What I need to know is the whereabouts of Kirit's mobile phone, if he has one here. I think he does, but he's got it hidden, probably for a good reason. I'm going to find it, and the first place I'm going to look is in his locked mess box.

The following morning With Kirit safely in a class somewhere now, I had a rummage for the key to his private space we always called a tuck box. If he wanted to keep the contents of it private, he should have hidden the key in a better place and the back of the bedside table drawer was rather obvious. I know I shouldn't but I need to do this thing.

It's amazing what a boy will store away in a place like this, all sorts of curious things like a matchbox with dead bugs in it, a magnifying glass, and ancient Brownie 127 camera like the one I bought [and used] from a junk shop, an empty packet of shortbread, a couple of quite nice monogramed handkerchiefs in mint condition but a bit dusty, a couple of viable postage stamps and a lot of other sundry items of no interest to anyone; and a couple of other things. A small book that looked like a diary, and a mobile phone, the thing I was most concerned about. There was no charger in there, but I know Raf has a collection of them to fit anything manufactured in the last ten years. He'll have one for this item for sure. I know where they are, in the boxes with all the other boys' phones in them. The next difficulty might be Kirit's device which will be locked or have some sort of pass number which of course I won't know.

With 10% charge in the phone I swipe right and bingo; no lock. I'm straight in there. Next thing…..an internet connection to Raf's own personal modem. Done. Now the boy's email? No go with that. Texts, lots of those but from way back, and mainly from a person called Cally, which I assume is a girl, but possible someone he has stayed with. I'll look at those later in detail. The Gallery app next. Plenty here, but looking at dates, nothing really for the last two months. So, scrolling down we come to August last year.

Right, here we go; a few still selfies, clothed, then half clothed as in standing in knickers looking blankly at the camera, and then a dozen or so nude, and in all manner of overtly sexual positions. I get the impression someone is directing him. Definitely. If I didn't know what his anus looked like, which I didn't, I certainly do now. Ditto the boy's front bits, both flaccid and erect. He is uncut, and upstanding, around four inches in length at a guess, so not a longy from memory, but good and girthy, surprising as it comes from something quite small. So who was it behind the camera?

I scrolled on. There's another boy involved. A very blond boy, almost white blond. He looks younger. I'm wondering what relationship he is to Kirit. Friend or some relation? My guess is that he's another of the photographers, and unlikely to be the person who has put Kirit up as a model. Raphael said that the boys often form a small group for this kind of caper. So now we have a second protagonist, of whom I can see four views, and similar to the studies of the naked Kirit, a couple of extreme close-ups of his penis that shows, like Kirit's, extreme high definition of this sensitive and delicate organ using a side view of the boys lying on their backs. Really rather beautiful if you find a full screen photo of two boys' flaccid genitals at all engaging. Then come the two boys lying down together with a view up and between their raised legs, hands behind heads so they are looking at the camera, penises erect, foreskin retracted in the one case, and genitals and anuses showing every structural detail. Goodness me. Either the third party, the girl with the painted finger nails, took them, or the camera was set up. I favour the first possibility.

And then we come to the videos. He's standing with his tee shirt held up, looking down whilst being played with by a hand with the painted fingernails. There's no more than that. No clue as to the owner of the hand. This one lasts for four minutes and there's good sound on it, indicating perfectly the stages the boy goes through, culminating in his fruitless fruition, the boy's P twitching. From a sleepy start, we have had the first stage of his arousal, the hand generally twiddling and tickling Kirit's soft widdler just to get things moving in the right direction, onwards and upwards, all the way through to his eventual orgasm, all highly coloured by the appreciative noises that he and she make throughout the six-minute performance. The girl teases the underside of the flaccid sex with fingertips as it gradually rises in jerky movements into hardness, the camera just a couple of feet away and perfectly focused on the action. Fingers search for any wetness the boy's orgasm has produced, the tips lightly touching the meatus before running down the still hard upwardly curving smooth and hairless shaft. The age of the hand? It looks like a girl's rather than a woman's hand, albeit with painted nails. Well, young girls have been known to paint their nails. Does Kirit have a sister? I knew a boy whose sister played naughty games with him. I don't think it's that unusual, according to Kinsey, and Raphael. He seems to know quite a lot about these things.

I can see there are at least ten more video productions. I looked at the next one which featured both of the other boys but not the 'girl', who we don't see at all this time. Could this be Balac, and his twin brother Baylam? The girl intrigues me because we don't see much of her, at least not in the two videos I have seen thus far. We just see her hands, and the short, painted finger nails. Hmm.

In the second very slick production, the two boys begin interactions that have me perplexed; that they should be doing this at all. Kirit has to be twelve, not the younger age he thinks he is, but I'm going to try to verify his exact age somehow. According to Raf, it's not uncommon for boys and girls to make videos of themselves, exposing themselves in this way. They must find it exciting, obviously, and I can see why. I've done it myself out of curiosity to see what I look like when I come, but deleting the result almost immediately. It was rather fun to watch, as if an observer, oneself perform such an intimate task.

I tapped on a third. Kirit on his back, legs wide apart, allows the same boy to penetrate his anus with a wiggling finger, digging uncomfortably deep. We see the faces of both boys, interestingly. Kirit begins to suffer this indignity in silence, and flaccid, his head turned towards us, eyes closed. It's hard to tell whether he's enjoying this or not. Within a minute the sensations cause him to create the most erotic sounds imaginable, very quietly, while his erection quickly becomes fully mature, twitching away. It's obvious that being stimulated in that place works for him, so he's clearly a boy who derives pleasure from anal play. Then the two boys change positions, no doubt all rehearsed beforehand. Kirit lies on the floor as the other boy arranges himself between Kirit's legs, spread apart again in anticipation. There's no doubt as to what is going to happen next. The boy lubricates his circumcised penis liberally as Kirit watches the boy, holding his erect P with one hand, the other arm supporting himself, and points it at the previously lubricated target. After a couple attempts, he slides into his friend, some of the way in and up, about a third of the boy's penile shaft remaining visible. They must have seen all this happen before because they look like they know exactly what to do, not that it could be too difficult to manage at that age. At a guess both of the boys' equipment is about half the size of the full-grown variety. The boy withdraws and then gently thrusts into Kirit's bud, with sounds that indicate not only relief to be there, but with considerable satisfaction. Kirit emits a gentle gasp of similar satisfaction, his hands now gripping the boy's hips. The gentle thrusting continues as I notice a change in myself as I am becoming very aroused by all this carry-on. A minute later they change positions, Kirit now astride his friend who is on his back. Kirit, facing the boy, eases his way backwards and onto the slim but quite lengthy object of his desiring, assisted by the boy's hand. They have set up the perfect sideways-on view. Amid the gentle thrusting come the kisses, so sweet as the boys breathlessly communicate in muffled words. I begin to think of my nemesis, Simon, my pretty love, and what I would have given for such an exchange as this one. The sound levels gradually increase from both boys as they work harder, sensing success. What happens is what had to happen. Kirit, the perfect partner, has provided the perfect conduit for his friend's pleasure as the boy's hips thrust upwards with greater and greater urgency, no doubt sensing a successful out coming. More sounds of pleasure being given, and taken. By this time I'm rock hard and contemplating what I might do. As visual aids go, if you enjoy looking at such things, then this takes some beating. The fact that I am enjoying this veritable visual feast shocks me. I tapped to stop the show. And then then re-ran it to the finish as Kirit comes himself, apparently dry, by his own hand, still impaled by the beauteous partner.

Kirit, now separated from the boy, shows us the result of their labours, his buttock cheeks held wide apart just a few inches from the camera, the gaping bud and its contents about to appear, a silvery pearly white residue that slowly exudes from him, obeying gravity, as it makes its way along the perineum and down around the testes.

This one is different. Kirit is on his own now, some days later according to the date, on all fours, and his left hand is occupied behind him. We hear the sounds of what can only be some kind of sex toy we can't see, inserted in our friend's puckered bud. We come in at least half way through the procedure, and as it turns out, two minutes from the conclusion. The sensations the boy is receiving must be intense as he lets out a series of the most beautiful sounds, quite unable to keep quiet during this process of inducing the kind of climax that the prostate gland I now know can, if you're persistent and lucky, will provide for you if done properly, I imagine ideally through intercourse. Imagine that. What more supremely pleasurable way to reach orgasm whilst entangled with Simon? What would he be doing now? Not thinking about me, that's for sure.

