Date: Thu, 30 Nov 2000 10:59:30 -0800
From: Javu <john.venn@virgin.net>
Subject: Forest House - Part 3

This story contains scenes of sex between a man and teenage boys, and
between teenage boys. If this is not to your taste, or is illegal where you
live, then read no further!!  The story is totally imaginative and bears no
relation to events, people or places in the real world!

 Health Warning: There are some dangerously long sentences in this story
which contain some philological elements of Anglo-Saxon origin: these may
lead to some vivid mental images, sexual arousal or erotic fantasies. If
this is what you want, then carry on reading: if not then stop reading now.

 Story Code: M/t, t/t (Mast, oral, anal)(Cons)
 Forest House - Part Three

 by

 Alexander


 Chapter Five

 For various reasons, very little happened over the next few days. Apart
from anything else I had a couple of days off and had decided to spend them
cleaning and tidying my flat. It's one of the penalties (or perhaps
pleasures?) of living alone and working mostly nights that you can live as
messily or as tidily as you like. I chose to live messily. Once in a while
though, things get to the stage where some sort of action is required,
particularly when you can't find any clean crockery or see the living room
carpet!

 The first day I got up late, really enjoying the chance to be lazy for
once. I also spent a lot of time thinking about work, Mark, Nigel and me. I
was still turning things over in my mind as I wandered about the flat
clearing things up, but succeeded only in making myself depressed. Here was
I, 25 years old, in a job which I loved and with good prospects. I had the
confidence of the boss, knew I could do the work well and was popular
enough with the 'clients'. But. I had been seduced, or at the very least
allowed myself to be seduced, by two 15- year old boys, and what's more
actually enjoyed it.

 Eventually, and after much thought, I gave myself three options: firstly I
could resign and look for another job in the same field, secondly I could
talk to Nigel and Mark and tell them that we should stop what we had been
doing and never do anything like it again, and thirdly I could carry on and
accept things for what they were. In my heart-of-hearts I surprised myself
by thinking that my preferred choice would be the last one. In England, the
legal age of consent is 18, but there is a strong move to reduce it to 16
and in fact the authorities are reluctant to prosecute anyone over the age
of 16. Unless the older participant is 'in a position of trust' such as a
teacher, social worker or so on: and that certainly included me on at least
two counts. Compromising to myself, I made my mind up that I would not
allow myself to be placed in anything approaching a compromising situation
again and would tell the boys that as soon as I could.

 Feeling a lot better, and in fact quite pleased that I had come to a firm
decision, I finished working on the flat and decided to go out for a meal
with some friends. I was just about to pick the 'phone up and ring them
when it rang.

 "He, It's me!" the disembodied voice said.

 It took me a second or two to realise that it was Mark.

 "Hello. What do you want?," I answered, my anger starting to rise.  It is
strictly against the rules for staff and boys to have any contact outside
work, particularly with regard to home visits and telephone
calls. Infringement of this rule would certainly result in serious
disciplinary action for both parties should it ever be discovered.

 Before I could say anything, Mark said that he had been allowed into town
by himself to do some shopping and could he come and visit me?

 "How the hell did you get my 'phone number?" I asked stupidly.

 "It's on the staffroom wall, stupid!" he laughed, "And I got your address
from the 'phone book.  I'm down the road."

 Bollocks, I thought, this is the last thing I need.

 "Hang on a sec.," I said, thinking as fast as I could, "Listen. You can't
come here, but I'll meet you in the coffee shop on the corner in about ten
minutes."  My idea was to meet him in some sort of neutral place and tell
him what I'd just decided: that our 'relationship', such as it was, should
and must end.

 I sat on the chair, my mind reeling. Suddenly the choice I'd made about
stopping things didn't seem so simple. Uppermost in my mind was the fact
that I didn't even want to. Hearing the sound of Mark's voice had convinced
me of that. I would have loved to get Mark in my home and take care of him
in whichever way he wanted, whether it be food, talking , or whatever. It
was the 'whatever' that worried me. Still not having an answer, I slowly
walked to the coffee shop.

 Mark was sat at the back, well away from the window I was pleased to
see. Grabbing a coffee, I went to join him.

 "Hiya. What's up? Got a problem?" I asked, hoping against hope that the
problem wasn't what I thought it was.

 "Naah. Just wanted to come and see you. That's all."

 Shit! Oh, well I thought to myself, now's as good a time as any I suppose,
and steeled myself for what was going to be a rather difficult and
unpleasant conversation.

 I stared into my cup as I explained that firstly it was very wrong of Mark
to come and visit me at home, and explained in no uncertain terms why. I
also said that what we'd done the previous few days must also stop: it was
far too dangerous for both of us and could only lead to trouble for the
pair of us.  I tried to make myself sound as angry as I could, but knew
inwardly that I wasn't succeeding very well.

