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The text in this story contains erotic material and is expressly written for adults only.
If you are underage or offended by such material, or if viewing this file is illegal in your locality, then leave, close or delete this file-story now.
This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living, dead or otherwise is purely coincidental. The ideas and thoughts that follow are pure fantasies. In real life, at the very least they would be unpleasant and probably illegal. Fantasies are like that; daydreams where we can contemplate and imagine the sensations without suffering or inflicting the pain, despair or humiliation.
© obohobo 2010
"Well, I now know for certain that I can never trace our forbears further back than 1832. That old book Gran gave me clinched it and may also explain why we have homosexual tendencies," Mark informed Pete, his younger brother on his return from a month long cycling tour. "I typed it all out while you were gone so we don't have to keep handling the sear pages, and you'll be able to read it easily. We need to take care of the original journal because it is a valuable document on the life of Edward Filtonwood, our great, great, great grandfather. It's worth a read, not just for the history, but it's a novel in itself, and a rude one too. I wanked myself many times whilst reading and typing and I'm sure you will too."
Initially, Mark, the family genealogist, hoped to trace his ancestry back to Tudor times, but at least the book provided a definite cut-off point and caused him to wonder if homosexuality was a hereditary trait. The pair had sexual relations with each other and with other boys since they were fourteen but Mark, now twenty-two, courted a girl in the hope of breaking the pattern and starting a family. His ancestor had done so, could he?
That night Pete took the typescript to bed and started to read.
In this year of 1882 during the reign of our illustrious Queen Victoria, being now sixty-five years of age and still in possession of my faculties but with my wife, Molly, five years my senior, ill abed with consumption and not expected to last many more weeks, I decided to append my life story for the benefit of any of my children, and their children, who may care to read it after I too have passed on.
My papers state the date of my birth as April 24th 1832 but I am told the date could be at least a difference of a week, for when they found me on the steps of an orphanage on that day, I could have been a week or more old. The nuns who ran the orphanage gave me the Christian name of Edward but I took the family name of Filtonwood from Emily Filtonwood, the woman who nursed me for the first few years of my life.
Eventually Emily conceived another child out of wedlock and I became too much of a burden for her to support and the age of four, the nuns at the orphanage secured me a place with a wealthy family, the Warburtons, living in Berkshire who wanted a companion for their own son. All this they told me much later in life for I remember nothing of Emily or how we lived. Major Henry Warburton and his wife, Judith, treated me in like manner to Ralph, their son, and I wanted for nothing. I had food, servants and the same education with a private tutor. Whilst no knowledge of my parents ever came to my hearing, I feel one or other or both, must have been people in good standing for, while Ralph surpassed me in sport, especially hunting and fishing, I far surpassed him with my schoolwork, particularly in penmanship and figuring, abilities which stood me in good stead later. The tutor, a Mr. Greenford, would oft times nurse and encourage my abilities until Ralph and I had different lessons but he always had his revenge when outside the house for he grew strong and muscular and fleet of foot, whilst I remained small and thin for my age, despite eating the same food as he.
Tragedy struck when at the age of eleven and a half, Ralph and I contracted a serious bronchial infection that took his life but to everyone's amazement, I recovered. My survival caused Judith much anguish and while she continued to allow me to live in the house, she hardly spoke to me and resented my being alive whilst her son lay underground.
One evening about six weeks after the funeral, Major Henry came to my room and said quietly, "Pack as many of your belongings as you can into this bag for tomorrow we travel to Scotland. I have business there and my associate has arranged for you to stay with a family until you are fourteen and old enough to earn your own living. Until then I will pay the family a small allowance for your board and schooling. I am sorry about this Edward but I know you realise the agony and stress my wife is under after the death of our son."
From my geography lessons I knew Scotland abutted the north of England but I had no perception of its great distance from London and I had only been to our capital city on one occasion. Before we left, the Major gave me a slim leather case containing my birth papers and a note from Mr. Greenford on my schooling. Many hours later our steam train arrived in Edinburgh and I spent the night in a hotel with my mentor and the following morning they placed me on a small train and gave the guard instructions to see I alighted at Southernton, a small mining village nearly two hours journey.
