Bennet's Brother

Bennet's Brother

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Tags

sex, etc

Summary

Fuckery This is just random wordporn. Dirty stories. That’s what we’re here for, yes? ‘The Fisherman’s Wife’ I wrote after a conversation with some old ladies in a hotel in the Western Highlands of Scotland. I love the way the old like to be naughty! No-one in The States got ‘Bennet’s Brother’ – it was way too English in every way. I had a hoot writing it and its companion piece (now lost, ‘Battle at the Regatta’). I was attempting Wodehouse with added fellatio… ‘Teacher’s Night Off’ – good idea – not so well executed. I didn’t quite get what I wanted with that one. Horny enough, mind. ‘On The Eve of All Hallows’ – again, not quite right. I wanted to write a story using a student of mine, an Indian girl, as muse (obviously her name was not Krythika!). I wrote it in a hurry for Hallowe’en and it shows. It’s a bit clunky. ‘A Christmas Kiss’ was also written for the holidays. This is a better story. A true story, although it didn’t happen quite in the way I tell it. The girl involved is now a senior partner in a law firm in Birmingham and I learned from Facebook last week that she has become a grandmother for the third time! ‘Katie’ is also based on truth. I’ve known Katie for years and years. Our families are still close and, were it not for lockdown, I’d be visiting her next month. Obviously, her name isn’t Katie – or mine would be shit. ‘Yes or No’ is a story I am, or at least was, quite proud of. I wrote it in reaction to a news story about Ivy Leaguers ‘protesting’. I was very angry. Sadly the news story will be forgotten, so the story will lose its punch. Still good, though.

Tags

sex, etc

Summary

Fuckery
This is just random wordporn. Dirty stories. That’s what we’re here for, yes?
‘The Fisherman’s Wife’ I wrote after a conversation with some old ladies in a hotel in the Western Highlands of Scotland. I love the way the old like to be naughty!
No-one in The States got ‘Bennet’s Brother’ – it was way too English in every way. I had a hoot writing it and its companion piece (now lost, ‘Battle at the Regatta’). I was attempting Wodehouse with added fellatio…
‘Teacher’s Night Off’ – good idea – not so well executed. I didn’t quite get what I wanted with that one. Horny enough, mind.
‘On The Eve of All Hallows’ – again, not quite right. I wanted to write a story using a student of mine, an Indian girl, as muse (obviously her name was not Krythika!). I wrote it in a hurry for Hallowe’en and it shows. It’s a bit clunky.
‘A Christmas Kiss’ was also written for the holidays. This is a better story. A true story, although it didn’t happen quite in the way I tell it. The girl involved is now a senior partner in a law firm in Birmingham and I learned from Facebook last week that she has become a grandmother for the third time!
‘Katie’ is also based on truth. I’ve known Katie for years and years. Our families are still close and, were it not for lockdown, I’d be visiting her next month. Obviously, her name isn’t Katie – or mine would be shit.
‘Yes or No’ is a story I am, or at least was, quite proud of. I wrote it in reaction to a news story about Ivy Leaguers ‘protesting’. I was very angry. Sadly the news story will be forgotten, so the story will lose its punch. Still good, though.

Content

Submitted: July 31, 2020

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: July 31, 2020

A A A

A A A


The nine o’clock bell chimed briskly in the medieval tower of Goldsmith House, the oldest and most prestigious of the houses of Merchant Vitlers School, alma mater to the great and the good of British society for hundreds of years.

Two boys walked quickly to the gate, which was just closing. The taller of the two, and he was taller by a head and more, was broad shouldered and lean-hipped, he strode in long, flannel clad legs with a sportsman’s grace. The shorter boy was slighter than the other, but kept pace as best he could in his grey prep-school uniform.

They were stopped by Wycroft, who was gate prefect for that night but he opened the gate when he saw it was the senior prefect.

“I say, Bennet,” asked Wycroft, “why’s the kid still around?”

“Not that it’s any of your damned business Wycroft,” snapped the tall boy, “but the stupid blighter missed his damned train.”

