Anonymous - Memoirs of a Voluptuary, or the Secret Life of an English Boarding School

They released him the next minute and he sat up and regarded his soiled cock with a rueful face, casting reproving looks at his late assailants, who only replied with broad grins.

I did not wait to see any more, but the following day I saw Joe as he was walking down the Elm Avenue which led to the lodge gates, and I smilingly told him what I had seen.

He colored up and seemed to be nervous, and soon he got communicative.

“Those girls, Nellie and Alice, are always up to something,” he said, “but I believe Alice is the worst. They won't let me alone and are always at some game. They do it all the time, as they are too fond of it, but I hate being pulled about by a lot of girls.

It's nothing to have your cock taken out. I couldn't count all the times that I have had it done to me. The boys at Warburton used to think nothing of it. When we were playing in the fields, someone would say 'lets cock him' and they would drag you down and have it out before you could do anything. Lots of times when I was going home, chaps pulled down and 'cocked' and sometimes by girls, for they are just as bad as the boys.

“There was a little path between two big walls, and we used to call this 'cocking lane' because it was a place for it. When we came out of school, two or three big chaps used to wait for us. They would take us one by one and pull out our cocks and spit on them. But later on we used to take another way to avoid them.

“Alice comes from Warburton, and one night I was coming down this lane and came across her talking to two chaps. She was a saucy girl and she caught me and said something as I went by. I pulled myself away and began to run. She shouted to the fellows with her to catch me, and they came after me and brought me back.

“'Lets pull his breeches down,' she said.

“'There you are, Alice,' one of them said, 'he is safe enough now. We'll see that he doesn't kick.'

“With that, the hussy clapped her hands, laughing, and took my trousers right down, unbuttoning my jacket as well.

“She was not satisfied with this, so she got the chaps to dip me into a pool of muddy water with my bottom, and while they did that, she put her hand in and splashed it all over my cock and belly.

“She hasn't forgotten about this. When I came up to the Manor House, she told the other people about it. I was in the scullery once, helping her to wipe some dishes. Walter was there and she was telling him all about it. I wonder if he's got the marks still?' she said.

“'Shall we look?' asked Walter.

“'Yes, we will,' she cried, and they got hold of me and let down my breeches. He held me while she looked at me and pulled out my cock with her wet hands.

“Walter is rather fond of her. I caught them one day in the pantry. He had his arm around her and was trying to get his hand under her clothes. I gave a shout to frighten them and then slipped off into the servants' hall. When I saw Walter, he shook his fist at me and swore he would pay me back. In the afternoon I went over to the stable and found Walter there.

“As soon as he saw me, he remembered the affair of the morning and made a dart for me. I ran up towards the stairs, but before I could reach them, I was caught by one of the grooms, who asked Walter if he wanted to get me.

“Walter told the other what I had done, making a lot out of it, so as to get them to side with him. They undressed me and tied me up to a beam. Then Walter got a bucket of flour and water and pasted me all over with a big brush.

“While the stuff was wet, they threw a lot of chaff and chopped straw over me, and this stuck to my skin, and I dare say make me look funny. They let me wash myself, but I can tell you, I did not feel comfortable for a few days afterwards.”

Joe's information served to excite my interest.

I looked him over thinking perhaps he would help divert me in my bored state. Upon inspection, he did not prove ill-looking at all. In fact, he was rather darkly handsome, reminding me a bit of Gaston de Beaupre whom I missed very dearly. He had broader shoulders than Gaston, and longer hair, as the peasants in these parts wear it, but it was every bit as silky and black as Gaston's. He had strong workman's legs and narrow hips. I could tell by his stories of trouble that he was as yet quite innocent of the pleasures of the flesh. I was tired of wanking off each night, and upon regarding him as pleasing, I hatched a mischievous plan. “Joe, have you ever had your cock pulled on?” I asked innocently.

“Only by Walter and Alice, and they hurt it!” he cried.

“Pull it out and I will show you a way in which it can be yanked without hurting. In fact, it will afford you a great deal of pleasure if you let me show you.”

“Oh! No sir!” he exclaimed and pulled away from me.

I decided to be patient with him, and I said smoothly, “Well then, come here and have a yank on mine. Your stories of 'cock lane' have given me a regular cockstand.” And with that, I reached out and grabbed his hand, bringing it to my crotch. He instinctively obeyed me and gave it a squeeze or two. Judging by the deftness of his touch, I'd say that he'd had plenty of wanks on his own. But then he reddened in the face and turned and ran.

That night I had lascivious dreams of Joe's dark flesh mingling with my own. I dreamed that I forced my cock into his virgin asshole, and though he cried out, he writhed with pleasure underneath my stabbing thrusts with my cock. I woke determined to have him, as I found that I had actually come in my sleep, so great was the pleasure of merely dreaming of fucking him.

I was returning from a ride that afternoon and Joe approached me as if to help me dismount as I arrived in the stable.

“Hullo Joe!” I greeted him.

“Let me help you, sir,” murmured Joe as he reached up toward me.

I nodded and allowed him to unseat me, taking note at the way he handled my posterior as I jumped down from the horse, “Thank you, Joe.”

“You're most welcome, sir,” said Joe, and he added, “You have grown a bit since you have come back home, I've noticed. It wears well on you if I may say so.”

“If you mean I've become fat and lazy since I've been here, you're right indeed, Joe,” I grinned. “Perhaps you will help to put me into better form. I'd bet I should learn a lot from a man as hard and strapping as you.”

He just looked down at the ground shyly. Upon glimpsing his handsome face and compact and well muscled body, I felt my cock stir, immediately fuelled by the images from my nights' dreaming.

“Come closer Joe. I can hardly see you.” Joe approached and when he looked up from the ground, I could see a sly grin had come across his full lips.

“Let us compare ourselves,” I went on, drawing upon an idea that would have made de Beaupre proud, “that I might become inspired to maintain my slipping shape.”

Joe held up his arm and bent it at the elbow for me to feel the width and firmness of his biceps through his shirtsleeve. The sensation was that of touching and squeezing smooth stone layered over with the softest of cotton fabrics. I tested his other arm and shoulder to equal satisfaction. “Now give my own poor arms a squeeze, though I am afraid they hold a dim light to your own.”

“Oh, Sir Powerscourt,” said Joe as he drew his hands down upon my shoulders and over the upper part of my arms. “You do yourself a disservice with your modesty. Why, a few days of hard work here about the farm – and away from your father's line of sight – and your great limbs shall be easily bigger and harder than my own.”

“Do you really think so?” I said as I moved my hands to the button at the collar of his shirt. “But what of this superb breast of yours? Take down your suspenders while I open your shirt to make my point. You breast is a tailor's dream, that's for certain. Do you see how wide and firm it is this way, and how well-defined these pectorals are? It is small wonder the girls at the manor throw you upon tables and strip your bare!”