Simon's Knee
by N Fourbois
Let me introduce myself. My name is Ben. That's short for Benedick, not Benjamin and certainly not Benedict! If I'm called Benedick that means only one thing - I'm in trouble. My elder brother Simon and I have always been very close, and in more senses than one, for there are only ten months between us in age. I was the victim, or more precisely I was the product while my mother was the victim, of the old wives' tale that lactating women cannot conceive.
Not only were Simon and I close emotionally and in age, but now that I had caught him up in growth we could easily have been mistaken as twins. However, on an intimate level one thing did separate us. During my brother's burgeoning puberty at the age of thirteen our family doctor discovered a little (un)hygienic unpleasantness in the trouser department and Simon was duly dispatched to the local hospital to have an overtight foreskin removed. It sent shudders through me at the time, particularly as adolescence, sensitivity and a certain interest in myself rendered me terribly conscious of all things genital. In that respect I still consider myself the lucky one of the two and in those moments when he is not keeping up a front Simon does reluctantly agree. It was a trying time for me in those days waiting to see whether I would escape the surgeon's knife which encouraged me to undergo a course of self-imposed, and I must say, not always self-supervised, physiotherapy to prevent my having to undergo the same fate and consequently I have the dubious achievement now of exceeding my brother's length by a skin's breadth.
At the time of the following tale I was in the Upper Sixth at school working for my A-levels while Simon had just come home for the Easter vacation during his first year at university. In the two terms we had been separated I felt that part of me had died. I did look forward to Simon's vacations and his occasional weekends at home and it was not a coincidence that on my UCAS application I had put the same university as my first choice. Although we never spoke about it, I am sure Simon felt the same way too. You see, we shared something else which kept us pretty close. Although we had no knowledge of the subject or the meaning of the word at that time, we had intuitively known from pre-adolescence onwards that we were both gay. The topic was never discussed with our parents. Whether they had guessed or not, we hadn't the slightest idea. They always seemed so naïve. Such things happened in London and other big cities. They could never happen here where we lived on the fringe between town and country. On the other hand it could have been a façade to 'protect' us, or more likely to protect them for they loved us dearly and judging from what friends of the family had said they were fiercely proud of us and they might not easily have faced up to such a 'flaw' in that perfection.
Easter was late that year and so we were able to enjoy longer days and warmer weather. Even so, I had barely two weeks' holiday to Simon's four weeks' vacation. Still I could enjoy his company around the house even if I did have school and homework. This time there was going to be a difference and I was looking forward to it. Officially he was bringing a friend home for the full four weeks. His friend couldn't go home for the vacation and it would have been inordinately expensive for him to remain in the hall of residence. As we were an extrovert and sociable family, my parents did not hesitate in extending him an invitation when they heard of his plight. I even chided Simon on the phone before term ended with
"What's this then, Si? Meet the in-laws?", something which he would not admit, neither did he deny it, but simply and effectively replied with the one word expletive 'Arsehole!' Had anyone else called me an arsehole I would have taken offence immediately, but our relationship was such that we would give and take from one another all manner of insults. It was just a sign of our love and affection for each other and besides it had answered my question with perfect clarity.
I had a little group of like-minded friends which was also accepted as part of a wider group. Within this small group we did stuff together usually when we hung out at each other's houses while the the rest of the family was out, but none of us had 'boyfriends' as such. So we had no lack of experience. I was looking forward to meeting Simon's friend, at that stage I didn't even know his name, and I could rely on his impeccable taste.
We lived in a bungalow which had had a loft conversion as there were otherwise only two bedrooms. Since Simon had gone to university I had moved into the second ground floor bedroom. It was smaller than the room in the loft, but it did make life easier for my mother. And so when Simon and his friend arrived they were to be accommodated in the loft which would be cosy for them and had the added advantage of its own en suite bathroom.
