Aladdin's Awakening by Joel

About ten o'clock in the morning I was just contemplating a number of choices having just downed a large slice of bread and honey as a post-breakfast snack in the kitchen. These included, a) doing some of the mountain of homework set by unfeeling beaks, b) practising for a try at Grade Eight at Easter, or c) having a wank. I had just decided on the third option and was about to go upstairs to my room when the back doorbell rang.

“Yeah, I'm Jacko, come in,” I said, feeling my face go red at the same time. Whether this was from the realisation that if the bell had rung two minutes later I would have been in my bedroom, trousers round my ankles, tossing myself off, or, whether it was the sudden awareness that this was the Chris whose oh-so-revealing photos were upstairs in my hidey-hole.

I could see he was a bit tired so I suggested he sat down and I would make a pot of tea. He smiled appreciatively at that and I set to and put the kettle on the gas and rooted round until I found the precious store of tea. I also noted he seemed a bit restless and kept looking around as if he expected someone else to be in the house.

As I placed the cups and pot on the table I said I'd heard he'd been injured and asked if he was OK now. He smiled again and said he'd been struck by a bit of shrapnel which had lodged in the deltoid muscle on his left shoulder. He'd had the piece removed and the docs had patched him up but he wasn't able to fly again until they had tested his co-ordination as his left arm was still weak. He thought it was OK as it had happened in October but he wasn't able to get a message to his parents while he was in hospital in Italy and then found himself shipped back suddenly to England. He said he wondered if he might be put on training duties.

“Thank God for that!” he said with feeling, “I've had a few sleepless nights I can tell you.” He laughed too. “I clean forgot as I joined up pretty quickly even before my last term ended. I've been away all this time so first thing I did was look and there was nothing there. Thank God you've got it all.” He looked at me quizzically. “I suppose you've got it all?”

“Bloody Vaughan!” He looked around the room as if expecting Ma or Pa to pop out of the pantry. “Couldn't keep his prick in his pants, pardon my French!” He looked at me steadily as if he might be breaching a confidence or had gone too far with his colourful language with a much younger lad. He had decided, though, to tell me more. “Got himself into some trouble over a girl at the High School. They thought she was in the club.” He paused. “You know what I mean?” I nodded. “Anyway, Huggy said it would be best for him to join up and off he went. Then they found out it was a false alarm but he was already in training. Serve him right, he was always boasting! Still, he was a great pal and I met up with him at the base in Italy. He's flying out there, too, but a different squadron.”

“You cheeky monkey!” Chris said, but laughed. “It's OK, this was the only packet.” He pulled over the envelopes and the French letter packet and made a pile. “Better put all these on the boiler fire before anyone else sees them. You'd better tell Matt I know and all the things have been burned.”

I picked up the packages and went over to the boiler in the corner of the kitchen, opened the door and poked the things in. We watched as flames licked the brown paper then consumed the contents in a roaring fire. As I watched I wondered if I might tell him that his possible future brother-in-law beat him soundly in size of equipment. I thought I hadn't better. It was a nugget of information to savour!

He did blush then. “Oh, it's nothing,” he began and then saw the look on my face. You don't get a medal for nothing! “Sorry,” he said, “I was only doing my job.” I waited. “I got it the same time as I got shot at,” he said finally. “I suppose I'd better tell you. I haven't even told Mum and Dad everything yet.”

I asked him if he would like some more tea and he nodded. I boiled a bit more water and added it to the tea already in the pot. I daren't add more tea as it was rationed and I knew what would emerge after adding the water would be what was colloquially known as `gnat's pee'. I apologised and he laughed and said as long as it was wet and warm it would be OK.

“It all happened one day when I thought it would be a routine flight. A couple of us had been flying out looking for stragglers amongst all the Jerries retreating.” He grinned, “Bit like a sheepdog. They see us coming along flying low and they all get into ditches by the side of the road with their hands up and wait to be rounded up by our boys. Most look relieved when they're marched off.” He look a long sip of tea. “This day though, there were these groups well dug in. Luckily I saw some movement and guessed there were machine-gun nests. I shot up three before they had a chance to do anything but just as I flew over there was a fourth that opened fire and some of the rounds went through the wings and something hit my shoulder. I did a turn and got that lot and then managed to get back to base. I knew something had hit me but I wasn't really aware of it until they had to get me out of the cockpit.”

“Now don't get solemn with me, Jacko,” he said, “We all have to do our bit. Your Dad has done a lot more than me, you know! If it wasn't for people like him with brains we'd really be in the shit!” He saw my startled look. “Sorry about the expletive, but it's true. My Dad told me about those new shell casings and what they could do and he's working on some new metals at the moment. They produce the goods and we deliver them!”

He said he'd better be off. He thanked me for the tea and I thanked him profusely for the box of vegetables and also for his story and congratulated him again on the medal. He said he hoped we'd meet again before he had to return. He said again he had a foreboding he wouldn't be going abroad anymore but would be posted somewhere over here on training duties.

After he'd gone I sat and had another cup of tea and ruminated on what he'd told me. He was brave, no doubt, but he had been a schoolboy like me just those few short years ago. He was only twenty-two now and had spent four years away from home fighting some enemy. What enemy? I couldn't see Hans, nor Herr Vogel as enemies. I don't think they saw me, or Matt, or Tom and certainly not Mrs Crossley and Miss P as enemies, either. But then, there were Lachlan and Flea. Their father had been shot and killed when retreating towards Dunkirk. How does one reconcile all these things? I had to know more.

Dunc was standing there in khaki shirt and his Black Watch kilt. I stood and goggled. Not only was he kilted but he had red and black clocked long socks on and a great hairy black and white sporran, but the piece de resistance was, oh no!, a pencil-thin black moustache!! I couldn't help it, I was so pleased to see him and also rather startled by his appearance, I laughed.

“God Almighty!” he said, before I could even greet him, “You pair!” He pointed at his brother. “He did exactly the same when I was standing on the doorstep waiting to be let in! The pair of you should be put on a charge for insulting His Majesty's uniform. On other thoughts I think you both deserve a good thumping.”

He made as if to come at us. It was the wrong thing to do. The two lads he'd last seen together in June had grown in the intervening months. Also, both of us had been lifting weights assiduously and our upper body muscles were much more developed. Poor Dunc! Instead of getting us both in subjection across the bed he found himself lying on his back with Tom across his chest and me holding him down by his legs.

He was too, the few pulls on his prick had had an effect. There was no doubt, Second Lieutenant Duncan Buchanan, Black Watch, was experiencing sexual arousal! Tom was in his element. He had Duncan under his command now after all those years of not being able to retaliate fully. He pulled on the thickening object a few more times. Duncan was now getting rather worked up.

With that I did something I'd wanted to do for so long. I leaned down and, as Tom pulled down on Dunc's shaft and his foreskin unsheathed, I took the head of his penis into my mouth. Tom held onto the root with just a finger and thumb as I sucked and licked and Duncan writhed and moaned and finally shot a goodly load well into the back of my mouth. I kept his prick firmly in my mouth as I swallowed as much of his salty tasting cum as I could. I fished into my pocket and found my handkerchief which I draped round his prick as I let it drop from mouth. I swallowed again.

I don't think Duncan was in a fit state to disagree. He was still panting heavily from what must have been quite a tremendous orgasm. Both of us got up from the recumbent, dishevelled figure. I carefully drew the hem of his kilt down but I had confirmed a suspicion I had. Duncan had the shortest cock of my growing or grown friends and relations. If he'd told Matt that time his cock was about six inches then he was either boasting or had never measured it. His prick, though meaty enough in girth, was just on five inches long at a guess. But, my, he would have been a good candidate for Nobbo and Cleggy's data collection! He had certainly flooded my mouth. Those low slung balls were making plenty of sperm!

After that enlightening episode things became more normal. That is, with us two lads listening enthralled to Dunc's tale of how he had gone through training and ending up in Edinburgh in the most prestigious, in his opinion and ours seeing him once more tidied up and resplendent, Highland regiment.

From what we could get him to confess he must have really shone during training. So much so that the Colonel in charge of the training school had recommended him to his own regiment - the Black Watch - and Duncan was overjoyed at being singled out for this. He was acting as an Education Officer as he said quite a few of the young Jocks, especially from Glasgow and other cities, were badly educated but once he'd won their trust he found them to be great fun and very loyal. I said Billy had told us about his experiences with Scots lads in the barrack room next to him and Duncan confirmed that once they had a pint or two in them they were always fighting, even amongst themselves. He said there was a great difference between the strict Presbyterians and the others because they looked down on the unruly drunkards as they called them. I said it was a good job he hadn't resisted when we got him down as I would have had to give him a Glasgow kiss. He laughed heartily at this.

“Head butt, brother dear,” laughed Duncan. He looked at me. “Billy told you, no doubt.” I nodded. He grinned again. “Nasty. One of my lads came in for his lesson one Monday after drill and he had the two biggest black eyes I've ever seen. I didn't ask but he had difficulty even reading and he burst out that the fucking Sergeant had put him on a charge and it 'wis noo ma faut'. I let that pass as I'd twigged what must have happened when I remembered his name was Campbell. I just said 'Glencoe' and he nodded.”

“Glencoe, massacre of, sixteen hundred and ninety-two. The Scots have a long memory. I looked at the squad list and there was a lad in it named MacDonald. I just said 'MacDonald' and the lad nodded and looked pleased I knew. Not about MacDonald battering him but I knew Scots history.” He looked at us intently and smiled. “History is useful sometimes. Anyway, in sixteen ninety-two - William and Mary - ” he looked at me, I nodded - I knew Bank of England and I had a vague idea the Highlands had been mentioned. “- had an order for all clan chieftains to take an oath of allegiance and the MacDonalds were late. So they were massacred by their old enemies the Campbells at a feast. Didn't do the English crown much good....” He grinned. “...Och, you Sassenachs. But they do say that every Scot that leaves his country to go to England raises the intelligence level of both countries!”

That went over Tom's head, but I sat digesting it as Duncan continued with his tale. We found out his CO had given him a leave pass for Christmas as the Scots would be celebrating the New Year and he would be required to be back for duty then so they could have their leave. He'd caught a train and then hitched a lift arriving in Kerslake just before nine this morning. He had until the day after Boxing Day and hadn't sorted out trains to get him back to Edinburgh. That meant, of course, he would be joining us for Christmas Dinner!!

Christmas morning I was up bright and early rooting around in the kitchen. It must have been about half past eight and Ma and Pa weren't up yet when I heard someone coming to the back door. It was Tom with a sly grin on his face and carrying two large carrier bags. “Shh,” he whispered and nodded his head indicating we should go up to my bedroom. There he unloaded the contents of the two bags.

I must say neither of us had commented on that military attachment. I'd noticed when seeing other young officers in Kerslake that sporting a moustache, however straggly, was almost universal. Chris's attempt at a handlebar was brave. It didn't seem quite right though on his face but the photos of RAF officers in the paper always seemed to emphasize their hirsute appearance. Yep, I thought it a good wheeze! It was decided I would wear the Cameron one and Tom the spare Black Watch. Tom was away and off before Ma and Pa emerged.

When I announced the day before that there would be one more for lunch and it was Duncan, Ma had got a bit worried in case the large capon she had ready for the oven would be big enough. Pa and I were told to mind the injunction, FHB, `Family Hold Back'! He said there were plenty of vegetables thanks to Henry Gardiner and as long as I didn't stuff more than two roast potatoes in my mouth at a time he thought we would just about manage.

