last-of-the-line-83

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Subject: Last of the Line Chapter 83 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. NOTE to the reader: “Peter Brown” aka badboi666 is, as you might guess, not in the first flush of youth: indeed he is well into the you’ll-die-if-you-get-this-fucking-thing age cohort. It has been his habit in all his stories published here to be two or three chapters ahead of publication. If he gets a nasty cough and a temperature he will post all outstanding chapters together with a synopsis of what is still to come. Then, if he snuffs it, you can at least have some idea of what befell Dab in the end. A bit like Edwin Dro 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 83 It wasn’t until I got into bed beside Billy that I realised quite how much I’d missed him. That rather surprised me as I’d been away for much longer periods at school and up at Fisher. Although there had been plenty of sex in both places, what with pups and trebles, I hadn’t been with people – boys – who were in love before. Jack and Hamish hadn’t said anything, and neither of them had wanted to admit even to himself what he felt for the other, but their feelings must have somehow got into my brain. At least, I couldn’t think of any other reason why I had missed Billy so much. As we cuddled after making love I murmured that Jack had wanted to give us our first night together. “Has he changed, what with Hamish?” whispered Billy. “Yes, I think so. He’s only a few months older than Hamish, but being in charge of all the work has changed him.” “How?” I had to think. “He’s more serious, in that he takes his work incredibly seriously, but he’s more relaxed. I think he’s aware that he’s on firm ground as far as the gardening is concerned, and that’s given him confidence in all the other bits of life.” “Including admitting he’s in love.” I kissed Billy’s lips gently. “Yeah. They’re very sweet together.” “Just like us, except we’re ancient and they’ve still got half their teens in front of them.” The next morning the three of us had breakfast early. Jack was keen to see Hester to talk about Inverthrum. “Tell her I’ll come to see her before lunch – say at half past eleven.” He nodded, bolting the last of his toast before rushing off to work. I went to see Dunstable. “How did that go?” he said. “Very well. Jack and Hamish have done wonders. I’ve agreed with his parents that we’ll give him a land-service contract from next July when he’s 16. He’s keen to earn some money before then, so I told him that we’d pay a fair hourly wage for whatever he does between now and then.” “Were you not planning to hire a man – someone with experience?” “Yes, but Jack’s confident that he’s a lot more trustworthy and competent than we’d thought. He’s with Hester now working out what work needs to be done over the winter. They planted apple trees and cabbages, and presumably they need some kind of attention, even if it’s just, as Hamish put it, keeping the sheep from getting in and eating everything. Do sheep eat cabbages?” Dunstable, like me, didn’t know. “We’d better pay the boy then.” I asked him to fill in as much as we could of the land-service forms and send them, together with a formal offer, to Rob Gunn. “Is there any hurry?” I explained that the school needed to see a contract of land-service so that he could stay on another year, and that the school started much earlier in Scotland. The meeting with Hester was an eye-opener. She was full of praise for what Jack and Hamish had achieved, and in particular for Jack for having designed it all. “I really had very little input – all I did was ask him the right questions. He’d ever worked out a plan for what needs to be done before next spring, and what he wants to plant then.” “Would you have done the same? Choose the same crops, I mean?” “Not necessarily, but that doesn’t make his choices wrong. There’s more than one way to cook chicken, after all. He will learn so much just from being given a project that’s effectively a clean sheet – he’s learnt a lot already, but there’s much more in front of him.” “Are you happy with the work plans he has for Hamish? The boy’s very keen, and has worked – they both have, but Jack’s used to it – like a Trojan, but he has no idea what needs to be done. Will Jack be able to tell him?” “I hope so, but whereas I can teach him horticultural things, management isn’t my line. That’s where you come in, I think. Do you trust him?” “Absolutely.” “Well in that case so do I. I’ve got him to make a sort of diary for Hamish – what to look for and what to do each week. I’ve added a few pages to the file he made about what they’ve done – have you seen it?” I shook my head. “I’ll show it to you when it’s finished, and it will support the college application. I can’t think there will be any doubt about his being accepted. In four years time when he graduates the college will be proud of themselves for having had him. He’ll go a long way, Dab.” It was the first time she’d called me that. “Do you know his history?” kilis escort I asked. She shook her head. “I expect he’ll tell me when he’s ready. I know he lost his parents and he and Dodo had to fend for themselves.” We were both silent for a while, and not for the first time I marvelled at how much he had blossomed since that night when Dodo abandoned him. And