Gladys McCloud, the wife of my new guardian, met me at the station and I walked nearly a mile, mainly up hill, half carrying, half dragging my bag, to their house. After living in a spacious detached residence in the country, it came as a complete shock to find my new home one of a terrace of twenty-four joined together in a long row with a narrow, arched passageway between each pair. Upstairs were only two bedrooms and downstairs, a living room, a kitchen and a scullery. Worse, I not only had to share the bedroom with their son, Ian, a big, brawny lad a few months older than me, but we had to share a bed too. I cried when I saw the dilapidated state of the room and the bedclothes but my new 'mother' scolded me for being a baby.
Walter McCloud, my new 'father' worked at the mine but now had a surface job which meant he didn't come home with a coal dust blackened face but his work involved muscular effort and I soon felt the strength of his hand when I didn't do the work they expected. It also disgusted them that I yelled and screamed at every hit and didn't stop crying until a long while after.
Ian tormented me too but didn't hit me. It started at bedtime. Not only did we have to share the bed, but also the chamber pot. I'd discretely put on a nightgown and turned my back to him to use the pot but he removed all his attire and walked around and stood before me holding his larger pego. "Can you milk it?" he asked in his peculiar accent. I knew what he meant and nodded that I could, for I had done so in the privacy of my room. "Let me see," he ordered and pulled my nightgown up and off. When I refused he grabbed my pego and pulled me to my feet. "Do it," he snarled and I started to rub it gently. I looked fearfully at the door which stood wide open but Ian made no attempt to shut it and I later learned that neither of the bedroom doors were ever shut, a legacy from his childhood when his mother needed to hear if he cried.
He rubbed his much more vigorously and soon had it standing firm and hard and before long spurted his seed on to my body where it proceeded to rub it in. Some he massaged into my pego until I sent forth my milk, most of which he captured in his hand and then rubbed on my face. Apart from the embarrassment of having him handle me, and the fear that I would get into trouble if his father or mother caught us, much to my consternation, I rather enjoyed the sensation of having another boy play with my private parts. His playing continued in bed and he asked me if I'd ever been used as a maid. Not knowing what he meant I said, "No," but he crudely said he would fuck my mouth and arse before long.
Neither of us slept well that night and sometime in the early hours of the morning, Ian's hand felt around my groin until he found my manhood and started to rub it until it became hard. His, already stiff, prodded at my thigh and when he found I responded, pushed me down in the bed until I found my mouth close to the end of it. "Suck it," he hissed under the blanket. It smelt of stale sperm but I didn't find it too objectionable and knew he'd force me anyway, so I took it in my mouth and when he bobbed it in and out, I tried to work with his movements. Some time later I tasted his milk but he held my held so I couldn't spit it out. This set the pattern for most nights. I frequently sucked him to completion and he occasionally sucked me. My fears that we would be punished for what we did proved groundless, for his mother or father often paused at the doorway and watched for a short while, and I found out they believed it a natural thing for young boys to do and part of their learning to be men.
School was both pleasurable and a terror. The schoolmistress, a Miss Farquart, took an interest in my work and knowing my ability to be far ahead of all the others, brought in books she'd used for her college work. This, together with my southern cultured accent, didn't endear me to the others and they made fun of me at every opportunity but I persisted in learning all I could.
I'd been with the McCloud's for a week when Ian and a friend took me to an older boy's house after school to start my 'maid's training'. "You're getting used to having your mouth fucked, Ed, now we going to train your arse," Ian said. He'd probed my bottom hole with his finger several times in the night but I knew that a pego his size would not go in without causing a lot of pain. The other boys had similar size ones and I tried to escape but they soon had me helpless and bent over the arm of a settee. One produced some dripping and coated my hole, which may have helped, but even so it hurt badly and I cried. "He cries like a woman so we'd better treat him like one," the oldest lad laughed. Ian demanded first try and with the two holding me and pulling my cheeks apart, he forced his spear in and then, encouraged by the others, ravished my hole until he sent his milk into my bowels. Worse, he forced it into my mouth afterwards and kept it there while another fucked my poor bottom. Only after all three used me twice, did they allow me to dress and go home. "I shall have you that way in bed at night," Ian told me as we went to our room and he did it in my bottom or my mouth almost every night of my stay.
Friday night is bath night in many mining households, ours included. They lit a fire under copper in the scullery to heat the water and transferred it in bucketfuls to a tin bath in front of the kitchen fire. Walter used the bath water first and his wife unashamedly washed him in front of us. Unsurprisingly he had an erection when he stood up, the biggest I'd seen at that time. More surprises for me on that first Friday, Gladys undressed in front of us and for the first time I saw a woman's cunnie and her breasts. A buxom woman, her breasts were large and sagged somewhat and when her husband washed them, her nipples became hard. My pego hardened too and I hoped it would go down before my turn came.
