My room was just the same as I had left it when I opened the door at Aunt Margaret’s, but I could now see snow on the mountains through the window. And I was right, my dick was longer; it was now five and three quarter inches long fully erect!
Tom came to see me as soon as he got back from school. Aunt Margaret had to go to late afternoon surgery so we were left alone. We didn’t get a chance to tell each other anything about our schools because within moments we were stripped off and under the covers on my bed. We hugged and stroked each other in silence until I could bear it no longer. I dived down and took his well-remembered young cock in my mouth. Tom was not to be deprived either as we moved together and sixty-nined.
Immediately, he pressed his lips round my foreskin-covered knob. The feeling as his lips pushed the skin down and his tongue just touched my oh-so-sensitive rim was enough to make me come. I filled his mouth with my spunk as I gasped and took his rod fully into my mouth. As I spasmed, my sucks on his cock were so strong it wasn’t long before he swelled in my mouth and unloaded his gift of boy cream for me. We disentangled ourselves and ended up mouth to mouth, tongue to tongue, our spunk mingling and being tasted by both of us.
In the next hour we both came twice more and had just managed to get dressed again when Aunt Margaret’s Range Rover swept into the drive. She invited Tom for supper and we made plans to meet up the next afternoon as it was the last day of his term.
I was really satiated with the triple encounter with young Tom so I just lay in bed that night and relived the feel of his body, and especially the unstoppable energy we had put into our third bout. Our tongues had lashed each other’s faces, necks and chests, and our lips and teeth had nipped our lips, chins and nipples to such an extent that our bodies writhed in unison while our hands pounded each other’s pricks so hard and violently that our orgasms, when they came, were so intense that we collapsed onto each other in absolute ecstasy. That night I fell asleep, not having needed to wank, just curled up, my hands holding my prick and balls, and I awoke in the morning with such a raging hard-on I immediately tossed myself off to release the tension. Where all my spunk came from I did not know. I had squirted three loads the previous afternoon and now there was a pool of my boy cream on my chest. I hoped there would be more for later when Tom came home from school.
I spent the morning tidying my things and doing some shopping in the village for Aunt Margaret. I was greeted warmly by everyone and the lady in the village shop reminded me that there was a ceilidh on Christmas Eve, which was on Tuesday. Aunt Margaret took me into Fort William that afternoon and bought me a pair of walking boots, a couple of thick pullovers, and a waterproof parka so I wouldn’t freeze to death going off hiking with Tom. I was adamant I was going to wear my kilt and Aunt Margaret laughed and said I would be OK as long as the wind didn’t whistle too much. To be safe, she also bought me a pair of thick hiking trousers. I also managed to do some Christmas shopping. I got Tom a pair of ski gloves and some rather expensive soap for Aunt Margaret. As I hadn’t spent any of my pocket money during the term I had quite a bit of spare cash!
Tom was at the back door within minutes of him getting off the school bus. As Aunt Margaret was out again visiting patients, we were soon in my bed feeling each other and making plans for our foray around the wintry countryside the next day. Twice we brought each other to a climax, the first by a more leisurely suck than the day before, the second by an even more lengthy, slow mutual wank. I told Tom about my morning wank and he grinned and said he’d done exactly the same.
With us lying side by side I realised that Tom was experiencing a tremendous growth spurt. He confirmed this by saying he’d grown nearly two inches over the past three months, and his tool and balls were also growing. His voice had also broken properly in that he didn’t make those embarrassing squeaks which I had finished with just before I went to Kinloch in the autumn. We practised saying things deeper and deeper and giggled and felt so together. I loved Tom. I couldn’t get enough of his company.
I think the feeling was mutual. Next day, kitted out in our kilts and pullovers, boots and all, we set off in the chilly morning air. We chatted together all day as we walked. I told him about all the boys in the dorm and the school routine. He wanted to know how we spent our time and was quite awed by the fact that almost every moment of the day was scheduled for something. I did say that even the nightly wank could have been timetabled because lights out was the signal for duvets down, which caused him great hilarity. He kept referring to this, asking if I’d arranged a timetable for the holiday. I told him about Simon and the workouts, and I confessed I wanted to do things with him. I also confessed about the four encounters with Ghazi. The young Arab boy intrigued Tom, and he said he’d like to meet him.
Then Tom told me that he’d found a wank buddy at his school. He was a boy a couple of villages away who got on the school bus a bit earlier. They had visited the school bogs together to have a pee on arrival the first day back to school and the boy had asked outright if Tom was wanking himself yet. The bus usually got to the school about half an hour before school started and they had found an old storeroom where they went most mornings and tossed each other off.
The boy, Lachlan, had two older brothers, and told Tom they all had wanked each other but now he was left with only one brother, two years older, at home. From his bragging to Tom I concluded they were as horny as each other. Lachlan and his brother seemed to go in for wanking marathons, especially at weekends, with the boast that one weekend they had both come fourteen times. I couldn’t believe that, and even Tom was a bit astounded. He said his record was six in one day and he couldn’t keep that rate up the next day. Tom said that Lachlan had a short stubby prick but it was ever so thick, even at fourteen. Apparently, from Lachlan’s description, his brother, at nearly seventeen, was much the same. His prick was fatter but not much longer.
Of course, all this talk was quite arousing for the pair of us. Luckily we found an old abandoned barn where we had our lunch, preceded and followed by a nice comfortable wank. We settled into a pattern for the next couple of days until the weather changed for the worse. Tom’s dad took us out in his police car all Friday morning. That afternoon we spent in the warmth of my bed. We didn’t quite emulate Lachlan’s marathon, but randy Tom came five times that day and I managed four.
On Saturday Aunt Margaret and Tom had great fun teaching me the rudiments of Scottish dancing. My mind was reeling with the intricacies of the eightsome reel by the time they finished but they assured me I would be the belle of the ball on Tuesday. When Aunt Margaret was out of the room I retaliated by grabbing Tom’s clothed knackers under his kilt and threatening to squeeze them till he squeaked. He did point out that wearing underpants was necessary when doing Highland dancing!
The snow was quite thick on Christmas Eve, but the village hall was packed and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. Aunt Margaret had given me an early Christmas present of a nice white shirt and a bow tie so I looked the bee’s knees whirling round getting my feet all entangled at times. However, a good time was had by all and I even managed to down a couple of wee drams of Scotch which was being handed around liberally ‘to keep the cauld oot’.
Christmas day we had lunch with Tom and his parents and the rest of the week sped by. Tom and I spent as much time together as we could, but he was going off with his parents to visit relations for Hogmanay so on the Sunday we said our farewells until Easter.
