Pick of the Bunch
A Short Story
by Ivor Slipper
ivor.slipper@gmail.com
My Dad had one of those jobs where from time to time we had to move because he was working for a National company and as he moved up their ladder – rather appropriate as they are a tool hire company – we would move to a different part of the country. That had happened a lot when I was younger as we seemed to move every year or so, but we had been settled in one place for about three years. Consequently, I’d been able to build up a small group of friends and was also now doing well at school having for once spent some years at the same one.
Then came the bombshell - we were going to be moving about two hundred miles to a place in Essex called Basildon. I looked it up on the Internet and it was supposedly a ‘new town’ back in the 1950s or 60s, but it now looked rather like a lot of other places – pretty worn out. Still, there wasn’t really anything I could do about it. I was damn sure though it wasn’t going to be anywhere near as nice as Bristol where we currently lived. I was fifteen and there was no way I could leave school and I wasn’t the sort to run off. I honestly did love my Mum & Dad and they loved me and my two younger sisters but I didn’t have to be happy about it. I guess I was a real pain to live with right from the time Dad announced the move until we actually did it. And things didn’t improve any once we’d made the move.
I’m about 5 foot 8 inches tall and quite slim – Mum says I need to eat more, but I’m happy with how I am. I have dark brown hair and blue/grey eyes. My hair is fine and straight, long but not too long and I have a fringe that comes down almost to my eyes and then wear it long over both ears and round the back. I’m lucky in that I haven’t suffered with the teenage curse of acne so I’ve got clear skin which is pretty pale as I’m not one for going out in the sun much. Neither am I into sports – except one and that is done indoors. I’m actually much more into arts and books, although I know I’m not good enough to make a living from painting but I’m hoping to get to uni and take some sort of creative degree.
As for the sport, well that is judo. I’ve been doing it for some years now initially I guess because Dad did it and I went with him, but for the last few years I’ve been going on my own to our local club. I’ve progressed pretty well and reached green belt level. At least Basildon seemed to have a couple of judo clubs so I’d be able to continue with that.
I rather suspected that life at my new school in Basildon wasn’t going to be easy. At my age being the new boy can be difficult and I guess I do stand out a bit. I’m not exactly emo, nor am I goth, more a mixture of the two – ‘goemoth’ I call it. Most of my clothes are black, but I don’t go in for dyed hair like most emos do. What I do like to wear, but can’t at school, is studded leather. I’ve got a couple of wristbands, a neck belt as well as a belt for my jeans and those I guess are the sort of goth part of my clothing. Not that the school has an actual uniform, but such accessories are banned.
The first few days went off alright I suppose, not that anyone really spoke to me but then neither did I get singled out for any unwelcome attention. There didn’t appear to be any other emo boys around although there were a few girls, but I wasn’t really into girls any more than I was into boys. Thus far in my life sex had simply been wanking and dreaming, but if forced I’d have had to admit that my dreams did feature boys rather than girls. For sure at my previous school and home I’d had friends, nearly all boys, but nothing sexual had happened with any of them, not even on the occasional sleepover.
I guess it was at the start of the second week that it all kicked off. I walked into the toilets at break and saw these three apparently older boys picking on one who was a lot smaller. ‘Picking on’ is being kind as one of them was holding him with his arms pinned behind his back while the other two were taking it in turns to slap and punch him. I’d seen the smaller boy before as he was actually in my set and took some of the same classes as me, so he had to be about the same age as me, but he was only just over 5 foot tall, plus from what I’d seen he seemed to walk with a bit of a limp. He had black curly hair and wore glasses and certainly didn’t look the sort to start a fight.
I shouted at them to stop and got told to fuck off and mind my own business in return, so I told them again to stop or I’d make them stop. Of course they took that as a red rag to a bull and one of them stopped punching the boy and turned on me instead. I quickly put him on the ground and also dealt with the other attacker at which point the third one let go of the victim who dropped to his knees. I was wondering what to do about the one left standing when I heard a voice behind me shouting ‘Stop!’ It was one of the teachers. Of course I stopped at that point. What I didn’t know was that someone else had seen what was going on a few minutes earlier and had gone off to fetch a teacher. Had I known that I probably wouldn’t have done anything other than try to calm the situation down, but as it was I felt I had no choice but to intervene.
The upshot was that we all got marched off to see the Head who in his wisdom decided that we were all guilty of ‘causing an affray’ as he put it and we’d all be suspended from school for a week! I thought it was ludicrous and pointed out that the small boy whose name I now knew to be Renouf, had been the victim of physical bullying by the trio and thus was innocent of anything, but the Head was having none of it – we were all suspended.
When we left the Head’s office the trio went off in one direction and I found myself walking with Renouf back towards my locker to collect my gear. It turned out his was quite close to mine so we continued together but in silence. I couldn’t help noticing when he walked that he definitely had a limp. Eventually I decided I need to know a bit more about what I’d got myself into.
“Look, I can’t call you Renouf. My name’s Jake Taylor – and what the fuck was all that about in the toilets?”
“You can call me ‘Ren’, Jake and thanks for what you did. Just sorry it got you suspended. Hope you aren’t going to get in trouble with your parents as a result.”
