The Under-Fifteens: by (c) Hamilton Joyce mm It had been one of those sunny Spring days more like Summer, and really too hot for rugby. I played on the wing for the under-fifteens, so I had not suffered as much as the labouring forwards. (The ball did not get out to the wing much in schools rugby, not enough passing skills. But if I got it I had the speed to score as often as not. I was a slender boy, lightly built, but very fast in the sprint. I envied the forwards. I would have loved to have been very big and strong. And above all to have enjoyed their physical contact. I used to imagine my head tight between muscular thighs, my arms round hips and bums as the scrum bound tight.) However, the showers were really welcome. We had played St Botulphs that Saturday, and both teams showered together. Thirty naked boys, and as I remember it only about a dozen shower heads. So there was a lot of pushing and shoving, playful, to get under the stream of hot water. I took the usual half-serious banter. 'Daisy's hard again as usual. Which of us do you fancy, Daisy?' I loved the showers on Wednesday after games, and Saturdays after the match. But was half-afraid of them as I ALWAYS betrayed my sexuality by getting a hard-on. All those naked bodies! All those hard, athletic bums, and graceful cocks, some uncut, some still sporting the glorious foreskin I loved so much. So I was always teased like this. Lots of the boys got hard-ons in the showers occasionally. I always did. The only other boy like that was Barry Sims, but he was a wimp and never there on a Saturday. 'Leave him alone, Jacko. You'd have a boner if you hadn't been wanking all night. Bloody slow you were today. Shagged out I should think, jerking off.' Tom Rockwell, the Captain would always defend me. I had a thing for him even before we became lovers. He already, at fourteen had a man's muscular body and a big, big cock. He looked a bit like Rock Hudson with smouldering eyes, full lips, and wavy black hair. He was devastatingly handsome. I was, too, I guess, in a much prettier, blonde way. The showers were supervised by our games master, Mr McPherson, who wandered about in his shorts. He would, I know, have loved to shower with the boys, but always waited till we had finished and gone. He had refereed the match, and would shower with the Botulph's master who had been one of his linesmen. McPherson (we called him Jock behind his back) was ex-army, Royal Marine Commandos, a hard little man, with a body as slight as mine, but like iron, and later I found out he had a beautiful, springy cut cock, small but wonderfully hard, and erect for ages. A 'repeater' too. But that's another story. This narrative is about my first real sex. Jock McPherson was a bit of a masochist. After our ten minutes or so of soapy hot water he would tell us to rinse off. Then he would warn us the cold was coming. He would push the lever from hot to cold with a flamboyant gesture and then count slowly to ten. He must have enjoyed watching the boys leap about and scream, their cocks waving in the cold, clear stream, arms and legs flailing. Like watching thirty boys coming all at once! We knew if he saw anyone dodging the cold water he would name him, and add a few seconds up to fifteen perhaps. So we all had to crowd together under the dozen or so shower heads. I didn't like the cold water, of course, but oh boy, that naked contact like a group orgy! And I noticed Tom Rockwell would always be behind me, his body pressed against mine, as often as not his cock between my thighs or even in the crease of my arse. He was this time, as well, and held my hips as the icy water burned our hot skins, though my hard-on did not survive the arctic blast, and neither did his half-hard between my buttocks. 'Daisy!' (They called me Daisy because my name was Day, and also because I was a pretty boy, and later perhaps because I was reckoned 'girly' in my sexual proclivities.) 'Daisy, you got some time after the match? There's somewhere I want to show you.' He was pulling his pants up over those tight white underpants I still dream about sometimes. 'For you, Tom, anytime,' I said only half-joking. I was even then an incurable flirt when with a handsome boy! ........................................................ It was an old sand-quarry, long abandoned and overgrown. There was a pool in the centre with lush, almost jungley vegetation. And hidden in the middle was an old Bedford box-van that someone must have pushed over the edge. It had landed the right way up. Tom Rockwell kicked at the rear doors, and one of them opened a couple of feet or so. Inside, in the gloom I could see a broken-backed red velvet sofa, a couple of matching armchairs, and two or three folded deck chairs. All stuff dumped by fly-tippers, I guess, but nonetheless welcome for all that. There was an untidy heap of magazines, and as my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, I could see naked figures on them. They were what we boys called 'wank books'. 