The Secret Catamite Bk 1, The Book of Daniel

by Patrick C Notchtree

  Lying together in the cooler early autumn sunshine on a Saturday afternoon, feeling the gentle breeze play across their skin, they enjoyed again the touch and warmth of each other. On the groundsheet in the long grass, they were close, naked and both aroused. Daniel came, sighing with the release but Simon was still aroused. Daniel noticed this and perhaps recognising something in Simon, drew him close, putting his left arm round his shoulders, drawing his head to his shoulder, his right hand working on Simon. Simon started to experience a new feeling, beyond arousal. His body trembled as he felt the mounting exquisite tension.

  "You're ready, Simon, I know it," said Daniel. "Come on."

  Simon simply nodded, his whole body tensing like a huge spring within. He was rigid as his muscles tightened.

  "It's OK, Simon, just relax, let it come."

  Simon did. It felt like nothing he had ever felt before. His body was wrapped in warm fire, shooting down through his groin, from his buttocks up his back and round his body, licking his neck and throat, at the same time enveloping his thighs, wrapping round above his knees sending tingles right down to his toes. Each ejaculatory pulse from his groin sent a further wave of fiery pleasure shuddering through his young body while Daniel continued to extract the last ounce of orgasmic ecstasy for him. Simon let out a deep, panting sigh. He looked up at Daniel's smiling face as the waves subsided, feeling the sensual warmth of Daniel's body close to his.

  "Fire down below?" said Daniel, grinning now at his friend's reaction to his first full orgasm.

  "Wow. Fire all over, I think," said Simon, now shaking with emotion, and tears started to come. Daniel wiped him, pulled him onto his side, facing him and continued to stroke him, down his back, his buttocks, running his fingers lightly over his tummy. Simon's body trembled still under his touch.

  "Idiot, why're you crying?" Daniel asked gently.

  "I don't know," said Simon. He wanted to say so much to Daniel, how much he felt towards him, but could not find the words. Daniel just held him close, making no demands.

  After a while, as Simon recovered both physically and mentally from this fundamental change in himself, he started to sing, "Fire in the foretop, fire in the main, it's fetch a bucket of water boys, there's fire down below." And Daniel joined in.

  Autumn turned to winter amid the excitement of the Sputnik and there were as usual fewer opportunities for sex as it became too wet and cold to visit the den, and as the darker nights closed in, bike rides ceased. But at half term, again in some of the Christmas holidays and in the miserable half term in winter, they made use of Daniel's room whenever they could. Otherwise they would just enjoy being together, knowing each other so well, doing homework in Daniel's room straight after school most nights ("Get's it over with," said Daniel. Simon agreed.) and playing on the piano. Simon's ability to pick out tunes by ear improved, but of course this was nothing compared to Daniel's increasing mastery of that great machine. He had passed all his piano exams so far with flying colours.

  "Can you come to church this Sunday?" Daniel's eyes begged for a yes.

  "It's not a Church Parade is it?" asked Simon, puzzled.

  "No, but I'm going to be Altar Boy. It's a great honour and I want you to see me."

  Simon had seen these robed priest's helpers on his visits to church before, but now Daniel was going to be one!

  "Course I will. Wouldn't miss it for anything. Don't drop the wine though," he smiled. "Or have a sly swig."

  Daniel's reply was a sharp dig in the ribs. "My parents will be there so you can sit with them again if you want."

  On that Sunday, Simon, dressed in school long grey trousers and white shirt, watched entranced as Daniel who was wearing a long white robe – Daniel said it was called an alb – prepared the communion and the altar. During the service Simon kept looking at his friend, sitting at one side behind the altar rail on that sacred ground, imbued in his mind with the reflected majesty of the priesthood and of the Eucharist.

  After the communion prayers Daniel received the bread and wine directly from the Vicar even before the choir. Then with the congregation, Simon went up to the rail and knelt for the Vicar's blessing. He saw that Daniel was taking the wine, which the altar boy sometimes did. He was aware of Daniel's closeness as he followed the Vicar along the rail with the chalice. The vicar reached Simon, and placing his hand on Simon's bowed head, said "The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you. The Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace" and then moved on. Simon felt that warm glow of peace he always did. He saw Daniel's white robe stop in front of him and looked up into Daniel's eyes.

