Some of the Characters Appearing or Mentioned:

Mark Henry Foster  The story‑teller:  Pennefather Organ Scholar

Tristan (Tris) Price‑Williams  His well‑proportioned boyfriend

Shelley Price‑Williams  Tris's sexually aware younger sister

Francis [Toad] Foster   Mark's sexually rampant younger brother

Ivo Richie Carr   Mark's cousin:  chunky and cheeky with it  

Adam Benjamin Carr    Ditto, as his twin

Oliver Jensen   A Musical undergraduate with allure

Edward Jensen  Oliver's younger brother with extra allure

Fiona McKenzie  A Mathematical undergraduate with presence

Angus (Zack) McKenzie  Her younger brother, a young man with panache

Brandon McKenzie Her even younger brother with protective instincts

Gordon Foster      Father of Mark and Francis

Maria (Angelica Matteoli) Foster  Mother of Mark and Francis

George Carr    Farmer and father of the twins

Sophia Carr    Gordon's sister and mother of the twins

Professor Sven‑Petter Jensen  The late Henry Foster's friend

Miriam Jensen  The Professor's wife.

     Being home after being almost one's own master for the past eight weeks was a bit strange.

But, I was glad to be home and soon after Tris and I had dumped our bags in our kitchen, as

Auntie Di was having an extra Bridge afternoon, we were regaling Mum with the story of

how the concert had gone so well.

     "And Dr Henson said...," Tris was well in with the Chaplain having volunteered to

read the lesson two Sundays running when the appointed reader had chickened out.  "...Your

recital is scheduled for the Friday before the end of next term.  Could you let him know what

you want to sing and what you would like the choir to sing as well."

     Mum laughed.  "The Mendelssohn for a start ‑ or that will probably finish the

evening.  I'll sort out some other things over Christmas."  She reached out and put her hand

over his.  "I think we might even try a duet."  Tris blushed.  He had a very good voice and

Mum wasn't joking.

     Anyway, any detailed plans would have to wait.  In any case we were interrupted as

Frankie arrived home from school with a piece of plaster over one eyebrow.  He rushed up to

Tris first and gave him a hug.  He looked at me and I thought I would get the Toad sneer.

But no!

     "Gotta show you what Charles sent me for my birthday.  Won't be a sec."

     He rushed off upstairs just leaving us in silence and able to drink a bit more tea

before he appeared again.  He reappeared much too soon for us to have another of the

teacakes Auntie Di had baked and left as a peace‑offering as she would be absent when her

loving son returned home.  A small red box, like the ones we four had been given at the

wedding breakfast, was brandished.  He put it down in front of me.  I opened it.  Inside was a

Leopardi signet ring and a small card.  "To a most accomplished young actor and cousin.

From Charles, Count Leopardi"

     "Mustn't wear it at school but it's brill.  Uncle Nick says if Aldo and Unc get hitched

anytime I might have a title as well as Charles..."

     Mum laughed.  "I think Uncle Nick might be slightly exaggerating and as Mark is

older than you he would be entitled first."

     "Mum, trust you to spoil it.  But Charles said in the letter we could visit Venice

sometime and see the Palazzo.  Mum, could we?"

     "Yes, of course.  But it's a bit far from Uncle Francesco's and you've got a busy year

as you'll be taking your GCSEs after Easter."

     Mum nearly got the Toad special but he turned on me.  "And what did you get me for

my birthday?  It was last week and you did send a card, but...."

     The 'but' hung.  Neither Tris nor I spoke.  There was a 'hoot' from a car horn outside.

     "That's Dilys back.  I'd better go and see what she wants," said Mum beating a hasty

retreat knowing full well that the Toad was likely to be teased.

     "It's OK, Microbe," said Tris, "Here's your present from both of us."  He opened his

rucksack which was on the floor beside him.  "Oh, I forgot," he said, "Louie sent you a

present as well."

     He drew out a neatly wrapped rectangular box.  Toad's eyes were fixed on it.  One

could almost see the cogs turning.

     "Cor, thanks," he said taking it and looking at the inscription 'To Francis from his

favourite torturer'.  He tore off the wrapping paper to reveal a box of Boots tissues.  The

change of expression on his face was something to behold.

     Before he could respond I held up an even larger wrapped parcel.  "Toby sent this

with his best wishes now you're sixteen."

     A quick glance at the label 'To Frankie from your ergometer pal' and the wrapping

was torn away.  This time a man‑size pack of tissues from Sainsburys.

     Simultaneously Tris and I drew out two more packs, "From Pete one of the boaties

you ran with," I said and handed it to him as Tris said, "From Kasim, another of the

runners...."  He had dived into his bag very quickly and another was thrust at Francis, "...And

this one's from Jammy who runs their gym."  I fished out what was certainly a double pack.

"And finally, from Elliott,"  I said.  Elliott was the Captain of Boats.

     Toad just stared at the unopened packages.  Each label was clearly written and each

was apparently in a different hand.  Each was undoubtedly a pack, or more than one pack, of

tissues.  Why had they sent them?  Why him?  He looked at us.  I must say we never moved a

facial muscle between us.  Tris spoke.

     "Come on, Microbe, open your prezzies.  Let's have a look."

     The look was murderous.  "You bastards," he breathed, "You set this up!  What did

you tell them?"

     Tris was so, so calm.  "What could we tell them?  You spent time with them.  They

all said what an active young man you were...  ....Anyway, they've probably all got younger

brothers so they know what younger brothers need when they're active."

     Toad was in a quandary.  He didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or batter his brother

and his friend to death.  The laugh just about won, the battering might come later.

     "You bastards," he said again, "I suppose you told them what I left in Tris's rooms."

     "It's only seven packs," I said, trying not to laugh too much as the conflicting

expressions rushed across his face, "What's that?  A week's worth I should think."

     Tris shook his head and then we both erupted.  He laughed, "Kasim said if you need

more his Dad has a wholesalers and can get you a pallet‑load if you need..."  He went across

to Toad and gave him a hug.  "An active young man, eh?" he said,  "Good one that!  Got you

hooked!"

     With Tris hugging him the fist aimed at me missed by a mile.

     "You wait," he said and tried wriggling out of Tris's grasp, "I'll have the pair of

you!"

     "Quieten down," said Tris, "It's all OK.  Your brother is just a good forger."

     "F....uck   y...ou   bo....th!" he ground out.

     I went over and took hold of one of his prominent ears.  He stood still as ears were

precious.

     "Language!" I said, "Not the kind to use to a kind and generous brother and his kind

and generous friend."  I bent over and kissed his forehead before realising I might be in a

very vulnerable position as his teeth were evident in the snarl.  I stepped back quickly and

drew out a substantial floppy package from my rucksack.  "But you are forgiven and this is

the present from us to you."  I paused.   "And really Frankie, it's with all our love."

     Tris let go of him and he opened the package slowly.  In it was a set of College

sweats, a pair of St Mark's dark‑red silky basketball shorts and a singlet to match, running

shorts with a tee‑shirt and another jockstrap.

      "And Ivo and Adam sent you this," said Tris, handing him another floppy package.

     His eyes lit up.  A St Mark's College rugby shirt, shorts and two pairs of dark‑red

football socks.

     "And all that lot's forfeit if you don't get in," I said.

     "Except the tissues, of course," said Tris.

     All was forgiven as far as we were concerned, too.  We were hugged by an ecstatic

young man.  Yes, even in those few weeks since the summer holiday he'd grown even more.

Sixteen last week and he was just a smidgen shorter than me now.

     "Better get those packs upstairs before Mum comes back," I said, "I don't want to

have to explain what little boys use so many tissues for."

     He laughed.  "Too late.  I've been found out.  Dad's had the talk with me in case I

was worried.  Had to say I wasn't..." he was back to Toad, "...I  told him you'd explained all

the theory...  ...and Tris had helped with the practicals."

     Luckily for him we heard Mum close the garden gate.  Laden with the opened and

unopened packs he was upstairs within seconds.  Tris and I quickly laid out his other

presents on the kitchen table.  Mum took one look.

     "I suppose that'll mean more washing."

     Mum though did have a welcome message.  Tris's Mum would be feeding us all that

evening.

     I waited for retaliation for the next couple of days.  None came.  All was sweetness

and light.  We found the plaster hid a cut experienced in the scrum of a practice game.  Tris

and I went with him on the Saturday for the final game of the term when his team managed

to win against a neighbouring school.  We met up with a couple of other big brothers and

exchanged University tales and this whiled away the time while the teams were kicking

seven bells out of each other.  Toad emerged from the changing‑rooms at long last with a

plastic bag of very muddy kit which he thrust into my hands.  I also got an unaccustomed un‑

Toad smile. "Thanks for coming.  The lads all wanted to know who you were.  Funny, the

pair of you couldn't have made much impression  while you were at school.  I just said it was

my brother with his piece of tottie...."  He got no further.  Tris's hand gripped an arm and the

smile changed to a wince.

     "Last time I saw most of that lot they were snot‑nosed little kiddies who used to

nearly wet their knickers when they saw one of us Prefects approaching.  By the time I've

finished with you you'll need a pair of clean panties, too, and those packs of tissues will be

quite superfluous to requirement!"

     Irrepressible even in the face of great adversity.  He grinned at Tris.  "You'd better

have them then!"  Tris let go.

     As Mum and Dad were both out for the evening we took him to the nearest

McDonalds where a post‑rugby‑playing appetite was alleviated by the input of about the

same amount of food as Tris and I had combined.  As the last morsel disappeared and he

licked his lips he looked over.

     "Thanks, I needed that.  Anyway, you two can have a quiet evening in as I'm going to

sleep over at Jack's.  He's got a new game we want to try out..." A significant pause.  "...on

his computer."  OK lad, you are storing up riches and there will be moths, rust and

corruption.  Just wait.  But then.  "It's OK.  I've promised Mr Prentice I'll play the out‑going

tomorrow as long as you do the rest.  He can conduct the choir.  I'll be there!"

     He got up, waved and was gone.  I still had a bag of muddy kit at my feet.

