THE HEART OF OSKAR PRINZ
‘Sir, Ricky just put his hand on my knee.’
‘Did not! Don’t listen to him, sir!’
The class tittered at the cheap insult. Will seethed briefly before mastering himself and heaving an internal sigh.
‘Jake, Ricky!’ His voice cracked out sharply. ‘That’s enough! Leave your romantic life, or lack of it, for the playground.’
‘But sir …’
‘You were supposed to be looking at the Ten Commandments, if I’m right, and deciding which are relevant today. Yes?’
‘Yes, but …’
‘Yes but nothing. Try this one for size: Thou shalt not disrupt my class or thy days will not be long in the land.’
Quiet descended over Will’s room. He taught Year 7 Religious Education on Monday mornings. He was not finding it an easy start to the week, especially after this particular weekend. Concentration was difficult, for he was in a state not too far distant from what some might consider to be love, though ‘in lust’ would be nearer the truth.
He was a good teacher, interesting and organised, with – in general – an effortless control over his students. His first year in schools had had one or two rough patches, but now he was in his second year and knew the job. Things would have been well in hand were his fascination with the Rothenian boy from the DVD not disturbing his equilibrium. The kids maybe sensed it, in the way kids do, homing in on any weakness as if by instinct. It was a relief when the lesson bell went without further incident.
This was Will’s precious free period. He gathered up some marking, locked his door and sought the staff room, where one or two colleagues were scattered around. He made a coffee and took up a table. But he knew grading work was not going to be easy. His mind kept wandering off to graphic scenes of oral and anal sex playing and replaying in his head. He had seen the Rothenian boy doing every sexual act he could imagine, as well as some he almost couldn’t.
Cover Boy's perfect body had been a trampoline for another twink. He had smiled round the other’s erection, then engaged in banal chitchat in a beautiful, soft foreign language, translated in subtitles, while his superb arse was penetrated by fingers and a cock. How could such a body and – yes – such an intelligent-looking man get caught up in the porn industry?
Will had a name for his new obsession – for Matthew White was now well and truly laid aside. On the sleeve, the Rothenian was credited as ‘Marc Bennett’. He realised that was a ‘nom de porn’, but it was a start. Just as with Matt White, he had this frustrated need to engage with more than merely the face and body of this gorgeous creature. He had to know every detail. Where did the Rothenian live? How did he get into porn? Was he as bright as he looked?
A metasearch on the Web turned up very little other than a couple more titles and calendars in which ‘Marc Bennett’ was a star. A brief pseudo-biography mentioned only the barest statistics: six feet tall, blue eyes, Capricorn, born in Rothenia. That was it. About my size, Will thought, although they perhaps had little else in common. He gritted his teeth, trying to blot out that smiling face and soft voice talking, panting in sexual congress. He began making ticks on the pages of Class 8E’s exercise books, although he wasn’t actually reading them. He corrected the odd spelling error, just to make it look as though he had taken them in. Eventually he finished the pile and stretched.
A female voice from across the room enquired, ‘Good weekend, Will?’
‘Went up to London Saturday, Mary, but didn’t do much other than wander round.’
‘I was in town too. If I’d known, we could have met up.’
‘Sorry, Mary. I just wanted to do the bookshops. Oh well, maybe another time.’
Mary Andrews, German and French, smiled a little regretfully and nodded. Will caught signals that Mary, who had joined the school the same time as he, was interested in him. A shame, of course. She was quite pretty, but they would never be a couple, even though the older staff seemed to imagine that a romance was inevitable.
Will took his coffee over to the first-floor window and looked out across the fields of Berkshire to the dramatically steaming chimneys of Didcot power station on the far horizon. Whithampsted was a small market town with one secondary school, called Whithampsted Grammar as a nod to its distinguished history, although it was in fact a comprehensive. Still, it was a successful one with a good head teacher, and sent half a dozen youngsters every year to Oxford and Cambridge. He ought to have been happy in this school, Will thought, for he already sensed that kids and colleagues alike approved of him. But he was not happy. The issue of his concealed sexuality taunted him and forced him into self-imposed isolation. He could not get close to his younger male colleagues and usually did not join their drinks nights and clubbing in Oxford and Reading. He found it hard to fake the heterosexual rutting instinct.
