Date: Fri, 14 Nov 2008 22:44:34 +0000
From: Daniel Self <analternativetomodernliving@hotmail.com>
Subject: Kip - 2

Special thanks to Paul for his time and editing.

This is part two of four parts. If you are coming to this part first, you
may prefer to check out part one first which introduces the characters
involved.

Feedback is always welcome, mail or msn.

This story may be unsuitable for minors and contains content that may be
illegal in some countries.

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

Kip enjoyed having a room to himself and found to his surprise that he was
actually seldom on his own.  It had begun on the first night that David had
left.  The Wilson twins had come down with a cake to share.  Kip went to
make cups of tea for them all, slightly trepidacious that they would have
heard about the note in his desk, but glad that they had come down to see
him.

"Someone's birthday?" Kip asked as Paul divided the cake into three.

Paul looked at Philip.

"No - just a cheer up Kip cake." Philip grinned at Kip passing him his
third of the cake which, Kip mused, had probably had "Serves six" written
on the box.

"You heard?"  Kip looked at them, slightly embarrassed.

"Stone was a shit Kip." Paul said looking at Philip who continued,

"Bet you have more friends now, not less."

Kip was taken aback by the boys' obvious relief that Stone was no longer
sharing a room with him but said that he didn't want to talk about Stone
any more.  Despite all that had happened between them, he found it hard to
recreate the anger and hatred he had felt earlier that day.

For the rest of that first week Kip found himself with visitors every
evening, many of them boys that he had always counted as friends but whom
he had actually spent very little time with over the last few years.
Nobody mentioned the note in the desk or the reason for his and David's
falling out, and Kip felt a new strength and confidence as he spent more
time in the company of boys who shared his interests in music and
photography and with whom he seemed to have much more in common than he had
ever had with David.

Late on Sunday evening Kip was in his bed alone, reading.  He heard the
school chapel bell chime ten o clock and then a knock at his door.  Fisher
opened the door.  Kip put his book down and smiled.

"It's a bit early for lights out isn't it!" he grinned.  Fisher came in and
Kip drew his knees up to his chest under his duvet allowing Fisher room to
sit on the end of his bed.  Fisher sat down saying thanks.  Kip looked at
him and there was silence for a moment as the two gathered their thoughts.
They smiled as they both spoke each others name at the same moment and Kip
looked at Fisher waiting for him to carry on, slightly tense and guiltily
excited by the possibilities that flashed through his mind.

"Kip..."  Fisher looked at Kip seriously.  "What you told me about why you
and Stone fell out, about that boy in Spain..."

Kip nodded, still gazing at Fisher.

"Look..."

Fisher seemed to be struggling to express himself

"I'm... I'm not into that sort of stuff, boys I mean.  I don't understand
it really, not that there's anything wrong about it or anything."

Fisher felt he was making a mess of what he had wanted to say.

"Only, you know William Smith?"

He looked at Kip who nodded.  Kip recognised the name of another of the
house prefects.

"...and Craig Philips?" Kip nodded again - another house prefect.

"Well, I talked to them about you, because they both are... you know... gay
and stuff and I probably shouldn't have told them, but anyway, they won't
tell anyone else, and if you ever need any help or advice sort of
thing... well ... anyway they know and they said you shouldn't worry about
talking to them if you want to any time."

Kip smiled at Fisher and looking briefly to make sure the door was closed
leaned forward in his bed and hugged him.  It wasn't what he had expected
Fisher to say, maybe not even what he had hoped he would say, but he was,
for some reason, incredibly glad that it was what he had said and he
couldn't think of any words that could explain that, so he hugged him.  He
sat back down against his pillows.

"You're a good `un Kip!" Fisher rubbed Kip's knees through the duvet.
"Don't you ever let anyone get to you like Stone did again okay?"

Kip nodded and Fisher stood up to leave, the end of his first week on
fourth form duty.  It had been a good week.

-

As senior school and the term moved gently from nervous novelty to the
comfortable security of routine, Kip settled into his room, and enjoyed
choosing the posters he wanted to have on the walls, which music he played,
and the solitary pleasures of the night that offered the relief if not the
relationship that he hoped he would find this term.  Steven had offered to
come up to his room once, but Kip had chosen the toilets again rather than
what he thought of as his own special space.