On Monday morning I was up good and early and checked that I had packed all my things. I also checked that I looked smart enough in my school shirt and tie with my kilt on. Aunt Margaret made me put my parka on over my jacket before we set out as it was pretty cold and the roads were clear but icy. As usual she drove like a demon and we arrived at Linnhe Castle very quickly as I didn’t realise how near, in Scottish distance, Paul lived to the village. The castle was most impressive—all battlements, crenellations and turrets set in acres of grounds. Aunt Margaret told me Mr Campbell was the laird. The family used to own a great deal of the neighbouring area but their holdings were reduced when they were forced to sell off land to pay death duties. She also said the castle needed a lot of repair.
On arrival I got out of the Range Rover to be greeted by a great barking and was surrounded by about five Labradors, retrievers or whatever. I was then surrounded by all my friends—all of them bedecked in kilts! Aunt Margaret was in hysterics as Clyde strutted up to her in a red and green checkered tartan, bowing low and shaking her by the hand in real old-fashioned Southern gentlemanly fashion. Hamed and Ghazi were close behind and were arrayed in the same tartan as Paul. I was told they had been made honorary members of the Campbell clan. The biggest surprise was the sight of Simon bringing up the rear as I hadn’t an inkling that he’d been invited as well. Aunt Margaret was escorted indoors by Clyde and the others, plus the dogs, while Simon was left with me and my luggage.
He said he would show me to my room. He hefted one of my two bags and led the way into the entrance hall and up the baronial staircase. We ended up outside a most imposing door which he ceremoniously opened.
“Here you are, sir,” he said, sweeping me in before him. “Your room awaits, and your loyal servant will lay out your things.”
I looked at him very puzzled. The room obviously had another occupant but there was only one bed—a large double. He saw my baffled look.
“It’s OK, this is Roddy’s room really but you don’t have to share with him. He’s had to go back on duty in Edinburgh. I’ve shared with him over Christmas and now…” he paused and an impish grin made the corners of his mouth twitch “…I’ve got to share a bloody bed with you! You don’t mind do you? You’re last in and I’m spare, so you’ve got me!”
I was gobsmacked, flabbergasted, overwhelmed—you name it. Something I had wanted ever since I’d clapped eyes on him during that first visit to the school. I didn’t know what to say. I stuttered something about I wouldn’t mind at all. It was all I could do to keep my unruly dick from performing handstands with joy. Still, Simon seemed in charge of the situation and we unloaded the things I would need into a large wardrobe which seemed crammed with clothes and uniforms. He explained that we had to share a bathroom with the occupants of the adjoining room, Paul and Ghazi.
My mind was in a whirl.
We made our way back downstairs to a large sitting room where all the others, plus Aunt Margaret and Mr and Mrs Campbell, were drinking coffee. Everyone chatted for a while until Aunt Margaret said she should be off as she wanted to get to Edinburgh as soon as possible. I went out to the Range Rover with her and she said she hoped I’d had a good time so far. She wished me well and told me to be sure to phone her before I went back to Kinloch. As none of the other boys were around I hugged her and gave her a big kiss, and she was off.
The rest of the day sped by. The six of us went for a ramble after lunch and had a snowball fight, ganging up on Simon and chasing him back to the castle in the end, threatening to stuff as much snow as possible up his kilt. We had a very substantial meal in the evening in the Great Hall, served by two ladies from the nearby village, and sat around a huge log fire in the sitting room until Simon said it was time for bed. I had found out that not only were Paul and Ghazi (or McJazz as he was now called, according to ever-bubbly Clyde) sharing, Hamed and Clyde were, too. Clyde had to explain to me in great detail that his tartan was really for the City of Glasgow but he had ordered it for his kilt because that was where the River Clyde flowed!
I followed Simon up the stairs and went to the bathroom straightaway as I was dying for a pee. When I went into our room the curtains were drawn and a log fire lit up the room. There was an ancient radiator as well, so the room was warm and snug. Simon took his shirt off and skipped out of the room to get to the bathroom before Ghazi and Paul commandeered it. I stripped off completely and put my things neatly in the wardrobe. I was admiring my muscle development in the mirror over the dresser when Simon came back in and closed the door firmly.
“I thought Sixth Formers weren’t allowed to have younger boys in their beds,” I said, still surveying my pecs and the biceps on my right arm, but watching as Simon also stripped.
He ignored my statement. “Are you getting into bed like that?” he asked.
“Of course,” I said, “I started a new Kinloch tradition so I mean to carry on with it.”
“You’re a cheeky bugger,” he said, “but I generally sleep in the raw as well.”
I looked carefully at his reflection in the mirror as I flexed my left arm. Was his cock swelling? It was bigger than mine in any case and swung gracefully as he went to the wardrobe to hang his things up.
“Last one in bed’s a rotten egg!” he said and dived across to the bed before I had a chance to even twitch a buttock muscle. “And has to switch the light out!”
Actually we both reached the bed at the same time as I was nearer on my side. As we lifted the covers and bundled in, our bodies collided and we were hugging each other with his legs entwined round my muscly young thighs immediately.
“I’ve wanted this young boy in my bed ever since the day I first saw him,” he whispered throatily in my ear, which he proceeded to probe with his hot, wet tongue.
“I’ve wanted to be in bed with this Sixth Former from that moment, too,” I replied, in between giving out some deep-felt ‘Aghs’ as his tongue moved from my ear to my chin and neck.
I felt down to his leg and had an absolute frisson of untold pleasure as I stroked and felt those wonderful hairy whorls. My prick had a mind of its own and was instantly hard and pointing up my belly. As I moved my body against his I felt his equally steel-like rod press into my stomach.
I moved my hand to the small of his back and clasped him as tight as I could. My head moved and our lips touched and locked, and we tongue fucked as we rocked up and down, our hard-ons rubbing alongside each other.
“Stop a moment, Flip,” he said breathlessly. “Must get a towel.”
He slipped away from me but returned quickly spreading a bath towel between us. As he got closer to me I gripped his shaft and he did the same to me. We tongue fucked again and slowly, slowly wanked each other until a thunderous climax released great gobbets of my boy cream all over his stomach and chest. I pulled down hard on his cock a few more times and he responded with such intensity I was drenched in a flurry of spunk which seemed to cover me from chin to navel.
We panted from our exertions and lay quietly for a minute or so.
“We’ve both wanted that for a long time, haven’t we?” he said finally.
All I could murmur was a quiet, “Yes.” I then felt for some of his cum on my chest and licked my fingers. His spunk was more salty and less sweet than Tom’s, Michael’s or Ghazi’s. He wasn’t content with just tasting a finger dipped in mine but scooped up as much as he could with several sweeps of his fingers. Not to be outdone I did the same, giving myself even more sensations as my fingers passed over my spunk-sticky nipples.
We lay silently for a long time, chest to chest, my head resting on his neck as I listened to his pulse as his heart rate returned to normal.
“I want that again, Flip,” he whispered in my ear. “I’ve been dreaming of this for three months. Please do it to me again, ever so slowly.”
While we were lying quietly his prick had become fully erect again. I felt down, my fingers sticky with spunk, and felt his ribby shaft. Simon deserved more. I slid down the bed and gently opened my lips around his heavy knob end. He gasped as I pushed his foreskin back. His knob must have been supersensitive after that last explosive climax but I continued slowly, very carefully lapping at his roundness with my tongue.
