Meet In The Middle With Rukia Publishing: Bernard Foong "Young" guest blogs with us featuring #NaughtyBadBoys - Stop by and say hello! #MM #LGBT #Memoir #blogspot @aharemboysaga @bernardfoong @SarahjaneWrites

Please Welcome Guest Blogger and Author of A Harem Boy's Saga, Bernard Foong- "Young"

Young writes MM #LGBT Memoirs. This blog may contain sensitive images and content.

Naughty Bad Boys - Yuletide preparations

Daltonbury Hall School for Boys

1967
Yuletide preparations
Andy, Samuel, Duc and I had signed up to assist the decorating committee for our school’s Yuletide Ball. Daltonbury Hall’s auditorium was decked out in sparkling tinsel, Christmas ornaments and Yuletide trinkets. Of course, the main feature was the freshly cut 12-foot spruce pine, which had arrived 13 days before the premiere of Peter Pan.

As I was dusting off the festive decorations, I couldn’t help reminiscing about my time at the boathouse with Nikee on the night of the Christmas Ball. Tears began welling in the corners of my eyes. I missed Nikee. It had been almost two years since I’d lost my virginity to my handsome big brother. Andy, sensing my pensiveness, came over to console me. “Are you alright?”

I glanced at my cherished Valet and broke into tears. He wrapped me in his muscular arms to soothe my nostalgia. He sighed, “Young, tell me what’s the matter.”

I stared at my lover without uttering a single syllable. Evocative poignancies rushed to the front of my mind. All eyes turned in my direction as I burst into mournful sobs. Andy, not knowing what had caused this delirium, led me outside for a breath of fresh air. “Tell me what’s bothering you, young man. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me why you’re crying,” he iterated.

“I don’t know why I’m missing Nikee all of a sudden. I love my ex-big brother,” I chirped.

“Hush, my pretty boy. Shush, don’t cry. I’m here for you,” my lover knelt in front of me as I sank onto the frosty ground. He held my face and kissed me on my lips. Some of the boys in the hall saw us kiss. They cheered from behind the windows. Andy lifted me off the wet grass, brushing the snowflakes from my backside. He held my hand as we walked away from the auditorium in silence. I guided him towards the boathouse jetty where Nikee and I had sat a couple years ago. My Valet must have guessed what was going through my mind. As soon as we sat on the warm blankets he had gathered from the boathouse, he brushed the wetness off my face before planting another loving kiss in my mouth. I stirred.

Words were not required as we sat in introspective silence, watching the winter’s sun sink below the horizon. Our love was sufficient to warm the chill that surrounded us. My eyes never left Andy’s scrutinizing gaze. I reached my hand into his bomber jacket, feeling his pulsating heart. His adoration for me was as potent as it had been the first time I had invited him into my bed. I felt for him as I had for Nikee. Now, I was sitting by the same wooden pier once again with my lover, except the boy wasn’t my ex-BB but my Valet, the man whose unconditional love had exceeded all my expectations.

This time around, it was I who made the first move. I reached my slender hands into his muscular chest, brushing my fingers against the hairs that covered his manliness. Our proximity stirred in us a sensual urgency that needed no justification. We were in love, and love knows no boundaries. Andy reciprocated my every gesture. We, like Siamese twins, were one; we would and could not survive without the other. We fed off each other’s affinity as if it were blood. Our pulsating hardness gyrated in unison to the rhythmic call of the wild. Behind the fabric coverings that concealed our modesty, we were also each preposterously envisioning another: I my initial sexual relationship with Nikee and Andy his besotted Albert. Unbeknownst to me, my lover was cogitating the correct moment to deliver his bohemian proposal to me. For now, we were simply hypnotized by our intimacies. His postulation would have to wait.

Heightened by our burning passions, our fevered eroticism had seduced us to strip bare in the midst of this winter landscape. Concealed by a woolen blanket, we cajoled naked as a single entity electrified by the warmth of lubricious carnality. The chance of being discovered by passersby served only to intensify our homo concupiscence to intransigent defiance. This was our incognizant way of rebelling against conventional attitudes towards the love that dared not speak its name. After all, it was the dawning of the Age of Aquarius, when gay men would want to be seen, heard and be respected. We no longer desired to hide in the shadows of conformity. Andy and I were coming into ourselves in more ways than one. We, like many others of our genre, were demanding change; our lovemaking that winter’s evening was simply a means to an end.

My lover’s and my accumulative orgasmic cries led us to rummage deeply into our inner conflicts, until now camouflaged by our stoic denial. Although Andy knew I was missing Nikee, he did not deduce that I was fantasizing about my ex during our heated passion. Neither did I surmise that my lover was imagining me as Albert as he pistoned his way to the point of no return. Our previous, undemanding attraction had whirled us into a complicated position. Our unconditional love would soon be put under scrutiny by none other but by ourselves.

We lay quietly in each other’s arms. We made no motion to leave until the night owl beckoned our return to the warmth of our respective chambers. I wanted to stay with Andy and he with me, but duty waived our impulsiveness. We parted ways reluctantly. We would be together again in less than a couple days, when we would depart for Spain to visit our other lover, Oscar, and his new beau, Alfonso.

The Back Story to the Present:
Nikee, my big-brother at Daltonbury Hall (my English boarding school) had been my guardian, mentor and my first lover. I was head over heels in-love and infatuated with him. Although he left for higher education in Vienna, Austria, I think of him often.

Nikee is now a retired cosmetic surgeon, married to a great guy, adopted two children and live in Munich, Germany with their dogs named Turtle and Rabbit. Occasionally we correspond but we had moved forward with our lives. I'm glad for the great moments we shared during our teenage years.

Andy, my beloved Andy. He is a retired engineer/bridge builder/designer living in Southern Australia. We reconnected forty five years after our separation. He are fond of each other and correspond quite regularly. Since he is contributing to the current book I'm writing: A Harem Boy's Saga - IV - Turpitude; a memoir by Young.

For a reader to understand A Harem Boy's Saga in its entirety, all is and will be revealed when the five to seven books series are published.

My last word:
I will forever cherish my harem experiences with no regrets. These four years of my young life were one of the best thus far.

Young