Date: Sun, 29 Jun 2003 22:39:42 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad130@hotmail.com>
Subject: Aladdin's Awakening: Part 50

Usual Disclaimer: If you are not of an age to read this because of the laws
of your country or district please desist.  If you are a bigot or
prod-nosed fundamentalist of any persuasion find your monkey-spanking
literature elsewhere and keep your predilections and opinions to
yourself. Everyone else welcome and comments more than welcome.

This is a very long tale.  It unfolds over a good number of years.  What is
true, is true: what is not is otherwise.

			    ALADDIN'S AWAKENING

				    By

				   Joel


				CHAPTER 30

			  Wednesday 31st May 1944

I was awake early and thought back over the last few days.  Quite eventful.
What with Tom's rude (?)  introduction to Ulvescott and then his puzzling
behaviour it had been quite an experience.  Then Sam's surprising
performance on us both and, yesterday, the tale about his cousin's school.
I lay quietly holding my balls and letting my now much saggier nuts slide
around inside their sac.  I wondered what had triggered Tom's behaviour and
then made him forget how he had almost attacked me twice.  Both times it
was connected in some way with Piers.  He had called me Piers and I didn't
think he realised it had happened.  I had found out that Miles had also
died.  What about Gordon Thomas?  Tom was a mystery, but I was determined
not to ask him anything but to see if he mentioned it.  I would have to
talk about it with someone.  Who?  Matt?  Mike?  I was rather perplexed.
What did it all mean.

     While I was ruminating Tom was waking up and within moments we were
holding each other's rapidly hardening dicks.  Without a word being spoken
we pushed off the covers and slowly wanked each other off, cum splattering
over our bellies and stomachs in that most gratifying way.

     We lay side by side, I was lost in that haze of thoughts which I often
had after such a satisfactory wank, and Tom was lazily circling his finger
in the pool of cum on my chest.

     "I like it here," he said softly.  "It's a very peaceful place and I
think you belong here much more than Tony.  It might be his one day but I
think you should live here.  I like to hear you play all that music and I
know Mrs Crossley likes you.  So does that other lady at the other place,
Lady...  Bing.  I'm glad I've got you for a friend, too, because I'm going
to miss Dunc dreadfully."

     I put a hand out and gripped his.

     "I'm glad I'm your friend, Tom.  You'll be OK."

     Two friends then hugged each other knowing that whatever happened
their friendship would last.  However, our hug didn't last long.  There was
the usual thump on the door announcing Bran's demand for entry.  I
slithered out of bed, still cum-soaked and opened the door.  The bloody dog
sniffed me and immediately went to the bedside and put a huge paw over
Tom's chest and sniffed him, then licked his face.  I retreated into the
bathroom very quickly and could hear Tom talking quietly to Bran.

     I needed a pee and a shit, which I had before I washed myself down.  I
must have been some minutes but when I went back into the bedroom Tom was
still in bed whispering into Bran's ear.

     He looked across at me.  "I've just been telling him all about you.  I
told him he's got to guard you safe and sound whenever you're here and when
I told him that he licked my face again.  He knows you're important for
this place.  I know and he knows, don't you Bran?"

     That dog.  I swear he knows what you are saying because he came over
to me and licked my hand.  I patted his head and, while I got dressed he
sat and looked at me.  Poor old Bran, we were going off and I didn't know
when I would see him next.

     We had a hearty breakfast and, of course, Mrs Crossley invited us
again.  She also said that Lady Bing was interested to hear my friend play.
She meant Tim.  I wondered if he might come over with us in the summer?
Anyway, I had a new bundle of music to occupy myself with in my idle hours!

     We left soon after nine and Bran came to the gate with us.  We both
hugged him and I told him to behave himself and then we set off.

     There was quite a lot of military traffic on the way home.  At least
three conveys of trucks with soldiers in passed us as well as a couple of
long low trucks with what Tom said, very knowledgeably, were Bren gun
carriers.  Something was up!  We cycled carefully as some of the lorries
were rather wide for the road they were travelling on.  We had many cheery
waves but, all in all, most of the soldiers seemed very quiet.

     No one was in when I arrived home.  There was a note on the kitchen
table that Ma and Pa would be home by six and I should look in the pantry
for some lunch.  I found some bread and some cheese, plus a jar of Mrs
Gardiner's pickle.  Then I went round to Tom's.  Dunc was in the kitchen
and said he'd heard we'd had a good time and Tom was resting his weary
bones upstairs.

     For once, Tom was not lying on his bed.  In fact, he'd remembered he
had a load of homework to do, so, good soul that I am, I went through it
with him.  I made my excuses after that and left as I had a load to do as
well.

