Date: Wed, 09 Jan 2002 19:12:36 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad123@hotmail.com>
Subject: Flip's Tale:  Chapter 5 Second 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 episode.
Bless you all.


				Flip's Tale

				Chapter 5b

	     5I: Celebrations: Christmas 1999, New Year 2000:

Our last Christmas at school arrived and the usual invitation came for
Hogmanay at Linnhe Castle.  I was so please because Tom was also invited.
First, we had the usual Christmas celebrations in the village.  And..., I
had a major Christmas and premature Birthday present!  A small package on
Christmas Day contained the keys of a car!  A very generous present from
Aunt Margaret who said she had more money than sense as she had also
arranged for a lap-top computer to be delivered to Stuart.  Impatient me!
I had to wait until the Tuesday to collect it with Tom from Fort William as
Monday was a holiday as well.

That meant I didn't need a chauffeur (chauffeuse, as Aunt Margaret usually
drove) to get to Linnhe so Tom and I arrived in style on New Year's Eve
with me driving.  I'd made him help me clean and polish the car the day
before so it would be pristine and he'd had the audacity to grumble about
as it was one chore his father expected him to do on the Police car so I
said I needed his experience at buffing.  He then complained he preferred
my aunt's driving as at least she did that with flair and a decent turn of
speed.  Christ, I had to drive slowly and carefully as the silly sod would
keep putting his hand on my bare leg under my kilt and asking if he could
change gear on the next corner and was he anywhere near the gear lever.

On arrival there was the usual greeting by a gaggle, herd, pack, whatever
of dogs.  Friendly creatures at least.  Then other friendly creatures
started appearing.  Paul and Hamed came out first and fussed round the car
and Tom. I was ignored until Clyde and Ghazi came round the side of the
castle with another lad who looked familiar.  He was dressed in a blue kilt
which clashed quite seriously with his dark green Kinloch sweatshirt.
Bloody hell!  It was one of the two merry wankers, the dark lad, Pete
Douglas.

After the court-martial I'd seen very little of him.  I expect he was
avoiding any confrontation.  The other lad had shyly approached me one
evening to ask if I would help him and another mate with some horrible
trigonometry and had looked so grateful when the task was done.  I made
some corny double entendre about the pair finding some new angles to
explore and nearly patted his bum as he thanked me and went off.

Pete Douglas now stood back as I was clasped and welcomed by his
companions.  Clyde, as always, had been in the middle of one of his
monologues but started another about how full the Castle would be for the
big bash tonight and had I brought my dancing partner, and so on, and so
on.  I was staring past him and Ghazi at the lad who stared straight back
now and smiled.  The ice was broken.  I, at least was no longer an ogre who
knew his dreadful secret!

Clyde shut up for a moment and saw I wasn't drinking in every one of his
words.  He realised I was looking past him.

"Of course you know Pete, don't you.  Just been selected for the Scottish
junior hockey team, haven't you Pete?"

I walked up to Pete, shook his hand and winked at him.

"He's bunking in with Ghazi.  He wants to do Economics as well in the
future," the ever informative and solicitous Clyde went on.

Whew!  Extra-curricular activities no doubt where supply and demand have to
be carefully balanced otherwise raging inflation might ensue causing
breakdown in carefully maintained infrastructures with undue wastage of
vital raw materials.... - what other jargon could I dredge up from Ghazi's
mumblings in our study while we were wrestling with our school work.  I
grinned at Clyde.

"Yeah, you clot, of cause we've met before, but as he doesn't play rugger
and he seems good at putting two and two together, we've hardly had any
interaction, eh, Pete?"

He knew I was pulling his leg, gently, and wrinkled his nose at me.  We
fell in step together as Clyde and Ghazi at last expressed interest in
seeing my car.

Actually, he was a good-looking lad and, from the evidence of the hairy
knees under his kilt, he and my furry friend made a fine pair of shaggy
bedfellows.  Shaggy maybe, but no, not shagging, as Ghazi told me later
when I cornered him to hear the gossip.  He said the lad had turned up a
couple of days before as his father had a big shooting party meeting at his
place near Glen Clay so as Mr Campbell was a member of the party and the
kid had no companions of his age he had been shipped off to Linnhe.  As
Ghazi was alone in his room Paul suggested they shared.  He said Paul was a
bloody matchmaker, knowing what the lad's major hobby was, and it was too.

Apparently, when bedtime came that first night, the lad watched as Ghazi
stripped off and seemed mesmerised by the sight of Ghazi's hairy pectorals
and stomach so was only half undressed when Ghazi got into bed in the nude.
The lad had arrived at the castle wearing sweatshirt and jeans and had left
his boxers and a singlet on when he had taken the outer layers of clothes
off.  As he lifted a leg to get into bed Ghazi had told him he didn't need
those things on as it was warm enough.  Rather reluctantly the lad had
quickly dropped the boxers and pulled off the singlet and slid in under the
covers.

