Omnia Vincit Amor
by Rafael Henry
Chapter 3
Michael
It's difficult to describe that feeling, when the awful truth hits you. You have been responsible for something that will haunt you for the rest of your life. It will never go away. That feeling of total remorse. The not understanding why you could have been so stupid. Feelings that are beyond any kind of logical explanation.
Perhaps everybody has done something, not like that of course, that they live to regret for a very long time. Yes, most people I imagine. I'm one of them.
He was perfect right to complain, Simon. That's the long and short of it. And I got exactly what I deserved. The boot. Gone the next day back to incredulous parents who, as it happened, understood my stupidity. That was kind of them.
To make it all that much worse, I was a boy in a position of authority at the school. If there was anyone who should have known better, it was me. But I didn't. I suppose I could have offered excuses, like why was I put in such a position? I was asked; no told , that I would move from the room I was in with other boys my age to this one occupied by eleven boys, one of whom I had rather taken to the moment he arrived four years before. When I first saw him in the breakfast queue with his hands in his pockets, waiting in his grey short trousers, I knew. I looked at his bare legs above the long grey socks with the red and blue colours around the tops; the way he held himself so upright; the straight back, the way his clothes hung on him all new looking, ironed and perfect, the grey woollen jumper that covered only half of his bottom. All that stuff that gets a boy looking at another boy. You just know these things if you are like me, and like the things I like. I even knew exactly what brand of undies he wore. I had sneaked into his dormitory and found his little pile of clean clothes in the cupboard, all named. Nice ones too that looked expensive. It wasn't love or anything like it, not then. It was attraction. I found myself attracted to what I considered, still do, a lovely fair-haired boy full of smiles, good at games, and fun to see around the House. In that room where twelve of us slept, I saw him every morning and every night, doing all the things that the boys had to do. In the mornings they would get out of their night things, those close-fitting pyjama bottoms that told all about a boy's development, walk naked to the pegs where the dressing gowns hung, put those on, and walk into the adjacent bathroom to fetch their towels and then proceed downstairs to the shower area where they would wait until the last lot had finished before they could go under that insufficient but warm and gently caressing fall of water. Somehow Simon would always contrive to use the farthest shower, take off his dressing gown, and complete the whole process without giving me sight of his complete body, seen from the front. But given the very limited evidence I had to go on, he's small and circumcised. That's fine with me and in no way did it detract from my attraction to him. In a way the opposite applied. The shy boy, not proud of certain parts of his body, but pleased that I liked him. Being two years older, it was difficult to be his friend, so I wasn't. We exchanged smiles and minor conversations. Then one day, I think about a year later, he invited me out to tea with his visiting parents. To say I was surprised was an understatement. But I went and all went well, smiling parents, smiling Simon and an inwardly very excited me. A physical friendship was just around the corner……maybe?
But it wasn't. The trail went cold and the status quo remained.
I saw him in the changing room before Games, at least his back I saw. Never would the front parts be on show. Mind you, the back view was well worth a second glance and a prolonged one at that, the white underpants we all wore, beautifully stretched over his pair of firm glutes. But the white pants never came off. Not even when he changed for Games. Indeed that fateful night, he wore them in bed. The second night, unsatisfied as I was on the first, I tried again. This time he wore two pairs of pants. I should have read the signs of a defensive strategy. I was an unwelcome visitor to the privacy of his bed.
The next morning, to the strains of the Eton Boating song, the vultures were gathering in the bathroom ready to pick off the flesh of one more authority corpse, and consume.
Co's we're all queers together
That's why we go round in pairs
Cos we're all queers together
Excuse us while we go upstairs,
For we're all queers together
And nothing's going to change us now.
That's how the song goes, words suitably amended. At that moment I knew. I knew it had hit the fan, at least amongst the boys. Life as I knew it and hoped it might become, was over. I knew this was something I'm not going to be able to live with. I didn't have to wait long.
My departing was quiet, uneventful and sad, driven as I was to the City's railway station to get the train home. It was a long journey as I sat thinking, in shock really at the rapid course of events. I wept on the journey a couple of times, as one would under those circumstances. The thought of facing my parents, who had been informed the previous evening by a telephone call from the Housemaster warning them that I was returning home the following day and why I was, filled me with dread. Goodness knows what words he chose. At least my lovely black labrador cross would still love me. His love, unlike humanity, was unwavering, total, and unconditional, God bless his niffy paws and those flopping ears I had whispered so many words into. God bless Simon too, for no fault was his, just mine and mine alone. How, one day, could I tell him I'm sorry? What is it in my head that made me do it? Is it all my fault or some cruel trick played on me by some malign force? Why was it Simon I craved like a starving man craves water and food? The boy with a penis I never saw, assuming he had one. I'm still not quite sure. To feel it between my fingers and thumb, warm and firm and ready to satisfy my yearning for him . This boy. I had so much love to give him. Why could he not have realised that and responded with his own? This creature that strutted on my stage, mocking me. Oh painful joy.
My problem, or one of them, is what to do with myself now. I already have an unconditional offer of a music degree course which I can take up either this coming September or the one after, provided I get decent enough grades in my A's. So I have potentially one year and five months to fill, hopefully productively. Schools have always engaged me. I like those places. I was on the whole successful in the ones I went to, both socially and academically. I enjoyed the sporting opportunities they offered, and the Arts, particularly all things musical. I play the piano quite well, Grade eight, and I sung in two choirs. I can draw nicely and wield a paintbrush and make expressive renderings of a beachscape when the mood takes me. I'm told that I have a natural air of authority, which as it happened, was perhaps my downfall. Other boys, even ones more or less my age, did my bidding. Thus I was appointed to a position in school society, high up, and a place from which I have fallen down with a mighty crash. I didn't want to leave school. I had to as a result of my own dreadful lapse [as my mother put it] of concentration and judgement. I only have myself to blame, the shameful creature that I undoubtedly am.
But what now?
I decided to write to a school I knew to be progressive and, to use a new word, inclusive. Might I be included? A small school that didn't judge people in ways that most institutions did, as far as I could tell.
I once saw this group of boys on Sidmouth beach, clearly on some science or geography trip, with their worksheets and spades, hunting for evidence in the rock pools at Jacob's Ladder, the pretty end of the beach. There were about a dozen figures involved, although from a distance I thought they were girls. I decided to get a little closer and then realised I was looking at boys, and clearly well worth a closer look. I went from the walkway at the top of the beach down onto the wet sands left exposed by the falling tide. Some were filling in their worksheets supervised by a young man in shorts and bare chested. Two others were a little off-task, wandering towards the water's edge about a hundred yards further out. One of the boys, darker haired, longish, than the other, removed his shorts and laid them on a rock. The other boy, almost white blond, looked on and then decided to follow suit. The two boys were left in their underpants. I drew in a deep breath. If I walked to the edge of the water well east of them, I could walk westwards and if I'm guessing correctly, pass them as I walked along at the water's edge. As predicted, from my distance I could see them walk all the way to the water, hands on hips, and looking down. In terms of age, they looked like they had a few months to go before their teenage years began. I reached for my phone, flicked it to camera mode and with no one else close enough to see what I was up to, I took several snaps of the two boys standing in classic pose, and then felt strong feelings of guilt. Here I go again. But I could live with that. I had to live with that. It was an opportunity I could not resist. Worse was to come.
I walked within a few yards of the boys. One of them, the ridiculously lovely blond boy, saw me and then looked away. He didn't look at all perturbed by my presence. Then he looked at me again, recognizing that I posed no threat and a boy like them, albeit a little older. Then the other darker haired boy looked in my direction.
'Is it ok to swim here?' The boy asks in a very nice quite pipy treble voice.
'Yes. But be careful not to go too far. The beach shelves quite sharply.' I warned the boys. That wasn't true. The beach at Sidmouth does not shelve sharply.
'Are you allowed to get your things wet?' I asked.
'No. Do you think we could take our things off?'
They always said I spoke with an air of authority, and it works. It always did.
'I don't suppose anyone will notice. There's hardly anyone about. Carry on.' I replied.
Seconds later they were ready for a bathe, holding their underwear in their hands.