“Nah, they’ll be fine – I hope! But why did it all kick off in there? And why ‘Ren’?”
By now we’d reached the lockers. He turned to me and said,
“Do you want the long version or the short one?”
“Whichever suits, but as we’ve got a week with nothing to do it might as well be the long one.”
He smiled at that while pushing his glasses up his nose before responding.
“Look, there a café just round the corner. Let’s go round there and I can give you the story.”
“I need to collect my bike first as I guess I won’t be allowed to come back and collect it later.”
So that was what we did. Over a couple of cokes he told me the history. It came out slowly at first and in bits and pieces but basically it boiled down to the fact that he was different and vulnerable. He’d been born in France to a French father and mother, but when he was about 4 or 5 his father had walked out never to be seen again. In order to make ends meet his mother had taken in lodgers, one of whom was an Englishman who had gone over to France to work for a couple of years that eventually turned out to be about six. During that time this man and his mother had fallen in love and when eventually he had moved back to England Ren’s mother and he had come with him.
That explained how he had got here, but not why he was being picked on. It took some more digging before he told me about that.
“Jake, I think at first it was simply because I am different. I talk differently; my name is different; I walk differently; I am short; I dress differently; I don’t play sport and….”
Well, he did dress a bit differently as he was all in black but that wasn’t much different to me, so why was that cause.
“And, what?”
“Jake, there are two main things. The first is my name – not my surname but my given name. When I started here I knew it would be a problem so I asked that everyone call me ‘Ren’, but one of the teachers he announced it in class one day – and after that it became something to taunt me with.”
“Come on, it can’t be that bad surely?”
“In France it isn’t, but here it is different. I will tell you as it is only right you know, but I expect you will react the same way.”
He told me what it was and I could see the potential problem. Made me glad once again that my parents hadn’t picked anything unusual when I was christened.
“Okay, so that’s one problem which I can see but what is the other?”
“I will tell you because they know but I will not show you. It is the reason, other than my limp, I do not do games or PE in order to keep it hidden. I was born with a deformed foot and although operations have much improved that I do still limp. That makes those activities virtually impossible, but what I keep hidden and what they revealed one day in the toilets when they took off my shirt is much worse. I have several large congenital melanocytic nevi on my chest and back.”
“And what the fuck are they?”
To give him his due he chuckled at my reaction before explaining that they were a collection of quite significant size birthmarks of which he was ashamed and thus kept hidden. After they became common knowledge life at school had become pretty unpleasant for him. It turned out that when I had come across the group today the bullies had goaded him so much about them and tried to undo or remove his shirt to display them, that he had lashed out which then gave them the excuse to physically attack him.
I really did feel sorry for Ren as he seemed to be friendless as well as victimised. Before we left the café we exchanged mobile numbers and I asked him where he lived. It turned out not be far from my house so we walked home together. He proved to live in quite an old but large detached house which was only about a quarter of a mile from the new estate where we had moved. I left him at the gate and cycled home where I had to explain to my Mum how I came to be home from school so early. She wasn’t happy about what had happened, not because of what I’d done but because she considered I’d been unfairly suspended and said she’d talk to my Dad when he got home and get him to get the Head to change his mind. I told him it wouldn’t be worth the effort for a few days and promised that I’d do some studying during the week and not just laze around. I wasn’t sure she believed me, but she did seem to calm down.
We’d had dinner and I’d gone up to my room when my phone rang. I saw from the number that it was Ren.
“Have you told your parents?”
“Yep.”
“That’s good. Did they moan at you?”
“Not much more than on any other day.”
He laughed.
“Yes – tell me about it. Look, my Mum is here and she wants to talk to yours. Can you put her on?”
I explained I’d have to go downstairs first, which I did, and then explained to Mum who was calling and handed the phone over. A longish conversation followed and the two seemed to be getting on quite well. Eventually the call ended and Mum handed me the phone back.
“Well, I must say you seem to have made a good impression with Mrs Renouf. She isn’t at work tomorrow and wants to meet you so she’s invited you to go round and spend the day there. Just behave yourself.”
God, I hate being talked to as if I’m ten years old! All I could do was sigh and roll my eyes hoping Mum didn’t see.
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After breakfast the next morning I cycled round to Ren’s and met his mother. She seemed very French to me; small like him, but slim and dressed very smartly compared to how my Mum usually looked when at home in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt or top – this was frock, tights and shoes with a heel plus perfume! She expressed her thanks for what I’d done to help her son the previous day and said that she hoped we’d be friends as he was so lonely. Poor Ren, I could see him blushing as she was talking, but I’d already decided that there was something about him I liked and it wasn’t just because he came across as a sort of sick puppy who needed caring for. There was something else about him that appealed and I was glad to have the opportunity to spend some time with him and get to know him better.
After a while Mrs Renouf let us go off upstairs to his room, or as I found out it was actually rooms. In addition to his bedroom he had an en-suite bathroom with a shower and bath. Across the hallway from his bedroom was another room that he said he’d show me later. All a bit different to my place where I just had a bedroom, admittedly of a reasonable size and with a small shower and toilet attached which at least prevented arguments with the rest of the family in the morning. While Mum & Dad also had an en-suite that left the main bathroom for the use of my two sisters.
