Date: Fri, 04 Jan 2002 23:54:46 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad123@hotmail.com>
Subject: Flip's Tale Chapter 3 First Part

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.

My thanks to those who have kept in touch after my previous stories.  If
you haven't read them yet I have listed them at the end of this first
episode.  Bless you all.

				Flip's Tale

			   Chapter 3: First Part

		    3A: Kinloch School: September 1996

I woke pretty early on Wednesday morning and was ready, washed and dressed
in my new school uniform well before I heard Aunt Margaret stirring.

I checked out my two bags of clothes and precious possessions and thought
to myself that I'd woken up that morning without my usual hardon.
Underlying anxiety?  A bit, perhaps.

The letter from the headmaster, or Rector as his proper title, confirming
Mr McCrae's decision to accept me in his House had noted I should get to
the school by eleven o'clock.  I was in the kitchen ferreting about for
breakfast things when Aunt Margaret came in at half past seven.  She was
very cheerful as she said she'd had a good night's sleep with no night
calls to visit patients and why was I up so early as we didn't have to
leave until well after nine o'clock.

I kept my mouth shut.  I must admit I was getting more apprehensive by the
minute.  The wonderful thoughts of Tom and all the things we'd done and the
comforting wank in bed last night had all evaporated.  Here was I, poor
boy, about to be cast out onto unknown waters.  I thought that if I talk
too much things might get a bit emotional.

Good old Aunt Margaret.  She had sensed my disquiet.  She was patience and
tact itself as she got my breakfast.  I did go to the window to see Tom's
school bus go past the end of our track at quarter to eight.  I didn't
think it politic to go down and wave to him.  Too embarrassing for both of
us.  But I did cheer up a bit thinking about our last encounter on my bed.
Even while eating Aunt Margaret's sustaining porage at the time didn't stop
my young cock from getting a bit hard.

Aunt Margaret had to do some 'phoning so after breakfast I went to my room.
I checked over my list of things to be taken and took the photo of Tom and
me out of its frame and tucked it down the side of my suitcase so it was in
the folds of my kilt.  I then had to tidy my packing again.

At half past nine Aunt Margaret chivvied me up and I put the two bags into
the Range Rover and we set off at her usual cracking pace.  Tom's mum was
in her garden and waved as we went by.  I think Tom must have asked her to
do that.

Aunt Margaret drove like the clappers - she always did - so we arrived at
Kinloch well before the appointed hour of eleven.

The first person I saw as we drew up outside the McCrae house was Simon.
He was dressed more respectably this time in green sweatshirt and calf
length cargo pants.  He was supervising the unloading of another Four by
Four with a lad of my age being fussed over by his mother.

Simon greeted us quite effusively.  "Hi, Dr Menzies, how are you?  I see
Flip made it on time."

He turned to the boy and his mother.

"This is Mrs Campbell and her beloved Paul."

The boy clenched a fist and made a face at Simon.

"Watch your step, Simon Fleming," he said in the lilting tones of a western
Highlander whose voice had just about broken, "I've grown one and half
inches this summer holiday."

Simon put his hands up defensively while Paul's mother laughed.

"Poor child," she said, "He's had his brother Roddy home on leave chasing
him around so he's really glad to get back to school so he can laud it over
his so-called friends."

"Mother!" he said with a hint of exasperation in his voice, "You are so
embarrassing!  I haven't even been introduced yet."

His mother turned to my aunt.

"Well you should know Dr Menzies and I suspect this is her nephew."

Paul was a very self-assured young man.  Introductions were rapidly done.
So this was Paul Campbell, my next door bed mate, the dorm prefect.  From
what I remembered Simon telling me he was about three months older than me,
but, he was at least three inches shorter.  He was stocky, dark-haired with
very blue eyes.  I liked him on first sight.  I hoped we would be friends.
Aunt Margaret and Mrs Campbell turned out to be friends.  They had met on
various committees for something or other and disappeared into the McCrae
house to scrounge some morning coffee off Mrs McCrae.  At least that was
what Paul's mother said they would do.  I liked his mother, too.

As soon as they went off Simon said we should go to the dorm with our bags
and then come down as he needed a bit of help when others arrived and in
that way I would get to know other members of the House.  He told us to
come back in sweatshirts as we looked too stuffy in school uniform.

We hefted our bags, at least I did, Paul had four to my two so he left the
two smaller ones until later.  I helped him carry the largest one up the
stairs as well as holding onto my two.

"Gosh," he said admiringly when we reached the top of the stairs, "You're
strong, aren't you?"

I just shrugged my shoulders as he barged the door to the dorm open.  What
a difference!  The bare room I had seen before now had dark red and gold
curtains and matching duvets and pillowslips on each bed.  I took all this
in with one glance as I followed Paul.

"Stand by your beds you lazy lot!" he yelled and turned to me, grinning.

"Fuck off, Camiknicks!"  A voice came from the other side of the room.

"I knew you'd be here, Cowface!  And where's Little Dick?"

"I'm here, Paul," came another voice, much quieter and pitched higher.

Paul laughed.  "Here Flip, let me introduce, Fergus St Andrew Cowen, known
affectionately as Cowface when he's in one of his better moods."  He
indicated a tall rangy boy sitting on the bed next to the one I had been
designated.  "And this is Little Dick, Richard R Richardson, really the
Honourable Richard R Richardson but we prefer to think of him as just
dishonourable."

A small, bespectacled lad was sitting on the bed just behind the door
undoing a rather untidily tied parcel.  He looked up at me rather
hesitantly as I rather loomed over him.  He said 'hello' and resumed
untying a recalcitrant knot.

"Hello, I'm Flip," I said as cheerily as I could.  "Phillip Menzies to be
exact and I'm new."

"We're not," came the response from the other lad, "We've been here since
the world began, or it seems like it."

"Don't be so miserable, Fergie," Paul retorted, "You know we all love you
and cherish you and did you have a good vac?"

"What!" he replied, "I'm glad to be back.  With three bloody sisters
arguing all the time it was bloody hell!"

Paul turned to me.  "Usual mood.  He'll cheer up once we're all here, won't
you Fergie?"

A non-committal grunt was the only response.

"Anyway," said Paul, who was obviously in charge, "Who is coming to help me
and Phillip greet the rest?  Si says he needs help."

No movement from either.

"OK then, don't come... and don't offer to carry my other bags up."

No response.  Paul shrugged his shoulders.

"Leave your bags there, Flip, we can unpack properly later.  We've just got
to find a sweatshirt now."

I undid my suitcase as I knew Tom had neatly folded my sweatshirts and put
them on top.  I removed my jacket and shirt and took time to put my
sweatshirt on.  I was aware of three pairs of eyes surveying my torso and I
made sure I flexed my muscles a bit before I pulled the sweatshirt over my
head.  I did that in such a way to give them a good view of my very
slightly hairy armpits.  As I looked round three pairs of eyes were averted
and silence reigned.  Paul was still looking in his bag for a sweatshirt
and at last pulled out a crumpled piece of clothing and quickly stripped
off and pulled it over his head.  I noted he had a much thicker bush under
his arm.  Well he was a bit older than me.

