Paul and Mark, What Might Have Been
|by Paul Lewis|
Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 15 Mar 2013
Paul and Mark, three years on: What Might Have Been
The events related in the following story are entirely fictitious and do not, in any way, represent a sequel to my four earlier accounts of the real-life adventures of my closest boyhood friend, Mark and myself, when we were aged between 10 and 14. This is pure fantasy, set three years after the emigration of Mark and his parents to Canada and is a tale of “What might have Been”, had they ever returned to the U.K. for a visit. Supporting characters and locations used in the story are, however, based upon actual people and places with which I became familiar in my later years, albeit with modified names.
Mark, my closest childhood friend and surrogate brother, now aged 15-½, sprawled face-down, legs apart, hips across a couple of pillows, over the side of my bed. I had not seen him in nearly three years and now, as he lay there, completely naked and wriggling slightly in anticipation, I gazed down appreciatively at his snowy-white arse as it stuck enticingly up in the air, running a hand over the pert, cheeky mounds. His buttocks were flawless, looking as if carved from pure white marble, firm, well-rounded and smooth as silk. Sprawled as he was, thighs spread, young Mark was leaving nothing to the imagination. His big, firm balls just asked to be stroked and massaged and I reached down and grasped them gently, kneading and rolling them in my fingers, while he moaned softly with contentment. An exploratory finger into his crack found his tight hole, tickling it playfully and bringing forth a gasp of pleasure.
“OK, that's enough,” I said, with mock severity. “Pain before pleasure, young man!” With that, I raised my right hand and brought it down hard with a resounding smack on the upturned buttocks, invitingly presented for punishment. A bright pink hand print glowed into life across the centre of his bottom and he gasped, jerking slightly forward.
“Shit, Paul! That was a stinger! Guess I'm well out of practice with this!”
“You and me both, Mate,” I replied. “We're going to be looking at two very sore arses before we're finished, I reckon!”
That, for the moment, was the extent of our conversation, as I really started to get into my stride. With my left hand in the small of his back, I began to spank Mark steadily, laying on fast, hard smacks, that soon had him squirming and kicking. Before long, his intensive wriggling was spreading his thighs far enough to give me a perfect view of his hole and I aimed the next few smacks straight at the tender skin at the sides of his deep cleft, just above it. Mark leapt and bucked as I found his most sensitive parts and, as I smacked him there as hard as I could, he started to thrust his hips powerfully back and forth, grinding his steel-hard cock into the supporting pillows. I was as aroused as he by the erotic sight, my own prick standing up vertically, throbbing and bobbing from side to side, as I continued to spank energetically.
Nearly three years had now elapsed since the departure of Mark and his parents for their new life in Canada and this was the first time they had returned to England for a visit. Not surprisingly, therefore, both of us had grown and developed very considerably since we had last been together. I was, of course, almost 16-½, whilst Mark, at slightly less than a year younger, was just 15-½. We were both nearly six feet in height and, with continued sport and exercise, were strong and muscular, broad at the shoulders and narrow at the waist, with good abdominal development. Sexually, too, we had matured considerably and now, seeing each other naked for the first time in three years we were, indeed, duly impressed. Each of us sported a fine set of big, firm bollocks, while our stiff cocks were both about 6-½ inches long and, when fully erect, were like rods of blue-steel in each-other's hands. As an amusing aside, it also came out in conversation, that each of us, it seemed, masturbated regularly at least twice every day and, when given the opportunity, three or, very occasionally, four times when our hormones were sufficiently aroused!
With Mark's bucking and thrusting becoming increasingly urgent and my own cock at bursting point, I laid on a final half-dozen hard slaps to the crown of his buttocks, then ran my hand gently over the blazing cheeks, no longer snowy white, but a deep, hot scarlet. Reaching across to the bedside table where I had placed it strategically, I grasped a pump-action container of Durex Play Tingle Lube. This, I had discovered relatively recently, made an excellent adjunct to masturbation sessions, the effects of rubbing the tingling lubrication over a throbbing shaft and onto a bared bell-end, turning an ordinary wank into a mind-blowing one and I had, for quite a while, fantasized about using it when we were together.
Parting Mark's hot arse-cheeks with one hand, with the other I pumped a good dollop of lubrication into his crack and spread it the full length, using two fingers, working it all round, and slightly into, his hole. As the cool, tingling fluid hit his hot skin, he gasped again. “Fuck! That's good. What the hell is it?”
“Wait and see,” I answered teasingly, continuing to probe his hole gently with my forefinger. When he was well lubricated, I leaned forward, thrusting my rigid prick into his deep, warm cleft. It slid easily up and down, as I began giving him a fast, vigorous crack-fuck, rubbing my 6-½ inch length hard between his mounds, my stomach rubbing against the warmth of his back and my balls banging against his lower buttocks. After a couple of minutes, I drew back slightly and forced my cock downwards, so that the exposed bell-end rubbed directly against Mark's hole and the back of his balls. As the tip of my cock pressed against his tight bulls-eye, he shuddered violently, forcing his arse hard against me.
“Aaaahhhh!” he moaned, I can't hold it much more.... Ohhh! Ohhh! Arrrrgh!“With a final, powerful thrust of his cock, he came and I felt the spasms in his body, as his prick spurted, over and over again. A few seconds later, I too, erupted in sympathetic detonation, shooting long strings of jism over his balls, hole and buttocks, from where it ran down into his crack.
The intensity of our sexual release after having been parted for so long, left the two of drained and breathless. Exhausted, I collapsed forward onto Mark, my rapidly softening penis just resting in his crack and my arse curved over his. Finally, we recovered sufficiently to move and I heaved myself off Mark, allowing him to stagger to his feet. Looking at each other, we started to grin and soon were giggling uncontrollably.
