Chapter 32


Saturday July 22nd 1944


The journey to Grandpa and Grandma's took ages.  We had to catch a train from Kerslake and then change trains to reach Chester.  The last part was on a branch line from Chester, stopping at the halt in the village which was about half a mile from my grandparents' house.


     Matt was very stoical about the journey - it was tedious, but I'd done it several times before so knew exactly where we had to change trains.  Also, I had the route mapped out on a postcard just in case.  In fact I was the one who was a little bit querulous.  I didn't know what I was letting myself in for, especially letting my cousins loose on Matt.  Matt, my rather reserved but oversexed friend  was about to meet  Alun and Rhys, two rather extrovert lads and also oversexed.  Was it a good mixture?  I would be in the middle - quiet, dependable, quite sociable, and somewhat oversexed as well!

     So, it was getting late in the afternoon when at long last the ancient locomotive puffed it's way along the line and ground to a steaming, whistling stop at the halt.   I had said we were approaching journey's end as we came round a bend a few hundred yards back so Matt was at the open window above the door looking out and, as we came to a standstill, he unlatched the door and was first out on the platform.  The halt was just that, a strip of platform and a brick building, with the station-keeper's house attached.

     A woman bustled out of the building as I descended from the train, after passing out our bags to Matt.  She was a cheery sort and bade us welcome and asked if I was Master Thomson because my cousins were waiting for me.  She was the station-keeper and took our tickets and then preceded us through to the roadway outside.

     As we walked past her there were Alun and Rhys standing, in shorts and shirts, grinning all over their silly faces because they then did deep obeisance to us both and swept imaginary hats off their heads, much to the amusement of the stout lady.

     “Welcome, dear sirs,” intoned Rhys, bowing low again, “No carriage awaits but your loyal servants will guide you triumphantly unto your destination.”

     Matt looked at me and I raised my eyebrows.     I thought I'd better play their game so I bowed as well.

     “Right, my men,” I said in as an authoritative tone as I could muster, “Take our bags and lead the way!”

     Bowing low again the two lads swept up our suitcases, moaning loudly about the weight and put them down again.  The woman, giggling and shaking her head, disappeared through the garden gate of the station-keeper's house.

     “Well, aren't you going to introduce us,” said Rhys to me.  “We come all this way to meet you and we're treated as coolies.”  He tossed his head in a gesture of disdain and had to rescue his glasses which threatened to slip off his nose.

     “Silly ass,” said Alun, “It was his idea to do the bowing and scraping.”   He walked up to Matt.  “If my little cousin won't introduce us properly, I'm Alun.”  He stuck out his hand.

     “Just like meeting Bran,” I said to Matt, who, instead of introducing himself burst out laughing.

     I thought I'd better do it properly.  “Matt, this is my cousin Alun,...”  They shook hands.  “...And this is his elder brother, Rhys.”  

     Rhys clasped Matt's hand in both of his, bent his head down as if to impart a kiss.

     “I'm poor and simple and honest but all my earthly goods I bestow upon you......    .....And don't believe a word my little cousin tells you.”

     “Stop acting  the goat,” I said.  I turned to Matt.  “Take no notice of him, he's always playing the fool.”  I looked at Rhys.  “And a bit less of  the `little cousin', please.”

     Both Rhys and Alun came over to me and stood either side of me.

     “Look, Matt, it's true,” said Alun, “He is our little cousin.”

     I suppose I was, both Alun and Rhys were taller than me, of course.  Both had grown in the  few months since I had seen them and Rhys was now a lanky six footer and Alun wasn't far behind.  I was growing fast but I had still a way to go to reach their heights.

     “OK, OK,” I said, “I'm shorter at the moment, but I'm still growing....”

     “....And so am I,” chimed in Matt.  

     “Just wait and see!”  I said, not being able to resist it.

     Matt poked me in the side, a move not unnoticed by my cousins who looked at each other and positively leered.

     With that they did pick up our bags and we set off up the lane.  Although Matt had been a bit apprehensive about meeting my cousins he walked in front with Rhys and they were soon conversing away as if they'd known each other for ages. I walked along beside Alun who said they'd arrived on Thursday but they had to go back next Saturday as he had to start work again on the Monday.  Grandpa had shown them an old motor-bike in the garage and he had started cleaning it up, but, unfortunately he didn't think there was any spare petrol. Anyway, he said he was glad to see me and there were plenty of smashing places to explore up in the hills.

     Grandma was waiting in the front garden when we arrived.  I was enveloped in one of her famous hugs and Matt got an effusive welcome and a big hug as well.  Rhys and Alun stood and giggled but Grandma said any friends of her grandsons were to be treated equally.  After further introductions she said high tea would be ready in fifteen minutes so we'd better take our things up to our room and have a wash.  Always a wash.  Why did grownups always think boys needed a wash?

     Alun and Rhys literally pushed us up the stairs and rushed us along the corridor to our room.  I remembered it was the one Ma and Pa always had when we stayed here.  A big double room with a large bed and a great view up to the hills from the bay window.  They disappeared off as they had been instructed to help Mary, Grandma's elderly maid and general companion, to carry dishes and food into the breakfast room ready for high tea.  As they went out Rhys said they had the room next door and we were not to be long as they were hungry.

     Matt surveyed the room as soon as the door closed behind my fast retreating cousins.

     “I was a bit scared meeting your cousins,” he said, “but I like them.  Rhys says he wants go into the Navy when he's called up.”

     “What do you think of Alun?” I asked.

     “Don't know, said Matt pensively, “I haven't really spoken to him yet.  Seems OK.  You get on well with him so I suppose I will.”

     We went over to the window and looked out. I nudged him.

     “I get on with him - he taught me...  You know...” I whispered.

     “You were lucky, I had to find it out by myself,” Matt said with some feeling.

     “But we've done some finding out together, haven't we?” I said, nudging him again.

     He snickered and then turned and took a look around the room.  He smiled approvingly and then  said he did feel a bit hot and sticky.  I said the bathroom was across the corridor so he disappeared off as I undid my haversack and got out my own washing kit then undid my suitcase and got out my pyjamas and trusty towel.  Oh Ma, packing pyjamas!  But then, I would have to make the trek across the corridor to get to the lav.

     Matt soon returned and I went and had a pee and a quick catlick.  I was hot and sweaty too, but a proper wash would have to wait as Rhys was calling up the stairs saying food was ready.

     Food was ready.  A big plate of bread and butter plus a plate with thinly cut ham and a dish of fried eggs.  Ham and eggs?  Rations?  Then Grandpa appeared and after introductions explained he had lots of chickens and had a slightly illegal - for a solicitor - bartering scheme with a local farmer for a bit of ham and, sometimes, a leg of lamb, in exchange for eggs!

     Gosh, I found I was suddenly extra hungry. Food disappeared down my gaping maw while the others ate more slowly as they discussed the general progress of the War, with Alun and Rhys, especially, taking the lead.  In the end, replete, I sat back contented.  Grandpa eyed me quizzically.

     “Not much to say for yourself, eh, Jacko?”

     “Couldn't get a word in edgeways,” I replied.

     “Yes,” he said, “Your cousins would win the War if it depended on talk, eh?”

     “Grandad!” they said in unison.

     Pudding then appeared.  Apple pie and custard - my favourite.  Even had cloves in.  Ma always moaned she had run out and they were unobtainable.  Silence reigned for once as all enjoyed the taste and texture and, yes, would I like a second helping?  Yes, please!

     I think all were amazed at the way I put food away.  But then, Grandma must have been used to it having brought up three growing boys of her own.  Finally, Grandpa pushed his chair back and stood up.

     “Chickens,” he announced.

     Rhys and Alun grinned at each other, they were in the know.

     “Chickens,” repeated Grandpa, “Need to be put to bed.  That fox has been around again so we have to put them safely to roost.”  He looked around the table. “Coming?”

     Grandma pointed at the empty plates.  We boys stood, piled the plates together and Rhys and Alun took them to the kitchen where I could hear Mary talking to someone. Someone to help her with the washing-up I guessed.

     Grandpa then lead the way with Matt and me following, followed by Alun and Rhys soon after.  It was a lovely evening - still bright and sunny and would be for some time with Double Summer Time.  Grandpa made his way to a gate in the fence by the side of the house which led into a paddock which had several chicken runs and chicken houses.

     As soon as the chickens saw Grandpa they started running towards the fencing separating them from us.  He produced several handfuls of grain from the capacious pockets of an old hacking jacket he had put on and threw it all into the pens.   There was much cackling and scratching around in the grass.

     “Got to keep the blighters happy and then they'll lay plenty of eggs.  Right, once they've finished we have to get them into the houses.”

     Sooner said then done.  As the five of us entered the first pen so the blighters scattered and needed a lot of shooing and waving of arms before they were all in the safety of their roost.  As there were four more pens to be cleared Rhys suggested we each took one.  We did and Matt showed unknown expertise at chicken rustling.  He had all his in and the door latched while I was still waving and flapping at two recalcitrant old biddies who squawked and skittered away as soon as I approached.  At last, without me doing anything there was a final squawk and they went up the little ramp by themselves.  It was then left to Grandpa to get the rooster into his pen where he crowed loudly to show he was boss.

     All this done Rhys said we could go up the lane a bit to see where we would be going in the morning.  Grandpa went back indoors after saying we shouldn't be too long.  Off up the lane we went and entered a large sloping field with a few sheep still grazing.  It was a perfect English summer's evening and I thought what a horrible world it was away from here with people fighting and killing and dying.  I thought of Chris Gardiner flying somewhere in Italy.  Was he dropping bombs or firing machine-guns at people or were people firing at him?  I mumbled something like this to Rhys who caught hold of my arm and said he had exactly the same thoughts as two boys from his school had been killed in an air-raid on part of Cardiff .

     We sat on the grass and watched the sheep while Alun and Matt were deep in conversation looking into a ditch that ran by the side of the field.  In the end Rhys said we should get back as Grandma always went to bed early.  We ambled back and we boys played cards together while Grandpa and Grandma snoozed in deep easy chairs until Grandma woke and said it was time for her bed. Grandpa also got up and said he would lock up and leave us to come up to bed when we were ready and not to switch lights on unless the blackout curtains were pulled.

     It was still a bit light when we all decided it was time for our beds as well.  We went quietly up the stairs so as not to disturb the grandparents or Mary who had a room near them.  The four of us parted and went into our rooms.  That is, except for Matt who made a beeline for the lav.

     I had stripped off to my underpants by the time he returned looking very pleased with himself.

     “Better now,” he enthused as he came in and closed the door carefully behind him.  “Needed a good shit, pardon my French.”  He looked at me.  “Merde isn't it?” he asked.  I nodded I did know that word and I wondered where he had learned it.  He enlightened me.  “Julia says it when things go wrong - often!”  He grinned and looked at me in my underpants.  “Bed?”

     I nodded again and slipped off my pants.  The usual happened.  My unruly dong began to thicken and stiffen.  Matt hadn't noticed so I went over to the bay window and looked up to the hills beyond in the gathering dusk.  Very soon Matt joined me, also nude, and put an arm round my shoulder.

     “Lovely here, isn't it?” he said, “I like Kerslake but it's a bit flat compared with this.  I shall look forward to exploring up there.”  He leaned onto my shoulder.  “And I know a little boy who needs a good wash.  If Julia thinks I stink, I know you do!”

     “Well I have been cooped up all day on a hot train next to the stink-merchant himself.  And just because you've been making an extra stink out there I've stayed in here.”
     He sniggered.  “But I did wash after I'd finished - and the bathroom's quite separate from the lav, so, get out there and wash your smelly self.”

     I disengaged myself and, departed to the bathroom, in the nude only to be bumped into by Rhys who was just leaving it clad just in shorts.  He looked me up and down approvingly.

     “Nice one, Jacko.  You've grown!”

     With that he scooted past me, slapped my backside and disappeared into the bedroom next to ours, giggling.  I went into the bathroom.  After carefully locking the door I gave myself a good wash, all the stinky bits - under arms, round my cock (now lolling downwards) and then my feet.  Satisfied by sniffing at my armpits I made my way back into the bedroom.  There was only muffled laughter coming from the room next door.  Good, I thought, this house is well-built and any sounds wouldn't carry far.

     Matt was sitting in the bay window on a cane-bottomed chair gazing out into the twilight.  Thoughtful boy - he had put my trusty towel on the chair first so he wouldn't get a patterned backside.  He turned and stood as I put my wash-bag on the dressing-table.

     “Bed?”

     He had only uttered that one word when the door opened very quietly.  Two nude creatures entered sporting the usual Thomson hardons.  My dick responded immediately and became the third Thomson hardon.  The three Thomsons stood side by side and looked at Matt.  His monstrous dick also responded and to a round of quiet, polite applause, it rose until it was also fully erect.  Rhys whistled softly.

