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: 22 Mar 2013
Paul and Mark – What Might Have Been – Part 2: Led Astray
The events related in the following story are, once again, fictitious and form a sequel to my most recent offering, “Paul and Mark, 3 Years on: What Might Have Been”. In Part 2, we follow our “future selves” as they get involved in more mischievous adventures that, if our lives had followed a different course, might really have happened. Unfortunately, they didn't!
Three days had passed since our unfortunate debacle with Keith, and its aftermath, and our planned stay at Medway Court was about half-way through. Keith himself, somewhat to our relief, was away for a week, attending cattle-sales over in the West Country, so we were able to avoid the embarrassment of frequently meeting up. Thus it was, at lunch, on one fine hot Wednesday during the second week of August, that Great Aunt Jeanette gave us some very welcome news.
“I thought you boys would like to know,” she explained, “that I had a telephone call from your Mother this morning, Paul, and she told me that Mark's parents wish to extend their touring by another week. She wondered therefore, whether, A, I could put up with you for some extra time,” she said this with a twinkle in her eye, “and, B, if you would like to stay longer. What do you think?”
We just looked at each other and beamed “Wow! Would we!” I exclaimed.
“Thank you very much, Lady Stirling,” said Mark. “That would be terrific!”
“Well, I for one, would love you to stay,” she continued. “Having you youngsters around this old place is a breath of fresh air. I take it that's settled, then?”
We nodded enthusiastically in confirmation. “There is one other thing I have to tell you as well,” she went on, “I have just heard that we are having some more unexpected guests arriving tomorrow.”
As we looked at her enquiringly, she explained. “My sister-in-law and dearest friend, Alice, passed away about four months ago and, in consequence, I have been having quite a lot of correspondence recently, with her immediate family. Alice's middle son, Christopher, currently has his own daughter and grandson over from Australia, staying with him and I also had a call today, from him, asking whether they could come over here tomorrow and stay for a few days. Of course, I said yes so, we shall be having a houseful for a while. I think you'll get along very well with all of them. Christopher is very nice; I've not seen his daughter, Rosalind, for ages but she was always a lovely girl and I have never met her son. I gather he is nearly fourteen, his name is Finn, and it's good that you are here to provide him with some young company. However,” she fixed us with a very straight look, “don't forget, he is rather younger than you are, so kindly make sure that whatever games you get up to, are appropriate!” She finished, raising her eyebrows significantly at us, though smiling, as she said it.
“Of course, Auntie,” I replied, seriously. “There's loads for us to do, what with tennis, football, fishing, swimming, walking – we'll have a ball and, of course, we'll look after Finn, no problem!”
“I know,” she said. “We'll all have a wonderful few days together!”
After lunch, we changed into shorts and trainers and, picking up a couple of racquets, made our way to the old tennis courts for a game. As we wandered down through the gardens, Mark started to chuckle. “What's funny?” I asked.
He shook his head, laughing. “Well,” he replied. “Remember how old we were when we first started messing about with stuff? A lot younger than Finn is now. I was just wondering exactly what, constitutes”appropriate“games!”
“Hey, will you behave!” I said, laughing as well. “We only just escaped one potential scandal by the skin of our teeth! For God's sake, don't let's risk anything else whilst we're here!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said. “Just a thought!”
“Well, think about this, then!” I answered, giving him a sharp smack on his bottom. This, of course, precipitated an immediate bundle, as we wrestled each other to the ground, rolling over and over on the grass, whacking and smacking at each other's arses as hard as we could. Fortunately, by this time, we were well out of sight and sound of the house, so our horse-play continued for several minutes before we staggered, panting and laughing, to our feet. Inevitably, the fronts of our shorts were tented by a pair of throbbing erections and we paused to give each other a quick rub before continuing on down the path.
“Mmmm...,” I said, rubbing the bulge in my shorts as we approached the tennis courts, “I really could do with doing something about this!”
Mark grinned and nodded in agreement. “Me too! Is that pavilion unlocked, do you think?”
“Dunno, let's take a look,” I said as we walked up to the old wooden building, standing on the bank above the courts. I tried the door and it opened with a creak, the hinges protesting at their unaccustomed use.
“Jeez, shouldn't think anyone's been in here for years!” I commented, as we stepped inside, closing the door behind us. The interior of the pavilion was thick with dust, that rose in clouds as we moved through it and the place smelt musty and ancient. The silence was profound.
