by Paul Penn
Part One - The Casting and The First Rehearsal
Oggy (Matthew Ogden) was a quiet but popular Sixth Former. His eyes were bright blue. His mixed race mother and white father meant that he had skin that suggested an endless tan. Always looking as if it should be trimmed, his dark hair was always tousled. He had strong masculine features to accommodate the blue eyes and his fleshy lips, when grinning, revealed a great set of teeth. He was a looker, that’s for sure, attracting attention from his calm and friendly personality as much as from his striking face.
He had been 6 foot 2 inches since the age of 14 and was the tallest in the northern college he attended. Maybe it was because he had been tall from a relatively young age that Matthew seemed so humble; maybe he wanted to avoid being the centre of attention. Of course in mid-teens he was nicknamed “Lanky” and “Lofty” but as other boys began to catch up (though not over-take him) the nicknames gave way to admiration and hero-worship and his surname produced his current boy-cool nickname. When he walked into a dressing room someone would shout “Oggy, Oggy, Oggy!” and everyone would roar “Oi, Oi, Oi!” (Usually repeated three times.) That football-style cry meant that Matthew had a tribal chant to accompany his entrances in secondary school – and consequently he was “a legend,” all the more because this shouting was for a pleasant, affable lad who was as gentle as a lamb. On hearing his “war cry”, Oggy would give a goofy grin, shake his head and blush into his dusky cheeks.
At the Sacred Heart Catholic College in Wakefield he took A-Level courses in Business Studies (to further what he hoped would be his future career), Mathematics (because he excelled at it), English (because he liked reading) and Drama (because he thought it would be easy and there wouldn’t be any written work.) By the end of his first year of study, he struggled to stay interested in Business Studies because the teachers did little other than dictate case studies; he was sailing through Mathematics on auto-pilot; he was keeping up with English and mostly enjoying it, but the course that he had underestimated, Drama, was turning out to be the one where he was consistently top of the class, particularly in written essays.
That’s where I come in.
Me. Dan Lynch. Or Daniel as my parents and priest called me. Or Wickle-Danny-Wanny as I was called in primary and secondary school.
I had been desperate to get people to call me Dan from my first day in the College. (I even half-hoped “Dan The Man” would catch on.) But the students who came from the same primary and secondary school as me knew about the nickname Wickle-Danny-Wanny and, as students do, thought it was funny to keep it going as long as possible. I was not unpopular. I had just always been on the small side.
Under 5 foot right to the end of secondary school with a growth spurt between 16 and 17 so I was now 5 foot 5 inches and seemingly never going to change. Added to the height issue was my delay in puberty. When curly pubic hair started sprouting in the showers at school and shaving became an activity to brag about, my body still resembled a child’s body so Wickle-Danny-Wanny sometimes became Wickle-Wiener-Wanny or Wickle-Willy.
Luckily I was confident enough to (pretend to) not give a shit. So on the surface I was small but uppity. I usually cracked a joke before anyone else could, as part of my defensive strategy. So I would strut into the steaming showers at school and call out “Any paedos who like looking at little boys, get a load of this….!” And proceeded to shake my tiny hairless cock and smooth marbles. The guffaws and cat-calls would be short-lived and laced with boyish banter. And I was left alone.
But inside I was painfully sad.
I’m sure you can see where this is going. Yes, I am going to tell you how I got it on with Matthew Ogden, the prize bull of the Sacred Heart, the champion stud, the thoroughbred stallion. But how? Why? How and why would a demi-god whose every cell blazoned “MAN” pay attention to a weedy specimen struggling to be taken seriously? How did “Lofty” and “Wickle Willy” become the untouchable item “Oggy and Puck”?
Reader, this is how it happened.
I was gay. I knew I was gay. I had known from around the age of 7 when I became obsessive about Any Dream Will Do, the search for a Joseph for Andrew Lloyd Webber hosted by Graham Norton. My first inkling came with a conversation that went something like this:
Mum: I love Graham Norton
Dad: His type’s taking over TV.
Me: What type’s that?
Older Brother Cal: God, you dork, you’re so stupid.
Mum: Callum! Leave your brother alone.
Dad: Forget I said it.
Mum: Yes we will. Let’s forget your bigotry and ignorance!
Cal: Steady on, Mum
Me: Well I like Graham Norton just like Mum does. I wish he was my brother instead of you.
Cal: You wouldn’t wish he was your brother in the middle of the night when he.…
Mum: Shut up the pair of you! (to my dad) See what you started with your comments.
Me: When he what? (I thought: Graham’s so friendly and smiley.) He wouldn’t pick on me! (continuing to think, not daring to say any of this out loud: He’d be a brilliant brother, or uncle, or dad. As for Ben Ellis….)
There was a photograph printed in the newspaper at that time of the final four Josephs in a cage in their Egyptian slave loin cloths ready to sing Close Every Door To Me and I desperately wanted to be the contestant Ben Ellis with his slightly tubby torso and hairy legs. What I wouldn’t have given for hairy legs?! And when I wasn’t imagining me being Ben, I imagined him sitting on me in bed and tickling me (a very vague idea, I know, but then I was 7.)
In that same photograph Lee Mead who went on to win, looks a bit like Oggy, the stud who prompted this memoir. In that picture – I think you can still find it on the internet – imagine Lee Mead has a darker skin tone and fuller lips and blue eyes – and then you have Matthew Ogden. The hair and smile is identical. Oggy’s taller, though.
I picked up – as all boys do – hopefully decreasingly – the idea that being gay was not something to broadcast and I had to content myself with snatching glances at boy band dance routines on TV, shirtless actors at the cinema and shower room glances in school after Games and PE. I never wanted to do anything to anyone or with anyone until the final year of secondary school when the testosterone finally started leaking into my system and the usual embarrassment of voice-break, arm-pit hair and sudden erection syndrome accompanied the need for longer trousers (finally!) But by then everyone was self-conscious and studiedly heterosexual (or pretending to be) so I battened down the hatches and thought I would keep quiet and wait until college.
Students arrived at Sacred Heart Catholic College from separate schools so I didn’t know Matthew Ogden personally but he stood out from Day One because of his height and also because of his shining gorgeousness. During the first week of induction I ogled Oggy from afar, believing him to be an Olympian deity well out of my reach, and I scanned the crowds looking for a soul-mate, boyfriend, fuck-buddy, hell, I’d take anyone for anything….
Could my new bestie be among the eating disorderlies, the geeks, Goths or Greens? the hip-hoppers, hippies, or hipsters? the intellectuals, jocks, poets or punks? the ravers, skunk-heads, stoners, techies or toffs? Maybe I drew blanks when trying to make friends because I was so short…. I just couldn’t form any meaningful bonds without resorting to one-liners. I think my peers had outgrown me in maturity as well as physical development. No-one wanted to hang around with a young-looking kid. I gave up eye-cruising and decided to simply hang out with the people doing my courses and get through the two years with my head down.
So what did I take for my Advanced course of study? Information Technology (yes, Computer Science for dummies), Design Technology (yes, woodwork and metalwork without touching wood or metal), Art and Design (Textiles) (yes, brackets included in the course title for the niche aspect of what in a past life would have been called Sewing, Needlework or Embroidery….) and….. Drama. With Oggy.