now he was in love. That brought me back to Hester and Inverthrum. “Will it be useful if he went up to Inverthrum now and again during the next few months? Just to see that Hamish is coping?” She gave me a sideways look. “I assume from that question that you know about him and Hamish – as an item.” “Yes, it’s rather sweet. Did he tell you?” “He didn’t need to. Every time he uttered the word `Hamish’ his eyes lit up, so I just asked him.” I was curious, “what did you say?” “I don’t beat about the bush: we all know where we stand sexually. He’s gay, he’s 15, and if I were interested in males he would be high on my shopping list. So it seemed highly likely, given that you were there as well, that there would have been sharing. I simply said `you love him, don’t you?’ and he just nodded. `I’m glad for you,’ I said, and that was that. So if you want them to have time together and you don’t mind paying his train fare then, yes, I think it would make sense both professionally and personally if Jack assumed a management position at Inverthrum now and again. Say every six weeks or so.” “I’ll tell him. Thank you, Hester. You’ve made a big difference and I’m very grateful.” Jack was very grateful too when I told him. He was even more grateful when I said that I wanted him to pass his driving test. “If you’re going up there you’ll need to be able to drive the van. I’ll fix up lessons for you as soon as you’re 16 and if we fix it like Billy and I did you’ll do a two-week crash course and be passed to drive by the middle of January.” I do like it when people appreciate that kind of thing, and Jack showed his appreciation in a familiar way later that evening – a process which required me to spend an hour in the sling. ***** Three weeks later the college had accepted Jack for September 2039. Their offer of a place congratulated him on the portfolio he had sent, and asked him to attend for a interview two weeks later. “Why do they want to interview me? They’ve given me a place already. Won’t they change their minds when they see I’m black?” I reassured him that they knew he was black already. “How?” “Your surname’s a bit of a give-away, Jack. Not many white boys are called Mbitsu. My guess is that they want to interview a star pupil.” “You’re kidding, right?” As we were in bed at the time, young Mr Mbitsu snuggled between the Earl of Inchkeith and Mr Wilkins, I reinforced my belief by kissing the star pupil. “No, Jack, I’m serious. Get used to the idea that you’re special, even to the people you’re not in bed with.” “Are you really sure I’m special?” he murmured as he disappeared under the sheets. Five minutes later I was able to reinforce my view. “I think you’re special too, Jack,” said Billy softly. Billy, hard, received the same treatment that Jack had meted out to me. “How will we manage when he buggers off to all the other strapping lads at college?” said Billy wistfully, “I’ll just have to make do with you.” “The strapping lads won’t get any favours from this one,” I said, squeezing `this one’ tightly, “he’s in love, don’t forget. The squeezed one snorted. “So are you two, and I seem to recall my boyfriend and me being attended to by you two.” “And you both enjoyed it hugely,” I said, smiling as I remembered some of the attentions. That morning Hamish’s land-service forms had come back from Lairg. Dunstable and I had gone through everything to make sure that the forms wouldn’t be returned by some jack-in-office because there was an `i’ that wasn’t dotted. We’d had trouble when we registered Jack because his surname raised hackles somewhere. It had taken a stern phone call from Dunstable to the land-service head before their computer would accept a name starting `Mb’. The details of Hamish’s ancestry were duly recorded (“I can’t for the life of me see why this is necessary,” grumbled Dunstable). Rob Gunn’s parents (`deceased’) were Alan Gunn of Inverness and Fiona McIntosh of Lairg; his wife’s parents were Charles MacKenzie and Rosie Grant (deceased) both of Durness. Rose Gunn’s father Charles had the same address as the Gunns. I hadn’t been aware of a grandfather, and I kicked myself. He must have thought it rude that I hadn’t invited him to dinner. I resolved to zip Hamish to find out: as his only living grandparent he might be a fund of information about Inverthrum. ***** The next day, while Jack was with Hester, Billy broached the subject of Hamish. “It’s getting on for a month since the two of you got back. Jack and Hamish have been zipping each other every day, but you know as well as I do that zipping is a poor substitute for being together. And before you remind me that we were apart for twelve weeks at a time while you were at school let me remind you that you had Dan to keep you warm in bed.” “Jack’s got us.” “Yes, but Hamish hasn’t, and he’s much newer to the idea of unrestrained guilt-free sex than Jack is.” “What are you saying, O Wise One?” “The sooner the two of them have proper time together – just the two of them – the better. And since he can’t get himself there why don’t I drive up kıbrıs escort there with him when you return to the delights of your cherubs at Fisher? It can be presented to Hester as on-site management, though she knows perfectly well what else will be happening, and it can be presented to Hamish’s parents as another step in the land-service process. I don’t suppose