Another train adventure for the Major, on leave in an outpost of Empire.
So I was calm and serene and satisfied as I boarded the slow train from the hills down to the hot coast and my duties. My sexual needs had been well catered for by my holiday. My prick had been busy, no rest for the wicked.
In case you have forgotten I am a military man serving the Empire. I am a well-built gentleman of a certain age, not far past thirty, not a boy, yet not an old man either. I am a well-endowed gentleman, and what shall we say – my tastes are versatile.
The compartment was busy with several civil servants, bluff men of no interest to me, but also a blond European angel, a little older than a school boy but not much, travelling by himself. I saw him surveying me from between his sandy lashes. He looked like a tall boy, willowy, he would tower over me, and he was – what – twenty perhaps? No sign of a bristle on his chin or cheeks.
At one of the stations on the way down there was a stop for air and refreshment and on the platform he met a stiff looking couple – not family perhaps but friends or colleagues of his parents who had been sent to meet him. I was on the platform too and could hear a bit of the conversation.
They were clearly concerned about him travelling alone. I heard him distinctly as he replied – he told them that he was being accompanied by a Major, an acquaintance of his Headmaster, who was looking after him. They looked relieved. He looked over at me through his lashes and they turned to me too, and I nearly choked on my cigar and acknowledged the couple also with a salute.
The whistle went and we got back on board. The compartment was emptied now, the civil servants having alighted. He got back on board with a sulky look and then dropped his eyes.
After a while as got up steam I spoke at last.
So, is it my role to look after you then?
He shrugged, barely looking at me.
They think I am a child and need looking after.
Are you six feet tall, I asked, with a bit of a seducer’s style.
He nodded. I am grown Major.
So I see.
I looked him up and down, the long legs, the thin waist, the cheekbones, the floppy fringe, the lazy long-lashed lids. I saw a little trim of fair hair at the wrist. And the crotch of his flannels was arranged in such a way that it looked as if there might be a length of something thin and not at all short. Not tubby down there then, but long perhaps.
He crossed his legs and lay back against the uncomfortable dusty upholstery.
I had a feeling he might be a danger to the young masters at his recent college.
Then I looked up at the luggage rack and saw two cases, with the address label of a well-known boarding school at the hill station. It was the middle of term. Perhaps he was the games master? Or the art teacher more likely? Perhaps there was illness at home. Or perhaps he had been expelled for inappropriate behaviour. I mused over the young master who was no doubt currently considering his revolver. Or worse, the prefect with the sore arse.
The boy was looking me up and down now. I uncrossed my legs so he might see what a man had to offer in his crotch. Just in case he was in any doubt. Flaccid or aroused I was worth a look.
You have no beard and mustache Major, said the boy. Can you grow one?
Indeed I can, I acknowledged. Had you met me at the beginning of the week you would have seen it. I was persuaded to take it off for the hot season.
A very light growth I presume, sir?
No indeed. As a matter of fact, I have a strong growth. My bristles grow quickly. At the moment I shave twice a day. When I get back to the coast I will however let it grow back.
Is the hair very coarse?
Very.
And forgive me asking sir, but are you, as they say, hirsute?
Very. Or rather I was. You see I was persuaded to shave my chest too.
For the hot season also?
Yes indeed. It does make a difference. I must confess that in the heat it feels as if I am wearing a cashmere vest of the kind I wore in North West India.
I am smooth and trust I will remain so. Hair is so common on a gentleman, don’t you think? All very well for navvies and coalmen of course.
I shrugged.
Men’s bodies are different. A navvy may be smooth like a baby. A Viscount may be hairy like a bear.
Is that your experience sir, he asked. I imagine you have a lot of experience of men’s chests, being a military man.
I do have a lot of experience, since you ask. May I ask how old you are?
Nineteen, major.
Are you safe to be out unaccompanied? Do you not need a protector?
I have already nominated you Major as my protector. At least that is what I told those boring old fools on the platform.
And am I safe, I asked, arching my eyebrows.
Well, Major, I suppose that depends.
He uncrossed his legs, stood up, and looked out the window with his back to me, so I got a very good view of his flannelled arse. The cloth was a little tight on his buttocks.