     There was no‑one at home next door either.  A note from Auntie Di.  'Taken Shelley

to see Lion King.  Food in fridge.'  Two ready‑made plates just needing to be hotted up in the

microwave.  At least four hours of peace.  Four hours spent quietly and productively in my

bed.  We did a quick reappraisal of the snotty‑nosed kids who were now, bigger, meatier and

prime subjects for conjectures about their bedworthiness.  We agreed wholeheartedly that

Duncan Prescott, now a hunky young second row forward, would definitely not be kicked out

of bed and for second helpings, a dashing young flyhalf, Micky McShane, with shapely, but

muddy, thighs would be ideal for second helpings.  But, we decided on second thoughts, that

what we did have in bed was the best of all ‑ each other.

     Both Tris and I had a stack of work to do so the next few days were taken up with

study,  quiet contemplation, and, when parents were out generally in the afternoons, periods

of ardent love‑making.  "Going to miss you when I'm down in Dorset," I whispered as we

separated after a second joint load of boycream had been expended one afternoon and I had

lain on top of hm to feel that muscular young body as close to mine as possible.

     He licked across my lips with his long, wet tongue which sent another frisson of

desire somewhere between my legs.  "I'll miss you, too.  I'm being truthful, it's agony when I

don't see or hear you.  You'll e‑mail me every day, won't you?  Get the twins to let you use

their computer,  I want all the news."   He kissed me tenderly.  "I want to know all about

your Grandad.  At least I've still got both of mine."  He laughed and licked my lips again.

"But what Grandpa Price‑Williams would say if he knew I was in bed with a nice boy doesn't

bear thinking..."

     Grandpa Price‑Williams was, luckily, too far North and busy as a circuit judge and

Methodist lay‑preacher to make many visits to stay with his less‑than‑doting son and family

in London.  Uncle Nick loved the Law but his father, who had steered him into that

profession, was rather too prickly and rather intolerant of modern day morals, and especially

youth, to take kindly to his one and only grandson taking the homosexual path.  As far as we

knew he didn't know and Tris was unlikely to tell him.  Also, given that Grandma Matteoli

was mean, was nothing in comparison with the Scrooge‑like characteristics of Grandpa P‑W.

One reason for not visiting was that he refused to run a car and definitely begrudged the

expense of train fares.  Grandma P‑W did have a car which was kept under careful scrutiny

for any possible overuse.  Uncle Nick had two sisters, both with daughters, and they did the

family thing but visited the old couple as infrequently as possible although both lived within

a few miles of them.  Uncle Nick looked on all this with an unjaundiced eye ‑ he was

generosity itself ‑ and often came out with a story from his boyhood days of his father's

rather fastidious and old‑fashioned traits.

     "I think from the look in my Grandad's eye when he was a chorister he wouldn't say

much at all,"  I said.  We'd studied that photograph of the young teenager and there definitely

was a knowing look in his eye.  "And Grandpa Matteoli didn't give his son the boot like

Count Leopardi did his."  I brushed my lips against Tris's.  "If you had a son and he told

you...."

      I could say no more as Tris hugged me to him and his open mouth was pressed

against mine.  As he drew back he murmured, "I would want him to be happy in whatever he

did.  Just like my Dad and your Dad want for us.  We're lucky, aren't we?"

     We couldn't prolong our love‑making which we desperately wanted to do after that

exchange as it was getting on for the time for Frankie to get back from school.  In fact, he

only had one more day before the school broke‑up for the Christmas holidays and we were

going to stay at the farm for those.  Tris and I would be apart and, no doubt, I would come in

for a good amount of ribbing from the Thugs.  Tris's family were off to warmer climes for

Christmas ‑ Barbados of all places.  I said I didn't want him exploring any nice young hotel

bell‑boys.  He said they were probably freely available on room service at the price his Dad

was paying for the hotel.  His bollocks got a slight squeeze for that.

     Next day we went up into London.  He was going to his father's Chambers to get

some advice on some Law Reports he had to comment on.  I was going to do my Christmas

shopping and had quite a list.  I had decided to spend a bit more of Uncle Francesco's

largesse so first stop was Selfridge's for a cashmere stole for Mum.  Dad was always a

problem.  Still, Hill's was handy and I got him an assortment of 'fiddle fodder' as he called

it.  Rather expensive rosin for his bow and a couple of mutes and a set of strings.  I

mentioned he was playing one of the Ulvescott Al‑Hamed violins and the assistant pointed to

another.  I rather gasped when I was told the price.

     I was still gasping when I got to Foyles.  I had decided to get my own copy of a Maths

book which Louie strongly recommended and there was music for me and a new copy of

Elijah for Mum to get.  I was getting rather laden down.  But I wasn't finished shopping yet.

     Tris and the Toad occupied my mind.  Tris was not too difficult as I knew he wanted

a new printer to go with his laptop he was constantly using at College.  I'd found a brochure

he had marked so I thought I would be OK in choosing that one.  Toad wanted a new joystick

with extra knobs and controls ‑ when I learned of this need I didn't comment on the fact that

he seemed well set up with the joy stick he already had between his legs, mainly as the listing

of wants had been made in mixed company ‑ plus two games, the names of which made no

sense to me.  Armed with this almost lack of knowledge I ambled along Tottenham Court

Road and entered the first large computing emporium that caught my eye.

     I was just in the door when a familiar voice said "Hello Mark, fancy seeing you here!"

It was Fiona.  She had two large distinctive green Harrods bags at her feet.

     "Same," I said, "but I think we're on the same errands.  Christmas shopping." She

laughed and held up one of the bags.  It seemed heavy.  "Like a coffee?" I asked, thinking I

could also do with a sit down, too, tramping London pavements was tiring and my dogs were

beginning to bark.

     "Love one, but soon.  I've got to wait until my personal armed response team

reassembles."  She scanned a bit of the shop.  "Oh, good, here comes one of them!"

     I looked and saw a very determined looking young man striding towards us carrying a

very large bag quite effortlessly.  He stopped in front of Fiona and then turned and fixed me

with an icy stare from strikingly blue eyes.  He was slightly shorter than me and dressed in a

smart black overcoat and looked as if he meant business.

     "Mark, this is my brother Zack, Angus really but who cares, he's my personal minder

today with his assistant, eh Zack?"  The icy stare continued.   "Mark's my Maths buddy with

Dina and I told you, he's our Pennefather Scholar like Dad was...."

     The icy stare melted somewhat.  I was known.  I stuck a hand out and a very firm

handshake followed.  I looked him also in the eye, then the face.  Gosh, if he was only

sixteen he had the makings of five o'clock shadow and it was barely midday.

     A very cultured baritone.  "Fiona's told me about you."  He smiled and the iciness

disappeared.  "I wanted to come to your Dad's recital but she couldn't get a ticket.  She says

you've met Dude....."

     "That's all the Inquisition for the moment."  Big sister was in charge.  "What have

you bought?"

     The bag was opened.  A printer.  Thank you God.  A knowledgeable helpmeet at

hand.

     "That's just what I'm looking for," I said pulling out the brochure from my pocket.

"Advice please."

     Before he had a chance to say anything another figure approached.  "Are you OK,

Sis?"   More of a tenor register this time.

     "Oh, Mark," she said, "Meet Brandon.  He's my other minder."

     The introductions were repeated and a relaxed Brandon joined a visibly more at ease

Zack as I suggested we all went to the nearest coffee‑shop.  Over coffee and muffins I was

given a run‑down of adolescent interests which sounded so familiar from interaction with

Toad.  Both were more than helpful.  Brandon knew exactly which joystick was the desire of

all boys ‑ no, I didn't say anything ‑ and he was most voluble over the pros and cons of the

latest games.  Zack gave me a very articulate run‑down on what was really needed as far as

printers were concerned.  Fiona sat, sipped and smiled an enigmatic smile.  At one point she

excused herself and went to the loo.  Brandon had eyed the muffins on the counter and I said

he should get another couple for himself and Zack.  As soon as he went Zack leaned over to

me.  I was aware of the fragrance of a very expensive aftershave.

     "You've met Dude?" he asked.  I nodded.  "You know he's....."

     "I know he's gay," I said quietly, "I am, too," I smiled,  "And the printer I'm going to

buy is for my boyfriend."

     He smiled and nodded.  "Dude's talked a lot to me.  He said he's met you and your

friend.  I'm not sure..."  He turned to check that Brandon was still engaged at the till.  "When

did you know?"

     "I think I always have but it was really when I was about fourteen, I suppose."

     The smile was radiant.  He nodded again.  "Yes, fourteen.  I think I knew then."  He

cast a quick glance at his younger brother now balancing two muffins on a rather small plate.

"Don't say anything, please, but can I talk to you sometime as well?"  I nodded.  "You can

tell Dude..."  A plate was thrust at him.  "....Thanks, I'll have the choccy one, please."

     When we'd finished we went back to the store.  I gave a hundred pounds to Brandon

who whistled when the five crisp twenty‑pound notes were handed to him.  His instructions

were to choose the best available joystick and two of the most wanted new games.  Fiona

went with him.

     The choice of printer took about three minutes.  I paid for that with my credit card

and that quick transaction gave Zack the chance to continue his questioning and my

conversation with him.   I found he'd never been interested in girls ‑ Fiona had been misled

somewhat in her appreciation of his interests here ‑ he'd tried to be as macho as possible,

helped to a large extent by early development and his appearance.  He said he was envied by

his class‑mates as he had to shave every day but the problem was he had to be careful not to

slice the spots.  No, he didn't have a very close friend., though he thought he'd identified a

couple in the same age group who might be....  I said I'd been lucky.   He said his Dad and

Mum knew but Fiona and Brandon didn't.  I said I wouldn't say anything.  I told him a bit

about Tris and our relationship.  He smiled and said his Dad had told him to talk with Dude

and he'd explained a lot, but I could see he needed to be reassured by someone a bit nearer

his own age.  I suppose we had about a quarter of an hour's chat before we thought we'd

better join the other two.

     "And did Zack give you good advice, Mark?" Fiona asked as we joined them at the

main door of the store.