                         3B: Clyde:

We left the room and went downstairs.  On the way Paul explained that
Fergie didn't get on with his family and was much more used to school life
than being at home.  He also said that Little Dick was a bit slow and I
hadn't better take the mickey out of him.  I said I hadn't any thought of
doing so.  Paul explained that one or two of the older boys and some in his
own class made fun of him because he was not so quick on the uptake and was
also small and still very young for his age even though he was nearly
fifteen.  I said he seemed a nice kid and Paul said he was the best you
could get and was really quite tough underneath and was aiming to be scrum
half in the house team.

Simon was standing on the grass by the drive looking towards the main
gates.
  He said the buses from the station at Tulloch should be arriving soon so
I would meet a few more of the members of the House.  He explained to me
that the younger new boys had arrived the day before and they were all over
in Big School being inducted into the arcane mysteries of how to behave and
how to succeed in school.  He grinned and said I'd missed out on this so
I'd better learn fast or I'd be in the shit!

While we stood there Aunt Margaret and Mrs Campbell came out chatting away.
Luckily neither Paul's mum nor Aunt Margaret tried to bestow kisses on us
as they said farewell and got into their respective cars.

Simon came up behind us and put his hands on our shoulders as they drove
off.  "OK, you two?"

We both nodded.  I don't know how Paul felt but I really got apprehensive
then.  Just at that moment a bus came down the drive and went on to the
castle-like building - Big School as I had learned to call it.  A few
moments later a straggle of older inhabitants of the House came round the
side of the building and greeted Simon effusively and even deigned to
recognise Paul and stare at me.  Paul talked to all of them and I was
introduced as a new bug which drew chuckles from a couple of them.  Simon
disappeared off with two of the oldest and didn't come back.

Paul was cross-questioning me about my old school when we heard the sounds
of some sort of altercation going on round the other side of the building.
Two lads appeared, one about seventeen and tall and the other, much
shorter, of about my own age, pulling and pushing a porter's trolley.

"Get your goddam Scottish butt behind this goddam trolley and push!" said
the smaller figure in an unmistakable American drawl.  "You may be a goddam
hockey star but you ain't got a clue about shoving your ass!"

The older lad let go of the trolley which was laden with at least seven
large bags.

"Push it yourself, you whining git," he said petulantly, then grinned, "All
I've had all the way from London is your mouth!  And I had two months of it
before that, too!"

The smaller figure gave the trolley an almighty heave and it rolled to a
stop just in front of Paul and me.  Just at that moment Simon reappeared.
The younger lad ignored us.

"Hi Si, I'm back," he announced, "And never share a sleeper with that
goddam MacPerson as he snores like a goddam pig!"

The older one gave the plump lad a good-natured prod and greeted Simon as
well, looked at Paul and me and went off towards the dorm building without
taking any luggage.  I looked quizzically at Paul.

"Oh that's Robbie MacPherson, he's OK, you'll meet him later," was the only
response.  Anymore would have been interrupted by the young American.

"Hi, McBeth," he called out as he counted the bags on the trolley, "You
sure got your goddam body back from that castle of yours to here early."
He looked at me.
  "And who's your sturdy friend?"

He straightened up and came over to us.  He was a good four inches shorter
than me, plumpish and sporting a pair of owlish spectacles.

"Let me introduce you," said Paul.  "This is Phillip T Menzies, and this is
Clyde Watson Dowson the Fourth, our transatlantic friend."

"Ya, Phillip, glad to meet ya!"  The transatlantic friend stuck out his
hand.  I shook it.

"I'm Phillip T Menzies the Second," I said, emphasizing 'the Second', "Or
Flip to my friends, transatlantic or not."

"And I'm Clyde to mine," he said, grinning, "And cut that goddam irony
crap!"

He turned to Simon who was having quiet hysterics at the exchange.

"Where's that goddam McGripePerson gone?" he asked, then turned to the
trolley.  "My bags are under his goddam bastard one there."

A sudden hush fell as Mr McCrae appeared through the front door of his
house.  He came towards us.

"I could hear you back there you noisy creature," he said as he came up to
the lad and the trolley, looming from his great height over both of them.
"Have you managed to alienate the rest of Europe this summer?"

"No, Mr McCrae, Sir," he said, sticking his paw out and shaking Mr McCrae's
hand vigorously.  "My father left Robbie and me in Paris" - he pronounced
it Paree - "for three weeks while he went to see off Mrs Dowson the fourth
so we wandered around and then went back to Robbie's in Surrey for that
adventure camp for the rest of the vacation."  'Vacation' pronounced
'vay-kay-shun'.

Mr McCrae smiled at this recital as if it was an everyday occurrence and
turned to Paul and me.

"You three have met now.  Alright, Flip?  You're all in the same dorm and
Richard and Fergus have already arrived so that just leaves our other two
new arrivals.  You'd better come in now, Mrs McCrae has some lunch for
you."

Clyde talked his way through lunch much to Mrs McCrae's amusement.  I
guessed from the accent he was putting on Southern charm as thick as
possible.  The rest of us sat with stoical expressions and munched
steadily.  Mr McCrae looked as if he was used to it all.  At last Clyde
shut up his diatribe against his father and the pursuit of a possible fifth
Mrs Dowson.  Simon kept nudging his knee against mine each time the story
got more preposterous and I was developing a raging hardon.  Paul wasn't
much better the other side of me as he prodded me in the ribs and pulled
surreptitious faces, so, what with a throbbing dick and trying not to
laugh, I was in rather a state.

Lunch finished and I had to stand up.  Luckily my sweatshirt was
sufficiently long - bought rather larger than necessary as I would grow
into it - so it hung down over my bulging flies.  Of course, Simon had
sensed as much and grinned at me knowingly as we came out into the open
air.  He didn't say anything but I noticed he was talking in a confidential
way to Paul and I saw Paul give me a quick look before turning
ostentatiously the other way.  Luckily the cold air or lack of any more
stimulation let my rod go limp.

As I stood there Clyde came up behind me and shoved the top suitcase off
the trolley where it landed on the grass with a thump.

"Goddam McParsnips can get his own goddam bag.  Hi McDuff!" he called over
to, I assumed, Paul, "I need some goddamned help here, there's only me and
this Flop person!"  He grinned at me.  "Have to say that so Si will say I'm
not politically correct."

Shades of Dr Williams here too, I thought.

Sure enough both Simon and Paul came over and stood either side of him.
Each took an arm and lifted him bodily off the ground.

"God, Clyde," said Simon," You've put on more weight, you obese little
toad, and will you stop your constant prattle."

"Got you," retorted Clyde triumphantly, "You called me fat so I'll have you
for defamation of character!"

"Defamation?" chuckled Simon, "It's more like deformation of character with
you.  If we let go, promise you'll be quiet for two minutes, eh?"

They dropped him and he went over to the six bags left on the trolley.

"Flip, would you help me with these?" he asked, sweetly and politely,
"These goddam swine will only torment me."

The other two laughed and the four of us pushed the trolley to the door of
the dorm building.  There Simon and Paul left us and walked off back to the
McCrae's house.

Clyde hefted one of his bags and I picked up two and we toiled up to the
third floor dumping the bags by the door of our dorm.  We made our way down
and sat on the trolley by the other three bags to get our breath back.
What the hell did he want six bags for?  What had he brought back to
school?

He asked me quite bluntly why was I joining the school a year later than
usual.  I thought it best to give the unvarnished truth.  He listened
intently then put a hand on my arm.

"Goddam it, Flip, we've all got our problems," he said very quietly, "'Nil
carborundum illegitime' - don't let the bastards grind you down is my
motto!"  He squeezed my arm.  "You can count on me."

