The Under-Fifteens: by (c) Hamilton Joyce  mm

It had been one of those sunny Spring days more like Summer, and 
really too hot for rugby. I played on the wing for the under-fifteens, 
so I had not suffered as much as the labouring forwards. (The ball did 
not get out to the wing much in schools rugby, not enough passing 
skills. But if I got it I had the speed to score as often as not. I was a 
slender boy, lightly built, but very fast in the sprint. I envied the 
forwards. I would have loved to have been very big and strong. And 
above all to have enjoyed their physical contact. I used to imagine my 
head tight between muscular thighs, my arms round hips and bums as 
the scrum bound tight.)

However, the showers were really welcome. We had played St 
Botulphs that Saturday, and both teams showered together. Thirty 
naked boys, and as I remember it only about a dozen shower heads. 
So there was a lot of pushing and shoving, playful, to get under the 
stream of hot water. I took the usual half-serious banter.

'Daisy's hard again as usual. Which of us do you fancy, Daisy?'

I loved the showers on Wednesday after games, and Saturdays after 
the match. But was half-afraid of them as I ALWAYS betrayed my 
sexuality by getting a hard-on. All those naked bodies! All those hard, 
athletic bums, and graceful cocks, some uncut, some still sporting the 
glorious foreskin I loved so much. So I was always teased like this. 
Lots of the boys got hard-ons in the showers occasionally. I always 
did. The only other boy like that was Barry Sims, but he was a wimp 
and never there on a Saturday.

'Leave him alone, Jacko. You'd have a boner if you hadn't been 
wanking all night. Bloody slow you were today. Shagged out I should 
think, jerking off.' Tom Rockwell, the Captain would always defend 
me. I had a thing for him even before we became lovers. He already, 
at fourteen had a man's muscular body and a big, big cock. He looked 
a bit like Rock Hudson with smouldering eyes, full lips, and wavy 
black hair. He was devastatingly handsome. I was, too, I guess, in a 
much prettier, blonde way.

The showers were supervised by our games master, Mr McPherson, 
who wandered about in his shorts. He would, I know, have loved to 
shower with the boys, but always waited till we had finished and 
gone. He had refereed the match, and would shower with the 
Botulph's master who had been one of his linesmen. McPherson (we 
called him Jock behind his back) was ex-army, Royal Marine 
Commandos, a hard little man, with a body as slight as mine, but like 
iron, and later I found out he had a beautiful, springy cut cock, small 
but wonderfully hard, and erect for ages. A 'repeater' too. But that's 
another story. This narrative is about my first real sex.

Jock McPherson was a bit of a masochist. After our ten minutes or so 
of soapy hot water he would tell us to rinse off. Then he would warn 
us the cold was coming. He would push the lever from hot to cold 
with a flamboyant gesture and then count slowly to ten. He must have 
enjoyed watching the boys leap about and scream, their cocks waving 
in the cold, clear stream, arms and legs flailing. Like watching thirty 
boys coming all at once! 

We knew if he saw anyone dodging the cold water he would name 
him, and add a few seconds up to fifteen perhaps. So we all had to 
crowd together under the dozen or so shower heads. I didn't like the 
cold water, of course, but oh boy, that naked contact like a group 
orgy! And I noticed Tom Rockwell would always be behind me, his 
body pressed against mine, as often as not his cock between my thighs 
or even in the crease of my arse. He was this time, as well, and held 
my hips as the icy water burned our hot skins, though my hard-on did 
not survive the arctic blast, and neither did his half-hard between my 
buttocks.

'Daisy!' (They called me Daisy because my name was Day, and also 
because I was a pretty boy, and later perhaps because I was reckoned 
'girly' in my sexual proclivities.) 'Daisy, you got some time after the 
match? There's somewhere I want to show you.' He was pulling his 
pants up over those tight white underpants I still dream about 
sometimes.

'For you, Tom, anytime,' I said only half-joking. I was even then an 
incurable flirt when with a handsome boy!