The Friday appointed for Simon's arrival came. I had another week of school, but then Holy Week and Easter Week were school free. Father asked me to go down to the station to fetch him and our guest. The bribe was that I could drive his new car. The phone rang and I recognised Simon's voice on his mobile.
"I'm on the train." At least I knew from him that was a piss-take as opposed to the many 'serious' conversations that begin with that phrase. "We'll get in in about a quarter of an hour." I could get down there and park up easily in that time, which I did. I walked onto the platform just as the train was being announced and stood about halfway along to get a good view of the those passengers who would soon be alighting. Fortunately it was travelling towards town and so was not so crowded as the commuter trains, which meant I had a fair chance of spotting them.
The train swept in and after the first rush of those anxious to start the weekend at home I noticed two young men climbing out of the front of the train together with obligatory backpacks and assorted paraphernalia. I ran up the platform like an eight year old meeting favourite grandparents ready to hug Simon, but as I neared him my attention was suddenly diverted by and to his companion. I know I have this habit, but because it is a habit I don't always control it and I certainly didn't on this occasion, of when I spy any cute young man or boy, whether in public or even at school, I immediately become single-minded. My jaw drops and I inspect him staring upwards from his feet, hesitating at the groin area, and then continuing on to the face. This time was no exception. I ignored his trainers, but the 501s hung perfectly on his legs, were loose at the waist despite the belt and highlighted a bulging packet. No boxers there, I surmised. When my eyes eventually met his face my legs had all but melted while I could feel a stirring in my loins. Time was standing still. His skin was fair, lightly tanned, his features angular, his eyes a twinkling blue whose sparkle lit up a radiantly happy and contented face of ruddy complexion, all topped by a mop, albeit a tidy mop, of blond hair.
"Ben, this is Craig." There was a tone of urgency in Simon's voice. Later I found out that he had had to speak to me three times before I came out of that trance.
"Wha'? Er, pleased to meet you, Craig," I said in a tone of voice that made me sound simple and I not only shook his hand, but hugged this complete stranger just as if I had been greeting Simon. Returning to my senses I hugged Simon equally warmly and offered to carry some of the luggage back to the car.
Any thoughts of homework that evening had gone out of the window. Back at home Craig was introduced to Mum and Dad and I insisted on carrying some of the luggage up to the loft room which Mother had set up with twin beds on each side of the room and a couple of easy chairs and a table. If Simon and Craig had any studying to do they had the choice of working upstairs or downstairs. At tea I made sure I sat next to Craig and could not help casting the odd glance, well, the frequent glance to be honest, down at his lap.
Mum and Dad laid down the ground rules that Craig was to make himself at home and act as one of the family and that if he or Simon needed to work I was not to disturb them. Anyway, the weekend was a time to relax and get to know each other and I confess I did plenty of that. The following week passed dreadfully slowly at school and incredibly quickly during the evenings. At night my use of Kleenex tissues doubled. Fortunately for me there wasn't too much time spent on serious teaching as we were winding down for the end of term and, more importantly, reports had been written for while my body was sitting at my school desk my mind and soul were still at home with Simon and Craig. Finally Friday came and school was out for two weeks and three weekends.
Simon and I had very little time to chat together as Craig would almost always be there with him, but when one time he was taking a bath Simon knocked on my bedroom door and came in. As he hadn't waited for a reply I did wonder why he had bothered to knock, but that was beside the point.
"I gather you approve of Craig?" Simon asked.
"He's not bad," I replied deliberately understating the case. "I'll give you ten out of ten for taste," I said casually and patronisingly in order to feign indifference.
"Not bad? You're practically drooling every time you see him."
"Rubbish!" Now I had blushed. I'd lost. "All right, he's hot, he's cute, he's drop dead gorgeous."
"I'm glad you approve, bro" and he gave me one of those brotherly hugs I always used to find so encouraging and fortifying. Calmed down once more I said
"Si, I didn't tell you, did I? I saved Craig from a serious sexual assault."