But one recent night out with the lads, which had ended up with them all watching straight porn in a state of dazed inebriation, had given him the idea that had led him to the cellars of Soho. Now he could stay at home and wank, and he had the beginnings of a suitable porn collection to wank to.
* * *
By Thursday, Will had more or less masturbated himself into a sexual stupor. Every detail of Rothenian Boys 7 was imprinted on his brain, even the bits without Marc Bennett. He wanted more, which faintly alarmed him, because he knew porn was addictive. Unfortunately, between rent, student debt, credit agreements and travel, he did not have a huge amount of money left to distribute to the benefit of the seedier end of the capitalist system.
Totally drained after a full day’s timetable, he sagged into unconsciousness as soon as he got home to his little rented flat above the newsagents in High Street. He was drooling when he abruptly awoke at half six. The TV was still on but muted. He changed out of his suit before microwaving some pizza.
Having sated his hunger, he showered and afterwards checked his dick, which was showing the signs of too much recent dry friction. He washed and soaped his inflamed foreskin, all the while gazing sheepishly at himself in the mirror. Brown, slightly anxious eyes stared back at him. Yet there was no particular need for physical embarrassment. He was a slim and by no means unpleasing man, pale skinned, and hairless on his upper body. He was not a hunk, maybe, but he had worked out and run as a student, if not recently. He had powerful legs and firm pectoral muscles. Since starting teaching he had grown his thick dark hair over his ears. He thought it looked good and had been idiotically pleased to find it curled at his nape, just like Matt White’s did.
Although perpetually lacking in social confidence, Will at least believed he was reasonably attractive – or would be if he could lose the air of uncertainty that was a direct result, he felt, of living his concealed gay life.
At seven-thirty he left for choir practice. One of his few regular social evenings was with the choir of the parish church of St Mary. The church had an ambitious Director of Music and a long tradition of choral excellence, so it attracted many of the local musicians and had full benches of boy choristers, several of them Will’s pupils. It sang choral evensong and full Eucharistic settings; the church was also a favourite for local weddings. Will, a pretty fine tenor, had participated in choirs since beginning university. He had been delighted to find that Whithampsted offered such an opportunity, while the choir in turn was delighted to receive a young and accomplished singer at a time when the number of male participants was dropping and true tenor voices were less common.
Upon reaching the vestry, he found rehearsal had already begun. He slid in next to Harry Baxter, one of the other two regular tenors, who gave him a swift grin. Will caught up with the score: ‘O Thou the Central Orb,’ just as it reached the final ascending bars. He and Harry lifted their voices in perfect sync above the rest of the choir, enjoying the glorious line for all it was worth.
The director cast a wry look at the pair as the anthem finished. ‘Nice. But a little less tenor next time, please, gentlemen.’
They sniggered. Like all tenors, they knew they usually had the best and most high-profile lines, and they hammed it up to the hilt.
By the end of practice, Will was thoroughly euphoric. It was a better high than any alcoholic or chemical substance had ever given him in his student days. Harry and he were riotous on the back row and were beginning to annoy the neighbouring altos.
Harry Baxter was a youngish solicitor working in a practice in Didcot, though he lived near Whithampsted. Will had got the idea that he was from a local family and that his father had been a solicitor before him. He was single, but the choir ladies thought he had a girlfriend in London. He certainly travelled a lot. He and Will adjourned with the basses and a few of the ladies to the Feathers opposite the church.
Three beers maintained Will’s sense of euphoria. Harry too seemed exceptionally jolly, and his scurrilous Whithampsted stories had the bar roaring. There was nobody to match a local solicitor in salacious and risky gossip. At ten o’clock people began drifting away, leaving Will for once reluctant to have the evening end. When he and Harry were the only ones left, he surprised himself by offering his colleague a whisky at his flat, a few doors down. Harry happily agreed.
It was as Will pushed open the flat door that he finally remembered what had been nagging at the corner of his memory for an hour. There in the centre of his lounge coffee table, in all its glory, lay his copy of Gay Universe. Overwhelmed with shock, he pushed in front of Harry and shifted a pile of exercise books on top of it in the guise of clearing the sofa. They didn’t hide it, but he hoped they obscured enough of the cover so it could be any glossy magazine.
Will recovered his poise, if not his euphoria, and poured them drinks. Harry sat on the sofa with his feet up on the coffee table, while Will took the single armchair.
‘That was a good night,’ Will observed.
‘It was great,’ agreed Harry. ‘So, what did you think of the latest Gay Universe?’
