Innocence Lost, Paradise Found Ch. 03

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Andre and Finn in Boston and at War

This story is set near the end of the Age of American Innocence. —it is obviously a later chapter in the series. It would be very helpful if you at least skimmed the first for character development and a feel for the times. It really is hard to imagine that gay sex has moved so quickly to where it is today. Open gay sex is relatively new—and still has spotty toleration. The notion of a prostate as a sexual organ was known to very few only a few years ago. And almost no families (particularly Catholic and Fundamental Christian families) talked about any aspect of sex at all. All characters engaging in sexual activity are over 18. BD

The first few paragraphs summarize where we are….

Two handsome, but very different, young guys met in the hot summer of 1941. One is the rakish-looking, only son of a landed (but poor) French Canadian immigrant family in Western Massachusetts. He had spent the summer working on the family farm and was headed off to begin his junior year at Harvard College in Cambridge. (This was not the Harvard University of the post-war period which most think of now. It was then a learned, but sheltered place, one step above the seminary it had once been, with very restrictive codes of conduct still in place. The war would end most of them.)

The other was a third generation Irish immigrant from the south side of Boston, a stonemason by trade—the New Deal was taking effect and building trades were beginning to find work—particularly on public projects. So Finn had hired out as a farm hand for the summer at a neighboring farm. He too was handsome in that particularly Irish way: he was a ginger, freckled, with smiling eyes, but not a leprechaun—he was tall and well-muscled from hard labor—of Celtic Viking stock.

Both were typically innocent about sexual matters—an innocence that would be nearly impossible iin the 2020s.

The two met at a local public swimming hole where young men often skinny-dipped late in the day after the families left and their work was finished.

They were together for only three weeks before the summer ended. But, in that time they had made the unlikely transition from curious, innocent boys (yes, 20-something innocent “boys” did exist prior to WWII, and the much later development of DVD/Blu-ray, and the internet) to insatiable man-lovers. There were a few muscle mags, but most were handled only under the counter to embarrassed purchasers. Everything even remotely explicitly sexual was black market and rare.

It all started by accident: Both went swimming. Finn was very attracted to Andre (whom he encountered pleasuring himself on a remote rock ledge at the far end of the pond) and his hormones took over. As in many such situations, it started with a casual touch, then mutual jerks, continued to a blow and concluded in bed. Each was yet to discover whether he was top, bottom or vers—they barely knew the words. At the end of the last chapter, both had lost their virginity and their cherries. But, they were still very much at the experimental stage of sexual awakening. And neither thought much about sex labels.

Toward the end of the time together, Andre and Finn each realized their future was cloudy, but they put the premonitions aside and just enjoyed the moments they had together. In that sense, their experience paralleled so many in those years. Gays had no rights before the 21st century. In fact, in many places inside and outside the US, they were criminals, even capital offenders. Younger contemporary readers might easily ignore this simple fact of history.

Andre was headed back to Harvard where he would be dorm-ed in a rigidly closed “house” with little free time, a demanding curriculum and less freedom. His mother and an acquaintance had planned his marital future. He was going to spend a year or two courting one of the daughters of haute Boston: Suzanne Cartier, a young attractive girl that Andre barely knew, and presumably marry her after graduation.

Meanwhile, Finn’s Da had managed to secure him a position as a stonemason’s helper. The patronage-granting Democrat machine in Boston had awarded a Federal contract to build and reinforce stone bridge abutments on the Charles River to a drinking buddy of Francis X. O’Neill, and Frank had inserted his son into the lineup of those being employed.

Both Andre and Finn were headed east, to cities only a few miles apart, but their worlds were going to be very different, and it was unlikely their circles would intersect again. Promises were made, but fulfillment would be difficult and unlikely.

*******

Andre’s classes started on the first Tuesday in September. A violent thunderstorm the previous evening had brought the temperatures down and a promise of early fall to Cambridge. As a junior, Andre was able to secure a single room in maslak escort Winthrop House, a large neo-classical set of buildings with courtyards facing the Charles River. He would share a common bath with others on his floor, but in a stroke of luck, his third floor room had a view of the river. Andre had installed himself quickly. He had only a valise of clothes which he had brought on the train and the streetcar to reach Cambridge. Harvard delivered a wooden “summer storage” box that contained his books and the other items that he had collected over two years of dormitory life. They did NOT include a TV, laptop, micro or fridge—all of which would have been foreign to an undergrad room at the time!