Ian didn't worry about his erection and added a little more hot water before he sat in the tub and waited for his father to finish drying his wife. It amazed me they allowed their son and me to witness him rubbing the towel over her most intimate places. She replaced her skirt and began washing Ian and made doubly sure his pego and marbles were clean.
My turn came and I know they all stared at my small man but didn't comment on its hardness. Like she had with Ian, Gladys put plenty of soap on the flannel and rubbed my privates until she ascertained they were absolutely clean, a ritual repeated every Friday.
I'd only been there two weeks when I had my first spanking. The coalman delivered a ton of coal to each house in the terrace. He emptied the sacks through a trapdoor in the pavement and the coal went down a chute to the floor of the cellar. Gladys gave me he job of shovelling it from the floor into the brick bin. I could hardly lift the large shovel when full of coal and quickly became exhausted and when she came down to check on me, I only lifted a few lumps each time and at least half the heap remained on the floor. She roundly castigated me for my laziness and ordered me to work harder. I couldn't and after supper reported it to Walter who took my shorts off and thrashed my bottom. I screamed and yelled despite being warned not to make so much noise and when released and told to go and finish the job I collapsed on the floor and didn't move. They must have realised that I couldn't do any more because they ordered Ian to finish the job.
He tried to take his revenge on my bottom later but I couldn't stand him touching it and screamed when he did until Gladys told him to leave me alone.
The weeks went by and I made friends with Will Cruishank, the son of a market gardener who sold his father's produce at a market on Saturday. I went along with him and quickly learned that, while he had a good spiel to entice the customers, he couldn't add the sales monies correctly and most often undercharged the customers. When they took advantage of this and tried to confuse him and say a lower price was correct, I stepped in and pointed out the error. Mostly I did the figuring in my head but twice I had to go through it on paper to satisfy the customer. His father caught me doing the additions for Will, and noting how much I saved him, offered me a shilling a week to work as Will's assistant. Gladys took ten pence of that towards my keep, although the Major continued to send an allowance, but I had two pence of my own and having a job for Saturday, meant not having to do chores that morning.
Having Will as a friend, saved me from much bullying I would otherwise have endured. His strong body and the fury of his fists, kept the other lads from harming or making fun of me, at least while in his company.
I cannot say I enjoyed my life with the McCloud's but gradually accepted it and after a few weeks began to enjoy Ian's attention of my bottom hole. His friends mostly left me alone and Will wasn't that way inclined.
One night when my fourteenth birthday was but a month away, having seen me hand my shilling over to his mother and receive two pence back, in bed that night he confided, "DJune6//10ad, talked with the mine foreman today and it's likely you'll get a job there and have to really earn your money." I knew he resented my earning more than he for little effort on my part. I tried not to cry at the news but couldn't help myself and I couldn't face the thought of going down into the depths of the earth and working long hours in near darkness and coming home filthy.
I spoke of it to Will. "Dad won't take you on full time 'cause we only do the market on Saturdays, you'd be best going to Westonport and finding work there. And you'd better not take the main road either, as for sure one of the carters will recognise you and bring you back. Take the track through the hills. It's further and may take a couple of days walking but no one much uses that way any more so you won't be seen."
On a Saturday when I should have been at the market, I managed to fill my bag with clothes and a few books and my papers and started along the track that Will told me of. I now think I took the wrong path right from the start for after a few miles it petered out and I had to follow animal tracks. I didn't dare turn back because I knew I'd be in for a severe thrashing if I ended up with the McCloud's again.
As the day progressed my bag became heavier and I rested more and more frequently. I'd already found a stick that I threaded through the handles so I could carry it on my shoulders and alternated one shoulder to the other until both were sore. When darkness fell, I knew I was lost but found a little shelter beside a large rock with a small overhang. I'd not seen a soul since I left the village. Fortunately it didn't rain but having already eaten the little food I taken from the kitchen before leaving, by dawn, I felt very hungry.
Knowing Westonport lay in a south-easterly direction, I tried to head that way but the Gods put obstacles that baulked my way at every turn. By noon I came to a river far to wide to cross without swimming, something I couldn't do, and I had to follow it even though it went in almost the opposite direction to my wanted way. Starving, foot sore and shoulder sore, I'd almost given up hope of getting anywhere alive, when in the distance I spied a figure and by his actions, I knew him to be a fisherman.
