Flip's Tale
Chapter
Three
3A: Kinloch School: September 1996
I woke pretty early on Wednesday morning and was ready, washed and dressed in my new school uniform well before I heard Aunt Margaret stirring.
I checked out my two bags of clothes and precious possessions and thought to myself that I'd woken up that morning without my usual hardon. Underlying anxiety? A bit, perhaps.
The letter from the headmaster, or Rector as his proper title, confirming Mr McCrae's decision to accept me in his House had noted I should get to the school by eleven o'clock. I was in the kitchen ferreting about for breakfast things when Aunt Margaret came in at half past seven. She was very cheerful as she said she'd had a good night's sleep with no night calls to visit patients and why was I up so early as we didn't have to leave until well after nine o'clock?
I kept my mouth shut. I must admit I was getting more apprehensive by the minute. The wonderful thoughts of Tom and all the things we'd done and the comforting wank in bed last night had all evaporated. Here was I, poor boy, about to be cast out onto unknown waters. I thought that if I talk too much things might get a bit emotional.
Good old Aunt Margaret. She had sensed my disquiet. She was patience and tact itself as she got my breakfast. I did go to the window to see Tom's school bus go past the end of our track at quarter to eight. I didn't think it politic to go down and wave to him. Too embarrassing for both of us. But I did cheer up a bit thinking about our last encounter on my bed. Even while eating Aunt Margaret's sustaining porage at the time didn't stop my young cock from getting a bit hard.
Aunt Margaret had to do some 'phoning so after breakfast I went to my room. I checked over my list of things to be taken and took the photo of Tom and me out of its frame and tucked it down the side of my suitcase so it was in the folds of my kilt. I then had to tidy my packing again.
At half past nine Aunt Margaret chivvied me up and I put the two bags into the Range Rover and we set off at her usual cracking pace. Tom's mum was in her garden and waved as we went by. I think Tom must have asked her to do that.
Aunt Margaret drove like the clappers - she always did - so we arrived at Kinloch well before the appointed hour of eleven.
The first person I saw as we drew up outside the McCrae house was Simon. He was dressed more respectably this time in green sweatshirt and calf length cargo pants. He was supervising the unloading of another Four by Four with a lad of my age being fussed over by his mother.
Simon greeted us quite effusively. “Hi, Dr Menzies, how are you? I see Flip made it on time.”
He turned to the boy and his mother.
“This is Mrs Campbell and her beloved Paul.”
The boy clenched a fist and made a face at Simon.
“Watch your step, Simon Fleming,” he said in the lilting tones of a western Highlander whose voice had just about broken, “I've grown one and half inches this summer holiday.”
Simon put his hands up defensively while Paul's mother laughed.
“Poor child,” she said, “He's had his brother Roddy home on leave chasing him around so he's really glad to get back to school so he can laud it over his so-called friends.”
“Mother!” he said with a hint of exasperation in his voice, “You are so embarrassing! I haven't even been introduced yet.”
His mother turned to my aunt.
“Well you should know Dr Menzies and I suspect this is her nephew.”
Paul was a very self-assured young man. Introductions were rapidly done. So this was Paul Campbell, my next door bed mate, the dorm prefect. From what I remembered Simon telling me he was about three months older than me, but, he was at least three inches shorter. He was stocky, dark-haired with very blue eyes. I liked him on first sight. I hoped we would be friends. Aunt Margaret and Mrs Campbell turned out to be friends. They had met on various committees for something or other and disappeared into the McCrae house to scrounge some morning coffee off Mrs McCrae. At least that was what Paul's mother said they would do. I liked his mother, too.
As soon as they went off Simon said we should go to the dorm with our bags and then come down as he needed a bit of help when others arrived and in that way I would get to know other members of the House. He told us to come back in sweatshirts as we looked too stuffy in school uniform.
We hefted our bags, at least I did, Paul had four to my two so he left the two smaller ones until later. I helped him carry the largest one up the stairs as well as holding onto my two.
“Gosh,” he said admiringly when we reached the top of the stairs, “You're strong, aren't you?”
I just shrugged my shoulders as he barged the door to the dorm open. What a difference! The bare room I had seen before now had dark red and gold curtains and matching duvets and pillowslips on each bed. I took all this in with one glance as I followed Paul.
“Stand by your beds you lazy lot!” he yelled and turned to me, grinning.
“Fuck off, Camiknicks!” A voice came from the other side of the room.
“I knew you'd be here, Cowface! And where's Little Dick?”
“I'm here, Paul,” came another voice, much quieter and pitched higher.
Paul laughed. “Here Flip, let me introduce, Fergus St Andrew Cowen, known affectionately as Cowface when he's in one of his better moods.” He indicated a tall rangy boy sitting on the bed next to the one I had been designated. “And this is Little Dick, Richard R Richardson, really the Honourable Richard R Richardson but we prefer to think of him as just dishonourable.”
A small, bespectacled lad was sitting on the bed just behind the door undoing a rather untidily tied parcel. He looked up at me rather hesitantly as I rather loomed over him. He said 'hello' and resumed untying a recalcitrant knot.
“Hello, I'm Flip,” I said as cheerily as I could. “Phillip Menzies to be exact and I'm new.”
“We're not,” came the response from the other lad, “We've been here since the world began, or it seems like it.”
“Don't be so miserable, Fergie,” Paul retorted, “You know we all love you and cherish you and did you have a good vac?”
“What!” he replied, “I'm glad to be back. With three bloody sisters arguing all the time it was bloody hell!”
Paul turned to me. “Usual mood. He'll cheer up once we're all here, won't you Fergie?”
A non-committal grunt was the only response.
“Anyway,” said Paul, who was obviously in charge, “Who is coming to help me and Phillip greet the rest? Si says he needs help.”
No movement from either.
“OK then, don't come... and don't offer to carry my other bags up.”
No response. Paul shrugged his shoulders.
“Leave your bags there, Flip, we can unpack properly later. We've just got to find a sweatshirt now.”
I undid my suitcase as I knew Tom had neatly folded my sweatshirts and put them on top. I removed my jacket and shirt and took time to put my sweatshirt on. I was aware of three pairs of eyes surveying my torso and I made sure I flexed my muscles a bit before I pulled the sweatshirt over my head. I did that in such a way to give them a good view of my very slightly hairy armpits. As I looked round three pairs of eyes were averted and silence reigned. Paul was still looking in his bag for a sweatshirt and at last pulled out a crumpled piece of clothing and quickly stripped off and pulled it over his head. I noted he had a much thicker bush under his arm. Well he was a bit older than me.
3B: Clyde:
We left the room and went downstairs. On the way Paul explained that Fergie didn't get on with his family and was much more used to school life than being at home. He also said that Little Dick was a bit slow and I hadn't better take the mickey out of him. I said I hadn't any thought of doing so. Paul explained that one or two of the older boys and some in his own class made fun of him because he was not so quick on the uptake and was also small and still very young for his age even though he was nearly fifteen. I said he seemed a nice kid and Paul said he was the best you could get and was really quite tough underneath and was aiming to be scrum half in the house team.
Simon was standing on the grass by the drive looking towards the main gates. He said the buses from the station at Tulloch should be arriving soon so I would meet a few more of the members of the House. He explained to me that the younger new boys had arrived the day before and they were all over in Big School being inducted into the arcane mysteries of how to behave and how to succeed in school. He grinned and said I'd missed out on this so I'd better learn fast or I'd be in the shit!
While we stood there Aunt Margaret and Mrs Campbell came out chatting away. Luckily neither Paul's mum nor Aunt Margaret tried to bestow kisses on us as they said farewell and got into their respective cars.
Simon came up behind us and put his hands on our shoulders as they drove off. “OK, you two?”
We both nodded. I don't know how Paul felt but I really got apprehensive then. Just at that moment a bus came down the drive and went on to the castle-like building - Big School as I had learned to call it. A few moments later a straggle of older inhabitants of the House came round the side of the building and greeted Simon effusively and even deigned to recognise Paul and stare at me. Paul talked to all of them and I was introduced as a new bug which drew chuckles from a couple of them. Simon disappeared off with two of the oldest and didn't come back.
Paul was cross-questioning me about my old school when we heard the sounds of some sort of altercation going on round the other side of the building. Two lads appeared, one about seventeen and tall and the other, much shorter, of about my own age, pulling and pushing a porter's trolley.
“Get your goddam Scottish butt behind this goddam trolley and push!” said the smaller figure in an unmistakable American drawl. “You may be a goddam hockey star but you ain't got a clue about shoving your ass!”
The older lad let go of the trolley which was laden with at least seven large bags.
“Push it yourself, you whining git,” he said petulantly, then grinned, “All I've had all the way from London is your mouth! And I had two months of it before that, too!”
The smaller figure gave the trolley an almighty heave and it rolled to a stop just in front of Paul and me. Just at that moment Simon reappeared. The younger lad ignored us.
“Hi Si, I'm back,” he announced, “And never share a sleeper with that goddam MacPerson as he snores like a goddam pig!”
The older one gave the plump lad a good-natured prod and greeted Simon as well, looked at Paul and me and went off towards the dorm building without taking any luggage. I looked quizzically at Paul.
“Oh that's Robbie MacPherson, he's OK, you'll meet him later,” was the only response. Anymore would have been interrupted by the young American.
“Hi, McBeth,” he called out as he counted the bags on the trolley, “You sure got your goddam body back from that castle of yours to here early.” He looked at me. “And who's your sturdy friend?”
He straightened up and came over to us. He was a good four inches shorter than me, plumpish and sporting a pair of owlish spectacles.
“Let me introduce you,” said Paul. “This is Phillip T Menzies, and this is Clyde Watson Dowson the Fourth, our transatlantic friend.”
“Ya, Phillip, glad to meet ya!” The transatlantic friend stuck out his hand. I shook it.
“I'm Phillip T Menzies the Second,” I said, emphasizing 'the Second', “Or Flip to my friends, transatlantic or not.”
“And I'm Clyde to mine,” he said, grinning, “And cut that goddam irony crap!”
He turned to Simon who was having quiet hysterics at the exchange.
“Where's that goddam McGripePerson gone?” he asked, then turned to the trolley. “My bags are under his goddam bastard one there.”
A sudden hush fell as Mr McCrae appeared through the front door of his house. He came towards us.
“I could hear you back there you noisy creature,” he said as he came up to the lad and the trolley, looming from his great height over both of them. “Have you managed to alienate the rest of Europe this summer?”
“No, Mr McCrae, Sir,” he said, sticking his paw out and shaking Mr McCrae's hand vigorously. “My father left Robbie and me in Paris” - he pronounced it Paree - “for three weeks while he went to see off Mrs Dowson the fourth so we wandered around and then went back to Robbie's in Surrey for that adventure camp for the rest of the vacation.” 'Vacation' pronounced 'vay-kay-shun'.
Mr McCrae smiled at this recital as if it was an everyday occurrence and turned to Paul and me.
“You three have met now. Alright, Flip? You're all in the same dorm and Richard and Fergus have already arrived so that just leaves our other two new arrivals. You'd better come in now, Mrs McCrae has some lunch for you.”
Clyde talked his way through lunch much to Mrs McCrae's amusement. I guessed from the accent he was putting on Southern charm as thick as possible. The rest of us sat with stoical expressions and munched steadily. Mr McCrae looked as if he was used to it all. At last Clyde shut up his diatribe against his father and the pursuit of a possible fifth Mrs Dowson. Simon kept nudging his knee against mine each time the story got more preposterous and I was developing a raging hardon. Paul wasn't much better the other side of me as he prodded me in the ribs and pulled surreptitious faces, so, what with a throbbing dick and trying not to laugh, I was in rather a state.
Lunch finished and I had to stand up. Luckily my sweatshirt was sufficiently long - bought rather larger than necessary as I would grow into it - so it hung down over my bulging flies. Of course, Simon had sensed as much and grinned at me knowingly as we came out into the open air. He didn't say anything but I noticed he was talking in a confidential way to Paul and I saw Paul give me a quick look before turning ostentatiously the other way. Luckily the cold air or lack of any more stimulation let my rod go limp.
As I stood there Clyde came up behind me and shoved the top suitcase off the trolley where it landed on the grass with a thump.
“Goddam McParsnips can get his own goddam bag. Hi McDuff!” he called over to, I assumed, Paul, “I need some goddamned help here, there's only me and this Flop person!”
He grinned at me. “Have to say that so Si will say I'm not politically correct.”
Shades of Dr Williams here too, I thought.
Sure enough both Simon and Paul came over and stood either side of him. Each took an arm and lifted him bodily off the ground.