 When I'd finished, I looked up and stared at Mark.  His face, which had
been a picture of smiles and happiness when I came in the shop was now
showing signs of anger, frustration and tears. I watched nervously as his
fist tightened around the cup. The last thing I wanted was a scene here, in
public. I knew his temper of old, and didn't want an exhibition of it
now. Neither did I want to be seen with a 15-year-old boy in tears.

 It was now his turn to stare at the table. Slowly he wiped the tears from
his cheeks with his arm before he said anything.

 "Sorry, but I thought that ...., I thought you'd like ...."

 He paused, searching for words.

 "Dave (the boss) thinks I've gone to the football match," he re- started,
"But I thought I'd come and see you instead. It seems ages since we talked
- and I've missed you."

 There was no innuendo, no hidden meaning in what he was saying I
thought. Perhaps he does actually want to talk, and nothing else. I could
allow that I guess: but definitely nothing more. Inwardly I sighed,
accepting the fact that I'd lost the battle even before it had begun. But I
could still win the war.

 "OK, I suppose you'd better come with me then. Better than leave you sat
here for the next couple of hours."

 We left together and walked the few yards to my flat. He'd cheered up
considerably by now and was chattering away, rambling on about everything
and nothing, his excitement causing him to babble complete nonsense. That
endearing and disarming child-like side of him has got to me again I
thought to myself.

 We went in the kitchen and I made a sandwich and drink for us before going
into the living room. Inviting Mark to sit down, I pointedly closed the
bedroom door, hoping that the inference wouldn't be lost on him.  Mark was
sat on the big easy chair and so I made myself comfortable on the sofa.

 "So. How are things?" I started.

 "OK," Mark managed to say between mouthfuls of cheese sandwich, "Neat
flat. Messy though ain't it!"

 And I thought it was tidy! - he should have seen it a couple of hours ago.

 "Yeah. Well," I said, feeling a little embarrassed for some reason.

 Mark stood up and wandered round the room, inspecting my collection of
CD's and videos. Thankfully there was nothing untoward anywhere among them,
I wasn't into that sort of thing.

 "Can we watch a video?" he asked, waving an old "Startrek" one in my
direction.

 "Sure," I said, Go ahead."

 He turned the recorder and TV on, pushed the tape in and watched as it
started. Then to my astonishment he closed the curtains, turned the wall
lights on and sat on my lap. There was nothing sexual about this: he simply
settled himself comfortably , stuck his thumb in his mouth and watched the
video.

 Having seen the film a hundred times before, it had little interest for
me. Instead I stared at Mark, trying to puzzle him out.  Despite his
fifteen years and all-too obvious adolescent maturity, he still acted like
a five-year old when he was relaxed enough, a trait which I rather liked in
him.

 Soaking in the peace and calm of the atmosphere, I put my arms round him,
nestled his head on my shoulder and stared at the film.

 Mark, for his part, removed the thumb from his mouth for an instant,
kissed me on the cheek and returned his attention to the TV.

 Unintentionally I'd placed my clasped hands in Mark's groin and as I sat
with him, I could feel his steadily growing erection. I decided that as it
didn't seem to bother Mark, or even that he was aware of it, I left them
there. My own prick was also rising and was pressing against his bum
cheeks, but as he didn't seem aware of this either, I left it well alone.

 I was mistaken though. Mark adjusted his position slightly to give himself
more room for his now full erection: he didn't look at me at all, just
wriggled about a bit as if it was a perfectly natural thing to do. He then
slid a hand behind him and searched for my cock. Finding it as stiff as
his, he grasped hold and gently started to play with it.

 Unsurprisingly, he was paying as little attention to the film as I
was. This was confirmed when he twisted himself round on my lap, and sat on
my knees, facing me. Looking very seriously at me, he leaned forwards and
kissed me softly on the lips. Then again, but this time forcing my lips
open with his tongue and pushing it in, searched out mine.

 It was far too late now for me to do anything about it. I was much too far
gone to try and stop him, and in fact actually encouraged him by laying
full length on the sofa with him on top of me. Hugging him tightly, I
returned the kiss.

 With some difficulty, Mark raised himself up and unbuttoned my shirt,
sliding it off my shoulders. Not to be outdone, I pulled his T-shirt off
and hugged him to me.

 The feeling of flesh against flesh was wonderful. He was warm, smooth and
deliciously endearing. I could feel his nipples against mine, and with only
a tiny effort stimulated them to a magical hardness. Rolling onto his side,
he frantically unfastened his trousers, shrugged them off and almost tore
his underwear in his panic to be rid of them. Finding it impossible to
remove his shoes and socks whilst laying down, he stood up and kicked them
off.

 Still holding his hands, I stared at his body.  It was truly
beautiful. Even the few scars and marks he'd managed to accumulate on his
legs from playing football seemed to add to his attractiveness. I was
entranced by his handsomeness, and couldn't wait whilst he wrested his
hands from mine and stripped me of my remaining clothes.

