Date: Sat, 10 Jan 2009 12:16:05 -0800 (PST)
From: John Venn <johnvenn1945@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Tom Brown's Schoolboy  Part 1 of 3

Tom Brown's Schoolboy Part 1 of 3
by
Alexander

Disclaimer:

This story contains scenes of a sexual nature between a boy and a boy, and
a man and boy. If this is not to your taste, or is illegal where you live,
or you find it morally offensive, then read no further and leave now!!

The story is purely imaginary and bears no resemblance to any living person
or persons as far as I know, much as you or I might wish!

Comments are always welcome at johnvenn1945@yahoo.co.uk

**************************************************

Part 1 of 3

Tom Brown's Schoolboy (b/b, m/b, mast, oral, anal, cons, HS)
by
Alexander
Chapter One.

Billy was sat on the low wall, swinging his legs and watching the pub
door. Occasionally he would dip his grubby fingers into the paper bag in
his lap, fish out a sweet and chew on it. He was pissed off and bored, as
usual on a Saturday afternoon. This was the day his father 'had access' to
him; his mum and dad were living apart, the drink having finally done its
work. 'Access' meant meeting his dad outside the pub, being given a bottle
of cheap fizzy drink, an even cheaper bag of sweets and told to wait
outside. If he remembered, his dad would send out another drink sometime in
the afternoon, but as often as not forgot and would only remember him when
he staggered out some hours later, drunk, argumentative and broke. Usually
Billy got his timing right and had long since gone when his father fell out
of the door. He couldn't go home, or at least wouldn't. His mother would
either be 'entertaining' a man friend, or in another pub doing the same
thing as his father.

Either way, going home was out of the question.

Billy was twelve years old and had lived like this for almost as long as he
could remember and knew no different. He was happy enough in his own way,
content to wander the streets during most daylight hours when he wasn't at
school and explore the roads and derelict houses where he lived.

Staring down at his dirty, torn jeans and equally grubby T-shirt, he
shivered as a blast of cold wind blew down the road. Jumping off the wall,
he peered through the pub window, saw his dad with a full glass of beer and
wandered off, feeling for another sweet as he did so. Half a mile down the
road was his haven: an old Victorian house, long since deserted, with a big
overgrown garden which hid it almost completely from sight. Doors and
windows had been smashed and broken even before he discovered it, but
nevertheless it offered a place out of the wind and rain where he could
keep out of people's way.

He used to pretend it was his house and he lived there with his big family
and liveried servants, just like he'd read in the books at school. The
street-level floor showed all the usual signs of use by the local kids:
torn papers, empty bottles, discarded cigarette packs and other detritus
littering it. The next floor was his favourite though because that was
where 'his' room was. This used to be a big store cupboard at some time, it
was the only room with a door, and it would almost shut. In it he'd
secreted away some of his prize possessions: a few comics, a broken radio,
a box of his less-battered toys, a tattered blanket he'd rescued from a
skip, and a torch. Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor, he
looked around. 'Good,' he thought, 'No one's been here.' Reaching up, he
pulled the door as closed as it would go and switched on the torch. Feeling
safe and secure from the world about him he smiled to himself and
relaxed. Searching about under the blanket, he pulled out a magazine. He'd
found it downstairs a couple of weeks ago, and was a complete revelation to
him. It was full of pictures of naked and half-naked men and women. The
girls were good to look at with their huge naked breasts, but it was the
men that fascinated him the most. Turning to the first page with a naked
man on it, he lay the magazine carefully on the floor, got himself ready by
pushing his jeans and pants down to his knees and shone the torch on the
man's peter.

Waiting expectantly, he stared at the enormous monster the man was holding,
as his own tiddler began to rise up for him. He looked from one to the
other, wondering vaguely if his would ever get as big as that. The man,
Jeff, according to the words next to the picture, had all his fat fingers
round his dick and still had at least three inches sticking
out. Tentatively Billy put his fingers round his: four fingers and it was
completely hidden.

"Fuck it," he muttered to himself, "It ain't getting no fuckin' bigger."

He left his hand where it was as he turned the pages over with the other,
searching for the next monster. He knew: two more pages, and there he was,
standing up, legs spread apart and his peter perfectly upright, reaching
towards his belly button. Tall, blond and muscley, he was the best looking
man in the book. Billy stared at him, envying his gigantic peter and
getting that nice, tickly feeling in his belly, just like butterflies. He
flicked through the magazine, knowing from experience exactly which pages
to turn to, but returning to Blondie every so often to refresh his memory.

The sound of a bus making its way down the road brought him back from
wherever his mind had drifted. It was time to make a move
home. Reluctantly, he carefully replaced the book and pulled his trousers
up, making sure that he covered his bits with a hand as he fastened the
zip. He'd caught himself in it once, and didn't want to do it a second
time! Turning into the road where he lived, he glanced up at his block of
flats: thirty floors of grey concrete and peeling paintwork. If he'd ever
known anything different, he'd've known just how run-down and decrepit it
was - but he didn't, and it was home.

His mother was there. Not drunk exactly, but neither was she sober. There
was a definite smell of a man in the air; she'd been entertaining. He could
never identify what caused the odour, but he could always tell when she'd
had a man round. The only thing he was certain of was that she would have
some money, or she'd be pissed, but not both. Without moving from the sofa
where she lay, she waved an arm and mumbled that his dinner was in the
kitchen. Without haste he wandered into the squalor to find the cold
remains of yesterday's stew sitting on the window sill. Shrugging his
shoulders, he emptied it into the rubbish bin and stuffed his last two
remaining sweets in his mouth.

There were about two hours to kill until the best time of day. Once she
thought he was in his room, she never disturbed him until she shouted for
him at breakfast time and didn't really know whether he was there or
not. So, sometime after nine in the evening he could usually manage to
sneak out of the house without his mother knowing. Most often she was glued
in front of the tv, at other times she was snoring.

Laying on his bed, he loosened his trousers and thought about his
magazine. It occurred to him that he'd been thinking about the naked men a
lot recently, and every time he did, his peter got hard. He liked it when
that happened: it was one of the few things he got any real pleasure out of
these days, and there was no one to tell him off for being happy and
enjoying himself as they so often seemed to. He let his hands wander down
and hold his flaccid peter until it got hard. Then he felt all round his
naked balls and up to his bum, and back again, stroking up to his belly
button, then round again.

He kept on feeling himself as pictures of the different men crossed through
his mind, eyes closed and a welcoming smile on his face. Another idle
thought struck him: nearly all the men had hair round their peters. He sat
up and examined himself closely: not a one, not even a sign of one.

Sighing, he lay back down, again wondering when he would grow up.

When he awoke from his doze, Billy was surprised to find his hands cupping
his still hard peter.

And there was something else, he'd wet himself, just a tiny bit though. He
looked at the liquid on the end of his thing. It didn't look like piss
somehow, for one thing it wasn't the right colour, and for another it
seemed sticky sort of. Curiously he picked a bit up on the end of his
finger and brought it to his nose. It definitely wasn't piss; it smelt
different, kinda nice even. Very carefully he tasted it. It was OK. He
gathered the remaining few drops up and sucked his finger dry. It was good.

Shrugging his shoulders, he pulled his ragged jeans up, put the warmer of
his two coats on and quietly opened his bedroom door. She was
sleeping. Very carefully he crept behind her and with an expertise born of
practice, slipped out like a wraith. Getting away from the estate without
being beaten up, or at the very least chased by one of the gangs wasn't
easy. Slipping from shadow to shadow, his eyes darting everywhere on the
look-out for any potential trouble, he made it to the main road. Even then
he knew he wasn't completely safe: being a slightly-built and young-looking
12-year old boy he was always at risk from other, bigger and tougher
boys. He made his way towards the town centre, the bright lights and
people. Lots of non-threatening, happy people mostly. He would be
relatively safe for a couple of hours, window-shopping and looking at the
tv programmes in the shop windows. He was happy. He was even given the
remains of an unwanted burger by a smiling girl who felt sorry for him;
that was a bonus!

Eleven o'clock found him in a quieter part of town, well away from the
centre: this was his territory and he knew it well. Roaming aimlessly round
the darkened streets, enjoying the night air and solitude, he let his mind
wander. For some reason or other, he became aware that his peter had got
hard, and he hadn't even been thinking of anything! Putting his hand into
his pocket and feeling it through the hole, he was sure he could feel it
was wet again. He remembered there was a toilet block not too far away and
he trotted towards it, keen to have a look at himself and check it out.

He locked the green wooden door behind himself and immediately dropped his
clothes to the floor, in a hurry to see what was happening.