“Oh, Jeez, Paul, I can't believe how awesome that was!” exclaimed Mark when he recovered his breath, his gold-blond hair falling across his forehead. “I've missed that ever since we left England.”
I put my hands on his shoulders and pulled him to me in a tight hug. “Oh, God, that makes two of us, pal!” I replied, in heartfelt tones. “I didn't realise it before, but now it's hit home just how much I've been needing your company!”
It was about 11.15 p.m. and we were standing in a large, old-fashioned bedroom at Medway Court, a huge, 400-year-old farm-house, almost a manor house really, belonging to my Great Aunt Jeanette. She was a relative on my father's side and had had two happy and successful marriages in which, in both cases, her much older husbands had pre-deceased her. Her second husband, Sir Andrew Stirling, a baronet, had died some years earlier, certainly before I had started going to visit and had left her the house, along with its attached farm and, of course, her title of Lady Stirling. How we came to be there now, during the second week of a glorious August, was interesting.
Mark and his parents had arrived from Canada two days earlier and, much to the delight of us lads, it was proposed that Mark should stay with us, whilst his parents travelled about, visiting various old friends around the country. It just so happened, that the visit to Medway Court had already been arranged and Aunt Jeanette, now in her late eighties, was only too pleased to have two lively young lads staying with her, rather than just one. She said it always made her feel young again when I came up to stay, a habit which had begun some couple of years before, when I had volunteered to go over there during one summer holiday to help out when she was short-handed on the farm. Since then, I had usually visited at least twice a year and, now that I was well old enough to look after myself, my parents were only too happy for me to go over to Kent, to be out of their hair and for me to be enjoying myself in the country.
Thus, after a whirlwind of rapid preparations, booking of train tickets and packing, Mark and I had duly arrived late that morning, to a great welcome from my Aunt and her bevy of household and farm retainers. We were sharing my usual bedroom, which was large, with a very high ceiling and equipped with two very old single beds. It has to be admitted that, when we walked in, we exchanged private grins at the sight of those beds for, unlike modern divans, these were true, old-fashioned bedsteads and very much higher than their later equivalents. A perfect height in fact, for two nearly 6-ft teenage boys, to bend over for hard arse-smackings and vigorous crack-fucks!
Another major advantage of the room, was that it lay at the opposite end of the house from my Aunt's and, therefore, none of the inevitable noise we were creating, was ever likely to be overheard.
The intensity of this, our first evening's activities, was understandable, given that it was the first opportunity we had had to be really private together and to make up for three years deprivation. Having recovered sufficiently, we looked around our room and, once again, began to chuckle; the floor of the bedroom resembled a well picked-over stall at a car-boot sale, with Tee-shirts, trainers, socks, jeans and boxer-shorts lying tangled together in chaotic disarray, sure testimony to the urgent haste with which they had been discarded.
“Guess we'd better get cleaned up a bit,” I suggested, eyeing the mess. The top pillow over which Mark had been lying had, fortunately, been draped with an old towel which, of course, was now liberally soiled with his spunk. Some had, in fact, even shot over the bedspread, but we quickly sponged this off, before it had a chance to stain.
My spunk, of course, was all over Mark's bare arse, crack and balls and now he stepped over to the wash-basin, filled it with warm water and washed himself off with a flannel. I had managed to catch a bit as well, in my pubes and over my lower abdominal muscles, so I joined him at the sink and we cleaned off together. His bum was still glowing warmly and, laying my hand on it, I could feel the heat radiating from his smooth globes. Unable to resist, I slipped a hand between his legs and, very gently, massaged his balls and the base of his shaft.
“Mmmmm,” he sighed softly, “Nice!” He dropped the flannel back into the basin, reached round and took my flaccid prick in his hand, gently rubbing it and pulling the foreskin back and forth, until it once more started to show an interest and began to stiffen. His own cock was also beginning to rise to the occasion again and we turned to face each other, semi-erect penises rubbing together. Mark reached down between us, gripping both cocks and rubbing them simultaneously until, with the amazing recovery power of youth, they both stood proud and vertical, just twenty minutes after shooting their copious loads.
“Now!” he began briskly, spinning me round so that my rear was towards him, “that arse of yours is far too white! I think that needs changing!”
So saying, he drew back his hand and gave me a almighty slap on the right buttock, closely followed by one to the left. “Yeow!” I squawked, jerking forward, “That's about the hardest whack I've ever had!”
“And plenty more where those came from, my lad!” came the unsympathetic reply. “It's payback time! Get yourself over that bed!”
Quickly positioning a couple of pillows and covering them with a towel, I bent forward and lay with the pillows just under my hips, toes touching the floor, chest flat on the bed-cover and my bare bottom well-elevated for easy spanking. Mark regarded me, rubbing a hand over my buttocks as he did so and laying on another couple of hard smacks for good measure. “Let's go for an old favourite,” he said and climbed up onto the bed in front of me. A moment later he was astride my back, a knee to each side, facing my naked arse and I could feel the warmth from his still-red backside, as his bare buttocks rubbed against my back.
Seconds later, Mark was enthusiastically “playing the bongos”, as we had termed it several years earlier. With both hands, he slapped my arse steadily, rhythmically and extremely hard! I guess that neither of us had really appreciated, until this evening, how very much stronger we both had become during the intervening three years. Maybe we were still not quite at full adult strength but, my word, smacks that had, in the past, stung a bit and produced a rosy glow in our bottoms, now really smarted! I even felt involuntary tears pricking my eyes as Mark slapped out a steady rhythm on my globes. The other aspect of this particular position, of course, was that the lad on the receiving end was entirely at the mercy of the one laying on the spanking as escape, or protection of the buttocks, was quite impossible whilst pinned down on the bed. Ironically for me, originally it was I who had come up with the idea when we were about 11 or 12, due to the necessity of finding a way of spanking Mark, without having to seat my already-sore bottom on a chair to take him across my knee. Over the last few years we had been together, it had become one of our favourite and most frequently used, spanking positions... now it had come back to haunt me – with interest!