The bottom dropped out of Will Vincent’s world. ‘Uhh … you saw it, then?’
‘Oh yeah,’ but Harry was smiling. ‘It’s OK, Will, I buy it too. I am likewise gay.’
Will caught his breath. ‘But you’re not out, are you?’
Harry laughed. ‘Out is a negotiable term, y’know. My parents are not aware of it, nor are the people I work with, even if they suspect. Not that I could care. But gay is as gay does. I’m queer when I want and need to be. “Out” is a patchy concept, for me at least.’
‘Wow!’ Will, impressed by that statement, looked with renewed attention at his friend. He reckoned Harry was barely past thirty, quite fit, with just a little thickening at the waist. He had crisp, well-tended blond hair and very well-selected casuals. He wasn’t that good looking, but money had given him a certain polish. A nicely manicured and successful solicitor, or a middle-class gay man: make your choice.
‘I thought you were gay too, Will. I saw you eye up that young guy in the front pew last Sunday.’
Will remembered: it had been Robert Franks, just completed A Levels and as hot and shy an eighteen-year-old as you could dream of. Will was certainly glad he hadn't had the boy in class, for he could never have concentrated on the subject with that sort of babe in front of him. In church or not, he had been undressing Robert in his mind, and it had been very disturbing, especially when the boy had met his gaze and held it.
Harry continued with a question. ‘Did you deliberately let me see your magazine?’
‘Er … no. If I did it was just subconscious, I suppose.’
Harry looked faintly disappointed. ‘You really are barricaded into the closet, aren’t you, Will?’
‘Just not ready to come out yet, I guess.’
‘So you’ve never done it with another man.’ It was a statement.
Will didn’t want to answer, although he’d never in fact had sex with anyone apart from his own hand. In school it had been too terrifying a thing to recognise his sexuality and act on it. In university he had not found a gay friend to be confident with, to help him out. So he kept silent, and was a little annoyed when a fleeting smile passed across Harry’s face.
‘Scuse me, I need a refill.’ He did, too. His heart was racing. How was he going to deal with this? He felt he ought to pledge Harry to an oath of silence. Didn’t doctors and lawyers have to keep things in confidence when asked?
As he put the bottle down, he knew Harry had come up behind him, for the man's strong aftershave reached out to alert him. An arm folded round his waist. His breath stopped. A hand lifted the hair at the nape of his neck and a soft kiss was planted where it had been. He froze. His hair was moved from over his right ear and lips nuzzled it, before a tongue licked at the lobe. Sexual desire boiled unwanted in his groin. He felt the bar of Harry’s erection pushed into his small rear.
It was decision time. Well, why not? He had to lose it sometime. Harry was at least experienced, or so Will guessed.
He turned in the older man’s arms, and found a face smiling provocatively into his. Inexpertly and clumsily he engaged with Harry’s lips, tasting the tang of whisky. In retaliation, Harry’s tongue forcefully took possession of his mouth, licking round inside it.
They broke contact. Harry gave him a very seductive look. ‘Mmm. Nice. You want to go the whole way?’
Will, for all his fear, nodded abruptly.
‘Good. You’re quite a babe, William Vincent, even if you don’t know it yet. And you’ve not done it before, have you?’
Keeping silent, not trusting his voice, Will shook his head. Harry looked at him, still smiling, and lifted off his polo shirt. Will raised his arms to help out. Harry inspected his bare torso with approval, then stroked his left nipple with a thumb, causing him to shudder slightly. Harry came closer, ran his hands down Will’s back and pushed below the waistband of his jeans, cupping a tight buttock. Will arched and groaned, feeling as if every vein and artery in his body had swelled. Probably they had.
‘Oh yeah,’ Harry crooned softly, ‘I want to hear more of that. Now, step out of your shoes, babe.’ He expertly unbuttoned and lowered Will’s jeans and pants, pulling the socks off with them. And there Will stood, quite naked for the first time with another man. He held Harry’s intense and appraising gaze. He felt his cock thicken and twitch under the frank stare.
Harry, his smile broadening, slipped off his own shirt and stepped out of his shoes and socks, then closed again with Will for a further exploration of his mouth. Will squirmed as the warm, tight flesh of their chests rubbed together, and his cock tensed between them. Harry’s hand was at his crack and a finger began probing him intimately and persistently, though not painfully. Will was suddenly anxious about the consequences of his decision to go ahead with this.