It was there again! Smiling to himself with an odd sort of satisfaction, he
collected the crystal- clear fluid together and stuck it in his mouth. It
was just the same! His peter gave a little twitch upwards, unnoticed by
Billy except that he put his hand on it and held it like always. Idly he
squeezed and released it, enjoying the secret delight it gave him. This was
nice, he decided and did it some more, looking at the walls as he felt the
tickling butterflies in his tummy. There were drawings: lots of drawings,
all over the walls, and writing as well. He'd never really noticed them
before, not that he'd used these places much anyway - a convenient tree or
wall had always done him in the past. But now ......?  Gradually his eyes
opened wider and wider as it dawned on him what the pictures were
of. peters, balls and bums, in odd positions and all different shapes and
sizes. He put off reading the words until he'd examined every picture in
detail. His peter got harder and he started to stroke it reflectively as he
peered at the drawings. There were peters in fists, peters standing up,
peters in mouths, there were even peters stuck up bums; there was every
possible combination he could think of - and more! It was like a wonderland
to his innocent, fertile imagination. A wonderland of revelation and
discovery. He began to take in the words fitted around the pictures,
recognising most of them, but not what they were saying. He understood
'fuck' and 'dick' and 'arse' and a good many others; he'd heard them at
school often enough and had seen them scrawled in isolation on walls, but
never together in such profusion. His hand stroked his dick harder. He
tried to imagine what it would be like having a peter, sorry, dick, in your
mouth or up your bum. His mouth would be OK, after all that clear stuff
tasted not too bad; but inside your bum must hurt, and why do it anyway?
His hand continued to move up and down and he became aware of it for the
first time. Curiously he stared at it, as if it had a will of its own, and
let it carry on, even putting his other hand under his tiny balls to take
the weight of them off his bouncing dick. The butterflies in his tummy
began to flutter harder and he watched as his balls suddenly seemed to
shrink back into his tummy. Then the most fantastic thing happened. His
hand went faster and faster and his dick seemed to get hotter and bigger
and fill his whole brain. Suddenly his entire body was filled with an
amazing light and heat, the tiny room melted away into a mist and he shook
all over, not stopping for ages and ages. To begin with he thought he'd
hurt himself somehow, but as the fantastic feeling slowly died away, he
looked at his dick and balls and gratefully saw they were still in one
piece. But there was something odd though - there was some white stuff
dripping out of his cock. There were drops of it on his legs and shirt as
well. How did that get there? What was it?  Realisation hit him like a
thunderclap. All the sex ed. lessons at school, all the 'dirty' talk in the
playground, and even the pictures in his magazine began to make some sort
of sense to him. This was sex. Proper sex. And he could do it! He looked
around the toilet, suddenly acutely aware of where he was. He was sure that
somebody was listening, somebody had watched him, somebody who just knew
what he'd done. He breathed a sigh of relief as he found he was still
alone. But it was fantastic! Amazing! Awesome! He must tell somebody! But
who? Nobody. He knew that, but he just wished there was someone, just one
person, with whom he could share this amazing discovery. Then he thought,
there was just one person, maybe. Groggily, he struggled to his feet and
pulled his pants and trousers up, taking extra care not to trap his
super-sensitive and now shiningly sticky peter in his zipper and ran all
the way home. For two reasons: first he wanted to get into his own bed and
do it again, and secondly, he might, just might, run into the one person in
the world he could share his fantastic secret with.

Kim was the nearest thing he had to a friend. He was a year younger than
him and lived next door.

His name wasn't really Kim; because his family was black and African or
something, he had a long, funny name which nobody could say properly, so he
was called Kim. Even his mum and dad called him Kim unless he was in
trouble, which wasn't very often.

Naturally Kim wasn't around, it was much too late for him to be
out. 'Still,' thought Billy, 'That ain't important now, I'll tell him
later. I just wanna get home!' He almost blew it in his excitement. He
thrust the flat door open with unaccustomed force, but automatically
stopped it before it bounced against the door frame. There was no sign of
his mother, he assumed she was in bed. Treading very cautiously he crept
into his room, closed the door and for safety's sake, even wedged the chair
under the handle. She'd never come into his room at night before, but
knowing his luck tonight would be the first, and he didn't want to be
disturbed when he was busy experimenting!

As fast as he could, he stripped off and threw his clothes into the corner
to join the mounting pile, some clean, some dirty. He lay on the unmade
bed, spread his legs and surveyed his body from top to toe. His skin was
pink and flawless apart from the odd marks and scratches on his legs where
he'd scrambled through bushes when playing. Mentally he compared his
boy-body with those of the men in his book. He gave that up instantly and
tried to remember what the other boys in his class looked like when they
were stripped for swimming or PE. It wasn't easy, he'd never taken much
notice of them before, always getting changed by himself in a corner and
keeping his back to them.

The few he had looked at nervously in the showers were no different to him
on the whole, although Billy was a bit smaller and thinner than most of
them. His peter was a little bigger than average, and like everyone else
except David and Mark, had no hair at all, and they only had three or four
tiny ones. He knew that because they'd showed them to everyone last
week. His dick started to harden.

Experimentally he ran his thin fingers over his body, closing his eyes to
concentrate on the feeling.

The sensation from the top of his legs and round his dick and balls was
nice and tingly, making his tummy feel funny. His legs and arms felt no
different, but when he rubbed his chest, that was almost as good as when he
held his dick: he shivered at his touch, opening his eyes for a second to
confirm his fingers were where he thought they were. His little brown
nipples seemed to be super- touchy, they felt the best, and re-closing his
eyes, played with them again to check it out. It was brilliant!

Keeping his left hand rubbing them, he switched his right one back to his
peter which was now real hard and sticking straight up. There was that
clear stuff again, all together in a sort of tiny lake made by the extra
bit of skin at the end of his peter. He was in heaven! Gripping his dick a
bit harder, he felt his heart-beats making it throb a tiny bit and he began
to rub up and down in time with them.

That strange, wonderful feeling began to come again, the butterflies in his
tummy started up and he felt warm and sort of itchy all over. He opened his
legs a little wider and grasped his balls with his left hand, feeling the
egg-shaped things inside. His mouth fell open and he gasped at the sudden
and unexpected excitement it gave him. He started to rub his dick
faster. It throbbed and grew hotter and even bigger. His skin seemed to be
alive and glowing as he worked his fingers up and down his shaft, making
him moan and groan uncontrollably. He watched as more and more of the
sticky stuff came out of his dick: he wanted to stop and taste it, but
somehow he couldn't seem to do it.

Quicker and quicker his fingers flew up and down, completely out of his
control, his dick now as hard as iron. Then, without warning he let out a
strangled scream and he felt his dick spasm, his back arch and his legs
stick straight out, toes curled up painfully. He stopped breathing as big
globs of white stuff shot out in spurts; he counted at least five before
they slowed down and stopped, the last one just dribbling out and running
on to his thumb. He took a deep breath and tried to get his brain to
work. That was the best feeling he'd ever, ever had; he felt exhilarated,
happy, wonderful and all sorts of other good feelings at the same time. The
stuff that came out this time was different - it was white and sort of
cloudy and thicker, more like cream. He tasted it. That was different as
well, like a swimming pool sort of taste but it was good. He gathered the
rest up and put it on his tongue. 'Yeah,' he thought, 'Different but
definitely OK.'  Twice more he did it that night, not making quite so much
stuff, but gratefully confirming that the feelings were still there and
just as good as the first time. He only stopped when he tried it a third
time, looked at his dick and saw it was red raw and very tender, so tender
he couldn't touch it.

Chapter Two.

The following morning, after the third shout from his Mother, he stumbled
out of bed. For a moment he wondered why he still felt so tired and yet so
pleased with himself, then he remembered and smiled to himself. Still
grinning, he searched for a reasonably clean shirt and his school
trousers. A quick wash, and he was on the way to school with a slice of
toast in his hand. He hoped to meet Kim on the way but he was one of those
kids who always got to school early, and Billy was one of those who arrived
just in the nick of time, he promised himself that he'd find him later. The
morning lessons dragged on and on: Billy knew he wasn't very bright at the
best of times although he usually managed to keep himself out of
trouble. No, that isn't true he thought. He realised he was cleverer, more
intelligent than most people around him, but he'd never been bothered or
stimulated enough to use his brains, always being content to do the bare
minimum to avoid any bother from the teachers and not stand out from the
crowd. That, together with his less than supportive home meant he was one
of that vast herd of pupils in the middle: ignored by everyone, pupils and
teachers alike.

Lunch-time came around, and Billy searched Kim out. He was sat by himself
on the library steps flicking through a comic when Billy approached him.

"Hiya, Kim!" Billy said cheerfully, parking himself next to his friend.

"Hiya yourself!" Kim replied, grateful for someone to talk to. He liked
Billy, despite his poor home and drunken mother: in some ways he felt sorry
for him, but was completely unable to do anything about it and so pushed it
to the back of his mind. Even his parents had half-warned in a round-about
way not to become too friendly with him. What he did like was his free and
easy approach to life, doing more or less what he wanted, when he
wanted. That, in Kim's eyes, was a reasonable trade-off for having a bad
home.

"Listen, I got summat to tell ya," Billy whispered urgently. "Come over
'ere."

He grabbed Kim's arm and dragged him round the corner, out of everyone's
view. Kim followed curiously.

"You know your thing, you know, your peter?" Billy gushed out excitedly,
still holding his friend's arm with one hand, and pointing to his crotch
with the other. Kim nodded, understanding now why he'd been brought round
here out of the way - it was going to be one of 'those' conversations. His
family were very old-fashioned in that sex was never mentioned in any way,
shape or form. It was treated as something furtive and somehow dirty. The
result was that age the age of eleven, Kim had an abiding interest in all
things sexual, although as yet was completely unaware of its physical side.

But that was about to change.

"Well, you know it gets hard sometimes, if you think dirty things."

Kim nodded again, not fully understanding, but going along with Billy
anyway.

