Date: Tue, 8 Jul 2008 19:37:28 +0000
From: Jeffrey Fletcher <jeffyrks@hotmail.com>
Subject: Jonathan 4

This is a work of fiction and in no way draws on the lives of any specific
person or persons.  If there is any similarity to any real persons or
events it is entirely coincidental.

This work is copyrighted by the author and may not be reproduced in any
form without the specific written permission of the author. It is assigned
to the Nifty Archives under the terms of their submission agreement but it
may not be copied or archived on any other site without the written
permission of the author.

My thanks to John who has read this through for any details that may need
explanation for transatlantic, or non UK readers, and made several
corrections.  Any remaining errors, grammatical, spelling historical or
whatever are entirely my fault.

If you wish to comment on the story then do contact me on
Jeffyrks@hotmail.com.  I aim to reply to all messages.


Jonathan 4 July 5th 2008


An annual event in the calendar of Jonathan's and Robert's school was
Old Boys' Day. In Malcolm's time it had indeed been Old Boys' Day,
but since it became a co-educational school, educating girls as well as boys,
the alternative name of Old Pupils' Day did not ring true, so it was
still called Old Boys' Day, even though the percentage of women present
was steadily rising. One annual tradition remained firmly in the programme
of events. The School Cricket First XI played the Old Boys' XI. In
their time Malcolm, and his three sons, Michael, Stephen and Kevin
had all played first for the school and then later for the Old Boys.
Now in the summer of 2007 Jonathan was certain to be selected to play
for the school.

Jonathan knew that his father would be unable to attend all of the match
as Saturday was his busiest day of the week. Two weeks before Malcolm
had been over to Michael's for a meal.

"Gramps are you coming to Old Boys' Day?"

"I don't think so, Jon. It is too soon after Janice. Some will be
asking if she is around, and I will have to explain; and others will
be expressing their sympathy."

"I was hoping you would come. I know Dad can't be there until almost
the end of the game because of the shop. You've never really watched
me play!"

Malcolm looked at his favourite grandchild, who was so much like him
as a youngster to look at. "I'll think about it, Jon. But I make no
promises."

"Please, Gramps."

Saturday 5th July  was also the Ladies' final  at the All England Tennis championship at Wimbledon, and both occasions enjoyed a day of uninterrupted sunshine, unlike the year before.

When Michael left home for work he had a word Jonathan. "I hope the
game goes well for you, son. I wish I could be there to watch, but I'll get along as soon as I can, and hope to see you bat." When he was
going out of the door, he turned to Jonathan. "I'll give you a fiver
for every run you make."

"Dad, wow. Even if I make a ton?"

Jonathan did not know whether his father had heard the last remark or
not.

[Readers who find cricket incomprehensible or boring and want to skip
the next section fast forward to @@@@@@@]

The school won the toss and elected to bat. At 11.30 Jonathan and
his fellow opening batsman strode out onto the field. He took guard.
As so often happens the first ball of the game was a loose one.
Jonathan got to the pitch of ball and drove it firmly all along the
ground through the covers. He had opened his score with a four.

Malcolm arrived at the school at 12.30. He made his way to the usual
place where his contemporaries met, and from where they could keep an
eye on the cricket.

"Good to see you, Mal," said one of his old form mates. "It is just
like old times. The school's opening bat looks just like you did
nearly fifty years ago."

Malcolm looked onto the field. "He bloody well ought to, he's my
grandson, Jonathan. How's he doing?"

"Very well. He has got thirty of the schools fifty runs."

Malcolm's attention from then on was firmly fixed on events on the
pitch. He was reminded of one of his outstanding innings when he had
scored a hundred for Whitgest in his first season playing for them.
Jonathan swept and drove with ease, and his score steadily mounted.
In school cricket thirty is a good score for a batsman to make,
anything over fifty for an individual batsmen was a real matter for
congratulation. No other batsman was able to stay with him at the
crease for long, but Jonathan's score steadily mounted. It was in
the middle of the afternoon that he made his hundredth run with a
gloriously confident late cut. He made a hundred and sixteen before
being caught out in the deep mid-field. The captain of the school side
declared and all the players came off the pitch.

[@@@@@@]

In the break between innings Jonathan slipped out of the pavilion,
and made his way round to where his grandfather was standing with his
old school mates. Malcolm did not see him approach and the first he
knew was Jonathan's arm around him and his voice, "Thanks for coming,
Gramps. How much did you see?"

Malcolm turned and gave Jonathan a hug, muttering in his ear, "Well
done. I'm very proud of you." Then as they broke apart he added so
all who were standing round could hear, "You were about thirty when I
arrived, so I saw most of your innings."

"I don't know what Dad'll say. He promised me a fiver for every run I
made."

"He knows already. He's delighted."

"How does he know?"

"I sent him a text message with your score every quarter of an hour.
55 n.o and so on. He says its champagne at dinner this evening."

"I must go, Gramps. We've got to get your side out now."

The school beat the Old Boys that Saturday.  Usually the Old Boys'
greater maturity and skill at the game ended up with them as the
winners, but not that year.

Michael arrived at the school to see the final overs of the game.

When father and son met they gave each other hug. "Well done, Jon.
How do you want your £580. In coins? In notes and coins, or will a
cheque do?"

"That's a difficult question. I'm in no hurry, so you can put your
finances in order so you can pay me." He gave his father a wink.
Those who heard this bit of badinage laughed, because all knew that
the Pridhams were well heeled. "Can Bob come to eat with us this
evening, Dad?"

