SNOT-BOY 2
USUAL DISCLAIMER
"SNOT-BOY" is a gay story, with some parts containing graphic scenes of sex between males. So, if in your land, religion, family, opinion and so on this is not good for you, it will be better not to read this story. But if you really want, or because YOU don't care, or because you think you really want to read it, please be my welcomed guest.
SNOT-BOY
by Andrej Koymasky © 2019
written on May 1st 1990
Translated by the Author
English text kindly revised by J.O. Dickingson
CHAPTER 2
MARCEL
Jambville Castle was famous for its splendid stables. Besides having horses of rare beauty, cared for by skilled servants and by numerous stable-boys, there were valued breed stallions, often requested by the stock farms of other lords for covering.
Jambville stable boys, ranging between seventeen and thirty-five years of age, learned the tricks of the trade there at the castle and carried out their duties in a flawless way. Their liveries were of a beautiful pea green, and they all slept in rooms expressly built for them above the stables so that they could always be ready to serve.
Amongst them there was a certain Marcel Bonnet, a twenty-six-year-old man, son of an ex-waiter of the castle who had died when Marcel was twelve. He was fifteen when his mother, who worked as a cook at the castle, died also. So, being an orphan, he was put, by the decision of the Count, under the guardianship of one of the stable-boys, a certain Charlot, who was then twenty-four years old. The young man willingly accepted the responsibility and took under his wing the adolescent stable-boy. He cared for him and taught him with such worthy devotion that he was several times praised by the same Count, and when the chief of the stable-boys became too aged, the Count named Charlot to this station. Charlot was then thirty-five when he was given this promotion.
What the Lord Count didn't know, or even suspect, was that Charlot had a special weakness for young boys, being a firm follower of what the aristocracy of that time called "the unspeakable Greek vice". Charlot knew neither Greek nor Latin, but he did know how to cheat a lad, how to bring him to surrender to his desires, and how to get the favour out of him for his own pleasure.
There were not just a few young stable boys that had had to endure Charlot's attentions, and usually they accepted or they didn't last long as stable-boys. Some of the elders must have been aware, but being that Charlot was a very expert stable man, and moreover one of the protected of the Count; and since he carried out his affairs with the boys in a very discreet way, nobody had ever denounced his behaviour. On the contrary, everybody unspokenly pretended not to know.
When Marcel started to work at the stables, Charlot didn't make any sexual propositions to the boy because he was carrying out a satisfying intercourse with two lads a little more ripe than the boy. However, when Marcel was put under his guardianship, only a few days elapsed before he started to develop a strong desire for the boy. Even though he was just twenty-four, Charlot had not a little experience at cheating the boys, so he started to patiently weave his web in order to bring the boy to surrender to his desire. Being that he was responsible for Marcel, he followed him with assiduous care, teaching him his trade well and always keeping him under his eye.
Amongst other things, he explained to the boy the importance of being always very clean, and so, with the excuse of needing to be sure that he did clean himself thoroughly, he decided that they would always wash together. Charlot soaped him all over his body, brushed it, scraped it and ordered the boy to do the same to him. So inevitably, at first Charlot, then also Marcel, during those washings, more and more frequently started to show conspicuous erections. Charlot laughed and joked about that, and touched Marcel in an increasingly intimate way, so that one day, to the boy's great confusion, Marcel ejaculated.
The man, with a real relief to the boy, behaved as if nothing had occurred, and he didn't talk about what had happened until the night, when they undressed to go to sleep. Their two beds were in one part of the stable-boys' lodgings secluded from the part where all the others slept.
So, they were undressing when Charlot whispered to Marcel, "Do not speak, or the others will hear us..." and before the boy could understand the reason for that strange recommendation, the man had lowered his breeches and showed him, smiling, his glorious erection.
Then, without a word, Charlot had approached him, had lowered the boy's breeches and had guided the boy's hand to touch his hard rod.
The boy, blushing to the tip of his ears, withdrew his hand with a jerk, quite as if it had been burned, but the man tightly grabbed his wrist with determination and put the boy's hand back on his throbbing pole.
Confused, Marcel shook his head but Charlot, taking his chin with his other hand, forced the boy to look straight in his eyes, and approaching so his lips almost brushed the boy's face, he whispered in a decided tone: "Don't make me fucking angry kid! Now you will do exactly all I want, understood?"
Marcel, his eyes wide open, weakly shook again his head, this time in the affirmative. Charlot's hand lowered until it was between the boy's legs and started to finger his member that was still softly hanging between his bare thighs as Charlot continued to stare in his eyes. The boy was trembling, but, not knowing what to do, remained still. Little by little his member started to react to that skilled fingering and to swell and throb.