Ghazi produced his infectious giggle when he said he'd then turned over in
the bed to say something to the lad and his cock had brushed the kid's leg
and he'd, automatically, gone hard.  The kid had then moved to face him and
his hand swept over Ghazi's chest and he'd let out a low whistle.  He'd
then enquired how old Ghazi was, and when Ghazi said nearly eighteen asked,
"Can I show you something?".

This kid, sixteen a fortnight before, was beginning to get a hairy chest of
his own.  Ghazi had switched on the light again and looked and found a
patch of little curls between his pecs with quite dense whorls around his
nipples.  He'd asked about further down and there he said the kid had so
much curly black hair you could hardly see his cock which just peeped out
of the bush.  Ghazi had run his fingers through the thicket and the lad had
responded with an immediate hardon.  Ghazi said it was short and thick and
had lots of foreskin.  I knew Ghazi loved foreskin and always bemoaned the
fact he'd had his removed as he peeled mine back and forth.

He giggled again and reminded me of what I'd said to Simon on the first
night we'd bunked together.

"It's a good job I don't have any morals," said Ghazi, "Here was I, a Sixth
Former, just like Simon, in bed with a younger boy, a known
masturbator...."

I stopped him there.

"Simon at that time did not know I masturbated."

"Bloody hell, of course he knew!" he expostulated, "You've told me enough
times that ninety-eight per cent of boys wank, one per cent tell lies, and
the other one per cent can suck themselves off."

I had invented that bit of esoteric knowledge after Ghazi and I had somehow
surfed to a site using Clyde's computer which showed young men with
prodigious lengths in all sorts of contortions with their cocks poked into
their own mouths.  We'd speculated on who we knew might be able to do it
but hadn't had the courage to suggest it to long-shafted Fergie at the
time.

"Anyway, I was in bed with a known mutual masturbator and you know how
things are?"

I nodded sagely and wrinkled my nose at him.

"You're fucking insatiable," I said, "You'd cadge a wank off anything that
moves up and down in a regular motion."

"Bloody, hell, me insatiable!  I thought Tom was bad enough but I got no
sleep that first night.  He kept insisting he wanted another wank and could
he give me another in return!  Same again the next night.  I could hardly
walk yesterday morning!"

As Ghazi could come with the best of them I said I thought he was
exaggerating.

"You're a disbelieving sod," he said disapprovingly, "And then last night
he asked if you and I did it together as we shared a room in House.  I said
that was not a topic of discussion and what he did with his friends need
not necessarily happen elsewhere."

I chuckled at the sound of Ghazi getting on his high horse with the kid.

"He said that fucking Reid was going to get his comeuppance for shopping
him and Jamie when he knew he'd shared a bed at CCF camp last year with
some kid he called Dolly."

I knew of Dolly, Adolphus Meinherzen.  He was the usual stuff of legends
and gossip in boarding-schools.  He was a blond, Austrian Third-Former in
Paget's House and was reputed to have sucked off the whole of the Senior
Hockey XI over two afternoons in his First Year, the year he came up from
Prep School, when his elder brother was in the team.  Dolly, at sixteen
now, was himself a good hockey player and defended well in goal, whether he
was still a champion cocksucker was anybody's guess but his blond good
looks would be enough to lead even arrogant Angus astray.

"Good," I said, "I'd shop the bastard any day.  But perhaps a good scare
might be better."

"I think big Flip fancies little Petie," taunted Ghazi.

I did but I wasn't going to confess to him.  He wouldn't tell Tom but would
make my life unbearable by his hints.

"Shut up because I'm not swapping Tom for you, so just tell me the rest as
I suppose this morning you shagged the poor boy insensible to keep him
satisfied."

Ghazi actually looked a bit shocked.

"Fuck you, Flip," he said testily, "That's reserved."

I stuck a hand out to calm him.  I hadn't seen Ghazi in flames like that
for some time and then only over real miscarriages of justice.  And I
didn't quite know what he meant.

"Sorry mate, I was only joking.  Please don't be cross with me.  That was
crass of me."

We were such good friends that awful moment passed and he said he'd try to
find out more about what the youngsters in the House thought of us lot.  If
nothing else young Pete was a blabbermouth.  Perhaps I should remind Ghazi
of a good method of shutting him up but that would only start him off again
about being worn to a frazzle.