Kip enjoyed Sunday afternoons, even miserable grey October ones. The air
was heavy with thin drizzle that seemed to blow in his face whichever
direction he looked in as he walked across to the music block, his
shoulders hunched against the cold, his hands in the pockets of his school
blazer holding it tight around his body.  Kip had started to play the piano
when he had begun junior school and had enjoyed it ever since.  He had made
steady progress and now brought himself and occasionally others pleasure
when he played.  Closing out the weather behind him, Kip walked along the
blue carpet tiles of the long corridor whose walls were broken at regular
intervals by the doors into small practice rooms, each of which contained
an upright piano, some good instruments and some seeing out their last days
to minor scales and broken arpeggios.  Kip walked towards the far end where
the four best pianos were, hopeful of being able to take his pick as he
could hear no sounds from any of them.  As he reached to the handle of one
of the doors, he paused as he did hear a sound from inside, some Bach, a
piece he played in fact, but sounding very different from his own faltering
renditions of what was a tricky prelude.  Standing on tip-toe he could just
get his eye to the spyglass that enabled a fish eyed view of the practice
room interior, but the figure sat at the keyboard was impossible to
recognise, distant and distorted as it appeared.

Kip listened for a moment more as the piece drew to to its conclusion and
knocked gently at the door, intrigued to see who was playing.  The door was
open by a boy Kip recognised from a few classes that they shared but whom
he had never spoken to directly.  He knew his surname was Jackson but
didn't know his first name.

"Hi," Kip fumbled for an excuse for his interruption. "Sorry... I was just
wondering who it was."

"That's okay - I'm just about done.  I'll get it right eventually!"

"Get it right?"  Kip smiled up at Jackson who was a couple of inches taller
than him. "You should hear me play it.  That's not `getting it right
eventually'."

"I have heard you playing it."  Jackson replied, surprising Kip "You were
in here yesterday evening!  It sounded good to me."

Kip was flattered that he had been noticed.

"Can you play it again for me so I can hear it all?"  Kip felt that he
wanted to talk a bit more with Jackson. "It's one of my favourite pieces."

"I can't.  I have to get back.  Have you ever heard Glenn Gould playing
it?"

Kip thought for a moment but knew only of Glen Robinson in the fifth year
who did not, so far as he knew, play at all.

"I don't know him."

Jackson's face lit up. "He's the best.  You could come to my room this
evening after chapel if you can get permission.  I'll play you one of his
CDs."

Kip flushed slightly at his misunderstanding which seemed to have gone
unnoticed.

"Thanks - which house are you in" Kip knew it could not be Welstead or he
would have known Jackson better, but there were another three boarding
houses, and it was not unusual for boys in different houses to see very
little of one another.

"Blenkin."

"Okay - after chapel then."

"I'll wait in our JCR for you."

Jackson smiled and squeezed passed Kip who closed the door after him and
sat at the piano, pleased to have met somebody else who liked Bach, pleased
that it was somebody taller than him, pleased that he had black hair.  He
smiled to himself and began to idly practice some scales and the few pieces
he knew by heart, rather than leave the cosiness of the small room that
still smelled of, Kip inhaled deeply, still smelled of whatever Jackson
smelled of.

-

Kip was excited and slightly worried as he walked the two minutes in the
dark to Blenkin House.  He knew from junior school that although the
boarding houses were all part of the same school, they all had very
individual and different characters.  Welstead was generally regarded as an
easy going house.  Their house master had a very hands-off way of running
things, preferring to leave most of the day to day running of the place in
the hands of prefects whom he selected carefully.  Blenkin was regarded as
much stricter, but it always seemed to Kip that the boys who suited certain
houses usually finished up being in them.  Blenkin's house master headed
the cadet force in the school, an ex-army man, Kip had heard, but he was
well liked by the boys in Blenkin who saw a lot more of him than anyone saw
of their housemaster in Welstead.

Kip entered Blenkin through a door at the rear that went straight into the
changing rooms and asked one of the couple of boys that were in there where
he would find the junior common room.  One of them showed him the way, and
he opened the door to find a large room with modern seating and tables,
harshly lit by fluorescent tubes.  A few boys were sat about chatting and
two others were playing table tennis on the table that occupied one end of
the room.  It was not at all like the shabby old room that was his own
familiar common room.  Everything was too tidy and too new.  He smiled as
he saw Jackson who was getting up from the seat he had been sat on reading.