The young man gently masturbated him for a while, but as soon as he felt that the boy was surrendering, he left him and said, at half-voice and with a reproaching air, "Between fellows it is natural to do such things, don't you know? And between friends even more so.... Ask Marc or Mathieu, if you don't believe me!" Blowing out the small flame of the oil lamp, he again whispered, this time with harshness in the dark, "Have a good sleep, Marcel," and lay on his straw mattress.
The boy for a moment remained still, astounded by that unexpected epilogue, then in turn lay in his place. However, he did not sleep.
As Charlot had cunningly foreseen, Marcel, still half-aroused from having been half masturbated, was confused by a thousand obscure thoughts. He recalled that first, unexpected, bewildering, but enjoyable ejaculation he had had in the afternoon when he was washing with Charlot. He thought of the pleasurable excitation that he had started to feel again when he was being fingered by the young man, and of the hard rod that Charlot had made him feel, and then he recalled those last words: Marc and Mathieu also did with Charlot those things that he had escaped.... Companions do it, and mainly friends.... So he didn't appear to be either a companion or a friend for Charlot, even though the man had always reserved for him so many attentions and cares, more than to any other....
The swelling between his legs didn't seem to subside, and to the contrary, it seemed more fierce and stronger than ever.
He was still immersed in those confused thoughts when he heard the heavy and regular breathing of Charlot and he realized that the man was asleep.
Why did I oppose to him, he asked himself? He didn't know. Possibly because he didn't know what to do, how to do it, or possibly just because he was an ungrateful kid?
It seemed as if his member didn't want to go back to its usual dimensions. Unconsciously, he reached for it with his hand and started to finger it like just a little time earlier when Charlot had done it, and it was a very agreeable sensation.... Yet he had refused to give Charlot that same pleasure.... Yes, he had been ungrateful.... Without thinking too much, he slid away from his pallet, and, his eyes now used to the darkness, barely seeing the indistinct shape of his companion, he approached him and, crouching near him, reached for his body with his hand.
Lightly touching the warm surface, then orientating by his touch, he singled out the man's member between his legs. It was soft, smooth, warm. He caressed it with lightness mixed with awe and sweetness. He continued to caress it for a good while, quietly following his shape with his fingers. It was a nice sensation....
He was about to stop and go back to his place, when he felt it quiver, at first quite imperceptibly, then with more vigour, and then he felt it growing, raising, standing up little by little, almost as if it was answering to the touch of his inexperienced hand. So he continued, uncertain but feeling he was on the right path, and feeling his companion's arousal gave tinder to his own.
When he felt Charlot's body moving, he instinctively withdrew his hand but at once he felt the man's hand lay on his head and draw him near and heard his light voice barely whisper, "Yes. So, my friend, so...."
Then he resumed touching it, now with both his hands.
Charlot, who silently sat up, took his head with both his hands, and slowly, drew it between his spread legs. Then leaning on him, he said in a murmur, "Lick it, my friend. Take it in your nice mouth and slowly suck it.... Go on, let me see that you are a friend for real.... Make me enjoy, Marcel...."
For a moment the boy thought that the other was asking him too weird a thing to be serious. Perhaps he was just joking.... but the two hands were driving his face against that beautiful hard rod. He inhaled its vaguely musky smell, then felt the intense heat. He felt the smooth and velvety skin, at first against his cheek, then brushing his lips. So he opened them and, shyly, touched it with his tongue.
"That way, yes, my dear friend. Go on, lick it all.... Again, don't stop.... Good, you are better than Mathieu, very good.... Now open wide that nice mouth of yours, so I can show it inside.... So, so.... Suck it, go on.... That's good.... Don't let me feel your teeth.... You'll give me a good time, right, my little Marcel? You'll become even more skilled than Marc, I feel it.... And if you make me enjoy, then I too, I'll make you enjoy, my little one...."
Marcel sucked it, at first in an awkward and hesitating way, but then with more and more increasing confidence, because he felt that his companion did like it very much. The fierce pole between his lips, hard like a steel pestle but smooth as silk, warm and throbbing in his mouth, gave a strange pleasure to him also.
Charlot's hands guided his head in a light alternating movement, up and down, up and down.... When the boy started to move by himself to that rhythm, the man's hands left him and lowered to finger him again between his legs. Marcel then felt a sharp pleasure and thought that what was happening to him, even though so strange and unexpected, was really good and pleasurable.
Then, all happened in a flash. He felt shivers going up and down from his hair to his toes, shaking him all over. He quivered with a never known intensity, his entire body tensed in a spasm of sharp joy and, for the second time in that day, and in his life, he ejaculated.