"How's that?" enquired Simon, his face instantly growing serious.
"I controlled myself!"
"Ho, ho, ho," he went. "The old ones are the best ones," and we hugged each other again in fraternal affection.
However, at that point little did I know how important events would be for temporarily altering family dynamics. On the Sunday we attended the Palm Sunday service at our parish church and brought home our palm crosses. We ate a light snack as Sunday lunch had been deferred to the evening so that we could go ice-skating for the afternoon. I was determined to behave myself, but Craig was wearing a pair of stone coloured cargos which not only defined his packet even better than the 501s, but clung to the neat cheeks of his backside in an equally seductive manner. As a consequence my packet automatically defined itself. Why did I have to put jogpants on that afternoon? I wish I'd worn a jockstrap now. Talk about a tent in my trousers. It felt more like a full blown marquee and everybody was checking me out, or so I thought. I didn't mind Simon. He's seen it all before anyway and I've seen him. I didn't really mind Craig seeing, I secretly wanted to impress him, but I certainly didn't want to frighten the neighbours (just exaggerating) and Julie and Christine from next door (the Misses Giggleswick) were in the front garden. I pulled my tee-shirt out of my jogpants, but it was one of my shorter ones and just emphasised the fact, if anything. Craig had noticed and was playing the perfect gentleman and, as I said, it was nothing new for Simon anyway.
We arrived at the skating rink relatively unscathed, paid the entrance money, picked up our skates, put them on and got on with the serious business of the afternoon, checking out the other skaters and, oh, I almost forgot, skating too. We were having a great time when I suddenly heard a bloodcurdling yell behind me. Craig and I turned round on our skates to see Simon sliding to a halt on the ice. I knew straightaway something serious had happened for Simon was no cry-baby and I could see he was in agony. Fortunately we were near the exit to the rink. Craig immediately went for help while I did my best to comfort Simon. The ambulance must have taken only five minutes to arrive and the paramedics took over. Meanwhile Craig and I had handed in our skates and the paramedics judged it safe to remove Simon's. The pain was in his knee. Collecting all our things we accompanied him to hospital in the ambulance. I used my mobile to ring home and Dad met us in casualty. All things being considered the wait was not too long.
The upshot was that nothing was broken, but the doctor felt it was essential that Simon should not bend or otherwise move his knee and so he did not leave before gaining a plaster cast and one unbendable leg. Meanwhile Mother had been busy at home and after making Simon comfortable in the sitting room she summoned Craig and me to the kitchen.
"It's obvious Simon won't be able to manage that ladder into the loft. So I wonder, Ben, if you'd mind letting him sleep in your room, and you, Craig, whether you'd mind letting Ben share the loft with you?" Mind? I thought that Christmas, birthday and Easter had all come at the same time. I don't know what Craig's reaction was. I didn't dare look at him. He just quietly said he would fit in with whatever was necessary. Meanwhile I wanted to act the soccer player who had just scored a goal - shout 'Yeah', hug everyone around, turn cartwheels and somersaults and run round with my tee shirt over my head punching the air, a physical impossibility, but you're allowed to dream. I took a deep breath and trying to sound as indifferent as possible said in a croaky voice
"Yes, Mum, whatever." I don't think anyone was fooled, but you could rely on Mum to act or react with discretion.
"I suggest you start by taking your bedding up the ladder into the loft and bringing Simon's down."
I set about gathering my things together to take upstairs, slowing myself down to hide any ulterior motive. The first thing I noticed as I arrived in the loft was that the two beds had been pushed together in the middle of the room. I bet they'll be put back where they were, I thought. At the same time Craig was taking Simon's things down to my room. When he came back I asked
"You don't mind me sleeping up here with you, do you?" With an enigmatic smile he answered
"What do you think?" in that tone of voice which told me absolutely nothing. With the chores done we returned downstairs to give Simon some TLC. Eventually Sunday lunch/dinner was served, roast pork with apple sauce and crackling and poor old Simon who was in no mood to eat had to lie on the settee and watch and listen to us. The hospital had loaned him a pair of crutches and a wheelchair. So he was not entirely immobile, but it was early days. When dinner was over I suddenly remembered I needed to find something to sleep in. Normally I slept in the buff as my bed linen would from time to time testify. That could have been embarrassing, but we were well trained and always put our dirty bedclothes straight into the washing machine ourselves.