"Hi - come on."  Jackson beckoned to Kip who followed him out of the common
room and then up the large main staircase.  Jackson's room was right at the
end of a narrow corridor.  He opened the door and stood waiting for Kip to
go in.

Kip was surprised to find that Jackson had a single room but relieved that
they would, he presumed, have no other company.  It was lit only by a
bedside lamp and the light on the desk and Kip immediately recognised the
smell that had lingered so pleasantly in the music block earlier.

"You've got a single room!" Kip looked around him.

"Most of them are here, just a dozen or so doubles."  Jackson said, not
looking at Kip but at the impressively long shelf of CDs moving his finger
along them.

"Ah, there we are.  One day I'm going to sort these."  He turned to Kip and
smiled.  Kip looked at him returning the smile.  "Sorry, only the bed to
sit on I'm afraid, or this."  Jackson pointed at the chair in front of the
desk, "which is bloody uncomfortable."

Kip sat on the end of Jackson's bed.

"Thanks."  Kip stopped short of saying Jackson and wished he knew Jackson's
first name.

"Do you want a tea or coffee?  It won't take a minute."

"Mmm, please.  Coffee thanks."

"Milk and sugar?"

"Just the milk thanks."

Jackson turned to leave the room

"Just make yourself at home - won't be long."  He left, leaving the door
slightly ajar behind him.

Kip leant back, propping himself on his elbows and looking around the room.
He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, savouring the smell again.  He
caught sight of his own reflection in a mirror on the desk and looked at
it.  "He's nice" he thought to his reflected self. "He really is very
nice."  He stood up to have a look at Jackson's CD collection.  On the
desk, Kip saw the red and white case of the CD that Jackson had taken from
the shelf.  The Bach preludes and fugues and a black and white photo of a
young man Kip assumed to be the pianist.  Kip recognised the photo and
realised that it was the same one that hung on the wall as a large framed
poster.  "He must be real fan."  He thought to himself.  He also saw a
large black ring binder on the desk with the words "Oliver Jackson - Stuff"
written in elaborately decorative text on the front.  Kip noted the first
name and wondered if Jackson knew his.

The door pushed open and Jackson came in with two mugs in one hand and a
packet of biscuits in the other.  He gently pushed the door closed with his
foot and handing one mug to Kip, sat down on his bed leaving plenty of room
for Kip to sit down next to him.

"Hi Kip!"  Jackson grinned

"You know my first name!  I only just found yours out - the file", Kip
gestured to the desk.

Jackson giggled

"I only just found yours out too" he laughed "I had to ask Peterson, he
knew you because of junior school."

Kip smiled looking down at his mug of coffee.

"Hi Oliver", he felt stupidly shy all of a sudden, and sipped at his
coffee.

Oliver opened the packet of biscuits and offered them to Kip, taking one
himself.

"Sorry - no chocolate ones at the moment."

Kip grinned, his mouth full of biscuit, happy enough just to be in the same
room as Oliver with a cup of coffee.  The two boys chatted about their
piano playing as they drunk the coffee, pieces they had learned and
teachers they had liked and disliked.  Kip interrupted,

"I'll have to go for a pee," he smiled "too much coffee!"

"Just down the corridor on the left, it's the doorway without a door,
they're in there."

Kip left the room and went to the bathroom.  As he came back out to the
corridor he was surprised to see David coming out of one of the doors.  He
had almost forgotten that it was Blenkin that he had moved to, and in his
happy and relaxed mood had also forgotten the stormy start to the term,
smiling at David, for a moment genuinely pleased to see more of him than
just his back stooped over his desk in class.  David looked at him, but he
didn't smile.  He seemed confused, almost embarrassed, looking down at the
ground and then turning and going back in to the room he had come out of.
For a moment Kip thought of going and knocking on the door, but he wanted
to get back to Oliver, and as the memory of the paper pinned in his desk
resurfaced, he went back to Oliver's room, glad to re-enter the present.

He sat back on the bed next to Oliver.

"Do you know Stone?" he asked.

"Mmmm, why?"

"Do you like him?"  Kip didn't know why he asked, he was sure Oliver would
hardly know David, but there had been something about the look on David's
face that had left Kip feeling that he was unhappy.

"Nobody likes him."  Oliver said, with no hint of malice in his voice.
"The fourth form all hate him because he spends all his time sucking up to
Farrow and a couple of other fifth formers, and the fifth formers all
despise him because he's a creep, except I don't know if he can see that."

