Usual Disclaimer: If you are not of an age to read this because of the laws of your country or district please desist. If you are a bigot or prod-nosed fundamentalist of any persuasion find your monkey-spanking literature elsewhere and keep your predilections and opinions to yourself. Everyone else welcome and comments more than welcome.
My thanks to those who have kept in touch after my previous stories. If you haven't read them yet I have listed them at the end of this first episode. Bless you all.
Flip's Tale
Chapter 3: Second Part
3I: Dorm Room Interests:
As he went off to his bed the others started to arrive after their various pursuits. Paul, Fergie and Little Dick had been sent off on another cross-country run and were saying they were quite keen on doing orienteering which a new PE master was organising instead of gymnastics.
Clyde came in followed by Hamed. They had been practising golf and Hamed did acknowledge something Clyde said to him as they came through the door. But, as always with Clyde, his interactions with others tended to be monologues. In fact, no sooner was he in the room when he was off again about his sister and her love of horses giving Fergie the lowdown on various beasts she had. A bit later I turned and noticed that Hamed was listening intently to Clyde still raving on to Fergie about how horses were such an important part of his sister's life.
"My granddaddy says like your Dook of Edinboro' says about Anne that if it doesn't eat hay or farts she ain't interested. I heard him say the only goddam pecker she's interested in is on General Lee the Seventh and he's a goddam big stallion! That boy Beauregard Button, who mighty fancies her, hasn't a chance!"
While chuntering on Clyde was still in the process of emptying out the final one of his six bags. This appeared to contain various neatly wrapped parcels which he piled, without opening them, on an already stacked shelf of his locker.
I didn't have a chance to talk to Paul that evening. Food, prep, general chit-chat and the bed time ritual of washing, etc., filled the evening. When the appointed time came I set the scene again by sauntering off into the heads naked with my towel over my shoulders. I noted Little Dick copied me and we stood side by side having our evening wash both in the nude with his cock already beginning to harden a bit. In fact, there was less hiding of bits and pieces that evening and I saw Paul also get into bed with no pyjamas on.
3J: A Tradition Soon Established:
As soon as the lights went out I was more than ready for a good wank. My duvet went straight down to my knees and I heard others following the same manoeuvre. Without the muffling effects of duvets covering the movements of hands on cocks there were audible accelerating slapping sounds as boys got nearer and nearer the release of their loads and even more audible sounds of breathing and gasping as spunk was fired from their rigid shafts. I listened intently as I fisted myself and the thought that at least four of the other boys were also in the same state of excitement was very exhilarating. Again, I wasn't sure if the Arab boys were indulging but if they weren't they must have had wills of iron not to have joined in!
I was quite unprepared for the immense jolts which hit me as I reached my climax. I just had to let go of my prick when the first wave hit me and pressed my palms down on the bed beside me to steady myself. So my rod was waving around, pointing up at about thirty degrees like a miniature howitzer, firing off gobbets of spunk up over my head and to both sides of me. I think most of my cum missed me as my hips jerked violently with about six great spasms and I only felt a final spot drip onto my belly as I simmered down.
When the paroxysms had subsided I lay motionless for ages to calm myself down. I heard Paul come with the accompaniment of great gasps and the noise from Little Dick's bed was incredible. He gave a series of 'ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh, ughs' getting faster and rising in tone followed by a collapsing sound of exhaling breath and a strangled sort of little cry at the same time.
I peered over at Fergie's bed. His duvet was completely off and on the floor on my side of his bed. He was hell-bent with the speed he was whipping his skin back and forth until he, like I'd done, started to jerk and twitch about in his bed as he shot his load. My attention was then drawn to Clyde who was mumbling across the room from me and after a minute or so he too fell silent. So I assumed another had reached his high point for the night.
Whether the Arab lads were also making merry I did not know.
Michael's descriptions of life in the Scout tent were now much more realistic. I wondered if his friends let themselves go with such abandonment. I suppose being in the dark we all felt a bit freer in expressing our feelings when those wonderful reflexes took over. I remember reading that some woman had said orgasm was just a genital sneeze. If that was a sneeze I must have the greatest genital congestion ever!! And I couldn't wait for the next one!!!
I was fast asleep very quickly and the next thing I knew was being woken by the usual thump on the backside mound. I grunted some sort of oath and turned over just as Simon had got round to Clyde's bed where the mound was very prominent as Clyde took up a good deal of space! Simon gave the mound one whack but there was no response so he administered another.
"Ah, Holy shit!" came Clyde's unmistakable tones," Whadda want you pissant bastard!"
Simon took no notice of the colourful language other than administering another whack to the rather conspicuous hump in Clyde's bed.
"Come on you fat, blaspheming fraud, up you get!" he called out, "You were awake!"
"I'll have you for goddamned discrimination you hairy assed bastard!" was Clyde's retort and he launched himself like a rather large torpedo at Simon's legs.
Gosh, I thought, if Clyde played rugby like that he'd be a marvellous tackler! Simon only just survived the onslaught and wrestled Clyde back onto his bed. I noted that Clyde was wearing what appeared to be silk pyjamas.
"You're too slippery to deal with," muttered Simon, "Just get your fat bum into the heads otherwise you'll miss your breakfast and we can't have you wasting away, can we?"
This was obviously an old ritual as Clyde just lay back and laughed.
"I'll get you for that," he said, "And you lot heard what he called me!"
"No we didn't!" said Fergie, "You poor wee skinny bairn!"
"Yes," came Paul's voice "You need a good feed to put some meat on your bones."
"Or meat between your legs," said Fergie and burst into a fit of giggles.
Both the Arab boys were sitting up in bed watching this pantomime. I grinned at Ghazi and he smiled back. Hamed tried to keep his face passive but I could see he was just that bit slightly amused by the altercation and its sequel.