After breakfast we opened our presents. I had two books including a very large German dictionary, new socks and a saddle bag for my new bike. Then I was set to work to peel enough veggies to feed the five thousand while Pa checked that the festive table had been relaid to accommodate another hungry hunter before he disappeared off to the safety of his study. I finished my chores and was told to make myself clean and tidy ready for the guests who were scheduled to arrive at one o'clock. Tom arrived at half past twelve saying his mother had told him to make himself scarce as he was getting in the way. A good excuse as he was directed up to my room and we immediately set out to prepare ourselves.

After we had exchanged our reminiscences of the encounter with Duncan there was much more giggling as we shucked off our trousers and ordinary socks. The long socks were OK but tended to slip down until I remembered I still had the tagged garters I wore with my long grey socks at school until I went into long trousers. Two sets were found and socks were safely anchored. Getting the kilts on needed assistance. One part had to be buckled to the left and the other part came right over the front and buckled on the right and there was an ornate kilt-pin to be settled in, just right. My Cameron kilt was only a bit too big for me so the buckles were drawn up tight right to their innermost hole. Tom then threaded the sporran belt through the two loops and adjusted it so it hung just so. What with my pristine white shirt above with school tie and my black school shoes below I looked the picture of a very handsome young Highlander when I preened myself in front of the wardrobe mirror. That was until Tom deftly drew a black pencil-thin moustache on my previously unadorned upper lip. I was then a good caricature of a very young Army officer - or so I fervently hoped! As Tom stood back and surveyed his handiwork I completed the illusion by bending down and pulling off my underpants. I was now in the state of naked grace as befitted the true young Scot!

I helped him on with the Black Watch kilt. He was now just about as big as Duncan who was a bit thinner after the rigorous training. He looked magnificent and I guessed when he was called up he would volunteer for a Scottish regiment. He pointedly didn't remove his underpants saying he would be slaughtered if anything happened. I applied the crayon and the pair of us stood side by side and admired ourselves in the long mirror.

We heard Mrs Cameron and Duncan arrive and there was the usual excited babble of greetings. Ma and Pa hadn't seen Dunc so we assumed the extra excitedness was due to his appearance. We looked at each other and grinned and Tom led the way downstairs. The others were in the drawing room, standing, each with a glass of Pa's precious hoard of sherry. Ma saw us first as we entered the room and gave a startled little scream. The others turned and stared. Pa creased with laughter, Mrs Buchanan took a quick look and then shook with laughter. Poor Dunc didn't know what had hit him. He stared at us stony-faced until he just collapsed in laughter too. The ice was truly and fully broken. Pa thrust a glass of sherry at us both and nearly choked with laughing as he took a sip of his. Duncan wagged a finger at Tom as if to say `Watch it, lad!' and Mrs Buchanan, much to Tom's embarrassment, hugged him and gave him a peck on the cheek.

After two glasses of sherry each dinner was announced and I was sent into the kitchen with Pa to collect the veggie dishes. As we got into the kitchen Pa was behind me. He lifted the back hem of my kilt swiftly, laughed, and gave me quite a slap on my bare backside. I don't know which went the redder - the cheeks on my face, or the cheeks of my arse.

“Och, you're a true wee Scot, then,” he said with an abominable Scots accent and dropped the kilt. “You and Tom were marvellous coming in like that,” he said, reverting to his ordinary voice. “We played the same trick on their father on one of his birthdays down at the Rugby Club. Had to make do with tartan car rugs and scrubbing brushes for sporrans, then. You and Tom really look the part today, though.” He laughed. “Tom made us prove we were true Scots then - ” he dug me in the ribs, “ - and we all were, too!”

Dinner was marvellous. There was plenty to eat, even for me. There was wine too, so things got quite convivial. When we'd finished eating and were pulling the crackers Ma had made, we were watching Tom and his mother, on the opposite side of the table to Duncan and me, pulling one of them when Duncan suddenly dropped his right hand under the flowing white table-cloth. Next thing I knew his hand was on my bare knee, then it was running up the inside of my thigh under my kilt with my knackers and prick finally firmly gripped. All done in seconds. I froze. I hadn't even had time to close my legs together in self-defence. I knew if I moved he would squeeze. He did squeeze. Gently. Then he let go. No one noticed, it was all done so quickly. Duncan had checked if I was a true Scot as well. Was he satisfied? Time would tell. He had felt my naked cock and balls but I knew how he used to tease Tom - that playful grin on his face - things unsaid but hinted at. I would have to wait and see.

Of course, during the course of the afternoon and evening there was plenty of opportunity for him to tease me. I should have guessed when he offered to help me carry empty plates into the kitchen after tea he would make some comment. He said my Dad was a card. He said Pa had just sidled up to him, fluttered his eyelashes and asked if he could have the next dance. I said that was nothing. I'd received a whack on the bare bum and, looking at him with a prune-like face, said I had also been groped by the licentious soldiery. He laughed and I got another hearty slap on the bare bum and he whispered that at least I played the part properly, more than his brother, even if my part wasn't fully grown yet. I forbore to mention that his cock wasn't the pride of the North even if his sporran was hiding a secret weapon. So, he'd also checked Tom's credentials which were found wanting! However, we did agree we were all having a wonderful time.

When I went for my run on Wednesday morning I caught up with Tom delivering his papers. He was very down now the festivities were over and his brother had gone back to barracks. As Ma and Pa were back at work he came and kept me company for the day. He was more cheerful after we'd giggled over Dunc's surprise at being bested and finding himself spreadeagled over the bed. Tom said Duncan was rather startled by what I'd done but had said it was quite terrific. After two bouts ourselves we decided, all in all, it was terrific!

Matt was going to meet him with me at the station. We had both received Christmas cards from the boys and Matt was eager to meet Andrew again. He was sorry not to be able to spend more time with us but was off to Scotland with his mother on Saturday morning to see his father at the 'stone frigate' as the naval station up there was known.

So, we were ready and waiting as the train steamed in on Friday afternoon. A diminutive figure in regulation school overcoat and cap accompanied by three bags got off the train to be greeted effusively by us. He was beaming all over his face when he saw us and so we picked up two of his larger bags and walked off to my house.

Aunt Della and Uncle Edward!! I imagined only young people had babies. They were old! Well, Uncle Edward was two years older than Pa so he was about forty-three. I had discovered that Aunt Della was about thirty-eight because she'd said she married first when she was just twenty and had Lachlan the next year. So, I was rather surprised. But it did solve one of my ruminations. Older people did still do things!!

With that revelation Matt then said that his sister and Chris Gardiner got engaged on Christmas Day. After Christmas dinner he had produced a ring and proposed to her. As she was over twenty-one she had said she didn't need her father's permission. Matt said no doubt he would be glad to get rid of her. We then found out she and her father always had a blazing row whenever he came home and that was the reason she rarely went to Scotland to see him. I think that was also a reason why Matt was a little wary of his sister. Also, she thought he was a mucky boy, even if I'd added to his perceived misdemeanours by making my contribution to her defiled towel that time! Still all that was plenty of gossip to last until we arrived at No 18.

Matt took Flea up to my bedroom to deposit his cases and to wash and have the essential pee. They were chatting away as I slaved in the kitchen putting on the kettle and getting the sandwiches out of the pantry. As soon as they came back into the kitchen there were cups of tea and plates plonked down before them. Service with a smile. I was quite the little mother these days! We sat and munched and drank and, at last, Flea said he felt quite replete. Like me, he was a growing boy and I'd had to cut two more rounds of salmon paste sandwiches to assuage our joint hungers. Matt looked on with a resigned look on his face. Four sandwiches were quite enough for him. Obviously his bodily needs were less than ours, his cock must have finished growing!

“Sorry, but I'd eaten the grub Nanny packed while I was on my way to London. I thought it would be easier to manage just the bags without the packet of food. Better in than out that time!” he said grinning at us. He then became serious. “Did you know Lawson found out why the thugs didn't come back to school?”

“Yes,” he said, “Lawson, that one Lachs thumped, went home on exeat at half-term too. You know, that weekend when Mummy and Edward got married.” He looked at us to see we knew who he meant. We nodded. “Well, Lawson lives about five miles from the village that Castleman lives at so he thought he'd go and see if he could find out anything. He rides a lot so he took his horse that way and just as he got to the village he saw a lad in a field and asked him if he knew where the Castleman's lived. It turned out this lad was a farmer's son and had witnessed the whole thing.”

“Well this lad was quite chatty and said that he'd been out near their big barn when he saw Castleman and the other one walking towards it with a girl from the village. The lad got worried as the girl was a bit simple. I think he said she was about sixteen or so, but he told Lawson the family were all like her, you know, not quite all there. The father worked on the farm and the lad's father kept an eye on them all.

“Anyway, he saw them go into the barn and he guessed they were up to no good so he ran to fetch his father who was getting ready to shoot crows. I think Lawson said the lad's name was Richards, but anyway, the lad's father turned up and marched straight into the barn with the lad following him. He said one of them, Fitzroy, was holding the girl down and slobbering all over her face and Castleman had got his trousers and pants off and was just going to get the girl undressed.” Flea looked at us, we were sitting transfixed. “You know, he was going to get her knickers off. Well, this lad's father said something like 'Alright Mr Castleman, stand still and put your hands up above your head because if you move I'll fill your backside with lead'. The lad said he put his hands up very quickly and his father ordered him out of the barn and told the girl to get home to her mother. Fitzroy had rolled off and got into the hay in the barn and the father ignored him.”

Flea was in his element, he giggled. “When the farmer told Castleman to march out of the barn he repeated he would shoot if he didn't do as he was told. The lad said that his father then marched him all the way through the village, hands above his head, bare feet, with his shirt flapping and his cock and so on all in view. Lawson said the lad kept his distance but he saw Fitzroy haring off across the fields. When they reached Mr Castleman's farm gates Mr Richards, or whatever his name was, told Castleman to keep going. Just then Mr Castleman turned up on a horse and saw them approaching. The farmer called out 'Mr Castleman, your son has something to tell you'. You can guess what happened next. Castleman's father demanded to know what it was all about, Castleman was bawling but he had to confess he and Fitzroy were about to fuck the girl.” Flea smiled. “I don't suppose in those words, but apparently Castleman's father told Mr Richards to keep the gun aimed at his son and then he laid about him with his riding crop until he was screaming for mercy.”

Andrew paused. “What was interesting was that the lad said Mr Castleman was raving on about how his son had let down the family name and he was a no-good worthless scoundrel and he'd had enough of him as he was certain he had also caused the trouble at the school the previous year. He said he would never enter his house again and he would decide what would be done with him by the morning. He called for one of his grooms and the lad said Castleman was almost dragged off as he was on his knees by then bawling his eyes out and he saw him pushed in and locked in a stable.”

“From what the lad then told Lawson, Mr Castleman apologised to the lad's father and asked where the other good-for-nothing was. Mr Richards said he didn't know and Mr Castleman went off to his house. The lad said he'd heard Castleman was taken to the Recruiting Office next morning by two of the grooms and was shipped off that same afternoon to some barracks or other. He said he'd heard the same had happened to Fitzroy as well, his parents had kicked him out of their house, too. The rumour in the village was that they were in different regiments now as ordinary squaddies and being given a rough time as both Mr Castleman and Fitzroy's father had plenty of Army connections.”