Kirit's P is hard, naturally, and as the sensations become ever more intense, it reacts by making sudden jerks, with short periods of rest in between. Then it jumps again, and again, and again, accompanied by ever more tortured high voiced squeaky noises from Kirit. It jumps again as a tiny jet of semen shoots and lands on what looks like a piece of kitchen towel. Seconds later, amid more high-pitched noises from Kirit, it jumps up again, higher this time, and in the same instant there's a more complete emission of the boy's pearly ejaculate, in three rapid spasms. Both of the boy's hands support him now, his head down, his breaths coming fast. Then there's one more deep breath and we know it's over for him, exhaled with a long sigh. A skein, a fine continuous filament of ejaculate hangs from the tip of Kirit's deflating and now slightly drooping uncircumcised penis with its clearly defined head unsheathed, pink, shiny and protruding. A hand reaches behind him to remove the device, the other hand reaches forward and everything is gone to black. Time to take a deep breath.

I put the phone down, looked up at nothing and I now know more about Kirit. Perhaps more than I should know. But I want to know. I want to know more.

I looked around the boy's Mess Box finding nothing else of significance, apart from five pairs of underpants folded up tight in one corner. Two were clean and smelt pristine, but a couple of sizes smaller than his current fitting, a size 4. The other three were 4's, his size, and not in the best of shape by any stretch of the imagination. He obviously didn't want that detail noticed so he's hidden them. He's not been following the correct ablutions procedure. I need to sort that out with him, plus a few questions about his mobile phone. But I will need to proceed carefully. The next time I will see him to talk to properly will be bedtime tonight.

'So what interesting things do you keep in your mess box Kirit? I know the boys keep lots of personal things locked away, so you don't have to divulge. I'm just interested, that's all. You know, the things boys don't want other people to see I suppose. Love letters maybe?' I ask lying on my bed fully clothed, opposite Kirit's.

'Nothing really. Just a few odd bits.' He replies, lying on his side, his lovely brown eyes wide open, knees raised, hands under the sheet. It's a very warm night.

'Ok. That's fine. But it's good to share don't you think? Sometimes? With someone you know you can trust? Every boy here deserves our help from time to time, and every boy sometimes needs our help. That's what we're here for. And all boys worry about things and really do need to talk to someone about those very things that bother them. But that's not you is it. No, not you.'

Kirit's eyes are unblinking as they return my own looking into them . I could spend many an hour looking into those dark pools of boyhood that lies behind them. I lay my head down as we looked at each other. I think we both sensed a critical moment. Then a hand emerged from under the sheet, his only covering his lower parts. I took it. It was warm as toast. I gently squeezed it in mine and held on. And then again.

There's a long pause. I'm hopeful at this moment that he'll share with me, but I'll have to be patient and wait. I smile at him but there's no response. Patience Michael. If you wait long enough, he'll spill if he wants to and I think he does.

Evrit slides his feet off the bed. He's wonderfully naked. He stands and opens the bedside cabinet drawer and at the back, he finds the key to his mess box which is under the bed. He pulls it out into the space between the two beds and unlocks the padlock. He opens the lid and looks up at me. Under the pile of small note books, he finds the neatly concealed underpants, picks them up and hands them to me. I have already inspected.

'I will see to these Evrit. Don't worry about that. But the thing is, you need to do certain things. Is it that you don't want to, or you've not understood quite how?'

'But before that, why didn't you hand in your phone? I can see one in the corner of your mess box sweetheart.'

He nods as he sits back on the bed, his P resting nicely between his legs, the meatus dark and prominent. He sees me looking, but doesn't look down.

'But if there's anything there, funny messages or something, photos perhaps, would you mind if I asked you about them?'

Evrit, head lowered, began to cry. I stood up and sat with him, my arm around his shoulder and held him tightly to me. I'm alarmed by his statement; I have nowhere to go . Of course I'm alarmed by anyone saying those words. Who wouldn't be?

He didn't respond to that question, apart from managing to stop his weeping. I was on the edge myself. I held him tight against me, feeling the exotic heat of his body coming through his skin and into me. I can actually feel the boy himself coming into me. A sort of strange mingling feeling, like he's become part of me. Oh gosh, what's happening?

I wanted to have that feeling, those feelings, with Simon. He was my undoing. My coming in, and my going out, and me left with nothing but loneliness and desolation. And now there are all these people, here, and Raphael, and Peter and Felix, and now this beautiful brown eyed creature, Evrit. The boy with nowhere to go. But in this situation we need to be practical.

'I think we should deal with each situation one by one Ev. I think we could start with the essentials don't you think?'

He looks at me, more or less dry eyed now, his face so close to mine. I look at his mouth, slightly open, the top lip so generously formed, with those tiny hairs that come at that age. He nods in approval.

Covered, more or less by a sleep tunic, we are in Raphael's bathroom, alone, in front of the ample wash basin and the large mirror. I'm holding the boy's right hand under the moisturizer dispenser.

'Push the thing down in one firm movement and get it all on your middle fingers. Yes, like that. Perfect! Now reach right round and apply it. Gently push it in with one or two fingers as you were told to.'

'The longest one. Work it in and around quite deep. It won't hurt you. Just be gentle with it, moving your finger in and out for a few seconds and then rinse off under the warm running water. Repeat that until you're completely clear. Then deal with any moisture left with a tissue.

I drew a deep breath and looked at Evrit with the brown eyes, widened. I know he could do this for himself.

The boy, sans tunic for convenience, just as all the boys would be for this daily operation, presents himself for me. I will do it for him. It's something we have both experienced before, such an intrusion. I suppose most boys have, girls too, at one time or another, alone or with another. It became a fun game for us, being poked by a thing a little thicker than our fingers, hard and urgent, with our saliva and the baby oil. It worked for a while. Then we'd go on for longer, two boys little more than ten. One afternoon he got the feeling he wanted to get, all sweaty and puffy. I tried. No feeling came.

I'd gone further than I needed to with Kirit, so a cloud of guilt came over me. I wonder if he knew I had? I had gone on longer that I needed to because I enjoyed it. Evrit did too. It was what he had asked for. Exactly this. To make a closer bond between was probably his thinking. I looked in the mirror as the boy looked down at what was growing by the second, in little incremental jerks as the walnut sized organ liked being touched. I kept on until it had grown fully, upwards pointing and wanting. I had grown too. Withdrawn now, I held him around his tummy, just an inch above, fingers spread over his warm flesh, my face down on dark brown hair, and noticing the subtle perfume of him . Sex is always bonding, binding and less transitory when it's done. I was told that as a warning.

'Once you indulge in that sort of thing Michael darling, you can get stuck with it, so do be so very careful dear. You don't want to get stuck with someone you could never love.'

Good advice really. I had a friend who did it with a girl and then couldn't get rid of her because of it; the fact . It had happened, so he was in emotional chains. He got painfully free, eventually, but it hurt.

I led Evrit back to our Cube. He lay on his side, one hand under his head, the tunic risen up so I could see him as he wanted me to see me. I knelt beside him.

'Would you mind if I touched your face Evvy?' I asked as he looked back at me. A tiny, symbolic I thought, shake of the head came back. Was there just a hint of a smile there?

You might think that those hardly visible fine hairs on a boy's top lip is nothing to get excited about, as you pass two finger tips over the soft undulations, that perfect dip half way along. He shut his eyes, mouth open. I consider how lovely his soft skin is, and how well defined his features are, as I travel across his face. I touch his lower teeth, an odd thing to do I suppose. And then his tongue. He finds my offending finger; and gives it a soft bite, playfully. He takes the whole hand and presses it to his mouth. And then my thumb, and gently bites that too. It disappears into his mouth. I'm finding myself aroused, yet again, by this behaviour. I take my hand away. He remains expressionless but that does not mean I should stop making love to him; does it? That's what Raphael will call it. When you do those sort of things, you are making love. 'It's not all about cocks in buddies Mike.' Then Kirit speaks……..

'My phone. Will you look at it please. I want you to. Helga gave it to me. I played with Balac and Baylam. And sometimes Calley too. She told me to have fun with it. To make videos of us playing.'

