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Subject: Last of the Line Chapter 93 Last of the Line by badboi666 =============================================================================== If sex with boys isn’t your thing, go away. If, as is much more likely, you’ve come to this site precisely to get your rocks off reading about sex with 14-year-olds then make yourself comfortable – you’re in the right place. Don’t leave, however, without doing this: Donate to Nifty – these buggers may do it for love but they still have to eat. fty/donate.html =============================================================================== Chapter 93 “My brother and I have separate bedrooms – he’s 3 years older. About a year ago something went wrong at home and my father got some builders in – I’ve no idea why – but I had to sleep in James’s room. He wasn’t pleased, but they bribed him to put up with me by promising a treat of some kind. Anyway, after a few minutes we sorted things out. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘whatever happens in here, you keep your trap shut’. So when you said the same thing, Dab, I wasn’t bothered. I know how to keep my mouth shut. Anyway, James – he was nearly 13 then – was a keen wanker, though I didn’t know that. I’d found out about wanking by myself when I was 10, but of course I just assumed that nobody else had ever done it. His bed started squeaking not long after he put the light out on the first night, and it hit me that my special discovery wasn’t mine after all. ‘You’re doing it, aren’t you?’ I said. Bloody silly of me because he yelled at me. ‘I said keep your fucking trap shut.’ I made jolly sure that I didn’t make a sound when I started to do it too. He groaned and grunted as he got there, so I decided I would groan and grunt too, just to let him know that I did it too. I think I wanted him to be OL if we did it together. So I went ooh! as it hit me. “About a minute later he whispered ‘you wank, don’t you?’ and I whispered ‘yes. Do you squirt yet?’ ‘Yeah. Wanna see?’ I was across to his bed in no time and he pulled back the bedclothes. There was a little pool on his belly. ‘Wow!’ I said, ‘I’ve never seen it before. can I watch you do it next time?’ He said he’d think about it, but I knew jolly well he’s want his little brother to witness such a grown-up thing. I was right too, and the next night about ten minutes after we’d put the light out he whispered ‘wanna see?’ again and I was there like a shot. His cock was only a bit longer than mine, but thicker and his balls were bigger too. ‘Wanna see mine?’ ‘Yeah, OK,’ and when he saw it, ‘fuck, Henry, that’s big for a kid of 10!’ While this was going on he was stroking it and I couldn’t keep my eyes off it. He started to wank it properly and after a couple of minutes he began to groan. ‘Hold my balls,’ he muttered, ‘but don’t fucking squeeze.’ That was the moment I decided that I was going to make sure that James and I spent more time together. “His groans became noisier and ‘mmmf!’ as his cock spat three squirts onto his belly. I thought if I asked he might say ‘no’, so I just put out a finger and felt it smooth and slippery. ‘Nice,’ I said, then I sniffed my finger. ‘Smells of swimming pools.’ He laughed, ‘yeah, don’t know why as my cock hasn’t been in a swimming pool for months. I then did something very brave. I put my finger back in the pool. I put my finger in my mouth. ‘Tastes funny – d’you want to try?’ ‘You licked my spunk – you’re weird, Henry.’ ‘Mmm, can we do stuff together? I promise I won’t tell anyone. Please? I’ll do you tomorrow if you like.’ He looked at me. You sure? I nodded. ‘OK then squirt.’ I liked it when he called me that – it meant he was being friendly and not a pain in the arse as he was most of the time.” “You seem to know how to get what you want, Henry,” I said, “was James pleased with the help you gave him?” Henry giggled happily. “Oh, brother! His eyes rolled back when I took hold of his cock the next night – I thought they were going to disappear – and he kept twitching and muttering ‘faster, faster’. So I went as fast as I could and he groaned and squirted a lot more than the night before. His cock looked so hot as the spunk shot out – I wish I could do that, I thought, and the next best thing was to lock it up. I didn’t plan to, but when I saw it lying there all pearly and nice I just bent my head and my tongue scooped it up. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ I didn’t answer – I was too busy; I couldn’t stop, it was so yummy. “You ate my spunk! You’re mad.’ I shook my head. ‘No, it’s nice, you should try. Tomorrow I dare you to have half of it.’ That got him. ‘No way.’ “Well in that case you have to wank me,’ I said, or else. ‘Or else what?’ ‘Or else I never wank you again.’ James grinned. ‘Just teasing you, squirt, come here and I’ll do you.'” “Let me guess,” I said, “how long before you got his cock in your mouth. I’d say three nights after you are his spunk.” “You’re not bad, Dab,” he said, “you’re only one day out. The third night I told him I wouldn’t suck his cock any more if he didn’t suck mine. Ever since we’ve done it most nights.” “When did he first fuck you?” asked Edward, who had been quiet up to then. “A week before kilis escort he was 13 I said he could fuck me on his birthday. As far as he was concerned it came out of the blue, but I’d been sticking things up my arse for ages – fingers, but my fingers aren’t very big, so I tried a carrot, but it was hard and not much fun. Then I hit on a cucumber. Thoroughly recommended, as my father says about fancy wine. James’s cock isn’t as fat as a cucumber, and if I put something slippery up my arse I thought it would go in nicely.” “What happened?” I said. “James just about went mad waiting for his birthday, but I refused to budge. ‘No,’ I said, ‘if I’m going to be fucked it’s got to be by a teenager, not just an child.’ He wasn’t too pleased, but I just bent over and wiggled my arse at him. ‘Only five more days,’ I said.” “And what happened on his birthday – when was it anyway?” said Edward. “Last April. His birthday is exactly six months from mine, both on the 26th. So I’ll be 11 in three weeks. Can’t wait. Anyway, birthday boy and I call it a day as he can’t keep the thought of my arse out of his head, and I’m a bit the same. By half past ten we’d been in bed for long enough for them to think we’re asleep, and we’d heard them coming upstairs to bed themselves. I went over to James’s bed and got in beside him. ‘They’re probably fucking, so why don’t we’ I whispered, ‘happy birthday, by the way.’ I’d put some of Mum’s face cream up my arse, so he slipped in all right. ‘Oh fuck, Henry, you’re all wet inside – my cock just went in without even pushing.’ I clenched my arse and he groaned. ‘God!’ I thought, ‘he’s not going to come that fast surely.’ I was kneeling and he was behind me like dogs. I reached for his hand and put it on my cock. ‘Go on, James, do me hard, and wank me at the same time.’ It didn’t take long, not that first time. He groaned like he always dies but this time I felt hot spunk coming rushing out of his cock and hitting my insides. It’s a great feeling. I see you’re both nodding, but I’d never felt it before. I made bloody sure I felt it again though. By the time we’d done it ten times he kept it in my for a lot longer – ten minutes or so. It was lovely. So now you know.” I said I was impressed. I remembered Stubbs and his eruptions and then inevitably I remembered Guy. “Have you had an adult up there?” Henry said, very softly, “not yet, Dab.” His eyes twinkled fetchingly. Edward told me that Colin’s sucking the newly-promoted Trebles was routine. “Well, that’s not completely true. He sucks some of them before then – he did Gordon and me a good three months before we moved up. But we were special, Dab, weren’t we?” “Indeed you were, and so is Henry, Edward. He sounds like a boy who is keen to have cock up his arse. When does Colin allow himself to progress further?” Henry looked enquiringly at Edward. “Depends. With Gordon and me it took him about a week, but usually it’s not till the new ones are 11 or so. Your turn will come soon enough, Henry.” “Balls to that – I want Dab to be the first man. Boys are fun, but Dab knows a thing or two about fucking, don’t you, Dab?” I smiled. “Would you like my cock up your arse, Henry?” “Mmm,” said Henry happily, “and in my mouth. And my cock likes to go into new places, and that means they’ll be familiar when my balls start to make spunk. When are you going to fuck me, Dab? You know you want to.” “You must be on the receiving end of the treatment you dished out to James,” I said, “but I’m not as heartless as you. I won’t make you want a week. How about two days’ time – in here?” His eyes lit up. “Can Edward come too?” “There’s no way I’m missing out,” pointed out Edward, “Dab’s a first class fucker and if you faint away with delight you’ll need someone to cart you back. Don’t worry, squirt, I’ll see you’re OK.” I said solemnly that I would try to restrain myself at least on the first occasion. Then Henry, damn him, insisted that he wanted nothing less than an A1 fucking, as he put it. “And that means you mustn’t come between now and when you put that fine thing in in 46 hours’ time.” “Agreed, but you two are similarly banned.” Edward wasn’t best pleased, but a glare from me ensured acquiescence. They wouldn’t have to go for another 40 minutes or so. Each had come, but I remained unfulfilled. When I pointed this out it was agreed that, so that all three of us were starting on an equal footing in two days’ time, I might be allowed to come that afternoon. “It remains only to decide where, then,” I said, looking from one angelic devil to the other, “and in whom.” The ancient routine of scissors-paper-stone (best of three) decided that Henry would be the recipient of noble semen, and since there was no way I was going to fuck him earlier than the promised time he was going to have to suck me off. “Goody!” he said. A pleasing guest, I thought. I arranged myself on the bed, my arms and legs outstretched. Edward grinned – this was a position in which he had seen me many times. “Instruct your pupil,” I said. Henry snorted. “Pupil, my arse.” “What a good idea,” murmured Edward, “you suck him off and I’ll rim you some more. kıbrıs escort You have a nice arse.” Henry crouched over my cock – in