 We stood for a moment or two, facing each other in our nakedness, our
rigid cocks just few electric centimetres apart. Silence. Neither of us
wanted to break the spell, and in any case there was no need for
words. This time it was my turn to cry. I felt the salty tears start to run
down my face. Strangely, I didn't care in the slightest - I was quite
pleased in an odd sort of way in fact. Still not needing to talk, I led him
to my bedroom.

 Covering ourselves with the single sheet, we lay holding each other and
kissing passionately. I could feel his cock, laying alongside mine,
pressing almost painfully into my stomach. Our pricks, despite the
difference in our ages, were almost identical in size, and neither were
circumcised. They made a perfect pair.  We explored them, together with
every other square inch of each other's body as we lost ourselves in giving
our everything to each other. It seemed as if we had been lost for an
eternity when, eventually taking a much-needed breather, we lay back on the
bed, stroking each other's hair and smiling into each other's eyes. My mind
was a mess. It's impossible to describe the seething turmoil that used to
be my brain: the mixture of emotions of love, fear, happiness and
self-disgust were all hopelessly mixed up. But for the moment, rationality
and logic were the furthermost things from my mind. The only conscious
thought I had was that for the first time in my life, I was with someone
who cared for me and I cared for them. The fact that it was another male -
a boy at that - didn't seem in the slightest bit important. As if to
confirm it, I squeezed Mark tightly, very tightly, and kissed him almost
viciously. Mark must have sensed how I felt because he accepted the pain
I'd just inflicted and even kissed me back with just as much passion. I
don't think either of us noticed the tears now flowing freely from both of
us, at least not consciously.

 It was the sound of the video player switching off that broke the
spell. Suddenly we were dragged reluctantly back into the real world. The
film must have been at least ninety minutes long. Where had the time gone?
Mark was late - very late. Somewhat disinterestedly I reminded him of
this. Like him, at that particular moment, I couldn't have cared less.

 "Bollocks!" he grinned, " I don't care. I wanna stay here for ever!"

 And we did. At least for another half hour anyway. Slowly and with
infinite tenderness we masturbated each other, kissing and cuddling
constantly, concentrating with all our hearts on getting and giving as much
pleasure as we could. I climaxed first, but was closely followed by
Mark. To me, seemed as if the infinitely magical mutual ejaculations
somehow cemented our relationship even further. It was so painful and so
desperately needed that I gasped with the shock of it.

 It took another ten or fifteen minutes before either of us could summon up
the energy to move. With the greatest reluctance, I struggled off the bed
and went in search of my clothes, reminding Mark that it was about time we
made a move.

 It didn't take a genius to work out that allowing for the bus journey,
Mark would be well over an hour late in getting back to his home. Even if I
took him in the car, he would still be late, but if I put a move on, only
by about a quarter of an hour. This was just about within limits and would
mean that he wouldn't be quizzed too closely as to where he'd been and why
he was late.

 Fortunately the road was fairly quiet and I managed to keep up a good
speed for most of it. Mark sat happily in the passenger seat on the way
back, alternating his gaze between the road and me, grinning
beautifully. He also held my hand tightly whenever he could.

 We stopped about a hundred yards short of the house, in the lee of a row
of trees which hid my car from prying eyes. I opened the door for him and
was about to give him a playful push out when he leaned over and kissed me
on the cheek.

 "Love you!" he whispered - not in a silly, childish way, but seriously and
without a trace of guilt or embarrassment. He meant it.

 "Love you too!" I replied. And I meant it too, very much to my own
amazement.

 I drove slowly home, reflecting on Mark. And me.

 Sex, of course, was where it had all started between us: then it was a
combination of frustration and lust I suppose. At least on Mark's part if
not mine. I had been a willing partner admittedly, but had accepted it as a
purely physical thing, something which Mark needed at the time. I wasn't at
all happy with it, but had somehow managed to justify it to myself. But now
there had been a serious development between us. It was no longer simply
physical or even sexual, there was something else there. Again, the word
'love' flashed through my mind, but I quickly discarded it, horrified at
the thought that I could actually be falling in love for the first time in
my life, and with a teenaged boy! I was also terrified of the
consequences. At this particular moment though, I couldn't give a damn. I
was with Mark, and he was with me. We were deliriously happy with each
other and didn't give a shit about anybody or anything else.


 Chapter Six

 There was, however, a serious complication which didn't strike me until
the following day when I was washing the bedclothes which Mark and I had
soiled. I could still smell the odour of him as I pushed them into the
washing machine, and was smiling to myself as I did so. I'd already come to
some sort of terms with our relationship and made my mind up that if we
took great care, then there was no reason why we couldn't continue it. It
would be difficult of course, not to say frustrating, being so close to him
day after day and unable to show any signs of our more than close
friendship. Difficult, but not impossible. Then it hit me like a
thunderbolt. Nigel. Bollocks! What the hell could I do about him?