He lumbered to his feet.  Just then Paul appeared and picked up one bag,
Clyde picked up a second leaving me with the biggest and, I assumed, the
heaviest.  I picked it up gingerly as it looked rather knobbly, and,
without staggering, went up the three flights of stairs in front of them.
I wasn't going to be ground down.  So Paul had another exhibition of my
strength.

The other two were now sitting on either side of Fergie's bed playing some
card-game or other.  There was a general commotion when Clyde entered, much
'goddamning' and a big hug for Little Dick who brightened up considerably
when he saw Clyde.  Even Fergus had a smile on his face and only complained
because he hadn't been invited to the McCraes' lunch and he and Dick had
had to make do with scrumming with the masses in Big School for slush and
dead baby's leg.  I didn't ask what that was but it did sound suitably
revolting.  As both looked well fed it couldn't have been too bad.

I started to unpack and was intrigued to know what was in Clyde's six bags
to everyone else's one or two.  He didn't enlighten us as he disappeared
into the heads for at least fifteen minutes as I sorted my things out.

                         3C: The Dorm:

Paul and I stood side by side as his locker was next to mine as he'd pushed
his bed up against the end wall.  I was glad my things were packed so
neatly as I was able to transfer them directly to the shelves and hangers
in the locker.  My sports kit seemed to take up a lot more space than
underpants, socks and sweatshirts.  I had brought two lots of sweats as I
intended working on the weights and I had been taught never to do anything
when too cold.  I smiled when I got my rugger boots out as thoughtful Tom
had even put them into a plastic bag first.  A muttered 'Oh shit!' told me
someone in Paul's household hadn't done the same for him.

We reached the bottom of our suitcases on our beds simultaneously.  I drew
out my neatly folded kilt and was just hanging it on the special hanger Mr
Ferguson had given me when Paul pulled out a rather badly packed bundle
which he shook out revealing his own kilt as being dark green, black and
blue.  He smiled at me as he hung it up in his locker on a rather elderly
hanger.  He watched as I unwrapped the tissue paper around my
silver-mounted sporran.  His eyes opened wide when he saw it.

"That's brilliant, Flip, I've always wanted one like that," he said
admiringly, "Where did you get that?"

"It was my father's," I said simply, "He had it for his twenty-first and my
aunt kept it for me."

"My dad and my brothers have ones like that, I haven't got one I've only
got this."

He opened a flat cardboard box lying on the bottom of his case and drew out
a very lovely badger hair sporran.  It wasn't silver-mounted but it was old
and well-cared for.

"It was my grand-dad's," he explained, "I love it."

"It's very old, isn't it?" I said, "I like it.  But this is my everyday
one."

I unwrapped the leather one and put that on the shelf.  I noted that there
was something in it.  When Paul wasn't looking I opened the flap and there
was a note.  'Best wishes and all my love, Tom'.  I could have burst into
tears.  My hardon started to return.

I looked over at Paul who was brushing the hair on the sporran.  I didn't
like to ask when he wore his kilt and with the others with names such as
Macpherson, McCrae, Fleming and even Fergus Cowen, they must be Scottish.
I would have to wait and see.

Our peace was shattered by the return of Clyde from the heads announcing
he'd just had the best goddamned crap for weeks as the goddam camp had
goddam holes in the ground and then asking who was going to have the other
two goddamned beds.

Paul told him he'd been instructed to look out for two Arab lads, cousins,
- he scrabbled on the desktop at the end of his bed - Ghazi Makhlore and
Hamed Makhlose - as far as he knew.  Clyde interrogated him about where
they came from and why they were coming here and how old were they, but
Paul just shook his head and said he didn't know.

Paul and I chatted on, he telling me about various things which I would
have to get to know about especially during my first few days.  He had a
look at the copy of the time-table I had been given on arrival and noted
that I had extra English and Science instead of Latin.  There were so many
little things to learn about, roll calls, meal times and sittings, prep
time, lights out time, room inspections, etc., etc.  My head was reeling
after that recital He also said that I'd better choose which games or
sports I wanted to opt for.  Clyde heard us as he was emptying his second
bag on his bed, which seemed to consist of even more clothes than the
first, and said he was doing golf and fencing this year and not running
around on some goddam field chasing a goddam ball.  Paul said he's have to
do two afternoons of rugger as that was compulsory and Clyde subsided into
splutters of distaste saying he didn't want to bash his fellow citizens
about.

"You're just scared," riposted Paul, "You Yanks can only play football in
armour-plating.  You're a bunch of sissies.  Your lot would run a mile if
the Scottish pack set on you!  And you, prancing about in a white suit
poking someone with a bit of wire, pah!"

Clyde inelegantly gave Paul the finger and started to undo the third of his
bags.  Several pieces of what looked like a computer were now tipped onto
the bed.

                    3D: The New Arrivals:

It was now coming up to about four o'clock when Fergie glanced through the
window by which he was sitting.  He stood up to get a better look.

"My God, just look at that car!" he exclaimed, pointing towards the window.

Being nosey the rest of us crowded round the two windows and peered out
towards the McCrae's house.  A very sleek, shiny, black, stretch limo with
tinted windows had drawn up in the drive.  As we watched a very smartly
dressed young man got out on the passenger's side at the front of the car
and opened the back door on that side.  The driver didn't move but sat
impassively staring forwards.  A young, dark-skinned lad of about my age
got out and he and the young man talked animatedly together.  Then they
waited and after quite a pause a second young dark-skinned lad who was
shorter, but looked a bit older, got out and looked about him with a scowl
on his face.  The young man said something to him.  The lad looked most
displeased.  The young man raised a finger.  The lad scowled even more and
curled his lip.  The other lad said something and although we couldn't hear
anything we knew he was getting an earful from the glowering one and was
being told off for his pains..  The young man turned and said something
sharp to the scowly lad who from his expression was about to say something
else.  The young man held up his finger again and the scowly boy dropped
his gaze.

"That lad is not a happy bunny," said Fergus as the little drama came to a
conclusion.

It wasn't quite concluded as the young man went round to the driver's
window and the driver, a swarthy middle-aged man in chauffeur's uniform got
out and went to the boot of the car and extricated four suitcases and a
couple of what looked like attache cases.

The younger lad picked up one of the smaller cases and took it over to the
door of Mr McCrae's house.  The other lad didn't move but sneered all the
time even when the younger one said something to him.  The driver shrugged
his shoulders and marched back and forth to the door of our dorm building
with the rest of the luggage.

We were wondering what was going to happen next when Mr McCrae appeared at
his front door and beckoned the two boys and the young man in.  The driver
returned to the car and sat impassively behind the wheel.  We were
intrigued to see if anything else would happen.  After about three minutes
the two lads accompanied by Simon came out and made their way to the dorm
building.  A few moments later Mr McCrae and the young man came out deep in
conversation.  They shook hands, the young man got into the car and it
glided away.

We five looked at each other.  These two lads were going to share our room.
One seemed OK.  What about the other one?

"Oh shit!" said Fergie, "If it's like that down there what will it be like
up here?"

"Goddam it!" exclaimed Clyde, "And I've got the fucker in bed next to me!"

We lapsed into silence and moved to the safety of our own bed spaces and
waited.

The door opened and Simon came in immediately followed by the younger boy
carrying an attache case.  Simon said nothing, the lad looked around and
smiled shyly.  Simon walked over to the bed next to Fergie.

