On Christmas Day in the Morning
by Jolyon Lewes
Chapter 3
On Christmas Day in the Morning
Christmases in Germany were wonderful. There always seemed to be snow, the vast pine forests looking like something out of a Brothers Grimm fairytale, the towns a visual treat with their fantastic decorations and the cosy little houses so – so gemütlich . Our modern married quarter was festooned inside with fir branches hung with shiny, glass baubles. The Christmas tree looked lovely. The drinks trolley was laden with interesting liqueurs and on Christmas morning my stocking was bulging excitingly. Later, it would be my trousers that bulged with excitement!
It had snowed all night and now it lay thickly on the ground. Church was at ten and I was once again in my school uniform, topped with a furry anorak. Jenny and Neil's family sat next to mine so I had the pleasure of having Jenny on one side and Neil on the other. He wore a parka which reached mid-thigh so as he walked into church it looked as if he had no trousers on but of course he was in his little grey shorts again. The church was modern and well-heated so everyone took off their outer garments for the hour-long service of carols and readings. As we waited for it to start Neil sat close beside me and vigorously rubbed his lovely thighs.
I was reminded of the boy at school who'd asked me to rub his legs warm and I wondered what it would be like to feel Neil's bare thighs with my fingers. In the House of God I tried so hard not to imagine probing inside Neil's shorts but it was impossible. Thankfully, when it was time for a carol I could concentrate on singing. I might have been out of tune a few times because I felt Neil nudging me and looking at me with the faintest hint of a smile. I tried to pay due attention to Jenny but such was the attraction of having Neil's body almost in contact with mine I think I failed.
Walking home after church, Jenny told me they hadn't yet opened their presents.
"We're doing it as soon as we get home but it shouldn't take more than an hour so shall I come round to see you about twelve-thirty?"
"That would be super, Jenny. Lunch won't be till well after two and I can show you my new record player."
At twelve-thirty Jenny came to the front door and I whisked her up to my bedroom, together with a nice drink for each of us. I showed her my main present, a portable record player and was thrilled when she gave me the new Beatles LP, With the Beatles , as my present. Luckily I'd bought her a present too, and we lounged about – rather demurely – playing my new record and enjoying our drinks.
"Are they new trousers, Frankie?"
"Yes," I said, standing up. "They're a bit too warm to wear indoors but Mum said they cost a lot so I'll have to be grateful. I wish they weren't so itchy."
"Nice and tight, Frankie. Do you like my new necklace?"
I admired her necklace and poured us another drink. We listened to All My Loving, trying to sing along with it. Then we talked about other things and when Till There Was You came on we just sat and slurped our drinks and thought. Then Jenny spoke again.
"Neil threw a bit of a tantrum after church. Dad's bought him some of those German leather shorts to wear. They're absolutely TINY! Dad told him he needn't take them back to school but he must wear them here in Germany. It's over two years before we go back to England so poor Neil's going to get a lot of use from them. He's wearing them now."
"I can see why Neil's not best pleased," I said, hoping Jenny wouldn't see my burgeoning erection.
"That's why he threw the tantrum. He was in tears when I left. Hope you don't mind but he likes you and I said he could come here and show them to you."
"Super idea," I said. "I'll nip down and get another glass. And another bottle."
I looked out of my window, perhaps hoping to see Neil in his Lederhosen. The sun was shining on the thick carpet of firm, dry snow and kids, wrapped up like Eskimos, were testing their new bikes and sledges. A man crunched through the snow, walking his dog.
The Beatles were now singing I Wanna be Your Man and all of a sudden, I wanted to be Neil's man, to rescue him from his father and take him off into the snowy forest – with him in Lederhosen , obviously – and find a remote woodman's hut to snuggle down in.
My erection was now epic so I sat down quickly on my bed, next to Jenny. If she thought my erection was for her it could lead to tricky situations in the future but if she thought it was for Neil she'd have good reason never to speak to me again. Then I dashed down to fetch a glass for Neil and a couple of bottles of beer in case he didn't drink wine.
I'd been back in my bedroom only five minutes when there was a gentle knock on the door. Who could it be? Mum would call out, Dad would just come in. Who on earth would knock?
It was Neil.
"Oh! Come in, Neil!" I only just resisted the urge to kiss his lovely face. I motioned him to the chair and sat on my bed as quickly as possible for there was frantic excitement in the front of my trousers. He remained standing.
He was wearing a navy blue sweater over a pale blue shirt, brown shoes and black ankle socks and - Jenny was right - the tiniest pair of Lederhosen I'd ever seen. They were proper ones, in black leather, with two zips at the front and decorative scrolls on the sides but really no legs at all! They were quite tight, showing every contour of his marvellous little bottom. The legs, such as they were, had no turn-ups and the plain hems pressed into his flesh, exposing at the rear a tiny but finger-licking glimpse of bare bottom. He looked just like some of the German boys I'd lusted over that week.
With a surge of passion, I saw for the first time Neil's legs bare to the very top. He was a bit taller than me and had beautiful, long legs with neither a blemish nor a hair to be seen. They were a uniformly cream colour at the top, with a slight tan beginning three inches down his thighs, presumably marking where his rugby shorts finished and, indeed, where his grey school shorts finished. Absolutely fabulous!
"Would you like a Christmas drink?" I said, passing a bottle of beer to Neil.
"Thanks, Frankie but I've come to tell Jenny Mum wants her to help in the kitchen. We've got eight for lunch."
"Oh God!" said Jenny, looking at her watch. "Doesn't time fly! But you could stay with Frankie for a bit longer, Neil. Is that okay, Frankie?"