'Here's where it all happens, Daisy.' I still couldn't resist flirting. 'Oh, I do hope so Tom.' I had a terrible crush on Tom Rockwell. I used to whistle Noel Coward's 'Mad About the Boy' to myself, and it was always Tom I was thinking of. So I had that suppressed excitement, that tightness in the chest, beating heart... and hard cock... you always get when a new lover is in prospect. Not a one-nighter, you understand, but a guy you really want, a boy you have a real yen for, someone you actually love! He looked at me, part enquiring, part that smouldering, lustful look. I moved to him and put my hands on his shoulder, one palm each side of that strong neck. I looked into his eyes and repeated, 'I do hope so, Tom.' and moved my face towards him. He bent that inch or so forward and we were kissing. Most fourteen year old boys don't kiss. They are interested in their cocks, but haven't yet learned the other pleasures. Tom kissed wonderfully. He had, of course, been practising with girls (I said he was stunningly attractive, and always had a lovely girl somewhere near. Except now, all he had was the pretty-boy, Daisy). Instinctively I caressed him, running my hands over his back, his arse, his hips, as I ground my belly into his. His tongue in my mouth, mine in his. And I could feel his cock, hard now against mine). 'I'm so randy, Tom.' 'Me too, Daisy.' We fell backwards onto the couch. I was surprised at how low it was as I sunk into the velvet and broken springs. I was holding his cock now through the light cotton trousers he wore. He rubbed at mine, as we kissed again. I unzipped him. The first guy I ever did that now- familiar gesture to! His cock seemed huge inside his cotton y-fronts. He had his hand down my waistband and was fumbling with the zip with his other hand. I broke off from kissing. 'Let's strip off, Tom. I love to see you in the showers. I'm always looking.' 'I know Daisy. I like that. And I like seeing you too. Did you feel me in the showers today?' ' Behind me. Yes!' We had pulled our shirts up over our heads. I had kicked off my shoes, and now I was naked. And so was he. I should describe his body to you, and you will see why I was infatuated. I told you he had Rock Hudson's smouldering good-looks, but unlike that Hollywood hero of mine, his body was just beginning to be hairy. Very hairy for a young teenager. I wonder what it would look like as fully adult. Ever since then I have admired, and sought out, men with strong muscular bodies and masses of hair. He was my first. As we kissed again, I was stroking his hard belly, tip-touching the tiny crisp curls. Then his chest, finding hard nipples under the fine hair, caressing and squeezing his muscled tits. And his hands were all over my body, too. I felt him exploring my back and buttocks, my thighs, my shoulders, and always his tongue in my mouth. On an impulse, without thinking and as if it was the most natural, inevitable action, I was on my knees in front of him, my arms around his hips. I crushed my face into that hard, six-pack belly, feeling a man's hair against my cheek for the first time. Can you remember the first time you took a knob into your mouth. I hope like me it was a boy you admired, respected, even in my case loved. If you were that lucky, then, like me, every detail of the moment will be imprinted on your mind for ever. I can recall the thrush singing in a tree close by, the smell of rust from the old van and the musty smell of the sofa. But most of all I recall the way Tom's legs stiffened and straightened in his pleasure as the knob slipped into my mouth. I heard him groan as I allowed the full length to penetrate until my nose touched his belly. I had my arms right around him, and could feel that lovely hair in the crease of his buttocks. I had heard of "cock-sucking", but swear I started without any thought. It was just what I wanted to do at that instant. It had started as a desire to kiss that wonderful masculinity, and then what happened just happened. Thank goodness! Again untaught, I was gobbling at it as my head bobbed up and down. I could hear My Idol murmuring his pleasure as his shaft slipped in and out my lips. I managed to flicker my tongue along the most sensitive part, and to suck, cheeks hollowed. Then he was holding my head with both hands, fixing my rhythm in time with his own needs. He groaned, and my mouth was filled with his cum. I loved it, and swallowed each separate spurt. None escaped me. He was still now, and I let his still-oozing cock rest in my mouth as it gradually went half-hard and then limp. I got up and sat beside him on the sofa. He did nothing for me. He never did in those two years of school before he went away. Once satisfied, he lost interest in my body, my mouth, my cock. Then the door was kicked open again. Shit! It was Robbo, one of the guys who would tease me in the showers. 'Fuckin ell! That's a nice sight I should say! You fuck her, Tom?' 'In the mouth, Robbo. She's good. Better'n a wank.' 