His bedroom had an old fashioned looking double bed with an iron frame and all the usual things such as TV and sound system. There was also a big armchair in which I sat while he sat on the bed. Conversation came quite easily I was surprised to find as he told me more about his earlier life in France and I told him about mine in Bristol and previous locations. We also found that we shared a similar taste in music and so when the chat lulled the sound system took over.
I was quite amazed when I heard a knock on the door to find it was his Mum to say that lunch was ready. You know what they say about French cuisine; well it wasn’t something I knew much about being more the burger and pizza type, but I have to say what we were given was delicious even though I suspected my Mum would complain about the smell of garlic when I got home.
After lunch we went back upstairs and Ren took me into the other room. I’d been impressed with his bedroom but this rather blew me away. It was sort of set up as a studio for him to paint complete with easel and it had a large window that let in loads of light. He also had a desk there with a desktop computer set up and on a stand in the corner was a guitar. I asked him if he could play; he said he could but not well. I asked him to play something for me which he reluctantly agreed to do and then proceeded to show that he wasn’t lying when he said he couldn’t play well – he was actually able to play much better than that. He had talent for sure which was reinforced for me when I persuaded him to show me some of his pictures. I was impressed. I thought I could paint but Ren was a lot better than me. He had a few still lives and also a few landscapes but a lot of his work was portraits that he had copied from photographs in magazines. They were really good and had a feeling of ‘life’ to them.
After I’d looked at and admired his collection he very much surprised me by asking if I would sit for him so he could do a head and shoulders drawing. I sort of felt it would be rude to decline so agreed and found myself sat in a chair for an hour or so while he went to work. I have to say I thought the result was really good.
Anyway, the day passed quickly. The following day was a Saturday and before I left I was invited to come back again by Mrs Renouf. Before I departed she got me to tell her our home phone number and that evening she called to speak to my Mum and invite the whole family round for dinner on the Saturday so we could all get to know one another. Of course I met Ren’s father during the day before going home to return later complete with my parents and sisters. They, my sisters that is, proved for once to be little charmers instead of pains and Mrs Renouf was very smitten with them. My Dad and Ren’s both turned out to be keen on golf, so it was arranged that on the Sunday they’d go off and play with a view to Dad joining the club where Mr Renouf played. It was really quite amazing what seemed to be developing from my chance entry into the toilets a couple of days before.
Ren and I agreed that we would give each other some space and not meet on the Sunday, but I invited him round to my place on the Monday. It went well as we had the house to ourselves, but there was little doubt his place had more advantages.
We got to the end of our week’s suspension all too soon! Going back to school seemed a drag after being able to do what we liked for five days. I had a feeling that the bullies who had set on Ren might have retribution in mind so I told him I was going to walk to and from school with him each day. He told me it was unnecessary, but changed his mind on that when we saw them loitering with what looked like intent in an alleyway. All we got was some name calling which we both knew we’d have to live with, especially outside of school. I really didn’t think they were likely to take me on again, but you never know.
After we’d been back at school for a week or so Ren asked me if I’d like to spend the weekend at his place. He said there was a guest room that I could have or if I wanted to bring my sleeping bag I could use half of his bed for that. Up until this point I hadn’t thought about Ren in a sexual way and he hadn’t given me any indication that he was looking for anything more than a friend. As his Mum had commented to me the last time I was there – ‘it has been good to see a sparkle back in his eyes since you have been coming here’. And it was true; with me he did seem to be a very different person to the quiet withdrawn one at school. Moreover my Mum had told me that for the last few weeks I had become happy once again and ceased moaning about the move from Bristol. I guess that had to be true and for sure I wasn’t any longer spending ages on the phone texting or talking to some of my friends from back there. Life did seem to have moved on.
I did have a sleeping bag from when I’d been in the scouts a couple of years back. It had very nearly got thrown when we moved but I’d decided to hang onto it- some sixth sense perhaps. So I told him that was what I’d do. Mum raised her eyebrows a bit when I told her but I gathered Ren’s Mum was quite happy for us to do whatever we wanted. That Friday evening Mum dropped me round there and after a meal with her and his Dad we went up to his room. We had a great time playing computer games and then watching some horror movies until the early hours. Finally we got to the point where neither of us could keep our eyes open so we decided it was time for bed. I let Ren go in the en-suite first and he emerged wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of black boxer briefs. I had wondered if he was going to let me see his upper body but evidently not. At home I slept nude but had decided it would be sensible here to sleep in at least a pair of boxer briefs. By the time I emerged after cleaning my teeth Ren was already in bed. I wasn’t sure but I thought I caught him checking me out as I clambered into the sleeping bag and that notion stayed with me for some time as I lay there waiting to go to a sleep that was reluctant to come. I kept wondering exactly what was so gross about these congenital nevi that he had to keep them hidden from even me who seemingly, was now his best, indeed only, friend.