Kip pondered David's situation for a moment, feeling sorry for anyone that
everyone disliked, and particularly for David, his erstwhile friend, but
his mind quickly returned to Oliver.

"Shall we listen to the CD" he asked

"Whenever you're ready" Oliver grinned at him. "Just press play, it's in
already."  Kip looked at the CD player and touched the back lit blue
triangle.  He sat down again next to Kip as the familiar notes of the C
Major prelude started.

Both boys were quiet listening to the preludes and fugues. Kip lay his
right hand down between him and Oliver and noticed that Oliver's left hand
was already on the bed between them.  He watched as Oliver's long and pale
fingers seemed to be playing out the left hand of the music.

"Can you play this one too?" he asked.

Oliver laughed "Yes, but not this quickly!  I can just about work my way
through all the preludes, but I'm still struggling with some of the
fugues."

Kip looked down again at Oliver's hand.

Kip felt his insides churning.  Still looking at Oliver's hand, he laid his
lightly on top, slotting his own fingers between Oliver's and waited for a
reaction.  He felt Oliver squeeze gently on his hand.  The two boys looked
at each other.

"Okay?" Kip almost whispered.  Oliver smiled with a seriousness in his
face, and nodded.  Kip felt his heart beating inside his chest and a
dryness in his mouth, a strange combination of fear and elation coursing
through him that was perfectly matched by the warm and attentive gaze of
Oliver's eyes.

"You?" Oliver's soft spoken reply needed no response.  Kip still holding
Oliver's hand leant awkwardly to his side as Oliver mirrored his movements
and the boys kissed tentatively, trying the weight of each other's feelings
through the closeness of their lips.  Oliver stopped a moment as the B
minor prelude that he had been playing that afternoon began.  Kip looked at
him for a moment and kissed him again, this time, less cautiously, their
lips and tongues tasting, exploring the newness of one another.  Kip felt
Oliver's hand on his thigh, and he reached to hold Oliver's face close to
his as their mouths locked together matching the sudden drama of the
prelude with their own passion.

Kip drew back and looked at Oliver whose hand still gently stroked his
thigh.  He was aware of his cock, stiff in his trousers and balls that were
already drawn tight in his scrotum.  His mind raced with contradictions.
He so wanted Oliver to be naked, to see his cock, to lick him, to taste
him, but it had to be love, and he wanted Oliver to know that, that it was
sex with him that he wanted, because he was beautiful, because he loved
Bach because of his smell because of his perfect smile, he didn't just want
sex.

Oliver looked at him and ran his hand softly across his cheek.  He
whispered

"You are so beautiful."

Kip looked down and saw the obvious signs of Oliver's arousal, and knew
that Oliver must be able to notice his own.

"We can't, not here now."  Oliver spoke softly. "It's nearly nine and the
duty prefect will be round soon."

Kip kissed him gently on the lips again.

"I'd wait for ever just for another kiss."  He smiled and stood up.

"I have to be back in house anyway."  Kip added, suddenly aware of how the
time had passed.

"I'll see you out," and briefly clutching Kip's hand Oliver stood and the
two boys left the room, both adjusting their erections in their trousers.
Oliver led Kip back down through the now mostly deserted common room.  Back
through the changing rooms and Oliver pushed open the back door and stepped
outside with Kip.

"See you soon."

Kip kissed him again.

"You bet!" he said, and set of back to Welstead, looking back a moment
later to see Oliver's silhouette in the door.  He waved, unseen in the
dark.

-

Back at Welstead, Kip decided on having a quick bath before bed.  He went
up to his room and grabbed a towel and his pyjamas and went along to the
bathroom.  The four large cast iron baths were separated from one another
by dividing panels, all within a large room with its own door.  There were
a few other boys coming and going, sponge bags in hand, at the sinks
outside, but the room with the baths in was empty.  Kip pushed the door
closed and choosing one of the cubicles turned both hot and cold taps on to
full, a combination he had learned from experience quickly gave him a full
bath at the temperature he liked.  As the bath ran, he peeled off his
clothes folding them roughly on the plastic topped stool that stood beside
the bath, then standing naked with a cock still more than half erect,
listened to the echoing roar of the water filling the bath.  He turned off
the taps and climbed in, lying back in the almost too warm water.  The bath
was deep enough to cover him to his shoulders and neck, and he looked down
the length of his slim body as it stretched out in front of him, nearly
floating, with just his ankles, buttocks and shoulders taking the little
weight that the water wasn't supporting.