“Hey, look, what's through there?” asked Mark, pointing at another door, leading into a separate, interior room. Investigating, we discovered a small kitchen, containing a sink and an antiquated paraffin stove. “They must have used this in the old days to make teas or something, when they had big tennis tournaments on,” I said. “This whole place must have been really humming, back then!”
“Anyway, whatever, it makes a perfect place for dealing with these little problems,” said Mark with a grin, as he closed the kitchen door. “I'm at bursting point!”
So saying, he unclipped his shorts pushing them, with his boxers, down to his knees. Released from its confinement, his rigid, 6-½ inch cock sprang proudly to attention, standing up vertically against his flat stomach. I rapidly followed suit and we moved close, our rock-hard penises rubbing together.
“Ahhh,” I breathed, “that's good!” I slipped my hands behind him, clasping his bare buttocks tightly and pulling him against me.
Mark responded with a sigh of pleasure, sliding his hands down and round, gripping my naked arse hard in return, kneading and rubbing it and slipping a finger into my crack. Moving one hand back to the front, I eased it down between us, grasping both rigid pricks together and started, slowly, to masturbate them.
“Mmmmm, Ahhhh! That's so nice!” breathed Mark quietly. Drawing slightly apart, I moved my other hand from his arse to his tight balls, massaging them gently but firmly. He responded, easing my cock away from his own, grasping it himself and, emulating me, moved his other hand to my balls to give them some very enjoyable attention.
So we stood there, probably for about five minutes, lost in the bliss of the moment as, once again, we pleasured one another in the best way we knew until, inevitably, the pressure became too much.
“Ahhh!” I moaned, “I'm gonna come!” At that instant, my cock jerked in Mark's hand, thick strings of spunk jetting from it, as I reached an ecstatic orgasm. Almost simultaneously Mark, too, found his release and his spunk mingled with mine, the white spurts flying almost three feet across the dusty floor.
As usual, temporarily exhausted by the intensity of our climax, we collapsed against each other for a moment, heart-rates slowing and laughing softly together.
“Guess that was well up to standard then!” grinned Mark when he had recovered.
“Haha! Too right,” I responded. “Now, how about that game of tennis?”
The following day, about mid-morning, we were alerted by the sound of a large car sweeping up to the front door, its tyres crunching on the gravel of the drive. Aunt Jeanette moved to open the door, with Mark and I just behind in close attendance. Outside stood a rather swish, brand-new, 1990 Jaguar XJS, its engine and steelwork creaking as it started to cool down.
As we watched, its doors opened and three people emerged. The driver was, I guessed, late middle-aged, a tall, imposing man, slightly balding. From the passenger side stepped a slender woman, probably around 35, with striking, long, blonde hair and blue eyes, while from the offside rear door, climbed a tall, well-built young lad, presumably Finn. He, too, was very blond, just like his mother, the effect enhanced, no doubt, by the strong Australian sun of Brisbane, their adopted home city.
Aunt Jeanette stepped forward, embracing the man, who kissed her on both cheeks. “Christopher! How lovely to see you again. I do hope that things are beginning to settle down now?” This question referred, of course, to the recent passing of Christopher's mother, my Aunt's sister-in-law, Alice.
“Oh, not so bad, Jeanette,” he replied. “Though, of course, we all still miss her intensely.”
She looked at him in sympathy. “Naturally. We all do.” She was silent for a moment, then looked up, her bright smile restored. “Rosalind, I don't know how many years it's been! How long is it, since you went out to Australia?”
Smiling, the slim, blonde woman stepped forward, gathering Aunt Jeanette into a close hug. “Fifteen years this October,” she replied. “We have been back since then, but have not had an opportunity to get over here before this. Of course, you have never met Finn, have you?”
She held out an arm, urging her son forward. “G'day, Aunt Jeannette,” he began, in a very characteristic Australian twang. “I'm really pleased to meet you. Thanks so much for asking us!”
My Aunt gave him a hug and a kiss. “And I am very pleased to meet you, too, Finn. Now,” she continued, addressing them all, “I'd like you to meet my great-nephew, Paul and his friend, Mark, who are staying with me for a while.”
We came forward, shaking hands, hugging, or kissing, as appropriate. As I shook hands with Finn, he gave me a mischievous grin. “G'day, Pommie!” he said. “Howa you and ya mate doin'?”
Mark and I laughed and I clapped him on the shoulder, “Fine, Aussie!” I replied, in a fair imitation of his own accent, “Nah worries!”