     "Well, I had to tell him Tris would only want the best."   I smiled at her.  She got the

double meaning.  She looked at her brother who maintained a superb state of equilibrium..

He knew what I meant, too, and I'd said he could talk or correspond with either of us

whenever he wanted.  Tucked in the pocket of that immaculate outer covering of that boy‑

not‑quite‑sure, was a piece of paper with our e‑mail addresses and home phone numbers.  In

return I had his and Brandon's.

     Brandon was pleased too.  He held up three pence.  "Your change, Mark, and

everything is in the bag."

     I winked at him.  "Keep the change," I said, "And if things are not right expect a call

at dawn on Christmas Day from my brother!"

     As we parted at the Underground entrance where they would start their journey back

to Arkley, Fiona and Brandon went on down the stairs as Zack handed me the printer bag

he'd been carrying as well as his own.  "Thanks," he said, "I'm quite sure now!"

     I thought of that little exchange as I took the tube back to South London.  Had he

recognised something in someone who had come to terms with his sexuality that had turned

the key for him?  I smiled as I thought of that.  I hoped I had been of help.

     Luckily I arrived home in time to hide the presents and to wrap up Tris's printer as he

would have to be given that before the family departed.  Toad was rather inquisitive when he

came home wanting to know where I'd been   I didn't dare say I'd met Fiona and her brothers

in case I was cross‑questioned.  I thought what I would do was to put Brandon's e‑mail

address on a Post‑It note with the games saying in case of disgruntlement get in touch with....

I managed to deflect any further questioning by reminding him that the Thugs and Oliver's

brother Eddie were all arriving the next day and he'd better make sure Eddie had somewhere

to put his things in the bedroom.  Toad‑like sneers ensued, only disappearing after I lobbed

over a large bar of Cadbury's Fruit and Nut.  Sneers came back when I remarked that

chocolate was good for spots, ...it produced more.

     That evening I was still thinking about the encounter with Zack and also decided I

would have a rest from Maths and do some serious reading ‑ a detective novel.  Just after ten

I finished a chapter and said goodnight.  Frankie wasn't in evidence.  Tidying his room I

doubted.  Mum said she'd wait up for Dad as he would be home soon as he was playing at

the Barbican that evening and she had some soup and smoked salmon ready for him in case

he was hungry.  As I went up the stairs my thoughts flashed to Tris again, I hadn't seen him

since parting this morning.  I had a quick wash and cleaned my teeth then went to my room

and stripped off.  I was just settling under my duvet, thinking hard about Tris and getting

really hard and ready to release my long‑felt needs when the door opened and closed quietly

and my brother stood by my bed.  I was just about to tell him to clear off in no uncertain

terms when he lifted the duvet and slid in beside me.

     "Roll over, Beethoven, I've got to talk to you urgently.  It's no good when Mum's

around."  He moved over closer and landed right against my erection as I'd turned on my

side.  "Oh, sorry, thought you'd have had time.   I haven't either!"

     There was a pregnant pause.  I wanted him out of my bed.  He was too bloody chirpy.

But I realised this was a front. He wanted to tell or ask.  He needed me.

     "What is it, Frankie?"  I said as calmly as possible, subduing the urge to boot him out

of my bed.

     For once he seemed a bit hesitant.  "Marky," he began, "Don't be angry but I want to

find out about girls like you know about boys.  I can't help it."

     "No good asking me then is it, Cherub?"

     Frankie was used to being called different names.

     "You know what I mean," he replied putting an arm round me.  "Trouble is I'm

always like this..."  He pushed his body towards me so pressing my hardon against his

boxers‑clad midriff.  I felt his now not‑inconsiderable erection almost side by side with my

own.  "...'specially when Jack shows me his folder I told you about before."  He obviously

thought I needed further details.  "He's got lots now that he's downloaded and some of them

are little videos..."  He stopped.   "...They've got nothing on and he says he puts them on

slideshow when he goes to bed and...."

     "I know what..." I said trying not to laugh at an image of the usually so‑serious Jack

furiously beating off while a montage of flickering beauties spurred him on.  And there was

Matt, too, with his collection of wank‑mags.  All I ever needed was my own internal montage

of  Tris ‑ but I had to admit that was sometimes accompanied by memories of Ivo and Adam

as they showed off their own beautifully developed bodies.  I flicked off that internal picture‑

show.  Perhaps later when the Microbe had departed.....

     He'd sniggered when I said "I know what...."  Then became very serious again.  He

changed tack.  "I think Shelley is after me and I wouldn't mind....."  He clutched my neck.

"Oh, Marky, I don't really like her, but I help her with her maths homework and she nudges

me and puts her hand over mine and I get like this all the time..."  One arm was disengaged

from my neck and a hot hand gripped my rigid tool.  I kept very still.  "...She always wants to

show me something in her bedroom she's bought, or listen to her latest record she's got, and

then she dances around and wants me to join in all up close and she wants me to take her to

see some picture before they leave....."  He paused for breath.

     His voice dropped to more of a whisper.  "One of Jack's movie pictures looks a bit

like her.  Jack says he doesn't half fancy that one and that'll be Shelley in three or four years

time.  He's got about three minutes of her showing off and she's got her hand between her

legs doing something to herself at the end.  Oh Marky, after I helped Shelley with her

homework on Monday she was dancing to one of her records and looking at me, then she

shut her eyes and stuck her tongue out between her teeth and  was rubbing her hand up and

down herself , you know, like, copying that girl on Jack's film and I imagined her as that girl

in the picture..."  His breathing was getting  faster....  ".....And I wanted to do it to her......

Oh, fuck!!"  He rolled partly away, let go, pushed away the duvet and rapidly yanked his

boxers down and began to fist himself furiously to the accompaniment of increasingly faster

intakes and exhalations of breath through his open mouth.  "Oh God!" he mouthed as a series

of four or so warm streams of his boy spunk hit me just above my navel.  There was a full

half minute's silence, while his breathing rate returned somewhat to normal, and, perhaps, to

a contemplation of  the enormity of showing his inability to control himself for the second

time to his big brother.

     My little brother was in distress.  Also I was aware, even more so, that he wasn't so

little now.  Although I'd seen him at times during the last ten weeks I was really surprised at

how much he'd grown in that time.  He was in an accelerated growth‑spurt and was not only

growing upwards with lengthening arms and legs, he was now growing very fast down below

as well.  That penis so vividly demonstrated just now was certainly more than a single

handful.  As he thrashed it up and down I guessed he was at least six inches and a half inches

probably getting on for seven now and he was just sixteen.  I nodded to myself.  At that age I

was getting on for seven inches, too, having measured myself almost every week when I

realised that such sudden changes were taking place.  

     Before he could say anything I turned and put my arms round him and drew him so

close mindful that we would be separated only by a thin film of spread out semen and my

own very erect prick stretched up between us.  His breath was still coming and going in gulps

and I knew he was weeping.  "Frankie, don't fret.  You couldn't help it.  Sometimes our

passions just take over.  Just like that time you painted my door."  I waited as his breathing

calmed a bit.  "Now you're scared in case you want to fuck Shelley and it sounds as if she's

really got the hots for you.  I noticed at lunch on Sunday she insisted on sitting next to you

and you were wriggling about most of the time.  Big hard cock, eh?"  I stroked his back.  He

shivered slightly.  "Don't be tempted.  It's too dangerous. You're sixteen now and you're

growing fast.  But remember there's the age of consent and you may have reached it but she

hasn't." He was still sniffling but nodded slightly.  "And you can imagine Uncle Nick being

confronted by his daughter's increasing waistline."  I was warming to the topic.  "And Tris.

The loving protective brother.  I can assure you as far as he would be concerned it wouldn't

be a shotgun marriage between the pair of you on her sixteenth birthday but a shotgun up

you, right where Edward the Second had the red hot poker!"

     He was still sniffing but his chest was heaving.  "I can't help it," he managed to get

out between heaves.  "It scares me."

     I rubbed my cheek against his.  "I know, Matey, guess what it's been like having a

gay brother and him surrounded by all the most desirable young males."

     My perky little brother was back.  "But at least you can't get Tris pregnant!  And what

about the age of consent there! You weren't sixteen, either of you, and as he's older he could

have been held to be someone in authority over a minor."

     "If I tell you a few secrets they're between us?"

     He nodded slowly.  "Of course."

     "First of all, Tris and I only did that once and only when we really knew we loved

each other.  That was when I was fourteen and he was fifteen.  We didn't do it again until I

was sixteen and we knew even more we still loved each other even though we hadn't loved

each other in that way in between.  I guess shooting your stuff into some girl the first time

just to find out what it's like is no big deal.  I guess for most it doesn't involve love.  It's just

a plain fuck."  His body seem to shiver again slightly against mine.  I had hit on something by

saying that.  It was something he was just realising.

     I went on exposing more secrets.  "Ivo said his first was a disaster.  Some girl he'd

been to a dance with.  He'd gone prepared and she was more than willing, he said, and it

wasn't her first time he knew.  He said he was so worked up he no sooner had it in when he

fired off."  I snickered and Frankie did, too.  "Just like you just now and when you came to

Cambridge, no restraint ‑ but I must say your firepower is awesome ‑ reminds me of your

cousins that way."  I felt Francis's jaw muscles against my face as he opened his mouth to

say something.  Before anything came out I continued.  "You and Jack aren't the only ones to

have compared each other's prowess."

     He did whisper something then ‑ "How did you know?  I've never told you!"

     "Two boys always together, growing up and watching things on computers.  You've

told me before you've discussed things with Jack so my guess is you've done a bit more than

compare the size of your willies, eh?"  He nodded and said nothing.  "It's no big secret, but

you're cousins initiated me long before I shot my first load."

     As he listened and snuggled against me and wriggled at all the juicy bits, I recounted

that fateful visit to Disneyland with Tris's censure of the twins' behaviour before I was led, a

willing lamb, to that early boyish slaughter of my innocence.  I told him it was then I realised

Tris was more than just a boyhood companion.  I went on to tell him of my first true

ejaculation and the visits from the twins when we'd relived those earlier encounters.