'You've a nice, smooth arse, Daisy.' He sat heavily on the sofa, so I was squashed between the two of them. I still had my hard-on. 'Show me your arse, properly.' He half-pushed, half-lifted me so I was standing in front of them. Then he turned me round so my back was to them. I felt his hands caressing my buttocks, squeezing them, parting them to reveal my secret pace. 'Nice! No hair, just like I thought.' I felt his cheek against my arse, and then his chin between my parted cheeks. He was beginning to be hairy, like Tom, though not so covered, and had to shave. I could feel the bristles left from shaving. He kissed my arsehole, and then was licking it. It was a new, wonderful sensation. I leaned forward, my hands on my knees, so he could get at me easier. 'She loves it, Tom. Look at the bitch! Likes having her pussy sucked.' I gave a little squeak as that probing tongue finally penetrated my virgin anus. That, too, was delightful. I pushed back onto it to get even more. It was flicking in and out, and round and round now. He reached under and round me and held my cock. I thought I could come. But I held it back. A sudden shock. 'Jesus! Robbo. What the fuck's that?' 'That, Daisy, is my finger in your pussy. And that...' I gave another squeal.. 'And that is two fingers.' I bent further forward, and felt his fingers sliding in and out, three hands caressing my thighs, buttocks and lower back. 'I'm going to fuck her, Tom. Watch this.' He turned me round and forced me to my knees again. I rested my head in Tom's crotch. His cock was half hard again, and I slipped the knob between my lips. Robbo, behind me now, and kneeling as well, was parting my buttocks with both palms, and slurping spit into my anus. Then I felt his knob slipping up and down my crack, looking for its entrance. I wish it had been someone I loved who had taken my virginity. Tom, or Jock McPherson or one of my later sweethearts. But Robbo was just another cock, and I felt nothing for him really. Nice enough guy, but not one to make my heart race. Still, he knew what he was doing. Tom's cock was stiffening in my mouth. I love that feeling when the cock you are sucking goes from limp to steely strong between your lips. I hardly noticed when the knob slid into my arse, so well had Robbo prepared me. And then the full, warm feeling as his shaft sunk deeper, deeper, deeper into me, till I felt his thighs against my buttocks and I knew I had taken his full length. I wish I could say my first fuck was a wonderful, liberating experience. The best was that moment of penetration. In fact, It only took Robbo four thrusts before he was spunking inside me. He pulled out immediately he had come, and gave me a playful slap across my buttocks. 'You've got a nice arse, Daisy. Fuckin' 'ell, I needed that.' Worse still, Tom pulled his cock from my mouth. Once was enough for him. They were dressing, and they left me naked, hard, unsatisfied. ................................................ The word soon got around as the boys boasted, and soon most of the team had had me. Only a couple of boys fucked me, though, as most just wanted me to suck them off. That summer I was swimming in cum! But still I did not know how good being fucked in the arse could be. Those young lads all came much too quick! It must have been about a month after that first of many sessions in the old box-van that I finally learned. It happened like this. In the last week of the school year the teachers were mostly busy with marking exam papers and doing the reports, so the boys were given leave to read or chat. As long as we were not rowdy we had the freedom of the school compound. Robbo took me into the cupboard at the back of the gymnasium, where vaulting horses and other equipment was stored. He had me bent over one of these, my shorts around my ankles, and his cock between my buttocks. He had just penetrated me when the door opened. It shut almost as quickly. 'Fuck! Who was that?' His cock had gone limp, and he was buttoning his flies hurriedly. I was pulling my shorts up in a panic. 'That was Jock McPherson.' 'Shit!' .................................................. It was late afternoon the same day that Jock McPherson caught up with me. I had been keeping my head down, waiting for the blessed release of the school bell at four o'clock. 'You boy! Day! My office. Now!' His office was behind the gym, next door to the storeroom where I had been caught. I thought it odd the way he clicked the yale lock behind him. He stood facing me. He was not much taller than me, but looked very tough in his white sleeveless singlet and tight white shorts. Despite my near panic I could not help noticing his bulging biceps, with their traditional heart and dagger tattoo, and the golden hair on his forearms. The same beautiful golden haze over his thighs, which were nearly too big for the tight shorts. He put an arm on my shoulder, still facing me. He was looking into my eyes. I found I could not hold his gaze, and, ashamed, looked down at my feet. He was talking, but for a second I was hardly aware. 