Date: Wed, 10 Dec 2003 22:50:24 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: Aladdin's Awakening: Part 78
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 46
(Part One)
How Life Changes: Part B
Sunday September 21st 1947 - Wednesday September 8th 1948
Of course, I had to ring the doorbell of the darkened house as I hadn't
taken my front door key to Switzerland. After a wait, my finger poised to
give another ring, Pa cautiously opened the door clad in pyjamas and
dressing-gown. The next thing I knew I was being enveloped in a great
bear-hug.
"Thought you were coming home tomorrow. But it is tomorrow I
suppose," Pa said when he let me go and I struggled to get my breath back.
"Couldn't stay away, but I'll tell you everything in the morning. I
need my bed," I said.
He looked a bit concerned. I'd been leaning on my walking stick and
almost dropped it when he clutched hold of me. "Are you OK?" he asked, "Is
your leg alright?"
I assured him it was, I was just tired.
He laughed. "You can sleep in and I'll tell your mother not to
disturb you in the morning."
Between us we just put all my belongings, which the cab driver,
noticing my stick, had kindly helped to pile up on the doorstep, into the
hallway. I crept up the stairs thinking I hadn't better wake Ma up. No
way. Ma was standing on the landing and I was hugged again.
"In the morning," I whispered and made my way to bed.
I didn't know why I was so tired. Relief after a long journey,
perhaps. The boat trip had been a bit rough and wasn't helped by Tony,
who, noticing I was a bit green around the gills, announced the best cure
for sea-sickness was to suck on a large lump of fatty bacon while looking
at a jar of bull's eyes pickled in formaldehyde. The sight of those
objects in the Biology lab had set off a slight case of retching in poor
old Danny Ross even though he was a 'great lummox' and, at the time, was
very bravely military in his Cadet uniform. I threatened Tony with all
sorts of testicular retribution once I was on terra firma but he sat
serenely puffing on one of the stinking French cigarettes he'd bought on
the station.
I'd asked him why he'd bought them and he said he needed a trademark
when in Cambridge so he was going to practice smoking on the boat first.
If fat bacon and bull's eyes didn't quite make me heave the stink of
Gauloise certainly gave me the pukes. I slunk off to the back of the boat
but was assailed there by the fumes from the funnels. Shit! Merde!
Scheisse! Schyss!
I was glad when that particular bit of the journey was over. I had
found that not looking seawards seemed best and slowly my queasiness
subsided. Tony did look a bit green himself which was probably more due to
the cigarette than the rolling of the boat. We then crawled up from Dover
to London by train. The guard came along and apologised for the slowness
caused by work on the line. I was starved by then and only managed to
scrape together enough of my English money to buy a cup of weak tea and
what seemed like a year- old sandwich on the station before we caught the
last train stopping at Kerslake. So, all in all, I was, to put it very
mildly, tired!
I stripped off and sunk into bed and emerged, somewhat refreshed, at
ten o'clock the next morning. Emerged to the smell of hot toast wafting up
the stairs and to a bright sunny day. Although nearly the end of September
it still seemed quite warm so I just had a quick wash and slipped on an old
rugger shirt and shorts and went downstairs to the kitchen.
Both Pa and Ma were there. Ma immediately burst into tears and I was
hugged again. All these histrionics! Well, I had been away for two
months. She explained that she was really very happy. She was so pleased
I was back although she'd had two letters from her sister telling her all
about her nephew and his friend. I then presented her with the envelopes
which held the copies of the photos of her family which Uncle Johann had
given me for her. This caused more weeping as she remembered back to being
with her grandparents and parents.
While I was eating a mound of toast after having been presented with
two boiled eggs - with Pa staying silent, reading the Sunday newspaper and
Ma looking at the photos again - I read the two letters. The first must
have been written soon after we arrived and was mainly chit chat. The
second was sent after Tony's first solo performance at the church so was
full of praise for him. What was evident from both letters was the
confidence Aunt Lilian had in us in the way we had helped her son, Johann,
to grow up. She said it was amazing how different he was over the rather
shy, hesitant lad before, even after such a short time and it was all down
to us.
Oh God! If she only knew her 'little shy boy' all five feet ten
inches, plus those other vital six inches, had wanked and sucked, had also
been wanked and sucked, on a regular basis since that first memorable
night. And, since that night, had, furthermore, willingly given his
virginity to his cousin's friend and had been fucked, lovingly, ardently
and soundly by both friend and cousin and then had fucked both cousin and
friend, enthusiastically, passionately and affectionately, on succeeding
days. He had certainly emerged from whatever shell he was in and had most
certainly become a quite different Johann from that quiet, reserved lad
first met on Basel station, but showing overtly now his underlying good
nature, kindness, tenderness and thoughtfulness, all combined in a most
delightful character. As Tony said, a boy he could fall in love with very
easily!
It was true. But, it wasn't just from those important boyish sexual
encounters he was experiencing. Both Tony and I had remarked on how Johann
was emerging, a bit like a butterfly from a chrysalis. We had somehow
unlatched the door hiding his inner self. The strict life at school,
especially, had closed the shutters to his true soul.
I think we had done a lot to help him find himself by the jokes, the way
he saw our friendship and the way we had, in general, included both him and
Pascal in our friendship as well. Finally, there was that momentous
occasion when the two bullies had revealed themselves as just vulnerable
and I think this had helped both him and his friend Pascal to realise that
such 'types' were inherently weak. Yes, we had also helped Pascal as well
and no doubt Johann would develop that close relationship, perhaps by
teaching him at least one more delight, but if not, they were even better
friends now anyway!
I was then cross-questioned about my knee. I held my leg out to show
the much smaller crepe bandage on it now. Aunt Lilian had mentioned I was
seeing the Professor and having massage. Both Pa and Ma were relieved when
I said it felt so much better, I limped a bit and I was still wary of doing
anything too violent in the exercise line.
Pa laughed and pushed another letter towards me. It was a command to
attend for a medical examination prior to possible call-up for the Forces.
Apparently even with the war over and demob taking place there was still
the machinery in place for all eighteen-year-olds to be processed and there
was the prospect of compulsory National Service coming in. A letter had
arrived the week after I went to Switzerland but Pa had opened it and had
contacted Mr Foljambe's secretary who had arranged for him to collect my
X-ray photos to show the medical panel and then Pa had written to the
powers that be to rearrange the date. I now had to attend the local
Territorial Army Drill Hall at 10 o'clock on Friday September the
twenty-sixth. I groaned. Would this mean having to join-up before I went
to Cambridge? Pa said in any case he thought my knee injury would keep me
out, but the wheels ground so slowly I would be at Cambridge anyway a
fortnight after that.
There were other letters for me. Firstly, from Dr Blake inviting me
to come up two days early as he wanted to talk to me about certain
arrangements which might be to my advantage. Pa said he would drive me to
Cambridge and, in any case, had already been granted extra petrol coupons
for the journey and if Tony wanted to go the same day he might squeeze both
of us in if there wasn't too much luggage! That meant I would be installed
on Monday October the sixth ready for term starting on the Thursday.
The next letter was quite momentous. It was from the Ministry of
Education. I had been awarded a State Scholarship on the results of my
Higher School Certificate examinations! So, no worries about fees. There
was also a cash payment to come. A third letter was from the Director of
Education of the County confirming the Scholarship and awarding me a
further forty pounds a year towards living expenses, half paid on account.
