Christmas, London 1942- Part 3
by Bald Hairy Man
This is a story about gay men and gay sex. If you don't like that DON'T read it. You have been warned. It is intended for adults to read, not for minors. It is a fantasy, not a sex manual. No effort to portray safe sex practices has been made. If you have any comments send them to bldhrymn@yahoo.com or bldhrymn@aol.com.
Templeton was chatting with a Etienne and Louis. Actually they were talking and fondling together. Templeton volunteered that he'd love to fuck someone. Much to my surprise, both Etienne and Louis were willing as was Johnnie, who was close enough to over hear. Etienne, the smallest of the men got the prize. He got on his hands and knees. Johnnie was a disappointed loser, but he found some lubricant and covered Templeton's dick and Etienne's ass hole with it.
Johnnie had thick fingers and he lubricated the inside of Etienne's ass so the French man was already fucked by the time Templeton was in position. Templeton got Etienne's legs on his shoulders then eased his huge member into the diminutive man's behind. It was oddly like one of those Keystone Cops situations. The cock seemed bigger than the man. Templeton kept on pushing deeper and one half expected to see his cock emerging from Etienne's mouth. Remarkably it fit, and even more remarkably, Etienne loved it.
I thought watching a man shoving his cock into another man's ass would be distasteful or ugly. The obvious enjoyment of the two men made it arousing. I had some understanding of what Templeton was feeling, but no idea what Etienne felt. It seemed that the crudity of the action was unrelated to the passion and pleasure they felt. It had to hurt, I thought, but whatever Etienne felt, it wasn't pain. While it looked as if Templeton was committing assault with a blunt instrument, something else was going on.
For the first dozen thrusts, Etienne seemed tense, then he relaxed. He began to undulate his hips to maneuver the invader into unexplored recesses of his body. I began to see them as a single sexual being. Templeton adjusted his trusts to better respond to Etienne's hip movements. Once and a while he'd shove hard, or from another angle. This kept the French man off balance a little. It was almost a ballet.
I found myself staring at Etienne's hole. Certainly the ass is a man's least attractive physical feature. Templeton was playful and he toyed with Etienne's hole. At first it firmly shut between each penetration, but later it remained slightly open. If Templeton took too much time between thrusts, it would open as if to invite the monster back into his body. Several times I saw Etienne's hole almost kiss, or caress Templeton's bloated cock head. It struck me as being intimate and almost beautiful.
They climaxed and the rest of were aroused so we returned to conversation or sex.
I had seen the Wizard of Oz with my granddaughter before they left for Canada. She was frightened by the witch, but greatly relived when the vile woman melted. My grand daughter was an outgoing girl and you could almost see her mind doing battle with the witch. My daughter told me she wanted a bucket of water by her bed that night.
I had been amused by the motion picture, but since then had been thinking about it as I went about my daily tasks in London. Whether it was the Wizard of Oz, or Through the Looking Glass, it now seemed easy enough to be transported to another world in a split second. I had been a resident of the greatest city in the world, the capital of a great Empire. Now it was being reduced to rubble, and I was trying to save fragments of our past. Who would have thought all the great works of Wren could vanish. It was just a matter of time before St. Paul's would be bombed and burned.
In the same way I had lived a life of total conventionality. Indeed I never rose to the top tier of the profession because of my conventionality. Lutyens could create the bold design. I could only draw it. My sexual life probably did not even rise to the level of convention. It was all but non existent. Now I was in the basement of my house, surrounded by fornicating naked,
I found myself with Wally, the horse hung organist of a bombed out church, talking about man sex. "Templeton said you discovered sex in the School for Choristers. Was it a shock? Did they molest you?"
"We boys played amongst ourselves of course. That was all part of being curious and bored boys," Wally said. "I know several masters lusted after the pretty boys, but I wasn't one of those boys. I was rather big and ungainly. I matured early. FortunatlyI had a knack for playing the organ and piano, so I stayed on as a back up rehearsal organist and a bass baritone if that was needed."
"I was always a leader of men in some ways and I could keep the younger boys in line. I was firm, but understanding, something some of the masters couldn't understand. I discovered sex with the Sextant, Eustace Maddinley. He was a surly man that haunted the halls and tried to see how unhelpful he could be. One day I had to fetch him from his rooms above the carriage house of the rectory. I found him with his cock hanging out wanking."