When I finally got indoors, after making sure the car was safely garaged
with the ancient unused Rolls and three other undefinable cars in the
spacious stable block, there was Roddy as well as Simon and Richard.
Surprise, surprise who should be talking to Hamed but Charles Parsons, his
uncle's secretary A rather tanked up Mr Campbell arrived just before six
o'clock while an imperturbable Mrs Campbell marshalled an army of helpers
getting the great hall and other rooms ready for the later influx.  As last
year us lads were deputed to see that the food, and the drink, especially,
was dispensed in suitable quantities and we were warned that it wasn't one
drink for them and one for us.

                    5J: New Year's Eve: 1999

That New Year's Eve party was great.  Tom was a great hit as he was an
expert dancer and led us galumphing boys with assorted partners from the
estate and surrounding houses through many of the more convoluted sequences
of the various reels and strathspeys during the evening.  Roddy was
resplendent in full dress uniform but spoilt it rather as in one twirling
movement he displayed the bright blue lycra cycle shorts he was wearing
under his kilt.  This was much to the amusement of the young lady I was
partnering at that moment who was obviously rather keen on him.

So, full of food, several good night drinks and well-exercised, Tom and I
staggered to bed about half past one.  We lay in each other's arms and
vowed once more our love for each other.  No sex, just sweet, full
contentment.

                    5K: New Year's Day 2000.

I must say that Ghazi did look a bit peaky the next morning.  We'd shuffled
down to breakfast at about half past nine.  Ghazi, and a now very
loquacious Pete, appeared about ten.  Ghazi raised his eyebrows as he saw
me look at him.  It said it all.  Ghazi was in the presence of a sex
machine of greater power, endurance, stamina than he.  I contemplated
jokingly to myself what might happen if I did let Tom loose on the lad.
Frictional combustion of some sort; a variation on lighting a fire by
rubbing two Boy Scouts together.  No ma'am, the sheets aren't stained, just
slightly scorched!

My reverie was curtailed by the entry of Hamed with Clyde who proceeded to
give the assembled company his version of the night before as he chomped
his way through a meagre bowl of muesli.  His final peroration involved his
collision with a rather well-built lady, which I had witnessed and winced
for him at the time.

"...I ain't been so goddam squashed since my sister's goddam hoss fell
against me at that goddam rodeo."

"Oh, Clyde, shut it for a moment," said a usually tolerant Hamed, "I've got
a splitting headache.  And, anyway, Mr McCrae said you weren't to say ain't
as it's common."

Unperturbed, Clyde turned on him, emphasizing one word in particular.
"Goddam it, Hammo, you ain't supposed to drink those goddam strong
beverages.  I saw you imbibing more than once especially in the company of
that young filly in the pink dress."

Hamed sighed and picked up his cup of black coffee and drained it with one
gulp.  The war between friends was continuing and in full spate.

"Come on, Clyde," he said standing up, "Let's go for a walk, the cold air
will freeze your tongue and tonsils and we might get a bit of peace."

They both got up and were just departing when Roddy appeared through the
door and clapped Clyde on the back as he passed him.  Clyde turned and
looked him up and down.  Then reached down and disdainfully lifted Roddy's
kilt a few inches as Roddy flinched back unsure of what was to happen.
Clyde dropped the fabric and turned to Hamed..

"At least, he ain't wearing those goddam disgusting panties this morning,
Hammo.  These Scots have no sense of dress.  And there ain't much to goddam
cover, either."

He shook his head and the pair walked off, their immaculately tailored
kilts swinging sedately, the American and the Arab, side by side.

We all collapsed laughing with Roddy unsuccessfully trying to grab the
stately figure of the retreating Clyde.  After composing ourselves we then
discussed what was to happen today as it was Simon's twentieth birthday.
Roddy said he had to go back to Perth and Charlie Parsons was driving him
there before taking the road South, so they wouldn't be around for the
evening's bash.  He said his mother had arranged everything for the
evening, and from what he'd heard there was to be a formal dinner with
several guests who couldn't make it for the previous evening.

We spent most of the morning trying to stalk Clyde and Hamed but they'd
disappeared.  It was only later we discovered that they had gone for a
jaunt in Mr Campbell's Land Rover, on a spurious American licence Clyde had
acquired somehow, delivering braces of birds to people in the nearby
village.  Well, we all rested in the afternoon and then made ourselves as
smart as possible for the evening.  Tom's parents had bought him a most
expensive sporran for his forth-coming eighteenth birthday and he'd
persuaded them to let him have it earlier and he was going to wear it
tonight.  Another extravagant present from Aunt Margaret to me was a proper
black dress coat which I hadn't worn last night being in an open-necked
shirt because of the energetic dancing.  Tonight I would be the young
Highland gentleman.

Tom didn't know I'd had this present - I'd told him I'd got a new jacket so
he he'd just assumed it was for school.  I put it on to complete my outfit
and he whistled softly and came over and put his arms round me.

"You'll wear that when we make our vows, OK," he whispered.

I kissed his forehead and we made our way downstairs.

