Johnny Come Home
by Rafael Henry
Chapter 13
Winter in the relatively flat eastern counties of England can be long and tedious, and above all, windy. Especially in the Cambridgeshire fenland, in sharp contrast to the warmer atmosphere in the City of Truro, in the Royal County of Cornwall where my father moved to because the bosses in his field of work bid him to go there. We wait and wait for spring to finally arrive, and then it retreats for another couple of weeks before teasing us again, laughing at us. I will come, eventually. And then it does. The days are warmer and we are full of optimism and hope. As the sparkle of the snowdrops fades, the crocuses and primroses appear, then the daffodils bloom followed by the bluebells. All very lovely.
The east of England is dryer than Cornwall, and colder. Thus Eastertide in Truro was tolerable and good to be with my father Sean, and Garth his partner. They had taken a lease on the top floor apartment in a town house very close to the city centre, such as it is, and the Victorian gothic cathedral wedged into it's surrounding, taking in the old parish church as it went. I was thoroughly interrogated about my months with Adrean and the boys and I got through that unscathed as far as I could tell, without giving away any secrets. Both my dad and Garth probed quite deeply with their questions, and I know that they are still unsure about my sexuality, and I have no urgent desire to tell them. I'm in little doubt as to the direction my own ship is sailing, despite my host, Anna, thinking there's a decent percentage of hetero in me. But when she brings me up to another Thursday playtime, she's not fulling aware of my fertile imagination working overtime. She's given up on the standard penetrative sex and settled for mutual masturbation. When I get home from school, she's ironing as usual and I get my task to do. Putting it all away in drawers and cupboard shelves, and then changing out of school day clobber and into something more casual. Then she will appear, and after a little playfulness with her standing behind me while we watch what happens in the long mirror in front of us, we'll lie down on the bed. She watches, standing behind me, playing with a flaccid penis and watching as it grows. Adrean is still at work and the boys are at their rugger match, or practicing for the next one. What she does with me, she particularly likes, and so do I. Johnny has had a go at it, but he's no match for Anna's experience. The other thing about Anna is that it doesn't matter how long it takes, in fact the longer the better. Knowing that is a great comfort and makes the whole thing more enjoyable. She knows I'm not thinking about her, and for all I know she's not thinking about me either as she moves her mouth, lips and tongue; up and down, inside and out, as I'm turned over, and then back again. Her hands feel just like Johnny's. It could be him in reality, and it is him as far as I'm concerned.
There was one more 'Thursday' before I was due to leave for Cornwall. She was in the kitchen as usual but sitting on one of the stools with a hand on her stomach. She didn't look at all well, pale and anxious.
'Are you ok Anna?' I asked quietly, walking up to her.
Walking back from school I had developed more than the beginnings of an erection, in anticipation I suppose of our usual Thursday 'conversation'. I was still had the bump as it were, as I approached my dear host in the kitchen that afternoon.
'No, I can't today Alex. Sorry. I'm not feeling too good. I want to, you know that, but I don't think I can. I feel a bit sick. I've no idea why.'
Nor had I. Not at that point in time.
Quintus had a pension for the homo-erotic, unsurprisingly, and he would pose me lying down with my rear end as a focus for yet another charcoal drawing, the thing appearing as a deep and dark interior shadow between my legs, knees drawn up and wide apart, and me with one hand cupping my testicles, and if I was sufficiently moved by his fervent interest in me posed like that, I could induce a hard-on, at least for long enough for him to capture the moments. My message to him was pretty clear. Here I am, so why don't you take me, now, right here on this hairy white rug? I'm sure that's what his body was telling him to do, but the consequences were far too dire if I were ever to report his behaviour. He knew that was always the risk he rightly wasn't prepared to take.
I have posed John like that, with a perfect view of his bottom, all neat and slightly puckered, a pale pink and pristine. To me it's just like his fresh and clean mouth, or any other part of him. Every bit of the human body is essential, and plays a part in the life of the owner, in some way. I suppose boys are not expected to experience another boy in that way, but it does seem to me somehow rather curious that that part should have a double function that provides so much pleasure. Just a coincidence? Maybe. When I touch Johnny, it's the first place I visit with palms as we enjoy the first tentative and bewitching touch of our lips. The lightest touches on the boy's behind. It's not even particularly sexual. Not at that stage. It's the knowing that starts it all off. The loving part. The one thing that excites Johnny more than anything, the one thing above all else, is telling him that I love him. And I do, truly. Then he'll look up at me and I'll see tears forming. Oh what it is to be human.