'Do you want me to hold those for you? They'll get wet if you leave them on the sand.'
So there I am, in possession of two pairs of boys' pants. I didn't look at them, not then.
They paddled out in the bright sunlight, their bodies reflecting a golden light as I watched them move, arms held higher, into deeper water, finally taking the plunge with bigger splashes. In May the sea is still very cold here, so they weren't in the water long before emerging, arms folded around their chests, hair flat down on heads, teeth gritted and chattering. I knew that feeling well enough. They came and stood in front of me, looking up, shivering.
'Well done.' I said smiling. 'Very brave.'
Like all kids, the thought of immediate fun outweighs any consequences. Two wet chilled shivering bodies in front of me, but smiling.
'We're going back in.' The darker brown-haired boy announced.
I watched the boys run back into the water, their skin coloured by the summer sun and outdoor activity. The whole body. No paler parts you might expect to see. I thought that odd.
I had kept hold of their things while the boys frolicked in the low surf making splashes with their hands. It wasn't what I would call a swim, more of a play. The visual qualities of the scene interested me to the extent that I reached for my phone once more and grabbed a few more images as the boys played on in maybe three feet of water. I went off camera mode onto Gallery and liked what I had. At this point I looked inside what the boys had left me to look after. Inside the waistbands. No boy's names on the label, just the name of the school and a single number, writ large, presumably according to size. 3 and 4 . The boys looked about the same height and build. Another odd thing. The articles, a good quality white cotton, were not like anything I had seen sold in the usual outlets like Marks and Spencers, or the popular Next or Gap shops, or online and there is no sign of a manufacturers identifying label. There's no elastic material sewn into the amply wide leg opening seams, doubled over, so they would need to a good fit around the uppermost part of the thigh. But the material itself appears to very slightly stretchy therefore no doubt provides an overall snug fit. It certainly looked that way before the boys decided to reveal all to the world, one boy sporting rather more than the other. At that part where the left hip would be and where the two sides of the material are stitched together was a small white label with SOLO on it in tiny black capital letters. I have never heard of that name. Inside the waistband at the back, where you would expect to find it, is another small nametag, I recognized it as a Cash's, with FRENDON embroidered on it in red, plus what is presumably the size number. There are no other names, as in John Smith.
Out of the water now, the boys ran off to west end of the beach leaving me wondering what they are up to now. That's a good efficient way to get dry I suppose. At the end of the beach they turned and headed back towards me, presumably to claim back their belongings, but veered off about fifty yards from me. They both ran back to the rock where they had left their shorts, stopped, and in a few seconds had put them on.
FRENDON. That name is printed on the label. The size 4 was the pair worn by the blond boy, being appropriate for the slightly younger lad, the other pair being a size larger; a 5. That's odd too because both boys are, give or take an inch, the same height and build. Rather lean and hungry looking objects, and very happy and relaxed in the nudity. That struck me; how normal it was for them, as if any kind of clothing was just a nuisance. When in doubt, take it off! Needless to say, I rather like that thought.
I found the school in question listed in one of those 'Good Schools' websites. It was located roughly one mile from Ottery S. Mary in the County of Devon, England. Photos of the school made it look very rural but still walkable from the town, according to the map. There are buses from Exeter to Ottery, and it has a beautiful church I have never been to. If all else fails I can enjoy that place. I liked the minimal statement that appears under…….. FRENDON. Where Boys Can Thrive. Yes, that's well put.
I had one of those experiences I rarely get these recent days; a sense of excitement about the future when the hairs on the back of your neck prickle. I have nothing to lose here. I'm going to write them a letter.
I read through my 'Word' processed piece twice and then wrote it out in longhand on a sheet of writing paper with my rather antique Sheafer fountain pen, given to me by my father years ago to practice scripty style writing. I have always enjoyed calligraphy with both pen and a brush, Chinese style. I added my address at the top and my mobile phone number. Then I walked down to the nearest post office, bought a second-class postage stamp, something I very rarely need these days, and dropped the envelope into the newly painted red pillar box outside, not before planting a good luck kiss on the envelope. Here's the letter It went thus……
I included the photo because I thought they would want to know what I looked like. Was I male or female, black or white or somewhere in between. Am I fat, thin or somewhere in between. Am I good looking or not so. I just thought I would because if it was going to make any difference? Three days later my phone peeped and I had the message I was waiting for.
That done, I received into my mailbox a new message.
I read it three times. And then again a little later with butterflies in my tummy. I leant back in my swivel chair and began to think. I can't wait to see this place. The message was friendly, informal, and encouraging. I felt my eyes begin to prickle, right at the back, and……..well, enough of all that stuff. I'm an emotional being, me. I can't help it, I just am. If, and it's a big if, I get something sorted out for me at Frendon, it won't be just the boys who will be thriving, it'll be me too. I swear it.
The bus leaves Exeter early for Ottery, so my arrival time is well before the appointed hour of 10.00 am. No matter, buses can be late, or not at all these days. I'll have time to contemplate my performance, probably sitting in the church which is an absolute gem, judging by the pictures on the web.
The bus was on time so I arrived in the centre of this small town at 09.05 and a long wait of 55 minutes for Raphael to collect me outside the church next to the lychgate, or as they are sometimes known as the Resurrection Gate. My life needs a bit of resurrection right now and to meet there is really quite appropriate. So, I need somewhere to sit quietly and prepare my head.
I chose the choir stalls, the front one on the north side; cantoris, where the boy and girl singers would sit. All churches run east to west, the choir always at the east end of the building. I imagined the boys over the centuries standing and singing the Mag or Nunc, or some repetitive psalm chant, or just larking about as we always got away with. Keeping unruly boys in line was not our choir leader's strong point, bless him. Such a kind and gentle soul that he was. At his funeral which we all had to sing at, we cried, of course, with no exceptions, trying to atone for all our sins, but too late to apologize to him. He had chosen the music, the anthem being Purcell's……..O remember not, Lord, our offences. How appropriate! I hope the poor man could hear our penitential offering from his ethereal vantage point, our supplications made just for him. A lovely man who liked us very much. Very much indeed.
The church was empty when I arrived, and still no visitors by 09.45. I will leave in about ten minutes. I noticed there are wooden seats either side in the lychgate.
I hadn't heard him come in. He was standing by the polished brass lectern, arms folded, smiling and looking straight at me. I stood up, my hand on a carved head at the end of the front choir stall.
'Michael?'
My stomach did an almighty flip.
'Yes.' I answered as he walked towards me. He put out a hand and I took it and we shook for a few seconds before I let it go first. His was firm without being oppressive as some are. Mine reacted to his grip and firmed. Then he sat down next to me. I had to turn to my right to see his face, and the conversation began with good eye contact and continued that way. The first thing I noticed about him were his green eyes. Unnervingly green . That's unusual.
'Sorry I'm a tad early. You were lost in thought there. I hope you're not too anxious? There's absolutely no need to be Michael.'
'I am a bit, yes.'
'There's no hurry. Not at all. I'd like to talk here first if that's ok with you?'
'Yes of course. I……'
'A level music then? And English. Did you sing?'
'Yes. In a place like this. In Exeter.'
'Excellent. We have some half-decent singers at Frendon. You might work with them? Music is important us.'
'I'd love that.'
'Good. And you enjoy swimming and physical exercise?'
'Yes, very much.'
'And a good bag of GCSE'S too. So there's no need to be anxious is there?'
'No, I suppose not. But…….'
'We read your letter, obviously. There was a lot of feeling in it. That came through very clearly. You've had a rough time haven't you?'
'A bit,' I said, looking down. Here's a man who will know if my answers are not true and accurate. Just his voice told me that.
'I have to tell you that whatever it was, the calamity that befell you, we will understand it. Whatever it was, we will not let it hold you back from achieving your potential. Not with us. Was it your mistake or someone else's?'
'Mine. All mine.'
'Did it involve another boy? I suspect it did.'
'Yes.'
'Not a matter of dishonesty?'
'No. I couldn't deny it. It happened.'
'And now it's all over and done with?'