Kip smiled to himself remembering Oliver's kiss and watched as his erection
grew, enjoying the sensation on the foreskin that covered the head of his
cock where it broke the surface of the water.  He flexed the muscles at the
base of it, watching it move up and down, rippling the clear water.
Reaching down with both hands, he gripped the head of his cock in one,
fondling the balls that were tight and protected from the heat in his
scrotum with the other.  Confident of hearing anybody open the door of the
bathroom, he began to wank, keeping his hips low in the water to avoid
splashing and moving as little of his arm as possible.  He breathed
awkwardly, trying not to be too loud as the water made slapping sounds
around the bath like the lapping of water on the side of a boat.  His whole
body was already excited from the kissing and contact with Oliver, and it
was only a couple of moments before his legs stiffened and he drew in
breath, exhaling as the white of his sperm flowed, seemingly in slow motion
from his cock, eerily weightless in the water around him, threads of it
becoming attached to the thin curls of his pubic hair, reminding him of
documentaries he had seen of fish spawning.  His cum was intense, the more
so for the control he kept on his body as he fought the natural instinct to
thrash and thrust in the water, and he struggled to breath quietly as his
cock began to soften in his hand that still moved gently back and forward
along its length under the water.  Once soft, he carefully eased his
foreskin back from the head, and reaching for the bar of soap on the wire
rack that spanned the bath, stood up and cleaned his cock, his balls and
the softness between the cheeks of his arse before sitting back in the
water to see to the rest of his body.

He climbed from the bath, pulling the plug and quickly rubbed himself dry
realising that he only had minutes before he should be back in his room.
He slipped into the soft brushed cotton of his pyjamas and picking up his
bundle of clothes and his towel walked quickly back to his room, feeling
warm and contented inside. It was a few minutes later as he sat in his bed
reading that he stopped to hope that the evidence of his activity had gone
down the plug hole with the water.  He giggled to himself, and turned off
the light, lying on his side, his knees drawn up, thinking about Oliver and
wondering, hoping that Oliver was lying in his bed thinking about him.

-

Kip saw less of Oliver during the week than he would have liked.  The
opportunities were limited for boys in different houses, but they had made
time to see each other every day, often after games in the music block,
sometimes during a lunchtime or the morning break.  So Kip was excited as
he waited in the main hallway of Welstead for Oliver, who had promised that
he would come over straight after prep finished at eight.  Friday and
Saturday nights were generally much more relaxed, and fourth form boys were
not expected back in house until ten meaning the he and Oliver would have
nearly two hours together.

The rain was torrential outside and so Oliver was soaked when he arrived
even after the thirty seconds or so it had taken to run from Blenkin.  Kip
saw him as he came in, his hair dripping and small trails of water running
down his face which was red, from his run and from the cold outside.

"It's peeing it down!" he laughed at Kip who was gazing at him, seeing his
beauty afresh, his black hair wet and shiny.  "I ran all the way and I'm
still bloody soaked."

"Come on - we'll go up and you can dry off."

Oliver followed Kip who was noticeably more relaxed in the familiar setting
of his own house.  He looked around him, noting the different atmosphere in
Welstead.  Everything was older and somehow more comfortably feeling.
Climbing the stairs they met Fisher who greeted Kip by ruffling up his
hair.

"Hi good `un.  How's it going" he smiled at Kip.

"It going good - this is Oliver.  He's in Blenkin."

Fisher looked at Oliver "Fisher!" he said, introducing himself. "Gotta go!"

Kip wasn't sure, but he thought Fisher winked at him as he continued
downstairs.

"Who's that?" Oliver asked, impressed that a sixth former should be on
familiar enough terms with Kip to greet him like that.

"That's Fisher - he was fourth form prefect on our first week, he's on
again next week."

Oliver was further surprised to hear that Fisher was a prefect and found it
hard to imagine any of the prefects being so openly friendly with a fourth
former in Blenkin.

"Why does he call you good `un?" Oliver continued as Kip open the door of
his room and showed him in.

Kip looked at Oliver, closing the door behind him.

"I had a shitty start to the term and he was very kind to me.  He told me I
was a good `un once and he always calls me that now."

Oliver's face betrayed a question that he would never have asked.  Kip
answered anyway.

"He doesn't fancy me or anything!" he smiled "He's not interested, he told
me, not interested in boys full stop, but he knows I like boys and he's
okay about that."