Flea nodded. “Yes, Lachs told me the pair had been tormenting another kid as well who hadn't said anything, but had told his room-mate when they heard the news, that Castleman had made him suck him off and threatened to tell everyone he liked it. Lachs still says they'd better watch out they don't cross his path.”

We were a solemn trio then as we had more tea and our reverie was broken by a loud rapping on the back door. It was Tom, curious because he'd seen our arrival and so he was introduced to Andrew. Of course it was all Army talk after that as Tom had plenty to say about his brother and how we'd dressed up like him and, also, that he was determined to join up after finishing at school this year. He announced he had been for an interview at the Recruiting Office and the suggestion had been made that he should apply to go to the Army Apprentices School which appealed to him. So, if both Tom and Matt were going off this coming summer I would be losing two friends. After another round of cups of tea Tom and Matt said their farewells and went off just as the delivery boy from Mr Gale's butcher's shop arrived with Ma's order for the weekend. Sausages and a small joint of beef. Yum, yum.

Ma and Pa arrived home early so there was plenty more chat. I found out that Ma and Pa knew already that Aunt Della was pregnant. I also noticed that Ma seemed a lot more relaxed and had been since Christmas. I suppose the rate the War was going was one factor. Now her part of France was no longer under German occupation must be a relief. But, all over she seemed to be much happier. I found out another reason that evening as Andrew suddenly said that his mother wanted to know how the book was going. The book. The mysterious parcel brought by Matt with the odd message from Julia. Of course, a typed up manuscript!

Ma said all was going well. It turned out Aunt Della had persuaded her to have a go at writing when they met for the wedding. The publisher man said he would read a manuscript and give a decision. Ma was writing a detective story and the six chapters so far completed of 'The Affair at the Pink Prawn' had been read and commented on favourably by him. It was now up to her to finish the story and send it off. I asked if I could read it and Pa ungraciously said I would be expected to buy a copy if it were published to make sure there was at least one sale. Andrew very stoutly said he would buy a copy too. That put Pa in his place. He just grinned and said he hoped the publisher would provide hyphenated versions for us young readers. Cheek!

Andrew told us that they'd had a marvellous Christmas down in Suffolk. He was very taken with his new step-father and recounted several of Uncle Edward's remarks and how he and Lachs had tried to think up ways of playing tricks on him but he always seemed to come out on top. He said his mother was very tired a good bit of the time but he was looking forward to having a new brother or sister. I think Ma and Pa had been very taken with his bubbly personality at the time of the wedding and they both responded to him now just as if he was another son. I certainly was overjoyed to have him with us - I, too, felt he was much more than a new cousin.

In bed that night that bubbly personality came into play. Young - by a couple months - Andrew was growing fast. The boyish cock now had length and breadth. It must have grown at least another half inch since October. Andrew said he was now five feet tall and I could see his wiry body didn't have an ounce of puppy fat on it. He said he had persevered and was now the scrum half in the Junior XV. I told him about Matt and his selection for the First XV at our school. This impressed him and I could see there would be another topic of conversation for the pair of them when they met up again when Matt returned from Scotland.

The cock was soon enveloped in my mouth as we soon took up our favoured position head to toe - or head to groin to be more exact. Three times we sucked and drew each other's spunk in diminishing quantities before we settled down and slept so soundly we were both woken in the morning by Ma banging on the door saying breakfast was ready. We grinned at each other as two happy youngsters slid out of bed, morning hardons to the fore, and agreed to wait until opportunity arose before satisfying any need. Our need wasn't urgent, it could wait. We would be on the brink until then, happy to be in each other's company.

So, I missed my run. Needless to say Tom was at the backdoor just after nine o'clock thinking something was wrong as I hadn't met up with him to deliver the last of his papers. We didn't enlighten him that a main reason was extra tiredness through wanton sexual activity but from his knowing looks I guessed he had an inkling. Poor Tom. A lonely bed for him while I had Flea as a willing companion in bed until term started!

However, Tom kindly loaned Flea his brother's bike - with saddle suitably lowered - and the three of us explored Kerslake that morning. We had to go to the garage as Pa wanted some batteries for his ARP torch and Sean was there looking as cheerful as ever. I was greeted effusively and he showed where the jagged cut on his arm had healed very nicely after I'd suggested he got the chemist to look at it. I was the healer incarnate in his eyes and he said he would be boxing on the second Friday in January and hoped I'd be there. Just in case, I thought.

We were just coming out of the cathedral which Flea insisted he wanted to see when we bumped into Elizabeth Tilson. She deigned to recognise me and said she was visiting her father, the Canon, as well as doing some shopping for Miss Pike. I said that Andrew and I were coming over to Ulvescott next week which she barely listened to. At that moment a clergyman appeared and it was her father. What a difference! He was very nice. He wanted to know who we were and when his daughter said I was one of the boys who played the piano at Ulvescott for Mrs Crossley and that I was really a Crossley he smiled and said that Tim Parker was going to have an organ lesson in about ten minutes, why didn't we wait and listen. Elizabeth departed and he then showed us a couple of old tombs of knights who had been on the Crusades. He explained that the sign for this was that their recumbent figures in armour had their legs crossed and this was the way it was denoted. Gosh, these were eight hundred years old and still here!

Just then the organ started. After a few notes the Canon whispered it was a Bach Prelude in E flat, smiled and left. We sat and listened as the cathedral was filled with the wonderful sounds. If that was Tim there were few hesitancies and the music swelled, then stopped. We listened as three times he started and each time the playing sounded more confident. Georgie was right. `Thass ould Bach' was wonderful. In the end, during a silence where Tim must have been being given instruction we slipped out. Tom said it all sounded marvellous and Flea said Bastable's room-mate Wilkie was having organ lessons at school.

I wanted to know more about his school life having heard bits on holiday but as it wasn't of interest to Tom we left it at that for the moment. The proposed visit to Ulvescott had come about because in my Christmas card from Lachs and Flea there was a note that one of the older masters had found more photographs of Piers Crossley when he was at the school and had given them to the boys to pass on. Ma had `phoned Mrs Crossley and Flea and I had been invited over for three days from January the second.

We arrived back home in time for lunch. Tom was invited to stay and he did, scoffing away with me knowing he'd get another lunch as soon as he got home! We told Ma and Pa about our visit to the cathedral and meeting Canon Tilson and the history lesson about the knights. Pa laughed and said they probably had their legs crossed as public lavatories were most likely few and far between in the desert, which got a giggle from us boys and a reproving look from Ma. I quickly went on to say we'd heard Tim Parker being given an organ lesson and how wonderful it sounded. This was the cue for Ma to remind me I hadn't done enough practice and that an hour was needed as soon as lunch had settled.

Luckily, Flea liked music so I played for more than an hour with him sitting contentedly reading a book and commenting, favourably I might add, on my playing. He did say after three of the pieces that Georgie had played them on Boxing Day when the Cameron-Thomsons - as they were now known in the village - had had a Christmas party and a good time was had by all. Cameron! Of course, the kilt I'd worn was the Cameron tartan. As it had come from Mrs Buchanan's uncle and Tom's second name was Cameron it must be a family name there. I said this to Flea but he pointed out there were probably millions and millions of Camerons but we could ask.

That evening Ma and Pa had been invited to a dinner and dance and wanted to know if we minded being left to our own devices. Ma had made soup and there were sausages for supper so we were in our element. After they went off, Pa in dinner jacket and Ma in the blue dress she had worn at the wedding, we boys settled in front of a roaring fire and chatted. I wanted to know more about his school.

“Oh, Titty Temple-Tempest!” laughed Flea, “He's great. We have lots of fun. He's got a flaming temper, though, matches his flaming hair!” I must have looked puzzled. “His hair. It's bright red. Titty goes round saying his mother says it's Titian but Potty said that was only a polite way to say he'd got ginger pubes!” He laughed. “Titty really lost his temper at that and threatened to punch Potty and called him a cunt but Potty gave him a whack with his stick and told him to cool down and apologise. Titty does swear a lot but both Lachs and Potty have told me not to copy him and I don't.” He laughed. “He got another whack after the carol service. Potty heard him singing rude words and said he was sacrilegious.”

Andrew smiled again. “Yes, he is a Sergeant. He was made Chief Clerk and he doesn't have to go on parade. But he's very smart and he makes sure we're all smart in our House. Potty's great company and he's helped me loads with my work. He's been accepted for Oxford next year so I'm going to miss him.”

Flea grinned at me. “Shouldn't tell you this really 'cause it's a secret at the moment but Lachs has been recommended to become an Under Officer this term. Usually you have to be eighteen but Captain Harrison has made a special recommendation. Potty says he deserves it, he's done very well at everything.”

“Potty knows everything. He found out it was Anthony Milverton who blabbed to Captain Harrison about the roses for Piers. He got a whack from Potty's stick for that - pretty hard, too. He blubbed after that and told Cartwright, who he fags for, and he gave him a stinger as well and told him to mind his own business in future. Milverton's a real sneak and he never learns.”

“Titty's younger than your cousin Rhys but he's got those bloody awful spots, like him. Poor little fucker....” I silenced him by putting a finger over his lips. He grinned in his elfish manner. “So--oo-ry, shouldn't call him little 'cause he's much taller then me.” He grinned again as I put on a stern face. “I know, I know, I'll try.” He looked at me, fluttering his lashes winsomely. “You'll forgive me. Potty says....” I stopped the litany. “OK, OK,” he said once my fingers left his lips. “I promise. I'll only use those words when really needed - and I only say the other to tease. Anyway, Titty's got spots and with his red hair it spoils his beauty...” Another impish grin, “Potty says!”

“Oh, we called him Batty 'cause he was. Quite bats. He used to do daft things like hang a sheet out of the dorm window so it flapped at the window below. Made the youngsters down there shit themselves with fright...” He held up a hand before I had a chance to tell him off. “...'cause they thought it was a ghost. Then he'd put balloons filled with water in people's beds.” He looked artfully at me. “Some of them burst so the kids got into trouble because the Matron thought they'd.....” He held his hand up again. “....pissed the bed. Some kids do and they can't help it.” He nodded his head knowledgeably. “Captain Harrison said we weren't to rag anyone who did 'cause a boy's plumbing takes time to settle down. Anyway, lads in his dorm corridor got a bit fed up so they blacked his balls with boot polish and painted his thing with blanco we put on our belts.” He looked at me mischievously. “Potty says he was the Noyes with the luminous dong!”

I couldn't get him to say anything more. In fact I was immediately distracted as he launched himself downwards in the bed and found my ever-ready prick with his open mouth. When I tried to move down to him he stopped me and made me lie still until he had completed his loving task. Whether he had practised since those times in the summer I didn't know but he made my whole body and being vibrate with the fervour of his love-making. It was true love-making - not just a casual encounter between two horny teenagers. I felt he wanted me, and needed me, and desired me in a way I had rarely felt before, perhaps only in such intensity with Lachs and Matt and Tom. I was truly exhausted when I, at last, came. Flea knew that and oh so tenderly embraced me and shared my seed with me, our tongues touching, caressing, our breathing becoming as one in synchrony. We lay together for so long we both fell asleep. His own release was to occur much, much later, well after we had been slightly aroused by the sounds of my parents returning. Sometime, I guess about 2 a.m. I reciprocated as best I could. His soft moans of delight only served to increase my desire to make this an experience he would remember with love and affection as an act between two dear, dear friends.

