The Boy Avengers (15 page)

I THOUGHT THAT WOULD BE THE END OF THAT particular matter. I was wrong. The next Sunday, Jeff and I went to Waterbury to inform Tom and Mr. Butterworth of the outcome, knowing they'd be as pleased as we were. I had a key to the studio; nevertheless I rang the bell two short and two long rings, to let Tom know who it was. The hour was eleven. After a long moment, Mr. Butterworth opened the door. He was stark naked, had a hard erection; his eyes looked sleepy, his hair tousled, his lips swollen. He looked magnificently attractive. What a revelation it would have been to the boys at Cornhill who sneered at the ineffectual young master! Actually, he looked pornographic, if a person doing nothing can be said to look pornographic. Anyhow, I had an immediate erection. I hope we didn't interrupt anything, I said diplomatically. Jeff was speechless, eyes wide and figuratively drooling. Mr. Butterworth only smiled. What could he say?

Tom emerged from their bedroom. He also paid us the compliment of not being hesitant about appearing before us stark naked and erect. His cock, I noted with surprised interest, was perhaps an inch shorter than Mr. Butterworth's splendid eight inches, but it was broader, especially the enormous glans that stood out sharply from the fat shaft. But what was most astonishing was that he had truly enormous balls. They were even larger than Hal's. Nearly as large as I'd remembered the headmaster's to be. Unlike the headmaster's, which hung low and loose and made his genitals, in toto, look like a horse's, Tom'sin erection anyhowwere pulled taut against his groin, which enhanced their size. Tom later admitted he used to be ashamed of their extreme size, but that Bill's delight in them had made him treasure them.

Jeff, of course, was not shy about expressing his admiration. I never guessed you had such beautiful balls, Tom.

Tom grinned and looked at his lover. They're not mine. They're his!

That's right, Bill said. And don't you forget it!

While I said nothing, my first glimpse of these remarkable balls aroused in me an impulse to pillow my head on their hard fullness. As for Tom's cock, Mr. Butterworth later told us that even if he'd hated Tom, the convolutions were so fantastic that he had tremendously enjoyed Tom fucking him, more than any fuck he'd had, bar none. And since he loved Tom ...

I repeated my apology to Tom as he walked towards us, cock swinging manfully over those heroic balls. If someone didn't interrupt us from time to time, we'd starve to death! Mr. Butterworth gave a smile that indicated he'd consider it a pleasant death.

Just look at those balls, Mr. Butterworth said. You can't believe what a fantastic experience it is to have Tom fuck you and feel them slamming against your ass. Fuck them, Tom, and let them feel for themselves.

Better not, Jeff said. I wouldn't want to be spoiled.

Yes, there's that, Mr. Butterworth admitted.

These dear friends were kind and thoughtful. They put on robes to listen as we told them over late coffee and jelly doughnuts how our schemes had worked out so well. When we had finished, Mr. Butterworth asked if we'd like to watch them fuck. Oh, yes! Jeff cried. Tom seemed pleased at the idea. Mr. Butterworth could do no wrong; he was flattered that his lover thought the sight of Tom fucking him would be no less edifying than the film of Hal fucking him. But mainly, I think, they were desperate to resume fucking and too gentlemanly to ask to be excusedthough we would have understood. Frankly, the invitation delighted me, too.

Before we get carried away, Tom said, do you remember I told you Cary's theory about a smaller cock providing more actual sensation than a bigger one?

As he asked this he was stripping off his robe, his lover was stripping too, and I giggled, because the moment he said smaller cock their very un-small cocks seemed to pop out into glorious view. What's funny? Tom asked.

I think his eye searched in vain for that smaller cock you were talking about, Mr. Butterworth said.

That's right, I admitted.

You're the youngest dirty old man I ever met, Tom chided. Try to be scientific for a moment.

Yes, sir, I said humbly. And I
do
remember Cary's theory.

Well, Bill and I have decided it's very true. My cock isn't nearly as big as Hal's, but Bill said there's actually a lot more sensation when I fuck him.

Can't tell you how relieved I am, I said.