     He giggled when I said Adam's experience was even more galling than Ivo's.  Primed

by Ivo's experience of a premature ejaculation he thought he would slow things down by

tossing off beforehand.  Being Adam and a stickler for getting things absolutely right and

knowing he was often a three‑times a day lad it wasn't only once but twice during that

afternoon.  I could picture Adam as he told me and I tried to portray that awful realisation

that, even though he'd managed to raise himself to a semblance of rigidity, no amount of

thrusting and huffing and puffing would blow his house down or, more desirably, produce the

desired orgasm.  Luckily, he'd said without a hint of levity, he'd thought of the old Rugby

song as it fitted his exertions 'In and out went the prick of steel..' and that was enough to

drive him on to a climax.  He'd said the girl was over the moon and wanted another fuck

immediately as he'd turned her on so much but he'd had to politely decline giving some

inane excuse.

     "That sounds just like Adam," Frankie whispered, "He's so nice."

     I didn't remind him that Adam was uncertain and was still making his mind up where

his desires lay, and it seemed that was with Whippet at present.  That would have to wait

until things were clearer.  But finally, I told him of my great love and yearning for Tris.

What we did was with each other's consent and it was done with a feeling of unity, one with

the other.  "If Shelley wants you as a boyfriend you've got to make it clear nothing more than

a bit of kiss and fondle."  I tapped his backside as I slid my hand down.  "No thought of

putting that nice young penis in, even if you both get desperate.  If you can't wait you'd

better find someone you don't know at all but you may be disappointed."  I tapped his bum

again.  "Remember, you can only lose your virginity once so make sure it's with someone

you really want."

     "The twins are OK, though," said Francis ruminatively, "They lost theirs with those

two girls.  No love."

     "I lost mine with Tris.  And that was with love."

     He nodded then shook his head.  "It's difficult, isn't it?"

     "Yes, and we all have to make our own decisions."

     "Well I won't be fucking Shelley, willingly or unwillingly," he sniggered, "I might

find a nice boy instead."  He stopped and rubbed his face against mine.  "I'm sorry, Marky, I

shouldn't say that.  I know you love Tris terribly and so do I.  It's like having two big

brothers and I want you to be happy and I want me to be happy, too.  Thanks for talking to

me and telling me so much.  Nesto was right though wasn't he?  You and Tris and the twins

at the Villa?"  I nodded.  "Wish I could have," he sounded rather wistful, then stroked my

arm.  "I feel so much better even if you have a bigger cock than I do, but I'm still growing."

The hand strayed, gripped, moved down, the skin was stretched and big‑brother's seed joined

not‑so‑little‑brother's seed.   He gasped as his brother's hair‑trigger slipped and the salvo was

rather tremendous.  There were a few moments silence as big brother got his breath back and

he lay still.  "Sorry Marky, I didn't mean that to happen."  He leaned up and kissed me as we

squelched even more together.  "But thanks, I've wanted to hold you there for ages.  Please

don't be angry but Jack said he'd read that most older brothers tell and do things to make

sure their young brothers don't come to any harm."

     There was nothing to say.  I got him to kick off his boxers which were round his

ankles.  I used them to mop up most of the spunk, especially the streamers I'd laid down on

his stomach and chest.  He lay still as I did this.  I dropped the boxers over the edge of the

bed.  I put both arms round him and he put an arm over my shoulder.  I kissed the tip of his

nose and two brothers slept.  During the night, two brothers woke and, with assistance, two

brothers came again and with soft kisses and murmurings slept soundly until the urgent

ringing of my alarm clock.

     I think that night cemented, in more ways than one, a really deep friendship and new

understanding between us.  He nuzzled my cheek as he woke.   "I think that's the best night

I've ever had," he whispered, "Better get to my own bed before....."

     I leaned over and silenced him with a full‑blown kiss.  We stayed like that for a

couple of minutes.  "...Better go," he said as we moved apart, "Might happen again..."

     He hopped out of bed, scooped up the boxers, turned, displayed his erect cock,

grinned, kissed his fingers and silently left the room.  What could I do but release my own

tension.

     After breakfast I cornered him.  "Frankie, you know I'll have to confess to Tris...."

     "....You'd better," he said, "And don't worry, he'll understand."  He looked at me and

smiled and shook his head.  "You are soooo lucky..."

       I was still eating breakfast when Tris appeared. Of course he wanted to know what

I'd bought him the day before and I said he'd have to wait and see but it wasn't a season

ticket for Kentucky Fried Chicken.  "Something nice, I expect," was the response as we

exchanged a morning kiss in the kitchen under the watchful eye of Toad.

     Toad got up, having finished the fourth and last piece of toast Mum had done before

she'd disappeared upstairs to check on the Thugs' bedroom, and kissed him too.  He slapped

his back, rather to Tris's amazement, as this was definitely not a Toad action..  "Gotta go.

Jack's coming with me to the station to meet Eddie."

     As the backdoor closed Tris turned to me with a grin on his face.  "What's got into

him?  He's almost human this morning!"

     I laughed.  "Tell you later!"

     At eleven there was a roar of a motor‑bike engine.  The kitchen was invaded and I

heard Mum being greeted noisily by her two hunky nephews.  I'd been in the front‑room

playing the piano, quietly, while I told Tris about the happenings of the night before.  As I

reached the final bars of a Chopin Nocturne he came over to me.

     "It's something that should have happened a long time ago."  He patted my shoulder.

"Frankie idolises you.  You're the big brother made in Heaven and now you've shared

something with him I hope you'll both treasure."  He bent over and brushed my ear with his

lips.  "I'm sorry it's something I could never experience.  I wonder what my brother would

have been like if I'd had one."  He sniggered.  "Not mad on bloody horses I would hope, but

it sounds if the sexual urges are rising in dear Shelley.  It's funny.  She more or less ignores

me but it looks as if she has set her sights on Microbe.  He'd better watch it.  I've seen her

gyrating to that foul music and she looked mesmerised by it.  I hope it won't be her downfall.

You know, a couple of drinks and a persistent beat...."  He grinned.  "...Like at the Club.

God!  That gets me going!"

     I was laughing to myself.  True.  Tris was always a very ardent lover after being at the

Club. I hoped I was, too.

     The door swung open and the Thugs grabbed us between them.  "Thought you two

would be in here."  Adam sniffed.  "Definite aroma of nefarious activity on the piano stool."

     "Speak for yourself, Bro, you had your hand in my pocket most of the way here."

     "Only holding on.  It was either your love handles or that midget digit of yours.

Actually it's not quite as worn away as I would have thought."

     "Constant activity is good for it.  Think of all those rich boaties, most of those are

rather lacking." 

     Tris and I looked at each other.  "What do you mean?" asked Tris, ever the one to

field the lobbed projectile.

     "Never noticed?" said Ivo, "The poor ones are always well hung."  He looked so

serious.  "They never had toys when they were kids."  He looked from Tris to me.  "Blast!

Theory's wrong.  You two ain't poor."

     "Does he never stop?" asked Tris knowing that there was no answer to that.

     We all went to the kitchen, luckily big enough to accommodate a number of large

bodies, plus poor Mum, who was joining in the repartee very happily.  Dad came in from the

Shed where he'd been practising and the cacophony grew.  The Thugs and he had a great

rapport and we listened while they were sensible for once for about ten minutes.  Ivo was

going for an interview at the Foreign Office at the beginning of January and would hope for

an appointment as soon as he'd finished his degree.

     "Going to follow in Grandad's footsteps if possible," he said, "Even with this

government."  We all knew Uncle George's views on the present farm policy so his son's

proposed career would raise a few comments over Christmas.

     "And I had an interview with the Master yesterday," said Adam.  He looked very

pleased.  "Depending on my results I could be offered a Junior Research Fellowship.

Simon's backing it though I don't really want to work with him.  It's the College history

again.  The Master has had some money promised by Bryce's family in his memory so it's a

bit delicate, too.  The Master thinks I can handle it and I've got to see someone at the

Australian Embassy to put forward an outline of attack.  Got to work on that this holiday."

He grinned.  "No holiday!"

     I think all were most impressed at the plans.  Their three years at St Mark's were

rapidly coming to an end.

     More disturbance.  Frankie led the way followed by Oliver's brother Eddie, then the

usual solemn Jack.  I gazed at Eddie.  If Oliver was built and looked like a Greek God his

younger brother just about surpassed him.  His beauty was flawless.  His blond wavy hair

surmounted a face which looked so innocently handsome.  His lips were parted in a look of

unadulterated joy at seeing the Thugs.  Though Tris was present I felt a surge in my loins.  I

looked at Tris.  He was staring, too.  I remembered the same reaction I'd experienced when

meeting Eddie the first time at the Garden House Hotel when Mother and Aldo were

reunited.  Now, he would be in the house here.  Nay, he would even be in bed with my

brother.  I wondered, knowing Oliver's orientation whether his younger brother....?  But

Oliver said he was sure he was straight.  If he wasn't I thought my brother was in for an

interesting time.  He might end up not being a virgin.  Lucky lad.  But even if he was straight,

and knowing Frankie as I did now, I guessed there would be ample use for all those tissues.

     Mum shooed us all out of the kitchen and Dad, after greeting the lad, beat a hasty

retreat back to the Shed.  Jack was obviously entranced as well, both with the Thugs and with

the new visitor.  Most of the conversation was about the impending nuptials with the Thugs

enacting their version of how Charles would cope, or wouldn't cope.  As there was another

week before we all went to the reception, then departing for the farm on the Sunday after, we

had the Thugs and Eddie for the next seven days.  I just hoped Mum could survive.

     Survive we did.  Actually the Thugs were delightful company.  Eddie was kept busy

being taken around and paraded before all Frankie's multitude of friends.  The pair were

ideal companions and I noted Jack wasn't excluded and he appeared with regularity

whenever anything was been planned or had been accomplished.   We four older ones spent a

couple of days exploring bits of London I hadn't seen as both Ivo and Adam were inveterate

sightseers.  I found the ideal Christmas present for them from Tris and me ‑ matching very

up‑to‑date motorcycle helmets which I had to smuggle indoors while they were giving the

lowdown ‑ their version ‑ of Tris's doings at College to his Mum.