I woke again about five o'clock. It was pitch dark in the room so I crept out of bed and pulled the blackout curtains back. It was still dark outside but there was just enough light to see the curled-up figure of Andrew in the bed. I got back in and gently enfolded him in my arms. He made a contented mewing sound as he nestled against my shoulder. I fell soundly asleep again.

I thought back to Georgie and the `gret dumb beasts'. This dumb beast almost fell out of bed and clothes were handed over in quick succession. I dressed and slipped my plimsolls on and was ready. If I thought I kept up a steady pace as I ran then Andrew was at least my equal. We ran side by side steadily through the dawning light and every now and then I pointed out a landmark. One, of course was the fateful driveway in Cathedral Drive where I'd discovered the forlorn Henry Gale. That was a tale still to be recounted - not while running. Tom had only just started his paper round when we found him. That was finished in record time with three of us. He said he had a busy day as he had a big Boys' Brigade parade that morning and he and his mother had been invited out to tea at the Minister's.

Andrew and I spent the rest of Sunday indoors. It was pretty miserable outside as it began to snow a bit so I got the steam engine up and running which fascinated him. There were various devices, including the weird and wonderful Meccano constructions that Mike had made, which could be run from it. Andrew said the only thing missing was a threshing machine and a load of rabbits like on Mr Catchpole's farm. That set us reminiscing about the summer holidays, plus another bit of news.

He looked at me in case I needed any explanation. No. Rubber johnnies or French letters were mentioned more and more frequently in the conversations of us growing boys. Perhaps, not in mine, but I listened in to plenty of increasingly bawdy exchanges - especially those of the rougher element in 5S. Not really rougher, even the boot-wearing Cadets were good lads, but, perhaps, earthier. If one was to believe all that one heard there were increasing connections between some lads and especially the girls of the High School, or even better, the Holy Ursuline Convent. Girls from there - which incidentally had educated, or currently educated, Mike's and Ginger Hare's sisters - were deemed to be exceptionally hot and raring for `it'. The ultimate for these girls, so we were led to believe, was to be in the arms of a member of the First XV Rugby team. Ugh, Fatty Prosser in the front row would, I should think, put any girl off. In any case, since he got belted in the balls at the boxing match I wondered if he would be in need of a rubber johnnie!

That night in bed we repeated our encounter of the night before except that this time we both came copiously twice before dropping off to sleep. I was the one that night that mewed with pleasure as Flea so expertly drew my boiling-up spunk from deep within me that second time. I was too weak after the first time to make any other noise. When that act was completed Flea gave me back a goodly proportion of my load as we pressed our tongues together and we were satiated and slept the sleep of the well-content.

That afternoon Tom came round and while Pa and Ma retired to their respective dens us three boys repaired to my bedroom and giggled through happenings such as the Christmas lunch, Tom and my contribution's to Nobby and Cleggy's collection, the finding of Henry Gale and several titbits from life at Flea's school.

After Tom went we packed ready to go to Ulvescott the next day. That evening Flea brought down the photographs the master had given him. After supper he laid them out on the dining room table. There were ten of them. Seven were of groups and three of him either alone or with another boy. The master had written on the back of each who were in the groups. It was odd but I knew where to look in each photo to find Piers. I didn't tell the others but I tested myself on the last two, a rugger team and a boxing team. I looked each time directly at were he was standing. Uncanny! One, of himself and Miles Buchan, taken close-up with just head and shoulders of each, could have been a photo of me, perhaps in a year's time. Ma kept looking from it to me.

Flea insisted we went for a run even though we had to be at the bus station by half past nine. I made him run just that little bit faster though. My longer legs helped. I did relent though as we found Tom and helped him finish his round. He said he was going to see Nobbo and the others and I reminded him not to waste too much time and get his homework done! I didn't say I still had most of mine still to do.

Well, well, well, who should be waiting for the bus but Tim Parker! He said he'd been invited to go and see Lady Bing for more playing and instruction about operas and singing and accommodation had been arranged for him in the village. We said we had heard him at the Cathedral and he said he was enjoying his lessons. He said that Canon Tilson was paying for his lessons there because of the way his piano playing at the memorial service had been so favourably commented on.

Of course, on arrival at the gates of the Manor Bran was waiting. Another friend was introduced and we were led very sedately to the kitchen door where Mrs Brown was waiting to welcome us as the ladies were out with the chickens. I think Flea was suitably impressed with the size of the Manor and he certainly liked our bedroom. Before he had a chance to inspect all the photos I showed him the Horsebox and he just stood and giggled. I said when he met my friend Tony he would realise the room just matched him!

Quite spontaneously Flea remarked that he thought the Manor was a happy place. Certainly, Bran made him feel welcome, because as soon as we had unpacked we went for a walk round the now-cultivated grounds. I was a bit unsure of how Andrew might react on meeting Hans or Herr Vogel because of the loss of his father. Only Hans was in the barn and the greeting was very warm. Both fair-haired, one a giant to the other, but they shook hands with smiles on their faces. I thought again. What are enemies?

Lunch was ready when we got back and Mrs Crossley and Miss Pike were both there. Another warm welcome for Andrew. There was plenty to talk about but the ladies were having another crisis in the chicken runs and had to be off. We wandered around again after lunch then went to the bedroom where Flea perused the pictures very carefully. He said he recognised all the bits of the school in the backgrounds. He said neither he nor Lachs had taken up rowing as they didn't feel big enough but Lawson and Cartwright were in the rowing squad.

I found that Lawson and Lachs were now quite pally since the thugs had departed ignominiously and, so Flea said, quite a few of the Remove had recovered some sense - possibly in their big toes as that was the size of the brain of most, though from the boasts of some of them their brains were more likely in their balls. He said Wilkie was helping him with his work too and he wasn't such a know-all now. I said it must be funny living all the time with so many other boys. Flea said they were all so used to it they never thought about it except when you had problems with someone like the thugs. Generally, the older lads seemed to keep an eye on the younger ones especially if they were assigned as fags. He laughed and said Cartwright got the thin edge of the wedge as he had sneaky Milverton. He said the Remove lads were rather resentful because, although some of them were getting on for eighteen, they didn't qualify for fags like the Sixth-Formers, so they tended to take it out on the younger ones. This was the basis for Lawson's attack on Lachs, but that was now all in the past.

We went down early before dinner in the evening as I wanted to play the grand piano. Lizzie Tilson and Miriam were at dinner that evening so I made a point of saying how kind her father was in showing us the monuments. She didn't quite sniff her displeasure at having scruffy snot-nosed youngsters in the Cathedral but we got the impression that was her opinion of us. She did prick up her ears when I imparted the knowledge that Julia Ward was now engaged.

After the two girls had gone when dinner was over Flea showed Mrs Crossley and Miss Pike the pictures and I gave Mrs Crossley the medal. She immediately gave it back to me and said I was to keep it. After Flea had said that the master had said Mrs Crossley could keep the photographs she picked up the one of Piers and Miles and handed it to me with a smile and no comment.. I was overwhelmed. As soon as I had seen the photograph I wished it could be mine. I would treasure that. I told Mrs Crossley that and I could see she was close to tears.

Andrew had all things planned for bed that night. I had finished all my ablutions long before Andrew came through from the bedroom into the bathroom. Because of the General's engineering skills the Manor was warm as toast even on a cold winter's night and young Flea wandered in quite in the nude. No goose-bumps, blue extremities or shivers, just a less than golden body I'd remembered from the summer, his tan, like mine, had faded somewhat. I was also in the altogether and was just combing my unruly hair to make myself look presentable in bed when he padded in.

What was this? A military operation? A full-blown skirmish against the foe? I finished combing and, as he got into the bath of hot water I had so carefully topped up for him, I sauntered into the bedroom. Things were ready. There were four strips of towel folded on a chair by the bedside. Also, there was the jar of Vaseline I remembered having seen last in October in the boathouse. I got into bed and snuggled down. I hoped this wasn't going to be a military engagement, a carefully planned enterprise down to the last dotted crotchet - Oh, Jacko, a new idiom I'd just made up - what did I actually mean? Crossed t's and dotted i's, I assumed. My mind was in a whirl. I wanted to be with Flea. I wanted him in bed with me and whatever would happen, I hoped, would just happen. I waited and waited, he was taking an age in there. I was getting restless. At last I heard the light switch click off and he was by the bed.

He climbed into bed and I reached out and switched the overhead light off. It was very, very dark. We turned to each other. Two warm bodies embraced, I hugged him tight and he responded in kind. He grazed my cheek with the tip of his tongue. That simple act sent shivers up and down my spine and my half-ready cock took another lurch upwards to total hardness. The tongue tip traced a pattern across my lips and down my chin. My head jolted back. I let go of him as I almost went rigid all over with the feelings as the tongue meandered under my chin. My hips jerked with the intensity of the nervous jolts in my spine. Each nipple was explored, the light touch roving in no set design round, under, over, setting off even more incredible vibrations all over me. My thighs shuddered as the tongue moved back upwards until it pressed between my lips. I was lost in time. That tongue entered my mouth and explored the whole cavity of my mouth. I don't know if I even breathed as my toes beat against the covers and Andrew crawled on top of me. His arms were round my neck as he removed his tongue and his head moved until his mouth was by my right ear. The tongue flicked at my lobe.

It was my turn to feel for the chair. I located the jar and the cap was almost off, ready. I dipped my two first fingers in and then smeared the thick jelly under me around that tight young pucker. He sighed and opened his legs very wide and encircled my shoulders with his arms as best he could..

“Lachs told me how wonderful it was with you that weekend,” he whispered in my ear, “Even more than in the summer. He said you made him so happy. He said we would do it just once more but we were to wait.” He brushed my earlobe with his tongue. “We waited. I fucked Lachs on Christmas Eve and then he fucked me early Christmas morning. We said they were the best Christmas presents we had ever had.” He snickered very softly. “Lachs has grown since the summer,” he went on, “Down there.” Crumbs, I thought. That over six inches of young man meat was very impressive then. “He's got thicker,” explained Flea, “He was worried in case it hurt me but it didn't.” He touched my lobe again. “It was so wonderful I held him in me for as long as he could stand it.” His head moved under me and his lips searched for mine. “I want you in me when we're ready,” he murmured.

We locked lips and gently touched our tongues together. It was amazing. Those gentle nuzzles were even more arousing than those violent tongue-fucks I'd experienced before with either Lachs or Flea. I was past thinking about anything except those feelings flowing between us. I wanted just these tender moments to last for ever but knew underneath we both wanted much more to bring us to some cataclysmic culmination of trust and love between us. Very slowly I withdrew my right arm and felt down between us. I held myself up a bit to allow access. I ran my fingers down either side of that short, rampant tube of flesh solidly upright against mine on his belly. He gasped and his tongue touching began to get more urgent. I caressed his balls, already hard young nuts drawn up on either side of the base of his prick. I moved down and pressed on that sensitive area between his balls and his hole. His wide apart legs now lifted and crossed over the small of my back.