Having spanked me suitably red, Mark paused for a moment, running a hand over my smarting globes and down between my spread legs, to give my balls some very welcome attention. Rolling them gently with his fingertips, the sensations produced, practically blew my head off and, almost involuntarily, I began thrusting strongly, back and forth against the pillow, as I lost myself in the moment. Then I felt the probing fingers shift a little, up my crack, to find my tight hole, where they teased, lightly scratching around the sensitive perimeter, then moving in to probe, very gently, my most intimate spot.
“Ahhh, yessss!” I whispered. “That's sooooo good!”
Mark laughed softly. “Guess you like that, then?” he commented, somewhat un-necessarily!
With a light slap on my bottom, Mark climbed off the bed and shifted around behind me, his rigid shaft bobbing as he moved. The next thing I felt, was the tingling coolness of lubrication being squirted into my crack. Deft fingers worked it up and down, top to bottom and I gasped out loud, as a finger slid into my hole, rubbing the cooling fluid well inside.
“Ohhhh, Jeeezuzl!” I breathed quietly, “That's amazing!”
“Yeah, it's just mind-blowing, the best ever,” replied Mark, his voice a husky whisper. “Wish we'd known about that before!”
Then, without any further warning, his hot length was in my cleft and he thrust powerfully, returning the compliment and giving me a long, hard crack-fuck. As both of us had ejaculated only about 40 minutes earlier, our staying-power was at its maximum and I was thrusting in time with Mark and just as strongly. Every so often, he drew back and gave me a brief, stinging spanking, before going down on me again, shagging my crack hard and forcing his cock downwards, to rub firmly against my bollocks and hole, just as I had done with him earlier.
Suddenly, Mark gave a thrust so strong, that I was forced forward bodily. “Ohhh, Arrrgh! Yessss!” he moaned and a second afterwards his hot spunk erupted over my arse and trickled down into the cleft. Then I felt the vibration of his rapidly beating heart against my back, as his warm weight collapsed on top of me, utterly spent.
“Oh shit, man!” he gasped. “What was that like!!! Awesome or what!”
I chuckled gently, “looks like we've really missed each other, doesn't it! Come on, up you get.”
With a mock-groan, Mark pushed himself up and gave me a gentle slap on the arse. “Hey Mate, you need a wash,” he remarked.
“Yeah, I wonder why!?”, I replied with a grin, heaving myself to my feet, my still-erect cock bouncing before me. “Maybe I'll wait and do it after you finish the job!”
Mark eyed my jiggling penis. “Yeah, guess that does need some attention,” he mused. “Why don't we go for another first?”
To my amazement, he knelt down on the carpet in front of me and pulled my prick down to his mouth. Easing back the foreskin, he started to lick the exposed bell-end, with quick tongue movements, holding the stiff shaft in his left hand and squeezing my balls with the right.
“Ohhh!” I breathed. “Ahhhh!” and began to thrust forward to meet his tongue. Bit by bit, Mark took my cock into his mouth; just the very tip at first, then the complete knob. I grasped his blond head, moving him back and forth in time with my increasingly urgent thrusts, until the first two or three inches of my prick were disappearing into his mouth. The warm, wet, tickling sensation was exquisite, unlike anything I'd ever felt before and it was not long before I felt that fatal pressure beginning to build in my balls.
“Ahhh!, Yesss, I'm going to come!” I cried, pulling back just in time, so that my hot spurts splashed onto my friend's neck and chest. Mark continued to wank my cock, milking it of every last drop of spunk, until it finally flopped, drained at last.
“Wow! That was cool!”, I exclaimed. “Where did you learn to do that?”
“Well,” he replied, slightly sheepishly, “I've never actually done it before but, about six months back, I managed to get hold of a gay porn mag and, in that, they guys seemed to be doing it all the time. I wasn't sure I really wanted to do it at first, but it's just been so good being back together again, I decided I'd like to do something a bit special for you.”
“Aw, shucks, Mate,” I said, giving him a hug. “I really appreciate that and I'll definitely do the same for you – but not tonight,” I added, glancing at my watch on the bedside table and seeing that it was about a quarter to one in the morning. “Tomorrow, for sure! Come on then, let's clean up and get some kip.”
Ten minutes later, after some vital washing and tidying, we tumbled, still naked, into our respective beds and were asleep within minutes, the inevitable consequence of our wonderful reunion that had been, emotionally and physically, so very satisfying.
The following morning I stirred, slowly emerging from the depths of a dreamless, untroubled sleep, to realize that, outside, the August sun was shining warm and bright beyond the curtains and the sounds and scents of the summer countryside were drifting in through the open window. I opened one eye and glanced at my watch on the bedside table. It informed me, that it was 8.30 a.m. Fine! At dinner the previous evening, Aunt Jeanette had assured us that we could get up when we liked, assuming (with her late-80s perspective) that we would be tired after our journey. Well, we might have been tired, but it sure wasn't because of the travelling!
I turned my head and looked across at Mark, where he lay on his back, silent and unmoving, three feet away in his own bed. He was still dead to the world and, in sleep, looked the picture of angelic innocence. How deceptive looks can be, I thought, thinking back to our activities of the previous evening! Thoughts like that, naturally, lead directly to other things and I reached down under the sheets to grasp my cock, already stiff with a fine morning erection.
Gently playing with it, it occurred to me, that it would be nice to give Mark a rather pleasant wake-up call so, flicking back the covers, I hopped out of bed and, so as not to wake him, carefully lifted Mark's bedclothes and pulled them back, exposing him to the ankles. As the cooler air brushed his naked body, he stirred slightly in his sleep but still did not awaken. His cock, however, had already definitely woken up and lay back, rigidly, on his flat stomach, amid a sprinkling of very fine golden hairs. I leaned forward carefully, grasping his prick and, bringing my mouth down to it began, very gently, to lick the tip and bell-end. As I became more used to it, I finally took the whole knob into my mouth, tonguing and sucking it and rubbing my lips up and down its bulge.