Simon went last to Little Dick's bed and pulled the duvet completely off him. He was still asleep through all this noise and shemozzle. At sometime he'd divested himself of his pyjamas so we were rewarded by the sight of his little boyish pink butt pointing into the room.
Simon looked around and spotted a handkerchief on Little Dick's locker and picked it and dangled it and tickled his bum with it. Dick squirmed in the bed but still didn't wake. Simon substituted a ruler for the hankie and drew it across Dick's butt and Dick began to buck his hips a bit. Very naughtily, Simon drew the ruler down between the cheeks of Dick's arse and this produced even more pronounced movements. We were all enthralled by this and I thought to myself that Little Dick had experienced something like this before!
Simon gave up after a while as Little Dick remained resolutely asleep. Paul went up to Simon and whispered something and Simon nodded. He pulled up the duvet and gently shook Little Dick awake.
When he turned to face Simon he had such a beatific smile on his face I knew he had subconsciously enjoyed the experience and I bet to myself that whatever had happened in the past he had thoroughly enjoyed.
3K: The Plot Thickens:
So Saturday morning started. We were all up, breakfasted and ready for morning school by nine o'clock. This finished at twelve for lunch and then games.
As I'd put myself down for the House trials I kitted up in jersey, shorts and trainers and carried my boots and sweats down and followed Paul and Little Dick to one of the rugby pitches. I was most surprised as Ghazi was already there talking to Simon and also in rugby kit.
As there were only thirty in our House and the players had to be drawn from our form upwards one or two players had been dragooned into the team. In fact only the required fifteen were on the pitch for the start of the game between McCrae's and Garforth's - another House team.
Simon was Captain of our House team and assigned us to our various positions. As I was quite big for my age I was put as Number Eight, lock forward. I saw that Ghazi had been put in as hooker where I normally played in the home rugby club side. Our prop forwards were two lads in the next form up and were very hefty - even more so than Clyde. The rest of the scrum seemed to be bigger lads from the upper forms.
It was a rather scrappy game to begin with. Everyone seemed to be playing in new positions because it was the first game of the season. We didn't really bother about scoring but in the end we were playing with quite a bit of enthusiasm. I was very taken with the way Little Dick handled the ball from the scrum as scrum-half. He looked quite different without his glasses and rather apologetic air once he was in rugby kit and doing something he was good at. Ghazi managed to get the ball back much more and faster than his opposing hooker and I felt we would be quite a team with some practice. Fergie had been placed on the wing and sped up and down passing the ball quite creditably.
Simon was obviously quite pleased with the progress during the afternoon and both teams came off the pitch very happy. As there were other House match trials as well the showers in the changing rooms were quite congested as boys straggled in in all states of mud-covered dirtiness. Our teams were the second lot to come off the pitches so by the time I got into the showers there were the thirty from the first teams who got in plus the quick disrobers from our two sides. I had never seen so many nude boys before. I like everyone else was checking out what we saw. As it was a rather chilly day most boys showed more wrinkles than inches but did expand a bit under the hot water. In the end there must have been over a hundred boys of fourteen to eighteen milling around. What a sight for sore eyes, or for sore cocks with the host of images for our wanking times.
I was overwhelmed with the variety. Very few of the boys were circumcised but there were plenty of variations on size and form of foreskins. I didn't notice anyone with a great length. In fact Fergie's whippy thin cock was about the longest in evidence. Hair around cocks was a different matter. Us younger boys had small bushes in the main. My bright ginger bush stood out quite distinctively though I did note a few older lads in other houses who were also ginger-nobs like me.
Some of the Sixth-Formers were very hairy. I managed to get a good look at Simon whose black curls round the root of his cock were even more lushly exuberant than the wonderful black curls on his legs. His cock was quite big, I thought, as it hung and swung as he walked about chatting to various lads. His balls were also furry and were like two eggs hanging between his legs. I noticed a couple of the older Sixth Formers had quite hairy chests as well and were obviously proud of these as they both kept scratching through their woolly possessions. With all this I was getting more and more horny and had the greatest difficulty in not sprouting a hardon.
I dressed back into the sweats I had carried over with me and went to find Paul as I needed to talk to him about Ghazi and his problems. He was chatting to Ghazi when I found him and after talking about the game and congratulating Ghazi on his role as a good hooker we three went off to the garage at the back of Mr McCrae's house for a further discussion.
We sat on a couple of old boxes and I told Paul what Ghazi had told me. Ghazi didn't interrupt at all just nodding his head as I said all the things he's told me. Paul sat for a moment and said we would need a plan. How would we get some sense into Hamed's head?
I had a bright idea. "Why don't we all stand round tonight and give him an ultimatum?"
There was silence. Then I thought a bit more and said he was indoctrinated with the idea he was so important no one should touch him. What would happen if we all touched him? I then recalled the way in which I could make my brother and Michael quite helpless when they got a bit stroppy and what had happened the day Tom tried to piss on me. I tickled them!
I explained this to Paul and Ghazi and that became the basis of our strategy. If we tickled Hamed without him knowing who was tickling which bit of him he would be helpless anyway. Ghazi said he knew Hamed was ticklish because one of his older sisters use to tease him by doing that when he was much younger. Paul laughed and said it was a good idea because that was how his brother Roddy always got back at him.
Paul said he would talk to the others and we would devise a complete plan of action and he would talk to Hamed once we'd all handled him after lights out! Ghazi seemed quite amused at this and seemed very relieved that we would all be involved and promised he wouldn't say anything to Hamed about the plan. We went back to the dorm room to inform the others without Hamed's knowledge.
It was all settled during the evening. The six of us would creep over to Hamed's bed as soon as lights out occurred. Fergie and I would whip off Hamed's duvet at Paul's signal and pin down his arms. Clyde would get rid of the duvet and sit on Hamed's legs. Little Dick, Paul and Ghazi would start the tickling. If he didn't struggle too much then Fergie and I would join in with Clyde. If he made a noise, Fergie was to clamp a hand over his mouth. All signed, sealed and in proper military fashion!