 Nigel knew already about Mark and me, at least a little bit anyway. But
did Mark know that Nigel and I had 'messed about'? If he did, then it
hadn't made any difference as yesterday had proved. But if he didn't and he
found out, then what would he do? And how could I deal with Nigel?

 I hadn't come up with any answers at all by the time I got to work that
evening. Once the hand-over business with the boss was out of the way, I
joined the boys for their evening meal. Somehow I managed to maintain a
professional approach to Mark, but only by ignoring him almost
completely. I was terrified in case I said the wrong thing to him and the
others picked up the signals which I was certain must be patently obvious
to everyone. Mark was much better at dealing with the situation than I was,
managing to act perfectly normally. He was so good in fact that it was only
with a great effort I managed to convince myself that the events of
yesterday day hadn't been imagined.

 I was watching a game of Monopoly the two brothers and Geoff were playing
when I heard Mark shout "Fuck it!" from his room. The tone of his voice
told me immediately that he was in one of his moods. I had decided to
ignore it at first, but when he then screamed "Bollocks!", I had no
alternative but to go and investigate.

 Apprehensively, I went to his room. He was sat at his desk, the remains of
what had been a half-completed jigsaw puzzle scattered all over it.

 "I can't fucking do it!" he yelled. "Bollocks to it!"

 I stood in the door frame, not knowing quite what to do next. This was the
old Mark, dangerous and unpredictable.

 He stood up, looked at me and grinned from ear to ear.

 "Shit to it!" he shouted, and still grinning threw his chair across the
room, taking care not to do any damage in the process.

 The others all knew Mark and his temper. They would keep well out of his
way until he'd calmed down: the last place they would want to be is
anywhere within his range. I took a step towards him, still not sure as to
what his real mood was. Kicking the door closed with his foot, Mark leapt
at me, put his arms round my neck and kissed me on the lips.

 "That's better! I needed that!" he whispered in my ear.

 "Piss off. Leave me alone!" he screamed, simultaneously grabbing my balls
and giving me a rather painful squeeze.

 "But not just yet," he whispered and kissed me again.

 I gave him a hurried kiss back, grateful that he wasn't in the vile mood I
thought he was, and also thankful for the proof that we were still
.... friends.

 "I'll come and see you later," he said, letting go of me and picking the
chair up.

 I nodded in agreement, my mood instantly changing from worried to happy.

 "And you can stay there until you calm down," I said, hopefully loud
enough for everyone else in the house to hear.

 I slammed the door shut behind me and went back into the main room.

 The gang were studiously trying to ignore the episode as I sat down and
gave a sigh of relief for their benefit.

 "Leave him alone until he calms down," I said to the room in general,
"He'll be OK in a few minutes."

 Gratefully the boys returned to their game. Nigel, who until now had been
watching the TV caught my eye and gave me a most disconcerting look. He
knew something - but what? I was puzzled and not a little concerned.


 "Anyone wanna cup of tea?" he asked.

 Everyone did.

 "Come on, then. You can help if you like," he said looking straight at me
as if to say 'I want to talk to you'.

 We went in the kitchen and started to make the tea.

 I almost dropped the kettle as he stood by my side and said, "Mark's told
me all about it."

 I stared at him, speechless.

 "He told me today about going to your house, and everything."

 My heart almost stopped with the shock. I gripped the edge of the sink for
support and listened in fear as he went on, "Don't worry. It's OK. He
didn't want to, but I made him tell me."

 Relaxing just a little, I let him continue.

 "He likes you a lot you know and is always ratty and bad tempered when you
aren't here. We had a bit of a fight today when I asked him about the
football match and he wouldn't tell me. I guessed he hadn't gone and so I
made him tell me where he was."

 I wondered just how much Mark had said and was busy trying to work out how
to find out when he finished by saying, "Can I come and watch some videos
as well?"

 I looked directly at Nigel to see if he was hiding anything. "Yes. Of
course. Sometime." I said quietly. I had no choice.

 "Great!" he smiled, "Come on, tea's ready."

 Carefully I carried the tray into the living room and put it on the table.
Mark, I was pleased to see, was sat reading the newspaper.

 Picking up two cups, Nigel handed one to Mark and sat next to
him. Intrigued, I watched them out of the corner of my eye. There was a
knowing sort of look exchanged and they both gave me a quick, sidelong
glance. The rest of the evening was spent in a sort of strained silence, no
one wanting to say anything unless Mark flipped again.

 It was well past eleven o'clock when I reminded them it was bed time.

 "Come on. Showers and then bed." I commanded.

 There wasn't a murmur of discontent for once. Geoff and David had already
showered and were in their rooms fairly quickly. The two brothers I noticed
with interest had gone to shower together. They were obviously not bothered
now about what the others thought or said.  Nigel noticed this too.