We spent the rest of the evening until bedtime watching television and then Craig and I had the task of putting Simon to bed and making him comfortable for the night. Mother had been busy unstitching the seam of various nether garments so that he had something more than shorts to wear. At least he could manage to use the lavatory, just, which was a relief all round. We kissed him good night, I on the cheek, Craig on the lips, and retired up to the loft.
While Craig was in the bathroom I got changed for bed. I'd managed to find a pair of boxer shorts two sizes too big for me and the longest tee shirt I had for I knew the inevitable would happen. As I sat on the bed I idly opened the drawer of Simon's bedside table. I don't know whether I was surprised at what I found or not. It must have been his full kit - vaseline, KY gel, condoms, baby oil, cock ring and a soft cotton bag with a drawstring. As soon as I picked it up I knew what was in it and I kneaded the rubber through the material. Craig came out of the bathroom, his top bare and his well-defined packet still bursting through the stone coloured cargos. The anticipated inevitable happened instantaneously. I'd never felt so hard in my life. Fortunately the outsized boxers and extra long tee shirt did their job. Unfortunately my jaw dropped and my eyes were out on stalks. I could have sworn Craig started tarting on seeing this, or was my conscience fuelling my imagination?
"By the way, I usually sleep with nothing on," he said. "I hope you haven't a problem as I don't own a single pair of pyjamas." My brain was too addled to question what a single pair was besides a paradox.
"Er, er, n-no," I stuttered like a village idiot on a good day. "I'm cool with that. I do too normally," at which he immediately dropped his cargos and underpants in one go in front of me as if to say 'If you have, baby, sort that lot out.' His body was almost hairless, a small tuft of pubic hair above his cock with the foreskin exposing half of the glans and a few wisps under his arms, otherwise neck downwards was completely hairless.
"Do you wax your legs, Craig?" I vainly asked in order to master the situation.
"No need to, Ben. Nothing to wax." I wanted to strip off for bed, but my cock was hurting, it was so stiff, so I struggled with my tee shirt. "Let me help you with that," said Craig, helpfully, not wickedly, and he pulled my tee shirt over my head revealing my raging stand. "Nice cock," said Craig, "just like Simon's."
"Not quite like my brother's, as you'll see when it goes down." The fact that I now had nothing to lose, or rather I had already lost everything, emboldened me as I unhooked my stiffy and dropped my shorts. Soft at least, Craig's cock was longer than mine, but my bollocks were larger and hung lower. Now I was more enthralled with his physique than ever. We got into bed and chatted before putting the light out.
I couldn't get to sleep. When my mind wasn't churning over what had happened during the last twenty-four hours, I was wondering what my reaction would have been if Craig had been cut. I was consumed with lust. Consequently my cock was still hard and would remain so since I didn't dare do anything about it. Neither did I dare lie there in any position other than with my back towards Craig. I must have been awake for an hour or so when I felt Craig's hand on my shoulder.
"Are you awake, Ben?" he whispered.
"Yeah. I can't get to sleep thinking about Simon and…" I stopped short.
"Me too," said Craig
"and…?" I couldn't bring myself to say the words 'you, Craig'. "I can't get rid of this stiffy." Okay, if we're sleeping together in the nude there aren't going to be many secrets between us.
"Would you like me to help out at all?" To hell, I thought.
"Yes, go on."
"Move over, buddy, I'm coming across." I felt Craig crawl under my duvet first and then I felt his stiff cock lined up against my crevice. As his hand reached over and stroked my nipple I nearly popped there and then.