I wondered if his little pink hole would be bare or circled with fair curls. I wondered if it would be tight with virginity or loosened with the efforts of some teacher back at the college or a friendly uncle or reputable friend of the family.
He turned.
I should have taken a piss when we stopped, he remarked. Now I will have to use that damn awful place at the end of the corridor. Not fit for beasts. A stinking hole.
He mouthed the last word as if he was blowing smoke rings behind the cricket pavilion. No doubt he was reading my mind like a fakir.
I was beginning to be intrigued, if that was the correct word for what I felt down below. I was feeling more and more of it as I looked at him and he looked back,sullen and arousing.
He took off his light blazer and rolled up his sleeves to his elbow. The forearms were shiny with fair hair. So much for hair being coarse on a gentleman. And perhaps he was more of a man than his nineteen years indicated.
Of course I followed him to the latrine. With little conversation or discussion I had pulled his shirt up and his flannels and drawers down and reaching for the Lifebuouy soap to make things slippy, was up to the hilt in his arse.
He swore obscenely as he felt me slide in.
He had a particularly dirty mouth for a school master which I found strangely arousing, that is if I needed any more arousing.
My hands were up under his shirt flicking his nipples. I went at him as if I was catching a train, or to be more accurate roaring into a tunnel with the brake off.
I pulled at his school tie so it became a rein and he struggled but it only added to our mutual pleasures.
Fuck me, fuckin fuck me Major, he cried out, as I did that very thing, fuckin fuck me harder – you can do better than that! Get it into me! What have you got there – a pencil stub?! My pinkie finger does a better job!
I had rather more than a pencil stub up his back passage at that precise moment, but his insults spurred me on, to great force and energy.
He groaned and moaned as I serviced him. He was almost doubled up, the tall boy, pushing his skinny rear back down on me, meeting my thrusts.
This youth was no virgin.
I felt the rumble of my climax mounting and held on to him tight. If he wanted it, then he was getting it without mercy.
I bet when he was a schoolboy he was the one who wanted to be caned and showed off bare red buttocks afterwards.
Boy, boy, I cried out and rammed him harder, my shirt and vest pulled up so he could feel the coarse and common new bristles popping out on my chest and belly against his smooth back.
Jesus, fuck, I cried out – and I lost it, like a cannon.
I finished very quickly with some energy and as I slipped out, my load almost immediately ran back down and streaked his thighs. For his part he had been working on himself and shot a very impressive stream of the stuff into the toilet bowl with an accurate and admirable aim. I saw the white juice clogging the surface afterwards.
I slipped my cock back into his flooded arse and stayed inside him and held him tight still.
Only then I began to kiss his back and neck, and still pumped gently in and out. I reached for his wet cock, still firm too, a long thin instrument with barely a knob, and a growth of pale hair at the root.
Mr Farnon’s is bigger, he remarked, and yawned.
And who may I ask is Mr Farnon, I asked, still holding on to him and now caressing his stomach which was tighter than I had expected for a nineteen year old. He was athletic at something.
Games, he said. Bigger and more spunk in him. And I can feel his balls slapping while he is doing it.
But a cock in the arse is worth two in the yard. Just for that, I replied, you can get on your knees on this filthy floor, spoil your flannels into the bargain, and suck the last of my spunk out of me. I think you have failed to notice how much of it shot up your arse a few moments ago. Ungrateful boy.
With a sulky expression he did as I said, and for good measure, let a hand wander up to rub my bristly stomach and then my bristly chest. He clearly liked the hard little blighters now growing there without the attentions of a handy razor.
You must be hairier than Mr Farnon though, he conceded in the few moments when his mouth was not wrapped around my shaft. At least in the cold season.
He had reached my nipples, now with their little circle of growing bristles.
Thanks, I am pleased to hear that the paragon does not have everything in his favour, coarse and common though I may be. You must visit me in the cold season and feel the benefit of my pelt.
With a little sulky effort he managed to coax a little final dribble out of me, and I felt it was time for us to return to the compartment. I patted him on the shoulder.
Right you, on your feet and make yourself decent. Drop the catamite act if you can. Be a school master again.
