Mark and Me
by c m
Chapter 14
From Liverpool Street, Mark came home with me. His parents were going to come and pick him up the following day. On the train journey, tiredness suddenly overwhelmed me and I slept most of the way. Apparently my head had fallen onto Mark's shoulder and he had put an arm round me - to the disapproving looks of a couple of ladies opposite. My mother picked us both up from the station and wanted to know all about the trip. We stuck to the hockey and to the fact that we had won.
"And guess who was player of the tournament, Mum...Mark."
"Oh well done, Mark. I'm sure Chris was proud of you."
I was. In so many ways.
Once home, all I wanted was to soak in a bath. Mark chatted to my mother while I went upstairs and filled the tub with water as hot as I could stand and some bath oil that was meant to relieve muscle tiredness. As I unpacked my bag, I found a pair of black briefs with a piece of paper inside. On the paper was a note. For my English Lion. Something to remember me by. Write to me. With love always Max xxx
I tried the briefs on. They were a perfect fit. I took them off and slipped them, and the note, into my bedside cabinet and went to the bathroom, where I stepped into the bath and sank down until the water was up to my chin. I found myself wondering what Max was doing. I got hard thinking about him. I'd been in the bath about twenty minutes when the door opened and Mark came in.
"Room for one more?"
"Room for you for sure."
He got in at the other end and water started to gurgle down the overflow. He put his legs alongside mine and we both luxuriated in the heat.
"Are you as totally fucked as I am?" I asked.
"Yes. And horny as I am, my cock wants some time off. Tim was insatiable."
"Did you fuck him?"
"No. He was definitely interested, but we both fell asleep before we got there. And maybe it was just the alcohol talking. I feel guilty about having him there all night."
"Don't. You were the one who taught me to enjoy things as they come. And I was perfectly happy to be with Max all night."
"Max was lovely, wasn't he? Really nice."
"Yes...yes he was."
When we got out of the bath, we went and lay on the bed and both of us fell fast asleep.
I came to with Mark shaking my shoulder. "Your Mum says dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes."
We threw some clothes on and went down to join my parents. Dad wanted to know all about the tournament.
"Did you have a chance to get to know some of the boys from the other teams?"
Mark glanced at me and I had to suppress my desire to giggle.
"Yes, Dad. I met a very nice guy from one of the German teams called Max. I think we'll stay in touch, and another couple of boys from Holland and Belgium too."
"And some of the guys from the other English team." added Mark.
"And how easily did you win your games?"
"Varied. Some of them were straightforward, but with the Germans it was a close shave."
Mark nearly choked on his water and I slapped him on the back.
In bed that night, Mark said.
"You were wicked making that quip about a close shave."
"I couldn't resist." I slid a hand into Mark's groin. "And it is damn sexy. We have Max to thank for that."
"Yeah - and three weeks to grow it back before school."
I nodded. "But in the meantime...."
We tried. We really tried, but we were, both of us, literally shagged out. We settled for a kiss and a cuddle. It had been fun, but we were both almost relieved to be able to get back to just having one another with no complications.
By the morning our libido had perked up enough for us enjoy a gentle sixty-nine, and we were almost back to our old selves.
When Mark's mother arrived, she and Mark arranged with my mother for me to go and stay for a few days towards the end of the holiday - and then they were off and I was on my own. We'd kissed goodbye and promised each other we'd make up for lost time when we met up again in a couple of weeks.
I had a very quiet few days. I hadn't realised how much the tournament had taken out of me, but after three days my body had recovered. In every way. I called James and he came round. I told him all about the matches we'd played and the guys we'd met. I told him all about Max, which made him horny, and we ended up having a wank together which was satisfying and uncomplicated.
I went into town and bought three more sets of black briefs like the ones Max had sent me. I thought I looked sexy in them. A week later a letter arrived with a German postmark. I took it up to my room before opening it. It was, of course, from Max. He said a lot of nice and kind things. He said a few things that made me glad that I had taken it up to my room unopened. He told me about what he was doing and how he hoped to be at University in the autumn. He was going to specialise in English which meant he would have to spend a year in England as part of his course in the second year. He hoped we would be able to see each other then if not before. He told me that he thought of me often. He hoped I had found and approved of his little gift in my bag. He sent me his love.