I woke up about half past six. It was light. Despite the late night I didn't feel tired. I had this dull ache in my backside, that one on the boundary between pain and pleasure. I got up and went to the bathroom to make myself comfortable. At least last night's stiffy had gone down now, but it wouldn't take much to make it return. As I came back to bed I saw Craig's eyes wide open and looking at me.
"Morning, Ben. Simon didn't tell me you were such an expert."
"Morning, Craig. Family secret, I suppose." I lost control again and my cock rose to salute Craig.
"Do you want it sorting again?"
"If you're up for it, so am I, but it's the return match this time, okay?" I didn't mind taking my turn as bottom man, but it had to be fair play.
"Give me five minutes, buddy." Craig got up and disappeared into the bathroom. Meanwhile I got Simon's instruments of pleasure out of his drawer, then climbed into Craig's bed.
When Craig came back his body was chilled, but for me it enhanced the thrill when I felt it warming up against mine. After last night it was important for me to take the initiative for any relationship had to be mutually established. The work started by my tongue was continued by my hands and fingers and finally completed by my cock. The lubricants and finger work made entry easy as his butthole drew me in and judging by the groans I soon found his sweet spot. Finally, physically exhausted, we lay in each others arms, half dozing, waiting for our normal pulse rates to return.
"Craig, I suppose I should have asked this before. Are you and Simon boyfriends?"
"Not really." That was a bit of a burden lifted from my conscience. "Best friends at uni, sure. Sex buddies it cannot be denied, but we're part of a group who enjoy the same things, but not items as such."
Suddenly it was eight o'clock. Normally in the holidays that would have meant nothing. We would get up when we liked, while Mum and Dad would have gone off to work. But now we had Simon to attend to and Mum would need some help. While Craig was showering, I found my tee shirt and shorts, put them on and went downstairs, first to the kitchen to get a swallow of orange juice and to see what the arrangements were and secondly to see Simon and find out how he was.
"I slept a bit, but the trouble is having to stay in one position. The pain's a bit less."
"Do you want me to help you get dressed?"
"In a minute. Can you help me to the loo? Once there I'll be all right, but as you can imagine I'm bursting." When he had finished Simon shouted and I helped him back to my bedroom. Meanwhile Mother brought him some breakfast on a tray.
"How did you sleep up there in the loft, Ben?"
"Fine," I lied. "It was just like the old days when that was my room." Again not quite the truth as then I used to wank over porno pictures. Last night I had the real thing.
"Good," said Mum. "It's just that we heard you tossing and turning in your sleep." Half right, I thought.
"I must have been dreaming, had a bit of a nightmare," I said compounding the lie. "One of those when you get chased by the incredible hunk…" (That was a bad choice of words.) "…caught and mauled." A bit nearer the truth that time. I suffered a pang of conscience. I don't normally tell lies, but my sex life is a constant exception, that's when I can't avoid them by saying nothing.
"As long as you're all right now, dear," said Mother as she bustled back into the kitchen before getting ready to go to work.
When she was out of earshot, Simon picked up on the exchange.
"Have you been up to naughties with Craig?"
"Might have," I said more teasingly than evasively. Simon unconsciously rubbed his crotch. "Why? Are you two boyfriends?" I was pushing the point home. (Another bad choice of words.)
"No," said Simon. "Well not yet, I'm working on it and of course this vac was to be make or break. Now this wretched knee has put that on hold."
"Then I'm sorry, bro, but the answer to your question is yes."
"It's all right. I'm not jealous, just envious, and I'm pleased that at least Craig's getting some after all this. I won't be much use to him."
"Sorry, Si." More a courteous form of words than any regret. "The way that boner's coming up I'll get him to give you a gentle massage when Mum's gone to work." Since his little operation I hadn't felt at ease with Simon's cock, even after all these years, though we only ever did stuff together on those rare occasions when we weren't getting it elsewhere and it looked now as if Craig would spare me that fraternal duty during Simon's indisposition. To me it was sheer mutilation, not a medical procedure.