We were back in our compartment, both of us looking demure. He was perhaps a little less sulky now, a little more animated and chatty, less of the pout and lowered lash.
We were joined by more travellers and we passed for a father and son no doubt, on good terms coming down from the hills.
His journey was a long one. He was due to catch the steamer in seven days. A room had been booked for him at the Church of England guest house.
I suggested he joined me at the Grand Hotel for a couple of days before I returned up country.
You can have your own room, on me, I grinned.
Why would I want a room of my own, Major?
Look here you’d better call me Uncle Harry if we are going to book in there. Shall I ask for a room with two beds?
Yes Uncle Harry.
And so it was arranged. He called me Uncle Harry quite loudly, and the passengers took note and smiled and approved of me taking an interest in the youth.
It was only when we were signing in at the desk that I realized that this angel who I was pretending was my nephew had a name which was unknown to me.
He paused for a second – and supplied his name Philip Ashley.
Harry Cockburn and his nephew Philip Ashley I said out loud.
My name was real but if his name was not it really did not matter.
In the Grand we had a double bed and a single – never sullied of course but rumpled by me every morning before the maids came in – and a bath.
We were barely in the door when Philip announced he was having a bath whether it was the appointed hour or not. He stripped off and dropped his clothes on the floor and was unabashed when the porter arrived with the cases and saw him in all his pale floppy nakedness before the bath was filled.
The porter got a large tip off me which changed his expression from quizzical at my nephew’s nude boldness to delighted at the size of the coin.
The porter smiled enigmatically and nodded. I got the feeling that he understood what the arrangement was.
The next couple of days in the room in the Grand – for we rarely left it and merely opened the door to take in the meals and bottles – were a revelation to me. Philip Ashley was quite some boy. He had been taught by the very best masters and in me he had found a slave.
His taste ran to tying me up to the bedstead and fucking me very hard, often employing a variety of items he found in the bedroom or bathroom. I winced when I saw the loofah and was taken aback when room service delivered a particular variety of local radish which was a monstrous giant compared the kind we dipped in salt at home on summer afternoons. With it came an orange squash with a distinctive girth and length. The boy certainly knew his vegetable markets.
I was somewhat relieved when the lobster was delivered and with no more ado Philip tore the claws off it and began to eat, stark naked save for a linen napkin down his front.
I was at that point still tied up to the bed with ropes securing my wrists and ankles and bright red skein secured around my genitalia. Philip had had those in his luggage apparently.
Dinner was far from my mind. My face and upper chest were dripping with his latest ejaculatory effort, newly off the boil. Indeed he had barely let fly his load when there was a knock on the door.
Leave it outside boy, he had called imperially.
He fed me with some prawns once he had dined, running the tails through the trails of spunk and presenting the thus dressed and dripping shellfish to my mouth. Salt on salt. I was glad of the nourishment.
Those two days also included some activities there is no need to record here. Suffice to say Philip Ashley had picked up some dirty habits from some dirty characters.
How much cash have you got on you, he asked.
I had a look in my wallet which was lying on the floor. I myself was without my clothes at the time. I held up the paper notes.
The boy seemed satisfied with that.
He let me have a bath and while I was in there for a long time to get my skin scrubbed and my orifices well cleaned out, I heard voices in the main room. Rising from the tub I looked through the gap and saw him (in my dressing gown, too short in all respects) with half a dozen of the hotel’s waiters and porters lined up in front of him.
I’m only taking three of you, so show me what you’ve got. Come on, get your sooty cocks out.
There was a bit of mumbling, but they all complied. My eyes popped. Some of them hung like black stallions or tubes of dark rubber. A couple were only normal sized and he immediately sent them away with a coin.
That left four. All of them had handsome faces.
Open up your shirts, he commanded.
They did so, showing off some fine pectoral and stomach muscles.
You’ll do, he said. I’ll take you all. You’ll get paid once you’ve done your work. Be here at 10 on the dot, no excuses.
They nodded.
Fine then. Put those monsters away for the time being. Clean them with European soap before you come back will you or you wont get the job. Comprenez?
I returned to my bath, a little stirred, but also a little apprehensive to be honest. I was past thirty and this marathon of sex acrobatics was proving a little taxing.
