Date: Thu, 28 Feb 2008 20:29:26 +0000
From: pinkpanther2@hotmail.co.uk
Subject: 'A Warm April Saturday' chapter 31
All the usual disclaimers apply. If for some reason, you shouldn't be
reading this, then don't, okay? If you do, neither I nor Nifty will be
responsible if the bogey men catch up with you!
The story's almost over now; I hope you like the way it ends. I've been
very grateful for all the feedback that I've had in recent weeks; it's
been very encouraging. However, more is always welcome and I never fail
to reply to it. So if you have not written before, or if you've not
written for a while, please send your comments to
pinkpanther2@hotmail.co.uk and I'll reply as soon as I can.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
It's Monday morning and I'm walking to school with Michael, just like
we always did. There's a spring in my step this morning that hasn't
been there for months, since before James left. Oh, I know I've done
pretty well in the mean time, but it's been hard work, like I've had
to keep proving myself all the time. Well, now I don't; I've found
the best boyfriend I could ever have who's with me because he wants
to be. Nothing could give me more confidence and self-belief than
that does; right now I feel ready to meet any challenge that life
throws at me.
Over the weekend, in between getting our homework done and spending a
couple of hours at the pool with the rest of the gang, me and Tom
talked for hours; it was awesome, like we've got to know each other
so much better. We've decided that we're not going to tell everyone
that we're boyfriends; Tom's not ready for that and I'm not sure that
I am either. We've told Michael and Gareth; that seemed only fair.
I'm not sure that either of them really understands, but they're cool
about it; they're not the sort of kids to go telling anyone else
either, so that's okay. Over the next few weeks I guess I'll tell my
various gay friends; just ask them not to say anything. Pretty soon I
hope they'll be Tom's friends too, well, some of them anyway. But as
far as everyone else is concerned, me and Tom are just mates like
we've always been. I mean, it's nobody's business but ours, is it?
It's not like we want to go round holding hands in public or
anything. We know how we feel; we can save the lovey-dovey stuff till
we've got some time together, just the two of us. I think I prefer it
like that.
It's morning break; I'm on my way to our maths classroom. Mr Sheridan
wants to see me again; I've no idea what it's about this time.
"Close the door and pull up a chair," he says brightly as I walk into
the room.
I sit down by his desk.
"Let me say first off how impressed I am with your resilience," he
says, smiling warmly. "You're made of tougher stuff than I gave you
credit for. I was concerned that you might need counselling after
what happened, but you've bounced back really well."
"The other lads have been great," I tell him.
"And you and Michael are back together again," he adds.
"Yes, sir," I confirm; it's less than half the story but he doesn't
need to know that.
"Right, down to business," he says. "You may have noticed that
Luther's back in school; Jerome and Andrew will be taking care of
him, making sure he's not on his own, getting picked on or whatever.
No decision has been made about Dalton as yet. You know about the
drugs?"
"Yeah, sort of," I tell him. "Courtney was selling stuff to some of
the older kids."
"Correct. Well, Dalton had some stuff on him as well, but only
cannabis and not that much. The police have let him off with a
warning. Even so, it's quite enough for the school governors to throw
him out. I want to ask you what you think should happen to him."
Well, I didn't know what he wanted to talk about, but I certainly
didn't expect this.
"What'll happen to him if he's thrown out of here?" I ask.
"He'll be sent to another school, probably Broadstone," he says.
Well, you don't need to be a master mind to know that's not going to
do him much good. He'll get himself in with one of their `gangsta'
types; from what I hear they've got enough of them. It'd be the only
way he'd survive in a place like that.
"And what about if he stays here?" I continue.
"Well, Jerome and Andrew have said they'll look after him as well if
he comes back."
"Then I think he should stay here," I say firmly.
"I want you to think very carefully about that," he says. "Luther was
just a hanger-on; Dalton was Courtney's lieutenant, helping him,
egging him on. Are you sure you can face having him back here?"
"But he's never really had a chance, has he?" I counter, remembering
what Anthony told me.
"Well, I'm not sure where you're getting your information," he says,
giving me a wry grin, "but you're pretty much spot on there."