3L: Action Stations:
We all acted very well as we got ready for bed that evening. Like the night before Little Dick and I stripped off completely and headed out for our evening ablutions. The others followed in sequence and finally all were in bed when Simon appeared with his admonition to keep quiet and sleep tight.
There was no movement in the room until the moment the lights went out. The movements that then occurred were silent. I didn't realise until I brushed into them as we moved fast across the room that both Paul and Fergie had gone to bed starkers as well.
Hamed was taken absolutely by surprise. His duvet was whipped off completely. Hamed had gone to bed without his pyjama jacket on. I held an arm and I could see that Fergie was similarly employed. Clyde landed across his legs with a thump and then six or more hands started to tickle the poor recumbent little bugger. Of course, Hamed then let out a string of Arabic. Curses, no doubt, which were as suddenly silenced by Fergie's hand over his mouth. With all the hands roaming across him - I had his left arm firmly held between my legs so I had two hands free to tickle him - he was squirming and heaving in the bed..
I concentrated on his left nipple and under his left arm. It was all quite relentless and I felt sweat pouring from him after a minute or so.
Then Paul spoke. "OK lads, stop!" We all did as we were told but still held him down tightly.
"Now, Hamed," said Paul with quite a voice of authority, "I want to give you some advice. No. In fact, it is not advice. I am just going to tell you something. First, if you promise to keep quiet Fergie will take his hand away. OK?"
I felt Hamed try to nod. Fergie's hand was released and I heard Hamed sucking in air.
"Right," continued Paul, "You have to learn that boys are not interested in what you are, but in who you are. Do you understand? You are a boy, we are all boys and we aren't in the least interested in what you think you are, or what you have been told you are. We want you to be a boy like us and join in willingly with all the things on offer just like us. My father was at school with someone who is far more important than you will ever be. He joined in everything going. I was told this lad had his balls felt regularly in the rugger scrums and he didn't mind a bit. He gave back as good as he got. He's got friends he made then who knew he was a boy just like them. Do you see?"
Paul paused and Hamed remained silent.
"There are six boys here who want to be friends with you and I know from what my brothers have told me their dorm friends are friends for life. So, it's up to you. We're not the only ones, there's the rest of the House and then the school. Some of the boys will piss you off - they do me - but I tolerate them because I expect I piss off a few myself.
"So make your choice. You have to show us you can be a boy too and get used to all the things that happen. You're here whether you like it or not, just like the rest of us, so you've got to grin and bear it. We can all help everyone else to make it tolerable and, perhaps, enjoyable. I like it here and I don't want my life spoilt by anyone and nor does anyone else in our dorm. So, it's up to you, we want to know you as a friend and companion, not as some twat who thinks he's something high and mighty because he's been told he's different. Boys aren't impressed by things like that. We can all be friends and help each other, so, it's up to you."
Paul paused again to let this sink in. I could see that he was looking steadily at Hamed and Hamed's eyes were locked on his.
"Right, for a start, if you can have your balls felt and you don't go berserk then I'll be your friend and so will the others, so here goes."
I could see in the gloom that the tickling process and the consequent squirming had resulted in Hamed's pyjama trousers being somewhere about his knees. I then saw Paul's hand grip Hamed's balls, with Hamed taking a sharp intake of breath - expecting his balls to be crushed, no doubt.
Hamed's cock was fully erect, lying up his belly. Paul ran his fingers lightly up its length without saying anything as Hamed gasped again. Little Dick was next. He rubbed his fingers held flat over the twin young walnut-sized bollocks.
"OK, Hamed, it's me, your friend Dick."
Fergie and Ghazi followed and I saw both put a hand under Hamed's balls and gently close their fingers over them. Neither felt his prick. My turn was next. I caressed his warm little globes and then ran my thumb and finger up his shaft. He did another intake of breath.
Last of all it was Clyde's turn. He took his time and looked as if he was weighing each ball in turn.
"Goddam it, Hamed," he whispered, "You've got a nice set of tackle. You're goddam lucky you ain't that young hoss of my sister's otherwise there wouldn't be any of this tomorrow! Anyway, what did you say when we started?"
This is where Fergie astounded us.
"He said we were a bunch of sister-fucking bastards who shagged dogs as our other pastime, or words to that effect!" he announced in a stage whisper.
Ghazi giggled and Hamed took a very deep breath.
"Is that true?" Paul asked, a tinge of astonishment in his voice.
Ghazi giggled again and said it was. Hamed remained silent, no doubt wondering what would come next.
Of course, we wanted to know how Fergie knew. It transpired that he had lived in Saudi, when his father was at the British Embassy, from the age of four until being shipped back to England and prep school at the age of eight and was quite fluent in good and bad Arabic! In fact, he told us, he had listened in to all Hamed and Ghazi's conversations and Hamed was very lucky we weren't going to castrate him as that was what he wished on us at times.
That meant reprisals so Hamed was subjected to another bout of tickling which reduced him to a quivering, giggling jelly, squealing and taking in great breaths but not shouting out.
Fergie said something to him in Arabic, which made Ghazi laugh, and we demanded to know what he said.
"I just said with a cock his size he'd be lucky to shag a rat, but then said I was only joking."
We all grabbed his goolies again and left him spluttering and snorting while we retreated to the safety of our wanking pits. Wanking pits they became because that night all of us, including Ghazi and Hamed, tossed and moaned, and jacked and groaned, and squirted and oohed, and spurted and aahed, and fell asleep breathless and satiated and wondering what the new day might bring.
What amused me was that so far was that no one had commented at all on the nightly enjoyments. It was what boys did and that was that! Paul did give me a quizzical look as I slid ungracefully from under my duvet that Sunday morning sporting a morning hardon and a rather crusty patch of dried cum which I had omitted to mop up from below my belly the night before.