“God, Clyde,” said Simon,” You've put on more weight, you obese little toad, and will you stop your constant prattle.”
“Got you,” retorted Clyde triumphantly, “You called me fat so I'll have you for defamation of character!”
“Defamation?” chuckled Simon, “It's more like deformation of character with you. If we let go, promise you'll be quiet for two minutes, eh?”
They dropped him and he went over to the six bags left on the trolley.
“Flip, would you help me with these?” he asked, sweetly and politely, “These goddam swine will only torment me.”
The other two laughed and the four of us pushed the trolley to the door of the dorm building. There Simon and Paul left us and walked off back to the McCrae's house.
Clyde hefted one of his bags and I picked up two and we toiled up to the third floor dumping the bags by the door of our dorm. We made our way down and sat on the trolley by the other three bags to get our breath back. What the hell did he want six bags for? What had he brought back to school?
He asked me quite bluntly why was I joining the school a year later than usual. I thought it best to give the unvarnished truth. He listened intently then put a hand on my arm.
“Goddam it, Flip, we've all got our problems,” he said very quietly, “'Nil carborundum illegitime' - don't let the bastards grind you down is my motto!” He squeezed my arm. “You can count on me.”
He lumbered to his feet. Just then Paul appeared and picked up one bag, Clyde picked up a second leaving me with the biggest and, I assumed, the heaviest. I picked it up gingerly as it looked rather knobbly, and, without staggering, went up the three flights of stairs in front of them. I wasn't going to be ground down. So Paul had another exhibition of my strength.
The other two were now sitting on either side of Fergie's bed playing some card-game or other. There was a general commotion when Clyde entered, much 'goddamning' and a big hug for Little Dick who brightened up considerably when he saw Clyde. Even Fergus had a smile on his face and only complained because he hadn't been invited to the McCraes' lunch and he and Dick had had to make do with scrumming with the masses in Big School for slush and dead baby's leg. I didn't ask what that was but it did sound suitably revolting. As both looked well fed it couldn't have been too bad.
I started to unpack and was intrigued to know what was in Clyde's six bags to everyone else's one or two. He didn't enlighten us as he disappeared into the heads for at least fifteen minutes as I sorted my things out.
3C: The Dorm:
Paul and I stood side by side as his locker was next to mine as he'd pushed his bed up against the end wall. I was glad my things were packed so neatly as I was able to transfer them directly to the shelves and hangers in the locker. My sports kit seemed to take up a lot more space than underpants, socks and sweatshirts. I had brought two lots of sweats as I intended working on the weights and I had been taught never to do anything when too cold. I smiled when I got my rugger boots out as thoughtful Tom had even put them into a plastic bag first. A muttered 'Oh shit!' told me someone in Paul's household hadn't done the same for him.
We reached the bottom of our suitcases on our beds simultaneously. I drew out my neatly folded kilt and was just hanging it on the special hanger Mr Ferguson had given me when Paul pulled out a rather badly packed bundle which he shook out revealing his own kilt as being dark green, black and blue. He smiled at me as he hung it up in his locker on a rather elderly hanger. He watched as I unwrapped the tissue paper around my silver-mounted sporran. His eyes opened wide when he saw it.
“That's brilliant, Flip, I've always wanted one like that,” he said admiringly, “Where did you get that?”
“It was my father's,” I said simply, “He had it for his twenty-first and my aunt kept it for me.”
“My dad and my brothers have ones like that, I haven't got one I've only got this.”
He opened a flat cardboard box lying on the bottom of his case and drew out a very lovely badger hair sporran. It wasn't silver-mounted but it was old and well-cared for.
“It was my grand-dad's,” he explained, “I love it.”
“It's very old, isn't it?” I said, “I like it. But this is my everyday one.”
I unwrapped the leather one and put that on the shelf. I noted that there was something in it. When Paul wasn't looking I opened the flap and there was a note. 'Best wishes and all my love, Tom'. I could have burst into tears. My hardon started to return.
I looked over at Paul who was brushing the hair on the sporran. I didn't like to ask when he wore his kilt and with the others with names such as Macpherson, McCrae, Fleming and even Fergus Cowen, they must be Scottish. I would have to wait and see.
Our peace was shattered by the return of Clyde from the heads announcing he'd just had the best goddamned crap for weeks as the goddam camp had goddam holes in the ground and then asking who was going to have the other two goddamned beds.
Paul told him he'd been instructed to look out for two Arab lads, cousins, - he scrabbled on the desktop at the end of his bed - Ghazi Makhlore and Hamed Makhlose - as far as he knew. Clyde interrogated him about where they came from and why they were coming here and how old were they, but Paul just shook his head and said he didn't know.
Paul and I chatted on, he telling me about various things which I would have to get to know about especially during my first few days. He had a look at the copy of the time-table I had been given on arrival and noted that I had extra English and Science instead of Latin. There were so many little things to learn about, roll calls, meal times and sittings, prep time, lights out time, room inspections, etc., etc. My head was reeling after that recital He also said that I'd better choose which games or sports I wanted to opt for. Clyde heard us as he was emptying his second bag on his bed, which seemed to consist of even more clothes than the first, and said he was doing golf and fencing this year and not running around on some goddam field chasing a goddam ball. Paul said he's have to do two afternoons of rugger as that was compulsory and Clyde subsided into splutters of distaste saying he didn't want to bash his fellow citizens about.
“You're just scared,” riposted Paul, “You Yanks can only play football in armour-plating. You're a bunch of sissies. Your lot would run a mile if the Scottish pack set on you! And you, prancing about in a white suit poking someone with a bit of wire, pah!”
Clyde inelegantly gave Paul the finger and started to undo the third of his bags. Several pieces of what looked like a computer were now tipped onto the bed.
3D: The New Arrivals:
It was now coming up to about four o'clock when Fergie glanced through the window by which he was sitting. He stood up to get a better look.
“My God, just look at that car!” he exclaimed, pointing towards the window.
Being nosey the rest of us crowded round the two windows and peered out towards the McCrae's house. A very sleek, shiny, black, stretch limo with tinted windows had drawn up in the drive. As we watched a very smartly dressed young man got out on the passenger's side at the front of the car and opened the back door on that side. The driver didn't move but sat impassively staring forwards. A young, dark-skinned lad of about my age got out and he and the young man talked animatedly together. Then they waited and after quite a pause a second young dark-skinned lad who was shorter, but looked a bit older, got out and looked about him with a scowl on his face. The young man said something to him. The lad looked most displeased. The young man raised a finger. The lad scowled even more and curled his lip. The other lad said something and although we couldn't hear anything we knew he was getting an earful from the glowering one and was being told off for his pains.. The young man turned and said something sharp to the scowly lad who from his expression was about to say something else. The young man held up his finger again and the scowly boy dropped his gaze.
“That lad is not a happy bunny,” said Fergus as the little drama came to a conclusion.
It wasn't quite concluded as the young man went round to the driver's window and the driver, a swarthy middle-aged man in chauffeur's uniform got out and went to the boot of the car and extricated four suitcases and a couple of what looked like attache cases.
The younger lad picked up one of the smaller cases and took it over to the door of Mr McCrae's house. The other lad didn't move but sneered all the time even when the younger one said something to him. The driver shrugged his shoulders and marched back and forth to the door of our dorm building with the rest of the luggage.
We were wondering what was going to happen next when Mr McCrae appeared at his front door and beckoned the two boys and the young man in. The driver returned to the car and sat impassively behind the wheel. We were intrigued to see if anything else would happen. After about three minutes the two lads accompanied by Simon came out and made their way to the dorm building. A few moments later Mr McCrae and the young man came out deep in conversation. They shook hands, the young man got into the car and it glided away.
We five looked at each other. These two lads were going to share our room. One seemed OK. What about the other one?
“Oh shit!” said Fergie, “If it's like that down there what will it be like up here?”
“Goddam it!” exclaimed Clyde, “And I've got the fucker in bed next to me!”
We lapsed into silence and moved to the safety of our own bed spaces and waited.
The door opened and Simon came in immediately followed by the younger boy carrying an attache case. Simon said nothing, the lad looked around and smiled shyly. Simon walked over to the bed next to Fergie.
“Now, Ghazi, this is where you will be sleeping. I'll introduce everyone in a moment so put your bag over there. Now, where's Hamed?”
There was a lengthy pause and Simon went to the door.
“Come on in, let me show you where you'll be. All the others are here.”
The scowling boy came in also carrying a small bag.. He marched straight past all of us and flung the bag onto the vacant bed. He turned and said something sharply to his cousin, I assumed, in Arabic.
Ghazi looked apologetically around at all of us who were staring uncomprehendingly at the other lad's ill behaviour.
“I am sorry but my cousin is upset. He did not want to come here.”
Simon looked at Paul and muttered something like “You take over” and walked out shutting the door behind him. You could have cut the atmosphere with a scimitar.
Paul took over. He acted impeccably, much older than his years.
“Let me introduce us all,” he started, perhaps a bit too brightly, “I'm Paul and this is Flip, he's also new here like you.”
I went up to the younger, more pleasant lad and we shook hands. The other one ignored me so I thought 'fuck you' and went back to my bed and sat on it.
Paul went round the others introducing them. All solemnly shook hands with the nicer lad and were ignored by the other.
There was another pause and Hamed muttered something else to Ghazi who looked rather downcast when he said his cousin said he wasn't going to be here long and he didn't want to be bothered.
I think Ghazi was close to tears but we just grinned at each other and left it at that. Clyde was remarkably silent through all this exchange and continued to unpack the fourth of his bags. This was a sign to Ghazi to unpack the bag he'd carried in. Paul looked towards the door and nodded to me. We went out downstairs and retrieved the other suitcases by the front door and lugged them up. Simon came along the corridor.
“Leave them by the door for a moment,” he instructed us before we could say anything about the horrible atmosphere being generated in the dorm. He said we were not to antagonise Hamed and not to be antagonised by him, and we would have to come to terms with him in our own way. He was sorry we were being put in such a position but even he wasn't fully in the picture. He said even Mr McCrae was a bit worried about the situation. In any case, whatever happened he would be on our side. All this sounded a bit ominous but he said he knew he could count on us. He shrugged his shoulders and picked up the biggest bag, one belonging to Hamed. Paul and I just looked at each other as we picked up the other bags and went into the dorm.
Simon panted as he dropped the bag labelled with Hamed's name on the end of his bed.
“What have you got in there? The family silver?”
Hamed scowled but did have the grace to say thank you. Ghazi gave Paul and me a sweet smile and said thanks when we put the other cases by his bed. As Simon turned to go out Ghazi immediately followed him and they both came back to the door a minute or so later. I heard Simon say to Ghazi “Good lad, let me know,” then he patted Ghazi on the bum and went off. Hamed gave Ghazi a real scowl as he came back and then began to open the first of his bags.
At six o'clock we all trooped off to Big School dining hall as we were in the first sitting of one hundred and fifty for supper. The food was more than adequate both in quality and quantity with a thick soup and good bread, meat and two veg with lashings of gravy, all followed by a tasty fruit crumble. It was all I could do not to burp contentedly.
While eating I had surveyed this half of the school assembled in the room. There were almost equal lots of younger lads, all looking about thirteen or so and then ones who were fourteen and a bit above like me. There were a few older lads, one of whom sat at the head of each table of eight and supervised the dishing out of the food. I counted up and found there were sixteen tables plus a long table where about six late teenagers sat with four men who must have been masters.
We straggled back to the dorm building and found Paul gathering our little contingent, including the scowler, to go into the prep room where eight younger lads were sitting looking rather expectant. As we came in a group of older lads left, I assume going to the second sitting.
Two of the older lads who had sat at the head of tables followed us and then we all had to introduce ourselves to the young ones, who, like me, were new comers to the Big School even though most had been to the preparatory school down the road.
The older lads who'd been on the second sitting came back and all the introduction of new bugs went on again with Clyde keeping up a continuous stream of banter mostly hinting at all sorts of secret vices of the older ones. They were obviously used to him and when any of them got up to go they generally gave him a friendly punch or pulled his ears and warned him of reprisals. Neither Simon nor MacPherson appeared and I forgot to count up to see how many others out of the thirty in the House were missing. In the end all went off except Paul, Clyde, me and Little Dick and after more chat on their part and listening in on mine, Paul said we'd better get back to the dorm ready for lights out.
