Sebastian - The Male Escort, - Part 1 of 6 - Sex Stories

Sebastian - The Male Escort, - Part 1 of 6

... have been around in Boston since 1720. My forbears did not come over on the Mayflower, but we count nevertheless as part of the Boston ‘aristocracy’. We Watsons may not qualify to socialize with the Cabots or the Lodges, (they are the ones, in case you had forgotten, who converse only with God) but we hold - or rather held - our own in Boston society, even though we never had the cash to really live up to it. Well, lumbered as I was with my prehistoric names, I was orphaned at the age of two, when both my parents were killed in a car crash and so I have no recollection of them. We were a very small family: I was an only child as had been my mother and my father had but one elder sister, Agatha Amelia Dorothea Watson (Oh yes, they did not stint on names, even for the girls!) who was fifteen years older than her brother and was a dried up, inward looking old spinster, truly the quintessential Maiden Aunt. I am pretty sure the ‘maiden’ bit was a correct designation as she had no time for men at all and lived a solitary life, wrapped up in religion and ‘good works’, whatever they might be. However Aunt Agatha, as I subsequently called her, had that true sense of duty which goes with being from a ‘good family’ and became my legal guardian from my earliest age. She was a totally remote woman who really had no time for children and engaged a series of nurses and governesses to look after me, until, at the tender age of eleven, she shipped me off to a boy’s boarding school, the ...

... Sheldon Academy for Boys, which was located in a small community of the same name in rural up-state New York. The Sheldon Academy was a private school catering for about 350 boys and attracted boys from ‘good families’ for two reasons. Firstly, it promised a rigorous old-fashioned education modelled on that practiced in English public schools, and secondly, which was possibly more important in the eyes of many of the people sending their charges there, it offered supervised board and lodgings to the pupils out of term time. In other words, here was a place where, for a fee, you could enroll your offspring and not have to see them at all any more, unless you wanted to, until they reached the age of eighteen and left the school to pursue either a college education or find a job! I exaggerate here somewhat, as even the most callous of parents or guardians felt it morally necessary to see their charges a few times during the year, but make no mistake, those of us who spent vacations at the school usually received the odd visit from our parents or guardian, but only very rarely went home. In my case, I never ever went back to my Aunt Agatha’s house – I cannot bring myself to call it ‘home’ - until I left Sheldon aged eighteen and had to find a job. So, as you can see, from my entering Sheldon aged eleven and leaving aged eighteen plus, my school days were equivalent to a prison sentence, with no remission! I was one of these ‘lucky’ lads! Aunt Agatha religiously came to see me four ...