Now there are a few different ways of studying Drama after the age of 16 in the UK, but the one chosen by my college was the one that involved writing essays under exam conditions for over half of the assessment. (The one most valued by universities who could be bothered to learn about the differences.) And you remember that Matthew was academically clever and I was socially cocky? He could do the essays but was a bit lame in the practical sessions; I could shine and show-off in the practicals but couldn’t write an essay for toffee. Matthew thought Drama would be a doddle and it turned out to be just as demanding academically as his other subjects; for me, apart from the practical work, it was the hardest thing I’d ever done.
Then in March, just before the Easter break:
“Hey, Dan, have you seen the cast list for Midsummer Night’s Dream?”
“No. What? Where? What?”
“Blimey, you look as if I’ve just shat on your shoe. They’ve put the cast list up. For the play we’re doing after the exams.”
“Am I in it?” (Oggy’s talking to me. He called me Dan. He said “we” – that must mean he’s in it too.)
“Course you’re in it,” laughed Oggy. “You’re the best actor here. Why wouldn’t you be in it?”
“I didn’t even know there was a play after the exams. I thought we all finished when exams were over.”
“Nah, the fuckers want us in college to keep up the attendance figures so we’ve all got to do enhancement shit. You need to tell the other course teachers that you’re in the play, in case they recruit you to fill up their quotas on pointless trips. It’s all supposed to make us rounded people. We get to put it on our university application forms.”
“I don’t think I’m going to uni.” (Keep him talking. Keep him looking at you. Those eyes. Sea blue. Mediterranean sea, not English channel. That hair. Like he’s just got out of bed. What does he wear in bed? What underpants does he have on? Is his crotch sweaty now?)
“Not going to uni? Yes you are. I’ve got an idea about that. They’ve given me a part with lines to learn, the stupid twats, and Liam told me I’ve got some scenes with you. He already knows the story and reckons he’s got the biggest part. So if you give me some help with acting, I could help you with how to write essays in the exam. How about it? Get you a good pass, you get to go to uni.”
“Sure,” I said. “Whatever.” (Every kilowatt of energy is exercised in staying calm. Can he tell my tummy’s turning and my heart keeps beating like a big bass drum? I want to scream like a drama queen “thank you lord god Thespis” and do somersaults down the corridor. Why me? Why me? He called me Dan! He said “we”! I love him! I do!) Out loud I said “So what part have I got?”
“I don’t know. Rhymes with fuck, I know that. Your name’s on the list a few times, though.”
“Where’s the list?”
“Come on, I’ll show you,” he said, putting his hand on my shoulder steering me towards the drama studio. For all the world I thought we must have looked like a grizzly bear and a meerkat trundling along.
Ronny and Ruth were standing by the noticeboard looking like proud parents, eager for praise and thanks. I should really think of them as Mr Peacock and Miss MacTaggart but they made a mistake in the first lesson by telling us that in the drama studio we could call them by their first names, Ronny and Ruth, so they unwittingly lost all my respect on Day One. But they are a laugh and both, I noticed, drooled over Oggy. I don’t think they had had such a buff stud take Drama before, even though in practical workshops he was a bit monotone and not very flexible physically. He just looked so damn fine.
“So how does it feel to have the biggest part, Matthew?” simpered Ruth. (Doesn’t she know anything about euphemism?)
“I thought Bottom was the biggest part. Liam’s down for that. He’s read the play and he said he’s got the biggest part when he was here earlier,” said Oggy. “I’m down as Theseus-Oberon. Someone said they thought he was just the Duke at the beginning and end?”
“Ah, Bottom’s character has more lines than any other individual character,” said Ruth. “And Theseus IS the Duke, you’re right, and he has over 200 lines but Oberon is a different character and he ALSO has over 200 lines. So you have upwards of 400 lines.”
“Why have you given me two parts?” moaned Oggy. “You know I’m not the best at acting.”
“It’s become tradition to double those parts. And the parts of your female partner, Titania and Hippolyta. And Philostrate and Puck – they will be played by Daniel here.”
“What kind of characters are Philostrate and Puck?” I asked.
Ronny was going almost purple with excitement as he blurted out “It was really the casting of you two that gave us the idea of doing Midsummer Night’s Dream. Theseus the Duke of Athens has an Entertainments Organiser – that’s Philostrate, so you’re master and servant in the first scene and in another scene later on. But you’re also master and servant when you’re being Oberon and Puck.”
“So Oberon’s a different Duke?” asked Oggy.
Ronny exploded ecstatically “He’s King of the Fairies!”
“You’re shitting me!” said Oggy, forgetting that he was talking to two teachers. “What messed-up druggy play is this? I’m not playing a Fairy.”
“Look, look,” said Ruth. “We’ve got it all imagined. You’re going to be perfect. Look here at the production team list. Daniel, we’ve put you down to be in charge of the costume designs for the Fairies. Do some internet image searches of Oberon and Puck and you will begin to see the possibilities. Ronnie and I can just see you two together as master and servant. We think you’re half way there already.”
“Ruth and I have been talking about it since October, haven’t we, Ruth?”
“We have, Ronny, talking since October, and we’ve had in mind all along that you two would look sensational as Oberon and Puck in very skimpy outfits. Vine leaves. Body paint. Gold laurel wreaths. Sandals or felt booties. The biggest, tallest in class and the tiniest, cutest Puck.”
“Thanks, Miss,” I said. “You know how to build a boy’s confidence. Cute and tiny, am I?”
“Trust us, Daniel,” said Ronny. “Start thinking about your designs and after the exams we’ll be working full-time on the production for three full weeks. I can picture you now dressed in a green foliage jockstrap climbing up Matthew’s bare back and onto his shoulders. It’ll be a dream.”
“Bare back?” sputtered Oggy. “Sandals? Body paint? Whose fantasies are these, then?”
“It WILL be a dream, Ronny. A midsummer night’s dream,” said Ruth, ignoring Oggy’s agitation. Both teachers sailed off, cackling and delighted with their plans and visions.
“What did Ronny mean when he said about casting us two made them decide to do the play?” asked Oggy despondently. “They see us as master and servant?”
“I think they’re just having a Little and Large laugh-fest,” I said. “I thought I’d left all that behind me – being laughed at for being small.”
“Good things come in small packages, Dan,” said Oggy. (My heart lurched to hear him say that.) “But what did Ruth mean about skimpy outfits? If you’re designing for us, you better not give us skimpy outfits.”
“According to the list, the whole Textiles group is being roped in. Shelley’s doing the lovers and Tanya’s doing the mechanicals whoever the fuck that is. We’ll probably come up with a design together.” (Skimpy, as skimpy as possible, I was thinking; and there’ll have to fittings of the underwear….)
“Are there only three students in your Textiles group?”
“There are two more who never come so there’s no point asking them to do any designing. Only three of us have got any talent.”
“Did you see old fruity Ronny practically frothing at the mouth when he was on about you having a jockstrap and climbing on my shoulders?”
“Drama teachers’ wet dream, eh? You and me as master and servant? I’ll have to be an obedient boy and do everything you say, sir.”
“Too right, you little Puck. Look, the offer’s still on. You help me with this practical shit and I’ll spend time with you getting your essays up to speed for the exam. I’m chasing four As in the summer – and, believe me, you don’t want to miss out on uni, so you need to get as high a grade as you can. Maybe we can go to the same uni….”
“Deal!” I said. (Same uni! Virtual swoon!) “But I’m a bit confused. You and me’ve hardly talked before now. I can’t work out why you want to help me.”
“You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. I took Drama thinking it was gonna be easy and I’m into the essays and can write what they seem to be looking for. But I know, if I’m honest, that I sound and move like a plank. And I can’t stand being rubbish at something. When I need to improve fitness, I just train hard until I get up to speed again. I’m hoping the same thing will happen with this acting lark. Rehearsing’s just like training, isn’t it?”