"By the way," he began, "You ought to be a bit more careful."
I looked at him wonderingly.
"Friday night," he continued, drily, "You let fly and some landed right over here on me."
He screwed up his nose and then grinned.
"Mighty good range you've got!"
Oh God, of course. In my paroxysm of delight my wayward loose cannon had sprayed my boycream liberally without my hand directing it. I was amazed at that. It was a fair distance!
"Nothing to apologise about," I said, archly, "Lucky you didn't get the lot and anyway I don't suppose yours did any more than dribble!"
We both dissolved into giggles and he intimated he had just as good a production line as I had. Oh, I wondered, were we getting somewhere nearer something more than solitary enjoyment?
3M: Another Tradition Begun:
After breakfast we had to get ourselves spruced up for weekly chapel. Although there was voluntary chapel every day, on Sundays attendance was compulsory, unless you had different religious affiliations than the Church of Scotland or its ecumenical cousins. I wasn't a regular churchgoer but did enjoy a good sing.
As we would be in for a real inspection that day everyone, except the two Arab boys who were excused Chapel, had to be really smart. I was in underpants and white shirt and was just getting my best pair of trousers and my green lovat jacket out of my locker when I noticed my kilt. I got that out and buckled it on instead. I saw Paul watching.
"I'll wear mine as well. No one else does." he said quietly.
I, rather ostentatiously, pulled down my underpants and discarded them. Paul did the same before he had his kilt on and I had a good view of his nicely shaped dick. It could have been the twin of mine, in size and contours - and most probably in use!
I was just fitting my silver-mounted sporran on its belt round my waist and was watching Paul hang his badger-hair sporran in the same way when Clyde came back out of the heads arrayed in his silk pyjama trousers.
"Holy shit, you goddam Limeys love dressing up, don't ya!" he said surveying us. "What with those goddam Guards outside Bucking-hame Palace in those goddam red uniforms and you goddam Scotties in your fancy skirts and goddam hairy purses with those squealing bags of wind....."
He got no further as two highly incensed, but really amused, Scots lads rushed over to him and manhandled him backwards onto his bed. A new Battle of the Atlantic was in progress.
"We're not Scotties you damn Yankee, they're wee dogs! And these aren't skirts you miserable cotton-picking ninny, they are the kilt and this is my granddad's sporran and that's Flip's father's! They're family heirlooms and when we finish with you you'll be a squealing bag of wind and you probably won't have any family heirlooms! And anyway, who'd want to be named after some poxy river!"
Clyde was laughing so much all we could do was tickle him which increased the roars. He spluttered as we grabbed at generous amounts of flesh covering his chest and stomach.
"Got ya again MacDeath! " he managed to get out as we held him down. "And just remember I ain't no damn Yankee I'm good Southern stock! And my great-granddaddy Clyde the First didn't do no cotton-picking he had oil and his daddy came from Scotland!"
He was irrepressible. I couldn't help laughing and looked down where his silken trousers had reached his knees. This gave me an idea for a punishment I'd heard discussed at the gym one day. I'd noticed that he'd been shining his black shoes before he'd gone to the heads and there was a brush with polish on within my reach. I grabbed it.
"Shut up, Riverboy," I said, imitating his name changing and, as far as I could, his accent, "I think you need a pair of black bollocks to match your goddam evil mind!"
He laughed again. "You're a good ole boy, Flapper! But you'll need a bigger helping of that to blacken me."
Probably true. Glancing down I could see his three inches of limp boy cock lay over a tight red-ridged pouch which was at least twice as big as my sac which, in any case, sagged down a bit more.
Fergie called out from his bed where he was sitting, laughing at the antics.
"I wouldn't do it if I were you, Flip! He'll only go round flaunting his nuts and saying it was a new fashion from Paree. Then you'd have to buff the balls of half the Sixth Form!"
"He wouldn't have to for Nelson Chombe," chimed in Little Dick who had retreated to the other side of his bed in case of trouble.
"Who's Nelson Chombe" I asked, still kneading a mound of flesh around Clyde's stomach as he wriggled to get free.
"Oh," said Paul to enlighten me, "He's a big black lad from Nigeria so he wouldn't need any of your attention." He turned and looked at Little Dick. "Anyway, Dick, when have you seen his balls?"
"He stayed with us over the summer and he helped me with my reading," came the non- committal response.
Paul looked at me and winked. "Tell you later," he mouthed.
We turned our attention back to Clyde who was still giggling and squirming.
"Come on, get your goddam paws off me now," he complained, giving an almighty heave of his considerable bulk and dislodging both of us.
Paul and I stood back and surveyed the quivering hulk.
"You need to lose a bit of that," said Paul, leaning forward and jabbing a finger at Clyde's ample midriff.
"That's my goddam stomach and I like my food," he said stoutly, "But Mrs McCrae is watching my diet and that's why I didn't go down to breakfast this morning."
There was a laugh from Fergie's direction.
"Come on you two, leave the monster alone, we'll be late if you don't hurry and Clyde's still got to beautify himself."
Paul and I turned and went back to our beds to finish dressing. I looked over at Ghazi and Hamed who had been watching the antics with amazement and, I think, amusement, at least on Ghazi's part. Hamed had a rather quizzical look on his face as if he was pondering some rather deep problem. I raised my eyebrows when I saw Ghazi looking at me and he smiled that tantalising smile again.
I finished putting on my socks and shoes and knotted my school tie very carefully then headed off to the loo for a pee and to comb my hair. I went into a stall and had a pee and when I came out I found Ghazi at a sink washing his hands.
"You look very..." he began. "I don't know what to say," he stammered. His face broke once again into that lovely smile. "You look wonderful. You must be very proud."
I went over to him and put my arm over his shoulder.