                                    ........................................................

It was an old sand-quarry, long abandoned and overgrown. There 
was a pool in the centre with lush, almost jungley vegetation. And 
hidden in the middle was an old Bedford box-van that someone must 
have pushed over the edge. It had landed the right way up. 

Tom Rockwell kicked at the rear doors, and one of them opened a 
couple of feet or so. Inside, in the gloom I could see a broken-backed 
red velvet sofa, a couple of matching armchairs, and two or three 
folded deck chairs. All stuff dumped by fly-tippers, I guess, but 
nonetheless welcome for all that. There was an untidy heap of 
magazines, and as my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, I could see 
naked figures on them. They were what we boys called 'wank books'.

'Here's where it all happens, Daisy.'

I still couldn't resist flirting. 'Oh, I do hope so Tom.'

I had a terrible crush on Tom Rockwell. I used to whistle Noel 
Coward's 'Mad About the Boy' to myself, and it was always Tom I 
was thinking of. So I had that suppressed excitement, that tightness in 
the chest, beating heart... and hard cock... you always get when a new 
lover is in prospect. Not a one-nighter, you understand, but a guy you 
really want, a boy you have a real yen for, someone you actually 
love!

He looked at me, part enquiring, part that smouldering, lustful look. I 
moved to him and put my hands on his shoulder, one palm each side 
of that strong neck. I looked into his eyes and repeated, 'I do hope so, 
Tom.' and moved my face towards him. He bent that inch or so 
forward and we were kissing. Most fourteen year old boys don't kiss. 
They are interested in their cocks, but haven't yet learned the other 
pleasures. Tom kissed wonderfully. He had, of course, been 
practising with girls (I said he was stunningly attractive, and always 
had a lovely girl somewhere near. Except now, all he had was the 
pretty-boy, Daisy). Instinctively I caressed him, running my hands 
over his back, his arse, his hips, as I ground my belly into his. His 
tongue in my mouth, mine in his. And I could feel his cock, hard now 
against mine).

'I'm so randy, Tom.'

'Me too, Daisy.'

We fell backwards onto the couch. I was surprised at how low it was 
as I sunk into the velvet and broken springs. I was holding his cock 
now through the light cotton trousers he wore. He rubbed at mine, as 
we kissed again. I unzipped him. The first guy I ever did that now-
familiar gesture to! His cock seemed huge inside his cotton y-fronts. 
He had his hand down my waistband and was fumbling with the zip 
with his other hand.

I broke off from kissing. 'Let's strip off, Tom. I love to see you in the 
showers. I'm always looking.'

'I know Daisy. I like that. And I like seeing you too. Did you feel me 
in the showers today?'

' Behind me. Yes!' We had pulled our shirts up over our heads. I had 
kicked off my shoes, and now I was naked. And so was he. I should 
describe his body to you, and you will see why I was infatuated. I told 
you he had Rock Hudson's smouldering good-looks, but unlike that 
Hollywood hero of mine, his body was just beginning to be hairy. 
Very hairy for a young teenager. I wonder what it would look like as 
fully adult. Ever since then I have admired, and sought out, men with 
strong muscular bodies and masses of hair. He was my first. As we 
kissed again, I was stroking his hard belly, tip-touching the tiny crisp 
curls. Then his chest, finding hard nipples under the fine hair, 
caressing and squeezing his muscled tits.

And his hands were all over my body, too. I felt him exploring my 
back and buttocks, my thighs, my shoulders, and always his tongue in 
my mouth. 

On an impulse, without thinking and as if it was the most natural, 
inevitable action, I was on my knees in front of  him, my arms around 
his hips. I crushed my face into that hard, six-pack belly, feeling a 
man's hair against my cheek for the first time.

