Chapter 31


Friday, June 16th 1944 (continued)


Of course, nosey me, wanted to know why the giggling.  Tony and Roo were still laughing as they walked swiftly along the corridor.  I hurried and caught them up.

     “What was all that about?” I demanded, “You nearly dropped us all in the shit!”

     They only laughed more.  Tony stopped walking fast and Roo slowed down as well.

     “You heard what Jim wanted to know, didn't you?”

     “Yeah, something about drumming.”  I remembered reading the word myself but hadn't taken much notice of it at the time.  “Paradiddle, wasn't it?”

     “Yep,” said Tony, to renewed giggling from Roo.  “What do you do when you diddle?”

     Oh, of course, I'd heard the word used many times.  In fact someone had recently used it when making a comment about someone else.  Something like “Hey diddle diddle, Dave's not gone for a piddle!”  We all knew aspersions were being cast on why he needed to go to the bog!

     “What's it all about?” I asked, “It's not all that funny.  Everyone knows what it means.”

     “Yeah,” chimed in Roo, “But Tony knows what paradiddle really means.”

     I looked at Roo, then Tony.  They both had rather smug looks on their faces.  What was the joke?

     “Don't you get it?” asked Roo.  “Para-diddle!”  He emphasized the two bits of the word.  “Means 'a commando's wank', doesn't it?  Get it, para-diddle!”

     “Yeah,” said Tony, “And 'paramour' means 'another one' for the same bloke.  There's plenty more, like 'paragon'.  That's 'when a commando's come'!”

     I raised my eyes heavenwards.  Weak puns!  But...., I'd just thought of one, too!

     “Then there's 'parachute',” I said.  “'What happens when he comes'.”

     That set them off giggling again.

     “'Paramount',” said Tony, “'How much he comes'.  There's loads, I think.”

     “Come or words?” I asked.

     “Hunh!” said Tony, “You're as bad as us at making funnies!”

     “We need a dictionary, don't we?” surmised Roo, “Let's see if we can make a list.”

     OK, OK.  It might be weak humour, but schoolboys are schoolboys and we said we'd compare notes on Monday.  They had a Scout do on Saturday and Tony was singing in the church choir on Sunday so we couldn't meet until then.

     I was thinking about all this while I cycled home and as soon as I had changed I went to Pa's study to have a look at his dictionary.  I pored over the relevant pages.  I noted 'paradigm' and decided that was what an American commando paid for someone to do it to him.  Then there was 'parasite', where he did it.  I went back a bit.  Ah, 'paranormal', this must be 'three times a day'.  I copied these down on a page torn from my rough note book   I then saw 'parasol' and I must say I did giggle to myself.  I copied this down with 'a commando's anus' next to it.  I did know the proper word!  So, a little list for Tony and Roo on Monday.

     That night I was a paragon twice and supremely paramount in my efforts!

                         *
     I met up with Tom Saturday morning at the end of my run and helped him finish his paper-round.  He seemed a bit despondent and I realised he was really missing Dunc.  I said I'd promised to do some weeding in our vegetable patch.  This was most of our back garden which Pa had Dug for Victory and where he spent most of his spare time cosseting the growing produce.  Tom said he would help if I would do the same for their garden as Dunc had kept it spick and span for them.

     As it was quite sunny we stripped off our shirts as we hoed and weeded the patches.  Both of us had lost most of our puppy fat and Tom had a particularly flat stomach.  I remembered Mike had promised me his weights if I wanted them and I thought if I could borrow them I would exercise with those as well as doing my run each day.  Actually, watching Tom I noted he was getting quite strong by the way he was more or less effortlessly moving the accumulated rubbish and pushing the heavy wheelbarrow.  All this hard work made us both ravenous and good old Ma made a batch of thick sandwiches for lunch which we wolfed down.

     After lunch Tom still stuck around so I suggested we went to see Nobbo.  I suppose I though he would be missing Billy who'd gone off on Tuesday to training camp.  If the two lonely souls got together they might comfort each other!

     Nobbo was in his garden - not dug over - with Cleggy and a lad I hadn't seen before.  They were playing a game of French cricket.  We were introduced and this was his cousin Hal from London via Devon who had arrived on Thursday.  They stopped the game and Hal told us about how he and his mum had been almost bombed out in London some time ago.  He had been evacuated to Devon, but his mum, a nurse like her sister, had stayed on in London and only last week had narrowly missed being bombed out again.  As usual, whenever I heard of bombs and ruin elsewhere, I was glad we had experienced so little damage other than the few air-raids when bombs had been dropped, mainly on the outskirts of the city.

     Anyway, we then played a bit until Cleggy announced he had to get home so Tom and I stayed and chatted more.  We could hardly enquire if anything interesting was going on.  Nobbo did say they were sharing the bedroom now that Billy was away and we heard that Hal was fourteen and a half.  Also, he would be joining our school for the Autumn Term but would be one Form lower - he would be in the Fourth when we would be in the Fifth.  This was as he had missed a term when he was twelve through being shunted around because of the bombing.  Anyway, Nobbo seemed to be quite happy having his cousin there and the lad seemed very pleasant.  Wait and see!

     Tom and I cycled off home and parted at his front gate.  I promised to meet him in the morning to help him finish his paper-round and he said he had to go on a Church Parade after.  So that was that.  I entertained myself that night once and twice on Sunday.

*
                    Monday 19th June 1944
     School was not very interesting as the beaks were bemoaning our performances in the end-of-year exams.  Huggy was particularly scathing about the way some of the class had mucked up certain questions in his Maths paper.  Smug me sat as I knew I had got correct answers.  He said that as soon as he marked all the papers we would have an inquest and there might be a few bodies in the way!   I was none too pleased when Vansittart waltzed in and handed me a question paper for my extra German which, he did kindly say, I could do at home.

     The only bright thing was that at break I looked for Tony and Roo to give them my findings on the antics of commandos.  They were busy in the corner of our playground perusing a couple of sheets of paper and giggling.  They looked up as I approached.

     “I've got a few for you,” I said, holding out the page torn from my rough note book.

     “Let's have a look,” said Tony grabbing it and scanning down the list.  “Crikey, you've only got four and we've got all those, except Roo says `parasol' is `commando's arse'.  You're much too polite.”

     I was a bit miffed.  “Well, what have you got?”

     Tony waved the two sheets of paper which were neatly typed.

     “I went to the Public Library on Saturday morning and looked at the big Oxford dictionary.  Bloody hell, all those volumes, I didn't know there were so many words!”

     Roo was almost hopping up and down as I asked, “Well, tell me some?”

     Tony peered at his list.

     “Parablast, means `force behind commando's come', then there's `paraclete'.”

     I must have looked puzzled.

     “That's 'commando's tied a knot in it'.  You know, you've heard the phrase about tying a knot in it and a cleat is a knot.”

     “Oh,” I said resignedly, “Never heard the word.”

     Tony looked at me witheringly.  “Well you'd better read them all through and ask if you don't understand!”

     Oh, what a stuck-up prick he can be at times!  He handed me the sheets and I read some of  the others, which I noted were in alphabetical order, including:

     Parable:     'Commando's male cow'.
     Parabolic:     'Commando's ball'.
     Paradoxy:     'Commando's female friend'.
     Paragamy:     'Commando's sweaty smell'.
     Parallax:     'Commando's dick is limp'.
     Paralyse:     'Commando tells fibs about the length of his dick'.
     Parameter:     'Length a commando would like his dick to be'.
     Parasecretion:     'Commando's come'.
     Paratactic:     `What a commando does when he wants a mutual wank'.

     “Ok,” I said, handing the pages back, “Now you've done all that what next?”

     Roo shrugged his shoulders but Tony just wrinkled his nose at me.

     “An exercise in ingenuity, exploring the hitherto unknown realms of the English language.”

     Wow!  Tony was a wonder!  Producing sentences like that. Even if he was bossy and pompous at times.