“Just got to find your inner fairy….”
“For God’s sake, design us something that’ll cover us up. How about a military look? Retro Napoleonic?! I’ve always fancied wearing Waterloo gear.”
“1815 Waterloo, you mean? Not Abba?” I blurted before I could stop myself. But the blank look on Oggy’s face told me I’d overstepped his cultural references. “So, when and where will you start helping me learn to write essays?”
The First Rehearsal
The exams were over. There were three blank days before full whole-cast rehearsals started and today Matthew Ogden was coming over to my place to find his inner fairy. Mano a mano. Just (big) him with just (little) me.
As promised he had helped me on essay structure and he taught me to write about live productions in an evaluative way and I learned from him how to write specific details in my essays on Taming of the Shrew.
When working at essays in the college library he had sat close to me and invaded my senses with the sight and the sound of him. There was no doubt I had a serious man-crush on the very bones that carried his mammoth frame. I worshipped his manly face. I adored his broad and muscular back and the way it stretched his shirts and T-shirts. I envied the tan of his skin. I had no confidence that he thought anything of me other than the means to a higher grade.
At the side of his beastly magnificence I felt pale, scrawny and invisible. The only part of me that seemed bigger than ever was my blood-bloated boy-wand, still untouched since baby-days by any human hand other than my own. I swear since making my Grade Improvement Pact with Oggy, my dick had grown a few centimeters in both length and girth. And my balls had doubled in size making my nut-bag seem unnaturally swollen. And my pubes had spread. I’d taken to wet shaving my scrotum to keep it soft to the touch and the hairs that sprouted all over it were getting straggly. I may be exaggerating a bit, but I was definitely aware of my genitalia in a way that I had not been before.
On the morning he was due for our first duo rehearsal, I had showered for longer than usual and soaped myself and rinsed myself in places where the sun don’t shine. I don’t know what I expected. I just know that the endless sketching of Oggy’s body and my costume designs had given me a rock hard leaking prong for hours at a time in the past few weeks.
“Daniel!” my Mum shouted upstairs. “Matthew is here for your play practice. I’m on my way out now. There’s lunch in the fridge for you both.” As I started nervously downstairs, Mum kept chuntering to Oggy “Now make sure he feeds you and gives you plenty to drink. It’s hot out – there’s some sun cream on the ledge near the back door if you go outside. And don’t let him bully you into wearing any of his contraptions if you don’t want to. Some of them look positively obscene.”
“Off you go, Mum.”
“Daniel, you look after him now. Matthew, Daniel’s dad and I are very appreciative of your help with his revision and exam prep. If he DOES get to uni, I think we will have YOU to thank for it.”
“Thanks for your faith in me, Mum. Now go,” I said, pushing her out the door.
“It’s pay back time for me, now, Mrs Lynch,” said Oggy to Mum’s departing back. “Dan’s going to make me act in ways I never dreamt I could….” (I feverishly remembered a few of the ways he had acted in my imaginative marathon wanks.)
“So,” I said. “Do you want to start with acting skills or go straight to a scene in the play?”
“I’m all yours, Coach,” said Oggy. (Coach! He called me “Coach”! Like we’re sports buddies! I’m sure my bell-end squirted a beady glob of pre-cum when he said “I’m all yours, Coach!”) “But, first,” he said. “What’s this about obscene contraptions? I thought we were going Napoleonic?”
“I’ve tried a few ideas out. I don’t want to limit myself until I see what the others have done.”
“Let’s have a look then,” he said.
“Do we have to? Right now?”
“Yes we do. I didn’t think you were shy, Dan, old buddy. You usually flaunt your talent.” (He called me buddy – old buddy, no less. Dan! Coach! Now buddy! Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound.)
“They’re upstairs,” (In my bedroom. Dick swelling at the thought of Oggy in my bedroom. Did it smell of cum, I wondered? Last night I wiped up with some underpants – where did I stuff them? Shit – just dropped them by the bed. Ah, crap. Ah, well. Boys will be boys.)
“My God,” said Oggy. “I somehow thought you’d have a totally neat-freak bedroom with everything in its place. MY bedroom’s tidier than this shit-hole.”
It DID look as if a bomb had gone off with clothes, books, papers, CDs, wires from current consoles and wires from defunct consoles, old toys, new gadgets, litter I just hadn’t thrown away, mugs, glasses, plates and on the desk, spread out, sketches of the fairies from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Amongst the chaos, I thought, he won’t register my cummy pants.
“Too much genius going on,” I muttered.
“Stinks of fresh cum, Dan, old buddy.” (Fucking Sherlock with his acute bloodhound-smell abilities. I moved my mouth like a trout, unable to think of anything to say out loud. What could I say? Jizzed a wad into my pants last night? If you look the other side of the bed, you’ll see my cum-catcher?) “No sweat,” he said. “I sprayed a load on my mirror this morning and it stinks worse than this.” (What? What did he say? What’s happening? Did he just tell me about one of his wanks? Watching himself into the mirror? Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the sweetest wanker of all?) “Oh, sweet Jesus Mary Ann MacJoseph and Company!” he exclaimed before my brain could formulate any coherent utterance. “Is this me, fucking little old me? And this?”
He was picking up my sketches. There was no doubt it was his face. Another couple of sheets on the desk showed the twenty or thirty practice attempts to get his face right using a couple of snaps I’d taken of him on my phone. His body was just guesswork, though I think I had got the overall shape and proportions right.
“I look all right,” he said quietly, almost admiringly. “But my chest is hairier than that.”
“Well, I’ve never seen it.” I’d drawn his chest smooth and hairless, though buff and muscular. “Did I get your nipples right?” In the picture they were large and almost like a woman’s nipples.
“What do you think?” he said and started, in front of my eyes, unfastening his short-sleeved shirt and pulling it out of his jeans. The shirt came off and was thrown on the bed. And I stared. Oggy was shirtless in my bedroom. The hair across his pecs and in a snail trail into his jeans was plentifully scattered but short, neat and blonde-ish. His nipples were smaller than I’d drawn them, darker than I imagined and at the moment, they were like mini wine gums, standing away from his beefy chest.
“I’d never’ve guessed,” I said. “Dark hair on your head, blonde hair on your chest.”
“Blonde on chest and legs, dark on balls and dick,” he said. “I’m a freak.”
“You’re no freak,” I said.
“I’m thinking of getting my chest and leg hair dyed darker so it’s the same as my head and pubes.”
“No way,” I said, a bit too forcefully. “You’re unique. Keep it that way.”
“But that’s why I don’t want to show off my body on stage. I think it looks weird with blonde hair.”
“No way you’re unconfident about your body, Oggy. Your body’s fantastic. Loads of lads would kill for what you’ve got.”
“But not for my freaky skin colour and freaky hair colour.”
“You look like you’ve got a permanent tan, that’s all. And your hair just makes you look…. Well, sexy….” (Fuck Shit Bugger – I said Sexy – Deal breaker?)
There was a silence. About 5 seconds. My heart was thumping, my cock was pulsing. Oggy was holding one particular picture that had me in it as well. I, as Puck, had both hands on Oberon’s/Oggy’s shoulders and I was rearing up above his head crying something out loud. We were both wearing simple red vine-leaf wreaths round our heads, upper arms and ankles but otherwise we were in what looked like red and green vine-leaf bollock pouches tied round our middle with a tiny red string.