 "Must be at least three hours since they wanked each other off," he
grinned, "Time for another one."

 Mark got up and went to get undressed, leaving just Nigel and I in the
room.

 "Gonna come and see me later?" he whispered, rubbing his crotch.

 "I'll try, but I can't promise," I replied, "Let's see what happens shall
we."

 The brothers finished their shower remarkably quickly for them, their
place being taken by a visibly aroused Nigel. I chose to ignore it,
thinking instead of the reason the brothers were in so much of a hurry to
get to bed.

 I made a gesture of tidying the house as I waited for the boys to
settle. Around midnight I decided to walk round.

 The first thing I noticed was that both Nigel and Mark had their lights
on: thoughtfully I left them alone whilst I tried to sort out the dilemma I
had out myself in. On the on the one hand I had promised to go and see Mark
before he went to sleep: but I had also said that I would pay a visit to
Nigel as well. I knew perfectly well that I ought not to go to either of
them, but I had given up all pretence of denying to myself who and what I
was. the only problem I had was deciding which to go to. Nigel was better
looking and was probably more fun (and probably more desperate at this
point in time) but Mark I knew better and I would perhaps be more at ease
with him.

 The two brothers were, just as I was learning to expect, in bed
together. They only interrupted their cuddling and kissing for a moment or
two as they turned to face me and wished me goodnight, with just a trace of
a contented smile on their faces. Returning their wishes, I left them to
it, only slightly envious of their ability to spend so much time together
in such close friendship.

 I had almost decided to go and have a cup of coffee when my mind was made
up for me. Walking slowly down the dimly lit corridor, I was startled out
of my reverie by the bathroom door opening and Nigel coming out.

 In the instant before he recognised me, he hurriedly used the bathrobe to
cover his nakedness.

 "Oh. It's you. Hiya!" he grinned, letting the robe drop open to reveal not
only his nakedness, but a very obvious erection. "I was wondering where
you'd got to. Coming to say goodnight to me?"

 The inference was made even more obvious by his grasping his prick and
waving it at me as a direct invitation.

There was no real need for me to answer him in words: my instantly hard
cock was all too obvious to Nigel, and said a great deal more than mere
words could. I nodded slightly at him and simply said "I'll be there in a
few minutes."

Stepping round him, I continued with my round of the house, hardly seeing
or hearing anything, my mind being far too full of other, more exciting
things, than what was happening around the home.  Thankfully, everything
was peaceful - the only other sign of life being that of Mark's light
glowing dimly under the door. I choose to ignore it and made my way to
Nigel's room.

Thoughtfully, and perhaps a little too obviously, he had left his door
slightly ajar. I closed it carefully as I went in.  The room had been
re-arranged sometime during the day, I noticed.  Instead of having his bed
under the window as they were in the other boys' rooms, he had put it
behind the door so that it was out of sight when the door was opened. Quite
a deliberate move, and an intelligent one I thought. Nigel was laying on
top of the bedclothes, completely naked now, and stroking a superb
erection.

He turned to look at me, unsmiling, but obviously very much at ease with
the situation. Much more than I was, I must admit. My instantly acquired
erection was straining painfully against my trousers, but this was only a
minor thought as I stared at Nigel as if for the first time.  He was truly
handsome: almost god-like in fact, in my eyes. I was mesmerised by his
superb, tanned and perfect body. There wasn't even a change in colour where
his shorts would normally have shaded him. I was in love - again!  His
prick was perfect: just the right size and shape for his body. I had seen
him naked before of course, but at the time I had other things on my mind
than looking at his beauty. This time, I was stunned into silence.

"Come on, then., Hurry up before you come in your trousers!" he laughed
quietly.

I took the step or two to the bedside, removing my T-shirt as I did
so. Frantically, Nigel reached over and unfastened the belt on my trousers,
slid down the zip and pulled them down, together with my shorts. As quickly
as I could, I tore off my shoes and socks, stepped out of my pants and lay
on the bed beside him.

Ferociously we hugged each other, the pain lost in our passion for each
other. We were both so desperate for each other that nothing else in the
world existed from the moment we held each other. Our mouths met, and, eyes
closed we kissed hungrily, our tongues hastily entwining.

Breaking apart for a moment, I heard Nigel whisper "Christ! You'll never
know how long I've been waiting for this!"

My only reply was to give him another hug and kiss him again.  "Me too!" I
managed to say at last, "Me too!"

Relaxing my hold just for a second, I arranged our cocks so that they were
side-by-side and held him again, lightly.

For a timeless age, we kissed, cuddled and fondled each other, solely
intent on savouring every wonderful moment, both giving and getting more
pleasure and delight than I would have ever thought possible. Nigel must
have been thinking exactly the same thoughts as he never stopped moaning
and groaning with happiness: so much so that I was certain he would wake
the whole house up with his noise.  Eventually, and very unwillingly we
broke apart so that we could regain some sort of strength and sense of
reality.