"Yes, of course," I said, meaning "Ooh, yes, yes, yes!"
Jenny stood to go and I gave her a nice kiss. "Merry Christmas, Jenny."
So that left Neil and me together. He sat down and drank some of his beer.
"Nice record player, Frankie," he said, standing up again. He'd obviously been crying. "Can we hear The Beatles again?"
"Good idea," I said, putting the needle back on the record but lowering the volume a little. "I like your shorts. Very German."
"I told you last night I didn't like shorts but Dad said I was getting a bit uppity and he said I've got to wear shorts to remind me I'm only young. So he gives me these bloody things for Christmas! They cost a lot of money and I'm supposed to be grateful but honestly, I've never worn anything so humiliating! And I'm sixteen in March! And look at that snow out there! It's bloody freezing!"
He bent over to look at my record cover and his shorts rose at the rear to expose more bare bottom. He must have realised because he quickly straightened up and grabbed the hems of his shorts with both hands to try to pull them down over his bottom but they hardly budged. He sat down again, blushing.
I put the LP cover on my lap and pretended to study it. As you'll have guessed, I put it there to hide the huge bulge in my trousers. Then I looked up at Neil and smiled.
"You looked very smart in church today, in your grey suit. Did you have a bust up with your dad about these leather shorts?"
"Yeah, a real humdinger."
"Well, why don't you ask to wear the grey shorts all the time? That way he'll get what he wants and you won't have to wear those tiny little things that show so much bare flesh."
"Nice idea, Frankie but Mum's going to want me to get lots of wear out of these wretched things. She's already taken my jeans away. I'll just have to get used to feeling cold and humiliated."
"Do you feel humiliated right now, alone with me?"
"A bit, but you're not making fun of me so it's not too bad."
"Well, there's the answer, Neil. You must spend more time alone with me."
What was I saying? Well, I'd just had a brilliant idea.
"Look, Neil, our parents will be away most of tomorrow at the Boxing Day races at Detmold and Jenny said she'll be with girlfriends all day. So what's to stop you coming here and we could play records and things and drink beer and talk about our hatred of shorts."
Neil smiled. "I like it, Frankie, thanks very much. I know I'll have to wear these shorts so coming to you will keep me out of the cold and out of sight of other people. Let's do it!"
Now we were both smiling. He asked me if my trousers were a Christmas present and I said yes.
"I thought they were," he said. "They look very itchy. You keep scratching your legs."
"Do I? Yeah, the material's horrible but it was an expensive present so I've got to seem to be grateful."
"That's two of us in the same boat, then," said Neil. "Tell you what - when I come over tomorrow we could swap. We're about the same size. It's not fair that you can see my legs and I can't see yours. Not hairy, are they?"
"No, not at all," I said. "Look, Neil, can you keep a secret?"
Putting his hands on his knees he drew each hand slowly up the front of each thigh until they'd reached his shorts. He leaned forward, looking unbearably gorgeous. Then he spoke.
"Course I can."
"Well, don't for heaven's sake tell Jenny but I think I prefer boys to girls."
"I'd worked that one out already, Frankie. Your eyes have been glued to my legs since I got here!"
I felt myself blushing. "Oh God - was it so obvious?" I muttered.
"It takes one to know one," said Neil. "Or so they say at school. There's this boy in the form above me..... Oh God - look at the time! I must be off." He stood up and tugged uselessly at the hems of his shorts.
"I can't wait till tomorrow," I said, also standing up. "Shall we say midday?"
"Not a minute later. So much to talk about - and I'm dying to see you in these shorts!"
I made to open the door but Neil moved in front of me. "You gave Jenny a nice kiss, Frankie. Can I have one too?"
I obliged, tingling with a combination of nerves and joy. I caressed Neil's soft cheeks with the backs of my fingers. He was trembling.
"Merry Christmas, Neil. And by the way, you look fantastic!"
"So will you when you're in these shorts!"
Downstairs, he wished my parents a happy Christmas and sped off across the snow to his own house, leaving me deliriously happy. I whizzed upstairs to tidy my room and to get myself under control.
"It was nice to see Neil," said Mum as we tucked into Christmas lunch. "He looks so sweet in those little shorts but I think they're a bit too brief. I can't see you agreeing to wear anything so short, darling."
"No, Mum," I said, aware of another erection developing, "I'd rather die than wear anything like that!"
"His shorts looked just the right length to me," said Dad, who'd had a few sherries. "And leather shorts like that are so hard-wearing they'll last for years. I'll ask his father where he bought them. You'd be showing respect for the Germans if you wore some. You can speak their language, so why not dress like them, too? Neil looked very smart. A good example to younger boys."
Oh no! Dad's favourite words: 'respect,' 'smart,' 'example.' I quickly changed the subject, hoping he'd forget about buying me any Lederhosen . I said how much I liked my record player but that got Dad talking about The Beatles, criticising – you've guessed it – their haircuts, so I frantically tried to steer the conversation round to a safe subject, school.
Midnight couldn't come soon enough. My self-imposed ban on wanking on a holy day was over. I embarked on a frenzied session of self abuse, reliving Neil's visit to my bedroom and the way he blushed when he realised his bottom was showing. I imagined carrying him off to that woodman's hut in the forest, his tender body safe in my arms, his legs bare, his arms round my neck and his face close to mine.
But it would be even better than that on Boxing Day because my bedroom would be the woodman's hut and I was certain we'd be indulging in more than just a Christmas kiss.
Merry Christmas!
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