Harry broke off, but he took and gently fondled Will’s erection as they separated. Something exploded at the base of Will’s spine. ‘Relax, Will. I guarantee you’ll love it. It won’t be what you fear. Take my word for it. Now, have you got a lubricant?’
‘Er … no, not even a condom.’
‘Not to worry, I always carry one in my wallet. As for the lack of lubrication … well, I warn you that you may be sore afterwards down there. It’s not the best way to break an ass in.’
‘I believe in you, Harry. I … I want to trust you.’
Harry smiled kindly into his eyes. ‘Kid, you do say the sweetest things.’
It was that caring look that finally persuaded Will all would be well. ‘Let’s go for it then.’
Harry took Will’s hand and led him into the small bathroom. Catching sight of the herbal handwash, Harry muttered, ‘Faute de mieux, babe. Put your hands on the basin and separate your legs. We’ve got to open you up a bit, and it may take some time.’
Will realised that Harry had assumed control of him, but somehow he didn’t resent it. Harry ran some water, and squirted handwash from the dispenser. ‘Soap tends to burn inside you, Will. But this wash is going to be a lot milder. Let me know if it stings.’
Will felt slick fingers pull his buttocks apart. When they began rubbing his anal lips gently and tenderly, he arched and gave out a long ‘Oooh.’
‘Good, isn’t it?’
‘Aw yeah, it is.’
‘Enjoy it, kid. You’re going to get a lot of it.’
Will did. Harry spent plenty of time massaging his crack. He relaxed and revelled in the wonderful sensations coming from his arse. Every now and then a finger tip tested his anus and after a while he felt a whole finger enter him. Another man’s finger was in his bum! He could feel it moving. He tensed, but the slipperiness allowed Harry to slide into him easily and move about. Will liked it, a lot. After five minutes or so, he knew that two fingers were in him, stretching his anal muscles. Still it didn’t hurt, or at least not until three fingers probed him more insistently and deeply. He lifted on his toes.
‘Uncomfortable?’ came Harry’s voice from behind him.
‘A bit, but it’s a different feeling.’
‘You feel full?’
‘Yeah, full, and my arse wants to close up.’
‘Try pressing down, babe, as if you were crapping.’
‘What if I do crap?’
‘Can’t feel anything in there, Will. You must have been recently.’
Will thought about it. ‘This morning in school.’ The matter-of-fact nature of their conversation, himself naked in his bathroom with Harry’s fingers deep in his arse, was the oddest thing of all so far.
Harry got busy again. Soon he was moving his fingers in and out of Will quite easily. Will was loving the sensation, except for the fullness that was pressing on his bladder.
‘Can I pee?’
‘Do it in the sink, babe.’
Will complied, astonished by his sudden total lack of embarrassment at pissing in front of another man. A hot stream of yellow urine slightly relieved the anxiety of his stimulated prostate. He ran the water to get rid of it.
Harry rose behind him and kissed his neck again. ‘Stage two,’ he announced.
Leaving Will’s bum wet and slick, Harry led him to the sofa and got him on his knees on the floor in front of it, his upper chest resting on the cushion. Will bent low, sticking out his rear. Hearing Harry’s trousers fall to the floor, he guessed what was coming next. He had seen it happen to Marc Bennett.
A wet feeling of lapping began at his entry. He luxuriated in the sensation, but was intrigued by how muscular and insistent was Harry’s tongue. A sharp slap on his right buttock surprised him; it also surprised his anal muscles, which stood by stunned as three fingers shot into him deeper than ever.
‘Ow,’ he yelped, for there was pain now, even though it was not unbearable. The fingers flexed and turned in him, as the process of opening him up continued. A few minutes of it and the pain more or less passed.
‘Hang on a sec,’ Harry said. He disappeared and came back with Will’s shaving mirror. ‘Look down, kid.’
Will did, and saw the reflection of his wet anus as Harry pulled the buttocks apart. A black hole lay there, relaxed and open. ‘Now push down.’ Will did and the damned thing winked at him. Harry laughed, and after a moment Will did too.
Harry went back to licking and sucking on him, soon working down the perineum to Will’s hanging balls. Each was sucked individually and with devotion. Will realised with part of his mind that he was being educated by a master. He blessed his luck. Harry pulled Will’s now semi-erect cock towards him, and began suckling luxuriously on it. If Will hadn’t been wanking so much recently, he would have shot his load by then.