Even Clyde had to admit I was perfectly turned out.

Simon was overwhelmed by the affection everyone had for him. Tom and I had
clubbed together, after a 'phone call to Richard, and bought him a textbook
he needed.  In the end he had to give a speech and he just thanked everyone
for everything, especially Richard who had put up with him during his first
year and a bit at medical school and had made sure he knew enough to pass
his exams.  The only thing he was really sorry about was that he wasn't
celebrating his twentieth birthday on the first day of the real new
millennium, as the power- that-be had chosen the wrong date as being today,
so he was still now a man of the twentieth century!

                         5J: The Twins:

There were about twenty of us who had sat down to the very lavish dinner.
The main course had been piped in with much ceremony and there were
numerous toasts and plenty to drink.  Among the guests, people who hadn't
been able to come to the party the night before, was a family of four,
mother, father and twins of seventeen.  Two, tall, willowy (Tom said
skinny) youths, clad in immaculate black jackets, with their long legs
encased in tartan trews just like their father.  As they had come a fair
distance they were all staying the night.  With Roddy gone the twins were
going to bunk with Paul.

The lads seemed rather reserved to begin with but having found out from
Paul that they were at an English Public School and were keen on fencing
that set Clyde off.  They spent most of the evening with Clyde and Hamed
discussing feints, guards, blades and so on and gradually getting more and
more pissed as Paul, sitting with the group about half way up the table,
made sure their glasses were kept full.

After some of us had had a desultory viewing of the so-called millennium
celebrations on the television in the corner of the drawing-room at
midnight and all had bellowed out Auld Lang Syne with Queen, Prime Minister
and country, we sat chatting, perhaps a bit under the influence as Mr
Campbell's best malt was flowing rather freely.  However it wasn't long
before Paul waved goodnight to the rest of us and ushered the four of them,
lurching somewhat, up the main staircase.  Luckily his and the twins'
parents had gone back to playing bridge in the library so didn't see the
state any of them were in.

Not long after that the rest of us decided to mount the timber hill and Tom
and I managed to get to our bedroom without too much of an effort.

"Bloody hell!" said, Tom, not one usually for expletives, "That lot had a
skinful, eh?"

I agreed and carefully hung my new black jacket up.

Tom was sniggering.  "Paul's in with those two.  I wonder if he'll be the
filling in a three- decker sandwich tonight.  They looked as if they could
be a randy couple of buggers - with an en garde here and a coupe there."
This last with a passable imitation of their cut-glass English accents.

It was my turn to snigger.

"Just because you fancied them doesn't mean they'd play ball."

He sniggered again.  "Bet you'd like them to play with your balls."

I stuck my tongue out at him.  "If you don't behave and be polite about
your host you won't have anything played with."

"Bet ya!" was his only reply as he set up a tuneless whistle and continued
to put his clothes away neatly as he took them off.

I ignored him but I was determined to have my friend's balls in my hand as
I sucked his cock tonight.  Within two minutes of getting into bed we were
holding each other's balls and sucking each other's cocks.  We move back
round, head to head, at the end of that first encounter of the night.  Our
tongues duelled.  Tom drew his head away.

"I don't know which tastes better, Mr Campbell's malt or your spunk!"

I wrestled him and got my long legs round him and held him tight.

"I love you more than anything in the world...," I whispered in his ear, he
mewed with delight at that.  I went on, "...Except for my new car.", and
kissed his ear.

He gave out a hoot of derision.

"That clapped-out old banger!"

I silenced him with my mouth over his.  My car was only four years old, one
careful owner.  Then I leaned back a bit.

"I'm going to give this clapped-out little banger such a big hug his wee
bollocks will swell as big as his thick skull with all that hot air that
won't escape from his frog-like mouth."

I covered his mouth again with mine and gave his torso a firm squeeze.
Wrong thing to do.  He blew down my throat with the force of blowing a pill
down a horse's throat.  We both collapsed laughing but with him still
firmly in my grip.  Of course, being Tom, he was not perturbed.  He just
began to stroke my back and gradually he managed to tickle me and I was
helpless.  We ended up squirming and wriggling about the bed kissing each
other and feeling each other's bodies and revelling in our sensations.

"I'm going to cum again," he whispered after we'd spent some time grinding
our pelvises together and feeling our rampant pricks rub up and down
against each other.  He shot a load of his fabulous boycream up between us
coating both of us liberally.  We kissed as he reached down and, with a few
deft strokes, brought me to my climax and I added my contribution,
cementing our friendship and love once more.

We wiped ourselves with the strategically placed towel.  Then lay face to
face for a few minutes stroking each other's backs very gently and fell
asleep.