Can you remember the first time you took a knob into your mouth. I 
hope like me it was a boy you admired, respected, even in my case 
loved. If you were that lucky, then, like me, every detail of the 
moment will be imprinted on your mind for ever. I can recall the 
thrush singing in a tree close by, the smell of rust from the old van 
and the musty smell of the sofa. But most of all I recall the way 
Tom's legs stiffened and straightened in his pleasure as the knob 
slipped into my mouth. I heard him groan as I allowed the full length 
to penetrate until my nose touched his belly. I had my arms right 
around him, and could feel that lovely hair in the crease of his 
buttocks.

I had heard of "cock-sucking", but swear I started without any 
thought. It was just what I wanted to do at that instant. It had started 
as a desire to kiss that wonderful masculinity, and then what 
happened just happened. Thank goodness! Again untaught, I was 
gobbling at it as my head bobbed up and down. I could hear My Idol 
murmuring his pleasure as his shaft slipped in and out my lips. I 
managed to flicker my tongue along the most sensitive part, and to 
suck, cheeks hollowed. Then he was holding my head with both 
hands, fixing my rhythm in time with his own needs. 

He groaned, and my mouth was filled with his cum. I loved it, and 
swallowed each separate spurt. None escaped me.

He was still now, and I let his still-oozing cock rest in my mouth as it 
gradually went half-hard and then limp. I got up and sat beside him 
on the sofa.

He did nothing for me. He never did in those two years of school 
before he went away. Once satisfied, he lost interest in my body, my 
mouth, my cock. 

Then the door was kicked open again. Shit! It was Robbo, one of the 
guys who would tease me in the showers.

'Fuckin ell! That's a nice sight I should say! You fuck her, Tom?'

'In the mouth, Robbo. She's good. Better'n a wank.'

'You've a nice, smooth arse, Daisy.' He sat heavily on the sofa, so I 
was squashed between the two of them. I still had my hard-on. 'Show 
me your arse, properly.'

He half-pushed, half-lifted me so I was standing in front of them. 
Then he turned me round so my back was to them. I felt his hands 
caressing my buttocks, squeezing them, parting them to reveal my 
secret pace. 'Nice! No hair, just like I thought.' I felt his cheek 
against my arse, and then his chin between my parted cheeks. He was 
beginning to be hairy, like Tom, though not so covered, and had to 
shave. I could feel the bristles left from shaving. He kissed my 
arsehole, and then was licking it. It was a new, wonderful sensation. I 
leaned forward, my hands on my knees, so he could get at me easier.

'She loves it, Tom. Look at the bitch! Likes having her pussy sucked.' 

I gave a little squeak as that probing tongue finally penetrated my 
virgin anus. That, too, was delightful. I pushed back onto it to get 
even more. It was flicking in and out, and round and round now. He 
reached under and round me and held my cock. I thought I could 
come. But I held it back.

A sudden shock. 'Jesus! Robbo. What the fuck's that?'

'That, Daisy, is my finger in your pussy. And that...' I gave another 
squeal..  'And that is two fingers.' 

I bent further forward, and felt his fingers sliding in and out, three 
hands caressing my thighs, buttocks and lower back.

'I'm going to fuck her, Tom. Watch this.'

He turned me round and forced me to my knees again. I rested my 
head in Tom's crotch. His cock was half hard again, and I slipped the 
knob between my lips. Robbo, behind me now, and kneeling as well, 
was parting my buttocks with both palms, and slurping spit into my 
anus. Then I felt his knob slipping up and down my crack, looking for 
its entrance.

I wish it had been someone I loved who had taken my virginity. Tom, 
or Jock McPherson or one of my later sweethearts. But Robbo was 
just another cock, and I felt nothing for him really. Nice enough guy, 
but not one to make my heart race. Still, he knew what he was doing.

Tom's cock was stiffening in my mouth. I love that feeling when the 
cock you are sucking goes from limp to steely strong between your 
lips. I hardly noticed when the knob slid into my arse, so well had 
Robbo prepared me. And then the full, warm feeling as his shaft sunk 
deeper, deeper, deeper into me, till I felt his thighs against my 
buttocks and I knew I had taken his full length.