As my forefinger explored the area around his hole so we began to tongue-fuck in earnest. His hot breath poured into my open mouth and I blew back as we shared even the same air. I pressed and my finger tip entered him. There was no change in his breathing but his tongue was now like a mad sticky animal darting in and out of my mouth. As slowly as I could I pushed further in, then withdrew and two fingers entered him. This time his breathing did change, his head rocking from side to side, his tongue vainly trying to find my still open mouth. He was in a frenzy already and I had hardly started. I stayed still with both fingers well inside him until that initial frenzy subsided a bit. Slowly I pushed, then withdrew a bit feeling his ring becoming even more relaxed. I was ready to enter him properly.

That was the signal I needed. Strangely, just at that moment, a seemingly warm breeze blew over my naked back. My positioned cock touched his hole as I withdrew my fingers. His tongue stopped its movement and I arched up away from him as I slowly sank into him, inch by inch. We had both stopped breathing and as my furry bush touched his balls we both took a deep breath. I was his and he was mine.

Up till then was another moment I wanted to last for ever. Now on that order, nay, on that loving request, I pulled myself back and pushed myself forward a tenth of an inch by tenth of an inch, a quarter of an inch by a quarter of an inch, an inch by an inch, until my steel-like rod was moving, slowly, inexorably, like that piston I'd seen on the steam engine at Georgie's grandfather's farm. That simile somehow stuck in my almost addled brain as the power surged in my groin and forced its way into Andrew as far as it could go. I don't think my prick had ever been so hard, nor felt so long and thick. I filled him at the completion of every unrestrained thrust with everything I had. As my relentless thrusts continued as slowly as I dared without breaking the pattern so our breathing as well as our heartbeats synchronised. Somewhere, sometime, Andrew gave an unholy gasp and I felt his boy seed spray between us. A warm rain of his now so creamy cum. I held onto not climaxing as long as I could. I tried to let my mind wander but, because of the time, the place, the occasion, whatever I thought about slipped into the background and that mighty feeling of oneness of two souls in accord just came to the fore. Once too often it came to the fore and I came. Deep and ever deeper thrusts carried my gift to Andrew as far into his being as it could possibly go. We collapsed together, mouths open, breathing each other's air again in complete unity.

I couldn't withdraw. Neither of us wanted me to withdraw so three times we came, twice more I helped him pour out his wonderful semen, twice more I flooded his channel with so much of my spunk I wondered how he could contain it. He didn't. Even after my first tremendous outpouring there was a considerable leakage onto the towels bunched under his rump. By the third occasion he was so slippery I think I only shot in the end as his muscles massaged my still rock-hard prick with their vice-like grip. We must have been locked together from start to finish for more than two hours. But at no time did we labour at the task. We were both glowing rather than perspiring freely even at the end. All our energy was concentrated in making sure both had complete and utter satisfaction. Both of us were drained, of spunk, of energy, of everything, but filled with complete happiness for and with each other.

I was still hard as I withdrew. There was a strange squelching and plopping noise as my prick finally came away from him. I must have produced as much spunk as Nobbo and Cleggy's combined wank warriors on one of their best days! We both giggled. Having sex together was so enjoyable and also had its funny side. I whispered I'd never felt so marvellous. I felt his head nod against mine. He was speechlessly happy. I slid out of bed, almost staggering weakly as I moved to the bathroom. I washed my oh-so-tender cock and my belly, stomach and chest, sticky with Flea's partially dried cum, and, on return, mopped Flea's own torso with a spare piece of towel and tucked the other pieces in the bed between his legs to stop signs of seepage. We kissed for a moment and then snuggled together and slept. Before he dropped off he nuzzled my cheek and whispered, “Thanks”.

I was first awake. I thought back to what had happened. I'd had wonderful sex, just like that with friends like Matt and Tom, but never with the intensity of that last and final encounter with Lachs nor with that last and final encounter with dear Flea last night. Both of those were something special and I knew I would never experience anything like that again. It was my turn to give myself to Andrew in repayment. Again, I was groping for words. Repayment seemed so facile and almost mercenary in meaning. I wanted Flea to feel as I did the night before, pouring my whole heart and soul with my gift of life's seed. I knew boys could never have the result of such union as other loving couples such as Mike's sister, Kathleen, and Eamonn could have, but I knew our union would bear the fruit of a lifelong friendship which no one could destroy. I knew that was true for Lachs and me. I knew that after our next coupling it would be true for Flea and me. I vowed it would be true.

I crept out of bed. I needed to pee so I did that as quietly as I could in the gloom of the dark bathroom. I came back and pulled the thick curtains at the window. It had snowed heavily in the night. The scene was magical. A white, unbroken carpet stretched out from the terrace. I sat on the window-seat and looked out. I felt the warmth of the radiator under the window. I remembered that warm breeze. Was it just the warm air from above the radiator wafting across the room?

I went back to the bed and got in beside him. We hugged each other while he whispered such words of thanks I felt very moved. Each time I tried to tell him how much I felt in agreement with him he hushed me by putting a finger on my lips and continued to murmur what feelings of harmony and friendship he had. I kissed his forehead but then he startled me.

We stirred our stumps well in time for breakfast. Flea's piece of towel was saturated with my almost dried spunk. He carefully rolled it in a old piece of newspaper from the bottom of his bag. He asked if I knew where the boiler was. I nodded and grinned. Some things repeat! He also said I wasn't to worry, there was more towel!

If we hadn't been up and about Bran would have woken us. His thumps at the door made Andrew look a bit alarmed as we were both still nude having washed but not dressed. I let Bran in. He gave both of us what could only be called a disdainful look A 'boys in the nude, bet I know what they've been doing' look. I was certain that dog could think! At least, I knew something about him, too. Him and Mrs Fry's Sally. Naughty dog! He came up to me first and I stroked his head and guided him over to Andrew who, being much shorter than me, didn't seem much taller than Bran when the dog sat on his haunches.

We dressed and went downstairs. Mrs Brown and Dora were already in the kitchen having tramped in the snow from the village. The ladies had made an early sortie to the chicken houses to see they were warm and OK after the snowfall. Mrs Crossley came in first, shaking off the snow from her galoshes in the vestibule and calling out that all was well but Miss Pike was sorting out the jobs with the girls.

We had breakfast with Mrs Crossley who said she didn't want Hans to be in the cold barn all day and he could come and do some jobs in the Manor. She wanted furniture moved in all the unused bedrooms so Mrs Brown and other ladies of the village could have a good clean up. She also said she had a list of things that needed doing which the helpful German POW who had done the roof gutter had listed as jobs to be done indoors. There were several cases of loose windows, plaster needing replacing, wood surrounds to be repaired and so on. She also said lots of woodwork needed re-staining and some needed polishing but she had no more of these things and she wondered where she could get them during this War.

I had an idea. If the garage man had bikes from before the War I wondered if George Abbott's father had pre-War stock still in his hardware store? I suggested this and Mrs Crossley visibly brightened. So, at nine o'clock, knowing that George now worked for his father, I used the telephone and he answered as he was in the office in the shop. I announced who I was and said as succinctly as possible, as time on the telephone costs money, that I was staying with Mrs Crossley at Ulvescott Manor and did they have the following items in stock. I read out the list Mrs Crossley had prepared and he, the young businessman, said he would check and ring back. At ten to ten he 'phoned back and said his father had all the items except for the amount of sugar soap needed, but he thought he knew where he could get some more, and everything would be put on the two o'clock bus to Ulvescott for collection.

At ten o'clock, clad in overcoats and galoshes from the pile in the vestibule, Flea and I went to find Hans who was trying to keep warm by sawing up more logs in the barn. We filled a wheelbarrow with logs and took them down to the boiler house in the basement. I nudged Flea. He nodded and disappeared. A while later when I was translating Mrs Crossley's instructions about furniture moving to a much warmer Hans he came into the kitchen with a grin on his face. The warmth of Ulvescott Manor would be added to by several portions of boy cream of the very best quality.

First we changed into the rugger shirts and shorts we had brought in case we went for a run as Mrs Crossley said we would get pretty dirty, then we collected Hans and the list of tasks and went to the first of the bedrooms where Andrew and I helped shift the lighter furniture while he concentrated on heavier stuff. Some things were even too massive for him to move, and we found there was plenty of dust to be cleared! At half past twelve we washed hands and faces and went down to lunch. Hans sat and had lunch with us boys in the alcove off the kitchen. Dora was funny. She was rather wary of Hans - his size, perhaps, then his Germanness - but she kept coming in with more pieces of cold chicken for him. I nudged Flea and whispered that she probably fancied him. Hans cocked an ear at this. I said, in German, 'She likes you'. Andrew, rudely, made a kissing sound. Hans blushed. We two boys laughed, and so did Hans.

After lunch we helped Hans again as there were the rest of the rooms to do. I was rolling up a rug when I heard a squawk from Flea who found himself lifted up and perched on the edge of a tall wardrobe. Next thing I knew, big as I was, I was effortlessly lifted up, held above Hans' head and deposited on the top of the twin wardrobe the other side of the window space.

It took a bit of pleading with him for Hans to get us down. We could have jumped, I suppose, but he put us up there, he could get us down. When he did so we both got a hearty smack on the backside with an imprecation which I think was in his dialect - it sounded like 'Junge Hunde' - young hounds. After that it was catch-as-catch-can. We kept teasing him and he caught us and each time smacked us. We were laughing so much we didn't hear Mrs Crossley come into the room. She was laughing too.

“Bran is jumping up and down downstairs. He wants to know what is happening up here.” She surveyed the room which was now according to her instructions. She nodded. “I've had a look at the others. Very good. Tea at four o'clock, but clean yourselves up before then.” She went up to Hans, patted him on the arm. “Thanks.” He bowed, a contented smile on his face.

She went and both Andrew and I jumped on Hans and tried to wrestle him to the floor. We were like a small Flea and big flea though. He was much too strong for us. Then Bran came bounding in and, traitor, he started to help Hans by nudging us with his head and swiping at us with his front paws.

By now it was close on half past three. I led the way to our bathroom and the three of us stripped, quite unselfconsciously, as the bath-tub filled with water. Hans stood by the bath as us two younger ones wallowed in the water. He soaped our backs and explained he had two young brothers he had to make sure bathed when he was at home before.... I said I must have misheard him before because I thought he was the youngest of the five. He shrugged his shoulders.... They had been ten and fourteen to his seventeen. He looked rather sad when he said he didn't know how they were now. He handed us towels as we got out of the bath. Flea turned to him, and still wet, hugged him round the waist and said he was sorry. I translated that and I saw two tears form in Hans' eyes and slowly run down his cheeks. I put out a hand and held his and motioned him to the bath. He said he felt better now and we soaped him much to his amusement. Our amusement occurred when he stepped out of the bath. His massive prick was almost erect. He smiled and wrapped a towel round himself. He grinned as two much younger boys then started to get erect too. He shook his head. “Knaben!”

Of course, nothing further happened. We dressed fully while Hans finished drying himself and slipping his trousers and shirt on. Our next job was to check whether the goods had arrived from Abbott's of Kerslake. Downstairs Mrs Crossley said the lady at the Post Office had 'phoned to said three boxes of things had been left there by the bus-driver. Flea and I took the wheel barrow and, accompanied by Bran, our friend again, set off for the village. We managed two boxes on the barrow but said we would return in the morning for the third and biggest box.

Mrs Crossley was so pleased with all the materials she spent the evening with Miss Pike mapping out the jobs that Hans, with Herr Vogel, when he returned form helping out at Ashburn House, and the other POW who the Sergeant-in-charge had said could be spared next week, could start doing on Friday.