Beer money, Pa said! I had better open a proper bank account and deposit
the cheque enclosed!
Then there was one with an American stamp on it. Uncle Alfred had
sent colour photos of me attired in the Cameron kilt with a note that both
Chuck and Sam were envious. He said the Hamiltons were an old Scots family
and someone had emigrated to the States in the early 1800's. There was a
letter for Ma from her sister and a general invite for us all to visit when
we could.
Finally, there was a note in quite familiar writing. It was from
Matt.
Ma had already said he'd come round to see me but, of course, I wasn't
there. She said he looked so happy and he'd been promised further training
after Easter. In the note he said he had finished his training at the
Naval College and he had been commended by the Commandant. He had missed
seeing me as I was in Switzerland and was now off for a six-month stint on
a frigate and would be home for Easter. He hoped to see me then. It was
signed 'Matthew Ward Sub-Lieutenant RN'. My, my. Matt had succeeded in
his major ambition. To follow in his father's and grandfather's footsteps!
The next thing was to tell them about my new suit and other clothes.
Ma said her sister was very naughty, 'mechant', for buying such things for
us. She had another weep when I paraded in my finery. Pa was most
complimentary about the tailoring and said he wished he had such a good
suit. Cheeky me said he could borrow it as long as he didn't spill any
food on it. Actually we were now exactly the same height and looked very
much alike in build.
Pa asked had I had a letter from Mike? I said I hadn't. He then said
that Mike was now in Rome. He had passed all the tests at the seminary
after his two years there and was now starting further study in Rome before
he would be ordained in some years time. The O'Brien family, father,
mother and his two sisters still at home, Maureen and Anne, had gone to
London to see him as he crossed London to catch the boat-train from
Waterloo station. Pa said he was in a group of about ten under the
eagle-eye of a priest and had sent good wishes to all his friends. He had
said now he was out of the seminary he would be able to write but Pa said
he was no doubt very busy. I wondered what Mike would be like now. Gosh,
he was twenty. I missed Mike in many ways. And now the O'Brien family
were moving to Liverpool where Dr O'Brien was going to be a professor. Pa
said Maureen was off to the Chelsea School of Art and so that would only
leave Anne at home. I also heard that Kathleen and Bridget were both
expecting; Kathleen would be having a second child and Bridget her first.
Just before lunch a very excited Tony appeared, hot foot from church
and wearing his suit as well. He wanted to find out how I was but he also
had the good news that he'd been awarded a State Scholarship as well. The
Head Beak will be chuffed. Two, at least, State Scholarships in one year
for his school! He also had the news as he'd bumped into Mrs Clarke on the
way over. Nobbo, Cleggy and Benno had all passed Higher School Cert with
exemption from First MB and all three were already in London.
We were standing at the gate when Tony was just going home when Mr and
Mrs Buchanan came along also from being at church. I had to display my
healed knee and we heard that Tom had completed his training and was now
with a Signals unit and loving every moment. All the kerfuffle brought Mrs
Tring across and Tony and I had to tell her about his singing triumphs. Pa
came out and told her to go and fetch her husband and everyone was invited
in for a glass, or two, of sherry. Good old Pa!
So I had plenty to think about. Tony's final words were for me to
come round for tea on Wednesday afternoon, come early as Kats was home for
her afternoon off and wanted to hear all about Switzerland.
The rest of the day was completely in French or German. Both Ma and
Pa were amazed at the progress I'd made. But, I had been immersed in one
or other of the languages for two months. In fact, I was now at the stage
when I sometimes thought in French, forgetting I was in England. I didn't
realise how fluent Pa was in German, but he had spent four months in
Heidelberg two years after I was born, with Ma and me shipped off up to
Chester to stay with Grandma and Grandpa Thomson.
*
Monday, with Ma and Pa at work, I lazed around. I was at rather a
loose end. I missed the companionship of Johann and Tony very much. I
tossed myself off three times during the day, mainly from boredom but also
because I had an almost permanent hardon thinking of all our marvellous
times together. I kept grinning to myself, reliving those moments seeing
Heinrich and Hubert sucking and wanking and then falling into a fight.
But, I hoped it would work out for them. They had obviously learned a
lesson and from Johann's report back from school they were still friends.
*
Of course, I had to try out my bicycle. Was I safe on it? Pa said he
had got Sean to come along and check it out and other than a bent spoke all
was well. I rode into Kerslake on Tuesday, firstly to open a bank account
and secondly, to see Sean to thank him. I actually saw Sean first and he
was cock-a-hoop as he had been chosen for a County boxing tournament,
unfortunately after I would have left for Cambridge. I then went along to
the local branch of the Westminster Bank and who should be behind the
counter but John McDonald who had left when he finished his fifth year in
5S. We had a little chat before he ushered me into the manager's office
where I was received like royalty. My twenty pound cheque from the County
and another for fifty pounds from Pa were accepted and I was told that a
cheque book would be forthcoming in a day or so, Sir! Sir! Me not quite
eighteen, being called sir by a bank manager. When I told Pa he said he
thought bank managers only called you sir when you had an overdraft and
they wanted some blood out of the stone!
*
Wednesday afternoon I arrived at Tony's soon after two o'clock. Both
he and Kats were there and true, she was all over me. How was my leg?
Where did I want to sit? Was I comfortable? What about here on the sofa?
With a pillow? Tony winked at me behind her back and said he had to go
into Kerslake for about an hour on an errand for his father. Could we
cope? From what happened next the crafty toads had set me up. He was no
sooner out of the door when Kats was sitting next to me, stroking my leg,
luckily trousered, and saying she had been so worried when I'd had my
accident. She wished she could have come to Switzerland with us because we
could have had such good times together. It wasn't long before we were in
a hearty snog, with her whispering all sorts of endearments as she
smothered my face with kisses. Oh Hell! She was as randy as her brother
but with a softer body. She was wearing a light, thin blouse with buttons
down the front and my hand soon found a very soft, round breast in a rather
loose bra, and when I touched her nipple she groaned and moaned in the same
way that her brother did when his sensitive areas were touched.
I was on my back along the length of the sofa with Kats sprawled on
top of me. I had a hardon by now and she kept grinding her pelvis into me.
She didn't quite ask if I was packing a pistol but she certainly knew she
had me in a state of high excitement. I rolled over until we were more or
less side by side. Luckily the sofa was fairly wide or I would have landed
on the floor. In fact, she gave me a slight shove and the pair of us
landed on the rug in front of the fireplace. Next thing I knew she had
grabbed my hand and put it on the front of her rather scanty knickers as
her dress had rolled itself well up her thighs. Mindlessly, as I was still
being kissed into oblivion, I pushed the panties aside and my fingers were
exploring inside her. Wow! Wet and warm and most inviting. I must have
located the magic button very quickly as she was soon arching her back with
our mouths open and her tongue just about licking my tonsils. I think we
orgasmed together - a feat I have been told rarely occurs - I shot a load
in my clean Swiss undies just as she lurched and gave out a sound unlike
any I had ever heard before. She jerked herself against me, trapping my
hand between her legs with a force from what must have been good
hockey-player's muscular thighs, and I kept my finger well inside her until
she calmed down. Calmed down? We were both in the aftermath of an
unbridled frenzy. Well, Kats, you certainly had shown me I liked my
pleasures more ways than one!