they know all the ins and outs.” “And it can be presented to Jack as the heavens opening.” Billy grinned, “not the only things.” It was then late August: term didn’t start at Fisher until early October. “I have a better idea,” I said, “you go up with Jack in October by all means, but why don’t the three of us go next week? They can sleep in the other bedroom and we can have ours.” “Why can’t they sleep at the other end of ours? That’s how it used to be, to judge from how we found it.” Why not, I thought, although in the boys’ shoes making love behind a closed door, no doubt after fun in the sling, would have been my idea of heaven. “Let’s see,” I said, “they can decide if they want more privacy.” I decided to find out if Hester had any objection to doing without Jack for another week. There was no sign of either of them in Hester’s office so I went looking. Fruit trees, I thought, that’s where Jack would spend all his time given the opportunity. But they were nowhere in the orchard. I went over to the greenhouses where I found them, heads together, doing something delicate to a small plant. I watched. It was always a joy to see Jack intent on his work – the look of concentration was something special. Hester looked up. “Jack wanted to see whether we could graft something really delicate,” and she stood back so that I could see him working on a very slender little plant in a pot. “Carnations take grafts,” she said, “and this is his first attempt.” I beckoned to her and the two of moved several paces away. “Is this his idea?” I said softly. “Yes. The carnation was my idea, because I know it will work, but it was his idea to do some practical grafting. It’s very important with fruit. Did you not know?” I was willing to admit that my skills did not run to such areas. “Sums are my thing. I was looking for you to ask if you could spare him for a week. Billy and I would like to take him up to Inverthrum to do a bit of managing, and to see whether Hamish has been doing what he’s being paid for.” “Yes of course, if that’s what you want. It’s certainly what he’ll want. Can you give me three – no, four days to get him to finish jobs that still need to be done?” It was then a Tuesday. “How about we go on Sunday? If we’re away for a week we’ll be back a couple of days before Jack has to go for his interview.” Jack stood up, his grafting finished. “Come and see whether I’ve done it right, Hester. Hello Dab.” It was right, Hester told him, and if it was still healthy in 48 hours then the graft would take. A white flower would grow on a plant that had always produced red ones. “And that’s how fruit trees work?” I asked. “The principle’s the same,” said Jack, “you want sturdy stock and heavy fruiting.” I decided I would stick to sums. “Do you fancy a week in the wilds? Billy and I were planning to drive up on Sunday. Care to come?” Jack’s face was a joy to see. “Zip him and tell him,” I murmured, “get him to tell his parents that there will be a working party arriving late on Sunday, and he’ll be living in like last time.” “But he’s back at school, Dab.” I had forgotten that. “Let me see if I can’t get Dunstable to wangle something. He’s only staying on at school because land-service doesn’t start till he’s 16 now. It used to be 15, so maybe the school will be willing to be flexible if his employer asks for a week’s release. I’m sure we can work something out. Zip him anyway.” “Thanks, Dab,” he whispered. ***** It was a squash driving all that way with three in the electro, but Billy and I did 3-hour stints and we got there before dark on the Sunday. Jack had zipped several times on the way up, and he received a zip from Hamish as we were just leaving Inverness saying that he would be at Inverthrum by the time we got there. I’d brought Bertie’s file as I wanted to get on with his story – we were still only in 1945, but since I’d started reading back in 1808 when Joel was born I’d travelled two-thirds of the way to the present day. We stopped in Lairg to get the van out of the garage and put the electro in. When the van arrived at Inverthrum an energetic puppy flung itself onto Jack almost before we’d all got out. Jack hugged him back and we oldies smiled fondly at this demonstration of teenage joy. “Mr Ogilvie says I can have the week off school, but he wants to see you, Dab, to make sure it’s genuine.” I said I would go and see him the next day once we’d had a decent night’s rest. Not unexpectedly this produced a snort from Jack. We’d stopped off to buy snacks, and five minutes after we’d arrived the kitchen table was covered in crisps, pork pies, chocolate biscuits and beer. Not the most nutritionally-balanced of meals, but one which filled in the holes and gave us energy and – as seemed likely to be needed – liquid refreshment. Hamish seemed as hungry was we three travellers. The two of them sat very close, giggling happily. The serious Jack who had been grafting carnations wasn’t there; a Jack whose eyes and ears were closed to everything and everyone apart from his boyfriend sat in his place – full kırıkkale escort of joy and overflowing with love. And lust too, of course. When the crisps and the pies and most of the chocolate biscuits were no more I gathered up the bits. “Tomorrow we talk at breakfast. It’s bed-time. Come on.” As Billy went up I turned to the other two. “You can sleep in the spare room on your own, or you can sleep in the bed at the other end of our room. You choose,” and I went up, leaving them to decide. Less than a minute later two naked 15-year-olds appeared in our room. “We want to play in here then sleep just the two of us,” said Jack. “You owe me a pound,” said Billy. I coughed up. It was interesting to see that Hamish hadn’t become reticent about sex during the weeks since we’d last been in Inverthrum. He’d told us while we were attacking the food that he’d been as hard as he’d ever been in his life all day, adding that he’d last had a wank when he saw Jack’s zip that we were coming back. “And that’s 122 hours ago. That’s the longest ever.” “It should be worth seeing then,” said Billy, “so no doing it out of sight somewhere.” It was obvious that Hamish’s first cum would not be long delayed once he got started if he’d been hard all day. Jack grinned. “He’s not wrong about being hard all day – his pants are wringing with precum.” This indicated a considerable degree of intimacy I had not expected – if they shared the inside of their underwear they might well be stuck with each other for life. I caught Billy’s eye – he was as amused by this insight as I was. Neither Jack nor Hamish noticed, as the sling beckoned. During the sixty seconds in which the two of them had stripped (and presumably carried out an underpant inspection) they had evidently decided what they wanted – needed – to happen. Hamish leapt into the sling and wriggled down. As soon as he was in he drew back his foreskin and more evidence of his keenness oozed from his cock and dropped slowly onto his belly. “Come on, Jack,” he whispered. Jack leaned over and kissed him before plying his wet cock-head over the boy’s arse – already half-open to welcome his lover. “I love you,” whispered Jack. “Me too. Put it in, Jack, I need you in me.” There was a whole week in front of them, many hours of which they would spend in private, getting to fine-tune their love-making; this, now, was urgent: urgent and gentle. Jack’s cock slid slowly into Hamish, a sight that never failed to fascinate me. Black cock in a very white arse is a big turn-on, especially in a sling when the vulnerability of the white arse is all the more apparent. “Oh God,” sighed Hamish, his cock pouring precum, “Jack, Jack …” I put my arms round Billy as we stood watching. “I love you too, you know,” I whispered, “do you remember when we were first aware of how we felt?” He nodded. “Terrified and overjoyed, all at the same time.” I squeezed him, and felt his cock – hard, urgent – pressing against my belly. “Soon,” he whispered. A groan from Hamish signalled the end of his 122-hour famine. “Oh Jesus … I’ve … aaah! … never come that much … aaah!” Seven distinct white trails had appeared on his chest – the longest only an inch from his chin. His cock, already half soft, lay in a spunky puddle among his ginger pubes. His face was alight with love for Jack. “Fuck me,” he whispered, “I love you so much.” Jack smiled and did what Hamish asked. On another occasion Billy or I would have not left Hamish’s spunk uncollected, but we both instinctively knew that Jack would not be long delayed in coming himself, and that when he’d done so the feast displayed so enticingly on Hamish would be his to savour, not ours. ***** That night, after the two of them pissed chastely in the normal places and went to bed, Billy and I lay in bed together. The sling remained unused – we were tired. “Aren’t they a joy to see,” he said. No answer was needed. Then, a few moments later, he said that the real test would be how well they dealt with the relationship in the garden. “How do you mean?” “Well, when Jack and you were here for two weeks, or however long it was, you said that he and Hamish worked well together. I assume that means that Jack told him what to do, and Hamish did it.” “Yes, but most of the time they were doing things together. Jack was working just as hard as Hamish.” “Yes, but had they worked out the love thing then? When did that happen?” I tried to remember. I though Jack had said he spent several days trying not to let himself think like that because any relationship was doomed because they were hundreds of miles apart. “Yes, but what matters is when they both said it. When was that?” “Only in the last day or two.” “Well then, what’s new now is my boyfriend telling me – OK, showing me – what I have to do. Surely that’s different.” I didn’t see it that way, but what Billy or I thought wasn’t important, and the next few days would show us how two boyfriends could still be apprentice and trainer. The Billy made love to me the way only he can. “You see,” I whispered after he’d filled my arse, “there’s no difficulty if the two of them love each other.” It was a mistake. I’ve noted before that deep laughter soon after ejaculation can be messy. Luckily I was able to scoot down the bed to get most of it, and a pre-sleep 69 attended to the rest, including a nice ‘thank you’ mouthful for Billy from me. =============================================================================== The fun continues in Chapter 84 as the week continues, and I learn more of Bertie’s story. Drop me a line at net – that is after you’ve dropped a few quid. ===============================================================================

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