At that point Craig came in dressed and kissed Simon good morning. I still couldn't keep my eyes off him. I've noticed this. I find cute boys hotter when they're dressed than I ever do naked, and Craig knew how to dress.
"I hear you two had a good night."
"Didn't sleep much, though," I added, not only to be unequivocal, but to let Craig know he had nothing to hide. "Simon wants you to do him a favour after breakfast." That was pure devilment on my part. I took Craig into the kitchen and got him settled down to breakfast before going back upstairs to shower. shampoo and shave before getting dressed. I had an incentive to shave. I usually leave it for a couple of days in the holidays. I chose my clothes with special care that day.
After breakfast I left Simon and Craig to each other. All three of us had studying of some sort to do and at least after last night my libido had calmed down for a few hours allowing me to get my brain in gear. I was naturally in charge of lunch, not that I minded, but I thought lunch would be a good time to thrash out a plan of campaign as it wouldn't be fair on Craig just to hang around the house all the time. It was Simon who generously suggested he and I did what we would have done anyway, but we couldn't of course be away from the house for too long. It was only a matter of getting through till Thursday. Next day it would be Good Friday followed by the Easter bank holiday and Mum and Dad had arranged to take the following week off anyway. After that Simon might be more mobile. Still we hadn't tried him out in the wheelchair yet. That in itself was bound to be a bit of fun.
After a late snack lunch we made Simon comfortable. Mother would be home by four. Craig and I were bound for the swimming baths. They say it's better to be born lucky than rich and I certainly was lucky that week, even if it was at Simon's expense. Craig hadn't brought any swimming togs with him. No problem. He could borrow a pair of mine. Now neither Simon nor I ever wore shorts for swimming. We hated them in the same way we hated boxers. Dingle dangle was too uncomfortable and in our view not only unaesthetic, but there were times when you wanted that boner under control. We only had Speedos now, under the device that if you've got it, you may as well show it, and to be honest we both loved being checked out. I had just the pair in mind, a light blue Lycra model, my favourite ones in fact, as they lifted and separated in just the right places without pinching and restricting the blood flow and were cut low enough to allow a little tuft of pubic hair to peep over the top. The incipient stiffness in my loins at that thought convinced me I had made the right decision.
Simon and I used the school swimming pool. In the holidays it was open three afternoons a week for school families and their friends. We just had to buy a family ticket and stick the relevant photos on, get it laminated and it lasted the whole school year. Simon and I had been lucky with our schooling. We attended one of the few boys only grammar schools left in the country. The whole family were firmly convinced about single-sex secondary education in principle and in practice it also suited our disposition.
Craig and I got changed and made our way through the footbath to the pool area. I playfully slapped him on the backside and said
"I never realised those bathers could look so good." He quickly looked around to see if anyone else was about and as there wasn't he gave my packet a tweak. Instant boner. Thank God for Lycra. Not that I minded these days. A couple of years ago I would have been as embarrassed as hell, but now if people wanted to stare, let them. It turned me on and gave me licence to stare back. With that thumping away in my yellow Speedos I felt really good and the water would soon deal with it anyway. However, Craig was clearly a little embarrassed with himself when he realised what he had done.
"Sorry, Ben. We obviously don't know each other well enough yet."
"No problem," I said as I pulled my shoulders back, interlaced my fingers behind my head, drew myself up to my full height and walked proudly out into the pool area.
Not unexpectedly there was a group of my friends sitting on the opposite side of the pool dangling their legs in the water. As soon as they saw me there were shouts of 'Hi, Ben' interspersed with other comments such as 'Where's Simon?', 'Who's your friend?' and 'Take that handkerchief out!'.