"Hang on a sec!" Nigel whispered as he slid off the bed.

I watched, more than a little intrigued as he skipped round the bed and
went to the door. In my haste, I had forgotten to jam the door shut when I
came in: this Nigel did now; and within a few seconds was back on the bed
holding me again. But not before turning the light off though.

"That's perfect now!" I heard him say. "Just fucking perfect!"

Once again we lost ourselves in each other, the darkness and security from
intrusion making the atmosphere much more erotic than it was before.  I
don't think that we had even touched each others cock and balls up to this
point. Much to my surprise, just the physical contact and feeling of his
huge erection against my stomach were more than enough for me. So much so
in fact that I was aware I would come very shortly unless we calmed down a
little.

"Hang on a bit," I somehow managed to say, "I'm gonna come if I'm not
careful!"

We separated a bit and lay on our backs, idly toying with each others hair.

"Will you fuck me?" Nigel asked after a while, his voice trembling with
emotion, "Please?"

I nodded agreement, it suddenly being the only thing in the world I wanted
to do.

As if from nowhere, the Vaseline appeared, and after my companion had taken
a liberal handful, it was handed to me.

A few days ago I would have had no idea what to do with it, or even that it
would be needed: but now I didn't need any lessons. Carefully, but
speedily, I smothered my cock with it, only with the greatest strength of
will stopping myself from coming as I did so.

Nigel was now on his back, legs in the air, ready to rest them on my
shoulders. Both pillows, I noticed being placed underneath him.

"Tell me if it hurts," I said as I gently placed my cockhead against him.

"Just hurry will you!" he said from somewhere in the dark, "It won't hurt."

I pushed forward slowly. I had never done this before and didn't have a
clue what to expect, but one thing I was sure of. My cock shouldn't have
gone in as easily as it did. Nigel must obviously be used to this: there
could be no other explanation. Still, that didn't worry me in the
slightest. Made it more acceptable in fact somehow or other. Gradually I
forced myself deeper and deeper into him until I could feel my balls
against his butt.  As I got further and further in, Nigel almost purred
with pleasure, the volume raising the deeper I got. Thankfully I was as far
as I could go before it got too loud.

I paused and rested.

"Fucking wonderful! Fucking brilliant!" he whispered, as much to himself as
to me.

Very slowly I began to fuck him.  I was getting extremely close to coming
and apart from anything else I wanted to prolong it as long as possible.
The intense delight I was feeling was indescribable - much, much better
than I thought it would be: not that I had ever given it that much thought
before of course - but nevertheless ...... Of one thing I was certain
though: much to my amazement, it was a far better feeling that I had ever
got from screwing a girl.

Nigel was on another planet. He was rolling his head from side to side,
biting his lips to stop himself from crying out. If anything, he was even
more ecstatic that I was, although I find that hard to believe. Dimly I was
aware that he was gripping me round the hips so hard, forcing me into him,
that his fingernails were digging deep into my flesh - so hard in fact that
I later discovered that he'd made me bleed.

Despite all my efforts I soon lost all self control and started to thrust
myself harder and harder into him, almost viciously if the truth be
known. This only seemed to heighten Nigel's passion though and despite his
best efforts he couldn't help but shout out once in a while.  Then I
climaxed. Suddenly and without any warning whatsoever I rammed myself
deeper than I would have thought possible and I shot my lot. It felt as if
it would go on for ever: spurt after spurt after spurt ejaculated into
Nigel's bowels: there was such a lot that I was uncomfortably aware that
even my balls were aching with the effort.

Spent, exhausted and utterly drained, I collapsed on top of him. Nigel's
legs slid off my shoulders and he wrapped them round my waist, effectively
preventing me from pulling my now sore and limp tool out of his butt.

"Jesus!" was all he could manage to gasp.

I couldn't even summon up enough energy to say that.

Gradually we came back down to Earth and I managed to extricate myself,
albeit reluctantly.

"That was the best. Ever." Nigel moaned, eyes still closed. "Simply the
fucking best."

Turning onto our sides, we lay cuddling each other and kissing once in a
while. We must have dozed off as well because I suddenly opened my eyes,
feeling a bit cold. Glancing round the room, I was more than a bit
disturbed to see it was bathed in a cold, grey light. It took a second or
so to realise that it was dawn! Frantically searching for a clock, I saw
with horror that it was half past four!

In a major state of panic, I leapt from the bed and grabbed my
clothes. Throwing them on as quickly as I could, I almost shouted "Nigel!
For Christ sake! It's dawn!"

The only response I got was a very sleepy opening of the eyes and a distant
"So what?"

I ignored this and as quickly as I could opened the door and ran to my
room, carrying my shows and socks, and trying frantically to fasten my
trousers at the same time.  Once there, I collapsed on a chair and gathered
my thoughts.  The initial state of terror had subsided, and now thinking a
little more rationally, I thankfully realised that there was no real reason
to panic in fact.