Snow was still on the ground the next morning. Mrs Crossley had asked if we would stoke the boiler first thing in the morning. I crept out of bed at half-past six, washed - perhaps more of a catlick as I had bathed the afternoon before! - dressed in rugger shirt and shorts in case the boiler room was dirty and felt my way downstairs in the gloom. Bran sensed it was me. He was lying at the bottom of the stairs and led me unerringly to the door in the kitchen leading down to the cellars. I switched on the light and found the boiler room surprisingly clean. I had to rake the embers of a coke-damped fire, open the dampers two notches and put in six logs of wood, according to the instructions. Easy. I'd helped to stoke a big steam-engine, I knew how to get my small steam-engine running and now I was heating a Manor. If I didn't succeed in life in anything else I could always sign on as a Stoker in the Navy! Ho Ho, I thought of that rhyme Rhys kept adding verses to on holiday, all about the Good Ship Venus.

Job done, I took Bran up to the bedroom with me. He nuzzled Flea awake by dabbing his face with his tongue. Poor Flea he kept murmuring “Jacko, stop it!” until the insistent licking woke him and he stared wide-eyed at the hairy head of Bran and the big pink tongue. Bran gave him a quiet 'Woof' and nudged him with his head.

“Out!” I said and pulled the covers off him. Bran then licked him somewhere in the region of his navel and, like Matt in the past thinking Bran liked boys' cocks for breakfast, he hurriedly got out of bed the other side and fled to the safety of the bathroom clutching his genitalia accompanied by a giggle from me and another 'Woof' from Bran.

After he'd washed I coaxed him back out saying there wasn't enough there even as a little taster. He came through the door wrapped in a towel intent on giving me the benefit of his five feet of military unarmed combat prowess. I just circled him and whipped the towel away. He was on his back on the bed in seconds, my non-military combat prowess learned from Mike and Tom helped me in this. Bran was sitting by the bed just watching as I tickled that lithe nude body as much as I could, fingers ranging up and down, round and round, in and out until poor Flea was a quivering, squirming mess, giggling and hooting. In the end I leaned over him, enclosing him completely with my body, and covered his mouth with mine. We tongue-fucked violently for some time until I knew I couldn't last much longer. I jerked my head back, much to his amazement.

That day was busy again. After breakfast Hans appeared and had a list of small jobs to be done. He had to re-stain some woodwork and sandpaper some ledges ready for painting. We stayed with him and chatted in German and English. He corrected some of Flea's grammar and tested him on lots of simple words. I just stood and listened. Flea was very attentive and then he took over and taught Hans a few more useful English phrases. Then I said Flea and I ought to go and fetch the third box so we dressed up warmly and set off trudging through the snow to the Post Office.

Oh crumbs, who should be in the Post Office but young Sam Catt. Luckily, because I knew we would never get rid of him, he was getting the bus back to Kerslake that afternoon. He didn't have the dog with him and he said it was very sad. The poor thing had ambled into the road in the path of an Army lorry and had been so injured she had to be put down.

On the way back I told Flea about seeing Bran fucking the bitch and guessed she must have been pregnant. That I told him all about Sam and his cousins, especially the stories of seeing Big Jim being tossed off by the other lad and the tale of the awful school that Big Jim's brother was at. Flea said the beaks only whacked the kids who were really bad and that wasn't often. It was the Prefects and senior members of the school you had to watch out for. He said there was one Sixth Former when he was in his First Year who had a fearsome reputation for beating kids who transgressed. He said they all called him Flashman like the bully in Tom Brown's Schooldays. He laughed and said he'd been brought down a peg or two when he'd slippered a fag who had angered him over something and the kid's big brother was in the Sixth Form too. The Flashman character had been stripped and painted with whitewash and tied to the bannisters of the main staircase and was found by one of the beaks. Nothing was said but he didn't beat kids after that. I then had to repeat the tale of finding Henry Gale and all that passed the time pushing the laden wheelbarrow back.

The news when we arrived back was that Lady Bing had telephoned to invite Flea and me to Ashburn House next morning. She had been told by young Timothy we were at Ulvescott and she would be pleased to see us. That meant we wouldn't be able to catch the bus back to Kerslake on Saturday and would have to stay until Monday. Mrs Crossley said she was more than happy for us to stay and she would telephone my mother before dinner that evening. I said I ought to practice as Tim was so much better than me so I did two hours solid in the afternoon. Flea listened for a while but when I launched into scales and exercises he sloped off.

I'd shown him Piers' diaries when we'd been through some of the boxes in the cupboards in the bedroom. When I finished playing I went up and found him sitting by the bed reading through one of them. He said school life hadn't changed much because of the references Piers had made to things that went on. I'd told him about the code and he said Piers must have been extremely horny as he'd counted up over seventy dots and crosses in one month. Flea said he generally did it once a day - with Titty. He said that when they had first shared a room last term they'd been very wary and he was so relieved when he heard Titty grunting one night as he came he'd immediately tossed himself off. Titty heard him and the next evening when they were in bed whispered that he didn't mind if they did it at the same time. Flea laughed. He said that happened the next two nights but the third night Titty had crept over to his bed and asked if they might do it side by side in bed. And that was that. They tossed each other off after that. He said they hadn't done anything else together and he was going to leave it like that.

He said from what he'd heard from conversations that he thought most of the boys knew their room-mates wanked and he was trying to work out which ones beat each other's meat. He was sure Sibs and Lachs did and he thought they had got to sucking but he didn't like to ask Lachs. I said he shouldn't. It was their business and I thought that whatever boys did together was up to them. He smiled and said he agreed but he was nosey. Potty said he was nosey, too! I would love to meet Potty!

Mrs Crossley said as I finished playing before dinner that evening that my mother had agreed we could stay as long as we were behaving ourselves. She laughed. Mothers always say that. Us, two responsible fifteen-year-olds misbehaving! We never even gave it a thought. But, if intense sexual activity was misbehaving in a way, then we were guilty, but for us that was the best behaviour we could imagine.

Before bed that night I made sure I was as clean as possible. It was my turn to give myself completely but I had to prepare Flea for the task in hand. We lay side by side for ages while I explored his back, arms, sides with slowly roving fingers. This time he didn't react as if being tickled but as if he could not get sufficient stimulation from my probing fingers. His body pushed against my fingers, his muscles tensed and relaxed and he sighed deeply as my fingers investigated every square inch of him finding small areas where some thrill or tingle occurred. I then examined his neck, chest, stomach and belly with my tongue. Probing, sucking, searching out those points of contact where a gasp or momentary intake of breath informed me that I had found a pleasure spot. His head was back against the pillow lolling from side to side. The gasps became more intense as I sought for the root of his stiff young rod with the tip of my tongue. I ran my tongue rapidly up its length and there, just on the wrinkled bud of his foreskin, was a drop of the sweetest honey nectar I had ever tasted. Flea had produced his first drop of that clear fluid I had only found in any quantity with my friend Matt. Flea's was sweet, delectable, fragrant. I lapped at the tiny part of his pink glans that showed and he breathed in sharply with the exquisiteness of the feeling. If his end was as sensitive as mine I would have to be very careful.

Slowly I pressed my lips against his enveloping foreskin and drew it downwards until his complete hard pink end was between my lips. My tongue found a second drop of his nectar and I thought of the descriptions I had read of humming-birds or butterflies probing the interior of flowers to draw out the goodness within. I wanted all his goodness and I was resolved to raise him to heights he'd never reached before.

I was ready for him. My interaction with him so far I knew had given him untold pleasure. Just doing these things to him had roused me too. I felt on the chair for the pieces of towel he'd laid there in preparation and turned onto my back and gradually manoeuvred him over me. It was his turn to lick and suck at my lips and chin as I drew my legs up on either side of him. He reached out for the jar and I felt him exploring between my outstretched legs with sticky fingers. It was my turn to gasp as those fingers caressed my slit and a finger probed inside me so quickly. He didn't force it in, I must have been so relaxed, waiting for him, wanting him, I opened freely. He was licking under my chin, a move guaranteed to make me putty in anyone's hands or arms, as a second finger joined the first. What he did was just one continuous enjoyment for me because next he moved on me slightly and the tip of his hard rod pressed on my rosebud and he was in. In one push he was buried completely. We both gasped. Mine of pleasure, his of surprise, I think. There was no effort, no pain, complete elation.

Very slowly he moved back and forth. The tip of his cock hit some spot in me each time and a frisson of exhilaration pulsed up my spine then concentrated in rapturous feelings below the root of my prick. Those slow movements raised me to heights as well. I gasped as I felt those violent throbs push my spunk from within me. It squirted out coating both of us warmly and stickily. He gasped and after five extreme shudders he collapsed on top of me tears streaming from his eyes wetting my chin and dripping onto my chest.

He was still hardness itself in me and he took me at my word. His buttocks see-sawed in tight little jerks which increased until they became powerful thrusts. He never withdrew at all, he forced his body against me and kept his cock in me as deep as possible all the time. His thrusts became more and more frantic until he came, this time with six so mighty lunges it was a good job I was that much bigger than him in body size. He collapsed over me again just as I shot another load which cemented us together. I gathered him in my arms and we nuzzled each other until he fell asleep in my arms still with that so-hard cock deep in me. I was asleep soon after holding him encased in my arms and my legs up supporting him over me. Gradually, just before falling off, I turned us onto our sides. How he kept in I don't know. I think I was tight round his fully engorged shaft just as my arms were tight round his upper body.

We slept like this for some hours until I was awoken by those slow, inexorable, unstoppable slight movements of his thighs between my legs as he fucked me for the third time. I did my best to match his moves with the rhythmic clenching of my buttocks as I became aware of what he was doing. I kissed his forehead and we rocked and fucked like this for at least half an hour, perhaps more, until he grunted throatily several times as he forced another load of his so precious boycream inside me. I slept again to be woken with Flea now out of me but tenderly sucking on my hard boy-cock. I poured out my offering to him with puffs and huffs at each spasm as it flooded into his waiting mouth.

I was wide awake some time before seven thirty. I had a task to fulfil. Again, I'd promised to stoke the boiler and slipped out of bed, pulled back the curtains a bit, found my shorts and shirt and plimsolls and padded off out of the room. I nearly tripped over Bran. He was lying just outside the bedroom door. He must have been guarding us all night. I stroked his head and he led me down the stairs in the dark. As the day before I carefully raked, fed logs into the fire and then pushed in the three pieces of towel which had mopped up the juices of our love the night before. I watched as the towelling began to smoulder, then shut the door of the huge stove. Within minutes I was undressed and back in bed holding my dear, dear friend in my enfolding arms.

I woke him gently with featherings of my tongue. The room was only half-lit by the morning sun. The morning sun! A clear sky to welcome us after such a momentous night! Flea smiled at me and I grinned back. No words. They were not necessary. Silently we got up and quickly had a bath together after we had peed and I had rid myself, reluctantly, of the debris of the night. We washed each other then dried each other, all in silence. I had let Bran come back with me and he lay curled up by the bed as we dressed. As we went to the door to go down for breakfast he came over and gave us both a lick on the hand.

There was still snow on the ground, but a clear sky, as we set off for Ashburn House. Bran led the way, as, muffled up well against the chill air, we tramped through the snow down the lane. We still hadn't discussed the night's happenings. We kept giving each other shy smiles and several times Flea reached out a gloved hand and tapped me on the arm. Our breath hung in vapour trails as we walked steadily. Gradually we started to play games by trying to make our breath come out in long streams or short puffs and by the time we reached Ashburn House we were giggling happily.