Just at that moment from the incandescent rod of the other gushed out warm and thick spurts that filled his mouth. He instinctively tried to withdraw, but Charlot's hands were back on his head and forced it not to move so that Marcel was obliged to drink all that sour warm liqueur.
They remained that way for a little while, then Charlot loosened his hold and the boy could raise again his head. Charlot ruffled his hair in a tender gesture and whispered, "Yes, you are for real my friend. Now go back to sleep. You are a fast learner, my boy. I feel you'll become to me more important than Marc and Mathieu, more than both together..."
So it was, for almost three years, until Charlot felt attracted by a new stable boy that took Marcel's place.
When this happened, he didn't remain inactive. At times he withdrew with Mathieu or with Marc for a fast suck. But because of his shy nature, even though he liked doing it very much, if it wasn't for the other inviting him, making the first move, he was not able to do it. So at times he spent full months without any other relief than to masturbate alone.
It was exactly because of that, that Marcel, having seen Snot, started to call him to give him some small tasks.
At the beginning, he didn't see in the boy anything more than a little dirty ragamuffin, but little by little he noticed that under the shapeless heap of rags that took the place of clothes, the boy had a not at all bad body, and he noticed that it was precociously developing ... and he started to desire him.
Snot, as we know, had learned to recognize that shine that lights up the eyes of a man feeling sexual desire, and at once he understood, probably even before Marcel was aware of it, that the young man desired him.
So one day, having carried on a task for the stable boy, as that one gave him some food, Snot looked straight in his eyes and said to him: "You want to fuck me."
"I? It's not enough what I gave you?"
"Don't play dumb. You want to put your tool in my ass. You want!"
Marcel blushed and quickly denied that, probably in too much of a hurry.
The lad, who was now fourteen, shrugged his shoulders. "When you feel like, I'm ready," he said going away.
Snot liked that young man. He had a gentle attitude and the boy thought that it could be good being fucked by him...
The day after, Snot approached the stable boy while he was trotting along a colt, holding it by his rein.
"So, you want to fuck me?"
"You are too dirty. You never wash?"
"The Blade fucks me even if I don't wash."
"But I don't like that."
"If I wash, we'll do it?"
"It's possible... Go away from there, the horse can kick."
"I'll go to the stream. Wait for me."
"No, not now, I can't. Tonight, after the Hail Mary bells. Near the firewood stockpile. But only if you are clean...."
Snot nodded yes and disappeared into the bushes. Marcel was hesitant. That offer, so direct, without mincing his words, really bewildered him. But now it had been too many months that he hadn't had a chance for sex, and the thought that he could amuse himself with the boy, wasn't at all displeasing. But just if the boy was clean.
So, that same evening, after the ringing of the vespers bells, Marcel snuck off, unseen, to the firewood stockpile. At that time of night nobody passed that way and the wood stacks offered more than a few useful withdrawn corners, really good hiding places. Snot was there, waiting for him. For a moment they remained one facing the other, silent. The full moon lightened up the place enough to allow them to clearly see the other's face.
"I washed... twice...."
"You offer yourself that way to everybody?"
"No. But you want to do it, and I like you."
"You do it with many?"
"You'll be the second one."
"You like doing it?"
"I'd not be here...."
The lad, with few moves, removed his rags and stood completely naked in front of the young man. That one looked at him with barely hidden pleasure, from head to toe, for a long while.
"You are well-shaped, well-developed...."
"Won't you strip?"
Marcel freed himself of his clothes, under the attentive look of the boy. Then, stretching out his arms, he took Snot, drawing him near, almost embracing him and caressing him all over his body.
"Would you suck it?"
"What?"
"My tool."
"That one? And why?"
"I like it. It's good. You never did it?"
"No. The Blade just fucks my ass and that's all."
Marcel made the boy kneel in front of him and taught him how to do it. Little by little the two bodies intertwined and united for a long while. Snot quickly learned all Marcel suggested to him and dedicated himself to it with ardent passion.
"Go on, fuck my ass, now!" at one point the boy asked.
It was a first for Marcel. Snot guided the young man inside himself. As the stable boy slid into the warm channel, they both emitted a moan of pleasure.
"Yes, so... Do you like it?" Snot asked with a pleased smile.
"Terribly!" the young man panted, smiling back.
"Fuck me, go on. Move... strongly.... Oh, that's good!"
"Yeah!" Marcel panted, moving in and out of that small welcoming ass like the pounding of the surf while with both hands caressing the chest and the tummy of the boy.
The Blade never did it that way and Snot felt like he had found paradise. He decided that he had to make the youth enjoy ten times more than the Blade... and he succeeded in that.
Later, after they both had reached that peak of pleasure, Marcel said, but with tenderness, "You are a little wild animal...."
"But you liked it."
"Of course, yes, very much. And how am I, better than your Blade, or what's his name?"