     Mornings it was noticeable the self‑satisfied looks on both the younger lads' faces.

Faces that betrayed nothing but complete contentment with each other's company.  There

would be careful questioning once I got Toad on his own.

     Still, we had the Wedding Breakfast to come, as the very ornate invitations

announced.  Mother looked superb and Aldo played his part very well.  Charles was

euphoric.  He had on a very beautiful burgundy coloured frock‑coat, frogged with ornate

swirls of black braid and just about overshadowed the rest of the wedding party.  It was his

day really but we lads, me in my brocaded jacket, Tris in a slightly less flamboyant cut,

Oliver, Eddie and Frankie in dinner jackets and the Thugs in full Highland gear, claiming

that Great‑grandad Foster must have been a Highland chief, were photographed with him in

all sorts of poses.

     The Price‑Williams family were going off to Heathrow early on the Sunday morning

so I'd left him his present to be opened.  We had ten minutes of quiet togetherness in my

bedroom on our return from the Dorchester hotel.  "See you New Year's Eve," he said as we

parted.

     Next day just the four of us departed for the farm as soon as breakfast was over with

the Thugs preceding us on their bike.   Eddie had joined up with his brother the night before

and would be travelling down to their grandparents by train during the day.  As usual, on

arrival, we were made so welcome.  Uncle George was his customary bluff self.  It was so

evident where the Thugs got their good‑humoured, real old English, characteristics from.

Auntie Sophie was so down to earth and couldn't have been more motherly to all us boys.

She and Dad were off chatting as soon as we got there just before lunch.  I was in with

Frankie so managed to have a word or two as we unpacked.

     "Before you ask," he said as soon as the bedroom door was shut, "I'm not telling you

anything if you start taking the piss."  He grinned at me.  "On the other hand you'd better

take the piss or I might get confused.  You and the Thugs keep me amused."

     I thought I would try.  "As much as Eddie?"

     I got a vigorous waving of two fingers and the sort of look designed to keep me

wondering.

     Enlightenment came once we were in bed that evening.  Without any prompting

Frankie rolled over to me and put an arm over my chest.  "Eddie's not gay," he whispered,

"But he's as horny as Hell."  There was a pause.   "Marky, it's odd, they say about girls being

beautiful, but..."  I felt him shake his head against me.   "..he's something, isn't he?"

     I couldn't resist it.  "Am I detecting a certain gayness in my outwardly macho

brother?"  I left out the customary 'little'.

     He gave the characteristic Toad sniff but I knew he was serious.  "If I'd been with

him much longer I think I would have to...."  He stopped and the arm tightened across me.

"..It's true what Jack said about his Dad's research.  When I was with him in bed I never

thought of girls at all."

     "Don't tell me if you don't want too, but..."

     His head shook against me.  "..But we did do something so beautiful.  He said he'd

never done it before either, but..."   Another pause.

     "I know.  The first time Tris and I discovered what our tongues could do to that

ridge.."  I stopped.

     He was obviously reliving that experience as he snuggled his head against my

shoulder.  "He showed me first.  He said he heard about it at school, so had I, but I didn't

know..."  He rubbed his face against my bare shoulder.  "...I couldn't help it.  It just set me

off.  I thought he was going to choke.  It frightened me but I pulled him up and I tasted it, too.

That was me...."  He shook his head again.  "...That was me and then I did it to him.."

     I had to be honest.  "To tell you the truth I think I'm very jealous.  I've got Tris and

we love each other very deeply but we've both said that Eddie would be an object of

veneration and would be someone to think of in bed at night."

     "Do you think I like both?" he asked.

     "I don't know.  It's something you'll have to work out as time goes on."  I knew I

could say things without going into details.  "We both know someone who is still seeking to

find out his true nature.  He's finding it's difficult but he's recently met someone who is

likely to help him..  I think he'll resolve it but it'll take time and friends who understand and

can help him."  I stroked the back of his head.  "If you ever want to talk there's always me

and Tris.  Just straight talking I can assure you.  We want the best for you..."

     I stroked the back of his head again and he was quiet and relaxed.  He was asleep.

But sometime during the night his floodgates opened and I was awakened by a warm spray of

his incomparable boyseed over me.  He slept on oblivious of that gift.  A few gentle strokes

released my own streams and I slept again.

     I was awoken by him nuzzling my neck.  "Marky," he whispered, "I've had the most

wonderful dream..  I can't remember much but I know I'm happy and I'm sure you are, too.

I'll find my way I know.  Adam will be OK, won't he?  I know what you said that week I

stayed with you.  He wasn't quite as happy as usual all the time except when he was with

Oliver.  But it's not Oliver he'll be with.  I think he's still looking.  That's right, isn't it?"  I

nodded and put his hand on my still rather sticky stomach.  "In the night?  I didn't know."

     Christmas Eve was taken up with all sorts of preparations.  We had a huge dinner in

the evening before we all went off to Midnight Mass at the local village church.  The very

nice lady organist asked if I would like to play at the end of the service.  She had a book of

Christmas pieces so I chose 'In Dulci Jubilo' by Buxtehude which sounded just right on the

very clear‑sounding small two‑manual organ.

     Of course, Toad was awake and wanting to go downstairs to open presents at 6 a.m.

Christmas morning.   I was prodded awake and I made unkind comments about little boys

who acted six instead of sixteen.  Still rather comatose I was rolled on top by a definite

sixteen‑year‑old whose priapic state was readily evident.  Several suggestive shifts of his hips

followed and I wondered if Aunt Sophie's washing machine would stand further encrusted

sheets.  But, the Thugs must have been substantial producers of seminal fluid at his age.  I

knew they did!

     "Stop that!" I said and tried to raise myself to buck him off.  "Go to the bathroom and

clean your teeth," I snarled as best I could using the euphemism he would understand.

     "Spoilsport," he said and bounced up and down a couple of times more.

     My own hard‑on was pressed on during these antics and he was no lightweight

thumping up and down on my chest and stomach.

     "I think you're shrinking, too." There were three more movements which rubbed his

erection along mine.  "Eddie'll give you a run for your money soon."

     "Is that so?  From personal experience and comparison, eh?"  I managed to roll him

off and caught his legs by scissoring mine round just below his knees and got my arms round

him as well.  He was held firmly.  "Yes, I expect those rosy lips of yours were stretched to

full extent to accommodate whatever he had to offer and he, poor lad, had to make do with

that minuscule organ of yours.  Beauty and the bee sting, eh?"

     "Oh, Marky," he said his chest heaving against me.  "You're getting better.  Nearly as

good as the Thugs."  He managed to jerk his hips again.  "I think we'd better both go and

clean our teeth."

     I smacked his arse and shoved him off the bed.  He gave me the usual two‑fingered

salute as he opened the door and went along the corridor.  He was back within moments.

"Oh fuck!  There's someone in there already.  I think it's Adam and it sounds as if he's being

sick."

     As Adam had consumed what seemed the best part of a bottle of very nice burgundy

at supper last night  he was fairly comatose during the service in church.  We had also drunk

a toast 'to the morrow' on return, so I wasn't surprised at the news.  But here was Toad

sporting a hard‑on on full display and almost dancing from one leg to the other.  I reached

out and lobbed the box of tissues on the side table to him..

     "Carry on, Insatiable," I said, "I promise I won't watch."

     "Come on," he said withdrawing a substantial handful, "You need one too and it's not

that you're not used to it, Old‑timer."

     I did the wrong thing.  So used to grabbing him and chastising him I got out of bed.

He pointed at my lengthy tool pointing straight up my belly and thrust the tissues in my hand.

"Shouldn't take long the state you're in," he said, "I'll try not to beat you to it."

     What a way to celebrate the start of Christmas Day.  Two brothers facing each other

synchronising strokes until Toad's eyes widened, his mouth gaped and what could only have

been the most ginormous volley of boycream shot forth to be caught with dexterity with

tissues in the other hand.  My own orgasm erupted seconds later and, unfortunately, I wasn't

so co‑ordinated as he was and the first squirt missed my hand and hit him as it dropped on his

thigh.  At least I had power and distance, but I knew I would never hear the end of it.  He

watched, gasping a bit after his own exertions, as my jerking midriff matched the spurts into

the now in place bunch.  He smiled.  No sneer at being shot at and hit fair and square.

     He rushed to me, his prick beginning to flop, the wad still held against his end, drops

of my spunk in the growth of hair on his thigh.  His other arm was flung round me.  "That

was super brill," he breathed, "Wait till I tell Tris.  I'll big it up don't worry!  Caught Marky

tossing off because you're not there.  Biggest cock and biggest load you've ever seen!"  He

landed a kiss on my lips.  "No I won't.  I promise.  You tell him, though.  Thanks."

     We got back into bed after he'd wiped his leg and scrunched the two damp wads

together and put them on the floor.  We hugged each other and giggled uncontrollably.  I

wasn't the staid, grown‑up, nineteen‑year‑old, I was the joyful young teen I knew I was

inside.  Someone had said to me once that inside every grown man is the little boy.  I felt that

was very true.  We lay for ages just savouring each other's presence until Toad sniffed.

     "I think we'd better get up and wash.  There's an awful stink of randy boy under this

duvet!"

     All assembled in the big parlour at eleven o'clock after the usual huge cooked

breakfast that was Aunt Sophie's speciality.  Adam had pecked, I had noticed, at toast and

marmalade and nothing else.  Toad's sneers were minimal as he looked at me and nodded at

his sickly cousin.  But now he was hovering near the Christmas tree which was surrounded

by parcels of all shapes and sizes.  Uncle George was in charge and swatted Toad away as he

got too close.

     "You'll get you're new Teddy in all good time and I think there's a little bag of

sweeties as well as a  nice colouring book for you, unless Ivo's had it already and filled it in."