A Scotch and soda or three, a good cigar, and a tender steak was what was on my mind. Perhaps, unlike the young Ashley, I was past my prime, past the peak of the prowess which had done so well for so long. Not for the first time I wondered if I needed to settle down with a pretty wife. Or a pretty vicar.
When I was out of the bath and dried and in new under things I announced I was taking to my bed for the day light hours. Philip agreed and said that was a very good idea.
We had a light lunch sent up – the tray delivered by one of the boys who had been hired earlier but very demure in this role and letting nothing slip of his earlier visit to the bedroom – and spent the rest of the day in a slumber. Philip let me hold him lightly and we soon drifted off into a deep sleep.
When we woke it had indeed gone dark. Waking with the fair boy in my arms I found rather stimulating and tried to embrace him, a gentle mutual wank would have been satisfactory, but he pushed me away.
Keep your strength for later, he said, but he had not told me of his plans for later.
I felt the need of a walk and so dressed and departed.
He was on the verandah when I returned, and he informed me we had a table in the dining room.
Have the steak, he said, rare, for strength. And start with the oysters. They are good for your sperms.
I was a little amused but tucked heartily into my dinner. He I noticed picked at a salad only, save for the rum baba he had for pudding. We both drank a little champagne or rather I did, and he knocked back the milk.
We lingered on the verandah afterwards and he ordered strong coffee for me. You’ve had your sleep this afternoon, no matter if you stay awake now. I checked my watch – it was well after 9.
Philip yawned. I think we should turn in soon, he said, with a knowing expression.
Yes nephew, I replied, whatever you say.
When I rose from the table I was aware there was a pronounced bulge in my flannels. I held the old copy of The Times down my front to disguise it.
We turned in, both in our underwear. I yawned theatrically, but when I went to touch him between the legs he slapped me away.
Let me sleep, he said.
I heard the town clock ring out 10, and immediately could hear a shuffling and lowered male voices at the door.
Philip cried out Enter in a loud voice and switched on the bedside lamp.
Four young men assembled at the foot of the bed, all in their hotel uniforms. They certainly were a handsome bunch, no question, even fully dressed.
Here is your going away present, said Philip.
Now, he continued, addressing the silent quartet, if you want to earn your money, you will each fuck the Major here. You will need to shoot a load in him or on him if he prefers to get the coins, and if he shoots too during or after the fuckin, you will get a bonus. Now get those clothes off. Show him what he is getting.
I was speechless but was about to find my tongue when there was a gentle knock on the door.
Oh Jesus, I murmured, not a fifth man.
But standing there was a very pretty maid. I had taken note of her before. Dora she was called.
Come in, come in, barked Philip, and close the door, we want to keep this private.
He turned to me.
For a bit of variety you know old chap, he said, if the arses give out.
Dora was no brazen hussy. She stood in the corner as the boys undressed, deeply embarrassed, covering her eyes. She stayed fully clothed.
Meanwhile the boys began to quickly appear naked in front of us. Philip had chosen the best endowed of course and soon there were four long thick black cocks dangling down, eight full balls of varying size and shape, and four pairs of fetching smooth basalt buttocks. I must confess I found the sight intoxicating. The schoolboy’s dressing gown – or rather it was my dressing gown he wore – had fallen open and his sturdy pink erection was cockily visible to all.
Get in line, he barked, and he indicated my supine form on the bed.
The first boy was shy, which was a surprise given the size of his cock. He stood at the foot of his bed with his prick half hard and no chance of looking me in the eye.
Philip made displeased noises and reminded him of the conditions of the payment.
I was lying exposed on the sheets, finishing off my cigar.
Never mind the boss, I said encouragingly, what’s your name, son?
Joshua, he mumbled.
Well, Joshua, what about helping me get out of these drawers for a start and then seeing what we can do?
He nodded.
I lifted myself up and let him pull down my white drawers. I was a bit more aroused than he was I can tell you as soon became evident.
Why don’t you kiss it, I suggested, and he did, and that soon turned into suck and a swallow and Joshua showed no sign of being shy or wanting to stop. Nor did I want him to stop either, but fearing that I would spill too soon, I had to instruct him to desist, and rolling him over on his back, I engaged in some vigorous fucking. His prick was a thick one and stood hard to attention over his belly as I fucked, swinging at the thrusting.