     “The Thomsons will have to suppress any thoughts of superiority. Congratulations!”

     In the increasing darkness I could see Matt's prick very clearly.  He very slightly beat both Rhys and Alun whose dicks now rose as identical as twins to what I guessed was just on seven inches.  I knew that was Matt's length as he'd told me his measurements on our last wank together when he said he was worried it was still growing!  Worried it was still growing, my God!  I wish mine would hurry up and get even as big as my cousins'.  Rhys smiled at Matt and stepped over to him.

     “May I?” he asked with perfect grammar.

     Matt panted slightly and his massive tool quivered.  Rhys stood by his side and ringed the shaft with practised fingers.  I rescued my towel from the chair and chucked it on the floor.  Just in time it seemed as Matt soon leaned back and out shot his first load of the day all over my towel.

     “Thanks,” he murmured as he got his breath back.

     Alun came and stood by me.  “Your turn big boy!” he said and gripped my tool.

     I wasn't far behind Matt in time.  I had already felt things happening down below while I watched Rhys beating Matt's meat.  I gave them all the Jacko Thomson treat! Five huge squirts of my pearly boy spunk shot up in the air and luckily, because of the elevation, landed on the towel. I was breathing very deeply as Matt came behind me and Alun and I felt his hand searching for Alun's cock which was pressed, upright, in my arse crack. When I could I moved forward, unfortunately stepping on the towel and getting a sticky splodge of spunk on the sole of my foot.  I hopped over to Rhys and as Matt wanked off Alun I did the same to Rhys.  Both boys were spunked up and ready.  I had Rhys's foreskin right back and he was breathing noisily through his open mouth when he leaned back heavily against me and let fly.  My aim was to get him to shoot upward but I misjudged it a bit and two of his squirts went across the towel and landed on Alun's shin.  Alun reciprocated as Matt's bomb-aiming was even worse.  Rhys got one squirt on his stomach from across the towel and another on his right thigh.  The Thomson trio demonstrated superior fire power!

                         *

     I woke next morning feeling very contented.  I rolled over in the bed and bumped into Alun's hard young body.  I thought back to the last time I'd shared a bed with him and the pleasure we'd had.  Last night had been very intense too.  After that initial four-way wank Rhys had led an absolutely compliant Matt out of the room while Alun and I, with the now damp towel between us, snuggled up in bed together.  We didn't need the towel because, after a whispered chat together, we ended up each head to cock and licked and sucked each other slowly until both came with tremendous orgasms.  As we surfaced and locked lips and shared each other's spunk Alun put his arms round me and hugged me tight.  We separated and I took a deep breath and relaxed absolutely at peace and content with myself and my little world.  Alun moved  his head towards me and whispered in my ear.

     “My little cousin has certainly grown the last few months.  My mouth feels quite stretched.  You're certainly a Thomson!”

     “I'm not so little then,” I said, feeling very pleased, “And, I'm still growing!  Anyway, you're not too bad yourself....”  Here Alun pinched a fleshy bit of my leg....  “.....Ouch!   I was going to say you probably haven't finished growing yet.  You'd be bigger than Rhys then!”

     “Dick or height?”

     “Both probably - you're almost as tall as him now!”

     He laughed softly, nibbled my ear and the next thing I knew it was morning.

     I slipped out of bed and rooted around in the wardrobe where I had put my running kit.  I dressed quickly and was downstairs and out of the kitchen door.  I didn't know where to go but set off up the lane we'd walked along the night before.  Even though it was only about seven in the morning it was quite warm and I ran steadily up following a low stone wall.  I followed the wall until the lane began to turn and twist down the side of the low hill.  It must have been at least a mile and a half since I started so I turned and ran back.  As I got to the gate Alun was standing, watching me, wearing just a pair of rugger shorts and plimsolls.

     “Gosh, Jacko, I certainly haven't got your energy or stamina.  Must be all that food you tuck away!”

     I stuck my tongue out at him and loped across the garden to the kitchen door.  Alun was close behind me and we ran upstairs to the bed room.  He closed he door behind us and he picked me up and put me on the bed.  My shorts and jockstrap were round my calves in a moment with my singlet rucked up under my armpits.

     “I'll test your stamina a bit further,” Alun said and lowered his head.

     My limp dick and balls were sucked into his mouth.  I wasn't limp for long - at least I was soon long... and hard.  I was panting a bit from running but this increased until my legs started to jerk and twitch as I reached the crest of that particular hill.  Alun swallowed noisily as I flooded his mouth.  He raised his head and my dick flopped to my belly still oozing cum.  He bent his head again and touched the tip of my nose with his sticky tongue.

     “My turn now,” he whispered.

     He turned from me and lay on the bed with his feet on the floor.  He undid the buttons on his shorts and they dropped down his legs as he wriggled his bum away from the bed.  No way could I get his cock and balls into my mouth in one go.  He was fully erect.  His close on seven inches sheathed in his very neat foreskin.  I kicked off my running shorts and jockstrap and knelt between his legs and lapped at his balls.  He moaned softly.  I licked slowly up his length and dug the tip of my tongue into the gap between the end of his foreskin and his cock head.  He moaned more and I felt his thighs twitch against me.  I held the end of his still sheathed cock between my lips and gently inserted the tip of my tongue further into his foreskinned end.  I couldn't get far because as I pushed with my tongue so his foreskin rolled down his hard, fleshy knob.  In the end I resorted to bobbing my head up and down and licking his now-exposed, oh-so-sensitive knob.  I knew it was sensitive because his moans and twitches were increasing and increasing.  His prick swelled in my mouth just as I put a hand under me and held his balls.  I gave them a slight squeeze.  He squealed rather than moaned and launched at least six pulses of spunk which bounced off the roof of my mouth and streamed out of my open mouth.  I swallowed and tasted some but most dripped down my chin and landed on the bottom sheet of the bed.  Too bad.

     I stood up. A bit unsteadily.  No wonder.  I'd already run about three miles and also had a terrific orgasm and worked my cousin to an equally marvellous ending.  Alun sat up slowly a great smile on his face.  He looked down at his own still erect tool and then at me.  My cock was also still fully rigid.

     “Snap!” he said, “We're both Thomsons.  Quick to rise and slow to deflate.”  He put a hand out round my thigh.  “Gosh, Jacko, that was good, wasn't it?”

     Who was I  to disagree.  A perfect start to the day.  An even more perfect next happening would be a good breakfast.  We both had the same thought.
     “Come on,” said Alun, “Quick wash, then food!”

     I retrieved my shorts and tugged them on, Alun did the same with his and we went together to the bathroom and shared the basin of hot water giggling as we lathered our now both sweaty selves.   As we were finishing someone rattled the door knob.  It was Rhys, in pyjama trousers, without his glasses, peering rather short-sightedly at me when I opened the door.  A great grin then lit up his acne-ravaged face.

     “Is old spunk-dust in there with you `cause he's not in your room?”

     `Old spunk-dust' appeared behind me.

     “Watch your uncouth language in front of my young cousin!” he said.  I noted there was no `little' now.  “God, your pimples want dealing with!”

     “Shut your row, brother dear. Why do you think I'm here at this ungodly hour?  I've got to have a wash and put some of Doctor Jessup's ointment on them.”

     “Where's Matt?” I asked.

     “Sleeping the sleep of the just - or just after,” Rhys said with another grin.  “Didn't like to wake him he looked so peaceful.”
     Peaceful!  My foot.  Worn out, I expect.

     We vacated the bathroom and Rhys went in bearing his jar of wondrous unguent.  I thought, poor Rhys, I was glad that scourge hadn't hit me hard, yet.  As we went into the bedroom I looked at Alun's face.  He certainly had a few more reddish pustules than when I had seen him at Christmas but he wasn't so heavily blemished as wretched Rhys.

     I dressed, as did Alun, in shorts and shirt.  He admired my rather neat corduroy shorts and I told him about Chris Gardiner's legacy to me.  As he'd shown me the two dirty mags I told him about the photos I'd found and he said he wouldn't mind seeing them some day.   Also I said the French letter that Gareth had given me had been experimented with and that I'd found three more in Chris's chest of drawers, one of which split because of my over-energetic activity.  He laughed.  I said that, although Matt knew about them, he hadn't better say anything about them as Matt's sister was Chris's girlfriend.  He winked and tapped the side of his nose with his finger to indicate it was all hush-hush.

     We got downstairs and found Mary was also up and prepared toast and boiled eggs and there were some cereals as well.  I was biting into my third piece of thick toast having demolished two boiled eggs when I noticed Alun grinning at me from the other side of the breakfast table.

     “Why the mirth?” I asked.

     “You're at it again,” he replied laughing.  “Mum says we three eat her out of house and home but you pack away enough for two - you could be pregnant as Gareth says.”

     Cheek.  I pointed out I was a growing boy and needed plenty of sustenance.

     Alun looked carefully around.  “And most of it ends up shooting out the end of your dick!” he said in a whisper, “You're just like a cow, that eats green grass and makes white milk....,” He pointed at the piece of toast in my hand, “...and you eat brown toast and produce white stuff.  Marvellous what the body does inside!”

     Not to be outdone I said he'd better be careful because if he made rude remarks to me he might become a bullock.  He looked questioningly at me, so I whispered young Sam's explanation, “No bollocks!”

     He was about to continue with more rudery but Mary came in with more toast, smiled and said “Just like your fathers” and disappeared again.  Of course, she had been working in the household for years and years so must have fed and watered our Dads as well.

     About ten minutes later the other two appeared.  Matt looking particularly bleary-eyed and Rhys now with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.  They had little to say but sat and munched through a stack of toast and a couple of eggs each while Alun kept winking at me over our third cups of tea.

     Our grandparents obviously had breakfast in their bedroom as we heard Mary going upstairs with a tray.  Alun rushed off and carried it for her and came back with instructions that we need not go to church with them but to be back for one o'clock lunch.  General agreement was that we should go and explore an old quarry on the side of the hill as there was quite a pool there where we could bathe.  None of us could swim but Rhys said it was nice to dunk oneself in on a hot day.

     Alun and I stacked the crockery and cutlery and Rhys and Matt helped Mary wash up and clear away.  Alun had been asked to let the chickens out and give them some feed and search for eggs in the roosting boxes.  I helped him and the silly chickens rushed about everywhere and the cockerel kept up a constant din.  Still, it was good, finding nice, warm eggs in some abundance.

     When Alun and I had finished Rhys and Matt were already going through the gate and said we should catch them up.  We followed about fifty yards behind them and saw they were in earnest conversation all the time.  Apprehensive Matt was clearly having a good time.  There was something I needed to ask Alun.

     “Alun,” I began, “You know, last night when you came into our room, how did you know it would be OK and Matt wouldn't get scared and refuse to do anything?”

     Alun nudged me on the arm.  “Experience, my dear Watson.  Have you ever met a boy who didn't do things?  Or want to try?....”  He nudged my arm again.   “.....Anyway Matt was with you and you have a certain reputation with your Thomson cousins.  So, we came to the simple conclusion - if Jacko is with Matt then Alun and Rhys would be welcome.  In fact, what happened later was quite spontaneous.  We were going to see what would happen and your pal led Rhys off rather than the other way round.”
     I must have looked a bit startled at this statement.  I was rather surprised.  I suppose I was so carried away, almost literally, by Alun getting into bed with me I had assumed Rhys had suggested to Matt they shared his bed.  I said this to Alun who asserted that in the time between his final squirt at Matt's hands and the picking up of the towel he had seen Matt go over to Rhys and they had left the room together, but with Matt leading.

     Apprehensive Matt taking the initiative!

     Alun chuckled.  “Hope you didn't mind.  The bed wasn't quite big enough for a foursome anyway.”

     Mind, of course I didn't mind.  I was happy to be with Alun and I was sure there would be more interaction with Rhys and he and Matt seemed to be firm friends already.

     As we wandered along Alun asked a bit more about what I had found in Chris's horde.  I also told him, in some detail, about my trip to the farmhouse with Mike and the drawing he had done of me.  We were all walking so slowly and nattering to each other we never made it to the quarry, but in the end the four of us sat on a stone wall and surveyed the countryside and the peaceful sheep.  On the way back down I did manage to walk with Matt for a while.  I asked him if he was enjoying himself and the look on his face told me he was.

     After lunch we sat in the garden and sunned ourselves.  Grandpa was doing the Sunday paper crossword and asked Rhys if Tybalt in Romeo and Juliet was spelled with a Y or an I.

     “We're doing that for Higher School Cert so I know it's with a Y,” he said confidently.