“Wait a moment, Flip,” he whispered.
He edged himself down the bed, turning so we lay head to toe. His mouth sought my now-erect rod. His breath was hot as he nuzzled my scanty bush and licked round the base of my shaft. His cock had dropped from my mouth so I explored his balls with my tongue and then nipped the soft skin of his sac between my lips. I sucked one of his balls into my mouth and probed the egg-shaped heaviness inside. Whatever I did he was doing to me. In fact both my balls were in his mouth as he sucked lightly on them. Gradually we moved our tongues up each other’s pricks. I could feel the softer indentation running up the underside of his boy meat and as I ran my tongue firmly up and down he groaned and gasped even more. Finally, I took the head of his cock into my mouth again and he did the same to me. Our heads bobbed in synchrony as we washed each other’s pricks in copious amounts of saliva.
My hands were active, too. I was feeling the dense curls on the backs of his thighs, teasing the tight strands between my finger tips. He was doing the same to me except I just had my reddish downy covering to brush. Then his hand moved to my buttocks and a finger began to explore my crack. A soft caress across my pucker made my buttocks twitch and a small electric charge seemed to run between there and the base of my cock. I moved my finger into his crack and was rewarded by the same twitch of his muscles and a tightening of his mouth around my now almost fully engulfed length.
We stroked each other’s buds and this made our sucking more and more intense. Without warning Simon clenched his jaw hard around my cock and shot spurt after spurt of his boy cream into my mouth. I sucked as hard as I could as the precious fluid coated the whole of the inside of my mouth. I swallowed some but I wanted to share whatever remained with Simon. His squirts and the immense vacuum caused by his mouth clamped on my rod set my reflexes off and I shot a massive load into his waiting mouth.
Almost immediately he rearranged his position so we were now mouth to mouth, tongues furiously beating against each other, our sticky loads mixing and transferring. Simon’s hands were massaging my back almost in a frenzy and I was holding him to me as tight as I could. In the end we separated and, exhausted, I fell asleep straightaway.
I woke suddenly about four o’clock to find I was alone in bed. I peered out and saw the shadowy figure of Simon in front of the fire putting two more large logs on it. I was captivated by his body just seen in the firelight. Even more so as he bent down to pick up another log and the silhouette of his dangling tool and balls appeared between his parted legs.
I slipped out of bed. The room was still very warm. I went over to Simon and stood by his side in front of the now beginning to blaze again fire. I put my right arm round him and whispered that he had made me so happy. He turned and held me to him. I was now only about three inches shorter than him so our faces were almost level.
“You are such a handsome boy,” he said. “I’ve wanted to say this to you many times. You remind me so much of Richard. I have to tell you we are lovers and in September I’ll join him at Edinburgh. We intend to live together and study together…” He held me even tighter. “And have wonderful sex together. I’m telling you this because I love him so deeply I could never let him go, but I told him about you when I knew we would be sharing here and he said he trusted me with you. He said if you wanted it I should love you as I love him. Do you see what I mean?”
I was so touched by his feelings for me the tears welled up in my eyes. He must have thought I was hurt in some way as he looked very concerned.
“Are you alright, Flip?” he asked, his voice almost breaking with emotion. As he looked at me his face took on a sad expression.
I nodded and whispered that I was so happy being with him I wouldn’t do anything to break up his love for Richard. I said I hoped I had made him happy as well. I realised that he wasn’t completely happy.
“What is it Simon, you seem sad underneath?”
He turned and hugged me tightly, a small sob in his voice.
“It’s my birthday tomorrow. New Year’s Day. I shall be eighteen and I feel so alone.”
“You’ve got us and the Campbells, even if Richard isn’t here.”
“I know. The thing is I’ve got an envelope with a bloody great cheque in it from my father, and an equally bloody great cheque from my mother in another,” he said, then spat out vehemently, “but neither of them want me around! I haven’t seen my mother since I was ten. I suppose now I’m eighteen I make her seem old. So she just keeps out of my life!”
He was shaking with emotion. What could I do? I held him tight.
“Simon, we all love you. All the boys at school admire you and would do anything for you. I know Paul loves you and I do. I would do anything for you. Come on, Simon, lie down in front of the fire with me.”
We hugged each other as I stroked his strong, muscular back and felt his well-defined abs and chest against me as I clutched him. My prick began to harden and was wedged between his legs as it began to rise.
“You’re a horny little beast,” he said quietly into my ear as he began to giggle instead of sniff.
I moved my head round and kissed his eyes and licked the salty tears away.
“I want your cock,” I whispered.
We moved head to toe again and for over an hour poured out our feelings for each other in worshipping each other’s boyhoods. We made the buildup very slow. Each time either of us got anywhere near the sensation of beginning to come, the other checked their sucking or licking, or stopped completely. Somehow we sensed each other’s rhythm and gradually built up a pattern of raising the sexual temperature then reducing it to such an extent that I knew when I finally came I would have the most stupendous orgasm ever.
We rolled around slightly to make sure we were warm. This meant sometimes I was over his body and at other times he was arched over me. Most of the time we were side by side, slowly sucking and laving each other’s increasingly sensitive shafts, at the same time feeling each other’s bodies, caressing legs, thighs, stomachs, and nipples in a continuous dance of pleasure. At last Simon held my stiff cock away from his mouth.
“Please, Flip,” he said very quietly, “I want us to try to come together. Let’s do it carefully. I know you’re almost there, your balls are beginning to draw up.”
I felt for his balls and sucked on his tool a little harder. He let out a moan and my prick went deeper into his mouth and his sac began to contract more. I finally had to let myself go and felt the jolts in my loins as the spasms began. My cock was now jammed right into his mouth so I took a deep breath, forced my head back, and took his whole length into my throat. I choked a little but, immediately, his prick swelled even more in my mouth and spurt after spurt of his lovely boy cream poured into my throat and then into my mouth. My spasms matched his. I felt him suck in time with each of my oh-so-mighty squirts.
We lay, breathing in gasps and gulps, still holding each other in our mouths. At a signal from Simon we met again mouth to mouth and tongued and kissed until all our residual spunk was combined. Simon was crying openly when we finally disengaged.
“You cried before because you were so happy. I’m crying now because I am, too. You’ve made my stay here bearable. I can’t wait until I see Richard next week to tell him how much you’ve helped me cope. I love you very deeply, Flip—please believe me—but my love for Richard is even stronger.”
I didn’t say anything. I had experienced such great love there was nothing to say. We lay together silently for another minute or so until Simon moved over and gently almost lifted me into bed. He added more logs to the fire, then got into bed again. We both slept soundly until woken by Paul at nearly nine o’clock.
“Come on you two! Wakey-wakey!” he called, in imitation of the usual rousing we got each day from Simon. “Busy day. Breakfast is ready and we’ve got to prepare for the party tonight. So, get yourselves up and cleaned up.”
