The Persistence of Memory
by Rafael Henry
Chapter 16
Garth literally caught me on the stairs with what Duncan had discarded by necessity after his exciting performance down in the studio not ten minutes ago. He'd gone back to his bedroom in disgrace leaving me to deal with the seedy detritus.
'What have we there Alex. Someone had an accident?'
'Not exactly Garth. And it wasn't Rosie before you ask.'
'Oh. What and who then? I'll take those. I'm putting the machine on this morning.'
Garth is not a one to be fobbed off when he wants to know something, so I had to tell all. I'm not sure he was convinced, thinking Duncan and I had had sex of some sort. We hadn't, not to say I didn't enjoy what had transpired in Duncan's sweet head, and into his girly pants. I had enjoyed the action very much as it happens, and being a no-pants person until such time as I shouldn't be seen like that, things were still showing.
'Do you expect me to believe that Alex?' He said, laughing and looking down at me.
'It's true Garth. Honestly. Anyway I'm a bit worried about him,'
'You shouldn't be, looking at these.' He replies, holding up the pair of Rosie's plain white pants that would have passed, at first sight , for a boy's. 'There's nothing wrong with his development by the look of things.' He says, stretching the waistband for a detailed inspection. 'I had no idea that there's swapping going on. Robbie too? How lovely.'
'No, not him, just this one. By the way, Robbie's going home today. Things between him and Duncan have gone as far as they're going to, so he's calling it a day.'
'Oh dear. So you two can bed up again? That'll be nice for you.'
'We didn't Garth. We haven't . We never have.'
'I know darling. There's no need to try and convince me. What was the problem with them?'
'I'm not sure. Just a flame that has gone out I suppose.'
'Fair enough. Do tell Duncan I have some interesting examples he could try, if he wants to pursue that new interest of his. Or I will.'
' I will Garth. I think it was normal curiosity more than anything else. I will tell him. Perhaps I might persuade Duncan to join you in the next Christmas show?' I said, smiling as Garth put the little folded package to his nose.'
'Yes indeed, a bit of Berlin come to Cornwall eh?'
Indeed. Duncan in knickers and a short pleated skirt in tandem with Garth? Or a summer dress? What a prospect! Definitely an added spice to the already hilarious Christmas Eve parties.
Garth had me join in with his little performance one year. I was ten I think, and just getting the idea. The idea. The schoolboy does a striptease. I know I enjoyed it. So did everybody else, once I had got down to my girly panties; and after. Much cheering and applause was heard. I then did a joyful little dance, my little pecker bouncing up and down for the general amusement, and mine.
And then it hit me. What's going on. Duncan and Quintus. He's planning something . I need to talk to the bastard soon. Very soon. Quintus has already mentioned some camping trip, or a field trip as he called it with a spurious cover of fossil hunting on the Jurassic coast in Dorset, and filming the whole thing as an educational outreach to go with his other documentary pieces. That's the thing now, what with the new digital photography revolution. It's free to use, apart from the hardware. Now you can film anything , including yourself. Oh yes, film yourself doing…….whatever you feel like doing. As Quintus said, if it moves, film it. I'm convinced he's got Duncan lined up for something special, which has an excellent chance of ending up as another digital file on the Head Man's computer. I also need to find out from Duncan what kind of contact he's had with Quintus and put a stop to anything further before it's too late for the boy I have come to love.
Both Duncan and Robbie have after school clubs this afternoon so I've arranged a meeting with Quintus, ostensibly to discuss his media plans, but with the real intention of finding out what his interest in Duncan really is, and in selected other boys possibly. To my knowledge he's never had a detrimental effect on anyone, apart from possibly, me. But everything I've gleaned via my exploration into iffy digital archives points to an unhealthy interest that the Head Man and he are sharing. Neither of them know I know about all this, so in a sense I have the cards in my hand. But once they know? What then? And do I actually want these 'cards' in my hands? The other issue is that I've made copies of a large number of those ultra-sensitive files, which with hindsight was a mistake I need to rectify. Time, I fancy, to cast some doubt in Quintus's mind. This should be fun.
