Date: Sun, 10 Dec 2000 18:36:09 -0000
From: Jamie <virus@dial.pipex.com>
Subject: Chris-and-Jamie  Chapter 14

Same stuff - don't read this is u r underage or u don't like reading stories
of love between two boys.

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To James - get better soon.

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`Get up sleepy head, it's Christmas morning!' The ear-piercing sound
penetrated my comatose state and I began to return to reality.

`I'm up.' I mumbled, and pulled the pillow over my head.

Chris jumped up and down on the bed and struck at my head with another
pillow. Kneeling beside me, he picked me up in his arms and planted a large
kiss on my lips. I awoke instantly.

`Okay, you win.' I said. `Is it Christmas already?'

He nodded the affirmative and laid me back on the bed. I pulled my hand
through his hair a couple of times and felt the lust rise within me. I
wanted him in my mouth now. Sliding down his bare chest, I came to his
expanding boxers. They were tenting out at the front. I pulled them down to
reveal their prize. 6-1/2" of pure uncut meat stared back at me. I pounced at
once. Swallowing it in one gulp, I began to gently pull back and forth on
the warm tool.

Chris's groans were beginning to become louder and louder -- I hoped to high
heaven that the intercom wasn't permanently switched on, otherwise Chris
would be broadcasting all over the Chase. Encouraged by his pleasure I began
to bob up and down faster. I increased the pace even more as his hips began
to buck back and forth.

As he fucked me in the mouth I too began to lose control. My own member had
been rubbing hard against the bed sheets and I was ready to unload into
them. With one final push from Chris, both of us were sent crashing over the
edge. Every orgasm with him seemed to be perfect. I couldn't recall a time
when I had been even slightly disappointed with my boyfriend, and I hoped he
had never been disappointed in me.

With a quick peck on the lips he shot into the bathroom. I heard the taps
creak as they were turned on and the water spewed forth from the shiny head.
I saw, through the open door, Chris stepping into the shower and a shadow
behind the curtain beginning to lather itself up.

`You coming or not?' He asked, poking his head around the corner of the
curtain.

I couldn't resist it. Jumping out of bed I rushed towards the bathroom and
entered the shower. After searching around for a while, I finally found,
tucked away in a corner, a shower-radio. It worked perfectly, and after a
bit of fine-tuning Don McLean's "Vincent" blared out as us. The music rose
gracefully over the sound of the water and floated like clouds to our ears.

As the record came to the point of Vincent's suicide I saw that Chris had a
tear in his eye. I had known, without the need for him to tell me, from the
point that he first told me about his Dad not accepting his homosexuality
that he was contemplating suicide.

"Now I understand, what u tried to say to me,
And how you suffered for your sanity,
And how you tried to set them free.
They would not listen they did not know how;
Perhaps they'll listen now!"

All I could do was to hope that he was over it now. When he saw me staring
at him, his reaction was to take me in his arms and hold me tightly. I could
feel the breath being squeezed out of me, but I wasn't going to complain;
this was his moment and I was just glad that I had him.

He reached down and began to slowly stroke my recovered hard on. We were
just getting into it once more when a sudden jolt stopped us both. The water
had run freezing cold. Neither of us had noticed that it had been losing
heat, and now the hot water had run completely dry.

A sharp scream came from the floor below. Obviously, Elaine had also been
taking a shower. I began to laugh at this and dried myself off.

When we finally arrived downstairs, we decided to go into the room we were
first shown to yesterday. Upon entering the small room, just off the hall,
we saw that it was brightly lit with a huge Christmas tree standing in one
corner. My parents were sat on one sofa, opposite Chris's who took up the
other. As per usual, Chris and I took our seats by the fire, which was
roaring in the large iron grate. The flames licked up the chimney, bursting
into colours of amber and gold.

`Happy Christmas.' We all began at once.

Laughing at the error we sat around talking about various subjects for an
hour. After that hour, Mom disappeared to check on the Lunch and Chris
snuggled up to me, laying his head on my chest. I pulled him close and saw
his Dad in my peripheral vision. The good news was that he didn't seem too
bothered; the bad news was that I could smell burnt turkey.

Rapidly excusing myself from the room, I ran to the kitchen to find Mom and
Henry trying to wrestle a very black turkey from the oven.

`I don't think we'll be having turkey today.' She stated the obvious. `Give
me an hour and I'll get some of that chicken from the refrigerator and we'll
have that. Just don't tell anyone.' I loved it when she smiled. Since she
had become ill I hadn't seen her smile; it had evidently now departed.

Chris tapped me on the shoulder and began to say something. He stopped when
he saw the black mess resting on the work surface. He didn't need to ask
what was going on.

`Turkey's off then?' He grinned.

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After being given instructions to disappear from the kitchen, Chris and I
decided to go and investigate the rest of the house. Starting at the front
door we looked around ourselves. One corridor led to the dining room and one
door led to the lounge. That left three doors and one corridor. Inspecting
the rooms led to nothing spectacular. There was a broom-cupboard, a
cloakroom and another store cupboard. This left the corridor.

The walls were not painted, but left in their original condition -- a white
plaster interlaced with brown beams of oak. This mock-Tudor style was the
same as the rest of the house. The corridor itself seemed to never end.
There were no doors or windows on either side and it wound around to the
left. Eventually we came out in another hallway. This one had no rooms at
all, but an exact replica corridor leading continuing in the direction we
were heading and a flight of stairs which spiralled up into the ceiling.

`So this is the North Wing then.' Chris concluded.

`How the hell do you know that?' I asked.

He pointed to a small guidebook, lying flat on the table. My Grandfather
used to allow visitors to the chase, however I myself never took the
opportunity. The book was small, maybe the size of a small legal pad, and
the back (as it was turned face-down) showed a detailed map as to the
house's layout. Chris picked it up and examined it.