'Yes. I've been punished. But……'
'But you're left with some guilty feelings? Maybe a bit of anger too. And a lot of time on your hands.'
'Yes. It wasn't very nice for him. I should feel guilty.'
'But not for ever Michael.'
'I hope not.'
'There's such a thing as forgiveness. That's true. Perhaps one day you will be able to be kind to yourself and forgive yourself for whatever it was?'
'Maybe.'
'When you're ready to, and if the opportunity arises, will you be able to tell anyone about this? Me perhaps?'
'I hope so.'
'Good. It may not be us at Frendon, but somewhere and at some other time I'm sure. You will need to Michael. Have you brought those things we asked you to bring? Done those things you ought to have done?' He said smiling. He has a reassuring smile. A warm one. I've taken to him rather.
'Yes, everything. And those things I ought not to have done.'
'But there is health in you……I hope? Are you ready to go, or do you need a little bit more time here?'
'I think I'm ready. Just about.' I said, inwardly smiling at his liturgical joke.
'Good. Let me tell you that you have begun your day's journey well Michael. I'm asking for one thing now, that you try to relax; not worry because you have nothing to worry about, and enjoy your day with us. The boys are waiting for you. They know you're coming to meet them because we have announced your visit, and they will like you. I already know that. I think you will like them too. They are what we are about. One other thing before we leave this lovely place, I need to see you smile.'
So I turned to look at him and smiled. We looked at each other for maybe a full minute. He looked through me and saw me for what I am, and knows what I am, I'm quite sure of that. Maybe he's like me. He prefers to work with boys, not girls, and that he prefers the company of men, possibly. I loved a boy. One day I'll tell him that. I wanted sex with a boy but it didn't happen. Perhaps I still want sex with a boy, and always will, while I'm still a boy myself. I'm made that way. I know it. I want to be honest with Raphael. I want to be truthful. I want him to know everything about me, inside and outside.
As we drove the short distance to Frendon I had a chance to really look at Raphael. He's a handsome cove alright! Gosh, yes he is, with that mid-brown hair with a curious little patch of grey in it. He turns towards me and sees me looking and smiles. Embarrassed, my face warms and I know I am blushing like some awe-struck little schoolgirl caught staring at a pretty older girl. I've had a few of those moments when you look for just a little too long , and the object of your admiration sees you looking.
'Why are you staring at me?' Simon asks, the question all over his face.
'Sorry, I didn't mean to. Sorry. It's just….'
'Just…… what then?'
I wished I could tell him why I look at him like I do but I can't. He had his hands deep in his pockets, fingers turned inwards, feeling himself. Boys often do this unaware that others can see and know exactly how they are pleasing themselves.
'Do you fancy me then?' He says, turning and walking off, his hands still deep in his pockets. He didn't wait for my answer, so I didn't have to think of one, thank goodness. I watched him walk off, all packaged up tightly, and lovely as ever.
I looked away through the car window for as long as it took for the pinkness in my face to calm. The forearms too, lightly haired with strong hands on the wheel. The trim pair of shorts he wore, not so dissimilar to his boys on Sidmouth beach. Did I say his boys? The legs, and then the feet, bare in sandals. The distinctive green eyes. The car we were in, the wind rushing by, the trees and the fields of Devon, green and abundant in glorious May sunshine. Hedgerow bushes with showers of white blossom falling in the strong breeze. Milking cows not noticing or caring as their heads move slowly, gracefully forwards to even richer grasses. I've lost all my nerves now. I'm feeling right. There's nothing wrong with me anymore. I'm free. Free to be .
A secretary took the folder from me that contained all the things I was asked to bring. Examination certificates, passport, a utility bill from home, and my birth certificate for good measure, and lastly a couple of my school reports.
'Did you bring a school report Michael? The young man asked in a quiet voice.
'Err, yes I did.'
'Would you take that in with you please? The Principal will see you now.' He says, leading the way out of the Office and across a wide hallway to a heavy looking mahogany door. He opens it, and in I go, nerves returning.
The man with bushy eyebrows and the only person I've seen so far not in shorts, stands to greet me, a hand held out for me to shake.
It's not one of those crushing handshakes which I think are rude and unnecessary, but firm and friendly, just like the one I had from Raphael.
'Report?' He asks, and I hand him the envelope which he opens, and reads the contents. There's an opened letter on his desk too. I recognized the logo on the envelope. It's from my old school. Shit!
'Hmm. If I was a parent I'd be quite pleased if my son brought this home. Well done.' He says looking up over his heavily framed glasses and raised eyebrows. 'You are well thought of, deservedly so I'm sure. 'So how do you feel now? The letter from your school I requested mentions the reason why you left. It's standard practice Michael to ask a few questions. Sorry but its necessary.'
'Not very good Sir.'
'I mean, at this moment?'
'Oh. I think I'm wondering what you're going to say about…….. that situation Sir.'
'I'm not going to say anything about it. That's the point here Michael. But I know, and so does my Assistant, Raphael. We are the only two people here that know, and will ever know. And it's a good thing that we do know. Not for any other reason than it's best for you that way. You have nothing to hide now, but everything to give. The letter and your report tells us all about that. And please, never be afraid to share your feelings with us, and never be afraid to ask for help or advice. You will not have, at least initially, any teaching commitments, but will muck in with all the activities, and learn about new situations and procedures. It will be up to you how you think you might achieve the best fit, if you see what I mean? An open-ended brief, and to understudy the role of a Supervisor. You will see a lot of Raphael. You will work with him most of the time, and take your instructions from him. The rest of the time you are free to interact as and when you see fit, as appropriate, or very importantly, just observe until an opportunity arises to get involved. Everyone here gets involved with everything. In return, you will have free accommodation, all your meals found, to be taken with the staff and boys. We do a lot of things together here Michael. We are not mainstream when it comes to just about everything. Sanctions exist, traditional ones, as do rewards. The boys know that one of the rewards is to be here . The prospectus we published is for the outside world Michael. There are no parental visits allowed, except in an emergency. There are no day pupils. We are a closed community until holiday time. Over the years the boys have generated an alternative vocabulary which you will notice. Their own words for things. Some things here may strike you as odd, but it's all for a purpose. The well-being of our boys. In due course they will become your boys Michael. When clothing is unnecessary, we don't wear any. They like it that way and so do we. Boys make friends, real friends, which everyone agrees is a good thing. We allow deeper friendships here, that sometimes find expression through simple acts of compassion and loving kindness. Sometimes these behaviours need managing. This will, in time, become part of your role here. A very important one. Are you finding this brief summary daunting Michael?'
'No, not at all Sir. What will I be doing after this?'
'A boy will show you everything Michael. Everything we do here, how we learn, how we play, how we keep fit, what we eat, where we sleep, and probably how we keep clean and healthy. And then there's another side, a very important side. How we socialize, how we develop personal relationships and how we care for our well-being. The ways the boys nurture their friendships. Raphael will no doubt want to explain all that side of our life here Michael. It's a different kind of life here. After all that, can you think of any questions you would like to ask me? But you'll have plenty of time with Felix.'
'Felix Sir?'
'Yes. He's one of our most mature boys. He will be showing you our school and all its works Michael. He'll take you everywhere , all the nooks and crannies, all the places and things you need to see before you decide if this is the right place for you. He's seen how the place works over the years he's been with us. I'm sure you will lots of questions for him and will learn from him too. Some things in common with him. All I can say now Michael is, enjoy your day with us.'
He shook my hand again and went over to the door, opened it, and there was Felix sitting on a chair outside, arms folded, looking through the open door. I recognized him instantly as one of the two boys on the beach. So this is Felix!
'Hello.' The boy says, getting up. Maybe he's forgotten that we've already met? He certainly didn't show any sign of recognition.
'Hello,' I said back, putting out a hand which he took. We shook, his grip being light and soft and perfectly weighted with what I thought was a large hand for a boy his age. I looked at his feet. Same story. I took a deep breath. A friend of mine once told me that boys with big feet and hands always had small penises. I wonder. The boy I had encountered on the beach at Jacob's Ladder looks a little different in clothes, and in some ways better. I some ways he does. In another way he does not.