"That must have been a shock?" I said.
"A shock at first, but then an opportunity," Wally continued. "I had never seen a adult cock before, and Eustace's had a long white snake. I just leaned over and sucked it. I had some experience with the boys, so I was pretty skilled at that. Eustace rewarded my effort with a mouthful of Sextant seed. Eustace became a nicer man after that. I dropped by to see him regularly. His bad temper was due to sexual frustration, not his personality."
"You seduced him?"
"Not really. It wasn't a love affair. It was just two blokes helping each other out. I had thought he was an elderly man, but he was forty-five. Oddly he was better looking naked than dressed. Eustace had lost his good looks in the War. It was a head injury and there was brain injury too. I think he remembered when he was handsome and desirable. I grew to like him. If I sucked him off, he be good for a day. When I fucked him his good humor would last almost a week."
"You fucked even then?"
"My pecker was full grown by the time I was 14. Eustace screwed me a few times. His cock was long and thin. It fit easily," Wally said. "It was only fair that I got to fuck him. Mine wasn't easy, but after you've had you brains partially blown out by a Boche bullet, my cock wasn't that bad. He whimpered a little, but he soon was moaning in pleasure."
"We also had one very shy under master named Lloyd Edwards. He was a perfect Welsh tenor, a beautiful voice. He was from some god forsaken valley in Wales and was at the school due to his ability rather than social connections. Needless to say the other Masters only tolerated him." I knew the school was stylish and was familiar enough with the curse of England, snobbery.
"Lloyd was good with the boys, and I recognize the same sort of need in him that I saw in Eustace," Wally continued. "We were discussing a troubled boy, when I left I put my arm around his shoulder. He jumped a little, but I kept on talking and he put his arm around me. He said he was a bit on edge. I told him I had a solution for that. Well one thing led to another. Eventually I introduced him to Eustace and they hit it off."
"Was that love?"
"It may well have been," Wally replied. "Lloyd had done nothing sexual in his life except for a guilt filled wank once and a while. He had 35 years of pent up needs. Eustace and I took care of that. He liked to suck, he liked to fuck and he liked to be fucked. His cock was as long as mine, but with a bigger head and a thinner shaft. It met Eustace's needs perfectly."
"Did it meet your needs?"
Wally nodded. "When I went off to University I found a replacement for me among the boys. Christopher Smith-Thomson was only 14. He was fully mature, and nice boy marred only by the sex drive of a bull elephant. I discovered he was directing his energies toward some of the younger boys. That wasn't good, so I introduced him to my friends."
"Did that turn out well?" I asked.
"Exceptionally well. I later discovered Christopher's aggressive tendencies were due to his nasty and demanding father. He wanted a father's love. Eustace and Lloyd provided that, love and guidance too. Christopher had a horse cock. It looked monstrous on such a slip of a boy. He liked to top. By then both Eustace and Lloyd were accustomed to big meat and they took it well, as did I for that matter. I got him to take Lloyd's cock. I appealed to his sense of fair play."
"When Lloyd shot his seed deep into Christopher's rectum, Christopher's life changed. He was complete. Lloyd pulled out his still drooling cock and I saw that wasn't enough for Christoper. I got Eustace to screw him. I screwed him next and by the time I made my deposit, Lloyd was ready for a second session. Christoper loved it and he loved them."
"He wanted acceptance from an adult male?" I asked. "Does the story have a happy ending?"
"It does as far as I know. Christoper's father died and left him a wealthy man. He's married now and had several children, but Eustace is his gardener. Lloyd is still teaching in London as far as I know. Christoper visits London often." Wally said. As he talked Wally had been stroking my cock. I had the sudden realization I was too far gone and I was going to shoot. We were both covered with sperm. That didn't bother Wally at all and seemed to inspire Jan. he came over and licked the quivering globs of seed from Wally's hairy chest and gut.
It was getting late and we all fell asleep.