"Thank you," I said, "I do feel proud. I'm glad I came here and I hope we can have a happy time here."
He smiled up at me as I let go.
"I want to be happy, too," he said with feeling, "We shall be good friends, eh?"
I nodded and said I hoped we would, wondering if Hamed would let us. I finished tidying my hair and went back to the dorm room.
Just before nine four of us were ready to go to Chapel. Paul had fussed round Little Dick straightening his tie having already made him hunt for a cleaner shirt than the one he had originally put on. Fergie came over and said he wished he'd brought his kilt back with him but he would get it brought up at half-term. Clyde had retreated to the heads with a bundle of clothes and now reappeared. My God, what a turnout. He had on a white silk shirt, trousers in regulation grey but of some very expensive looking material, a school tie which looked if that was silk also, plus a pair of black loafers with tassels which must have cost a packet.
Paul whistled when he saw the outfit as Clyde finished off by donning a jacket, in the Lovat shade of the normal school uniform, but with just that bit more distinction.
"Oh God, Clyde, you talk about us! You look just like card-sharp Willy off a Mississippi steamboat! Mr McCrae will do his nut!"
Clyde studiously ignored him and went to the door and opened it and Simon came in.
"Are you lot ready?" he called out, "I've got all the new bugs lined up downstairs." He looked down to Ghazi and Hamed. "Mrs McCrae would like you to join her in her house when you're ready."
He then surveyed the rest of the room fixing his gaze on Clyde. His eyes almost popped.
"Oh my Gawd!" he said, awestruck, "Where did you get those clothes?"
"My daddy had his tailor fit us up in Paree, "he said, doing a slight twirl, "Wait until you see McNeeps and his Sunday best!"
Simon cast his eyes heavenwards then looked across for the first time at Paul and me.
"Oh, yes," he said and pointed at us, "Don't move any of you. Two minutes."
He dashed off and we all stood, looking mainly at Clyde who was brushing imaginary lint from the elegant jacket he was wearing, feeling, as far as I was concerned, like a spare prick at a wedding.
There was a sudden rush of feet along the outside corridor and Simon appeared, buckling on his kilt and carrying his jacket, long socks and sporran. He was closely followed by McNeeps, i.e. Robbie MacPherson, still in jacket and trousers but bearing his kilt and other accoutrements. Robbie very quickly stripped off trousers and underpants and then we watched the two Sixth-Formers finish dressing.
Robbie had on a silk shirt identical to Clyde's, the trousers he discarded were of the same material as Clyde's as well. Still he looked very smart when he stood up in his grey-based kilt and black leather sporran.
"You can't wear those," said Simon to him, pointing to the snazzy loafers he was slipping his feet into, "You're supposed to wear brogues or proper laced shoes."
"Balls," said Robbie, emphatically, "These are so comfy, aren't they Clyde?"
Simon was silent. Then, having finished his own adornment he looked at us all.
"We'd better get a move on, can't be late first Sunday, can we?"
As if being late would be our fault!
Anyway, we set off downstairs collecting up the rest of the House on our way out. In fact, Paul, I and Clyde led the way while Simon and Robbie marshalled the new bugs and other House members behind us. It was odd, because as we walked across to the Chapel we got quite a few admiring looks from other ranks of fellow pupils we passed or caught up with. There was one half-hearted beginning of a wolf-whistle which stopped as soon as it had begun, I suspect, once the perpetrator saw that Robbie and Simon were also similarly attired.
Once in Chapel Simon and Robbie caught us up and we four sat together with Little Dick next to me. Little Dick nudged me as we sat down and the organ was playing.
"That's Nelson," he said.
I looked over to the other side of the Chapel and saw that the organist was a big black lad.
I liked the service. The hymns were ones I knew and the sermon was preached by a young visiting minister who we were told had been a pupil. He made his sermon very interesting and there were a good few laughs. I felt very happy and was glad I was here.
After Chapel we made our way back to the dorm. Several lads asked us if we were going to wear the kilt every Sunday. We said we intended to. Mr McCrae caught us up and said we looked very smart and laughed when Simon asked him if he'd seen Clyde.
"Of course, he's incorrigible, but as long as he keeps within bounds it's OK."
Simon grimaced but kept silent.
Mr McCrae asked us if we were making a statement. I wasn't quite sure what he meant but Simon stepped in and said defintely not, we just wanted to show we were Scots. He laughed again and said he thought we might have started something.
What with being told by Paul that I had already started something - I still wasn't sure if he meant full-frontal wanking or full-frontal nudity - here was Mr McCrae saying the same. Should I keep my head down a bit?
Our free time for the rest of the morning was scheduled for writing letters home. I wrote four. A quick note to Aunt Margaret to tell her I was OK and settling in. One to Stuart with a bit of description of the House match. Then two longer letters, to Tom and Michael. I couldn't tell them everything I wanted. I thanked Tom for his note and said I kept our photo on my locker shelf and looked at it each time I opened the door. I said I liked the place and looked forward to seeing him at Christmas but I would write again. I wanted to know about Michael and Darryll but didn't quite know how to ask. Instead, I just gave an account of what I had done each day, without the juicy bits, emphasizing the rugger and the weight-training. That gave me an opening because I then asked if he and Darryll were working out together and I hoped they were helping each other as much as we had. I didn't write to my mother because I was sure Stuart would show her my letter. I didn't even ask him how mum and Ray were.
The rest of the day passed, lunch came. There Simon asked Ghazi and I if we would like to do a bit more weight-training instead of the organised activities in the afternoon and we agreed. When Ghazi and I went back to the dorm to shower and change we found on six of the beds a pile of four very elegant differently coloured briefs with HOM on the waistband and a block of Belgian chocolate. Our puzzlement was allayed when we emerged from the muscle-soothing shower back into the dorm as Clyde was sitting on his bed undoing another parcel from his final bag.