"Well, last night," here he dropped his voice to a whisper, "I found out
that stuff comes out of it.

Two sorts of stuff," he added after a moments thought.

Billy felt his dick harden in his trousers, adjusted its position
unconsciously and carried on. Kim's eyes saw the movement and became
fascinated as to where the conversation was leading. He also felt a funny
feeling at the top of his legs.

"If you rub it, it feels fuckin' awesome, and if you keep doin' it, first
some white watery stuff comes out, and then if you keep on rubbin', some
thick juicy stuff comes out as well. And it makes you feel all sort
of,....." Here he became stuck for words, and added lamely, "well, fuckin'
amazin'!"

Kim too was stuck for words. He heard what Billy had said, but didn't have
a clue what he was talking about. Sure, his thingy got stiff sometimes, but
if he ignored it, it went away. He knew that if he touched it when it was
hard, it felt good. But he also knew that it was to do with sex, and
therefore dirty and very much to be avoided.

To his acute embarrassment, Kim felt a swelling in his crotch and was
unable to do anything about it: it was bad enough when he was alone and it
happened, but with Billy here, it was ten times worse. He took a quick look
down and saw the terrifying tent in his trousers and blushed deeply.

He heard Billy giggle and say, "Your's gone stiff as well? Mine has, look!"
He made a diamond shape with his fingers and thumbs and pushed it over his
peter making it even more obvious. Kim stared, now seriously
disturbed. This just wasn't right and he stammered out an apology to Billy
and ran off to hide somewhere out of the way. Billy, knowing how funny Kim
was about sexy things, felt sorry that he was going to miss out on the best
bit, what happens when you play with it, but that was Kim's problem. Billy
ran to the toilets, dropped his pants and stared, almost lovingly, at the
wet patch on his pants.

Meanwhile, Kim was in another toilet, sat down on the seat, breathing
heavily. He hated feeling like this whenever anyone mentioned sex,
especially if they talked about penises or testicles. He was eleven years
old, had heard all the jokes and banter in the playground, and envied the
boys who were able to laugh at them. Now, even Billy was talking dirty to
him, and he was a friend. What was wrong with him?  He thought about
himself. He was big for his age, he knew that. He was taller and heavier
than anyone in his year, and a good many in the year above as well. He was
fit and healthy, kept himself clean and tidy, and had a smooth, unblemished
black skin. The only thing different about him he couldn't think about,
even to himself. His 'thing' wasn't like any of the others he'd seen by
accident: he'd been circumcised. It was about the same as Billy's he
remembered, apart from a few little hairs which had grown down there
recently, but no one except him knew about those. So why then, did he feel
so different? He made a momentous decision. Gritting his teeth and setting
his mind to it, he unfastened his trousers. With a deep breath he pushed
them down and seated himself on the toilet again, looking down at his
groin. The thing between his legs was a bit larger than it usually was, but
he knew why, and tried to ignore it. The hairs were still there. No more
and no fewer than there were the other day. But there was something
different. The end of his penis was shiny and wet.

Could that be the stuff Billy was talking about? He tore off a piece of
toilet paper and wiped it off.

As soon as the paper touched the purple head, he felt an electric shock
shoot through his whole body and he shivered with the surprise. It wasn't a
bad feeling, just unexpected.

Experimentally, he did it again. The feeling hit him again, and his penis
got a bit harder. Billy was right he realised. The feeling was a good
one. He started to wipe the stuff off and the sensation in his penis was
mind-bending: he'd never felt anything like it in his life. Slowly he
rubbed the paper over and over the head, the liquid had long since been
cleaned off, but that didn't matter anymore. He tentatively held his penis
upright with one hand, dropped the paper in the toilet and rubbed the palm
of his hand over the little hole at the end. It was leaking, and he
trembled with the incredible warmth his penis seemed to have gained. He
looked at his hand and much to his relief realised it wasn't urine. He
smelt it carefully and decided that it seemed harmless. His penis was still
hard and willed it go down, but it wouldn't, if anything it got harder. He
was scaring himself now and tried to get dressed. But there was the problem
of his hard penis. He positioned it as straight as he could and pulled his
underpants over it. As he rubbed his hand along it, the feeling came back
again. He couldn't stop himself: he did it three or four times, each time
the feeling getting stronger and stronger.

Then his legs began to shake and his knees knock together. In something
approaching a panic, he pulled his trousers over his undies, fastened the
zip and made a hasty escape to the playground, his mind a mess of
conflicting thoughts. Out in the open air, he was absolutely certain that
everyone was staring at him, thinking what a dirty, perverted little boy he
was.

Kim's afternoon in class was much like Billy's had been in the morning: he
couldn't keep his mind on anything for more than five minutes before it
wandered off to Billy's information and his own discovery. The biggest
problem he had was why, if the feelings were so intense and so good, had no
one ever told him before? Surely, something so important and exciting and
good-feeling should be known by everybody? Then the truth hit him: that was
precisely why he hadn't been told, that was why his parents threw a fit
every time his hands went anywhere below the belt. They knew just how nice
the sensations were and didn't want him to know about them. He made his
mind up to talk to Billy and learn some more. But it had to be secret
though, a big secret.

Chapter Three.

Billy was still excited, not only about the secret he'd shared with Kim,
but also about the toilets down town: he couldn't seem to get them out of
his mind. Knowing that there was no way he could settle down to any
schoolwork with his mind full of other, much more important things, he
decided to skip school for the afternoon. It wouldn't be the first time and
wasn't difficult as he'd learned. All you had to do was get registered and
sneak out before the lessons started. The teachers rarely checked names,
and his classmates, bound by the schoolboy code, would never admit to
knowing anything even if they did.

The bogs he'd been to last night were too far away to go to just now, and
he racked his brain trying to think if there were any others he might
try. There were some at the local shopping precinct, but they would be too
busy and probably kept too clean anyway. No, what he wanted were some not
too far away, not used too much and not cleaned very often. He scanned the
map of the local area in his mind. Got it! The football field. There was a
toilet block there. Nobody much would be around now because they'd all be
in school or at work. He knew they weren't cleaned too often because on the
one or two occasions he'd been in them, they smelt terrible and the walls
were covered in graffiti. Just what he wanted.

He ducked out through the hole in the fence behind the gymnasium and ran as
fast as he could until the school was out of sight. Dropping to a steady
jog, he was at the field in ten minutes. Stopping at the entrance to the
field, he looked around: there wasn't a soul in sight apart from a dog
walker over on the far side. He stared at the toilets for a couple of
minutes waiting for anyone who might be in them to leave. He was feeling a
now familiar sensation in his trousers and knew without checking that his
dick was getting hard with anticipation. Taking a deep breath, he raced the
fifty yards to his target and bounced in through the door, sliding on the
wet floor to a stop against the brick wall.

Taking a careful look round, he saw the four white porcelain urinals,
chipped and stained, on one wall and opposite them four unoccupied cubicles
with their heavy wooden doors ajar. They had been painted once, but that
had long since peeled off to leave a mosaic of dark green paint and
yellowish-grey wood with the inevitable tags scratched into it. He went
into one of the middle bogs and locked the door behind him. It was a
veritable treasure trove of information. The walls were covered almost from
floor to ceiling with hundreds of messages, pictures and crude
drawings. His eyes lit up as he scanned them excitedly. He also noticed
holes in the side walls and in the door: Big ones in the walls and much
smaller ones in the door. He could guess what they were for, and felt a
sensual thrill coursing through his body as he thought about it. His dick
gave a twitch of excitement, reminding him of its presence, and he pushed
his trousers and pants down to his ankles, allowing it to escape to the
freedom it so badly needed.

There was something incredibly exciting about being locked in the toilet
cubicle with his pants around his ankles and holding on to his warm, stiff
peter. The thrill was made even greater by the fact that he was playing
hooky from school as well. He scanned the walls, taking in the multitude of
crude, obscene and astonishing pictures, almost salivating as he stored
them in his memory. Then there was the writing as well. He didn't know that
there were so many different words for his peter: dick, cock and prick were
the commonest. Like at the other bogs, 'peter' wasn't written up there
once. He decided that must be a baby word for it and resolved never to use
it again, after all he was nearly a man now 'cause he could make that white
stuff come. 'Spunk' or 'sperm' it must be called according to the
information in front of him. Talking of which he remembered his now
steel-hard dick in his hand, and began stroking it up and down slowly,
waiting for 'the feeling' to start.

There were lots of pictures of people playing with their dicks just like he
was now; there were also some with dicks in peoples mouths again as well as
some with dicks up bums. He sat down on the bowl and thought about
it. Having a prick in your mouth must be OK because some of the messages
said things like 'suck me' and 'wanna suck?' There were even some messages
which seemed to make dates for people to meet together and do it. That must
be real cool to have someone suck your prick, or you suck theirs. He pulled
a face at the ones with dicks up bums. That still didn't make any
sense. Experimentally he tried to push his finger up his own bum, but first
of all it closed up real tight, then, when it did relax a bit and he
managed to get a bit of his finger in, it hurt like crazy and he quickly
pulled it out. 'Fuck that!' he thought to himself. He felt himself getting
close to that good feeling, his tummy was tingling and he felt hot all
over. With a big effort, he stopped rubbing himself because he wanted to
finish looking at the wall before he made the spunk come out.