'Not really. Sometimes in the bath. I'd have my bath with Baylam. He's younger than us so we could fit in better.'

'Near a big park in London. We would steal things from Fortnum and Mason's. Harrods too. We could get into the Natural History Museum for free. They would let us in. Helga was important there.'

'I don't know. People would come round. They gave us things. That's how I got my phone; I think. We had nice clothes. Calley had a card. Helga gave it to her. She could get money with it; and things. She bought us clothes.'

'No I can't remember exactly, but Raphael does. We weren't there long. I think they've moved now.'

'No. My mother is abroad; somewhere. But I'm here now. I live here now…..don't I?'

What do I mean by that answer. Look after him just today? Or all the time I'm at this place? Or forever? It struck me, seconds later, that I'd made rather a rash promise. I'm on my way to see again Raphael now, but when I said that to Evrit, I meant it.

I'm wondering what's happened to me. I'm feeling apprehensive; nervous even, but on a cloud of happiness, all at the same time.

I went for a walk just to absorb the implications of the conversation I've just had with my beautiful boy Kirit, who has now displaced Simon completely, thank goodness. And what a replacement for my seemingly insatiable desire to love a boy. I can't help those feelings. I have them, and they're too strong to ignore. I'm entitled to love; am I not?

Raf was on his bed reading by the light on his bedside table. The room which was warm and quite dark, but with a window open it felt comfortable enough, certainly more comfortable that Cube 6 which was uncomfortably warm. I had sat with Ev until sleep took him into a relatively peaceful state. He had got himself quite hot and bothered but with much brow stroking and some reassuring words, I'd got him off, half covered by the white linen sheet, and naked. I couldn't resist a quick look, but rest assured, I have learnt my lesson when it comes to an unwelcome contact. No permission, no touching. I say that with my Housemaster's words ringing in my ears; 'If you have to play with private parts, play with your own, not someone else's.'

Some of us, actually many of us, ignored that rule, but it was all totally consensual, and for a very few of us, it continued beyond the age of twelve. For the vast majority of playmates the fun stopped by the time they reached the age of thirteen which was the onset of puberty in most cases. For a very few of us, that's when the fun really started. Erotic material was sought out and found, magazines and stories mostly, and passed around for our general enjoyment and inspiration. We called the photos visual aids. Some of the stories we found were amazingly effective. Stories about boys having sex. Girls too; with the boys. Everything would be passed around while we played with ourselves, or someone else. Sometimes a boy would read aloud while the rest of busied ourselves as we listened, and most of reaching the finishing line well before the dramatic denouement. That's how keen we were. And then came, if you'll pardon the expression, a general inspection of our outcomes, one boy who produced nothing, another a few drops of what looked like water, me a reasonable pool of a sweet milky substance, and Ronnie in the next bed to mine, a veritable flood of quite thick white streaky goo in several puddles over his gorgeous flat tummy above which lay the most beauteous private part, long, thick and cut perfectly, that a pubescent boy like me could ever wish to look upon, the lucky beast!

At home in the holidays I met a couple of like-minded boys in the local park where I played most days. It was back to his, or theirs, or mine if the house was empty, to act out our sexual fantasies. Mobile phones were everywhere but to make selfie productions, or in pairs, was not something we had ever thought of. The sex we three indulged in was just simple good clean fun. I think we grew quite fond of each other, just as a touching by-product, but the word love, in the real sense of the word, was never spoken of. The subject of relationships never came up. Evrit, along with Baylam, Balac and Calley, went further. A lot further.

'I should coco. To some people. You know we've got him permanently now don't you? We've had no response to all our recent letters, emails, or phone calls. It was quite clever really, a lesson in how to abandon what some might describe as a vulnerable child. We are the perfect repository for such a thing as Evrit. I suppose one day we'll have to make it official with the Authorities. Social Services and all that. And they'll want to know all the boy's history, so be warned Mike. Don't make promises you can't keep. Otherwise you could take the boy as your lover. You're not an adult. When is your birthday. I forgot?'

'There you are then. You're both children in the eyes of the law, so you could start fucking the lovely Evrit until you're purple in the face and sweating cobs. I'm sure he'd like that. He'd give you a very good time I'm fairly sure. And yes, I have seen the stuff on his phone.'

'Sorry, I might have said. And your age rules you out for fun as far as I'm concerned too.'

'Most of us in this place have very specific sexual preferences Mike. So most of us have tried each other out at some time or another. People do. '

'You fancy the little tacker don't you? I thought you might rise to the occasion, so to speak. Did you?'

'There you are then. You could have two more months of fun in front of you Mike, you lucky bugger. After that it will have to be one of us.'

I ignored that last observation. I was thinking about what Raf had said about me and Kirit. The temptation is huge, but I can't. I am becoming responsible for him, and with that comes duty………I suppose. Mind you Kirit might think my duty is to serve him. To fill him with a kind of loving that has no name, to the brim until overflowing. Now there's a thought. I played that few seconds of video on Kirit's phone again and again, unable to believe my eyes. Raphael thinks I'm naïve and unworldly. He's right. But whose was it?

'Took him into your bathroom for a refresher course on how to be a lovely clean boy back there .'

'Yes, just like they told us in biology. His receptors are in very good shape.'

'As is the little walnut organ we all keeps in there. I'm tempted to show you a selfie he made a while back.'

'Indeed it is. He let you look at it? Did you find it in his mess box? Oh, and did you have the sound on?'

'Oh yes. I think the sound was even more impressive than the visuals. It wasn't hard to work out where he'd hidden the key to his mess box.'

'Umm. Having sorted out the ones with an ear for it, I always invite them to learn to play an instrument, or sing, or both, if they don't already. He has a good ear Mike, and a nice treble voice to go with it. But being what he is, or is not, he didn't bite. Perhaps you might make a further difference in his life? Try him again? As it's you, he might go for it this time.'

'The piano up to grade four, and the local church choir from the age of eight, and being felt up by the tenor cum base singer behind me in one of the practice rooms. Don't start thinking I was abused because I wasn't. Frankly it was no different from your similar attempt on Simon's sleeping personage; worse in fact. I really didn't mind. In fact I rather fancied him. He was in his early twenties, probably, and very good looking. My bottom was his to feel up as far as I was concerned. It's quite nice getting a three-incher in choir practice, and at night when I lay there wondering how big his dick might be. It was all very C of E, even papistical . Let's not forget those Catholic sodomites. Choral Vespers and the faint odour of sweat and semen. Rather an enticing combination don't you think?'

'Not really. I quite like the incense notion but I don't think it would sit well with the other stuff. Quite a lot goes on in your head doesn't it Raf? A sort of erotic mishmash of music, penises, and the product of orgasm.' I joked.

'Very amusing. Oh that's just at one end. You should try the other end sometime. I suppose I've got to wait until your eighteenth birthday have I?'

Raf comes back with 'Oh, just still a probability is it? Don't forget I've already had a taste of honey. So you're leaving your pretty door open are you? By the way I did notice.'

'Will do, assuming it's choral stuff. By the way, what might I find on your phone?' He asks, eyebrows raised as he looks at me.

'Not even him. Actually I tell a lie, I do have a clip of him now you come to mention the little so-and-so. Sports Day about a month ago.'

' Very cute in his little white shorts isn't he just. He's not very big for an athlete is he. And they made you sleep in the next bed. That's positively cruel. No wonder you did what you did.'

'He's not very big, full stop Raf. Insofar as I know. I think years back I might have caught a glimpse of his member for groin south, but I have no real visual image. That's not his fault Raf. Anyway, size is not an issue in these matters.'

I couldn't. I think they said I had touched him, but I never found his little sausage. Do you not think I'd remember that sensation? Of actually having him in my hand, or rather my fingers; and what it felt like? Of course I would. I would have that memory right now, and forever more.

Raf showed me his music collection, all cd's which he had copied onto his laptop, all dominated by the choral tradition of church music, something I know something about. Not a lot, but something. I think I'm about to be educated!

'I'll start you off with Britten's Tedium; I joke, in C, and his Antiphon, followed by Meditation by Jules Massenet. I'll put it all on your device early tomorrow morning before breakfast. If you tackle Kirit and play him that music at Rest Time you might get him to come along to S. Mary's.'