Ren was awake before me the next morning and I only woke as he emerged from the en-suite fully clothed. I struggled out of the sleeping bag and stretched as I stood up realising that I had a morning wood as well as a need to piss. I was sure I caught him having a surreptitious glance at me as I did so. After I’d done the necessary we went downstairs for breakfast – continental style of course which I was becoming quite used to and finding a pleasant change from my usual bowl of cornflakes. It was while we were eating that his Mum dropped her little surprise by saying that she and Mr Renouf were going out for the day but would be back in time to cook us an evening meal, adding that she was sure we could survive for the day on what was in the fridge.
When we got back upstairs I asked Ren if he had known about them going out for the day. He smiled and wouldn’t give me a direct answer so I suspected he had – not that I minded. We spent some time talking in his room before he said that he was in the mood to paint so we went next door. Once we’d got there and he’d got his stuff together he asked,
“Are you willing to model for me again Jake?”
“Of course, that’s no problem.”
He hesitated before continuing.
“I think perhaps it might be.”
“Why?”
There was another pause.
“I’d like to paint you nude.”
Whoa! That was said in a rush and before I could take it in or get out a response, he continued,
“If I’m going to be any good as a painter I need to be able to paint bodies. I can see them in pictures or photos, but it isn’t the same as having a model in front of me. Please, Jake. Nobody would ever know. And yes, it sounds weird but there is nobody else I could ask.”
I could sort of see his point. We didn’t have live models at school and certainly not nude ones and somehow there was something in the request that appealed to my vanity. I’d never thought of myself as being a model for a painting or anything else, but I did consider I had a reasonable body and was not that bad looking. I was bothered that I’d pop a boner, but like he’d said it was only going to be him and me; I wouldn’t be modelling for a room full of people.
“And just who is going to see this painting?”
“Just you and me Jake. I won’t take a pic of it and post it on Facebook.”
I laughed as I knew he didn’t have Facebook; we’d both agreed it was a waste of space and for losers.
“I suppose it will be alright, just as long as your Mum doesn’t come across it while she’s cleaning your rooms.”
“No, it will be safe, I promise on my life.”
“Okay then, so how do you want me?”
Ren explained that he wanted me just to stand in front of him initially with my arse towards him so he could get an outline to start with. I stripped off without going hard, or at least not noticeably so, and Ren kindly agreed that I could keep my socks on as it was only a wood floor which was quite cold. However, once I’d taken everything else off I decided standing there in just my socks felt stupid so those came off too. Then I had to stand side on and finally the turn I’d been dreading when he asked me if I’d turn and face him. I put my hand in front of my stuff before I turned and I was trying hard not to start giggling as I could see him trying hard not to look there, so in the end I took my hands away, stuck them on my hips and stood there as my prick slowly started to grow. Now Ren couldn’t help looking and I saw him having to adjust his own gear inside his trousers.
“Having trouble concentrating on the painting?” I asked.
“It would be a lot easier if the model would keep still” he retorted as he got up, picking up an unused paintbrush as he did so and walked towards me. The little bastard stopped a few inches in front of me, looked up at me with a big grin and proceeded to tickle my prick with the bloody paintbrush! My prick and I found that very exciting and I quickly dropped my pose and ran across the room only to be chased by Ren wielding his paintbrush and tickling any part of me he could reach. Eventually we calmed down and he asked me if I’d do one final pose for him. I suspected that when he used the word ‘final’ it only meant final for now as opposed to final for ever, but I agreed.
This time he wanted me to sit in an old leather armchair and position my legs so that while neither my prick nor my balls were showing there was some pubic hair exposed to view. As he’d already discovered I had quite a decent sized bush of black hair. While I was getting into position I felt this was more erotic than just standing in front of him and I was glad he couldn’t see my prick as I was definitely hard sitting there. I sat there for a good length of time while he was engrossed in his painting and was getting to the point where I needed a piss when Ren asked if he could take a photo so he’d have something to refer to when he came back to the painting later. By this point in our relationship I trusted him enough to agree.
Once he’d taken the pic on his phone I dashed off to have a piss. I was a bit surprised when I came out of the en-suite, still naked of course – to find him now lying on the bed on his back with his hands behind his head. I suppose I could have walked round the bed and gone into the other room to get the clothes I’d left there or I could have gone into my backpack and found something to put on, but I didn’t. Because of the past few hours ‘modelling’ I was no longer bothered about being naked in front of Ren. Instead I threw my sleeping bag off the bed and clambered onto it ending up on my side more or less next to Ren. He opened his eyes, turned his head towards me and smiled.
“Do you go around naked all the time at home?” he asked with a grin.
“No I friggin’ don’t, not with two younger sisters not to mention my Mum & Dad.”
“Didn’t think so, but just wanted to check for the next time I’m invited round.”
“Alright Ren – just call it artistic privilege. But now I’ve done something for you are you going to do something for me.”
The grin went and a frown appeared on his face.
“What?”
“Are you finally going to let me see these friggin’ nevi of yours or keep them hidden for ever?”
A worried look replaced the frown and I thought that perhaps I had pushed things too far. There was a silence for a minute or so and I could almost hear his brain working.
“Jake, I can’t. Not today – one day perhaps. But you’ve just shown me your beautiful body, all perfect and unmarked. To show you mine would be like putting the Mona Lisa alongside a little kid’s drawing.”
I thought about what he had said for a little while, before saying,
“But these things, whatever they are, are just on your chest?”