“Is this the one your Mum thought was obscene?”
“I expect so,” I said. “It’s when you call for me and ask me if I remember listening to a mermaid on a dolphin’s back. And I shout out “I remember.” I was trying to capture the moment when I say that.”
“Your face looks like you’re jizzing down my back,” he said. “You’re having a proper orgasm on my shoulder blades.”
“Do you blame me?” I said quietly.
There was another silence. About 10 seconds this time. (Speak! Speak, if he doesn’t!)
“What are these made from?” he asked pointing at the pouches. In the “I remember” picture you could only see his pouch, but there were other sketches – one with me crouched at his side, one with me on my own, one with him holding me like a baby, like I had just jumped into his arms, three with him opposite Titania wearing a similarly-designed vine-leaf bikini. It was clear that the skimpy vine-leaf was my favourite design to draw.
“Something light but strong,” I said. “Chiffon, maybe?”
“I thought chiffon was see through,” he said.
“Depends,” I said.
“You’ve given yourself a pretty big packet,” he said.
“I’ve given you a big one, too,” I said.
“I KNOW I’ve got a big one,” he said. “This looks like YOU’VE got a big one too.”
“Do you reckon,” I risked, “that this is why Ronnie and Ruth want us to play Oberon and Puck? So they can perv over our privates?”
“They can only do that if you make us wear stuff like this. I suggested Napoleonic military gear, remember?”
“I remember,” I said.
“So, do you think you’ve got enough upper body strength to hold yourself on my shoulders like in this picture?”
“I think so.”
“Get your shirt off and try, then.”
“Why take my shirt off?”
“I’ve taken mine off. You take yours off. If you’re gonna make us into Shakespearian porn stars, we’ve got to get used to being half-naked.”
I slowly took my shirt off, conscious of having a pale skin and no muscular definition. My nipples were pert, like his right now.
“Did I draw myself right, do you think?” I asked.
“You’re a bit fitter in real life than in your drawing,” he said simply without irony. “A bit of weights and you’ll have a top body. But I like it how it is now, though.” (He likes it. What does he mean? Does that mean he doesn’t want me to be more muscley?) “Get on the bed,” he said. (“Sweet Lord!” I thought.) “It’ll be easier to climb on me from up there. Use your biceps, don’t lock your arms. Come on, gentle Puck, giddy up.”
I hoisted myself onto his shoulders holding my arms as straight as I could. Inevitably my hard-on pressed the back of his head but I was now throwing caution to the wind, so didn’t try to hide it.
I had imagined today being all about speaking rhythmically and expressively but, instead, the object of my lust had his shirt off and I was launching myself shirtless onto his back from my bed. If Ronnie and Ruth could see us now….
Since once I sat upon a promontory
And heard a mermaid on a dolphin’s back
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath
That the rude sea grew civil at her song
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,
To hear the sea-maid’s music.”
“Fuck all mighty. You know your lines.”
“Your line’s “I remember,” I think.”
“I remember,” I said as I slid down off his back.
“I’m working hard for this, you know. It’s no joke to me. I’m too competitive to look like a dork. I’m gonna try to be the best Oberon that ever walked the stage. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“Including wearing a chiffon thong?”
“Only if you do.”
“I might see young Cupid’s fiery shaft….”
“It’s one of the next lines. Something about loosing his love-shaft….”
“Love-shaft….” I repeated like a dope.
“It’s full of innuendo, Shakespeare. Like in Taming of the Shrewhaving your tongue in your tail.”
“What’s going on, Matthew?”
“Matthew! You called me Matthew! You tell ME, Daniel. What’s going on?”
“You called me Daniel!”
“I can call you what I like. You had a boner poking me in the head. I’ve got rights.”
“Most lads would freak out and punch your lights out if you rubbed a boner on their skull.”
“Except you’ll do whatever I ask you to. I’m your master, remember? Isn’t that right? You took your shirt off when I asked you.”
“I’d do anything you said.”
“Right. You’re my servant. And you’ll do anything?”
“Strip off then,” he said.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“I wanna be the first to see this big packet that Puck’s gonna show off to the college audience.”
“You wanna see my junk?”
“I reckon I do.”
“Are you gay?” I asked, and stopped breathing in fear of what he might say next.
“Are you?” he asked back.
“I asked first,” I said.
“Fuck knows,” he said.
“Fuck knows me, too,” I said. Then I said “Except I think I am. Have you ever done anything with anybody?”
“I’ve been with five different girls, fingered all of them and fucked one of them three different times. Each time was shittier and clumsier than the last. I could hardly stay stiff – with any of them. I got no buzz at all. No buzz. But when I was helping you in the library I was hard as a marble candle. Virtually came in my pants every time you looked at me. You’re my wank fantasy, Dan. I think about you when I’m going to sleep. And I hope to God I haven’t been wrong about you – and that YOU like ME, at least a BIT – otherwise I’m fucking embarrassed.”
He finished his speech and I kicked off my trainers and pulled off my socks. I undid my jeans, pushed them off and stood there with a massive tent-pole pushing wetly at the front of my black M&S boxer-briefs. The only sound in the room was our breathing.
“I’ll do anything,” I eventually said.
Oggy kicked off his own shoes and undid his belt slowly. He peeled his bottom half off leaving him in a pair of light blue Aussiebum briefs. He kept his socks on. His long fat cock dressed to the left and the bulging tip was wet and straining to escape.
“You’re gorgeous,” I said.
“So are you,” he said.
“You’re joking,” I said.
“No I’m not,” he said.
“Shall we take these off?” I asked putting my thumb into my waistband, as a challenge. I was desperate to see Oggy’s final glory but I was also half convinced this was a set-up and he was about to start pummeling me. I thought the final strip would be the point he would stop and start laughing. The wet dream would be over. As I predicted, he didn’t immediately strip, but what he did say and do was not something I predicted either.
“No, not yet, come here, you little beauty, give me a hug.”
He stepped forward with his long limbs wide open. He wrapped his long arms tenderly round my body and stroked my back. My eyes closed and I snuggled into his furry muscular chest and put my own bare arms around his bare back. Our legs touched and our dicks squashed into our bodies – his above mine pulsing on my stomach and mine pushing onto the top of his thigh. I held my breath.
I could feel him kissing the top of my head and I instinctively tilted my head and we were kissing on the lips and mouth. He moaned and his tongue went in and out of my mouth. I did the same back to him and my lips and mouth felt electric. His hands continued stroking my back and sometimes kneaded my buttocks. I squeezed his arms – his biceps, his forearms and moved up to rub his shoulders. He held my face in his big hands and kissed me on the nose, on the eyelids, on the cheeks. I felt completely overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with love and lust and a kind of blanket, like I was being smothered in a man-smelling duvet.
Oggy moved me to the bed and I collapsed onto it. His great mass reared up kneeling over me for a second and then crushed me as he spread his athletic self along the length of me, necking me, kissing and nibbling my earlobes. Tingles shivered down my body and then he was kissing my chest, my stomach, my nipples. He paused and focused on my nipples – I watched him as he slowly put his big tongue out and started to lick them softly, gently, unbearably sensitively. He licked again and again. Each lick caused my legs to quiver with bliss.