     “Just followed a theme and it was quite funny.  OK, not very funny, just quite funny and Roo enjoyed it when I showed him on Saturday afternoon, didn't you?”

     Roo nodded.  “Tony said he wouldn't mind being a 'parapet', 'a commando's friend'.  So we pretended we were parachuting.”

     Tony laughed.  “Well, that's what we finished doing.”

     Gosh, Tony was quite open about what he and Roo had done, but then, we three knew all about each other.

     So, another day went by.  Piano lesson, then St John's in the evening and two parasecretions to finish the day.  A close inspection showed no paraphrase - 'type of damage to a commando's dick through over-use'.

                         *
     Tuesday, school was no better.  The list had been circulated so there was quite a bit of hilarity which was dampened as Huggy was in a foul mood.  Only three of us had attained full marks in the Maths exam.  Matt had actually done better than he had thought and poor Tony had made a right cock-up of one question.  I think Huggy was putting the Fear of God into us ready for next year and if he was he was being most effective.  Ned Carter was moaning because he said his father would be most displeased as he only got eighty-five per cent in the Maths exam.  Roo said he should be grateful as he'd only got fifty-two per cent and anyway he thought trigonometry was crap!  Matt was going round almost open-mouthed as he had achieved seventy-two per cent.  Unheard of!   I received the benefit of that because he said it was all due to me and he would make it up to me any way I liked.  Any way?  I would have to make plans!

     While in the kitchen after school on Tuesday I heard a bike come up our gravel drive.  I  peered out.  It was Mike and he was carrying a rather heavy-looking canvas bag.  I realised he had the weights he'd said I could have.  Anyway he was cheerful.  He said he'd done well in their end-of-term exams and was looking forward to his last year.  Then he opened the bag.  It contained two sets of dumbbells.  Two were five pounds each and the other two eight pounds.  I hefted the two smaller ones and grimaced.

     “They'll build your strength up,” said a grinning Mike.  “You lift those two above your head twenty-eight times a second and you'll be working at about one horse-power.”

     I goggled, then caught on.

     “Fool!” I said, “Even you couldn't do that!”

     He laughed.  “At least while you're lifting those you won't be able to do anything else!  Anyway, I shouldn't be telling you this but there's an engineer's joke about work and power and the relation between friction and heat.”

     “What's that?” I asked, slightly bemused.  We'd done work and power and I knew friction produced heat, so...?

     “The question is....” he looked at me slyly, “How many wanks to boil a kettle?”

     “Fool!” I said a second time, “That's impossible!  Who told you that?”

     He grinned.  “I heard it when I was working at the lab. Anyway, perhaps it's not practically possible, but it is theoretically possible as conversion of energy.  You need to think of such things if you want to be a scientist.”

     I made as if to sling the dumbbell at him as I was still holding on to one of them.

     “Come on,” he said, “You have the lighter pair and I'll have the others and we'll see how many times you can lift them.”

     I said OK and on the count of three we began, keeping in time with each other.  I got up to forty lifts and I thought my arms would falloff.  I managed fifty-two, groaned and just about dropped the weights on the kitchen table.  Mike raised his eyebrows and continued, counting out each lift and stopped at seventy-five.

     “Gosh, you're good,” I said, “It's tiring.”

     “Um, it takes practice.  I usually try a hundred each morning and it took a couple of weeks to build that up.  Anyway, fifty-two's not bad for a start.  I checked the clock and we were doing forty to the minute.  So, work it out, your arms are about eighteen inches so you raised ten by one and a half  foot-pounds, that's fifteen foot-pounds, by forty times per minute.”  He screwed his face up, working it out, “That's 600 foot-pounds per minute!”  He paused his face screwed up again trying to remember something.  “Yes, one horse-power is thirty three thousand foot-pounds per minute, so....”

     There was a long pause as both of us tried to work out by mental arithmetic six hundred divided by....

     “Need a bit of paper,” said Mike finally, “It's six divided by thirty three divided by ten.”

     Even I quailed at his speed but that gave me the edge.

     “Point nought one something...,” I said.

     “Eight!” he completed.  He was scribbling on the edge of yesterday's newspaper on the table.  “And it's recurring... and you're not a very big horse if it's as tiny as that!”

     This time I came up behind him and jabbed him below the ribs with the round end of the dumbbell.

     “I'll jab you somewhere else if you're not careful.  At least, I'm not so much a horse in one respect as you!”

     He turned and chucked me under the chin.  “But you're still growing, so you tell me.”

     We both laughed.  I wouldn't have minded checking out his horse-cock there and then but there was another sound of arrival.  Pa and Ma were home early.

     Pa of course wanted to demonstrate his prowess with the dumbbells as well as listen to Mike telling him I developed very little horsepower.  Cheeky sod, my horsepower was developing very nicely which I demonstrated very expertly that night in bed and I thought it would be nice to help Mike boil that kettle as well!

                         *
     School rambled on for the rest of the week.  Thursday afternoon we were all commanded to start practising for the school Sports Day to be held on July 12th.  We had to take a note home saying parents were welcome to attend and that Speech Day would be on the 19th and we would be breaking up until September on the 20th.  Hooray!!

     Even more hooray on Thursday evening as Ma had had a letter from Grandma and Grandad in Chester asking if I would like to spend part of the Summer holiday there and would I like to take a friend with me.  The letter also said that Alun and Rhys would be staying there as well.  Should be interesting!  Anyway, I thought of Tom, being a lonely soul, but when I suggested it to him on Friday when I met him at the end of my run he wasn't at all keen.  Had to do his paper-round!  So, I asked Matt instead and his eyes lit up.  Good!

     Two afternoons the next week were devoted - a word lovingly said by Rabbity when he announced it - to practice for the Sports Day.  I had put my name down for discus, javelin and the half-mile, so one afternoon I practised with about a dozen others hurling the bits of metal and on Thursday I went off on a solitary run through the copse.  On my return I went straight to the changing-room as all the others were still on the school field.  That was, except for Johnny Pearson who was sitting on the bench under the clothes racks.

     “Hi,” he said in greeting, “I've been putting that shot and I need a rest. I get worn out very quickly.  Mum says I could be excused games but I don't want to be left out”

     I didn't enquire about reasons and explained I'd been for a run and was going straight home before school ended.

     “OK ,” he said, “Same here.  Just got to get changed and we can be on our way.”

     As soon as we were ready we scurried furtively round to the bike-sheds, hauled out our bikes and made off like greased lightning away from the school.  As we cycled along I said about being at the boxing match where his pal Johnny Reed had got his black eye and that he had joined St John's now.  Johnny said he'd got enough to do with school work and the Cadets.  He said Johnny had said I'd dealt with the First Aid and asked if I was going to be a doctor.  I said I didn't think so, but Cleggy and Nobbo wanted to be.  

     He nodded.  “I have to go to see the doctor a lot.  Only got one kidney.”

     I was a bit non-plussed.  What did that mean?  I knew we were supposed to have two and that they filtered out waste products and produced pee, or urine, as we had delicately put it in our Biology notebooks.  This, of course, had produced some levity in the class and Cleggy had increased this as he had drawn a very extended external tube which he had to rub out quickly before the beak spotted his efforts.

     As Johnny lived further on, when we got near my road I asked if he would like to come in and have a cup of tea.  He nodded and said he would come in but wouldn't have anything to drink as he had to watch how much fluid he took in each day.  I was curious.

     Anyway, I made a pot of tea and we sat in the kitchen and talked about school as I drank my three cups.  I then asked if he wanted to see Pa's steam-engine up in my bedroom.  As usual, like all the others who had seen it, he was impressed.  I said I didn't run it very much and he said he wouldn't mind working on the railways as his Uncle Jack was a signalman on the main-line to London and had told him there were plenty of good office jobs to be had.