Are all the Cornhill boys this fresh? Tom asked his lover.

He's unique. Shall we get on with the lesson, or do you want to do more lecturing?

So we went into the baroque bedroom. Their splendid naked bodies seemed curiously in harmony with the elaborate torso columns of the canopied bed. How beautiful it was to watch two personsdeeply in loveas they explored each other's bodies with ever-fresh wonder. That we were their dear friends was evidenced in their wanting us to share their pride in each other. We watched fascinated as Tom delved with passionate tongue into Mr. Butterworth's acclaimed asshole. Impulsively he turned to us and urged us to try it. Jeff didn't hesitate. He delved as Tom held his lover's handsome buttocks apart, delved far longer than mere curiosity would have dictated. Oh, Grant! he said when he emerged at last. It really
is
fabulous! I couldn't have refrained without being conspicuous, and furthermore my curiosity effectively killed off any inhibitions. So I dove in too. Despite all the advertising, I wasn't prepared for what an exquisite experience it was, what a truly articulate asshole he had. I, too, became as enthusiastic as the rest.

Since we had gone this far, it hardly seemed much further to strip off our clothes and experience what it felt like pushing our more-than-ready cocks into that masterpiece. Tom announced that Mr. Butterworth had such total control of his sphincter that he could masturbate either of us with his asshole alone. This, of course, required a demonstration, but Mr. Butterworth discreetly left it at only a demonstration. We took turns inserting our cocks into his asshole and I could see at once that the subtle but rhythmic coaxings of his sphincter could indeed have brought me to an explosive orgasm in a short time.

They tried an experiment. Jeff and I lay with heads at opposite ends of the bed, Tom held our cocks together, back to back, while his lover took both of them at once into his asshole and demonstrated that even with this maximum distension he still had powerful control over his sphincter. He could have made both of us comeand at the same timemerely by manipulating his sphincter.

Mr. Butterworth insisted we appreciate Tom's special virtues as well. He had us explore with our tongues the powerful convolutions of Tom's enormous glans. It was actually so enormous both of us could work on it at the same time. We managed to keep from knocking our heads together, but nevertheless our tongues collided from time to time, a curiously pleasant sensation. Our enthusiastic efforts produced two little spurts of preliminary emission. I lapped up the first, Jeff the second. We nodded to each other in approval of its distinctive manly flavor. Only later did I realize this was Jeff's very first taste of the fruit of a man's loins.

Now, take his cock up your ass so you can feel his balls, Mr. Butterworth urged. Jeff got on hands and knees, ass high in the air, to comply.

I thought you said it would spoil you, I reminded him.

If he fucks me. He's only going to put it in so's I can feel his balls.

That's right, Tom confirmed.

With considerable relish, it seemed to me, Tom eased his cock into Jeff's asshole. There was surprising resistance. Tom had to push hard before the enormous head could force a way into the modest-looking anus. But I realized it was deliberate, that he'd learned much from Cary's lessons with the vibrator and could gauge the resistance to give himself maximum pleasure. He knew what he was doing and wasn't timid about supplying the necessary force. Oh, that
does
feel heavenly! Jeff cried when at last the huge head and broad shaft were completely in, the whole underside of his groin cushioned hard on Tom's extraordinary balls.

Amused by Jeff's youthful enthusiasm, I was surprised to find this an understatement as I took his place and in turn let that fascinating cock force its way through deliberate resistance until I felt those balls making an exquisite, resilient cushion for my ass, enveloping my own balls. Jeff smiled at my surprise and pleasure. Oh, Mr. Butterworth, you
are
a lucky fellow! I cried. And even as I remained cushioned so rewarding on those magnificent balls, Mr. Butterworth lightly pressed his lips to mine. It was like an electric shock, for at the same moment Tom flexed his cock. For a moment I felt like an intermediary, between the rightfully enamored pairand was happy to be.