     Needless to say, another load was produced that night.

                         *
     Back to school and the tediousness of it over the next few days droned
on.  What was interesting was that no mention was made by Tony, nor by Roo,
about the Scout camp and certainly nothing about the torture of Bernie
Foster.  Even when I bumped into him outside the cloakroom all I got was a
wry smile as he hurried away.  I didn't say anything either to any of them
and bided my time to hear more.  Even Tom was strangely silent about it
all.  Matt didn't mention his trip to Scotland and was rather noncommital
about it when I asked him.  He just said it was alright.

     The weather was very changeable and Pa said he hoped June would be a
better month as Summer was on its way.  I went for my run each morning and
kept up my daily double outpourings, twice aided by Tom's sturdy hand.  St
John on Monday meant I met up with Pat Halloran who said he was boxing
again that coming Friday and Matt and I put our names down to attend as
First Aiders.

               June 6th 1944

     Great news tonight!  We've invaded Europe.  That is, us and the
Americans.  D-Day it's called.  Pa was very excited and Ma I saw was
crying.  So, that explained a lot.  All the troops we'd seen moving about.
Even Uncle Alfred's arrival in the country was no longer a mystery.  I
hoped he'd be OK if he was going across with the troops.  I was thinking
about all sorts of things when I went to bed.  I had my wireless on in the
bedroom listening to the news and fell asleep without my nightly ritual.
What an experience!  An invasion and all ideas of sexual release vanished!
                         *
     Of course, the next day at school was chaos.  Everyone was talking
about it.  Even the masters had other things on their minds than imparting
gobbets of information to non- receptive minds.  In fact, we got sent home
early and Tom and I celebrated the invasion and getting home early with a
happy double.  Also, Tom told me that Dunc's party on Saturday was going to
be a double celebration as well, for Dunc and for D-Day.

                         *

                    Friday 9th June 1944
     The boxing match was being held in the Catholic Parish Hall again.
Again the portly man was there plus a great gaggle of our Fourth, Fifth and
Sixth Formers as it was the Catholic Boxing Club against the Mayor's Gym
Club team and several of the boxers were our school members.

     Pat, I noticed from the programme given to me by the portly man, was
down to fight Jim McDonald.  Also, Johnny Reed, in our Form, was going to
fight some lad in the Catholic team called Brian McCaffey.  I didn't know
Johnny boxed - all I knew was he was in the Cadets and was also one of the
two still on my list!

     Matt was busy talking to a couple of the Catholic lads sitting behind
us who said they'd come to see Johnny beat the shit out of McCaffey who
they said was a loud-mouthed bastard.  This said in a loud stage whisper
which drew a reproving glance from the portly man.  He turned his attention
to me.

     "Usual tonight, like last time," he said, puffing on his pipe.

     I nodded and was about to say I understood but he went on.

     "Heard you had things to say to young Henry."

     My eyes must have nearly popped.  He laughed and tapped me on the knee
with his pipe.

     "Your Head told me.  He was mightily amused.  Good lad though, young
Henry.  Known the family for years.  Good for you, though.  Good spirit."

     I was nonplussed.  I didn't know what to say.  I just gave a wry grin.
He chuckled.

     "Have to know what is going on in this great city of ours.  Well,
small city of ours."

     I thought I'd better say something.

     "What does the Town Clerk have to do?" I asked, as politely as I
could.

     He gazed at me steadily and then he grinned and his eyes twinkled.

     "A lot more than some people think," he rumbled, "Mainly see that the
place runs smoothly.  Keep the Councillors in order and stop the City
Treasurer spending all our money."  He paused.  "Young Carter's in your
class isn't he?"

     I nodded.

     "His father is my Chief Clerk and he does most of the work so I'm
told.
  Young Ted wants to follow in father's footsteps.  What about you?
Scientist like your father?"

     Gosh, how does he know Pa?  Before I had time to answer he went on.

     "Knew your Pa before the War.  My son was in the Rugger Club.  Colts
side.  In the Navy now.  Lieutenant.  Out East somewhere."

     I said I hadn't made my mind up what I wanted to do.  I liked maths
and science but I also liked languages.

     "Did Greats at Oxford.  Enjoyed that.  Had to find a job so had to do
Law after.  Toby's got a place at my old college but he'll have to wait
until we finish the Hun off.  Good news this week, eh?"