"Better, yes. You know lots of things. He just fucks me, wham, wham, wham, and that's over. Can we meet again?"
"Willingly. But I don't know your name. I am Marcel."
"I'm Snot."
"That's not a name. What's your real name?"
"Snot. Everybody calls me just Snot."
"I don't like it. It isn't a name."
"Then... you give me a name."
"Jacques... or better, Jaquot."
"I like it! Jaquot!"
They started to meet more and more often. Marcel liked the boy very much, and soon perceived that, under an abysmal ignorance, was hidden a remarkable intelligence, an inexhaustible good mood, an insatiable curiosity, and a bursting out sexuality.
They had been meeting for a couple of months and winter was now approaching. Marcel understood that in a while the difficulties of their clandestine meetings would increase. He would have to lessen his appointments with the boy, perhaps completely stop them, at least for some months.... He didn't want that.
So, after thinking about it for several days, one evening, after he had had sex with the boy, he said, "Jaquot, I would like to have you with me, always. But winter is coming and we can't for sure have sex in the snow. The evenings already start to be cold. So I thought something.... If... you come to live with me? I can say you are a cousin, my mother sister's son, or something alike. I can ask the Count to let you work with me. What do you think?"
"I would have a nice livery like yours? And food every day? And live in a real house? And you ask me what I think about it? That's ok with me. But if they ever ask me where I am from? I know just the forest, I'm ignorant. Won't they flush out the lie at once?"
"I have really thought about that too. Before Christmas I have a few days on leave, to visit some relatives living at the borders of Chantilly forest. Aren't forests all alike? You come with me, then you come back to Jambville with me. It will work, you are a smart boy..."
"Ok, but I cannot possibly come with these rags...."
"I thought also about that. In three weeks everything will be ready, also some decent clothes for you. And after, we will be able to have sex every night, with our minds at rest, cousin Jaquot Chambord!"
And so it was.
The boy was accepted without any problem at the castle and started to work there as stable boy assistant, under Marcel's supervision. Snot was happy, not only because he felt all right with Marcel and enjoyed making sex with him, and now he had nice clothes and good food regularly, but above all because now he was at ease to see from near "The Other", the boy he had spied for so many years from the forest. He had discovered that he was the third son of the Count and that his name was Julien de Jambville.
For a moment the only difficulty that seemed to trouble Snot's new arrangements was that Charlot didn't stop putting his eyes, and hands, on the boy. But Snot, without any problem, easily neutralized the man with the method he knew best: hiding from Marcel a couple of times per week, he allowed Charlot to fuck him. Sometimes he had sex even with Mathieu, but not with Marc, because the young man had married and didn't seem interested any more in the manly beauties. The three men did sex in a different way, and Snot learned how to satisfy each of them, but he preferred very much Marcel.
He had sex with Marcel every night, even when during the day he had had sex with Charlot or with Mathieu. He didn't lose even a little bit of his desire and spent the first part of those nights doing joyous sex with his lovely "cousin".
Marcel was really happy. Snot was even more than happy, not only because he could have good sex without worries and with several men, as he liked, but above all, he was happy for the not even dreamed possibility to see from near, even though always at respectful distance, the young lord, Julien.
At times the young Count came to take his horse for a ride, and in that case it even happened that he exchanged with Snot some rare words. Nothing more than "Is my horse ready?" or a "Hold my stirrup still.". But Snot was happy.
The boy was in adoration with Julien. He felt that, if he were asked, he would have given his life for him. To be one of his servants seemed to him the most wonderful thing in the world, even if Julien seemed quite not to notice Snot's existence.
He wore his young master's livery with pride. He always did his work well, but he did it twice as well when he knew it was for Julien.
Snot, thanks to his intelligence and his skill at observation, learned well and quickly everything that was taught to him, and so he soon learned also to express himself in a less coarse way. All the servants liked him because he always was ready and available, quick and careful, joyful and respectful.
So, after less than one year since he had begun working at the castle, at the beginning of Fall, from stable boy he was promoted to stirrup boy, a person who regularly takes care of an aristocrat's horse. That put him even more frequently in contact with the lords and, what was more important to him, with Julien.
In Spring of the following year, Jaquot Chambord was appointed regular squire to Julien de Jambville, now not only taking care his horse, but also accompanying him on his rides and travels. And so in a short time he had gone from assistant stable boy, to stable boy, stirrup boy, and now squire, one step below chief stable boy!
He got his new liveries and, even though he continued to live with his "cousin" Marcel, now they met just for the night. During the day he had to be always at the orders of his young master. Now Julien started to exchange some more words with his servant and Snot was in seventh heaven....
CONTINUES IN CHAPTER 3
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