I wish I could say my first fuck was a wonderful, liberating 
experience. The best was that moment of penetration. In fact, It only 
took Robbo four thrusts before he was spunking inside me. He pulled 
out immediately he had come, and gave me a playful slap across my 
buttocks.

'You've got a nice arse, Daisy. Fuckin' 'ell, I needed that.'

Worse still, Tom pulled his cock from my mouth. Once was enough 
for him. They were dressing, and they left me naked, hard, 
unsatisfied.

                                                ................................................

The word soon got around as the boys boasted, and soon most of the 
team had had me. Only a couple of boys fucked me, though, as most 
just wanted me to suck them off. That summer I was swimming in 
cum! But still I did not know how good being fucked in the arse could 
be. Those young lads all came much too quick!

It must have been about a month after that first of many sessions in 
the old box-van that I finally learned. It happened like this.

In the last week of the school year the teachers were mostly busy 
with marking exam papers and doing the reports, so the boys were 
given leave to read or chat. As long as we were not rowdy  we had 
the freedom of the school compound. Robbo took me into the 
cupboard at the back of the gymnasium, where vaulting horses and 
other equipment was stored. He had me bent over one of these, my 
shorts around my ankles, and his cock between my buttocks.

He had just penetrated me when the door opened. It shut almost as 
quickly.

'Fuck! Who was that?'

His cock had gone limp, and he was buttoning his flies hurriedly. I 
was pulling my shorts up in a panic.

'That was Jock McPherson.'

'Shit!'

                                                ..................................................

It was late afternoon the same day that Jock McPherson caught up 
with me. I had been keeping my head down, waiting for the blessed 
release of the school bell at four o'clock.

'You boy! Day! My office. Now!'

His office was behind the gym, next door to the storeroom where I 
had been caught. I thought it odd the way he clicked the yale lock 
behind him.

He stood facing me. He was not much taller than me, but looked very 
tough in his white sleeveless singlet and tight white shorts. Despite my 
near panic I could not help noticing his bulging biceps, with their 
traditional heart and dagger tattoo, and the golden hair on his 
forearms. The same beautiful golden haze over his thighs, which were 
nearly too big for the tight shorts. He put an arm on my shoulder, still 
facing me. He was looking into my eyes. I found I could not hold his 
gaze, and, ashamed, looked down at my feet. He was talking, but for 
a second I was hardly aware.

'Day. The boys call you Daisy, don't they?'

I nodded.

'Then here, today I will too. Daisy, you know what I saw this 
morning, in the store?'

I nodded.

'First, was it willing? Or was Robinson forcing you to do something 
you didn't want?'

'He wasn't forcing me, sir.'

'So you like that, do you, Daisy? You like having a cock in you?'

'It's all right.'

'Look at me when you speak.' He had his other hand on me now, a 
hand on each shoulder. 'Do you like it?'

I looked him in the eyes, and saw a sort of smile there, a shared 
secret. And in that moment I knew! 'It's all right. But I never get to 
come.'

'That's the trouble with boys! They come too quick, and they're 
selfish. Do you kiss?'

'Oh yes, sir.'

And his arms were around me, his mouth on mine. He was more 
passionate even than Tom. Most of the boys would not kiss, so I had 
not a great deal of experience. But this was good, as his lips parted, 
mine too, and our tongues played together. Then I felt his hand on my 
cock. I was hard, all that panic evaporated now. I felt down for his, 
between us, and he was hard, too. I found I could slip my hand down 
the elasticated waistband of his gym shorts, and combed my fingers 
through his hair. Then I grasped his cock. He still had hold of mine 
through my light cotton trousers. But he was undoing my shirt 
buttons.

