Date: Sun, 16 Apr 2017 08:52:22 +0000 (UTC)
From: c m <nesteuk@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: The Hockey boys, Mark and me, Chapter 14

This is the final part of the story. Thank you all for your comments so
far, it's meant a lot to me.

Same disclaimers and warnings apply as at Part 1.




Mark and me, Part 14



	On the day before Mark left with his family for their skiing trip,
he called me.

	'I so wish you were coming with us, Chris. Try and behave yourself
for a week. Can't wait to see you in a week's time.'

	'Likewise Mark. Keep your hands off the sexy French boys. You're
going to need all your strength when you get back.'

	'Ooh...promises promises,' he laughed.

	'Have fun. I love you.'

	'I love you too.'




	The first inkling that something was wrong happened while I was
watching the ten o'clock news, and it said that nine skiers had been killed
in an avalanche at Deux Alpes.  That was where Mark and his family had
gone. I had the most awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. It got worse
when the item went on to say that at least five of the skiers were
British. That was it. No more details. I ran to the kitchen to find Mum. I
was shaking as I told her about the news item.

      'Try not to worry, Chris. There must be hundreds of skiers there at
this time of year.  I'm sure Mark is fine.'

      I couldn't sleep that night. In the morning, I put the radio on at
seven to hear the news.  It was the second item on. It confirmed that the
dead included a family of three; a mother, father and their son. The family
came from near Newbury. I knew with terrifying certainty that it was Mark.

      My roar of anguish brought my parents rushing to my room. I told then
what I'd heard.

      'Did they give their names, Chris?'

      'No...no...but who else can it be?'

      'There is always hope until we know for sure.' Mum put her arms round
me.

      On the eight o'clock news, my world exploded. The family had been
named. It was Mark.




 	I have little recollection of the next few days. I know I spent a
lot of time just sitting in my room. I know I cried a lot. I remember James
coming round several times and just sitting with me, holding me tight,
words tumbling incoherently out of me and his shirt becoming wet with my
tears.  I remember getting phone calls from Jamie and Steve, but being
unable to speak. I remember phoning Max and breaking down as I told him
what had happened.

      I blamed myself for not being there. For not being with him. He had
died alone when I should have been there beside him. He must have been so
scared and so frightened.  We should have gone together. I wished we had.

      Mum and Dad were kindness itself, but there was nothing they could do
to mend my heart.

      I knew that I couldn't go back and teach that next term. The school
understood.

      The funeral details eventually came through. I decided to drive down
to the crematorium.  Steve's family had kindly offered me a bed for the
night. It was raining most of the way down, but when I arrived at the Crem,
the clouds started to clear. As I walked up from the car park, I saw Jamie
who came over and hugged me. I tried desperately to hold things together.

      I hope I never have to attend another funeral like that. Three
coffins.  Mark's mother's parents were there - his father's were already
dead. They were drawn and grey.  No-one should have to be at the funeral of
their children and grandchildren - it's not meant to be that way.  Mark's
uncle gave a lovely tribute, we sang some hymns and then there were
prayers. And then it was over.  As the family left, I sat numbly at the
back. Steve came and put his arm round me on one side, and Jamie did the
same on the other.

      'He loved you Chris. You were the world to him. You made him so, so
happy.'

      I wept.




	At the wake afterwards, I met Mark's grandparents. They knew who I
was and what Mark and I had been to each other.

      `You made him very happy, Chris. We know that you must feel his loss
as keenly as we do. Thank you so much for coming.'

      That evening Jamie and Steve and I all went out for a drink. Several
drinks in fact.  When we got back to Steve's house, he showed me to my
room. I hugged him tightly to me.

      'Would you like me to come back and be with you for a bit, Chris?'

      'Thank you...yes, I'd like that.'

      I got ready for bed. I showered, brushed my teeth and got under the
covers.

      A few minutes later Steve came back in his dressing gown. I probably
shouldn't have invited him into bed beside me, but I did. He took off his
gown. I didn't really absorb the fact that he was naked underneath. He
slipped in beside me and put his arms round me.

      I shouldn't have put my head on his shoulder, but I did.

      I shouldn't have let him stroke my hair, but I did.

      I shouldn't have got hard, but I did.

      I shouldn't have let him put his hand between my legs, but I did.

      I shouldn't have let him take me in his mouth, but I did.

      I shouldn't have taken his cock in my hand, but I did.

      We shouldn't have cum, but we did.

      I woke up at around two in the morning to find Steve still beside
me. I suddenly felt overwhelmed by guilt. Then, as clearly as if he had
been in the room, I head Mark's voice in my head telling me to stop feeling
guilty, to live for the living, and to be the me he loved.  'Promise me'
the voice said.

      'I promise you, Mark.'

      And then I was in floods of tears again. Steve woke up and put his
arms round me. I told him about the voice in my head.

      'Chris....I know I could never replace Mark, but...'