"It's like Anthony," I say, my new found confidence starting to take
over. "People diss him for being a rent-boy and that; with all the
stuff he's had to deal with he's never had a chance to be anything
else."
He nods. "So let me ask you this," he says. "There's been a problem
between you and Dalton for months; having you just sitting on the
sidelines is not going to work, if Dalton does come back we need you
to be actively involved. Now Dalton's a poor reader. I'm suggesting
that a couple of times a week, during our afternoon tutor period, you
take him into the maths office next door and listen to him read.
D'you think you could do that? Bear in mind that Dalton's pretty
difficult to handle. He's very aggressive; there's a lot of anger in
there from the way he's been treated over the years. You'll have to
be very patient with him; it's not going to be easy."
I swallow hard; he's really put me on the spot now! What was that I
was saying about facing any challenge? The easy option would be to
say I'm not sure. Well, I'm not going to do that; that's the coward's
way out. So I ought to just say I can't do it; I've got quite enough
else to think about, haven't I? But that'd mean tipping Dalton onto
the scrapheap at a shit-hole like Broadstone at the age of twelve
years and a couple of months. I know a lot of people would say he
deserves it, but I can't do that. Mr. Sheridan wants to give him a
chance to get his life sorted out. Jerome and Andrew have offered to
help but they need me to be involved too; I can understand why. I
know it sounds mad, but I'm going to take it on. If this works, and
that a very big if, it'll be the best thing I've ever done; I just
can't say no.
"I want to do it," I tell him, "but suppose Dalton says he doesn't
want to work with me?"
"He won't be given a choice; if he comes back here, he's going to
have to," he says, looking me right in the eye. "That could make it
even more difficult, of course."
"Well, I still want to give it a go," I say.
We sit in silence for a few seconds. "I wouldn't have thought any
less of you if you'd said no," he says finally, "but I'm delighted
you've agreed to take it on."
"When I grow up, sir," I say quietly. "I want to be a teacher like
you."
"Well, I'm pleased to hear that as well," he says, smiling again.
"Just one other thing you need to know. Andrew's dad is involved in a
project on Anscombe Leys to find mentors for black kids like Dalton
and Luther who don't have any male role models and are in serious
danger of going off the rails, older guys from the black community
who can point them in the right direction. Dalton's at the top of the
list, so that should help."
I leave the classroom knowing that I can't talk to anyone but Mr.
Sheridan about this; mum would get worried and the other boys would
think I'd gone mad. It doesn't matter. I've said I'll do it; I'm just
going to give it my best shot.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
The summer term is nearly over. I've been working with Dalton for a
month. It was hard at first; he seemed sure I was going to pick on
him as soon as Mr. Sheridan couldn't see what I was doing. He's a bit
more relaxed now that he knows I won't. Even so, there have been a
couple of outbursts, just frustration at not being able to do stuff
really; they soon passed and we carried on. I'm not sure if his
reading's improved that much, but I guess it's early days.
Right now we're on our way across London for the Sherman Cup, the
last and most important athletics match of the season. There are four
schools involved, White Cliffe from Harrow, St. Edmund's from Barnet,
Lansdowne Park from somewhere in Essex, and us; all large all-boys'
schools with a strong tradition in the sport. The matches are always
really close and exciting, that's what Mr. Maynard told us; last year
we won by just six points. That is close! It's held each year at
Barnet Copthall Stadium, where me and Tom had our first race for the
club. I'm wondering if the boy who beat us then will be running
today; St. Edmund's School is not far from the track so I guess he
could be.
Unlike the Young Athletes' League, the fifteen hundred metre races
are near the end so we have quite a long time to wait. Mum's changed
her day off so she can come and watch; that's pretty special. Mark's
here too, supporting the team and trying to see if there is any more
talent he can recruit. Mum and Mark travelled over together, which is
well cool. Still, it makes sense, I guess. We sit together in the
stands watching the other boys perform. It's very close, very tense
and very exciting, just like Mr. Maynard said it would be, and the
standard is awesome. The conditions are almost perfect; pleasantly
warm with hardly a breath of wind; our guys are producing personal
bests in almost every event. I've not been in a match like this
before; even when we compete for the club we've won quite easily.