“Mmmm... Mmmm,” murmured Mark, turning his head from side to side, blond hair falling over his eyes. As I continued to suck him, his movements increased, an arm came up to his forehead and one leg bent at the knee until, suddenly, with a loud grunt, his eyes opened, his deep blue gaze falling directly on me.
“Ahhh, Paul...” he began, sleepily, “Ahhhh, oh-ooh, that's soooo good!” I responded by upping the tempo a bit, moving my mouth rapidly up and down his shaft until I was taking in at least half its length. Mark, too, had started to thrust in time with me and he began to breathe more and more heavily, moaning with pleasure and his head twisting from side to side, as I built up the friction.
“Ohhh! Ohhh! I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come!” he cried suddenly, his hips jerking vigorously. I pulled my mouth away from him and, holding his cock tightly, began to wank it hard, massaging his balls in the other hand. “Aaaahhhh!” he moaned and his cock bucked in my hand, thick strings of spunk spurting from it to hit him under the chin and between the nipples. I squeezed and tugged his cock hard until, as he had done with me the night before, there was nothing left to come and his head flopped back, eyes closed, on the pillow.
A second later, he opened his eyes again and gave me a broad grin. “Good morning, little brother!” I said. “I trust you slept well and enjoyed your wake-up call!”
He laughed. “Bloody hell, Paul, that was epic! Best wake up I've ever had. Couldn't believe that – I was really asleep and suddenly – well, I didn't know what was going on, except it felt fantastic and I woke up and there you were with my cock in your mouth!”
“Well, guess we've both had a first, then,” I said. “Oh, and by the way, wasn't it really naughty of me to take advantage of you while you were asleep like that? I think I deserve a good spanking, don't you?”
“Bloody right you do, Mate! Come here and lie across me!”
I leaned forward and draped my 6-ft height across Mark's middle, feet just off the floor on one side of the bed and holding myself up on my hands on the other. My still-hard cock pressed into Mark's thigh and my bare arse stuck up invitingly, for a damn good walloping.
And a damn good walloping is exactly what it got – Mark spanked and spanked, his right hand covering every square inch of my buttocks with hard, resounding smacks, from peak to thighs and back again, left to right and right to left and spreading my cheeks to redden the sides of my crack just above the hole. I bucked and squirmed, thrusting my cock against Mark's naked thigh until it erupted in violent orgasm, shooting spunk across his leg and onto the sheets. Drained once more, I flopped, for a few moments lying inert, while Mark's hand caressed my blazing rear and gently squeezed my slackening balls.
He laughed softly. “Wow! What a way to wake up. Wish it could be like that every morning!”
“Well,” I answered, from my position just off the floor, “We've a whole week here, so why not? It's fantastic trying out all these new techniques we never did before, so let's make the most of it!”
“No arguments from me on that one!” he replied with enthusiasm. “But, in the meantime, shouldn't we get showered up and downstairs? Your Aunt will be wondering where we've got to!”
“Yeah, guess so,” I said, sliding back onto my feet and standing up. “Oh, God! What a mess!”
I had just noticed the large pool of my spunk that had settled on Mark's undersheet. “Jeez, we'd best get rid of that now,” I said. “Hang on, I'll get some bog-paper.”
Wrapping a towel round me, I slipped out of the room and down the corridor to the toilet, where I appropriated the spare loo-roll and, returning to our own room, we rapidly wiped up the evidence. “Leave the bed-clothes off and it'll soon dry,” I suggested.
Flinging a towel around his waist, Mark followed me back into the corridor, as we headed for the bathroom. For once, apart from a couple of playful slaps on wet arses, we managed to get showered in record time, uninterrupted by any of the usual hanky-panky, before returning to the bedroom to dress in tennis shorts and Tee-shirts. A few minutes later we were trotting down the wide, elegant staircase, just in time to hear my Aunt's voice coming from the Farm Office, across the hall.
Great Aunt Jeanette was, as has been mentioned before, in her late eighties, but looked – and behaved – fifteen years younger. She was still tall and straight, a very elegant and graceful lady, with fine features and a full head of silver hair. She was now however, understandably, unable to cope with the routine work of the farm, the pride of which, was her herd of forty head of Charolais cattle. As we reached the hall, we could hear her in discussion with Keith, her Farm Manager, who dealt with all the day-to-day operations and, at present, his major concern were the breeding heifers. About half the herd were due to calve during the week we were at Medway Court and we gathered that four had already done so, producing three bull calves and one heifer. This, apparently, was not at all what was wanted, as the bulls, unless they could be sold for breeding, were good only for beef, whilst the heifers would be retained to build up the herd and could also later, if desired, be sold on for a good profit.
As we put our heads round the door to say good morning, Keith was saying to my Aunt, that he recommended the bull calves be de-sexed (we winced, involuntarily!) as soon as possible, then fattened up until ready for market. He and my Aunt looked up, as we came in and she greeted us with a bright smile.
“Good morning, boys, I hope you slept well, the first night in strange beds,” she said.
“Oh, yes thank you!” we replied, enthusiastically, “Like logs!”
Keith, too, gave us a matey grin. He was aged about 30, a huge man, easily 6ft –7 inches in height and built in proportion. He had legs like tree-trunks, with arms to match and hands the size of plates. He was well-equipped for the work he did, being able to man-handle the cattle, if not exactly with ease, then certainly without much difficulty and I knew my Aunt valued him highly. He was not married, but lived on his own in one of the comfortable cottages attached to the estate and he lived for the farm.
“Alright, lads!” he said with a deep laugh, “what you up to today then?”