“My chest and my back, yes.”
“But that is all?”
“Yes.”
With that one word I reached a decision. I quickly moved to straddle him sitting across his knees and thighs and then undid the studded belt that was holding up his black jeans. He tried to stop me, but I swatted his hands away.
“What are you doing, Jake?”
“If these nevi are on your top half then there is nothing to stop me seeing your bottom half is there?”
Ren laughed and by now I had pulled down his zip to reveal a pair of black boxer briefs decorated with little hedgehogs.
“Very cute, but aren’t they a bit prickly?” I asked.
“Oh Jake, only you can make me laugh and be happy.”
He cooperated in allowing me to pull his jeans down towards his knees. I could feel myself getting hard at what I could see which was a definite indication that Ren’s prick was also growing under those briefs. I ran my hand across it and he shivered; I leant forward and kissed it and he groaned. There was no stopping now and with no resistance or objections from him I pulled his briefs down to free his prick. He didn’t have anywhere near as much hair as me and his prick was shorter, not much about four inches currently and pretty much as hard as it would get I reckoned.
“If I had a brush I’d tickle it, but you’ll have to make do with my fingers.”
I looked at his face. His eyes were closed but he looked as happy as I’d ever seen him.
Like me he was uncircumcised and the head was part way out of the foreskin, glistening slightly. I put a finger on it and it twitched; I put two fingers on and pushed the foreskin down a little further. I could hear little noises coming from Ren.
I’d never done anything like this before, but of course I’d watched a few porno vids in my time so I wasn’t unaware of what to do and anyway it was pretty much the same as wanking my own prick I told myself. And then I surprised myself by leaning forward and kissing the tip. Ren made a startled noise and started to move but I said something to him and he settled down again. Now I kissed down its length in front while feeling and caressing his balls with my hand. I stuck out my tongue, licked the head and tasted a slight saltiness which I figured must be precum and then I was licking up and down the length which I was sure was increasing – and maybe it was as now all of the head had emerged from his foreskin. Then holding the base of his prick with two fingers of one hand while still feeling and slightly squeezing his balls with the other, I opened my mouth and guided his prick into it, keeping my lips as closed as possible. Ren was now getting quite voluble in his enjoyment of the sensations he was feeling as I drew his prick in and out in a gentle rhythm. Suddenly I felt his body stiffen and he tried to withdraw his prick but I held it in place. He spurted once and I felt his cum go into my throat and almost gagged, but managed not to as two more spurts followed. Now I had to let him go and his prick dropped back onto him where some further dribbles slipped from it while I tried, not totally successfully, to deal with what he had given me. I’d expected it might taste gross, but it wasn’t that unpleasant and definitely worth experiencing again.
I remained kneeling above him. I hadn’t been able to keep all of his cum in my mouth and I wiped some off my chin and onto my own prick. That was a mistake I decided as I was almost ready to cum myself without the extra sensation that produced and I was glad when Ren spoke to take my mind off it.
“Undo my shirt Jake.”
I looked at him. His eyes were sparkling like diamonds. It might have been tears, but if so they were tears of pleasure judging by the smile that lit up his face.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! I wish to hide nothing from you ever again. If you do not like what you see, so be it, but I will take that chance.”
He was wearing an old black cotton button up style shirt. I leant forward and undid the buttons from the bottom to the top, but leaving the shirt closed. He sat up and it began to fall open but I only had eyes for his face. His head came towards me and he kissed my lips while one of his hands touched my prick. As he did so I felt a surge go through me and knew I had ejaculated – a single touch had been all that was necessary.
“Impressive” he said bringing that hand up and wiping it on my chest. “Now take my shirt off.”
I pushed the front open and then the sleeves down his arms so that it dropped between us. I looked at his chest and saw several brown patches varying from the size of a coin to one that was several inches across near his left shoulder.
“The back is even worse. Now you see why I always wear a shirt.”
“Ren, I’m not worried about how you look. What I am interested in is the person who is inside that skin; the caring, loving person who is you.”
I reckon we were both drained by that point and we ended up lying back on the bed cuddling each other.
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A bridge had been crossed in our relationship. That night the sleeping bag wasn’t slept in and we snuggled up together naked in the bed. Ren had been right in what he’d said about his back having more nevi than his chest, but they simply didn’t bother me. Yes, they came as a shock when I first saw them, but to me they were just a part of him the same way as he had curly hair rather than straight.
That night Ren insisted on giving me a blow job. I found out some time later that he had lived a very sheltered life as he’d never watched a porn video so knew nothing about such things. He’d simply tossed himself off from time to time, but much more regularly since we’d met. So the first one wasn’t very satisfactory for either of us, but his technique quickly improved.
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The school summer holidays were soon on us. Ren and his parents went off to France for two weeks while we went off to Orlando and Disney World. My sisters thought it was fantastic; I thought it was alright but really couldn’t wait to get back and see Ren again. Fortunately as he departed a week before we went that did mean we were only apart for three weeks rather than four.
We could hardly wait to see each other when I got back and I’m sure that by this time both sets of parents were aware of the relationship that had developed between us. Up to now though we hadn’t taken it any further then what had occurred that first day. But by the time I got back from Orlando I knew that I loved Ren and I wanted to prove that to him, always assuming he felt the same way. Any doubts on that score vanished immediately I walked into his house on the early evening of my return when he wrapped his arms round me and we kissed in front of his mother, before we headed upstairs.