                    5K: Paul and the Twins:

Neither of us had drunk as much as any of our companions the night before.
We were up, washed, dressed, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed just after eight
o'clock.  We went downstairs where a couple of ladies from the village were
clearing the dinner table of the debris of that wonderful meal.  We helped
them stack all the bits and pieces and chatted to them about the place and
the people.  One of them knew my aunt, as she'd been born in Glenfinnan,
and had left there when she got married about ten years ago.  She said the
previous policeman had to retire because he drank too much.  Tom laughed
and said they knew as they'd found a stack of old bottles in an outhouse.
We were just about finishing and were ready for a good feed when Paul
appeared.  He was surprisingly not too much the worse for wear.

"God," said Tom, "I'd have thought you'd still be sleeping the sleep of the
unjust."

"Gahh, I made sure the twins were canned but I kept my intake down."  He
laughed.  "They're like the babes in the wood at the moment, snoring
gently."

"And what about Pyramus and Thisbe?" I asked, wondering if Clyde and Hamed
actually made it to bed.  The names had stuck after a riotous read through
in Mr McCrae's English class one Summer term, after the school exams, of A
Midsummer Night's Dream.  With the practised wisdom of schoolmasters he had
cast a stone into the slightly seething waters of relationships by
literally casting these two heroes as Bottom and Flute.  Clyde made the
most of his part, almost raping Paul, who was a rather disgruntled un-girly
Titania, before he rolled his eyes lasciviously at the hapless Hamed who
turned deeper shades of duskiness.  I was Snout the tinker and had to show
my chink as Wall.  Mr McCrae's stern look, but twinkling eye, kept the
class from going into overdrive, especially when Clyde stopped the
performance to protest that it wasn't politically correct to say that word
especially as Hing- Heung Lee was in the same class as him for Geography.

"They were pissed as newts last night.  I virtually had to strip them after
I got them on their bed.  Tell you what, Clyde's got quite a length on him
now.  You'd be surprised what flopped out from under his kilt."

"His little dagger's become a sabre, eh?"

Seeing Paul's puzzled look I explained Ghazi's metaphor for Clyde and
Hamed's favourite activity.  Paul nodded his head.  Tom snickered.  We both
looked at him.

"The penis, mightier than the sword," he misquoted.

We threatened him with instant death in a bowl of soggy cornflakes for such
an outrageous pun.

"And what about the twins, why did you pour all that liquor down their
throats?" Tom asked quietly as we got on with our plates of eggs and bacon.

Paul peered at him with a look of resignation on his face.

"You don't know those bloody kids like I do.  I've known them all their
lives, in fact Adam's named after me, 'cause you know that's my second
name."  He paused to take a large bite at a piece of toast dipped in his
egg yolk.  "Mum went to school with their mother and their dad owns a
factory somewhere or other in England."  Another bite and slow mastication.
Waiting for Paul to tell a tale was almost like watching paint dry.
"They've been coming over here to stay from well before we all went to Prep
School.  Luckily their mother didn't think we should all go to the same one
so they got shipped off down into England."  A large swig at a cup of
coffee then took place.

I kicked Tom under the table.  His face was composed.  Paul continued.

"Buggers once came to stay here when I was just thirteen and they were
twelve."  He looked up and round the room as if to check there were no
other listeners.  "They taught me more than I'd ever learned at Prep
School."

"What?  Maths and so on?" asked Tom with a completely straight face.

"No, you idiot!  You know!"  He realised that Tom was pulling his leg.
"Oh, all right.  We spent all one weekend in the loft of the stables while
they filled me in on what we could do - which wasn't much at that age - but
it made me the best informed erk when I got back to school."  He looked at
me over the table and grinned.  "How do you think Fergie and Little Dick
learned all they know?"

"And..., since then?" asked Tom nonchalantly.

"What do you mean?" Paul looked at him warily, "What do you know?"

"Nothing," said Tom, "But the evidence from your manner is that things have
happened since."

"Don't forget, his dad's a copper and he's learned all about how to get
evidence," I said.

Paul leaned back in his chair and looked from one to the other of us.

"Rory and Adam are mischievous bastards.  They look as if butter wouldn't
melt in their mouths.  I'm always dead scared of what they'll do next.  I
was on tenterhooks all evening wondering what they might do to me while I
was bunking down with them."

We both laughed at tough Paul, frightened of two scrawny teenagers.

"You can laugh.  When I was fourteen they stripped me one night and hung me
out of a window wrapped in a sheet and they were only thirteen.  They're
tough.  Don't be fooled.  They're tough as nails.  Bloody fencing."

Poor old Paul.  The picture of him trussed up made me guffaw.  He was well
into his story now and there was no stopping him.

"You know, they've got tattoos down there," he pointed towards his groin,
"Had them done when they were fourteen.  Day trip to Edinburgh and paid
some sleazy sod double his price to get them done as they were underage.
Fucking cheek!" he was getting quite worked up, "They'd shaved their hair
off and had their clan badge put there just by their cocks.  Sacrilege!"

