometry it was always with problems
of a practical kind.  He said their maths master was quite old but he
always made things interesting.

     Ma directed lunch making from her bed.  There was soup in a saucepan
and I cycled to the bakers to get a new loaf.  What we had would be enough
to go on until we had tea at the Marchams!

     We arrived there in good time.  We walked and Tony was at the door to
greet us.  I think he was a bit surprised that Flea was quite short.  Tony
was another who had put on a good bit of growth since last Easter.  Kats
was there as well as their grandma.  Grandma was always supposed to be
poorly but when we sat down to tea she scoffed as much as Tony and his
sister did!

     Before tea we had to tell our tale of the recent visit to Ulvescott
Manor.  First, however, I showed them the medal that Piers had won for
running.  Tony nodded sagely and said I had a very good chance of winning
the Lane Cup for Fifth Years this year.  I hoped so.

     I had taken the photo of Piers and Miles and Mrs Marcham remarked
again how much I resembled Piers.  I was bursting to say what we'd found
out in the diaries and how we had done the same exactly on the two days.  I
would tell Tony sometime and I think he would understand.

     We came away quite full up with food just after Mr Marcham arrived
back from his office.  I always like him.  He was bluff and hearty, quite
different from his quieter, more studious son.  He always maintained he was
a self-made man, whatever that meant.  Roo had told me that his mother
thought Mr Marcham was one of the wealthiest men in Kerslake.  As well as
the Estate Agent business Roo said he owned lots of property as well.

     We hadn't got far along the road towards home before Flea nudged me.

     "Tony's sister," he whispered, with a really evil grin on his face,
"That Kats, oh, oh, oh!  Did you see the way she kept looking at you."  He
nudged me again.  "She'd have your fucking knickers off before you could
say Jack Robinson!"

     Flea!  I was just going to tell him off first for swearing, then give
him a swipe...

     "Alright, alright!" he said before I had a chance to say or do
anything.  "Mustn't say knickers, must I?  I mean she'd have your undies
off in a flash!"

     I had noticed Kats was again very attentive.  My plate was more
frequently replenished than the others and she did have the habit of
standing very close to me.

     Flea hopped out of reach of my arm.  "Play your cards right and you're
home there, old boy!"

     "And what do you know about such things?" I asked.

     "I listen in to other people's conversations," he said, approaching me
gingerly.  "Potty says...."  He grinned at me.  "Potty says you learn a lot
more if you listen and keep your mouth shut.  If you keep your mouth shut
you can't be caught out as a fool.
   He's right, eh?"

     I suppose so.

     "Anyway how do you know about girls?" I asked.  I realised I might
have sounded a bit condescending but he didn't falter.

     "I don't," he said, "Don't know any."  He paused.  "Georgie's sisters,
I suppose, but I don't know them well."

     "Nor do I," I said, "I suppose we'll have to learn."

     He laughed.  "Kats'll teach you."

     I made another half-hearted swipe at him and missed.  We walked the
rest of the way home quietly from then.  Both cogitating about that vast
field of ignorance on our parts.

     We didn't have to cogitate in bed that night.  Flea said he was going
to miss his second most favourite way when he got back to school.  I asked
if he might move to sucking with Titty.  He shook his head and said he knew
most of them helped each other the general way but he didn't want any
rumours about him for anything else and Titty might just say something.
Not that he didn't trust Titty but he did have a temper and might blurt
something out if he was teased about anything.  I said he was very wise and
he said he had to store up plenty before he went back.  Once already this
morning.  Twice more tonight!

				     *

     I only had one more day before having to return to school.  Flea had
to be back ready for next Tuesday.  I had to catch up with quite a lot of
homework today and Flea didn't seem to mind.  He kept an eye on Ma.  She
stayed in bed until lunch-time then announced she would get up but work in
her new room.  I wondered if the cold was a bit of an excuse to get on with
finishing the book.  I noticed this morning that Pa had gone off with the
exercise book and another one, too.

     I was all keyed up about going back to school.  This was the last term
before those all important exams.  Flea still had another year to go but he
sensed my anxieties.  We went up to bed early.  He helped me sort out
things I might need.  After undressing and getting into bed we lay and
talked softly for ages and then over the next two hours I became more and
more relaxed.  Three times we helped each other to wonderful climaxes.  All
was much too good to think about, or worry about, school.  I was in a real
state of euphoria as that third time I came with such intensity and then
shared my spunk with him.

				     *

     We were up and out in time to help Tom.  He was worried about school.
Would I help him if he got stuck.  I said I would.  Flea remarked as we sat
over breakfast that it seemed as if a lot of people depended on me.  He
smiled and said he did and I was to be back from school pronto to tell him
what sort of day I had.

     Actually, school wasn't too bad.  A few were absent - colds - but
Matt, Roo, Cleggy, Tony and Nobbo were there.  The timetable had been
turned round a bit and we now had games on a Tuesday.  Still, only this
term's rugger then next term the first few weeks would be taken up with
exams.  Oh, exams!  Why did that thought keep cropping up?

				    **

     The next few days flashed by.  Flea only had Thursday and Friday to
himself.  He confessed on Friday when I got home he'd had a wank at
lunch-time.  He didn't know why.  He said he just felt like it.  It didn't
stop him coming twice more than night.

     Ma was crafty.  Her cold was better.  Matt had cycled round Sunday
afternoon about five o'clock with another parcel.  After he'd scoffed tea
with us Ma announced that the book was ready.  She was going to London the
next day with Flea to see him on his train to school and to deliver the
manuscript to the publisher in Bloomsbury!  Pa said she'd better not be
like Miss Prism and leave the book on the train and pick up a baby.  Ma
said she knew English literature better than him as Miss Prism left the
baby and picked up a book!
  Pa just waved his pipe and grinned and said 'Whatever!'.

     I helped Flea pack on Sunday evening.  He was both sad and also happy
about going.  He said he'd had a really good holiday.  We'd done so much.
He had met some very nice people and I was lucky to have so many good
friends who had accepted him as well.  He said he was looking forward to
seeing his brother and finding out what had gone on up in Cumberland..  I
said "And Potty...?"  He grinned..

     As we lay in bed that evening he said the best part of the holiday
were the two nights at Ulvescott.  Those occasions were between us and he
was now an equal with his brother.  He repeated, we three.  As far as he
was concerned his brother and I would be the only two who would share him
in that way.  I wasn't being conceited when I hugged him and said I was
honoured to have his trust and love even though we hadn't known each other
very long.  He said a very profound thing.  "We've known each other for a
very long time, I'm sure of that!"

				     *

     It wasn't quite a tearful parting because we knew we would be meeting
up again at Easter.  Where hadn't been decided but I knew I couldn't spend
too much time away because....  ....You know, those fucking exams.  Sorry -
blame it on Titty!

To be Continued:...............