  "The blood of Christ keep you in eternal life," said Daniel, pleading on his face and offering Simon the chalice. By this time the Vicar was about four people further along. Simon put his lips to the rim of the silver chalice and sipped the wine. It was strong and dark tasting, and sent a warm glow through him. Daniel smiled, wiped the edge of the chalice with his cloth and moved on. Simon stayed at the rail, savouring the moment, his friend's closeness and new status. Mrs Gray nudged Simon so he had to leave. Back in the pew he watched Daniel as he continued to follow the Vicar offering the wine.

  "Daniel shouldn't really have offered you the wine," whispered Mrs Gray. "It's not like him to forget that."

  Simon knew perfectly well that it had been no error on Daniel's part.

  After the service, he waited for Daniel, who had to clear the altar and put things away.

  "Why did you do that?" asked Simon as they walked home.

  "The wine?"

  "Yes. Your Mum said you weren't supposed to because I'm not confirmed."

  "I know, but I so wanted to give you the wine. I told the Vicar I had got muddled because it was my first time."

  "Were you in trouble?"

  "Not really, he just said I should be more observant next time."

  "I'm glad there'll be a next time, then. You've not been banned?"

  "No, it's OK. I won't be able to get away with it again though."

  "I'm glad you did this time. It felt so special to me with it being you holding the cup."

  "That was the plan," laughed Daniel. "I knew you'd like it. I wanted to say the words to you."

  "I wish it had been you giving me the blessing," joked Simon.

  "Kneel down," said Daniel. They were in the grassy area near the footbridge over the stream. Simon knelt on the grass.

  Placing his hand on Simon's head, Daniel said solemnly, "Simon, The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you. The Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace."

  "Amen," replied Simon, tears of overwhelming emotion in his eyes, and looked at Daniel's face.

  Daniel smiled. "Come on, idiot," he said as Simon stood up. "I can see that meant a lot to you."

  Simon could only nod his head.

  "To me too, Simon," said Daniel, risking a quick hug as they walked on.

  Over forty years later when Simon was offered the chance to perform the same function at church, to be a server, he jumped at the chance.

  1958/4 Fielding

  Simon covered his ears. He could not bear the shouting. Mum and Dad were arguing again, and Frances with all the righteousness of her sixteen years, was joining in. Simon didn't know what the argument was about this time, and it didn't really matter. It was always the same. He stayed in his room, wondering if he could get out of the house without being spotted and possibly drawn in.

  The shouting subsided and he heard footsteps on the stairs. Simon was suddenly fearful that it would be Dad, but when his bedroom door opened, it was Frances.

  "Are you all right?" she asked. She looked kindly at her little brother. He seemed younger than his eleven years and she could see he was upset.

  "Yes, I suppose so," said Simon. "Is it safe to go down yet?"

  "I would just stay here, if I were you," said Frances.

  "Not doing that,
" said Simon, "I just want to get out."

  "I'll come down with you, then."

  Brother and sister went out on to the landing. Frances peered over the banister. The noise had subsided. Frances led the way down the stairs. Just as they got to the bottom, Dad came out of the dining room, red faced and angry looking.

  "What have you two been up to," he snapped.

  "Just talking," said Frances, defensively, a nuance that did not escape Dad.

  "Talking? Talking about what?" Dad demanded irritably.

  "Just things," said Simon, wanting to support his sister.

  "Answer me properly, Simon," barked Dad, grabbing Simon by the arm. "What kind of things?"

  Simon turned to Frances for support. He thought this was the prelude to a beating.

  "Dad, it's nothing," she said

  "I'll decide whether it's nothing or something."

  "Harry, what's going on?" came Mum's voice as she entered the hallway.

  "This boy's being cheeky again, answering back," said Dad, and shook Simon who put up his hand to defend a possible blow.