I needed a way to start our relationship with a topic of conversation so I thought I'd ask him about Frendon's interpretation of a school uniform.
'Oh we really like it. No blazers and all that stuff. No stuffy ties and hot long trousers. And in Gym and Games and Swimming we don't wear anything. It's great. Who wants clothes when you don't need them?'
'I suppose that's true enough. You don't mind baring all then?'
'No. Why would we? We know what we all look like with nothing on, so who cares. Anyway it's nice to see the first and second years like that. We call them Vestals. What about you? Would you mind being seen bare?'
'If I was a New Boy? I don't think I'd mind too much, at least not after I got used to being seen like that. I was a New Boy once.' I said to my new companion.
'You can come in the pool if you want. You don't have to be naked if you don't want to be, but it won't go down well. The other boys will expect you to be.'
'To be naked?'
'Yes. They'll downgrade you as a coward. Anyway if you come here you'll have to. All the Supers swim in the nude.'
Oh do they?
'I'll show you the pool first.' Felix says, leading the way out of the building into the bright sunlight. As we drew closer, I could hear the voices. The sound of fun being had.
I drew another deep breath as I looked at the dozen or so boys frolicking in the small outdoor pool. In the corner of the pool where the stainless steel steps are, stood an older boy, obviously so, about my age at a glance and possibly one of the Supervisors although rather too young to be doing that kind of a job. Mind you, I was recently doing a job like that. Supervising prep sessions, patrolling dormitories and discipling children. The lad looked my way noticing our presence and smiled.
'Who was that older person sitting there Felix?' I asked.
'Oh, he's one of the estate boys. They share the pool with the rest of us. It's probably his lunch break. He's allowed in. He's nice.'
'What's his name?'
'Tom.'
Lucky him. And I agree with Felix. He is very nice, visually speaking. He was obviously enjoying his time in the pool with the boys. They seemed to be enjoying his company too from what I could see. Who wouldn't.
Up in the Main Building were the Cubes where the boys slept, at least some of them. Near there were the Stores, a large room, the wall fitted with loads of shelves where all the boys' clothes were kept in piles. A large pine table, whitened be constant cleaning sat in the middle. Felix gave me a tour of the shelves starting with the boys' 'smalls'. I counted eight separate piles of the white garments every boy wore, all identical apart from size differences, each one laid flat, not folded.
'I'm a 4. Size 4 that means. These are the different sizes. Peter's a 3.'
'Who is he?'
'My CP. He's a bit younger than me so he's still a 3. He's the boy I sleep with.'
'Sleep with? Is that allowed?'
'Not in the same bed, silly! Next to me in our Cube. He does come in with me if he wants to, or I can get in with him but the beds aren't wide enough to sleep with two in it comfortably. We actually go to sleep in our own beds.'
'So why does he come in with you? When he's upset about something?'
'No, when he wants……..you know don't you? To do stuff. I had a pash on him over a year ago now. He's not allowed to solo. Not yet. So if he wants something, he has to ask me. That's how it works. He's my chog.'
I think he's showing off the alternative vocabulary in use here.
'Are you telling me you can actually select your friends; or a particular friend you want? Is that allowed?'
'Yes, but he obviously has to agree. Luckily he had a pash on me too, so it was all tickety-boo. We had a playfight in the pool that got interesting.'
'How?'
'We both got trunches.'
'And that's how you knew he liked you?' I said, joking.
'Oh yes. I didn't chog him until quite recently. Chogging is quite hard here, if you pardon the expression, because the litters squeak terribly. The floor's a lot better but a bit hard. Peter's a fantastic chogger. Very responsive I find from my perspective above; usually. But we try different ways of getting the same result……for both of us. He needs it as much as I do.'
'Why?'
'Because he loves it. He lets you know he does.'
'How?'
'The noises he makes, and all that wriggling about he does. He's a very mobile lover is Peter. It drives you nuts when all that stuff starts with him. Trouble is I get too excited way too soon. He loves anything to do with his pod.'
'Oh. Poor you.'
'Poor Peter more like. He wants me to chog him forever . After twenty minutes we can go again. Once he dry-pumped for me, no hands. Fantastic. He's a long skinny to my dome. Such a sweet one too when I first pulled the front of his knicks down and had a quick gander. So cute! He really got into tooling later. You only had to snake snog for seconds to get him up. I love him like no other.'
'Not for that surely?'
'No of course not! I love him for what he is , not what he can do, which is plenty as it happens. The fact that he's got a pair of the best bunnies this side of Mars has nothing to do with it, not to mention a bud to die for, the sexy dove. And he looks so cute in his tights. You want to see him.'
'Do I?'
'If you hang around long enough, you will see him. Come on, I show you the Stores now. You might recognize something.'
I did. Rows of them.
'Nice aren't they?' Felix says, smiling.
'Absolutely.' I said, picking up a pair of size 4's.
'I think they're dead sexy, especially on a Bunny Cub.'
'What's one of them?'
'A Second or Third Year with a nice plump bottom and a tight bud in between.'
'Oh.'
'What do you think then? Dead sexy or not?'
'Not sure if I can answer that one Felix.'
'Without incriminating yourself? Yes you can.'
'Right then. Yes, I agree, and not just on one of your bunny people. I'd say they'd look great on anyone.'
'Including me I hope. Put your hand on this pile, then push down.'
'Nice and springy. It's the nature of the fabric that they're made from. Lovely stuff I must say.'
'Notice that they don't have any of that extra thickness where it matters? We don't need that bit of extra security because………well I'll show you at some point today. It takes a bit of getting used to, but once you get efficient at it, it feels rather………shall we say……..interestingly pleasant.'
'All these words you use. You don't actually do all those things you talk about? I can't believe you do all that stuff?'
'I just thought I'd try out our alternative vocab on you Michael. It's fun isn't it.'
'So do you? You didn't answer my question.'
'That's for me to know.'
'And me to find out I suppose.'
'Absolutely. If you hang around this place long enough, you will find out; if there's actually anything to find out. Do you like your tour so far?'
'I do. I'm quite excited about it all.'
'And what's the most exciting thing you've seen so far then. Be honest.'
'Ah, a trick question. Do I have to answer that?'
'No, not yet. But you will have to before the end of this day here. I shall ask you and I expect the right answer……or else.'
I had a pair of size 4's in my hand. In the usual shop bought ones, for boys, they always have that second layer that runs from half way along the perineum and just beyond the section that can get marked, just in case. It might be a necessary measure for most boys, but I've always thought it unsightly, and if you clean properly back there, as these boys apparently do, quite unnecessary.
'You want to see a Vestal in his tights when he gets caught in a rain shower Michael. Now that is something to behold. What do you think?'
'I suppose so, if you say so Felix.'
'I do say so. You look like a size 8. Here, take these just in case you don't come. I hope you do come Michael.' Felix says quietly, without a hint of a smile.
'I hope I come too. And thanks for the offer but I shouldn't take anything with me. You might remember I already have a pair of these. Yours I do believe. Two in fact. Your swim on Sidmouth beach? Jacob's Ladder? Remember? You never came back for them. I still have them. Yours and the other boy's.'
I gave the said article of clothing Felix had handed to me another brief examination, not for the first time I can tell you. I've yet to see one of the boys sporting a pair of these things.
'Still got them then?'
'Far too good, and useful to throw away. Was that Peter with you on the beach at Sidmouth?'
'Yes it was him. Peter. By the way, what did you do with them? You said they were too good to chuck out.'
'They came in handy once or twice. Otherwise they sat on a shelf, like this lot.' I said gesturing towards the piles of underpants.
'So what then? What did you use our pants for? Dusters? You still haven't said? And what did you think of Peter?'
'I'd say he's a perfect fit for you.' I answered, avoiding the other question .
'They'd be a tight fit on you. Did you try them?'
'They stretch nicely Felix. Anyway, why would I? They're for boys like you and Peter. I'm not sure my mother would want to find a pair of a small boy's knickers lying by the washing machine. She's wonder what I'd been up to.'
'Why not? You're still a boy. Did they need washing? How old are you anyway?'
'Seventeen.'