We composed ourselves as we rang the bell to the imposing side door. After a while it was opened cautiously by the ancient maid and we were beckoned in with a smile. It certainly wasn't so warm in the house as at the Manor and the maid was draped in two thick cardigans. As soon as we entered the house we could hear the piano being played in the distance. The maid preceded us slowly up the corridor and into the main hall where there were two oil stoves burning. The drawing room door was ajar and the piano sound increased as we went in. Tim was playing with his back to us with Lady Bing sitting upright in a chair by his side. As we watched and waited we heard her giving sotto voce instructions. He finished the piece and Lady Bing turned, held up her hands in welcome and called us over.

After introductions she said she wanted me to play as well and probably it would be nice to have a duet. She drew out what I saw was a volume of Moszkovski's Spanish Dances and set it up on the music-rest on the piano. I was instructed to play the second part on the bass end of the piano. After a couple of hesitant starts I found I could sight read most of it and we got through the first one very well. Tim was also sight-reading but he was much more fluent than me. We played through it three times and by the third time it was sounding pretty good and it was very jolly.

I turned round at the end and found that Lady Bing's daughter, the Duchess, had come in. She said she hadn't heard the piece for years and her mother said there had been plenty of opportunities for her to play it. The Duchess just smiled. I knew she must be used to her mother's rather sharp tongue. I was then asked if I had heard Sir Thomas' concert on the wireless at the beginning of December. I had. She nodded. She said she had known Tommy Beecham for years and had visited Frederick Delius in France in the 1920s long before he was too ill to receive visitors. I nodded. I had heard the First Cuckoo in Spring and Brigg Fair as well, I said. Tim was then instructed to play again and while that was happening the maid wheeled in a trolley with two large plates of sandwiches (with crusts!) and a big tea-pot. Good-ho!

In the afternoon we rather plagued poor Hans who was busy repairing the cellar stairs with some wood he'd found in one of the barns. In the end, as the impish Flea was making kissy noises and whispering “Dora, Dora, Oh, du Schone”, Hans turned round and picked him up bodily and deposited him in one of the cellar rooms which was open, then shut and locked the door on him. He looked at me, grinned and shook his head. I grinned. All we heard were giggles. Then after a while silence while I handed nails to Hans as he hammered away. Then there were a few plaintive cries of 'Sorry'. Hans relented and went over and unlocked the door. Flea was standing there expecting to walk out but Hans just lifted him up again put him over his knee and tickled him. I just stood and watched as Flea squirmed and wriggled but was held firmly. Hans whacked his backside in the end and stood him up again. “My brothers, I do,” he said in English, “They get...” Here he made a smacking gesture. “They play the games... and they laugh.”

After that work progressed steadily and it was soon tea-time. Miss Pike was there and said that as soon as they knew we were staying Mrs Crossley had told the girls we would have a real dressed-up dinner party that evening. She said that when they had been tidying up she had found some of Piers' old formal clothes. She shook her head. Nothing was ever thrown away. She said we should find something to fit us. She laughed and said whatever there was would smell of mothballs. It was true. The wardrobe she had told us to look in, one of the huge ones in the African room, reeked of camphor as soon as we opened the door. Inside were about six suits of various sizes and designs. It was odd, one, a Cadet's Mess uniform jacket and trousers was a perfect fit for Flea. Piers must have had it when he was in his First Year at the school. The jacket was dark blue with light blue facings and the black trousers had a light blue stripe down the outside seams. It looked as if it had hardly been worn. Flea was in his element. He said Bradley had worn one just like it at the farewell dinner for the Sixth Form leavers last summer.

I found a proper dinner jacket, black with silk facings, which was slightly tight. The other one I tried on was definitely too big. The trousers were rather long for me but I found a pair of braces, which when pulled right up drew the waist up and the trouser legs were perfect then. These had a black braided stripe down the seam. Oh, and there was a black cummerbund as well which would cover my middle and disguise any discrepancies.

We had both brought white shirts with us, not proper dress shirts with stiff collars, but we would have to make do. Thank goodness Flea knew how to tie a black bow tie. He did mine first and told me how to tie it and I think the one I tied for him looked very good. We preened ourselves before the long mirror in the room and looked very smart even before cleaning ourselves up properly.

After dinner we sat and talked and I had to say, really for Lizzie's benefit, that I had met Chris Gardiner and he was now a Flying Officer and had been awarded the DFC. Miriam then announced she had also got engaged at Christmas. I think Lizzie was about to say 'Where's the ring?' when she drew up the gold chain she had round her neck and there was the ring. We all told her she had to wear it. She blushed and said she was shy. Flea very gallantly went down on one knee and said he would be honoured to slip the ring on her finger. She blushed again and said her fiance had already done that but he could unclasp the chain at the back so she could do it herself when the ring was off.

When we went up to the bedroom I said he was a horny bugger, I'd seen him rubbing himself against Miriam's chair when he was undoing the clasp. I tipped him back on the bed amidst his protests I would ruin his uniform and undid his flies and said I bet he had a hardon. He didn't, but soon did have as I sucked on his flaccid tool.

We were laughing and giggling and so happy as we undressed and carefully put the clothes on hangers. As soon as we were fully undressed, had had a pee and a quick wash we were in bed, in the dark, head to toe completing the act I had started on him minutes earlier. I think we both came four times that night. All I can remember about that last time was holding his hard shaft gently in my mouth as his boycream more or less oozed into my mouth. My own rigid tool was now so sensitive that even the slightest touch from his tongue on my glans sent great shivers all over me. Finally, we hugged, sharing the remnants of that concluding, almost paltry, outflow from both of us and slept the sleep of champions.

I don't know what it was but I had noticed that the more sexual excitement I had the more lively I felt in the morning. I would have thought that after four loads being shed and about three hours in the process, I would be dead to the world for hours. But, no, I was awake just after six o'clock when I looked at my watch with its luminous hands. I crept out of bed as Flea was still sound asleep and pulled the curtain on the side window back. It hadn't snowed any more and I sat on the window seat by the warm radiator staring out. It was still half-light. A cold, clear sky. I thought how peaceful it all looked. I was a very lucky boy. I had wonderful friends. I was staying in a beautiful house. I was comforted in my mind that I had some sort of closeness with someone who had lived here in the past. I got up and fetched the photograph of Piers and Miles. The head and shoulders one. They both had slightly enigmatic smiles on their faces. I remembered seeing that famous painting in a book, that Italian one, Mona... Oh, yes, Mona Lisa. They had that same sort of quirky look, a knowing look of sharing some secret between them. From the mature look of their faces I guessed they had become friends in their last year at school

I then fetched the diary Flea had been looking at and had left on the dressing-table. It was the one for 1917. I idly turned the pages and found the entries where James Pike had stayed with him at Easter when Piers was just on seventeen. From the entries it was obvious they had a wonderful time. They went riding and visited a school friend on the farm where he lived some miles away. I would have to check a map. He said they had to ride two hours to get there and when they got home James complained he was sore. There was only one cross at the end of that day's entry. But, I wondered when Miles had stayed. I knew he'd stayed in 1916 and from the diary entries they must have fucked then. But I was drawn to this final diary, the one I held in my hand. I knew this one had the answer. This was the important one. This one sealed their friendship.

I looked again. What on earth did those two rather strange sentences mean? If he had damaged his knee on the third, surely tobogganing on the fourth wouldn't do it any good? And he'd alluded to both being very cheerful and implied he should be tired, too. And what was that about Miles fancying umpiring cricket. Why write that in the middle of winter? I stared at the page and I knew the answer. It was as if those entries had been written all that long time ago waiting for me to read them. I don't suppose anyone else would have bothered, or be in the least interested. Here was Piers telling very simply what had happened and what might have happened.. 'Had a long talk on future plans'. What was in those entries would probably have settled both their futures if they had survived. Those odd sentences and the looks on their faces in that head and shoulders photo told me all.

On the same two days, twenty-seven years later, two boys had re-enacted those happenings. Initial letters were the answer. On January the third 1918 - I f - u - c - k - e - d - m - b. On January the fifth 1918 - Miles f - u - c - k - e - d - m - e. On January the third 1945 I had fucked Flea and we knew that Piers was there too. On January the fifth1945 Andrew had filled me not only with his wonderful boycream but with immense joy and happiness. I couldn't help it. I wept. Great salt tears dropped onto the page of that diary written so many years ago. This great dumb beast shook with emotion. Piers and Miles, Pierre and Andrew. I hoped and prayed we would survive. They hadn't, but they had shown in their own way that love and affection I felt both for Andrew and for his brother. 1918 was when that last Great War had ended. Would this one end in this year?

I put the book back on the dressing-table and dressed just in shorts and shirt and plimsolls. Bran was outside the door again. He licked my hand after I'd stroked his head. We went downstairs and I stoked the boiler again. All the time thinking of those two friends and thinking what did the future hold for us. Bran must have sensed I was lost in thought. I must have stood looking at the cast-iron exterior of the boiler for ages. At last he nudged me. I sat on the floor and, warmed by the increasing heat of the beginning to roar fire, I put my arms round his neck and whispered about how much I loved Ulvescott and being here and how I was so sorry that Piers hadn't lived to be master of the estate in his father's place. I said I knew he was descended from Piers' dog and he must love the place too. Then, in his doggy fashion he gently licked my cheek as two tears rolled down my face. I was so happy and so sad all at the same time.

I stood up and checked the boiler. It was roaring lustily so I closed the damper one notch and put another log on for luck. We crept back upstairs and I stripped as Bran sat by the bed. I slipped in beside Andrew and, although he was still fast asleep, we hugged each other as he nestled his head against my chest. I didn't sleep I lay awake, feeling him breathing and murmuring in his sleep. He trusted me. Lachs had asked me to keep him safe. He was away from his brother for almost the first time in his life but he had another brother now, me! He wasn't just a married-in cousin. I felt he was so much closer to me than that. Both he and Lachs were those brothers I could not have. Pa had told me Ma couldn't have any more children. Was that miscarriage another brother? I didn't know. I had that missing brother in my arms now.

I was becoming more and more aware that young Flea was becoming sexually aroused in his sleep. He was muttering something and I felt his soft cock curl upwards and stiffen against me. Four times last night and stiff again! I stifled a laugh. I couldn't help it. I was rapidly rising to the same condition myself.

I peered at my watch. Sunday morning breakfast was at nine. It was just before half past seven now. I let Flea sleep on but he was well in the throes of some erotic dream. He pressed against me and murmured and mumbled, rubbing his head against me as well. I held him tighter and his hand across my back began to stroke me persistently. It was time for me to wake him slowly or I guessed he might have a wet dream and I didn't want him to waste his precious boycream without me being involved. I wasn't selfish, I just wanted to share another fulfilment of our togetherness.

Carefully, as he was still not yet fully awake, I moved down and around so his steely rod was by my lips. I felt him searching for mine then, simultaneously our cocks were taken in, inch by inch, by our respective mouths. I had thought the night before that I couldn't endure another touch, however light, on my over-used tool, but now the warmth of that mouth was so beautiful I felt I wanted this to last forever.