"Hi, you goddam muscle-boys," he said jovially, "There's something for yo'all. My daddy told that goddam secretary of his to order me some things for school and she ordered twenty- four pairs of goddam panties without asking me. Too goddam prissy to ask a growing boy his size. I need something a bit more goddam ample but they should fit you.
And I ain't allowed to eat chocolate so that's for yo'all as well."
We thanked him profusely. The briefs also looked expensive, just like the rest of Clyde's possessions. I winked at Ghazi and picked up a bright blue pair and slipped them on. They were just my size. Ghazi grinned and picked up a pair of red ones and made quite a show of arranging his cock and balls snugly. Clyde grinned at the pair of us but passed no comments.
As the others came in they were also told the provenance of the gifts and all thanked Clyde as they were a generous present - even if they were the wrong size for Clyde. Hamed, in particular, thanked him warmly.
The evening was spent in the prep room with the aspiring pop-group going through their repertoire. Then time for bed.
3N: Hamed's Response:
I was pretty tired by this time. Simon had worked both of us pretty hard during the hour and my biceps and quads were beginning to feel moderately achy but I noted when I looked in the mirror in the heads while washing I was already looking slightly more toned than even a week ago.
I strode back into the dorm, ditched my washbag in my locker, hung my towel and got into bed under my duvet. Simon's usual entrance signalled that the lights would soon be switched off. I was tensing and relaxing my muscles as I found this was very effective in getting rid of some of the achiness. It also was driving my horniness level up as my prick was as rigid as a ramrod when the lights went out.
I was about to put my hand to its nightly work when there was a slight scuffling sound from across the room. There was an 'Oh', then a low murmur from the direction of Clyde's bed followed by a clear whisper from Clyde.
"Here, I'll shake to that, Sheikh!"
There was a double chuckle and the feet moved on round to Little Dick's bed.
Another 'Oh', or 'Ow' this time, more swift muttering and another chuckle.
I knew it was Hamed because as he got to Paul's bed I heard him say he was glad Paul had told him all that the night before and he wanted them to be good friends. I saw Paul reach out and clasp Hamed round his naked shoulders and draw him down. They remained quiet for a few seconds then Hamed came to my bedside.
As he leaned over me I pushed my duvet aside and did the same as Paul. I put my arms round his shoulders and pulled him towards me. As I did this he put his right hand between my legs and held my balls. I dragged my left arm down and found he just had pyjama trousers on. I slipped my hand into his fly and cupped his balls in the palm of my hand. He was also erect.
"I want to be your friend, Flip," he said earnestly, "Please be my friend."
I whispered that I would and I wanted us to be happy. He squeezed my balls very slightly.
"You have been very kind to my cousin, he likes you very much."
I said I liked Ghazi very much too and I thought we would like each other too. I don't know what made me do it but I very slowly put my whole hand round his stiff rod and tugged it very slightly. His mouth was near my ear and as I turned my head towards him I brushed his lips with mine. Our lips locked, then our lips parted and our tongues caressed, all this taking, perhaps, just five seconds. His dick twitched in my grasp and his hand moved up and held my own hard cock. His hand moved up and down and our lips locked again. It was with great difficulty that either of us could part. I knew he wanted to wank me and I also wanted to feel his strong, young circumcised shaft under my control. Not yet. We both knew that the time was not ripe. We moved our hands simultaneously to each other's balls and gently held them again. Then he left and went on to Fergie's bed.
Although I needed a wank so desperately now I waited. Fergie knew what was going on and I heard, but did not understand the rapid conversation between the two boys.
However, there was the unmistakable sound of a kiss as they parted before Hamed went, finally, to his cousin's bed. I couldn't wait any longer. My duvet was half off me anyway.
It was now pushed down further and my hand was pumping at full speed within seconds. I came very quickly. I felt great spurts of warm come rain down onto my chest and stomach. I heard Little Dick's finale as well at almost the same time. He was even louder than the night before. Paul was still moaning softly as I mopped up my semen but then he let loose with a very emphatic, "Oh my God!". I turned over and was fast asleep within seconds and the next thing I knew was Simon's 'Wakey-wakey' call.
"God," he said, once six bleary faces were facing him, "Smells like the inside of a Turkish wrestler's jockstrap in here!"
Only Clyde was awake enough to retaliate.
"And you'd be the one to goddam know, wouldn't you?"
He burrowed back down under his duvet as Simon took another swipe at the mound in his bed
"Come on get up and get washed, you mangy creatures," he called out and left the room hurriedly.
I vowed that Simon must get his comeuppance one morning.
I crawled out went off to the heads sporting my usual morning hardon. Fergie gave a little whistle as I went past and Ghazi grinned at me and followed me in. As usual Little Dick was in the heads before anyone else. He must wake up very early as he was already lathering up his nether regions and was about to dunk his cock and balls in the water in the sink in front of him. I don't think Ghazi had seen this performance before and was staring at the lad's foaming prick and pendulous nuts. For someone just a bit older than us but not very big for his age his bollocks swung quite low. I poked Ghazi in the back and asked which sink did he want. He went to the one next to Little Dick and spent the time as the sink filled with water watching the rest of Little Dick's genital ablutions. In the end Dick went out and Ghazi and I were left alone.
"OK last night," I said, wiping my face dry with my towel.
"Thank you," he replied, quietly, "Hamed is much better now. He knows you all want to be friends and he's trying very hard to get over his silly ideas..."
I made wanking movements.
"And that's OK?"
He smiled that delectable smile and nodded shyly.
"It's good," was his only reply.
As we finished our washing and drying so the others drifted in, Hamed last and... surprise, surprise..... he was chatting to Clyde.