     I said everyone was excited and had just finished telling him about
Uncle Alfred's arrival when one of the Brothers got into the ring and
announced the first bout.  Two skinny lads, feather weights I saw on the
programme.  They might have been skinny but they knocked hell out of each
other.  Flurries of fists and Mr Halloran, the referee, had to keep
separating them.  There were cries of "Hit him, Sean!" and "Knock the sweet
Jesus outta him!" from the lads behind me and the large Brother in the
front row turned and glared.  These shouts must have spurred the lad on as
he gave one almighty swing and the other lad went down - winded - and was
counted out.  The portly man prodded me with his pipe.

     "Go out with them and see his ribs are alright.  Press gently.  If he
screams send him to the hospital."

     Dutifully, I rose and went out to the room being used as one of the
dressing-rooms.  By the time I got there someone had got the lad's gloves
off.  With my best air of importance I went up to him.

     "Come to check your ribs," I announced.

     He grimaced and with one hand pulled up his singlet.

     "Fucking hurts," he said, "There."  He nodded down.

     I lifted his singlet up and he wriggled out of it.  He was skinny.  I
could count his ribs.  'Dr' Thomson took over.

     "Hold your left arm up, please," I said as commandingly as possible.
"I'm just going to feel your ribs.  If it really hurts tell me."

     He had the makings of a bruise appearing.  Where he had been thumped
was quite red.  However, I started at the top rib and pressed.  No
response.  I did notice he had quite a growth of black hair under his arm.
I moved down, pressing each rib carefully in turn.  He winced a bit when I
got to numbers five and six but no screams.

     "You're going to have a bruise there but I don't think anything's
broken.  If it still hurts tomorrow you'd better go up the hospital and ask
for an X-ray."

     The lad looked at me a bit startled.  "X-ray!" he said looking
puzzled, "What's that for?"

     Crumbs, I thought everyone knew about X-rays.  Apparently not.  I
realised I recognised the lad.  He worked in one of the local shops so he
must have been to the Elementary school.  I didn't know how old he was - he
was older than me, sixteen perhaps.  I glanced down.  There was quite a
dusting of black hairs on his legs, almost as much hair as Matt.

     "It's OK," I said, "They use X-rays to see if you've broken anything.
Doesn't hurt."

     He looked slightly more relieved and began to gingerly finger his
ribs.
  He smiled.

     "I'll be OK, just got in the way of a lucky punch.  I've boxed Sean
before and we've drawn so it'll be my turn next time."

     We were interrupted by Sean himself.  He too had shed his gloves.

     "Are ye OK, Charlie?" he asked.  "I hit you lucky that time.  Did I
hurt ye?  Sorry!"

     I stood back as Charlie turned and Sean inspected his ribs.

     "Och, ye're alright there, isn't he?"

     This last question was directed at me.  I nodded and said I thought
so.

     "Well, you can look at my arm," he said.  "I cut it this afternoon and
it hurts."

     I asked him how he'd done it and he said on a bit of rusty tin.  I
knew there was a sink in the little scullery next to the changing room so I
said we should go in there.  Inside I took him over to the sink and ran the
water.

     "Wash it under there and make sure it's clean," I said, "I hope you
cleaned it this afternoon."

     He shook his head.  "I was too busy at the garage so I just wiped it
with a rag."

     I took another look.  There was a nasty scratch, not too deep but red
at the edges.  I thought I'd better get advice from the portly man.

     "Wait here," I said, "I'll be back in a moment."

     I rushed into the hall and had a hurried consultation.  He nodded and
rummaged in his haversack and brought out a jar of antiseptic ointment and
gave me that and a small pack of narrow gauze bandage, a small pair of
scissors and a safety-pin.  He said nothing so I took the articles and went
back to the scullery.  Sean had shed his singlet and shorts and was just in
underpants and socks.  Charlie was in there too, half-dressed and carrying
his trousers, shoes and socks.  He had put on his shirt but still had his
boxing shorts on.  As I approached he was just taking them off and was
wearing nothing underneath.  I had a quick view of a stubby, quite thick
cock with a nice pair of balls hanging below.  He grinned as I glanced at
his face.  He'd seen me take in the view!

     I went over to Sean and put the things on the draining board next to
the sink.  He looked a bit apprehensive as I unscrewed the lid of the jar.

     "And what's that?" he asked.  "Where did you get it?"

     I explained that it was antiseptic cream and it came from the senior
First Aider, who was also the Town Clerk.

     Sean meekly held up his arm and I anointed the edges of the scratch.
He winced a bit but I carefully spread the cream over the cut.  He smiled.

     "Feels better already, it does, it's cooling it down."

     Never having done it before but working on instinct I wound the gauze
bandage round his arm and asked Charlie, who had remained in the state of
undress watching my ministrations, to put his finger on the bandage while I
cut it and pinned it together.  When this was done I felt very proud of my
efforts.  It looked very neat.  Sean smiled.