“Oh, thought we might walk up and take a look at the new calves,” I said, “and then, maybe down to the Lower Lake and try for a few fish.”
One of the delights of the farm was that it had, attached to it, just a couple of fields away, a secluded, tree-ringed lake, about three acres in size and well stocked with trout that I knew, from past visits, made very good eating.
“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed. “Going to be a beautiful day for it as well. Reckon the temperature'll be up to about 27 this afternoon.”
“That,” said my Aunt, with feeling, “will be my cue to retire indoors. I can't take the heat the way I used to. Anyway, why don't you pack up some sandwiches after breakfast and take them with you? It'll save you having to come back to the house for lunch.”
“Oh, thanks, Auntie!” I replied, “that's a great idea. We'll do that and then we'll see you when we see you!”
“Right you are then,” she laughed. “Just be back in time for dinner at 7.30!”
“Wouldn't miss that!” came the lively answer. “See you later, then!
As we turned to leave the room, Keith gave us a broad wink. “See ya around, then, lads, we'll probably meet up some time during the day!”
After a quick breakfast in the huge kitchen, we hurriedly assembled a packed lunch of ham sandwiches, apples and bananas and a couple of good hunks of fruit cake. Tucking in four cans of lemonade we were complete and headed out to the courtyard, where the fishing gear was stored in an old tack-room.
Suitably equipped, we set off. Our first call was, indeed, at the cow-sheds, where we admired the spindly-legged little creatures that had arrived in the world only yesterday. “Poor little sods,” commented Mark, as we watched the little bull-calves suckling on their mothers' teats. “Just imagine, first they chop off your balls, then turn you into steaks! What a life!”
“Yeah, know what you mean,” I replied, “but I think they have a pretty good life, such as it is, whilst they're here.”
Having exhausted the interests of the cattle, we turned and headed off across the fields in the direction of the Lower Lake. It really was a beautiful day; the sun was bright in a cloudless blue sky, birds sang all about and, apart from the drone of a distant aircraft, there wasn't a man-made noise to be heard.
The Lower Lake was thickly surrounded by trees and undergrowth and, on its shores, the tranquility was, if anything, even more profound. We wandered around the perimeter until we found a comfortable-looking, grassy spot and flopped down, dropping the food basket and fishing rods beside us. Lying back in this idyllic spot, arms behind my head, I felt totally at peace with the world and glanced over at Mark, where he lay, similarly, about a couple of feet away.
“Oh, man! This is the life!” I said. “I'm just so pleased you're able to be here. Don't know what I'll do, when you've got to go back to Canada.”
“Ahh, I know... don't even think about it. It'll be really horrible parting again after all this.” He rolled over towards me, draping an arm over my chest and his deep blue gaze met mine. “I'd like to stay here, with you, for ever and ever!”
I laughed, softly and ironically. “You and me both,” I whispered. “I suppose it's just not meant to be... seems so mean, doesn't it but, maybe, in the end, we'll be able to get together again and never part. I just don't know and we're so young still. All sorts of stuff can happen.”
Then, I don't know what made me do it, but I leaned over and kissed Mark, very gently, on his forehead. “One thing I do know, though is that, whatever happens to the both of us, you'll be my soul-brother for ever.”
He stared at me for a long moment, then rolled over to lie on top of me and, without a word, just hugged me tightly to him, our bare legs entwined together. We lay like that for a long time until, almost as if on a joint cue, we disentangled ourselves and sat up.
“Well, suppose we'd best get fishing,” I said. “We want to come back with something to prove we've been here!”
Baiting and casting our lines, we propped the rods in a convenient crack in the ground and lay back to watch. Five minutes later, Mark's line tightened and the rod vibrated. Jumping to his feet, he seized it and struck, winding the line in rapidly to reveal a large, wriggling rainbow trout on the hook. “Wow!” he exclaimed, “That's a beaut!”
“Yeah, well just don't lose it,” I warned, as the fish did its best to flip itself off the hook. With a bit of play, however, Mark soon had the fish into the catch-net as I held it out and, from there, onto the bank, where we despatched it with a single blow from a heavy stick.
A few minutes later, I took another, about a three-pounder and Mark his second, shortly after that. “I'll just try for one more,” I said, “If it doesn't take too long and then, I should think, that'd be enough.”
As luck had it however, the trout of Lower Lake had evidently got over their suicidal streak and after twenty minutes, neither of us had anything more. “Oh well, that's not so bad,” said Mark, eyeing our catch. “Three decent ones. Maybe your Aunt can do them for dinner tomorrow night.” He looked around, thoughtfully. “Hey, now we've got some fish, how about a swim?” he suggested.
The sun had now risen high enough to be shining down directly over us and the day was, as Keith had predicted, getting very hot indeed. The idea of a swim in the cooling water was very appealing and I grinned at Mark. “We've no bathers?” I said, facetiously and completely un-necessarily.
He laughed and flung out his arms expansively. “Here? Who cares?” He pulled off his Tee-shirt and, ten seconds later, was naked. Five seconds after that, so was I and we stood there, in the hot sunshine, on the shores of that tranquil lake and let the gentle summer breeze waft over us.
“Come on then, what'ya waiting for?” cried Mark, landing a sharp smack on my bottom. I spun and just managed to land one on his, as he ran past and into the water with a great splash. I jumped in after him and there followed a glorious bout of splashing, wrestling and general horse-play in the shallows of the lake's edge. As we moved into deeper water, I surface-dived and pulled Mark's feet from under him, ducking him thoroughly, to which he retaliated by hooking a leg behind my knees and yanking forward hard, so that I flew backwards and under. He, too, then surfaced-dived and, as his body jack-knifed, his pearly-white buttocks came up out of the water and I had a good view of his balls and hole before he disappeared, only to resurface behind me, grabbing me from behind and pulling us both under.