Soon enough he screwed up his face and gasped – Master! - loudly and with no touching whatsoever he let fly a massive load of his cum, spattering on his chest and then spurting all over the place.
Philip shouted out bravo. At that moment he was fucking another of them on his bed zebra style, which is what we called doggy style in that corner of the Empire.
The other two were standing there the pricks at three quarters mast as they played with them and the girl sat quiet, still fully dressed.
I pulled out of the boy’s arse, saving my climax, and motioned to the two boys. Thus we made a sandwich with me in the middle, one black cock pressed hard against my arse, the other pressed hard against my stomach. I played with both of them, feeling the leaking and dripping.
Now, I said, both of you take the girl and let me watch.
Not so fast, said Philip, I’ll have the girl. And so will you.
He snapped his fingers, and she was down to her underthings in a moment. When I saw them, all black and lacy, I knew she was more than a maid, but probably a performing girl from a local brothel, and so her tongue and fingers proved. She was used to more than making beds.
Philip was an energetic and apparently inexhaustible heterosexual lover. The girl appeared to be satisfied as she seemed to reach climax several times or had simply learned the appearance of that very expertly.
For my part I enjoyed watching his thrusting pale buttocks, and let one of the boys caress my still extended tool as I watched, keeping me on the edge for the duration, and took the opportunity to smoke another cigar. Philip climaxed very noisily inside her but kept going afterwards so she received another load. The spunk ran out of her and down her black thighs when he eventually pulled out.
I did not fuck the girl, I have standards after all. But I fucked the others and they me.
The spirit was willing but in the end the flesh was weak, my cock was raw, and we both nodded off as dawn approached.
Philip had handed me the wallet, so I paid them all off and they hastily dressed and left quietly. I kissed the girl on the cheek at the door, and one of the boys, put out, insisted on a kiss too, but on the mouth, and the others followed too, tongues too, with tired grins.
Philip was already snoring from his bed face down with his bare pale fluffy arse sticking up to the world.
Philip had been forward thinking enough to order us a late breakfast in our room, so when the sun was high in the sky, and we had both been snoring and sweating for many hours, there was a discreet knock on the door, and a trolley was wheeled in.
The waiter I noted was the one who had insisted on his farewell kiss but this morning – or was it afternoon already? – he was demure and efficient but apparently none the worse of his late night and sexual acrobatics.
I did not rise from my sheets but told him to take whatever change he could find in my trouser pockets. There was a flicker of a smile at that and I noted he only took the bigger coins and thanked me for it with a smile which showed his fine teeth.
What is your name again, I murmured.
Michael, sir.
Well Michael, thanks for all your hard work. Mr Ashley and myself are both very grateful.
He nodded and smiled again, and brought a cup of steaming coffee over to me.
My fingers trembled a little, and he held the cup to my lips. Some drips of coffee went down onto my chest and Michael quickly wiped there with a napkin. The napkin strayed over the top of my chest gently. Naughty Michael.
My nipples stood up stiff as did my cock.
Michael continued wiping my front, his fingers going down to where my stomach disappeared under the top sheet.
I saw his delightful pink tongue. And hoped he would use it.
Be a good chap will you Michael?
His mouth found my cock, refreshed from its slumbers and ready for another go. Mercy it was hard.
Good lad I said and drank my coffee while he sucked me off and I came in his mouth with an oath, rather more swiftly than I usually did, almost before I had even drained the coffee cup.
He swallowed my morning spunk and there was a heck of a lot of it.
He smiled as he lifted his mouth from me, wiped his creamy lips and wiped my knob with the same napkin.
Philip slept on, murmuring a little. No doubt he was dreaming of banging the cricket captain.
I do not suppose you have a spare ten minutes do you Michael?
I spread my legs wide and lifted my arse. I was refreshed and eager.
He smiled and began unbuttoning his hotel trousers. He knew his duties well.
I remembered his cock by the size and the shape of it.
He was giving me an appetite.
Plenty of time for Michael before tea.