'Not too old then.' A fact he states. No, I'm not too old. On my eighteenth birthday I will be too old for Felix and his ilk. Right now I'm just short of adulthood.
'You are one cheeky monkey Felix. You're supposed to be showing me around, not teasing me relentlessly. That could get your bottom smacked. Do you realise that?'
Felix turned around and stuck his bottom out as if to be dealt with corporally, narrow hipped, and displaying a very clear VPL through the light grey fabric these boys' shorts are made from. I think I've seen more than enough now to convince me that if I came here I would be in some bother quite quickly thereafter.
'You should be so lucky Felix. Anyway, corporal punishment is banned in schools now. EEC ruling. Court of Human Rights and all that stuff.' I retorted in response to his faintly erotic gesture. 'You can put that away, now. Please.'
'Not if you ask for it. I do. Over quickly. Don't you like my bottom? Meany.' He says, pouting his lips, as he moves along the piles of freshly laundered shorts, tee shirts and the like. The place smells so…….fresh.
'Well, it's a good asset to have, a bottom like that. Is it you only asset?'
'Certainly not! I have others.'
'Oh do you? That's good to know then.' I said as Felix fingers one of the piles.
'Here. How about these? It's a 7 like Raphael wears. He's a 7. You look bigger than him though.' Felix says with a snigger. Then he follows that with……
'Do you fancy a swim now? The indoor pool's open for business all the time. You might get to see some Vestals in there. They're very pretty; some of them.'
The pool changing area is a wide hallway flanked by two long rows of coat hooks either side upon which hung all the boys' clothes, shorts first, followed by the standard pale blue polo shirts, and then short socks laid over the top, and then finally the boys' underthings with the hook protruding through one leg opening. They are clearly told a way to arrange everything, with every boy conforming. I imagine this system facilitates casual inspection, not that it would ever seem necessary with this lot. The place smells incredibly clean and wholesome, unlike the boarding house I was in until very recently. That smelled like a pig stye. Muddy boots, dirty clothes, wet stuff all over the place, and then the boys themselves, acne ridden sex starved individuals who couldn't wait to get out of the place. Basically a pretty vile environment for any human to endure. Boys tended to smell a bit sweaty and most wore their underpants too long. This place is very different.
The boys were waiting in their relevant spaces, sandals in the wire rack below a bench which ran the whole length, either side. The hooks were full on the other side, presumably waiting for another tranche of boys who would be leaving the water shortly to make way for the row of about a dozen skinnies, with a domed exception, a darker skinned boy who was observing me closely as I entered with Felix, his fingers gently tweaking himself. I looked down at him and he immediately stopped almost as if I'd told him to stop doing it. I noticed that he had a long circumcision scar, and the whole piece being larger than anything else in the row as they stood against the wall, hands behind backs to keep their warm skin away from a cool wall. Of the twelve boys, only two were domed. I'm sure circumcision is far less common than it used to be, as my domed father once told me. Despite that, they had me done, but for a good reason according to my mother, and sometime after my birth. I think I was around three when my foreskin was removed for some medical reason. Phimosis probably. All the boys visibly stood up straight and taller when we entered. Such deference! With a dozen pairs of eyes trained on me, I felt rather an object under scrutiny as I prepared my head for showing them my body. I have been given no choice in this matter. I have to undress in front of all these smooth and curious creatures.
Glancing up, it was still all-eyes on me as I stooped to step out of the last garment before they saw me for what I am. A seventeen-year-old boy who would like to see them as much as they seem to want to see me. Just normal curiosity no doubt. I'm nothing special down there, either way, just typical as far as I have ever been aware, nonetheless decently formed. Well I think so. As for the boy next to me, my new best friend, he stands waiting, and at a good five feet away, and penis intactus. He looks a fine example of boyhood. He's leaning like the others opposite, against the wall, looking down at himself. It's a good specimen with very little or no skinny overhang, quite girthy too, with a plump head buried under that creamy skin. Lucky old Peter. I would imagine if he ever has to accommodate Felix up his pod, he might need a bit of practice for a while until his big moment. Boys exaggerate things, so I'm sure Felix and Peter do not go in for this chogging exercise he was on about. Not yet anyway. Some mouth music? Umm, possibly. I heard somewhere that fellatio is common even for boys and girls under twelve.
We have to wait, so Felix tells me, for the others to leave the pool before we can go in. More embarrassment for me. So we look across to the other wall, as they look across to us. Eyes go down, and then up to meet mine. Mine go down to admire them. Not a pubic hair in sight, neither is there any excess tummy fat, just neat and trim boys' bodies, just as they should look. Dark hair and light hair, some longer, some shorter, and some in between. Now the boys lose interest in us and look towards the entrance to the pool, waiting. The first couple of older boys are coming our way, quietly, their bodies apparently dry, or nearly dry, as they step through the foot bath and head towards us.
'Cubs, this lot.' Says Felix, turning towards me'
They are clearly older, taller, but essentially not sexually developed further than the pretty little boy maidens opposite. It's odd that, but true. One of the newcomers gives me a look as I sneak a peek at him downstairs. He's small, but so typical. The next one is bigger, plumper, and longer by some way, the business end cheekily peeking out from its skinny confines.
And then I felt it. A hand on my back. I was standing to the side of Felix, just looking. It felt like the palm of what must be his right hand, just below my neck. The other waiting boys wouldn't see it as I'm turned away from their prying eyes. Yes, it's Felix's moving hand, slowly moving in gentle circles around my back, and a little lower now. It seems like a very significant contact to me, with him. It's not so overt to stop him, just a gesture of a new friendship he might want to form with me; something he should not be doing. I'm here on interview for goodness sake! I'm not here to strike up some romantic liaison with one of the boys.
I let him continue as I looked over the boys waiting against the opposite wall. Had they seen? I doubt it. This has to be discouraged, so I turn round enough to see Felix's face. He looks up at me, unsmiling. I look down and see he's partially aroused. What now Michael?
'You're a naughty boy. Do you know that?' I whispered.
'Umm, I know. Do you mind?' he whispered back, his hand gone now, elsewhere.
'I'm trying hard to mind, yes.'
'But you don't really…….do you?'
'I'm trying to mind, but finding it hard to. That's my problem.'
'It's not a problem.'
Not a problem? I wish I could believe that.
'Can I touch it?'
'What, exactly?'
'You know what .'
'No! There are children here.'
'So what?'
I drew a deep breath and exhaled, just as he did, up into my face. Such sweet breath. As he did so, a part of my body touched his, just below his navel.
'Sorry Felix.' I said looking down slightly. He was looking down too. He was looking. Then he looked up, smiling.
'Do you know about Rest Time?'
'Is that when everything stops, after lunch?'
'Umm. We all go to our Cubes. Everyone has to. Where will you go?'
Our swimming session went well enough; no lane swimming, just playtime really, with plenty of splashing, chasing and grabbing shoulders and heads bobbing up and down. Just before we went in, Felix poked a finger into my arm and pointed at a boy opposite. It was the dark-haired boy I noticed giving us frequent long glances. What he had seen had got him excited. It's what boys do. If they get interested, nature takes over and there's not much we can do about it. It just happens.
The same dark-haired boy seemed keen to stay close to us throughout our swim. As all the bodies swirl about in the general chaos, it's more than possible we touched several times as we all enjoyed our frolic together. It's the kind of activity when some grabbing of shoulders, arms around tummies, hands on backs, and some accidental touching is all part of the fun, and neither noticed or remembered, probably. One just has to be careful one does not go too far in those dangerous situations. I have to be careful not to encourage Felix. Not to communicate my passing interest in him. I have never found myself in a situation like this before, honestly I haven't. Not only did my nemesis, Simon, not want to know when I advanced upon him that night just one month ago, but he put me in my place alright; waiting sadly on a wet station platform for the train home. I suspect I'm in no such peril from Felix.
I kept an eye on the dark-haired boy as he dressed, with whom I had had the most pleasurable under water contacts; a brush here, a brush there. A touch of his skin now and then again. A leg against mine. An arm brushes a buttock. All little accidents of course. Nothing intended, but something enjoyed by both. The pretty face with blue eyes. Such a sweet boy.