'Day. The boys call you Daisy, don't they?' I nodded. 'Then here, today I will too. Daisy, you know what I saw this morning, in the store?' I nodded. 'First, was it willing? Or was Robinson forcing you to do something you didn't want?' 'He wasn't forcing me, sir.' 'So you like that, do you, Daisy? You like having a cock in you?' 'It's all right.' 'Look at me when you speak.' He had his other hand on me now, a hand on each shoulder. 'Do you like it?' I looked him in the eyes, and saw a sort of smile there, a shared secret. And in that moment I knew! 'It's all right. But I never get to come.' 'That's the trouble with boys! They come too quick, and they're selfish. Do you kiss?' 'Oh yes, sir.' And his arms were around me, his mouth on mine. He was more passionate even than Tom. Most of the boys would not kiss, so I had not a great deal of experience. But this was good, as his lips parted, mine too, and our tongues played together. Then I felt his hand on my cock. I was hard, all that panic evaporated now. I felt down for his, between us, and he was hard, too. I found I could slip my hand down the elasticated waistband of his gym shorts, and combed my fingers through his hair. Then I grasped his cock. He still had hold of mine through my light cotton trousers. But he was undoing my shirt buttons. I've always had sensitive nipples and like to have them fingered or kissed by a lover. So I was in raptures when he bent to suck first one and then the other. I stroked the back of his neck with my free hand. My other hand cupped his balls, cradling them, feeling their shape and weight. I stroked behind them, where it's hard and muscled, between arsehole and balls. He groaned in pleasure. 'Shall I show you how it should be, Daisy. Shall I show you how good it can be?' 'Please. O yes, please, Sir.' And this time it really was good. There was a section of rubber, padded gym mat along one wall of his office; we stripped and I lay down on this. He slipped a cushion from his desk chair under my arse, and stood over me. I was in ecstasy, seeing that he was admiring me just as I was admiring him. As I looked up his balls and erect cock were so manly! He went over to the cupboard where he kept the first aid stuff for minor sports injuries. He was holding a plastic bottle with a spray nozzle. 'Baby oil. Nothing I know better than this.' He placed it beside me, and lay down with me. I was completely submissive now. I would let him do whatever he wanted. Willingly, even eagerly looking forward to giving him pleasure. (I still did not expect to get much pleasure myself!). He raised my legs so my arse was naked and open to him, and I felt his rough cheeks between my own smooth, tender cheeks. Then his tongue licking round my anus, and penetrating. Even at this he was more skilled than Robbo, the only other person who had rimmed me. he slipped it in and out in a circular motion. And I loved it. He reached for the bottle, and sprayed oil on me. I felt his finger spread it over me, and then slip into me. A pause, and then what must have been two fingers. He was gently finger-fucking me, but sometimes he would stop and stroke me deep inside with his index finger. This was best, and I thought I could come just with that! I did not want to, though. Not yet! 'You're ready, Daisy!' 'Please, sir. Please ..... Jock.' I looked up at him. The golden hairs I had loved so much on his arms and legs, became a rich reddish gold on his chest and round his cock. He was not massively muscled, but his whole body seemed to have a springy, wiry strength to it. And so did his cock. It was normal sized (I'd seen a lot of cocks by then, and knew.) But it was very elegant, beautiful even. It was not straight, but arced upwards like a strung log-bow. He was cut, and I longed to suck that helmet. Later! My legs were on his shoulders now, and I felt him place his knob. 'That's right, sir. Just there. That's exactly right.' As usual, the pain was momentary as he pushed and the knob entered my anus. I tried to raise my head to look down, to watch it go in. But with my arse on the cushion I could not see. But I felt it slide right up me, and then the hairs of his thighs on my own smoother skin. It rested there a moment, and then he was fucking me with long, slow sweeps. Sometimes the knob would almost come out, and I had the feel of penetration again, this time without pain. I was stroking my cock between us, and with my other hand combing through his chest hair, and fondling his nipples. His muscular pecs were almost like breasts, but I banished that thought! He was resting on his elbows. to keep his weight off me and to allow me room to jerk. I began to feel, for the first time, something different in my arse. I now know he had positioned himself so that lovely curve in his cock meant my prostate was being stimulated, rubbed by his knob with each thrust. But for the first time I was getting pleasure from being fucked. I suddenly realised I was in love!!! I reached up with both arms and pulled him down on me so we could kiss. It was a long and wet kiss, all lips and tongues. His cock rested motionless deep inside me. Then he was on his elbows again, and fucking me harder and faster now. I was on the verge of coming. 