     By this time my three cups of tea were becoming waste products so I said I had to have a pee, but I'd better change out of my school uniform first.  He watched as I took my jacket and trousers off and hung them up together with my school tie.  I padded off to the lav and realised he had followed me as I withdrew my tool from my underpants and started to piss.

      “Wish I could do it as easily as that,” his voice came from behind me, “I'm going for more tests next week.”

     I shook the last drops and tucked it back in.  We walked to the bedroom.

     When we got there I asked “What happens, then?”

     I sat on the edge of the bed and motioned him to sit on my desk chair.  I didn't bother to put my other trousers on.

     He looked a bit miserable.  “I have to watch what I drink as my kidney doesn't work very well and my pee is very brown usually because I mustn't drink too much.  Not like yours.  Yours is very clear.”

     I hadn't realised he had been observing my output so closely.

     “What'll happen?” I asked.

     “Don't know,” he said, “But I get very tired at times, like today.”

     Being nosey I was even more curious.  “Is everything else OK?”

     I realised as soon as I'd said it I was being a bit blunt and, perhaps, a bit insensitive.  No worry, he just grinned.

     “Oh yes, and Johnny told me you were OK too!  At least I don't have any worries about that.”

     I was beginning to realise more and more that boys were all the same. Inquisitive about others, especially about their carnal traits.  I wanted to know what he did, when and where, and I bet he wanted to know the same about me.  No time like the present.  I'd wanked off his pal Johnny Reed and that Johnny had implied that this Johnny would be willing and I wanted to see if he was able!   Next step!

     “I don't, either,” I said with what I hoped was a meaning laugh.  It was.

     “You're ready,” he said, pointing at the bulge in my underpants caused by my rapidly hardening rod which was, as usual, out of my control.  “And so am I!”

     Needless to say, the next few minutes were very familiar except it was the final hand of the boys in my class which gripped me firmly and made me shoot a good display of my spunk.  He was very ready too and it didn't take me long to make him fire a load from the tip of his rather whippy shaft.  So, I had reached the same goal as Roo and Tony, albeit a bit later, but it was most satisfying to have achieved it!

     As we dressed again I confessed he was the last in the class on my list.  He laughed. “Just three more for me now,  Matt Ward, Nobbo Clarke and Crabby!”

     He said that Tony and Roo weren't really the ones who had set off the campaign amongst the form.  It was the way boys found out things, especially in the Scouts and the Cadets.  They were only doing what the older Scouts and Cadets had been doing for years and years.  Um, something to think about.

     The subject was changed and he told me he'd been ill as a kid and the doctors had found one of his kidneys wasn't functioning but the problem seemed to have flared up again since Easter.  He thought he might have to go into hospital during the summer but had to wait for the results of the new tests.  As this was getting a bit morbid we, thankfully, changed the subject again and chatted on about school and he told me a bit more about the Cadets and the things they had to do.  This did not include sexual experimentation, which wasn't mentioned!

     About five o'clock he said he'd better go and made some quip about being last in a long line.  I said his line wasn't ended yet and he's better get a move on.  So, we parted on a happy note.  Poor Johnny.  I never saw him again.  On Monday we heard he'd had to go to hospital down near London and he didn't come back to school for the rest of the term.

     Anyway, Johnny had given me something to think about and I contemplated the matter in bed not only that night but for some time after that.  What he'd said about boys finding out things was, in fact, only confirming something I was more and more aware of.  Something neither Tony nor Roo, nor Alun, had discussed with me in detail but had hinted at and I was working out for myself...  I realised that all the tales I'd been told meant only one thing, all boys over the ages were just as inquisitive and had experienced things with other boys.  If older brothers and cousins passed on the knowledge, then, like Tom and his brother Duncan, me and Alun, and Mike and his Irish cousins......  The thought was tremendous.  It meant our Dads at one time must have gone through the same process.  I remembered Pa had told me Uncle Dick and Uncle Edward had told him things.  Had they done things, too?  What about Matt's Dad who told him not to worry and Tom's father who hadn't been annoyed or anything when told that Duncan was squirting his spunk?

     Then if English, Irish, Welsh and Scots boys were doing it, and I knew now that German boys did it, because I'd seen Hans tossing himself off, then boys all over the world must do it all the time.  All boys, and generation after generation, all inquisitive, all horny....   That night this thought alone made me shoot my stuff twice more.  So, I was a particularly horny boy of mixed English and French descent!

                    June 23rd 1944 - July 12th 1944

     School was tedious.  The only thing of interest was the news of our advances across France with, particularly, the capture of Caen.  Pa was most interested in that news as he had been there as a schoolboy.   Ma was very edgy all the time because she still had relatives in Alsace and had no idea how they were.  The other news was the reports of the doodle-bugs, or V1 rockets, aimed at London mainly.   Hal Beechly, Nobbo's cousin, told us his mother had telephoned about them because they seemed to appear out of nowhere and buzzed along, stopping and dropping and causing great devastation.

     The Cadets especially were keeping abreast of any developments on the Continent, as Campion always called it.  Tony said his father said there was a notice outside Liverpool Street Station which said `Harwich for the Continent' and someone had added underneath `and Clacton for the Incontinent'.  We had a big map of Europe in the classroom and each day Danny Ross and Johnny Reed would moved the pins to show how the battle against the Nazis was going.  Last month it was all about Italy, now it was France as well.

     As the weather was getting very warm we spent most afternoons practising for the Sports Day.  Georgie and Greg coached me with the javelin and we did a couple of runs - to get away from the crowd - and had a satisfying wank apiece each time.  So, it wasn't all bad.

     Also Nobbo's young cousin,  Hal, turned out to be an avid wanker as well. I found this out on the first Saturday in July as Nobbo had asked the day before if I would like to go for a bike ride with him and Hal on the Saturday as he was bored - that is, Hal was - as he was home all day.  Neither Cleggy nor Matt wanted to come and Tom was in one of his `not quite sure' moods, so just the three of us set out with admonitions to ride carefully and keep out of the way of the military trucks which were all over our area.

     As it happened, the lanes we took out of the city were deserted and we went off towards a known beauty spot where there was an old ruined abbey which we could explore.  We explored the abbey and Nobbo said he wanted a piss, so we all went into a side room where the walls were still quite high and had three leisurely slashes.

     I looked across at Hal, who at just a few months younger than me was as tall, and he had his cock poking out of his flies pissing noisily.  As I watched he looked across at me, lifted his cock, pulling his foreskin right back and pissed as high as he could up the wall.  Not to be outdone I did the same and with a huge effort and the last few fluid ounces managed to get to the same height.

     Nobbo had already finished but saw our competition.

     “That's not the only thing he's good at, Jacko!” he said, grinning.

     I knew then before anything else was said that my contemplations were going to be confirmed for another pair of boys.  No, for another triple of boys!

     He turned to Hal.  “Bet you can't beat Jacko on you know what!”
     Hal looked at me quickly and reddened slightly.

     “Oh, come on, Hal, he knows about me and Billy and all the others just like I told you.  He might as well find out about you.”

     Nobbo strode to the doorway.  Then turned back.

     “There's nobody for miles.  Come on.”

     As good as his word he started to take off his shirt and dropped his shorts and underpants.  His five and a half inch hardon was there for all to see.  Hal looked at me.  I winked and followed Nobbo's example.  My shirt was off in a moment and my shorts and pants were kicked off, carefully in the opposite direction to where we had been pissing.  I was glad my cock was only a fraction shorter than Nobbo's now as Hal was eying us both attentively.

     Nobbo nodded his head at him and he was soon in the same state as us, hardon and all.  It was quite uncanny.  We were all black-haired, all with almost identical bushes, all with foreskins, and what's more, with almost identically sized shafts.

     Nobbo was in charge.  It wasn't going to be individual wanks!  “OK, let Jacko do it to you first, then you can do me and I can do it to him.  We'll see how we get on for seconds later!”