     "Och, and that's a fine job you've done there."  He turned to Charlie.
"You want a drop of that to put on..."  He stopped and looked at me.  I saw
Charlie beginning to blush.  "...Och, tell him Charlie, he'll know, he's St
John."

     Whether I should be equated with the fourth Gospeller was another
matter but I was intrigued.  Charlie took a quick look about the room.  Of
course, it was empty except for us.  There was a hum of activity from the
next room but we were alone.

     "Bit embarrassing," he said finally, "Quick, have a look."  He drew up
his shirt and hefted his stubby cock.  He had a long, thick foreskin and as
he turned his cock I saw the unmistakable evidence of over-activity.  I'd
seen it before - on Matt and on myself!  A small reddish, weeping tear.  I
took command and picked up the jar from the table.

     "Hold still, I know about this.  A friend had the same," I said, not
elaborating that the friend also included me.  I dipped my finger into the
creamy substance.  "Hold it up a bit!"

     I gently put a dab of the goo on his foreskin and edged it down to go
over the tear.  I looked at his face, he suddenly looked most relieved.

     "Oh, that feels good," he enthused, "It's cool, the bugger was burning
this afternoon, that's why I didn't have any pants on."

     "I can't really put a bandage on it, but if I put a bit of the
ointment on a piece of bandage you could put it on yourself tonight," I
said, and then added, without really thinking, "In any case, you'd better
not do anything else tonight."

     Charlie had gone bright red at my admonition.  Sean was almost doubled
up with laughing but didn't comment on the second part.

     "Go on, put a nice bandage on it and if you haven't got another pin
put a nice big bow on it!"

     "Shut up, bloody fool!" said Charlie, still blushing.

     I thought I'd better enquire further.

     "And how did you know about the damage?" I asked Sean.

     It was Sean's turn to go red and Charlie giggled.

     "We're just good friends," said Charlie, punching Sean lightly on his
undamaged arm, "Aren't we?"  He looked at me and grinned.  "We live next
door to each other and he works at Stiff's garage next to the shop I work
in.  We've known each other since we were little kids and now we meet up
for a chat and a fag...."

     "That all?"  I asked, grinning as well.

     Charlie punched me, perhaps not so lightly, on the arm, at least if
that was light I wouldn't like to in the firing line in the ring, and
grinned even broader.

     "Not usually...."

     My turn to giggle.  No more needed saying and I left them to complete
dressing and said I'd better get back to my vigil.  As I went through the
dressing room there was Matt with a lad who had a bleeding nose.  Matt was
handing him pads of gauze which the lad was poking up his nostrils.  As I
passed Matt raised his eyebrows and I grinned again.  I had something to
tell him.  We weren't the only ones who over-exercised their virile
members!

     In the hall there was great excitement.  The pair in the ring were
belting hell out of each other.  They were large lads and I didn't
recognise either.  However, no damage was done and a great cheer went up at
the end of the third round when the referee said it was a draw.

     The next match was one I wanted to see.  Johnny Reed and the Brian
lad.
   This was obviously a match where the Catholic lad was not even liked by
his schoolmates.  They even cheered Johnny as he raised his gloves when he
was announced.  God, if I thought my previous two were 'knocking the sweet
Jesus' out of each other, Johnny and this lad were going at it hammer and
tongs.  I winced every time either of them landed a blow.  Both took real
thumps to the head and two of Johnny's really shook young Brian when they
landed somewhere in the stomach level.  The excitement mounted and they
were both hard at it when the bell at the end of the first round went.

     They were both panting when they started the second round and that was
just as vicious as the first.  The referee stopped the fight at one point
as Brian looked as if he had a cut over one eye but the referee told them
to box on.  They lammed into each other, dancing round the ring, right arms
straight out keeping guard with their left.  Towards the end of that round
they were not hitting each other so much.  This changed for the third and
last round.  Johnny came out and landed three punches in quick succession
between the lad's eyes, to his chest and to his stomach.  This slowed him
right down and the rest of the match was just the two of them circling
around.  The outcome was obvious.  The ref raised Johnny's arm as the other
lad sank gracefully and, no doubt, thankfully to the canvas (got it right
this time!).  He wasn't knocked out, just dazed, but his 'pals' were
vociferous in condemning his puny efforts.  The large Brother from the
front row got in the ring and quelled the noise with one glance at the
culprits.  The portly gentleman nudged me as I was still gawping at the
scene in the ring.