"Now, Ghazi, this is where you will be sleeping.  I'll introduce everyone
in a moment so put your bag over there.  Now, where's Hamed?"

There was a lengthy pause and Simon went to the door.

"Come on in, let me show you where you'll be.  All the others are here."

The scowling boy came in also carrying a small bag..  He marched straight
past all of us and flung the bag onto the vacant bed.  He turned and said
something sharply to his cousin, I assumed, in Arabic.

Ghazi looked apologetically around at all of us who were staring
uncomprehendingly at the other lad's ill behaviour.

"I am sorry but my cousin is upset.  He did not want to come here."

Simon looked at Paul and muttered something like "You take over" and walked
out shutting the door behind him.  You could have cut the atmosphere with a
scimitar.

Paul took over.  He acted impeccably, much older than his years.

"Let me introduce us all," he started, perhaps a bit too brightly, "I'm
Paul and this is Flip, he's also new here like you."

I went up to the younger, more pleasant lad and we shook hands.  The other
one ignored me so I thought 'fuck you' and went back to my bed and sat on
it.

Paul went round the others introducing them.  All solemnly shook hands with
the nicer lad and were ignored by the other.

There was another pause and Hamed muttered something else to Ghazi who
looked rather downcast when he said his cousin said he wasn't going to be
here long and he didn't want to be bothered.

I think Ghazi was close to tears but we just grinned at each other and left
it at that.  Clyde was remarkably silent through all this exchange and
continued to unpack the fourth of his bags.  This was a sign to Ghazi to
unpack the bag he'd carried in.  Paul looked towards the door and nodded to
me.  We went out downstairs and retrieved the other suitcases by the front
door and lugged them up.  Simon came along the corridor.

"Leave them by the door for a moment," he instructed us before we could say
anything about the horrible atmosphere being generated in the dorm.  He
said we were not to antagonise Hamed and not to be antagonised by him, and
we would have to come to terms with him in our own way.  He was sorry we
were being put in such a position but even he wasn't fully in the picture.
He said even Mr McCrae was a bit worried about the situation.  In any case,
whatever happened he would be on our side.  All this sounded a bit ominous
but he said he knew he could count on us.  He shrugged his shoulders and
picked up the biggest bag, one belonging to Hamed.  Paul and I just looked
at each other as we picked up the other bags and went into the dorm.

Simon panted as he dropped the bag labelled with Hamed's name on the end of
his bed.  "What have you got in there?  The family silver?"

Hamed scowled but did have the grace to say thank you.  Ghazi gave Paul and
me a sweet smile and said thanks when we put the other cases by his bed.
As Simon turned to go out Ghazi immediately followed him and they both came
back to the door a minute or so later.  I heard Simon say to Ghazi "Good
lad, let me know," then he patted Ghazi on the bum and went off.  Hamed
gave Ghazi a real scowl as he came back and then began to open the first of
his bags.

At six o'clock we all trooped off to Big School dining hall as we were in
the first sitting of one hundred and fifty for supper.  The food was more
than adequate both in quality and quantity with a thick soup and good
bread, meat and two veg with lashings of gravy, all followed by a tasty
fruit crumble.  It was all I could do not to burp contentedly.

While eating I had surveyed this half of the school assembled in the room.
There were almost equal lots of younger lads, all looking about thirteen or
so and then ones who were fourteen and a bit above like me.  There were a
few older lads, one of whom sat at the head of each table of eight and
supervised the dishing out of the food.  I counted up and found there were
sixteen tables plus a long table where about six late teenagers sat with
four men who must have been masters.

We straggled back to the dorm building and found Paul gathering our little
contingent, including the scowler, to go into the prep room where eight
younger lads were sitting looking rather expectant.  As we came in a group
of older lads left, I assume going to the second sitting.

Two of the older lads who had sat at the head of tables followed us and
then we all had to introduce ourselves to the young ones, who, like me,
were new comers to the Big School even though most had been to the
preparatory school down the road.

The older lads who'd been on the second sitting came back and all the
introduction of new bugs went on again with Clyde keeping up a continuous
stream of banter mostly hinting at all sorts of secret vices of the older
ones.  They were obviously used to him and when any of them got up to go
they generally gave him a friendly punch or pulled his ears and warned him
of reprisals.  Neither Simon nor MacPherson appeared and I forgot to count
up to see how many others out of the thirty in the House were missing.  In
the end all went off except Paul, Clyde, me and Little Dick and after more
chat on their part and listening in on mine, Paul said we'd better get back
to the dorm ready for lights out.

                         3E: First Night:

I watched and followed the ritual of getting ready for bed.  I had never
slept with more than one other boy in the same room and, in the two cases
in my experience, my brother Stuart and my friend Michael, we had shared
the same bed.  Michael had described what went on at Scout camp but would
this be different?  He hadn't described the procedures of getting
undressed, donning pyjamas, going to the heads for a pee, brushing one's
teeth, washing hands and face, etc., etc.  I noticed no one took a shower
and there was much creative shielding of vital parts when trousers and
pants were removed and pyjama bottoms got into.  But, I did get a glimpse,
as Fergie stepped out of his underpants and reached for his pyjama
trousers, of the longest and thinnest cock I'd ever seen.  Just a glimpse,
but no mistake, the boy had length!

I finished my undressing and ablutions and crawled into bed under my duvet
and watched and waited.  The two Arab boys were already under their covers
and so were Paul and Fergie.  Little Dick had gone out to the heads again
and Clyde was still farting around folding clothes when there was a knock
on the door and Simon came in.

"Lights out in three minutes," he announced, looking around the room, "And
I don't want any noise.  You young 'uns need your beauty sleep, especially
you Clyde, you ugly bugger!"

He darted out of the door and closed it just in time as the shoe Clyde was
holding hurtled towards him and slammed against the wall by Little Dick's
bed.  A laugh and 'missed!'  sounded from outside.  Clyde wandered down the
room, picked up the shoe and went back to his bed.  Paul said something
like 'Better luck next time!' while Clyde just muttered something under his
breath, sighed and clambered, snorting, into his bed..

I settled down under my duvet and looked around.  Little Dick came out of
the heads said 'good night' and got into his bed.  It was very quiet and
then the lights went out.

There was silence.  I lay there thinking about all the events of the day.
Time had gone so fast I hadn't had a chance to think.  I thought about all
my room-mates.  Paul, I had taken to immediately, he looked as if he could
be a good friend.  Mouthy Clyde seemed OK.  His little chat with me had
given another facet to the brash-sounding everyday Clyde.  It would be
interesting to see how we got on.  Little Dick and Fergie I would have to
get to know better as I hadn't had a chance so far to really interact with
them.  Ghazi seemed pleasant enough.  He had a pleasant smile the couple of
times I'd spoken to him.  He'd told me downstairs that he and Hamed had
been at a school down in the West of England where they had had separate
rooms so this was a new experience for both of them.  I had found out he
was exactly the same age as me but that Hamed was older, in fact, although
he was a couple of inches shorter than Ghazi he was already fifteen and a
half.  I didn't ask any questions about them, especially Hamed.  He was an
unknown quantity, the look on his face showed he didn't want to be here and
I hoped he wasn't going to upset my life here.