     He didn't essay the complete Toad sneer to that but pushed nearer the tree.  "Come

on, Unc, it's gone time and you'll be wanting a whisky soon."  He got a thump on his arm for

that.  Uncle George always maintained that one should not imbibe before midday but often

had a glass of beer mid‑morning, only if the blasted Man from the Ministry was coming, so

he said.  If so, the Thugs averred, the Man from the Ministry seemed to call most days.  So,

Toad was allowed to pick up the parcels one by one and hand them to Uncle George who had

a line in repartee which had been handed on genetically to the Thugs I thought.   Also,

sixteen‑year‑olds could still act the part of the six‑year‑old on Christmas mornings.  Mum

was smiling.  She whispered 'He can be endearing at times...'  Such times as displaying his

masturbatory prowess to his older brother, I thought.  A thought quickly suppressed before

the usual spasm of desire hit my nether regions and the thought I'd also displayed my own

potency to an admiring sibling only five hours ago.

     Mum was smiling even more as the first parcel was the one from Toad and me.  I'd

told him I'd bought the quite expensive cashmere stole from both of us and I would pay as

long as I got something worthwhile from him.  I think we were all smiling by the time all the

presents were opened.  Adam was a bit more recovered and he and Ivo donned their

motorcycle helmets and Aunt Sophie said at least you couldn't hear what they were saying

with them on.  I got a complete Matteoli rig‑out, discounted said Mum, and Toad was

suitably impressed with his presents.  I opened an envelope and in it was a present from

Uncle Nick and Auntie Dilys ‑ a ticket to 'Tristan and Isolde' in the front row of the Balcony

at the Royal Opera House in April.  I looked at the price of the ticket ‑ WOW!  There was a

note that Tris would be sitting next to me.  An even bigger WOWW!  Uncle George was

particularly pleased with a case of Pouilly Fume from his ever‑loving sons, as he put it to cat‑

calls from both of them.  Toad's present to me ‑ which he could only have known about care

of Louie ‑ were three hefty mathematical tomes for my second year ‑ if you pass this year, he

said, with the most exaggerated Toad grimace.

     We all went for a walk before Christmas Day lunch, scheduled for four o'clock.  Dad

stayed behind to help Aunt Sophie and Mrs Dacre from the village get all ready.  I was

surrounded on both sides by Ivo and Adam as we walked behind the main party ‑ mainly as

Adam said he might be sick again.

     "How's the masturbatory midget," said Ivo, I hope meaning Frankie, now close on

three inches taller than him, which he did, "Keeping you awake, eh?"

     "Thought you had black rings under your eyes this morning," said Adam from the

other side..  "Must cramp your style having the human sperm whale in bed with you.  But,

then you're used to that other sexaholic!"

     "Speak for yourself, but I have the impression Ivo had a quiet night last night, except

for you puking your guts up!"

     "Touche, ducks, but I heard the scurrying of little feet while I was seeing if my ring

was floating in the bog."

     "You do have a colourful way of putting it."

     "The technicolour rainbow I think it's known as," said Ivo, reaching round and giving

his brother a blow on his biceps.

     "Bollocks, bro, it's your fault mixing that cocktail I had earlier.  Shagbag put

everything in the cabinet in it I'm sure.  Tasted OK if a bit potent to start with, but boy, did I

suffer later.  Shouldn't have had the wine on top."

     "Never knows when to stop ‑ like other things ‑ but at least I didn't have to hear him

choking his little mouse last night."

     "Wrong, twat, it's chicken!"

     "What!  That thing's more mouse‑sized than a good round capon!"

     Oh, God!  They were off again.  I interrupted.

     "That was Frankie.  Rampant as ever!"  I thought I might as well divulge the truth as

it might set up a few gibes from the revered and feared Thugs later.  "He's like you two,

never stops." I thought I would get that in first.  Here goes. "Comes back in, all concerned,

cousin chundering."  I knew that term from perusing Private Eye.  "Demands big brother

joins him in joint ceremony."  I sniggered at their rapt attention.  "I caught him a direct hit

inadvertently and if Mrs Dacre looks under the bed she'll find the evidence in spades!"  I'd

suddenly remembered neither of us had picked up the clump of tissue.  Both knew of the

princely birthday gift of a multitude of boxes.  In fact, Adam had bought three of them in the

Pound Shop at forty pence each or three for a pound.  "Lad's got good reserves, I'll say that

for him..." I thought I might get in a double sizeist gibe while I could.  "..Even more, I'd

guess, than his little cousins."

     I was squashed between them though they were highly amused.  They had plenty of

ammo to tease Microbe but they would have to watch it as he now towered over them.

     Lunch was stupendous, even Toad looked replete.  I showed my new‑found skill at

carving by dissecting the large bird very expertly.  We had started with a glass of champagne

from two bottles sent by Count Charles Leopardi and La Contessa.  In the box was tucked a

set of enlargements of us lot at the reception ‑ sorry, Wedding Breakfast with capitals.  Aldo

and Uncle Francesco had sent separate cheques for all us boys, including Tris, with another

invite to visit the Villa.  "I want to see the Palazzo, though!" was Toad's comment.

     He'd kept quiet about the Post‑It notes until we went to bed that night.  I told him I'd

met Fiona in the computer shop.  I had to tell him quickly it was all unarranged ‑ he was very

protective of Tris I knew and would think I was seeing her behind his back and I might be

succumbing ‑ I convinced him it was nothing like that.  He was amused at the description of

the two brothers as her personal SWAT team and I said I would have been annihilated if I

hadn't been recognised as a friend.  I said that  young Brandon had chosen his presents,

which he'd raved about on opening them, and that Zack had advised me on the printer for

Tris.  I didn't go into any details about Zack except that he was also taking his GCSEs this

coming year and wanted to go to St Mark's.  He brightened at this as Eddie was also a likely

confrere.  "Can I meet them?" he enthused, "That Brandon certainly knew what was mega.

I'll send him an e‑mail as soon as poss."

     I would be sending Zack one too.  I also needed to send one to Tris.  I wasn't exactly

pining but there was a hollow that needed filling and I didn't necessarily mean that!!  At least

the Thugs realised I was missing someone but Adam couldn't resist clutching me rather

drunkenly as Ivo and I helped him upstairs that evening and whispering rather too loudly as

we dropped him on his bed,  "Better get the little bugger on his knees tonight and say 'Let us

spray'".  Even Ivo gave him a clump for that rather dubious bit of advice.

     On Christmas night Frankie and I cleaned our teeth separately and slept the sleep of

the innocent.  We four boys had a busy day Boxing Day again as we were to visit Oliver and

Eddie and their grandparents and we would hear something about our Grandad.

     Dad drove us the few miles to the very beautiful converted barn where Professor

Jensen and his wife lived.  Oliver and Eddie had rushed out as soon as we arrived and after

greeting us took us up the path from the drive to where their Grandfather was waiting.  I

remembered him from the ceremony but hadn't spoken to him then.  He was tall like his

grandsons, with a neatly trimmed white beard and a real twinkle in his eye.  We were ushered

in and met his wife who was not much shorter and she welcomed us with open arms.  I

looked around. The place was very open plan and seemed just filled with shelves of books.

Oliver had told me his grandfather was an expert on inscriptions and had deciphered a load

of important Greek documents as well with a lady colleague.  Anyway, we soon had coffees

and biscuits and Professor Jensen laid out a whole series of photos all neatly labelled.

     He pointed at the array.  "Your Grandad and I were joint Head Choristers the year

before old Augustus died, I was Cantoris side, Harry was Decani, but we'd been together in

the choir for some years.  Augustus  took all those early photos.  It was his great hobby."

     There was Grandad from the age of seven onward.  Seven was when he joined the St

Mark's choir as a little chorister.  There he was with his best pal in evidence, Sven‑Petter

Jensen.  Professor Jensen explained his father had been in the Swedish Embassy and had

taken the opportunity of off‑loading his son while he and his wife could enjoy the London

scene in the 1930's.  All said with affection, both for his parents and most definitely for his

friends in the choir, especially Henry Foster.

     Amongst the photos there was Henry and Sven always together, in top hats, Eton

collars and short gowns assembled ready to walk from the Choir School to the Chapel; in

long shorts, striped football jerseys and large leather football boots; in bathing trunks just

about to jump in the river; in surplices and ruffs looking more angelic than the angels in the

stained glass windows above their heads; then as mature undergraduates, with a pint pot in

their hands, or sitting on the banks of the Cam, looking grave as they had both come back

from the War to a country still struggling with rationing and unrest.

     Next there were pictures of two weddings and later.  Bridegroom and Best Man

interchanged in the wedding ones; in the later ones the two families, a son and daughter each.

There was Dad and Aunt Sophie as babies and then as small children.  Finally there was

Grandad with his son in white tie and tails holding his violin.  Dad was fourteen and that

photo was taken just before the recital.  Grandad looked so proud.  I glanced at Frankie and

Dad through tear‑filled eyes.  There were tears there as well.  Ivo went to Dad.

     "We never knew Grandad, but I think we do now."

     After Professor Jensen had described all those on show I asked what Augustus had

been like.  He smiled, "I can tell you quite truthfully I think that Augustus was the nicest man

you could ever meet.  He never had a harsh word for any of us and as noisy and spirited as we

were, one look and there was silence."  He smiled.  "He was a great practical joker, he loved

puns and he was a good conjurer."

     "I remember once," he said, "We had a second visit from a very boring Bishop.   Mr

P, as we always called him, was looking just as bored as us.  He always had a big white

hankie tucked up his sleeve, but after about twenty minutes of tediousness he suddenly went

as if to sneeze and drew out a Union Jack instead.  The Bishop couldn't make out why all the

choristers and half the students in the congregation, who were still awake, burst out laughing.

It certainly wasn't because of his thoughts on Jeremiah or Methuselah.   Then again, I'd torn

my red surplice when I was one of the Head Choristers and when it came back from being

mended we were all lined up ready for the service in the vestry and he came along the line,

apparently saw a loose thread and pulled, and out came a string of silk flags.  He'd got the

seamstress to sow them in.  Of course, we all had the giggles and it was a good job the first

hymn was 'All Things Bright and Beautiful' as we all had smiles on our faces instead of

looking solemn.  And the Christmas party was always a hoot when he did conjuring tricks.