     “Good play that,” said Grandpa, “I like that one, and Macbeth.”  He laughed.  “Your fathers and Edward were the three witches in the school production when they were boys.  Your father,” he said to me, “was only thirteen or so and was tiny and had a squeaky voice and Dick was getting on for eighteen and was fully grown and enormous.  We all though your Dad would have disappeared in the pot.”

     I hadn't heard anything before from Grandpa about Pa as a boy.  Grandpa was in reminiscent mood.

     “Must get the photos out.  I was home on leave for Macbeth.”

     I must have looked puzzled.

     “Last War, fourteen-eighteen,” he said in explanation, “I was in the Artillery and was home for a few days.”

     “I didn't know you'd been in the Army,” I said, “Dad's never told me.”

     “Yes, Captain Thomson, Royal Artillery, at your service.   I was in charge of one section of gunnery training on Salisbury Plain.  That's why I'm a bit deaf.  Got too many bangs in the ears.  Just a bit deaf, not daft like your grandmother says.”

     “Dad was in the Artillery, too, wasn't he?” asked Alun.

     Rhys was nodding vigorously.  “Yes, I've seen his photo.”

     Grandpa smiled.  “Yes, Dick was ready to be called up at the end of that next Summer term. He was called up at the end of June and that War finished in November.”

     Uncle Dick and Grandpa had been lucky. Not like poor Piers, or poor Miles.  When the Great War had finished they were safe and alive, Piers and Miles were not.  I wanted to tell them about my experiences but realised it might be awkward telling Grandpa.  It would have to wait. I would tell Alun or Rhys, or both.

     After a good late tea Grandpa got out a number of photograph albums and it was quite funny seeing members of the family growing up.  Dad and Uncle Edward on donkeys at the seaside.  Dad and Uncle Edward as choirboys.  Uncle Dick as Captain of Rugger with the school team. Uncle Edward in a formal photo in cap and gown when he graduated from Cambridge.  Dad in his doctoral robes being presented with his degree.  Ma and Pa on their wedding day.  Then, four postcard sized photos, one for each of the four grandsons as babies, Gareth, Rhys, Alun and me, all looking identical at aged three months.  I felt very proud of my family at that moment.

     As the previous evening we were left to clear up after Grandpa and Grandma went to bed.  He had explained that, although officially retired, he still went into the office four days a week to keep things running as he was the senior partner and with Uncle Edward and his other junior partner called up there was plenty for him and the two remaining clerks to do.  He would be breakfasting at eight then he would walk to the halt to catch the nine o'clock train.  I worked out from the dates under some of the photos that Grandpa must be seventy-one or so.

     We played Monopoly with Rhys winning handsomely and went upstairs while still fairly light.  The others had come to an arrangement about where we were to sleep without `little Jacko' being consulted.  It was Alun and me again.  Not that I wasn't highly delighted.  I liked my cousin and he was great fun and we certainly had great fun that night before falling into an almost delirious sleep.  We wanked and sucked each other three times so it must have been getting on for one o'clock by the time Alun had unloaded in my mouth for the second time.  We were serious and light-hearted, making each other giggle by telling each other of past adventures we'd had but also telling each other how we felt. I was almost ready to ask Alun what he thought about the happenings at Ulvescott but other things intervened.  Usually a new bout of hugging and touching of stroking and.... Each time I shot a load Alun insisted it was at least two rounds of toast and a boiled egg's worth and I had to have sufficient intake in the morning to keep my output going.

     Even with those few hours of slumber I was awake and raring to go at half past six.  I slipped out of bed and silently put my running kit on and was out running steadily up the lane in a couple of minutes or so.  It was another perfect day and I was enjoying myself immensely.  I got back and was washed and about to get dressed when Alun began to surface.  Like the day before we started with a pre-breakfast snack.  After I had taken his cock into my mouth we ended up sucking each other in unison.  We must have been going for a good fifteen minutes with slow licking and sucking, drawing each other up and then, when sensing that things would probably happen, releasing the tension, when I heard the door open.  I couldn't see who, but a gentle hand began to massage my buttocks and I saw another hand come between me and Alun and begin to lightly fondle his balls.   It took about another two minutes before both of us, within about ten seconds of each other, produced sweet tasting boy-cream which we each swallowed noisily.

     I lay side by side with Alun, our cocks still held in each other's mouths.  I felt warm breath by my ear.

     “I want that tonight,” said Rhys, “We've just had the same next door.  Gosh though, the pair of you have made me horny again.”

     Alun's cock fell from my mouth as I looked up, licking my lips.  Rhys was dressed in shorts and shirt, with a bulging front showing off his erect cock..  He was certainly horny if they'd only just indulged.  I peered round and there was Matt, grinning wildly, dressed the same with his right hand in the pocket of his shorts, either wanking or rearranging his own erection.

     My cock was also now free, Alun having relinquished his hold on it.

     “Oh my God!” he said with mock exasperation, “Horny isn't in it.  This lad....” He tapped my backside with the hand draped over me.   “...This lad has been at it since ten o'clock last night.  I had a few hours respite and here he is at it again.  He can't get enough...”

     Lying toad.  We'd both, by mutual agreement and with full co-operation, had had four wonderful explosions of youthful lust over that time interval.  I wasn't standing for his insinuations - or lying down for them.  I lurched up awkwardly, catching him off-balance, which actually gave me the advantage, turned over and pinned him down as a giggling, wriggling mass, or mess, of humanity.

     “Take that all back,” I said, leaning down over his face and licking his lips and cheeks, “You randy beast.  You started it last night...”

     “...Only to shut you up,” he interrupted amidst more giggles, “....Only way to shut you up was to put something in your mouth.  And you know what your mother tells you  - never speak with your mouth full!”

     He relapsed into more cackles as I started grinding my hips and pressing down on his belly with my sticky, still fairly plumped-up, prick.

     “Ow, you foul fiend,” he grunted, showing a remarkable command of English in such circumstances.  His squirming under me was doing wonders for my now rapidly hardening rod but my exposed buttocks, gyrating in the open air was too much of an inviting sight for my, I thought, two friends.  They became fiends as they began to tickle my lower back and Rhys, arch-fiend, stuck his fingers into the crack of my arse and pushed down until he gripped my knackers.  Not really an arch-fiend because, after the initial shock, his massaging fingers were doing wonders for my randiness!
     “Get him off,” panted Alun, “The bastard's crushing me!”

     The others just chuckled but curiosity must have intervened as I felt myself being hauled off Alun's recumbent, writhing body.

     “Bloody hell,” came Rhys's throaty whisper, “Look at the horn on that boy!  That's a real Thomson tool!”

     True!  I had been hauled up into a sitting position and then my legs had slid off the bed so my fully erect shaft was full in view.  I must say I was pleased with what I saw when I looked down.  I was near enough six inches now and on my slim body my cock stood up proudly and looked well-developed.

     Alun was in the same state.  He sat up then stood by the side of the bed.  I stood next to him.  Two erect Thomsons on show.  Rhys and Matt looked at us.  Rhys nodded approvingly.  Matt said nothing.

     “Now you've proved you've got the same as most boys your age,” said Rhys, sententiously, “You can wash your smelly selves, get dressed and we'll see you in the breakfast room.  Come on, Matt, they've given us a display, we're not going  to wait for them.  At least we'll have first go at the grub this morning.”

     The mention of food concentrated my mind on other things.  I slapped Alun on the backside, picked up my wash-bag and scurried out to the bathroom, completely forgetting I was still starkers and sporting a hefty hardon.  Luckily, no one else was around as we were round a corner of the corridor.  I would have to watch it in the week because I knew Grandma had a couple of ladies from the village come in to do the general cleaning.  As the day before, Alun and I shared the water in the large sink, then he announced he'd better have a shave as well.  I went back to the bedroom, got dressed and was led downstairs by the scent of hot toast wafting up.  Fried eggs this morning with a small rasher of bacon.

     Rhys was wearing his usual smirk - I don't mean that rudely, but he always looked as if some quip or remark, or some hidden secret, was about to issue from his lips.  He was ready that morning.  He pointed to the rasher which was my allotment in the hot tray.

     “Heard about the grocer who sat on the bacon slicer?” he started.  I shook my head.  “Yeah, he got a little behind in his rations!”

     I sneered at the atrocious joke and Matt, to his credit, grimaced.

     Not to be suppressed by our disdain he went on.  “Did you hear about the chap in the pickle factory?” He peered at the closed door and reduced his voice to a whisper.  “Had an insatiable desire to stick his prick in the cucumber slicer.” He looked for our reaction.  None.  Both Matt and I stared at him.  I saw that Matt was suppressing a giggle. “Yeah, couldn't help himself `cause one afternoon he succumbed, the manager came in, saw him, and he got the sack.”   I was mentally squirming, but he went on. “He got home and said to his wife he had something dreadful to confess.  He told her he'd got the sack for...” Here he lowered his voice even further.  “....sticking his knob end in the cucumber slicer.  And what happened to the cucumber slicer? asked his wife.  Oh, she got the sack as well, says he!”

     Deathly silence.  Broken only by outright chuckling from Rhys and gurglings from Matt.  I wondered how many more of these Rhys would be telling.  Quite funny, but I wasn't going to let on.  I took a slice of toast and munched it.  Rhys hadn't finished.  He looked at Matt.  Looked to see that the door was still closed and whispered again.

     “Hey, Matt,” he began with an absolutely straight face, so I knew something was coming, “You know when you have a wank in the bath and the spunk all goes thick and stringy in the hot water?”

     He paused and Matt nodded and said “Yes”.

     Rhys leaned over the table a bit and winked at me.  “Randy bastard, just confessed he wanks in the bath!”

     Matt was slightly confused by this at first, then saw he'd fallen straight into the trap.

     “Randy beast, yourself,” he said, “I bet there's nowhere in the house where you haven't done it.”  He turned to me.  “You should have seen him last night, I couldn't believe it!”

     Rhys held up a piece of toast and waved it at Matt.

     “No tales out of school,” he said admonishingly, “In fact I did learn a lot last night.  Like there's more than one way to peel a banana.” He waved the piece of toast at me.  “God, his is just like a banana.  Good job he's not a Chinaman otherwise he'd be a prize exhibit in the greengrocers.”  He put the toast down and cupped his hands round his mouth like a megaphone.  “Roll up, Roll up ladies, ripe banana, see our juiciest fruit, gently does it, watch carefully.”  He held up a finger and pretended to peel it.  “Look ladies, here's how you do it, one skin, two skins, three skins....,” His voice rose up the scale. “....four skins!”

     Bloody hell.  Rhys was in full flow.  We did laugh, perhaps just to shut him up.  Anyway, at that moment the door did open and in came Alun and saw we were laughing.

     “Oh,” he said, “I suppose Rhys is entertaining you with a few of his stories, eh?  I don't know where he gets them but they're painful.”

     Painful or not Rhys had a captive audience and, if Alun had heard them all fifty times, we hadn't.  Be Prepared!  I thought.  He caught Matt. Just wait for it.

     We had just finished breakfast and had taken the plates into the kitchen when Grandpa appeared.  He looked very smart in his lawyer's suit, with almost a tail-coat, carrying his bowler hat.
     “Morning boys,” he said in general greeting.  “It's going to be a very hot day so enjoy yourselves.  Feed the chickens, Rhys, please, I've let them out.”

     We all fed the chickens and collected the eggs and took them in to Mary who was in the kitchen.  Rhys said we would be off up the hills so we were told to wait while sandwiches for lunch were prepared.

     So, all kitted out we strode, no, rather walked, up the lane.  Rhys and Matt were behind us today so we set the pace and within an hour we were well into the hills.  No one about, just us and the sheep.  We found the quarry and it looked very inviting.  A sort of shallow beach led off the surrounding grass and then a great hollow where the stone had been quarried.  This was filled with clear water.  At least clear for a few feet and Rhys warned us that there was a sheer drop after that and we weren't to venture too far as we couldn't swim.  Matt did then say he could swim a bit as he had learnt to do so in South Africa so he was questioned about his life there.   Of course, the boys were curious about the equipment he'd seen on his playmates but he hadn't registered anything about size.  In any case, he was only ten or so when he had returned to England so wasn't too interested at that age.  He just said the two sons of the gardener and his wife were totally black all over except for the soles of their feet and the palms of their hands.

     As the morning was hot we had soon removed our shirts and Alun said he was going to get a tan all over so shucked off his shorts and underpants as well.  I said I'd sunbathed in the nude the previous weekend with my friends and so that was discussed.  In the end I told them the whole story and four nude boys soon sported four hardons.  When I finished the tale Rhys surveyed us and snorted derisively.

     “Bloody hell,” he said, emphasizing each syllable, “Can't let you out for five minutes without you getting rampant!  It's all your fault Jacko, telling dirty stories!  How can I be expected to control you lustful lot.  Grandpa said this morning I was in charge.....”