  "What!" shouted Dad. "You would try to strike me?" He roughly pulled Simon round the better to aim a retaliation against the strike that never was.

  "Harry! Stop it!" snapped Mum.

  "It really isn't fair, Dad," said Frances. "He's not done anything."

  Faced with this from his wife and teenage daughter, not to mention Simon's growing size and strength, Dad released his grip on Simon.

  "You had better be very careful, my lad," said Dad, and he turned back into the dining room.

  "You all right, love?" said Mum.

  Simon nodded, shaken, and breathing quickly with subsiding fear.

  "I'm going out," he said. He grabbed his jacket off the hall pegs and went back through the kitchen and out of the back door. He wasn't sure where he was going. He thought of getting his bike out but decided on a quick getaway. Unthinkingly, he walked round the corner to Daniel's house, his refuge in times of trouble. Daniel knew about the rows at home. There had been one occasion with huge embarrassment when Daniel on one of his rare visits to Simon's home witnessed a family row. Simon was so ashamed that Daniel saw it and he rushed off to escape. Daniel followed and was so understanding.

  As he walked along beside the privet hedge, he heard Daniel's voice. But when he reached the gates, he saw Daniel on his driveway talking to two other boys, Fielding and Richardson, who were standing astride their bicycles. Simon hated them. They were both at Victoria Road, and they hated Hooray Henrys. Fielding especially was a bully, and Richardson was his sidekick. But Daniel knew them, they were a bit older than him. Simon stood for a moment at the gate, wondering why Daniel was talking to them and hesitating now to go in. The three became conscious of his presence.

  "Fuck off, you," said Fielding.

  Before anything else could be said, Simon turned and walked on, past Daniel's house. He went into the allotments. There was nobody about. He was at a loose end now, he had wanted to be with Daniel to find some feeling of comfort after the row at home, but Fielding had put paid to that. He sat for a few moments, wondering where he might go. The Parade? But he had no money. For want of anything better, he got up and started down the allotments towards the den.

  "Simple Simon!" came the catcall. Simon turned to see Fielding and Richardson coming up on their bikes along the allotment path. Before Simon could think of evasive action, they were there.

  "What do you want?" said Simon. Fielding thrust his face towards Simon. His face always seemed dirty, thought Simon. He had a scar on his left cheek which Simon supposed was from a fight. The two had dropped their bikes.

  "This!" said Fielding, as he suddenly punched Simon in the gut, catching him unawares.

  "Ah! What was that for?"

  "We're going to beat you up," said Fielding.

  "What for?" groaned Simon, still partly doubled up.

  "Because we can," gloated Richardson.

  "I don't like kids who listen to my conversations," said Fielding.

  "I wasn't listening," Simon tried to explain.

  "Fibbing as well. I'm going to knock your block off," said Fielding. Then the two were punching Simon, raining blows on his body. He tried to move out of the way, but to no effect. Simon's face exploded with pain as his nose took a hard punch from Fielding and there was blood streaming down his face, onto his jacket. Suddenly Fielding jerked backwards and was spun round. Daniel stood facing Fielding, his stance displaying complete readiness to take him on, even though Fielding was perhaps a good inch or more taller.

  "Leave him alone, Fielding," said Daniel resolutely. But Daniel had that inner steadfastness that Simon admired so much and that Fielding and Richardson, like all bullies, feared. Fielding knew that if he took on Daniel, he and Richardson against Daniel and Simon, they might well win, but the cost would be too great.

  "Yeah, well. He's had his lesson now," said Fielding, unconsciously but revealingly taking a step back.

  "Just go then," said Daniel, unmoving.

  "Just coz your Dad's a copper," said Fielding. "Come on, let's go," he added to Richardson.

  "That's nothing to do with it," said Daniel, "and you know it!"

  The two bullies moved off as Daniel came to where Simon was now sitting on the grass next to the path.

  "Look after your little friend!" called Fielding sarcastically from a safer distance.

  "What does he mean by that?" asked Simon, worried that their precious secret might be out.

  Daniel of course understood. "Nothing like that," he said reassuringly. "Come on, I'll take you home."

  "No," said Simon. "They've been shouting and arguing again."

  "OK," said Daniel, "I'll take you to mine."

  The two friends moved off back along the path having first made sure that Fielding and Richardson were gone.

  "Why were they beating you up?" asked Daniel.

  "Does Fielding need a reason?" replied Simon bitterly. "They said I had been listening to you talking to them."

  "That's rubbish," said Daniel.

  "Why were you talking to them anyway?" asked Simon. "They're not your friends are they?"

  "No. It's sort of complicated."

  When they got back to Daniel's house, they went to the kitchen.

  "Sit down," said Daniel, as he turned on the tap. He went to the cupboard and came back with cotton wool. Simon's nose was still bleeding a bit and his face and front were blood streaked.

  "What happened to you?" said Louise, Daniel's sister, coming into the kitchen and seeing Simon.

  "Fielding," explained Daniel, gently wiping Simon's face with damp cotton wool.

  "That oik," said Louise, "Really Daniel, I don't know why you bother helping him. Can you manage?"

  "Yes," said Daniel, "Basic first aid."

  "Regular Boy Scout," said Louise as she left the kitchen. Daniel finished cleaning Simon's face.

  "There, all looks normal again," said Daniel, smiling. Simon didn't think it felt normal, His nose still hurt.

  "Is my nose swollen?" he asked. Daniel looked and considered for a moment.

  "No," he said, laughing, "you're just as ugly as usual."

  Simon grinned back. Daniel cupped Simon's jaw in his hands and moved close so his forehead rested against Simon's. For a few seconds, the two remained still, in unspoken communion. Daniel stood back.

  "How are you helping Fielding?" asked Simon, baffled. Then a disturbing thought occurred to him. "You're not… It's not like with him, like with us, is it?"

  "Bloody hell! Definitely not!" said Daniel, pulling a face of disgust. "That's just you and me," he continued, "nobody else."

  "Me too," said Simon quickly. "So what is it with Fielding then?"

  "Tell you later," said Daniel.

  But the moment passed, and he never did.

  1958/5 First Kiss

  As Spring moved toward summer, the boys' horizons widened. Scout activities moved more outdoors, the athletics co
uld get back out on the track in earnest and the bike rides began again. They would return to the vantage point overlooking the aerodrome, with sandwiches, drinks and the groundsheet. Since Simon's first climax, the boys' relationship in that sense had become reciprocal, and both enjoyed it more.

  Relaxing on the groundsheet after their mutual release, they were allowing the sun to bathe their bodies once more.

  "I like it much better now that you come as well," said Daniel.

  "How?" said Simon, looking up at the fluffy clouds dotted across the blue early summer sky.

  "Because we're more equal. I always thought it was unfair before, and I didn't like that. It's much better now."

  "I like it better, too," said Simon.

  Daniel laughed. "Well, obviously. You're such an idiot."

  Simon knew that this was just an expression Daniel used, and was not at all upset by it. Feeling Daniel's hand stroke his body, he lay back and closed his eyes. He could hear the noise of the countryside, some insects, birds, a tractor in the distance. He could feel Daniel next to him, hear his breathing. He sensed Daniel's face close to his. He felt the touch, Daniel's lips against his. Surprised, he opened his eyes, Daniel drew back, and was looking down at him, framed against the blue sky, uncertainty on his face, the question ready to be spoken.

  "I'm sorry, Simon. I didn't mean to .. I mean … " Daniel stopped, wondering what Simon would say to his clumsy attempt to kiss him. What if it was a step too far? Sometimes that two year gap was too much.

  Simon looked up at his friend. He had been surprised, the feel of another person's lips against his own was new to him. But now, seeing the anxiety on Daniel's face, he saw the moist tenderness of Daniel's lips afresh. He wanted to feel it again. Without speaking, he reached up and drew Daniel to him again, and they kissed, lips exploring lips, tongues touching, the effects reaching through each boy's body to fresh arousal. This was new to both of them, neither had realised the erogenous consequence of such kissing. They drew apart.