I had put on the blue pair of Clyde's briefs I had on the day previously as, in my opinion they were still clean. I saw Little Dick was leafing through a work folder just arrayed in a pair of bright green briefs and Ghazi held up the red ones he'd worn yesterday and slipped them on. In the end six of us were standing by our beds just in pairs of briefs as Clyde came out of the heads finally attired in his silk pyjama trousers. He surveyed his entourage, as it were, and laughed.
"Goddam it, boys, you would make a good advertisement for them there panties. Look at that goddam McJazz," he pointed at Ghazi, "I'll tell my daddy and he'll arrange a photo shoot!"
We laughed and some of us gave him a good old-fashioned two-fingered salute and then finished dressing.
3O: Settling In:
I had found that lessons so far hadn't been too difficult. I was coping well with the work, which did stretch those of us who, I must say were a bit brighter than some of the others in the class. None of our classes were over fifteen and I was generally in with Paul and Clyde who were pretty bright and were at my level most of the time. Clyde was particularly bright and kept up his usual dialogue - often a monologue - with whomsoever was teaching us. I only had a couple of classes scheduled with Fergie - History and Geography - and he seemed OK in those. Ghazi and I sat next to each other in Maths and he was very good at that. I didn't have any classes with Hamed other than the extra Science and Little Dick seemed to have special attention in that he was in a small group which Mrs McCrae took.
So the next few weeks went by. Rugger on Mondays and Thursdays was interesting in that our teams were made of all us in the dorm plus the eight new bugs in the form below and we played against the same two forms in Garforth's house. As well as the games master looking after about four games on the go we also had one or two Sixth Formers who reffed our game and took us through practice moves. We were lucky in that Simon was assigned to us and he really did know his game. He and the other Sixth Former had us doing all sorts of manoeuvres and I thought he was almost as good as the two Williams brothers at my original Rugby Club.
My position was now definitely at lock forward. Hamed was in the second row in front of me and in a couple of scrums I shoved my hand up the leg of his shorts and gave his balls a friendly squeeze. He didn't say anything but he gave me a smile as we came off the field.
On the other games afternoons Ghazi and I did weight-training with Simon. We thoroughly enjoyed this and I felt I was getting quite toned even after the first three weeks. Then something happened which made it even more enjoyable.
On the Friday of the fourth week of term we had finished our session with Simon. He'd taken away our sweats to put in the washer so, as usual, just clad in shorts and singlet, Ghazi and I had run back to the dorm house to shower and change.
I was soaping up under the hot water when Ghazi joined me and I soaped his back after he'd done mine. I couldn't help it but the touch of his hands on my back gave me a hardon I couldn't control. I had to turn towards him to wash the soap away. My hardon hit him as I turned and in moments he was on his knees with half my cock in his mouth. I couldn't do anything, my hormones took over. I held his head as he bobbed back and forth on my absolutely rigid prick. He couldn't quite take in all my five and half inches but his lips had rolled back my foreskin and his tongue was racing around my oh so sensitive rim. I felt my cock begin to spasm and then I came and squirted jet after jet of my boycream into his still sucking mouth. In the end he opened his mouth as the last couple of spurts must have filled him and my spunk dripped down to his chin as his tongue wiped round my now spunk-sticky prick.
I had to take my rod out of his mouth as quickly as I could as the sensitivity of my knob was too great to endure any more. I dropped to my knees and planted my mouth over his. Our tongues met and I tasted my precious boycream which he then swallowed.
I lifted him up, still with the water sluicing over us, dropped to my knees and took his rigid, brown and pink circumcised five inches right into my mouth. I sucked and licked and massaged his prick, back and forth, with my lips and he shot a wondrous load of his sweet- tasting boycream very quickly all over the inside of my waiting mouth.
I stood up and clasped my arms round him almost lifting him up to my height and our mouths joined again. He sucked some of his own come off my tongue and we stood for ages with the water gushing over us just holding each other. In the end we broke apart and I turned the shower off. We didn't say anything but picked up our towels and mopped each other dry. We were both so happy we didn't have to say anything. I kissed him again and we went into the bedroom and got dressed.
How our adventure hadn't been burst in upon I don't know because as we were just dressing there was the usual influx of others who had just finished their particular sporting activities.
3P: Time Passes:
The rest of the term went swimmingly. Ghazi and I had three more sessions which were not mentioned in between. I guess Simon thought something was up between us because he did say something rather enigmatic one day about us and extra-curricular activities. We didn't dare do more as Paul told us one night that he'd heard on the grapevine there was a bit of a kerfuffle in Mr William's house as one of the Sixth Formers had been found with a Second Year boy in his bed by another jealous Sixth Former. The other kids in the House hushed it up but any 'special friendships' were looked at with suspicion. I didn't enquire whether he knew of any in our House but Ghazi and I did not indulge again until the last week of term.
I think Fergie and Hamed had also had an encounter or two as they were always working together and were always talking together in Arabic. I did have one chat with Ghazi and he more or less said that Hamed and Fergie were, at least, wanking each other off. Clyde and Hamed were also becoming close buddies with golf and, more recently fencing, as the common denominator there.
Clyde was also the ringleader of any little plot or happening. With his ever ready wit and constant stream of chat and banter he kept everyone amused. He, in fact, organised early morning reprisals against Simon in the last week of term. He woke us up about five minutes before Simon was due and we all pounced on him - including Hamed - and held him down and gave him a good tickling finishing up with overturning him and each of us giving him a good whack on the arse. Simon didn't turn a hair and took it all in good part, so much so that the next morning four of the Sixth Formers came in and the lot of us found ourselves on the floor being given a serious awakening.
Our nightly wanking became even more noisy as the term went on. We were all so used to everyone now tossing off that inhibitions, after dark, were lowered and the slap, slap, slap of masturbatory activity almost became synchronised. What was strange was that the activity was never referred to during the day. The only time I heard anything, other than Paul's often- used derogatory term of 'wanker', was the rainy day Ghazi and I returned from a strenuous weights session to find Hamed and Clyde sitting on their beds because of cancelled golf with Clyde in the middle of a monologue which must have been started by some rather private discussion.