3E: First Night:
I watched and followed the ritual of getting ready for bed. I had never slept with more than one other boy in the same room and, in the two cases in my experience, my brother Stuart and my friend Michael, we had shared the same bed. Michael had described what went on at Scout camp but would this be different? He hadn't described the procedures of getting undressed, donning pyjamas, going to the heads for a pee, brushing one's teeth, washing hands and face, etc., etc. I noticed no one took a shower and there was much creative shielding of vital parts when trousers and pants were removed and pyjama bottoms got into. But, I did get a glimpse, as Fergie stepped out of his underpants and reached for his pyjama trousers, of the longest and thinnest cock I'd ever seen. Just a glimpse, but no mistake, the boy had length!
I finished my undressing and ablutions and crawled into bed under my duvet and watched and waited. The two Arab boys were already under their covers and so were Paul and Fergie. Little Dick had gone out to the heads again and Clyde was still farting around folding clothes when there was a knock on the door and Simon came in.
“Lights out in three minutes,” he announced, looking around the room, “And I don't want any noise. You young 'uns need your beauty sleep, especially you Clyde, you ugly bugger!”
He darted out of the door and closed it just in time as the shoe Clyde was holding hurtled towards him and slammed against the wall by Little Dick's bed. A laugh and 'missed!' sounded from outside. Clyde wandered down the room, picked up the shoe and went back to his bed. Paul said something like 'Better luck next time!' while Clyde just muttered something under his breath, sighed and clambered, snorting, into his bed..
I settled down under my duvet and looked around. Little Dick came out of the heads said 'good night' and got into his bed. It was very quiet and then the lights went out.
There was silence. I lay there thinking about all the events of the day. Time had gone so fast I hadn't had a chance to think. I thought about all my room-mates. Paul, I had taken to immediately, he looked as if he could be a good friend. Mouthy Clyde seemed OK. His little chat with me had given another facet to the brash-sounding everyday Clyde. It would be interesting to see how we got on. Little Dick and Fergie I would have to get to know better as I hadn't had a chance so far to really interact with them. Ghazi seemed pleasant enough. He had a pleasant smile the couple of times I'd spoken to him. He'd told me downstairs that he and Hamed had been at a school down in the West of England where they had had separate rooms so this was a new experience for both of them. I had found out he was exactly the same age as me but that Hamed was older, in fact, although he was a couple of inches shorter than Ghazi he was already fifteen and a half. I didn't ask any questions about them, especially Hamed. He was an unknown quantity, the look on his face showed he didn't want to be here and I hoped he wasn't going to upset my life here.
I was pondering on this when I my thoughts turned to Simon who had caused my hardon at lunch. I felt a tell-tale tingle in my groin and my thoughts switched immediately to Tom and Michael and Darryll and the tingle turned to a throbbing and my dick hardened and lay straight up my belly.
I wanted my nightly wank! I needed my nightly wank!! I would go mad if I didn't have my nightly wank!!! How the hell was I going to have my nightly wank???
Here was I in the dark with six other lads in beds around me, what should I do? I couldn't very well slip out and go to the heads. I should have got rid of my troubles in the bog before bedtime. Oh my God, my prick was getting harder and I had a full day's load to get rid of. I thought back to the last few weeks with Tom and the usual three times a day and here I was today not having had one wank! Perhaps if I dropped off to sleep I might have a wet dream, at least that would solve a problem. The old joke about the boy who went to bed with a problem on his mind and woke up with the solution on his chest popped into my head.
That little thought didn't help either. I felt a bit too agitated to drop off to sleep but turned quietly onto my side facing Fergie's bed. My eyes were becoming accustomed to the gloom. There was a faint moon and the room was not in total darkness. Then I noticed something.
A small mound was in my field of vision. Fergie's duvet was moving very slightly up and down. Was he wanking or was he just breathing? As silently as I could I moved over onto my other side. A similar mound was even more evident on Paul's bed and the movement there, although slow, was unmistakable. Paul was definitely jacking himself off. I turned onto my back and waited.
The sound of rather heavy breathing was coming from Clyde's bed. It was difficult to see what was happening there but within a minute or so a couple of half-stifled sharp intakes of breath told me there was goddamned masturbatory activity going on in that bed.
Oh my God, I thought, at least they were wanking, so here goes. Carefully I undid my pyjama jacket buttons and slipped it open across my torso. I flicked the button at the top of my trousers and my fly gaped. I wriggled a bit to get the trousers down my hips and pushed up the centre of the duvet with my left hand.
My cock was now so hard and rigid it was almost stuck to my belly. I didn't bother to try to lift it but put two fingers on one side and my thumb on the other side of the knob end and pulled down to free it from my foreskin. It was so, so sensitive as I touched it lightly with a finger. I pulled my skin up and down very gently just touching the underside of my rim each time giving me a jolt of ecstasy. It was a perfect wank, my thoughts flicked through my friends and the times we'd had together. The feel of Michael's cock between my fingers and in my mouth; Darryll's hot mouth sucking greedily on my rod; Tom's young body and the feelings I had with my shaft fully inside him. I thought then of Simon and the yearning I had to feel those wonderful hairy legs and, perhaps, some day to explore what was held within that pouch I'd glimpsed beneath those running shorts. My boyish needs were being accompanied by the most ardent feelings and desires and I knew I was getting close to a climax.
My reverie was broken by a sharp intake of breath from Clyde's direction. This was followed by a muted 'Aaaargh' confirming he'd released a load. A quite audible tattoo of fist against cloth on my right side told me that Paul was on the verge and a sudden 'Ohhhh' from my left side told me Fergie had peaked. I was speeding up my strokes quite automatically and was matching Paul's flying fist when he produced a long drawn out sibilant hiss. I wasn't far behind. His gasping came moments before my own 'Oooooooh'. I unloaded a massive amount, a full day's load which splashed against my chin and lay finally in a puddle between my pecs and dribbled down my stomach.
Oh, fuck!! I had nothing to mop it up with!!
At home I generally wiped up the results of my nightly bed wank with the underpants I'd discarded, or I would actually wank into a carefully held sports sock, as my mother had always insisted I had clean underwear and socks on every day and I had carried on that habit at my aunt's. Tonight I had nothing, as my underpants were on the bottom shelf of my locker with my socks. All I had were the pyjamas I was wearing and I didn't want them too stiff with dried spunk!. Oh, shit! But, then a solution. The solution! The solution was carefully mopped up finger-load by finger-load and transferred to my mouth where I sucked silently and revelled in the taste of my cum.
I listened carefully to what might be going on around me but all I heard were a few rustlings then the sounds of contented boys going to sleep. I was so exhausted with the day's excitements and the wonderful wank I had just experienced I didn't even do up my pyjamas before falling into a deep and dreamless sleep. It was truly the sleep of the just, or just after!
I did stir sometime in the middle of the night. I was aware that Paul was leaning over Little Dick and saying something to him urgently. Little Dick got out of bed, went to the heads and Paul returned to his bed. Next thing I knew it was morning.
I woke early as usual. There was a quiet susurration of boyish breathing and snores in the room just after dawn. I had my usual morning hardon and my pyjama trousers were rather awkwardly twisted round the base of my equipment. There was also a little bit of crustiness on my chest. Oh God, better clean up!
I put my feet out of bed and adjusted my pyjama trousers and grabbed my towel and wash bag from my locker. I padded off to the heads intent on having a good morning wank. I didn't even look at the humped figures in the beds as I passed. I opened the door quietly and found the light was on. There was Little Dick, bare-chested, washing himself. I wasn't the only early-morning riser. So was Little Dick in the other sense as well.
As he stood up straight, having been bent over the sink rinsing his face, his stiff four inches of boymeat poked out from the fly of his pyjamas. He greeted me quietly and went on washing. I stood at the sink next to him and, as the hot water was running in, stripped off my pyjama jacket too.
Little Dick was towelling his face so I was able to have a good look at his rod with it's end shrouded in a heavy foreskin. He obviously hadn't got down to washing that because there was clear evidence of spunky residue in the slight folds of his skin at the end. So that meant there were five wankers in the room so far! What about the Arabs?
I was washing my face and neck when Little Dick quite unconcernedly undid the button at the top of his pyjama trousers and let them fall to his ankles. Luckily the sink bowl was set rather lower than usual because he, being only just over five feet, was then able to heft his equipment over the edge of the bowl where he liberally soaped his erect prick and little bush of hair and washed those bits and his balls most thoroughly. Finally, as if unzipping a banana, he pulled his foreskin back and, squeezing his facecloth, doused his pink knob end with a shower of water. All this time his little dick was quite, quite rigid. I was fascinated. [I really was as I'd read somewhere that 'fascinate' came from the Latin, meaning 'to be transfixed by the sight of the penis'!]
He then towelled himself carefully, bent down, pulled up his pyjamas, buttoned them, picked up his wash things and went back to the dorm. That was more than I could do. I went straight into one of the bogs, closed the door, dropped my pyjama trousers, fisted my erect prick about fifty times and shot a load all over the tiles at the back of the loo. No wonder they had tiled the place. Gallons of spunk must have been deposited yearly by horny lads just like me! I tore off some bog-paper and wiped the mess off the tiles and hoped that no smears would be left as evidence. I then sat and had a satisfying shit and felt on top of the world!
All this took a bit of time. I wandered back into the dorm but, other than Little Dick who was sitting on his bed, now with his specs on, looking at an exercise book, no one else had stirred. I could see no conversation was going to ensue so I got dressed in school trousers, sweatshirt, etc. and also sat leafing through all the bumf I had collected the day before.
3F: School life:
Today, Thursday, we were meeting up at nine o'clock in our various classes. I was down this morning for Maths first, then English and finally History. This afternoon there was a choice of a general cross-country run, touch-rugby, golf or fencing, private study (by special permission), hockey practice or gymnastics. I didn't know which of these to choose but the choice was made for me because at a quarter past seven Simon appeared in his pyjamas.
“Wakey-wakey! Rise and shine! Up you get my little chickadees!” he hollered as the door burst open and he marched round the room giving each lump in a bed a whack.
There was a general hubbub of dissent as four fairly startled, and one positively angry looking, faces appeared from the comfort of their duvets. There was some rather miserable sounding cat-calling, especially from Clyde who 'goddamned' Simon to hell and beyond. There was a furious tirade in Arabic from a truly disgruntled Hamed who was shushed by a rather unsettled-looking Ghazi. Silence fell on the room and seven pairs of eyes were fixed on Hamed.
His cousin was blushing furiously under his dark skin and looked at Simon as if the heavens might open. Fergie gave a low laugh but the rest of us were mute.
“Are you OK?” Simon asked solicitously.
I didn't know if he was serious or whether he was winding Hamed up further. He said nothing but just glared at Simon.
“Sorry, old chap,” Simon said in his best British upper-class accent, “But it's wakey-wakey time and you have exactly thirty minutes to breakfast-time. Breakfast time and tide wait for no man!”
Simon turned away and walked over to me and immediately asked if I wanted a work-out this afternoon. He said he didn't feel like a cross-country run and if I didn't know what to chose I could work out with him and we could spot for each other.
I certainly wanted to get back to a routine. I felt pretty fit after all my trekking with Tom during the summer but I felt I needed to get my muscles toned up a bit more. I didn't particularly want to do a cross-country run and touch-rugby was a bit tame and I'd never played hockey. I had, anyway, put my name down for a trial for the House team on Saturday. I said I would be delighted to have a work-out. With this Simon left the room in slightly more chaos than when he came in.
Oh, my God. That was quite an outburst. I wondered what Hamed had said because his cousin was clearly embarrassed. Still it was Clyde who rescued the morning. He, much to our amusement, then recounted some dream he'd had during the night which involved him and MacNeeps, as he called MacPherson, going on some surrealistic trip on the Seine in 'Paree' which involved gendarmes, Notre Dame (pronounced Daym ) gargoyles and various other improbable entities.
I was still looking at my timetable when I realised what I should have done the night before. I noted that both Paul and Fergie, when they at last got out of their beds and got their washbags from their lockers, took neatly folded face-cloths from under their pillows. I'd never used a face-cloth and Tom had had a giggle when he went through my list of requirements as he packed for me. I knew now that I might not use it on my face but it was a requirement for another most important purpose. I wondered how I could transmit that intelligence to Tom!
I saw from my timetable that we had games four afternoons a week. Mondays and Thursday, rugby; Tuesdays, hockey, golf, fencing or basketball; Fridays, gymnastics, hockey, fencing or golf. Saturdays were blocked off in the afternoons for inter-House matches, inter-School matches, or for those involved, Combined Cadet Force activities. On Wednesday afternoons I was scheduled for my extra Science and English. What with lessons in the morning and prep in the evenings we would be kept very busy!