     Nobbo watched as I grasped Hal's tool, standing just behind him.  Hal gasped as I set up a steady pace and within a couple of minutes we were rewarded by the sight of four good spurts of milky come.

     I stood still as Hal turned and Nobbo came up behind me and started to toss me off in his accustomed leisurely style.

     “Shouldn't stand there, lad,” he admonished Hal, who looked a bit puzzled at the statement. “You'll see why in a minute or two!” he said and nibbled at the back of my neck.

     Hal stood to one side and I leaned back and let fly at the appropriate moment as Nobbo sensed my climax was building up and pulled my foreskin back very tautly for the last few crucial strokes.  I gasped, and Hal gasped as my four almighty squirts flew past him and hit the ruined stone wall.  I gripped Nobbo's hand to stop him taking me any further along the route from utmost pleasure to intense pain.  I panted, taking in gulps of air.

     “Christ, Jacko!” said Nobbo, “I've told you before, I've never seen anyone else produce that much, or fire it off so far, bloody volcano you are!  Billy certainly didn't equal that - plenty of stuff usually, but not that force.”  He let go of my prick and it remained massively erect.  “Blimey!  Mine goes down very quickly after I come - but look at that!”

     I looked over at Hal who was observing all this in silence and shrugged..

     “Can't help it,” I said demurely, “It's just the way I'm made!”
     Hal smiled, “Tony's good at it, though, isn't he?  I haven't seen Billy do it but Tony's told me all about him.”

     “Let's see what you can do for him,” I said, pointing at Nobbo/Tony's erection.

     Nobbo didn't let the Kerslake, nor his relative's, team down!  He also produced a mighty first jet with three or four smaller ones to follow.  He panted and puffed and, as Hal left go of his prick, it wilted fairy quickly, but still seemed much fatter than his normal droop.

     “God, I do enjoy it!” he enthused after a few moments of getting his breath back.

     Both Hal and I nodded in agreement and I knew Billy would have done too if he had been there.

     “I wonder what Billy's doing this afternoon?” I mused, apropos nothing.

     “Bloody square-bashing, I hope!” said Nobbo vehemently, “Teaching him to keep his hands off his prick.”

     “But what about you?” I asked, “Yours are on your's all the time, if not on other people's”

     Nobbo snorted.  Something was rankling him.  It soon emerged.

     “Bastard made me do it to him three times the night before he went off as he said it was the only thing he could think of which would remind him of me as there was nothing else!  Selfish bastard would only do it to me once.  Said I was an insatiable little prick and when I asked what did he think he was he rolled me up in the eiderdown and tickled me and told me to keep quiet or I'd wake Mum up and he would tell her I was a horny little boy and he was just stopping me masturbating as he'd heard it wasn't good for little boys!  Just like him, he would have done it too as he was going off in the morning and leaving me alone at home to face Mum!”  Hal and I were laughing as Nobbo ranted on, then his face softened and he smiled.  “He did give me five pounds before he went to catch the train, though.  And he said he'd hidden his diary, but I've found it!”

     Ho, ho!  Deciphering Billy's diary would be interesting!  And five pounds was a lot of money but we knew Billy could afford it.  So, if Billy had been selling his arsehole, as Nobbo had so delicately put it before, perhaps there were further clues in the diary.  And, if he had been, what would happen now he was in the Army?

     I didn't pursue any of these thoughts with the pair of them as I didn't know how much Hal knew already.  I would have to have a one-to-one session with Nobbo to find out more.  Anyway, Nobbo was quite calm now and we wandered out of the ruined room on to the grassy slope behind the abbey.  As it was sunny and very warm we sunbathed, in the nude, keeping a wary eye open for any intruders.

     It was so peaceful and quiet I think I must have dozed off for a bit because I was woken, and aroused, by fingers being run slowly up and down my drooping cock very gently.  I opened my eyes to see Hal squatting by my side watching my face intently with a grinning Nobbo the other side of me.  The arousal was quick, my prick began to lengthen, fatten and stiffen just in those few seconds of Hal's light palpations.

     I had woken to see his face looming near me.  I glanced down and saw his rod was hard and was standing straight up his body with his almond-sized balls below in a tight sac as he squatted by my side.

     “He's been itching to do that for the past ten minutes,” said Nobbo.  “You were fast asleep and shag-nasty here kept prodding me awake to see if it was time for more.  I'm ready, are you?”

     Well, I wasn't going to be beaten by friends or acquaintances.  Being sun-warmed and slightly toasted I was ready.  So, I was to be first this round.

     We stood up, looking around to see if there were any trespassers on our privacy.  Not a soul, just a balmy English summer's afternoon, so we sauntered back into the ruined room.

     I was following Nobbo and Hal and noticed how pink their backs were with the beginnings of sunburn.  My skin was much darker and I usually went almost immediately brown.

     “Hey, Nobbo!” I said, “You've really caught the sun on your back.”  He turned, his chest was glowing pink as well. “So's your front.  I hope your dick isn't burnt!”

     Both of them laughed at this.

     “It looks red enough already,” said Hal, pointing at Nobbo's floppy tool, “More like a friction burn!”

     That reminded me of what Mike had told me so I asked them how many wanks it would take to boil a kettle.

     They both laughed again and Nobbo said we'd better try and find out.  And so we did!   I stood just about where I'd been before and it was Hal's turn to bring me to the summit of all boys' dreams on a warm summer's day.  I asked him to go slowly and he gauged the pace very well.  He whispered that there was just about enough friction to light my fire.  My chest heaved as I giggled but it didn't detract from the wonderful sensations lower down.  My rampant shaft was sticking straight up my body, my knob unsheathed and, as I peered down, I could see my minuscule piss slit just a tiny bit open each time Hal pulled down on my length.  Hal was an accomplished masturbator.  He knew exactly when my spunk-shooting apparatus was beginning to come to the boil and, as I leaned back, breathing deeply through my open mouth, he quickened his strike-rate and a goodly jet arched from my knob-end.  Not so much, nor so far, this time, but it satisfied him as being a worthy whacker-off.

     Nobbo moved over to him smartly and gripped his erect tool and gave him a wank using two fingers and a thumb with his foreskin drawn right back.  His action was very precise, up and down, up and down, accompanied by a whispered litany, “Ninety-eight degrees, hundred and ten degrees, hundred and twenty degrees......”   He was very exact, too, in his timing.  His counting speeded up, as did his wanking-rate, and, as he sensed Hal's climax approaching, he was up to “Two hundred and eight degrees, two hundred and nine.., two ten, two eleven..”   Hal's Etna vented.  “Boil!!!” Nobbo cried out as he gave Hal's rigid dong three or four more powerful pulls as the spunk spurted freely.  Hal was gasping loudly and he  put both arms behind him and clutched Nobbo tightly to him.  His output was meagre compared with mine but the feelings must have been so intense as his rising moans of  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, ohhhhowww!” indicated, matching the five squirts of his milky offering.  His were the most vocal and varied sounds I'd heard from my pals for some time as they mainly contented themselves with low-voiced drawn-out “Oooooooohs” or “Aaaaaaaaaahs” with a “OW” or “Unnnh” thrown in for good measure.  I think I was usually fairly silent, just deep breaths and exhalations of masses of spent carbon-dioxide.

     I prised Nobbo away from him - Nobbo's stiff cock was firmly jammed in the crack of Hal's arse-cheeks and I wondered if they had, or might, experiment further!  It didn't take much effort on my part to cause Nobbo's Vesuvius to erupt.  I said it was just like a volcano too as he squirted upwards.  Hal laughed and said these were old abbey ruins not Pompeii!

     We decided it had been a marvellous day out as we cycled back home.  Hal said he was enjoying living with Nobbo and his Mum and was looking forward to meeting others of Nobbo's friends and joining the school.  As he wasn't interested in the Boys' Brigade I suggested he came to St John's and he agreed we would meet up on Monday.