Slowly, gently, we laved each other's hardness. Slowly, gently, we raised each other to those heights where the flood gates opened once more. The muscles under my cock convulsed as wave after wave of sheer ecstasy rampaged in my groin and then spread until my whole body seemed to be involved in one massive orgasm. My seed pumped out inexorably in great spurts which Flea accepted in full just as his own prick jerked and pulsed and streams of his boy-juice was swallowed eagerly and wantonly by his more than willing companion.

“We've shared our stuff, but we could do that with anyone,” he said. “We've shared more than that, though. I know when we did that we weren't two people, we were one.” He paused. I let those profound thoughts sink in. “I felt just the same with Lachs,” he continued, “I doubt if I will feel it with anyone else in the same way. We've shared each other so completely haven't we?”

The ladies had already gone to church when we reached the breakfast room, they would have breakfast on their return. Mrs Brown was in the kitchen and brought our breakfast through dead on the dot of nine. She smiled and said we had looked so smart the night before and we both thanked her for cooking such a lovely meal. “Amazing what you can do even with the rationing,” she said.

Even though I had supped of that sustenance from Flea I was ravenous as usual. I got through my two poached eggs with relish. I watched as Flea mopped up his second poached egg with a third hunk of bread. I said he'd had enough that morning to feed an army, including nourishing soup as a starter.

I had knowledge to impart so went back to the bedroom. He was curious as all I'd said to him I had something very important to show him. I started off by explaining I'd got up early to stoke the boiler but before that I had sat and looked at Piers' third diary, the one he had been looking at the day before.

He shook his head. I saw him go back to the entry for the third. “That's odd, the way he's written that about hurting himself.” He read on. “But he couldn't have. You don't go out tobogganing with a badly bruised knee.” His lips moved silently.. “F - u - c - k.....” He looked at me again and shook his head. “They did, too.”

“The same as us!” He looked at me quite wide-eyed. “You fucked me the same day that Piers fucked Miles! M B, that's Miles Buchan, isn't it?” He looked at me for confirmation. I nodded. He checked the book. “That's right, then it says 'Miles f - u - c - k - e - d - m - e,'” he said, spelling the letters out. “Gosh! Oh Jacko, just like us!” He put the book down carefully and hugged me. “Just like us and I knew Piers was definitely here that first night. I told you so. I knew he wanted us to be happy. And we were, weren't we?”

“It's like everyone says, you belong here. I saw Mrs Crossley looking at you at dinner last night. She knows you belong here. And Tom,” He shook his head. “He knows and I was aware of something, too.” He hugged me again. “I won't tell anyone. It's your secret. Please tell Lachs when he comes and stays here 'cause he's part of you now, just like me.”

Of course, we cheered up when dinner was announced. Mrs Fry and another lady from the village were there and all three Land Army Girls. Miriam was wearing her ring and I think Lizzie (I couldn't think of her as Elizabeth) kept looking at it as if she was jealous. Good luck to her. I pitied the man she snared. Oh dear, wicked thoughts. What did I know about snaring and so on. I must have a fertile imagination! The other girl, Diana, said she hoped to get engaged as soon as her boyfriend came home. I felt sorry for her, she seemed a little sad.

Anyway, lunch was excellent. Mrs Fry had been given a haunch of venison that week and we had smelled the casserole all morning as Mrs Brown had started cooking it as soon as she had arrived before breakfast. Venison, red wine, herbs. It was so rich even I couldn't manage any more after two platefuls.

Flea and I went into the library after lunch, replete and feeling rather worn now. Perhaps our activities were catching up on us. We read books and a bit later after there was no one else around I went and played, with Bran as my solitary listener. Actually, Flea came and stood by the piano and watched me play my last piece.

Whatever happened that night is just a jumble. Whatever happened was long and slowly drawn out. We held each other, then each caressed the other with their tongues all over, as far as we could reach. We ended up in our favourite position, holding each other round the legs as we lay side by side, mouths to cocks. Once this morning and now three more times. I never went soft and Flea only had to be coaxed a little before he was so erect that third time. That third time was lost in dreams.... Of the past, of the here and now, and feverish dreams of how I wanted to be, loved and loving, happy and giving happiness. I was so lost in thought I spurted out that third time long after Andrew had reached his own climax. I still held some of his cum in my cheek so for the final time on this momentous stay we shared, kissed, and slept. If Piers was there he blessed two grateful, fortunate, privileged to be together, boys.

Monday I was up bright and early again and did my duty stoking the boiler. It was fairly sunny and the snow had melted somewhat. I am afraid Mrs Crossley had tears in her eyes when we said goodbye. I did make the point of asking if Flea's brother could come with us next time. She smiled and said that was a firm invitation. Flea was politeness itself. He looked the model schoolboy as he very politely said thank you to both Mrs Brown and Dora before saying his au revoirs to Mrs Crossley and Miss Pike. Bran accompanied us to the gate and gave a soft bark as we turned and waved to him as we set off to the bus stop.

I was suitably abashed. Yes. We'd spied on him. But I had seriously underestimated Flea. He wouldn't have teased Hans - he was very honest in his dealings with people. I had noticed that with young Georgie in particular. He used the 'Potty says...' to tease those who needed to be teased. Flea, Flea, Flea! You have a deep side to you!

Ma was in when we arrived home. She said she had a cold and didn't want to pass it on. After we had a good feed at lunch she went off to her new writing-room and we went up to my bedroom to unpack. I had found a spare picture frame in a cupboard at Ulvescott and had asked Mrs Crossley if I might have it for the photograph. She had willingly said I could have it and as Flea watched now I took it apart and then re-assembled it complete with the picture.

Ma had said that we had both been invited to tea at the Marchams the next day as Kats was having a birthday celebration. Her birthday had been before Christmas but she'd had a cold then - these colds must be going round. In the bedroom I was cross-questioned about the Marchams. He knew that Tony and I were great friends, ever since Infant School and that I was related, through marriage, as I pointedly said.

Being in my own bed that night seemed strange. What we did, though, was becoming quite familiar. Flea said he definitely wasn't going to do anything else with Titty other than wank. From his exuberance each night with me he was storing up memories to compensate for any lack of further types of stimulation. We only touched each other's cocks to see that they were ready for the way we would then use to reach our climaxes. That night we both came twice in response to avid sucking.

It was fairly slippery when we went out next morning for a run. We didn't venture far. Another reason was we had both slept very soundly and it was later than usual so we detoured and met up with Tom who said he was freezing and helped him finish his round. Pa was in the kitchen when we got back. He apologised in case the porridge was lumpy but Ma was staying in bed and I was to see she was kept well fed and watered. He said plenty of hot fluids. He said he was off to the labs and would leave the porridge pot for us on the slow burner of the Aga.

We scooted up to the bedroom and washed and jumped around to warm ourselves up. When we'd stripped off our running togs we had giggled at the sight of two very shrunken cocks because of the chilliness outside. I had shushed Flea to stop him making so much noise hopping around in case it disturbed Ma. I had turned my back on him to get some clean underpants out of my chest of drawers, as I turned round again he leapt on me and I found myself on my back on the bed. I had ben taken completely by surprise. But, surprise, surprise, warm mouths soon restore shrivelled cocks to a more normal size. 'Morning cream' to go with the porridge he whispered after we rolled off the bed and stated to dress.

Pa's porridge was decidedly un-lumpy. It was so good we emptied the pot. I took Ma a pot of tea and found her sitting up in bed reading something in an exercise book. She said she would have two aspirins and probably get up later in the morning. I caught a glimpse of what was in the book as I handed her the aspirins. It was in her writing. It must be a bit of her detective story.

Flea and I spent the morning quite happily recalling things that had happened over the past few days. He did say, with his typical roguish grin, that he thought Hans was probably bigger than Matt. I said he was taller and I thought possibly thicker but otherwise they matched in size. He said, of course he hadn't seen Hans fully erect but it was impressive. I had. And it was!

We arrived there in good time. We walked and Tony was at the door to greet us. I think he was a bit surprised that Flea was quite so short. Tony was another who had put on a good bit of growth since last Easter. Kats was there as well as their Grandma. She was always supposed to be poorly but when we sat down to tea she scoffed as much as Tony and his sister did!

We came away quite full up with food just after Mr Marcham arrived back from his office. I always liked him. He was bluff and hearty, quite different from his quieter, more studious, but in some ways flamboyant, son. He always maintained he was a self-made man, whatever that meant. Roo had told me that his mother thought Mr Marcham was one of the wealthiest men in Kerslake. As well as the Estate Agent business Roo said he owned lots of property as well.

We didn't have to cogitate in bed that night. Flea said he was going to miss his second most favourite way when he got back to school. I asked if he might move to sucking with Titty. He shook his head and said he knew most of them helped each other the general way but he didn't want any rumours about him for anything else and Titty might just say something. Not that he didn't trust Titty but he did have a temper and might blurt something out if he was teased about anything. I said he was very wise and he said he had to store up plenty before he went back. Once already this morning. Twice more tonight!

I only had one more day before having to return to school. Flea had to be back ready for next Tuesday. I had to catch up with quite a lot of homework today and Flea didn't seem to mind. He kept an eye on Ma. She stayed in bed until lunch-time then announced she would get up but work in her new room. I wondered if the cold was a bit of an excuse to get on with finishing the book. I noticed this morning that Pa had gone off with the exercise book and another one, too.

I was all keyed up about going back to school. This was the last term before those all important exams. Flea still had another year to go but he sensed my anxieties. We went up to bed early. He helped me sort out things I might need. After undressing and getting into bed we lay and talked softly for ages and then over the next two hours I became more and more relaxed. Three times we helped each other to wonderful climaxes. All was much too good to think about, or worry about, school. I was in a real state of euphoria as that third time I came with such intensity and then shared my spunk with him.

We were up and out in time to help Tom. He was worried about school. Would I help him if he got stuck. I said I would. Flea remarked as we sat over breakfast that it seemed as if a lot of people depended on me. He smiled and said he did and I was to be back from school pronto to tell him what sort of day I had.

Actually, school wasn't too bad. A few were absent - colds - but Matt, Roo, Cleggy, Tony and Nobbo were there. The timetable had been turned round a bit and we now had Games on a Tuesday. Still, only this term's rugger then next term the first few weeks would be taken up with exams. Oh, exams! Why did that thought keep cropping up?

Ma was crafty. Her cold was better. Matt had cycled round Sunday afternoon about five o'clock with another parcel. After he'd scoffed tea with us Ma announced that the book was ready. She was going to London the next day with Flea to see him on his train to school and to deliver the manuscript to the publisher in Bloomsbury! Pa said she'd better not be like Miss Prism and leave the book on the train and pick up a baby. Ma said she knew English literature better than him as Miss Prism left the baby and picked up a book! Pa just waved his pipe and grinned and said 'Whatever!'.

I helped Flea pack on Sunday evening. He was both sad and also happy about going. He said he'd had a really good holiday. We'd done so much. He had met some very nice people and I was lucky to have so many good friends who had accepted him as well. He said he was looking forward to seeing his brother and finding out what had gone on up in Cumberland.. I said “And Potty...?” He grinned..

As we lay in bed that evening he said the best part of the holiday were the two nights at Ulvescott. Those occasions were between us and he was now an equal with his brother. He repeated, we three. As far as he was concerned his brother and I would be the only two who would share him in that way. I wasn't being conceited when I hugged him and said I was honoured to have his trust and love even though we hadn't known each other very long. He said a very profound thing. “We've known each other for a very long time, I'm sure of that!”