I knew from past slight contretemps when unwise fellow pupils, not always
Sassenachs, had a disparaging word to say about Scotland, it's history or
it's customs, Paul was quick to anger.

"What's their clan badge?" I asked, hoping to get more outrage.  We were
not disappointed.

"Fucking thistle," he hissed, "Goes back hundreds of years."

"But, Paul," I said, in as honeyed tones as the greatest ham actor that
ever graced the Kinloch school stage could produce, "Perhaps it was a
danger signal to warn you not to grasp....."

Tom let out an explosive gasp.  Paul stared at me then his face creased
into his usual smile.

"You bloody fool," he said, "You two have been leading me on."  He sniffed.
"But I'll tell you this, that pair are as horny as hell and I didn't feel
too safe even with them bladdered.."

"And what were you frightened they might do to you again?" asked Tom in his
policeman mode.

Paul twigged this time.  He looked at Tom through slitted eyes.

"If I told you that, your hair would stand on end."

"More likely his cock," I said.

"Shut up you, you've got a one track mind."

I agreed, but what a wonderful track.  But the moment for more revelations
was lost.  A bleary looking Ghazi and his wank-an-hour friend stumbled into
the room.  I was just going to make some ribald comment when Ghazi
straightened up, laughed and put his arm round Pete and hugged him.

                         5L: Pete:

"We've been plotting," he said sitting down, elbows on table, leaning
forward confidentially, Pete standing behind him.  "Pete's going to get
Dolly to cozy up to Angus the Arsehole and then put his hand upon his and
stare into his eyes as Angus explains what happens when you rotate a
thingumabob through nine hundred degrees.  At that moment, tra-la, said
Pete will step out and take a photo with his new digital camera he had for
Christmas.  Voila, threats of placing on school web site, unless..."  He
stopped.  "We haven't really thought of the unless bit.  Over to you,
brainboxes," he said, pointing at the three of us in turn.

"Can't have that," said Paul ponderously.  "O.K., Angus is a real arsehole
but that is entrapment.  And I'm not having that.  You find something fair
and square and we'll have him!"

My estimation of Paul rose even higher.  Ghazi was not squashed.

"O.K., just an idea but it was fun planning it, eh, Pete?" He turned to
Pete who took the vacant chair next to him.

"Yeah, but I don't want him hunted down.  I just want him to know you don't
drop your schoolmates in the shit."

Pete was growing up fast, to match his incipient hairy chest.

Ghazi was not to be beaten.  "Look, he's only got one more year after this
at school.  What would he like most but shouldn't get.  You said he doesn't
like only being a corporal.  Can't you get Pete and Jamie made up to
corporals as well because they'll be in the Sixth Form next year and what
if Angus isn't promoted any further.  They've both had full ratings for the
past year on all their assignments and tasks, Hamed told me that as he did
some of the assessments, and that's a lot more than any of the others and
Angus, I hear, is a lazy sod."

Paul nodded sagely.  "True.  I can tell you, even though Pete is here, that
they have very good records, other than the propensity to handle dangerous
weapons in an unguarded manner..."  Pete went bright red at this but the
rest of us kept straight faces.  "...That means that any promotion board
sitting this Summer term would single them out for consideration..."

Come to the point, Paul, I thought.

"...And, although I will not be responsible for the Cadets next year my
opinion might be sought."

"And?" chorused Tom and Ghazi.

"Shan't tell you.  And you..." pointing a finger at Pete, "One word of this
conversation to anyone, including your blond-haired, two-handed drill
instructor, and your balls will be forfeit and you'll be singing soprano in
the school choir for the rest of your days!"

As I expected his balls were very precious to him he agreed without demur,
even though he was already an accomplished alto in the said choir.

The subject was dropped and gradually the others drifted in; Simon and
Richard who Tom and I moved over to talk to and find out more about being
medical students; Hamed and Clyde were heard from down the corridor
rabbiting on together and swept in still arguing about some minutiae of
golf, or fencing, or managing a health farm; finally, the twins in
voluminous Arran pullovers and well-worn jeans and looking really
bleary-eyed entered, and made straight for the coffee-pot.  They were going
home today they informed us after taking in deep draughts of the now
lukewarm black liquid.  Their father had already had a telephone call this
morning about a break-in at the factory over the holiday and he wanted to
get back to fly down to find out what had happened.  Paul looked rather
relieved.  A repetition of some heinous act on his body was postponed.
Something to pull his leg about, though, when the time was ripe.