Well, that's not going to happen today; in this match every point's
going to count.
Finally it's time to warm up; we both know the drill by now so we
just get on with it. Mark's been talking to Tom about not running at
the front the whole time; he wants him to sit in the pack for a
couple of laps then if he's feeling good to hit the front and pick
the pace up. Tom's so used to running at the front I'm not sure if
he'll be able to do it, but I've got to be ready for it if he does.
I spot the kid as we take our training pants off. He's wearing a
different vest, of course, but it's unmistakeably him. So we've got a
race on our hands; I'm just hoping we can make a better fist of it
than we did last time. Training's been going really well; I'm sure we
can both run a lot better than we did that day. As we get ready to
line up, the announcer reads out the team scores. Lansdowne Park are
leading with 281 points, we're on 279 and St. Edmund's 274; it
couldn't get much closer than that.
A minute later the gun goes and we're off. The first lap is a
respectable seventy seven seconds, with Tom sitting in the pack just
like Mark told him to. On the second lap we slow down quite
noticeably. I'm half expecting Tom to go straight to the front, but
for the moment he stays where he is. He's not going to hang around
there for long though; as soon as we've done two laps he'll be off,
and I'll be right behind him. We complete eight hundred metres in a
modest two minutes thirty eight. As we enter the back straight Tom
goes to the front, increasing the tempo quite sharply; I follow
immediately, running right on his shoulder. By the time we reach the
top bend we're away and clear; the St. Edmund's boy has been left in
the pack!
As we approach the start of the final lap he comes up behind us, but
now he's got a problem, or to be more exact, two problems. The first
one is that he's had to run very hard to get back to us; I can tell
from the way he's breathing. The second is that he's running next to
the kerb. Now that is the shortest route, but as long as I stay where
I am, if he wants to get past he'll have to go the long way round.
That's going to take a lot of doing.
Tom leads us through the bell in three minutes thirty six, which is
way quicker than we've ever done it before. The pace is relentless;
there's no let up at all. This is where the training we've done
really starts to show; a month ago there's no way I'd have been able
to live with this. We round the final bend, the three of us still
locked together. I thought the noise when we raced here before was
pretty amazing, but that was nothing compared to today; as we enter
the home straight it's deafening! This is it; Tom's never beaten me
in a sprint finish, he's not going to do it today. Slowly and
painfully I inch my way past, barely knowing how I'm keeping my legs
moving. I'm sort of expecting the St. Edmund's boy to come past the
pair of us, but he's even more tired than we are. I just keep driving
for the line like nothing else matters, but Tom won't give it up,
hanging on every inch of the way. I cross the line knowing I've won
and pretty certain that Tom got second, but that's about it; I'm in
bits!
After a few minutes to get some air back in our lungs we wander
across to collect out kit. The St. Edmund's boy comes over to us.
"Well done," he says, extending a hand, "you ran a great race. My
coach says I took two seconds off my P.B, but I'm gutted; I expected
to win."
"Did you recognise us from the Young Athletes League?" I ask,
accepting his handshake.
"I recognised Spiky here," he says, grinning and jerking his head
towards Tom. "You can't really miss him, can you?"
"I'm Chris, this it Tom" I tell him.
"I'm Craig," he says, shaking Tom's hand as well. "I'll see you
around, at the Young Athletes' League Final if we make it."
We go back to join our teams. I like him, he's okay; rivalries like
that are what sport's about. Finally the announcer reads out the
times. I won is four minutes fifty two point six with Tom second in
four minutes fifty two point eight. Craig was third in four minutes
fifty three point four. It's a massive improvement for both of us.
Mark's over the moon like he just won the lottery; I think he's even
more pleased with the result than we are. Even better, it's given us
maximum points and taken us into the lead with only a few events
left. The tension is almost unbearable. We could blow it all in the
relays by dropping the baton or something, but somehow we hang on,
winning by eight points, with St.Edmund's and Lansdowne Park tying
for second place. We've done it; we're taking the trophy back home
with us. What a match!
