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

“Oh come now, Blackie!” I cried. “That was one of your best ones yet. I have a thumper of a cockstand, and I can see by the impression in your nightshirt that you've got one yourself.”

“Yes, Blackie,” agreed Jimmy, “let down your rule and allow us to have a frig at least. That was a wild one and if I don't have any relief, I'm afraid I might burst.”

De Beaupre glanced Bob's way, took note and nodded in agreement. “It was a torrid one, wasn't it,” he confessed. “Very well, this one night we may all bring each other to a spend posthaste, but only under two conditions.”

“And what are those?” said the Duke.

“Well, first that you and Sir Rutherford give each other a good frigging,” said Blackie with a grin, “and secondly, that as I am still a bit sore from our day's activities at the shore, Charlie shall frig me through the soft fabric of my nightshirt and shall have no direct contact with the tender skin of my hard-worked cock. Is this understood?”

“Yes, Sir!” said Jimmy, and he immediately set to work on Bob's tremendously engorged penis, freshly revealed from where it had hid beneath his nightshirt for the duration of Blackie's story.

Intrigued by de Beaupre's challenge, I approached his bed and lay down beside him. Ever so gently I reached down to tickle the thick and hardening lump of flesh I found through the white cotton at the cleft of his thighs. His dark eyes glistened as they gazed at me from beneath heavy lids, and though Bob would always be my truest and greatest chum, I felt myself truly captured by Blackie's charms this day.

“You were quite beautiful laying there upon that rock this afternoon, do you know that?” I said, not expecting any answer. “And the way you taunted Davenport, and especially Lawrence – I got so much wicked pleasure out of that one, I say.”

De Beaupre murmured and stretched beneath my touch, the full length of his great penis now throbbing and pushing its form through the soft, thin fabric. I ran my curved palm over its warm and thick impression, and gazed closely upon it as it continued to fatten beneath my gentle rubbings.

Slowly, Blackie's long, nimble fingers crept 'round my own swollen member and began tugging at the firm and giving flesh. Overcome with desire, I began to push his nightshirt up along his thighs, but then he stopped me.

“No, Charlie,” he whispered sweetly, “finish it this way.”

“It would make a mess,” I cautioned.

“Then a mess it shall be,” said Blackie.

So lusty was I for his great and pulsing cock that I fell to kissing it, and licking it, and even nibbling at it directly through the fabric of the shirt, causing fresh moans of appreciation to elicit from Blackie's lips. I moved to kiss them with my own hungry lips, leaving a damp spot where my mouth had worked upon his cock through his nightshirt. His lips were soft against my own and his breath was hot and quick upon my continued tickling and rubbing.

The sounds of Bob and the Duke as they brought each other to a smashing spend appealed to my senses, and shortly thereafter, I found myself shuddering and moaning upon my own volcanic spillage, brought upon me by de Beaupre's continued skillful manipulations. But Blackie was not immune, and he quickly succumbed soon again, his hot semen firing into the brief span between his belly and the rise of his nightshirt, putting a growing stain of spend into it just below his chest. I kissed it, drawing the sperm which seeped through into my mouth, and then kissed Blackie's lips once more, forcing him to taste the freshly strained juice.

After recollecting ourselves, our attempts to engage de Beaupre in further conversation failed and only elicited exaggerated snores from him, so, as he seemed intent upon ending a perfectly blissful day, we took the broad hint given by him and composed ourselves for slumber also.

At the end of the week, I was thoroughly settled down at school and certainly enjoyed it much better than at home, where the surroundings were dreary in the extreme for a boy, particularly when my father's coldness towards me was taken into consideration.

I looked forward with no pleasure to the long holidays which would ensue at the close of the term, and I sincerely hoped that Jimmy would not forget his promise to get Lord Reginald to extend an invitation to me to visit him, for I had little doubt that my parent would not refuse to let me visit him, as in general he was only too anxious to have me away from his sight.

The evenings after retiring to the dormitory were taken up as before, alternately with story telling and more exciting subjects, but I shall not weary the reader any further with a minute catalogue of our doings, and will only stop to give one or two instances which occur more particularly to me.

One night de Beaupre was more at a loss than usual to suggest a scheme for us to pursue. But his inventive mind finally rose to the occasion.

“Have you ever tried the baton de sucre?” he asked.

“No,” we replied, “what is that?”

“Wait a minute and I will show you,” he said. “You remember in that hamper I had sent to me the other day there was a pot of honey, and I brought it up here and put it in my box, so that we could tuck into it whenever we felt inclined. Well, thinking of that put the idea into my head.”

He fetched the pot and said, “Now Bob, you are the eldest, so we will start with you. Lay on the bed!”

Bob did as he was bidden and reclined with his head against a pillow, while sliding his nightshirt up above his thighs, revealing both his flat expanse of belly and his beautiful member. De Beaupre then took out some of the honey with a spoon and held it over Rutherford's groin area, slowly allowing it to drip in a long, golden strand onto the head of his cock. In brief moments Bob's cock was coated with sweet honey, and his excitement with this new game soon became obvious.

“There you are; that's the baton de sucre!” exclaimed Blackie. “Cecil told me how the Parisian coccottes do this sometimes; they are very fond of these sugar sticks. Charlie, you can have the honor of the first trial.”

I went forward, laughing at the quaint conceit; it was a peculiar sensation altogether and the novelty of the idea tickled my fancy greatly. I could not help feeling amused as I licked the sugary stuff from Bob's body, the warmth of which had imparted a strange and indescribable flavor to it.

The substance had slowly run down over the column of his member onto his balls, and I released his cock so as to bestow attention to these lower parts, stopping the flow with my tongue just as it got between his legs and in dangerous proximity to the sheet.

When I had served the situation thus, I returned to his cock, which I took in my mouth, and under my repeated lascivious motions, it rapidly increased its already dominant erectness.

My lips adhered to the glutinous skin and seemed to give me redoubled power of suction and I felt sure that I should soon bring forth an upward spout from the reservoir within.

De Beaupre was impatient, however, and presently said, “Haven't you made him come yet, Charlie? Here, hold up a minute. This will do it, I think.”

I lifted my head and held Bob's member upright while Blackie dropped a huge clot of honey right on the uncovered knob. I watched it grow a moment until it had settled in a smooth and even coat over the distended head, and then once more put my mouth to his prick, rolling my tongue over its surface.

The unmistakable aroma of a man's cock permeated my nose and had an effect on my senses like alcohol on the brain. I appeared to be drinking in the distilled essence of sensuality, so that I might be said to literally taste voluptuousness.