     I was pretty tired after all the effort of the cycle ride and the lovely wanks so all I did that night in bed was contemplate how lucky I was to have such good friends and being able to go to such a good school and not have to endure being whacked on the arse by Masters of Discipline or headmasters of schools for naughty boys.

                         *                         
     Sunday, I did my run and then lifted the two smaller weights thirty times as I had done each previous morning.  I decided I would up the number starting Monday to thirty-five.   My Milo of Croton habits were well ingrained!

     All day Sunday I was still in a contemplative mood.  I was aware I was thinking more and more about things and events about me.  Where, in the past, I had just accepted things happened, I was now taking much more notice.  I was thinking more and more about what people said and how they said things.  I was questioning things more and although I would never upset my parents I did feel like saying 'no' sometimes!  That day was an example.  Ma was obviously worried about family in Europe and I suppose that made her edgy.  She, of course, wanted me to practice my piano pieces as I had an exam before long.  I wanted to sit in the garden and read so there were a few sharp words and I was admonished in English, French and German that boys whose socks were not elevated - sounds different in French -  ils finira mal - would come to a sticky end!   “Hast du das verstanden?  - Scher dich zum Teufel!!”   This last was even a bit strong for Ma as she burst into tears and hugged me tight.  I complied, and practised in the July heat for three-quarters of an hour!

     I was very restless that night in bed.  It was a hot night and I was lying on top of the covers, as usual in the nude, trying keep cool.   I was still going over and over about my thoughts how all boys had to release their spunk regularly but no one ever talked freely about it.  I wanted to know more and about all the little snippets I was learning about boys and girls.  I only really knew Tony's sister Kats and Mike's sisters and even them not at all well.  What were girlfriends?  How did you get them and what happens.  I had seen older boys in the cinema with girls and it seemed to be a plus to be seen with one.  I wanted someone to talk to.  I suppose I could have asked Duncan but he was not available, in any case I needed to discuss Tom's strange behaviour at Ulvescott with someone and I didn't think Duncan would have been the right person.  Nor was Billy.  I don't think I would have been able to unburden myself to Billy - I groped for a word  - I think he would have been too frivolous.  Yes, that was the word - frivolous!

     I then had an odd thought.  It struck me that someone I think I could have trusted and talked to was none other than Henry Gale.  Just that meeting when I untied him and he spoke quite sincerely to me came back quite suddenly.  He might have seemed a blusterer and bighead but I think he was `fundamentally sound' as the saying went.  No good, he was gone too, to serve King and Country.  I thought a bit more and came to the conclusion that I would have to wait until I met up with my cousins at Grandpa's.  I could trust Rhys.  He was quite serious as well as being clever and funny.  Yes, I would wait until then.  But, before I could settle, there was another matter in hand.  I had been idly stroking my ever erect cock all through these musings and, suddenly, I felt the great pulsations beginning and unloaded my day's ration of spunk all over my belly and chest.  I felt immediately relieved and rested.  Next thing I knew it was morning and I was getting a bit chilly!

     School on Monday morning was very strange.  I arrived, late as usual, as everyone was lining up to go inside.  There was something on but I didn't find out until we were in the School Hall.  Tim was playing the piano for entry as usual but it wasn't the usual jaunty piece but rather slow and solemn.   All was revealed when the Head Beak strode onto the dais and Tim stopped playing.  The Head looked around and I noticed that the masters who were already on the stage were all looking solemn.  The Head said he some sad news to impart, the Reverend Blaise Campion had passed away suddenly on Saturday evening.  He said that he would be sorely missed by his family and the school as he had been an Old Boy of the school as well.  He then said things I hadn't really realised.  Apparently, he had come out of retirement to teach at the school at the beginning of the War when the younger masters had been called up.  He had been the well respected Headmaster of a school in Africa for many years before retiring back to England in 1936.

     It was all rather sad.  We moaned about Campion, but to be honest, he was always very fair, even Cleggy, who had got in the most trouble with him, admitted this.  I felt very subdued.  No one I knew closely had died.  I didn't remember Ma's parents so their passing hadn't affected me.  When the Head Beak announced from time to time that a former pupil had been killed in action, or was missing, presumed killed, we all were quiet and thought about it a bit but I hadn't known any of these as boys so they were distanced from me.  I had known the Reverend Campion.  He had taught me only the week before.  It was a shock.  Where did people go when they died?  I had heard about Heaven and Hell, but not having a religious upbringing I knew little about such things.  I knew about funerals and I knew you got buried.  But what then?  More to contemplate for my growing, enquiring mind.  More to talk to Rhys about.

     Hal was waiting on our drive when I came back from my piano lesson.  I introduced him to Ma who chatted to him while I rushed upstairs to change into my St John's uniform.  Pat took him over when we arrived at the hall and Matt was all curious about who he was.  I didn't enlighten him with any details other than he was Nobbo's cousin and we'd had a marvellous day out on Saturday.  More his loss for not agreeing to come - no doubt he would have come copiously just like the three of us as well!!

     All my earlier thoughts were churning around that night when I went to bed.  For once, as a very rare occasion, I did not have a wank, I just dropped off in a rather dazed state.

                         *
     I made up for that omission next morning.  As soon as I returned from my run I had to have a wank.  I'd been itching for one almost all the way round the park where I finished my run.  For two pins I'd have gone in the bushes and downed my shorts and shot off there but I waited until I was back in my bedroom.  It wasn't a leisurely wank either!  It was no more than forty or fifty strokes, great speed towards the end, then whoosh!  No finesse, but most satisfying.  I made up for that rush in bed that night.  Slow and sensuous and great gobbets of creamy spunk!  Lovely.

                                                             *
     Thursday after school Tom cycled home with me.  He was rather pleased with himself as he had saved up all his earnings from the paper-round and his mother said he could buy himself a new bicycle.  He had some other money from when his great-uncle had died so he was going to buy the best bike he could find.  As there was only one bike shop in Kerslake, and there was a War on, the choice would be pretty limited!  Anyway, would I go with him on Saturday morning to the cycle shop?  I remembered that the cycle shop was part of the garage where Sean the boxer worked.  So Saturday morning was fixed to satisfy his desires.  He kept pawing at his cock area when he dismounted on the driveway to our house.

     “Bloody pants,” he complained, “They're much too tight.”

     Needless to say the `bloody pants' were removed once we got up to my bedroom and he satisfied a much more urgent desire than for a bicycle.

     Out of breath, but relaxed, he sat on my bed as I had to tell him all about the cycle trip with Nobbo and Hal.  Tom was disappointed now that he hadn't joined us but explained his old bike was getting past any long journeys so that was why he had declined.

     He laughed when I said about the cousin being astonished with my output.  He said everyone was and I should be proud of it.  For some reason that led to him saying that even though Dunc had only been gone a short while he and his mother had received several letters detailing what was happening to him.  The latest had said that he was going soon for interviews and tests with a view to going straightaway to Officer Training School.  I showed him the pips which Gunner Roberts had given me which I carried in my jacket pocket all the time.  I said his brother would have pips like those once he was commissioned.  He was very proud of his brother and the thought of him in officer's uniform was a very cheering idea.

     Ma and Pa arrived home before he went and they were impressed by Tom's new-found loquacity retelling the experiences of his brother.

                         *
     On Friday, after school, Nobbo pounced on me as we left the last lesson.

     “Got to talk to you!” he said emphatically, “It's urgent!”

     What could be urgent for an usually unflappable Nobbo?  I suggested he came back home with me as something was bothering him and he made it clear he didn't want to go home yet.

     The bother was unfolded as we sat in the kitchen having a cup of tea.  Nobbo looked around to see that no one was listening even though I had assured him both Ma and Pa were at work but he was somewhat agitated.

     “It's that Hal!” he started, “Does it all the time and makes me too!”