      I put my fingers on his lips.

      'Don't ask me for that, Steve. Not now. Maybe never, but not now. I'm
not ready.'

      'I'm sorry...it was thoughtless. But I do truly know why Mark loved
you, Chris.'

      'Steve...thank you for being here, and thank you for earlier. But I
think I need to be alone right now. Would you mind terribly?'

      'Of course not, Chris.' He kissed me lightly on the cheek and got out
of bed, put on his robe, and went back to his room.

      I must have dreamed. But Mark was there in my dream. He told me he
wanted me to be happy.  He told me to honour him by going forwards. He told
me I knew what to do. In my dream we held each other close one last time.

      In the morning I knew what he wanted me to do.

      I got up and thanked Steve's parents for having put me up. I thanked
Steve for being a good friend to me. I got in the car and drove home.

      I told Mum and Dad what I had planned. They thought I should
wait. That it was too soon.  But I knew it was what Mark wanted. And it was
what I wanted.

      I made a phone call. I waited. I got a phone call back.

      I went to the travel agent in town.

      I packed a bag.

      Next day Mum drove me to the airport. She said she'd be there in a
week to collect me.

      I checked in. I boarded the plane.

      After we'd landed, I went through passport control and customs. The
door to the arrivals hall hissed open and I walked past people holding
boards with names on. And then I saw him.

      Max rushed up to me and threw his arms round me. I burst into
tears. I've no idea what the people around me thought was happening, but
Max just held me until the tears stopped. His parents had been waiting
patiently behind him.

      'Welcome to Frankfurt, Chris. Max has told us so much about you. We
are so sorry to hear about Mark.'

      I shook their hands and we went to the car. On the way back to their
house from the airport, Max hugged me tightly to him all the way. I felt
safe. I felt loved. I knew that I was in the right place. I knew that Mark
had been right.

      At their house - which was impressive - Max asked me if I would
prefer a room of my own, or if I would prefer to share with him. He said he
understood perfectly that a room of my own might be what I needed. I
thought for a moment. I was overwhelmed that he had even thought to ask.

      'I would like to share with you, Max, if that's alright with you and
your parents.'

      'It is fine with my parents, and it is super-fine with me.' His face
cracked with that grin I had come to know so well.

      His room was large with its own en suite shower. It was full of
lovely things and beautiful clothes. I saw the picture that I had sent him
pinned to a corkboard with a handwritten note underneath which said :
'Chris. The Hague Tournament. Wow!'

      I smiled.

      He had a huge double bed - bigger than anything I had ever seen. He
opened a sliding door and showed me a huge space to hang clothes.

      'This is for your things, Chris.'

      I pointed to my modest travel bag, and we both started laughing.

      'Oh Chris, it is so good to hear you laugh again. It is so good to
have you here.'

      We hugged.

      His parents were charming and they both spoke good English, but I
vowed that I would learn German in the remaining time before I went up to
Oxford.

His mother brought me coffee as I sat in their kitchen that afternoon.

      'Max described you as `the nicest and most beautiful boy he had ever
seen'. He was telling the truth - for once! He has talked about you so much
it is lovely to have you here.  Please treat our house as your house during
your stay.'

      'Thank you...you are very kind Mr. and Mrs. Schell.'

      'Please, call us Bernt and Lisl.'




	 That night as we lay in bed, Max put his arms round me and said:

     	 'I love you, Chris. But you need time, I think. Please, there is
no need to have sex things of any kind with me unless and until you are
ready. I am happy just to have you here and to be able to comfort you and
hold you close.'

      'Thank you, Max. Mark was right when he sent me here.'

      'Mark sent you here?'

      So I told him the story of the voice. And I told him about waking up
and knowing what to do.

      'That is...magical, Chris. I am so happy.'

      He kissed me and pulled me even more tightly to him, putting his head
on my shoulder.  I felt perfectly at peace - and I had my first proper
night's sleep since Mark's death.




	Over the next few days, Max and I went cycling and walking. We
played music and cards.  I met some of his friends. We went sightseeing. We
laughed and joshed with each other. We slowly grew closer and closer. We
showered and slept together. But we didn't have sex.

      Until the fifth day. But on that fifth day, as we cuddled, naked, in
bed, I felt myself harden.  I felt desire start to course through me - and
the voice told me it was right. I took hold of Max's hand and moved it to
my groin.

      'Are you sure, Chris? Quite sure?'

      'I am certain, Max.'

      We took hold of each other and it was like fire rippling through my
veins. We kissed – passionately - tongues weaving their course in our
mouths. We looked into one another's eyes and there was a spark there.

      'I think I love you, Max.'

      'I have loved you from the first time we were together, Chris. But I
never dared hope.'

      I ran my hands over his body. Over his chest, over his stomach and
over his completely smooth and hairless groin. It brought the memories
flooding back. And it made me even harder.

      Max discovered that I had kept my balls shaved.