“Well I hope you cuffed him for it, the little beast,” responded the first, “What now? Off to see the old man?”

“No damned choice, old boy,” said Bennet, “Come along, tiddler.” The small boy gave a grunt of disgust and followed his brother across the quad.

 

As they stood outside the housemaster’s office, Bennet straightened his little brother’s hair, so that it looked more like his, and tightened his school tie. “Not a bally word unless Doctor Borthwick talks to you. D’you hear?”

“Yes brother,” the second word sounded coy, bordering on the insolent.

“And none of that!”

“Come!” the voice rang from the office like the tolling of an old bell. The boys went through the door.

“Ah, Bennet, here’s a how’dyedo, eh? Still have the little brother in tow? Against the rules, Bennet, guests out by eight. As senior prefect in this house you should know.”

“Well, sir,” Bennet said, “The little chap missed his train. I had to bring him back, sir. There won’t be one until morning.”

“Missed your train, boy? How d’you manage that, eh?”

“Well, sir,” Bennet began.

“Is the boy dumb, Bennet? Can’t he answer for himself? Now, child, d’you have name?”

“Please, sir,” squeaked the smaller boy, “Bennet, sir.”

“Ha ha, damn me, you’re a card. Of course you are.” He turned his attention to the older brother, “I honestly thought you were Lord Bennet’s youngest, y’know. This little fellow an afterthought, eh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What uniform is that, Bennet Minor? Cartmel? Hmm, good school. You play, I assume?”

“Hockey, sir? Yes, sir.”

“Hockey be damned,” ranted the old teacher, “the Bennets have all played rugger, damned good they were too. You don’t play rugby, boy?”

“Coach said I was too slight for the backs and too aggressive for the wing, sir. Said hockey suited my temperament better, sir.” Piped the boy.

“Ho ho, too aggressive? Wouldn’t have happened here. Wouldn’t have happened at Cartmel in old Stuckley’s day. So that new chap, Rhys-Davies, give you a trial did he?

“Yes sir, but please sir, I broke the prop-forward’s collar bone when he tackled me.”

“Did you, by Jove! Well that’s the Cartmel spirit! Blasted namby-pamby coaches they have these days. Has Lord Bennet got you down for Merchant Vitlers boy? Are you going to be a Goldsmith’s boy?”

“Rather.”

“Then you can be as aggressive as you damned please on the rugger pitch. Hmm. Well then. We’ll see if there’s a bunk for you in the first year’s dorm – give you a taste of what’s to come, eh?”

“Yes please, sir. Thank you sir.”

“Excuse my forwardness, Doctor,” Bennet interjected, “As brother to the senior prefect, I think Mi..Michael here might come in for some ribbing - scragging even - from the first years.”

“You have a point, Bennet, but I’m sure this young fellah-me-lad can take a bit of rough-and-tumble. What d’you think boy?”

“Rather! I can box, sir. I can give a bloody nose – a broken one or two - to boys older than me!”

“Ah. There is a thing. We can’t have you beating our boys bloody. Broken bones tend to lead to enquires these days. Hmmmm. Yes.”

“Can I suggest he bunks down with me, sir. I have the senior prefect’s rooms now, he can kip on the floor in my sleeping bag.”

“Yes. Good idea, Bennet.”

The smaller boy sighed hugely.

“Oh you young firebrand!” Chuckled the old professor, “You’ll get your fisticuffs in due course. Off with him, Bennet. He can bunk with you tonight but don’t let it happen again.” He gripped the small boy by the shoulder, “get ‘em to feed you up at Cartmel! I’ll need you bigger for the house team!”

“Yes sir, goodnight sir.”

 

They left the office and walked down the dark corridor leading to the dormitories and the seniors’ rooms. It was dark now, and there were sounds of boys getting ready for bed, messing around.

“That was bloody close! Hockey? Fucking hockey?” Bennet was whispering.

“A slip-up. But I made up for it. I knew it would work. Silly old duffer.” Said the smaller boy.

“Minty! For fuck’s sake.”