     I shook my head.  What was he on about?  Of course, the story then got coherent.  Young Hal was at home all day, bored, so what did he do?  Wank.  He had told Nobbo he was doing it at least three times during the day while Nobbo was at school and Mrs Clarke was at the hospital.  Then, as soon as Nobbo arrived home from school Hal wanted to do it to him and for the past four nights Hal had tossed him off three times each night.  Not only that but Hal had had a fourth one as well.  Nobbo's question was whether three or four a day was excessive?  How the hell should I know!  Nobbo said he was also a bit sore as Hal was none too gentle.

     `Dr' Thomson was being consulted again!  I kept a straight face as I said I knew of one boy - mentioning no names but thinking of Pat Halloran - who said it did it twenty-six times a week quite regularly.  I envisaged Nobbo's cogs working as he calculated that was nearly four times a day.  He grinned as the average struck him.  I then confessed my record was eighteen a week.  He stopped me.

     “Who was it?  The boy who told you he did it all those times?”

     I laughed and shook my head.  “He actually told me he'd done it six times one day, so you and Hal have a bit more to go.”

     “Go on, tell me,” he persisted, “Was it Matt?”

     I shook my head again.  “No, his record's twenty-two in a week.”  I paused.  “I might as well tell you - you don't know him anyway.  It's Pat Halloran.”

     “Pat Halloran?  He boxes, doesn't he?”

     I nodded.

     “Crumbs!  Is that true?”

     “SJAB honour,” I said, “So, I shouldn't worry, but it looks as if Hal's going to beat Pat if he keeps it up!”

     “Keep it up,” retorted Nobbo, ”It's up all the time.  He sits on the bottom bunk all evening fingering it when I'm trying to do some school work.  Then he whines because I won't talk to him... and then he.....”

     I couldn't help it.  I just laughed.  Lucky sod.  Having his own wanking machine ready and waiting.  I said so and at least he saw the funny side.  He shrugged his shoulders and said he'd get used to it.  Still he wouldn't do anything as he said, not too ruefully, he expected he would have to be ready and wanting that evening  - what about the weekend!

     He then wanted to know what I was doing over the summer holidays.  I said that Matt and I were going to my grandparents for about three weeks and then  - I didn't know.  He said he hoped he could get Cleggy to spend time with him and Hal.  I had a bright idea - Tom would be at a loose end.  Paper-round, new bike and nothing else to do.  Settled.  Nobbo would ask him on Monday.

     I thought of Nobbo and Hal that evening in bed.  I had thought of them earlier as soon as Nobbo had left.  That was once.  The second thoughts was once again.  And that was... counting up... twelve times over the week.  Hmm... nowhere near Pat's outpourings but enough for me.

                         *

     Saturday morning I met up with Tom as I finished my run and helped him complete the paper-round.  I didn't say he was in for an adventurous summer but promised I would be ready for half-past nine to go to the bike-shop.

     At breakfast Ma reminded me I was on parade that afternoon with the St John's at the War Effort Fund-raising Rally in the centre of the town.  I had completely forgotten so I was warned to be home sharpish so I could be ready to leave at half-past one for the two o'clock start.

     Anyway, Tom's expedition was a great success.  The man at the bike-shop produced a real beauty which he said he'd got in stock just before the War.  As there was a tiny bit of rust on one of the brake mechanisms he took us into the garage to have it seen to.  The job was given to Sean who greeted me like a long-lost brother.

     “Och, hello,” he enthused, “You cured my arm.  Look!”  He rolled up a rather oily sleeve and there was a thin scar, well-knitted and healed.  “Doesn't usually go so quick.”  He rolled up the other sleeve.  There was a second, this time, even more nasty cut, all red and raw.  “Hurts like hell!” he grimaced as he said it, “Did that Thursday.”

     “You really ought to wash it carefully and put a bandage on it, or a plaster,” I said with no authority at all.

     “Yeah, Mum said I should as well.  Thought it would be OK by today.”
     More advice from me.  “There's a chemist opposite, why don't you go in there at lunch-time and get him to look at it and put a bit of antiseptic on it.  It looks very inflamed.”

     He grinned and looked around.  Tom was standing watching, silently.

     “You certainly cured Charlie with that ointment,” he said, sniggering, “Keeps that bandage with that stuff on it by his bed in case!”

     Tom was goaded into action.

     “What's that?” he asked.

     “Oh,” I said, nonchalantly, “Just another of the boxers I had to tend to at the match.”

     Tom was satisfied  - I would enlighten him later - he might need some of that ointment once Hal was let loose on him!  I would have to ask Matt if he had any to spare!

     The bike was duly dealt with and Tom's old one was left for scrap for the War Effort.  I secretly thought the bike-dealer would probably do it up and sell it but Tom wasn't concerned.  He was now the proud owner of a first-class racer.  It certainly put my old bike to shame.  Still I was very attached to it.  I'd had it for my eleventh birthday and apart from putting the saddle higher as I grew it seemed in perfect order to me.

     I explained I was going to help as a First Aider at the rally and he said he might cycle down and see what was going on.  Actually, not much went on.  The portly man was there with Mr Halloran in charge.  I was joined by Pat Halloran and Matt and there were a number of men and ladies all in SJAB uniform.  We stood and listened as the local MPs harangued the sizeable crowd - not much else to do on a Saturday afternoon as the football season was over - and encouraged people to Save for Victory.  Pretty boring but essential for the War Effort.  At the end the three of us, Tom Matt and me, cycled off home.  We called in at Tom's and Mrs Buchanan was out.  Tom said she was helping at the Services canteen that evening so he had to fend for himself.  We helped him demolish half a loaf and spread thick slices with butter and jam.  Tom said they were lucky in that they had Dunc's rations until the end of the month so had a bit extra.  I pointed out not after we'd had the butter!  Tom made a face and said he hadn't realised we ate so much.  Fool!

     We trooped up to his bedroom after that with him still extolling the virtues of his new bicycle.  I slung my SJAB beret at him and asked if he had any other topic of conversation.  He looked more than downcast - he hadn't even slung the beret back - and I knew I'd upset him.  I couldn't do that.  Dunc had put me in charge of Tom and it would soon be the end of the school term and I would be away with Matt in Cheshire.  I patted the bed on which I was sitting.

     “Hey, Tom,” I said in my best consoling voice,”Come and sit here.  I didn't mean to shut you up like that.  I think your bike's smashing.  I suppose I'm a bit jealous.....”  Lying through my teeth, partly... “....I suppose I need a new bike sometime, too.”

     Tom lumped down beside me.  “Yeah, that old thing will fall to bits someday.”  He nudged me and pointed at Matt who was idly thumbing through an album of photos on the dressing-table.  Matt must have been alerted by the silence.  He looked round and saw us sitting together on the bed.

     “Is this your Dad in here?”  He pointed at a photo in the album.

     Tom inclined his head.  “Bring it over here and we'll have a look.”

     Matt carried the book over and I scuttled down the bed a bit to make room for Matt in between us.

     “Yeah, that's him,” said Tom as Matt pointed to a very tall man in police uniform with two boys beside him, one about eight and the other not yet a teenager.  “That's me and that's Duncan.  Dad had just been made an Inspector.”  He paused and looked at the photo.  “He was the youngest Inspector in the county so Mum says.  He's in India now.  He's a Major in the Redcaps - you know, the Military Police.”  He turned back a couple of pages.  “That's when he was in the Rugby Team.”

     Well, well, I stared at the photograph.  There was Pa as well, unmistakeably Pa, but much younger.  The date on the ball in the photo was March 1934.  Ha, Ha, Ha, Pa had a moustache then!

     “And that's my Dad,” I exclaimed, pointing, “I haven't seen that photo before.  Gosh, I was only four then and I don't remember him playing.  Ma said your Dad brought him and some others home after a match and they were drunk!”

     Tom sniggered.  “My Dad doesn't drink.  Said he saw enough of it in Scotland when he was a boy.”