I was in love with Quintus, for a while, and he with me, in his own way. That way. A grown man and a boy not yet pubescent. Not quite. I've been told that a lot of teens find boys at my stage utterly beguiling, in transition from one stage to the next. It's when we start thinking about sex; the possibility of it happening, and with whom. One morning I was boasting about what my body could do in terms of its physicality, how far I could leap, my time for the hundred yards, and other things it was now capable of. All this to tempt him into indiscretion of course. I snuck in a vague reference to my sexual development which made him look doubtful.
'I can Quintus.'
'Oh really?' He says glancing down at my hairless groin.
'Yes. Quite a lot of it actually.' I lied.
He looked at me the way he often did, with a hint of a frown whilst taking a deep breath. Naked and ready to pose for him, I turned my back on him, striking a rather 'I'm just an innocent little boy who finds himself very happy to be completely under your control' pose.
Due to more than one circumstance, I spent that night at Quintus's house. With him kneeling at my bedside during a prolonged 'I've just come to say good night' ritual, I revealed myself in a state of excitement. A final attempt to seduce him I suppose. In the minutes that followed, I proved that I wasn't fibbing about my claim. He told me he stayed with me until I slept, and then went downstairs to spend a largely sleepless night on the settee. In my sly deceitful way, I had treated Quintus appallingly. Shame on me.
Exams had started even before Easter at the Academy, music practicals mainly. I can play the piano reasonably competently, the cello far less well, but I went for the vox humana option which meant practicing two pieces with a younger volunteer musician who would provide the treble part to my alto part, thus enabling me to be tested on my ability to understand part singing and deliver the goods. The boy's name was Perry Merciful, bespectacled and earnest, aged twelve and a bit. As it happened, he sung in the local cathedral choir, which helped. What a fabulous west front that building has, and the wonderful painted nave ceiling. At the age of twelve Perry was approaching the inevitable voice change which would mean a sudden end to his performing, but by the end of May, he was still warbling away in his red cassock and surplice, like a lark. I know because one late afternoon I went and watched him sing, which I felt was the least I could do. I quickly identified him in the front row opposite me, sitting as I was in a seat behind six very noisy men who rather drowned out the boys in front of them. Between two men with tenor voices, I could see an inky hand, probably quickly penned homework details for lack of a scrap of paper at the end of a lesson. Perry, short for Peregrine, no less, had told me he was the only boy in the choir who attended a state school, the rest of the boys all at the posh school whose name was prefixed by the word 'Kings', most of whom lived next door to the Romanesque building. No surprise there. I imagined the boy with inky fingers settling down to an hour of homework with a yawn, after a long day in classrooms, and later, singing his heart out in praise of the Almighty. You have to hand it to those boys. It must be a huge commitment, not just for them but for their people too.
The boys come out of the north door at the end of their beautiful performance, and it was too. All but Perry ran off to their nearby school premises leaving my friend and musical partner to find his way home as usual. I walked him back to his house, a neat detached residence ten minutes away. During the last five minutes of our stroll, I had a desire to stop him in his tracks and kiss him on his sweet mouth. Of course I didn't because it would probably have been the most shocking thing ever to befall him. When we arrived at his front door that looked freshly painted in a sedate cream colour, he stopped and turned to face me, and closer than I expected.
'Thanks Alex. Will you come and watch me again; sometime?'
'Yes of course I will Perry.'
'Thanks.' He says, smiling. Thinking back now I'm sure if I had given him a quick peck on the cheek as I wanted too, and more, he would have welcomed it. A missed opportunity to taste another pair of lips. An odd thought occurred to me walking back to my lodgings, for that's what they are really. Kissing a boy wearing glasses? I did once back at S. Endellions. So many naughty things go on in changing rooms, like fingering through a dirty magazine, literally dirty by the time its gone through all those hands, with the owner's eyes trained on all the interesting bits in full colour whilst small penises swelled and got played with.
Half undressed, we kissed clumsily with Ian's specs on. That didn't work too well, but when he took them and laid them carefully on the wooden bench beside us, it was a cracker, with tongues and all. Never underestimate a boy in glasses. When I slipped my hand down, I encountered a pair of rather baggy 'Y' fronts which didn't auger well, but once inside I came across the most satisfying circumcised willy you might possibly wish for, bone hard. I'd had a very dry few weeks so to give and get that early evening was a treat. Being left-handed has its advantages when your wanking partner is right handed. We both looked down as we worked on each other, waiting for the first one to come, our pants around our thighs. I did first and put a couple of spurts of my best all over Perry's hand which didn't stop him thank goodness. He came, almost dry, the lovely lad, just seconds later. All done now and feeling quite good about it, we went our separate ways.