"Of course he can. It not every day I have a son who makes a century
at cricket."

Jonathan's heart was warmed. He knew that his father was pleased and
proud of his success on the cricket field.

***

They sat down to dinner soon after Jonathan and Robert got back from
school so Abigail and Thomas, Jonathan's younger siblings could take
part in the celebration. Malcolm was also present enjoying every
moment of his grandson's success. Champagne was drunk, and Michael
said to them all how proud he was of Jonathan's achievement. "You've
won your Pridham cricket cap, son. Your grandfather, your two uncles,
and myself, all made at least one century in our time. You have
beaten us all by making it when you are younger than any of us. The
first of the next generation of cricketing Pridhams. May there be many
more, but not at five quid a run, and to think I nearly said ten quid! Well done, Jonathan." Michael handed a cheque for £580 to Jonathan.

"Thanks, Dad. Thank you all for your support, not just today but over
the years. Thanks Dad for teaching me how to hold a bat, when I was
young, and to watch the ball, and watch the bowlers hand. And you'd
better learn not to make any rash promises in future." Everyone
laughed.

It was nearly ten o'clock when the table was cleared, and the party
began to break off. Malcolm soon left to return home to Whitgest.
Abigail and Thomas were directed towards bed. Lois and Michael were
busy in clearing up the aftermath of the meal. Jonathan and Robert
were left alone in the dining room.

"I must be going, Jon."

"I don't feel like bed. I still need to wind down. Let's go for a
walk."

Michael and Lois were told, and the two young men left the house.
When they were outside Jonathan turned to Robert. "There's one thing
I need to make the day complete."

"What's that?"

"My cock up your arse!"

"Okay then. Usual place?"

In their wanderings they had found a secluded unfrequented spot.
There was a disused railway track that had been turned into a cycle
track and footpath. When there were trains running it had joined the
mainline going south towards London. But the now the cycle track swung
away to a narrow lane about one hundred yards before the main line.
The remaining stretch had become overgrown, and close to the main line
was a tangle of trees and brambles. Jonathan and Robert had found
this a good place to go when there was no home available for their
sexual encounters. Though express trains thundered past a few yards
away, they were completely out of sight. There was just enough light
for them to make it to their usual spot under an ash tree.

"Come on, Bob, get that bum of yours out into the open."

Robert undid his belt and zip, and lowered his jeans to his ankles.
Jonathan's cock had been hard most of the way as they had walked to
this spot. He too lowered his jeans.

Robert lent against the tree trunk, sticking his bum out. They had
done this many times before. "I suppose you're going to use spit,
and just shove it in," asked Robert speaking over his shoulder.

"Not at all, I have got a bottle with some oil in it, should
lubricate it well enough."

"What oil is it. I hope it's not bicycle oil."

"No, you clot. It's grape seed oil. I thought about sesame oil,
for 'Open Sesame' but it smells too much. I didn't think Extra Virgin
Olive Oil was appropriate for your arse."

They both laughed. Jonathan proceeded to prepare Robert, and then
his own cock. He shuffled up closer to Robert, and put his cock on
the target and pushed. With one long and fairly slow thrust he
penetrated the whole length of his cock into Robert.

"I must be careful or I'll cum at once."

That was the last thing they both wanted. Robert's reaction was
quick and perfect, he asked a question, changing the subject. "Which
of all the strokes you made in your innings was your best do you
think?"

Cricket was probably the only distraction that would have worked.
Jonathan paused to think. "I think the first boundary, the cover
drive off the first ball. I know it was a poor ball, but I think my
stroke was perfect."

The momentary distraction worked. The peak was passed, and Jonathan
was no longer in danger of immediate ejaculation. He began to thrust
slowly in and out. He reached his hands under Robert's shirt, and
first stroked his back, and then reached round to fondle his
nipples. These at once were hard, and Robert began to groan and move
with pleasure. Jonathan's hands lowered to feel Robert's cock and
balls, and then to wander over all that was in reach.

"My balls are full to bursting, Bob. I haven't wanked for three
days."

"Wow. Whatever for?"

"Getting ready for the match."

"So I must be prepared to be blasted away and carried off on a flood
of your cum."

"Something like it."

"But think of the cleaning up."

"I've come prepared. Got a flat pack of toilet tissues to take care
of that."

They both groaned appreciatively as Jonathan's approached his climax.
It was not very long delayed and it was a mighty one. The initial
torrent of cum seemed to last far longer than usual. They both felt
it. That was followed by a series of follow-up throbs that were their
usual experience.

"Wow, Jon. I think your cum must be coming out of my ears."

"There certainly seemed to be a lot of it."

"I wished I had received it in a position where I could have watched
more than the trunk of this bloody tree."

"You want me to go without wanking for three days again?"

"Yea. Why not? I can feel it beginning to trickle down my leg, I
think we had better do some cleaning up, and then I want to do you."

Within a few minutes their roles were reversed. Robert had wanked
that morning in the shower, so he took longer, and deposited less of
a load into Jonathan.

"Thanks, Bob, for that. I don't think I'll be wanting to do it with
anybody but you."

"What are you going to do at Uni. You'll be joining Gay Soc and
having sessions with loads of different guys. We can get together in
the Vacs, but I don't intend being faithful to you during term time."

"What you do is up to you. But I intend to keep myself only for
you." They walked on in silence for a while.

"I think today has been the best day of my life, a century at
cricket, and a really good fuck with my best friend," said Jonathan as
they parted.



Jeff at jeffyrks@hotmail.com