I felt guilty at not having written to him, so I sat down and did so.
The rest of the two weeks passed uneventfully. I passed my driving theory exam, and got all geared up to learn to drive and take my test in the summer holiday. My grandparents offered to buy me a car if and when I passed.
Then came the day to go to Mark's and I realised just how much I had missed him.
My mother drove me down, and, as we pulled into the drive, I saw the front door open and Mark, with a huge smile on his face, rushed out to greet me. We embraced. We waited impatiently for our mothers to have a cup of tea, but once they had said their goodbyes Mark took me up to the guest room where we immediately stripped off. He saw my new black briefs.
"Very Max. Very you. Very, very sexy."
I shucked the briefs off.
He kissed me hungrily. We lay on the bed and took hold of one another, masturbating each other to a climax. As our seed spurted over one another Mark said.
"Fuck, I've missed you."
'You too, Mark. So much.'
If anything, we suddenly wanted each other even more. We didn't hesitate. It was urgent and we barely spoke. I took him and then he took me and then we went to clean up. In the shower I told him about Max's letter.
"That boy's fallen for you, you know. Not that I blame him."
"I love you, Mark. I like Max, but I love you."
"I know."
He kissed me. And we ended up getting hard again. Everything was back to normal. Mark and I had a lot of sex over the next few days. I found I was enjoying being fucked more and more, and our relationship became more even in terms of who fucked who. We both liked this. It just felt right. We had also started to regrow our pubic hair - although we both kept our balls shaved.
With only a few days to go before term started, I headed home. When I got there, there was another letter from Max waiting for me.
I smiled at the memories his letter brought back. It would, I thought, be nice to see him again. The summer term was soon on us. It was my A-level year and exams loomed at the end of term. I was a decent cricketer, but nothing special and I was allowed to opt out to focus on my exams. Mark was playing for the 2nd XI which meant he spent a lot of time practising or playing matches. I would occasionally go down and bowl at him in the nets. If we stayed long enough we would sometimes be the only two left, and we could take advantage of the pavilion to wank or suck each other off when the opportunity arose.
It was difficult to find a safe place or time to fuck, no matter how much we wanted to. We did use the boiler room once when we knew that Johnny was not around for the weekend, and it was glorious to be able to be inside Mark and let our two bodies become one.
I got the occasional letter from Max. In one of them he enclosed a photo of himself, shirtless and with a huge grin on his face. On the back of the picture he had written 'With love, Max.' I had already sent him one of me, and one of me and Mark, in response to his letter during the previous holidays.
The term passed quickly. Mark came to stay with me on the last night of half term and we caught the train back to school the next day together. We spent our one night together fucking each other silly and we were both a little tender the next morning. Just as well the train seats were soft and comfortable.
Exams were suddenly on me. Amazingly, everything just seemed to come together. My revision had been thorough, and the exam papers delivered question after question for which I felt totally prepared. It was an odd sensation, but I knew I had performed not just OK but well. Really well.
My exams finished with a week of term still to go. I was allowed to pretty much get up when I wanted and do whatever I chose to do. The school had also encouraged my parents to let me come back the following terms to attempt Oxbridge entrance. I had decided that I would like to try and read History at Oxford. They agreed. As a consequence, Mr. Wickham asked me to go and see him a couple of days before the end of term.
"Come in, Chris. I understand that you are coming back next term to attempt Oxford entrance. I would very much like you to be Head of House for the term. I intend to appoint Mark Taylor as Deputy Head, and for him to take over from you for the remainder of the year once you leave at the end of the term. Would you be happy to take on that role?"
"I would be honoured, sir."
"Excellent. And good luck."
He shook my hand.
I walked back into school a very happy boy. The Head of House and Deputy Head of House had adjoining rooms in a separate part of the building. Next term looked like it was going to be good for all sorts of reasons.
Mark was jubilant. "We are going to have a great term, Chris."
The summer holiday was nearly nine weeks long. Mark and his parents had invited me to join them for a week in Italy which I had, of course, accepted with alacrity. But I also wanted to pass my driving test, so got straight on with lessons the moment I got home. Mum also let me drive her around whenever possible. I took to it pretty much like a duck to water and after five weeks my instructor was confident that I was ready to take the test which had been booked for the end of the holiday. I would be away in Italy for a week, then come back and have another couple of lessons before my test.