He gave both of us—or at least the mounds in the bed—hearty thwacks and departed laughing.
God, we were sticky and smelly. Paul must have known something had gone on because of his remark and also because he’d chucked the towel we’d lain on by the fire onto the bed.
I leaned over Simon and kissed his eyes again.
“I want to be with my Tom like you want to be with Richard,” I whispered.
“I thought you did. But you and Ghazi will be friends as well, won’t you?”
I said we were good friends already and I told him we had been more than friendly. He laughed and said it was to be expected but we had to be careful. He said he’d had several encounters of the same sort as he grew up in the school but for the past two years he and Richard had been exclusively for each other. He said he had missed him so much this last term. I was rather bold because I asked him as he shared with Robbie MacPherson did they have sex together. He said Robbie and he had when in the lower forms but, and he whispered this, “We only make our own bedsprings squeak every night now, like you lot do!”
I was rather surprised. How did he know about our dorm? I asked him and he laughed again.
“I knew Paul was a bit worried about Hamed and Ghazi to begin with and I just asked him straight out if they wanked in bed like the rest of you. I was guessing you all did because when I was in that dorm we all did. Poor old Paul went all shades of red and stuttered and stumbled until I told him, as he knew with two older brothers, that all boys do it. Later, after the confrontation with Hamed, he told me there was a nightly routine that you all joined in. In fact,” (here he dug me in the ribs) “…he said you’d shot him in the dark! So I knew all about you and your habits a long time ago, you horny toad!!”
“Bloody horny toad yourself!” I retorted and tried to wrestle him out of bed. He was too strong for me so we ended up entwined again, giggling and grunting.
I felt so at ease with Simon. He was the older brother I had never had. We got up and washed and dressed, in our Highland day gear, and went down to breakfast where Clyde was holding forth, pulling McJazz’s leg about something or other, with Hammerhead laughing at his cousin’s bewilderment. Simon started to josh Clyde who, as usual, took it all in good part. I was so glad to be in their company.
Plans were made to show me some of the estate in the morning, then, after lunch, we were to get things organised as there was to be quite a big Hogmanay party in the evening with about sixty guests—neighbours and people from the estate. All the boys were roped in as honorary waiters and told to keep guests’ glasses replenished and to help serve the buffet after the dancing. Then at midnight the big toast for the New Year would be made and all would go home.
As Simon and I were up in our room getting ourselves ready for the evening there was a knock on the door. It was Clyde. He apologised for interrupting and came in bearing two parcels, handing one to each of us. He said mine was for Christmas and Simon’s for his birthday. We both said he shouldn’t have bought us anything, but he just sighed and said we should open them as they weren’t goddam going back.
He’d given each of us a beautiful tailored white dress shirt. They must have cost a bomb. All Clyde would say, when we thanked him profusely, was that his daddy had told him to get them for us and all the others had them as well. It’s amazing what an oil well in the back garden can buy!
The six of us did look smart and, even after doing a very hectic eightsome reel, I think I still looked presentable. Both Simon and I had remembered to put underpants on before going down, as the twisting and turning was quite energetic and I noticed Simon’s kilt once swirling up quite high as he executed a particularly spirited turn with his partner.
However, all evening I was exercised by the fact I hadn’t known it was going to be Simon’s eighteenth and I hadn’t got him a present. Then I had an idea. We’d had such intense sex the night before there was only one thing for me to give him.
I made sure during the evening that I cleared myself out as much as possible. I was all prepared as I also knew there was some Vaseline in the bathroom cabinet. Midnight came. Toasts were drunk to the New Year and also to Simon. He was now a man! The guests departed and we boys helped to clear away some of the things around but were finally shooed off to bed by Mrs Campbell, who said all the rest could wait until morning.
Simon and I had plenty to discuss as we prepared for bed. We’d had a lovely evening and there were lots of incidents to recall. He stoked up the fire with logs and then we were in bed.
I waited a few moments before I rolled over to him and put my arms round his shoulders.
“Happy birthday, Simon,” I said. “I wanted to give you a present but I haven’t bought you one.”
“Don’t worry, Flip, just being here with you is enough of a present.”
“I have got a present, though…” I paused, as I really didn’t know quite how to word it. “I want you to have more than even last night. I want to give you me, properly… Would you fuck me?”
Simon put his arms round me and held me tight as well. His chest began to heave and I knew he was sobbing.
“Please, Simon, I want you to have the best tonight. I’ll give you anything you want.”
“Oh, Flip,” he said after a moment or two, “that’s really beautiful. But, no, I’ve promised Richard that we will have that together as the first time for both of us. We haven’t done that yet, and we vowed we would wait until both of us were over eighteen and then we could consummate our love for each other.” He paused. “Please, Flip, it’s not that I don’t want you in that way, it’s a promise I’ve made and I must keep.”
He moved his head down and we kissed. Gently, passionately, lovingly. I respected his desire to be faithful and we lay in each other’s arms for a long time.
I spoke at last. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t do other things, does it?”
“No, we both want that, but it will be between good friends, not as between committed lovers. You see that, don’t you?”
I saw that and I knew that he, like Ghazi and like Michael, was someone I could have great pleasure with and share part of me without commitment. I still had to find out how Tom really felt. I knew in my heart of hearts that one day he and I could have the same commitment as Simon and Richard, if he were willing.
Very gently Simon and I began to caress each other. Soon we were ready to begin a night of intense lovemaking. We licked and nipped at each other’s lips, chins, necks, pecs and nipples, gradually moving down to the greatest prize of all. Last night I had held Simon’s boy meat in my mouth. Tonight it would be his man meat now he was eighteen!
We were so in tune with each other, even after only those encounters last night, that both our two climaxes of the night occurred almost together and we didn’t finally settle to sleep until well after three o’clock.
It was Paul and Ghazi who woke us in the morning! The bedclothes were roughly pulled off us and our two naked bodies, still wreathed together, arms around each other, were assaulted with hastily grabbed pillows.
“God, it smells like a Scottish weightlifter’s jockstrap in here!” Paul sang out, imitating Simon’s morning call earlier in the term. Then both of them sang, “Happy Birthday to You, dear Simon, Happy Birthday to You!!”
Suddenly awakened, I saw the two boys just wearing tee shirts and pairs of Clyde’s French briefs, and disengaged myself from Simon’s grasp. Simon put out an arm and grabbed Paul and pulled him over onto the bed. Not to be outdone I, drawing on strengths I didn’t know I had having just been jolted awake, grabbed Ghazi. I rolled him onto the bed and locked my legs around his knees. I pulled his tee shirt right up and somehow dragged down his briefs, exposing his tawny-skinned bum and slapped him twice and then tickled him. It sounded as if Paul was getting the same treatment.
“Hey, Flip!” Simon called, as Ghazi turned over in an effort to get away. “It looks if you have a fine Arab stallion there!”