'Hi Quintus. How are things?' I ask brightly as I enter his flat at the top of the Old Buildings as they are known.
'Tea?' He asks, moving towards me and giving me a light hug around my shoulders. Quintus isn't normally so soft in his approach to people. Since he's been here he's regarded, at least I think he has, with suspicion. With the boys, he's never anything less than charming, something the boys do appreciate. With his blond hair and rugged good looks, he's becoming a very popular 'member of staff' as he calls himself, and Angus, our Head Man's right hand man, it would appear. Then he released me and headed for the small adjoining kitchen to fill the kettle.
'So how's the world of IT treating you Alex?'
'Not bad thanks. It's amazing what you find out when one delves into things.'
'Oh? So you've been doing some delving have you? Where have you been using that spade of yours then?' He says, handing me the mug.
'Indeed I have Quintus, in some dark corners in this place. It comes with the job. Delving.'
'Ok. I hope you haven't dug up anything smelly and unpleasant……..have you?'
'Rather a lot I'm afraid.' I say with raised eyebrows.
'Oh dear. Nothing about me I hope?'
'Not about you Quintus. More about the boys; when they're not looking.'
'Oh. How curious.'
'I'm amazed that those behind the camera, or cameras, are so naïve as the imagine I wouldn't find out and know.'
'So why would you know, if any such thing does exist?'
'Because I have access to everything digital in this place Quintus. People can be very careless when it comes to locking digital doors that lead inro dark rooms, so one can't help wandering inadvertently, not deliberately of course, into places where the authors of such material would rather one didn't, given the nature of said material.'
'How interesting. How much?'
'How much, what Quintus?'
'I mean, how much do you know Alex?'
'More than enough for me old boy.'
I can see Quintus is shaken. In his dark little corner, a bright light is approaching and yet alarmingly close to putting him in the spotlight.
He walks up to me and looks me hard in the face. He doesn't know what to think or do at this moment because I've surprised him. I wondered if I would, but I have. It's completely unexpected. To say he's on the back foot is an understatement. So, time to turn the screw Alex.
'All those activities in this place. Even our life drawing classes. It's amazing how many times the boys have to get undressed isn't it Quintus? Don't you think? And all the other things they get up to. You know, two very good friends together. It can be quite interesting don't you think? When they find somewhere quiet and no one else about? Like at home, up in the bedroom or the bathroom with the door locked so no one's going to know what they're doing? And they do it don't they? It's all there Quintus for the whole world to see; if they could. Or if they knew how?'
'You wouldn't Alex. Would you?'
'No of course not. Would I? Well, almost certainly not. But I have a suggestion Quintus.'
'What's that Alex?'
'You think about these awkward matters, arising, so to speak. It's rearing it's ugly head isn't it? That old beast.'
'What do you want Alex? This is beginning to sound like blackmail.'
'Not what I wanted six years ago you'll be glad to hear. And no, don't offer me one of your boys please.'
'Oh, that's a shame. Are you sure?'
'Not entirely, no. Not yet. I know it's you Quintus. You've left indelible evidence. Tracks in the snow shall we say.'
'I don't believe you.'
'You had better. Do you want to hear my suggestion then?'
'Yes of course I do.'
'I know how you did it all, but I want you to tell me. It's very obvious but I still want you to tell me. It won't go any further. I promise.'
I promised and I'll keep my promise, don't worry Quintus, you bastard. He started a film making club, the membership strictly limited to certain individuals he's worked out were boys he could rely on. In my experience boys are inherently un reliable, especially if they get up to things that in the longer term they might regret.
I had another session on the Head Man's computer system yesterday, and guess what? I've put a bug on the whole thing that will prevent anything from being deleted. How about that Mr Clever Quintus. I can't believe the naivete of these people, or come to that, how much technical stuff I've learnt about this business!
