2.        Flashback  ‑ How it began

     "....Geroff, stop it, that tickles.."

     I could hear Tris.  It was the first evening of our visit to Disneyland Paris.  It was the

summer holiday when I was twelve and a bit and it was all because my young brother had

wanted to go and it was his birthday present.  Tris had looked a bit dejected when told so his

parents had stumped up for him to be included.  Then Dad's older sister Sophie had come to

visit.  She and her husband, Uncle George, had a farm down in Dorset.  They  had twin sons,

Adam and Ivo, who were two years older than me.  Aunt Sophie said they would come as

well.  Mum asked was it really for boys of fourteen?  Aunt Sophie asserted that she wanted to

go and they were coming as well, full stop!

     I had been down to the farm a couple of times, the second time with Tris, and the

boys were real toughies.  I was their townie cousin with his townie friend and we had to be

introduced to country ways.  The ways were various and devious.  We had been introduced to

the milking parlour, washing udders, the churn steriliser, tractor driving, slurry pits, and most

intriguing, the artificial inseminator.   I had no real idea about his function other than

watching the cows being lined up ready for his ministrations and I don't think Tris was any

the wiser.  All we could get from the lads, eleven at the time, was that whatever he poked

into the cows' rears provided the farm with calves a few months later.

     My greater education on the mechanics of reproduction had occurred only a few

months before that visit to Disneyland when Mr Melhuish our Biology teacher had provided

us with all the knowledge we would need to increase the rabbit population and, as a

corollary, the human population.  As none of us seemed to be at the stage of development to

provide the essential sperm for this latter expansion to happen it was of little interest.  We

dutifully looked at the exhibits in the Human Biology section of the Natural History Museum

on our class visit there and giggled over the illustrations of the male and female forms and

Jodie Fletcher had pointed out in great detail the process of 'fucking' as he called it when he

and I had stood in front of the exhibit showing a cut‑away engorged penis stuffed into a

similar illustration of the female parts.  We were gobsmacked at the sight of the developing

foetus in the womb and if, like me, never having had sight of a female 'down there', were

left in wonderment at these most graphic representations until Lee Besant informed us that

was why girls had to sit down to pee as they didn't have a dick.  A bit later he commented on

the portrayal of a fully developed youth.  "Huhn, that's my brother Tony, he's eighteen and

looks just like that, bloody wanker!"  That evening Tris wasn't any help either as he said he'd

been the year before and couldn't imagine crawling out of that hole and he'd heard all the

boys in Year 9 called everyone else 'Wanker'.

     Anyway, now we had arrived in the late afternoon in two cars, through the Channel

Tunnel, and were meeting up in the arrival lounge of Sequoia Lodge.  Mum, Dad, with we

three lads in the back of the Volvo, had arrived first and we three had been sent off to the

swimming pool even before we saw our room.  An hour later we strolled back, hair wet,

swinging damp cozzies, but feeling more than alive after the long journey, to find Aunt,

Uncle, Adam and Ivo just coming through the door.

     "Bloody kids," Uncle George was good‑naturedly grumbling to Dad.  "Had to stop

twice because boys with pint bladders drink quarts.  And then they wanted more Coke!"

     "And who couldn't find the change for the toll road..." began the one I recognised as

Adam.  He had a gap between his front teeth and a little mole by his left ear.

     "...Peage.  Get it right.  We're in Frogland now!" countered Ivo.

     "Shut up, you two," said Uncle George, "Watch your language and say hello to

everyone."

     Francis and I got kissed by Aunt Sophie who whispered about how much I'd grown.

Bloody hell, I was still a shrimp in relation to Tris who had started his growth spurt early,

and was minuscule against the hulking brutes of fourteen who were my cousins.  Still they

bashed me on my back in greeting then picked up my bag as well as their own and said 'Lead

on, MacDuff' as soon as Dad came up and handed Ivo the plastic card which was the key to

our room.

     "Dinner at seven.  Downstairs in the Hunter's Grill.  Choose what you want buffet.

Don't be late.  Just be clean and tidy," he announced.  "And don't lose that."  Ivo nodded and

pocketed the card carefully.

     'Our room!'  We four older ones were going to share.  Ivo as the elder twin by twenty

minutes was in charge.  The room was on the third level.  Easy to remember, 3330.  I don't

think Francis minded being in with Mum and Dad as he wasn't too used to the

rambunctiousness of lads like Ivo and Adam and he had his favourite books and puzzles to

keep him occupied.