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
Mum's invited mark to come over for dinner. Mum's a great cook; we
always eat well, but this is one of her specials. That has to mean
she likes him. It suddenly hits me that since James left mum's not
been out at all; I haven't had a baby-sitter once. She used to go out
all the time; when she finished with one boyfriend a few weeks later
she'd have another one. Not this time though.
After dinner I go round to Michael's house; it's so cool that we're
mates again. We spend our time just chatting and stuff, much the same
as we always have. He's still completely obsessed with Rachel, but
I'd have been surprised if he wasn't; she's a nice kid and so pretty.
Rachel and her friends know I'm gay and think it's really cool.
Anyway, me and Michael have a laugh and a joke; it's back to old
times in the best way possible.
I go home just before nine o'clock. Mum and Mark are snuggled up on
the sofa watching a film. I go up to my room and mess about on the
computer for an hour. I'm sort of wondering if Mark's going to stop
over. I don't think he will; it's like a bit early for that. He
leaves just after ten, calling `Goodnight' to me before he goes. I go
downstairs to say goodnight to mum. She looks so happy! I don't want
to get ahead of myself, but I'm really hoping this works out; Marks'
great.
"You know when I used to go out meeting people," she says quietly, "I
always used to avoid guys like him; I thought they were too boring,
but he's not boring at all once you get to know him. It just goes to
show how wrong I get things sometimes."
I give her a hug and a peck on the cheek and head up to bed.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
I'm on my way to Tom's house for our first sleep-over. We've taken
our time before doing this. We both wanted our mums to see that they
got it right by letting us be together; it was one of the things we
talked about. Well, now I'm pretty sure they have. We've been working
hard and doing better than ever; somehow everything seems easier
knowing that Tom's there supporting me, and I think he feels the same
way. More than that, I've been helpful around the house and so much
happier generally. Mum's not stupid; she can see the difference it's
made. So when I asked her two days ago, it wasn't an issue; there was
no lecture, no stern warnings, nothing.
We spend the evening watching the film `Ray', the film about the life
of Ray Charles. We sit on the sofa quietly holding hands. Yeah, I
know Tom's mum's there watching it with us, but that's cool; we don't
make a big show of it. It's a wicked film; Tom's completely
spellbound even though it's the seventh time he's seen it. I'm no
musician but I'm sort of starting to understand.
By the time the film ends it's almost bedtime. This is exciting; I've
never actually slept with anyone before, not even with James. Well,
tonight's the night. It's not quite that simple though; in a few
minutes we're going to say goodnight to Tom's mum then go upstairs
and have sex in his bed while she's asleep in the next room knowing
we're doing it. That is embarrassing! I don't want it to seem like
I'm rushing it, but I don't want to hang on until she sends us to bed
either. Looking at Tom, I'd say he's as uneasy as I am. To my
amazement, she comes to our rescue.
"Right boys, I'm off to bed," she announces. "Don't stay up too late,
now!"
She gives us both a hug; Tom gives her a peck on the cheek then she's
gone. We flop down on the sofa, grinning at each other. That was well
cool! Half an hour later he leads me upstairs. Safe in the privacy of
his bedroom, we stand in front of each other, our lips meeting in
another of those magical, sensuous kisses that he does so
beautifully. I love everything about him, his taste, his smell, the
touch of his fingers sliding up inside my tee-shirt and gently
massaging my back. I run my hands down over his bum, so wonderfully
firm; he's everything I could want.
Slowly and carefully we undress each other. I drop to my knees,
looking up at him. Fuck! He is beautiful! Eagerly I lick all over his
cock and his balls, working my tongue all over them. Tom gently
strokes my hair; his touch is perfect. I lick my way up his shaft and
over the shiny purple head. Finally I open my mouth and suck it in,
pushing slowly down until I've got it all, the head just touching the
back of my throat. Very slowly my lips slide back up his shaft, my
tongue rubbing against the underside. I push back down; he lets go a
little gasp. Yeah! He's well into this!