He turns, underpants pulled up tight up, into place. Now the shorts. Then the pulling on of short white socks and the bending to put feet into sandals. Such poetry in motion. And then the last glance as he leaves, and just the hint of a smile and hope in his heart, perhaps. For me you wonder? No! For the idea of sex . He's at that age now. The concept, as his mind and body begin to focus, so gradually but clearly enough, of a future romance. May he find true love in this place, be it such a transitory thing for most, but I suspect not all.
I didn't want lunch but chose to wander empty buildings and rooms save for the occasional Supervisor, the ones I saw all quite young and obviously the right gender for this place, ending up in the Cubes where Felix and Peter spent their nights along with the ten other boys and Raphael next door in his private rooms. With no one around I risked trying his door. It wasn't locked. It opened into a bedroom and to one side, a double bed, probably a super king sized one, neatly made. I went in leaving the door ajar.
I knew this was a very risky thing to do; invade his privacy like this but he did say to meet him in his room after lunch. So I'm here. I am just so curious I have to look. From the doorway I cast an eye around the room. Nothing obvious of interest, apart from some images on the walls. Just school activities. Boys bursting through a tape; one just clearing the high jump bar. That kind of thing. A line of three boys, and rather handsome devils too, in a row by the edge of the swimming pool, nude. Goodness. I assume he had these images privately processed! There was a radio by the bedside with a flex that disappeared under the double bed into a 6-way lead with three other plugs in it with trailing flexes that disappeared under the bed somewhere. What are they for? A table with a couple of drawers under. I wonder what's in those? That's the kind of place where one puts thing one might need but don't want seen by all and sundry, like cleaners.
I pulled out the top drawer which slid silently out and looked inside. There were several super sensitive condoms in foil packaging, some moisturizer, and a tube of lubricating gel. Now that's useful stuff, so I'm told, not that I've ever had an urgent need for it. Obviously Raphael has had; or does have need of this equipment. He's having sex with someone , or just playing fun games with himself. And why not? He's young and virile. I've often wondered what it's like. Doing it that way round? Maybe he lends the stuff to the kids! By the age of thirteen, they might actually be doing it. I'm sure they know all about it. Felix gives me the impression he's very much clued up about sex generally, but I don't suppose I'm ever going to know, but I'd like to. I'd love to know what Felix and his…….what do they call them…….. CP's, get up to . Considerate Partners. That's nicely put don't you think, although the initials are a tad unfortunate?
There was a laptop lying on the bed and what looked like some fresh underwear that appeared identical to what the boys wore. Raphael is not a big guy and looked a couple of inches short of six feet and not at all heavily built and in his very early thirties at a guess, or less, and like almost all of his boys, not an ounce of fat on him. I would imagine that he could get into the biggest boy-knicker size, albeit a snug fit. Felix said he was a size 7. A man in boys' underwear. Now there's a thought. I have to admit to finding him attractive. Walking behind him, one could not help a glance or two amidships. Very nice indeed. He hasn't said much so far but he did request meeting here in this room at Rest Time. So I'm here a tad early. In ten minutes all the boys will settle down on their beds and close their eyes for an hour and a bit. They certainly make the kids work here, both with their heads and their bodies. No wonder they need to get their heads down half way through their day, if that's what they actually do.
I stood in the hallway outside Raphael's room rather frustrated I hadn't seen more of the secrets that might lurk inside, but my conscience got the better of me. Looking down into the Quodrangle below, a few boys were wandering here and there, beginning to make their way to their Cubes for the early afternoon lie down and a well-earned snooze. Gosh they look good in their kit, pale blue polo shirts and those pale grey shorts and short white ankle socks, and one or two still opting for their navy jumper. They look like paragons of decent taste, all down to someone's decision to dress them like that. It's unusual, that's for sure. I love the way the boys hold themselves, so upright, standing tall, no hands in pockets because they can't get them in I suppose. Clever that. And so many with longer hair, like those 1970's boys.
Meeting Raphael again was making me nervous because I had a feeling his opinion mattered more than the Principal's views on the matter of any kind of appointment for me. He appears to be his deputy and very influential. I can see why he's held in awe by the boys. Whenever I see a boy with him, they seem totally deferential, like they are his material to be moulded into the shape he wants them to be. I'm already feeling that myself. That's an odd realization, that you are unable to do anything less than he wishes for you. You just do what he says. Not only is it easier that way, but better too. I'm sure the boys have learnt that.
I've just seen Raphael with his arm around a boy's shoulder, down there in the Quod. It's small gestures like that. He loves these people and I've no doubt they return his affection in spades. In a few minutes Felix and Peter will take their rest together in the Cube next to this room, just a few feet away. I'm assuming I'm up here, shortly to be joined by Raphael, to discuss my morning; how it's gone with Felix, and everything that I've seen. And maybe, get the result of my very strange and rather eventful interview. It's all rather numbing. Unreal. Some sort of fantasy. Until you realise it's not. Here in this place, it is real life.
So I'm left with a thought. Do I actually want to be here? Answer; Yes I do. What I will do here is an open question but I don't care what it is, not at all. If I do come, it won't be for ever, that's certain. But I know I will take some things away with me which I shall savour for ever. Things even, faces, places and events, feelings, and memories that I suspect might live with me for ever. I stood by the window looking down on groups of boys all quietly heading for their Rest Time, lying on their beds undressed, eyes closed, preparing for their afternoon learning schedule, and……..everything else, whatever that might be?
Due to the soft-soled footwear, it's not a noisy place when the boys move from A to B, but I noticed the approach along the corridor of Felix and Peter, walking towards me together. Peter is a couple of inches shorter than Felix, a slim build like so many here. The two boys walk up to me and stop.
'Michael, this is Peter.' Says Felix, looking at the boy, and then at me, as I study Peter. Nice choice Felix.
'Hello Peter. It's very nice to meet you.' I say, proffering my hand. Peter takes it in his and we gently shake. It's warm and soft as I expected. I let it go and both his hands go together in front, fingers hidden.
'We're going in now. Will you come and see us in our Cube please?'
'Yes, when I can. I have to see Raphael first. About this morning.'
My meeting with Raphael went well, focussing on how it all went with Felix and my tour.
'He's one of our most interesting boys Michael. Hopefully you found him helpful?'
Of course I did, very helpful.
'He sounds like a twenty five-year-old doesn't he, with all that sophisticated language he uses. But don't be fooled. He's just a boy like the others.'
'He certainly is. Definitely a boy.'
Raphael laughs.
'Yes, definitely. Sometimes it's quite hard to tell with a few of those younger tykes, what with the long hair; apart from the indisputable evidence constantly on show. Did you enjoy that? I'm sure Felix steered you in that direction. He's make sure you saw the sights.'
'He did, yes. Quite a sight too.'
'Enjoyable?'
'Do I have to answer that?'
'No. Save it for later.'
'By the way,Felix has invited me into their Cube for a further chat during Rest Time.'
'Oh good. A bit more to learn about this place then.'
'Do you think I should go?'
'Definitely. In the morning they are too sleepy, usually, and in the late evening at bed time, they're too tired, so Rest Time is a good time for the boys.'
'A good time for what?'
'For a good time. Together, If that's what they need. Felix is twelve Mike. Just think back to when you were that age. If you weren't doing it, you wanted to. True?'
'True.'
'You had better get in there before………'
I sat on the bed to the right while the boys sat opposite, on Peter's 'litter'; one of the dozens of words the boys use as amusing substitutes for the more prosaic ones like 'bed'. I've heard of other schools, some very posh places, using an alternative vocab for ordinary things. Over years, a sort of word coding evolves and gets handed down, learnt and used, so that the mechanics of romance, for example, become mystified; fogged out by strange terms that only have significance amongst the boys themselves.
'You can stay with us if you want to? We can both get in Peter's bed? You can have mine?'
'That's very kind, but no Felix. I don't want to interrupt your time with Peter. I'm sure he has lots to talk about.'
'Just a few minutes then?'
'Ok. So what happens now?'