Kirit was already on his bed when I got to our Cube at one thirty-five. He was naked and lying on his side. His hips were turned towards me but his shoulders were flatter against the white sheet, his head also turned towards me. There's a faint smile on his face and his expression is full of questions, ones not lost on me.

He's posing for me . Of that I've no doubt at all. All part of the seduction of Michael Warrior.

With his legs inevitably closed, his testes are pushed forwards, the skin stretched around them, tiny red veins very visible. The penis, pale and creamy, lies quietly on his upper thigh, and going by prior viewings, not quite flaccid. He sees me scan the body he's very obviously presenting to me, on a proverbial plate, and there for my exclusive enjoyment. I sit down on my bed opposite him, and give him a quick smile. I look again at this boy on my plate, awaiting my attending to him.

He smiles. I hook my phone out and find the audio tracks Raphael has copied for me. I know the stuff well enough. Britten's Te Deum, that silly young choristers traditionally refer to as tedium . Ha ha. It's anything but tedious. The Antiphon ends with either a boy soloist or two boys together to give it more volume. It's haunting and unbelievably sexy, those last few phrases. Yes, music can be sexy, especially when there's a blond bombshell delivering those exotic sounds from somewhere, hidden away up there in the clerestory.

I played the pieces, ending with the Massenet. There was no reaction from Kirit, negative or positive. I'm disappointed.

'I'm going to choir rehearsal tonight at S. Mary's in Ottery. I thought you might like to come? It would be nice to have you with me. I'm new here so I want to try a few new things. I don't want to leave you behind Kirit. It's good to try something new.' I said quietly, pushing my fingers through the boy's longer than the usual hairstyle, or lack of it. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. I look down his body again. It's extraordinary how quickly a boy will react to a gesture like this. He rotates his hips slightly leaving a little more room for changes. Things are changing. He turns towards me and whispers…….

'Good.' I reply, noticing his emphasis on the words….. with you . I inwardly rehearse a few words but say them inwardly……

'Then lie back Kirit and relax. Let me do that for you now. Close your eyes and think about something, or someone you like? We can take as long as we want to my sweet boy, until it washes all over you, and is gone.'

I wanted to say those words, and do it. But Kirit takes me completely by surprise.

I looked. I didn't put it there, but I instantly knew who had. It must have been Raphael. One of his pranks. Last night in our conversation he'd made vague references to sex toys, in connection with that extraordinary piece of selfie video Kirit had made, about three minutes of it. It was clear that such things were kept in the household Kirit was last living in, and he had access, somehow, to a least one of them, and decided to use it not for the first time as he seemed very prepared for the result, having carefully laid a couple of sheets of kitchen towel upon which his semen would land in several very handsome jerking spasms, amid the most appreciative loud gasping sounds imaginable. Such a painful pleasure. The received sensations must have been almost unbearable for the boy, but he knew it was going to work, hence his precautions, which I have to say, were marvellously necessary.

I looked under my pillow and found it lying there, a very convincing replica in every possible detail, and similar in size and shape to Kirit's own, all finished in a wholly convincing natural colour. I judged the length of this intriguing perfectly flexible object to be around four inches. Kirit? Hmm, not dissimilar.

We examined the object together. Underneath there is the control button. I pressed it. It was quiet enough as the thing pulsed with slight thrusts, and vibrated. I switched it off and looked at Kirit. His mouth was open and his lips shining.

'Yes. Calley had one like that. Just like that one. I think Helga gave it to here.'

I tried to get a fuller story of Kirit's recent life out of him but stopped when it became clear that there was no simple answer to my questions and it could become very upsetting for him. Anyway, Raphael no doubt has been down this line with him enough times so anything there is to know, he can tell me, if he needs to, and I think he does. Maybe. Further questions and the boy's answers revealed quite a bit more.

'Calley wanted to make the videos. I think she had seen some somewhere and thought it would be fun to do some ourselves. They were all her ideas to start with; until Balac wanted to do things. He did things with Baylam first, and then got me to do stuff with him. And then I went with Balac himself; properly. He always wanted to do it with me. I wasn't sure about it but I did it with Calley too. Both ways. Calley wouldn't do it with Balac because he was wet. She said she didn't want little boy's sperm in her mouth. She was afraid that he wouldn't tell her when……..he was. I wasn't wet and Baylam wasn't either. We were both still dry……then. We used to watch Calley do it with herself. We liked the noises she made, especially at the end. Me and Balac usually slept in the same bed although we had our own. Calley had her own room with Baylam. I think they slept together. One morning Calley had this thing; like that one. Just like that one.' Kirit says, gesturing at the device I had in my hand.

'She said it was good if you put it inside your bud, right in quite deep, and then waited to see if anything happened. I liked it when Balac put his thing in me, so I tried the buzzy thing one afternoon but it was too big. It was easy with Balac. We didn't go to school. Not then. He told me I wouldn't end up with wet in me like when we did it that way. I liked it the way he did it with me. We kissed loads. Then he'd get his feeling. I loved that, when he got it. It was the best thing ever. I liked being wet in there. Calley said I might get a feeling that way when Balac did me, but I certainly would with the willy thing that buzzed, but not to be put off by the noise it made. The first time it took ages to work. Balac had tried it and it didn't work.'

'Yes. About the third time it worked. I liked it because, I think the feeling came quicker. It all came quicker. Just the thought of it made me…….excited. Calley would show me, smiling. I knew what she wanted me to do. They would all watch me. It always worked. They knew I liked it. Balac would do himself in front of me while I used the thing. We called it our buzzy thing. Then Calley and Balac made the videos of me, but not with their phones, just mine so I could watch it later. We all had videos of each other. Even Baylam, although he wasn't allowed his own phone.'

'So what did you do with all these videos Kirit? Did other people see them? If so, who?'

'Yes. We absolutely do need to Kirit. And as soon as possible. Do you understand me?'

'I know it was fun, and all the rest of it, but they must not exist any longer, for your sake sweetheart.'

'Lots of reasons my lovely. The main one being that you don't need to keep them. Why would you want to keep them? There is no reason to keep them, and every reason not to have such personal material like that existing at all. You will still have your memories of Calley, Balac and Baylam. Even some photographs of them. Some of the photographs are fine Kirit; but some of them are not. You might find that a little hard to understand, at the moment, but in time you will know why I'm saying this to you. We can go through it all and forget what we need to forget, for ever my darling. You must listen to what I'm……no, what we are saying about this. Will you listen?'

Gosh, some progress. But the big question in my mind is…….who else knows about those videos? Raphael does for a start. I'm afraid some unilateral action is required of me. Firstly, I need to go through everything, and having done that, cleanse Kirit's mobile phone of everything that could get the boy, and very possibly us, into very deep and very hot water, if they ever fall into the wrong hands, which due to Kirit's age-related naivete, is always possible.

I put the few small items of Kirit's clothing into a bowl of recently boiled water and detergent to soak for an hour or two, having just treated them with a powerful stain remover Raf got me. I left Kirit asleep in his Cube, nude and on his side with just a fresh linen sheet over him. He smelled divine as I leaned over him and gave his head a light touch with my lips; and immediately felt a wave of guilt flood my head. History repeating itself. Had I the right to do that? I moved some dark hair away from his eyes. Longer hair really does suit him. Such soft eyebrows, eyes closed now. I'll come again in a half hour. He asked me if I would lie down with him. There's nothing I would like better than to lie next to this boy, both of us nude and touching. Of course I would. But what would be the result of that? Relatively inexperienced me, at the tender age of seventeen, with a boy a tad over four years younger and on the face of it, far more experienced than I am. Odd that. I think he could teach me a thing or two. In fact I'm sure he could.

With Kirit safely in classes this afternoon, I'm about to go through his phone to identify everything he needs to be permanently erased. Got rid of. Never to be seen again. Ever, by anyone. I think this could take a while. I've spoken to Raphael about all this and he agrees with my thinking.

'Use my room Mike. And take as long as you need. No hurry. Have fun. There's an app you can download which will overwrite everything. Do that first.'