He made your Grandfather disappear and the College cat appeared instead.  Harry would

never tell how it was done, but I guessed it was a box with a revolving middle inside."

     He looked serious now.  "But he did take more private photos, but nothing too far out

of the ordinary.  One of my more unkind colleagues once asked if he was like Lewis Carroll

had been with little girls but with little boys... "

       He then opened an album which had been on the far side of the table.

     "...This is my Pennefather bequest," he said.  He turned the page and we craned to

look.  There he was aged about twelve just swathed round with a piece of gauze looking

exactly like a version of the Botticelli boy hung at Uncle's Villa.  I noted in the right‑hand

corner of each was a faint capital A.

     As he turned the pages there were at least a dozen more of him, each recognisable as

a pose from a painting, the last in the famous pose of Bacchus holding a bunch of grapes.  He

pointed at it.  "He took that in my last year ‑ I was thirteen and a bit.  It was May 1937 and

I'd just won a Classics Scholarship to Rugby.  After he died they found a parcel addressed to

Dad, at the Embassy, and this was in it.  My father kept it for me and presented it to me on

my wedding day.  I wonder what happened to all the others he took?  I know he did the same

one of your Grandad as Bacchus on the same day and Harry kept eating the grapes and

making me giggle.  He always took us in pairs or threes as he didn't want anyone saying

about us being nude alone with him.  As far as I know he wasn't interested in us other than as

choristers or photographic subjects."  He smiled.  "You know how he would be labelled

today and the stink it would cause."  He paused.  "Actually, those last few weeks before we

broke up for the vacation and I was leaving St Mark's he did seem very withdrawn and

almost distracted.  When I heard the next year he'd been found drowned I just wondered if he was ill.  Later I've wondered if it was anything to do with his photographs."  He shook his head.  "I don't know.  All a mystery and so long ago now."

     Adam then told him about the rhyme and what Jason had said.  He put the photograph

he'd taken of the rhyme on the table.  Professor Jensen nodded.  "There was always a rumour

that Augustus had a secret son but nobody took any notice of it.  That rhyme does rather

confirm it though, if your analysis is correct.  It sounds most plausible and you could check a

few things.  Births at the time.  I guess that you would have to go to the local Registrar's

office and ask to search.  If, as you say, it was your Jason Knott's great‑great‑grandmother I

expect her name was Knott as she was unmarried.  Give it a try and let me know if you need

any help.  I still come to Cambridge a couple of times a term."

     We looked at the photos again and Ivo commented on how much the four of us had

resembled our grandfather as boys.  "Mum's got all those photos of us on the beach at

Weymouth and the ones of all of us that time we went to Disneyland.  Of course you can't

really tell which is Dumbo here and the real one he was standing by."  He poked Frankie in

the back and flipped one of his ears and was rewarded with the usual sneer.

     "I don't know," said Adam, "I'm always confused by that one of Minnie Mouse and

him.  It's those bi...ig eyes and the little snub nose.  Very cute!"

     I said nothing, but I was thinking.  First of all, let him deal with the Thugs in his own

way.  Anyway, he and Eddie disappeared up the wide stairs as there was a new computer

program to be discussed.  I had to play the very nice baby grand and then sat while we lads

bemoaned our overload of vacation work.  Both the Thugs would be in the term leading to

Finals.  I think both were quietly confident.  Tris's first part of his Tripos was coming soon as

well and he said he still had stacks of reading to do.  Oliver and I as lowly first years were

coming to terms with the workload and our own first year exams and I knew I had little time

to waste.  Anyway, such is life, as Ivo said.

     I then started to say what I'd been thinking about.

     "If Mr Pennefather took all those photos, who developed them?  You see, if there is

an A in the corner of each that must have been added when they were developed and they

look a bit better quality than those snaps I've seen from that time that Uncle George has got.

So, did he have a darkroom somewhere?  He'd need a sink at least as well.  I suppose the

rooms might have been altered since he died." 

     All were looking at me.  I shook my head. "I  haven't seen any evidence but perhaps

the kitchen has been completely rebuilt over what was there originally.  I suppose the

cupboards and the oven and so on have been renewed recently."

     Professor Jensen nodded.  "As far as the photos are concerned I think Augustus must

have developed them himself.  He always brought them to show us the next day, I'm sure.

But as for where his darkroom was, I do not know.  He was always taking photos so he must

have had his equipment somewhere.  There are enlargements of two of the Masters in the

Senior Common Room and they were by him.  Yes, a very good point."

     So more mystery but we might be able to find out something.  Adam said he would

check the records when we got back to College.

     Of course, Eddie and Frankie were first at the table for lunch.  I heard Adam whisper

'Guts!' to Frankie as they sat side by side and Frankie prepared to attack a laden plate of cold

ham and turkey plus a huge helping of bubble and squeak.  As Adam had an equally laden

plate I wondered if he realised he was winding laddo up just a bit.

     Of course, plates were laden again that evening at the farmhouse.  As Uncle George

was an early riser because of the farm work they tended to favour early nights so it wasn't

much after ten when we all said our goodnights and the 'grown‑ups' went off to bed first.  I

wasn't interested in the film the Thugs said they wanted to finish watching on the telly and I

could see Toad was twitching.  I thought I'd be a step ahead and went up to our third floor

bedroom ‑ once two of the bedrooms for servants knocked together ‑ to undress first and to

pack some of the things I'd received although we still had a couple of days to go.  I'd

carefully folded my new Matteoli jacket and trousers and had put other things ready for my

bag when there was sounds of a slight scuffle outside.

     In came the Thugs carrying a protesting Toad.  They were clad just in boxers.  A

silently protesting Toad as Ivo had a hand securely clamped over his mouth.  He was dumped

unceremoniously on the double bed but still kept anchored by strong arms.

     "Found this creature skulking in our bedroom when we came out of the bathroom,"

said Ivo, not out of breath at all even after lugging about ten stone of solid boy along the

corridor ‑ of course, helped by his equally brawny brother.

     "I think he should be suspended by his thumbs again," said Adam, producing a couple

of school ties he'd obviously snatched up.  Toad's wrists were quickly securely tied to the

bedhead.

     "Good," said Ivo, "That'll keep him from running off!!"

     "We have to tell you, Marky, he was up to no good as usual," said Adam running his

index finger down from Toad's throat to his navel as the shirt he was wearing was

unbuttoned completely.  Toad tried to squirm.

     "Nefarious activities," said Ivo.  "I pulled back my duvet having experienced objects

placed in beds before."  A reference to Frankie putting a red plastic lobster in their bed at

ours one night and maintaining it was a Dorset flea they'd brought with them.  "What do I

find but a banana and two apples placed in a provocative position...."

     "...Not only that," continued Adam, "Under my duvet was a similar configuration.

But this time...," As Toad tried to squirm so the shirt flapped open exposing his bare chest. 

Adam drew his finger from navel to throat causing him to squirm even more. "...This time a

smaller banana was accompanied by two satsumas."  He tapped Frankie's chest.  "I wish to

know why you should think I am less deserving in comparison with my identical twin

brother?"

     The hand was removed and quickly replaced as it was obvious Frankie was preparing

to call out.  "Any sound other than an answer to our questions and you will regret the

outburst," said Ivo as he began to undo the belt Frankie was wearing.  He pulled the belt

through its retaining loops.  "In fact we may have to chastise you with this."  He dropped it

on the bed.  He then put a finger to Frankie's lips.  "I think we might finish what was begun

with the divine Boudicca's captive. One squawk from you and your knackers will be forfeit."

     The finger was removed.  Frankie's eyes turned on me.  I had no idea what they had

planned but I knew he wouldn't be harmed.  Well, perhaps not too much.

     "My, my!" said Ivo as the finger returned and now circled a rather prominent nipple,

"What have we here.  I spy a hair, and another,..."  The finger moved and circled his left

nipple, "...and there's another one this side.  Gosh, bro, he beats you by at least two for what

you had even above that malformed little peg of yours when you were sixteen."

     "Speak for yourself, you hairy monster.  He's like that thing over there."  That 'thing'

was me.  "I bet that patch on his chest tickles Tris's fancy."  Adam's finger replaced Ivo's

and was stroking the stretched skin between Frankie's pecs.  "You'll be the same in a couple

of year's time, young sir, with some young lady licking her chops as she sees your manly

torso."    His finger traced down to where Frankie's rather saggy skateboarder's jeans were

riding low on his hips.

     It was my turn.   Exposed above the top of the jeans was about an inch and half of

black waistband of....

     "Francis," I said sternly, "Are you wearing those black silk boxers that Tris gave me

for my birthday?  You seem excessively fond of my underwear!"

     He looked slightly sheepish and nodded.  As both Ivo and Adam were watching him I

let him know I wasn't too annoyed by giving him a wink.  He played up to it and gave the

usual Toad sneer.

     "You weren't wearing them and I like something smooth against my skin," he said,

"They're better than that jockstrap you lent me."

     "Ungrateful child," I said, "You muck those up and I'll tan your arse for you...."

     Ivo interrupted me.  "...D'you want them back?"

     He didn't wait for an answer as he hoisted Frankie's legs up and with a couple of

swift movements off came the jeans, boxers, trainers and socks.  Frankie's legs were dropped

back on the bed and Adam held them down as Ivo scooped up the boxers and chucked them

to me.

     "Better inspect them for detritus," he said.

     I grinned at the use of that word.  Actually they were clean.  Meanwhile Adam was

making circles with a finger round Frankie's navel making him rotate his hips as if doing a

belly dance.

     "Oh, and there's a pretty sight.  Little lad's got a treasure trail."  Treasure trails

loomed large in several tales I'd read on Nifty and I wondered if Adam had perused the same

literature. "Ooh!  I wonder where that goes."  Adam tweaked the hairs just below his navel.

"Ahh, all the way down to his bushy, bush bush!"