I've always had sensitive nipples and like to have them fingered or 
kissed by a lover. So I was in raptures when he bent to suck first one 
and then the other. I stroked the back of his neck with my free hand. 
My other hand cupped his balls, cradling them, feeling their shape 
and weight. I stroked behind them, where it's hard and muscled, 
between arsehole and balls. He groaned in pleasure.  

'Shall I show you how it should be, Daisy. Shall I show you how good 
it can be?'

'Please.  O yes, please, Sir.'

And this time it really was good.

There was a section of rubber, padded gym mat along one wall of his 
office; we stripped and I lay down on this. He slipped a cushion from 
his desk chair under my arse, and stood over me.
I was in ecstasy, seeing that he was admiring me just as I was 
admiring him. As I looked up his balls and erect cock were so manly!

He went over to the cupboard where he kept the first aid stuff for 
minor sports injuries. He was holding a plastic bottle with a spray 
nozzle. 

'Baby oil. Nothing I know better than this.' He placed it beside me, 
and lay down with me. I was completely submissive now. I would let 
him do whatever he wanted. Willingly, even eagerly looking forward 
to giving him pleasure. (I still did not expect to get much pleasure 
myself!). 

He raised my legs so my arse was naked and open to him, and I felt 
his rough cheeks between my own smooth, tender cheeks. Then his 
tongue licking round my anus, and penetrating. Even at this he was 
more skilled than Robbo, the only other person who had rimmed me. 
he slipped it in and out in a circular motion. And I loved it. 

He reached for the bottle, and sprayed oil on me. I felt his finger 
spread it over me, and then slip into me. A pause, and then what must 
have been two fingers. He was gently finger-fucking me, but 
sometimes he would stop and stroke me deep inside with his index 
finger. This was best, and I thought I could come just with that! I did 
not want to, though. Not yet! 

'You're ready, Daisy!'

'Please, sir. Please ..... Jock.'

I looked up at him. The golden hairs I had loved so much on his arms 
and legs, became a rich reddish gold on his chest and round his cock.  
He was not massively muscled, but his whole body seemed to have a 
springy, wiry strength to it. And so did his cock. It was normal sized 
(I'd seen a lot of cocks by then, and knew.) But it was very elegant, 
beautiful even. It was not straight, but arced upwards like a strung 
log-bow. He was cut, and I longed to suck that helmet. Later!

My legs were on his shoulders now, and I felt him place his knob.

'That's right, sir. Just there. That's exactly right.' 

As usual, the pain was momentary as he pushed and the knob entered 
my anus.
I tried to raise my head to look down, to watch it go in. But with my 
arse on the cushion I could not see. But I felt it slide right up me, and 
then the hairs of his thighs on my own smoother skin. It rested there a 
moment, and then he was fucking me with long, slow sweeps. 
Sometimes the knob would almost come out, and I had the feel of 
penetration again, this time without pain. I was stroking my cock 
between us, and with my other hand combing through his chest hair, 
and fondling his nipples. His muscular pecs were almost like breasts, 
but I banished that thought!

He was resting on his elbows. to keep his weight off me and to allow 
me room to jerk. I began to feel, for the first time, something 
different in my arse. I now know he had positioned himself so that 
lovely curve in his cock meant my prostate was being stimulated, 
rubbed by his knob with each thrust. But for the first time I was 
getting pleasure from being fucked. I suddenly realised I was in 
love!!! 

I reached up with both arms and pulled him down on me so we could 
kiss. It was a long and wet kiss, all lips and tongues. His cock rested 
motionless deep inside me. Then he was on his elbows again, and 
fucking me harder and faster now. I was on the verge of coming.

'Don't come yet, Daisy. Enjoy it first.'

But he was close as well, and was labouring really hard at me. For a 
really good fuck you need a super-fit athlete! And that is what he 
was. He was not sweating, but his face was getting redder, and he was 
murmuring, 'Yes, yes, yes.' and telling me how good I was, what a 
good little fuck. It was all very exciting for me, and I dare not touch 
my cock. I felt one last stroke would surely make me come.