Those were his last words as he walked off without a backward look, having first written down the app details. I watched him walk away. He's a handsome guy alright. Six feet of pure manliness, and in those sexy shorts, brown legs and hard shoulders, everything beautifully maintained and now shown off to full advantage. He told me he's bi-sexual but needs to be amongst boys, who are his enduring passion. I can see that. Yes, I really can understand that. He has fathered two children with a woman of a similar disposition as him. He showed me a few photos of them, two little twin boys, smiling away, and so very very pretty. Perhaps he's found the best of all worlds? Perhaps I have too?

I've gone through everything on Kirit's phone now, using the app Raf suggested. For anyone who might be amused by the antics of three boys and one girl getting up to tricks very few parents or guardians would approve of, they would have a field day with this lot. An imagination, which I happen to have in abundance, is hardly necessary in this case as the youngsters perform just about every trick in the manual for the eager viewer, and if you're a seventeen-year-old boy with a normal sexual appetite like I have always had, and regardless of orientation, you will inevitably be unbearably aroused into something like a stick of Brighton Rock. The girl Calley, aged about fourteen I would have thought, reaches her orgasm wonderfully noisily with Baylam providing the extra stimulus with his plump five incher inserted and going like a train. No faking it in this perfectly in-focus and close-up six-minute video. Baylam comes too, deep inside her, withdrawing his dripping cock and then teasing the girl's hungry lips and tongue with it. In another, Baylam meats out similar treatment for the delightfully accepting Kirit, all accompanied by the appropriate appreciative noises from both boys in symphonic harmony as Baylam approaches his orgasm. Baylam comes, with deep seated sighs, sitting up straight now, looking down as Kirit finishes himself by his own hand with a series of opalescent arcs onto his lovely smooth tummy forming pretty little translucent pools. And then the voracious and hungry Calley moves in. Phew!

But where do all these ideas come from? According to Raphael, around a quarter of the boys, 92 of them here, have evidence of explicit material featuring themselves, and often at least one other party on their devices. That seems a large percentage to me. But not to Raphael. He says it's almost the norm these days for kids to record that kind of selfie that they can show, in some way, to a potential girlfriend, or other interested party, or just for their own private pleasure. How the world has changed. But it's certainly not a safe practice. It seems to me that Kirit has enough problems without providing himself with any more, especially that kind where he is personally identifiable, and if it ever reached the net, for all time. No, this is not for him. Or anyone else come to that.

But I can understand the curiosity element in all this. Boys and girls like to see themselves. What they look like through other peoples eyes, like a camera lense. They are curious. We are all curious are we not?

It took me around twenty minutes to overwrite all the data, or whatever the app does to ensure that what you don't want anyone else in the world to see, has been destroyed and consequently unrecoverable. Thank goodness. It's a phase he's been through, and no harm done. That's the way I'm seeing this thing. Time to tell Kirit the news. I sat him down on a grassy bank overlooking the Field. He looked as lovely as ever, his knees bent and apart. I looked where I should not look and saw him. He knows about me now, if he didn't know before.

'But you can do them again Kirit. Just don't set up a camera and record it. That's all. Everyone has those feelings, and at your age they're very strong. You are going to want to do those things. That's natural and normal, and it is for me too. I want to do those things. It's all of us, Felix too, and Peter. They're very fond of each other and enjoy touching one another.'

'I don't know Kirit. I assume not because that's rather advanced and a much more adult thing to want to try.'

'I'm sure they do, yes, and that's a nice way to show you care for your friend isn't it?'

'I suppose we could, if both of us wanted to, but as you probably know, it leads to more. Or wanting more than just a few kisses. Kissing can start a process in our heads that can be quite hard to stop. Once we start, it would be hard to stop Kirit. Isn't there someone you might like to be friendly with. There are plenty of boys here? Someone…….somewhere?'

'Well then. Go and talk to them. They might like you ? You don't know Kirit, what they're thinking unless you talk to them. They might have wanted to be friends with you but didn't dare say so. You never know.'

Another long pause; as I look at him, as he looks at me. I look down at the boy's mouth. He notices, of course he does, and he then looks down at my mouth. I see the tip of his tongue just emerge enough to run sideways between his lips. This is extraordinarily difficult.

When Kirit arrived at our Cube after lunch for Rest Time, he lay on my bed beside me. It seemed reasonable so I didn't turf him off. These iron tubular beds that most boys who have ever boarded would recognize are quite narrow, often sagging in the middle, as mine does, but just wide enough for two bodies to connect successfully. Kirit's face is inevitably close to mine, given our confinement, as we face each other. I can feel his sweet breath on me. I know what he wants. He wants us to share a kiss. A proper one at that. I know exactly how this might go. I can honestly say that I've never kissed a boy like that . Never in my life.

I imagined kissing Simon when he asked me to, which of course he never did. I fantasized long and hard about Simon, my erstwhile nemesis. But he wasn't the direct cause of my recent downfall. I was. It was never in a million years his fault. But there's a big difference between my loved one Simon and Kirit. Simon didn't want me. Certainly not in that way. After my rejection both nights, one after the other, I climaxed quickly, such was my desire for the boy of my dreams. How easy that was.

He smiles and touches both of my lips with a tip of one finger, having wet it first, the sexy little mongrel. I like this gesture. So I touch his. Both of us take deep breaths.

Those brown eyes and the silky long hair, perfect for repeated run throughs with fingers. One ear too, for good measure. What odd things ears are. It's a comforting and reassuring gesture for Kirit so he moves even closer, bodies touching in several places. He's naked save for his size fours, kept on for propriety and to keep his feelings hidden. Me too. I can feel it all starting deep within me. With this thing going on there's no way in this world I'm going to be able to stop it, but under the sheet that cover me, not him, I will remain unseen. I hope.

He's learning! It makes us both silently laugh. Foreplay, not that I'm any kind of expert at that.

'You're funny Kirit.' I say as I touch his lips again. 'Would that make you happy sweet boy?'

Kirit moves the few inches that are the space between our two heads, and our lips touch; just lightly, the boy's mouth moving sideways across mine, and then back again creating a kind of ultra-soft friction. A very gentle friction with a wonderful degree of wetness. For me, and for Kirit, this is a sexual moment and no mistake. There's no doubt about that, and I'm absolutely loving this; and I strongly suspect, so is he.

He notices my hand move south into my pants to make a necessary adjustment. Goodness, how quick was that? Just about thirty seconds from a standing start. His hand moves too, in exactly the same direction. We look at each other, knowingly. Surely a few kisses won't hurt? Just one more?

We begin the gentle friction once more, lips upon lips, sideways sliding, around and around. This is perfectly blissful. Me, a boy of seventeen, with a boy of thirteen. This might have been Simon, but is not. This is Kirit.

And then things change. The boy has a perfect mouth to fit mine, as his encloses me, hard around my mouth, the boy's tongue penetrating my inner space. I fight him, tongue against tongue, lips twisting and turning, feeling for every sensation possible, hands behind heads now for more control and power, faces pressed together, breath hard to find. Breath not needed.

Boy shoulders, firm and hard, real muscles not yet formed, fingers up the neck into thick hair and back again around the shoulder and down again. Far down, the waistband of his underpants brushed aside. A hand on warm bare buttocks, finger ends pressing in between. So close. So very close. Come away Mike, you're too near; too close! Too close to another disaster, just like the other one. Come away…….now!

And then we breathe deep breaths. Disaster averted; for now, our hands away from danger.

We rest while our breathing becomes slower, and slower, and then normal. A quietness reigns. Glances are exchanged. I can now admire his beauty, his dark eyes like pools of deep water. I play again the serenely spacious Papae Marcelli Mass. He likes it as the dark pools become ever darker and deeper. We might kiss again. Neither of us are about to forget the last one, which was the first one for me. The very first time I have kissed anyone like that. Such a wonderful human response to another human; a meeting of minds, and souls even? My first meaningful kiss with a boy. It might have been Simon but it wasn't. It's the here and now with another boy. Kirit.

I watch as he shows me the tip of his tongue as it emerges between his lips. What's that supposed to mean? He opens his mouth again as he draws in more air, and slowly exhales onto my face with a mouth formed into a circle. Such sweet warm breath. His face against mine, so soft and warm. He turns his head so I can feel his lips on mine. It's all too good, too ultimately special to miss. I want to kiss my boy again; and again. Kirit wants me, and I want him. Can I have him? He says I can, so I can, can't I? But how can I have him? In what way?