     “That looks like Van there,” interrupted Matt pointing at a seated figure next to Pa.

     Oh, so that's how Pa and Ma know him.  I recollected something about a rugger background.

     “Yes,” said Tom, “He always tells me I'm like Dad and he hopes I'll play as well as him.  He said one day that Dad could have had a trial for Scotland but turned it down because he was only just in the police force.  I wonder if that's true?  I forgot to ask Dunc.”

     Matt slowly turned the pages.  There weren't a lot of photos but they showed mainly the two boys, getting older and bigger with Duncan always looking rather quizzically at the camera.  There was one of the two of them on a beach somewhere, both in old-fashioned light-coloured bathing suits.  Even at the age of twelve or so young Duncan had quite a bulge showing.  Then I realised the horny bugger was actually standing slightly sideways so the bulge would show.

     “Your brother's showing all he possesses there,” I said, pointing at the covered genitalia.  “He was a big boy at twelve, eh?”
     “Hunh,” muttered Tom, “It didn't grow much.”

     Another reference to the smallness of Dunc's dick.  If he was to be forthcoming from his own experience perhaps Matt would comment but he remained silent.  Instead Matt turned back the pages of the book and pointed at Pa.

     “He's got knobbly knees.  Have you, Jacko?”

     The black and white photo seemed to highlight the general boniness of several sitting in the front row of the picture.  I didn't think Pa's knees looked any knobblier than the others.  Matt would have to be dealt with!

     “What about yours, Chopper-boy!” I said, sliding a hand under the book spread on his legs and clutching at his leg just above the knee and squeezing.  He yelped and Tom, very deftly, removed the book and put it under the bed.  I squeezed again and Matt made a feeble attempt to remove my hand.  Tom looked at me and winked and grabbed Matt's other leg and gave that an almighty squeeze which I copied on his other leg.  Matt fell forward trying to extricate himself from the twin grasping hands.  As one, Tom and I used our other arms to push him upright and then spreadeagled him on his back with his lower legs flailing as we squeezed his lower thighs again.  This time he squealed.

     “Bet you've got knobbly little knees,” I said moving my free hand down and quickly undoing his flies.  In moments a flailing Matt was stripped.  Shoes, socks, went flying over the bed, his SJAB grey blouse was off, together with trousers and underpants and cast to the four corners of the room.  A long floppy cock was revealed together with a pair of shapely legs and decidedly non-knobbly knees.   Our hands gripped him above those knees again while we held him down with the others.

     “No, there not knobbly, but, look...,” said Tom, lowering his head a bit and blowing air through his pursed lips, “.....He's got a knobbly cock, though.”

     The draught of warm air on said cock had an almost immediate effect.  Like a miniature Zeppelin it swelled, lengthened a bit and rose along his thigh and then moved to a central position stretching up his belly.  Tom continued to blow on it as the monster revealed itself.

     “'Sweet gales may fan you'” sang Tom in a cracking voice.   He looked over at me.  “Mum used to sing that when she put me to bed.”

     I was nearly wetting myself with silent laughter.  Tom had hidden depths and Matt was a squirming monstrosity.

     “Certainly knobbly,” I said letting go of his leg which he began to kick up and down violently and helplessly.  “Cocks don't come much knobblier than that.”

     I ran a finger round the base of the fat knob encased in his foreskin.

     “I think we should inspect his knobbly cock a bit more closely in case it needs attention,” I declared, gently catching hold of said knobbly cock at the ridge and slowly pulling down on his foreskin so his knobbly rosy knob popped out.

     “Look, Tom.” I said, mischievously and with intent, “His knobbly knob goes....,” Here I pushed the foreskin forward to recover the pink lump... “...And here it comes....”  I retracted the foreskin between thumb and gentle finger again.  I repeated this quite slowly several times, “...here it goes.....”   “...and here it comes....”

     Matt stopped kicking his free leg and squirmed instead, because, each time I retracted his foreskin Tom squeezed his leg.  It took about forty repetitions, with the rosy knob darkening until it became a deep shade of red before, just as I said “... and here it comes....”,  Matt called out, “OWWWWWWW” and let fly.  I held his rigid prong up away from his belly.  Gobbets of spunk flew from his slit landing on his chin, throat and chest.

     Tom let go of Matt's leg and as Matt lay back regaining his breath after that stupendous orgasm Tom had stripped off too and quickly knelt over Matt on the bed.  Tom's short fleshy dong was rigid.  He leaned down over Matt's open mouth and pulled his own foreskin back as he pressed his prick into Matt's waiting mouth.  Matt immediately started sucking on it greedily breathing deeply through his flared nostrils.    I wasn't going to be left out of this so my clothes joined the others on the floor round the bed.  I was fully erect but I only had to wait a few seconds more before with a final clenching of his buttocks Tom's spunk flooded into Matt's mouth.   I heard Matt swallowing noisily as he attempted to take down Tom's load.  Tom sat up and the last couple of small spurts went over Matt's face.

     Matt looked so pleased as he pushed on Tom's leg, indicating he should move off.  He must have still got a mouthful of spunk when he motioned me to lie down on the bed and slid off the bed before taking almost all my rampant five and half inches straight into his mouth.  He sucked and licked and moved his head up and down so my un-retracted foreskin rubbed against the very sensitive head of my cock.  I felt the gooey cum he already had in his mouth make my shaft slimy and lubricated.  Well, if that pair had come quickly and copiously I outdid both.  A minute of sucking was enough.  I felt the incredible feelings under my balls start so early - I had been revving up to this while manipulating Matt's column and watching the awesome way in which Tom had shot his load - and my load was truly immense.  If Tom had flooded Matt's mouth mine was a tidal wave.  It didn't catch Matt unawares, he just couldn't cope with the force nor the amount.  Luckily he took it into his mouth upwards because, as he tried to swallow, so spunk poured out between his lips and my still rigid pole.  Luckily, also, I was lying down.  I think I would have collapsed otherwise.  I was drained, not only of spunk, but all energy.  I just closed my eyes and sighed deeply.   Matt took his mouth away from my prick and it flopped wetly against my belly.  I heard him swallow and audibly lick his lips.  I opened my eyes and watched an amazing thing.  Tom reached out and clutched at Matt and they were then glued to each other's lips for about ten seconds or so.

     They parted and both, simultaneously, murmured, “Thanks”.

     I sat up and caught Matt round his bare legs.  “Any left for me?  It's mine isn't it?”

     “Mixed, I think,” he said quietly, grinned and fixed his lips over mine.  I opened my mouth and his still sticky tongue brushed against mine.  The heady scent of boy spunk from the squirts from himself and Tom on his face and neck was most apparent as we shared the remains of his two friend's quite dramatic orgasms.

     What an afternoon.  I remarked if a War Effort rally led to that every time, well,  I was ready and willing to support the War Effort, whenever!

     We rescued our clothing and laughing quietly got dressed again.  It was then as we chatted about the imminent end of the school term with Sports Day and Speech Day that I said to Tom that Nobbo and his cousin would be glad to see him if he was at a loose end.  I grinned mentally as I imagined his end would not be very loose once Hal got his hands on him.  I said Cleggy would be around as well so Tom agreed that was a good idea for him as he liked Cleggy.

     All this chat and activity meant that time had flown.  Not only that the room on this Summer's day was stiflingly hot - and when I came back from a quick piss in the lav I noticed there was a general aroma of young adolescent sweat and spunk.

     “You'd better open a couple of windows in here before your mum comes home.”

     Tom looked at me questioningly.

     “It's hot in here and it stinks,” I said emphatically.  “I blame Matt, his sister says he stinks!”

     Poor Matt.  A second friend to look downcast.  I went up to him and put an arm round his shoulder.

     “No, Matt, it's all of us!   Smells hot and sweaty.....”
     “....like a Turkish wrestler's jockstrap!” completed Tom.

     Matt and I stared at him then we began to laugh.  What a wonderful saying!