I was pondering on this when I my thoughts turned to Simon who had caused
my hardon at lunch.  I felt a tell-tale tingle in my groin and my thoughts
switched immediately to Tom and Michael and Darryll and the tingle turned
to a throbbing and my dick hardened and lay straight up my belly.

I wanted my nightly wank!  I needed my nightly wank!!  I would go mad if I
didn't have my nightly wank!!!  How the hell was I going to have my nightly
wank???

Here was I in the dark with six other lads in beds around me, what should I
do?  I couldn't very well slip out and go to the heads.  I should have got
rid of my troubles in the bog before bedtime.  Oh my God, my prick was
getting harder and I had a full day's load to get rid of.  I thought back
to the last few weeks with Tom and the usual three times a day and here I
was today not having had one wank!  Perhaps if I dropped of to sleep I
might have a wet dream, at least that would solve a problem.  The old joke
about the boy who went to bed with a problem on his mind and woke up with
the solution on his chest popped into my head.

That little thought didn't help either.  I felt a bit too agitated to drop
off to sleep but turned quietly onto my side facing Fergie's bed.  My eyes
were becoming accustomed to the gloom.  There was a faint moon and the room
was not in total darkness.  Then I noticed something.

A small mound was in my field of vision.  Fergie's duvet was moving very
slightly up and down.  Was he wanking or was he just breathing?  As
silently as I could I moved over onto my other side.  A similar mound was
even more evident on Paul's bed and the movement there, although slow, was
unmistakable.  Paul was definitely jacking himself off.  I turned onto my
back and waited.

The sound of rather heavy breathing was coming from Clyde's bed.  It was
difficult to see what was happening there but within a minute or so a
couple of half-stifled sharp intakes of breath told me there was goddamned
masturbatory activity going on in that bed.

Oh my God, I thought, at least they were wanking, so here goes.  Carefully
I undid my pyjama jacket buttons and slipped it open across my torso.  I
flicked the button at the top of my trousers and my fly gaped.  I wriggled
a bit to get the trousers down my hips and pushed up the centre of the
duvet with my left hand.

My cock was now so hard and rigid it was almost stuck to my belly.  I
didn't bother to try to lift it but put two fingers on one side and my
thumb on the other side of the knob end and pulled down to free it from my
foreskin.  It was so, so sensitive as I touched it lightly with a finger.
I pulled my skin up and down very gently just touching the underside of my
rim each time giving me a jolt of ecstasy.  It was a perfect wank, my
thoughts flicked through my friends and the times we'd had together.  The
feel of Michael's cock between my fingers and in my mouth; Darryll's hot
mouth sucking greedily on my rod; Tom's young body and the feelings I had
with my shaft fully inside him.  I thought then of Simon and the yearning I
had to feel those wonderful hairy legs and, perhaps, some day to explore
what was held within that pouch I'd glimpsed beneath those running shorts.
My boyish needs were being accompanied by the most ardent feelings and
desires and I knew I was getting close to a climax.

My reverie was broken by a sharp intake of breath from Clyde's direction.
This was followed by a muted 'Aaaargh' confirming he'd released a load.  A
quite audible tattoo of fist against cloth on my right side told me that
Paul was on the verge and a sudden 'Ohhhh' from my left side told me Fergie
had peaked.  I was speeding up my strokes quite automatically and was
matching Paul's flying fist when he produced a long drawn out sibilant
hiss.
  I wasn't far behind.  His gasping came moments before my own 'Oooooooh'.
I unloaded a massive amount, a full day's load which splashed against my
chin and lay finally in a puddle between my pecs and dribbled down my
stomach.

Oh, fuck!!  I had nothing to mop it up with!!

At home I generally wiped up the results of my nightly bed wank with the
underpants I'd discarded, or I would actually wank into a carefully held
sports sock, as my mother insisted I had clean underwear and socks on every
day.  Tonight I had nothing, as my underpants were on the bottom shelf of
my locker with my socks.  All I had were the pyjamas I was wearing and I
didn't want them too stiff with dried spunk!.  Oh, shit!  But, then a
solution.  The solution!  The solution was carefully mopped up finger-load
by finger-load and transferred to my mouth where I sucked silently and
revelled in the taste of my cum.

I listened carefully to what might be going on around me but all I heard
were a few rustlings then the sounds of contented boys going to sleep.  I
was so exhausted with the day's excitements and the wonderful wank I had
just experienced I didn't even do up my pyjamas before falling into a deep
and dreamless sleep.  It was truly the sleep of the just, or just after!

I did stir sometime in the middle of the night.  I was aware that Paul was
leaning over Little Dick and saying something to him urgently.  Little Dick
got out of bed, went to the heads and Paul returned to his bed.  Next thing
I knew it was morning.

I woke early as usual.  There was a quiet susurration of boyish breathing
and snores in the room just after dawn.  I had my usual morning hardon and
my pyjama trousers were rather awkwardly twisted round the base of my
equipment.  There was also a little bit of crustiness on my chest.  Oh God,
better clean up!

I put my feet out of bed and adjusted my pyjama trousers and grabbed my
towel and wash bag from my locker.  I padded off to the heads intent on
having a good morning wank.  I didn't even look at the humped figures in
the beds as I passed.  I opened the door quietly and found the light was
on.  There was Little Dick, bare-chested, washing himself.  I wasn't the
only early-morning riser.  So was Little Dick in the other sense as well.

As he stood up straight, having been bent over the sink rinsing his face,
his stiff four inches of boymeat poked out from the fly of his pyjamas.  He
greeted me quietly and went on washing.  I stood at the sink next to him
and, as the hot water was running in, stripped off my pyjama jacket too.

Little Dick was towelling his face so I was able to have a good look at his
rod with it's end shrouded in a heavy foreskin.  He obviously hadn't got
down to washing that because there was clear evidence of spunky residue in
the slight folds of his skin at the end.  So that meant there were five
wankers in the room so far!  What about the Arabs?

I was washing my face and neck when Little Dick quite unconcernedly undid
the button at the top of his pyjama trousers and let them fall to his
ankles.  Luckily the sink bowl was set rather lower than usual because he,
being only just over five feet, was then able to heft his equipment over
the edge of the bowl where he liberally soaped his erect prick and little
bush of hair and washed those bits and his balls most thoroughly.  Finally,
as if unzipping a banana, he pulled his foreskin back and, squeezing his
facecloth, doused his pink knob end with a shower of water.  All this time
his little dick was quite, quite rigid.  I was fascinated.  [I really was
as I'd read somewhere that 'fascinate' came from the Latin, meaning 'to be
transfixed by the sight of the penis'!]

He then towelled himself carefully, bent down, pulled up his pyjamas,
buttoned them, picked up his wash things and went back to the dorm.  That
was more than I could do.  I went straight into one of the bogs, closed the
door, dropped my pyjama trousers, fisted my erect prick about fifty times
and shot a load all over the tiles at the back of the loo.  No wonder they
had tiled the place.  Gallons of spunk must have been deposited yearly by
horny lads just like me!  I tore off some bog-paper and wiped the mess off
the tiles and hoped that no smears would be left as evidence.  I then sat
and had a satisfying shit and felt on top of the world!

All this took a bit of time.  I wandered back into the dorm but, other than
Little Dick who was sitting on his bed, now with his specs on, looking at
an exercise book, no one else had stirred.  I could see no conversation was
going to ensue so I got dressed in school trousers, sweatshirt, etc.  and
also sat leafing through all the bumf I had collected the day before.