We were up early and got to the truck early. It was another clear, cool day with a bright blue shy and only a few whips of smoke. As I slept I must have thought about the coming days work. I had a plan. As it turned out, Angus had a similar plan. We merged them and we got a great deal done. Templeton rang up a friend at the national gallery and they sent someone over to help with the Rubens. The painting had been in the collection of a minor nobleman who gave it to the church when Rubens was un stylish and he married a Presbyterian women who didn't like papist paintings.
It wasn't that large, but it sat in the middle of a large altarpiece. The carving of the Altarpiece wasn't by Gibbons, but it was quite good none the less. It was later Georgian, but the carver obviously understood the painting. The carving was lush, but not overwhelming. Our first thought had been to save just the painting, but I decided we should try to save the framing altar piece too.
We had a good plan of attack and went at it with vigor. Two people arrived form the National Gallery. A rather sour older woman was in charge. She was accompanied by a cheerful younger man. It was a surprise to see a young man, but I noticed his left arm was deformed. The battle ax was Dr. Smythe. The younger man was Dr. Evan Jones. Smythe's specialty was pre Renaissance Italian Primitives and she couldn't have had less interest in Rubens. Jones was normal. Fortunately Smythe said it was cold and left. All London was cold and largely unheated. It struck me as a poor excuse, but we were well rid of her.
Jones was a find. He was new to the gallery and did most of his work hanging paintings. Actually most of his work was taking down paintings and crating them so they could be sent to safely in the country. We couldn't have found a better man. He also knew how Gibbons' assembled his carvings and where they normally would be attached together. He took Jan and Louis to take apart part of the choir stalls.
Johnnie, Pavel, Louis and Dan were with Angus shoring up the roof girders. The made much better speed than I had thought. When that was done, it would be safe enough to get the Rubens. We took the triangular pediment off the top of the altarpiece, when we did smoke began to rise from the rear. We quickly pulled the entire altarpiece away from the wall. Remarkably it came off in once piece. As we did the wood blocking behind it all but exploded into flame.
Apparently a cinder from the fire had been smoldering since the bombing. When it got oxygen it ignited. We had a frantic five minutes as we pulled all the burning pieces of wood off the rear of the Altarpiece. I don't know how we escaped getting burned. Jones was a marvel. He got the burning board that backed the painting off before the fire damaged the Rubens. He did it with a screwdriver and with only one arm. We quickly detached the painting from the altarpiece. We had a whisk broom and brushed away the soot. It was a dramatic interpretation of the Crucifixion. The painting was about three by four feet and appeared to be in good condition.
"What's this picture on the back?" Johnny asked. We looked at the back. There was a second Rubens painted there.
"My God!" Jones exclaimed. "It's a oil sketch for the nymphs and Tritons in the Louvre." I vaguely recalled the paintings celebrating the wedding of Henry IV and Catherine De Medici. This was a spirited composition of nude sea nymphs and Tritons who greeted the couple.
"This changes everything," Jones said. "Rubens ran a large studio, so assistants did much of the work. Rubens himself did the sketches. This means the painting is a Rubens by Rubens himself. Very rare and important."
"If we were to sell it could we rebuild the church with the proceeds?" Templeton asked. He was a vestryman and a painting this valuable might well change the future of the church.
"I rather think so," Jones said. He went off to find a phone so he could ring up the Gallery. We completed disassembling the Altarpiece and putting out the remaining fires. At some point the fire would have broken out and the Rubens would have been lost. We were just in time.
This entire episode turned out to be a sensation. Britain was exited by any event that was not a disaster at this point in the war. "Rare Rubens Rescued from Ruins," was the best of the headlines. "From Ashes, Beauty" was another. "Salvage Team finds Masterpiece," was my favorite.
It was good for our team too. Retired gentlemen playing soldier in the Home Guard, or as Air Raid Wardens were the subject of jokes as were the refugees who had found safety here. We were referred to as a rag tag group of retirees and refugees who were doing their bit for Britain. Manual labor was difficult for these men, and this discovery made it more than acceptable.
The next day the papers were there taking pictures of us saving the Grinling Gibbons carvings. The painting was at the National Gallery. We were the heroes of the moment. I sent the clippings to my family in Canada. My grand children were most excited.
The night we discovered the Rubens sketch, Angus suggested I ask Jones to join us at dinner at my house. "I think he'd make a good addition to our group," he said.
