Blessed Be the Merciful

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 15

Two days before we are due back at Truro, Peter phones and asks if he can come round the next morning. His father Henry will drop him off. I have a quick word with Leon and he seems enthusiastic, as I am. I have felt a touch guilty that I had whipped Leon away from Peter in Dinard, but since then Peter had decided that girls were more to his taste these days than boys, although things hadn't gone according to plan with Heather, the girl he had met in his village. They had gone for walks in the fields, laid down, cuddled a bit, and kissed. Peter had quite enjoyed that and found to his pleasure that his penis had swelled as a result, rather suggesting at the very least that he isn't a puff. Trying his luck, his hand had wandered south on Heather, but she had firmly pushed his hand away from the front of her jeans. This was not like boys behaved, at least the ones he had been friends with.

At his boarding school, a place full of randy boys in need, finding a willing partner to rub willies with was never a problem, but it seemed that girls were a different can of worms. Peter hadn't quite realised that should a girl allow him into her knickers, followed by an intrusive hard-on up her, followed by a centilitre of his semen spilt at the wrong time of her month, things could get very tricky for both of them, not to mention their families. No such problems with boys. Thus a very frustrated Peter turns up at nine o'clock at the Rectory on the Thursday before our return to Truro on the Sunday afternoon. Henry didn't stay more than two minutes looking decidedly shifty, before waving us a goodbye. He'd be back around five that afternoon to collect Peter. Peter had come dressed to kill, in shorts that appeared to be uncomfortably tight and revealing, tee shirt and trainers. I immediately got the impression that he had an agenda for the day, and if he did, I was pretty sure what it was. With this in mind, we set off for our country stroll. With no words spoken, we all knew that this was a last chance scenario for the three of us, and there was little point in beating about the bush.

'So this girl Heather, are you getting anything?' I ask when we have found a good spot just inside a field of mown pasture with no fly infested cowpats in the immediate vicinity.

'No. She won't.'

'So what were you expecting Peter?'

'I don't know really. At least a wank or something oral. She let me feel her up top, and once down below. I couldn't feel anything.'

'Oh dear, poor you. You must be busting.'

'I am.'

'Well, you're busting out of those shorts Peter. Can we help?'

His voice has changed a little. Puberty of course. Mine has changed completely now, but Leon's hasn't. That's really strange as Leon is ahead of Peter and I in some ways. He must be three inches taller now than Peter was when he was standing, about to dive into the swimming pool that afternoon, and just as beautiful. His face looks narrower though, and he's lost a little thickness from his legs too. Leon and I are either side of him as he lies on the warm grass.

Leon starts by pulling up Peter's tee shirt just above his nipples. They look swollen. Leon touches them both, first one and then the other, making little circles around the pinky brown raised disks. Peter was always very susceptible to nipple play. When Leon's tongue gets to work on the bulbous hardened tips, poor old Peter is positively melting. Meanwhile I'm enjoying myself making little patterns with the tips of my fingers on Peter's lovely soft tummy. Further down, Peter looks decidedly restricted. There's no one around so I'm about to find out how my erstwhile boyfriend is getting on in the development stakes.

For old-time reasons, or other reasons, Leon is kissing Peter with some passion it seems. Peter seems to be liking it, just as I'm liking what I've found further south. He's grown, but not by much. I know that we all vary to some degree, but Peter was always so typical of the uncut boy, so pretty, creamy skinned and pale, with that lovely little curve when he's soft, and straight as a dye when he's hard, like now. Six weeks ago, he was just a watery dribble.

I have a small rucksack with me, perfect for carrying a few essential supplies such as couple of water bottles, a few tissues, three bananas to keep the energy levels up, and one other essential for use in emergencies. With Leon resurged and going like a train these days, it's best to be prepared.

Poor old Peter, turning hetero has done him no good, which I pointed out to him. No watery dribble this time. He's wasted on girls.

'You don't get that from Heather do you Peter?' I enquire, rubbing it in.

Leon is left in the lurch rather, after his necking session with Peter, and with the sensation of tickling the boy's nipples still fresh in his mind as well. Being the boy he is, he will not be expecting any reward for his efforts. Then there's a surprise for us………

'Are you and Leon doing it Jamie?'

'I don't want to get him pregnant Peter.'

'Can I watch you?'

Now that I find an extraordinary prospect.

'And I know what that's for.' Peter says delving into my rucksack and pointing at the mysterious tube.

Ever more curious, as Leon and I look on, Peter undoes the white hexagonal cap, rather like the old threepenny piece, squeezes the tube slightly, and as a clear bead emerges, puts it on the tip of his fingers and toys with it.

'How do you use it Jamie?'

'How do you think you use it Peter? You don't eat it.'

'Can I?'

'You had better ask Leon.'

The silent Leon just nodded.

'It might be nice if you could see to Leon?'

Peter could reach with one hand between my tummy and Leon's quite easily. It's a matter of timing. We got it about right, much to Peter's delight. The fact that Peter was involved made the whole thing so perfect.