In the fourth week of the holiday, my A-level results arrived. I had achieved 3 A grades. Mum and Dad were thrilled - and so was Mark. And so was Max when I wrote to him to tell him all about it and of my plans for the summer.
My week in Italy was magical. We were staying in a lovely hotel on the shores of Lake Como. The staff didn't bat an eyelid at the fact that Mark and I shared a double room. In fact, Alessandro, the extremely good looking 19-year old barman, told us how nice it was to have two fellow gay young men in the hotel. Particularly two as handsome and sexy as us. Mark and I decided it was tournament time again and invited him to our room on our last evening after he had closed the bar.
His slightly olive coloured skin and his dark black hair were complemented by soft lips and deep brown eyes and, it became clear as he stripped off, a beautifully sculpted body. His cock was not particularly big, but it stood stiff as a ramrod above his balls. He was very sexy. His English was good enough to indicate that he wanted both of us to fuck him - and that he wanted us to use the condoms which he had brought with him. The best part of wearing a condom was when Alessandro slid it over my cock. Mark went first, so I got to stroke Alessandro and fondle his balls and then finally suck him as Mark reached his climax. As Mark pulled out, Alessandro went down on my cock and took me all the way in. It was the first time I had experienced being deep throated and it was spectacular. I came almost instantly. After some kissing and cuddling, Alessandro flipped me on my back, rolled a condom onto me, and impaled himself on my now re-engorged cock. He was an extremely vociferous lover, shouting unintelligible Italian as he rode me energetically. When I shot my load inside him, he cooed with pleasure before rolling off me and then giving us a both a big hug and a kiss.
"Mille grazie. That was excellent sex. My first English boys. It is nice to sleep with beautiful boys like you. I'm sorry you go home tomorrow."
It was a good end to a good holiday.
Once home, I had my final driving lessons and then went to take my test. I drove alright, but I think the lady tester fancied me - just as well she didn't know the truth about me - so any doubts about my passing were irrelevant. I passed. I had my licence and I could drive. Mark was overjoyed for me...and for us.
"Fantastic. Now you can come down here any time."
My grandparents were as good as their word and bought me a three-year old Ford Focus. They also said that they would pay for my first three years insurance so that I could build up a no claims bonus. It was a great car and I was only sorry that there were only a few days left before term began again.
That final term was fantastic. Academically, I got one-on-one tuition with a teacher I liked on a subject I found fascinating. Unlike A levels where you are taught to learn and remember, I was taught how to think and to explore. I loved it.
I was the only boy left in the House from my year; none of my peers in my House had come back to attempt Oxbridge. There was the usual intake of new boys who probably saw their Head of House as a remote figure of authority - although I did my best to make them feel welcome and at ease.
I had been made a School Prefect which carried some nice privileges and helped me get to know some boys from other houses with whom I had not had much contact before. Ron Sullivan quickly became a good friend.
My room was spacious, comfortable and, best of all, next to Mark's. It made getting together for sex with him a whole lot easier - and we took advantage of this ruthlessly, managing a wank or a suck pretty much whenever we wanted it. We even managed go the whole way occasionally. My Oxford entry exam happened about three weeks before the end of term. I reckoned I'd done OK, and I heard, before the end of term, that I had been asked up for interview. It also gave me three weeks of doing virtually nothing, and the Headmaster got me involved in all sorts of things that might otherwise have been left to the Staff. He also wondered if I had had any ideas of what to do in my nine months off ahead of Uni. he suggested that I might like to be a student master at the Junior School who were looking for someone to coach hockey and teach the younger boys French. The school was just up the hill from ours, so it looked like a great way to stay close to Mark as well as to earn some money. I went up to meet the headmaster of the Junior school and was offered the job.
I was sorry to say goodbye at the end of term. Mr. Wickham thanked me and wished me well. I swear he had a twinkle in his eye when he said that he was sure Mark would have time to stay in touch when I was up the hill next term.
My interview at Merton College was surreal. They asked me all sorts of things that didn't appear to have much to do with my entrance paper but I did my best to field them and respond intelligently.
Whatever they were looking for, I apparently delivered. A card came through the letter box a week late, just before Christmas, offering me a Postmastership ñ their word for a scholarship - to the College for the following October.