After ten minutes of this vigorous horse-play, we were breathless with exertion and came to a halt, facing each other, laughing and dripping, in about four feet of water. “Want a rest?” I asked.
“Yeah, let's go and lie in the sun, dry off and maybe go back in later,” agreed my pal. We waded ashore and collapsed once more, spread-eagled on the warm, dry turf by the water's edge, letting the gentle breeze and hot sun dry our naked bodies. Inevitably, minds – and hands – began to wander and it was not long before I felt Mark's cool hand grasp my cock and start slowly wanking it. I reached out to him, taking his cock in my hand, returning the compliment. Our rubbing grew more urgent and we both rolled onto our sides, facing one another, as our pricks extended and hardened to full erection. I looked at Mark and he looked at me and, somehow, we both knew what we wanted to do next. He made to move, but I stilled him with a hand on his thigh and swivelled round myself, so that my head was level with his crotch and his with mine. Together, we leaned forward, each taking the other's hard cock into his mouth and we began to pleasure one another with our tongues. With my free hand, I reached over and rubbed Mark's smooth buttocks, round and around, sometimes sliding into his crack and fingering his hole. He was doing the same with me and, for what seemed forever, our gasps and moans of pleasure were the only sounds to be heard.
“Well. Well. Well. What do we have here? Two little lover boys hiding away together down by the lake. How romantic!” The deep, slightly amused voice, wrenched us violently out of our reverie and back to reality with a crash. In alarm, we jerked apart suddenly, rolling over and sitting up in a single movement. Standing about four yards away, looking down at us, was Keith, a sly grin on his lips.
“Wha – what are you doing here?” I stammered, for the moment completely thrown by this savagely unwelcome turn of events.
Keith's grin widened wolfishly. “Oh, just thought I'd see how the fishing was going,” he answered, “though I see you managed to bag yourselves a few before getting down to the real business. You have been enjoying yourselves, haven't you!”
I glanced at Mark, whose face wore an expression of shocked horror. “Look, Keith,” I began again, desperately trying to bring my thoughts into line. “We're not doing anyone any harm, please, just go away and leave us be...”
“And forget I ever saw you, I suppose?” he finished for me, still with his wolfish grin. It was about then, that I recovered my senses sufficiently, to notice that he had a huge bulge in the front of his jeans and an awful suspicion began to take shape in my mind.
“Well, ya know, I just can't do that. I don't know what your Aunt would say if she knew what her two little blue-eyed boys get up to when they're alone together, but I don't think she'd be very impressed, do you? Likely to ring up your parents and pack you straight back off home in disgrace, I shouldn't wonder! Oh, you are in trouble, aren't you, lads?” This last was delivered in such a gloating tone, that a shiver ran down my spine. Glancing at Mark, I could see from his expression, that he was feeling much the same way.
I decided to have one last try. “Please, Keith,” I pleaded, “you don't have to say anything about this. Look, we'll come and work all day for you tomorrow if you like, muck out the cowshed, hose down the yard, load the hay, clean the tractor, anything you want, but please don't say anything to my Aunt!”
He paused, seeming to consider my words. “You'll do anything I want?”
“Yes, yes, anything! We will, won't we, Mark?” Mark nodded emphatically in agreement.
Keith grinned again and that grin really worried me. “All right, then,” he went on. “The first thing I'm going to do, is tan those sweet little arses of yours until neither of you will be sitting down for a week and then you can both take a turn at sucking on this!” and he rubbed at the massive bulge in his crotch.
We looked at each other, horrified. “Bbbut..., I began weakly.
Keith cut me off. “But nothing! You said you'd do anything and now you will! I've dreamed of having your arse across my knee since the first time you ever came here, young Paul and now it looks like I'm in luck – not just you, but your tasty young mate as well. So now you'll both do exactly as I say and then we'll think about whether or not I tell your Aunt about what you've been getting up to.”
Briefly, plans of escape cascaded through my mind and, just as quickly, were abandoned. In the first place, we were both naked and in no position to run anywhere. In the second, Keith would be able to catch us in an instant and, being vastly stronger than either of us, would easily be able to force us to his will, if we did not co-operate. Mark and I just looked mutely at each other and I gave a brief shrug of defeat. “OK, guess we've no choice. Where do you want to do it?”
Keith looked round him. “Well, here looks like a pretty good place, nice and quiet, long way from anywhere and no-one will hear your yells and, believe me, you naughty little boys, you will be yelling before I've finished with you!”
He moved over to a tree-stump about two feet in height, placing one huge foot on it and bending his knee. He looked at me. “Right. Over here, now!”
Reluctantly, stark naked and feeling very vulnerable, I walked across to him. A massive hand scooped me up around the waist and, seemingly with no effort whatsoever, lifted me bodily from the ground and dumped me like a rag-doll, face down, across the enormous knee. I could not move; my feet dangled helplessly in the air behind me and my head and arms in front, while my bare bottom stuck straight up in the air. Keith's immense hand, calloused by years of intensive, manual work, rubbed my buttocks hard, then pushed my legs apart, spreading my cheeks and fingers the size of sausages, explored my crack. A forefinger like a frankfurter found my hole and unceremoniously pushed into it and I yelped with the sudden shock but realized, in the same instant, that I must be presenting Mark with a rather fine view of all my most intimate areas and that erotic thought stirred my treacherous cock to hardening. Keith obviously felt the pressure of it against his knee and his deep laugh rumbled again.
“Seems like you're enjoying it, young Paul! Well, let's see if you enjoy this!” A second later, his huge hand crashed into my arse, covering both cheeks with the hardest and loudest slap I'd ever had. If I had thought earlier, that Mark and I spanked each other hard then, evidently, I ain't felt nuthin' yet!