     Three lustful lads catapulted themselves on the fourth, himself sporting an immense hardon, and amidst squeals and remonstrations tickled him unmercifully.  We each took it in turns to sit on his face.  Alun, in fact, gave an involuntary fart as he lifted himself off, much to Rhys's disgust and our delight.  By the time we'd finished with him he was sweating profusely and his glasses were awry.  As we parted he rolled away and sat up.

     “I'll get you fuckers...” he began, but chuckled as he said it.

     “Watch your language, brother dear,” interrupted Alun, “There are three of us and we'll be in charge now.  I think I can get my own back.  You can be our slave.”  He looked at Matt and me who were quietly giggling.  “He and Gareth gang up on me most of the time and I have to do things for them.  What can he do for us?”

     It was no good, Rhys was going to get off.  We couldn't think of anything for him to do.  Anyway, it was too hot to do anything except just laze about and enjoy the sun.  I then told them of finding Bernie Foster tied to a tree and I said we could do the same with him if he misbehaved.  They were very amused with this, even Rhys who said he and another lad had done almost the same thing to a kid they were fed up with and had left him tied up in an abandoned cottage, gone home and almost forgot they'd left him there.  He said the kid hadn't minded because they'd given him sweets so he wouldn't tell on them.  Then I told them about the early adventure at Ulvescott when I was being manhandled by Tony, Roo and Matt and Bran howled outside.  Matt didn't laugh as much as the others.  In fact, he looked at me rather questioningly.  Something was on his mind.  Still, all these tales passed the time.  We had lunch and then Alun asked how the competition was going.  I'd told him about that when I was in Cardiff at Christmas.  Matt grinned when I said I had achieved my target, plus!  Rhys wanted to know what it was all about so I had to explain.  Both whistled softly when I said about the various settings.  Matt chimed in and told the story of the birthday party and we all had a good laugh.  Of course, by this time, with the warmth of the sun and the general erotic (new word for me which Rhys had used) nature of the conversation, our sex organs had been erect for the best part of the day.  I was sitting next to a still sweaty Rhys who was idly caressing his rearing shaft so I put my hand out and began to run my finger up the side of it.  He gasped.

     “For Christ's sake, Jacko, do it!”

     I did.  He lay back on the grass.  The others watched until a triple silvery squirt left his vertically-held  rod.  That was the signal for Matt to grasp Alun's proud almost seven inches and his foreskin was expertly peeled back.  A cum-spattered, sweaty Rhys made my day as soon as Alun's tool had unshed it's load and, finally, Matt unleashed a veritable geyser of creamy spunk under Alun's careful ministrations.  We were all cum-soaked and happy.  We lay, fingers entwined, in a row and let the strands of our spent seed dry on us.  At last Rhys fumbled around for his shorts and found his watch.

     “Come on, it's just gone four and we'd better have a quick wash and dry off in the sun before we set off back.”

     He jumped up and went to the edge of the pool.  He waded in keeping a careful eye on the depth.  When he was in to the top of his legs he ducked down quickly and fully immersed himself.

     “Come on, it's not cold, and it's quite safe to here.”

     He ducked under again and came up splashing.  The clear water streamed off him.  I went over and waded in slowly.  It was cool but not unpleasantly cold.  I copied him and let the water just run all over me as I surfaced.  It felt nice and refreshing.  The other two joined us and we spent ten minutes happily splashing each other and chasing around in the shallows.  Rhys warned us not to go out any further and like good little boys we obeyed.  Finally, we shook ourselves like four overgrown puppies and sat on the grass and chatted on while we dried off.  It was time to set off back down for supper.  I knew we four were all supremely happy.


     That night I was paired up with Rhys.  I said as he was still our slave my commands had to be met.  I forgot that as soon as he gently licked and sucked at my neck and nipples and engulfed my ready-again erection in his mouth.  I would have been his slave for life to experience repeatedly those feelings below my cock, in my loins, in my whole being, as I shed my third load of the day.  I recovered slowly as he lay stroking my chest and stomach and thighs, then I tried to give him as much pleasure as he'd given me.  As his boy-cream poured into my mouth he gave a great sigh which could only have been of contentment. I crept up the bed again and we dozed holding each other quite close.  About midnight he pushed the single sheet we'd drawn up to cover us down, then reached down again and began to wank me very slowly.  My semi-dormant prick woke and I bubbled my fourth load of the day over him.  I reached for the towel lying between and tenderly wiped up the few drops of spunk I'd had left in me which were now on his thigh.  He lay on his back as I held his prick with two fingers and thumb and slowly, so slowly, raised him to an immense orgasm, which, like mine, was relatively dry.

     I woke next morning content, relaxed and certainly not in a frame of mind to essay a run.  I luxuriated in the snugness of being young and horny and being able to be raised to heights of ecstasy.  As I lay contemplating this Rhys snored on.  I crept out of bed and as quietly as possible opened the door, went the short distance along the corridor, opened the door to the next room and  padded across to the bed where the two sleeping figures were as close as possible.  They too looked relaxed and peaceful.  I couldn't resist it.  I bent over gave each a loving kiss on the forehead.  Matt grunted and turned slightly but didn't wake.  He murmured “Nice” and was comatose again.  Alun didn't stir except to nuzzle his chin against Matt's shoulder.  I slithered out of the room and returned to bed.

     What I had noticed was that I didn't have the usual Jacko erection.  I also noted, although my prick had been well used the past two days, it wasn't aching, it just seemed to have a slight warm glow.  Eight times.  If I kept that up for the week I would certainly break Pat Halloran's record.  But could I?  I remembered that although that fourth climax yesterday was colossal I had spurted almost nothing.  Still, the feelings were there.

     I washed and dressed and went downstairs just as Grandpa emerged.  I helped him let the chickens out.  He asked if I thought the boys would like a day in Chester today and, if so, he would  take us to lunch at the British Restaurant.  I must have look a bit bemused but then remembered having seen signs for one in Kerslake.  He said he often had lunch there and although there was a price limit he was certain we boys would be well-treated.  He also said all the news that morning was about the attempt on Hitler's life.  He said he hoped it was a sign the War would soon be over.  I couldn't have agreed more.  My friends with fathers and brothers away, not knowing their fates was too horrible to contemplate.  I think I was very much affected by what I knew about Piers and Miles in the last war and those Old Boys of the school who were mentioned by the Head at assembly as having been killed or were missing in action.  My feelings of contentment were shallow compared with the worry and sorrow others must have.  I wanted to talk to Grandpa about Piers and Miles but I couldn't.  I listened as he recounted what he had heard on the early morning news and was glad that things were happening.

     As he collected the eggs I went back upstairs and gently woke the slumberers.  All were enthusiastic about the visit.  My cousins loved their Grandpa and we all looked forward to lunch anyway!  We breakfasted and appeared quite smartly dressed at half past eight at the garden gate.  We marched in a body along the lane much to Grandpa's delight and I recounted to my cousins' and Grandpa's amusement my encounter, that is my pre-Assembly encounter, with Henry Gale.  Matt said I had been very brave and he admired my courage.  Grandpa said exactly what I had thought, he was only another boy but one who had been given authority.  When you are given authority you shouldn't misuse it, or abuse it.  He said I had acted correctly if unwisely perhaps, in terms of my safety, but that was incidental to the stand I had made. A very lawyer's reply but I knew what he meant.   I couldn't say in this company about my other encounter, but I did say I thought that underneath the bluster Henry Gale was OK.

     We had a morning exploring Chester and looking at the Cathedral and the grounds which were all sandbagged.  The half-timbered houses were all protected as well but we still found plenty to look at.   I bought a postcard to send to Ma and Pa and noticed Alun and Rhys in a huddle over the ones on sale a bit later.  We arrived back at the office at twelve sharp as instructed.  I remembered Miss Creech, the very alarming, austere-looking secretary, with her hair tied back in a severe bun.  She was kindness itself and had been with Grandpa's firm since she left school countless years before.  Also in evidence were the twin Chief Clerks, the Batchelor twins and bachelors as well.  They must have been in their fifties then and still lived with mother.  They were so efficient and kept the firm going so that Grandpa could see his most important clients while they dealt with the hoi polloi - at least that was what Rhys told me in bed that night.

     Lunch was good.  It was the first time I had tasted a real Woolton Pie which Pa always complained tasted like stewed cardboard in Plaster of Paris at the labs.  Ma said if you used proper vegetables and imagination it was fine.  This was more than OK.  I should know.  I had three helpings, much to everyone's amusement and the praise of the elderly waitress who said I reminded her of her son!   We thanked Grandpa profusely, who then passed over a half-crown each, before we left for the station.  He said he had to get back to the office to earn the money he had just handed over!  I also learned that Rhys was ear-marked as the next generation of Thomsons to become a lawyer.  He said on the train back he was going to study Law at University as soon as he could depending on what happened about the War.  He was now going into the second year of the Sixth Form in September and was taking English, Geography and History at Higher School Cert.  I said Matt and I would be taking School Cert next year and I hadn't decided what to do next.  Rhys said Matt had told him he wanted to go into the Navy.  Matt then said he would have to go for interview for the Naval College some time next year.  His father would be very pleased as that would mean four generations of the Wards would have served in the Navy.  From his enthusiasm Alun was enjoying his apprenticeship.  It seemed from his tales he was somewhat of a ringleader but only in minor escapades.

     Grandma was waiting for us when we arrived back with news that Uncle Edward was coming on Thursday and was staying overnight as he was working on a case starting on Monday at Catterick Camp.  That place sounded familiar and I remembered that was where Eamonn and his friend were drill instructors.  She also had tea ready and I was ready for tea.

     Rhys and I were together that night as well.  We sucked once and wanked each other once and we both agreed that was a good end for such a perfect day.

                              *
     The next day we spent up at the quarry again.  All four of us had caught the sun quite a lot on Monday but all being dark-haired and without sensitive skins we were getting a bit brown already.  Rhys was particularly pleased as he had been told sunshine was good for acne so he was exposing his back to the sun as much as possible.  He was also in great spirits and kept cracking the most atrocious puns and telling the most awful jokes.  We threatened several times we would shut his row for him but he only retorted it would have to be one at a time as he couldn't get three cocks in his mouth at once, even if they only belonged to little boys like us.  We were too lethargic to retaliate.  We discussed all sorts of things and Alun told Matt about the parrot and the Tring poem.  I said I thought Uncle Edward seemed a very good sort.  He was obviously the boys favourite uncle.  As a bachelor he had often spent time staying with them in Cardiff and they adored having him there.

     We continued talking about what we wanted to do with our futures.  Rhys said Gareth was all set to join the steel industry as soon as he finished his Engineering course.  In fact, he had been told he would be in a reserved job and wouldn't have to join up.  He said it seemed that three generations were either engineers or lawyers as grandpa's younger brother had worked in mining but had been killed in a mining accident rescuing some fellow workers.  That meant I had the choice, Engineering or Law.  I said I didn't think I could be an engineer and I didn't particularly want to be a lawyer.  Rhys said I had to go to University anyway.  Pa and his father had been to Manchester and Uncle Edward at Cambridge.  Perhaps I should go there.

     Alun was giggling when he said this.  He said he would let Rhys tell me the poem.  Rhys raised his eyebrows.

     “Now Jacko, you know the reputation of people who go to Cambridge don't you?”

     I said I didn't.  He put on a very prim expression.

     “Well my lad,” he began, “`There was a young fellow of Trinity....'”   He paused and looked at Alun as if to shut up his giggling.
     “`There was a young fellow of Trinity,'” he began again,
     “`Who shattered his sister's virginity,
     “`He buggered his brother,
     “`And shagged his grandmother,
     “`And still got a First in Divinity!'”

     Alun's giggling was joined by hoots from us.  Not, perhaps for the grossness of the verse, but for the recitation.

     I asked, “Was Uncle Edward at Trinity?”

     A mock shocked expression passed over Rhys's face to be replaced by a beaming smile. “No, he was at Gonville, but I wouldn't put all that past him.  Gareth told me Uncle Edward had let slip about a special friend...”  Here he waggled his eyebrows, “....he had there, but I think, anyway, Uncle Edward was a real lad in his younger days.  Dad's always a bit wary if we are around and Uncle Edward starts telling his tales.”

     I said I didn't know him very well but he had been very pleased with my help over the translations.

     “You've got to do Languages at Cambridge, young Jacko,” was Rhys's immediate decision, “Bugger Engineering and bugger Law that's my advice, it's Languages for you.”

     I was silent for a bit then Rhys started again.   He turned to me.

     “You know Granddad said about seeing your Dad and ours in Macbeth, are you doing it for School Cert?”  I shook my head. “We did and there's some right dirty bits in it.  There's that porter who drinks too much and says it stops him shagging and wants to wee-wee, and then Macbeth says he's off for a wank.”