                    5M: Pete's Problem:

We stayed another day but had promised to be home on Tuesday as it was a
Bank Holiday in Scotland and there was a big party on in the village that
evening.  Being good lads we volunteered to go quite a few miles out of our
way to deposit Pete at his residence somewhere along Loch Lochy.  Ghazi
didn't seem too relieved that Pete was leaving.  Probably kept the old
boy's hormones on the move to have the young stud in his bed.  Still, as we
left I said he could see what Paul's stamina was like as he was going to
bunk in with him now.  I also said that when he had Paul in a suitable
state of frenzy and desire to get him to spill the beans about the terrible
twins.  Ghazi made some cryptic remark about Paul being too eager to spill
his own beans than to think about the twins.

The drive was reasonably pleasant.  I let Tom drive as he'd passed his
test, on the second attempt, a fact I kept driving home, during the
previous term.  Also, I didn't want the two horny buggers sitting together
in the back seat as they would probably pass the time indulging in some
bizarre sexual practice which would frighten any passing horses....  Oh
God, what I mean is, I would be left out.  So, I sat in the back seat with
Pete and we spent the first part of the journey in silence.

We'd just passed the pinch between the two parts of Loch Linnhe when Pete
roused from his pensive mood.

He turned to me.  "Can I ask you something?  Please, only tell me if you
want to."

I'd guessed the subject of the question as I'd seen Pete watching Simon and
Richard very carefully as they talked and joked together and then yesterday
he'd made a point of being where Tom and I were as much as possible.  Then,
Ghazi's description of his bedroom behaviour was also a fair clue.

"Pete," I said, "I'll give you a truthful answer if I can."

"Um..  You and Tom.... and Simon and Richard.....  Are you really...." He
stopped, probably thinking he'd gone too far.

"It's alright, Pete, I love Tom and he loves me just as Simon and Richard
love each other."

He released his pent-up breath.  Tears rolled down his cheeks.  I put my
arm round him and hugged him nearer to me.  I saw Tom glance in the driving
mirror.  Tom's sharp ears had heard the exchange.

"Yes, we intend to be together as soon as we leave school," he said.  "Who
do you love?"

Poor Pete.  He was sobbing quite hard now.  "I just love Jamie but he won't
tell me he loves me."

"Have you asked him?" called back Tom.

"No!" wailed Pete, "I daren't."

"But you toss each other off?" Tom's interrogation was explicit.  "Do you
do it regularly with him and only him?"

Pete composed himself.  Tom's authority, like Paul's was inbuilt.  Pete
sniffed and I passed him the hankie I kept tucked up the sleeve of my
pullover.  He blew his nose.  Time for confession to Father Flip and
Brother Tom.

"I do it with him and with Dolly, but I only love Jamie.  Dolly scares me.
He wants me to do other things and says he wants me all the time.  What
shall I do?"

I put my hand on his knee and stroked up his furry leg a bit under the hem
of his kilt.  Oh God, it wasn't the vibration of the car which was making
my un-furry leg start to go stiff.

"Look Pete, we haven't got time to talk all through it now.  Do your
parents know anything about how you feel?"

Pete was quite composed now.  "Mum did ask me last Easter why I didn't want
to ring round any of the girls we know to go out for an evening.  I said I
was a bit shy as I only knew boys at school...."  He paused.  "Then in the
summer hols she found the bloody mag Dolly gave me...."  He looked at me
and put his hand over mine and I moved my hand again and he didn't stop me.
"It was a magazine with boys and men in it...  You know, showing themselves
off and doing things."

"And had you been tossing yourself off while looking at the magazine?"
asked Tom, I think relishing his cross examination.

"What do you think...," came a rush of words and the true answer.

"And what did your mother say?" continued Tom.

Pete looked at me.  I shrugged my shoulders.

"She asked me was I gay and I said I didn't know and she said she wouldn't
say anything to dad.  Do you think I'm gay?"

"You'll know, Pete, it'll be difficult, but you'll know." I said, slowly
and deliberately.

"Then I'm gay!" he said with sudden conviction.

I then said that he'd better come and talk things over with me once we were
at school.  I said he wasn't to do anything again which might jeopardise
his school career and to steer clear of Dolly whatever happened and if he
was approached to say he was too busy getting ready for the exams in the
Summer term.  With Jamie it was a question of wait and see.
  I said he was to be doubly careful if they couldn't keep their hands to
themselves.  But it might just be sexual release for Jamie.

I had my doubts but I couldn't bolster Pete's hopes up with idle
speculation.  However, I had noticed a couple of looks which Jamie had
given Pete in the prep room since the horrid court-martial and had
concluded then there was a bit of desire of a more personal nature than
usual between mere wank-buddies.

"Next year, when you're in the Sixth who have you said you'll share with?"
I asked.

"Oh, Jamie, of course."

"Did he suggest it, or you?"

"He did."

"Is there anyone else he might have asked?"