“What? We’re home and dry! I said we would be. Now take me to your fucking room and let’s have some fun!”

 

Bennet as senior prefect had a room to himself, but it was still pretty Spartan: there was a bed, an armchair, a tatty wardrobe, a bookcase, a chair and a huge, old, oak desk. There was also a door leading to his private bathroom.

“Rather nice, Billy,” said the younger boy as he looked around, “Much better than mine. Is this the desk, then?”

“Yes indeed, the original senior prefect’s desk, as used by Lord Raglan, Earl Haig and heaps of others.”

“Selfie time! Into the picture please.” He took his phone from his uniform pocket and snapped them both by the famous desk, then left his phone sitting on the chipped old oak.

“Now,” said the younger boy, but his voice had lost its little boy shrillness, “get the curtains shut and let’s go!”

 “Can’t.” Bennet replied, “I don’t have any.”

“Why the fuck not? I’m not staying in this shitty uniform any longer than I have to.”

“The quad prefect patrols after lights out. He makes sure the lights are out and he looks out for any high jinks.”

“Oh and what ‘high jinks’ are you and those other chaps likely to get up to?”

“Usual stuff: cards, dope-smoking, drinking, and soggy biscuit is always a favourite.”

“Soggy biscuit?”

“You know the thing, chaps stand around with their cocks out, wanking over a biscuit. Last one to come has to eat the bloody thing. I’m sure you have the same sort of thing at St. Hilda’s”

“Not everyone can squirt like me. And we might have an aiming difficulty. Turn the light off, dear fellow. I need to feel the air of history between my legs.”

 

The light being off, the boys were plunged into instant darkness, as their eyes grew used to it, the dull light from the quad seeped in and gave them a sense of where they were.

The younger Bennet quickly threw off his blazer and tie, and then unbuttoned his shirt, underneath was a tightly wrapped bandage covering his chest.

“Unpin me, Billy, they’re down my back.”

The older Bennet, now stripped to the waist, quickly obeyed, and helped his brother remove the tight wrapping to reveal a pair of small, but well formed breasts!

“Oh that feels so much better. My tits are numb, Billy. Give ‘em a squeeze, bring the blood back into them.” Bennet’s hands came round from behind to acquiesce. As he did so, the younger Bennet pulled a pair of socks from the front of his trousers. “Oh, here’s those socks I borrowed. Fnnifff. Mm, they smell of my cunt. Save ‘em for later eh?” He pushed the uniform pants down his shapely thighs and stood apart in a sheer thong.

Bennet’s brother was clearly not anyone’s brother. Bennet’s brother was in fact an attractive young woman albeit with a short, boyish hair. Bennet’s brother was none other than the Lady Araminta Bare-Fanleigh, daughter to the Earl of Walstock!

She kissed the young man warmly on the mouth, their tongues sliding easily into each other’s mouths. Bennet pulled her close and Minty shuddered to feel the young man’s hard torso against her bare skin.

“Lovely,” she murmured, and she turned her attention to Bennet’s belt, she could feel his erection tenting his flannels and stroked it, teasingly. “My, my, aren’t we eager.”

Bennet, who had successfully pulled Minty’s thong down around her knees, put his hand to her cunt. “Oh for fuck sake, Minty. Don’t you ever shave?”

She pushed the boy away and stepped out of the little panties, “What is it with you boys? Do you want to fuck a woman or a Barbie? I like my patch, mister, it keeps my little twalia warm and snug when I decide to go out knickerless. Besides I like to play with the hair.” She sat on the old desk and demonstrated in the gloom, pulling and stroking the dense curly pubes. She could feel Bennet’s eyes on her.

“I think you owe my little cunny an apology.” She teased. She shifted her bum up the desk and spread her thighs. “On your knees and kiss her better, otherwise she might close up for the night in a huff…”

Bennet got on his knees and put his head between Minty’s legs. She could feel him kiss at her outer lips, little pecks at first, then longer, harder kisses, his lips moving over her swelling muff. She felt herself open to his mouth and as his tongue probed her wet hole, she moaned in pleasure.  She put one hand on Bennet’s head, pushing him against herself, and with the other squeezed and pinched at her breasts.