     "Get him in the dressing room.  Have a look at his eyebrow.  Bathe it
with cold water.  Clean it up.  Stick a bit of this plaster over it.  If
it's badly torn send him to the hospital.  He's going to have a couple of
shiners tomorrow, anyway!"

     He took another couple of puffs at his pipe and I went to the ringside
armed with the instructions and the packages he passed me.  Johnny gave me
a wan smile.  He was going to have a shiner as well the next day.  His
right eyebrow was swelling visibly.
  The other lad looked as if he didn't know if it was Monday or Thursday,
let alone Friday.  His second helped him from the ring and the four of us
paraded the few yards to the dressing room to a renewed cacophony of
catcalls and cheers which even the Brother could not quell.

     I sat the pair down next to each other on a convenient bench.  The
second took both pairs of gloves off and the Catholic lad looked as if he
was recovering.

     "Fuck me!" he murmured, "You gave me a bloody pasting!"

     Johnny grinned.  "Second time we've pasted each other and I won this
time!"

     I beetled off into the scullery and wetted two pads of gauze and when
I came back the pair were chatting most amicably, the second having gone
back into the Parish Hall with the next pair of contestants.

     "Here," I said to the Catholic lad, "I'm going to clean up your
eyebrow and Johnny can put this other one on his forehead for a minute or
so...."

     The lad's eyebrow wasn't really bleeding, just oozing, but I saw it
was next to a scar.

     "...Been damaged there before?" I enquired.

     My perspicacity must have impressed him.  He looked at me steadily.

     "Yeah, had to have a coupla stitches in there last year.  The doctor
said I had to be careful."

     I murmured something consolatory which was needed when I pressed the
cold compress to his eyebrow.  He winced.

     "You're going to have a couple of black eyes after this," I said,
"Like I had after a rugger match.  Pat Halloran kneed me between the eyes!"

     He winced again and nodded at the same time.  "Not boxing him?"

     I snorted.  "God, No!  That's more brutal than rugby, except if you
get in the way of someone's knee."

     I pressed on the eyebrow again. As I took the compress away he turned
to Johnny.

     "Buggers in there hoped I'd get beaten properly, eh, Johnny?"

     Another pair knowing each other, I surmised.

     Johnny turned his cold compress over and placed it on his forehead
again.  He laughed.  "Your fault.  Shouldn't have told them you'd win."

     Hum, I thought, it sounded more than just that.  Perhaps I might find
out more later.  I left them to continue dealing with their own hurts and
to dress and went back to the hall.  We were nearly getting to the interval
now and after that the second match was Pat Halloran against Jim McDonald.
I wasn't called on to be a ministering angel any more as little damage was
inflicted by any of the other boxers.

     After the interval - which involved people just getting up, going
outside to light another cigarette and come back in puffing away - I saw
some of our older lads from school with furtive ciggies and there was quite
a fug of smoke in the hall as the second half started.  I was just settling
in when Johnny Reed bumped along the bench next to me.

     "Thanks for dealing with us," he said, "Brian's gone home though as he
says he's got a bit of a headache.  Anyway, I wouldn't mind joining St
John's.  Interesting."

     I wasn't surprised about Brian.  Two lovely black eyes would be his
signature tune for a few days.  I said Johnny should talk to the portly man
or to Pat Halloran afterwards about joining the SJAB.  Anyway, we sat and
watched the next bout and again no damage, so no repairs needed.  Then it
was Pat and Jim Mc Donald.  They raised the temperature in the room quite a
bit as the pair were really hot boxers.  I was becoming a bit more savvy
about the niceties of the noble art and Johnny kept up a running commentary
which enlightened me further.  Both walloped each other but Pat won on
points and it was a popular decision and Jim shook gloves with him
gallantly after Pat returned to his corner.

     At the end of the evening the portly gentleman congratulated both Matt
and me on our work.  I saw Johnny go up to him and they were soon in deep
conversation.  As Matt and I cycled off I told him about the lad's
predicament and Matt nodded sagely and said none of his wounded were as
interesting as mine.  Just as we were parting I remembered something - I
hadn't given the portly man back his antiseptic.

     "Here you are, Matt, present for you - just in case!"

     He gave me a filthy look but took the jar!

     That night I was really randy and tossed off twice very quickly before
settling to sleep.  I hoped my technique didn't damage my equipment any
further!

                         *
                    Saturday 10th June 1944
     Tonight was the farewell for Duncan.  He had to report to barracks up
North somewhere on Thursday.  It was a bit subdued but Mrs Buchanan had put
on quite a festive spread and even Tom cheered up after seeing and sampling
the food.  A group of Dunc's mates came and collected him about nine
o'clock.  I wondered if he might end up like Henry but remembered he was a
Methodist and didn't approve of strong drink!  Or, did he?