Kip reached for his towel that was draped on the radiator. Oliver held out
his hand for it but Kip walked up to him and started to gently wipe his
head with the hot towel. Oliver just smiled, standing quietly as Kip dried
his head and face.

"No one's done that to me since my Mum when I was little."  Oliver said,
closing his eyes, enjoying the evocation of the safety and security of home
that the simple physical gesture was bringing.  Kip stretched upward and
softly kissed his lips.  Oliver opened his eyes,

"And no one's done that to me since... ummm" he looked up apparently trying
to remember "since break this morning!"  He grinned at Kip.

"Take your blazer off."  Kip instructed "I'll stick it on the radiator,
it'll dry it out.

Oliver removed the blazer and passed it to Kip who laid it neatly along the
length of the radiator, hanging the towel over one end.

"Coffee?"  Oliver accepted and Kip left, returning a couple of minutes
later with two mugs.  Kip put on some music and the two boys sat down next
to each other on Kip's bed, feeling the sexual tension between them as they
remembered the previous Sunday in Oliver's room.  Kip offered his hand
between the two of them and Oliver took it holding it tight as he drunk the
coffee.  He looked at Kip, feeling unsure of himself.

"Have you done anything with boys before" he asked Kip, smiling but
nervously.

"Yes."  Kip nodded and, wondering about Oliver, asked him the same
question.  Oliver didn't speak, but shook his head.

"Do you want to with me?"  Kip asked.

Oliver's response was to release his hand and lay it gently on Kip's
thigh. stroking gently and coming closer to his crotch each time.  Kip
leant back as Oliver's hand reached his cock which was pushing hard against
the fabric of his trousers.  Oliver used his fingers tracing up and down
Kip's rigid member before moving his hand and pushing it down the front of
Kip's trousers, feeling his way past his underpants and finding the soft
wrinkled sac that held Kip's balls.  Kip sighed as his body shivered with
the pleasure of Oliver's warm hand caressing him.

"Can I see it?" Oliver whispered to him.

"Hang on."

Kip got up and pushed the rubber wedge that was normally used to hold the
door open under it making it impossible to open it quickly.

He quickly got back on the bed and Oliver leant over unfastening the button
at the top of Kip's trousers and pulling down the zip revealing his white
briefs that outlined the shape of his cock below.  Kip was hard, it felt as
though he was harder than he had ever been, and even the ridge of the head
of his cock sheathed in its foreskin was clearly visible through the white
fabric the briefs.  Oliver pulled the front of his briefs down and Kip
raised his bum from the bed allowing Oliver to push both trousers and pants
just below the cheeks of his backside.  His cock bobbed up and down
sensitive to every movement of Oliver's hand.

Oliver reached around it, fascinated by the warmth in his hand, by the
subtle combination of iron like hardness and the delicate softness and heat
of Kip's cock.  Tentatively he gripped it more firmly and began to move his
hand up and down, mimicking the motion that gave him such pleasure in bed
at night.  After a minute, Kip laid his hand on Oliver's holding it still,
torn between the overpowering desire to experience the relief of orgasm and
to hold back, prolonging the exquisite sensations that ran through his cock
and that made his stomach and chest ripple in the radiating warmth of
Oliver's touch.

"I'll cum!" he cautioned Oliver, not caring how Oliver choose to react.

Oliver stopped and smiled. "Do you want to touch mine?" he asked wanting
only to please Kip, but aware of the hardness still restrained in his own
trousers.

"You bet!" Kip needed no second invitation, and Oliver leant back on the
bed undoing his own trousers and pulling them and his underpants to his
knees.  Kip reached for his cock holding it lightly so he could rub up and
down its length without pulling back the foreskin that had already slipped
back halfway down the deep fleshy purple of the head of Oliver's cock.

"It's beautiful" Kip said looking at Oliver who was staring down at his
cock and Kip's hand on it, experiencing for the first time the disconnected
touch of another boy.  Kip ran his fingers in the thin black pubic hair
that surrounded the base of the handsome shaft.

"Close your eyes," he whispered to Oliver who trustingly responded by
tipping his head back and closing them as Kip began to fondle his balls
that hung loose and relaxed in their hairless pouch.  Kip leant forward and
gently licked at the tip of Oliver's cock, tasting the mild saltiness of
the seminal fluid that oozed in anticipation from the tip and then sunk his
mouth over it, feeling the texture of the cock on his tongue as his nose
buried itself in Oliver's pubis.  Oliver was unable to restrain himself
from crying out softly as Kip raised and lowered his head.  Kip stopped to
allow Oliver to regain control of his feelings.  He looked up at him
grinning.