Seemingly these amusing experiments took five minutes at most. Then Tom and Mr. Butterworth sucked each other to explosive sixty-nine orgasms and, seemingly inexhaustible, each fucked the other with a pounding vigor that seemed to shake the room; they sent the ornate canopy billowing like a galleon's sails in a hurricane. It was so beautiful that, when it was over, it seemed they'd been too precipitous for my tastes, but the clock said three in the afternoon, and we staggered naked, too exhausted and weak to dress, to Tom's kitchenette, where he hastily revived us with scrambled eggs in abundance.

Now, I can tell Sandra how successful she was, Tom said. I think shell be willing at last to see a doctor and get her infections cleared up.

In spite of her rightfully vindictive purpose, Mr. Butterworth said, I could see by Tom's film that she not only enjoyed fucking but was good at it. I'm sure now that she's gotten all the poison out of her system she can find herself a good man and settle down.

As I have, Tom said fondly.

As I have, said Mr. Butterworth. Jeff squeezed my knee, but I believe it was to indicate that he agreed
they
were just right for each other.

But Sandra's happiness was not to be. Tom and Mr. Butterworth had cocktails with her at the cafe where she had so effectively entrapped The Five, hoping that some of their happiness would rub off. She nodded with satisfaction as they told her the complex results of her campaign. I couldn't have wanted it better, she said.

Next morning, she was found in her bathtubdead, wrists slashed. There was no suicide note, but across the bathroom mirror she'd written, in lipstick: CLYDE NEEDS MEMY WORK HERE IS DONE.

On hearing of this, though I am a devout non-believer, I wished for a moment I might be wrong, that there was a heaven where she could be united with her brother.

If Jack Foster was surprised or even suspicious when he got the cryptic note in his mailbox from Jeff, asking to see him that evening, there was no indication in the brief come at nine he'd scribbled on the bottom before returning it to Jeff's mailbox.

My two cameras, of course, had been set up during the daywhile Jack was at his coaching dutiesso that he wouldn't hear any noise. To make certain everything was in order, I took my position at eight-thirty. The cameras contained an ultra-sensitive color film that would register even with ordinary lighting. I started both cameras, set to slow motion, the moment I heard Jeff's knock at Jack's door.

No, the real scene began
before
Jeff's arrival, but I didn't get it on film. Jack was taking a shower as I slipped into my viewing position. I'd practiced until I was sure I could take my position noiselessly in that cool, well-ventilated attic. But even so I was glad the showering would mask the slightest possibility of noise. As he emerged from the shower he had an erection. Though in comparison with his heavy-set frame it didn't look as spectacular as Mr. Butterworth'sanother eight incherI felt a tremor at the thought that this great massive thing was destined within minutes to be driven to the hilt into the small, relatively-innocent asshole that hid so shyly in the deep cleft between Jeff's exquisite buttocks. For all that Foster's cock was vigorously erect, his massive balls still hung low, and were swinging powerfully with the motion of his toweling. For the first time since the deaths of my parents I felt stirrings of lust at the sight. What surprised me was that his cock was erect. For I'd never seen it erect before, except under the intense encouragement of my parents' hands and mouths. They'd had to work mightily on itand not reluctantlyto erect it. Was it possible he'd had such control that he'd been able to will himself
not
to have an erection until they'd labored hard over itto demonstrate, truly or not, that their lust was more needful than his?

He took a heavily confining jockstrap from a bureau drawer and as he struggled into it, his erection faded. At that moment my own erection faded. I hadn't been aware I'd had it till I felt it sag.

Now he looked sideways in a mirror at his silhouette, to make sure his genitals were well-repressed for the coming interview. Did his intuition tell him Jeff would try to seduce him? Or was it his own lust he wanted to temper in the face of innocence?

He slipped into his familiar flannel slacks and once more viewed himself sideways in the mirror, satisfying himself that there was little basket.

He pulled open another drawer of his bureaufor a shirt, I presumed, but to my surprise he came out with a bottle. I zoomed in with the camera's viewer and saw it was vodka. Was he a secret drinker? I'd heard vodka doesn't affect the breath. He got a tumbler from the bathroom, poured himself a glass and hid the bottle again. He sank to his favorite chair and slowly but steadily, without relish, drank it down. What was he expecting of this interview with Jeff?