Having any kind of intimacy with Johnny was difficult, if nigh on impossible whilst I lived under Adrean and Anna's roof. The relentless foul weather didn't help either, so no bike rides into the landscape to lie in the warm grass to play.
But May brought better weather, and the start of the external examination season. With six weeks to go of my secondary education, hot long school trousers were abandoned in favour of flimsy shorts, at least in the evenings and at weekends. I had the use of Adrean's bike so John, Richard and I were up, off and away whenever possible. Yes, Richard too. All John's attempts to leave him at home failed. This was a situation that didn't suit John and me. So I needed a word with Richard.
'You know that John and I are friends don't you Richard?'
'Yes of course I do.'
'Well, sometimes we want to be on our own when we go out. Do you get that?'
'Yes, but why can't I come too? I won't get in the way of you two.'
'But you'll be there won't you.'
'Yes. But I want to come with you.'
'But you can't.'
'Yes I can. I am going to come.'
'No you're not .' I said getting crosser.
'I am. You can't stop me.'
'Look. Sometimes John and I need to be on our own Richard.'
'Why? So you can do it?'
'What do you mean by that Richard?'
'I know why you want to be alone together. So you can do it together.'
A pause while we look at each other. He has such a pretty face that boy, especially when he gets a bit worked up.
'I want to come. Please can I? Please? I'll be good, you see. I won't look. Anyway I know how you do it.' He says, shifting his position further back on his bed and raising his knees.
I took a step to my left as he smiles back at me. The little minx. I can see all the way up those delicious thighs to that flash of pale yellow inside where his soft pale pink willy resides. Ok, I give in.
Adrean took me for a drink at the Greene Man pub. It was to mark the end of my exams. I'm under age for pubs but we sat in the garden so it was easy enough. I had half of bitter, an English sort of beer, which was pretty disgusting, but on a warm Friday afternoon, refreshing.
'I don't how it happened Alex. I always used something.'
'Maybe it broke or tore?'
'Maybe. I know they're not one hundred per cent safe.'
'So what are you going to do?'
'Nothing. Just go ahead with it I suppose. Get used to the idea. Anna is still in her early thirties. We were ridiculously young when Johnny came along.'
Anna knew she was pregnant ages ago, and I knew she was, ages ago. So did Adrean. The boys have just found out. They've got a little brother on the way.
John and I had to accept Richard's presence on our outings. Even Anna insisted that he should ride out with us. It wasn't fair to leave him back at the house. He has plenty of friends he could play with but John and I seem to be a priority just now. Ok, fair enough. Let's see how the threesome idea works out shall we?
Anna is just starting to show, as Adrean calls her emerging 'bump'. Oddly, their sex life seems to have been invigorated by her pregnancy. Adrean told me he finds a pregnant woman very sexy. He said it was all about sperm. The fact that she's accepted it; drained it out of him. I can vaguely see what he's on about. Or perhaps it's because he won't be allowed to have any sex much longer so he's making the most of it now. Either way he's pretty keen on the idea. He told me that Anna is not keen on the alternative method of satisfying him. She doesn't like the taste of it. He asked me if I had ever done it with a boy that way. I told him I had, many times, starting in my first year at S. Endellions with a couple of boys my age who were still dry. In my second year there, I graduated to one older boy who was definitely not dry. Lets say it's an acquired taste, which happily, I duly acquired.
'Yes Adrean I have.' I answered.
'Lots?'
'Lots of what?' I said, laughing.
'Goodness. That? Lots of that ?'
'Sometimes. Not always.'
'You know Anna can't any longer?'
'Oh that's a shame. It's been serving as my alarm clock.'
'Does it wake you up then?'
'Yes, in a word, but I like being woken up that way as it happens. It's inspirational shall we say. I can do it without you noticing.'
'Do you?'
'Yes, every time you do.'
'So will you…….for me?'
'Of course. I'd hate to see you go without.'
'You don't mind?'
'Not at all. Just roll over my way and I'll try my best. What will Anna think?'
'Oh she'll be fine with it. It's a boy's thing isn't it.'
It certainly is.
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