     “It doesn't say that, does it?” I asked.

     “Sure does,” said Rhys putting on a fake American accent.  He continued, confidentially, in his own voice, “Some of the Chapel lads were not very happy when we read it through, especially Mervyn Preece who old Dixon chose for the porter's part.   And I bet old Dixon did it on purpose `cause he's certainly not Chapel and likes a pint or two himself.   How does it go?”  He grunted and put on a deep voice with a marked Welsh accent. “`Drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things.... nose-painting, sleep and urine!'”  He looked at the three of us who were, for once, gazing at him intently.  We all chuckled at that recitation.

     He continued.  “`Lechery, sir,  it provokes and unprovokes; it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance.'”  He sneered at us.  “Like I said, it stops you shagging  - and then makes you want to piss.”  He looked at Alun.  “For your edification, brother dear, lechery means wanting to have it away, you know, getting it up and away, and urine is that yellow stuff that sometimes comes out of that appendage you have between your legs when it isn't spitting like a cobra.”  All this was accompanied by much wriggling of Rhys's buttocks on the grass and rather explicit hand movements to emphasize particular points.  Alun merely stuck out his tongue.  Rhys was always referring to his reputed stupidity but I knew Alun was bright in other ways.

     Rhys turned to Matt.  “And then Mr Macbeth's in bed with Mrs Macbeth and instead of giving her a length of pork sausage he says `Come we to sleep.  My strange and self-abuse...'  And you know what self-abuse is don't you Matt?”  Matt went bright red and it wasn't the result of the sun.  Rhys made the appropriate hand movements.  “And if you don't that cousin of mine sitting next to you will enlighten you because I know the pair of you are seasoned performers.”

     “Speak for yourself,” I said, knowing full well the meaning of the phrase, “What my friend Matt does in the comfort of his own bed is a matter for him and not for general discussion.”

     “Well said, young Jacko,” retorted the irrepressible Rhys, “We all do it, but it's never discussed, eh?  `Tis a phallus to be exposed' as the philosopher said.”  He looked at Alun, who did look a bit puzzled.  “Alun, dear boy,” he said in sepulchral tones, “Phallus means dick - a play on words, phallus - fallacy.  Oh dear, Dad's name is Dick - I shall have to mind what I say, won't I?”

     “What play are you doing?” he asked Matt and me after dodging a clod of earth that Alun had lobbed at him.

     “A Midsummer Night's Dream,” I said, “We've only read through the first part and it's difficult to know who's who....”

     Rhys snickered.  “...But it's full of filth.  There's that character Bottom, he's an ass which is only an old way of saying arse.  And he says he's got worms, or piles, or something, as he says he has such a tender arse.”

     This was certainly new light on `the greatest comic creation in English drama' as the late Mr Campion had described him.  I wondered who would take over our education from him?  My thoughts in a whirl returned to Rhys who had much more in store.

     “Gosh, and you know about donkeys?”  He didn't wait for a reply.  “They have big dicks and he gets to shag the Queen of the fairies who tells one of her little fairies that after that shag Bottom needs new bollocks.”

     My turn to look puzzled.  Rhys grinned.

     “Oh, come on, what else does it mean when she says she has a venturous fairy who shall
fetch him new nuts. And what are nuts then but those dangling bits like those...”  Here his voice rose in lyrical exposition.  “.....that hang below my brother's little winkle and provides him with the venom for his snake charming act!”

     We all had the giggles then, including Alun.

     “And that's not all,” continued Rhys, “There's that Thisbe...”

     “I know,” interjected Matt, “I had to read Flute the Bellows-mender and he's to be Thisbe.  Why old Campion...” He stopped.  “...Sorry but we heard he'd died suddenly just before the end of term,”   There was a moment's silence, then he continued, “Anyway I don't know why he chose me for that part.”

     “Have you got to the bit where they do the play?”

     We both shook our heads.  I remembered Bottom, i.e. Cleggy, reading the bit where the fairies had to scratch his ears but we hadn't got much further than that.

     Rhys chuckled again.  “You've got a treat, oh little Thisbe, you have to kiss Wall's arse and you've already kissed his balls.”

     Wall, Wall?  I wrinkled my forehead to get my brain cells working.  Wall?  I remembered the bit about someone talking through a chink in the wall.

     “Haven't you got to the bit where Thisbe says `My cherry lips have often kiss'd thy stones' - and that's an old word for the dangly bits I mentioned before isn't it?”  He looked around for assent and approval which were not forthcoming.  He wrinkled his nose.  “`I kiss the Wall's hole, not your lips at all',” warbled Rhys.  “See, just like this.”  He pursed his lips and held his left hand up with finger and thumb extended and held together.  He slurped a great kiss on the gap where thumb met forefinger.  “That was practice.”  He did it again.  “Opening night it'll be for real.”  He paused and grinned then fluted, “`O Wall, O sweet and lovely Wall, show me thy chink!'” He wrinkled his nose and snorted.  “What's that but that crevice my dear brother never shielded from view when he bent down to pick up the soap in the school showers?”  He grinned at Alun who stuck his tongue out at him.   “And not only that but Wall has to shoot his stuff as well as he goes off stage.”  He waited.  We were all agog, or partly agog!  “When he had his arse kissed it must have made him shoot a load `cos he says `My part discharged so'.  Very sensitive bit is that crack, ain't it brother dear?  Get's your part all excited, eh?  Manny Lewis told me that, eh?”  Another clod of earth missed Rhys.

     We did all manage a laugh.  It was entertaining and I was looking forward to reading the rest of the play.

     “Anyway,” I asked, “How do you remember all those quotations?”

     “I am doing English and I think I've got a good memory and I find it easy enough as we have to learn all sorts of bits of plays and poems.”  He snorted.  “I'm doing Romeo and Juliet as my special study play and there's some real dirty bits in that.”

     I think we were all getting a new slant on Shakespeare.  I knew someone had produced cut-down versions of he plays and I realised why.

     He was now in full flow.  “Opens with two lads, with one of them saying he's going to be cruel with the maids and cut off their heads, or their maidenheads - he actually says that.  Know what it means?”

     Both Matt and I shook our heads and Alun giggled.

     “Gosh, you two are so naive,” said Rhys, but with a twinkle in his eye, “Still you are only young lads.  I'd better tell you carefully.  You know what that thing between your legs is for?”

     “Yep, I do know it's not only to pee through,” I said, laughing, “We did learn that when we did about rabbits and making little rabbits.”

     “And what about young ladies, or maidens?” asked Rhys.

     “You need them, for...” started Matt, then stopped.

     “For what?”  Asked Rhys and completed it by answering the question, He lowered his voice. “For that delicate operation called....... fucking.  And when that young lady has the necessary part inserted for the first time she loses her maidenhead.”

     “But that's a town,” said Matt.

     We all burst out laughing.
     “True, but it's also what girls have got tucked away ready for the big night!”

     We contemplated that for a moment. Rhys then took up his narrative again.

     “Then the boys see another pair of lads and one tells the other to get his dick out.”  He sat up a bit and gestured theatrically.  “`Draw thy tool, here comes two of the house of the Montagues' and the other says `My naked weapon is out'.  You see, they were all set to have a bit of hanky-panky together with these other lads, but then they were supposed to be enemies.  But boys will be boys, I suppose, eh?”  He looked at his attentive audience. “There's another bit where someone tells the time and says to some old woman that the bawdy hand of the dial is now upon the prick of noon.  Prick in those days also meant on the point of,” he added in explanation.

     Matt laughed.  “Should be interesting if our other class has to read that play.”

     I looked at him.  4S, or 5S, as they would be after the summer holiday.  Why?

     He laughed again.  “There's Davy Noonan in that class and he's only got a little prick!  And I know whose hand's been on that!”

     I looked at Matt again, my eyebrows knitted.  Not me.  And I didn't think Matt.  I tried to picture Davy.  A freckle-faced quiet lad .  Who did he go about with?  I knew Tom was quite friendly with him but that was because they were both in the Boys' Brigade.  He'd never said he'd had a hand anywhere.  I couldn't picture his prick.  He had fair hair but that didn't help.  I suppose I had checked him out at some time but nothing stood (?) out, little or big!

     “Whose?” I asked.

     “Andy Symes,” he replied, “He lives next door and Andy wanted to know if I had but I hadn't but he said he had and Davy's wasn't anywhere near as big as mine.”

     Boastful Matt!  Still it would entertaining to hear the guffaws if those lines were read.

     “`Upon the prick of Noonan'” I quoted, “Should be a laugh.  Have to remember that!”

     “And who is Andy Symes?” asked Alun.

     Rhys's Shakespearian ramblings were forgotten as Matt launched into his tale of that afternoon last summer term.  Of course this led to discussion of how old we were when we found out we could first squirt with Matt winning by about a year.  I prompted Matt to tell the story of the visit to Fensham School and Alun and Rhys were very amused with the tale of Matt's disgrace at the hands, or balls, of Duncan Buchanan.

     I said I was very friendly with Duncan's brother and then recounted part of my last experience at Ulvescott with Tom and the finding of the hidden contraband.

     “Things happen to you at that place, Jacko,” was Alun's unwitting response to my tale.  I still wasn't brave enough to tell them all.

     Irrepressible Rhys was back again with more as soon as I had finished.  

     “Hey, Jacko, you're a bit of a mathematician so Matt tells me.”

     What was that, I wondered?

      Rhys held up his right hand first then, as he went on, raised the other, “Work out these, two inches, three inches, two at four inches, two at five inches, six inches, seven inches, eight inches, and finally, nine inches!   I'll give you a clue.  Think Shakespeare!”

     I gawped, I was at a loss.  I had mentally added them up but that was obviously not what Rhys was after.  Alun knew as his shoulders were heaving.  Matt didn't, he looked blank too.  I shook my head.

     “No idea?” asked Rhys.

     I shook my head again.

     “Better tell you then.  I gave you a clue.  Shakespeare, actually plays by Shakespeare.”  He held up his hand again and raised his first finger.  “Two inches, that's Much Ado About Nothing isn't it?.  D'you see, a two inch cock's not much use, eh?”  He didn't wait for a response.  He counted off a second finger. “Three inches is a Winter's Tale - we all know about cold weather shrinkage, eh Matt?  Yours was a bit smaller after that dip in the cold water Monday wasn't it?”  He held up two more fingers. “Two at four inches.  Well, they were the Tragedies of Richard the Second and Richard the Third.”

     There was an audible groan from both Matt and me. Alun laughed.

     “Gareth always called him Dick the Turd - he did that one at School Cert.”

     “Yeah, and he used to say `My lord, stand back, and let the parson cough'.”

     Both Matt and I looked blank again.

     “`Stand by and let the coffin pass'” said Rhys in explanation and raised a finger and thumb. “Right..., two at five inches can only be the Two Gentlemen of Verona.  Young gentlemen you see, still growing.  Like you two gents.”  He bowed his head towards us.  He held up one finger again.. “Let's see....  Six inches..... - any takers?  No?  Well, I've been told, Measure for Measure, that six inches is about the average for cock size.  Did you know that, young Jacko?”

     Matt and I both shrugged our shoulders.  I thought, if that was the average, then three lads here today were above average - and this young gentleman, as indicated, was still sprouting.

     Rhys leered at us.  Another finger was raised.  “Now I would say that seven inches is As You Like It.  I know from great experience that's what my brother desires, isn't it, brother dear?”

     What did he mean?  I wondered if he and Rhys fucked as I fucked Matt.  Alun wasn't playing ball.  He only stuck his tongue out.  I grinned to myself.  If he'd stuck two fingers up would he have meant “Fuck You”?  I would have to find some way of questioning him to satisfy my curiosity.

     “Last two coming up, He He.”  Another finger went up.  “Eight fine inches is necessary for The Taming of the Shrew.  That's enough to keep any young lady in her place!  And....  Last but not least.....  Roll of drums there, maestro, please!”   He waved both arms as if conducting an  imaginary orchestra.  “Sooooo.....  Nine inches is just a young lad's Midsummer Night's Dream!  You'd like one like that, eh, Matt?”

     Matt sniggered.  “Wouldn't mind,” he said.  I thought...., nor would I!

     Rhys hadn't finished.  “There's still another play, not by Shakespear this time.  Listen, six inches and twelve inches.  Name it!”

     All three of us shrugged our shoulders, even Alun hadn't heard this one.

     “Man and Superman, my dears,” he announced, “By George Bernard Shaw, if you didn't know.”

     We didn't know, but at least twelve inches was more than a dream.  More like a nightmare tucking than length into ones undies.  They liked that when I said it.