     The room seemed huge.  Two big double beds.  Then there was another smaller room

with washbasin, and a loo, and a shower.  I needed to pee so scurried into the loo while the

others were sorting out which bed each pair would have.  I had a full pint‑bladder so was at

least a minute draining off the accumulated residue of my own consumption of Coke.  I had

been for a pee before getting into the swimming pool but somehow I had refilled my tank.  I

washed my hands like a good little boy and was drying them when I heard the noise from the

room.

     "...Stop it, let me up!..."

     "Keep still, we're just having a look."

     It was at that moment I come out of the door of the washroom and saw Tris

spreadeagled across the bed, his legs dangling, his shorts and underpants round his ankles

and his dick and balls on full display.  I hadn't seen him in that state of nudity for some time.

At least not since Easter when we went to the local swimming pool and shared a changing

room and today he had decorously kept his back to me when we'd put our bathing costumes

on.

     The twins were holding him down and one put out his hand and lifted Tris's penis.  It

was certainly a bit bigger than I remembered it.  As whoever it was lifted it so it straightened

and took on a new appearance I hadn't seen before.  It was longer, not curled and looked

quite different.

     "Tristan's got a stiffy!" the other twin called out.

     "Let me alone.  Stop it!" said Tris in a rather exasperated tone.  "I can't help it.  It

does it all the time."

     "What does it do all the time?" I demanded, stepping forward to have a closer look.

     Tris looked a bit distraught.

     "Bloody hell boy, what d'you think happens to us!" said one of the twins, his back to

me.

     The pair let go of Tris's arms and as he tried to sit up two pairs of shorts and undies

were lowered and two rampant nearly five‑inch dicks were revealed.  Not only that, but they

had neat bushes of almost black hair at their roots.

     "That's what!" said the other.  He turned and I saw it was Ivo.  "And you, kiddo?"

     I was grabbed and upended on the bed next to Tris who seemed frozen to the spot, his

dick still straight up his belly.  My shorts and pants were swiftly lowered and my young cock

was fingered and with a low whistle from Ivo and a 'By Christ!' from Adam my three and a

half inches of boymeat rose to the occasion.  First time I'd ever seen it like that.

     "Boy, Oh Boy!" breathed Ivo, "The bloody child's got a dick like a young donkey.!"

     "How old are you?" asked Adam.

     "Twelve and a bit," I whispered.

     "Bloody hell!" said Adam, "When I was that age I don't think I could even get a

stiffy."  He ran two fingers up my shaft.  I tingled.  "Are you wanking yet?" he demanded.

     "What's that?" I asked rather querulously as this inquisition seemed to be getting a bit

out of hand.

     My question was ignored.  Their attention turned to Tris.  "What about you?  We

showed you at Easter but you said you didn't then."

     Oh yes.  Adam and Ivo had come up to London for a long weekend and we'd all gone

to Les Miserables as a treat for their fourteenth birthday.  I didn't know about what they'd

shown Tris but I knew they'd gone next door when I had a piano lesson with Madame Keech.

Not fair!  Why wasn't I included.  They must have twigged I was concerned.

     "It's OK," said Adam and the pair let me go.

     I squirmed around until I was sitting on the edge of the bed rather fascinated by the

rampant flesh jutting from my groin.  I glanced at Tris sitting by my side.  He was in the

same condition but a bit bigger.  The twins stood in front of us and the two identical stiff,

somewhere near five inch erections, were on display.

     "Do you rub it like we told you?" asked Ivo.  This question was directed at Tris.

     "I've tried but nothing much happens," he said, sounding rather despondent and

shaking his head.  The twins looked at each other and nodded.

     "And what about you?" asked Adam who was standing in front of me.

     I shook my head, too.  I was in a whirl.  My dick seemed to be doing things all by

itself which I couldn't control.  I knew I could bend my fingers.  I could turn my head.  I

could open my mouth.  All these I could control but my dick was standing up, straight and

stiff, and I couldn't think how to make it lie down.  I must have looked a bit puzzled.

     "It's OK, Marky," Ivo said, nudging his brother.  "It'll do that by itself, anytime,

anywhere.  You just have to live with it."