Once in his room we again wrapped our arms round each other and our tongues intertwined in a manic kissing session trying to make up for three missing weeks. When we finally disengaged Ren asked,
“Can you stay the night?”
“Of course” I replied. “I came prepared” I added pointing to my backpack which I’d been holding in my hand but dropped as soon as we’d got into the room.
“Good, ‘cos I’m prepared too. I want you to make love to me tonight.”
I was momentarily stunned. I’d felt that our relationship was heading in that direction, but I hadn’t wanted to push the issue fearing that Ren didn’t have the same depth of feeling for me as I had for him. How wrong could you be?
“Are you sure?” was all I could come up with in reply.
“Never been more certain of anything in my life. I’ve ached for you these last three weeks but I haven’t even tossed myself off. I’ve saved everything for you to suck from me – afterwards.”
I’d missed him in the same way and I knew my parents had thought that at times I wasn’t enjoying the holiday. It had been alright, better than alright really, but there had been something missing. Something I had found again once I’d walked into Ren’s house.
“Should we wait until your folks have gone to bed? Might your Mum come in?”
“She won’t. I told her to stay away and I think they’ve got a good idea of how things are between us.”
We wasted little time in undressing each other. I had spent as little time as possible in the sun so was still pretty much my normal pale colour and of course Ren never took his shirt off outside. Then we went into the en-suite which was equipped with a shower over the bath thus enabling both of us to get into the bath and wash each other from head to toe going via every possible intermediate point. I was a little surprised that neither of us came while doing so, but it seemed we both had our minds set on the greater prize to come.
We towelled each other dry before returning to the bedroom and settling on the bed. Once there we embraced, kissed and gently ran our hands over each other’s chests and stomachs.
“I did some research online last week and I’ve bought some stuff that is supposed to make it easier the first time.”
“Mmm… you said you were prepared. Better get it out then.”
Ren lent over and opened the drawer of his bedside cabinet to extract a tube of K-Y Jelly. He unscrewed the cap, squeezed a liberal amount onto his fingers and then spread it on my prick. Boy I nearly came just feeling him do that, it had been so long. Then he handed the tube to me saying,
“Now you need to spread some round my hole.”
He moved to get on his knees.
“No, Ren. I don’t want you like that. If I’m going to make love to you I want to see your face as I do so.”
Poor Ren looked at me all perplexed. It dawned on me that his research had been very limited and he had assumed there was only one possible position. I explained to him that if he lay on his back he could then either raise his legs and hold them up or perhaps even rest them on my shoulders. That would mean I could come into him and we could look at each other while I did so. He was overjoyed when he worked that out and immediately moved to lie on his back and lifted his legs. I got some K-Y on my finger and spread it round his hole before getting a further quantity and very gently trying to insert my finger. He jerked as I did so.
“Ren, this is likely to hurt especially as it is the first time. Try and relax and I’ll be as gentle as I can but if it hurts too much I’ll stop and we can try again another day.”
“No, Jake. I want you feel you inside me. If it hurts then it hurts, but I know you don’t mean to hurt me so it doesn’t matter. Keep going.”
And that was just what I did. With some gentle rubbing I eventually managed to get him to open enough for one finger to go inside and after a while he accepted two. My prick isn’t that thick so I reckoned two fingers would be sufficient, but I didn’t want him closing up again I removed just one before lubricating my prick again and gently inserting it alongside the one finger. That seemed to work and as my prick slid in a little further I removed the finger. Now I could rock gently forward and back getting my prick in a fraction further. He’d grimaced a few times and groaned on a couple of occasions when suddenly the resistance ended and I was inside. We both exclaimed ‘Wow’ at the same moment. Now it felt like I belonged and we both relaxed to enjoy the sensation but after a short pause I pushed further leading Ren to swear, something he rarely did.
“Fuck! That was incredible. What happened?”
“I guess I just made contact with your prostate.”
“I saw stars and rainbows and it felt indescribable. I want you to do it again.”
So I did and he grinned.
“Why did we wait so long to do this.”
“I don’t know that, but I do know I love you.”
And with that I started to push in and out until I orgasmed as I’d never thought would be possible as I pumped my semen into him before finally collapsing on top of him. He wrapped his arms round my now sticky body saying,
“I want to do that again and again and again. Thank you Jake, that was mind blowing.”
“Can we wait a few minutes before we do.”
He laughed.
“Yes, but you have something else to do first.”
I hadn’t forgotten – how could I as I’d occasionally looked at his prick standing hard and inviting as mine had found its own new home. Now I was going to have the pleasure of sucking him off. It didn’t take long as he was more than ready as soon as I took it into my mouth and boy, had he accumulated a load during those three weeks. I’d got pretty good I thought at being able to swallow his ejaculations but this one took me by surprise.
Afterwards we lay alongside each other, our hands occasionally roaming across the other’s body. We had entered a new and wonderful relationship which I hoped was going to last for ever.
Finally Ren broke the silence.