Chapter Seven

Breakfast some three hours later was a very strange meal. At least it was
for me, Nigel and Mark.  The others weren't aware of any atmosphere, but I
was. And so were Nigel and Mark.  Nigel, understandably, was tired and
irritable.  It didn't help when one of the others noticing it, said that he
ought to 'go to sleep and not spend all night tossing himself
off'. Thankfully he didn't rise to the bait, and carefully avoided any eye
contact with me.

Mark was also bad tempered, but for a very different reason as I well knew.
He was seriously pissed off, and we both knew why.  Once or twice he opened
his mouth as if to speak, but thought better of it. I was dreading him
losing his temper as I knew full well he could very easily. Somehow though,
he managed to keep it in check, satisfying himself by giving me a hard,
cold stare once in a while, and totally ignoring me other than that. Nigel
was given the same treatment, but he was so tired that I don't think he
noticed, much to Mark's annoyance.

By eight o'clock the breakfast things had been cleared away (or at least
thrown into the sink) and the gang were all busy getting ready for
school. The boss arrived about this time and wandered about chatting to the
boys. I busied myself gathering my things together before I headed for
home, glad to be relieved of the boys for a while.

I had put my bag in the car and was just going to leave when I was summoned
to the office.  Very much alarmed by this unusual request, I was visibly
sweating as I closed the door behind me.

The boss was sat on his desk rather than behind it. This slight hint of
informality relaxed me a little, but not enough to put me completely at
ease.

"Listen," he started, "Can you do me a favour?"

I almost fainted as I realised he hadn't found anything out, and in fact
was asking me to do something for him.

At this point in time, I would have done absolutely anything for him, but
anything!

"Yeah Of course. What is it?", only keeping my voice on an even keel with
the greatest of effort.

"Could you take the kids to school today in the mini-bus?  I have a meeting
to go to a bit later and I don't have the time.  You can keep it with you
today, and pick them up on the way into work tonight if you like."

More than happy to oblige, I said that it would be no problem, and after a
bit of idle gossip, left the office feeling a lot better than I thought I
would when I first went in.

There was one major drawback in this plan.  Mark was always the last to be
dropped off as he went to a different school, and I wasn't looking forward
to the ten minutes I would have to spend alone with him. A sign of things
to come was given to me when, for the first time, he chose not to sit
beside me in the front, but rather electing to sit at the back, as far away
from me as he could. Nigel, using his intelligence, decided not to take his
place, but sat behind me next to Geoff.

I was right.  The ten minutes spent driving Mark to school were strained:
you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife, not a word was exchanged
between us. I looked at him once in a while through the rear-view
mirror. He was usually staring out of the window, but the once or twice I
managed to catch his eye for an instant, he looked away immediately, but I
thought I could see something in his look.  It wasn't anger as I had
thought. It wasn't even loathing or hate as I might expect from him if he
knew or even suspected what had happened between me and Nigel last
night. It was something else, but I couldn't work out what.

Pushing these thoughts to the back of my mind, I concentrated on my driving
instead. Pulling up outside the school gates, I waited, expecting Mark to
get off.

"Come on, mate!" I said, far more cheerfully than I felt, "We're here."

"Fuck you. I ain't goin' to no fuckin' school today."

This was the old Mark. I knew from bitter experience that there were only
two ways forward from here: either we had a blazing row, probably ending up
in a physical confrontation, or I gave in to him and let him have his own
way.  I was way too tired to argue with him, and in any case this was
neither the time nor the place to have a bust up with him.  Sighing
inwardly, I turned to face him.

"OK, Mark. I'm too tired to argue with you today. I think you should go to
school, but I can't force you, even if I wanted to. But you can't sit there
all day. I want to get home and get some sleep anyway."

We stared at each other for a moment or two, neither quite knowing what to
do next.

There was that odd look again. Slowly he stood up and walked down the 'bus,
making a definite point of leaving his school things behind on the seat. He
stopped by the door, one foot on the road.  "I know why you're tired. And
why Nigel was tired as well. I saw you last night."

Before I could fully comprehend what I'd just heard, he slammed the door
closed and ran off, away from the school. "I fucking hate you!" he screamed
as he did so.

"Shit!" was all I could think.  I sat there, my mind reeling.

Slowly, I put the bus in gear let the clutch out.  I don't actually
remember the drive home: in fact, the first conscious thing I remember was
taking my clothes off and laying on the bed staring at the ceiling,
worried, puzzled and frightened.

I'm lucky in some ways I suppose. Whenever I am stressed, or seriously
worried about something I sleep. Some people hit the bottle; others go for
long walks or whatever. But I sleep.

And I did. That is until I heard a bell ring. Struggling to rouse myself, I
glanced at my watch as I stumbled to the door and noticed that I had been
dozing for about two hours or so. Not giving a thought as to who might be
there, I opened it and stared blearily at my visitor.