His cock was thrusting powerful and fast, and then I knew he was 
coming. His face contorted into that grimace almost of pain, but 
wholly of pleasure, as they come in your arse. I stroked my cock, and 
my spunk flew in the air, splattering my chest and even onto my chin. 
I could feel him coming in me, spurt after spurt, as I too spunked. 
Finally all I had was an ooze from the eye of my cock, and he had 
finished too. We lay together, embracing, kissing, my spunk sticky 
between our two bodies.

My arse expelled his cock. It did it by itself, without me. But that was 
a signal for him.

'We'd better shower. I've got a shower room over there.  

                                              .............................................

It was a good shower, hot needles of water.

'Was that good for you, Daisy?'

'Oh, yes, sir.'

'Me too. I've seen you so often in the showers. seen your lovely 
cock, so hard and eager.'

'Not now!'

I found the soap and started on his shoulders and chest. The delightful 
thing about showering with a friend is that you can touch and caress 
every part of his body. My hands slid over his chest and hard nipples, 
down over his belly, and under to his balls, and over his cock. He 
turned round, and I soaped his back, down to his buttocks, and into 
the crease, my fingers running across his anus.

I knelt in front of him, and as the water streamed down, washing the 
foam from his prick, arced and soft now, I kissed his balls. then I took 
his cock in my mouth. He held my  head between his two palms, and 
leaned back against the wall of the shower. I had the pleasure of 
feeling his cock harden in my mouth till it was fully-erect. I gobbled 
on it, sucking, and slipping it in and out. He groaned his pleasure. My 
hands held his hips, sometimes sliding behind to feel his hard, very 
muscular little arse.

Arms under my shoulders, he raised me to my feet. It was mostly 
from behind he soaped me, and I delighted in the feel of his hands 
sliding over my arse and back, slipping into my crack, reaching 
underneath and soaping my balls and cock. Then his arms were 
around me, fondling my nipples and holding my (still limp) cock. I 
could feel his hard prick between my cheeks, probing for my hole.

'Daisy, do you want me in your mouth or in your bottom?'

'I'd love you to come in my mouth, sir. But I want to feel you up me 
again, please.'

The knob slid in through the soap-suds. and I was feeling that fullness 
and warmth again. I braced my arms against the wall and jutted my 
arse out further for even greater penetration. There had been no pain 
at all this time, only pleasure. I expect he had opened me up very 
thoroughly on that mat earlier. I felt my cock getting hard, and took 
one hand from the tiles to jerk it as he shagged me. My hand slid up 
and down in the streaming water, and he went at me harder and 
harder. Then, his thighs crashing and slapping against my arse, I knew 
he was coming. We came together.

                                               ...............................................

It became almost a routine. I still sucked a lot of boys and was fucked 
by a dozen or so of them, but he became my main lover. We fell into 
a routine. Nearly every afternoon after school I would go to his 
office and he would have me either in the mouth or arse. Then we 
would spend an hour or so in the gym, and then the shower, where he 
would fuck me again. Most of the boys knew what was going on, and 
it is a testament to his popularity (and, I guess mine too) that no word 
ever reached the other staff. This went on for two years, by which 
time all those sessions in the gym had given me a body I could be 
proud of. And an educated arsehole!

It finally ended in the winter of 1991, when the first Gulf War 
started. He was a reservist still, and was recalled to the colours as 
soon as the war broke out. Our last night before he left was an 
enduring memory. My parents had given me permission to see him 
off. As two lovers we had a meal together, and back to a hotel, where 
we sucked and fucked until we finally fell asleep together. and in the 
morning he had me in the shower in the old way. I last saw him as he 
waved from the window, his train leaving Waterloo Station.

Jock McPherson was killed the first day of our invasion of Iraq, his 
jeep bombed by one of our own planes. "Blue on blue" the military 
call it. At his memorial service a month later I wept.

                                               ................................................