“Let me,” I croaked, as I heaved him off me onto his back and I climbed on top of him. I sat there a moment looking down at the expanse of his chest, hardly daring to believe I was awake, and started to lick and kiss up and down the front of him. I was sitting on his pulsing cock and balls and could feel them flexing and grinding into my arse through my boxers. I ran my hands up and down his hairy legs as I continued to kiss him. He suddenly heaved his legs up and wrapped them round my middle so I was crushed into him. He squeezed me harder and harder, pressing his face into my cheek. I squirmed my face out and into one of his sweaty arms pits and breathed in the smell of an acrid but horny male. I kissed the damp hair in that pit, sniffing the stench, and I heard him make a moaning noise that turned into words.
“God, Dan, God. We’re together at fucking last, Dan. Finally. Over you go, buddy. Lay on your stomach.”
I did what he said and lay prostrate, willing to take anything. All I could feel was light-as-feather kisses across the back of my neck, down my back, on my buttocks, down my legs. Then little licks, and wetter kisses up and down each leg, on each arse-cheek, across and up my spine and radiating out across my back. The feeling was wonderful and my cock grew bigger and bigger with pleasure and lust. Then he ran his tongue up my spine, in one long sweep from the top of my crack into my hairline. Again and up again, a long slow wet soft lick. Licking up the spine of me, licking me into ecstasy. I shuddered with joy.
“I’m pulling your pants off now,” he said. And he did. He manouvered the waistband over my raging pole and slid them down my legs. Then prised open my arse-cheeks and, without ceremony, plunged his tongue onto my arsehole. Heavenly tingles! The spasms went right through my whole body as his tongue lapped and licked in and around a place I’d never seen. I almost shot my load.
Again and again Matthew Ogden’s fine tongue slipped and slithered in and out, on and off, around and up my anal gash. I could sense the hole was opening for him, letting him in, letting him invade the most private part of me. I was groaning with pleasure, unable to form words, just appreciative grunts and sighs.
“Turn over,” he said after what seemed like half an hour and I flipped like a stranded fish, no will of my own, abandoned like a passive rag doll. Then he started licking my balls and lifting up my legs to blow and lick and kiss my perineum and send me into a further quaking mess of vibration. I felt truly at the edge of an internal body explosion, my whole body a trembling jumble. In my groin my penis, which felt humongous, was an intense throbbing tube of dynamite.
Oggy ran his fingernails gently up and down the length of my cock. He sucked his finger and thumb and used them to caress the end, the tip, the bell-end, causing me to thrash and buck my arse off the bed. And then it happened. He formed an “0” with his lips and licked them before sliding them down my love-shaft. He went up and down, holding and twisting the bottom near my pubes. I could feel the unstoppable build up. Up and down again, up and down. But I held back and held back, arching my middle off the bed. Banging my feet one after the other, trying to put off the inevitable. He sucked and licked, sucked and licked.
“It’s.…it’s.…” I tried to say.
“Come on, Dan, come on, buddy,” he mumbled, vibrating my cock as he spoke.
And I let rip. The initial spray was like a cannon shot straight into the back of his mouth and he came off and pointed my pole straight up as a second volley shot in the air before spattering on his hand and my stomach and balls. He angled the snake towards my face as the third, fourth and fifth smaller spurts smeared my torso.
“Fucking hell, fucking hell,” I said. “That was…. That was….”
“Yes it was,” he said and pulled himself alongside me to kiss me gently but insistently again and again on my mouth and all over my face. My spunk on his breath. “You’re beautiful, Dan.”
“I don’t get it,” I said, suddenly panicky. “You’re such a hunk, such a player. I don’t get what you see in me.”
“Cos you don’t know how fresh you are,” he said, completely confusing me. “You’ve no idea what a ball of energy you are. You don’t give a shit. You just say stuff in class. I’ve been watching you all year, wishing I could be as cocky as you. As perky. As spunky.”
“I’m spunky all right.”
“And your spunk smells sweet.”
“Let me get YOU off,” I said.
“Go for it, tiger,” he said. “I’m all yours.”
He lay back and I pulled his pants down and off. I grasped his hard cock, a throbbing cylinder of spongy flesh, the foreskin well back, the pre-cum slicking up and down the whole length of it. I kept hold of the hot pipe whilst I started to kiss him the way he had kissed me. Gentle, delicate, fleshy, wet kisses, covering every inch of his stomach, chest. Licking his nipples, nuzzling his neck, caressing his eyes and nose and ears. All the time holding onto his thumping man-prong, moving the skin up and down slowly, gently, sometimes running my sticky thumb over the raging red bell-end. He started to shudder and moan, quietly and whimperingly, not at all like the beefy man that he was.
“Is this OK, Matthew?”
“God, yes. Yes, God, yes, Dan. Fuck. Shit.”
I started to lick his big balls. Unlike mine they were hairy and ungroomed. But they were HIS hairy balls, his natural hairy man balls and the rasping curly hairs just gave my tongue more friction and seemed to give him even more pleasure.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said as I tongued his nads and sniffed his sweaty groin. I rubbed my nose into the damp between his legs. I licked down the inside of his thighs and he spread his legs completely vulnerably and openly for me. I never dreamed I could have this sex-god so splayed out under me and in my power. Time for a finale!
I began sucking his cock, only the top half because of its size and diameter. But I worked hard to keep my lips wrapped round my teeth and used my tongue to slurp on the underside.
“Bit slower,” he said, so I came off and heaved his thighs up in the air and dove into his arsehole. My nose was filled with his grungy stink but I tongued the hole just the same. The noises he was making suggested he liked it as much as I had done. I heard a massive sigh when I licked between his arse and his balls so I concentrated on that section for a while.
I then felt his paddle-like hands grip the sides of my head and almost lift me back onto his cock. He could clearly take the foreplay no longer. I swallowed as much of his dick as I could and settled my mouth round it so I could go up and down smoothly and slickly. The fuck-pole started to go deeper and every other thrust hit the back of my throat. I focused on not gagging, just relaxing. Up and down. In and out.
“I’m fucking coming, I’m coming,” he groaned. “Keep going, Dan. Keep going. Bit faster, Dan, bit faster. Shit. Fuck. Yes. Nearly. Nearly….”
I sped up and jerked him at the same time. I could feel the beast expanding and he started to buck on the bed, the way I had. He made a high-pitched breathy cry that may have been “Fu-u-u-u-u-c-c-c-k-k-“ as I felt warm fluid hit the top of my mouth. He held me firm but I tried to pull off a little to make room for his jizz. He continued to shoot, seemingly each spurt as big as the first. My mouth was completely full and I was breathing through my nose. I thought he would never stop. Finally I sputtered, half swallowed a load and then coughed a batch of batter over his stomach.
“Jesus, Dan, Jesus. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry for holding your head.”
I shook my head and moved to look him in the eyes as if to say no need to apologise. I hoisted myself to lay on top of him, smearing the spunk between us. We kissed gently, softly. And then looked at each other. Deep into each other’s eyes.
“Why?” he croaked.
“Why did we wait so long?”
“I’d never have believed it,” I said. “It’s like a dream. It IS a dream.”
“My gentle Puck,” he said.
“My Oberon,” I cooed. After half a minute of relaxed breathing I said “And that concludes our first acting class.”
Oggy grinned and kissed me on the nose.
Part Two: The Performance and The After Show Party
It would have been great, wouldn’t it, if after our mutual suck-off session, Oggy and me had sworn eternal love and spent every waking hour in each other’s company? If the rest of the cast and all our friends had instantly accepted we were lovers and our families had started preparing for a wedding?
Life’s never that neat.