Minty ground her hips and squirmed as Bennet lapped at her soaking twat like a thirsty dog at the water bowl, making almost as much noise with her squelching slit. The sound was a real turn on for Minty and she felt her orgasm build in waves. Bennet then turned his attention to her clit, nuzzling and nibbling at the little bud. Minty stiffened and orgasmed, squirting spectacularly into Bennet’s mouth. He gagged on her juices, but licked and sucked before coming up to give Minty a comey kiss.

“Billy Bennet,” he breathed, “what a superlative cunt-eater you are!” Then she felt his eager cock, close to her throbbing vulva. “Steady, Bennet,” she advised, “no entry to gentlemen without hats.”

“Come on Minty, don’t be like that. You can trust me.” Bennet wheedled.

“Put a blob on you knob, Mr Bennet. I only trust rubber, especially on randy boys. Check my blazer pocket, I have a stack – ribbed!”

“Then you put it on me!” Bennet grunted, but went and fetched it all the same.

Minty continued to sit on the desk and Bennet brought her the little package, which she opened and rolled onto him with an expertise which showed that this wasn’t the first, or even twenty-first time she had done that action.

“Let’s get on the bed then,” said Bennet.

“I like it here, Billy. A history fuck. My fanny dribbling where Lord Raglan conjugated his Latin verbs.”

“Oh come on, old girl, Moorby only has to peep through that window and he’ll see us at it.”

“Not Tommy Moreby? From Elmcote?”

“Trust you to know Long Tom. No. That chap has gone on to better things. Horse guards I believe.”

“He’d make a good horse…”

“Enough, Minty. This is Nobody Moorby, some new money Erk from Guildford or someplace not quite Town. No breeding. Grass a chap up if it thought it’d get him in with the beak. Bed.”

But Minty was not to be persuaded. She pulled her legs up and spread them wide. “Fuck me on your desk, Billy. Give me your cock where Earl Haig dipped his pen.” She fingered her cunt, making it squelch again. This was too much for Bennet, who jumped at her, slipping his dick defty into Minty’s sticky hole.

Minty pushed against the thrusting boy, wrapping her legs around his back, bringing him to her. Bennet bucked and thrust, his rubber-wrapped cock sliding in and out of Minty’s hairy snatch, his breathing quickened. Minty ground against him, gripping his hard rod with her vaginal muscles, making him gasp with every laboured thrust. She could feel his pubic bone bumping and rubbing her clitoris, ah yes. Good. Her second orgasm was well on the way. Bennet’s pace increased, she could feel the cock-head twitching inside her. Good. He’s close. She reached behind herself for her smartphone.

“Yes, yes, yes.” Grunted Bennet as he filled the contraceptive with his semen.

“Smile please.” Said Minty as a flash split the darkness and she took a photograph of them fucking.

“Jesus Christ Minty!” swore Bennet. Minty laughed lustily.

“Bed. Quick”

They quickly jumped into Bennet’s bed. Minty was shaking with laughter. Bennet rigid with anger.

“How could you be so fucking stupid?” he started.

“Sssshh, Billy.” She whispered through her giggles. “here comes the prefect.”

They saw the shadow of a boy’s head and shoulders at the window. The boy put his hand up to the glass to help him peer through.

“He can’t see anything, Billy.Tell him to fuck off,” whispered Minty.

“Fuck off you pervert!” shouted Bennet. The shadow retreated and again all was dark.

Bennet hugged Minty close. “You really are the giddy limit, you know.”

“Oh I know. But what fun!”

“So what happens now?”

“More fucking, I hope.”

“No Minty. I mean us. When school ends.”

“I don’t know about you, Billy. But I am taking a gap year. See the world, sort of thing. Then, who knows. Cambridge? Sandhurst? Daddy hates the idea of me in uniform, but I find it rather sexy.”

“I mean you and I, Minty.”