Mum and Dad were ecstatic. Mark wanted to come and congratulate me in person but sadly that would have to wait until after Christmas. I felt the need to tell Max - urgently. I asked Mum and Dad if I could make a call to Germany. They said yes.
The dial tone was different from the one in the UK. A male voice answered and it wasn't Max.
"This is Chris from England. Is Max there, please?"
"Ahhh.. you are the boy Max met at the hockey, yes?"
"Yes."
"He tells us all about you. I am his father, Bernt. A moment please."
A few seconds later Max was on the line.
"CHRIS! How wonderful to hear from you. What is up?"
"I just wanted to tell you that I have been accepted at Oxford. I will be there for three years from next October."
"Das ist fantastiche, Chris. Well done! You are a genius as well as being super sexy! Will you have time to come to Germany?"
"I don't know, Max. I'd love to see you again - and you know that you would be very welcome if you had time to come to England."
"OK. I will see. Perhaps in the summer vacation. It would be useful for my course...I will see what my parents say. How is Mark?"
"He's fine, Max. He sends his love."
"Give mine to him too."
"Of course, Max. And have a great Christmas."
"You too, Chris. If I am a very good boy, perhaps St. Nicholas will put you in my stocking!"
"Take care, Max. Love you."
"Love you too, Chris."
Christmas came and went, and then Mark came to stay over New Year. Mark, James and I all went out partying on New Year's Eve together and had a great time. Mark and I eventually got home at about 4am, exhausted, and fell into bed.
When we came to at about midday on New Year's Day, the sun was streaming through the window. I went downstairs to make some coffee and found a note from Mum saying that they hoped we had had a good evening, and that they were going out for the day to visit my grandparents and would be away overnight.
I took the coffee back upstairs to Mark. He was sitting up in bed with his hair all tousled in the way I found so sexy. After coffee we went and showered to get rid of the stale smell of sweat, alcohol and cigarette smoke that seems to cling to you after a party. Then we went back to bed to welcome in the New Year properly.
With the day stretching uninterrupted in front of us, we made love over and over again - but it was best when Mark rode me in the way that had become special to us, with me buried deep inside the boy I loved, his cock in my hand and his cum spurting over my chest when he came.
Mark also told me that his parents had invited me to go skiing with them in the Easter holiday. I'd never been skiing, but Mark told me I'd soon pick it up. A week away with Mark learning something new and exciting sounded wonderful. I couldn't wait.
Going back to school as a teacher was a little weird - even if the children were only prep school boys. I soon fell into the routine, however. There was another student master there from a different public school called Jolyon Fleming and we soon became firm friends. He was dark where I was blond, and he reminded me a little of the Italian barman, Alessandro.
Teaching French to eight year olds was reasonably straightforward. We used a book and film strip that did pretty much all the work provided you did a minimum of preparation. The boys seemed to enjoy it and appeared to learn at least something.
Coaching hockey was a joy. The boys were keen and there was a nucleus of talent that promised well. I asked the Head if I could ask Mark to come up and share his talents one day. He agreed and the skills masterclass that Mark gave was a real highlight of our coaching. We won most of our matches, too, losing only once all term.
On my days off, I would sometimes go and visit Mark and he would occasionally come and visit me ñ in which case we spent the afternoon in bed. We had to be discrete, although I think Jolyon had a pretty good idea of our relationship. It didn't bother him in the slightest - and he was too busy chasing the under-matron anyway. He eventually asked me about Mark, and I told him the story. He was interested because his brother, Rupert, was gay but his parents had reacted badly when he came out, so he was particularly surprised - but pleased - at the way both Mark's and my parents had reacted positively.
"Rupert would like you - he's always had a thing for blonds, and you are, if I may say so, drop dead gorgeous. I don't fancy you, but it's the truth."
The only inconvenience came towards the end of term when I slipped while umpiring in a school match and twisted my knee badly. Not only did it mean I was hobbling around the place, it also meant that I certainly wouldn't be doing any skiing over Easter.
Mark was, of course, disappointed.
"Yeah, I know, Mark. I was really looking forward to it. Still, after a week apart, we'll at least have some fun catching up."
His face cracked in a grin. "There is that, I suppose."
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