     Shakespeare was finished for the day.  The cool waters of the quarry called so we got our revenge on dear Rhys and his awful stories by dunking him several times.  We rolled him out on the grass and joined him and dried off together, laughing and giggling and tickling each other.  The cool water hadn't cooled our ardour and as I looked around at four aroused young bloods I felt Matt's familiar hand snake round my engorged, exposed tool.  My phallus was expertly jerked at the same time as a kneeling Rhys was brought to a staggering climax by his younger brother.  As soon as I had recovered I gave my friend Matt his first of the day too.  He leaned back against me as, with eyes closed, he moaned and groaned softly when his almost shrew-tamer flung out his answer to my challenge with four hefty squirts.


     It was Alun's turn to be with me that night.  He confided in me that he and Matt had got on very well and that Matt thought the world of me - I was lucky to have such a good friend.  We celebrated our friendship twice in perfect harmony.  Alun was, I think, my favourite cousin, he was so open and honest - but so were Rhys and Gareth - but he was just that nearer me in age, but was further in his development, and I craved to be like him.  I had muscular legs but Alun also had the beginnings of muscles everywhere, he was taller than me by several inches still, but he looked sturdy and his body felt solid when I held on to him.  He was very strong, he had lifted me effortlessly that first day.  I also wanted my cock to be his size too.  He must be fully grown in that area, if not, any further growth would make him outstrip both my friends Matt and Mike.

                              *
     Thursday morning I was awoken by Alun who prodded me awake and said he was coming with me for a run.  That was settled.  No slugging in bed for me.  We set off the other way and ran down into the village and passed some farm workers on their way into a field.  They gave us a cheery wave as we sped by.  Although Alun said he hadn't run as much as me he did do rugby training at the works gym and that was why he looked so fit.  When we got back the other two were up and about and helping Grandpa deal with the chickens.  We all said again how much we had enjoyed looking at Chester but today we were going off again to the quarry.  Grandpa said we had to be careful as the place was particularly dangerous because of the depth and a lad had been drowned there just before the War started.

     We took sandwiches again for lunch and set off.   Alun, however, sped off again down the lane towards the village.  On cross-questioning a blushing Rhys we found Alun had gone to post cards to his and Rhys's girlfriends.  News!  Girlfriends!  Naturally we wanted to know more.  This had to wait, though, until we got up to the quarry and it was only under more questioning that they divulged this aspect of their adolescent life.

     Rhys had long given up the idea of Myfanwy, he had now linked up with the sister of a friend at school.  Linked, meaning they had been to the pictures together as a foursome with the friend and his girlfriend.  Alun was in the same state of romance.  The sister of one of the apprentices who was mad keen herself on rugby and was an attender at matches.  Again, pictures in foursomes, plus discussions about rugby in this case, seemed to be the extent of their interactions.

     This was clear from what the boys then told us this was the extent of any sexual involvement.  They said all they ever got was a good-night kiss and a quick feel and then home to relieve their pent-up feelings with a good wank.  I said “Like Gareth?” remembering what I had been told at Christmas.   They laughed and said that was correct.  Gareth was smitten by Jennifer who refused entry to `the sacred portals' as Rhys put it so he, like they now, was in the same position, and all had to satisfy their desires in the age-old way of boys everywhere.

     “Bloody hell!” said Rhys with feeling, “I come home some nights with the bloody thing almost up to my armpits and if it wasn't for brother here and his willingness to help out a fellow creature I'd have many a solitary night.”

     Alun sniggered.  “Same here.  Bloody girls.  They're OK when you're with them.   Makes the old temperature rise but that's it.  Chop, chop, velly solly no can do.  I don't know why we bother.”

     “Only way to keep the population going,” said Rhys, “Got to meet `em and woo `em`cause if you don't marry sometime,  no more kids.”  He turned to me.  “What about you Jacko, got someone in line?”

     I shook my head and said I didn't know any girls and I was still only fourteen.

     Rhys laughed.  “Can't start too young.  You know Griffiths the Whopper....,” I nodded, the rugby-playing lad with the mighty tool, seventeen and married, “......well, he was shagging that girl he married when he was fourteen.  That kid of theirs was born two days after his sixteenth birthday, the day after he was married to her.”

     “Hey, Rhys,” Alun interjected, “I forgot to tell you, he told me a couple of weeks ago she's expecting again.”

     “There you are,” Rhys pontificated, “Get it away young and you're lucky, or unlucky as the case may be! That Romeo and Juliet.  She was supposed to be only twelve and he was fourteen.  There you are, Jacko, he shagged, was married and was dead at your age, so you're not too young.  At least for the shagging!”  I thought, thank you for at least that bit!  He smiled a wry smile.  “I don't want to be unlucky, I don't want to be married yet.  And I don't know about wanting kids.”  He brightened up a bit.  “You heard about the little kid whose parents bought him everything he wanted and so he was always asking for things?”  Both Matt and I shook our heads. Rhys laughed and Alun groaned.  “Well, his Dad had come home early from work and he was feeling..., you know?...., wanting it badly so he got his wife up to the bedroom and they were soon having a good old shag.”  He looked at Matt and me to gauge any response but we were both all ears.  He grinned. “Gosh, they were really going at it and forgot the kid would be home from school soon.  They were making a lot of row when the kid came in, he heard it and went upstairs to the bedroom and peeked in, and was really curious with what he saw so he was standing there, staring.  The father spotted him and panted out “What do you want?”. The kid said, “I wanna watch!”. His mother yelled out “OK dear, you can have one for your birthday next week, but go downstairs now and make us all a nice pot of tea!”.

     We all groaned but all Rhys said was there were plenty more where that one came from. Matt was silent for a moment or two.

     “Do you think our Mums and Dads do it?” he asked tentatively.  “I mean, I know they must have to have us, but after?”

     All three of us looked at him.  This was a great question.  If we boys were wanking and doing things every day, then....???

     Rhys was looking serious now.  “I suppose they must.  Griffiths the Whopper told a couple of us one day he looked forward to it most nights and I don't think he was having us on.”  He paused and shrugged his shoulders.  “I don't mind telling you I need to do it to myself regularly,....  You know that as well.....” We were all nodding assent, we were in the same boat!   “......so I suppose if I was married I'd need it just the same, but with my wife.....”  Another pause.  “....and I suppose our Dads are the same.”

     Gosh.  This was very much like the thoughts and questions I'd been having the past few weeks.  I said I'd been thinking something like that `cos of all the experiences I'd had with knowing about other boys.  I said it was obvious that boys everywhere did it.  And older brothers did it, or older cousins, here I looked at Rhys, so I supposed boys had always done it and did that mean our Dads must have as well.  And, if they did, they must want it as well when they were older even if they were married or not.  I said I'd seen Hans wanking at Ulvescott and he was twenty-two.  This caused Matt's eyes to pop as I hadn't got round to telling him the whole tale of Tom and my discovery of Hans in the barn.  All three sat mesmerised as I recounted the episode.  Matt added that older men must also wank because of the incident in the lavs in Scotland.

     We were in a very serious contemplative mood as we sat and sunned our nude bodies and ate our sandwiches at lunch time.  Matt announced that he wasn't going to get married.  He wasn't interested in girls, especially if they were like his sister.  We laughed and Rhys said he had to wait and see, someone would probably come along one day and sweep him off his feet. Matt just repeated his general disenchantment with females and the conversation lapsed.

     About two o'clock Rhys said we'd better go back as Uncle Edward was arriving.  We splashed around in the pool a bit - notably without any of us getting over-aroused - and dried ourselves off in the sun.  It was very hot on the way down but we put our shirts back on as we approached the garden gate.  As we went through we could see someone sitting in a deckchair in the shade of an apple tree.  It was Uncle Edward.  Beside him was a low table with a soda syphon, a bottle and a glass.  He had a large brief case by his side and was busy studying a sheaf of papers.  He looked up as we approached and waved the papers at us.

     “Ho, ho, here come my nephews with their nut-brown knees!  What ho, fair princes?”

     I wondered how much of the bottle he'd imbibed?

     We stood in a row in front of him.  He cast his eye along the row, Rhys, Alun, me and, lastly, Matt.  “But you're not a nephew.  Much too handsome and upright to be a Thomson!  You must be the esteemed Matthew I've heard so much about!”

     Matthew blushed under his tan.  Rhys giggled.

     “Uncle Edward, behave yourself.  I bet Grandma doesn't know what's in that bottle.”

     “Hush, boy, not so loud.  I am just relaxing having good news to impart to all and sundry...”  He paused..., my family seemed good at pausing, “...and some very interesting news for young Jacko there.”  He waved the papers at me.  Then he put them down and stood up, quite steadily.  I grinned, his knees below his rather old-fashioned khaki shorts were certainly not nut-brown, nor even pink, but a gruesome pale white with his shins covered in a thick mat of black hair.  He turned to Rhys.  “Before I start, you'll find young Emrys in the kitchen guarding several bottles of pop.  Tell him to bring them out here with that other folder of papers, and you, Alun my boy, take the others and root in the potting shed for deckchairs for one and all.”

     Off we went, obeying the Major's commands and returned to find him with Rhys and his driver, who had delivered the papers for translation to me in Cardiff.  Whereas Uncle Edward was in a nondescript khaki shirt Emrys, as I now learned his first name was, was in an immaculate uniform with two stripes on each sleeve.

     Uncle Edward waved his arm at us.  “You know each other, Jacko, but this is no longer Trooper Jones, but Corporal Jones, and your dear grandmother has just sewn his stripes on for him.  A round of applause for Corporal Jones.”  It was his turn to blush but he was obviously used to Uncle Edward as he immediately took his jacket off.

     “Sir, your mother says there are some buns in the kitchen for the boys and I suppose she meant you as well.”

     Uncle Edward snorted .   “Elevated rank hasn't improved your manners with your superior officer, has it?  Matthew will go with you to fetch them and you can become acquainted on the way.”  He waved at the pair of them.  “Matthew meet Emrys.”

     While they were gone we attempted and managed, after several tries, to get the deckchairs assembled without danger of collapse.  They returned bearing a couple of plates of buns and glasses for the pop.  When we were all seated and munching or drinking Uncle Edward surveyed us and beamed.

     “My news first,” he began, he held up a hand as if to silence us.  “I am getting married at long last!”

     My, my.  I did a quick calculation, he was two years older than Pa, so.... he must be about forty-two.  Rather old to get married.  I think Rhys and Alun were even more gob-smacked than I was.

     “Golly!” expostulated Rhys, “Who is it?”

     “Hush boy, don't get so excited.  It's a lady named Della Cameron.”  Rhys nodded, he obviously recognised the name.  Uncle Edward went on in explanation.  “She is a widow.  Her husband was my best friend at Cambridge but he was killed on the retreat to Dunkirk.”

     I knew about Dunkirk when all the British troops had to get out of France because of the advancing Germans.  I racked my brains, that was some time in 1940, four years ago.

     “We're getting married in October, all being well and I don't find myself abroad.  And not only that, but you, dear boys, will have two ready-made cousins.”

     We were evidently rather taken aback.

     “Two?” asked Rhys hesitantly.

     “Yes, Lachlan and Andrew,” he said and looked at Alun and me.  “They're about your ages.  Sixteen and a bit and fourteen and a bit as far as I am aware. I was their godparent and they seem quite pleased I am being transformed into a parent.  You'll like them, they're with their mother at present at their house in Suffolk, but you'll meet them soon, no doubt.”

     “Where do they go to school?” asked the interrogator-in-chief Rhys.

     “Boarding-school. One for Sons of Officers.”

     “Posh!” said Rhys disparagingly.

     “No,” said Uncle Edward decisively, “They were offered places there because their Dad got killed.  They're just ordinary lads.  You'll like them.  We do.  Ask Emrys.”

     Emrys was nodding.  Uncle Edward went on.

     “I inherited Emrys from their father.  He was his driver and - I'm going to embarrass him - on that awful withdrawal they got shot up by a German fighter.  Angus got killed and Emrys here got a bullet in his side but kept on driving.  He got a Mention for that, eh Emrys?”

     Emrys blushed again.  “That's enough, sir,” he said.

     “Enough said, then” Uncle smiled.  “So, I shall have a ready-made family to look after in my old age.”

     “And when shall we be meeting them all?” asked Rhys.

     “You're all invited to the wedding and will get invitations and instructions in due course.  That includes you, Matthew, if you wish.”

     Matt looked pleased at that.

     “Now to other things,” said Uncle, “My second piece of news is for Jacko.  Pass me that folder you brought out, please, Emrys.”  A brown manila folder was produced and Uncle opened it.  “First though, Jacko, congratulations on nailing the abominable Higgs again.  His trial is coming up soon but I'm not involved this time as I am related to someone who has provided evidence.”

     I said I wasn't really involved, Tom had discovered the things in the cellar.  Emrys grinned and said about me being a material witness and Uncle Edward nodded.