all honesty I would rather he had crouched the other way round so that I might have done the rimming, but I knew – oh, yes, gentle reader, by that time I was utterly convinced – that Henry would become a frequent visitor long after Edward had ceased to be a treble, so a mutual nuzzle of the kind envisaged would not be long delayed. Henry’s lips were those of an accomplished player, and his keenness to swallow Edward’s spunk made it easy for me to relax – as much as one can relax when fresh 10-year-old’s lips are at work – and to allow myself to drown in the sensations. If Colin stuck to his usual not-before-11 practice I would have three weeks of access to his arse: weeks in which I hoped Henry would allow me unfettered access. Somehow I wasn’t in much doubt, as his lips and tongue were those of a skilled operator. “Nearly,” I murmured, just in case he wanted to see it fly. He didn’t, I was glad to note, and 20 seconds later the first shots of a gratifyingly productive ejaculation were down his throat. Edward had stopped rimming when I had warned I was about to come, and had positioned himself close to the scene of the action. “I counted eight,” he said quietly, “eight of your stomach muscles, Dab, and eight of Henry’s swallows. He’s tasty, isn’t he?” I’m sure that was directed at Henry, as Edward has always been keen on my spunk, but it could equally well have been addressed to me. Henry was indeed tasty. My alarm that one day I would be deprived of Gordon and Edward disappeared. Henry got up. “That was the biggest I’ve swallowed,” he said happily. “No more now until you fuck me, OK, Dab?” “OK, Henry. You’re bloody good, you know that.” “It’s all down to James,” he said modestly, and when Edward dug him in the ribs, he added, “Edward put the finishing touches on though.” Honour was satisfied. No spunk stains remained on either of them, so with deep sighs all round they climbed back into their clothes. “See you at 2 in two days,” said Edward, giving me a prolonged kiss. I noted out of the corner of my eye while this was happening that Henry looked surprised. Lesson 4 might be kissing, not out of place after a satisfying first fuck. ***** Early that evening I found a note in my pigeon hole from Simon – the drainage expert – asking me to join him for a glass of something in his rooms after Hall. I knocked on his door at 9 – I had no idea how long they lingered at High Table over the port and nuts when there weren’t any potential scholars to vet – and found that he had beaten me to it by only a few minutes. He had decanted a claret and two chairs were drawn up on either side of a log fire. I had only seen a log fire in the Combination Room, and remarked on how welcome it must be in the depths of winter. It was only early October, but Cambridge had spent a few days reminding all of us that the next piece of high ground to the east was the Urals. A bowl of salted almonds and another of grapes completed the feast. “Well now, Dab,” he said when our glasses were filled, “how are you progressing with your land in these parts. Sold it yet?” I told him that all three parts of the Estate had been put on the market in August, and that we had accepted an offer on two of them. “I think we have two buyers interested in the biggest piece, so that ought to be sold within a few weeks.” “Well done – I’m sure you won’t regret it. Are you planning to buy elsewhere?” I told him about the vines in Sussex and he asked detailed questions about the sites – the slope, the direction they faced, and so on. He seemed pleased with my answers – we had been well advised, he said. “When will Chateau d’Abernon be fit for drinking? You must call it that – it would be a shame to waste the French connection.” I laughed: I hadn’t thought of that (and Chateau d’Abernon it duly became when the first grapes were ready. These things were so much easier after the Rupture as the French could no longer object). Simon and I talked of many things as the claret disappeared. I had not realised that he was the college Steward, and thus in charge of its cellar. “I don’t normally invite undergraduates to see what we have down there, but since you are not merely an undergraduate but a brewer in your own right – and shortly to be a wine-maker – I think we might make an exception. Bring your glass.” I took a last handful of the almonds and followed him down. It was an eye-opener. I’d had enough good wine put before me at home to know that I knew virtually nothing about what made a wine a good – or even a great – wine. I resolved to put that right. “Do you ever have wine-tasting sessions, Simon? I know nothing about it.” He chuckled. “Indeed I do, Dab, but only for senior members. I suppose in these modern times, Queen Anne now being safely dead, I might consider offering the taste buds of junior members the same instruction. Do you think there would be a queue?” I said I thought that if it were advertised to the first half dozen who applied there would be a useful measure of whether a second or third session kırıkkale escort might be needed. “I’ll need to charge – this stuff doesn’t come cheap. Would you countenance a modest fee, Dab?” He was teasing me. I pretended to give the matter