"This shrink......" Clyde paused as we came in. "Just telling Hammer here about this goddam shrink my mother sent me to at Easter. She had got the goddam idea that I was doing things to myself which boys do."
I looked at Hamed who was a bit surprised at our entry and Clyde's continuing with the rather personal revelations and he began to colour under his brownness. But Clyde continued unabashed.
"He said it was all OK, like that boy told you Hammer, he said it was the inalienable right of any red-blooded American boy to whack off as much as he wants. He said that the continual expression of my sexuality was goddam paramount to the full development of my goddam ego and the basic substance of my existence and that I should goddam set and experience ever-widening goals. I goddam know that's what he said because he gave me a copy of his goddam book and that's what it says on page one hundred and goddam six!"
He looked round at us as if he was expecting approbation. We hadn't noticed that Little Dick had followed us in.
"Huh," he said, "What the hell does that mean? What's your ego? Is that your prick and does it really get bigger if you do it lots?"
Well, we just fell about. Poor Dick was very upset because we laughed. I knew that he was very slow on the uptake for general school work and I had noticed that he rarely entered into conversations but always listened intently, though. I and Paul had helped him a lot with his English and his maths prep but it took a lot of hard graft on his part to absorb it. He was a very nice, kind lad though. Fanatically keen on rugger and was a good scrum half for the House team.
I had found out why Paul made nightly forays to wake him at about three o'clock. He'd had a history of bed-wetting and Paul had really taken him under his wing and he was very proud he hadn't had any accidents this year so far. These occurred, so Paul told me, if he got upset. I also learnt that his parents were getting on in years. His granddad on one side was a Lord and that's why he was an Honourable. His parents had lost a lot of money in the Lloyds Insurance fiasco so that's why they lived in Africa. His other grandfather was a very old, retired cathedral organist so that's why Nelson had stayed with him over the summer.
I turned round and grabbed his arm.
"Nah," I said, "We're not laughing at you. It's some foolish American drivel. Your ego is who you are and as far as I know you can exercise the other as much as you like. Ask Clyde, he should know!"
I must say, Clyde kept his cool. All he said was that the shrink had also told him he wasn't to worry because all boys did it and it did no harm. Little Dick looked quite relieved and we heard no more and I listened carefully that night and Little Dick indulged fervently!
3Q: My first Term Ends:
After half term quite a few boys wore the kilt on Sundays to Chapel, including Fergie. Ghazi asked me one day after we'd been for a workout if he could try mine on. I asked him why didn't he wear his Arab robes some time. He said he only did that in his own country and didn't really want to go back there. He was much happier in Britain and wanted to live here always. Anyway he looked very smart in my kilt and I said perhaps we could make him an honorary Scotsman. He was highly amused with the rule that nothing is worn under the kilt and I almost told him about Tom pissing from a great height but didn't in case I was tempted to tell him what happened after.
Just before the end of term all six of us had a letter from Mr and Mrs Campbell inviting us to celebrate Hogmanay with them and Paul over the New Year. Neither Fergie nor Little Dick could accept but the other four of us said we could. I had been worried about being a nuisance for Aunt Margaret over the whole Christmas holiday and as in Scotland the New Year is the bigger celebration this was perfect. In fact, it was arranged that I could go to Paul's on New Year's Eve and stay until term began and I would be ferried back.
On the last night of term I looked back at my first experience of living with other boys away from home. I had done well in my studies. From my marks I was either first or second in every subject in the classes I was in. I had also grown another inch in the three months and my cock was longer too. I hadn't made an exact measurement of it but was determined it would be one of the first things I would do when I got to Aunt Margaret's! I was also very much more muscular. The three or four workouts a week, plus the rugger training and games, were certainly having a good effect. Although my hormones were working overtime I hadn't got into any trouble. Once I had a slight altercation with two older lads from another House who made some remark about Little Dick being 'a little runt' and a 'right little cunt' when he made a spectacular delivery of the ball from a scrum in a game I was watching but not playing as I had ricked my ankle earlier in the week. I just said from behind them that the little runt was a friend of mine and they said no more. Given I was a couple of inches taller than both they probably thought better of saying more.
Being in a room with six other hormonally charged lads meant my dick was almost constantly ready for action. I never missed a night without jacking off in bed and from the buzz of activity I don't think the other lads did too. Also, there were few days when I didn't linger in the heads for another quick but satisfying wank at some time. My four encounters with Ghazi were highlights of the term but I still lusted after Simon and I couldn't wait to get back to the village and link up again with Tom. I looked at our photo every morning as it was propped up in my locker.
I wrote to him every other week and his letters came promptly back. He managed to convey his feelings about missing me by reminding me of various places we'd been during the summer. Each was somewhere where we had stopped to admire more than the scenery.
Michael and Darryll were also getting on well from the information I gleaned from two letters from him. He said that Darryll had already been offered an university place at Sheffield to study engineering and he was going to miss him after the summer.
I wrote a thankyou letter to Dr Williams saying I thought his cunning plan had worked well and I was so grateful. A handwritten card came back with just the words 'I thought so' and signed with a drawing of a pipe belching smoke.
I had a couple of short notes from Stuart who seemed to spend more time with his nerdish friend than at home and had not a word from my mother.
So term ended and on the last day Aunt Margaret came and collected me. She remarked immediately on the amount I'd grown although she'd seen me at the half-term weekend visit. I had to tell her about school life and I don't think I stopped talking all the way back to the village. She did say I was even more like my dad.
To be continued:
Other stories you might be interested to read are: Spying on My Brothers: Incest Section: May 2000 Easter Rugger Tours and after: H/S Section: Jun 2000 Jordan's Story: H/S Section: July 2000
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