I look at him. He swallows, and takes a deep breath, breathing out through his nose. His tongue passes over his lips to wet them again, and then breathes again, deeply. His eyes have never looked wider; more meaningful, more beautiful than they are now. He lets his mouth fall open.

What a difference three years make in the growing up stakes. The size of things commensurate with our age in years. The growth spurts, the appearance of hair where it wasn't before. The swelling of our sexual parts. His compared to mine. How easily we became aroused. The thin white linen sheet that covered us gone. How easily we became aroused, now, here, together, looking and seeing, and admiring such beauty.

'You're perfect . Believe me, you are .' I say, smiling, holding his head with the palm of my hand, drawing it closer, and then touching his mouth lightly with mine. He turns away, his bare chest slowly rising and falling. He is perfect; in this low light and calm.

That came out of the blue. My heart missed a beat when he asked that of me . Me!

After my initial shock at being asked such a totally disarming and direct question, I smiled at his use of the word, do . One has it , doesn't one?

'And you can do that kind of thing with boys your own age, like Felix and Peter. I'm almost eighteen. I'll be an adult then, legally. Another thing. I know I've asked you, but are you sure no other person has borrowed your phone?'

Before I have a chance to tell him in no uncertain terms he could not, he has. I froze at the sheer sensation of his small soft hand, the fingers of which are now wrapped around my penis. There's a squeeze and a couple of hard gripping upwards movements as I see him look down to inspect. Oh dear. The boy knows far more than anyone would give a thirteen-year-old boy credit for. I put my hand on his with the intention of pulling it away. I didn't, but left it there for a few seconds before doing just that. His hand came away unwillingly, and on the thumb, there it was, clear as the proverbial bell. I have leaked fluid again. I often do this quite soon after arousal.

Raphael said that it's impossible to stop these boys making selfie videos of themselves performing alone or with others. Once known about with individuals, they can be warned of serious consequences if the material falls into the wrong hands. Being older and with very recent bitter experience, I ought to decline the opportunity of witnessing first hand an attractive [to me] boy of thirteen indulging in a solo sexual act? The youngest boys are not allowed, even in private and under the duvet out of sight. Because of his age now, Kirit's occasional needs are recognized and allowed. Both of us are at a heightened state right now when our judgements are, frankly, clouded by an overpowering need. Kissing in the way we did has brought us both to this state of mind and body. It feels good and it feels right. Kirit wants to 'do it with me', as he put it. He leant over my body and kissed it; my chest, and in particular working his tongue over those two little bumps either side of it making them hard and heightening their sensitivity. It's an exquisite sensation. I've seen him do this to Baylam, working his way down the chest and tummy until he arrives at the seat of the boy's pleasure. There's only one ending possible, and I've seen it, as it happened, in glorious technicolor, perfectly focussed and with all the right sound effects. Just with Baylam? I doubt it. Who else then? Certainly Balac too. Three boys and a girl, and between them goodness knows how many recorded sessions. I've now seen more than twenty on Kirit's device, all now departed into the great blue yonder, forever. I had to see them to know. Didn't I? I had to.

Have you ever had to tear yourself away from a situation? That's what it felt like. I could almost hear the tearing; but I managed it, just.

'A tricky time then? I never said this job would be straightforward. It never is with boys.'

'Good. There are six of us so plenty of room in the minibus. Do you think he enjoyed the music, assuming that you did play it for him. Those Bose headphones are good don't you think?'

'They are, and yes, I know he did enjoy it. I could see that. He was very connected to it all, especially the Massenet Mass. Quite affected actually. He asked me if the singers were boys. I told him they were, at least the higher voices were. He liked the idea of that. I gave him a simple voice test. So many things lead me back to music it seems. It's a way to make love with him I think. Legally.'

'Umm, if you can connect with him that way. You're lucky. He's really with you isn't he? And I wouldn't worry too much about the legality of it all.'

I'm not eighteen for two months. So what. Surely decisions like this are a matter of conscience.

'Umm, I do. Lucky you……..and Kirit. But it leaves you with a problem doesn't it.'

'And I don't envy you that one. I won't ever ask you Mike. What happens now. That's up to you, but I know you will keep the boy's best interests at the centre of your heart, and your best interests too, given recent events in your life? Courage mon brave. You are going to need it.'

It's always a Thursday in August; the day of the week the public exam results are sent to all the anxious candidates, like me, awaiting our fate. It was towards the end of my Advanced Level studies that my school career ended abruptly due to a serious lapse in judgement on my part, involving another boy. So I fortunately got a very low paid job at Frendon School, about which I have written at some length already. I continued what was now just revision, writing English essays and other subject material which was very generously read and commented on by three of my former teachers, sending their feedback to me by post. They certainly didn't have to do that for me, something I'm most grateful for. I couldn't sit my exams last June at my old school for obvious reasons, so it was arranged that I would sit all the papers at another school reasonably near where I lived which used the same Examination Board; in my case, The Oxford and Cambridge Schools Examination Board. I think the pressure of the situation overcame my embarrassment at being the odd one out, each day pitching up in civvies amongst all the boys in their posh uniforms, wondering who the fuck I was. They were all in rather snazzy green blazers and dove grey trousers as I tried not to notice all the sun-tinted bare legs and faces of the junior boys in similar kit, in their tantalizingly short trousers. Time to draw deep breaths and look the other way and check I had three reliable pens in my jacket pocket, a rubber [that's an eraser , not a prophylactic], and a six-inch long ruler, and a scientific calculator, just in case. No mobile phones allowed. Everything else my school hosts would provide me with. All went reasonable well, I thought.

I didn't want my results sent by text message, but by post. I'm not sure why I made that decision. I wanted to get my results on a beach, so I chose Sidmouth, a place I've always liked, and the place I first encountered the two boys that pointed me in the direction of Frendon School, the delightful Felix and Peter. The letter would arrive on the door mat around nine in the morning, my mother would open it, and then phone me as I wandered nervously up and down the sandy coast at Jacob's Ladder, Sidmouth. I had even checked the tide times so I had an exposed long length of wet sand to lose myself on.

It was exactly ten past nine when my phone rang. Having struggled, in haste, to get the thing out of my pocket, I looked at the screen. Mum. Shit. This is it.

I'd been thinking about that morning when Felix ran past me, laughing, on his way to the water's edge and a paddle in the sea. How beautiful those two boys looked, lit as they were by the morning sunlight, being a little naughty. The ring tone instantly banished all those pleasant memories.

My mother read out my exam results. When she had finished the three short sentences, and noticing my complete lack of any reaction, she said nothing more apart from…..

And then I tapped the 'end call' and that was it. That's when I began to cry. In bare feet I faced the sea and began to walk towards the rippling patterns of an outgoing tide. At that time in the morning there were very few people about, probably still getting children ready for another day at the beach, or sitting quietly working out how much this holiday was costing them.

I cried, privately, when the full significance of what I had done came home to me that awful morning. My lapse concerning Simon. I was to be driven to the station to catch the London train home, disgraced. I should have been in my normal lessons with all the other boys I knew so well. No doubt the news had got to them by then.

'Fiddling with a kid in his dormitory. Tried to toss him off in his sleep, the stupid wanker. Two nights running apparently. What a frigging idiot.'

'Oh shit. That was clever then; just a few weeks from taking his A Levels. Who was the boy in question?'

I didn't do that, what they said I did, but that's what was said of me. I have no recollection of having Simon's miniscule penis in my fingers, let alone rubbing him up to a couple of watery jets of cum; or nothing. I would have remembered that. Believe me, I would have! The only thing I think I knew about Simon's inert piece of equipment that only boys have, is that he's circumcised. I can recall someone in our dorm saying unkindly…..'How could they circumcise a thing that size? You wouldn't think they'd be able to.'

Don't get me wrong here, I've absolutely nothing against small willies, my own not being anything one might regard as special in any way at all. No, in fact I'm not moved by big fat donkey dicks at all , the lucky bastards. I loved Simon in my own silly way. My own unbelievably silly way. Oh dear.

I promised to phone Raphael when I got my results. I have now pulled myself together, as my mother would command me to do, during some of my weaker moments.

'Well enough. An A in Music, and a C and a D to go with it. That's four more points than I need.'

'You were never going to do as well as you ought, revising away from your school and without all that support you would have got.'