I kept a surreptitious eye on Fergie when he came back from washing and caught a second glimpse of his long, thin cock as he stepped into his briefs. I wondered how much longer that was than my just over five inches. Mine certainly didn't dangle as much as his. No doubt I would learn.
The morning went pretty quickly. Mainly settling in to our classes and being issued with text-books and exercise books. However, each master gave some prep to be done that evening with some semi-audible groans accompanying each assignment of mental torture.
After lunch I went back to the dorm and changed into my sweats and trainers and at two o'clock made my way down and round to the garage at the back of Mr McCrae's house. Simon was already there, also dressed in sweats. He greeted me with a great grin and we started by discussing the regimes we would set ourselves. Simon had made lists of exercises and we decided what I could do without over-straining any of my muscles.
Simon then set up sets of weights and we had a good hour's session for a first day's workout. He insisted we didn't do any more than that until we knew how we were coping. All very sensible and what I liked about Simon was that he discussed everything with me just like Darryll and the other lads at the gym. I told him this and he grinned and said we'd both better be sensible.
All the time we were exercising I kept thinking of the image of Simon in his green running shorts rather than the baggy grey sweats he was working out in. Luckily my sweats were baggy too as I had the most tremendous hardon throughout the hour. I think Simon must have noticed because as I bent back under the weights I knew there was quite a bulge down below. I tried to keep my eyes off Simon's front as I didn't know how I would cope with the knowledge that he may have had a hardon too.
Anyway, with all the time spent setting things up and clearing up afterwards it was half past three when we called it a day. He said we could meet up the next day at the same time and another session which would count as the Friday gymnastics. I readily assented.
I was very hot and sweaty with all the exercises we had been doing and I could see Simon was too. He said I'd better go up to the dorm and have a shower and cool down there. I didn't ask where he would have his. I desperately wanted to see more of him to given me even more images for my bedtime wank.
We parted on the stair at the first floor of the dorm building and I trudged up to our room. I was rather surprised to find both the Arab boys there in earnest conversation. I said hello and Ghazi gave me his rather sweet smile but Hamed really just ignored me other than looking me over in my sweats. Fuck him! I thought.
I got my bath towel from the rail behind my locker and went armed with my washbag into the heads. There I had a very satisfying shower and, as my hardon had subsided, I decided not to have a second wank of the day just then. I towelled off, put my towel over my shoulders and, bundling up my sweats, walked back into the dorm showing my all. I wasn't ashamed of my tackle even though I wasn't fully developed yet. I mean, mine was the same as Michael's, but wasn't as big as Darryll's, although he had been very complimentary about my size the day he'd sucked me off.
The two Arab boys gazed at me as I came through the door. They certainly didn't look at my face, so I very deliberately took a good time to comb my hair and put my sweats over the back of my locker before I picked up my underpants and put them on. Actually, the warmth of the shower and the thought of what I was doing gave my cock a little bit of plumpness which I flaunted for the two lads to savour.
They went on with their conversation as I finished dressing and then I laid on my bed looking at the History prep we had to do that evening.
It wasn't long after that when the others straggled in. Paul and Little Dick had been playing touch rugby and Fergie and Clyde had been practising golf swings. We had a general conversation about what we'd been doing and I noticed particularly that Hamed was listening in to what Clyde was saying to Fergie on how he might improve his upswing if he got his stance just so. All, especially Ghazi, seemed quite interested in my account of the weight training. Clyde made some comment that I was a good replacement for Big Dick and I wondered what he meant as he hadn't seen my parade and my dick wasn't excessively big. However, Paul explained that Simon had worked out previously with Richard Small, who having that name and being six foot two was known as Big Dick. He'd left school the previous term and was now a medical student at Edinburgh University. I was surprised Simon hadn't said anything. But then Clyde made some cryptic remark that they had been very good friends, accompanied by nods from Fergie and Paul.
So the day progressed. Evening meal time came, prep occurred and then it was time for bed. I had slipped my face cloth under my pillow that afternoon so I was all prepared. Also, as I was very hot under the duvet the previous night and had got into the habit of sleeping in the nude I though pyjamas made me feel a bit overdressed. So, when the time came for last pee and ablutions I stripped off completely, put my towel around my waist and went to the heads. As I washed myself I removed the towel so any of the boys coming in had a good view of all I'd got. I then did the same as in the afternoon. I slung my towel around my neck and marched back in. I dropped my washbag in my locker with my towel and slid into bed under the duvet. I was aware all eyes had watched my progress.
Simon came in and did his goodnight routine and, finally, the lights went out. By this time I'd got a really rigid hardon as I'd been feeling my balls very gently under the duvet while I watched the others undress. No rewards, no peeks of anything. I let things go for a minute or so and was then was aware that Paul was fisting himself quietly under his mounded duvet. Fuck that for a lark I thought and pushed down the duvet so it was folded over my knees. I always uncovered myself at home or at Aunt Margaret's as I liked to feel my balls or stroke my nipples while I was tossing myself off. I closed my eyes and began a very slow wank.
I licked the tip of my forefinger on my left hand and was stroking my right nipple at the same time as I was pulling up and down on my dick. I was aware that any other activity in the room had stopped. There was complete silence. I continued the slow wank pulling my skin down strongly on each downstroke. My breath became more laboured as I felt the subterranean pulsations begin.
I tweaked my right nipple and this was enough to send me over the edge. I gurgled as I let fly several streams of warm boycream. Tonight one great gobbet hit me below my nose and another dripped off my chin onto my neck. Holding on to my still quivering prick I traced the ribbon of come stretching from my nose to my navel with the forefinger of my other hand. I scooped up some of my cum and licked it off my finger. There was a muffled 'Christ' from Paul who must have had a grandstand view of my efforts even though there was hardly any light in the room.
Without more ado I fished out my neatly folded facecloth from under my pillow and rather ostentatiously mopped up the residue of cum which I hadn't scooped up and fed to myself. I, very leisurely, pulled up the duvet, turned on my side, sighed deeply and, quite truthfully, fell into the best and most tranquil sleep I'd had for ages. My fellow dorm-mates could wank themselves silly or not after my display in the almost dark, I wouldn't know, I was blissfully slumbering.
3G: Starting a New Tradition:
The next thing I knew was noisy Simon waking us up with the usual thump on the mound in the bed - my backside. I seemed to be last awake. I lumbered out of bed, retrieved my facecloth then picked up my towel and washbag and strolled out to the heads, cock flopping in the morning for once. Three pairs of eyes followed me out and another three pairs of eyes watched as I entered the heads. The two Arab boys were busy washing, bare-chested, their dark brown torsos looking, I thought, very ready for my fingers to feel their young nipples. Fergie was at the third sink, also without his pyjama jacket on, just soaping under his armpits which had quite a luxuriant growth of hair for an almost fifteen year-old. My attention was drawn to his pyjama trousers but, unfortunately, the fly kept resolutely closed. Of course, with my wanton thoughts my cock began to fill out a bit, just a bit, but enough to give the three pairs of hungry eyes a good view of my hanging four inches.
If I, or they, were to have any excitement together, then they needed a bit of encouragement!
I rather ostentatiously flapped open my folded facecloth and made as if I was examining the spunky residue carefully. I then ran the hot water tap and rinsed it out, then wrung it out and put it at the back of the sink. Slowly and carefully I soaped my face, then my hands, arms and chest before tackling my armpits, which I'd noticed over the past couple of months had begun to smell almost as acrid as Darryll's after one of his extensive and heavy workouts. I rinsed the soap away carefully and slowly. The other boys were also still at this stage of their ablutions and seemed to be spinning out their soapings and rinsings, I thought. OK, give them the big one!
I soaped up my hands lavishly and then applied them to my belly, bush, prick and balls. There was plenty of lather from the soft Scottish water. I massaged my equipment quite vigorously to clean off any remaining spunkdust, but not vigorously enough to indicate I might be jacking off. Like Little Dick the morning before, I hefted my tackle over the edge of the sink and rinsed the bubbles away then wiped myself dry with the large bath towel.
Although I was last into the heads the other three were still - query pretending to be - washing their upper limbs when I finished drying myself. I picked up my washbag, towel and facecloth and marched off back into the dorm where three other pairs of eyes fixated themselves on my jaunty, swinging equipment. Even Clyde, who had been in the process of talking to Little Dick stopped and stared at my progress through the room.
Paul had already dressed and was sitting on his bed facing me. As I turned to say good-morning and ask if he had Maths first period my cock was dangled right in his face. He licked his lips before replying which, perhaps, might be a sign of things to come. As he consulted his timetable I fished around, found my underpants, and pulled them on.
Things seemed to settle in the room as soon as my underpants were being drawn up my legs and Clyde resumed his monologue.
“So, my sister has this young stallion,” he was saying, waving a letter he must have received the day before, “Bit too goddam frisky for her although she has the goddam grip of the devil between her knees as my Granddaddy says. She's going to have him gelded this week she says. Goddam it, the poor bugger's going to lose his balls.”
I heard Paul say something but didn't quite catch it.
“Sorry, Paul, I didn't catch what you said.”
He laughed and whispered again, “I said there are a few stallions prancing around today.” He nodded towards the door of the heads.
Fergie appeared first, his towel round his shoulders as I'd had mine, with - Oh my God! - a good six inches of almost pencil-like dick trailing down between his legs. He was closely followed by Ghazi who had a most beautiful dick. His was the first circumcised penis I'd ever seen so I just stared at it. The shape and size seemed so perfect on him with the dark tan of the first inch or so of his shaft peeping out from his small black bush followed by an inch of paler flesh before the finely shaped helmet of his knob end. His cousin was last out but he, spoilsport, had tied a towel around his waist!
Each had a rolled up bundle of pyjamas which they threw down on their beds. Fergie and Ghazi soon had their underpants on but Hamed rummaged in his locker for a while before he found a pair to his liking. I knew Paul was having a good stare as well because when Hamed removed his towel he jabbed me in the back of my leg. Hamed, of course, was also circumcised, and his cock had the same contours as Ghazi's but the first part of the shaft was a bit darker. Also, I suppose as he was older, his dick was much fatter and a bit more lengthy. In fact, as he was very short, his dick looked quite big on him. Even so it wasn't near as long as Fergie's.
Paul jabbed me in the leg again. “You've started something,” he said.
Oh!, what did he mean, wandering starkers, or wanking in full view, or both? Wait and see.
3H: Ghazi:
So began my second full day. The only surprise was when I changed into sweats after lunch Ghazi came up to me in a dark blue tracksuit and said he had asked Simon if he could do weight- training as well. I asked him where Hamed was and he quickly said he was playing golf.
Simon worked the pair of us really hard and didn't stint himself either. The sweat was pouring off me after we started working hard after our warmup and Simon made sure we kept drinking plenty of water. I was surprised at how well Ghazi kept up and in one of our rests he said he had tried circuit training at his previous school.
Simon said after about an hour and a quarter we'd better finish and if we left our sweats he would put them through Mrs McCrae's washing machine with his. As mine were becoming decidedly smelly after the exertions of the two days I readily agreed. We both stripped down to our shorts and singlets and jogged back to the dorm.
When we got there Ghazi took his cue from me as I bared myself completely and went into the heads to have a shower. He also slipped off his clothes and followed me in. We stood side by side and let the hot water soothe our well-exercised muscles. I had a good look at him as he wriggled his shoulders and arms under the cascading water and saw he was well-proportioned and had the beginnings of good definition. He was also checking me out. I saw him gaze several times at my chest, arms and legs, and also looked more than once at my cock and balls. My cock was even more plump than after the shower the previous day. Just to give him a good look I pulled back my foreskin to let the water clean behind it. He knew I was doing it for his benefit as he smiled up at me as I let my foreskin roll back.
We dried off and went back into the dorm to get dressed. I really wanted to see if Ghazi wanted a wank but thought I hadn't better test him out yet. So I subdued my feelings with some difficulty by thinking I'd better have a look at the Geography prep we'd been set that morning.
I was sitting on my bed looking at the notes I had scribbled into my rough book when Ghazi came up and stood beside me.
“May I speak with you?” he said with very careful diction.
I looked up, wondering what he wanted.
“Yes, of course,” I said, rather puzzled.
I patted my bed and he sat rather primly and upright on the edge.
“Please, Flip,....” he began and then burst into tears.
I scooted down the bed to where he was sitting and put my arm round his shoulder and drew him close to me. He was very upset about something. His shoulders were heaving up and down with his sobs. Gradually his crying subsided. I fished out a fairly clean hankie from my trousers pocket and passed it to him. He sniffed a bit as he wiped his nose and cheeks and then looked at me with his wide, brown, tear-stained eyes.