Ghazi gave a great squeal of delight and dissolved into even more giggles. His cock was fully erect. I took a look at Paul, who was equally rampant and guffawing madly as Simon played scales up and down his ribs.
“Your prisoner looks as if he’s got a good half-pound of haggis standing there ready for the pot!” I called out.
“I think they need more punishment,” Simon said, giving Paul a massive tickling.
We were all laughing so much by now, with both lads squirming in our clutches, their briefs down near their ankles and tee shirts up around their necks. Simon and I were winning as, being naked, we had no encumbrances. As I moved my hand down Ghazi’s stomach, making him wriggle and writhe, my fingers brushed his naked knob. His prick twitched visibly. Oh well, in for a penny in for a pound! I caught hold of his steel-hard shaft between two fingers and a thumb and began to wank him. Simon saw my actions and without more ado Paul was in the same position and his cock was being expertly manipulated.
Ghazi came first, spitting out a considerable amount of fairly clear boy cream. Paul took longer but produced five healthy squirts of more creamy spunk. They were both gasping, and had manifestly thoroughly enjoyed what had happened.
Not to be outdone Paul announced it was now our turn and reached out across Simon and caught hold of my tool, which, surprise, surprise was already a ramrod. We exchanged places and all watched as Paul tossed me off and, simultaneously, Ghazi did the same to Simon.
Big-mouth Paul called out, “Watch out, Ghazi, keep your head down. Flip nearly had my eye out firing that thing off the first week of term!”
I didn’t quite shoot as far as that momentous occasion but even after coming twice during the night I wasn’t disappointed with my showing. Oh God, but my cock was really sore now; Paul was nothing if not energetic!
Four boys mopped themselves with the towel which Simon had strategically placed between us the night before. It was certainly getting a lot of use!
“What’s the bloody time?” asked Simon as we settled down, all laughter and merriment subsiding. “We’d better get a move on or we’ll miss breakfast.”
The two lads cackled.
“It’s only half past seven,” Paul said.
“You little buggers had this all planned, eh?” said Simon, “Who’s idea was it, anyway? I don’t think it was Ghazi’s, so it must have been yours, Paul.” He turned to Paul and waved a fist at him. “The Incredible Hulk!”
Paul just grinned and Ghazi let out another chuckle.
“And, if you planned this, what’s happened to Twiggy and Hammo?” Simon asked.
Clyde had been nicknamed Twiggy after he’d announced he’d lost twenty pounds this term.
“Oh, they were still asleep when we looked in on them,” said Ghazi, “so we thought you would like an early morning call. And, anyway, it’s your birthday.”
“And?” asked Simon.
Ghazi giggled. “We wondered how you had been getting on.” He had a most mischievous grin on his face. “You seem to have been getting on very well.”
He leaned over Simon.
“Happy birthday, Simon,” he said, and planted a big kiss right on Simon’s lips.
Simon wasn’t a bit disconcerted but just put his arms round Ghazi and kissed him back.
“My turn now,” said macho Paul and proceeded to give Simon a great smacker.
Not to be outdone I pushed him aside and landed on Simon’s lips with gusto, forcing them apart and inserting my ferret-like tongue.
This started off another round of laughing and a general attack on Simon, who was submerged under hands, lips, arms and legs as three young lads kissed, licked, slavered over, pummelled and massaged all known and unknown parts of him. He was in hysterics, trying but failing to ward us off.
“Please, please,” he was gasping, “I can’t stand it.”
“Bloody hell,” said Paul, “you’re standing again!”
With that Ghazi was straight down on Simon’s erect cock and most of it disappeared into his mouth. I knew immediately how Paul and he had been spending their time in bed! I wasn’t going to be left out. I scooted up the bed and dragged Paul with me. We settled with my back against the headrest and Paul sitting between my legs. As we watched Ghazi and Simon I wanked Paul’s thick young prick until, with a great gasp from him, a fountain of pearly spunk jetted up from the end.
“You certainly don’t dribble, Paul,” I whispered, and licked just below his right ear. He shuddered and turned and our lips brushed. We then watched the others again while I rubbed Paul’s spunk into his torso.
Simon came again with a great cry of relief and Ghazi leaned up and pressed his lips on each of us so Paul and I had a drop of Simon to taste before Ghazi and Simon kissed fervently. We all hugged Simon and then settled down to about fifteen minutes of quietly hugging each other in a heap on the bed.
“That’s the best birthday treat I’ve ever had,” Simon said, when we mutually decided we’d better get a shift on and get ourselves up and about.
“Not finished yet,” said Paul enigmatically.
As far as I knew nothing was said by any of us to the other two about our exploits but we had a super day together, with Mr Campbell taking the six of us out in his Range Rover during the afternoon. This was a ploy to keep Simon, especially, out of the way. When we returned, Paul instructed us to dress up as we had the night before, because there was going to be a formal dinner.
Gosh, it was too. The piper from the night before played as we ceremoniously entered the Great Hall, where the dinner table had been laid. It was announced it was for Simon’s eighteenth birthday and I have never seen anyone so overcome. Simon led Mrs Campbell in, followed by Hamed and Clyde, Ghazi and me, and finally Mr Campbell and Paul. The dinner was superb. I had never before seen a haunch of venison, which was brought in by Mr Campbell’s kilted ghillie on a huge charger. I think even Clyde was overwhelmed by the sight of so much food, and I felt so full and stuffed I could hardly move after I’d downed the final wonderful syllabub. That was followed by toasts to the birthday boy, and to the success of the rest of us.
Poor Simon was so drunk that night that after we staggered up to our room I had to help him undress and roll him into bed. Neither of us was in a fit state to indulge in any celebratory sexual activity. I just slept and slept and slept. I finally lurched out of bed at about eleven the next morning. Simon was still snoring away peacefully. Golly, it was almost the only time since I’d started that I hadn’t shot a load the night before!
We all sat around that day playing Monopoly, or billiards and table tennis for the more energetic, not venturing out. For one thing there had been a tremendous downfall of snow the night before, but all of us were also feeling the effects of Simon’s birthday dinner. He was bleary-eyed and comatose for the best part of the day, fending off all of Clyde’s solicitous remarks and offers of pick-me-ups and back-massages with a weary, or even wary, air of resignation.
I knew Simon was going off to Edinburgh on Friday to stay with Richard and I wouldn’t be seeing him again until school started the next week. So I thought I would be bunking down alone. Then it was announced that Paul’s elder brother, Roddy, was having a weekend’s leave, so on Friday morning I was to move out of Roddy’s room and into the room with Ghazi so Paul could share with his brother.
On Friday morning as I was about to get out of bed Simon put an arm out and drew me back.
“I’m sorry I’ve got to go, but I really want to see my Richard.” He paused a moment, then added, “Flip, you know we can’t do this sort of thing back at school, don’t you? Big trouble otherwise, eh?”