This must be what 'wanking' and 'jerking off' is he realised suddenly,
staring at the words, and another piece of the jigsaw fell into place. He
thought for an instant of writing all these new words down so's he could
remember them, but apart from the fact that he didn't have any writing
stuff with him, he decided that it was a stupid idea anyway 'cause someone
might find it and read it.

He carried on reading and learned a few more things. It seemed people got
together here a lot as the dates were all new ones, some even for today and
tomorrow. A thought crossed his mind that he would like to hide here one
night and see what happened, but then this place was too far from home to
come to late at night, and in any case he didn't really fancy being here
when it was dark, it would be too scary. But there was the other place
though. He smiled and promised himself he would try it tonight. Once more
he resumed wanking his dick and waited for the feeling. It must've helped
looking at the pictures because he started to go all gooey and shaky nearly
straightaway. He didn't stop this time though; instead he pushed his legs
out as straight as he could, leaned back against the wall, held his balls
in one hand and stroked as fast as he as was able. He kept wanking even
when his dick throbbed and swelled up and his balls shrunk up into his
groin. Under his fingers he felt the spunk coming inside his cock and
watched as it shot up into the air, shooting up in six or seven bursts so
hard it even hurt a bit. The feelings were getting better and better every
time he did it, he thought as he scooped some up and put it in his
mouth. This time was the best so far and he took a deep breath as he
grinned happily. 'If only, ' he thought to himself.

'If only what?' he contemplated. 'Why did I think that? If only what?'
Then it dawned on him. Not only did he wanted to share his magical feelings
with someone else, he wanted to do it with them. Now that must be really
brilliant, much better than doing it to yourself.

He thought of Kim.

Turning this idea over in his mind, he pulled his trousers up without
bothering to fasten them, and peering through the hole in the door to make
sure that there was no one around, hobbled to the end cubicle to check that
one out.

It was much the same as the other he found out rather to his
disappointment, but then the big hole through the wall caught his eye. The
size was about right, the height was right (for a grown man anyway) and
there were some stains running down the wall which definitely weren't
piss. He adjusted his thinking: these holes weren't just for looking
through like the ones in the doors, they were to stick your cock through
so's the man next door could, well, wank it or suck it, he worked out. He
looked at the hole, looked at his dick and looked back at the hole. No
way. His prick, even if it was really hard wouldn't reach all the way
through. Just about, maybe, but there wouldn't be enough sticking out the
other end for anyone to play with. Standing as close to the wall as he
could, he had to stand on his toes to get his boner in the right place as
he slid it into the cold brickwork.

He tried to guess how much of it was sticking out the other side and worked
out that he was right, his cock was nowhere near big enough and in any case
his toes were starting to hurt already.

'Shit!' he thought to himself, 'When WILL I be big enough?' An image of
Blondie from his magazine crossed his mind: now HE was big enough, and then
some! The Magazine! His Room! The house!

Kim!

He almost jumped for joy as a plan crystallised in his mind. It would work,
no problem, if only he could persuade Kim to go with him.

Billy stood outside the school gates as the seething mass of boys and girls
escaped from their enforced captivity, watching anxiously for Kim, hopping
from foot to foot in anticipation. Kim meanwhile had been keeping an eye
open for Billy most of the afternoon during lesson changes and at
break. There wasn't a sign of him anywhere, and when he'd asked one of his
classmates where he was, had been told that he'd skipped school for the
afternoon. Kim wasn't happy. He knew himself well enough to know that
unless he got together with Billy today, he wouldn't ever do it, and he
badly needed to be told things; exciting, scary things. Because he'd been
trying to find Billy, Kim was one of the last kids out of the school, fed
up and miserable. Then they saw each other and waved frantically. When they
met up, they grinned at each other and started to speak excitedly at the
same time.

"Listen, wanna go somewhere? .........." Billy started.

"Can we go somewhere .....?" Kim said.

Kim let Billy speak. "Wanna come and, err, talk? Somewhere secret?" he
said, looking straight at Kim.

Kim was both pleased and surprised at the same time. He wanted to meet with
Billy, and go somewhere, but how did he know? And what did he want to talk
about? It could only be about one thing, especially as he said 'somewhere
secret'.

"Yes," he said, trying to keep his excitement under control. "Where?"

"I know a place, but you gotta promise not to tell anyone about it 'cause
it's secret."

"I promise," Kim said, "When?"

"Can you get out now?" Billy asked hopefully, and looked at Kim in his
nice, clean school uniform.

Any extra dirt on his own clothes wouldn't show, but Kim needed to
change. "Let's go home first, I've got to change and get some diff'rent
things on," Kim said as if reading Billy's mind.

They hurried home together, taking about everything else except what was
uppermost in their minds. Both had erections, Billy happily feeling his
through the hole in his pocket, and Kim hoping his would go down before he
reached home.

They met up fifteen minutes later at the end of the road. Kim had changed
into his old jeans and sweatshirt: even his 'old' clothes were better than
Billy's, but he didn't notice, and wouldn't have cared even if he did.

On the way to 'Billy's House', he explained all about where they were going
and about his special room and that once they were inside, no one in the
world would find them. Kim was excited, more excited than he'd been for
ages. This was an adventure and a half for him; he was going to a secret
hide-away with a boy who was going to tell him all sorts of sex stuff he
wasn't supposed to know, and might even show him things if he was lucky. He
got hard just thinking about it and hardly heard Billy gabbling away to him
in his excitement. For the first time ever he didn't want it to go down,
not until Billy told him stuff anyway.

Kim was excitingly nervous as they scrambled through the undergrowth, up
the rickety stairs of the old house and into Billy's Room. Once the door
was pulled to and they were sat on the floor facing each other, he still
felt nervous, but a different sort. Now he was eager to learn things:
dirty, exciting things. They looked at each other, neither knowing where to
start.

"Wanna see some pictures? Good ones?" Billy said.

"Err, yes. OK then," Kim replied, disappointed that they weren't going to
'talk'.

Billy fished under the blanket and dug the book out, spreading it
reverently on the floor between them. Slowly he turned the pages over,
watching Kim's face. He was astounded. There were pictures, dozens of them,
of men and women without clothes on. He'd never imagined that this sort of
thing existed, let alone see and hold one. What's more, the men and women
seemed to be enjoying themselves, they were smiling and posing for the
camera, not caring that somebody was taking pictures of them without any
clothes on. And what was even more amazing was that the mens penis's were
all hard. Big, very big, and very hard. He was speechless and couldn't take
his eyes from them. Kim looked at Billy, his mouth wide open and picked up
the book to examine it closely.

Page after page he stared at them in total disbelief. He felt his penis
stiffen up and push his trousers out, but he didn't care, this was much
more important.

Billy watched his friend, grinning broadly. He remembered how he felt when
he first saw the pictures and knew just what Kim was thinking: the tent in
his trousers demonstrating it more than adequately. His gaze shifted from
Kim's face to the bulge in his jeans and stared at it, watching as it
twitched every time he turned a page over. Billy slipped his hands inside
his trousers and grasped his leaking dick gently.

"Wow!" said Kim breathlessly after skimming through the book for the third
time. "Wow!"

"Good aren't they?" Billy giggled, still watching Kim's erection bouncing
up and down.

Kim saw where Billy's hand was and felt embarrassed for a moment but then
reasoned that under the circumstances it was OK. He stared at his own tent
and wished he had the nerve to do what Billy was doing.

"Wanna see some of that sticky stuff?" Billy said, his eyes flashing at Kim
in excitement and anticipation.

Kim nodded, his power of speech lost absolutely. Billy stuck his thumbs
inside his trousers and pants, and wriggling about, managed to push them
down to his knees. His dick stood up, proud and erect, glistening
wetly. Billy lay back, resting on his elbows and staring at his own prick,
gently throbbing with his heartbeat.

"Touch it if you want," he whispered. "I don't mind."

Kim was way beyond logical thought now, his eyes were fixed on Billy's
penis. Billy's hard, wet, irresistible penis. Somewhere in the far distance
he heard someone ask if he wanted to touch it.

There was no power on earth could stop him. Slowly he stretched his hand
towards it, stopping just a few millimetres short, pausing to take a breath
before he tentatively reached a solitary finger out and touched it on the
shaft, feeling its heat and hardness. Billy took in a sharp breath and
sighed deeply, closing his eyes. He'd never imagined, couldn't possibly
imagine, how it felt having someone touch your prick. It was
fantastic. Just one finger resting on it and he was in heaven.

"Hold it, properly," he moaned, "All your hand."

Kim closed his fingers round the shaft and concentrated on the
sensation. He seemed to draw some mystical energy from Billy as he held on
to his beautiful penis, relishing every fantastic second of it.

He didn't care what his parents, or anyone else for that matter, said or
thought about what they were doing; it was unbelievably brilliant! And he
was doing it! Actually holding someone else's thing, and enjoying it! He
held his hand perfectly still, not daring to move even a millimetre in case
Billy told him to take it away.

But Billy wasn't going to do that, not in a million years. He was ecstatic
with delight and wished it could go on for ever.

Pulling his mind together with a struggle, he whispered, "Can I see yours?"

Kim nodded his head frantically, not trusting himself to speak yet, or
wishing to let go his hand. Billy leaned up and reached for the snapper and
zip on Kim's jeans. He managed the snapper, but couldn't move the zip any
more than half an inch.