     Tom did look a bit forlorn as we said our goodnights - he was going to
miss his big brother.  I thought about both of them in bed that night.  I
had one wank thinking of Tom gripping my cock and then lay wondering about
Duncan.  I knew that Matt and he had indulged on the Rugger tour but Matt
had never told me much about Duncan.  I didn't have any real mental images
as I gave myself a second most satisfying wank and fell asleep immediately
afterwards.
                              *
     On my run next morning I deliberately made sure I met up with Tom and
helped him finish off his paper round.  He said Duncan had come in after
midnight - and had obviously imbibed something other than crystal clear
water!  He said he hoped he'd be OK as there was a farewell parade for the
Boys' Brigade that day.
                              *
                    Monday 12th June 1944

     School was hectic.  We were having the rest of the end of year exams
this week and everyone was panicking.  That evening at St Johns Matt was
moithering on about Geography and would I help him with Maths on Thursday
ready for the exam on Friday morning.  I said I would and got on with
bandaging up some poor sod who was supposed to have a sprained hand.  I
didn't ask how one got a sprained hand but my fevered imagination came up
with at least one reason.

     I was just tying a neat knot when Pat Halloran came up.

     "Got a friend of yours in the office wants to join," he said, "Seems
keen - saw him Friday knocking hell outta young Brian McCaffey the wee sod.
Got two lovely shiners, serve him right, your pal's got a lovely one too!"

     I said I knew Johnny well as he was in my Form at school.  Pat nodded
sagely and said he thought he was a good lad.  With that Johnny came out of
the office with Mr Halloran and I was asked to go through some of the
bandages with him.  Johnny was very quick on the uptake and finished with a
good example of a spica bandage on our guinea-pig, Matt.  He said he was
going to join and would talk to us at school about what else he had to do.

     No time on Tuesday for talks.  We had the French exam in the morning
and English in the afternoon and I was ready to get back home quickly after
school ready for History revision for Wednesday.  Nobody had liked the
English exam.  Not too bad on Wednesday morning as the material on the
Great Fire of London and Sir Christopher Wren was just what was needed for
one question.  I wasn't too happy about the one asking about William and
Mary but did mention the founding of the Bank of England.  At least on
Wednesday afternoon we were told we could either do something on the sports
field or do more revision.  Almost everyone opted for revision.  I noted
the rest of the exams were Science. Maths and Latin so that was that.  Matt
just looked at me blankly when I said I was going for a run and sod the
studying.  Matt was in a turmoil.  He said he'd remembered nothing about
History and managed to get Australia muddled with Canada and wrote about
sheep being the main produce of Canada in Monday's Geography exam.  He said
he had to go to the Library and do more revision, especially for Maths and
Chemistry.  I went off and got changed into my running gear.  A couple of
other non-studiers went off with the discus and a couple of javelins then
Johnny Reed entered the changing room.

     "Matt said you were going for a run, can I come with you?  I'm bloody
fed-up with swotting.  I'm not too worried about the Maths and Science and
I don't suppose you are, eh?"

     I agreed to both questions and waited while he stripped down to
underpants and then pulled on his shorts and rugger shirt.  Of course,
tying his plimsoll laces took time but I had a good chance to look at his
quite muscular legs and the developing hairiness of his thighs.

     "OK, ready now!" he announced as he stood up and tested the tightness
of his neat bows by flexing his feet, "Where do we go?"

     I explained that I usually went into the copse beyond the playing
field and followed the path there which went off into the country and then
doubled back after a couple of miles or so.  He made a face and said
something about not being used to running that far, he preferred cycling
and his boxing.  I supposed the cycling explained the muscly calves.  I
asked if he belonged to the Cycling Club and he said he did.  He said he
was pretty busy what with that, boxing at the gym, a paper-round, Cadets
and now SJAB, but he liked to do as many things as possible.

     We loped off across the field and waved to the discus throwers one of
whom, unsportingly, threw the object in our direction.  He wasn't all that
good as it fell well short of us.  We didn't run fast so we kept up a bit
of a conversation though I could see that even by the time we vaulted the
five-barred gate he was panting a bit.  Funny, if he was as energetic as he
seemed to be he certainly wasn't a runner.

     As we went along the path we dropped the conversation until we came in
sight of the path leading off to the hut where the Sixth Formers had
shouted at me and my previous compatriots and to the shed where I'd had
further adventures.  We slowed down.

     "That's our Cadet hut down there," Johnny said, "Want to have a look?"