We clutched at each other and, truth to tell, expressed undying love
for each other. Was I being a stupid boy? Does one say such things on the
first encounter with a soft, yielding, willing, female body? I had entered
her, albeit only with fingers. She had caused me to shoot a load of my
ever abundant youthful spunk. Was this love?
We untangled and my greatest worry was whether my outflow would show
itself . Kats knew exactly what had happened. She obviously knew about
boys - a lot more than I did about girls. She had felt my hard prick
against her. A much more lengthy and mighty object than the snail she'd
inspected so many years before. I was also aware of the changes in her,
the abundant patch of hair which I brushed with my palm as my fingers
explored and the new size of that previous small slit. I grinned at her
and said I would have to visit the bathroom. She grinned knowingly back
and said I'd also better wash my face as well if I didn't want Tony to
think I'd been trying on her lipstick.
Bloody hell. I'd only come in my pants a couple of times before. Oh,
yes and also that time I'd shot my load in my jock strap when I scored a
try! Both the previous times had been through what I had learned from
reading one of Cleggy's dad's textbooks was called auto-stimulation, or
autoerotic actions. That is, feeling horny with a hand in my pocket and
not being able to control myself. I hadn't been able to control myself
today and, in the bathroom, as I lowered trousers and pants was startled by
the sight of the dripping mass of so much white gunge. I mopped it up with
a face-cloth - well rinsed out after - and dried off with a decorated edged
towel. Ow. What was going to happen now?
When I got downstairs Tony had, miraculously, just arrived. He and
Kats must have had some discussion as he had a mischievous grin on his
face. I had been set up and Tony was going to pay. No! Why? I had
thoroughly enjoyed myself and, I must admit, there was a lifting of my
spirit as I looked at Kats.
She was tall and stately. A wonderful head of hair and an oval face
with a most winning smile. Stop, Jacko! Are you succumbing? Oh, yes!
Yes!! Yes!!!
Without thinking rationally I asked her, in the presence of her
grinning brother, if she would like to go to the pictures on Friday
evening! The die was cast!! Jacko was hooked!!!
I can't remember what we had for tea. I kept gazing on Kats' face.
Christ almighty! She'd had an effect on me. I left just after Mrs Marcham
returned. Tony saw me to the door. I couldn't say anything. He touched
me on the arm as we said cheerio.
"Go to the Odeon," he instructed, "Bit more classy." He clicked his
tongue. "I'll come round to see you tomorrow. Bit lonely on my own."
I was still a bit glassy-eyed when I got back home. Ma looked me up
and down. I don't think I looked dishevelled but I suppose I had a bit of
a goofy look on my face. Luckily Ma didn't enquire other than did I want
supper with them at seven. I nodded offhandedly lost in my own thoughts.
Then, the mention of food must have struck a need, I snapped out of my
doziness. I was telling Ma, in French, although I had eaten at the
Marcham's, of course I would be ravenous by seven.
Ma response was that her son hadn't changed much over the past two
months. Oh, Ma but I had. I had changed in some indefinable way this
afternoon. Wow!!
Oh, fuck! Fuck? Oh, it could have been! That night in bed I was
assailed with such a mixture of images I wasn't aware which set was the
prime mover each time spunk gushed from my prick. There were images of
Kats and the warm body and the warm wetness of that newly explored channel.
There were images of that grinning brother of hers beneath me with my fully
inserted prick in his own channel. The images got mixed. Which channel
was I in? My thighs began to jerk as the first wave passed though me and
warm, wet spunk spurted from my tightly gripped rod. I was panting quite
heavily but flashes of all sorts of encounters raced through my feverish
brain. Matt's huge cock in my hand, in my mouth. Tom sucking and Lachs
and Flea sharing their bodies with me and that warm, wet channel again and
a second wave of pure ecstasy accompanied a frenzied beating of my turgid
youthful meat. I wasn't finished. I tried shaking my head but the images
multiplied. They say a drowning man sees the whole of his life flash past.
Over the next half hour or so, I relived those first glorious young boy
wanks with Alun, those encounters with my other cousins, then Mike.... Oh,
Mike! My prick went even harder as I thought of that morning I fucked him
in this very room and how Roo and Matt and Tom and Tony had given me such
pleasure in all the ways boys could. My golden-haired new cousins and
their trust and love, that absolute love we had pledged ourselves to. I
thought of Tony again. The violence of those nights at Ulvescott.........
By now I was absolutely pounding my aching, throbbing, excruciatingly
sensitive shaft, yanking back my foreskin so hard on each stroke so that
the back of my swollen knob was pulled violently by that thick string of
skin. My mind coalesced the image of me hammering that engorged clubbed
knob of mine into Tony with a chaotic desire to fill that warm wet orifice
of Kats I had felt for the first time today with those engorged, demanding
to be satisfied, nigh on seven inches of mine. I came. A jet of spunk
landed directly on my face, splashing into my open mouth and coating my
chin, my neck and my chest. I did truly pass out! I came to, still
clutching my still vibrating, hard cock. I could hardly bear to touch it
but I had to hold it tight. My face had settled into such a grimace in
those last moments it took me sometime to compose my features. I had to
keep my mouth open wide as my chest was heaving with the deep breaths I had
to make. I also had pain in my left leg. When I shot my load my leg
muscles also spasmed and pulled on my now almost healed knee.
I lay very still, willing my leg to relax. Gradually all my muscles
relaxed but I still had a bit of an ache both in my well-beaten cock and
now around my knee. I gradually bent my knee up and massaged the muscles
before I could even contemplate mopping up that major outflow.
I then lay still for the best part of an hour, still tortured by a
kaleidoscope of images. Not really tortured, but I was unsure of what I
really wanted. As I relaxed, although my poor cock remained fully erect
through all this and my knee throbbed a bit, I thought of all my
friendships and how much they meant to me. Then, this single encounter had
shed a new light on me. Was I truly in love? I shook my head. I didn't
know but I had to explore. Was I having second thoughts about the trip to
the pictures? No! I was a big boy now and I had to learn to control my
emotions. I admitted to myself, that like Tony, I liked boys, my age boys.
I had only had experiences with boys...... Slowly, with my drying cum
mopped off me with my towel, I relaxed even further and fell into a deep,
deep sleep. I needed a resolution of my thoughts and feelings. I knew
time would tell. Relax and let matters take their course.
*
I must admit that Tony the next afternoon was a great help. He didn't
take the mickey, pull my leg or make crass jokes. But, first he had to
tell me that he'd been to have his own medical that morning. A little fact
he hadn't told me about! He was all smiles when I opened the door to him
and he informed me that he had been exempted from military service of any
sort. We went into the kitchen as he then said he wouldn't mind a cup of
tea. When I asked why he was exempt he laughed again and said he'd told
the first old medic who had examined him that he was looking forward to
being called up and he didn't mind Army, Navy or Air Force as there would
be plenty of erks, oiks and young squaddies who would be clamouring to
avail themselves of his ever rampant ten inch penis. I recoiled when he
said this as a) he was lying about his attributes and b) he said it so
convincingly. I stared in disbelief. Thoughts of him being arrested and
up before the Bench for incitement to buggery and all sorts of other
heinous crimes flashed through my mind. He must have sensed my unease.
"It's OK Jacko, old Winston said the Navy existed on rum, sodomy and
the lash! And I'm sure the Air Force lads like to do the loop-the-loop!"