                         3F: School life:

Today, Thursday, we were meeting up at nine o'clock in our various classes.
I was down this morning for maths first, then English and finally History.
This afternoon there was a choice of a general cross-country run,
touch-rugby, golf or fencing, private study (by special permission), hockey
practice or gymnastics.  I didn't know which of these to choose but the
choice was made for me because at a quarter past seven Simon appeared in
his pyjamas.

"Wakey-wakey!  Rise and shine!  Up you get my little chickadees!" he
hollered as the door burst open and he marched round the room giving each
lump in a bed a whack.

There was a general hubbub of dissent as four fairly startled, and one
positively angry looking, faces appeared from the comfort of their duvets.
There was some rather miserable sounding cat-calling, especially from Clyde
who 'goddamned' Simon to hell and beyond.  There was a furious tirade in
Arabic from a truly disgruntled Hamed who was shushed by a rather
unsettled-looking Ghazi.  Silence fell on the room and seven pairs of eyes
were fixed on Hamed.

His cousin was blushing furiously under his dark skin and looked at Simon
as if the heavens might open.  Fergie gave a low laugh but the rest of us
were mute.

"Are you OK?" Simon asked solicitously.

I didn't know if he was serious or whether he was winding Hamed up further.
He said nothing but just glared at Simon.

"Sorry, old chap," Simon said in his best British upper-class accent, "But
it's wakey-wakey time and you have exactly thirty minutes to
breakfast-time.  Breakfast time and tide wait for no man!"

Simon turned away and walked over to me and immediately asked if I wanted a
work-out this afternoon.  He said he didn't feel like a cross-country run
and if I didn't know what to chose I could work out with him and we could
spot for each other.

I certainly wanted to get back to a routine.  I felt pretty fit after all
my trekking with Tom during the summer but I felt I needed to get my
muscles toned up a bit more.
  I didn't particularly want to do a cross-country run and touch-rugby was
a bit tame and I'd never played hockey.  I had, anyway, put my name down
for a trial for the House team on Saturday.  I said I would be delighted to
have a work-out.  With this Simon left the room in slightly more chaos than
when he came in.

Oh, my God.  That was quite an outburst.  I wondered what Hamed had said
because his cousin was clearly embarrassed.  Still it was Clyde who rescued
the morning.
  He, much to our amusement, then recounted some dream he'd had during the
night which involved him and MacNeeps, as he called MacPherson, going on
some surrealistic trip on the Seine in 'Paree' which involved gendarmes,
Notre Dame (pronounced Daym ) gargoyles and various other improbable
entities.

I was still looking at my timetable when I realised what I should have done
the night before.  I noted that both Paul and Fergie, when they at last got
out of their beds and got their washbags from their lockers, took neatly
folded face-cloths from under their pillows.  I'd never used a face-cloth
and Tom had had a giggle when he went through my list of requirements as he
packed for me.  I knew now that I might not use it on my face but it was a
requirement for another most important purpose.  I wondered how I could
transmit that intelligence to Tom!

I saw from my timetable that we had games four afternoons a week.  Mondays
and Thursday, rugby; Tuesdays, hockey, golf, fencing or basketball;
Fridays, gymnastics, hockey, fencing or golf.  Saturdays were blocked off
in the afternoons for inter-House matches, inter-School matches, or for
those involved, Combined Cadet Force activities.  On Wednesday afternoons I
was scheduled for my extra Science and English.  What with lessons in the
morning and prep in the evenings we would be kept very busy!

I kept a surreptitious eye on Fergie when he came back from washing and
caught a second glimpse of his long, thin cock as he stepped into his
briefs.  I wondered how much longer that was than my just over five inches.
Mine certainly didn't dangle as much as his.  No doubt I would learn.

The morning went pretty quickly.  Mainly settling in to our classes and
being issued with text-books and exercise books.  However, each master gave
some prep to be done that evening with some semi-audible groans
accompanying each assignment of mental torture.

After lunch I went back to the dorm and changed into my sweats and trainers
and at two o'clock made my way down and round to the garage at the back of
Mr McCrae's house.  Simon was already there, also dressed in sweats.  He
greeted me with a great grin and we started by discussing the regimes we
would set ourselves.  Simon had made lists of exercises and we decided what
I could do without over-straining any of my muscles.

Simon then set up sets of weights and we had a good hour's session for a
first day's workout.  He insisted we didn't do any more than that until we
knew how we were coping.  All very sensible and what I liked about Simon
was that he discussed everything with me just like Darryll and the other
lads at the gym.  I told him this and he grinned and said we'd both better
be sensible.

All the time we were exercising I kept thinking of the image of Simon in
his green running shorts rather than the baggy grey sweats he was working
out in.  Luckily my sweats were baggy too as I had the most tremendous
hardon throughout the hour.  I think Simon must have noticed because as I
bent back under the weights I knew there was quite a bulge down below.  I
tried to keep my eyes off Simon's front as I didn't know how I would cope
with the knowledge that he may have had a hardon too.

Anyway, with all the time spent setting things up and clearing up
afterwards it was half past three when we called it a day.  He said we
could meet up the next day at the same time and another session which would
count as the Friday gymnastics.  I readily assented.

I was very hot and sweaty with all the exercises we had been doing and I
could see Simon was too.  He said I'd better go up to the dorm and have a
shower and cool down there.  I didn't ask where he would have his.  I
desperately wanted to see more of him to given me even more images for my
bedtime wank.

We parted on the stair at the first floor of the dorm building and I
trudged up to our room.  I was rather surprised to find both the Arab boys
there in earnest conversation.  I said hello and Ghazi gave me his rather
sweet smile but Hamed really just ignored me other than looking me over in
my sweats.  Fuck him!  I thought.

I got my bath towel from the rail behind my locker and went armed with my
washbag into the heads.  There I had a very satisfying shower and, as my
hardon had subsided, I decided not to have a second wank of the day just
then.  I towelled off, put my towel over my shoulders and, bundling up my
sweats, walked back into the dorm showing my all.  I wasn't ashamed of my
tackle even though I wasn't fully developed yet.  I mean, mine was the same
as Michael's, but wasn't as big as Darryll's, although he had been very
complimentary about my size the day he'd sucked me off.

The two Arab boys gazed at me as I came through the door.  They certainly
didn't look at my face, so I very deliberately took a good time to comb my
hair and put my sweats over the back of my locker before I picked up my
underpants and put them on.  Actually, the warmth of the shower and the
thought of what I was doing gave my cock a little bit of plumpness which I
flaunted for the two lads to savour.

They went on with their conversation as I finished dressing and then I laid
on my bed looking at the History prep we had to do that evening.

It wasn't long after that when the others straggled in.  Paul and Little
Dick had been playing touch rugby and Fergie and Clyde had been practising
golf swings.  We had a general conversation about what we'd been doing and
I noticed particularly that Hamed was listening in to what Clyde was saying
to Fergie on how he might improve his upswing if he got his stance just so.
All, especially Ghazi, seemed quite interested in my account of the weight
training.  Clyde made some comment that I was a good replacement for Big
Dick and I wondered what he meant as he hadn't seen my parade and my dick
wasn't excessively big.  However, Paul explained that Simon had worked out
previously with Richard Small, who having that name and being six foot two
was known as Big Dick.  He'd left school the previous term and was now a
medical student at Edinburgh University.  I was surprised Simon hadn't said
anything.  But then Clyde made some cryptic remark that they had been very
good friends, accompanied by nods from Fergie and Paul.