     “Where did you hear that?” I asked amidst giggles.

     “Oh, Dunc always said it when he came in here.  Always said I stink.”

     “Place does now,” I said as Tom went across and opened a window, “That's better, a cooling breeze!”

     On that note Matt and I left Tom's, said our cheerios and went our separate ways.

     While we were eating supper I said to Pa that Tom had shown me a photo of him in the Kerslake Rugger team in 1934.  He groaned and said that was in his youth.  Ma looked across the table at him.

     “You've never grown up.  All men are the same.  They're all little boys expecting their mothers or wives to feed and look after them.  And playing rough games!  You only gave that up when the War started and they couldn't get a team!  And I suppose he'll be the same.  All this running and now those weights!”

     I'd never heard Ma in that mood before.  I thought it best to keep quiet and so did Pa.  I never even got a wink from him which often occurred when Ma got a bit uptight.  This evening she was a bit more than uptight.

     Those weights were raised forty times that night as I stood in front of the mirror, in the nude, before getting into bed.  I liked what I saw.  A slender, well-built boy, dark-haired with nice legs, a   flat stomach, growing black patches of hair under his arms, a beginning to curl abundantly black bush above a hanging cock and two shapely balls in a slightly swinging sack.  At least it was a hanging cock when I started lifting but it was fully upright by the fortieth.  I put the dumbbells down carefully, retrieved my trusty towel from the chair, switched out the light, crawled into bed, my hand already on my cock and, within minutes, a warm shower of my abundant boyish spunk landed on my chest.  I lay rested and content.  Two wonderful sensations today.   If this was youth I couldn't get enough of it!

                         *
     I was up and about early, I did my run and saw nobody.  I got back even before Tom left to get his papers as I saw him leave when I was back in my bedroom and peered out of the window.  I thought about Ma's scratchiness of the night before, also that I had a piano exam next Saturday, so I decided, even though the sun was shining brightly,  to put in some extra practice today.  Breakfast was ready - mothers have to feed their growing sons, I thought, - as I went downstairs after changing from my rather sweaty running kit.  I thought also of Turkish wrestlers but couldn't really get any mental images other than Matt and his encased cock in his jockstrap.  Whoa, boy I didn't want a hardon by the time I reached the bottom of the stairs.  Ma was in a better mood and asked about the rally and who was there.  I said about Tom's new bike and that it had been truly inspected.  That satisfied her curiosity about where I'd been for the couple of hours or so after the rally.  I didn't say Matt had been truly inspected as well and had satisfied both Tom and me most adequately.

     Odd, Ma didn't use any other language than English this morning.  So I surprised her by saying, in French, that I had a piano exam later in the week and I had better practice.  As soon as I finished I realised that was the first time I had ever initiated a conversation in a different language with Ma.  Ma smiled and said, in German, this time, that I was perfection - at least I think that was the best translation!  I scuttled off to the dining-room and played for well over an hour.  I knew I was getting better and thoroughly enjoyed myself.  Pa came in as I took the book of Studies I had just finished playing from the music-rest and closed the piano lid.

     “Trip out to Alvescot this afternoon.  Need to see Henry Gardiner. Car ride?  You could ask Tom if he wants to come.”

     Just before lunch I went next door but one and found Tom in the kitchen, with his Mum, still in his Boys' Brigade uniform.  He looked so pleased to be asked and his Mum looked pleased too.  I knew Tom was missing his brother.

     While Pa was indoors talking to Mr Gardiner Tom and I wandered round the large garden.  We'd been told we could sample the soft-fruits so raspberries and strawberries were devoured eagerly even though we had both had large lunches.  Mr Gardiner and Pa came out shortly after and the four of us walked out into the lane by the house just to enjoy the countryside.  I walked with Mr Gardiner who told me that they'd heard from Chris that week and although the letter was censored they guessed he was flying in Italy.   Pa was chatting to Tom who seemed quite relaxed.

     Mrs Gardiner gave us tea with fresh bread and cakes.  She said Chris had been a hearty eater and she was glad we were.  I felt quite stuffed afterwards.  All this good food would help me grow!

     It was quite late when we got back.  Tom went home and I stayed in the garage and put some oil on my bike chain which had a tendency to squeak.  I suppose I felt a bit lonely.  I enjoyed being with Tom and there he was, only two doors away, lonely as well.  I finished the job and went indoors.  Ma was in a much better mood.  In fact, she insisted I had more food.  Bliss!  In bed that night, I consoled my lonely self again.  Bliss!

                         *

     Sports Day loomed on Wednesday.  Lots of excitement but our House was depleted because so many of the Sixth Formers had already gone.  Still I came first in the Half-Mile and third in the discus and the javelin.  Tom won each of his events, hurdles, hundred yards and two hundred yards.  The two-arch wankers, Greg and Georgie did well also - their stamina not diminished by countless cigarettes and fervent masturbation.  I heard this comment from one of the Sixth Formers who didn't realise I was listening in and knew exactly what he was referring to!  He did say “Bloody Hell, you wouldn't believe it, all those fags and tossing off and they both beat me!”, but I did the translation!

     I would be presented with a medal for winning the Half-Mile on Speech Day and Ma promised she would be there!


                    Thursday 13th July - Friday 21st July


     My piano exam came and went very satisfactorily on Saturday.  Tim Parker was there and he told me his teacher had decided he should really do Grade 8 so he had.  I knew this was the highest grade to do before you took the exams for letters after your name.  He said his brother had gone down to London to take his LRAM for cello and was very pleased at the way the session had gone.  I celebrated feeling pleased with myself that night with two very satisfactory wanks.  And I resolved I would try to get to Grade 8 myself.  I wondered if I might get further.  Mrs Tring, my music teacher, had LRAM after her name. I giggled to myself, LRAM, perhaps, Licentiate of the Royal Academy of Masturbation would be my only hope!

     Ma was most insistent I looked particularly clean and tidy for Speech Day.  As this was held in the Kerslake Royal Theatre to accommodate all the school, plus parents, at three o'clock, there was no morning school except for those who came in on buses.   So with Ma and Mrs Buchanan in tow, Tom and I walked the half-mile or so down to the main town where the theatre was.  It was all very formal.  The Head with all the beaks, begowned, were on the stage with the Chairman of the Governors, the Mayor and the Town Clerk.  I wondered what the Chairman would say today and was not disappointed when he referred to these 'ranks of upright young men'.  I knew I would be upright that night, along with the great majority of those of my age-group!

     I got two prizes as well as the medal.  I was awarded two book prizes for coming first in the Mathematics and the French examinations.  Matt was overjoyed as he got a Progress Prize for Maths and even Huggy gave him a beaming smile as he went forward to collect it.  I think the most surprised had been Nobbo who, against all his beliefs of what he knew, was awarded the book prize for Latin.  He and Cleggy got a Science prize each and Tony Marcham got the overall Form Prize.  So, Tony had beaten me - I wasn't surprised - he was brainy and knew lots because he was an avid reader.  Perhaps I didn't work quite hard enough.  Anyway, Ma was pleased and she and Mrs Buchanan took Tom and me to the local Lyons tea shop for afternoon tea!

     School ended next day with a flurry of instructions for the coming school year to begin on Thursday September the Seventh.  Until then I was free, free as a bird.  The summer holidays were before me!  Seven weeks!!  Hurrah!!!  Hurrah!!!!

     On Friday arrangements were made for Matt and me to proceed to Cheshire.  Matt came over in the morning as we had to go to the railway station to book our tickets and make sure of the trains and the connections.  That wasn't too difficult and we were back well in time for lunch which Ma had left for us.  She was coming back during the afternoon to supervise my packing.  Both of us were too excited to want to indulge and Matt went off as soon as he had scoffed his share of the eats saying I wasn't to be late in the morning like I was usually for school.   Cheek!  I wasn't too excited that night except in one way and that was....  OOOOOOW!