"I don't need a handkerchief, you eunuchs," I shouted back. "I've got the real thing." They knew that anyhow, but I soon noticed that they were ignoring me and directing their attention towards Craig. We dived in and swam across to join them. Introductions as they crowded round and made him feel welcome.
"See you all in a minute or two," I said. "Just got our fitness régime to do and we'll be with you." We swam twenty lengths. I found that Craig was the pacemaker and I really had to work hard to keep up, harder than with Simon. Finished we rejoined the gang. First of all they wanted to know all about Simon and his accident. That out of the way they then wanted to know all about Craig, but he could look after himself. Then we got on with the serious business of chasing each other, dive-bombing and all the other fun. One of the gang, looking at me and Craig, suggested a game of dick tag, but we decided that was quite a good way to get ourselves banned from the pool for the rest of the holidays and allowed back only after the Headmaster had 'reviewed our case'. The afternoon flashed past until it was time to take our leave with offers to come round and see Simon and invitations to hang out, especially if Craig was going to come along with me, or rather only if Craig was going to come along with me. That made me feel good, as you can imagine, but I can take it.
"You sure made an impression there, buddy," I said to Craig as we walked home.
"You didn't warn me we were going to meet such a horny crowd."
"Didn't think about it. They were just acting as they normally do. Must admit that I do know quite a few of them … in the Biblical sense that is, nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no more."
We got home to find Mum already there and Simon lying on the sofa watching television - Byker Grove . I knew he only watched that and Grange Hill as I did to spot the cute boys and there seemed to be less of them these days. Perhaps we were becoming too demanding.
After dinner we spent the rest of the evening watching TV with Simon in my room. After the events of the previous day and the lack of sleep the previous night we were all ready for an early night.
"I'm going up to bed now," I announced though it was barely ten o'clock.
"Give me five minutes," said Craig "and I'll follow you." I guessed he wanted to give Simon a bit of a seeing-to, limited as that would be, just so he wouldn't feel too much out of it. Mum and Dad had gone nextdoor to play bridge and they never came back until after eleven. Once in the loft I performed my ablutions and stripped for bed. I decided to lie on top of my duvet rather than under it to show I was in the mood. Craig was longer than he said he'd be, so I was just dozing off when he came into the room.
"Sorry to wake you, Ben." I woke with a jump.
"Not at all. I'm glad you did."
"I'll just clean my teeth and I'll join you, if I may." When he had finished, Craig came out of the bathroom stark bollock naked and put his clothes on the chair. Both of us were working up half hard-ons. He tugged my duvet from underneath me, climbed on the bed and pulled the duvet over us.
I slept well that night and I believe Craig did too once we had exhausted our lovemaking. As I discovered, Craig had this gift for making it last, bringing you to the edge and calming you down before you finally went over. No wonder Simon wanted him as his boyfriend. Again we both woke about half past six, made ourselves comfortable and continued what we had started the night before. I was surprised by my own enhanced performance, but in fact I had Craig to thank for that.
Before breakfast we showered together and went down to greet Simon. Mum said there was a letter for me, one of those window envelopes. When I noticed it was from UCAS my fingers became a little trembly. It was an offer of a university place - two As and a B at A-level. What was even better, it was from Simon and Craig's university. I really did have an incentive to work for my A-levels now. After the family congratulations it was time to get on with the rest of the day and this morning we were taking Simon into town in the wheelchair. It was hardly the deluxe model. It was push only, not self-propelled, and adapted to take Simon's leg so that it rested straight out. At least it had a brake. (The wheelchair, not Simon's leg if you have been paying attention. That would have been spelt b-r-e-a-k!) Mr Bean would have been proud of our attempts to control that chair and I'm not so sure that Simon is particular keen on going out in it any more. The first incident happened in our road which is on a gentle (thank goodness) slope. Craig turned to me and said
"Ben. have you got hold of the chair?" I turned to Craig and said
"No. I thought you had."