So the day progressed.  Evening meal time came, prep occurred and then it
was time for bed.  I had slipped my face cloth under my pillow that
afternoon so I was all prepared.  Also, as I was very hot under the duvet
the previous night and had got into the habit of sleeping in the nude I
though pyjamas made me feel a bit overdressed.  So, when the time came for
last pee and ablutions I stripped off completely, put my towel around my
waist and went to the heads.  As I washed myself I removed the towel so any
of the boys coming in had a good view of all I'd got.  I then did the same
as in the afternoon.  I slung my towel around my neck and marched back in.
I dropped my washbag in my locker with my towel and slid into bed under the
duvet.  I was aware all eyes had watched my progress.

Simon came in and did his goodnight routine and, finally, the lights went
out.  By this time I'd got a really rigid hardon as I'd been feeling my
balls very gently under the duvet while I watched the others undress.  No
rewards, no peeks of anything.  I let things go for a minute or so and was
then was aware that Paul was fisting himself quietly under his mounded
duvet.  Fuck that for a lark I thought and pushed down the duvet so it was
folded over my knees.  I always uncovered myself at home or at Aunt
Margaret's as I liked to feel my balls or stroke my nipples while I was
tossing myself off.  I closed my eyes and began a very slow wank.

I licked the tip of my forefinger on my left hand and was stroking my right
nipple at the same time as I was pulling up and down on my dick.  I was
aware that any other activity in the room had stopped.  There was complete
silence.  I continued the slow wank pulling my skin down strongly on each
downstroke.  My breath became more laboured as I felt the subterranean
pulsations begin.

I tweaked my right nipple and this was enough to send me over the edge.  I
gurgled as I let fly several streams of warm boycream.  Tonight one great
gobbet hit me below my nose and another dripped off my chin onto my neck.
Holding on to my still quivering prick I traced the ribbon of come
stretching from my nose to my navel with the forefinger of my other hand.
I scooped up some of my cum and licked it off my finger.  There was a
muffled 'Christ' from Paul who must have had a grandstand view of my
efforts even though there was hardly any light in the room.

Without more ado I fished out my neatly folded facecloth from under my
pillow and rather ostentatiously mopped up the residue of cum which I
hadn't scooped up and fed to myself.  I, very leisurely, pulled up the
duvet, turned on my side, sighed deeply and, quite truthfully, fell into
the best and most tranquil sleep I'd had for ages.  My fellow dorm-mates
could wank themselves silly or not after my display in the almost dark, I
wouldn't know, I was blissfully slumbering.

                    3G: Starting a New Tradition:

The next thing I knew was noisy Simon waking us up with the usual thump on
the mound in the bed - my backside.  I seemed to be last awake.  I lumbered
out of bed, retrieved my facecloth then picked up my towel and washbag and
strolled out to the heads, cock flopping in the morning for once.  Three
pairs of eyes followed me out and another three pairs of eyes watched as I
entered the heads.  The two Arab boys were busy washing, bare-chested,
their dark brown torsos looking, I thought, very ready for my fingers to
feel their young nipples.  Fergie was at the third sink, also without his
pyjama jacket on, just soaping under his armpits which had quite a
luxuriant growth of hair for an almost fifteen year-old.  My attention was
drawn to his pyjama trousers but, unfortunately, the fly kept resolutely
closed.  Of course, with my wanton thoughts my cock began to fill out a
bit, just a bit, but enough to give the three pairs of hungry eyes a good
view of my hanging four inches.

If I, or they, were to have any excitement together, then they needed a bit
of encouragement!

I rather ostentatiously flapped open my folded facecloth and made as if I
was examining the spunky residue carefully.  I then ran the hot water tap
and rinsed it out, then wrung it out and put it at the back of the sink.
Slowly and carefully I soaped my face, then my hands, arms and chest before
tackling my armpits, which I'd noticed over the past couple of months had
begun to smell almost as acrid as Darryll's after one of his extensive and
heavy workouts.  I rinsed the soap away carefully and slowly.  The other
boys were also still at this stage of their ablutions and seemed to be
spinning out their soapings and rinsings, I thought.  OK, give them the big
one!

I soaped up my hands lavishly and then applied them to my belly, bush,
prick and balls.  There was plenty of lather from the soft Scottish water.
I massaged my equipment quite vigorously to clean off any remaining
spunkdust, but not vigorously enough to indicate I might be jacking off.
Like Little Dick the morning before, I hefted my tackle over the edge of
the sink and rinsed the bubbles away then wiped myself dry with the large
bath towel.

Although I was last into the heads the other three were still - query
pretending to be - washing their upper limbs when I finished drying myself.
I picked up my washbag, towel and facecloth and marched off back into the
dorm where three other pairs of eyes fixated themselves on my jaunty,
swinging equipment.  Even Clyde, who had been in the process of talking to
Little Dick stopped and stared at my progress through the room.

Paul had already dressed and was sitting on his bed facing me.  As I turned
to say good- morning and ask if he had maths first period my cock was
dangled right in his face.  He licked his lips before replying which,
perhaps, might be a sign of things to come.  As he consulted his timetable
I fished around, found my underpants, and pulled them on.

Things seemed to settle in the room as soon as my underpants were being
drawn up my legs and Clyde resumed his monologue.

"So, my sister has this young stallion," he was saying, waving a letter he
must have received the day before, "Bit too goddam frisky for her although
she has the goddam grip of the devil between her knees as my Granddaddy
says.  She's going to have him gelded this week she says.  Goddam it, the
poor bugger's going to lose his balls."

I heard Paul say something but didn't quite catch it.

"Sorry, Paul, I didn't catch what you said."

He laughed and whispered again, "I said there are a few stallions prancing
around today."  He nodded towards the door of the heads.

Fergie appeared first, his towel round his shoulders as I'd had mine, with
- Oh my God! - a good six inches of almost pencil-like dick trailing down
between his legs.  He was closely followed by Ghazi who had a most
beautiful dick.  His was the first circumcised penis I'd ever seen so I
just stared at it.  The shape and size seemed so perfect on him with the
dark tan of the first inch or so of his shaft peeping out from his small
black bush followed by an inch of paler flesh before the finely shaped
helmet of his knob end.  His cousin was last out but he, spoilsport, had
tied a towel around his waist!

Each had a rolled up bundle of pyjamas which they threw down on their beds.
Fergie and Ghazi soon had their underpants on but Hamed rummaged in his
locker for a while before he found a pair to his liking.  I knew Paul was
having a good stare as well because when Hamed removed his towel he jabbed
me in the back of my leg.  Hamed, of course, was also circumcised, and his
cock had the same contours as Ghazi's but the first part of the shaft was a
bit darker.  Also, I suppose as he was older, his dick was much fatter and
a bit more lengthy.  In fact, as he was very short, his dick looked quite
big on him.  Even so it wasn't near as long as Fergie's.

Paul jabbed me in the leg again.  "You've started something," he said.

Oh!, what did he mean, wandering starkers, or wanking in full view, or
both?
  Wait and see.

                         3H: Ghazi:

So began my second full day.  The only surprise was when I changed into
sweats after lunch Ghazi came up to me in a dark blue tracksuit and said he
had asked Simon if he could do weight- training as well.  I asked him where
Hamed was and he quickly said he was playing golf.