Last night Duncan, and Robbie who was due to go home but hasn't, yet, had the most gigantic fight. They were literally throwing punches at each other and ended up in a wrestling match. We heard it all kick off upstairs about six with a lot of shouting and crying from Robbie. He was screaming at Duncan. We left them to get on with it and sort themselves out as boys usually do in those situations but when there was thumping on the floor and the possibility of injuries, so I ran up three stairs at a time to stop whatever was going on. They had stopped, with Robbie tightly held in Duncan's arms and going in for the deepest kissing imaginable. There were tears all over both boys' faces. They hadn't heard me, so I slipped out of the room somewhat breathless, shocked, and dare I say it, thrilled at what I had seen. Like two snakes entwined in a struggle to the death? When I got downstairs, Garth understandably wanted to know what had been going on.
'They'd had a fight Garth, but all over now. Kiss and make up time.'
'Oh good.'
'And I mean a good kiss. Spectacular in fact.'
'Really? How sweet. Maybe things will take a turn for the better now they've got their problem sorted. Make love not war darling!'
Precisely.
'Can you tell them their dinner is ready sweetheart?'
'Can it wait a while please? I think they might want more time together. Just a hunch Garth.'
'Oh, do you think so?'
'Umm. I think they've been working up to this moment for quite a while. I fancy Duncan needs to do his stuff if he's ever going to do it. Or Robbie does.'
'Have they got what it takes? You know, what they'll need?'
'Yes. All sorted in anticipation Garth. They both know.'
'Good. Should things come to pass, who's going to come out on top Alex?'
'Robbie is my guess. I have a theory about this.'
'Really? Do tell.'
I expounded my theory as we both crept upstairs to have a listen. Naughty I know but some things have to be done.
They've left the door open just enough to for me to see what's going on. The boys are on the floor, both bare chested and they've obviously been crying again. Both of them, pink eyed but calm now as they lie together, a hand inside each other's pants and indulging in an impressively deep kiss, Duncan's mouth completely covering Robbie's full lips, and no doubt his tongue giving his partner's a decent rubbing. The exposed head of Robbie's kinderkock is visible above the puckered waist band, his shapely balls inside and being played with by Duncan. They kiss again, and it's still deep and meaningful. How lovely.
I can feel Garth's hand on my back. I sincerely hope he's not going to move it around. I really don't need any sexual gestures from him.
I've always wondered if he ever touched me sexually? It would have been so easy, out of the bath tub and being rubbed dry by a soft towel, and then combing my hair as I stood naked and upright. Hmm. I gently closed the bedroom door as far as it would go without noisily engaging the mechanism, just leaving a sliver of a gap to see through.
'What should we do Garth?' I whisper, turning towards his face.
'Leave them to it. They'll come down when they're ready. Come on.'
I know Garth had problems as a child. Right now, and thinking about what he's told me about his early years in Hamburg, I'm sure I have nothing to worry about with regard to my upbringing. Nothing at all. He would never have done any such thing. I know from a very early age I have been sexually precocious. Many a time as a six-year-old I was reprimanded by both parents for excessive 'fiddling', in my successful attempts to induce erections, according to Garth. Whilst sitting in Garth's lap of an evening, I didn't need to, as his arms gently stroked my shoulders as I played with his face and long blond hair. I don't know the circumstances of my first orgasm proper, but I remember it happening very regularly from the age of nine onwards. And then of course the excitement of the first appearance of immature semen on the tip of the finger, much later, immediately placed on the tongue. It didn't taste of anything much but certainly nothing like anything else I had experienced. By the age of ten I was interested in other boys, admiring pretty faces and shapely legs and in particular, their bottoms, which coincided with the boys' underwear revolution. Garth would take me shopping. He knew what I wanted alright. Home, excited, and straight up to my room to try on and masturbate with them still on, thinking about that nice brown-haired boy who smiled at me at the park. Good stuff! And then the first playful friendships, the first kiss and touching of another boy's penis not so safe in his pants, mutual orgasms and the prospects of pure love to come.