      'Very nice, Chris. Maybe we do the rest of you again too?'

      'Maybe, Max'. I smiled.

      We just masturbated each other. The simplest form of sex between two
boys - but it was right.  It sealed an invisible bond and as we came,
almost simultaneously, we knew something new had been written in the pages
of our lives. We licked each other's cum off our fingers. We fed each other
with it.  We kissed. We held each other tight.

      Then Max rolled me on my back. He looked into my eyes. He cocked an
eyebrow. I smiled and nodded.

      'I have thought about this almost every day for nine months, Chris. I
haven't had anyone else inside me since the last time with you.'

      He oiled me with the same massage oil we had used the last time we
had had sex, then straddled me and guided my cock to his hole. He wriggled
down on me until I was completely inside him. And then he rode
me. Magnificently, urgently, enthusiastically - until I erupted inside
him. While he did so, I stroked him until he came, in a fountain, all over
me.  He lay forward on my chest, his face buried in my neck, his cum warm
and sticky between us, and we just stayed like that until our breathing and
our heart rates had returned to normal.

      'Oh Chris, my Chris...that was so, so good. I wondered if it would be
like I remembered...and it was...only even more. I love you so much.'

      And I suddenly knew, with complete certainty, what had to happen
next.

      'Max...do you think...do you think you could...be inside...me?'

      'Really, Chris? Are you serious?'

      'Yes, Max, very serious. I love being in you, but right now I need
you - I really need you - in me. Please?'

      I put my hand between his thighs and felt him...he was hard.

      'Looks like your body is saying 'yes', Max.'

      'And my mind has always said `yes' to you Chris. But...you are really
sure?'

      'Yes, Max. I want you and I need you.'

      I moved to the edge of the bed and he put my legs over his
shoulders. I needed to see his face as he entered me.

      He put some oil in my hole and on his cock. He put the tip of himself
against me...and pushed gently. He slid in about an inch.

      'Push a little harder, Max.'

      He did so and I felt him pop through my inner muscle then slide
easily all the way in.

      'Oh my God, Chris. I am inside you. It feels...amazing.'

      'Fuck me, Max. But slowly please.'

      He did. At least at first. As he got into it, he picked up speed. I
didn't mind. It felt fantastic.

      When he came, it was with a huge groan after which he collapsed on
top of me. I held him tight to me. I kissed him.

      The circle was complete.

      'That felt amazing Max. Thank you.'

      'Oh my god, Chris, It was better than I could ever have imagined. You
are my first. I hope you will be my only.'

      I realised what he was saying and I felt a glow spread through
me. Maybe it was having him inside me, but I think it was something else.

      Later that night after we'd made love again, and after which we had
just lain, perfectly content, in each other's arms, he asked me the same
question as Steve had tried to. But this was different.  This time I knew.

      'Yes, Max. Yes please. If you'll have me, I'd love to be your
boyfriend.'

      'Oh, Chris. I am so happy. We will be very good together, I think.'

      'I think so too, Max.'

      We spent the rest of the night re-exploring each other in every
detail. We ended up slippery, sticky and exhausted. We fell asleep for
maybe a few hours. I dreamed.

      In my dreams Mark smiled at me.

      In the morning we showered and Max shaved me. It sealed the bond. We
went down to breakfast tired but happy - and Max's parents knew at once
that things were different. I saw his mother and father look at each other
and smile.

      'Mother, father...I am the luckiest and happiest boy in the world. My
dream has come true.'

      He kissed me in front of them - and I kissed him back.

      'Mr. and Mrs. Schell, you have a wonderful son. He makes me very
happy and I love him.'

      His father turned to me.

      'Chris, we know how happy you make Max, and we also like you very
much as well.  We are very pleased for both of you.'

      He looked at Max.

       'Max, we are so very happy for you. Like your grandmother, you have
found a lovely English boy to love.' He smiled.




	Fate is a strange thing. A tournament. A chance meeting. A terrible
accident. Heartbreak. Hope. Love.





	Over the next few days, Max introduced me to more of his friends. I
told him to be open about me. To tell them that I was his boyfriend if
that's what he wanted to say. I was proud of it. I was proud of Max...and I
was proud of me.

      And a few weeks later, I heard Mark's voice again - the last time I
ever heard it - telling me that he was proud of me too.

      And that's how I ended up with a German boyfriend. I learned German
as I had vowed I would. And Max came to England for a year as he said he
would. And we stayed together.  My parents loved him and James loved
him...but most of all I loved him.

      And that is the story of the best, and the worst, and then the best,
eighteen months of my life.

      And one day, perhaps, I will tell the rest of that story.

      About Max and me.

      Maybe.



I hope you enjoyed this story. If you have any comments, please email me at
nesteuk@yahoo.co.uk.

....and if you's like to hear the story of Max and me, let me know. Maybe
that would persuade me to tell it.

	Maybe.