Brother Callum shouted upstairs soon after we’d started snuggling and we went into macho rehearsal mode instantly for fear of being mocked by him. That night Oggy came down with a stinking cold and I followed soon after, so with feeling sorry for ourselves, snorting into tissues, family commitments and proper rehearsals with the whole cast, we never had time alone in the next fortnight.
We had glances and a few whispered words in rehearsals but no proper discussions and no physical contact other than as Theseus and Philostrate (none there, really, he just put his hand on my shoulder at one point) and as Oberon and Puck (lots there, of course, with plenty of me leaping onto his back and, yes, onto his shoulders and into his arms like a baby. Plenty of cracks about Lofty and Wickle Willy.)
I dropped out of making the costumes to try and recover from the lurgy by resting outside rehearsals, and passing my designs onto Shelley and Tanya with strict instructions that we both wanted the pouches and body paint!
I coached Oggy as much as I could with his line delivery, more so as the performances approached, and I have to say he became pretty sensational as Oberon. I had a feeling the production was going to be a big success. Our relationship started to look like the one recently at Shakespeare’s Globe theatre in London where the parts were played by professional actors John Light and Matthew Tennyson. You can search for images of them on the internet. We were loads younger, of course, than those actors and I was planning that we would be wearing less than the Globe actors did on our bottom half.
During the final week of rehearsals we wore sports gear but for the dress rehearsal we went the whole hog and slipped our junk into the flimsy chiffon jockstraps. Ronnie and Ruth were beside themselves with excitement and the rest of the cast were amazed that we were going to be so exposed. The straight guys in the cast had plenty to ogle with Titania’s busty outfit, though, and the female First Fairy also had plenty of skin on display. I noticed that big and boisterous Liam who was playing the comical Bottom kept glancing at Oggy and me and I couldn’t help think he might be a closet gay.
The dress rehearsal went very smoothly and we all wished each other well as we parted that night. In the darkness of the wings, when Oggy and I were waiting to enter together, my Oberon would put his hand on my shoulder or back. It felt comforting and cosy to feel him almost “owning” me and it took a lot of concentration not to twist round and fling my arms round him in loving abandonment. I loved those moments backstage in the semi-dark smelling him, anticipating a time when we might be alone again together and able to snog with abandon.
The atmosphere backstage was loads of fun on the first night. Oggy and I shared a dressing room with Liam (Bottom) and the boys playing Egeus (a fat lad made up to look like an old git), Lysander (a quiet ginger cross country runner who was very unsociable but very funny on stage) and Demetrius (a dark-haired Muslim boy who, like Oggy, had taken Drama because he thought it was easy and was as nervous as anything.)
“Break a leg, everybody,” shouted Liam as he headed for the bog.
“Don’t be long in there, Liam,” said Arshaq (Demetrius.) “I’m gonna throw up again.”
“Get a grip, Arsh,” said Tim (Lysander.) “If you puke onstage you’ll never live it down, so you better empty your gut before any scenes with me.”
“How are the lines, Oggy?” I asked my on-stage master.
“Not bad, Puck,” he said. “I ran through everything with Liam during Citizenship shit today.” (And then his voice became more of a whisper.) We were supposed to be discussing the environment in pairs but it was the only way to stop him bugging me about you and me.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s kept on and on the past couple of weeks asking me how I got so good. And what I had to give you to coach me. How many blow jobs and that sort of crap.”
“Not enough, if you ask me! Are you going to the After Show party at Liam’s house?”
“Look, Dan, I’m just as frustrated as you are, I bet, but I don’t want to get slammed for it if we’re caught out. I don’t think Liam’s house is the place.”
“When are we gonna be together again, then? I can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen. I’ve got blue balls.”
“You and me both, gentle Puck. My cock’s swelling right now, thinking about your mouth.” He looked as if he was about to lean over and kiss me and then his face abruptly changed. “Shit! Let’s get tonight over, first, then think again,” he growled abruptly and stomped out of the dressing room just as Liam came back from the toilet fastening his costume back up.
“What’s going on with you two?” asked Liam. “Boyfriend got his jockstrap in a twist?”
“Shut the fuck up, Liam,” I snarled. “He’s not my boyfriend! Stop interfering and commenting – it’s really bugging us both.”
“Bugging you BOTH, is it? Well since I’ve not said owt to YOU before now, it looks like you’ve been SHARING and CONFIDING which means I’m RIGHT and you two are a pair of BENDERS.”
“Back off,” I said, leaving. “Or I’ll shove your donkey ears up your arse quicker than you can say Ee-yore!” The cocky bastard just raised his eyebrows and smirked at me rather than looking threatened. “Seriously, Liam. Leave us alone.”
Liam’s face softened and he said quietly “I’m just a bit jealous.”
So we went into the first performance with a bit of tension between some of the main actors. But the magical play of William Shakespeare started to take hold. Lysander and Demetrius (and the girl playing Hermia) got some laughs in the first scene (a sound that everybody was desperate to hear) and in the second scene Liam brought the house down, along with the lads (and two hefty girls) playing the workmen of Athens who are meeting to put on a play.
My first big scene was with the stunning First Fairy. I helped her with her make-up and I’m sure I heard a gasp when we entered, probably because in the shifting lighting design and against the woodland back-cloth it probably looked like we were virtually naked until you picked out the skimpy loin coverings. Laughs came regularly and all my acrobatics came off without a hitch and the audience was completely won over when Oberon and Titania and all the rest of the Fairies entered. Suddenly all the audience (mostly Catholics, remember, so well up for an opportunity to gaze at sexy actors) were given permission to stare at some pretty fit-looking bodies.
During the big Oberon-Titania argument I was mostly crouched by Oggy’s leg gazing up at his face and, in doing so, I was able to focus on his bulging ball sac inside the thong. I could see each ball making subtle movements in the chiffon jockstrap, especially when he was speaking and his vocal projection meant that muscles everywhere in his body were being used to make sure his resonant voice carried to the back of the College auditorium.
Spontaneously I reached my hand up onto his blonde furry leg, the one nearest the audience, and slowly, imperceptibly, gently, slid my hand down his thigh and when I reached his knee I repeated the action. The effect was that the audience saw a puckish servant encouraging his master with some leg stroking but the funniest close-up effect was that Oggy’s fat cock started thickening and lengthening and was in danger of popping out of the costume.
I could see him engorging and I saw that Titania could see too, giving her an extra sparkle in her mischievous eyes.
Backstage he gave me a playful punch and grinned like a lunatic and then squatted before his next appearance to let his chubby subside.
I watched him from the wings as he squeezed the play’s love juice on Titania’s eyes as she slept and when he came off he crouched close behind me in the dark. One of my bare feet was up on a chair and the other on the floor and, masking me from the view of other actors, he slid his big hand up the back of my chiffon covering and spread his palm over my buttocks.
“You’re going on to squirt juice on Lysander’s eyes next, aren’t you?” he whispered huskily into my ear.
I kept looking onto the stage action and could feel him working his middle digit between my ass cheeks and pushing it onto my taint. I hadn’t made myself super-clean today so it was thrilling to me that he was prepared to pad his finger onto my sweaty hole. That’s just what he did – he started tapping my arsehole which was slightly open from my stance with one leg up on Theseus’s throne. Tap – “cat got your tongue, Puck?” ” – push, touch – slight insertion!
Whore that I am, and so besotted with my big fairy lord, I pushed my backside down onto his finger.
“You’ll get smeared in shit, King Oberon,” I hissed, imagining that he would pull his hand out straight away.