Duncan and Robbie appeared half an hour later for their early evening meal, a bowl of Garth's stock spicy chilli poured over a split baked potato each, both boys unsurprisingly flushed and very quiet. I knew what had happened up there in the bedroom, not on the floor where they were when Garth and I saw them, but on the bed. I could have tightened the bolts that held the bed frame together securely to prevent any movement and the tell-tale squeaks it makes when there's any significant movement above. Most of the beds in the dormitories at S. Endellion made some noise or other when a boy was in the process of pleasuring himself, knees raised for impossible privacy, eyes closed as his moment gradually approached. I watch as the boy sighs, breathing slowly and deeply, one hand propping up the sheet like a small tent, preventing it from coming into contact with soft tummy skin and the tiny pearls resting upon it. And then a hand fumbles under the pillow for a crumpled handkerchief for the necessary wiping of soft skin. That's interesting. I didn't know Simon could. He couldn't a month ago.
All the boys in the room, including Simon, were asleep when I returned to bed after my pee. I could see the compressed hanky in Simon's closed fist as he breaths quietly. He has nice hands with long artistic fingers. He's good at drawing. Slowly I prize the hanky out of the closed hand belonging to the sleeping boy. He doesn't stir. I open up the small cool feeling square of plain white cotton and put its centre to my nose. A curiously pleasant scent. I fold it and put it back where I found it. Me, a senior boy set amongst my juniors. Such privilege!
I had left Garth in the kitchen, stirring the chilli mixture, and slipped back up the stairs, along the hallway to the boys' bedroom. Still outside the door and unsighted, I stood stock still to listen. Nothing. At least, nothing yet . Sounds will tell me everything I need to know. Still nothing as I press my ear to the door. Surely there must be something going on? The door catch is not located in the keep so I can silently ease the door open an inch or two and peep inside the darkened room. A sex act is going on as my heart jumps in excitement.
I can't see completely around the slightly open door so Duncan's upper body is out of my sight but Robbie's isn't. He sits astride Duncan, his knees either side of Duncan's chest, his bottom poised over his best friend's loins. I can't see the status of Duncan's handsome penis but I can imagine it easily enough. I know what that looks like well enough by now. As good as any I've ever seen, not that there's good and bad of that particular asset boys possess. They're all good. Then Robbie raises his body and feels for the long hard organ and finds it, places it, and slowly lowers himself onto Duncan, taking a long breath, and as perfect contact is regained, with his mouth formed into an oval, he slowly exhales in satisfaction as the target for the kinderprong is found and docked. The boy's body settles lower still, then rises again briefly, and settles again, the boy leaning forwards resting on outstretched arms as the expressionless face stares down at Duncan, who stares back.
It must have been Robbie's choice, to begin this way, in control. He would decide how quickly things would go, how he wanted it to start. After all, it's his body that will envelop Duncan. He can call a halt any time he wants to, but I'm sure he won't want to. There's a look of determination on his face as he wipes a dribble of saliva from his mouth.
Duncan strokes the boy's thighs, gently and tenderly, finally supporting Robbie's flaccid kinderkock and boy sized loose testicles as it all lies sleeping upon his fingers, no doubt kept in that state by the sheer concentration required to accommodate in reasonable comfort a relatively large object in a place not designed to accept its presence. I've always thought it interesting that a boy's bottom will quite happily accept a teenaged penis up it and as far as it's minded to go, as if it were meant to do so, to provide fulfilment for those of our disposition. An example of the way the likes of us are not discriminated against, for once.
It's a patient relationship as I watch spellbound, noticing how Robbie's penis is beginning to swell and in small increments, rise further towards the vertical, and in my estimation, about half the size of Duncan's far more mature weapon. It's a cute little object, Robbie's precious kinderpiece than now curved and unsheathed, stands firm above the now contracted scrotum that contains the tight and hard little orbs that may just be beginning to wake.
Robbie gentle rocking movement stops as he takes another even deeper breath.
With Duncan's help, his hands either side of the younger and smaller boy, Robbie disengages, and then lies on his back next to Duncan, one hand on his own penis and balls, playing. There has been a conversation, which I couldn't hear, about what to do next. I doubt if Duncan will refuse this opportunity.
He doesn't. He's looking intently between Robbie's raised legs as he carefully applies more of the necessary to make his entry smoother, a middle finger disappearing and doing the job perfectly. Robbie watches, his head raised, and then lowered, waiting.
I silently close the door and lean back against it, taking more deep breaths. But I'm not leaving. Not yet. I need the reassurance of sounds.