He laughed. "Oh, come on, Jacko! That old boy took one look and said I
have a medical condition. He sent me off to some tubby guy in a side room
and he had another look and said something like Pes Planus, I think." I
must have looked puzzled now. "I've got flat feet," he roared, "Big flat
plates of meat. Bloody fool said by the time I'm forty I would probably
walk like a duck! Still no military service for me. Cambridge here I
come!"
I congratulated him on his good fortune even if it was at the expense
of his future gait. He must then have realised I was in a rather sombre
mood. I really opened my heart to him. I knew I could. We had developed
such a close friendship over the past two months. He knew I was troubled
and listened to me very attentively as I explained that his talk to me on
the train had made me think about myself. But my time with Kats on
Wednesday had confused me even further.
"I don't know what you and Kats did," he said when I had finished my
saga, "I shan't ask but I don't think you went all the way."
I shook my head.
"But whatever happened was something which you liked and it's made you
think."
I nodded this time.
"I think I've made my choice," he said, "Or, I think the choice has
been made for me. You haven't. I know you like boys. I've sensed that.
No, I've known that for a long time. But, you've also realised there are
girls as well. Perhaps you can deal with both. I wouldn't worry. You'll
have to see what Cambridge offers." He laughed. "Not many girls there
though, there's only Girton and Newnham and I'm told they only take them if
they have buck teeth and a hockey stick permanently sticking out of their
blue serge drawers! But, there's always Kats." He grinned. "She's put a
big note on her bedroom mirror about Friday night!"
Sensing that I was in no mood for any sexual release we spent a very
pleasant time recalling our visit to Switzerland. Tony was now quite
efficient in spoken French and said he would like to continue otherwise he
was going to get rusty. We were still sitting in the kitchen and laughing
about Hubert and Heinrich's little contretemps when Ma came home as Pa was
working late because the statisticians were reporting on some new results.
So, the three of us chatted in French and Ma said in no way was Tony to
give up the expertise he'd acquired.
Ma did remark after he'd gone that I seemed more relaxed today. I
said I would see what happened tomorrow. I had my medical in the morning
and I was taking Kats to the pictures in the evening. Ma didn't quite have
a fainting fit but did ask if Tony was going. I said as far as I knew he
wasn't. Ma nodded sagely.
That night in bed things were a bit calmer. Calmer in that the images
were not so chaotic. I tossed myself off three times just like the night
before, I made sure my leg didn't go into spasms. Twice I came to sweet
thoughts of the recent holiday. Of my young cousin, Johann, and my friend
Tony. My third climax happened to the combined image of Tony and his
sister and the feeling that my cock was somehow pleasuring all three of us
at the same time. I smiled as I wiped the third load from my chest and
stomach and fell into an encouragingly relieved deep sleep.
*
Ma banged on the bedroom door as she left for work just after eight.
I got up leisurely and had a bath as I didn't know what this medical
examination entailed. They obviously looked at your feet but what else?
After breakfast of toast and honey and two cups of tea I gathered the
big envelope of X-ray photos and my walking-stick and cycled off in good
time for the Drill Hall. I knew where it was as a couple of the
non-Catholic boxing matches had been held there. I remembered a large,
open space with the boxing ring set up in the middle. As I pushed open the
heavy door I found myself in the dusty space now partitioned off with rows
of hessian curtains about five feet high. A desk was just inside the door
and a young Corporal was sitting at it surrounded by a pile of boxes and
wire baskets of papers on top of it.
"Name?" he asked briskly as I stood taking in the rather bizarre
surroundings.
"Thomson," I said, rather more loudly than I had intended.
He scrabbled through a pile of papers in one of the wire baskets.
"Jack Peter Frank," he announced.
I shook my head. "No, Jacques, Pierre, Francis," I said much more
quietly, and using the French pronunciation.
"Foreign National?" he inquired. "Got a passport or alien's
certificate?"
"No," I said as evenly as I could. This was getting ridiculous. "I'm
English, born here in Kerslake."
He peered up at me as if I was the man from Mars. "Kerslake," he
repeated, "Ah, yes, this place." He looked at the paper in front of hm.
"Sorry, mate, I only come here to do the registration. Is this you?"
He thrust the paper in front of me. In a neat, clerkly hand some
Civil Servant had got me down, quite correctly, as Thomson, Jacques Pierre
Francis, date of birth September 30th 1929. I saw the address was correct
as well. "Yes that's me," I said. I thought I would play my trump card.
"Do you think I could sit down somewhere, my leg's troubling me."
He took a look at me leaning on my stick clutching the large brown
envelope. He smiled.
"Over there," he said, pointing to two rows of brown wooden chairs on
which three other lads of my age or thereabouts were already sitting.
"What you got?" he enquired rather nastily, "Bone in your leg?"
I ignored that and walked to the chairs and sat. Of course, I suppose
I wasn't the only one who had appeared with a walkingstick. Others had
probably tried it on. The Corporal had seen it all before. As time passed
so about twenty or so others joined the rows. I sat and stared fixedly
into space. The others as they joined looked slightly dazed, tired,
miserable, or glanced furtively up and down the rows looking rather scared.
I didn't recognise any of the names until the last lad came in dead on
time. Chater, Joshua Philip. Oh, Big Jim's brother and Sam Catt's cousin!
After what seemed an interminable wait, a large, corpulent, khaki-clad
figure loomed. Three stripes. A Sergeant. We were told to stand and
progress in an orderly manner into an adjoining room. Another Sergeant,
much younger than the first, was standing there looking bored. He waved us
to chairs behind desks on which were several sheets of paper. All he said
was fill them in and you have half an hour. He then sat down and picked up
a book and began to read, opening it at a page where a piece of paper was
sticking out. Silence reigned as twenty or so rather startled individuals
picked up the pencils on the desks and started to scratch away.
The first sheet had to be filled in with personal details. Name, date
of birth, schools and colleges attended, examinations taken, results. I
filled it in as rapidly as I could then picked up the second piece which
was actually a small booklet with a sequence of questions of various sorts.
Some sort of intelligence test. There were some easy arithmetic sums, then
a number of items where you had to choose the right answer and finally what
looked like picture puzzles. I was finished well before the half hour was
up and idly glanced on either side of me. Neither lad had got very far.
One was just starting on the booklet and the other looked as if he was
stuck on the problem dealing with opening and closing lock gates to let a
boat through. In the end he grunted, closed his eyes and sat still for the
rest of the time. I just sat and wondered about what I had just done. If
I'd left out my academic scholastic career putting down I'd been to the
local Elementary School and been unemployed since, other than a stint as a
trainee stoker at the gas-works, and then put all wrong answers to the
mental test questions, what would have happened? Get a call-up into some
regiment for real thickees, or, did they take real thickees? The lad who
was still staring at the questions in the booklet sighed and put his pencil
down and started muttering to himself. Was he a thickee?
At the end the Sergeant stood up, closed his book and put it on his
desk and told us to stop writing, stand up and go and sit outside again.
We shuffled out. I deliberately walked past the desk where he had been
sitting, using my stick as an excuse for needing extra space, and peered at
the title of the book. Oh, it seemed to be 'An Introduction to Symbolic
Logic'. I wondered who the Sergeant was and what was he doing here. I
noticed he had Education Corps on his shoulder flashes so perhaps he was
one of the Sergeant Testers that Billy Clarke had said he was going to be.