Instead he plopped his finger end right in – “there you go, sirrah!” The burning tightness and the shock and surprise of what felt like a can of beans stretching my sphincter caused me to squeal and gasp at the same time.
“Fuck it, Oggy,” I whispered. “Take it out, take it out. I’m on in a minute!”
“Relax, baby, let me in,” he said in an overwhelmingly sexy voice. With that he pushed his finger into my love chute and pressed on my soft button. My whole body spasmed as he padded my prostate. I grunted and trembled and my cock shot up and out, my balls churning. “Now go onstage, lover boy, let the audience see your stalk! I’m gonna suck your sweaty shit-stains off my finger.”
I lurched onto stage yelling “Through the forest have I gone/But Athenian found I none….” Normally I would be upright but I half-crouched like an ape so the audience didn’t see my throbbing boner. Also I could feel that the end of my dick was wet with spunk so I imagine that was obvious in the bright lights. So I capered about like an orang-utan, getting plenty of laughs and managing to squeeze the love-juice in Lysander’s eyes.
I scampered off after my scene and bumped into Oggy giggling like a lunatic. “Here,” he said and knelt down in front of me. He massaged my cock through the jockstrap and then slipped my bell end out and then hoiked the material under my balls. As predicted, the end was shiny with cum, my foreskin peeled right back, the helmet tight with blood and lust. Before I could object, he looked me in the eyes and took hold of my rigid tool.
“Everybody can see,” I warned him.
“Let’s give them a show, then,” he said. “Can’t wait any longer.”
Further into the wings I could see other actors waiting to enter for the next scene. They were staring goggle-eyed at the blow job that was becoming unstoppable. Liam was at the front and he was visually riveted to my knob and ever-so-slightly drooling.
One of Oggy’s hands cradled and stroked my ball sac and the other gripped my cock at the base as he swallowed my meat. His head bobbed up and down and my shaft grew fatter and longer as his gorgeous lips worked their magic. He gently squeezed my balls and then moved that hand round to my arse and pushed a finger into my sphincter again. I was totally in his power and the lads who were about to enter came in closer and crowded round to see and envy what I was getting.
“Fucking hell,” sighed Liam. “Jammy get!”
My cock swelled and Oggy sucked faster, his lips loose around my flesh and his finger sliding in and out of my arse. Then I could feel my climax near, and his finger went deeper towards my prostate as I came and came. I exploded in his mouth, gripping his dark, mussy hair. He stopped moving his head and started swallowing, still slowly and gently nursing my shaft but without any sucking action. Four or five huge spurts of cum went into my boyfriend that night with the rude mechanicals looking on. The two girls who were part of that troupe hung back looking unimpressed and rolling their eyes as if to say “typical boys….”
One after another Helena came off stage, then Lysander, then finally Hermia and each one did a double take at what was going on and got the gossip from the workmen of Athens.
“Oggy and Dan are queer…. They’re woofters…. Puck’s getting a blowjob…. Lucky twat….”
The rest of the performance went like a dream and the whole cast got a standing ovation. During the interval and at the end various cast members expressed their opinions about the new couple in town – but most were congratulatory. Some thought it was a one-off nutting and could hardly believe that macho gentle giant Matthew Ogden was gay but the more emotionally literate were able to ask – “So are you two….? And how long have you been….? When’s the wedding….?”
Oggy took control when as big a crowd as possible was in the same space to say “It’s official, you lot, me and Dan are together. Nearly a month now. Fuck off if you don’t like it. But that’s the way it is. Oggy and Puck – now and forever!”
Liam had the last word – “Oggy and Puck it is! Can’t call you Wickle Willy any more, fucking Puck. I saw that fat schlong going in and out of Oggy’s gob. But if you ever need to practise on a bigger knob, Oggy, you know where to find me!”
The After Show Party
“Fucking hell,” shouted Tim. “Arsh has finally puked! Way to go, Arsh, lad! Barfed your way into legend! All over First Fairy’s posh outfit!”
The After-show Party was held at Liam’s house, a big detached house in Sandal, a posh part of Wakefield. Liam’s parents had gone away for the evening with all the usual warnings. But the alcohol and weed consumption had started producing victims.
The front room was the scene of the spectacular vomit. Unfortunately the front room had been the main party space where the music and dancing was. Quickly people started leaving – it was 1:30am in any case and we were all due at College next day.
“If you two want to crash in my parents’ room, that’d be cool,” offered Liam to Oggy. “You can have a bit of privacy.”
“How’s about it, Puck?” asked Oggy looking at me. “Private space at last?”
“I already said I’d be staying out,” I said. “You’re sure, Liam?”
“Just don’t get cum or shit on the sheets,” said Liam. “I’m gonna clean up as much as I can downstairs and then I’ll be up.”
Oggy grabbed my hand and we bounded up to the main bedroom of the house – an ensuite bedroom with a King size bed, all pastels and tasteful textures. We were in our smart party outfits and giggled as we began pulling off our clothes without a care in the world. I had deliberately not drunk much in the hope that we could have some time together and Oggy’s big frame could take alcohol pretty well so I was sure he had some life in him yet.
“Can I fuck you, Puck?”
“I hope to God you will,” I said. “I’ve got some lube and condoms….”
“So have I….”
“Well let’s get my cherry popped!”
Oggy still had his stripy socks on when we embraced, standing, on the rug at the end of Liam’s parents bed. His spongy tube was rearing up, looking impossibly huge in comparison to what I understood about the size of my anal cavity. I held his cock as he bent down to tongue my mouth and moan my name (“Puck” now rather than “Dan.”)
He palmed my buttocks and lifted me so I straddled his waist, my own rod pulsing and flaring with blood and desire on his six pack. His strength held us in that position for a few minutes, me wrapped around my standing god, his dick getting harder and harder and starting to jab at my hole which opened as he gently prised each ass cheek wider and wider with the palms of his hands. All the time we were kissing, our tongues wrestling for supremacy in our passion.
“Let me lick your little arsehole, lover boy,” Oggy groaned into my ear.
“At your service, my lord,” I said as I slid down his muscley legs.
“Giddy up, Puck,” he said as he threw me like a ball face down onto the bed. I lay there hearing him rustling in his backpack, for lube and a condom I presumed. The anticipation was wonderful.
I felt his large mittens prise open my quivering cheeks and I felt a large slab of something slide across my hole – his tongue! Again and again, lapping like a trooper. The tingles went up and down my arms and legs, through my tummy and pinged my nipples. He had definitely found an erogenous zone!
“Oh fuck, oh shit,” was all I was able to wheeze and I pushed my arse into the air, exposing it as much as possible, willing him to enter me and possess my body. He kept licking, then spitting, then licking, then spitting again, and I felt a finger dive in just like it did back stage. He hit my button and I spasmed.
“Fuck me, Matthew,” I cried. “Please fuck me.”
Instead he finger-fucked me with his forefinger and then with his middle and forefinger together and then suddenly he piled onto my back pushing the air right out of me. I could feel his fuck-stick raging up my leg and onto my arse but he seemed intent on crushing me with beefy, hairy body.
“Kiss me, Puck,” he breathed into my ear and I turned my head so he could mash his lips onto mine. We swapped tongues and his went right to the entry of my throat like a demon, jabbing and slurping.
“Now,” I panted into his mouth. “DO me!”
He stood up and a wave of fresh air caressed my back and legs as I waited for the inevitable pain of losing my virginity. I looked round to see that the condom was well and truly on, his cock looking as if it would burst out of it any second. He was squeezing a little lube onto his fingers and slicking up his massive prong. Then, he plopped a little more on his fingers and rubbed it around and just inside my crack. He diddled his finger in and out just to get me even more desperate for his entry.