“I hope this is going to be a two way relationship, Jake?”
“So do I, but perhaps we should give our batteries a chance to recharge?”
We agreed on that but roused ourselves enough to go and have a bath and shower to clean up. After that we got back into bed and spooned together with Ren behind me. I guess I must have gone to sleep but I came to feeling his hard prick between my arse cheeks. It wasn’t dark because we’d left the bedside light on.
I edged away from him enough to give me room to turn over and wrap one arm round him while the other hand found his prick.
“Seems your batteries are recharged?”
“Mmm… mine are for sure. What about yours?”
“Mine are Ever Ready”
“Oh, but I thought you were the Duracell bunny.”
“This bunny is ready to be fucked.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. I want to know what it feels like to have someone very special make love to me for the first of several thousand times.”
In my early days of knowing him Ren had shown little evidence of a sense of humour. That had changed as we grew to know and now love each other.
We simply reversed the positions we had taken up earlier and the K-Y Jelly got a further bashing. I made a sort of mental note to get some next time I was in town.
It didn’t hurt as much as I’d expected when Ren came into me. He got his fingers in quite easily and while he struggled a bit with his prick it finally passed through the gates. It was bliss feeling him inside me and when he hit my prostate I too saw stars. By the time he came, which wasn’t that long, I was hard myself as I’d been stroking my prick while he’d been inside so after he slid out I couldn’t wait for him to suck me off – which was also ecstasy.
Suffice to say that we spent a large part of the rest of the holiday making love to each other and although we didn’t say anything to our parents and they didn’t ask us any questions, we were both sure they knew our relationship had entered a new stage.
One Friday evening though Dad offered to take the pair of us to Southwold for the day. I’d never heard of the place and when he said it was on the coast I had images of somewhere grotty like Weston super Mare where I had been or Southend that I’d heard about. Dad said it was different and he thought we’d like it and it might give both of us some ideas for our paintings. The weather was great that day and we were both blown away with the place when we saw it. It was ‘oldie worldie’ but not ridiculously so with a pier and a front to walk along. We both took lots of pictures and I had in mind to paint the sea with sunlight glinting off it and the pier in the background, although I knew I couldn’t do it justice. We had lunch in a nice restaurant and then resumed our walk, finally finding a bench to sit on and look at the sea. That was when Dad asked the question. Looking back I suppose it was odd he’d ask me while Ren was there, but in many ways it made sense. By now we both knew how we felt about each other and saw no point in keeping it hidden. So, Dad got the answer I knew he was expecting and all he said was that he and Mum hoped we’d be very happy. We were out, or at least I was and Ren said he was going to tell his parents when he got home. Dad assured him he wouldn’t have any problems which rather indicated that the golfing partners had been talking about us while on the course, apparently without putting them off their game. When we got up from the seat I found Ren’s left hand and linked my right one to it. We walked the rest of the way hand in hand.
As is always the way the holiday came to an end and we went back to school. This rather restricted Ren and me to weekends only, but it made those all the more enjoyable.
The first week we were back our Art teacher, Mr Gladwell, set us a project for the half term. We had to paint or in some way depict the object that meant the most to us. I was staggered when on the walk home from school that afternoon Ren said he was going to paint me!
“You can’t! We’ll be ‘out’ to the whole school if you do!”
“So, does it matter? And anyway I wasn’t thinking of painting you nude.”
“Thank fuck for that! I expect it’ll bring the gay bashers out anyway, but I reckon we can deal with them if we have to. What am I going to paint though?”
“Me?”
“Nah – I’m not good at portraits even if you do mean the most to me.”
We walked on for a while and then I turned to Ren and said,
“I know – I’ll paint the school!”
“Don’t they have decorators to do that?”
I turned and hit him on the arm.
“Arsehole! I’ll do a painting of the school. It’ll be real tongue in cheek as an answer to that project.”
“Talking of arseholes, do we have time today Jake?”
“Mmm, not really but I’m sure we could manage a quickie.”
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Ren decided that for his portrait of me I had to be dressed in a specific way. He wanted me to wear the studded leather wrist bands, but not the studded leather choker as he said people might decide that made me look like a slave; black trousers and a short sleeve black shirt I had that was decorated across the chest with two identical sort of geometric designs done in a bright light blue colour. All of that was fine with me as I really liked that shirt and had never seen another one like it. But when I put those on at his house the next Saturday morning ready to model for him, he had a surprise for me. I had no idea where he’d got them (he told me later he had found them in a shop in France while they were on holiday) but he handed me a pair of what I suppose were fingerless gloves that were made of a sort of net and with a studded leather wristband. They were amazing, but I couldn’t see how he could possibly paint them as they were so detailed.
That weekend and a couple more passed with me either modelling for him or trying to produce my own painting. He refused to let me see my portrait, but I was quite happy for him to see my depiction of the school. Of course we were still sleeping together at the weekends and neither of us could paint for eight hours at a time so we had to do something to relax and unwind.
The half term seemed to be flying past and Ren still hadn’t finished the portrait to his satisfaction although I’d completed my picture of the school. It was Friday morning and I was looking forward to spending another weekend with Ren while sitting at the kitchen table at home eating my bowl of cereal, when the phone rang. I knew it wouldn’t be anyone for me on the house phone so left Mum, who was struggling to get my sisters ready to go to school, to answer it.