“Oh Billy. Let’s not get all sentimental. There’s no future for us – not a permanent one anyway. What are you? Fourth in line? The Honourable William Bennet is a lovely title, but as I’m already Lady Araminta, Daddy just wouldn’t have it. A baronet is the least of his expectations for his only daughter.”

“So that’s it, is it? I’m alright for fucking, but nothing else?”

“Billy, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t even be doing that. Pull your socks up man. The night is young. Plenty we can do here in England’s most exclusive school for boys.”

“Just for that, I’ll show you what happens in a boys’ school after lights out, bend over.”

“Billy,” Minty began coyly, “I have got a really nice vibrator…did you know that?”

“What? No.”

“Eight inches of hard rubber. I call him Roger. Not for any other reason than I use him to roger myself with.”

“Oh. That sounds…nice.”

“And if you’re prepared to let me stick it up your arse and waggle it about, I’ll let you stick your meaty plonker up mine. Otherwise, fucking forget it.”

“Oh Minty, you’re such a fucking bore.”

“Now, now Billy. If you’ll let me take a piss, I will happily come back to bed and suck you off like you have never been sucked before. Then, more fucking. I intend to milk your cock dry before the matins bell. Sound good?”

“Yes, you dirty little minx. Go piss, and get your sexy arse back here or I’ll…

“Ooo. Big butch Billy. Are you going to spank me? Play your cards right, I might just let you….” She kissed him on the forehead and wandered off to the toilet.

Bennet lay back on his pillow. This was a first, he thought. Fucking a girl in chambers and getting away with it. He smiled in the darkness and let himself fantasise about spanking Minty’s perfect buttocks, spanking them raw…after his promised blow job of course.  He did not register the flick of a switch and light glowing from under his toilet door.

 

Loud thumping on his door woke Doctor Borthwick, who had been dozing in his chair.

“Come!” he yelled.

Moorby burst through the door, he was a gangly boy with a fine crop of acne and rather greasy hair. “Please sir. Come quick. Bennet has a girl in his rooms!”

“What? A girl? No, no, no. That’s his brother, Lord Bennet’s youngest.”

“But I saw him, sir, he…she was naked.”

“Listen Horsely…”

“Moorby, sir.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Listen, old chap. The Bennet boy missed his train, wouldn’t have any jim-jams with him. Still it’s a bit rum on your part, spying on naked boys. I wouldn’t make a habit of it if I were you.”

“But, please sir, I saw him sit down on the toilet.”

“Damn it all, Sawley.”

“Moorby, sir.”

“Yes, yes, yes. But looking at a chap at his number twos. Not good, Turvey, not good.”

“But sir, please sir. He had….bosoms, sir.”

“Bosoms?”

“Yes sir.”

“Hmmmm. Listen here, Maltby.”

“M…”

“Yes, yes, yes. I know what this is about. Young chap like yourself, growing up fast. Not versed in the ways of the world. Mmm. Yes. Chap like that tends to see bosoms everywhere. Makes a chap unsettled. Not good for you. Mellerby. Not at all. Now the treatment might seem severe, but it has worked for several boys down the years. Here’s what you do. Into your running kit and 10 times round the quad, double time. That’s the ticket. Then a cold shower. That takes it away soon enough. Off you go now. I’ll even come to watch, make sure you get them all in.”

“But sir…”

“No, no, no. No need to thank me. What I’m here for, doncherknow.”

“Please, sir, it was a girl.”

“That’s enough of that, Mosely. Bennet’s brother is no girl. He’s a feisty young firebrand. A tough little tyke who loves a bit of rough and tumble, a fighting fit fellow-me-lad who’ll be a credit to this old house when he gets here. Off you go now. Don’t forget, 10 laps, double time.”

At the same time that Moorby left the office that ‘feisty young firebrand’ was sucking Bennet’s cock; and as Doctor Borthwick poured himself a large port to settle his nerves, Bennet was playing with  the tits of that ‘tough little tyke’ while that ‘fighting fit fellow-me-lad’ fingered her hot cunt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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