“Boys, why don't you take Finn upstairs and show him his room?” suggested my Aunt. “I've put him into the one next to you. I'll show Christopher and Rosalind to theirs and then we'll all meet for a drink before lunch.”
Helping Christopher and Finn unpack the baggage from the boot of the car, we returned indoors and, quickly ascending to the first floor, we took Finn down the long corridor that lead to our part of the house. The rooms for Christopher and Rosalind, we noticed, were safely away up in my Aunt's end which, I was sure, would make life easier for us, whatever transpired!
“So how old are you, then, Finn?” asked Mark, as we opened the door of the room next to ours.
“Fourteen, in about three months time,” he replied. “What about you?” We told him. “Strewth, I thought you were both about 17,” he said. “You must work out a lot.”
“We play a fair bit of sport,” I said. “But you're pretty musclely too.”
“That'll be all the surfing and water-skiing up on the Gold Coast,” he explained. “I've been water-skiing since I was about 7 and surfing since I was 9.”
Mark whistled. “That's amazing!”
Finn shrugged. “We get the weather, ya see – most of the time when we're not in school, we just live outdoors, down the beach, swimming, surfing, partying, cooking on the barbie, ya know. Anyway, whadya do around here?”
“Well,” said Mark, “the weather's been really good here too, so we've been playing tennis, hiking, also there's a lake not far away, so we've been swimming and fishing in that.”
Finn nodded, “sounds beaut! Can we swim this afternoon?”
We looked at each other. “Don't see why not,” I said. “We'd best mention it to Aunt Jeanette, but I don't s'pose she'll mind.”
As expected she agreed, without reservation, to our plan. “You boys have a good time,” she said. “I expect we'll go and visit Sissinghurst Castle, it's a National Trust property, not far from Cranbrook. I should think we'll be home about five.”
Accordingly, after a decent interval following lunch, the three of us set off across the fields for the Lower Lake. Mark and I were profoundly glad, that Keith was safely off the premises for the time being. After what had taken place the last time we were down there, neither of us were really keen on encountering him again although peace, officially, had been restored. All three of us also carried bags containing towels and bathers, as neither Mark nor myself, thought it would be a very good idea to suggest skinny-dipping to the younger boy, particularly as it was the first time we had all met.
Reaching the quiet lakeside, we walked around it until we arrived at our previous wide, grassy spot, very suitable for using as our “base camp”. As on the previous occasion, the sun shone hot from a clear blue sky and there was hardly a breath of wind.
“Hey! This is beaut!” exclaimed Finn, as we dropped our gear on the ground. “Not as hot as we get it but good enough!” Without delay, he started to strip, pulling off his Tee-shirt. Mark and I glanced at each other, exchanging slight grins, as we realised that he wasn't remotely self-conscious, undressing in front of other boys.
Very soon, all three of us were down to our boxer-shorts and, with a quick, mental shrug, I pulled mine off first, simultaneously bending to unwrap my bathers from the towel.
“Whadya bothering with those for?” asked Finn. “We only wear bathers when we're beach swimming or when there're sheilas around. When it's just us blokes swimming up at the dam, we skinny-dip all the time!”
Mark laughed. “Right! That's fine by us too. It was just we didn't know how you'd feel about it.”
Finn shrugged, pulling off his boxers to stand, unselfconsciously, naked. His body was tanned a deep golden-brown all over, his neat, firm buttocks only slightly paler than the rest of him. He was quite muscular, and about the same height as we had been at a similar age. Mark looked at him and chuckled. “Guess you were telling the truth about the skinny-dipping!”
In contrast, our own naked bodies looked almost pallid beside Finn. We had both started to pick up a bit of a tan and each had pale demarcation stripes around the buttocks and upper thighs but, clearly, we had a long way to go before we could hope to compete with our new young friend.
“Cm'on then!” I yelled, running down the gently sloping bank and leaping, with a great splash, into the cool water. Two other splashes followed in quick succession and, much as Mark and I had done previously, we lost ourselves in glorious, uninhibited sky-larking. I surface-dived, swimming around and beneath Finn, pulling him under; Mark leapt out of the water like a surfacing whale and bore down on me, driving me to the bottom. As I surfaced, I came up face-to-face with Finn, who was treading water less than a couple of feet away. To my amazement, I felt his hand touch my cock, just slightly, but enough for me to wonder how accidental, or otherwise, it had been. The mischievous grin that flashed across his face at the same moment, however, told me that it had not been accidental at all. A second later, he spun and surface-dived directly in front of me and I had a full-on