"Rob Caroon," a kindly man in his forties, introduced himself when I'd made myself known and the reason for being in that remote part of the land, "I'm gamekeeper for Lord McGivern and keep my eye on the river and try to ward off the crows when the grouse chicks are hatched, and watch out for poachers. I can see you're not one of them."
When four splendid trout lay on the grass he packed his rods and led me to his cottage, a low, white painted, stone building with a thatched roof and small windows. Inside, the single room served as kitchen, bedroom and living space, outside around the back of the building, stood a small outhouse where he stored wood and peat, with one end as a simple earth closet. Hungry as I was, I could hardly wait for the fish and potatoes to cook but he sent me to the little burn with a bucket to fetch water for washing.
I'd deemed things at the McClouds primitive but at Caroon's place they were far more so. We stood in a large bowl of cold water to wash and I noticed his manhood hardened when I stood naked in the bowl. Yes, I do believe the Gods led me to another man who had a liking for men, or boys. His pego was man size too, a little bigger than Ian's but not as large as his father's and I wondered if he'd use it in my bottom that night. He didn't because tiredness and exhaustion overcame me and, after I'd 'watered the grass', I lay down on top of the bed and fell asleep. Next morning when I woke, blankets covered me and I felt his naked body against mine, his hard pego resting in the crack of my buttocks. Knowing he'd in all probability saved my life and I would need his help to further my journey, I moved slightly to give him access to my hole. Being well used to having a pego in there, and he being careful to insert it slowly and carefully, I took it without any problem and enjoyed his ravishment and cleaned him afterwards. Without waiting for my request, he turned his back to me and opened his hole for my pleasure and later he informed me that he'd been a seaman for a while and been well used as a cabin boy but had not had a man for a year or two until I came along. "I've had to make do with my hand these many months," he told me and surely made up for it during my stay with him. Three or four times a day I bared my bottom, even while out in the countryside, and he sent his milk into my bowels or into my mouth. Usually too, he allowed me to have my satisfaction with him afterwards.
Much recovered, at the end of a week I enquired of a way to Westonport only to discover this now lay at least several days walk away. "Why not come with me to the 'big house' and see if Lord McGivern will take you on? I need to get more supplies from them and I hear that his Lordship has a penchant for boys too."
So it was that I became a boot boy at McGivern Hall but my first experiences there were anything but pleasant. Rob spoke truly when he said his Lordship had a liking for boys but he didn't mention the enormous size of his manhood or that he liked to use the boys in other rather disgusting ways, and didn't care if he hurt them. After Rob had relayed my request for work, Carstairs, the butler, took me to his master, who sat smoking a clay pipe in front of a fire. "You're very small, are you certain that you are fourteen?" his Lordship asked. I confirmed this. "Did Caroon intimate the services I require from a boy in my employ?"
"He said I would be used as a maid, Sir, but I'm quite used to that."
"Undress then boy, and let me see what you have to offer." Naked, I bent over and he probed his fingers at my hole and commented, "It's rather small and you'll squeal when I roger you, but you'll have to put up with it. Kneel in front of me and open my breeches and service me with your mouth. I presume you've done that." I nodded. "You swallow it all, milk and piss?"
"Only milk, Sir."
"From now on you'll drink everything that comes out of my pego, unless, that is, you wish to feel Carstairs' strap or the birch rods he keeps soaking in brine, ready for use."
The size of his pego gave me another shock. Even Walter McCloud's paled into insignificance against it and with the head much larger than the shank, I knew he'd cause me much pain when he rogered me but I couldn't see a way out of my situation. I'd no money and, being a long way from anywhere, I couldn't earn any except in his employ. Opening my mouth, I started sucking but his Lordship forced it further and further in my mouth. I must have done something right for he came quickly and I dutifully swallowed his seed. He didn't remove his pego, even when it started to soften. "I'm going to wash it down now, boy, make sure you don't spill any on the floor or your bottom will get flayed."
Although I did the best I could a little of the foul tasting liquid spilled from my mouth but it only ran over my shoulders and chest and fortunately didn't reach the floor. I hoped this spared me the strap and it did. His Lordship rang a bell and a maid came in whilst I still knelt unclothed between his Lordship's thighs and his pego still on full display. "Molly, take the boy to Carstairs and set him to work. Have him brought to my bedroom at nine this evening."