I did stay as Felix and Peter prepared for their rest; in the same bed together, for one hour and a quarter. Five minutes can be a long time as I drew another deep breath, and left to rejoin Raphael.
'Don't take any notice of Felix Mike. He comes out with all sorts of rubbish, with all that alternative language they use. He's a bright kid but likes to play games; and exaggerate somewhat.'
'Oh, like chogging with Peter?'
'Umm. Sounds like him. He doesn't, just in case you believed him. Well I think they might have got close, once or twice.'
'How on earth would you know?'
'That's what it sounded like through the alarm.'
'Really?'
'If you want to know what these boys get up to, look at their phones. Peter's is over there in the box. They're all have identifying labels in alphabetical order, starting from the left. If you fish Peter's out you'll see. There are about six bits of video on it.'
'Just him?'
'No. Someone I think we can assume to be his sister.'
'Doing what?'
'Have a look and you'll see. I warn you, there is some very erotic material on view. If you would rather not know? But as and when you get here, officially, you will need to know. So given that info you might want to look now. Forewarned is forearmed.'
I found Peter's phone in the box, and found the 'gallery' app, and scrolled through and found the first example. He had propped up the device on something stable nearby and arranged himself on his bed, sideways, so he could masturbate until he appeared to orgasm dry. There was sound on it, which was just as moving as the image he'd made. It lasted about five minutes. I exited the app and drew a very deep breath, and slowly exhaled. Just as Felix had said, Peter is quite expressive both in his movements and the sounds of the deep joy he's experiencing, right up to the finish. He doesn't reach for the 'phone until a good half minute has passed to switch off the camera. His coming down period. Raf had been reading. He turned towards me.
'Well?' He said, smiling.
'Umm. That's pretty extraordinary.'
'Isn't it just. Was that the first one?'
'Yes.'
'Have a look at the next one.'
I found it easily enough. There were about twenty non-sexual photos of other random subjects in between. Then another video. A girl who looked a little older than he is playing with his underwear, in a very sexual manner, his penis still small and flaccid, but not for long as the girl eases one leg opening aside to reveal the creamy skinned organ, her lips bringing life into the pale little morsel, erectile tissue filling, the penile crown gradually pushing up through the boy's foreskin, completely, all with appreciative noises from both partners, Peter giggling now, clearly enjoying the process. No wonder. He's kneeling in front of the girl's face, hands on his hips, tummy protruding as she works away, releasing him for a fiddle elsewhere every so often, sucking at his testicles and moving his foreskin up and down deftly with her fingers, exposing the penis head beautifully. She looks like this is not the first time she's given a boy a bit of sexual release. At that age I would have given quite a lot to have that kind of treatment offered to me. I can't imagine this was the only time these two played like this? I bet it wasn't.
The camera has been moved. The boy is lying on his back now, underwear gone. There's some muffled conversation from time to time before the boy begins to masturbate very close to the girl's face using just two fingers and his thumb, her mouth expectantly open, ready to receive whatever the boy can offer her. Not yet awhile. There are a few more words spoken before his penis disappears once more into her mouth as she fondles his balls. I watch on, spell bound I'm ashamed to say. with both hands the boy begins to gently massage the girl's chest which is only slightly developed, albeit with very discernible nipples which begin to swell. After five minutes he doesn't appear to have reached orgasm. Then the sounds begin as she goes back to fellating him faster as the boy grabs her long dark brown hair, pulling hard at it. The sounds he makes grow louder. I wait on.
It's the sound he makes that tells us he's come. Not a crying out. Less than that, but much more than a sigh, the kind of sound that we all make given the privacy when it doesn't matter how much noise we make. A mixture of relief and deep, even deeper and more profound satisfaction.
She continues for a few seconds before releasing the boy's penis which springs upwards, the foreskin completely retracted. The girl licks her lips but we see no evidence of any kind of ejaculation. The boy looks at the girl, expressionless, his orgasm faded now. The girl returns, allowing whatever is still in her mouth to run down the shaft of the penis, say four inches at a guess, and between the boy's testes and his upper thigh. The smiling girl reaches towards the camera to end the video. I take another deep breath.
'Does Peter have a sister Raf?'
'Oh no, that's definitely not his sister.'
'Oh. Who is it then?'
'No idea.'
'How many more has he done?'
'One other. Did you notice the dates?'
'No.'
'The third one, your next one, is quite recent, and it was made here, but outside somewhere. I think I know where. Felix told me that's where boys go if they want a proper talk with an older boy. In our various conversations, one or two of the Princes have admitted to hankering after the young ones.'
'No real surprise there?'
'No. Vestals just hang out there, just outside the school fields boundary and well out of sight and wait and see who comes along I imagine. They can go there for arranged meetings, and I'm talking about the first and second years which is totally forbidden. I'm not sure if any money changes hands. It might do, although they shouldn't possess any here. There's no need for any boy to have any cash. So it's probably just favours granted in exchange for a bit of friendship with an older boy. Some of our youngest crave an older boy's attention, like Peter for instance. He tarted for ages and then Felix took notice of him when he'd grown up a bit. The rest is history.'
All this has left me much food for thought, a few of which I shared with Raphael a few minutes before my scheduled departure from Frendon. I finally left for home about four the following afternoon, one day and some six hours after I first arrived. He persuaded me to stay that night so I could witness how things worked in the evenings. That was interesting. Some stint indeed. Perhaps I might talk about that later.
I was put on the bus back to the City by Raphael, dressed in exactly what I went in, apart from my newly acquired pair of natty Frendon underpants, which meant I am now the proud owner of three pairs of designer underwear. I could just about get into the smallest pair too, donated on Sidmouth beach, by some odd chance meeting with two boys who fancied a sea bathe.
Raf had suggested I might as well start my residency, as he called it, as soon as was practical for Frendon and me, so I could revise in relative peace and quiet until I sat my A Level papers in about one month's time at my local Tech College, and participate as I wished in any Frendon activities I wanted to. They would house, feed and clothe me, but not pay me anything until the following term, which would be the start of a new school year. I would be billeted in the spare bed in Cube 6 next to this boy Kirit whom I had not met. Kirit is, as Raf put it, 'a bit inert, non-sexual and rather boring, but…….he has a lovely body and a quiet and pleasant character'. Ok, that'll do me. I'm sure Kirit isn't as dull as he makes out.
'So please don't be tempted to put your hand in his bed one night please.' Says Raf. 'Not that he would notice.'
It took me a couple of days to square everything away at home, convince the folks that it was a good idea to move to Frendon immediately and revise for my A's there. I knew I could get kitted out with the appropriate clothing once I returned to Ottery and Frendon so I didn't need to take much, and certainly not my swimming trunks. That last night at home, in bed, I wondered how I would feel if I lost my virginity to Raphael one night, or during one Rest Time, more likely. I imagine I will be spending quite some time with him for one reason or another so that issue is bound to crop up; I think. Much seems to go on during that rest period with the boys and from what I gather, between the Supervisors too. I'm not sure that Rest Time is the correct term; more like Activity Time.
I've seen Raphael nude now, emerging from the shower, and I have to admire what he has to offer, if he's offering anything to anybody. I hope when I'm his age I'll still we wanting some. It's a neat package, with inconvenient body hair removed. I'm going to ask him about that. I hate all that hair down there, not that I am plagued with a lot of it. I'm not. Do I fancy him? Yes I suppose I do. I've never made love to a mature male, obviously, but I do know what's involved. I'm not that naïve. You have to accept a hard penis thrust into your bottom. I know that much! He's not got a whopper down there which, in my ignorance, tells me that certain things should be easier to accomplish for his lover. That's a subject my father didn't talk about. Not that I'd be bothered about that aspect of love making with another male. Once you're into it, so to speak, you probably don't care. I wonder how long it lasts; five minutes; ten minutes? As long as you want it to I suppose. What do I say if one of the boys asks me that question? Raphael told me to be careful when I answer questions from the boys, which they will ask. They always want to know personal stuff about their Supervisors, but don't start telling them too much about yourself. The first thing they do is to share information with others , and you don't know who those others might be.