Finn had left the previous day from Noubois, on the same train (there were only two each day) and was home in Boston getting ready to begin work on Tuesday. Finn was joining a crew of stonemasons who would leave South Boston each day before dawn to reach the current work site at the river which separated Boston from Cambridge, returning each night by streetcar to home—with perhaps a mile or more of walking at each end. A secure tent had been set up on the Cambridge side of the river and tools could be left at the jobsite—so the trek was not with a heavy bag of tools. A few guys even stashed a change of clothes in the tent—so they could go out to celebrate payday (TGIF) without first going home.

But the pay was good–$.80 per hour—and the promised workweek of 60 hours, meant that, after deductions, Finn would have $40 per week. Ma and Da took half for his R Andre’s were all concentrated around his shaft: the taint, the ball sacs and the rim.

Andre loved bottoming for Finn, always doggie style. He particularly liked when Finn reached under and stroked Amdre’s cock as though it were his own—as he plunged ever quicker and deeper inside. On the other hand, Andre insisted on taking Finn chest to chest, with Finn’s strong legs wrapped around his waist. He loved gazing into Finn’s eyes as the blue deepened and his nostrils flared as Andre played with his nubs. Finn was a passionate boy, and he showed it in his face—the darkening tended to blend his freckles together–more than anywhere. Andre loved it—in part because he knew he was producing that pleasure. They were both good lovers. They had learned to prep and to hold back, to bring a partner along and to blast energetically. In a short week, each had progressed to expert status. And being young lads, they were able to recover quickly and go again. They were insatiable producers of spunk. Millions of seeds were scattered in those days—and not in the fields, on their sheet and inside each other.

They were still innocent in a way. But their innocence had morphed into avid athletic sex.

During the days they worked in the fields, Andre enjoyed picturing Finn’s long cock sliding inside, stroking what he visualized as a walnut-shaped fruit of deep pink. All day as he worked, he knew the nut was there, and periodically he could imagine Finn’s instrument playing with it. It sent shudders through him. His eyes would hood over and he would smile and look down at the tent behind his laced britches. The visuals turned him on—almost as much as the strikes of pleasure created by each stroke when they actually coupled. If Finn was near, he knew exactly what was going on. He too would smile and wink, if Andre were looking in his direction. He knew he had captured that boy. More even than if he had tied him to his bedpost.

Finn was quite different. He had little imagination and didn’t really daydream. He concentrated on his work. But periodically, he’d look over at Andre as he bent to a task and Finn would salivate over the tight ass, separated from him and the light by only a single layer or two of cheap homespun. But that was enough. Finn was hard within seconds. He was ready to insert and fill.

Only once during the week were they in a deserted part of the farm at lunch. They decided to take the chance. Both removed britches; Andre straddled Finn and lowered himself onto Finn’s upright spit-moistened pole. Both were already rigid and leaking. Andre squirmed in Finn’s lap, as Finn used his strong thighs to lift up into Andre’s perfect ass. Their lips and tongues met and dueled. And Andre squeezed Finn’s nipples with abandon. Together they moved in the dance of pleasure that emptied both of all tension. They quickly redressed, but that afternoon, each was boned all the time, possibly from the musky aromas that pervaded them and their clothes.

Their joint week of work was a week of incredible pleasure. At the end both knew they wanted to continue in some way, but neither saw any path.

At their last farewell, after an hour of love-making on the grassy slopes of French’s Pond, they had sworn eternal friendship (carefully avoiding the word, “love”) escort gebze and decided they would write to each other. That presented a problem for Finn. He didn’t want mail from a Harvard boy, unknown to his family, arriving at his home. So Finn would write the first letter and suggest a method for the exchange. At least Harvard didn’t censor mail. And so they parted.