'Don't come yet, Daisy. Enjoy it first.' But he was close as well, and was labouring really hard at me. For a really good fuck you need a super-fit athlete! And that is what he was. He was not sweating, but his face was getting redder, and he was murmuring, 'Yes, yes, yes.' and telling me how good I was, what a good little fuck. It was all very exciting for me, and I dare not touch my cock. I felt one last stroke would surely make me come. His cock was thrusting powerful and fast, and then I knew he was coming. His face contorted into that grimace almost of pain, but wholly of pleasure, as they come in your arse. I stroked my cock, and my spunk flew in the air, splattering my chest and even onto my chin. I could feel him coming in me, spurt after spurt, as I too spunked. Finally all I had was an ooze from the eye of my cock, and he had finished too. We lay together, embracing, kissing, my spunk sticky between our two bodies. My arse expelled his cock. It did it by itself, without me. But that was a signal for him. 'We'd better shower. I've got a shower room over there. ............................................. It was a good shower, hot needles of water. 'Was that good for you, Daisy?' 'Oh, yes, sir.' 'Me too. I've seen you so often in the showers. seen your lovely cock, so hard and eager.' 'Not now!' I found the soap and started on his shoulders and chest. The delightful thing about showering with a friend is that you can touch and caress every part of his body. My hands slid over his chest and hard nipples, down over his belly, and under to his balls, and over his cock. He turned round, and I soaped his back, down to his buttocks, and into the crease, my fingers running across his anus. I knelt in front of him, and as the water streamed down, washing the foam from his prick, arced and soft now, I kissed his balls. then I took his cock in my mouth. He held my head between his two palms, and leaned back against the wall of the shower. I had the pleasure of feeling his cock harden in my mouth till it was fully-erect. I gobbled on it, sucking, and slipping it in and out. He groaned his pleasure. My hands held his hips, sometimes sliding behind to feel his hard, very muscular little arse. Arms under my shoulders, he raised me to my feet. It was mostly from behind he soaped me, and I delighted in the feel of his hands sliding over my arse and back, slipping into my crack, reaching underneath and soaping my balls and cock. Then his arms were around me, fondling my nipples and holding my (still limp) cock. I could feel his hard prick between my cheeks, probing for my hole. 'Daisy, do you want me in your mouth or in your bottom?' 'I'd love you to come in my mouth, sir. But I want to feel you up me again, please.' The knob slid in through the soap-suds. and I was feeling that fullness and warmth again. I braced my arms against the wall and jutted my arse out further for even greater penetration. There had been no pain at all this time, only pleasure. I expect he had opened me up very thoroughly on that mat earlier. I felt my cock getting hard, and took one hand from the tiles to jerk it as he shagged me. My hand slid up and down in the streaming water, and he went at me harder and harder. Then, his thighs crashing and slapping against my arse, I knew he was coming. We came together. ............................................... It became almost a routine. I still sucked a lot of boys and was fucked by a dozen or so of them, but he became my main lover. We fell into a routine. Nearly every afternoon after school I would go to his office and he would have me either in the mouth or arse. Then we would spend an hour or so in the gym, and then the shower, where he would fuck me again. Most of the boys knew what was going on, and it is a testament to his popularity (and, I guess mine too) that no word ever reached the other staff. This went on for two years, by which time all those sessions in the gym had given me a body I could be proud of. And an educated arsehole! It finally ended in the winter of 1991, when the first Gulf War started. He was a reservist still, and was recalled to the colours as soon as the war broke out. Our last night before he left was an enduring memory. My parents had given me permission to see him off. As two lovers we had a meal together, and back to a hotel, where we sucked and fucked until we finally fell asleep together. and in the morning he had me in the shower in the old way. I last saw him as he waved from the window, his train leaving Waterloo Station. Jock McPherson was killed the first day of our invasion of Iraq, his jeep bombed by one of our own planes. "Blue on blue" the military call it. At his memorial service a month later I wept. ................................................