“Yeow!” I yelled, quite forgetting my private resolution that I would not give him the satisfaction of hearing me cry out. Smack! Another almighty wallop landed, this one right across my crack on the lower part of my buttocks and my eyes pricked with tears at the searing, smarting pain. Keith then started, methodically, to lay on smack after smack, each as hard as the last, covering my arse from the peak of my pert buttocks, right down to my thighs and, particularly, into the crease between my bottom and tops of my legs.
Unable to prevent myself, I kicked and squirmed frantically, as the merciless spanking continued. My nose was running and, to my shame, I found myself actually sobbing, something which, during the games Mark and I played so often, never happened. The sole mitigating factor of the whole episode, was that, without those games, our arses would have been considerably less tough than they were and the effects of those shockingly powerful smacks would have been even worse.
Finally, with three last stinging slaps, it ceased. I hung there, limp and panting, exhausted by my unavailing struggles, my arse blazing and my face streaked with tears. My cock, amazingly, had also given up and lay soft and flaccid beneath me. I felt myself being lifted once more, as Keith's huge hand deposited me on my feet and I was able, at last, to rub my excruciatingly sore bum.
“Well, that was a bit more than you bargained for, wasn't it, my lad!” said Keith, with satisfaction. “I'll admit though, you took it better than I thought you would and nowhere near as noisy as I'd expected! Right, let's see how your mate gets on. C'm'ere, Blondy, your turn!”
I looked round as Mark moved to his execution admiring, despite myself, the way his perfect buttocks dimpled, right then left, as he walked. As he passed, we exchanged glances and I was surprised to see, that the expression on his face was one almost of defiance, his mouth set in a hard, unyielding line. Just as he had done with me, Keith picked my best friend up with no effort at all, draping him across his vast thigh to hang, helpless, his naked bottom uppermost and exposed. Keith parted Mark's thighs, spreading his cheeks and probing his tender crack and hole. Then, in a re-run of my own fate, the massive hand swung up, then down, connecting with a tremendous slap on the firm, pearly globes.
Mark's body jerked forward but, apart from a muffled grunt, he made no sound at all, as a large, bright red mark appeared across his bottom. Keith's eyebrows rose in surprise at the lack of reaction and he raised his hand high for a second swing. As the terrific slap landed with a resounding smack on Mark's lower buttocks I saw my friend's eyes screw tight shut and his jaw clench hard but still, he did not cry out. My own initial reaction was one of amazement but, thinking back, in all the years we had known each other, I had hardly ever known Mark to cry simply from hurt. He was a brave lad and once, when we very small, he had fallen heavily during one of our games, badly skinning both knees, but had barely whimpered. Any other child I knew, would have been bawling his eyes out, but not he! Either he had an abnormally high pain threshold, or a will of iron or, maybe, a bit of each; whatever it was though, he was clearly determined that he wasn't going to give this bully the satisfaction of seeing him weep with pain.
Keith then tried another tack, laying on a positive bombardment of rapid, hard slaps that,
within seconds, turned Mark's entire bottom bright scarlet. I could only imagine how sore he
must be getting, as I stood there, rubbing my own, still-smarting, rear.
“What, in Heaven's name, is going on here?”
The crisp, icy words cut the air like a knife. Keith froze, rooted to the spot, his arm still raised in mid-slap. I spun round, astonished to see the tall, elegant figure of my Aunt standing a few feet away, a covered basket dangling from her hand. Mark, seizing his chance, rolled off Keith's knee, jumped to his feet and ran to where our clothes lay in a heap, quickly pulling on his shorts. He didn't bother with underpants and, within seconds I had joined him, as we made ourselves decent, basically at least.
“Keith, I'll see you in the office in ten minutes. You boys, pick up your things and get into the range rover. It's over there on the back track.” I had never heard my Aunt so coldly furious; she might have been well over eighty but, at this moment, she was obeyed without question.
“Very good, Lady Stirling,” muttered Keith and he strode away rapidly, through the trees and back over the fields towards the house. Without a word, we gathered up everything we had brought and made our way quickly up the shallow bank and through a five-bar gate onto the back track, the alternative, vehicular access, to the Lower Lake. My Aunt was but a few seconds behind us and, as we climbed in, she started the engine and put the big 4-by-4 into gear. Not a word was spoken as we drove the half-mile back to Medway Court, Mark and I sitting in numbed shock.
As we drew up outside the back courtyard, my Aunt turned to me. “Go up to your room and stay there until I call you.”
I just nodded, dumbly, as we jumped down and headed into the house. Back upstairs, we sat on our beds facing each other, for a while unable to speak. Then Mark shook his head slowly, one hand to his forehead. “Oh God, Paul,” he said quietly, “Now we're really in deep shit.”
I gave a short, ironic laugh. “We might be in deep shit, but so's Keith. He could end up in prison for this; he'll almost certainly lose his job. Whatever we have or haven't done, he's sexually assaulted two under-age boys and they'll throw the book at him.”
“Oh Christ, Mate, I'm so sorry. I can't believe this has happened while I'm here as your guest, the first time I've ever met your Aunt. I'm so ashamed.” I looked up into Mark's face and saw tears running down his cheeks, but they were tears of shame, not pain.
I reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “Look, Mate, it's not your fault – it's neither of our faults. If that bastard hadn't come along and then done what he did, none of this would be happening.”
Our conversation was curtailed by my Aunt's voice. “Boys, come down here, please.”
We stood and made our way back downstairs, to where my Aunt stood, waiting for us, in her Morning Room. “Come in, sit down.”
In silence, hanging our heads, we did as we were told. My Aunt regarded us for a long moment, then she sighed deeply. “My, my, what a sorry tale. I have spoken with Keith and sent him away to think about the potential consequences of his actions. Now I want to hear, from you two, what on Earth was going on when Keith caught you doing what he says you were doing. And I want the truth.”
All this was delivered in a calm, neutral tone and I swallowed hard, at first finding it difficult to speak. After a few moments, though unable to raise my head to look my Aunt in the eye I began, haltingly, to try and explain. As I went on, somehow it became easier and I spoke more strongly, telling Great Aunt Jeanette everything.