I leave the scene with those sounds in my ears. The sounds of sex happening, a consummation of kinderlove, like so many others. Like so many others that have been, and will be in the future.
The boys ate their meal in relative silence, flushed faces and stifled giggling, and Robbie fidgety, unable to keep still on his stool, moving left and right, clearly experiencing some awkward sensation if not actual discomfort. I have never experienced pain afterwards, but that's not to say I could feel the effects for a few hours. But what goes up tends to come back down again, especially if there was plenty of it. From early puberty, Duncan showed promise in that department, the clever boy, and lucky for some.
It's a strange feeling, sitting down to breakfast at S. Endellion, knowing your bottom was full of something that came out of someone else just an hour ago, sitting a few feet away from you, spreading butter on his toast. That something having gently and unstoppably obeyed the laws of gravity as it makes it's way down an inner thigh, still.
Robbie drops the spoon he's using to scoop out the last of the vanilla ice cream. He's off, apologetically, his stool to pick the spoon off the floor, and perches himself back up on the moulded seat. But not before I have noticed. He's no doubt feeling it himself as he continues to shift from one buttock to the other. I looked at Garth who has noticed too, pink faced as he glances back at me. Through the thin material of his kindershorts it's two pairs he has on. I've slept in two pairs of underpants at S. Endellion as a first-year newcomer, more as a defensive measure than an absorbing strategy. The boy's nocturnal advances were not welcome. At least, not his. I thought him ugly and unattractive. Others were not. Advances on younger boys by older ones were common, especially, and understandably, if you happened to be a 'blondie', or otherwise of interest, as I was then but not now, with tap water hair and a bowl cut, and to my further advantage, one of 'those' bottoms that some boys find attractive.
The fashion for ever shorter shorts seemed to do the rest. Having been aware of my preference a couple of years earlier, at least, I was eagerly awaiting my first suitor. It, or rather he, arrived near the end of my first term there. A boy in his 'O' Level year which would make him fifteen or sixteen. He wooed me for about a week before he suggested we go for a walk into the nearby countryside. I think I was keener than he was, being a lovely clean living and polite lad. He apologized for admitting his interest in me, and then nothing happened. He just couldn't find the way to progress matters and needed my help.
'I'm feeling a bit low today Charles. Might I have a cuddle? I'm sure I'll feel better then. May I?'
I think he was very relieved I'd taken the plunge. Everything went swimmingly after that, although his guilt prevented his orgasm for what seemed an age to me. I came quickly, and then a second time, orally this time. I masturbated him manually and he produced quite a lot of what I remember as rather strange pearly stuff all over my thumb and my hand, the first time I'd had direct contact with a boy's ejaculate on my skin, something I could definitely not achieve yet. Naturally I was interested in it, it's texture and the faint acidic odour as I raised my hand to my nose. Needless to say, Charles apologized for his 'lapse', but found neither of us had anything in our pockets to wipe it all off me. We used tufts of grass which didn't work very well, the rest I rubbed into my skin which quickly absorbed any residue. Later that year Charles disappeared, and there were rumours about his whereabouts. He'd been sent home. I was very sad about that, found out his address and wrote him a letter. I cried most of the time I wrote it. I think in a tiny way, we loved each other. I've not forgotten him you'll be pleased to know. I never received a reply to my letter. At least he had something to remember the place. Oral sex in those days was very much taboo, and considered perverse in the extreme. The rumour was that he had been caught indulging. His treatment of me was very sensitive and kind, and an object lesson in how to please another boy. He did please me very much. It was a lesson I have never forgotten. Soon after I had enquired of the school office about Charlie's home address, which resulted in a summons to see my Housemaster.
'I understand you want to know Charles' address. Is that correct Alex?'
'Yessir.' I replied, standing with my hands together in front of me.
'May I enquire why you feel the need to know?'
'I thought I might write him a letter Sir.'
'Oh really? How kind of you. And why would that idea occur to?'
'I don't know Sir. I thought it would be, as you say, a kind thing to do.'
'Indeed. So he was kind to you was he?'
'Yessir.'
'Good. In what way was he kind to you Alex?'