"What makes you think that?"
"Just think of it as a new form of Radar," he said. I asked him to join us. Jones accepted. Angus was right, Jones was well suited for our group. I was Gussy to the group. Dr. Jones quickly became Evan. He loved my house and the warm basement. I had no particular vision of what he actually looked like, since he was enshrouded in a heavy wool over coat, tweed suit add vest as well as miscellaneous scarves and gloves.
Naked, he was beautiful. He was young, in his late twenties or early thirties, slim and well built. He had curly blond hair and a muscular body. His chest was covered in blond hair and a trail of hair connected it to the bush. He had pale ivory skin with pink nipples and pink genitals. His bad arm was normal to the elbow, but the rest was undersized. He had the hand of the six or seven year old.
I would have thought he would be uncomfortable with the older and much less attractive men who made up our group. That wasn't the case. Not only was he at ease being nude as we bathed, he was partially erect most of the time. That didn't bother him and it surely didn't bother the rest of us. Pavel was the shyest man in our group and he hit it off with Evan. Pavel was a solid man of fifty or so. He struck me as sad. I guessed he was dwelling on the situation of his family in Prague. He spoke German and Czech. Since the rest of us could speak only English and French, Pavel was left out.
Evan spoke English, French and German. When he was with Evan Pavel smiled and he immediately became a more attractive man. I had thought Pavel was an all potatoes and no meat man, but inspired by Evan Pavel's cock made an appearance. He was only half hard but it would be massive a full erection. Apparently I was the only man in the group who didn't recognize Evan's sexual inclinations.
Jan was discretely sucking Templeton in a corner of the room. Evan noticed that and fondled Pavel's cock. Angus joined them and the young man dropped to the floor and sucked both of the older men. When he switched from sucking Pavel to Angus, I saw Pavel was well endowed indeed.
I smiled to myself that I was thinking about a man's genital endowment. In my heart of hearts I realized this was an aspect of my life that was always there, but I had suppressed it so completely I could convince myself it was merely a passing fancy. Not that I admitted I had these thoughts. I felt liberated and freed.
I was very hard now. Etienne saw that and came over to me. He sucked me for a little while then got in his hands and knees. I knew what to do. I got my saliva lubricated member at his hole and pushed. He didn't open for me. I spit on my hand and coated my knob again and pushed a second time. This time my knob popped through his sphincter. A second later my cock was in his warm and welcoming hole.
I wasn't use to either warm or welcoming. I was a little afraid that Etienne would be disappointed in my cock after taking Templeton monster, but that didn't seem to be a problem. I had never fucked a responsive person before. It was a shock and a pleasure. While I was fully aware that my cock gave pleasure to me, I had never used it to give pleasure to another. Etienne loved it. I slowly slid in in and out of his ass, enjoying every inch of his hole. He relaxed when I pushed in, then tightened as a pulled out. He caressed my member with his ass. It was lovely.
"Go slow," he said in French. "I want it to last."
I took my time. It only got better. When I got close shooting, I slowed down and postponed my ejaculation. Etienne climaxed first. I felt his body twitch and shiver and the orgasm gathered speed. Remarkably, my first ejaculation was a second after his. He moaned.
When I pulled out I was still drooling sperm. I felt like a new man. Angus had been watching. He smiled. I took a shower and discovered I was still excited. I wanted to do it again. The room was awash in warmth and sex. It was quiet with only the sound of breathing and distant bomb blasts. Evan came over to me.
"This house is a marvel," he said. "To feel both safe and warm seems remarkable. I have a room in Bloomsbury. The building next door was bombed. My room provides shelter from the rain and light winds, but little else." As we talked my cock got excited. I was embarrassed until I saw Evan was in the same state. Evan stroked it.
"I watched you with the Frenchman. It looked like fun," he whispered. "It looks like you are ready to go again. I was thinking I might take a seat on it? I hate to sound forward, but I get excited by a man with a big knob."
I got on the bed and he straddled me. Angus appeared with some oil. He coated my cock and worked some into Evan's ass. The young man sat back on my cock. He bounced on my cock head for a while, then he took the plunge. I popped into his ass. He winced a little and waited a few seconds, then he impaled himself.