Simon worked the pair of us really hard and didn't stint himself either.
The sweat was pouring off me after we started working hard after our warmup
and Simon made sure we kept drinking plenty of water.  I was surprised at
how well Ghazi kept up and in one of our rests he said he had tried circuit
training at his previous school.

Simon said after about an hour and a quarter we'd better finish and if we
left our sweats he would put them through Mrs McCrae's washing machine with
his.  As mine were becoming decidedly smelly after the exertions of the two
days I readily agreed.  We both stripped down to our shorts and singlets
and jogged back to the dorm.

When we got there Ghazi took his cue from me as I bared myself completely
and went into the heads to have a shower.  He also slipped off his clothes
and followed me in.  We stood side by side and let the hot water soothe our
well-exercised muscles.  I had a good look at him as he wriggled his
shoulders and arms under the cascading water and saw he was well-
proportioned and had the beginnings of good definition.  He was also
checking me out.  I saw him gaze several times at my chest, arms and legs,
and also looked more than once at my cock and balls.  My cock was even more
plump than after the shower the previous day.  Just to give him a good look
I pulled back my foreskin to let the water clean behind it.  He knew I was
doing it for his benefit as he smiled up at me as I let my foreskin roll
back.

We dried off and went back into the dorm to get dressed.  I really wanted
to see if Ghazi wanted a wank but thought I hadn't better test him out yet.
So I subdued my feelings with some difficulty by thinking I'd better have a
look at the Geography prep we'd been set that morning.

I was sitting on my bed looking at the notes I had scribbled into my rough
book when Ghazi came up and stood beside me.

"May I speak with you?" he said with very careful diction.

I looked up, wondering what he wanted.

"Yes, of course," I said, rather puzzled.

I patted my bed and he sat rather primly and upright on the edge.

"Please, Flip,...." he began and then burst into tears.

I scooted down the bed to where he was sitting and put my arm round his
shoulder and drew him close to me.  He was very upset about something.  His
shoulders were heaving up and down with his sobs.  Gradually his crying
subsided.  I fished out a fairly clean hankie from my trousers pocket and
passed it to him.  He sniffed a bit as he wiped his nose and cheeks and
then looked at me with his wide, brown, tear-stained eyes.

"I'm sorry, Flip, I couldn't help it," he said in a very quiet, tearful
voice, "I shouldn't have done that.  You must think I'm very childish but
I'm so worried."

I said he must be very worried to cry like that but could he tell me about
it and I or someone might be able to help.  He looked straight into my eyes
and gave me his lovely smile.  I hugged him again and he slipped his arm
round me and hugged me too.

"You are so kind, Flip, I didn't know who to talk to.  But, please, don't
tell Hamed how I've been.  He might threaten to kill me again if I said
things about him to you or anyone else."

I was very startled at this statement and took a tighter grip on Ghazi.

"Don't be silly, he can't threaten you like that."  I said emphatically.

"He can, he's very important."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

I then heard the whole story of why they had also joined the school a year
later than usual.

It turned out that Hamed's father had died when Hamed was about four so
Hamed was now really the head of the extended family and was a Sheikh.
However, the next brother to his father had taken over the role keeping
Hamed very much in the background and had sent him to England to a Prep
School when he was seven followed a year later by Ghazi who was the son of
the youngest of the three brothers.

The story was even more complicated because Ghazi's father, apparently, was
in debt to the middle brother because he was a poor businessman and had
lost a lot of money.  Both Ghazi and Hamed had three older sisters and the
uncle who had taken over had five daughters and no sons which he didn't
like as sons were very important in their culture.

Until he was ten or so Hamed was kept in the dark about all the family and
its importance but during the summer vacation that year the uncle had
instilled into him that he was very important and should not obey any one
else other than to learn well and never allow himself to be touched by
someone not in his family as this would defile the honour of the family.

Because of this Hamed had got into a number of fights at the two Prep
Schools he then went to.  He was expelled from, or at least asked to leave,
the first and was only tolerated at the second because the uncle had to pay
extra for a separate room for him and Ghazi.  Ghazi explained that this did
not make them popular with the other lads.

It wasn't until Ghazi was thirteen and Hamed about fourteen and a half that
the uncle found a Public School willing to take Hamed.  This one was down
in the West of England and the arrangements now were that both boys would
have separate rooms.

Things came to a head when Hamed refused to do something one of the Senior
Prefects had told him to do and when the Prefect had put his hand on his
shoulder to turn him round Hamed had attacked him viciously.  Although the
boy was older and much bigger the attack came as such a surprise that the
boy fell and hit his head knocking him out.
  Hamed was dragged away by others as he started to kick the boy on the
floor.

All this was hushed up but it meant that Hamed, and by extension, Ghazi,
were placed virtually in quarantine and the uncle told to find another
school willing to take them.

The young Englishman, whom Ghazi liked but Hamed loathed because he was
very strict, was the uncle's private secretary and had been a pupil at
Kinloch School and it was he who had brought them up in the big black
limousine and had wagged his finger in warning at Hamed.

So Hamed was on a sort of probation here.  He had told Ghazi he was going
to cause trouble and had threatened Ghazi that if he didn't back him up
when something happened then he would get rid of him once they got back to
their own country although until recently Hamed and he had been great
friends.  They had been brought up together and were more like brothers
than cousins and this was another thing upsetting Ghazi..

I said he wouldn't do anything because Ghazi was part of his family but
Ghazi wasn't convinced because of the influence of the nasty uncle and the
treatment of his own father.  So Ghazi was scared of what Hamed might do
and he didn't know how to react.  He said he believed that Hamed was,
underneath all this, a very good person but a very upset and worried boy.

We sat for a while and I held Ghazi against me and he relaxed quite a bit.
I wanted to tell him I thought he was a very handsome boy himself with a
beautiful cock I longed to hold and explore.  I couldn't do this because I
didn't know what might happen.  I didn't want to be kicked out for tossing
off a fellow pupil.  I would just have to think about him and toss myself
off!

I asked him would he mind if I talked all this over with Paul who had been
at the school so much longer and was wiser about how crises were coped with
in such a place.  After an initial hesitation Ghazi agreed and hugged me
back and said he trusted me.  I told him then why I was at the school and I
could see he was very affected by my story.

"We can be friends, can't we?" he asked, "I was very happy today with you
and Simon.  I think he would be a friend as well."

I said I thought Simon was a very nice and good person - I didn't say I
wanted to explore his body as well.  In fact, all this was making my cock
twitch a bit.  If Ghazi hugged me again I would definitely get a hardon!

Ghazi stood up and smiled and said he was much happier and he would leave
it to me and Paul to try to get Hamed to see reason.  He said, showing he
was perceptive, that Hamed mustn't be allowed to ruin his own life before
it had really begun.  I said I didn't want him to ruin Ghazi's life either.
I put my hand out and grasped his.

"Don't worry, I expect we can sort this out.  You can count on me to be a
friend so make sure you always ask me for anything you want," I said as
sincerely as I could giving his hand a squeeze.

I thought the poor lad would begin to weep again but he smiled and said we
were going to be very good friends.

                    To be continued:

Other stories you might be interested to read are:
Spying on My Brothers: Incest Section:    May 2000
Easter Rugger Tours and after: H/S Section:   Jun 2000
Jordan's Story: H/S Section: July 2000
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