"Oh, yes, he's very friendly with Jack Pringle."

That was the other lad I'd helped with Jamie over the trig problems.
Another tasty morsel.

"Has he done things with Jack?  It's OK you can tell us, we're hardly
likely to say anything."

Pete grinned now, much more relaxed.

"I should think all our dorm has done something with each other.  It was
being caught by Reid that hurt us.  The others said we weren't to worry as
they knew Paul was very fair.  I've never been so scared in my life but
he's great the way he helped us."

He rubbed his hand up and down on mine.

"Jack's brill but Jamie prefers to be with me.  We've always worked
together since we were in Prep School."

"Well, my advice is to share a room with him and take it from there.  If
you find he doesn't want more than a bit of relief then you'll have to
bottle your real feelings up until you find someone."

Tom was nodding at this.  "If you are made for each other you'll both know
when to say something.  We did."

Pete looked much happier.  "Thanks, I feel a lot better and if I can tell
you things I won't be a nuisance, I promise."

He pushed down again on my hand.  I gripped his leg just above his knee and
he winced a bit.

"And did you seduce my friend Ghazi?"

The look on his face was a picture.  What did I know?

I laughed.  "I don't know who seduced who, but you certainly tired him out,
he said he was knackered."

Pete gasped.  "He told you what we did?"

"Look, Ghazi and I have no secrets from each other.  We joined the school
together, we've been mates ever since.  I love Ghazi almost as much as that
big-eared jerk in the front there and when Ghazi says he's knackered it's a
case of the insatiable meeting the unstoppable.  Which are you?"

Pete looked from me to Tom's back, then at me again.  "Both," he said
quietly, "And I think Ghazi's the same."

I gave his leg another squeeze and I also had to squirm a bit to get more
comfortable with my rapidly expanding hardon.

"I should know," I also said quietly.  Tom snickered and accelerated to
pass an even more ancient Ford than my car.

After that implicit confession Pete was in questioning mode.

"Ghazi said I wasn't to ask about you and him.  But it's true?"

"What's true?"

"Well, we talk about all of you on the top floor and Jac...  I mean,
someone says you all must be doing things all the time especially as you
all share rooms.  Is it like that?"

To tell the truth or not, that is the question.

"Look, Pete, I can't and won't answer that question.  Ghazi told you that
any discussion of us was not a topic of conversation.  Gentlemen do not
tell tales.  So, speculate as you like but watch what you say and to whom.
We were exactly the same.  We were always curious about what went on up
above us.  You've shared a dorm room long enough to know everyone else's
secrets.  Keep it like that."

Pete grinned, "Only asking."

"Still," I said, "I think Ghazi is going to miss you.  He's bunking in with
Paul tonight."  I winked at Tom who was looking in the driving mirror.
"The insatiable with the imperturbable, eh?"

I removed my hand but Pete gripped it.

"Thanks," he said, "I feel so much better."

We chatted on then about more mundane things, such as the ludicrous Dome,
and more important things, like the chances Pete going on the next Scottish
Schools hockey tour and then, with directions from Pete we drove up to a
quite enormous house.

More dogs greeted us.  I was getting a bit fed up of wet snouts pushing
their way up my legs beneath my kilt.  In fact, poor Ghazi had had a shock
with one of the Campbell retrievers which reached such a high level its
snout was dangerously near his precious equipment so he told me.

Mrs Douglas was very welcoming and we were straightaway taken into lunch
which we had been invited to partake when Pete had phoned his mother about
his method of return.  One of his two elder sisters was there with her
young child who proceeded to cling to Tom's legs calling him Dada.  I knew
Tom was a horny bastard but I didn't think he'd impregnated any young
ladies!  I would have to tell his mother who would use the knowledge to
tease him.  Tom tried to tell the infant he wasn't his dad but this only
made the child more determined and he kept repeating Dada much to the
amusement of his mother and the rest of us.

Lunch was great but we had to leave as soon as we had finished to get back
to prepare for the party.  Pete came to see us off, shook hands with both
of us and thanked us profusely for listening to him.  I said if he wanted
to he could phone me before we went back to school.

I let Tom drive me back home.  He was quite a good driver.  I sat in the
front next to him but did not distract him by looking for the gear lever!

"He's a good lad, isn't he?" he said almost before we had left their drive.
"But you were drooling over him all the way there and I saw you with your
hand on his leg.  I'm warning you.  No ending up in bed with that one.  At
least not unless I'm present."

We'd already discussed Ghazi's experience so I teased Tom a bit with what I
might do with the lad while I was counselling him.

"Wait till I get you home.  You won't want to dally with a sixteen-year-old
once I've shown you what a proper man can do!"

"You're not a proper man until the end of the month!"  His birthday was on
the twenty- eighth, four days after Paul's.

                    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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