'He wasn't horrible, like some of the prefects Sir. He was nice.'
Silence, as it all began to dawn on me; what this was really all about. They're looking for more evidence against Charlie.
'I'm going to ask you a question Alex, and you must be sure to give me a completely honest answer to it. Will you do that Alex?'
'Yessir.'
'Did Charles ever touch you in any place that you know he shouldn't? Any private place. Your private parts for example?'
'No Sir. Never . He never would do that. Not ever Sir. Really he didn't. He didn't.'
'Are you sure? Absolutely sure? You won't be in any trouble if he did. Understand that you must be honest with your answer to this very important question. Did he?'
I froze in fear of causing the remotest harm to a friend, but eventually got the words out.
'No Sir. Never.'
If he thought I'd betray Charlie, he was wrong. Never in a million years. But I'm sure he didn't believe me.
He gave me a stare I can still remember now. I'm not a very good liar.
I left the room, finally, with perspiring armpits and forehead, and with a feeling of elation, knowing I had struck a blow for our freedom. The freedom for boys like me to love another boy, without fear or retribution.
The next day I was summoned a second time. There was another suited person there I didn't recognize, arms folded, standing in the corner of the room. I felt intimidated but I was prepared this time.
'I understand you're attending confirmation classes Alex?'
'Yessir.'
'So you do believe in God?'
'Yessir.'
'And you know that God will hear your lies and punish you? Don't you?'
'Yessir.'
'Then let's not waste any more of our time Alex. What you told me yesterday was an outright lie wasn't it.'
'No sir. Charles didn't touch me. He never did.'
Another silence. Then he let me leave.
His god is not my God. My God loves us all.
Despite wearing two pairs of underpants, he was clearly wet inbetween his buttocks, visible as he bent down to pick up the spoon he had dropped onto the floor at dinner. Once outside the human body, semen will degrade quickly as it cools and a proportion of it will turn to a thin watery liquid. Even the tightest anal ring, or sphincter, can't contain a decent spoonful of the stuff for ever. Duncan is, it would appear, above average in volume terms, like my friend Charlie was. In the month or so I engaged with him at S. Endellion, and all the preliminary ice all broken, he would ask me to relieve him from his sexual stress every day, usually in the far corner of a changing room, and in the dark, save for a little light from outside penetrating a window. I'd do this by hand to save time, and then orally for the finale, him standing on the bench below the row of pegs, me standing also. This worked well as I was a lot shorter so my face lined up perfectly with the head of his slim circumcised penis. A couple of weeks went by before we discussed the possibility of having sex proper. I'd experimented already with a friend at home so I had had some experience of a kinderkock in my tender bottom, enabled by a stolen tube of lubricating gel from Boots the Chemists. But a very prepubescent boy is quite a different matter to one well through puberty, not only in terms of size, but sexual maturity, something that was bit of a holy grail to me by now. When I knew about, heard all about it, I wanted it.
I was to go early one morning down to Charlie's study which he shared with two other boys. Studies were furnished with wicker chairs painted in an ugly pale green colour. I presented my cute little bottom to Charlie, kneeling as I was, knees wide apart, my elbows in the middle of the wicker seat; and waited. My anointment from Charlie duly came, sensitively applied around the entrance with my nerve endings going wild. And then a quantity eased past my tight anal rings. I had a tinglingly hard erection as a result, pleasingly pressed against the front of a tatty cushion on the seat of the chair.
Entry was uncomfortably slow as my body wasn't too keen to accept this visitor, but I was determined to see this thing through and please Charlie, and hopefully myself too. After much huffing and puffing, we were well coupled. So far so good. It hadn't really hurt and I could feel my body accepting the situation, and I was beginning to enjoy it.
He started slowly, with more huffing and puffing, staccato breaths, and inevitably things started to get going for Charlie with me hanging on, my hands white knuckling the arms of the chair, my mouth open and breathing hard.