     “Now to business,” he said.  “Jacko, when I was at Ulvescott in connection with that last business with Higgs I had a couple of meals with Mrs Crossley and was struck with the resemblance between you and those photos of her son Piers when he was a boy.”  I was thunderstruck. What was this leading too?   I must have looked a bit like a cod on a slab as I stared in wonderment at Uncle Edward.  He smiled back.  “Mrs Crossley said she had also been rather puzzled by it, too.  So, I decided to investigate and it's all very intriguing.   Anyway, while I was there I asked her where the General's ancestors came from.  She said as far as she knew his father and grandfather had been in the Army as well but she thought they originally came from Cheshire.  That was interesting because our family has been in Cheshire for generations.  I mentioned this to Dad when I was in the office visiting him one day and he said he was certain there had been a Crossley somewhere in our family.”

     I think we all sat up even more attentively after that.  Uncle Edward had a rapt audience.

     “Now, we have to go back a good few years.  To somewhere at the beginning of the 1800's.  Not far from here were two farmers, George Thomson and William Crossley, both of whom had large families.  In fact, I found out William had eight children, including two who died very young.  Still left him with six, two sons and four daughters.” He peered at the top sheet of paper.  “Yes, his eldest son was William too, and he married a young lady named Margaret Wright.  He obviously didn't want to be a farmer so his father bought him a commission and he became Lieutenant William Crossley of the 4th Dragoon Guards.  And, if I'm not mistaken, he was the grandfather of the old General, Piers' father.”

     He looked at us to make sure we were listening.  We were.

     “As I said, Farmer Crossley had a big family and who should his darling youngest but one daughter marry?”  He paused for dramatic effect.  “None other than the youngest son of farmer Thomson, who was a young lawyer's clerk in this fair city of ours.  So all us young... and not so young, ...Thomsons are related to the Crossleys.”

     He waited, with a satisfied smile on his face as the bit of hubbub at this news subsided.

     “But,” he said looking at me intently, “The plot thickens.  As I said, Farmer Crossley had a big family and there wasn't much young ladies could do in those days except be dairy maids and  become old spinsters and look after aged parents.  But some did get away.  Farmer Crossley's youngest daughter..”  He looked at a second sheet of paper.  “...Charlotte Ann, became the companion to a lady nearby, much more upper-class but unmarried, who liked travelling.”  He stopped a moment.  “I may be embroidering this a bit but I have to thank one of the admirable Batchelor brothers who has such a great knowledge of things which have happened in the firm over many years.  It's surprising how often old deeds or old Wills have to be consulted from our past records.  Anyway, he heard me telling Dad about the Crossley name and he delves into the depths of old boxes because it also rang a bell with him too.  He found the Will of old farmer Crossley so that's how I knew about the sons and daughters.  But, he also found another document...”

     I was looked at again.

     “What was your mother's surname before she married your Dad?”

     I thought hard.  I knew it.  “Fontane, F..O..N..T..A.N..E.”  I said authoratively.

     Uncle Edward smiled triumphantly.

     “Back to the story, then.  Miss Charlotte Ann Crossley journeyed to Paris as the paid companion of this lady and while there met a young French student.”  He lowered his voice.  “They dillied and they dallied, with a bit too much of the dallying, because within a short while...” Here he raised his voice.  “....Miss Charlotte Ann Crossley became Madame Charlotte Ann Fontane.  Arnold Batchelor found a copy of a  marriage settlement drawn up at the end of 1844 just before the birth of their son, ....wait for it, ...Jacques Fontane!”

     I sat even more open .mouthed.  Astounded, flabbergasted, knocked for six, pole-axed, bewildered, you name it.  Was I related to Jacques Fontane?  I knew I was!
     Uncle Edward wasn't finished.  “I telephoned your mother last night and she said she remembered her father talking about his English grandmother.  You look amazed, so is your mother!”

     My thoughts were rushing around.  It suddenly became clear.  I was related in two ways to Piers.  I thought hard.  We were both descendants of old William Crossley, he from a son, me from two daughters.  I was fully related to Piers on two strands!   A second thought struck me.  Tony Marcham and his father were related to Piers by the marriage of two sisters - Mrs Crossley and Tony's other grandmother and, although Mr Marcham and Piers had been cousins it was only on one strand.  Perhaps this was why Ulvescott seemed so good to me.  But, Tom and his strange behaviour.... and Bran, the dog.  The flood gates opened.  I told them everything, except what Tom was actually doing, just that he seemed to be in a dream and I was Piers and I had found connections with Piers' friends in his diaries.  I told them about Bran and the strange way he had led me to the grave and had howled when the lads were manhandling me.  Matt was sitting next to me listening intently.  When I finished he put his hand out and grasped my arm.

     “I've always though Ulvescott belongs to you!  I love being there with you, it's as if you are home. And  Bran thinks so, too!”

     Another person who had detected something.  And what about the dog.  He was a descendant of Piers' own dog.   I couldn't help it.  I wept.  The three boys leapt up and knelt round me.  A very efficient Emrys came over as well and handed me a large handkerchief.  I sniffed and snivelled and composed myself.

     “Is all that true?” I asked Uncle Edward.

     “I think so, it all seems to fit.  Look!”  He held up two photographs.  One was of Piers aged about eleven.  The other was one of me taken during my last year in Junior School which had been on Grandma's table in the drawing-room with her collection of photos of the family.  We were both dark-haired, our eyes looked similar and our noses were the same shape as were our chins.  We could have been brothers, if not twins.

     “One other thing,” said Uncle, “Mrs Crossley told me Piers had a strawberry shaped birth mark half way up his inner thigh on his right leg.....”

     I gasped and drew up the right leg of my shorts.  My strawberry shaped birth mark caused them all to gasp too.  I howled this time.  I couldn't help it.  I cried out how cruel it was for Piers to have been killed in that rotten War.  How cruel for his friend Miles to die as well.  I was really distraught.   Kind, kind Alun and kind, kind Matt put their arms round me to comfort me.  I looked at Uncle Edward through tear-soaked eyes.  He was clearly upset as well.  I stammered I was sorry.  It was a wonderful story and I knew it was true.  He was to forgive me for acting like this.  I was very grateful to him for solving a great mystery for me.  I couldn't thank him enough.

     I was better then. There was a general hubbub as the boys looked at the documents and a crudely drawn family tree.  Uncle Edward passed me a copy of the marriage settlement and I read that William Crossley had settled the sum of five hundred pounds on his daughter Charlotte Ann on her marriage to Jacques Fontane, student of medicine at the Sorbonne in Paris.  Uncle Edward explained that five hundred pounds was a lot of money in those days so Charlotte Ann must have been a very favourite daughter not to have been cast out without a penny.  I asked if I could have all the bits and pieces and he said the admirable Miss Creech was going to type it all up and I could have all the evidence so far before I went home.  He would try to find out more but we would probably have to wait until the war ended to check all the French connections.

     I was in a whirl all evening.  Grandpa and Grandma had to hear the story several times.  In fact, Grandpa had come home with  typed-up copies of both the old farmers' Wills.  I read about my two sets of ancestors and when we went to bed that night Alun and I perused them again as we were both descended from these two so long ago.


     I felt very happy in bed with Alun that night. We drew out each other's boy-cream three times, the first time quickly and urgently but the second and third times more slowly but just as passionately.

     After the second time Alun nuzzled my ear and whispered, “When I get married I hope whatever we do will be as good as this.”

     Dear, dear Alun.  He said `we' so I knew that he would share his wonderful nature equally and completely with whomsoever the fortunate wife was.

*
     My first thoughts when I woke next morning were about my forebears.  What had they been like?  I giggled to myself about the randy young French student.  He had only been nineteen according to the settlement when he got married and barely twenty when his son was born.  Charlotte Ann had been twenty-two  I wondered what had been the attraction?  Did he have a nice-sized prick?  Gosh, I thought, he must have wanked as a lad and then he was a father at such a young age.  Not so young as Whopper Griffiths.  Oh, God!  Now I had a hardon and Alun was fast asleep with his back to me.  I willed my cock to go down but the more I tried the more rigid it seemed to get. As I tried to get comfortable by turning towards Alun my stiff prick ended up sticking into his arse-crack. I must have given a couple of involuntary thrusts as in the end a muffled whisper came from Alun.

     “For God's sake, Jacko, are you at it all the time? You're not going in there. It'll hurt without anything and I haven't got the jar here.”

     Oh!  My cousin had been penetrated.  When, where and by whom?  I lay still and Alun dozed on.  Actually it was quite comforting just lying there with my rod nestling between his buttocks.  I snuggled up against his back and dozed as well.

     I was awoken by Alun as he turned in the bed and enveloped me in a vice-like hug.

     “You're a sexy young hound, Jacko,” he mumbled almost reiterating what Mike had said.  He reached down and gripped my rampant tool and began to work my foreskin up and down. “Fuck me.... pardon, you nearly did just now, I'll have to be careful I don't bend down to tie my shoe laces with you behind me.”  He tweaked my cock again, then stopped.  He put his mouth close to my ear.  “Have you done it that way?”  I nodded slowly.  “Thought so,” he said, “There's not much you haven't done is there?”

     “I don't know,” I whispered back, “I've only done things others have wanted me to do.”

     “D'you fuck Matt?” he asked.

     I nodded again.

     “Has he fucked you?”

     I shook my head.

     “Didn't think so.  I bet his tool would hurt, that size.”

     I whispered that I'd asked him, but he hadn't wanted to, but he liked it himself.

     Alun nodded as if in understanding.  Then, “Have you been fucked?”

     I didn't mind telling Alun.  I nodded.

     “So have I,” he whispered
.
     We lay and confided in each other.  My adventures with Tony, Roo, Mike and Tom and his with Rhys and a friend at school.  This friend, a year older, had fucked him once when he was fourteen and he'd fucked the fifteen-year old in return.  Then he'd told Rhys and the two of them had experimented several times until Rhys had complained of soreness.

     “It's a pity I've got to go home tomorrow I would really like us to do it.” he said with feeling.

     “Tonight,” I said decisively.

     That Friday passed very quickly.  We waited in the garden in the morning until Uncle Edward, in his Major's uniform, went off in the car driven by a very soldierly-smart Corporal Emrys Jones .  I thanked Uncle Edward profusely for all he'd done and he said it was quite a tale and Mrs Crossley would be sent all the details as well.  After that we boys spent the rest of the day at the quarry and in one bout of rough and tumble I found myself straddling Rhys.  He retaliated in the only way he could and my spunk soon spattered all over his chest to the amusement of the other two who then demonstrated their own prowess while I gave Rhys a return match.

     That night we had a real farewell dinner.  Grandpa said he was so pleased to see his grandsons - and he included Matt, as he said he was like one of the family.  As the boys had a train journey back we decided to go to bed early so they could rest!  A good ploy, because by half past nine both Alun and I were in bed having cleaned ourselves externally and, as far as possible internally, going over the adventures of the past week.  We lay and caressed each other as we spoke and in the intervals nibbled at each other's ears, or licked each other under the chin, or just touched a nipple which, for me, sent a peculiar frisson down my spine.

     I had noted as we prepared for bed that Alun had procured from somewhere - the back of the airing cupboard I expect - an old piece of towel, as well as a small jar of Vaseline.  As we got into bed he explained he'd found that at the back of the bathroom cabinet and it must be pre-war!

     We had been talking and feeling each other for some time when Alun nuzzled my ear.

     “I'm all ready, Jacko, I want you to fuck me, please,” he whispered and kissed my ear. “I want it slow and I want all of you in me.”

     He reached out and got the piece of towel and put it between us.  I moved away so he could position himself over it.  Slowly he turned onto his back and held his arms out to me.

     “Lie on top of me first, Jacko, I want all your weight on me.”

     I manoeuvred myself carefully on top of him.  He put his arms round me and hugged me tight.  I nestled my head into the side of his neck and luxuriated in the hardness and the tenderness of his body against mine.  I was stretched out down his body a bit so our steel-hard shafts were lying side by side and, as he moved slightly on the bed, they rubbed together sending more peculiar waves of pleasure deep into my groin.

       After a few minutes of this quiet pleasure he stirred and reached out again and found the jar which he then gave me.

     “Let me open my legs and you can feel me down there underneath.  Put some of that in me.”

     I must have hesitated.

     “It's OK, we're both quite clean down there.”

     This was true.  We had washed ourselves by sitting partially over the wide sink and liberally soaping and lathering that vital area.

     I dipped my finger in the jar and found his pucker.  I smeared a bit of the jelly round it and then ventured a finger against the opening.  My finger went in easily and I ended up with two fingers up to the second knuckle.