'Yes, but still a little off-base with life. He went home with Felix for the first part of the hols which was kind of Felix to have him. Here's here with me right now. Then tomorrow Peter's people are coming to take him to theirs for the other half of the holiday. I'd say talk to him now, but I'm not sure that's a good idea. I know we've talked about this Mike, but he got very fond of you. We've had some tearful sessions, not to make you feel bad about him. What you did was wonderful for him, but there's an emotional price with all that. He's just a boy Mike.'

'I know you do. But you have to do what you are doing my boy. You couldn't hang on here indefinitely, as much as we all would love to have you. Felix and Peter are looking after him.'

'No no, it's not a problem in that way at all. So you're all set for your music degree then?'

'What most musicians have to do. Teach, either in a school, heaven forbid, or tutor all those private pupils most of whom won't have a clue. Teaching will mean another postgraduate year on top of the other three.'

'Schools aren't so bad Mike. You've just been in one and seemed to relate to our little dears quite well, if you don't mind me saying so.'

'Yes, but places like yours don't grow on trees Raf. Most of them are hell holes from what one reads in the media.'

'Four years before we might see you again? Kirit will be over sixteen by then. I think.'

' Nothing dear boy. Just a casual observation. What instruments are you going to specialize in, if any?'

'I quite fancy the organ. King of instruments and all that. I haven't got over S. Mary's yet. There are two cathedra, sorry, cathedrals in Leeds.'

'You took to saint M's very well Mike, as did your lovely anxious Kirit. He's calmed right down since he found you. He loves you.'

'Oh don't………please! It all started with that Massenet piece. It had us both in tears that afternoon.'

'Lying naked together on a bed and listening to that stuff. Enough to make the best of us weep.'

'It was his reaction. And the Britten Antiphon. I think he imagined himself as one of those boys singing those serene notes at the end. I must have played him that piece a dozen times. Britten would have loved him. But that would mean I wouldn't have had him.'

'Not like that Raf, as you well know. But it wasn't for the want of wanting him. I can tell you that.'

'And that's what we all want isn't it?' I said, laughing into the soft Devon breeze.

'Just fancied somewhere completely different. Cobbled streets with boys' knickers hanging from washing lines stretched across from house to house to stir my stumps. I go up on September the first.'

'Nothing. Just do as I'm doing now I suppose. Wander a Devon beach, dreaming of lost loves.'

'Last night. I was worrying about today, so I needed to get some sleep. Best way I have always found.'

'Yes, that's quite right, I do. So I've got Kirit here with me for a couple of days until Felix and company whisk him off again. Shall I bring him down to Sidmouth for the afternoon?'

'That's just plain silly Mike. The boy knows what's happening and he's accepted that people have to move on. There's no reason why you can't see him, or him to see you. He'll be fine. Tell him your results and share a little joy with him? Why not? I'll bring a shrimping net. What's the tide like right now?'

'So tomorrow it will low water at half past. Half an hour later each day. Plenty of sand uncovered and nice walks in both directions. Perfect. Where shall I meet you? Or would you consider coming back to Frendon tonight.'

'Of course. Once I have you there, you're not leaving until after breakfast at the earliest. Loving kindness and all that.'

I ignored the 'loving kindness' bit; and being filled with it; as in the milk of loving kindness. I remember my first year at school, aged eleven and three quarters, and the charming boy who found himself allocated to the bed next to mine. When he felt 'up for it' He would invade my bed with his hand with the words…. the milk man's coming . The milk man came alright, for both of us, not that there was any of it in my case, unlike my dear friend. I have no idea where he got it all from, but I liked it. Happy days. The milk of loving kindness was something I strongly suspect Raphael would like to fill me with, at either end, or better still, both ends.

'Oh yes, good point. Perhaps not then. Well, we'll come down around ten and hang out in this area where we are now. The tide will be going out by then so we can go rock pooling and follow it out. You can choose your moment if and when you want to join us. I promise, Kirit will be fine. He'll be thinking about going away with Peter, not you. Sit on that rock somewhere obvious so I can spot you easily. About ten then?'

I'm in position on the beach so I can see the wooden 'ladder' that leads down to the beach from the top of the hill. It consists of three flights of white painted steps above which is the clock tower, rather like a mini castle, in the Connaught Gardens. The clock 'says' five minutes to ten. Good timing.

The two figures are instantly recognizable. Kirit, bare chested and looking in rude health, lightly tanned slim legs disappearing into his white shorts and holding a pond dipping net leads the way, followed by Raphael with the larger shrimping net, also in his smart beige shorts and white tee and a rucksack on his back. They don't see me. I haven't spoken to Kirit in three weeks. I'm excited. I watch the two figures as they set up their camp just in front of one of the large rocks just fifty yards away from me. Time to make my presence known. It's still early so there are very few people about, just a couple of dog walkers. As I approach, Kirit stands looking towards the retreating water. He stands nicely, one leg taking his weight, the other slightly crooked, hands to his sides. His orange swimming briefs suit his darker complexion, underlined by his light summer tan that all the boys will have by now. He turns and sees me.

Shamefully I had watched the boy remove his shorts and his underpants before donning his swimmers. It remains one of the most lovely things I've seen him do. His deportment is so good, as he stands naked, in public, turning his trunks from inside out to the right way around. And then the putting on. Apart from me, I'm the only voyeur.

'Raf bought them for me. For my holidays with Peter and Felix. Will you take me for a paddle please?' He says, looking into me, brow almost indiscernibly furrowed.

'No.' He says, moving his head from side to side, still looking into me. That's what he does. It feels like he really does look into you.

Raphael is pretending not to notice us in our quiet conversation a few yards away as he rummages around in his rucksack.

I saw Kirit's hand by his side as we turned towards the sea. It looked vacant……lost, and needing. I looked at it again, approached, and took it in mine. An unthought about decision. I felt it grip mine hard. Good. It was the right thing for me to do. Message received and understood. He's still with me.

This is what my hand is for, at least during these exquisite moments. Being me, tears are forming as I consider how I feel about him. I don't know why. I never do know quite why it happens so often with me, but it does.

We look out to sea, imagining the bells sounding from a sunken cathedral, deep down within us. Then the boys begin to sing. I gripped the hand harder, trying to hang on and not embarrass Kirit by my weeping. The boy responds as I wanted him to, by gripping mine just a little more firmly.

'Ah, sole', said the plaice. 'Ah, plaice', said the sole. That old joke that came from the mouth of the poker faced short trousered schoolboy. Ah, sole . Get it?

We reach the water's edge, more or less in the same place where I met Felix and Peter, so I tell Kirit the story.

'I like that story Mike.' He says, his hand feeling warmer in mine now, almost uncomfortably so. I let it go.

' I don't think so. It's about love. Love lost. You know I'm going away don't you?'

'I'm very sad to be leaving you, but you're safe now. You have new friends and you have Raphael. He will care for you.'

'But you will come back when…….when what you have to do is over. Won't you?'

It was like he was stating a fact. I will return, eventually. I can't tell him I won't.

The seascape, the red cliffs distant, the soft breeze, the fruitful Devon air and the boy. It gives me a sense of divinity, and hope for Kirit too, as we walk slowly westwards towards the red cliffs so typical of this part of the Devon coast, his hand still in mine. I have this feeling that he will not let go.

We walked westwards, the warm August early sun on our bare backs, saying nothing. I'm wondering about the boy's thoughts at this moment. Kirit stops and turns to me, his face against my chest, being about a foot shorter. He's left my hands free now as both of his are around me, holding on. I have no choice but to respond in the same way, lowering my head to take in the natural perfume of the boy's hair. I breathe in deeply.

'The skin on your back feels beautifully warm.' I say, gently stroking from the back of Kirit's neck down to the top of the pale orange, apricot almost, garment made more secure by a white draw string, a neat bow at the front. I'm so aware that this really is the last time.

The boy raises his head in expectation, and I lower mine to meet his face with mine. I suppose this was inevitable. Perhaps I should never have come here. I had gone three weeks ago. But now I find myself back in this place again, in the here and now. We hold each other with hands behind heads, to ensure the pressure cannot be relieved until we are ready to let go. A whole minute goes by. At least a minute of blissful contact, of mouth and lips and tongues and teeth and snatched at breaths before going on, and on. Breathless loving, our middles pressed together now, hands making sure we are. The firm globes, perfectly formed, like protective sentinels guarding the gate and the locked door. I run my fingers through his hair. How I love to do this as I looked into the boy's dark eyes brown eyes. He smiles up at me. We have talked in riddles before.