`Over there...' He pointed to the left. `...Is the East Wing, which contains
the library and the Gallery - whatever that is. And the other one...' He
pointed back the way we had come. `...Is the West Wing, where we have just
come from.'

It was all too confusing for me.

`Where do the stairs lead?' I asked.

After a close scrutiny of the map he answered that they led to my parent's
bedroom and the first floor offices, which ran the whole length of the
house. It seemed as though everywhere led to everywhere else.

`So I can get to our bedroom from here then, by going up the stairs?'

Chris nodded the affirmative and we climbed the oak staircase to the floor
above. At the top we met Dad and Paul. Each of them had a cup of coffee in
their hand. They explained that they were on pain of death, by Eileen and my
Mother, not to go anywhere near the kitchen until the lunch was ready.
However, the lunch was going to become more like dinner at the rate it was
taking. I glanced at my watch -- "3:00pm" stared back at me. I must have
overslept by miles this morning -- it was the afternoon already.

After a request from Paul, we took both parents up to our room. Paul reacted
in the same way that Chris and I did when first we saw it. His jaw almost
hit the floor when he saw the music studio.

`Yeah, we had that reaction too.' Chris assured him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The table was not too crowded for dinner -- the two of us, mine and his
parents, then Henry and Elaine. The eight of us made for quite a cosy
gathering.

The chicken was brought in and laid down on the table. It seemed just the
same as last night. My Mom is such a good cook that it had been brought
right back to its full, original glory in a matter of hours.

After the preliminary tasting, the serious discussion began.

`Okay, we need to discuss some living arrangements.' My Dad began from one
end of the table. `Paul, Eileen, Diane (Mom) and I have been talking this
over and we have come to a conclusion that we think is agreeable to us all.
There is no way on Earth the three of us can fill this massive house and
keep it warm and homely. Therefore we have come to the agreement that Paul,
Eileen and Chris will be selling their house in St. Matthew's and coming to
stay with us here. There is plenty of room for five families here, let alone
2, so we should all be comfortable.'

Chris and I both jumped for joy.

`However...' My Dad put a stern close on his voice. `If either of you two
start preferring to mess around with the library, music studio, stables or
yourselves in preference to your homework, then Chris moves out again.
Clear?'

We solemnly nodded our agreement, and then switched back into happy-mode
again. Leaving the table, we grasped each other's arms and began to jump up
and down with delight as to the way things were working out. After a quick
hug delivered to both parents we discussed arrangements for moving their
stuff over here.

Chris's house would be put up on the market in two days and a removal van
had already been booked to convey their belongings to the Chase. We began
with the hysterics again and were given a stern look from Elaine.
Unfortunately, I burst out in laughter as I caught her eye and was asked
what was wrong by my Father, who was not best pleased with the explanation I
gave to him.

`You two go and get the room ready so that Chris's things can be moved in as
soon as they get here.' Before he had even finished the sentence we were up
on the third floor.

The thing that really confused me was why? Why had they agreed to move in
with us when Paul still had a problem with Chris and I (no matter how much
he tried to hide it)? I couldn't see the logic in making this decision -- one
of the biggest in the lives of both families. But, who was I to argue with
this resolution; a resolution that threw Chris and I together?

Whilst I was turning all of these things over in my mind, Chris snuck up
behind me and pounced. Taken by surprise, I was thrown onto the bed. He
turned me over, onto my back, and straddled my mid-section. Leaving in for
the inevitable kiss, something had caught his eye. I followed his gaze and
saw that it rested on the music studio. I couldn't understand what he was
thinking.

`Jamie...' He looked down at me again. `...what time is it?'

`six.'

`Oh right, just wondering, cuz we've got a concert in two hours!'

`SHIT!' I could now clearly remember the concert that we had been practising
for three days previously.

As I bolted to an upright position, Chris was catapulted off me and landed
with a thud on the carpeted floor. Getting up, he dusted himself down and
then followed my disappearing form down the stairs to the dining room.

We burst in on the four parents, who were still drinking coffee and
chatting. They didn't seem amused at the prospect of having to drive us all
the way to the Cathedral at five minutes notice -- plus we had to stop at
Chris's house on the way to pick up his flute.

After a quick discussion as to whose turn it was to be at our beck and call,
all four of them decided to tag along and catch the concert. I think it may
have been something to do with the whole Christmas thing, but they all
seemed in the mood to sit in a freezing cold church singing carols with us.

The car pulled up outside the east entrance to the choir stalls and Chris
and I jumped out. Our parents drove around to the far car park and then
entered the building through the main door.

The cathedral looked as unwelcoming as it ever did, with an even more
threatening look in the pitch black of the winter's night. A single
floodlight from the high tower, shone down, piercing the darkness and into
my very soul. I shook of the intense feeling that was emanating from the
building and entered by the side door.

A quick walk across the squeaking titles took both of us to the choir
practise stalls, behind the nave and the great 17th century organ. Our
choirmaster was not happy and told Chris to get his position ready in front
of the main stalls, down from the High Altar, and me to get up to the organ
loft.

`We start in ten minutes!' I heard him call after Chris.

As I found my seat in the Organ loft, I rearranged one of the four main
mirrors to display a clear image of Chris.

`Just for inspiration.' I murmured quietly to myself.

I could see that he was in the process of connecting up his flute. As the
thin tubes of metal slid into one-another's casing I felt a sharp pang in my
groin. I snapped out of my sexual reverie and placed the music on the top
stand of the organ.

After priming the great machine, with a gust of air, I was ready. The choir
keyboard lay just out of reach of me, so I had to raise the stool slightly
to get my fingers to grip the higher keys of the treble clef. Stretching my
feet out before me, I made sure that they easily found the pedals and were
ready to play.

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