     “Put it in,” He whispered as he raised his legs further either side of me.  I withdrew my fingers and reached down and guided the end of my rod until it touched his now slippery rose-bud.  I pushed slowly and steadily and my prick flowed through what I thought had been his tight ring a moment ago.  There was barely a murmur from Alun who was relaxed and just mumbling softly as he held his hands on my buttocks urging me on.
     “Oh God, Oh God, Jacko, wonderful, just fill me up, please!” he whispered and moved his hips slightly as I pressed the whole of my prick into him.

     “Leave it there just a minute,” he pleaded, “I just want to feel you in there.  Oh, it's so lovely, Jacko.”

     My prick was held tight and I was aware it was pulsing slightly.  Perhaps my heartbeat but the firmness with which I was held was so, so pleasurable.

     “Fuck me now, please....  Do it slowly.   Oh...  Oh... Oh...”

     Each time I withdrew a little and pressed back he let out an involuntary 'Oh'.  No more than thirty or so when I knew I couldn't hold on any longer.

     “I'm coming,” I whispered.

     His hands left the globes of my buttocks and he encircled me round the waist with his strong arms.  I came.  One last full thrust and I came, and came, and came.

     Alun was sobbing softly and I was close to tears as well.  I'd fucked other of my friends but this had been so, so intense.  Perhaps as I was developing so these feelings did become more intense.  That time I had fucked Mike I thought all my insides would  end up deep within him.  Tonight I knew all of me was deep inside Alun.  Not only my prick and my spunk but a deep, deep love of one person for another.  My strong, hunky cousin.  We both knew it as he nuzzled my cheeks and neck as I lay panting on him.  I put my face against his and licked up the salty tears.  We lay for ages, my hard length still in him.

     “I have never felt like that before,” he finally whispered.  “You were so gentle and loving.  Keep it there.”

     He held me against him, hugging me and at the same time wriggled his hips.  He kept up this movement for several minutes and I felt those familiar feelings again but now almost a hundred-fold.  I couldn't tell him, I just gurgled and my spunk flooded out a second time.  I almost collapsed on him, the feelings had been so intense.  I put my arms under his strong shoulders and hugged him as tightly as I could.

     “Oh, Alun, I've never felt like that before either.”

     My prick slowly softened and I withdrew.  We lay on our sides for ages just savouring each other's presence.  Alun whispered there was second old piece of towel I could wipe myself on.  My prick was very sensitive and it was almost painful to rub even the soft towelling against my shaft.

     As we cuddled together I knew I wanted Alun's big prick in me.  He had taken me in quite easily.  I suspect he and Rhys must have done it often to get him so relaxed.  I would need to be relaxed.   I felt for the jar.

     “Please, Alun, I want you,” I whispered, passing him the jar.

     He shook his head.  “I'm too big for you.”

     I giggled, “Don't boast!”  I became serious and my tone of voice was quite emphatic.  “I want you and you'll have to try very carefully.  Yes, you are big, but I want you, please Alun.”

     I think he was somewhat reluctant but I pre-empted any further protestations by sliding away from him and lying on my back and raising my knees.  He took the hint and leaned over me and licked my lips and pressed his tongue into my mouth and we duelled with our tongues as I felt him anointing my hole with the contents of the jar.  I relaxed as much as possible but did wince slightly as his finger entered me.  He massaged inside me for some time so my second wince as a second finger probed and pushed in too was less than the first.  I felt him stretching my muscles as he pushed in and opened his fingers.  I felt a slight burning sensation as he touched something very sensitive in me.  He must have worked on me for the best part of ten minutes and I was getting more and more aroused again.

     “Open you legs wide,” he whispered as he positioned himself between them and loomed over me.  “Please, Jacko, tell me if it hurts and I promise I'll stop.”

     I was determined it wasn't going to hurt me and as I felt the tip of his glans touch my stretched hole I lifted my legs and locked them round his waist.  His movement against me, and my movement giving him full access, was sufficient.  I was so relaxed, the head of his penis just pushed through a fully yielding muscular ring.  I winced after entry, not at the time.  A delayed reaction - too late to prevent him - I didn't want to anyway.  He was in.  He moved his hips slowly and pulled out slightly then pressed in again, but a bit further.  He did this only about six times, when, with almost a cry of anguish, he pressed down hard as his prick pumped out his spunk and the added slipperiness let him fill me with no hurt on my part.

     He did collapse on me.  At least he would have fallen heavily onto me except my tightly entwined legs slowed his progress.  He was weeping openly again.  Hot, salty tears dripped onto my face as he rubbed his cheek against mine then locked his lips on mine.  We tongue-fucked as we held each other tightly.  I couldn't take all his weight, so, still impaled on his rod, with one leg under him, we moved onto our sides.  In this position he fucked me again.  I wanted it and it was so sensuous.  I was clawing at his back almost with the sheer joy and ecstasy of it.  Time passed, five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes, who knows?  He fucked on and on, that first load of boy-cream lubricating me so thoroughly it must have been very slippery for him.  He rolled me onto my back again and I knew all his nearly seven inches were in me as, with a cry now of joy, he shot his second load.  I pressed my mouth to his, I didn't want inquisitive cousins, friends or, most definitely not, grandparents coming to investigate the noise.

     He withdrew as his prick softened and he wiped himself.  We went to sleep with his arm across my shoulder and me cupping his once spunk-laden balls.

     I woke in the morning to the sensation of him feathering his tongue against my lips.  I was still holding his now slack, pendulous balls.
     “Time to move, Jacko.” he whispered, “Rhys and I've got to catch that nine o'clock train.”  He waited a moment as I aroused myself slightly.  I weighed his balls in the palm of my hand.  They were bigger than mine.  “Oh, Jacko,” he whispered, “If only I felt like that every time.  Last night, you were wonderful...., If only.”

     I took my hand away and caressed the back of his head with the other.  “I love you, Alun, you're my favourite cousin,” I confessed, “I love Gareth and Rhys too, but you're my special cousin.”

     He grinned down at me.  “And you're my special, not so little, cousin.  In fact, I think you'll be my huge cousin one day.”    He bent down and feathered my lips again.  “Sorry I cried on you last night.  I was really very happy, just a bit sad about some things.”

     I wanted to know more but he was in a bit of a hurry.  We went to the bathroom together and washed side by side in the big sink.  As I finished drying my face and was picking up my comb I plucked up courage.  “Why were you sad as well?” I asked.

     Our gaze met in the mirror above the sink.  He put an arm round my bare shoulders.  I put an arm round his waist and then dropped it to fondle his muscular buttock.  He smiled and wriggled the muscle under my hand.

     “If I tell you it's our secret, eh?”

     I nodded and he knew it was our secret.

     “You know I said Rhys and I had done that,” - he squeezed my shoulder - I nodded - “Well, he used to let me do it to him but then he said it hurts.”  He stopped and turned me and gazed down straight into my eyes.  “You know I said we wank each other after seeing the girls home?”  I nodded again.  “It's not really true, Rhys does that to me but... ...he makes me let him fuck me.....,” It was obviously difficult for him to tell me.    “...Every Saturday night.” His shoulders heaved a bit but he composed himself.  “I like it, but that's why it was so wonderful last night.   You didn't say no.”  He bent down a bit and kissed my forehead.  “Thanks, Jacko, you're the best cousin anyone could have!  I love Rhys, he's my brother, I'd let him do anything.  Perhaps he's a bit selfish but I can't tell him.”

     I wondered if I dare drop a hint.  I couldn't though without Alun's permission.  We had a secret.  Rhys was a bit brash but he was kind as well.   I wondered why he had stopped his brother?  Did it really hurt?  Alun had been so gentle with me.

     Alun must have read my thoughts.  He squeezed my shoulder again.  “Don't worry about me, Jacko, it'll work out.”  He prodded me in the ribs and laughed.  “Come on, we'll have to hurry if we want some breakfast and a growing boy like you can't miss that, eh?”

     Grandpa and Grandma came to the gate to see the boys off.  Matt and I carried a bag for each of them as they had chickens' eggs to carry as well with admonitions to be careful with them.  We said fond farewells on the platform and Alun squeezed my hand hard as we shook hands as a 'good-bye'.  The train puffed round the bend right on time.  As Matt was helping Alun stow the bags Rhys shook my hand and had a great twinkle in his eyes.

     “Remember Jacko, if you read the Tempest,  it's not Ariel,” he lowered his voice to a confidential whisper, “His name's really 'Hairy-hole'  - just like Alun!”  He winked, jumped on the train just as Matt jumped off.  Rhys slammed the door and both boys stuck their heads out of the open window and waved as the train slowly moved off.

     As we slowly walked back we were very quiet.  Both of us had had an interesting, nay, a revealing and momentous week.  Grandpa and Grandma were eager to make certain we were not depressed being on our own.  They needn't have worried.  We had plenty to do and discuss.  During that day I told him about Alun and Matt let me into his secret.  The night before Rhys had fucked him and... wait for it!... he had fucked Rhys.  The first time he'd ever done it and Rhys had told him he was now no longer a proper virgin.  Well, well, well, if Rhys had had that mighty pole and enjoyed it, there was hope for Alun yet!

     We spent the afternoon giggling about Matt's new condition of non-virginity and that moment when they heard Alun call out but couldn't  investigate as they both had their mouth's full.  Further merriment came when we had to dispose of not only our two bits of towel but two pieces Rhys had rooted out from somewhere for their foul purposes.  Luckily, the gardener had left a bonfire smouldering in a far part of the garden so they blazed up quite nicely.  I whispered to Matt I didn't know what kindled the blaze so well, the petroleum jelly or our hot spunk.  Oh crumbs, Matt said they'd come three times each last night so there was plenty wiped off on the towel - still I couldn't think those three were in total any more intense and pleasurable than our twice each.

     The next fortnight passed very happily.  On the couple of days when it rained and we couldn't explore the hills and the copse below, we played solitaire with Grandma.  I learned a lot more about her 'boys', my father and his brothers.  Grandpa had also drawn up more of the family tree.  I was intrigued how the lawyers down the generations had never gone from father to first son.  Grandpa's elder brother had become a clergyman but had died when he was only forty or so from tuberculosis.  I knew from what had been said that his younger brother had been an engineer and been killed in a mining accident.  Uncle Edward was a lawyer and was a second son.  Rhys was intent on being the next generation and he was a second son.  Strange.

     Matt and I slept together again.  While the cousins were there we had slept with them.   Matt was very complimentary about Rhys.  He said he'd had very long talks with him and he had sorted out lots of problems Matt had.  I knew Matt was a worrier and I'd had experience of some of his problems.  He told me quite candidly that he and Rhys had discussed the fact that Matt couldn't be bothered with girls.  In fact, that Matt wasn't interested in girls.  In fact, that Matt thought he was only interested in boys.  Rhys had said he knew two boys at his school who were boyfriends when he was in the Fifth Year and they had the mickey taken out of them at times but they were good lads and it had all died down after one of the Sixth Formers had shut a couple of the mouthy kids up by saying he knew things about them their mothers wouldn't like to know.  Matt said to me he hadn't found a boyfriend yet but would do one day.  I wondered what a boyfriend did that we didn't?  We were friends, great friends, but there must be a difference?

     As I noted to the privacy of my diary that fortnight passed happily and sometimes energetically.  We certainly released each other's pent-up urges at least twice, sometimes three times and on two occasions, four times a day.  With much palaver and surreptitious turning-out of cupboards, Matt found some more old pieces of towel and insisted I fuck him.  I did, on five glorious, superb, stupendous occasions.  I didn't exactly howl at the moon but one night I bit his shoulder when thrusting at him doggy-fashion and he had to explain to Grandma, who saw the marks on his bare shoulder next day in the garden, that he'd been hit by a branch when in the woods.  Bare-faced, or rather, bare-arsed liar I called him that night and fucked him facing him, with his hand over my mouth, struggling to breathe through my nose.  Twice I fucked him deep in the woods and once he threatened to shove a handy piece of wood up my anal orifice if I shouted out and the gamekeepers or whatever came running to put an end to the wounded animal...  He wouldn't fuck me.  I tried by offering myself, I even tried to insist, but he always refused.  He said he just preferred being wanked or sucked, especially being sucked.  He stroked my back as he said I could do anything I liked to him.  He was content.  More than content.

     So the holiday came to an end.   At the end of the three weeks we were more than nut-brown - we were mahogany brown, and that was all over.  Most days we sunbathed in the nude for several hours, toasting our lithe and youthful bodies and chiding each other not to let our dicks get sun burnt.  We never saw another soul except on the roadway and especially not at the pool in the quarry.  Grandpa said the locals never went there as they said it was haunted by the drowned lad.  He never haunted us.  If he was there he must have envied the two happy lads, who lay naked beside and wallowed in the pool, at his tragic place.  On our last day there we picked a bunch of wild flowers, put them in a little damp hollow and thanked him for letting us share his quarry.