"You do it," he said impatiently, "I can't do it."

Kim let go of Billy's dick, scrabbled to push his zip down, forced his
jeans and pants to his thighs and grabbed hold of Billy's cock again.

Billy stared in awe at Kim's prick standing out hugely from his balls. It
was nicer than he thought it would be somehow, much the same size and shape
as his except that it was a beautiful shade of brownish-black with a deep
purple head and no skin at the end of it. He held it between his finger and
thumb, moving it around slightly so he could have a really good look at
it. There were even a few wiry, curly hairs at the bottom of the shaft
which he felt - they were a lot softer than they looked. The more he
stared, the more he liked. It felt hot and hard, yet soft and squishy at
the same time. He squeezed it gently and heard Kim groan. He sensed his
prick being squeezed at the same time and sighed.

The two boys looked at each other and grinned. They were feeling a bit
embarrassed in some ways, but the intense pleasure radiating from their
groins dispelled any awkwardness and they slowly began to move their hands
up and down the bone-hard rods.

"Lay down on your side and face me," Billy said.

Kim did as he was asked and rested his forehead on Billy's as he resumed
working his hand.

Wriggling about a little to get comfortable, they fixed their full
attention on each other's groins as hands moved in unison, wanking slowly
and gently, every millisecond being savoured and stored in their
memory. Billy picked up the pace as he felt the tingly feeling rising in
his belly. Faster and faster he went, Kim following as best he
could. Before either boy knew what was happening, they bucked and trembled,
shook and shivered as their joint orgasm hit them full force. Their hips
thrust forward violently and their dicks touched, spurting cum onto each
other with a speed and force which took them both by complete
surprise. Jets of white juice sprayed them both, covering their balls and
thighs in a sheen of glorious spunk. They fell onto each other, gasping for
breath, eyes locked together in mutual wonderment.

"That was fuckin' amazin." Billy eventually managed to stammer out. "Better
than when I do it."

Kim, unluckily, had nothing to compare it with. All he knew what that he
felt terrific, wonderful, amazing, all at the same time. He hugged Billy
tightly and pressed his softening dick into his groin.

After they'd calmed down a bit, they sat up and looked at each other
without saying a word.

Neither knew what to say. They'd had a truly incredible experience
together: far, far different to that which Kim had expected, and much
better than Billy had imagined. Now feeling slightly flustered, they
wordlessly got dressed and crept out of the building. Once out on the main
road, they punched each other on the arm, giggled at one another and ran
towards home. As they separated at their front doors, Billy pulled Kim to
him and whispered, "That was awesome. Wanna do it again tomorrow?" Kim
nodded: nothing would stop him from doing it again and again and ....

Chapter Four.

Billy slowed down as he approached the front door to his flat. If he got
home too excited, his mother would want to know why he was so cheerful,
what he'd been doing, and a million other questions. That's if she was
awake and sober that is.

Today she was, and in a bad mood as well. Something had gone wrong that
day: Billy didn't ask what, he didn't care. He accepted her foul-mouthed
tirade stoically as usual. He had the technique down to a fine art: stand
in front of her, just out of arm's length, hands behind you and look at the
floor. When she ran out of steam, say 'Sorry': doesn't matter whether he
knew what he was apologising for or not. And wait until she said he could
go: depending on her mood it would be a 'piss off' or a 'fuck off'. Either
way it made no difference. Today it was a 'piss off, runt'. He walked to
the kitchen, made his own tea from the scraps that were around, and went to
his room to wait until nightfall.

He stripped down to his pants and lay on the bed, arms under his head,
thinking. He'd cum five times since last night and it felt OK. His dick was
a bit sore after last night, and Kim was a bit rough on it, but it didn't
matter, he was happy with the way things were. Mostly anyway. He thought
about Kim. He was a good mate and usually fun to be with, apart from his
funny ideas about not swearing and 'behaving properly' and his immaculate
clothes which he didn't like getting dirty. His house was always clean and
tidy and smelled of perfume or something. Whenever he went inside, he felt
awkward and never sat down anywhere because he was sure he would leave
dirty marks. Billy looked round his bedroom, mentally comparing it with
Kim's house. No comparison. For some reason he felt guilty about it and got
to his feet.

First he sorted out the pile of clothes on the floor. It wasn't easy
sorting out the 'clean' from the 'dirty', but he tried, putting the
least-stained and marked in one pile and the other dirtier stuff in
another. He stuffed the 'clean' clothes into the draws and rammed the dirty
clothes into a plastic carrier bag to hide them. He stacked up his few
comics and books into neatish piles and tidied up the few pictures and toys
he had. More toys, hitherto left where he'd finished playing with them were
stashed in a cardboard box and pushed into a corner. The room was looking
better already and he lay back on the bed, pleased with the result.

Nine o'clock came and he cautiously peeped round the door. His mother was
dozing, a half- empty Sherry bottle on the table. He carefully crept out
and pulled the door closed after him. Tonight he decided to head straight
for the bogs just the other side of the town centre. On the way he happened
to glance in a newsagents window and a row of magazines high up on the wall
caught his attention. They were the same sort as the one he had, but
wrapped in plastic bags and put high enough up the wall that he couldn't
reach them, even if he did have enough money to buy one, which he never
would. Shrugging his shoulders philosophically he wandered off in the
direction of the toilets.

There was nothing new on the walls, but he still read the messages
anyway. He was beginning to understand them a little better, even since
last night. The fun he'd had with Kim explained a lot: if him and Kim liked
what they did, then other people must too and that's why they wanted to
meet.

He even looked at the drawings of pricks up bums in a different way,
perhaps there might be something in it after all, but there was no way he
would want to do it. The holes through the walls drew his attention
next. They were lower than the ones in the football field bogs, and bigger
too.

Still with his trousers on, he pressed himself against one and discovered
that he could just about reach it, and because the walls weren't as thick,
could probably push his prick all the way through.

He slipped his hand into the torn pocket and started to play with himself
until his prick was hard.

Once he felt it good and solid, he sat down on the seat, undid his trousers
and pushed them down to his knees. He thought for a second of taking them
right off so's he could stretch out, but decided against it in case he had
to make a quick escape. Stroking his erection thoughtfully, he realised
that this was the first time he'd touched his cock since Kim had wanked him
off. The erotic memory stiffened it even more and he closed his eyes as he
recalled the fantastic feeling of Kim's soft skin and black fingers on his
dick.

He was snapped out of his reverie by the sound of the next door banging
shut and the bolt being slid home. Panicking he bent down to pull his
trousers up when he caught a glimpse of a man through the hole. He was
standing up loosening his trousers before he sat down. The panic attack
subsided a bit and Billy picked a scrap of toilet paper up off the floor
and stuffed it in the hole so's the man couldn't see through. His dick had
softened because of his scare, but now he felt safer he stroked it again as
he thought about the man next door. Maybe, just maybe, he might be able to
snatch a look at his dick through the hole without him knowing. Holding his
dick tightly in one hand, as if for support, he very carefully tried to
ease the paper out just enough for him to peek through. For a piece of
paper so small, it made an incredible amount of noise as it moved and Billy
let it go instantly, cursing himself for jamming it in so tight. Then an
incredible thing happened - the ball of paper seemed to move all by itself,
working its way out of the hole. He stared, fascinated as it inched its way
further and further out. Then it dropped to the floor; Billy just caught
sight of a finger hastily pulled back. So that was it! Whoever was in the
next cubicle wanted to look through the hole. Panting heavily, Billy tried
to think what to do next. He badly wanted to see the man's dick, but did
the man want to see his tiny little thing, especially since he was only a
boy and didn't even have any cock hairs yet?  Nervously he bent over
keeping an eye firmly fixed on the hole. As he gradually saw more and more
through it, he could swear he caught a glimpse of another eye looking back
at him but it backed off as he got closer. Cautiously, very cautiously, he
got closer. First he saw the man's black trousers: he seemed to be standing
up in front of the hole. He got nearer the hole. He was right, the man was
standing up facing the hole, and he had his dick out! The stranger was
playing with it right in front of the hole so's Billy could see everything!
He pressed his forehead against the cold brickwork and stared with his one
eye at the sight, The man had a bigger dick than Billy of course, but not
all that much, and it was hard because the man was stroking it up and down
slowly, just as if he knew Billy was looking at it. Billy examined it
carefully. He had brown curly hairs all round it which seemed to make it
look nicer. He had big balls which had a covering of hair as well: the man
was holding them in one hand as he wanked himself with the other. Billy
felt his dick stir in his own much smaller hand as he rubbed it: he was
dimly aware that he was leaking that stuff out as well.

This was exciting and he kept looking at the man's big cock as if he was in
a trance, wanking his own dick absent-mindedly. Then the man moved. He bent
down and put his eye towards the hole: Billy stood back, suddenly
frightened for some reason, but then guessed that it was his turn to show
the man his dick. He didn't really want to let him see it because it was so
small and didn't have no hair like his, but then he thought that it was
only fair, after all he'd let him see his. Nervously he stood back and
turned to face the hole, his pants down at his knees. He stroked his dick,
which was still hard and sticking straight out in front of him, sliding his
fingers up and down it and holding his balls just like he'd seen the man
do. He turned his body slightly so's the man could see all round it and
even stood facing him so's he could see the end dripping the stuff as well.

