Wales discovery - Part 7
A fictional story of Ray and his journey with his childhood mate Don to adulthood. Set in northern England and Wales in early 1970's. Ray is now 18 and is planning an escape from his humdrum post A-Level life and his gloomy, soot blackened mill town.
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Wales - Part 7
I wake and I'm spooning Don, he's hard and in my crack, I turn to look at Trev and Dave asleep, spooning. Trevs morning wood looks impressive set against his ruddy red muscular body, Dave's cock nestled in his brothers arse crack.
I get up to piss, the sun is rising behind Gyrn Goch, making it look more ominous than it is, a brooding mass. I piss, shake and shiver, running into the tent and zipping up loudly. I spoon with Don, my cock pulsing hard up his crack.
`How did that happen? I was just about to fuck you!, you cheeky git'
I sink in, unhindered and rock my self to climax,
`That was short and sweet' laughs Don as he rolls on his back and I straddle his cock then lean forward to kiss him as he pushes and pulls an inch or so into my hole. He cums with a tight hug and lots of tongue deep kisses.
Trev and Dave are on their elbows watching us `fucking beautiful' Trev says.
`I'm starving, let's drive to the caff at Pontclyfni' says Don.
Its a post office, beach shop and cafe all in one.
We order the works and pay for the lads. `Cheers' they say together then spoon three sugars each into steaming mugs of tea.
The toast arrives first and that's devoured, then the plates arrive, piled high.
`Pedwar brecwast' says the waitress, and we tuck in, two eggs, two sausage, two rashers of bacon, fried bread, mushrooms and tinned tomatoes.
We order more tea and a slice of Welsh cake slathered with butter.
`mwynhau hogia' she says, turning to grin at Trev or was it Dave?
`She fancies you' says Dave, clutching at Trevs hard cock under the table.
`Gerroff' he protests, smiling broadly.
We laze about the farm, walk to the beach and over to Trevor,
Watch the mud here boys', Dave says, It will suck you in until all we can see are your finger nails'.
We walk off the beach and pass some cottages then back down way past the peril.
A fishing boat is unloading boxes of mackerel. One guy picks some and wraps them in newspaper and throws them at Trev who catches them and calls back his thanks in Welsh.
`Fresh mackerel, he's even cleaned them, he said now we're half English that we wouldn't know how, cheeky bugger'.
Come on let's have `em for lunch. We made our way back to the campsite and Trev assembled a fire in the bbq pit and laid the mackerel on the blackened grid, skin down. After only a minute or so he scooped one up in a chunk of bread and passed it to me. The oily fish exuded its charms and with the bread softening in the oil it was a new delight.
`Bloody great' Don said,
`That bugger was swimming around an hour ago wondering what to do this Sunday when bam it was caught'.
We ate up and laid in the sun, letting the little fire burn to ashes.
`We better be off' stuff to do. Says Dave.
`Talking of doing stuff, you lads got time for another round?' Says Don.
Trev squeezes his package, `always time for yours Don, tomorrow I'll only have Rosie Palm or Dave'.
We get it on in the tent, me and Dave and Trev and Don. Not much talking, all action, these two lads know how to give and take, no doubt learned in their cots, sharing each other for years.
We were done. `Fuck, it must be past two o'clock by now, come on Trev' says Dave pulling up his shorts, squeezing into his T shirt, watching Trev trying to push his thick, red dick into his small shorts.
`Want a lift?'
`No we're fine, it's only a mile or so to Aunty Meghans and it will blow some of the arse smell away.
They wander off, bum cheeks rocking and they turned, raised their hands to wave and walked down the lane.
We pulled the airbed into the sun, the odour wafting away, laid back and fell asleep, the sun hot on my skin.
We woke and walked to the shop in llanaelhearn for supplies, two pork pies and a couple of fancies each, we just caught them before they shut. `Youre lucky, I'd only opened up to mop the floor' she said.
We sunned ourselves the rest of the day, I read the rest of a book I'd skimmed through for English Lit. Don read a motorcycle magazine. We listened to a `mix tape' on his Philips shoebox cassette player, laying in the fresh air. My arse buzzing with Dave's last load he deposited. My cock ring sore from overuse. My skin sensitive, red with the hot sun.
This is the life, my mind wondered to the UCCA applications, which would it be; Durham, Aberystwyth or Leeds?
Is this my last taste of freedom?
My thoughts were broken by the sound of Don letting one rip then,
`put kettle on Ray and make us a brew'
I put down my book and wrestled him on the mattress, tickling him, grabbing his package through his shorts, finally pinning his hands above his head, his beautiful face, his grin, his pits, sweaty, bushy, mine. I kissed him gently relaxing my grip, he responded, his tongue battling with mine as we kissed then rolling me over on top of me, his dead weight on me, crushing me, as I laughed, winded. He rested his weight on his elbows, his cock buried deep in my groin, pressing hot on my thigh. He stroked my hair into a parting, away from my eyes, his eyes closed slowly as he got closer to my lips, his breath hot on my face. I closed my eyes, waiting for his lips to touch, Don leapt up grabbed my hard cock and twisted it,
`Are you making a brew, or what?'
I picked up the kettle and chased him across the field to the nearest tap, where I filled the kettle from the hose and then put my thumb over the end and splashed his crotch.
We had one of the fancies, licking off the sticky pink icing off our fingers, then realising we're were hungry had the pork pie and after a sip of tea and the other fancy.
We layed back and as the site quietened down we walked to the beach and sat with our arms around each other on a large stone watching the lighthouse on Anglesey flash and the lights of Trevor and up the coast to Dinas twinkle as the pink sky darkened and the sun set like a huge ball into the sea.
In the darkness, layed on the rock now giving back the heat of the day, Don took me slowly, lovingly, dumping his treasure deep in my arse, then suckled a load out of me as we listened to the waves washing the gravel rhythmically and the flash of the light buoys, jarring, out of tune somehow.
We walked back up the hill to the campsite. The moon now rising and pulled the airbed back in the tent and zipped up, resting close together, sublime.
End of part 7
More Welsh adventures to come for Ray and Don as their life opens up to them, free of the constraints of living at home, school and exams.
Get in touch scribblerlad@hotmail.com