“I'm sorry, Flip, I couldn't help it,” he said in a very quiet, tearful voice, “I shouldn't have done that. You must think I'm very childish but I'm so worried.”
I said he must be very worried to cry like that but could he tell me about it and I or someone might be able to help. He looked straight into my eyes and gave me his lovely smile. I hugged him again and he slipped his arm round me and hugged me too.
“You are so kind, Flip, I didn't know who to talk to. But, please, don't tell Hamed how I've been. He might threaten to kill me again if I said things about him to you or anyone else.”
I was very startled at this statement and took a tighter grip on Ghazi.
“Don't be silly, he can't threaten you like that.” I said emphatically.
“He can, he's very important.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
I then heard the whole story of why they had also joined the school a year later than usual.
It turned out that Hamed's father had died when Hamed was about four so Hamed was now really the head of the extended family and was a Sheikh. However, the next brother to his father had taken over the role keeping Hamed very much in the background and had sent him to England to a Prep School when he was seven followed a year later by Ghazi who was the son of the youngest of the three brothers.
The story was even more complicated because Ghazi's father, apparently, was in debt to the middle brother because he was a poor businessman and had lost a lot of money. Both Ghazi and Hamed had three older sisters and the uncle who had taken over had five daughters and no sons which he didn't like as sons were very important in their culture.
Until he was ten or so Hamed was kept in the dark about all the family and its importance but during the summer vacation that year the uncle had instilled into him that he was very important and should not obey any one else other than to learn well and never allow himself to be touched by someone not in his family as this would defile the honour of the family.
Because of this Hamed had got into a number of fights at the two Prep Schools he then went to. He was expelled from, or at least asked to leave, the first and was only tolerated at the second because the uncle had to pay extra for a separate room for him and Ghazi. Ghazi explained that this did not make them popular with the other lads.
It wasn't until Ghazi was thirteen and Hamed about fourteen and a half that the uncle found a Public School willing to take Hamed. This one was down in the West of England and the arrangements now were that both boys would have separate rooms.
Things came to a head when Hamed refused to do something one of the Senior Prefects had told him to do and when the Prefect had put his hand on his shoulder to turn him round Hamed had attacked him viciously. Although the boy was older and much bigger the attack came as such a surprise that the boy fell and hit his head knocking him out. Hamed was dragged away by others as he started to kick the boy on the floor.
All this was hushed up but it meant that Hamed, and by extension, Ghazi, were placed virtually in quarantine and the uncle told to find another school willing to take them.
The young Englishman, whom Ghazi liked but Hamed loathed because he was very strict, was the uncle's private secretary and had been a pupil at Kinloch School and it was he who had brought them up in the big black limousine and had wagged his finger in warning at Hamed.
So Hamed was on a sort of probation here. He had told Ghazi he was going to cause trouble and had threatened Ghazi that if he didn't back him up when something happened then he would get rid of him once they got back to their own country although until recently Hamed and he had been great friends. They had been brought up together and were more like brothers than cousins and this was another thing upsetting Ghazi..
I said he wouldn't do anything because Ghazi was part of his family but Ghazi wasn't convinced because of the influence of the seemingly nasty uncle and the treatment of his own father. So Ghazi was scared of what Hamed might do and he didn't know how to react. He said he believed that Hamed was, underneath all this, a very good person but a very upset and worried boy.
We sat for a while and I held Ghazi against me and he relaxed quite a bit. I wanted to tell him I thought he was a very handsome boy himself with a beautiful cock I longed to hold and explore. I couldn't do this because I didn't know what might happen. I didn't want to be kicked out for tossing off a fellow pupil. I would just have to think about him and toss myself off!
I asked him would he mind if I talked all this over with Paul who had been at the school so much longer and was wiser about how crises were coped with in such a place. After an initial hesitation Ghazi agreed and hugged me back and said he trusted me. I told him then why I was at the school and I could see he was very affected by my story.
“We can be friends, can't we?” he asked, “I was very happy today with you and Simon. I think he would be a friend as well.”
I said I thought Simon was a very nice and good person - I didn't say I wanted to explore his body as well. In fact, all this was making my cock twitch a bit. If Ghazi hugged me again I would definitely get a hardon!
Ghazi stood up and smiled and said he was much happier and he would leave it to me and Paul to try to get Hamed to see reason. He said, showing he was perceptive, that Hamed mustn't be allowed to ruin his own life before it had really begun. I said I didn't want him to ruin Ghazi's life either. I put my hand out and grasped his.
“Don't worry, I expect we can sort this out. You can count on me to be a friend so make sure you always ask me for anything you want,” I said as sincerely as I could giving his hand a squeeze.
I thought the poor lad would begin to weep again but he smiled and said we were going to be very good friends.
3I: Dorm Room Interests:
As he went off to his bed the others started to arrive after their various pursuits. Paul, Fergie and Little Dick had been sent off on another cross-country run and were saying they were quite keen on doing orienteering which a new PE master was organising instead of gymnastics.
Clyde came in followed by Hamed. They had been practising golf and Hamed did acknowledge something Clyde said to him as they came through the door. But, as always with Clyde, his interactions with others tended to be monologues. In fact, no sooner was he in the room when he was off again about his sister and her love of horses giving Fergie the lowdown on various beasts she had. A bit later I turned and noticed that Hamed was listening intently to Clyde still raving on to Fergie about how horses were such an important part of his sister's life.
“My granddaddy says like your Dook of Edinboro' says about Anne that if it doesn't eat hay and farts she ain't interested. I heard him say the only goddam pecker she's interested in is on General Lee the Seventh and he's a goddam big stallion! That boy Beauregard Button, who mighty fancies her, hasn't a chance!”
While chuntering on Clyde was still in the process of emptying out the final one of his six bags. This appeared to contain various neatly wrapped parcels which he piled, without opening them, on an already stacked shelf of his locker.
I didn't have a chance to talk to Paul that evening. Food, prep, general chit-chat and the bed time ritual of washing, etc., filled the evening. When the appointed time came I set the scene again by sauntering off into the heads naked with my towel over my shoulders. I noted Little Dick copied me and we stood side by side having our evening wash both in the nude with his cock already beginning to harden a bit. In fact, there was less hiding of bits and pieces that evening and I saw Paul also get into bed with no pyjamas on.
3J: A Tradition Soon Established:
As soon as the lights went out I was more than ready for a good wank. My duvet went straight down to my knees and I heard others following the same manoeuvre. Without the muffling effects of duvets covering the movements of hands on cocks there were audible accelerating slapping sounds as boys got nearer and nearer the release of their loads and even more audible sounds of breathing and gasping as spunk was fired from their rigid shafts. I listened intently as I fisted myself and the thought that at least four of the other boys were also in the same state of excitement was very exhilarating. Again, I wasn't sure if the Arab boys were indulging but if they weren't they must have had wills of iron not to have joined in!
I was quite unprepared for the immense jolts which hit me as I reached my climax. I just had to let go of my prick when the first wave hit me and pressed my palms down on the bed beside me to steady myself. So my rod was waving around, pointing up at about thirty degrees like a miniature howitzer, firing off gobbets of spunk up over my head and to both sides of me. I think most of my cum missed me as my hips jerked violently with about six great spasms and I only felt a final spot drip onto my belly as I simmered down.
When the paroxysms had subsided I lay motionless for ages to calm myself down. I heard Paul come with the accompaniment of great gasps and the noise from Little Dick's bed was incredible. He gave a series of 'ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh, ughs' getting faster and rising in tone followed by a collapsing sound of exhaling breath and a strangled sort of little cry at the same time.
I peered over at Fergie's bed. His duvet was completely off and on the floor on my side of his bed. He was hell-bent with the speed he was whipping his skin back and forth until he, like I'd done, started to jerk and twitch about in his bed as he shot his load. My attention was then drawn to Clyde who was mumbling across the room from me and after a minute or so he too fell silent. So I assumed another had reached his high point for the night. Whether the Arab lads were also making merry I did not know.
Michael's descriptions of life in the Scout tent were now much more realistic. I wondered if his friends let themselves go with such abandonment. I suppose being in the dark we all felt a bit freer in expressing our feelings when those wonderful reflexes took over. I remember reading that some woman had said orgasm was just a genital sneeze. If that was a sneeze I must have the greatest genital congestion ever!! And I couldn't wait for the next one!!!
I was fast asleep very quickly and the next thing I knew was being woken by the usual thump on the backside mound. I grunted some sort of oath and turned over just as Simon had got round to Clyde's bed where the mound was very prominent as Clyde took up a good deal of space! Simon gave the mound one whack but there was no response so he administered another.
“Ah, Holy shit!” came Clyde's unmistakable tones,” Whadda want you pissant bastard!”
Simon took no notice of the colourful language other than administering another whack to the rather conspicuous hump in Clyde's bed.
“Come on you fat, blaspheming fraud, up you get!” he called out, “You were awake!”
“I'll have you for goddamned discrimination you hairy assed bastard!” was Clyde's retort and he launched himself like a rather large torpedo at Simon's legs.
Gosh, I thought, if Clyde played rugby like that he'd be a marvellous tackler! Simon only just survived the onslaught and wrestled Clyde back onto his bed. I noted that Clyde was wearing what appeared to be silk pyjamas.
“You're too slippery to deal with,” muttered Simon, “Just get your fat bum into the heads otherwise you'll miss your breakfast and we can't have you wasting away, can we?”
This was obviously an old ritual as Clyde just lay back and laughed.
“I'll get you for that,” he said, “And you lot heard what he called me!”
“No we didn't!” said Fergie, “You poor wee skinny bairn!”
“Yes,” came Paul's voice “You need a good feed to put some meat on your bones.”
“Or meat between your legs,” said Fergie and burst into a fit of giggles.
Both the Arab boys were sitting up in bed watching this pantomime. I grinned at Ghazi and he smiled back. Hamed tried to keep his face passive but I could see he was just that bit slightly amused by the altercation and its sequel.
Simon went last to Little Dick's bed and pulled the duvet completely off him. He was still asleep through all this noise and shemozzle. At sometime he'd divested himself of his pyjamas so we were rewarded by the sight of his little boyish pink butt pointing into the room.
Simon looked around and spotted a handkerchief on Little Dick's locker and picked it and dangled it and tickled his bum with it. Dick squirmed in the bed but still didn't wake. Simon substituted a ruler for the hankie and drew it across Dick's butt and Dick began to buck his hips a bit. Very naughtily, Simon drew the ruler down between the cheeks of Dick's arse and this produced even more pronounced movements. We were all enthralled by this and I thought to myself that Little Dick had experienced something like this before!
Simon gave up after a while as Little Dick remained resolutely asleep. Paul went up to Simon and whispered something and Simon nodded. He pulled up the duvet and gently shook Little Dick awake.
When he turned to face Simon he had such a beatific smile on his face I knew he had subconsciously enjoyed the experience and I bet to myself that whatever had happened in the past he had thoroughly enjoyed.
3K: The Plot Thickens:
So Saturday morning started. We were all up, breakfasted and ready for morning school by nine o'clock. This finished at twelve for lunch and then games.
As I'd put myself down for the House trials I kitted up in jersey, shorts and trainers and carried my boots and sweats down and followed Paul and Little Dick to one of the rugby pitches. I was most surprised as Ghazi was already there talking to Simon and also in rugby kit.
As there were only thirty in our House and the players had to be drawn from our form upwards one or two players had been dragooned into the team. In fact only the required fifteen were on the pitch for the start of the game between McCrae's and Garforth's - another House team.
Simon was Captain of our House team and assigned us to our various positions. As I was quite big for my age I was put as Number Eight, lock forward. I saw that Ghazi had been put in as hooker where I normally played in the home rugby club side. Our prop forwards were two lads in the next form up and were very hefty - even more so than Clyde. The rest of the scrum seemed to be bigger lads from the upper forms.
It was a rather scrappy game to begin with. Everyone seemed to be playing in new positions because it was the first game of the season. We didn't really bother about scoring but in the end we were playing with quite a bit of enthusiasm. I was very taken with the way Little Dick handled the ball from the scrum as scrum-half. He looked quite different without his glasses and rather apologetic air once he was in rugby kit and doing something he was good at. Ghazi managed to get the ball back much more and faster than his opposing hooker and I felt we would be quite a team with some practice. Fergie had been placed on the wing and sped up and down passing the ball quite creditably.