deep thought. “How about 20 guineas for two sessions? We’d get through that much easily, I’d have thought.” “I like the guineas touch. I thought they’d died out years ago.” “So had her late Majesty.” (The wine tastings duly took place, and as foreseen well over half a dozen expressed an interest. By the time I graduated I was pretty proficient with the ins and outs of what would become part of my trade.) We went back up to Simon’s room where ‘a particularly pleasing pudding wine’, as he put it, awaited us. And at last we reached the reason for my visit. My land in East Anglia, the cellars – all a preamble to getting Dab into a relaxed and mellow state. “My colleague Colin can be very jealous, Dab, While I do not share his – or your – interests in your leisure pursuits, if I may call them that, I do care that you don’t make a fool of yourself, or of the College. Can you contrive to be a little more discreet? The path to your rooms is in danger of becoming too well-worn.” Even in the dim light of the log fire my blush was all too obvious. I said nothing. “Well, at least you acknowledge that you might be in some peril,” he said after a minute or two. “Does Colin Marsh know, or are you suggesting he might if we’re not careful?” “I don’t suppose he suspects a thing, Dab, but I can’t think that happy situation will go on for the rest of your time here. I’m not about to tell him, if that’s worrying you. I couldn’t care less what you and the boys do – by all accounts, not least Colin’s, they are sparky young devils who are very far from being innocent – but you must be less obvious.” This was unexpected, to say the least. I could understand censure, but this was bordering on connivance. He said he didn’t share my interests, but he was cheerfully condoning them: he was not troubled by my buggering a 13-year-old (though luckily he didn’t appear to know about Henry and what had been planned for him). “I’m sure an intelligent member of this college can find a way to keep all parties content, Dab. Colin in continued ignorance, you out of scandal, your willing victim – I hope he is willing? -” (I nodded) “- well then, the boy happy to be spending time with someone they look up to and from whom doubtless he is learning a great deal in agreeable circumstances. Just work it out. And now, lesson over. I hope it wasn’t too traumatic?” I assured him that I was more grateful for his guidance that I could say. “Saved you from deep water in more than one way then, eh Dab?” he said, and I was gone. How narrow had my escape been? Had Simon seen Edward coming to C6, or had someone spilt the beans, but if so why to Simon? I would never know. The most pressing problem was what to do about their next planned visit – now tomorrow (it was well after midnight). How was I to get a message to Edward? By mid-afternoon I was none the wiser. Much as the problem Simon had laid in my lap was pressing, so too were lectures. I’d discovered very early on in my first term that a Maths lecture missed caused a vastly greater disruption than an English one – you could read the book after all, but Maths lectures didn’t come in books, so that morning (after less sleep than was good for me with a problem to solve) was spent in matters mathematical. By 4 o’clock a plan began to appear – I would attend Evensong and an eyebrow signal would, with luck, be interpreted as ‘meet me outside’. It wouldn’t be possible to spend long explaining what was up, so I would have to give Edward a note, and that brought its own difficulty if he didn’t get rid of it safely. By 5 o’clock I was in a real state, but at least I knew what had to be done. I set about writing the most difficult thing I’d ever had to write. By the time I had to put a gown on for Chapel I was exhausted. Edward was surprised to see me, and when I gave a small frown he looked worried. I decided not to make eye contact again until near the end. A flicked eye movement towards the west door was met with a tiny nod and a trace of a smile. When he came up to me outside after he had ditched his surplice there was no sign of Henry, thank goodness. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” he said quietly. I nodded, “read this – read it somewhere on your own and then tear it up into small pieces. I’m sorry, Edward,” and I went away before he could say anything. ***** The next Sunday I went to Matins and the sun broke out on Edward’s face. An eyebrow-led assignation was fixed and a moment later I raised one finger to scratch my nose. A nod from Edward. It was all very cloak-and-dagger: a fine Cambridge tradition. Matins wore on. Outside I watched Colin and the choir men traipse off to their regular pub visit. Edward had wisely dallied in the vestry and by the time he appeared Colin’s party was put of sight and the rest of the trebles – including Henry – were heading wherever they were going. “It’s going to be all right, isn’t it?” he said. I nodded. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 94 as my plan develops. Drop me a line at net – that is after you’ve dropped a few quid. ===============================================================================

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