I keep this up for a couple of minutes, but even with me doing it
pretty slow he's starting to get close. That's not what I want,
certainly not tonight. I let him go and we snuggle up on the bed.
"I love you, Tom," I whisper.
"I love you too," he responds, licking my ear.
Lying here, our arms wrapped round each other, I feel so secure, so
loved, so wanted; it's hard to describe. We've had sex more than a
dozen times now and every one has been a magical experience; nobody
else has ever made me feel the way that he does. But in case you
haven't guessed, we still haven't taken the final step; to be honest
we haven't even talked about it. I want to, of course, but I haven't
wanted to rush it. I guess I should have known Tom wouldn't push the
boat out; he's just too shy, so I guess I'll have to do it. Well,
this is our special night, out first sleepover; I'm really hoping
it's going to happen.
We move into a sixty nine. He does this as beautifully as he does
everything else; the sensations are unbelievable. I cock my right leg
up, resting my knee on his shoulder. I take his hand, placing it
between my thighs so his middle finger's right by my boy-hole. He
starts to work it round. Fuck! This is so good! I take the tube of KY
from my shorts pocket and pass it to him. He's no dummy; he knows
exactly what to do with it. A few seconds later his greasy finger is
circling my hole. Slowly and a little nervously he pushes it inside,
just a short distance at first, then deeper as I relax to accommodate
him.
"Oh, yeah!" I moan. "Oh, Tom! That's wicked, man!"
He starts to finger-fuck me; his long middle finger touching my
prostate every time.
"Use two fingers," I tell him.
He does as I say, getting his index finger in there as well. This is
heaven! I pull off his cock, turning myself round so I'm looking
right into his eyes.
"D'you want to fuck me?" I ask.
"D'you want me to?" he responds.
"Yeah!"
"Cool!" he says, smiling and licking my nose.
"Play with my cock while you're doing it, yeah?"
"Yeah," he acknowledges, "no problem!"
I grab the towel from my bag, spread it on the bed and get on all
fours. Tom smears KY over his cock and moves in behind me, guiding it
onto my bum-hole. It's been weeks since I've been fucked; this could
be a bit painful, not that I'm worried, I want this more than I've
ever wanted anything.
"Do it, Tom," I whisper.
He pushes hard; I relax and push back. There's a sharp pain as the
first couple of inches spear into me. I take a couple of deep
breaths, the pain quickly subsiding as I get used to him being there.
"You can put it all in now," I tell him.
He holds me round the tops of my legs, pulling me back, driving his
cock-head over my prostate until his firm, flat tummy is pressed
tight against my bum. My dick twitches like he just stuffed it in the
power socket.
"Oh, Tom," I gasp. "That's awesome! Come on, Tom! Fuck me!"
He reaches down and takes hold of my cock then sets to work. He fucks
just like he runs, very hard with no let up at all, pounding my arse
like the world's about to end. This is the best fuck ever! It's not
the biggest, maybe not even the hardest, but it's the best `cause
it's him, Tom, the boy I love more than anyone in the world, with his
cock buried deep inside me giving me everything he's got. The sheer
intensity of it beats everything else by miles. All too soon
everything goes mental. I'm gasping for breath, my body bucking
violently, my bum tightening around his cock. A moment later my dick
jerks and throbs between his fingers, my spunk squirting all over the
towel. He reacts as I expected, fucking me even harder. Within a
matter of seconds his breathing turns harsh and raspy. He slams right
into me, his cock swelling and pulsing inside me, his spunk spurting
powerfully into my bum. He collapses over my back, his hot breath
flooding my nostrils. That was it, the ultimate, better than
anything.
He gently pulls out. "That was awesome, man," he breathes.
"It was for me too," I say quietly. "I love you, Tom."
I pull on a pair of shorts and sneak out to the bathroom. When I get
back, Tom's in bed with the covers over him. I slip in next to him. A
minute later I'm asleep in his arms.
0 o 0 o 0 o 0
When I wake up I'm still there. Tom's sleeping peacefully. The soft,
early-morning sunlight is streaming through a gap in the curtains. He
looks so beautiful. I disentangle myself and head to the bathroom for
a piss. Once safely back in his room I slip my shorts off and return
to bed.