Simon was obviously quite pleased with the progress during the afternoon and both teams came off the pitch very happy. As there were other House match trials as well the showers in the changing rooms were quite congested as boys straggled in in all states of mud-covered dirtiness. Our teams were the second lot to come off the pitches so by the time I got into the showers there were the thirty from the first teams who got in plus the quick disrobers from our two sides. I had never seen so many nude boys before. I like everyone else was checking out what we saw. As it was a rather chilly day most boys showed more wrinkles than inches but did expand a bit under the hot water. In the end there must have been over a hundred boys of fourteen to eighteen milling around. What a sight for sore eyes, or for sore cocks, with the host of images for our wanking times.
I was overwhelmed with the variety. Very few of the boys were circumcised but there were plenty of variations on size and form of foreskins. I didn't notice anyone with a great length. In fact Fergie's whippy thin cock was about the longest in evidence. Hair around cocks was a different matter. Us younger boys had small bushes in the main. My bright ginger bush stood out quite distinctively though I did note a few older lads in other houses who were also ginger-nobs like me.
Some of the Sixth-Formers were very hairy. I managed to get a good look at Simon whose black curls round the root of his cock were even more lushly exuberant than the wonderful black curls on his legs. His cock was quite big, I thought, as it hung and swung as he walked about chatting to various lads. His balls were also furry and were like two eggs hanging between his legs. I noticed a couple of the older Sixth Formers had quite hairy chests as well and were obviously proud of these as they both kept scratching through their woolly possessions. With all this I was getting more and more horny and had the greatest difficulty in not sprouting a hardon.
I dressed back into the sweats I had carried over with me and went to find Paul as I needed to talk to him about Ghazi and his problems. He was chatting to Ghazi when I found him and after talking about the game and congratulating Ghazi on his role as a good hooker we three went off to the garage at the back of Mr McCrae's house for a further discussion.
We sat on a couple of old boxes and I told Paul what Ghazi had told me. Ghazi didn't interrupt at all just nodding his head as I said all the things he's told me. Paul sat for a moment and said we would need a plan. How would we get some sense into Hamed's head?
I had a bright idea. “Why don't we all stand round tonight and give him an ultimatum?”
There was silence. Then I thought a bit more and said he was indoctrinated with the idea he was so important no one should touch him. What would happen if we all touched him? I then recalled the way in which I could make my brother and Michael quite helpless when they got a bit stroppy and what had happened the day Tom tried to piss on me. I tickled them!
I explained this to Paul and Ghazi and that became the basis of our strategy. If we tickled Hamed without him knowing who was tickling which bit of him he would be helpless anyway. Ghazi said he knew Hamed was ticklish because one of his older sisters use to tease him by doing that when he was much younger. Paul laughed and said it was a good idea because that was how his brother Roddy always got back at him.
Paul said he would talk to the others and we would devise a complete plan of action and he would talk to Hamed once we'd all handled him after lights out! Ghazi seemed quite amused at this and seemed very relieved that we would all be involved and promised he wouldn't say anything to Hamed about the plan. We went back to the dorm room to inform the others without Hamed's knowledge.
It was all settled during the evening. The six of us would creep over to Hamed's bed as soon as lights out occurred. Fergie and I would whip off Hamed's duvet at Paul's signal and pin down his arms. Clyde would get rid of the duvet and sit on Hamed's legs. Little Dick, Paul and Ghazi would start the tickling. If he didn't struggle too much then Fergie and I would join in with Clyde. If he made a noise, Fergie was to clamp a hand over his mouth. All signed, sealed and in proper military fashion!
3L: Action Stations:
We all acted very well as we got ready for bed that evening. Like the night before Little Dick and I stripped off completely and headed out for our evening ablutions. The others followed in sequence and finally all were in bed when Simon appeared with his admonition to keep quiet and sleep tight.
There was no movement in the room until the moment the lights went out. The movements that then occurred were silent. I didn't realise until I brushed into them as we moved fast across the room that both Paul and Fergie had gone to bed starkers as well.
Hamed was taken absolutely by surprise. His duvet was whipped off completely. Hamed had gone to bed without his pyjama jacket on. I held an arm and I could see that Fergie was similarly employed. Clyde landed across his legs with a thump and then six or more hands started to tickle the poor recumbent little bugger. Of course, Hamed then let out a string of Arabic. Curses, no doubt, which were as suddenly silenced by Fergie's hand over his mouth. With all the hands roaming across him - I had his left arm firmly held between my legs so I had two hands free to tickle him - he was squirming and heaving in the bed.. I concentrated on his left nipple and under his left arm. It was all quite relentless and I felt sweat pouring from him after a minute or so.
Then Paul spoke. “OK lads, stop!” We all did as we were told but still held him down tightly.
“Now, Hamed,” said Paul with quite a voice of authority, “I want to give you some advice. No. In fact, it is not advice. I am just going to tell you something. First, if you promise to keep quiet Fergie will take his hand away. OK?”
I felt Hamed try to nod. Fergie's hand was released and I heard Hamed sucking in air.
“Right,” continued Paul, “You have to learn that boys are not interested in what you are, but in who you are. Do you understand? You are a boy, we are all boys and we aren't in the least interested in what you think you are, or what you have been told you are. We want you to be a boy like us and join in willingly with all the things on offer just like us. My father was at school with someone who is far more important than you will ever be. He joined in everything going. I was told this lad had his balls felt regularly in the rugger scrums and he didn't mind a bit. He gave back as good as he got. He's got friends he made then who knew he was a boy just like them. Do you see?”
Paul paused and Hamed remained silent.
“There are six boys here who want to be friends with you and I know from what my brothers have told me their dorm friends are friends for life. So, it's up to you. We're not the only ones, there's the rest of the House and then the school. Some of the boys will piss you off - they do me - but I tolerate them because I expect I piss off a few myself.
“So make your choice. You have to show us you can be a boy too and get used to all the things that happen. You're here whether you like it or not, just like the rest of us, so you've got to grin and bear it. We can all help everyone else to make it tolerable and, perhaps, enjoyable. I like it here and I don't want my life spoilt by anyone and nor does anyone else in our dorm. So, it's up to you, we want to know you as a friend and companion, not as some twat who thinks he's something high and mighty because he's been told he's different. Boys aren't impressed by things like that. We can all be friends and help each other, so, it's up to you.”
Paul paused again to let this sink in. I could see that he was looking steadily at Hamed and Hamed's eyes were locked on his.
“Right, for a start, if you can have your balls felt and you don't go berserk then I'll be your friend and so will the others, so here goes.”
I could see in the gloom that the tickling process and the consequent squirming had resulted in Hamed's pyjama trousers being somewhere about his knees. I then saw Paul's hand grip Hamed's balls, with Hamed taking a sharp intake of breath - expecting his balls to be crushed, no doubt.
Hamed's cock was fully erect, lying up his belly. Paul ran his fingers lightly up its length without saying anything as Hamed gasped again. Little Dick was next. He rubbed his fingers held flat over the twin young walnut-sized bollocks.
“OK, Hamed, it's me, your friend Dick.”
Fergie and Ghazi followed and I saw both put a hand under Hamed's balls and gently close their fingers over them. Neither felt his prick. My turn was next. I caressed his warm little globes and then ran my thumb and finger up his shaft. He did another intake of breath.
Last of all it was Clyde's turn. He took his time and looked as if he was weighing each ball in turn.
“Goddam it, Hamed,” he whispered, “You've got a nice set of tackle. You're goddam lucky you ain't that young hoss of my sister's otherwise there wouldn't be any of this tomorrow! Anyway, what did you say when we started?”
This is where Fergie astounded us.
“He said we were a bunch of sister-fucking bastards who shagged dogs as our other pastime, or words to that effect!” he announced in a stage whisper.
Ghazi giggled and Hamed took a very deep breath.
“Is that true?” Paul asked, a tinge of astonishment in his voice.
Ghazi giggled again and said it was. Hamed remained silent, no doubt wondering what would come next.
Of course, we wanted to know how Fergie knew. It transpired that he had lived in Saudi, when his father was at the British Embassy, from the age of four until being shipped back to England and prep school at the age of eight and was quite fluent in good and bad Arabic! In fact, he told us, he had listened in to all Hamed and Ghazi's conversations and Hamed was very lucky we weren't going to castrate him as that was what he wished on us at times.
That meant reprisals so Hamed was subjected to another bout of tickling which reduced him to a quivering, giggling jelly, squealing and taking in great breaths but not shouting out.
Fergie said something to him in Arabic, which made Ghazi laugh, and we demanded to know what he said.
“I just said with a cock his size he'd be lucky to shag a rat, but then said I was only joking.”
We all grabbed his goolies again and left him spluttering and snorting while we retreated to the safety of our wanking pits. Wanking pits they became because that night all of us, including Ghazi and Hamed, tossed and moaned, and jacked and groaned, and squirted and oohed, and spurted and aahed, and fell asleep breathless and satiated and wondering what the new day might bring.
What amused me was that so far was that no one had commented at all on the nightly enjoyments. It was what boys did and that was that! Paul did give me a quizzical look as I slid ungracefully from under my duvet that Sunday morning sporting a morning hardon and a rather crusty patch of dried cum which I had omitted to mop up from below my belly the night before.
“By the way,” he began, “You ought to be a bit more careful.”
I looked at him wonderingly.
“Friday night,” he continued, drily, “You let fly and some landed right over here on me.”
He screwed up his nose and then grinned.
“Mighty good range you've got!”
Oh God, of course. In my paroxysm of delight my wayward loose cannon had sprayed my boycream liberally without my hand directing it. I was amazed at that. It was a fair distance!
“Nothing to apologise about,” I said, archly, “Lucky you didn't get the lot and anyway I don't suppose yours did any more than dribble!”
We both dissolved into giggles and he intimated he had just as good a production line as I had. Oh, I wondered, were we getting somewhere nearer something more than solitary enjoyment?
3M: Another Tradition Begun:
After breakfast we had to get ourselves spruced up for weekly chapel. Although there was voluntary chapel every day, on Sundays attendance was compulsory, unless you had different religious affiliations than the Church of Scotland or its ecumenical cousins. I wasn't a regular churchgoer but did enjoy a good sing.
As we would be in for a real inspection that day everyone, except the two Arab boys who were excused Chapel, had to be really smart. I was in underpants and white shirt and was just getting my best pair of trousers and my green lovat jacket out of my locker when I noticed my kilt. I got that out and buckled it on instead. I saw Paul watching.
“I'll wear mine as well. No one else does.” he said quietly.
I, rather ostentatiously, pulled down my underpants and discarded them. Paul did the same before he had his kilt on and I had a good view of his nicely shaped dick. It could have been the twin of mine, in size and contours - and most probably in use!
I was just fitting my silver-mounted sporran on its belt round my waist and was watching Paul hang his badger-hair sporran in the same way when Clyde came back out of the heads arrayed in his silk pyjama trousers.
“Holy shit, you goddam Limeys love dressing up, don't ya!” he said surveying us. “What with those goddam Guards outside Bucking-hame Palace in those goddam red uniforms and you goddam Scotties in your fancy skirts and goddam hairy purses with those squealing bags of wind.....”
He got no further as two highly incensed, but really amused, Scots lads rushed over to him and manhandled him backwards onto his bed. A new Battle of the Atlantic was in progress.
“We're not Scotties you damn Yankee, they're wee dogs! And these aren't skirts you miserable cotton-picking ninny, they are the kilt and this is my granddad's sporran and that's Flip's father's! They're family heirlooms and when we finish with you you'll be a squealing bag of wind and you probably won't have any family heirlooms! And anyway, who'd want to be named after some poxy river!”
Clyde was laughing so much all we could do was tickle him which increased the roars. He spluttered as we grabbed at generous amounts of flesh covering his chest and stomach.
“Got ya again MacDeath! ” he managed to get out as we held him down. “And just remember I ain't no damn Yankee I'm good Southern stock! And my great-granddaddy Clyde the First didn't do no cotton-picking he had oil and his daddy came from Scotland!”
He was irrepressible. I couldn't help laughing and looked down where his silken trousers had reached his knees. This gave me an idea for a punishment I'd heard discussed at the gym one day. I'd noticed that he'd been shining his black shoes before he'd gone to the heads and there was a brush with polish on within my reach. I grabbed it.
“Shut up, Riverboy,” I said, imitating his name changing and, as far as I could, his accent, “I think you need a pair of black bollocks to match your goddam evil mind!”
He laughed again. “You're a good ole boy, Flapper! But you'll need a bigger helping of that to blacken me.”
Probably true. Glancing down I could see his three inches of limp boy cock lay over a tight red-ridged pouch which was at least twice as big as my sac which, in any case, sagged down a bit more.
Fergie called out from his bed where he was sitting, laughing at the antics.
“I wouldn't do it if I were you, Flip! He'll only go round flaunting his nuts and saying it was a new fashion from Paree. Then you'd have to buff the balls of half the Sixth Form!”
“He wouldn't have to for Nelson Chombe,” chimed in Little Dick who had retreated to the other side of his bed in case of trouble.
“Who's Nelson Chombe” I asked, still kneading a mound of flesh around Clyde's stomach as he wriggled to get free.
“Oh,” said Paul to enlighten me, “He's a big black lad from Nigeria so he wouldn't need any of your attention.” He turned and looked at Little Dick. “Anyway, Dick, when have you seen his balls?”
“He stayed with us over the summer and he helped me with my reading,” came the non-committal response.
Paul looked at me and winked. “Tell you later,” he mouthed.
We turned our attention back to Clyde who was still giggling and squirming.
“Come on, get your goddam paws off me now,” he complained, giving an almighty heave of his considerable bulk and dislodging both of us.
Paul and I stood back and surveyed the quivering hulk.
“You need to lose a bit of that,” said Paul, leaning forward and jabbing a finger at Clyde's ample midriff.
“That's my goddam stomach and I like my food,” he said stoutly, “But Mrs McCrae is watching my diet and that's why I didn't go down to breakfast this morning.”
There was a laugh from Fergie's direction.
“Come on you two, leave the monster alone, we'll be late if you don't hurry and Clyde's still got to beautify himself.”
Paul and I turned and went back to our beds to finish dressing. I looked over at Ghazi and Hamed who had been watching the antics with amazement and, I think, amusement, at least on Ghazi's part. Hamed had a rather quizzical look on his face as if he was pondering some rather deep problem. I raised my eyebrows when I saw Ghazi looking at me and he smiled that tantalising smile again.
I finished putting on my socks and shoes and knotted my school tie very carefully then headed off to the loo for a pee and to comb my hair. I went into a stall and had a pee and when I came out I found Ghazi at a sink washing his hands.
“You look very...” he began. “I don't know what to say,” he stammered. His face broke once again into that lovely smile. “You look wonderful. You must be very proud.”
I went over to him and put my arm over his shoulder.
“Thank you,” I said, “I do feel proud. I'm glad I came here and I hope we can have a happy time here.”
He smiled up at me as I let go.
“I want to be happy, too,” he said with feeling, “We shall be good friends, eh?”
I nodded and said I hoped we would, wondering if Hamed would let us. I finished tidying my hair and went back to the dorm room.
Just before nine four of us were ready to go to Chapel. Paul had fussed round Little Dick straightening his tie having already made him hunt for a cleaner shirt than the one he had originally put on. Fergie came over and said he wished he'd brought his kilt back with him but he would get it brought up at half-term. Clyde had retreated to the heads with a bundle of clothes and now reappeared. My God, what a turnout. He had on a white silk shirt, trousers in regulation grey but of some very expensive looking material, a school tie which looked if that was silk also, plus a pair of black loafers with tassels which must have cost a packet.
Paul whistled when he saw the outfit as Clyde finished off by donning a jacket, in the Lovat shade of the normal school uniform, but with just that bit more distinction.
“Oh God, Clyde, you talk about us! You look just like card-sharp Willy off a Mississippi steamboat! Mr McCrae will do his nut!”
Clyde studiously ignored him and went to the door and opened it and Simon came in.
“Are you lot ready?” he called out, “I've got all the new bugs lined up downstairs.” He looked down to Ghazi and Hamed. “Mrs McCrae would like you to join her in her house when you're ready.”
He then surveyed the rest of the room fixing his gaze on Clyde. His eyes almost popped.
“Oh my Gawd!” he said, awestruck, “Where did you get those clothes?”
“My daddy had his tailor fit us up in Paree, “he said, doing a slight twirl, “Wait until you see McNeeps and his Sunday best!”
Simon cast his eyes heavenwards then looked across for the first time at Paul and me.
“Oh, yes,” he said and pointed at us, “Don't move any of you. Two minutes.”
He dashed off and we all stood, looking mainly at Clyde who was brushing imaginary lint from the elegant jacket he was wearing, feeling, as far as I was concerned, like a spare prick at a wedding.
There was a sudden rush of feet along the outside corridor and Simon appeared, buckling on his kilt and carrying his jacket, long socks and sporran. He was closely followed by McNeeps, i.e. Robbie MacPherson, still in jacket and trousers but bearing his kilt and other accoutrements. Robbie very quickly stripped off trousers and underpants and then we watched the two Sixth-Formers finish dressing.
Robbie had on a silk shirt identical to Clyde's, the trousers he discarded were of the same material as Clyde's as well. Still he looked very smart when he stood up in his grey-based kilt and black leather sporran.
“You can't wear those,” said Simon to him, pointing to the snazzy loafers he was slipping his feet into, “You're supposed to wear brogues or proper laced shoes.”
“Balls,” said Robbie, emphatically, “These are so comfy, aren't they Clyde?”
Simon was silent. Then, having finished his own adornment he looked at us all.
“We'd better get a move on, can't be late first Sunday, can we?”
As if being late would be our fault!
Anyway, we set off downstairs collecting up the rest of the House on our way out. In fact, Paul, I and Clyde led the way while Simon and Robbie marshalled the new bugs and other House members behind us. It was odd, because as we walked across to the Chapel we got quite a few admiring looks from other ranks of fellow pupils we passed or caught up with. There was one half-hearted beginning of a wolf-whistle which stopped as soon as it had begun, I suspect, once the perpetrator saw that Robbie and Simon were also similarly attired.
Once in Chapel Simon and Robbie caught us up and we four sat together with Little Dick next to me. Little Dick nudged me as we sat down and the organ was playing.
“That's Nelson,” he said.
I looked over to the other side of the Chapel and saw that the organist was a big black lad.
I liked the service. The hymns were ones I knew and the sermon was preached by a young visiting minister who we were told had been a pupil. He made his sermon very interesting and there were a good few laughs. I felt very happy and was glad I was here.
After Chapel we made our way back to the dorm. Several lads asked us if we were going to wear the kilt every Sunday. We said we intended to. Mr McCrae caught us up and said we looked very smart and laughed when Simon asked him if he'd seen Clyde.
“Of course, he's incorrigible, but as long as he keeps within bounds it's OK.”
Simon grimaced but kept silent.
Mr McCrae asked us if we were making a statement. I wasn't quite sure what he meant but Simon stepped in and said definitely not, we just wanted to show we were Scots. He laughed again and said he thought we might have started something.
What with being told by Paul that I had already started something - I still wasn't sure if he meant full-frontal wanking or full-frontal nudity - here was Mr McCrae saying the same. Should I keep my head down a bit?
Our free time for the rest of the morning was scheduled for writing letters home. I wrote four. A quick note to Aunt Margaret to tell her I was OK and settling in. One to Stuart with a bit of description of the House match. Then two longer letters, to Tom and Michael. I couldn't tell them everything I wanted. I thanked Tom for his note and said I kept our photo on my locker shelf and looked at it each time I opened the door. I said I liked the place and looked forward to seeing him at Christmas but I would write again. I wanted to know about Michael and Darryll but didn't quite know how to ask. Instead, I just gave an account of what I had done each day, without the juicy bits, emphasizing the rugger and the weight-training. That gave me an opening because I then asked if he and Darryll were working out together and I hoped they were helping each other as much as we had. I didn't write to my mother because I was sure Stuart would show her my letter. I didn't even ask him how mum and Ray were.
The rest of the day passed, lunch came. There Simon asked Ghazi and I if we would like to do a bit more weight-training instead of the organised activities in the afternoon and we agreed. When Ghazi and I went back to the dorm to shower and change we found on six of the beds a pile of four very elegant differently coloured briefs with HOM on the waistband and a block of Belgian chocolate. Our puzzlement was allayed when we emerged from the muscle-soothing shower back into the dorm as Clyde was sitting on his bed undoing another parcel from his final bag.
“Hi, you goddam muscle-boys,” he said jovially, “There's something for yo'all. My daddy told that goddam secretary of his to order me some things for school and she ordered twenty-four pairs of goddam panties without asking me. Too goddam prissy to ask a growing boy his size. I need something a bit more goddam ample but they should fit you. And I ain't allowed to eat chocolate so that's for yo'all as well.”
We thanked him profusely. The briefs also looked expensive, just like the rest of Clyde's possessions. I winked at Ghazi and picked up a bright blue pair and slipped them on. They were just my size. Ghazi grinned and picked up a pair of red ones and made quite a show of arranging his cock and balls snugly. Clyde grinned at the pair of us but passed no comments.
As the others came in they were also told the provenance of the gifts and all thanked Clyde as they were a generous present - even if they were the wrong size for Clyde. Hamed, in particular, thanked him warmly.
The evening was spent in the prep room with the aspiring pop-group going through their repertoire. Then time for bed.
3N: Hamed's Response:
I was pretty tired by this time. Simon had worked both of us pretty hard during the hour and my biceps and quads were beginning to feel moderately achy but I noted when I looked in the mirror in the heads while washing I was already looking slightly more toned than even a week ago.
I strode back into the dorm, ditched my washbag in my locker, hung my towel and got into bed under my duvet. Simon's usual entrance signalled that the lights would soon be switched off. I was tensing and relaxing my muscles as I found this was very effective in getting rid of some of the achiness. It also was driving my horniness level up as my prick was as rigid as a ramrod when the lights went out.
I was about to put my hand to its nightly work when there was a slight scuffling sound from across the room. There was an 'Oh', then a low murmur from the direction of Clyde's bed followed by a clear whisper from Clyde.
“Here, I'll shake to that, Sheikh!”
There was a double chuckle and the feet moved on round to Little Dick's bed. Another 'Oh', or 'Ow' this time, more swift muttering and another chuckle.
I knew it was Hamed because as he got to Paul's bed I heard him say he was glad Paul had told him all that the night before and he wanted them to be good friends. I saw Paul reach out and clasp Hamed round his naked shoulders and draw him down. They remained quiet for a few seconds then Hamed came to my bedside.
As he leaned over me I pushed my duvet aside and did the same as Paul. I put my arms round his shoulders and pulled him towards me. As I did this he put his right hand between my legs and held my balls. I dragged my left arm down and found he just had pyjama trousers on. I slipped my hand into his fly and cupped his balls in the palm of my hand. He was also erect.
“I want to be your friend, Flip,” he said earnestly, “Please be my friend.”
I whispered that I would and I wanted us to be happy. He squeezed my balls very slightly.
“You have been very kind to my cousin, he likes you very much.”
I said I liked Ghazi very much too and I thought we would like each other too. I don't know what made me do it but I very slowly put my whole hand round his stiff rod and tugged it very slightly. His mouth was near my ear and as I turned my head towards him I brushed his lips with mine. Our lips locked, then our lips parted and our tongues caressed, all this taking, perhaps, just five seconds. His dick twitched in my grasp and his hand moved up and held my own hard cock. His hand moved up and down and our lips locked again. It was with great difficulty that either of us could part. I knew he wanted to wank me and I also wanted to feel his strong, young circumcised shaft under my control. Not yet. We both knew that the time was not ripe. We moved our hands simultaneously to each other's balls and gently held them again. Then he left and went on to Fergie's bed.
Although I needed a wank so desperately now I waited. Fergie knew what was going on and I heard, but did not understand the rapid conversation between the two boys. However, there was the unmistakable sound of a kiss as they parted before Hamed went, finally, to his cousin's bed. I couldn't wait any longer. My duvet was half off me anyway. It was now pushed down further and my hand was pumping at full speed within seconds. I came very quickly. I felt great spurts of warm come rain down onto my chest and stomach. I heard Little Dick's finale as well at almost the same time. He was even louder than the night before. Paul was still moaning softly as I mopped up my semen but then he let loose with a very emphatic, “Oh my God!”. I turned over and was fast asleep within seconds and the next thing I knew was Simon's 'Wakey-wakey' call.
“God,” he said, once six bleary faces were facing him, “Smells like the inside of a Turkish wrestler's jockstrap in here!”
Only Clyde was awake enough to retaliate.
“And you'd be the one to goddam know, wouldn't you?”
He burrowed back down under his duvet as Simon took another swipe at the mound in his bed
“Come on get up and get washed, you mangy creatures,” he called out and left the room hurriedly.
I vowed that Simon must get his comeuppance one morning.
I crawled out went off to the heads sporting my usual morning hardon. Fergie gave a little whistle as I went past and Ghazi grinned at me and followed me in. As usual Little Dick was in the heads before anyone else. He must wake up very early as he was already lathering up his nether regions and was about to dunk his cock and balls in the water in the sink in front of him. I don't think Ghazi had seen this performance before and was staring at the lad's foaming prick and pendulous nuts. For someone just a bit older than us but not very big for his age his bollocks swung quite low. I poked Ghazi in the back and asked which sink did he want. He went to the one next to Little Dick and spent the time as the sink filled with water watching the rest of Little Dick's genital ablutions. In the end Dick went out and Ghazi and I were left alone.
“OK last night,” I said, wiping my face dry with my towel.
“Thank you,” he replied, quietly, “Hamed is much better now. He knows you all want to be friends and he's trying very hard to get over his silly ideas...”
I made wanking movements.
“And that's OK?”
He smiled that delectable smile and nodded shyly.
“It's good,” was his only reply.
As we finished our washing and drying so the others drifted in, Hamed last and... surprise, surprise..... he was chatting to Clyde.
I had put on the blue pair of Clyde's briefs I had on the day previously as, in my opinion they were still clean. I saw Little Dick was leafing through a work folder just arrayed in a pair of bright green briefs and Ghazi held up the red ones he'd worn yesterday and slipped them on. In the end six of us were standing by our beds just in pairs of briefs as Clyde came out of the heads finally attired in his silk pyjama trousers. He surveyed his entourage, as it were, and laughed.
“Goddam it, boys, you would make a good advertisement for them there panties. Look at that goddam McJazz,” he pointed at Ghazi, “I'll tell my daddy and he'll arrange a photo shoot!”
We laughed and some of us gave him a good old-fashioned two-fingered salute and then finished dressing.
3O: Settling In:
I had found that lessons so far hadn't been too difficult. I was coping well with the work, which did stretch those of us who, I must say were a bit brighter than some of the others in the class. None of our classes were over fifteen and I was generally in with Paul and Clyde who were pretty bright and were at my level most of the time. Clyde was particularly bright and kept up his usual dialogue - often a monologue - with whomsoever was teaching us. I only had a couple of classes scheduled with Fergie - History and Geography - and he seemed OK in those. Ghazi and I sat next to each other in Maths and he was very good at that. I didn't have any classes with Hamed other than the extra Science and Little Dick seemed to have special attention in that he was in a small group which Mrs McCrae took.
So the next few weeks went by. Rugger on Mondays and Thursdays was interesting in that our teams were made of all us in the dorm plus the eight new bugs in the form below and we played against the same two forms in Garforth's house. As well as the games master looking after about four games on the go we also had one or two Sixth Formers who reffed our game and took us through practice moves. We were lucky in that Simon was assigned to us and he really did know his game. He and the other Sixth Former had us doing all sorts of manoeuvres and I thought he was almost as good as the two Williams brothers at my original Rugby Club.
My position was now definitely at lock forward. Hamed was in the second row in front of me and in a couple of scrums I shoved my hand up the leg of his shorts and gave his balls a friendly squeeze. He didn't say anything but he gave me a smile as we came off the field.
On the other games afternoons Ghazi and I did weight-training with Simon. We thoroughly enjoyed this and I felt I was getting quite toned even after the first three weeks. Then something happened which made it even more enjoyable.
On the Friday of the fourth week of term we had finished our session with Simon. He'd taken away our sweats to put in the washer so, as usual, just clad in shorts and singlet, Ghazi and I had run back to the dorm house to shower and change.
I was soaping up under the hot water when Ghazi joined me and I soaped his back after he'd done mine. I couldn't help it but the touch of his hands on my back gave me a hardon I couldn't control. I had to turn towards him to wash the soap away. My hardon hit him as I turned and in moments he was on his knees with half my cock in his mouth. I couldn't do anything, my hormones took over. I held his head as he bobbed back and forth on my absolutely rigid prick. He couldn't quite take in all my five and half inches but his lips had rolled back my foreskin and his tongue was racing around my oh so sensitive rim. I felt my cock begin to spasm and then I came and squirted jet after jet of my boycream into his still sucking mouth. In the end he opened his mouth as the last couple of spurts must have filled him and my spunk dripped down to his chin as his tongue wiped round my now spunk-sticky prick.
I had to take my rod out of his mouth as quickly as I could as the sensitivity of my knob was too great to endure any more. I dropped to my knees and planted my mouth over his. Our tongues met and I tasted my precious boycream which he then swallowed.
I lifted him up, still with the water sluicing over us, dropped to my knees and took his rigid, brown and pink circumcised five inches right into my mouth. I sucked and licked and massaged his prick, back and forth, with my lips and he shot a wondrous load of his sweet-tasting boycream very quickly all over the inside of my waiting mouth.
I stood up and clasped my arms round him almost lifting him up to my height and our mouths joined again. He sucked some of his own come off my tongue and we stood for ages with the water gushing over us just holding each other. In the end we broke apart and I turned the shower off. We didn't say anything but picked up our towels and mopped each other dry. We were both so happy we didn't have to say anything. I kissed him again and we went into the bedroom and got dressed.
How our adventure hadn't been burst in upon I don't know because as we were just dressing there was the usual influx of others who had just finished their particular sporting activities.
3P: Time Passes:
The rest of the term went swimmingly. Ghazi and I had three more sessions which were not mentioned in between. I guess Simon thought something was up between us because he did say something rather enigmatic one day about us and extra-curricular activities. We didn't dare do more as Paul told us one night that he'd heard on the grapevine there was a bit of a kerfuffle in Mr William's house as one of the Sixth Formers had been found with a Second Year boy in his bed by another jealous Sixth Former. The other kids in the House hushed it up but any 'special friendships' were looked at with suspicion. I didn't enquire whether he knew of any in our House but Ghazi and I did not indulge again until the last week of term.
I think Fergie and Hamed had also had an encounter or two as they were always working together and were always talking together in Arabic. I did have one chat with Ghazi and he more or less said that Hamed and Fergie were, at least, wanking each other off. Clyde and Hamed were also becoming close buddies with golf and, more recently fencing, as the common denominator there.
Clyde was also the ringleader of any little plot or happening. With his ever ready wit and constant stream of chat and banter he kept everyone amused. He, in fact, organised early morning reprisals against Simon in the last week of term. He woke us up about five minutes before Simon was due and we all pounced on him - including Hamed - and held him down and gave him a good tickling, finishing up with overturning him and each of us giving him a good whack on the arse. Simon didn't turn a hair and took it all in good part, so much so that the next morning four of the Sixth Formers came in and the lot of us found ourselves on the floor being given a serious awakening.
Our nightly wanking became even more noisy as the term went on. We were all so used to everyone now tossing off that inhibitions, after dark, were lowered and the slap, slap, slap of masturbatory activity almost became synchronised. What was strange was that the activity was never referred to during the day. The only time I heard anything, other than Paul's often-used derogatory term of 'wanker', was the rainy day Ghazi and I returned from a strenuous weights session to find Hamed and Clyde sitting on their beds because of cancelled golf with Clyde in the middle of a monologue which must have been started by some rather private discussion.
“This shrink......” Clyde paused as we came in. “Just telling Hammer here about this goddam shrink my mother sent me to at Easter. She had got the goddam idea that I was doing things to myself which boys do.”
I looked at Hamed who was a bit surprised at our entry and Clyde's continuing with the rather personal revelations and he began to colour under his brownness. But Clyde continued unabashed.
“He said it was all OK, like that boy told you Hammer, he said it was the inalienable right of any red-blooded American boy to whack off as much as he wants. He said that the continual expression of my sexuality was goddam paramount to the full development of my goddam ego and the basic substance of my existence and that I should goddam set and experience ever-widening goals. I goddam know that's what he said because he gave me a copy of his goddam book and that's what it says on page one hundred and goddam six!”
He looked round at us as if he was expecting approbation. We hadn't noticed that Little Dick had followed us in.
“Huh,” he said, “What the hell does that mean? What's your ego? Is that your prick and does it really get bigger if you do it lots?”
Well, we just fell about. Poor Dick was very upset because we laughed. I knew that he was very slow on the uptake for general school work and I had noticed that he rarely entered into conversations but always listened intently, though. I and Paul had helped him a lot with his English and his Maths prep but it took a lot of hard graft on his part to absorb it. He was a very nice, kind lad though. Fanatically keen on rugger and was a good scrum half for the House team.
I had found out why Paul made nightly forays to wake him at about three o'clock. He'd had a history of bed-wetting and Paul had really taken him under his wing and he was very proud he hadn't had any accidents this year so far. These occurred, so Paul told me, if he got upset. I also learnt that his parents were getting on in years. His granddad on one side was a Lord and that's why he was an Honourable. His parents had lost a lot of money in the Lloyds Insurance fiasco so that's why they lived in Africa. His other grandfather was a very old, retired cathedral organist so that's why Nelson had stayed with him over the summer.
I turned round and grabbed his arm.
“Nah,” I said, “We're not laughing at you. It's some foolish American drivel. Your ego is who you are and as far as I know you can exercise the other as much as you like. Ask Clyde, he should know!”
I must say, Clyde kept his cool. All he said was that the shrink had also told him he wasn't to worry because all boys did it and it did no harm. Little Dick looked quite relieved and we heard no more and I listened carefully that night and Little Dick indulged fervently!
3Q: My first Term Ends:
After half term quite a few boys wore the kilt on Sundays to Chapel, including Fergie. Ghazi asked me one day after we'd been for a workout if he could try mine on. I asked him why didn't he wear his Arab robes some time. He said he only did that in his own country and didn't really want to go back there. He was much happier in Britain and wanted to live here always. Anyway he looked very smart in my kilt and I said perhaps we could make him an honorary Scotsman. He was highly amused with the rule that nothing is worn under the kilt and I almost told him about Tom pissing from a great height but didn't in case I was tempted to tell him what happened after.
Just before the end of term all six of us had a letter from Mr and Mrs Campbell inviting us to celebrate Hogmanay with them and Paul over the New Year. Neither Fergie nor Little Dick could accept but the other four of us said we could. I had been worried about being a nuisance for Aunt Margaret over the whole Christmas holiday and as in Scotland the New Year is the bigger celebration this was perfect. In fact, it was arranged that I could go to Paul's on New Year's Eve and stay until term began and I would be ferried back.
On the last night of term I looked back at my first experience of living with other boys away from home. I had done well in my studies. From my marks I was either first or second in every subject in the classes I was in. I had also grown another inch in the three months and my cock was longer too. I hadn't made an exact measurement of it but was determined it would be one of the first things I would do when I got to Aunt Margaret's! I was also very much more muscular. The three or four workouts a week, plus the rugger training and games, were certainly having a good effect. Although my hormones were working overtime I hadn't got into any trouble. Once I had a slight altercation with two older lads from another House who made some remark about Little Dick being 'a little runt' and a 'right little cunt' when he made a spectacular delivery of the ball from a scrum in a game I was watching but not playing as I had ricked my ankle earlier in the week. I just said from behind them that the little runt was a friend of mine and they said no more. Given I was a couple of inches taller than both, they probably thought better of saying more.
Being in a room with six other hormonally charged lads meant my dick was almost constantly ready for action. I never missed a night without jacking off in bed and from the buzz of activity I don't think the other lads did too. Also, there were few days when I didn't linger in the heads for another quick but satisfying wank at some time. My four encounters with Ghazi were highlights of the term but I still lusted after Simon and I couldn't wait to get back to the village and link up again with Tom. I looked at our photo every morning as it was propped up in my locker.
I wrote to him every other week and his letters came promptly back. He managed to convey his feelings about missing me by reminding me of various places we'd been during the summer. Each was somewhere where we had stopped to admire more than the scenery.
Michael and Darryll were also getting on well from the information I gleaned from two letters from him. He said that Darryll had already been offered an university place at Sheffield to study engineering and he was going to miss him after the summer.
I wrote a thank-you letter to Dr Williams saying I thought his cunning plan had worked well and I was so grateful. A handwritten card came back with just the words 'I thought so' and signed with a drawing of a pipe belching smoke.
I had a couple of short notes from Stuart who seemed to spend more time with his nerdish friend than at home and had not a word from my mother.
So term ended and on the last day Aunt Margaret came and collected me. She remarked immediately on the amount I'd grown although she'd seen me at the half-term weekend visit. I had to tell her about school life and I don't think I stopped talking all the way back to the village. She did say I was even more like my dad.