But those boys are going to be my problem, not that I'm likely to lose my virginity to one of them! The other way around is impossible of course. That's something the boys organize between themselves. So I'll be sharing with Kirit tonight for the first time, or earlier at Rest Time possibly. I couldn't help wondering exactly why Kirit is on his own in Cube 6?
Raphael collected me again from Ottery S. Mary's church around midday, the same place as last time. I had caught the 10.45 bus from Exeter with just a holdall for luggage, heavy with my revision materials more than anything else. With the top down, we had a breezy drive back to Frendon with not much conversation.
'I've told Kirit you're coming.'
'Oh good. How did he take that?'
'Fine. He's seen you already so it wasn't a huge surprise to him.'
'How did he react; exactly?'
Raf laughed.
'I thought you might ask that question.'
'Well? How?'
'He seemed quite pleased. He'd seen you in the pool that first morning when Felix took you.'
'Oh.'
'You wouldn't have noticed him.'
'One question Raf. Why is he on his own in Cube 6?'
'He's a Year 5 therefore he has one more year here, so he had to be in the Senior Cubes this year but he had no suitable CP. He's a bit different Mike. Always has been. In fact you being in with him will be a good move. It's a bit of people management on my part. Talk to him as much as you can. None of us have really got to bottom of him. See if you can work out how he ticks…….or not. I personally think there's a lot in him, but it hasn't come out yet. Perhaps you might get it out of him. You might unlock the box? A bit of an unknown quantity is our Kirit. By the way, you look nice this morning.'
'Oh…..thank you.'
That embarrassed me somewhat, Raphael making a remark like that. I know I blushed. He must have noticed. I had what I call my sexy shorts on, and what with the motion of the car and thinking about this boy Kirit, I had come up a bit. Weird me. I managed to steer the intermittent conversation back to Kirit.
'He must show signs of something , surely?'
'Let's leave it you to find out shall we? By the way, Felix is going to take you to Stores to get you kitted out, unless you want to stay in those . He wanted to go with you to get it all sorted. That's the first thing you'll do and then get changed into it. There's a nice range of shorts and polo shirts and so on, so you should find something you like. You can take what you want, but make sure Felix approves. At the end of each day chuck shirt and pants into the laundry basket in your Cube. It will all get collected. Did you know that Felix has rather taken to you? You might like to know that it was actually his suggestion that I put you in with Kirit.'
'Was it? What does Felix know about him?'
'More than we do probably. I thought they might have been CP's at one time. They were mysteriously friendly for a while, but not in that way.'
'Have you ever inspected Kirit's phone?'
'Can't say I have Mike, but I have inspected him .'
'And?'
'He's fine. He's a Virile now. It's your job new job Mike. Consider him your case. Alright?'
He told me to call him Raf, not Raphael. He looked sideways at me with raised eyebrows. I looked sideways at the passing hedgerows and verges, the frothing cow parsley, now rather past its best. All the wild flowers over and gone, weeks ago now. The oaks are now fully leaved, the ashes well out, as the Devon cows quietly munch on. But is there something about Kirit I'm not being told? I have no image of him. I just have an odd feeling about this. A bad feeling? No, it's a good feeling; I think.
We drove on as I pondered my new life at Frendon, albeit temporary. Then I had an idea about Kirit.
'Might I see one or two of his end-of-year reports Raf? If they get such things?'
'Certainly. Good idea. I'll get the office to fish out the last two for you, but they're not the ones that go to the parents. They are for our internal use. A bit more to the point these ones.'
'More detailed?'
'Umm. I think it's boarding school syndrome with Kirit. We had an amazing visitor here a while ago who wanted to talk to some of the boys about their life here, something that interested this person, Joy. One of the boys she interviewed, selected by me, was your boy.'
'Oh really?'
'Her assertion was that boys, in particular, who were packed off to board at an early age were damaged by it. Kirit boarded from the age of five, not here obviously. We don't take them until eight or nine at the earliest.'
'Five is too young.'
'Agreed, but we never got to the bottom of it but Kirit's family was dysfunctional. We still don't know exactly where his parents really are. Somewhere abroad almost certainly. He goes to a guardian of sorts, in Norwich. Not a blood relative apparently. I'd rather he stayed here with us permanently. We don't get any fees paid now but we can't abandon him.'
'That's probably what he thinks has happened to him.'
'Yes. See what you can do for him Mike. Give him a bit of TLC if you can. I know he had some sort of bother at his last school. They threw him out. A strange kind of coincidence. The two of you sailing in the same ship.'
'The same Cube.'
'Yes. If you put your hand somewhere I'm sure he'd like that.'
'Like where?'
'Anywhere you want Mike that's legal, but remember you're not an adult in the eyes of the law. I don't think he would make any allegations of abuse Mike if you put an arm around him. He's also been very resistant to any sort of physical examination.'
'Lord remember not our offences?'
'Quite so Mr Purcell. His problem was with a young teacher. I got that much out of his last head teacher. What sort of problem gets you chucked out of your boarding school that involves a young adult I wonder?'
' That sort of problem.'
'Quite. Joy is, or was convinced he was suffering from Boarding School Syndrome. ABCD.'
'What's does that stand for Raf?'
'Abandonment, bereavement, captivity and dissociation. Don't ask me to spell that last one please.' He says laughing. 'See what you can do eh? He'll love you, hopefully, when he realises you are trying to understand and help him. He has no idea at this present time how to love anything . There's something asleep inside him, but not dead, that needs arousing. Maybe you coming here will be the best thing that's happened for him in a long while. You never know, do you?'
'No, you don't. Maybe that was me too, this ABCD thing? But I boarded from the age of eleven, not five!'
'Still could be, but somehow I'm doubtful in your case, but who knows?' I'm sure it's the ones who go so very young that suffer.'
The Receptionist, a young dapper man in shorts, had pulled two sheets of A4 paper from one of the filing cabinets. He handed them to me and then went back to his desk and screen. I sat in the corner of the Office and read all the observations made by the Supervisors concerning my new charge, Kirit.
He seems less able to relate to other boys, especially ones his own age and younger, than adults. There are signs of sexual precocity towards adults. Remarks of a sexual nature directed at one Supervisor. Noted. Caught masturbating on frequent occasions, always alone. Excellent musical ability. Found in possession of material of a highly sexual nature. Unable, he says, to make friends with other boys. Appears on occasions to be depressed-unhappy. Higher than average intelligence but lazy. Frequent inadequate personal hygiene. Often observed playing with himself in a sexual way. Untidy. Occasional unexplained minor bed wetting [?]. Hyper self-critical. Objected to personal inspection.
And so on. Quite a lot of stuff like that. Then I imagined this boy alone in in his Cube and miserable. That brought me to the verge of tears. I'm afraid I cry easily. It doesn't take much. I know I have to try with him, try anything, and I shall.
I remembered from Raf's description of him, the boy from my visit to the swimming pool, the day of my interview. He appeared to be on his own, even after the boys exited the pool to get dried and changed. I noticed him for a reason.
'By the way, a word of warning Mike, I asked Felix to leave you and Kirit at the Stores to sort both you and he out. He's been complaining that his clothing sizes are too small now, so if you wouldn't mind getting both he and you kitted out at the same time? It'll be a useful opportunity for the two of you to get to know one another in a separate context, somewhere where you both have to be, and a great chance to show him a little care and attention. He'll appreciate that you want to do things for him. From little acorns and all that? By the way, just another thing about this boy; sometimes he cries at night, probably in his sleep. Some of the other boys in the Cubes have been complaining about him. I've taken the liberty of moving the bedside cabinets to one side so your bed is closer to his, just in case. Alright? By the way please don't misunderstand me. I'm not expecting you to be Frendon's to answer Sigmund Freud. I just want you to be kind to a boy in need. Bring him on if you can. Get him out of himself and that dark place he seems to be in right now. Show him some light, that light you have in you. Share it with him. You have no other commitments here, not until next term. Are you up for it?'
I remember the boy now. He was standing on his own in the far corner of the pool, the shallow end which gave me a clear sight of him. He had his hands behind his back and saw me and looked. I noticed him too. For a few seconds it became a little more than a glance; that lingered. I had to look away.
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