"Okay?"

Oliver nodded, unable to find the words that would say how okay he was.

"Lie down on your side" Kip whispered to him.  Oliver lay down and Kip lay
down facing him grasping the two cocks together in his hand, the head of
his own above his fist, the head of Oliver's below it.  He began to slowly
wank the two cocks in unison as Oliver pulled Kip's head to his own and
began to kiss his mouth, his tongue probing, entwining with Kip's.  Both
boy's moaned softly under the magic of Kip's slow wanking and began to
thrust their hips at one another searching for the extra fraction of
stimulation that would bring them to orgasm.  It was Kip who spurted first
followed within seconds by Oliver who had suddenly felt the warm slick of
Kip's semen on his cock and pubic hair.  He pumped his cock into the wet
slipperiness of Kip's fist, aware of his balls disappearing up into his
body as his cum spurted in rhythmic pulses jetting out and covering his own
and Kip's cock.  Kip felt the hot fluid of Oliver's sperm running down his
balls, amazed at how much Oliver seemed able to produce.  He stopped
contributing any hand movement allowing Oliver to gently thrust until his
tender cock could bear no more and he gripped Kip's body, pulling him
tightly to him, his eyes welling with tears that seemed to come from
nowhere but now poured, silent from his eyes as he hugged Kip.

Both boys were still and silent for minutes, neither boy wanting more or to
loosen their embrace.  It was Kip who eventually spoke.

"Look's like you need drying off again."  Oliver giggled and rolled onto
his back.  Kip got up and grabbed the towel from the radiator wiping the
sperm from Oliver first and then from his own body, reaching down between
his legs to dry the area where Oliver's seed had covered him.

The boys pulled their trousers back up but remained lying on the bed next
to each other.  Kip rolled over, facing away from Oliver who cuddled up
behind him, holding him tightly and unconsciously running his fingers
through Kip's hair.  Oliver felt emotional, overwhelmed by the physical
newness of the experience and by the happiness he felt holding Kip close.

"Thank you Kip."  he squeezed him harder for a moment.  "I've wanted to be
this close to you since I first heard you playing the prelude in the music
block and waited at the end of the corridor to see who it was who came
out."

Kip rolled over to face him

"You waited to see who I was?"

"Uh huh," Oliver nodded "and when I saw you I just knew that I wanted to be
with you."

Kip's fingers gently touched the skin of Oliver's cheeks and brushed
against his lips as his face beamed the happiness he felt.  Falling for
Oliver the way he had was wonderful enough, but to find that Oliver had
wanted him from the start seemed to make everything even better.

"I love you," he whispered, realising for the first time that whatever love
might be to some people, this was love to him.  Oliver was his boyfriend.

Oliver did not trust the steadiness of his own voice and just mouthed "I
love you too" back at Kip and kissed him again.

-

December had arrived and the weather had turned bitterly cold but Kip still
had the window open in his room which , as David had promised it would be,
was always warm.  Friday prep time was over and, well satisfied with the
work he had done that evening, he was getting ready to go over to Oliver's
room in Blenkin.  Both Kip and Oliver were happy in the relationship
between them, a happiness shared by many of their mutual friends who had
quickly recognised and accepted Kip and Oliver as "an item".  The Wilson
twins seemed almost as happy as Kip and had visited his room regularly with
"Kip fancies Oliver" cake "Kip's in love" cake and various other cakes, all
chocolate and all designed for more people than the number that actually
ate them.

Kip walked briskly in the cold and clear night to Blenkin and open the
familiar rear door passing through the changing room and along the
corridors that brought him to the Blenkin JCR.  Kip saw Oliver and went to
greet him.  They usually made coffee together in the JCR before going
upstairs now.  Kip was pleasantly surprised to see David Stone chatting to
another fourth form boy.  Oliver filled the kettle and was stood waiting
for it to boil when the comparative quiet of the room was disturbed by the
arrival of three fifth form boys, including Richard Farrow.  Oliver and Kip
both looked away busying themselves with sorting out the coffee, but Farrow
had seen them , and apparently aware of the closeness between them made a
screeching wolf whistle and speaking loudly in a camp high pitched voice to
his friends and the rest of the room said mockingly,

"Oh look darlings, it's Wacko Jacko and Bubbles"

Kip felt his ears burning.  Oliver whispered to him to just ignore it, but
Kip saw Oliver's hands shaking as he put the sugar in his mug.