I said I knew that. I said I had treasured every moment being with him, and also with the others. I knew that none of us would be daft enough to jeopardize our school careers by doing anything stupid. He smiled and said he knew that too. We gave each other a peck on the cheek and nothing more was said.
After breakfast I moved my stuff into the room Ghazi and Paul had shared. Later in the morning we all said cheerio to Simon, as Mr Campbell was driving him to the station and picking up Roddy.
The others had all met Roddy over Christmas so I didn’t really know what to expect. I knew he had recently been promoted as a captain in a Highland regiment and he seemed to commute between Scotland and England most of the time. He turned out to be just an older version of Paul; he was nearly eleven years older but they looked amazingly alike. It was patently obvious that Paul idolised him, even though Paul was referred to frequently as The Afterthought, The Accident and even as Parental Error. I had been told that the eldest brother, Walter the banker (or Walter the Wanker, as his youngest brother generally referred to him), was just like Roddy but was busy in London making lots of money and had stayed with his fiancee’s family over Christmas and New Year. Paul’s comment was that he was too busy shagging her and the bank’s customers to bother coming home!
Where Paul was quieter, Roddy was bubbly, and he kept us all amused. He and Clyde were having a slanging match within minutes of meeting up again. Hamed and Ghazi were pleased to see him, too. It transpired that when Roddy had been at Sandhurst for officer training two of Hamed’s and Ghazi’s relatives had been there as well. Not only that, but he and Walter had been at Kinloch when the young man who had shepherded the boys to the school—Charles Parsons, I learned—had been Head Boy, followed the next year by Walter, then by Roddy two years later. Roddy was such a character that even I wasn’t offended when he referred to me loudly as the ginger-haired food monster after I stuffed myself to capacity at dinner that first evening.
If Simon and I had thought we had enough sex each night then Ghazi and Tom would have made good companions, as they were both gluttons. Ghazi told me quite proudly that Paul had begged him to tone down his demands to be wanked off so much. I quickly found the best way to keep Ghazi’s sexual urges in some check was to suck him off twice in quick succession before I allowed him to put his mouth on my own eager shaft. That meant at least from Saturday night I did manage to get about six hours of sleep each night before I was being nudged awake by a hard prick in the back or belly depending on which way I was lying. It sounds as if I was complaining. I wasn’t. We enjoyed each other’s bodies completely and the feel of his lovely, hot, circumcised cock in my mouth with his throaty moans as he approached that moment where time stands still was utter bliss.
I asked if he and Paul had been in to wake Hamed and Clyde in the same way as they had raided us. Ghazi sniggered and said that they hadn’t as Hamed had told him they were not to be disturbed as his friend Clyde was stabbing him with his dagger whenever possible. A new light on Clyde! He was fucking Hamed at every opportunity and Hamed was loving it! What a change from the lad who had been so miserable and surly those first few days. Having got to know Hamed better this holiday I really liked him now.
Sadly, the holiday came to end. Mr Campbell took us back to school, all five of us quiet in the Range Rover. We thanked him profusely as we got out and he said he’d had the happiest and merriest time for years and we were welcome whenever. He disappeared off with Mr McCrae for a wee dram for the road, while we lugged our bags up to the dorm—accompanied by Simon, who looked very happy and sure of himself.
Fergie and Little Dick hadn’t arrived back but as soon as they appeared there was a general telling of everyone’s stories—minus the sex, of course! That was difficult. We five had all been quite uninhibited but now we were in a situation where any sign of extra-curricular activity would incur penalties. I wondered how Clyde and Hamed would get on with the taboo? I must admit that Ghazi and I usually managed one encounter almost every week during that term.
Paul asked if he could join in with Simon’s weights sessions. I think he had seen how both Ghazi and I had developed over the previous term. He was quite chunky and wanted to firm himself up, he said. So, he joined in and almost every session he had to be restrained from doing too much.
It was after a session in the second week of term when Paul and Ghazi had wandered off back to the dorm, leaving me with Simon that he, very quietly, told me he and Richard had enjoyed a wonderful long weekend. He had also received final confirmation that he had a place at medical school.
Simon had a radiant smile on his face. “We made proper love,” he whispered. “We wanted each other all the time.”
He leaned over and kissed my forehead. “That was from Richard. You’ll meet him one day.”
No more was said. But I had made two decisions about my future, which I needed to ponder.
Hamed, after discussion with Roddy, had decided to try for Officer Training School—as Paul was going to once he was ready to leave school after Highers. This meant Hamed joined the school Combined Cadet Force, a companion for Fergie and Paul who were already members. Instead of just two bootnecks stomping about the dorm in their regulation footwear, khaki uniforms or combat gear twice a week and most Saturday afternoons, there were now three. I had been asked if I wanted to join during my first week at the school but visions of square-bashing, rifle-drill and bivouacking made me shudder. I refused, politely.
Still, our three intrepid young soldiers kept us amused with their tales of mock heroism against imaginary enemies and their insistence that each of them would be the smartest on parade. Ghazi, Little Dick and I were often roped in for boot polishing, kit inspections and general tidying, with Clyde making snide comments, usually about how that goddam George was kicked out of God’s own country. He did shut up momentarily when Paul announced he’d been chosen as a good target for bayonet practice, as even Fergie, who was renowned for his general ineptitude with a rifle, could hardly miss such an object!
So a second term went and ended. Hamed and Clyde were going back to Linnhe Castle with Paul for the Easter holiday. I phoned Aunt Margaret and was given permission to invite Ghazi to spend the holiday with me. He was overjoyed. He was very fond of his cousin, but had been under his influence and in his company for a number of years and I realised he wanted a break. I did wonder how he and Tom would get on, but Ghazi was such a friendly soul I couldn’t foresee any difficulties.
There were no difficulties. After only about half an hour of hesitation they got on like a house on fire. We showed Ghazi the countryside we loved so much and the three kilted warriors tramped for miles as Ghazi was determined to be as much like Tom and me as possible. This drew several double takes when we met tourists on our hikes. Dark-skinned Scotsmen are a rarity, but Ghazi was an honorary Campbell!
Tom asked me very confidentially on the very first day whether Ghazi and I did it together. I confirmed we did. On the second day, after Tom had committed some outrageous act according to my reckoning, I upended him and gave Ghazi a good view of his developing genitalia. Within minutes we had located a useful sheltered place in a stand of trees and Tom was fisting Ghazi’s cock as if they’d been doing it together since the onset of adolescence.
Tom had reached the advanced age of fifteen during the previous term, on January the twenty-eighth. Ghazi and I passed that landmark during the holiday. Tom decided that our prowess (and stamina, especially) should be put to the test, as he boasted that he’d celebrated his day with seven wanks in twenty-four hours. My birthday came first and on that Saturday I was held down and wanked twice by each of them between half past nine and twelve o’clock. I almost screamed for mercy when they made me come twice more, once each, that afternoon. My cock was so red and sore after Tom had, on my sixth and last bout, wanked me continuously for almost twenty minutes before I had the most stupendous climax and almost passed out. I think Ghazi was a bit worried as I lay twitching for well over a minute before I felt I could move naturally. I moaned a bit about their treatment but I was secretly very proud I had accomplished that personal record. All I could do in bed that night was to give Ghazi my usual careful suck on his lovely boycock—my prick was so sensitive I couldn’t bear any touch on it more than the minimum when I had a pee. I was determined that in three days’ time Ghazi would be put through the same ordeal!