Billy thought he heard the man say, 'Nice one', but he wasn't sure. Then he
heard him again, "Very nice." He sounded out of breath. Billy relaxed a
little, the man wasn't pissed off 'cause of his size.

Then he spoke again. "Can I suck it?"

Billy didn't believe what he'd heard. Did he hear right? Did the man want
to suck his cock? He bent over and put his ear to the hole.

"Want it sucked?"

Billy's heart missed a beat. The man actually wanted to suck him! Eagerly
and without a moment's hesitation he stood up and pushed his dick into the
hole, pressing his groin against the wall as hard as he could and waited
with bated breath to see what happened next. He jumped with surprise as he
felt warm, wet lips close around the end of his dick and a tongue start to
lick it. The sensation was incredible. The combination of a wet tongue
flicking round the sensitive end of his cock and the gentle sucking were
wonderful. Billy took a sharp intake of breath and moaned, forcing his body
even tighter against the wall to get every last millimetre of his dick into
the man's mouth. It was ecstasy. He could only manage to get a tiny bit of
the end of his cock into his mouth, but the little he was getting sucked
gave him the most breathtaking delight: he felt his legs tremble
uncontrollably as the tongue flicked around his piss slit, sending him into
paroxysms of moans and groans. Then just as he thought he was going to make
the white stuff shoot out, he felt the mouth being taken away, leaving his
frustrated dick throbbing in the air. He waited for the man to do it again,
but nothing happened. Sadly he pulled his cock out and stared at it, the
wet saliva glistening in the dim light.

Then he heard the man's voice again, speaking very quietly. "Come in here,"
it said.

Billy thought about it. Did he want to go in there with him? It was
dangerous: he didn't know who it was and what he would do. He might hit him
or something for being so dirty and perverted. But then it was such a good
feeling that he wanted some more, and the man had done it once: perhaps he
wanted to do it properly and suck all of his dick and make him come
properly. Billy made his mind up. Fuck the danger, he wanted his cock
sucked again, all of it.

Pulling his trousers up and holding them together with his hand, he
unbolted the door and checked to make sure the coast was clear. He heard
the bolt unfasten on the next-door cubicle and the door open just a
fraction. Hurriedly he ran the two paces and went in, closing the door
behind him and looked for the first time at the man. He didn't seem very
old - about 20 Billy thought, with a thin face and body, brown curly hair
and a nice smile. Billy relaxed.

The man stared back at Billy with wide eyes. "Christ! How old are you?" he
asked, the surprise evident in his voice. Billy blushed and stared at the
floor: I'm too little and too small he thought, he don't wanna do it.

"Twelve, nearly thirteen," he stammered out.

"You've got a nice big dick for a little boy," the man said as he took it
in his hand and stroked it.

"How long have you been doing this?"

Billy didn't know what to say. He didn't want to tell him it was his first
time and he didn't want to say he'd been doing it for ages either, so he
said nothing. The man didn't ask again. Instead he sat down on the bowl and
pulled Billy between his legs. Putting his hands round his bum, he
encouraged Billy to move towards him as he opened his mouth to accept his
slightly softened cock.

Then he closed his lips round it and stared to lick hungrily on Billy's
shaft. Instantly he got hard again and closed his eyes, allowing the warm,
tingly feeling to wash over his body. He put his hands in the man's hair
and pushed his hips forward, pressing his dick even further into the warm,
wet cavity of the man's mouth. He moaned as he felt his tongue running over
every bit of his dick, even managing to get inside the bit of skin at the
end and licking round his cock head. Once more his legs began to shake and
tremble and he had to put his hands on the man's shoulders to stop himself
from falling over. He opened his eyes and stared down. The man was wanking
himself as he slid Billy's cock in and out of his mouth and Billy hardened
up even more as he watched.

Billy dug his fingernails into the man's shoulders, he felt his legs
trembling and an awesome glow spread throughout his body as the tongue
flicked round his dick. Automatically he thrust his groin in and out,
matching the man's sucking motions. Slowly he became aware he was getting
close to shooting out his spunk and pushed his cock in with more and more
urgency, willing the man to suck harder. He felt his balls tighten up and
the now welcomed swelling of his cock. Then, with one final lunge he shoved
his throbbing boyhood deep into the waiting throat and fired out his
pellets of cum: violently and noisily. He groaned both with the pain and
the pleasure of the ejaculation, the man moaning with him and swallowing
every last drop as if his very life depended on it. Billy collapsed forward
onto the man's chest, recovered and leant back on the wall, gasping for
breath, eyes glazed. He was vaguely aware of the man still wanking himself,
watching as he shook and jerked almost as much as Billy had, and shot his
massive load of spunk out onto the walls and floor.

They half-smiled at each other with a mixture of sheer ecstasy and slight
embarrassment. The man whispered, "That was bloody fantastic! Jesus!"

Billy still couldn't speak, instead he broadened his grin and felt happy
and content. Once they'd gathered their wits, they dressed quickly and
silently, not quite knowing what to say to each other.

The man opened the door a little, checked that there was no one there and
leaned over to Billy. He thought he was going to kiss him at first and
recoiled, but he whispered in his ear, "That was fucking brilliant, I hope
we can meet again. But next time, have a bath first!"

Five minutes later when he was walking slowly back towards home and his
mind had stopped doing somersaults, he was replaying the events, smiling to
himself and fingering his half-hard dick through his pocket, when he
remembered the man's last words, ' have a bath!'. Keeping himself properly
clean had never been a major priority in Billy's eyes: he'd always taken
his lead from his mother.

Washing at the bathroom sink was usually considered enough, with an
occasional perfunctory strip-wash if he was in the mood. The bath was
almost always full of dirty washing, waiting for his mother to get round to
doing something about it. There wasn't usually any hot water anyway: the
heater was only switched on when it was needed, and Billy getting a bath
wasn't considered a need except maybe once a week when he went to meet his
father. He took his hand out of his pocket and smelt it. The man was right,
it didn't smell too good. He wasn't really surprised; after all his dick
had been covered several times with the white stuff and spunk, and now the
man's spit as well. Even to begin with, his undies weren't too clean
anyway, which didn't help. He sighed, knowing he aught do something about
it, but not knowing what. His mother certainly wouldn't be any
help. Pushing the unpleasant thoughts to the back of his mind, he refreshed
the images of getting his cock sucked for the first time and started to jog
home.

His mother wasn't in sight when he cautiously opened his front door: he
assumed she was in bed.

Creeping to his room, he closed the door and sat on the bed. Thoughtfully
he undressed, looking closely at his clothes as he took them off. For the
first time, he saw just how grubby and scruffy they were compared with
those of all the other boys he knew. Even his newest clothes weren't much
better than the ones he had just taken off. What were once bright white
underpants always seemed to turn a light shade of grey after being worn and
washed just once. He thought of Kim, with his permanently white shirts and
underwear and spotless trousers. Feeling depressed and pissed off, he lay
back on the bed, pulled the covers over him and put his hands in his
groin. At least he had one thing that made him happy.

He waited until his cock was stiff and slowly wanked himself off, letting
all his problems disappear as he concentrated on the delight of slowly and
sensuously masturbating himself. When he came, he allowed the spunk to
shoot where it wanted, not caring in the slightest: he was already dirty
and smelly, his clothes were dirty and smelly, even his room was dirty and
smelly. He licked his fingers clean, wiped up a bit more he could feel on
his tummy, swallowed that, and drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Five Billy woke early the following morning with something on his
mind, but he didn't know what. There was something he had to do, but
..............? He put his hand on his morning boner, and started to play
with it. No, that was nice and made him feel better, but that wasn't
it. Then he remembered. He glanced at the clock, saw he had about an hour
before he had to leave for school and lay back thinking. Gradually it
dawned on him. The smell. With no little embarrassment now, he realised
that the usual odour of stale sweat in his room had changed, and instantly
he knew what it was. If he could smell it, so could others, including his
mother and Kim. He decided there and then to try and do something about his
hygiene. First he searched for the cleanest paid of undies he had. It
didn't take very long as he only had two clean pairs, and they weren't all
that good. They didn't smell too bad though, and he put a pair on. Next he
went to the bathroom and tried to have a good all-over wash, the water was
only slightly warm and he soon gave that idea up as the tepid water hit his
sensitive prick and balls, making him cringe. He dried himself and went
back to his room, got dressed and waited for his mother to get up.

Once he heard her moving around, he nervously opened the door and walked
through to the kitchen where she was having a cup of tea. She looked at him
questioningly, teacup to her lips.

"Couldn't sleep," he said, hoping this would satisfy her.

"Mmmm," was the only reply. She sat down at the kitchen table and added,
"Seeing as you're up so early, you can get your own fuckin' breakfast,"
then proceeded to ignore him. He chose not to tell her that he always got
his own breakfast.

He made a drink and some toast and went to sit in the other room away from
his mother, so he could think. He had a germ of an idea and wanted to work
on it.

Billy arrived at school almost an hour earlier than he usually did, and was
one of the first boys there.

This was important. He checked the cars in the staff car park and saw with
relief that Mr Brown's car was already there, in its usual spot. Taking his
courage in both hands, he headed off to the gym.