Five minutes in, my body had relaxed enough for me to start thinking about what we were doing. I thought about Charlie and how nice he was. I pictured his semen erupting from the head of his penis, something I'd witnessed a few times by now. I thought about my own kinderkock and how good it felt, due to the shoving from behind I was getting, as it rubbed against the cushion. His hands and fingers gripped my sides painfully, but even that felt right. I knew I should expect some mild discomfort, but the sensation in my slippery kinderkunt had evened out to an intense but dull sensation, and slightly numb.
And then his announcement spoken quietly and lovingly in a whisper. I love you. I love you. I love you. Then I felt it. I felt it all, him into me, for what seemed a long succession of final thrusts as I was forced against the chair. And then pressure released as Charlie lay his body against my back. White knuckles returned to pink, and gripping hands relaxed. It was over for him as he slowly slipped from my grasp.
I had produced too, but not a few pearly drops I was used to seeing on my tummy, but a dribble of gin clear viscous liquid that shined in the faint light. I had seen this with Charlie, well before his coming. Now I saw it emerge from my own body for the first time.
Charlie detached himself carefully, as of course he would do, as I felt my body slowly close and seal. I knew it would take a minute or two before it would be safe to stand up to pull up my pyjama bottoms and go back to my room, and my bed to reflect on what I had done with Charlie.
I lay back in the wicker chair, my eyes closed, as Charlie tickled the millions of nerve endings in the most sensitive part behind the head of my penis with the tip of his tongue, and then enveloping the whole length with mouth and lips as he played with my sensitive balls. Nothing at first, but soon the feeling I wanted so badly began to form deep inside me, growing stronger by the second. I knew by this time my kinderkum would be with me soon to overwhelm my entire being, as Charlie's love and beauty will surely wash over me.
And so it did.
Every three days, fresh clothes would be laid at the foot of each boy's bed, to be used the following morning. Socks, pants, a grey shirt, and a vest. On my way down to Charlie's study I had grabbed my fresh pair of underpants and stuffed them into the pocket of my pyjamas. After our session, they had to be used. Charlie took them away.
I went down to breakfast sans underpants because I had essentially lost them earlier. We all line up for scrambled egg and a slice of toast, table by table, amid the early morning boys' chatter, muted by the prospect of another day in various classrooms, academic work, and old men in black gowns with chalk dust on them. As I stood there waiting my turn, holding the empty cold plate, the wet feeling in my bottom hadn't gone away. In fact it was spreading wider and lower, creeping as it was down the inside of one thigh. It's a cork basically, to prevent incontinence, the anal ring. It was failing. I felt the pressure of bad air building in my rectum. I couldn't control it. Not even the tightest little boy's kinderkunt can hold water as the pressure is released. I had leaked badly. You always know when you have. I could feel it travel lower and lower in a tickly little trickle down the inside of my thigh. I imagined the other boys seeing it and chuckling.
'Can you see that kid Alex over there John? That dribble down the back of his leg. Looks like he's just been fucked. What do you think?'
'Yeah. Looks like it. Who do you think gave him one.'
'That kid is friends with Charlie isn't he?'
'Umm. It was probably him. Cute isn't he? That hair? That arse! Fuck!'
'Yeah, and everything else. Those fucking short trousers. You can almost see his knickers. Those things shouldn't be allowed in this place. Looks like he's lost his pants too.'
'Part of the process, losing your pants John.'
'I agree. They shouldn't be allowed to wear those things in this place. It's downright cruelty, teasing us like that. Keep your eye on him. Just wait 'till he lifts his leg over to sit down.'
I put my filled plate on the long refectory table and lifted one leg over the long wooden bench worried stiff that something would be noticed at the back of my trousers. And then the other leg. I heard someone laugh.
Everyone makes mistakes. Charlie had, misinterpreting signals from another boy, and then following a nocturnal visit to his room, was accused and duly sacked. A small thing, literally, but more than enough to end his career at S. Endellion. It's hard for boys like Charlie in places like that, living so close to what he finds to be the most beautiful things in this world, and seemingly so available suit his needs. They look at you with deep blue eyes, smiling and admiring as you carry your books across the playground, as you smile back at the beauty in his short trousers showing all that flesh. It's can prove to be too great a temptation for some boys. It did for lovely Charlie. It did for him. All my unconvincing lies, in vain. Later, I learned how to better at it.
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