We spent that day holed up in an old barn as the weather was squally. Ghazi was stripped at a quarter to ten and we held him down for the next five hours—except for a break for some lunch when he laughingly tried to escape our clutches—gently wanking him almost continuously. His cries for mercy were really pitiful by three o’clock in the afternoon but we two hard-hearted torturers managed to milk a last few drops of his remaining boy cream on his sixth occasion as his face set in open-mouthed contortion and the muscles of his torso and legs went into spasms. I’d noticed that as time went on his balls were drawn up more and more tightly against the base of his cock, in fact on that last occasion, one disappeared inside him. I panicked slightly but pushed down on his groin and it popped out again.
When he’d recovered he explained that one of his bollocks often disappeared when he had a wank in bed until he pressed on his groin, and that Hamed had a scar on the left side of his cock where one of his balls had to be found by an operation in hospital when he was a little boy, because it hadn’t descended. One lives and learns, as Tom said he’d had to have exactly the same operation when he was four.
His descended two balls were put to the test the next day. Ghazi told me in bed that night, after I’d sucked a good load of boy cream out of his now recovered rod, that we should see just how many times Tom really could come. If we could manage six in about six hours we would try him for eight. But how to make sure he wouldn’t or couldn’t escape? I’d noted that the barn had several rings and stanchions where cattle must have been tethered in the past. Ghazi and I found some old pieces of rope in Aunt Margaret’s shed the next morning, and stowed it away in our haversacks.
Tom was in for a big surprise. So were we. In fact, we didn’t need our ropes. By four o’clock, Tom, manfully, or boyfully, had allowed us to bring him to eight climaxes, even if he didn’t produce any sign of spunk on the last three. The last two took nearly half an hour each of very slow, gentle movements with a sudden acceleration to a flashing fist as we sensed he was near his pinnacle. We congratulated him on his prowess and potency. He just said it was an example of good Scots brawn, but that statement got him worried as we held him down again and threatened him with wanks nine and ten for boastfulness. The only result seemed to be that he was so tired out he could hardly walk the last mile home and said he would have to make some excuse to go to bed early.
“Och, juist tell ya mither you’re awa fuir a wee wank,” said Ghazi, imitating Tom’s accent. He skipped out of the way as Tom, very wearily, lunged at him, laughing.
Again, sadly, the holiday had to end. We three had enjoyed each other’s company so much. With Tom and Ghazi both being shorter than me I was picked on at every opportunity for any sort of prank they devised. We had sat for hours swapping stories when we weren’t exploring the countryside. Tom was highly amused at Ghazi’s version of waking Simon and me, and his stories of how he and his wank-buddy at school managed to evade detection were very funny. My only regret about the holiday was that I had to share Tom. But I knew we were the best of friends and I grew to love him more each day I was with him and Ghazi. I loved Ghazi, too, and he and I were like twins. We even thought alike and foresaw each other’s needs and wants. I hoped that these friendships would never end.
Summer Term started with a mad rush. Final decisions had to be made about the subjects to be sat for the next year’s exams. I was lucky, I was placed in the top set and told I had to take the maximum number, concentrating on the science side, which I was very pleased about. Clyde was also in my group and we worked together quite a bit. As Paul, Fergie and Hamed all wanted entry later to Officer Training they were also on the science side but in a different set. Ghazi was determined on a business career so opted for more IT and was the only one of us who wanted to do Economics. Little Dick bowled along quite happily in his remedial classes until disaster struck in the third week of term.
Paul had been Little Dick’s mentor and guardian ever since they had joined the Prep School where Little Dick had been found to have learning difficulties. They were good friends and Little Dick relied on Paul for all sorts of advice and help. Fergie and I also helped him with his work. Fergie was very good with his English and I found I could quite competently explain the simple Maths he had to do. Not being unkind, but Little Dick was like a young puppy. He was vulnerable and depended on us to help him and keep him going. I did find out by accident that he was quite good at music and could play the piano very well as his grandfather had started him on that to occupy him when his parents had realised he was a slow learner. In fact, Nelson the organist was now teaching him with the help of Dr Barnes, the school music master. I had been trying to find my way round part of Big School one day when I came upon a suite of practice rooms and heard someone playing. It was Little Dick and he sounded quite good. I didn’t disturb him but I felt that at least he could do something well.
On that Wednesday morning I was woken up around four o’clock by Paul gently tapping my arm.
“Flip, I need your help,” he whispered. “Dick’s had an accident, so would you look after him while I clear up?”
Rather groggily I came to and realised Little Dick was standing by his bed sobbing. I quickly got out and realised the accident was that he had wet his bed. I thought the best thing to do was to get him into the heads; at least he would be cleaner after a shower. I put my arm round him, grabbed a towel from my locker, and led him down between the beds where the others were all fast asleep. Very quietly I got him into the heads and under a shower. He was quite distraught and kept whispering, ‘Sorry, sorry’. He was so upset he couldn’t help pissing again and this went over my leg. This made him even more distressed, so I got under the shower with him and washed us both as best I could. When we got out I began towelling him down and he was more composed. Paul came through with his wet sheet and dumped it in the dirty bed clothes basket.
“It’s OK, Flip, I’ve made his bed up again.”
Paul went out and as soon as I finished drying us both we went through to the dorm. Poor Dick was shivering by now, so without thinking, I opened my bed and made him lie down and then got in with him. Poor lad, he just clung round my neck but, gradually, as he warmed up and relaxed, he stopped shivering and we both fell asleep again. Paul woke us just before seven o’clock and made Dick get into his own bed.
After breakfast I asked Paul what had caused the occurrence and he said he didn’t know but it must have been a major upset as Little Dick had been accident free for well over a year. He thanked me for looking after him and said he understood why I’d taken him into my bed but it was probably best not to tell the others.
The next night the same thing happened again. This time after Dick had had his shower he got into my bed immediately and cuddled me very closely. It wasn’t sexual, it was just for comfort and relief. I was reminded of the time when my little brother Stuart at about age six had been frightened by a thunderstorm and had scuttled panic-stricken into my room and into my bed and clung to me like grim death. I stroked Dick’s back and whispered that Paul and I would look after him and he went to sleep.
The next night there wasn’t an accident, but after Paul had roused Dick as usual about three am to go for a pee he made a beeline for my bed on his return and attached himself to my sleeping form. I was awoken as he nuzzled my neck and stroked my back and then he clung to me like a limpet. Paul realised what he’d done but, wisely, didn’t attempt to move him. I woke up again at about six o’clock with my usual morning hard-on and Little Dick’s rod, also hard, was pressed against my belly.