No sooner were we outside and sitting again on the hard wooden chairs
than the first Sergeant came rampaging along.
"Right, stand up," he ordered, eying up and down the lines of rather
hesitant figures. "Get a move on, we ain't got all day!" He fixed his eye
on a short lad nearly opposite me. "You lad, you're a bit too slow! Stand
up!" He walked back two paces and pointed across the room behind the
hessian dividing line. "Now listen carefully. You will go across there
and you will strip down to your underpants and you will stand in a line
until you are wanted. Is that clear?" No one moved or said anything. He
sneered at us. "Right, then! Move! left, right, left, right, come on,
get a move on!"
There was no left, right, left, right, from this sorry band of
pilgrims or whatever. We shuffled round the hessian trail until we were
confronted with a long, single row of the same type of wooden chairs. The
Sergeant was right behind us, muttering under his breath.
He banged his swagger stick on the first chair. "You will place your
clothing on a chair and you will stand in front of that chair. Is that
clear?" Not a sound. "Get moving, then, get yourselves undressed!"
I turned to my chair and began to put things on it. My walkingstick
fell to the floor. The Sergeant loomed over me.
"You lad!" he roared, meaning me I assumed, "Pick that up and place it
on the chair."
OK, OK, you khaki-clad goon. I couldn't help it, you puffed-up barrel
of lard! Compared with you, Sergeant Henry Gale would have been like an
angel with silver wings! I didn't look at him but folded my jacket neatly
before I took my tie off and rolled that and placed it on the jacket. I
deliberately went as slow as possible and was undoing my shoelaces when the
Sergeant let out another roar. I looked round, scanning the row. A rather
husky- looking lad was just putting his wire-framed spectacles on, but
being quicker than me had divested himself sooner and, lo and behold, was
displaying his all to the angels. No undies!
"That lad there!" bellowed our mentor, "You lad!"
As we were all "Lad" everyone looked round in some bewilderment at the
source of the horrendous sound. Then realising the noise was pointing its
stick at someone else everyone turned to see who. The husky lad, realising
he was the centre of attention, went a shade of pink. I didn't concentrate
on his face but glanced down. Well, well, from where I was standing he had
a fine set of tackle, drooping low and large.
"You lad! Come here! Cover your hairy nakedness with this!"
The Sergeant hurled these commands, together with a particularly
off-white towel, just as the unclothed lad advanced up the row. The towel
landed some four or five from him. It was my first experience today, other
than that encounter with Sergeant Higgs at Ulvescott when he reprimanded me
for fraternising with the enemy, with the Army manner of speaking. Here it
was designed to blast the lad and his hairy nakedness to Kingdom Come. The
lad came forward. At least he sauntered over to where the towel had landed
and, before the Sergeant could unleash another fortissimo bellow, said, in
a very cultured, Public School accent.
"I'm so sorry, Sergeant, but I was in rather a hurry this morning and
quite forgot that I would be required to undress."
We all turned to look at the Sergeant. His face was a picture. If
the bare-arse lad was a bit pink around the gills then Sergeant beat him
hands down. The colour rose in his cheeks, his chest heaved, but then he
realised we were not yet fully in his clutches. He turned sharply on his
heel and marched off, head held high. The husky lad shrugged his
shoulders, bent down, giving the lads behind him a good view, no doubt, of
his hairy hole, picked up the towel and very delicately tied it around his
waist.
We stood and shivered as there was a howling draught through the
ill-fitting doors and it wasn't too warm on this late September day. But
then degrading horror was then piled on degrading horror.
In the order we were standing in, each successive shiverer was
summoned by a beckoning hand of an orderly behind a makeshift screen of not
quite opaque hessian. Here we were to be examined. The whole procedure
started with a request from a Corporal in a white coat to provide a sample
'in one of those, ducky!'.
As I was in the second row I had to wait while about ten youths were
asked their names and were then heard piddling into jars with
remonstrations of 'Enough!', 'Stop!', 'Come on, lad, you can do better than
that!' and similar exhortations.
The husky lad was now a couple of lads in front of me and the exchange
between him and the orderly could be heard by all still waiting.
"I'm very sorry, but I don't seem to be able to provide you with a
specimen."
"Sample, luvvy, it's a sample. When we take some of your sputum or
your stools that's a specimen. Now, lets give it a squeeze while I pour
this water, dearie."
The sound of rushing water cascading from a jug into a basin ensued,
then a plaintive squeak from the orderly.
"Watch it, luv, you're pissing on my coat! Keep that thing straight
in!"
"I'm most awfully sorry," came a contrite voice, "I seem to have
missed the bottle. There's not much. Still, there's a drop in the tray
for you!"
"Go and wait at the back," the orderly ordered him peevishly, "If it's
not enough I'll call you later."
The lad crashed his way through a couple of chairs and bumped a table,
all the time peering myopically through his thick glasses. By this time
the rest of the line was in quiet hysterics and the lad in front of me made
a most peculiar sound when the orderly handed him his receptacle. From the
shadow through the hessian I was sure the orderly manually assisted him
with placing his cock to the bottle.
It was my turn next. There was I in my undies, walkingstick at the
ready. The skinny orderly was getting a little annoyed.
"I'll hold that while you're doing it," he said very waspishly, after
checking my name on his list and scribbling it on the label on a bottle.
Hold what? Oh, my walkingstick. He took it from me but put it behind
him on a chair before thrusting a glass container at me. I hoiked my
floppy cock out of the leg of my pants and held my end over the bottle.
"Oh God," he breathed as it was evident that I was also having
difficulty in producing anything. The more I strained the more my
waterworks seized up and my poor cock seemed to shrivel. I just could not
pee!
"Come on! Let's get something in that bottle!"
He was almost flailing his arms and knocked my stick off the chair in
his exasperation. At that moment my floodgates opened and a great stream
of yellow piss squirted into the bottle and, before I could stop,
overflowed the top. Unluckily the impatient orderly chose that moment to
take the bottle, probably not realising I had started and was nowhere near
finished, so received an extra bonus of a handful of hot Thomson water. He
went bananas. My stick had fallen at his feet and as he moved he trod on
it and it twisted and whacked the leg of the table with a resounding bang
and clatter. He was almost dancing with rage and was holding the bottle
away from himself and was waving it around with pee dripping from his
fingers into the tray out of which he had plucked it. He was swearing and
getting very hot under the collar. Hearing the clatter and the hullabaloo
the demon in khaki materialised.
"What's the matter, Corporal?" he barked.
"This soldier has pissed on my hand, Sergeant!!"
"If you kept your hands off their cocks a bit more it wouldn't happen,
Corporal!"
With that he turned and stamped off again.
"Bitch!" came the peevish response, "Khaki arsehole, I'll get the
bastard. He'd better not come to me complaining he thinks he's got the pox
again, fuck him!" The last imprecation came through clenched teeth while
the Corporal was soaking his hands in the basin of water and then drying
them on an equally dingy towel to the one the husky lad was wearing. I
stood still, not knowing if there was some dire military punishment for
pissing on a Corporal's hand and bursting into laughter at the same time.
I heaved with laughter internally, at least reducing the level of
retribution by fifty per cent. He wrinkled his nose at me. "Go on, move
on, over there!"