She seemed to be on it for quite a time and when she walked back into the kitchen she looked very pale. She told my sisters to go and get in the car before coming to sit down beside me at the kitchen table. She put her arm round my shoulder and I knew something was wrong.
“”Oh, Jake, I’ve got some bad news.”
“Is it Gran?”
My Gran had been ill for some time and a call to say she had died had been expected for the last few weeks.
Mum wiped some tears from her eyes.
“No, not Gran Jake. That was Mrs Renouf…….”
She broke off and more tears started to run down her cheeks.
“Has something happened to Mr Renouf?”
“No, Jake. It’s Ren……..he’s dead.”
I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach and sucked all the air out of my lungs at the same time.
“He….he can’t be. I only saw him last evening!”
“Oh, Jake, I don’t know what happened; all Mrs Renouf could say was that he didn’t come down to breakfast this morning so went to wake him up and found him dead in bed. I can’t imagine how she felt finding him like that.”
And now the tears came. I threw Mum’s arm off and dashed up to my room. I hurled myself onto my bed and howled like a wolf while punching the pillow and swearing and cursing everything and everyone. Mum sensibly left me there, took my sisters to school and phoned mine to say that I wouldn’t be in for a few days.
By the afternoon I’d recovered enough that I persuaded Mum to come round to the Renoufs with me so I could say something, however trite, to Ren’s Mum and Dad. It had dawned on me that however badly I felt they must be feeling much worse. Naturally when we got there we all had a further cry and Mrs Renouf explained that Ren had told her he would be up late as he wanted to put some finishing touches to the painting so she wasn’t that surprised when he didn’t come down for breakfast and she had to go up and wake him. And that was when she found she couldn’t wake him…….
She also explained that there would have to be an Autopsy to discover the cause of his death so the funeral would probably not be for a couple of weeks. She then asked me if I wanted to see the painting, but I asked if I could leave it until another day. I just wasn’t in the right mood, which she understood adding that neither she or her husband had seen it as they felt Ren would have wanted me to see it first.
The Autopsy result came through after a few days. It turned out that Ren had a problem with his heart that had never been detected and had displayed no symptoms. I had to wonder though if he had somehow sensed there was something wrong and that was why he was so anxious to finish the painting. Once I knew how he’d died I was ready to see the painting, but I wanted his Mum & Dad as well as mine to be there when I did.
It felt strange going into that room where he and I had spent so much time but I was glad the painting was there rather than his bedroom as I didn’t feel I could have faced going in there. Oddly he had left the painting covered with a sheet which again added to my feeling that he had sensed something, or it could just have been that he wanted to make a little drama by dramatically pulling off the sheet when he let me see it. It was decided that I should be the one to remove the sheet and when I did so I was stunned for a few seconds and heard gasps from the others before I burst into tears once more. He had done an amazing job of depicting me and yet it wasn’t me. The person in the picture had a smile on his lips and a sparkle in his eyes and that wasn’t how I looked now. Why had he left me alone? Why hadn’t he done a self-portrait?
Suddenly the dam broke and I started crying again. I couldn’t stand to look at the picture any longer, ran from the room and dashed into Ren’s bedroom. I threw myself onto his bed hoping maybe to find some trace of him still there. I beat my fists into the pillow, sobbing and babbling incoherently. A little while later I half heard someone come into the room and felt a hand stroking my hair and making soothing noises. I thought it was my Mum but then I recognised the perfume and knew it was Ren’s. She continued to speak to me and slowly I calmed down enough that I was able to sit up on the bed and put my arms round her while she had hers round me gently stroking my back and neck.
“Oh, Jake. I’m sorry – I hadn’t thought how hard it would be for you to see that painting, but it is beautiful. He captured something that is going to last.”
“I know, but……” I stopped, not wanting to express the thoughts in my mind.
“Jake, we don’t want to lose you. I know it will take time, but do come and visit us whenever you like. Perhaps eventually you’ll feel up to using the room for your own painting; it would be a shame for it to never be used.”
We clung together for a while longer as I took in what she had just said. She’d accepted me as her son’s lover and now he had gone. I knew I’d be coming back – often - and maybe that way something of Ren would still be with me.
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Now today it is his funeral. There is a small delegation attending from the school comprising the Head, Mr Gladwell our Art teacher and for some fucking stupid reason I can’t work out, the teacher who let out Ren’s first name and thus made his life a misery. Plus there’s a handful of girls and boys from our set; the girls of course all teary even though they hardly ever spoke to him.
I said I couldn’t go into the Chapel as I knew I just break down in tears during the service. So I’m stood outside. I’m wearing the clothes Ren wanted me to wear for the portrait and I’m holding a single Arum lily. When they start to lower his coffin into the ground I’m going to place that on top of it although I wish it could be me rather than just a flower.
Oh, I’ve just realised – I’ve not told you Ren’s Christian name. When he told me what it was I promised him I’d never tell anyone else, but he’s dead now and nobody can ridicule him about it so I guess it doesn’t really matter. Anyway, you’ve probably guessed by now that it was Lilian.
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