Billy liked Mr Brown, he was his PE and History teacher and they'd always
got on well together, mainly because Billy was good at PE and Mr Brown
never hassled him. He knocked on his office door nervously.

"Come in," said a voice.

Billy went in to see his teacher sat at the desk reading. He turned to face
Billy and asked him what he wanted.

"Sir," Billy started, then paused not knowing quite how to proceed.

"Yes? What can we do for you?" Mr. Brown said kindly, curious as to why a
boy should be here so early in the morning "Sir, would you mind if I had a
shower? The one at home is broken, and ..............." he tailed off, his
nerve gone. This wasn't going to work; he felt stupid and ashamed of
himself.

Tom Brown knew Billy, and was well aware of his background. He knew they
didn't have a shower at home, hell, he hardly even had a home! But the boy
was upset and frightened about something.

He stood up and put an arm on Billy's shoulder, bringing him to the middle
of the room. The lad was right, he needed a shower badly, and unless he was
mistaken, mixed up in the smell of boy was that unmistakable smell of stale
sex. Smiling inwardly to himself, and also feeling sorry for the lad, he
made a snap decision.

"Do you want to use mine, or would you prefer to go into the changing
rooms?"

Billy lifted his head up and looked at his teacher, tears in the corner of
his eyes for some reason.

"This one, if I can." The thought of being in the big changing room by
himself, naked, worried him.

"OK. It's all yours."

The teacher's shower was simply a white-tiled box-shaped structure without
either curtain or door, just a deep porcelain tray set in the floor in the
corner of the office.

"Drop your clothes on the chair," he added as he turned the water on and
returned to his desk, thinking.

Billy stripped off after glancing round to make sure Mr Brown wasn't
watching him get stripped. He piled his clothes on the chair ands stepped
into the hot, steaming spray. It was lovely. He turned his face up to the
needles of water and rubbed them into his head and body letting the warmth
soothe away his stress.

He jumped as a hand touched his shoulder. Spinning round and opening his
eyes, he saw Mr.

Brown holding out some shampoo and soap towards him.

"Here, use these, they might help," he smiled and tussled his wet
hair. "Take as long as you like."

Billy reached out and took them, smiling back, all nervousness now gone.

Taking the opportunity, Tom Brown looked they boy over quickly and
carefully. It wasn't unknown for lads from his background to suffer
physical abuse, and it was an important part of his job to notify the
authorities in such cases. Fortunately, there were no such signs, just an
underweight, slightly undersized boy, well on the way to sexual
maturity. He turned and saw his clothes piled on the chair. They were
filthy, recently washed maybe, but still dirty. He picked the underpants up
and turned them over, eying the stains in the crotch. They confirmed why
the boy wanted to shower so desperately: he was most certainly sexually
active as well as sexually developed! Smiling broadly, he dropped the
trousers back on the chair and went to the store room.

Two minutes later he was back with a couple of pairs of trousers and some
pants in his hand. He sat on his chair, arms folded on the back of it,
watching the boy shower. It wasn't very often, very rarely in fact, that he
had the chance to watch a beautiful adolescent boy shower himself in
privacy.

He adjusted his cock under his sweat pants.

Billy was thoroughly enjoying the shower, taking great pleasure in rubbing
the soap all over himself and rinsing it off. He wasn't aware that he had
an erection starting, but Mr Brown knew.

Having done his hair, twice, Billy reluctantly turned the shower off and
waved his hands about vaguely in the direction he thought a towel was. Mr
Brown stood up, walked over and handed Billy the towel.

Stepping out of the tray with his head covered by the towel, he tripped
slightly and stumbled forward, to be caught by his teacher. He pulled the
towel away, looked at Mr Brown and mumbled a thanks, aware his hands were
still holding him round the chest, and not minding in the least. Mr Brown
stood and waited until Billy was dry and handed him the clean pants he'd
found.

"Try these on, if you want. They're lost property and nobody has claimed
them, so you can have them if they fit. Automatically Billy pulled them on,
realising with acute embarrassment at the same time that he had a boner,
pointing unashamedly at his teacher! He blushed bright crimson as he stared
at it.

"Don't worry!" Mr Brown laughed, "It's not the first one I've seen!" Or the
last I hope, he thought to himself.

Billy finished putting the pants on, slightly confused.

"Here, see if these fit."

Billy looked at the trousers, and picking the pair he thought would fit,
put them on. He examined himself and decided they were OK. "Thanks!" he
said, still slightly bemused.

"Keep them."

Billy felt great in his new pants and trousers and would have loved to keep
them on, but ....

"I - I - I can't," Billy stammered. "If Mum sees them, she'll go mad,
'specially if she finds out the school gave 'em to me. We ain't poor you
know." His defensive hackles had risen. He knew just how little money they
had, he knew how badly they lived as well, but she was still his mother and
much as he would've liked to keep the clothes, he knew she'd go apeshit if
she found out.

"Tell you what," Tom Brown said kindly, "How about if you got to school
early, changed into these for the day and changed again before you went
home?"

It took only a split second for Billy to make his mind up. Grinning widely,
he took a step forwards and was about to hug Mr Brown, but just in time
remembered who he was. "oh, err, err, thanks, Sir!" he said. "Would it be
alright to do that?"

"Yep. Sure it would. But only one thing though," he added, "It's got to be
our little secret."

There was no particular reason why it should be kept a secret; clothes were
often 'lent' to boys who'd had an accident or torn their clothes or
something. But this time, he felt that there might be some mileage in
building up a relationship with this lad. In any case, there was very
little likelihood of Billy telling anyone where he got his new trousers
from, it was just that he wanted to watch the boy change twice a day.

Billy smiled conspiratorially at Mr Brown and promised he'd keep it a
secret.

He walked proudly to his first lesson of the day, feeling better than he
had for a very long time. He was clean, he felt good, he even smelled
good. And he had trousers and pants on that weren't torn and
dirty. Mentally, he thanked Mr Brown, and in some ways regretted not
hugging him when he nearly did. Why did his cock start to get hard and a
picture of that man in the toilet flash across his mind when he thought of
his PE teacher? Shrugging his shoulders at the probably unconnected
association, he went into his English lesson.

Chapter Six.

Kim had decided not to meet up with Billy again, not for the sort of thing
they'd done yesterday anyway. He'd spent a very uncomfortable night
thinking about it. It got so's he couldn't think of anything else; he'd
been fidgeting all evening, unable to concentrate on anything at all except
Billy and the things between their legs. He was sure his mum and dad could
read his mind and knew just what dirty and perverted things they'd done
together. But they were nice though, that was the worst thing about it: he
would have loved to do it again, but was afraid. He had a bath and went to
bed, hoping he would feel better in the morning.

With his bedroom light out and the house quietened down for the night, he
lay back and despite his best efforts couldn't help thinking about it
again. Why did something he liked so much and made him feel so good, make
him feel so bad at the same time? He put his hand inside his pyjamas and
felt for his penis. It was already half-hard he thought to himself, and it
still felt good to hold. It got harder as he automatically stroked it like
Billy had done. The feeling came back that he'd had in that smelly awful
room that he and Billy had been in - it was nice. He carried on stroking
it, gradually letting his hand go faster and faster, the sensations
spreading out from his penis and testicles spreading all through him,
making his body hot and super-sensitive. He stopped what he was doing,
hurriedly removed his pyjamas, and started again. That was much better. He
held his testicles lightly and allowed himself to concentrate on this
terrific new feeling. Quicker and quicker he went until he felt a dull sort
of ache in his testicles, but still he carried on, simply unable to stop
even if he wanted to.

Then it happened again, his penis grew a bit, then throbbed and finally
spurting out that white stuff again. At the same time his whole body seemed
to go stiff and his back bent upwards, lifting his groin and spasming penis
into the air. Kim watched as the liquid arched high up in the air and fell
onto his chest and legs before slowing down to a dribble running over his
fingers. Boy was that good! He gasped for breath as he listened intently
for any movement in the house, certain that his parents must know by now
what he was doing. There was a deathly silence, much to his relief. He
understood now why Billy had to share his brilliant discovery with him - it
was unbelievably satisfying.

Once he'd recovered his composure, he became aware of two things. Firstly
he was covered in a white, sticky mess which had to be cleaned
up. Secondly, he would do it again if Billy asked: the chance of doing it
again just couldn't be missed. He cleaned the mess up with his pyjama
trousers before putting them back on, and wondered if he would see Billy
tomorrow.

Chapter Seven.

Billy had a wonderful day. He actually enjoyed his lessons and took an
active part in them for a change. Even the teachers and other boys seemed
to take notice of him and listened to what he had to say. Neither was he
aware of anybody taking the piss out of him which they usually did. The
only thing that went slightly wrong was that he couldn't find Kim anywhere,
one reason being that he went into the library at lunch-time to see what he
could find out about 'growing up', lost track of time and missed the
chance. Still, perhaps they'd meet up after school. After he'd changed out
of his nice clothes.

When school finished for the day, Billy took his time clearing up his
things and walked slowly towards the gym block; he didn't want to get there
before the other kids left. He was also oddly excited. This morning, he
didn't like getting undressed in front of his teacher, even less did he
like having a shower in full view of him. But that feeling had vanished
after a while because Mr Brown had made him feel so special and looked
after him: he didn't even make fun of him when he got a hard on. Now he
knew it was OK and in a funny sort of way was even looking forward to it.