The last of the throng behind me were obviously very intrigued by all
of this and I noticed as I waited in line for the next onslaught on my
person that, being over six feet I was able to peer over the hessian
barrier, and saw him definitely finger two of the flaccid organs as he
reached for the bottles. It was also interesting that no protest came from
the owners, especially the one who had his foreskin retracted for him so
that he would have a more straightforward flow. It seemed that the orderly
knew how to judge his customers! Had he tried to finger mine and got a
wetting as well?
I had reclaimed my stick and then asked the lad behind me to keep my
place. I went back to my very tidy heap of clothes and retrieved the large
brown envelope of X-ray photos. It was a diversion as we then had to wait
ages until I saw two elderly officer-type medics reappear from a side room.
They had either been out for a cuppa or a slash.
They settled at two desks behind a further on set of hessian curtains.
We were ushered in, one by one, names were checked and the order came from
another Corporal orderly, "Remove underpants". I then had to stand under
some gallows-type equipment and a jutting-out piece of wood was dropped on
my head. To do this the very short orderly had to stand on a stool. >From
the look on his face he didn't like anyone over five feet six inches which
I judged to be his height. He sneered as he read off my height of six feet
two inches and entered it against my name. He poked me in the side and
indicated I should stand between the two desks.
Of these two medical gentlemen sitting at the desks, one was a front
man, the other a back man. That is, medic numero uno glanced casually from
top of head to tip of toes, pausing briefly to gaze at the configuration
below the navel. He then signalled to the attendant orderly who had
finished measuring the height of the lad behind me. He advanced
nonchalantly on me and parted my pubic hair with a flat piece of wood.
"Clean, Sir," he drawled as he dug the wooden spatula into the base of
my dick. I looked down at him. A ghost of a smile played on his lips.
"Bloody little sadist," I thought, "I'll....", but, before I could
formulate my own sadistic remedies, the ancient medic had stood up,
approached me, grabbed my nuts and demanded, "Cough!".
All I could say was "Ouch!", whereupon he unclenched his hand and
growled at the orderly, "You didn't check his armpits!"
The orderly moved forward again, a really sour look on his face.
"Put you arms up above your head," he snarled.
Oh God, he was not pleased. He had to stretch up to part the hairy
tufts under my arms.
"Axillae clean, Sir," he announced and flicked the spatula into the
bin by the desk.
"Right," said the medic, "But hurry up with the others as we've still
got a lot to see. There's another batch after lunch." He looked at his
watch and sniffed.
The other medic was writing something on a pad and stubbing out a
cigarette end with the other hand as I approached his desk and waited. I
heard quite a clunk as the wood dropped onto the lad who had been behind me
in the queue. The orderly obviously didn't like anyone taller than him
even when the measured one was about five feet eight. What's two inches
between friends? Some hope he'd ever be a friend of mine after scratching
my cock with that stick!
The medic looked up. "Name?" I gave it. He twisted his fingers
which I took to be a signal to turn round. This I did in time to witness
the sadist almost shearing off the next lad's tool with the spatula. The
lad gave a sharp intake of breath and I saw his fists clench. "Clean, Sir"
came the drawl, nearly making me miss the unwanted attentions of the second
ancient medic who was standing behind me and at that moment took it into
his head to run a cold finger down my spine. I jumped.
"Keep still, soldier!" he rasped. Years of cigarette smoking had done
nothing for his throat.
Before I could interject that I wasn't yet a soldier he rasped again,
"Bend over!", at the same time giving me a shove in the back. I leant on
my stick and bent.
"With your legs open!" came a third rasp.
I gingerly moved one leg apart from the other.
"Further!"
I complied and then felt a gloved hand probing my ring. I tensed up.
This certainly wasn't my cousin Johann's nice young prick!
"Keep bloody still!" he rasped once again, "I can't see anything if
you move around!"
He probed again. "All right, stand up, go over there."
Another orderly, in charge of an ancient weighing machine, was over
there. I was weighed and then he had to measure my chest. As he was
another thin, weedy, short character, putting a measuring tape round my
chest entailed a lot of huffing and puffing and rubbing his body against
mine which was more pleasure for him than for me. Luckily I had my
underpants on by then but I don't think his ministrations would have had
any effect as I was too pissed off with the whole enterprise to even think
of a hardon.
"Why do they all seem so big around here?" he muttered as he drew the
tape tight round my chest at nipple level.
"Breathe out," he muttered in the same undertone. I did do. "Forty
inches," he intoned. He adjusted the tape a bit. "Breathe in deep," he
commanded.
I did as requested, taking in as deep a breath as I could. He had to
loosen the tape as quickly as he could.
"Christ!" he hissed, "Forty-four and a half inches!! How the hell did
you get an expansion like that?"
"Pure living," I said with no more than a hint of sarcasm.
"You've got nice muscles, too," he whispered, "Do you do
body-building?"
"Just weights," I said.
He nodded and his eyes strayed slowly downwards, past my clothed
equipment because I wondered what remark he might have said about my pride
and joy. His eyes rested on my hairy, still quite muscled thighs. I
tensed my thigh muscles so they stood out a bit more.
"Oh, I wish I was bigger," he whispered, "It's not fair."
I shrugged my shoulders wondering if it was just bits, or all of him,
he wanted enlarging and realised I was still encircled by the tape he was
holding.
"You're holding up the queue," I said and made to move away.
"Don't worry," he whispered again, "Let the buggers wait. I like
someone to talk to. This is so bloody boring but you'd better go before
Sergeant Grimes comes snooping around."
He unloosened the tape and entered some figures besides my name on his
pad. I picked up my stick and went back to the chair where I had left my
envelope of photos. Another poor lad was getting the spatula chopping off
cock treatment and smiled wanly as I passed him. When I got back to the
chest-measuring orderly he eyed the stick then the envelope.
"X-rays?" he asked.
I nodded.
"Why the fuck didn't you say, you fool, " he said, not unkindly, and
shook his head. "If you have a medical condition you see Major Phibbs in
the side room there. Bloody Grimes should have asked everyone at the
start. Did he?"
I shook my head.
"Oh God," he said, then laughed, "I'll get the bastard for that." He
pointed to a door on the other side of the room. "Just knock on the door."
I had to return past the two desks and the height measuring orderly.
I slowed up as I got near as the husky lad was under the gallows. I
listened
"Five feet, eleven inches," came the orderly's tones. He pushed at
the lad to get him away from the measuring apparatus. "At least you're not
as tall as that lanky bastard just now." He must have realised that lanky
bastard was very near him. He moved so the husky lad was between us. I
stood for a moment as if unsure of where to go. Still with the fleshy
barrier between us he went on. "The Colonel's busy here and Corporal
Talbot's got a problem down there so I'll measure your chest."
As I slowly made my way to the side room door I paused again and heard
the orderly. "Breathe out - forty-two inches, breathe in, forty-five
inches. My, you do have quite a barrel of a chest. Do you do
body-building?" I didn't catch any reply but I wondered about medical
orderlies!
So, there I was, just in underpants, stick in one hand and photos in
the other with a 'medical condition'. I rapped on the door. A tired
sounding voice called out "Come in".
The room was bare except for a table, a chair and a tubby youngish man
in a white coat sitting with his feet on the table reading a copy of the
Times.
"First one today," he said, "Thank God for small mercies. And what
have you got? Syph, clap, or ingrowing toenails?" He gave a laugh and
smiled. "Have to say that, it scares the malingerers off!" He held out a
hand. I gave him the envelope. He spread the photos on the table and then
held each in turn up to the light from a rather grubby window. There was a
letter which fluttered out. He picked it up and read it. He looked at me
and smiled.