     There was an audible sigh of relief from Tris.  "Gosh, I was scared," he said.  "It kept

doing that in PE and even when we were doing Maths.  Is that true?"

     Words of great wisdom from the older boys.  "You can't control it," said Adam.

"Look," said Ivo, "We're like this ninety times a day."  "Hundred and ten times on a good

day," said Adam with a chuckle.  He looked at Ivo.  "I think we have much knowledge to

impart to this pair of virginal townies after supper."

     Tris was not to be outflanked.  "We townies call it 'dinner' in the evening.  It's the

lower classes and country bumpkins who have 'dinner' at midday and 'supper' in the

evening."

     He disappeared under two larger boys and emerged red‑faced and cackling after

having endured a good two minutes of serious tickling.

     I was ready for my food.  "You two had better have a shower and get tidy.  We had

showers after our swim this afternoon so we've only got to change.  And Dad said not to be

late and I'm hungry."

     Ivo and Adam sprang to attention.  "Bloody hell," said Ivo, "I thought we'd left

School Prefects behind.  Yes sir!"  He saluted smartly, his now floppy cock jiggling from

side to side as he did so.

     We hadn't even unpacked our bags in all the excitement.  Ivo decided he would

shower first and stripped off completely.  I contemplated his sturdy body.  He was beginning

to show the muscles he would have later when he was a valued member of the St Mark's

Rugby XV.  I didn't quite lust after his body then, that would come later!

     But first, that which all young adolescent males lust for.  As much food as you can

eat!  We four lined up outside the next door room and Ivo politely knocked.  Unfortunately

he had chosen the wrong room!  A boy of Francis's age opened the door and looked at us.  A

neatly dressed boy and I guessed, correctly, he was French.  Ivo must have guessed correctly,

too.

     "Pardon, j'ai frappe sur la porte fausse.  J'ai pense que c'etait la chambre de ses

parents." Ivo  said without hesitation, pointing at me.

     Crikey, I was impressed!  The boy smiled and I was impressed more.

     "No, zis is my parents' room," he said in slightly accented English.  He looked at me.

"You were wiz your brudder and that boy...," He pointed at Tris.  "...at the...."  He hesitated.

"...piscine..."

     I knew that.  "The swimming‑pool..." I said.

     "Yes, ....swimming‑pool...  We were arrived and he come... ...came with you...  I have

no friend here..."  He wrinkled his nose.

     Good.  Someone to keep Francis occupied.

     "I will tell him to come here after dinner," I said slowly and carefully.

     The lad smiled again.  "I would like that.  We go to dinner, too."  He put out a hand.

"I am Laurent."

     We all shook hands and we all repeated our names and I told him my brother was

Francis.

     So began another friendship.  Not in the same vein as Tris and me but Francis and

Laurent became great buddies and during holidays they travelled back and forth between

Lille and London ‑ the handiness of Eurostar being the key!

     But, to food.  We located the right two rooms for our two sets of parents and were

soon sated with the open buffet in the Hunter's Grill.  It was odd though, Tris didn't have

much to say to the other two and I wondered why.  This was revealed when we said

goodnight to my parents and the twins' parents and just about flopped down on the beds

when we got back to our room.

     Tris was lying next to me but sat up and turned to where Ivo and Adam were lying

side by side on the other bed.

     "I don't think you should have done that to Mark.  It was like attacking him."  The

boys sat up, too.  "I didn't mind.  We'd done that showing each other at Easter and you did

ask if I wanted to then."  He paused and the usual smiles had disappeared from the twins'

faces.  "You just did it to Mark without asking and I think that was wrong."

     The boys looked absolutely contrite.

     "Oh, Marky," said Ivo, "I am really sorry if you're upset."

     "We never thought," said Adam.  He shook his head.  "We shouldn't have done that.

We're too impulsive and they say that about us at school."

     "I'm alright," I said.  "I was a bit scared, but I'm OK now."

     Tris hadn't finished.  "I still think you ought to apologise to him.  He's your cousin

and he's my best friend and I don't want any harm to come to him."

     The twins slid off their bed.  One took my right hand and the other my left.  "Sorry."

"Truly sorry."

     I smiled at them.  As far as I was concerned they were forgiven.  Tris looked at me.

"I'm sorry, too, Marky.  I should have stopped them.  They should have asked but all's

forgiven, eh?"