     I said I hadn't seen it in detail and told him about the Sixth Formers
using it for a study base but didn't mention the shed and the wanking
session.  He laughed.

     "That's not all they use it for, nor us!  Come on, let's have a look
and I'll show you round."

     HuHn, I thought, I can guess!.  However, we slowed down to walking
pace and stopped at the end of the hut.  It was much bigger than I'd
thought - it had a wide verandah round it and it was on this where Billy
and his pals had been sitting when they were studying and shouting at us.
Johnny rooted around under the hut.

     "Someone's taken it.  There's usually a key here but Sergeant Moss
said too many people knew where it was and we weren't to tell anyone else
so I bet he's taken it away.  Come on, we can look in the windows."

     I dutifully peered through a surprisingly clean window.  There were
several shelves with books and it looked like gas-masks on them as well.
Didn't seem very interesting.  Johnny led me round the other end of the hut
where there was another locked door.

     "Can't get in, but this is where we come to do map reading and so on.
No electricity - we have to have Tilley lamps.  Then afterwards we often go
down there."

     He pointed at a path with a fork in it.  I knew one way led to the
shed but he was pointing to the other arm of the fork.  So 'down there' was
a path leading much further into the copse.  Falling straight in I asked
what was 'down there'.

     "Come on," he said, grinning, "Let's have a look."

     About thirty or so yards on was another clearing.  It was a bit like a
the one where Matt and I had indulged first with Georgie and Greg.  There
was a rough-hewn bench and a table of sorts and several tree stumps used
for further seating.

     "Must have a sit-down," said Johnny, "Too bloody hot to run."

     He plonked himself down on the bench and I sat beside him.

     "You soon get puffed running," I said, "I've already been out for a
run this morning and ended up helping Tom Buchanan with the rest of his
paper round."

     He grinned at me.

     "Yeah, I don't mind long cycle rides or even the boxing, but running
just isn't for me."

     I looked at his face, his black eye was quite distinct.

     "Boxing," I said, "I couldn't do that.  Look at you.  Your eye is
almost green today and I dread to think what that other lad looks like.
You really pasted him."

     He laughed.  "All in the course of duty.  If I hadn't pasted him he
would have given me even more.  He's a real little bastard - I should know
- I've boxed him before."

     "His pals didn't seem to like him"

     "No, he's cocky with it too, bit like Cleggy, but more so they tell
me.
  Always getting the class into trouble with those Brothers.  God, and are
they strict.  They use a leather strap on the boys if they step out of
line.  Last time I boxed him Sean showed me his backside and he had three
great welts on it.  Said he didn't dare tell his father or he would have
given him the same.  He couldn't care less, though, tough bastard as well."

     I winced, not from the idea of three welts but because some insect had
decided to make a meal from part of my leg.  I was scratching the inside of
my thigh and Johnny was eying me intently.

     "Got an itch?"

     "Bloody gnat or something's bitten me."

     "Let's have a look."

     What an opening gambit!  He reached over and pulled up the leg of my
shorts.  I was sitting with my legs open so my balls encased in my
jockstrap bulged out.

     "Bloody hell," he exclaimed, "You've got a real pair of bollocks
there!"

     His hand went further up my shorts and peeled back the pouch of my
jockstrap so not only my balls were exposed but my cock flopped out.  We
looked each other in the eyes, black or not!

     "Ready for it, eh?" he said.

     I nodded and simultaneously we both shucked off our shorts and undies.
Within seconds we were both erect, matching very nearly in length and
thickness - he was only about a month older than me.  I grabbed his cock,
pulling his foreskin right back very easily and said I'd do him first.  He
shot a goodly load very quickly and if running made him pant so having a
good wank did too.  As soon as he got his breath back it was my turn.
Seeing him really enjoying what I had done to him made me very randy so I
shot my load in quick time too.  It was a load, even I was surprised at the
amount.  Johnny was too, he whistled as four thick ribbons shot out of my
slit in quick succession, spattering over the edge of the bench.

     "Fuck me," he murmured, "That was bloody good!  God, you don't half
make some stuff!"

     I grinned apologetically and winced again, not from the gnat bite, but
because he was still gripping my rod and he was squeezing it very hard.

     "God, your dick is hard," he said, clenching his fist even tighter, "I
don't think mine gets as hard as yours."

     I assured him his had felt like a rod of steel which pleased him
somewhat.

     We sat down again, sans pants, jockstrap or shorts.  The sun was quite
hot.  He idly reached out and held my now limp prick.

     "You liked that, didn't you?"

     "Why ask," I replied, "So did you.  I like it every time."