I explained the strong friendship that had existed between Mark and myself from our earliest years, how we had become the brothers that each of us had never had and how, eventually, we had become more than brothers, in fact, soul-brothers. Rather shamefacedly, I also tried to put into words, how our spanking games and sex-play had come about and developed and how much we had missed one another when Mark's family had emigrated. Mark assisted, now and again, with a confirmatory nod but, otherwise, he remained silent, allowing me to do the talking. Eventually, I trailed to a halt. “And that's it, really, Auntie,” I finished, very quietly.
“Boys, look at me,” she said in a gentle voice. Slowly, we raised our tear-streaked faces. Whilst I had been telling our tale, my Aunt had taken a seat close to us and now she was regarding us with the most tender expression I had ever seen.
“I might be old,” she began, “and I know that my generation is regarded by you youngsters as being intolerant, stuffy, and outdated but, I should tell you, I don't consider what you have done – what you are doing – to be the greatest sin in the world or, indeed, any sin at all. Clearly, you feel very much for each other, you are young and full of vigour and it would be most surprising if this feeling did not manifest itself in some physical way. I have never told your parents this, Paul, but I had a brother once. He was a couple of years older than me, but he died, tragically young, of pneumonia, when he was just 21 – they didn't have the drugs and skill to cure it in those days. However, he had a very close school-pal too and their friendship was... well, much more than just friendship, shall we say. In those days, open love between boys or men was illegal and very much to be ashamed of and so poor Ben didn't dare to tell our parents. Instead, in his confusion, he confessed everything to me, whom he trusted implicitly. I loved him so much, I couldn't possibly think badly of him and it was only being able to talk about things to me that, I believe, kept him sane. So, you see, I don't think badly of the two of you, either. You are both very nice lads, whom it is a pleasure to have around and I see no reason to mention anything about any of this to your parents.”
For a moment, we were so overcome, we could not speak, then Mark said, very quietly, “Thank you, Lady Stirling, that's one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me. I feel so ashamed, though, that this has happened when I hardly know you and, well...” He trailed off, not knowing how to continue.
My Aunt put a gentle hand on his arm. “Mark, you do not need to feel ashamed; as I said, I don't think badly of either of you. I am just so pleased that Paul has such a good and staunch friend as you.”
I had been thinking. “What about Keith?” I said quietly. “He's one of your best guys, isn't he? Will he lose his job over this?”
My Aunt sighed. “He could both lose his job and go to prison,” she answered. “He has committed a very serious offence. I suppose, though, in the last accounting, you two should be the ones to decide his fate, as you are the ones he abused. If you wish to bring in the police, he wouldn't have a leg to stand on.”
We looked at each other. “Well,” I said, slowly, “I guess the point is, he did hurt us at the time, but there's no permanent harm done and, when all's said and done I suppose, we have to accept, he's just gay, the same as us. How do you feel, Mate?”
Mark thought for a moment, then shook his head, with a slight laugh. “You have been kind enough to forgive us, Lady Stirling,” he said. “Many other people would have thrown us out in disgrace, telling our parents and shaming us completely. I guess we should be the same towards Keith.”
My Aunt smiled gently. “You are both very generous, good-hearted boys,” she said. “I don't deny, if he were to be dismissed and imprisoned, I should be very hard put to it, to find another Farm Manager even half as good as he is. I shall, however, be having a very straight talk with him, immediately after we finish, and laying down very strict guidelines for his personal conduct in the future. Now,” she glanced at her watch. “It's still only two o'clock. Why don't you take yourselves off and disappear somewhere quiet until tea-time?”
We both stood, moved to her and, spontaneously, gave her a joint hug. “Thank you, Auntie,” I said, quietly. “We'll see you later, then.”
We left the room and, leaving the house by the back door wandered, unspeaking, slowly down through the extensive gardens to the old tennis courts where we sat, for a long while, alone with our thoughts and each other, on an ancient wooden bench by the pavilion.
The following day, after breakfast and a good night's sleep, we trotted, recovered from the traumas of the previous day, rapidly across the courtyard en-route for a day's hiking in the Weald of Kent. Just as we were about to head down the drive to the boundary of the estate, a voice hailed us.
“Lads!” We looked at each other and turned; Mark raised his eyes in exasperation. It was Keith, hurrying towards us.
“Lads,” he called again, “Can I say something?”
“What?” I asked, coldly.
He came up to us, eyes lowered, as if unwilling to meet our gaze. “Look,” he began, awkwardly, as if not knowing how to continue. “I know it's totally inadequate, but I just wanted to say that I'm very, very sorry for what I did to you and to say thank you for speaking up for me with Lady Stirling.” We waited, without replying, for him to continue. “It's just... it's just... oh, hell!” To our amazement, we saw that he was crying, tears running down his cheeks.
“S-sorry,” he swallowed hard. “Look, I know it doesn't begin to excuse what I did, but I need to try, at least, to give you some kind of explanation. Obviously, you must have worked it out by now – I'm gay. I've always had a spanking fetish, ever since I was younger than you two and, usually, the nearest I ever get to boys, is gay porn magazines when I can get hold of them. Normally, the work on the farm keeps my mind fully occupied and it's not hard to keep my feelings under control but, when I saw you doing... well, what you were doing, something just snapped. As I said, it's not an excuse and I am so very sorry that I hurt you the way I did but, well... that's it, I suppose.”
We just looked at him for a moment then Mark said, completely dead-pan, “Oh well, it wasn't the hardest spanking I ever had, anyway.”
At this, Keith's eyebrows really shot up. “You're kidding me!” he gasped.
Mark just looked him in the eye, then that old, mischievous smile I knew so well, spread
over his face. “Yeah, you're right,” he replied. “I fucking am!”