"No, not me," he replied as almost paralysed we watched Simon slowly gliding away from us while he calmly said
"I think you'd better slow it down a bit, guys," since he didn't fully realise what was happening. We took to our feet and managed to catch the wheelchair just before it was to crash into the backs of Julie and Christine, our nextdoor neighbours, the Misses Giggleswick. They wouldn't have been giggling if that had hit them, I mused. Our penance for that was that we had to walk into town with them while they cooed and drooled over Craig. If only they knew. He was ours and we weren't going to surrender him without declaring World War III. After that we went into pilot mode.
"You have control, Craig."
"I have control, Ben" Biggles eat your heart out.
The next bit of fun came at the shopping mall when we tried to manœuvre Simon into the lift. Had he been sitting normally in the wheelchair, no problem, but because his leg was straight out on a support the extra length made it difficult with the three of us and two old dears pressed up against the wall. It didn't occur to anybody to wait for the next lift. When we thought we were ready I pressed the button. Nothing happened. We pressed it again.
"There are too many in the lift," scolded one of the old dears.
"No there aren't. It takes six people and there are only five. See here?"
"You'll have to get out."
"I'm sorry. We can't move the chair until you get out," I replied.
"I can't get out. I'm disabled, you know," said Simon putting on a Monty Python funny voice. "That's why I'm in a wheelchair, you know." Shuffling of bodies and wheelchair and then it dawned on us. Simon's leg was positioned across the magic eye that stops the door from closing on someone. Further shuffling of bodies and wheelchair and we finally get going.
When you think about it, there's not a lot you can do with someone in a wheelchair in a shopping mall. You can't really browse. You just buy what you need to buy and move on. We hauled Simon into a coffee shop and bought something to eat and drink.
For me this routine set the seal on my last school Easter holidays. Sorting out Simon and entertaining Craig during the day, a more than fulfilling sex life at night and lots of fun in between. After swimming the next big nob throb for me was when Craig and I played tennis or went down to the leisure centre. His shorts were, as it were, tailored and from our conversations he knew what a turn-on jockstraps were for me and he obliged with a black one which was totally visible through his brilliant white, translucent shorts.
My two week holiday from school went only too quickly. On the Monday I returned to school, Simon had a hospital appointment and Craig volunteered to take him. When I came home that evening Simon had had his plaster cast taken off, but I regret my first thought was I hope he doesn't reclaim his bed in the loft. I was relieved to hear that although he was now able, even allowed and encouraged to bend his knee he was not to put any weight on it yet. The loft was out of bounds. I gave a secret sigh of relief. The last week of Craig's stay passed like lightning. At school it was panic stations and I had to get that place at uni now. The evenings meant study which just left the nights for relaxation and entertainment. On the Sunday I ran Craig down to the station in the car after the family had said their farewells. If Simon progressed according to plan he would be allowed back to uni a week later.
We sat in the car in the station carpark for a few minutes.
"Craig, I'm going to miss you."
"Not for long, Ben. October's not far away and we'll be up at uni together."
"Yes, but what about you and Simon?"
"Don't worry. We've talked it through and he realises that us two have got something going." My heart skipped a beat. I'd never dared think we had got that far. "And anyway we might be able to do something together in the summer vac. Keep in touch." He leaned across and kissed me passionately on the lips while caressing my packet before getting out of the car. I was semi-hard before that. Now I had a full boner and felt damp.
"I'll catch you up, Craig."
"It's all right. Just pull your tee shirt out over your jeans." I hated going around like that. Not only was it scruffy, but I like to show off my packet. However, on this occasion I took his advice before climbing out and helping him with his luggage.
There was now about five minutes before the train was due. We walked onto the platform and waited in silence. The train drew in. We shook hands and hugged one another. The train drew out. Walking back to the car I had on the one hand this feeling of emptiness while on the other I experienced a great positive feeling of optimism and that this was the calm before the storm. I needn't have worried about facing Simon. He and Craig had it all worked out. They were to remain best friends.
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