“Here I come, Puck,” he said and he stretched out his big legs into a strong thrusting position and pushed his dick onto my cavity. As expected I instinctively clammed up. Then a brief jab of pain. Then nothing. Then something breaking in, a screaming throb. “How’s that?” he asked.
“Slow, slow,” I said.
“It WILL hurt,” he said. “But it should get better. I love you, pal.”
That did it. I was his. He loves me. He said so.
“Go for it,” I said.
The pain hit suddenly, much more intense. It was as if a broken bottle was being pushed into my arse. But it was HIM. HIM. Matthew Ogden, god of my dreams. He moved slowly, pushing his giant sausage in and out, slowly in, slowly out.
“Only half in,” he said. “Ready for the maximum beast?”
“Please, Oberon. All the way.”
My prostate was now being massaged and I started feeling waves of pleasure that began to overpower the stinging sensations. The red-hot poker feeling turned into a loving sex-rod vibrator. Oggy was now fucking me. The tanned, athletic Oberon was sliding in and out. In and out. In and out of ME.
I pushed back to suck him as far inside as I could manage. I could feel his pubes on my ass cheeks. I could feel his hard abs banging onto the small of my back. I could feel his sweat mixing with my sweat.
The contact with my prostate meant that every time he thrust I felt like I was going to cum, an exquisite cum, a deep-rooted cum.
“I love your tight little arse, Puck,” he said. “I could fuck you all night.”
With his cock well inside me, Oggy paused his thrusting and spread himself out again along my back and nuzzled my neck, head and ears. I was sure I could feel his heart thumping in his chest, thumping into my back in time with the thumping of my own heart.
He gripped my shoulders and did a series of 20 to 30 small thrusts with his cock completely possessing me. I felt him stiffen and start to moan and groan.
“Fuck it, Puck. Fuck it. Get ready. I’m cumming. I’m cumming.”
His whole body shuddered and rippled and I swear I could feel shot after shot of hot fluid filling up my insides, spraying my guts. He grasped me tighter and bit into my shoulder screaming with joy and then collapsed onto me breathing like he was drowning but gradually subsiding and beginning to relax.
“Fuckin-A, Oberon,” I said. “That’s how to take a boy’s virginity!”
Oggy pulled his cock out of me and flopped onto his back.
“You won’t believe what I want now.”
“You want to marry me? You want a club sandwich? Do it again?”
“That’s it – I want to do it again. Again and again.”
“You’re a greedy fucker,” I laughed. “Don’t you need a rest? Let your pipe get stoked up again?”
“That’s just it,” he said looking me straight in the eyes and flattening any cockiness I was feeling with his deep and loving gaze. “I don’t want to go inside you this time. You’ve not come yet, Danny boy. I want YOU inside of ME.”
“You’ll not feel me,” I said.
“Bullshit,” he said. “Your cock might not be as long as mine but it’s fat and punchy. And long enough. I don’t care about its size, I just want YOU to feel what I just felt. And I want to feel what YOU felt. God knows how long we’re gonna be together, Puck, but right now, you’re mine and I’m yours. I’m fucking 100% sure girls don’t do it for me, but you make me ram rod horny. And I fucking love you the eyes of you, the neck of you and I want the cock of you inside me.”
I reached over to his subsiding penis and pulled off the condom with a thwack. I tipped some jizz onto my fingers and sniffed it and put my tongue onto it, then reached towards him.
“Lift your legs up then, Oberon.”
Oggy looked right at me, his brown eyes melting my heart. He grabbed his thighs and exposed his hairy arse.
Slowly I stuck my finger into his puckering hole and moved it slowly, loosening it gradually, sliding his own cum inside. He smiled and I pushed two fingers in and he began squirming.
“No condom,” he said. “Just fuck me.”
“Are you sure? Do you trust me?”
“Like my brother.”
I reached for the lube and plopped a glob into his crease and slid some up and down my dick.
“I never imagined this,” I said.
“I want you to be in me, like I’ve been in you,” he said. “Then we’re a done deal. No turning back. You and me against the world.”
“God, Oggy,” I said. “I love you.”
“Fuck me, Puck.”
He lifted his hairy legs one at a time onto my shoulders. I felt sure he would never even feel my diddy cock in comparison to the way I felt possessed by his humungous fuck-stick. But I was game to give it a go. He gasped as I broke into his sphincter and kept smiling as he adjusted and willed me on. I slowly pushed all the way in – it was a smooth and trouble-free journey and he groaned with pleasure as I clearly made contact with his pleasure-button.
I was all the way in and we both sighed. He reached round with his paddling palms and grabbed my butt cheeks to encourage me to start thrusting. So I did and he let go and threw his arms back giving me a great view of his massive, muscled chest and sweaty, hairy arm pits. I was quickly overwhelmed and started feeling the cum building in my tubes ready to spew into his gut.
I loved the feeling of my dick sliding in and out, scraping against the soft hairs round Oggy’s hole. I loved my balls slapping against his perineum. I loved the build-up of spunk and tingling pleasure.
“Jeez, I won’t be long,” I grunted.
“Just do it. Go for it. Fill me up.”
The cum rushed up my dick. Filled my love-tube. Then I went blind for a second as a million stars exploded in my brain and in the middle of my orgasm I could feel Oggy spasming again. Waves ran up and down my body, into my scalp, into my finger tips, down my shins and into my feet.
I collapsed on him and, miraculously my dick stayed in his chute. He wrapped his legs round my back and I could feel and smell the sweat between us as well as a smear of Oggy’s second cumming.
“Come up here,” he grinned and I squelched up his body, my dick finally slurping out of his arse and we kissed again and again. He seemed to want to squeeze me to death. Then we heard a voice.
“Now don’t freak out. It’s just me and only me.”
“Liam! What the fuck -!” said Oggy.
I swizzled round and saw Liam with his phone in his hand.
“You been filming us?” I demanded.
“I have,” said Liam with a smile as broad as Oggy’s back. “But look. Watch me. I’m gonna delete it. But before I do, I thought I’d email the film to you two so in years to come you can look back at this night. Want me to email it your accounts? Then delete it?”
I looked at Oggy. He looked at me. We looked back at Liam. And both nodded. We watched him attach the film to emails to both of us. We watched him open his email account and delete the film and email from his Sent Box. We also watched him delete the film from his phone.
“How long did you film?” I asked
“From the first fucking,” said Liam. “It stinks of cum in here.”
“So are you gay, then, Liam?” asked Oggy.
“Is the Pope a Catholic? I look at pics on gay blogs read gay stories to jazz off. And you two have taken the biscuit. You crazy fuckers sucking off back stage and now going all the way. I couldn’t be any more boned up. I feel privileged to have witnessed your first fucking.”
“Don’t make a habit of it, though,” said Oggy. “We won’t be inviting you to live with us. You need to find your own Puck.”
“I was thinking Tim might be up for a bit of fun,” said Liam brightly. “I watched him tonight avoiding Shelley and Tanya like the plague and he was pretty excited about you two back stage. He’s gonna be my first campaign this summer.”
“Six weeks of no college. It’s gonna be the best summer ever,” I said.
“I’m not going anywhere this year. We can hang out together all the time. Tell the families.”
“Tell them - ?”
“You sure, Oberon?”
“I’m sure if you’re sure, buddy.”