He stirred and whispered, still half asleep, in an almost childlike voice, “You’ve got a big thing. It’s bigger than mine, but not as big as Nelson’s, and he makes lots of white stuff. Do you?”
I didn’t bother to answer as he was straightaway fast asleep again, but I had a good idea of how he’d spent some time in the holidays with Nelson the organist, practising with his organ!
Paul and I had a council of war that afternoon when we finished our workout session. Ghazi was there so we explained what had happened and he was most sympathetic because he said he’d done the same when he was quite young, but fortunately he had grown out of it. Paul had already come to the conclusion that Little Dick was being bullied but Little Dick wouldn’t say who it was. Paul thought it might be a lad named Jeremy Crowley who was in Prosser’s House, in the next year up from us. He said he was a well-known bully to others in that House and went around with two sidekicks, but he was the one who instigated and carried out any outrages. The prefects in that House were a weak lot, according to Paul, so Crowley got away with a lot. Paul declared that no fucker was going to mess with Little Dick. Ghazi and I agreed.
On Saturday afternoon Paul cornered us and said he had proof that it had been this Jeremy person because he’d been told by one boy that he’d heard Crowley boasting how he’d reduced Little Dick to tears by taunting him about his friendship with Nelson. Another lad had also told Paul he’d heard Crowley, who was with his pals, asking Little Dick whether he liked sitting on a big black fuckstick. When Little Dick said he didn’t understand, Crowley laughed and asked him if he sucked on it instead. Then he hit Little Dick between the legs. When Dick started crying Crowley called him a crybaby and asked if he wanted his Nelson to kiss his little bollocks better. The lad who confessed all this to Paul said he’d also been on the receiving end of Crowley’s bullying tactics, but was truly too scared to say anything.
Paul was so angry both Ghazi and I had to stop him from confronting Crowley directly. As he was a year older he was bigger than Paul and was generally in the company of his two buddies, who I realised were the two who had made comments about Little Dick at the rugger match. It was probably their complaints to Crowley about my interference in their type of fun that triggered the little campaign against Dick.
A way to get at Crowley had to be concocted and it came with military precision from Paul. He asked if Ghazi and I would be willing to help him because we could get into a lot of trouble if it backfired on us. Paul said he knew that Crowley was tolerated because he was a good long-distance runner. For practice, he always went for a long run almost daily, passing through the woods at one end of the school estate. He always ran alone, so we would have an opportunity to get him by himself.
Paul explained that we would try to scare him by dressing up in CCF combat gear with balaclava helmets over our heads so he wouldn’t know who we were. He had even thought of getting gloves for Ghazi so his hands—browner than Paul’s and mine—wouldn’t be recognised. Being boys, this piece of skulduggery, with a good purpose, appealed to Ghazi and me, and we readily agreed.
Paul said he would make all the arrangements, as he was assistant to the supply NCO and could easily get clothing for us. We were also helped as Simon was going to be elsewhere on Monday afternoon so we could pretend we were also going for a run.
Paul was so well organised that before lunch on Monday he took three sets of combat jackets and trousers, balaclavas and gloves, plus some rope, and hid the stuff well into the woods near the path he knew Crowley would take. After lunch, three runners, clad in singlets, shorts and trainers loped off on a circuitous route and ended up beside the pile of gear. They were well disguised by the time the steady thump of Crowley’s feet told them of his approach.
Three hooded figures stepped out in front of him. A look of horror on his face was the first good thing. He was grabbed and quite expertly stripped of his shorts and jockstrap and was gagged by his jockstrap in his mouth held there by a strip of cloth which Paul had somehow acquired. Crowley was so scared the fright made his cock shrink to a small stub and his balls were clamped tight against its base.
Ghazi picked up the discarded shorts and put them over the bully’s head, effectively blindfolding him. He was soon trussed up and then tied, hands above his head, to a branch jutting out across the path. Next, Ghazi pushed his singlet up to his neck so his torso was fully exposed, then took out a black marker pen and wrote in large letters on Crowley’s chest and stomach, ‘I AM A BULLY’. As a final indignity Ghazi liberally coated the stub of Crowley's penis with black ink. It was all I could do to stop myself commenting on the small size of that black fuck stick.
All this was done without a word or any sign of who the perpetrators were. Crowley was so shit-scared that was exactly what happened. As Ghazi finished anointing his foreskin and stepped away so Crowley’s bowels opened and his bladder emptied and we rushed off to escape the stench and mess.
We stripped off our disguises some distance away and Paul put all the gear into a haversack and we loped back, again by a circuitous route to the shelter of the garage where we proceeded to have a workout as if nothing had happened. I did remark to Ghazi to remind me never to cross him as the shorts over the head and the decoration were unplanned and purely his idea.
We heard at tea the next day that Crowley had said he’d been attacked and kidnapped by Scottish Nationalist terrorists who were planning to attack the school. This rumour was immediately scotched (no pun intended!) by Robbie MacPherson, who was in Sick Bay being treated for a cut on his foot by Matron when Crowley’s two henchmen arrived with Crowley in tow. Alarmed because of his non-arrival for tea, they—good mates that they were—had set out to look for him. They found the gibbering wreck, shit-stained and piss-stained, still tied to the branch, and had insisted he should go to the Sick Bay immediately after they’d tried, unsuccessfully, to erase the damning words on his torso.
Matron, on seeing him, had immediately assessed the situation and dismissed his sidekicks. After noticing his cock peeping from the leg of his now restored running shorts, she added insult to injury by asking if Crowley had some sexual problem which necessitated colouring his penis. She also asked whether she should inform the police, if he was insistent that the Scots Nationalists were after him or the school. Robbie said Crowley nearly shat himself again and begged Matron not to do anything. Robbie and Matron had the greatest difficulty keeping straight faces, and Matron insisted that she first finish with Robbie, who had a grandstand view of the stinking, decorated oaf as he stood there shaking.
Paul, Ghazi and I didn’t even look at each other and Little Dick stood almost open-mouthed while Robbie was regaling us with the tale. In fact, we said nothing at all. Although there was speculation, there was no enquiry or followup. Little Dick never had an accident after that.
My first year at Kinloch School ended just after Sports Day, where I managed to come in fourth in the 400 metres, and won the shot putt for my age group. Next year was going to be very busy as we would be taking our Standard Grade exams in preparation for going on into the Sixth Form.
On the last day of term I returned to the dorm to check that I’d packed everything, and found a parcel on my bed. Odd, because all my stuff was in my bags! I opened it and found the pair of green running shorts and the jockstrap that Simon was wearing the day I first met him. There was a message inside the package: ‘I know you had your eye on these. Wear them for me. Si’.
Copyright © 2002–2025 Joel
Posted at AwesomeDude 2007
Updated 1 October 2025