     Frankie was getting a bit desperate now.  "Ouch, stop it!  Marky stop them!"  He was

trying to squirm from the twisting fingers.  "You bastards!"  I knew he didn't know whether

to laugh or object.  "You couple of perves."  He put on a plaintive voice.  "I'm only sixteen

and I'm being assaulted, help me Marky!"

     "Bastards, perves?" queried Ivo.  "I doubt the first and who put bananas for what

purpose in our beds?"  He held up the jeans and withdrew something from one of the

pockets.  Frankie grimaced then grinned.  But this was something else I recognised.  It was a

black tanga brief I had bought, one of a pair, to wear under my rather tight Matteoli trousers

so as not to show a hemline.  There was something else.  A piece of card was attached to the

front of the brief with a paperclip.  "What's this?"  He held the card so he could read it.  "'Mr

Ivo Carr,'" he read, "'Do Not Touch.  In Hibernation' What does that mean?"  He shook the

jeans and the other brief was in a pocket the other side.   Also with a card.  He peered at that

one, then read it.  "'Mr Adam Carr   May Shrivel If Exposed To Light'"

     Adam snatched it away from him.  "What's that?  What's that for?"

     Frankie was unperturbed.  "If you hadn't have come in before I'd finished the fruit

would have been displayed inside those."  He laughed.  "Poor ancient old things.  Pity I

couldn't have found a couple of overripe bananas and four prunes."

     "Frankie, my sweet and precious boy, you will learn that you do not remain sixteen

for ever.  And if you survive the duly deserved punishment to be meted out tonight you might

even reach the grand old age of sixteen years and one month but...."  With another single

move Frankie's legs were hoisted again to Ivo's shoulder level as he picked up the leather

belt.  "I think, Adam, it is time to play 'Pat‑a‑cake, Pat‑a‑cake, Baker's man' on little

Frankie's bum like the old days, eh?"  This harked back to the time when a delighted,

squealing four‑year‑old was propelled between his two older cousins to the accompaniment

of the rhyme and slaps to his backside.  I grinned internally thinking that Frankie's

admiration of Ivo and Adam stemmed to some extent from them smacking his pert little butt.

     Ivo passed the belt to Adam who folded it and pulled it sharply so it made a very

ominous snapping sound.  Frankie's legs were parted as Ivo lifted him higher so his bare bum

was raised.

     "Ooh" said Adam, "Look there's his pretty pink pucker."  He drew a finger down

from where Frankie's quite large pendulous balls drooped to just above the exposed crevice.

Frankie bucked his hips and twitched the inner cheeks of his buttocks.   "I wonder who's

penetrated that perfect portal?  Young Eddie?  If he's hung anything like his elder brother

that would require more than a bit of effort...."

     I could see Frankie was getting more than a little perturbed at this.  "OK you two,

smack the little bugger's backside or deal with him in the morning.  I want to go to bed!"  I

thought that would be sufficient to let him off the hook ‑ at least for the moment.

     Adam gave him one slight slap with the belt.  He looked at me and grinned.

"Spoilsport!" He winked.  "Want him for yourself, eh?  Not to worry he'll have to answer for

his sins tomorrow."  He gave me the belt.

     "At least he's glad to see us," said Ivo as he lowered Frankie's legs to the bed.

Frankie's erection was lying almost to his navel.  "I think we might take him over to the

milking parlour in the morning.  He'd be just right standing between Buttercup and Daisy

Bell.   But Dad gets paid by the litre so he'd get nothing for a couple of ccs of skimmed milk

so I don't think we'll bother."

     That reference was to a visit I'd made to the farm when I was fourteen or so and had

been demonstrated on by having my thumb stuck into one of the suction tubes of the milking

machine and feeling the rhythmic tug of the vacuum which the cows would feel on their

teats.  Adam then had made the suggestion that perhaps I might like to insert a different part

of my anatomy and experience the effect there.   ...I'd often wondered...?

     They left our bedroom shaking their fists at a much relieved Frankie whose erection

had wilted a bit at that threat.  I shut the door, then leaned over him to undo the ties holding

him.  He immediately put his arms round me and hugged me.  "Thanks, Marky, I wondered

what the Hell they were going to do."

     I laughed.  "They'll have something planned for tomorrow.  Get into bed."  I rushed

out to the bathroom, had a quick needed pee and just washed my hands.  On return I stripped

off and got into bed beside Frankie.  "You were getting a little worried I thought, not so

much about what they might do, but what they might ask you.  Is that correct?"

     He snickered.  "Too right.  If I tell you...?"  I nodded.  He relaxed and became very

serious. "I didn't tell you everything last time.  Eddie knows Oliver's gay but he's not quite

sure what else goes on ‑ you know ‑ more than what we did that he showed me.  He said he'd

only done that once before with a special friend he'd got.  He said a couple of the Sixth

Formers when he was first at the school had tried to get him to do things but he wasn't

having any of that.  He said he's got a couple of other pals and they've done the usual thing

together ...  You know...."  I felt his hand move back and forth.  I nodded again.  "I told him

what Jack and I had found out on the Internet....    ...you know..... ..about what boys can do

and he said he'd heard kids say about it at school but he'd never tried it.  He said he was

curious.  Please Marky, if I tell you, you won't be angry?"  I said I'd told him before,

anything he told me was between us.  He snuggled up very close.  "We both got very worked

up one night and we tried it but we both couldn't.  I think we were too scared...  Marky, I

promise I didn't say anything about you and Tris, or you and Ivo and Adam... ...we just tried,

that's all."  He paused.  "Would I like it if I could?"

     A very difficult question.  I put my arms round him and told him again about love,

trust, commitment, those things I felt and knew about me and Tris especially, and the twins

and us, too.  I said  he should only experiment with someone he could trust and to be careful

about damage.  He nodded against me.  I changed the subject.  I said the twins obviously

liked him and whatever they did they would make sure he wasn't harmed.   He might be

intimidated but you didn't razz the twins up without thought to reprisals, but they would be

firm but harmless.  I did point out he'd slighted Adam rather so he'd better watch his step

there.  I said his little prank was good, but watch it in the morning.

     I was just beginning to wake up when the door opened and a nude youngster next to

me was hauled out of bed, still too asleep to protest too violently.  I turned over and dozed

for a while.  Just after half past seven I woke and pulled on the black silk boxers and trundled

to the bathroom.  All seemed quiet.  But what I discovered there while I was washing and

shaving suggested all would be amused in some way when downstairs.

     I dressed and was ready for my breakfast as I went down the flights of stairs.  There,

tethered at the bottom, was Frankie in the complete, or rather, minimally complete costume

of one of Boudicca's Roman stallions.  He could do nothing about freeing himself as the

hooves and fetlocks on his hands and arms were tied on securely.  His feet bore the other sets

and over his head were the reins, mane and floppy ears, finally, round his waist the belt

which held the long black tail.  He'd had been painted as the twins had been and I noted,

luckily, he was wearing the tanga brief so his drooping genitalia were not on view.  At least

the bulge was.  Around his neck was a sign.  'Do Not Feed'  But there was Auntie Sophie

feeding him with a piece of toast and marmalade.  I had wondered why it was quiet.

     "Morning, Mark," she said jovially, "You'd better take over with Dobbin here!"  She

handed me the plate.  "Must get back to the kitchen and help Mrs Dacre with the cooked

breakfast everyone else will be getting."  Poor Frankie was being teased a bit more.

     Even more.  I was being given the usual Toad look as I was slow in poking the rest of

the toast into his open mouth, when two figures in full riding costume, boots, jodhpurs, red

riding coats and black hats came down the stairs.  Ivo and Adam.  They were also holding

riding crops and as Adam reached the bottom of the stairs he gave Frankie a smart tap on his

backside.  Frankie nearly bit my finger as he lunged forward.  "Ouch!" came from both of us.

     "I think a three‑mile canter with a few fences chucked in is in order before breakfast,

eh, what?" said Ivo in good imitation of how a P G Wodehouse character might sound.

Frankie looked a bit startled.  Ivo handed me the camera he was holding.  "Something for the

old family album, old fruit," he said, still in character.

     "Better wait until all are assembled," said Adam.  "No, take a couple with just us."

     They stood either side of him murmuring that if he thought he might kick out they

had the gelder's irons upstairs.  I must say Frankie played the part well.  I took a couple as

desired then they took one of me holding the reins and patting him on the head.  Just before

eight the rest of the family appeared ‑ that is ‑ Mum and Dad, as Uncle George was out on the

farm somewhere.  Mum did a double‑take, burst out laughing, then began to commiserate

with her little Frankie.  'What had those nasty Thugs done?'  Dad, on the other hand after

laughing, patted Frankie on the rump and ran his hand down his quite hairy thighs.  'Good

runner no doubt in its time.  Knacker's yard soon.'  More photos.  Then the highlight.  Uncle

George came in bearing a small bale of hay.  Even more photos.  I was standing next to

Frankie as Adam took a final couple of shots.  'I need to pee bad.'  Frankie sounded

desperate.

     "I think it's time I returned the old nag to the stable," I said, undoing the rope tying

him to the newel‑post.  I slapped his rump as I led him rather precariously up the stairs to the

bathroom.

     As he wasn't able to get his own prick out I lowered the pants and held the object

over the pan and pulled his foreskin back as bent slightly so as not to miss.  "Point it," he

instructed me.  I was trying hard not to laugh as I knew my aim would then be even more

uncertain.  "Oh, thanks," he breathed as the final drops were shaken off.

     "Bet that's the first time someone's held it without it being stiff," I said giving a more

than necessary last jiggle.

     "Fuck it, Marky, it's rigid most of the time," he said, "Just watch."  Within a few

seconds he had, not a grand piano, but an upright organ!  "I don't even have to think about it.

I was dead scared it would happen downstairs."  He held up his encased hands.  "Help me off

with these, please, then I'll have a shower."

     "I'll save you something down there so you won't starve," I said as I untied the knots

on all four hooves.  "And don't be too long cleaning your teeth," I said pointing at the

shower.

     He took off the head harness and undid the belt round his waist holding the tail.  He

grinned at me.  "Thanks, Marky, it won't take long.... ....I mean the shower!"

     Little brothers!