     I smiled and gripped the twins' hands.  "Forgiven.  But you will tell me more."

     I think it was that interchange which showed me what a firm friend I had in Tristan.

He'd stood up and defended me before two older boys who might have reacted quite

differently.  But Ivo and Adam were honest and forthright boys.  They accepted the rebuke

and they saw I wasn't harmed.  They let go of my hands and simultaneously hugged me.

     "Little cuz, we would never do you any harm," said Ivo.

     "From what I've seen, he's not so little," said Adam.

     "I second that," said Tristan.  "He'll beat the lot of us before he's much older!"

     The situation was defused.  Both Tristan and I wanted to know everything that Ivo

and Adam could tell us and initiate us fully into all the mysteries of young adolescence.

Over the next three nights I learned that all boys were curious creatures and although I could

not at the time produce the creamy effusions of the twins, which enthralled Tris and me the

first night, I experienced the electric frisson of several dry cums.  But, my dear friend Tristan

won the day.  On the second night, after letting both Ivo and Adam show him the

practicalities of wanking, Adam brought him to that most satisfactory climax where he

spurted a few drops of almost colourless liquid to the accompaniment of much loud groaning

stifled by Ivo clamping his mouth with his.

     From the recumbent position he was in all we heard for the next five minutes were

the contented mews and whimpers of a greatly satisfied young lad confident in the

knowledge that he was now 'growing up' and had accomplished an all‑important 'rite de

passage'.  All this was accompanied by grins, giggles and chuckles from three, also highly

satisfied, young lads who had witnessed, firsthand, such a momentous occasion for a friend.

     "Shouldn't be long for you now, cuz," said Adam, putting an arm round my shoulder.

"We've seen six first‑times now, with our dorm, and us and him.  Great, isn't it?"

     "Bloody hell," breathed Tristan when he'd recovered some vestige of calmness,

"When can I have that again?"

     "That again" happened next morning when Tris demanded that Ivo should raise him

to that indubitable pinnacle of enjoyment for his second time.  It was my turn to give him his

third experience that evening which I have been happy to repeat on countless occasions since

then!

     We heard about their boarding‑school just outside Blandford, not too far from their

home in Dorset, and the fact that all their dorm were certainly ardent wankers if only dealing

mainly with their own needs.  Both had independently at some time tossed off the other three

in their small dorm but they pointed out one had to be careful or you might get labelled

'pouf' or 'perve' and as they were in the Under 15's XV that was not wanted in the 'manly'

circles they inhabited.  "Doesn't mean the lot of don't do it to themselves," averred Adam,

"And we know the older ones do as well 'cause we've seen their spunk in the showers."

"They just do it and leave it to boast, we think," said Ivo, "'Bloody wankers' they call us but

they're just the same."

     'Bloody wankers.'  I told them about Lee Besant's description of his brother.  Ivo

nodded sagely.  "All boys wank," he said authoratively, "And the ones who say they don't are

bloody liars!"  He looked Adam.  "That big lad Crossthwaite in the First XV told me that,

and he should know, he said he's got five brothers and said they were all doing it regularly."

     "I didn't know that," said Adam, "You never told me."

     "You were asleep on the coach coming back from those games in Cornwall and he

and his young brother in our team were on the back seat with us.  Bobby Crossthwaite

blushed liked hell when his brother asked him if he'd got a hard‑on as he wouldn't stop

wriggling.  His brother said he'd have to wait to take care of it until he got back to school as

he didn't want his juice squirting all over the seat and if he did he'd make him lick it up

'cause he was a Prefect.  He then said to me 'The kid's like the rest of the six of  us.  Can't

keep his hands off it.  And the rest of you!'  Then he winked."  Ivo laughed.  "Bobby

Crossthwaite hasn't spoken to me since and I have to pack down with him in the scrum!"

     Adam giggled.  "Bloody wankers, and so say all of us!"

     I joined the ranks of teenage wankers earlier in age than Tris.  I was twelve years,

nine months and four days when I thought I would try again.  Success.  Four drops of faintly

pearlescent liquid shot to just further than my navel.  I didn't see it happen.  My eyes were

tightly shut as the stupendous subterranean sensations took over.  I gasped and I knew.  I was

there.  Tris was ecstatic as well when I told him next day.  Our dual endeavours from then on

cemented our friendship even further.