"What a sweet pair of fucking fudge packers.  Why don't you piss off back
to Welstead with the rest of the poofs."

Kip looked at Farrow, frightened but feeling protective of Oliver muttered
unconvincingly, "Shut up."

"What did you say you little shirt lifter."  Kip and Oliver did not even
know the expression, but Farrow's intention to hurt was apparent enough.
He started towards them.

Stone stood up and shouted across the room.

"Leave them Farrow!"

Farrow looked at him not believing that he had heard a challenge to his
presumed authority, especially from a creep like Stone and more especially
in front of two of his friends.

"Leave them alone.  They aren't hurting anyone, just fuck off and leave
them."  Even Stone was slightly taken aback by the vehemence of his voice.
Kip and Oliver just stood, stunned to silence.

"Don't you tell me to fuck off."  Farrow spat the words at David, but aware
of the number of witnesses in the room just added, with all the threat he
could muster. "You fucking wait Stone, just you fucking wait."  He left the
room closely followed by his two cohorts.

Kip walked over to Stone who was standing looking at the door that Farrow
had left by.

"Thanks David."  he said it quietly but clearly enough for everyone else in
the room to hear.

"Thanks."

Kip could have hugged David but too much had happened between them for that
to be.  David looked at Kip with the weary face of someone who had had
enough.

"Forget it.  He's a shit." and he turned around and left through one of the
other doors.

-

Kip and Oliver sat in Oliver's room, holding hands and drinking their
coffee.  Glenn Gould was on the CD player again, and both boys were quiet,
taking stock of where they were and what had happened, not just that
evening but since they had met.  Kip knew it was stupid, but somehow he
felt responsible, as though it were he that had introduced Oliver to being
in love with another boy.  That maybe if he hadn't, Oliver would be
"normal" and not have suffered Farrow's abuse.  He felt tears in his eyes
as he saw in his mind, Oliver's hand shaking as he had been putting the
sugar in his coffee.  Kip had carried the mugs upstairs, Oliver clearly
shaking too much to hold them.  Not that Kip was much better.  That felt
worse.  He hadn't even been brave for Oliver, it was David Stone, of all
people who had been brave.

Oliver looked at him and saw the soft droplets that ran from his eyes.  He
squeezed his hand tightly, but Kip seemed a million miles away in his own
thoughts.  Oliver gazed at his boyfriend's face.  At the neatly cut blond
hair that he stroked so often, the warm pink lips and the glistening green
eyes now shiny with tears.  Oliver thought he was the most beautiful person
in the world.

"Why are you crying?"  he asked, fighting hard not to cry himself.

Kip looked down at his lap, gravity diverting the course of the tears that
now ran off the end of his nose dripping onto his lap.

"Tell me."  Oliver persisted, shaking Kip's hand.

But Kip wouldn't speak.  Oliver sat next to him as the preludes and fugues
played, holding his hand, wondering what else he could do.  The B minor
prelude began and Oliver looked at Kip hoping that may be the piece that
for Oliver seemed to mark everything that was significant in his life,
would shake Kip from his sadness.

"When I first heard Glenn Gould playing Bach", Oliver spoke softly at Kip,
"it changed they way I heard music.  I'd listened to the preludes and
fugues so often and had to practice them, I had started to hate them, and
then I heard him play them and all I wanted to do was to be able to play
them like him because things that had seemed like a jumbled confusion in
the fugues suddenly all made sense.

"But my favourite was always the B minor prelude, and I heard you in the
music block playing it on a Saturday afternoon and I waited to see who it
was playing and I saw you, and it was like hearing Glenn Gould all over
again.  You were beautiful and I loved you, all the jumbled notes started
to make sense.  All the times I had felt bad about fancying boys didn't
seem bad anymore.  Everything about you was right and being with you makes
everything right.  I love you Kip."

Kip reached into his pocket for a handkerchief.  He wiped his eyes and blew
his nose and Oliver smiled as he felt his hand gripped tightly.  Kip turned
to him,

"You're perfect. Do you know that?"  He smiled and Oliver knew he had never
been happier.