*******

It was two weeks into the semester. Andre had classes six days a week, but only on mornings on Saturday. Chapel was everyday at 8, 10 on Sunday, but never on Saturday. Andre was a very good student, and popular with classmates (because he was always ready to help) and instructors (because he usually had done the assignment). The first “mixer” with Radcliffe was approaching. Andre intended to go—staying away would arouse suspicions, and he still had not really determined that what he had enjoyed with Finn precluded dating young ladies. At the time, such a conclusion was pretty easy: he and Finn had sex; he and Ms. X would never—at least not before marriage—and the time between chaperoned dating and marriage tended to be very long.

On Friday, Andre received three letters. The first was a “permission” from Mama to attend a “soiree” that Madame Cartier would invite him to. The second was the invitation from Mdm. Cartier for Sunday night “next”—i.e. in ten days, “Regrets only.” And the third was a note from Finn, printed on crude paper, giving him a P.O Box for mail and hoping that they could get together. He briefly described his work schedule and where he was working—it was only about two miles from campus upriver.

Andre took Mama’s letter to the housemaster who seemed quite surprised. “You don’t need my permission to leave campus, Andre—unless you’re on academic probation. So long as you are signed back into the house by 10 Sun-Fri and 12 on Saturday, you are free to leave. You are also entitled to have guests in your room—provided, of course, they are not of the opposite sex. You’re an upperclassman now. And Harvard is trying to loose the reins a bit and get with the times.”

Andre was pleased and excited. Pleased to know of his freedom to leave campus. But excited that he could invite Finn to his room. He immediately wrote to Finn and suggested that he come by on Wednesday, since his classes ended early. He mentioned that Finn could spend the night—but that he’d need to be discrete and that Andre himself would need to be in chapel at 8 the next morning. Andre would wait in the courtyard on the river at seven, just after dusk.

Wednesday arrived and Andre hadn’t heard from Finn, but went out to wait nevertheless. He took a book and sat on the stone embankment of the Charles and pretended to read in the twilight. At almost 7, Finn appeared, sauntering, really swaggering, down the riverside walk, still in work clothes, but carrying a small bag. Andre warned him off any show of affection and led him through the large iron gates to the inner courtyard and the front door. It was deserted. Dinner had been over for more than an hour and Harvard students were either studying or playing a forbidden game of cards in one of their rooms. They quickly rose to Andre’s room and pulled the door tightly behind them.

Almost instantly they were in each other’s arms, kissing with an urgency that neither had ever before felt. “Welcome to Harvard, Finn.” It took only a few minutes before they were naked and rolling on the bed. Finn was dusty, sweaty and smelled of the day’s musk. But Andre breathed it in deeply. He loved Finn’s aroma. It was unique and sensuous. Finn was rock hard and ready. He pushed Andre onto the bed; Andre flipped and pushed his ass back toward Finn. Finn spat on his fingers and started to probe. Andre was ready almost immediately. He had been prepping himself mentally most of the day. Finn mounted, positioned and was soon plunging deeply into his favorite place. Andre felt the pressure on his prostate and moaned in pleasure. Several thrusts and Andre began to leak. He had forgotten how Finn filled him—with the size of his cock–and emotionally with the strength of his personality.

Finn reached around and fisted the cock. He stroked it in time with his hip-driven thrusts. Andre was in paradise. Both were approaching the end very quickly. Andre felt the first shot, reacted automatically and contracted his anal ring. Finn moaned in pleasure, plunged even deeper and continued to spurt his custardy spunk deep inside. Andre exploded and waited for Finn to collapse on top and take possession of his body. Soon he felt Finn’s sweaty chest pushng him into the bedding.

They whispered for a few minutes after, but they were both soon hard again. Andre took his turn, flipping Finn onto his back, playing with his already aroused tits, and finally plunging his pole into the waiting escort merter hole. Finn smiled and wrapped his legs around Andre’s ass, lodging the heels of his feet in the deep hip indentations. In only a few seconds longer than the first, they both erupted again, splashing cum over each other and the sheets and pillowcase. The whole room reeked of sex—man-sex.