"What's the time?" he asks sleepily.
"Twenty past six," I tell him, checking my watch.
"That's early, man!" he says, yawning and stretching.
"So are we going to have some more fun?" I ask, rubbing noses with
him.
"I need the bathroom first," he says.
He gets out of bed and disappears. A couple of minutes later he's
back and we're snuggled up under the covers again.
"Sleep okay?" he asks.
"Like a log," I tell him.
"Me too," he says.
"So are you going to fuck me again?" I whisper, licking the tip of
his nose.
"Uh, huh," he says, shaking his head and grinning. "I want you to
fuck me."
I really hadn't expected that; I haven't even finger-fucked him yet.
"Are you sure?" I ask, looking at him apprehensively. "You know it's
going to hurt when it goes in."
"It'll be cool," he says quietly. "Please, Chris."
I pick up the KY from off the bedside cabinet. I lube up my fingers
and slip my hand between his legs, cocking his one leg over mine so I
can get to him better. I quickly locate his boy-hole. He's tight, but
not as tight as Daryl was; maybe he's been practising.
"Relax and push out, like you're having a shit," I tell him. "It's
easier like that."
Very slowly I push my fuck-finger right into him; he takes it with
barely a grimace. I gently finger-fuck him for a minute or so; it's
time to move things on a little.
"I'm going to put a second finger in," I whisper. "Tell me if it
hurts too much and I'll stop."
I push in my index finger. He lets out a slight gasp then relaxes
again. Pretty soon I've got both fingers sliding smoothly in and out;
just one more step and he'll be ready. I slowly twist my fingers
round; there's another gasp as I stretch the ring of muscle, but
within a few seconds he's smiling again.
"Are you ready?" I ask.
"Yeah!" he confirms.
I get between his knees and lift his legs, spreading them wide apart;
Daryl couldn't do it like this but Tom has no problem, pulling his
legs right back so his knees are on either side of his shoulders. I
lube up my dick and move in close, making sure he's at exactly the
right height.
"Relax and let me push it in," I say quietly.
I hold my cock in position and push as hard as I can. He holds out
for a second then the head goes right into him. He gasps quite
audibly.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
"Yeah," he responds, taking several deep breaths,
"Ready for some more?"
"I think so."
I hold the backs of his thighs and push. Another couple of inches
disappear inside him. The head hits his prostate; it makes his cock
twitch just like mine does. I pause to let him get used to me being
there.
"How's that?" I ask.
"Good, man," he says, grinning up at me.
One final thrust and he's got it all, my balls scrunched up against
his bum. I pause again, waiting for him to give me the signal.
"Go for it, Chris," he says.
I ease back a few inches, his virgin bum gripping me like a vice. I
settle myself then push in again. Gradually, I get into a rhythm.
This is so good; I can hardly believe I'm doing it. I push my body
between his legs, leaning forwards to kiss him full on the lips. He
responds immediately, wrapping his legs around my waist. This is
unbelievable! I'm covered in perspiration, kissing and fucking and
kissing and fucking like it's the only thing that matters. Right now
it might as well be. Suddenly his body jerks wildly, almost throwing
me off-balance, his cum spurting all over us. I'm totally going for
it, fucking him as hard as I can go. In just a few seconds I'm there
too, my spunk shooting over and over into his bum. That was beyond
awesome; it was out of this world.
We slowly untangle ourselves. Tom heads to the bathroom, I make do
with a quick towel-down; I'll have a shower later. He's soon back
though, and we resume our position under the covers.
"Are you okay?" I ask, wrapping my arms round him.
"Yeah," he says, smiling. "A bit sore, but I guess I was bound to be
the first time. That was awesome, man! I never thought I'd cum
without us even touching it, you know, fuckin' unreal! Then feeling
you cumming inside me; wow, that was well good!"
I must be the luckiest kid on this entire planet. I'd pretty much
guessed Tom would be up for fucking me; never in my wildest dreams
did I imagine he'd want me to fuck him, but we've done it. How cool
is that?