"Mr Foljambe is of the opinion that Jacques Thomson would not be fit
for military service of any kind. Very complimentary about you as well.
So, as the old bugger was my surgery tutor at Guys I'd better take heed.
You can put your clothes on and go home. Nice to have met you. Not going
to be a medic yourself?"
I said I was going to Cambridge to read Modern Languages in just over
a week's time.
He laughed . "Did my pre-clinical training there. Played a bit too
much rugger though and almost got the push. You won't be playing anything
much with that knee. Take care of it and best of luck."
He got up, shook me by the hand, opened the door and ushered me out.
Here I was rejected for military service and he didn't even see if my knee
fitted the photos. As I sorted out my clothes and dressed I heard Sergeant
Grimes and the orderly having a real shouting match. I was just finishing
dressing when the husky lad came past me and started to put his clothes on
as well.
We looked at each other and grinned.
"Bloody hell," he said. "I could have told them from the start I
couldn't see the letters. That oculist took one look at my lenses and told
me to scarper. At least I won't be called up."
Another 'medical condition'. I thought I had better introduce myself.
"You're Big Jim's brother and Sam Catt's cousin, aren't you?" I said.
He peered at me hard and I saw his lenses were quite thick.
"Yes, that's right, I am, I'm Jim's little brother Josh" he said.
"Big Jim was at my school and I met Sam at Ulvescott. I'm Jacko
Thomson," I explained.
He peered at me again. "Fuck me," he said and chortled, "That little
bastard said he'd met you because you're related to Mrs Crossley, right?"
"You've a memory for detail," I said, "That's right"
He laughed again. "That little bastard should be locked up. Gets me
into fucking trouble whenever I see him! What about coming for a drink,
pubs'll be open, it's gone twelve."
I said I wasn't eighteen until next week and anyway I had never drunk
beer. He laughed again.
"Eighteen three weeks ago. Anyway can't abide the stuff myself.
Can't drag you into bad habits. We can try that twee little Lyons
tea-house instead. Toast and beans as well, eh?" He was in a cheery mood.
"Sorry about the display in there. I couldn't find anything clean so
didn't bother. Gave that sergeant something to shout about though, eh?"
We had both finished dressing by then and went off round the back
where he's also parked a bike. A truly decrepit old thing. He looked
admiringly at my drop-head racer.
"Jim's just got a motor-bike so he's going to teach me."
As we cycled off down the road he whipped off the specs and thrust
them into his jacket pocket. He turned to me with a grin.
"Shan't need those anymore," he said and laughed again, "Been
practising with them for a fortnight. God don't they make your eyes ache."
He looked at the stick balanced on my handlebars.
"And did they believe your tale?"
Oh, what! He'd fooled them into thinking he was so short-sighted he
could hardly see and he was wanting to know how I had bamboozled the
medics!
"I actually broke my knee-cap falling off my bicycle and I have the
X-rays to prove it!" I said rather haughtily.
"Good for you, so you're not for enlistment, either?"
I shook my head.
He laughed. "Well I had to find something. It was either the glasses
or a drop of glucose up the old wee-wee pipe and Jim said that was a bit
dangerous as you just had to have the right amount for the widdle test."
I laughed and said I'd peed on the orderly's hand. But what was the
glucose for? Oh, yes, they tested the pee for sugar to see if you had
diabetes. Mr Coles had explained about that when we were doing foodstuffs
and digestion. But how would you get it up the inside of your shaft? Who
knows? He might say.
He giggled. "Good for you. I heard him squawking to that old
Sergeant after you did it. Even brought a smile to the face of that crusty
old sod behind the desk. Christ! I couldn't hear what he was saying when
he was holding on to my knackers. I didn't hear him say 'Cough' and
thought he said 'Off' and I was just about to make a run for it when I
realised he was still gripping my family jewels!" He laughed. "What a
performance.
When I had my turn with the bottle that screaming idiot held my end as he
didn't think I could see the bottle. Gave me a right squeeze, too. Gave
him more of a thrill than it did me, I bet! I was trying to get my todger
out of his grip so missed the bottle and peed on his coat! What a bloody
laugh!"
We were at the Lyons teashop by then and parked our bikes outside and
found a quiet corner. The Nippy took our order and we settled down for
what turned out to be a long and very informative chat.
He stretched his legs out under the table and sat back. "Glad that's
all over!" he said with a smile. "Bet you're glad too, eh?"
I nodded. He grinned back.
"So what did the little sod tell you about me?" he whispered across
the table.
He could only mean Sam. What should I say? What could I say? He was
such a consummate fraud himself. He'd managed to have a non-existent
'medical condition' and he'd got away with it. I had a real 'medical
condition' but had been subjected to at least three snide remarks. But,
mine was true. And I had been turned down quite legitimately. Bugger him!
I would be honest. Or, at least, I would dangle him on a string for a bit
to begin with. I knew, if Sam was truthful, he had taught Sam to suck cock
and if that was true his instruction had led to great mastery of the art!
And there was the ban! And the school!
"Oh, Sam told me you went to some God-awful school," I began.
"Too right!" he interrupted, "What they couldn't teach you by clouting
your head they shoved up your arse with a stick." He laughed, "But they
didn't teach us much anyway except to march up and down in straight lines!
Big on discipline, though!"
"Sam said..." Gosh, I was beginning to sound like Flea and his 'Potty
says...' "....it was a school for difficult boys." A bit of a euphemism I
felt.
He laughed again. "Yeah, we'd all been in a spot of bother or
something." He leaned further over the table. "I can tell you the truth,
in my case it was a mistake."
Oh, yeah, I thought. I raised an eyebrow. Just then the Nippy
brought our order and fussed round the table getting very close as she laid
the plates out, followed by the cups, saucers, pot of tea, etc. No sugar.
She wrinkled her nose when she said that. Of course, rationed! She sidled
away having managed to bump into both of us and walked off with her bum,
supposedly provocatively, swinging from side to side. Two rabbits in a
sack I thought. I suppose she thought two virile young men needed a show
of femininity. Josh waited until she was well out of earshot and in the
meantime we both had a mouthful of the hot toast and beans. He swallowed.
"Yes, as I was saying, before Miss Borgia there interrupted me, it was
all a mistake." He chomped through another mouthful. "Christ, I was only
seven. I was in one of dad's barns with a friend and we were flicking
matches. You know, hold the box with a match resting on the striker and
then flick it away with the other hand."
He looked at me for confirmation. Yes, I knew. At about the same age
I had wasted at least half a box of matches doing the same thing in the
back garden until Ma banged on the kitchen window.
"Of course, my so-called friend flicked one match too far and it went
into a pile of hay. That caught alight and he scarpered and one of dad's
hands came in and put it out and dragged me off to dad. The bastard didn't
like me anyway 'cause I'd filled his rubber boots with water one day." He
shrugged his shoulders. "C'est la vie, as they say in Frog land." He
grimaced. "Next thing I knew I was bundled off to Cartlands and it's
reputation for knocking sense into naughty boys. Stayed there until this
year. Learned bugger all!"
'Learned bugger all'. I thought from what Sam had told me that was
correct, perhaps with a 'to' between 'learned ' and 'bugger'!
I was eating steadily through my plate of grub and waited while he
took a gulp of his tea.