‘It’s time,’ Harry announced, kneeling up behind him. Will felt the head of the other man’s penis pressing at his entry. He desperately tried to stay relaxed, but his anus did not want to take Harry. Harry continued to probe, unhurried yet insistent. Will bit his lip when something caught and he felt his sphincter give. He yelped as Harry entered him. It really hurt, a sharp pain from which he could not escape.
Harry soothed him, whispering encouragement in his ear, waiting for Will to tell him the pain was fading. Will lied, and Harry renewed his onslaught. Will was almost sure he heard his tight anal ring squeak as Harry’s cock juddered forward. Again and again he pushed and paused, until his pubic bush was tickling Will’s buttocks. His warm abdomen lay against Will’s back as he held Will’s shoulders under the armpits.
‘You’re being fucked up the arse, Will,’ Harry gasped in his ear. ‘You’re a real queer now.’
Will gritted his teeth, for the pain was quite bad. He felt he was being carved open by a blunt knife. ‘Can you take it easy, Harry?’
‘Trust me babe. It’s time to go for it. It’ll get less, believe me.’
It didn’t. He was surprised, however, at how new sensations were taking over from the pain of being outrageously full of Harry, as Harry began to move rhythmically inside him. Small spasms of electricity seemed to emanate from his over-stimulated anal muscles.
Something weird was happening behind his hanging cock. He found he could ignore the pain of penetration and of the friction on his inner walls, helped along by occasional sharp slaps on his flanks. He remembered how the Rothenian boys had done it to each other, and now he thought he knew why. He heard himself making the same gasping pants and whining moans that Marc Bennett did when he was being fucked. Somehow that intensified his pleasure.
Harry’s hairy abdomen was slick with sweat on his back. He gasped when Harry finally gave a deep thrust into him, and held it. ‘Sit back on my lap as I move off you, Will.’
Will did, and found himself squatting above Harry, whose dick filled him up to the top of his rectum. Will burst out, ‘Aw, this is it! This is good!’ It was beyond good. He threw his head back onto his lover’s shoulder in abandon and ecstasy.
Harry kissed his cheek. ‘You’re a babe, Will. Just like I knew you’d be.’
‘Am I good?’
‘You’re tight, hot and fantastic. You’re loving this, and that makes it all worthwhile. Kid, you have real promise. The time you’ve wasted up till now, the good sex you could have had.’ Harry’s hands were exploring his chest and pubic region. Finally his fingers wrapped round Will’s half-erect penis.
Will looked down. ‘What’s that?’
Harry chuckled. ‘That’s your prostate telling you how much it likes what I’m doing to it. It’s your precum leaking out.’
‘But it doesn’t do that when I wank.’
‘You’re the sort who needs the extra anal stimulation, Will. If we can get you excited enough you might squirt without help from your hand, though it may take a few times.’
‘I’d like that.’
‘I’m surprised you haven’t come already.’
‘Er … I’ve been wanking a lot lately.’
‘How did you know?’
‘I checked out your DVD player. Tell you what. Let’s put it on now.’
Will was reluctant. ‘No. Some other time, maybe.’ He found himself strangely unwilling to share his fantasies about Marc Bennett. Odd, because there could be no sexual barriers between him and Harry Baxter anymore.
Harry chuckled. ‘OK then, babe. Let’s go for closure, like the good lawyer I am.’ He pushed up with his groin. Will moved up with him, back on to the sofa. Harry began beating faster and harder into him with serious thrusts that made him grunt and gasp louder and louder.
Harry too was gasping hard. Checking the tightness of Will’s balls he yelled, ‘Here we go!’
The hard wanking caused Will’s orgasm to boil up as, with a shout, he spurted five creditable pulses of sperm on to the sofa cushions. More trickled down Harry’s hand and dripped on to Will’s left thigh.
At the same time Harry began groaning and crying, letting Will know he was about to cum. Harry gave one long thrust that pushed them both off the sofa and flat on the floor, pinning him in the ecstasy of ejaculation.
‘Oh my God … my God! Will, you’re unbelievable! What a babe you are.’
Will gasped, sweat dripping in his eyes. ‘Thanks, Harry. You’re pretty fantastic yourself. Thanks for taking my virginity, and so nicely too.’
‘Literally, kid, it was my pleasure.’