Then it was time to catch up. First, Andre pulled out a drawer and offered Finn a variety of food items that he had pilfered from the dining hall that day and the day before. Finn ate ravenously—he had wondered if he would be able to eat—but would trade good sex for sustenance any time. Then they rested in each other’s arms. Andre set the alarm for 3 a.m. when no one was ever up and about. When it rang, he escorted Finn to the large communal shower and stood guard while Finn washed. He desperately wanted to be in the shower with him, but they didn’t dare take the chance. A stranger friend using the shower could be explained away; two guys doing it in the shower could not.

They returned to the room, had a “nightcap” stroke-and-blow session and slept again tightly cocooned until 5—when Finn had to return to work. No one had seen or suspected anything. Andre assumed they could do this at least once a week. He promised to be on the embankment at 7 on Tuesdays and Thursdays until the winter set in. If Finn could make it, they would meet. At 7:30, Andre would go back inside if Finn was detained. This set a pattern of once or twice sex per week until well into the winter. (Andre soon got the rep of a “poet” who had to meet his Muse by the river at dusk. No one ever spotted “her”—or Finn, however. He laughed it off and even produced a few lines of doggerel to validate the excuse.)

*******

Andre appeared at the soiree promptly at four. He was admitted by a uniformed servant, led upstairs and announced. Looking about the grand place, he was pleased that he had worn his Sunday chapel outfit—brightening it just a bit with a deep crimson striped tie (Harvard colors). He entered the tall room, but was surprised to find that there were only a few in attendance—including Suzanne, her mother and father, a grandmother and a sister. He handed a bouquet to Mdm. Cartier and a single rose to Suzanne. Tea and biscuits were served in a grand drawing room that faced Commonwealth Avenue on the second floor of a double-wide brick townhouse after two friends of the Cartiers joined the group. The room was lit with three giant electrified crystal chandeliers. The furniture was antique French (and thus uncomfortable), set artfully on an enormous Aubusson carpet.

He was introduced and invited to sit with the “youngsters” in a windowed alcove at one end of the room. Suzanne’s sister, Evelyn, seemed bored by the entire affair—but it was obvious she had been drafted into chaperone duty. She sat apart from Suzanne and Andre and opened a large book to suggest she was not listening to their conversation.

Andre found Suzanne to be charming. She had attended Mme. Bouquet’s School for Young Ladies, finishing about two years ago. Then she had traveled with an aunt to Europe for three months in the spring of 1939—although she complained that “those Bosch” were ruining everything. They had “done” Spain, Portugal, France, England, but had been advised to avoid Italy and Germany. (Germany invaded France in June 1940, about a year after Suzanne’s visit.) Suddenly, Suzanne went silent, apparently realizing that she had been “gushing” rather than listening to and was upstaging a potential beau. She immediately shifted gears and began to feed Andre open ended questions to elicit all she could about his past, his life and his expectations. Suzanne appeared to be enjoying herself as coy seductress, but Andre was stiff and a little frightened by the whole idea. Finally, Suzanne stood, “Let me show you the reception rooms. Maman has just had them all redone and she is very pleased with the results. You must compliment her.” She laughed and spoke behind a raised hand, “Don’t worry. I’ll give you the right words.”

Suzanne began the tour and proved to be lively, knowledgeable and a little irreverent. She pointed, explained, made a sly remark, then added, “But you must tell her that you love…..” She did this over and over again as she moved closer to Andre and took his hand. He dared to place an arm around her waist. And when they were far from the “adults”, Suzanne spun toward him, “You may kiss me now, Andre. I’ve been waiting since the church social.” He turned and pecked her cheek. “I said a kiss. Are you a man or a chicken?” So he took her in his arms and their lips touched. He remained in place, and she opened. He did too and felt her tongue reach inside. He responded and tightened his hold. He was instantly hard—and she knew that she had made that happen. They heard a footstep and quickly broke the connection. Later she whispered that she had enjoyed their time together and the kiss and…. But Andre left feeling that with Suzanne he was just a boy, while with Andre he could be a man. He wondered if he would ever feel more strongly toward her.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32