     He laughed a throaty laugh.  "Same here.  Like the rest."

     That was the end of the run for that afternoon.  We sat and exchanged
all sorts of confidences.  He'd been initiated into the joys of
masturbation by an older brother, now eighteen and in the Air Force, when
he was eleven and had spied on his brother flogging his donkin in the
garden shed.  On pain of the threat of instant death his brother had
demonstrated the useful art and although he had tried manfully, or
boyfully, to copy the actions he'd only experienced the slightest puff of
ecstasy.  Still, he'd persevered and had imitated his brother's nightly
efforts.  As he slept with his brother who now had no reason not to wank in
bed at night the ritual became a once a night habit until, just after his
thirteenth birthday, he'd been rewarded with a few drops of boy-juice, much
to their mutual delight, as his brother was a bit fed-up with his moaning
that nothing happened to him.  Since then, he said, he'd exercised two or
three times a day without fail.

     He said he missed his brother very much as they'd always compared
times and amounts and he was proud his cock was even now almost the size of
his brother's.  I found they'd only wanked each other off on special
occasions - birthdays mainly - as they both found perfect satisfaction in
their own efforts.  Naturally he'd experienced mutual joys with a number of
pals but whistled when I told him I thought my total so far was about
twenty- eight!  He'd heard of the competition and said he knew I only had
Johnny Pearson to conquer and he said I wouldn't have to fight hard to get
him to submit.  He said he and Johnny had been pals since Junior School and
he'd told Johnny about what he and his brother did when he was twelve.  As
Johnny only had sisters he'd been more than grateful for the information
and they'd wanked each other many times - in this very area!  He grinned
and said that seemed to be the main purpose of the clearing although,
officially, it was where Sergeant Moss or Henry Gale did map-reading with
them.

     I suppose we must have talked for close on an hour.  We were both
ready then for another wank and did each other much more slowly this time
and for much longer.  I didn't shoot so much this time but I outdistanced
him by at least two feet.  Jacko's howitzer would have made a good weapon
to quell the nasty Germans!

     I thought of that very satisfactory encounter that night in bed.  The
inevitable, a most satisfactory third wank of the day!

                         *
     Thursday morning I made the deliberate effort to help Tom do quite a
bit of his paper round.  He was not in a happy mood.  Duncan was off that
morning to the training camp so when we arrived back at his house after
school there was no one around.  We went up to Duncan's room which seemed
strangely empty.  In Tom's room, on his bed, was a note from his brother
and a parcel.  The parcel contained a new Boys' Brigade uniform jacket and
forage cap.  Poor Tom, my tough-guy friend was again reduced to tears.  We
sat together on his bed and then he led me into Dunc's room again.

     "You'll be my friend now Dunc's away?" he asked.

     I said he knew I would be.  He turned and hugged me.

     "I need a friend," he said, "I need someone I can talk too, 'cause
things happen and I don't know why."

     I couldn't draw him out on this but wondered if he meant things like
those happenings at Ulvescott.  After I'd asked him what he meant and he
didn't really give a sensible reply I hugged him in return.  This led to
lying together on Dunc's bed and then to two friends sharing the sort of
joy only boys can bring to each other.  We both giggled as the joint
outflowing had been carefully caught on another old rugger shirt of Dunc's.

     "Better put that in the laundry basket," said Tom, now happier and
grinning, "If Mum finds it she'll think it was Dunc's last farewell!"


     On Friday, after the final Latin exam onslaught, Campion, who'd been
invigilating, announced that we'd better get on with one of the English set
books for the School Certificate exam and as we had at least half an hour
before the end-of-school bell went we could continue....mean old sod!
Actually, we had set off reading the Hardy book before the exams and I
rather liked it.  Just before the bell went there was quite a hilarious
moment when Jim Masters put up his hand and asked what a `paradiddle' was.
It was some passage about the drummer.  Campion peered at him then looked
at Nobbo.

     "I think Clarke will be able to enlighten you.  He is an accomplished
drummer."

     Nobbo went a bit red behind the ears but explained it was a way of
playing where each stick hit the drumskin in turn.  Campion nodded and Jim
seemed satisfied.  Then there was a giggle and a snort from Tony and Roo
who were sitting together and Tony was scribbling something in his English
notebook.  Campion peered at them.

     "Something to add, Marcham?" he enquired.

     "Nothing, Sir, just making a note."

     Campion was just going to make another comment but just then the bell
went.  We were all itching to go so he just dismissed us with a sour look
on his face.
  I bet he would mark a few scripts down when he got to certain persons'
efforts!

  To be continued: