Schoolboys

“It’s so kind of you to come,” Lady Worthliegh said. “Roland always spoke so highly of you.” She was dabbing at her eyes under her black veil. She was clad all in black from head to toe.

“He was my best friend,” I said. “It was all I could do for him.”

On the mantel was picture with a black border of Roland in uniform. He was a delicately featured, his blond hair was parted on the left and on his face was a look of earnest and grave purpose. He’d been killed at 2nd battle of the Somme.

“When did last see him?” she asked.

“Oh the night he had his engagement party at the club,” I answered casually.
Just the mention of it brought back memories of that night, long after the party Roland’s tie undone, his collar eschew, looking up at me with his wide dark blue eyes as he sucked my cock.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We met at school of course, it was one the great public schools-I won’t say which. I already knew of him he had reputation as shirt raiser, not his fault really mainly it was based on how he looked. He was small, thin with girlish facial features and his lips redder than most. In second term the boy I normally shared a study with was sent down. Roland and I became roommates. I began to notice an odd thing. The other boys were always entering and leaving our study when I wasn’t there. I told Roland and he just laughed, he told me that he best library of thrillers and mysteries in the school. I dumbly believed him.
That is until one day I walked in to find Norton an older boy and rugby captain, hurriedly putting on his pants and trousers as he sat on the edge of Roland’s bed.
Norton said nothing as he left the room, his face was scarlet. Roland lay on his bed, sheet up to his waist and shirtless.

“Rolly old man,” I asked. “What was that all about?”
I had a feeling that I already knew the answer and my face showed it.

“Oh, he was returning my copy of King’s Solomon
Mines,” Roland replied with a smirk.

“Alright,” I said. I understood now that the rumours were indeed true.
Despite my misgivings, we became great friends. I actually liked Roland he was loyal, funny and knew lots about Cricket and Sherlock Holmes and was all an around great chap. He always had a lot cash to spend whenever we into town. One day after purchasing some sweets for the both of us I asked him:

“How is it that your so Oofy old man?” I asked. “Your parents must spend you a good packet the way you can spend the stuff.”

He broke into an ear to ear grin, and his blue eyes sparkled. “No, my family is hard up because Father’s speculating and Mother’s nerves. They can’t spare a bean.”

“Then you must have King Midas as a godfather,” I remarked.

“As if!” He said with a triumphant giggle.

There was a pause as he sucked a bit of toffee.

“So how do you get it?” I asked.

He gave me another smirk with his red lips. “You really don’t know do you fathead?”

“Um, no I don’t,” I said.

I remember how his school cap was swivelled to the side and how his ash blond hair looked so smooth and soft.

“Some of the boys pay me for my favours,” he said. “And I don’t mean Latin or Greek translation.”

“They pay you for it,” I said, in a state of shock.

“Yes. I wouldn’t let that great hairy, stinking brute Fordditch
Touch me for under a sovereign,” he replied.

“B-but that means your like a tart,” I said with a hint of revulsion in my voice.

He was thoughtful for a minute and said finally: “Hmmm, I guess it does, I never really thought of it that way.”


We just friends for about another year or so. However it all changed one very cold mid-winter night. Our study was so cold
I’m
Quite sure the thermometer had dipped below freezing. We lay shivering in our respective beds under the thin blankets our school provided. We had lit a fire in the shove but even that didn’t seem enough, that bitter cold night.

Finally Roland spoke up. “I have an idea. Come into my bed.”

“What?” I answered.

“Nothing dirty, old man, just body heat. It’ll be
Much warmer if huddle up close to each other,” he said, there was a frankness and a desperation in his voice that told me this wasn’t just some trick.


“Fine, Rolly,” I said.
I craved warmth and comfort so I left my own narrow bed and squeezed into next to him. He was right, his body was like furnace. We lay next to each other and soothed by the warmth and the sound of his breathing I fell asleep. I awoke in the small hours of the night, because of trouble with my neck. Roland was still fast asleep. In the dim moonlight I examined my sleeping companion; I noticed that in repose he was quite lovely and angelic. He has long pale eyelashes. His throat was snowy-white and so thin. His sleep tosseled and knotted hair was like a halo. Now I could see why so many others had been attracted to him. I could feel my penis harden and grow. Dear god! He was so perfect and beautiful!
In his drowse he snuggled into me, I gasped in shock and disgust and I backed up. He moved closer and snuggled into me. I was against the wall, my hands over my crotch hoping to cover my ardour.
When I looked up at his face, I noticed that his habitual smirk and his eyes open a crack. He was awake! I sprang from the bed. In sleep he was angel awake a demon.
He rolled over.
“I see I’m not the only who’s up old man,” he said.

“Um, err I think I should be getting back to my own bed.” I muttered.


“Oh, come back you ass!” He said.

“I should be getting back to my own bed,” I nervously repeated.

“No you shouldn’t,” He said grabbing hold of my arm. I turned and looked at him. He was sitting up his hair was falling over one eye. “Stay here and keep me warm.”

He grabbed hold of my face and pulled me down onto the bed and kissed me. I didn’t bother struggling against it. I just kissed him back with as much fervour as I could manage. Soon our activity rendered it to hot and we dispensed with our nightshirts. I found myself kneeling on the bed naked with Roland’s knees on my shoulder, poised for penetration. He was looking at me with those dark blue eyes hungry and eager. I thrust into him.

“Ow,” he moaned and recoiled. “Steady on! I want it slower!”

I did as he instructed, I made my thrusts slower and longer, building up momentum. He was so hot and wet and giving. I’d felt anything so amazing. It was like I flying. It was perfect. We rolled around revelling in the ecstasy of lips,
cocks, nipples, thighs and buttocks. Until it was nearing dawn and we fell asleep in each other’s arms.
My school work began to suffer, because nearly every spare moment we had we spent in making love or in cricket practice for the up coming match. And when I was in class all I could think of was the way Roland felt, his skin his smell, his taste.