How stirring to be joined in this way, his energy flowing into me through arms and hands, as mine flows into him.

'Have you been right to the end of the beach Mike?' Kirit asks, quite suddenly.'

'Yes, and I'm sure it's not far away now. We will get to the other side won't we? Can you feel it coming?'

Kirit stopped, turned towards me and gripped my hand harder. There was a determination in the way he did it. I know now. Those dark eyes again, glazed and wide……..he says……..

We both turned to look at our pursuer. He was breathless from his exertion, and leaving deep footprints in the soft sand as he went. This urgency doesn't feel like it's going to be good news.

'I've just had a call from the twins mother Mike. There's a problem with her father. She needs me to go to Exeter to look after the boys as soon as I can get there. Sorry. May I ask you to stay at Frendon tonight, with Kirit? He can't be left on his own. I'd take him with me but…….sorry. Just one of those things I'm afraid. You can stay can't you?'

Just one of those things. Can't be helped. Raphael had fathered twins about three years ago. I've seen photos of them, all blond and beautiful little kids. Both boys. They had to be boys didn't they? It suited the lesbian mother, and of course it suited the bisexual Raphael just as much to have such a beautiful life-long interest. Hopefully it will suit the two little boys too. As Raf described the mother, she did sound very nice. She wanted children, probably just one, but ended up with two. What she didn't want was a father cluttering up her life. Raf said the sex was easy enough, if 'you get your ducks in a row correctly.' He reckoned it only took two goes to get her pregnant. She took care of the nine-month long process.

We walked back to our beach base camp, all three of us with mixed feelings. It will be just Kirit and me at an empty and quiet house tonight. On the way back to Frendon in the car………

'Obviously use my rooms Mike. Everything's there that you might need. You'll know where to find it. Usual places. I should be back tomorrow afternoon, assuming.'

Assuming what? I looked sideways at Kirit who was looking out of the car window watching; and waiting.

School buildings are very strange to be in when there's no sound of the usual activity; ninety-two boys going about their daily business with all the sounds and smells that goes with it; and the sight of them. Silent corridors with silvery ghosts of the boys gliding around, and the soft perfume of friendships, and the all the rest of it.

I sat in the back of the car with Kirit, him seat-belted but close enough to me to engender arousal in us both. I could clearly see what was going on with him.

He's getting a bigger boy now, and with one of those very spare tummies, an erection is not something you could miss. Mine a little less so inside my heavier garment, but there alright. I had my arm around him for some of the journey, feeling his body warmth and the desire that shone from his face. We'll be in Raphael's bed tonight, of that I'm sure. Kirit will make a huge fuss if he's kept out. Of course I want him there with me. I'll have to find a way for him to be satisfied, and me, without putting my life and liberty in jeopardy, somehow, but it will be hard. That's the problem. It will be hard; for both of us. Very hard.

In the past, quite recent past in fact, I've conjured up enticing situations in my head concerning my nemesis, Simon. He had nowhere to go one weekend as his parents were away. I asked him if he would like to come home with me? Yes, he would like that. Everything went well, and by mid-evening, he asked me if we might go up to bed? My mother smiled at my request…

Although there were two single beds in my room, to cater for the occasional friend visiting, Simon asked if we might share one bed, at least for a while. I was naturally thrilled and excited by his question, and said…..

'But I do. I always have wanted to. For ages. Can we? I don't mind what we do. I can do anything you want to. I just want to, really badly.'

As I emerge from my shower, Kirit's showing me the full length of his legs, coloured by the sun, until we get high enough for them to become pale, just a few inches below those mysterious parts of him that have inspired my thoughts in the past three weeks, and these last moments as I dry my body. Perhaps we should be one body; Kirit and I, in the mystery of faith and unity? Those parts of him that I have missed being close to, and seen so often but never touched. Such a beautiful boy. And so forms in my imagination my worst nightmare, or my finest dreams, as I leave the shower and see him lying on the bed, waiting for me, his hands behind his head on the pillow. I look again, as I swallow hard. The sheer beauty of it all as he looks at me with those deep, dark bright eyes. So bright are his eyes, burning like fire. So sweet his mouth on mine shall it be.

I'm in the bed now, on my side facing my boy. I do feel he's mine now. Surely he must be?

'Yes, even better.' I reply, smiling as I gently work my thumb on the top of his hand. I know he loves this, just the gentle movement, up and down. Even though it's just a thumb, it feels like some kind of surrogate masturbation.

'When will you decide?' he asks, putting his other hand over mine. But I can't answer his question. Well I can, but I'm not going to. Yet.

I began stroking his shoulder, very gently, right up to his neck and then down his upper arm. Kirit breaths in deeply, and then slowly exhales. So so sexy.

I keep going because I like it too, stroking his bare flesh. Making love to him in this way, as opposed to the other way , is a beautiful thing to do. He wants it the other way too. So do I, but………well you know.

'Because Mr Raphael is phoning me tonight about nine thirty. He's looking after his twin boys while their mother is dealing with a family issue sweetheart.'

Before I can answer, he's already there, the little minx. He looks at me and smiles as I turn and find my Samsung smart device.

It is on, and the photo app is on too, set to video, but I've put the phone face down. No pictures please, just our conversation will be recorded. When I'm not here I would like a record of my boy's dulcet tones to remind me of what I shall be missing. I turn back towards Kirit and move his right hand from where it was.

The phone rang just after nine thirty. It was Raphael. I picked it up from the pillow, saw the callers name and swiped to answer the single bell alert……..

'Look, I should be back around eleven tomorrow. Make sure you're up and dressed ok? I don't want to come back and find you two in the middle of things. I'll call around ten to confirm. Hopefully that won't be too early. See you then. Cheers.'

I am holding Kirit, just as he was holding me, in one of those very natural ways that boys might do if they were sharing the same bed, and had done all night, some of the time fitting tightly together, like a hand in a glove. We are a perfect fit you might say, and I think Kirit would agree with me, little and somewhat larger. His eyes are closed at this moment but I'm not convinced he's asleep. When I glance at the bedside travel clock it tells me it's just a couple of minutes before seven, very light outside, and by the look of the curtains, a sunny day in prospect. By chance, we had been thrown together, my boy Kirit and I.

I had been woken by a sharp 'peep' from my phone. It was Raphael unexpectedly texting me…..

Morning. Hope you had a good one. Just to let you know I shall be back about eleven this morning as planned. Don't worry about changing the sheets?! Love R.

Kirit is on the move, which is to say he's waking, slowly and beautifully. I'm watching his lovely face as he comes back to life in the here and now. I know what he'll do first. He'll smile at me; I hope. Maybe he'll cry like he did last night, poor boy. He made me cry too but it has to happen. Ah, the craft of crying. I can't stay here forever, as much as I'd like to. Here with him. It's funny how you can learn from the kids. Raf always says that. You learn as much from them as they learn from you. I've certainly learnt from Kirit.

Kirit's awake now as we continue to hold each other. He's very nicely awake too. His mouth is quite fascinating as I look hard at it, in all its fullness and firmness, just as Simon's is, or rather was, the moist surface reflecting the early morning light, his eyes dark and smiling, his hair falling away behind his head as I run my fingers through those silky strands of lovliness. I ought to get out of bed now, shower or something, be distracted by small things, and get to a place of safety. Kirit can lie there for as long as he wants to, or needs to. But I can't.

'You're a sweet boy. You always will be. Raphael will look after you. You do believe that don't you?'

It was the first thing we had to do in English. Learn a poem; two in fact. It was called Horatius, but we only had to learn the first two verses thank goodness. It's a very long poem. The second one, somewhat later due to it's connotations, was by Christina Rossetti, the sister of Dante Gabriel, the painter. Miss Me But Let Me Go. It's rather funereal. I told Kirit about it.

'Miss me a little, but not too long. And not with your head bowed low. Remember the love that we once shared……….'

I hesitate, because I can't speak now. I just can't say it. I can't say those words again.

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Omnia Vincit Amor

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 7

Goodbyes