"Oh, yes," I said, "Didn't you have Colonel Osbourne's grandson
there?"
Josh looked up and eyed me very keenly.
"Yeah, Ozzy was there. What do you know about him?"
"Nothing really," I said, knowing full well from Sam's story he liked
his cock sucked nightly. "Sam did say he was always in trouble."
Josh sniffed and took another swig at his cup of tea. "Poor bastard,"
he said slowly, "None too bright. He was our cubby boss for four years
'till he left." He looked at me as I, too, took a swig from my cup.
"That's our room prefect. He's in the Army now. He's just a squaddie -
and his father's an officer. Suits him though." He sniggered. "Brains
are all in his bollocks and he's not too well-hung at that!"
I laughed in concert with him. Josh shook his head, then looked at me
with a bit of a smile on his face..
"You know, really if there was justice it should be Sam at that
school."
I stared at him across the table. He'd said that with such sincerity.
"But he said you were banned from staying at your aunt's with him because
you were a bad influence on him."
He looked truly disheartened. "I loved staying there but aunt won't
have me at all."
"Potting shed?" I said quietly.
He nodded. "Let's finish this and I'll tell you outside." He looked
at me and gave a ghost of a grin. "He told you?" I nodded. "...And he
tried it on you?" I nodded again.
We finished our lunch with a change of subject. I did tell him I was
off to Cambridge and he said he was starting at an Agricultural College
next week.
"Dad's bought the farm next to ours and he says I can manage it when
I've done the course. Jim doesn't want to farm, he'll go into partnership
with Uncle Lawrence when he's finished his course. I love being on the
farm."
"I don't know what I'll do when I finish at Cambridge," I said, "Teach
probably." I finished my cup of tea. "I've just been to Switzerland for a
couple of months. Tony Marcham came with me. He was in the Scouts with
Jim and Sam's been to camp with them."
He grinned. "And I've heard the tales," he said. "Marcham's a pal of
yours. Is he?"
I nodded. "Yeah, we go back to Junior School days. In fact I'm
taking his sister out to the flicks tonight."
He gurgled. "Well, well, the famous Kats, eh? She's a pal of my
cousin Bella."
I peered at him. "You do have an extended family, don't you?"
He laughed. "Yeah, all live in the area. Farming, vets, seed
merchants, agricultural machinery, you name it, our family's there
somewhere. Anyway, Bella's mum is my mum's sister. She's quite a girl and
so's Kats! Best of luck there, mate!"
I didn't enquire further as we had both finished. The rather more
than curvaceous Nippy came and cleared the table and left the bill. We
divided it in two and both left a tip for the waitress.
As we exited the door Josh turned to me and whispered very
confidentially "Bet she'd like a bigger tip than that! On the end of a
long thick rod, eh? Practically stuck her bosom in my face when she
cleared the table. Must be thirty though. Bit old for me.
But if it's on offer, who cares."
Oh, true, she had also brushed my shoulder with her rather well-padded
frontage.
"Women like that can't get enough of it," he continued, "Not that I
would know. What about you?"
I shrugged my shoulders. Was he fishing? The shrug could be
interpreted as positive or negative I supposed. Josh wasn't finished. He
was clenching his buttocks.
"Bloody hell!" he said with some emphasis, "That old geezer this
morning had his finger up my ring. Bloody itches now. Do the same to
you?"
I nodded and laughed.
"God!" he went on, "What with that other one grabbing me balls and
that
fey little creature holding on to me todger it was a fair old pantomime,
eh?"
All I could do was grin at him. We had reached our bikes. He looked
at me craftily.
"Jim told me about some big black lad who went for his medical. You
know what they say about them?" No reply was necessary. "He undressed and
there it was, all hanging out nearly down to his knees. The first quack
took one look, reached down and pulled back his skin, then pulled it back
down again. He shook his head in wonderment. Then he called over a second
quack who did the same. Neither had seen anything so big before so they
called over all the medics. They all reached down and pulled his skin back
and then pulled it forward again. 'If you're doing that for science, it's
OK' the lad drawled, 'But if it's for my pleasure do you mind doing it a
bit quicker!'."
I laughed dutifully. I'd heard it before. Several times. It was one
in Prosser's extensive repertoire, together with about six or seven verses
of the Good Ship Venus which I'd also heard from Rhys. Oh God! I'd found
in Switzerland that jokes were universal - almost. After the monkey and
the plums Johann was regaled with 'The cabin boy's name was Kipper, He was
a little ripper, he filled his arse with broken glass, and circumcised the
skipper!' At least he hadn't heard that one and Tony and I spent a happy
half hour providing a commentary on it.
Ice was broken. Potting sheds had been mentioned, now a good, ripe
joke. I was ready for any more revelations. We straddled our bikes and
cycled slowly up the main street towards the market square. He stopped and
pointed to a vacant seat at the side.
"Let's sit there and have a chat. I've got to go to Woolworths for
mum but there's plenty of time, eh?"
We leaned our bikes against the back of the wooden seat. He drew out
a packet of cigarettes and offered me one. I shook my head. He jiggled
one out and lit up, drawing on it greedily and then let out a long stream
of smoke.
"One thing Ozzy taught me," he said contentedly, "How to enjoy a
smoke.
Bastard could blow smoke rings and I can't."
I waited. He took a couple more drags.
"What did young Sam tell you about the potting shed?" he asked.
"Oh, he said your aunt found you and him indulging in a bit of
activity."
"Christ!" he laughed, "The little sod only had his mouth clamped round
my dick." He shook his head and raised his hands. "Not guilty. I didn't
teach him that."
"But he said Ozzy...." I trailed off.
"Fuck me!" he said, "He did spill the beans a bit."
I was enjoying myself. "Yeah, he was rather explicit but I knew about
him being at Scout camp with your brother and Tony and the others so I
suppose he thought he could tell me anything."
He looked at me with a quizzical air. "Anyone else there when he told
you?"
I wasn't going to say Tom's name so I just nodded. "No names," I
said.
"OK, OK," he said. "But then I did go to an all boys' school and
there wasn't much else to do." He grinned. "Passes the time for horny
youths, eh?"
I think he'd guessed I wasn't inexperienced, either.
"Jim and that Marcham boy are very pally," he said, I think, testing
the water.
"Yeah, I know. What with Scout camps and last summer."
"Yeah. I was stuck on the farm and Jim was at Aunt Mattie's. I think
they're pretty close."
He clammed up after that. We had a further conversation about the
farm. Apparently, Mr Marcham had been the agent dealing with the sale and
had negotiated a good price. He was full of praise for him. I told him
Kats was now working for her father. He laughed and said I was on to a
good thing there. Good thing. Poor confused me! I wondered if I should
invite him home for a cup of tea. I decided against it. I didn't really
want to get into another entanglement at the moment. I wouldn't have
minded holding his rather substantial looking 'todger' and I would
certainly drag his foreskin back and forth a bit quicker than the medics in
the story and I don't think he would have been averse to handling another
youthful rod to add to the, no doubt, considerable total already
manipulated - and here I was getting a twitching in the nether regions
already! I would have liked to know more about the adventures in the
cubbies, but no! He finished a second cigarette and conversation lapsed.
We both recognised that was the end - for the moment. We cycled off
together, then parted with cheery waves at the top of the main street as he
turned into the shopping area.
To be continued:.....