He put his head round the half-open door and saw Mr Brown sat on his
desk. "Hello, Sir. Is it alright if I get changed?" he asked.

"Yes, of course. Come in."

Billy walked in, shutting the door behind him carefully. He saw his old
clothes piled neatly on the chair where he'd left them this morning and
walked over to them. Unsure what to do, he picked them all up in a bundle
and looked at his teacher.

"Get changed here if you like, or you can go next door into the changing
room. Do you want another shower?"

"Err, no thanks. I'll change here though, if that's OK."

"Sure."

Tom Brown sat on his chair, watching the boy undress.

"So, what sort of day have you had, Billy?" he said without taking his eyes
off him.

"Good, thanks. At least nobody gave me a boll ....., a telling off today,"
he smiled as he removed his shoes and socks.

They carried on talking as Billy undid his trousers, started to take them
off and paused. He glanced at Mr Brown and didn't mind the fact that he was
watching him, he rather liked it in fact - it gave him that tingly feeling
in his balls.

Mr Brown stood up and said, "Sorry, Billy, Do you want me to go?"

"No, not really. I don't mind." He took his trousers off and began to peel
his pants down. His dick was about half hard now and got harder as he
stepped out of his undies. He was neither embarrassed or afraid now, just a
little bit excited. He stood up and gave Mr Brown a grin before turning his
back to grab his old undies.

Both of them were thinking along the same lines.

'Perhaps he likes doing things. Maybe ....' Billy mused.

'I wonder if he would .......?' the teacher thought.

There was a certain tenseness in the air as Tom watched Billy finish
dressing. They both found it exciting.

"Having another shower in the morning?" Tom asked as Billy carefully folded
his new clothes up and placed them on the chair.

"Yeah, if I can," Billy answered. "I'll be here in the morning. Same time?"

"Yes, that'll be fine."

"Thanks!" Billy said. He would have liked to stay and talk for a while, but
as he couldn't think of a good reason, he said, "Cheerio," and gave him a
huge smile.

There was no sign of Kim as he walked home. Billy was late, he knew, but
not all that much: fifteen minutes maybe, but not more. He debated whether
or not to go to 'The House' and snatch a quick look at his book before
going home. It didn't seem quite so appealing to him now, there were other,
much better, things to make him feel good. He added Mr Tom Brown to the
collection of thoughts that made his dick get hard, and wandered off in the
direction of home.

By the time Billy reached his flat, Kim had changed out of his school
uniform, had his tea and was waiting on the communal balcony for his friend
to show up. They smiled at each other and leaned over the wall, looking at
the ground so far below.

"You're late home," Kim said conversationally.

"Yeah. I took the long way round for a change."

"Right."

Kim desperately wanted Billy to ask him if he felt like doing 'it'
again. He didn't have the courage to ask him directly, but imagined if he
thought hard enough about it, some sort of telepathic message might get
through. Billy's mind was on other things though, his tea for one. He was
hungry. He also felt slightly unclean. He'd been wearing those nice clean
clothes all day, and the shock of having to put on his own things back on
to go home in made him uncomfortable and itchy.

"You smell different. Had a bath?" Kim asked out of the blue. He wasn't
being nasty or anything like that, just a comment.

"Yeah. I spilt some stuff on me at school and had to have a shower." He was
a practised liar: he had to be.

"Oh. You smell nice anyway."

Billy glanced at Kim and smiled, pleased that he'd said how good he
smelt. That was a first, usually it was quite the opposite. His glance
dropped down to Kim's groin and saw the bright gleam of a zip curving over
his erection.

"Wanna, you know, do something?" Billy asked, suddenly forgetting all about
his stomach.

"Yes, OK, if you like. Where?" Kim replied as casually as his elation would
allow.

"The house?" Billy replied. It would take about ten minutes each way, plus
another ten or twenty minutes there. That gave him half an hour, give or
take; he wouldn't be missed.

"OK, then." Kim said, more excited than he dared show.

Despite both their attempts to be casual, they were there in just over five
minutes. Once in the room, stretched out looking at each other's groins,
they smiled at each other, still unsure of what do to next.

"Wanna get it out?" Billy asked.

Billy thought he'd asked Kim if he wanted to get his own dick out first,
and was a bit surprised when Kim grinned, said, "Yes," and reached over to
unfasten Billy's trousers.

Unfazed, but mentally jumping for joy, he leaned over and returned the
favour.

"That's nice!" Billy muttered as once more he held Kim's raging boner in
the palm of his hand.

"Mmmmm, so's your's," Kim answered.

The boys made a sort of circle on the blanket, heads and toes touching and
their hands reaching across to fondle each other gently.

"Wanna take your trousers off?" Billy asked, "I can't reach it properly."

Kim was having the same problem, but was reluctant to get undressed any
more than he was, 'just in case'.

"No, but we can push 'em down a bit if you like."

This done, Billy and Kim stared at each other's groins, intrigued. Neither
had had the opportunity to look at anyone else in the same way they were
now, and they were fascinated. Kim's black skin shone in the half-light,
with a beautiful brown/black sheen. His four-inch dick was a bit darker in
colour, which made his purple cockhead seem bigger and much nicer-looking.

Billy's pink, almost white skin was delightfully soft and yielding, giving
up a warm glow as Kim ran his hands over it. Billy's cock was shiny with
that stuff leaking on it, making it look almost transparent. They started
to pull and push their hands along the steel-hard shafts, giving each
stroke a little twist to make it feel better. Once in a while their eyes
made contact and a happy, contented smile was exchanged.

"When did you do it last?" Kim asked curiously, now finding it surprisingly
hard to breath.

"Last night. You?" Billy replied.

"Same. Made a big mess though." He giggled at the recollection.

"Yeah, it does sometimes," Billy said, staring at the beautiful dick he was
slowly jerking off. Idly, he wondered what it would taste like. He was just
about to suggest it when he bit his tongue and thought better of it. Kim,
he sensed, wasn't ready for that sort of thing yet.

Their hands sped up, each losing himself in the sensations of being wanked
and wanking at the same time. In their admittedly short lives, they already
knew there was no other feeling like it. Almost frantically they worked one
another up towards the inevitable orgasm which both so badly wanted.

"I'm coming," Billy panted, "Now!" He almost screamed as he shot his
volcano-hot spunk out in four massive spurts, each ending up in Kim's
groin. He thrust his hips forward as he shot out his last effort and met
Kim's cock coming towards him.

"Me too," Kim just managed to say as his load spasmed out along Billy's
stomach, their cocks now side-by-side, Kim almost laying on top of his
friend.

Billy put his arms round Kim and hugged him tight as his cock gave one last
desperate spasm.

Kim's face was inches from Billy's, their noses almost touching. Without
thinking, Billy pushed Kim's head down and kissed him quickly on the lips,
letting him go instantly as he realised what he'd done.

"Fuck it!" he said forcefully, "Fuck it, oh Jesus, I'm sorry, Kim. I didn't
mean it, honest."

Kim was shocked. Not so much by the fact that he'd just been kissed by a
boy, but by the fact that he didn't mind.

"That's OK, Billy," he replied quietly. "I didn't mind, honestly. It just
surprised me, that's all."

Billy breathed a sigh of relief and grinned, pleased that his friend wasn't
totally pissed off by his stupid behaviour.

Kim hadn't moved an inch: he was still in something of a state of shock,
not only from his massive ejaculation, but also the kiss. Smiling, he gave
Billy an equally quick peck on his lips, and said, "There. Now we're
equal."

They sat upright, cross-legged and giggled at each other.

"Awesome!" Billy said.

"Brilliant!" Kim replied.

Both boys now being satisfied, at least for the time being, they dressed
and walked home.

Billy's mother was in a fairly good mood for a change and gave him no aggro
as he walked in the front door. He could guess why, there was that familiar
man scent in the house again. He also now recognised the odour instantly,
after all he'd smelt it often enough the past few days. He wrinkled his
nose, shuddered involuntarily and went to find his tea. A phrase he'd heard
somewhere came to mind - 'What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the
gander.' He smiled to himself and began to eat.

Billy didn't go out that night. Apart from anything else, he felt a bit
tired. It'd been a long and strange day for him. A good one though, a very
good one in fact. He sat in the easy chair, turning things over in his
mind.

After pretending to watch tv for a couple of hours, he went to his room. He
lay on his bed, picked up a pile of comics and skimmed through them, one
hand inside his trousers. Had he but known it, Kim was doing almost exactly
the same thing in his bedroom except he was completely naked and wanking
himself off, thinking of Billy and the kiss.

End of Part 1

***************************************************************************

If you're enjoying this story, why not try one of my others, mostly in a
similar vein:

List of longer my stories posted on the Nifty Stories site:

Cairo Holiday /nifty/gay/highschool/cairo-holiday/

Forest House /nifty/gay/adult-youth/forest-house/

Gareth's Story /nifty/gay/highschool/gareths-story/

Garry and John Stories
/nifty/gay/adult-youth/garry-and-john/

Life Is What You Make It
/nifty/gay/college/life-is-what-you-make-it/

Tanta /nifty/gay/adult-youth/tanta/
Tom Brown's Schoolboy Coming soon!

Brian is Different
/nifty/gay/adult-youth/brian-is-different/