It was Mark. He was still wearing his school uniform, but had taken his tie
off. He had also been crying by the look of him: his eyes were red and
there were tear marks on his cheeks.

Without a word, I opened the door wider and stood back. Avoiding my eyes,
he stared at the floor as he walked over to the easy chair and sat down.

Not having a clue as to what to say, I sat opposite him and stared at the
same spot on the carpet.

He was the first one to speak.

"I saw you with Nigel." he said, slowly and painfully. "I couldn't sleep
and was waiting for you, but you didn't come. I went to find you but you
weren't there. I searched all over and then I saw the light go out in his
room and I knew that you were with him.  I even tried the door, but it was
jammed."

He was speaking in a low, flat monotone. No emotion, no feeling. Just a
series of statements, said without a trace of compassion. I didn't have the
courage to look at him, I was too upset and angry with myself to do that. I
had let him down badly: and that was the last thing in the world he
needed. I felt wretched and sick.

"I went outside and looked through the window and saw you both."

He didn't enlarge on what he'd seen - he didn't need to.

"I thought you liked me, but you're just like all the others, you couldn't
give a shit about me."

I was struggling in vain to find the right words when he finally said, "I
just thought that I'd come here and tell you that I'm not going to do a
runner or anything like that, but I shall ignore you from now on and I
don't want to talk to you again. Ever."

For the first time in my life, I was truly speechless. I had let him down
very badly, and that was the last thing he needed in his life. I had
destroyed a good relationship and lost a friend I loved, all because of my
own, selfish, thoughtless desires. Mark depended on me and trusted me and I
had destroyed everything. Mostly though, I had destroyed Mark, and for that
I could never forgive myself.

Helpless, I looked at him, the tears running freely down my face. Without
having a clue what I was going to say or do, I reacted automatically. I got
up slowly, stepped across, and stood in front of him. Putting a finger
under his chin, I lifted his face up. He stared at me, the pain he was
feeling showing clearly.

"I don't know what to say Mark. I'm sorry. Truly sorry. I don't know why I
did it, but I'm sorry. I didn't think. I didn't want to hurt you - I ...."
Taking a deep breath, I swallowed and continued.  I didn't need to think,
the words just flowed out.

"The last thing in the world I want to do is deliberately upset you.  I
didn't know ... I didn't think.  Mark, I ....  Mark, can we start again?
Please?"

I put my hands on his arms and tried to get him to stand. Reluctantly, he
got to his feet and looked at me.  I pulled him to me and attempted to
cuddle him.  There was nothing I wanted more than to get him back to me -
for us to become friends again.

He fought against me at first, tensing up and trying to pull away, but then
I felt him relax and he fell into my arms, sobbing.

I suppose it could have been just like one of those sloppy scenes from a
'B' movie, the two of us trying to stifle the tears and hug each other
tightly, our friendship and - let me say it, love for each other, not only
confirmed but strengthened. It would never be the same again of course, but
somehow we both knew that whatever happened in the future, our love for
each other couldn't be broken.

"Come on, dickhead!" I said, ruffling his hair in an attempt to brighten
things up a little. "We must both look a mess. You know where the bathroom
is, go and get cleaned up. I'll make us both a drink."

For the rest of the day, we lazed around the flat. I decided not to press
him into going back to school but instead let him hang around the flat.
Just after lunch, I said that I was tired and must get some rest as I was
working again that night. Nothing was said about why I was so tired, Mark
simply agreed that I needed some 'beauty sleep' and let me go.

I awoke about three hours later: still tired but feeling a lot better. Mark
hadn't been idle while I was resting. He'd cleaned the flat, tidied up, and
even made some sandwiches for us.

It wasn't long before it was time for me to pick the others up from school
and get them back home.  Mark and I decided that it would be better if I
dropped him back at his school, went to pick the others up and return for
him later. Hopefully this would fool everyone into thinking that things
were 'normal'.

And they were, thank goodness. On the way back, Nigel and Mark sat together
and chatted away as if nothing had ever happened to spoil their friendship.
To begin with, Nigel was puzzled by the complete reversal in Mark's
attitude from this morning, but soon relaxed when Mark playfully gave his
balls a squeeze, together with a broad wink which said volumes. I smiled to
myself as I guessed (rightly) what they would get up to later. I didn't
even mind as I now knew that Mark was completely mine, and I was his.  We
might both stray once in a while, but it wouldn't matter that much: nothing
could break us up now.

Then I had a wicked thought. I momentarily lost control of the mini-bus as
it struck me. Perhaps Mark, Nigel and I could ...  I glanced in the mirror,
my thoughts being strengthened as I saw their hands resting on each others
erections as they chatted.

I must remember to talk to Mark later tonight and see what he thinks of the
idea.

The End