Date: Fri, 02 Jul 1999 14:30:37 PDT
From: Benedict
Subject: Benedict's Bulging Briefs, Chp 7, (H/S) (t/t) (u'wear, uniform, sportskit)

Benedict's Bulging Briefs, Chapter 7, (H/S) (t/t) (u'wear, uniform, sportskit)

Disclaimer: This story is entirely fictional and not intended for minors or
those judged unable by law to read this material. Any resemblance to actual
people is purely coincidental and unintended. All ages depicted are
actually understated and the term's 'boy', 'youth', etc. do not in fact
mean that the characters are less than 18 years of age.

Benedict awoke early on the Monday morning. Normally, Monday's were
something to look forward to; after all, there was a game of squash to be
played with Simon that evening. However, today was definitely a case of the
'Monday blues'. Still troubled by how he'd treated Adam; like a toy, a
plaything, to be picked up, shaken, and tossed to one side again, Benedict
struggled out of bed and shuffled along to the bathroom. His cock, hard and
proud in all its morning glory, tented the white MUFC footie shorts he'd
worn in bed. Entering the bathroom the youth pulled his shorts down and his
cock slapped hard against his stomach as he tried to concentrate on the
need for a piss. The teen often found he'd have to wait awhile before his
prick would subside sufficiently. Indeed, he'd often end up depositing a
creamy load down the ceramic bowl before his resentful cock would allow a
stream of hot yellow liquid to pass through its portal.

Today was no different; his cock didn't seem to care about the rest of him,
like a restless animal it pulsed and strained; seeking to satisfy its
insatiable hunger, the only need it had and knew. Feeling pissed off - he
laughed at his unfortunate choice of words - the tall teen nipped the
flaring cockhead. His nails bit deep into the angry flesh, as though he was
seeking to punish and chastise his feckless manhood. I can't just blame my
cock he thought, as, beginning to soften at last, his warm hose sprinkled
the porcelain with hot urine. Shaking himself he pulled up his shorts and
went over to the sink. He washed his hands and decided he might as well
shower now rather than later. The hot water, spraying over his lean smooth
body eased him somewhat. Feeling a bit brighter, as though the steaming
spray had washed away more than just grime and sleep, the boy towelled
himself vigorously and slipped quietly out of the bathroom. Luckily he'd
slipped the towel around his slim waist for he was greeted with the sight
of Dom, who looked sleepy and still not fully awake. Dom, robed in an
over-large blue dressing gown, stood there with his arms folded evidently
waiting to use the bathroom.

"You're up early," said Dom, somewhat accusingly.

Ben's younger brother was a habitual early riser and he liked this quiet
time at the beginning of the day to himself.

"Err, yeah," answered Ben, surprised at seeing his brother, "woke up and
couldn't get back to sleep. Soz for keeping you waiting."

Ben was anxious to be away as, at that moment, his younger brother was
looking particularly sexy. The 'just woken up' look on the cherubic young
face, the dishevelled hair and sleep filled bleary eyes seemed to enhance
Dom's charms not lessen them. Fearing the stirrings in his groin, the
pitiful towel, clinging and damp, was hardly up to the task of masking any
movement in his cock, Ben turned and made for his room.

"Catch you later," he said, somewhat flustered.

"Sure," said Dom, watching his retreating brother enter his room.

... Shaking his head, wondering what was up with his older brother, the
young teen entered the bathroom. He didn't know what it was with Ben
lately; the two had always gotten along well. Now, it seemed as though
there was a rapidly opening chasm appearing between them. Ben seemed funny
around him, not his usual self, like as though he didn't want to spend any
time with him. His brother seemed to be avoiding him and Dom was worried
he'd upset him somehow. Yet, whenever they met, his brother seemed to be
staring at him, like he was trying to figure something out. All Dom knew
was that things weren't right, and he desperately wanted everything back to
normal again.

What really worried him of course was the fear that his brother knew -that
when Ben stared; he was filled with disgust for his younger
brother. Because things had changed, they'd changed inside of Dom.

It had all started; he realised, when he'd spoken to his brother about
underwear. Why had he done that? At the time it had seemed like a good
idea, indeed Ben had been all right, well, quite cool about it
actually. Now, he wasn't so sure. He'd left the room then feeling hot and
strange, clutching the pair of white cotton briefs his brother had given
him. He'd hurried back to his room to try the briefs on. He had checked
himself out in the mirror the white briefs having made a stark contrast to
the rest of him in the dim light of his bedroom. He'd pulled and tugged at
the tight clinging material, loving its softness and the way it held his
young meat. He'd loved the way you could see, yet not see his cock too. How
you could gaze along the shaft and, at either end, come across the
protuberance of his budding head or the roundness of his balls. He'd found
himself stroking and caressing his cock, developing the 'bestest' hardon
he'd ever known. In the mirror he'd seen a spread of damp developing at his
cockhead, beginning to spread over the straining mound. Amazed, he didn't
feel as though he'd cum, had experienced none of the usual feelings or
signs, he'd eased open the briefs to inspect his cock. His piss slit was
emitting a trickle of clear watery liquid that felt warm and sticky to the
touch. Instinctively, he spread some on his finger and had licked it,
trying to decide what it was. It tasted like cum, he tried his own once and
not liked it, though it was different somehow too. He'd been worried at
first, then confused. Suddenly he'd remembered playground talk, other boy's
bragging about their cocks, their cum and their lube. This must be it,
precum! It was supposed to help you enter the vagina. He remembered it all
now, sniggering with other boys and feeling slightly embarrassed during
biology one day, when they'd tackled human reproduction.

Tugging down the pants further he had collapsed on his bed and furiously
pumped his hard tingling meat. He'd revelled in the feel of the new
sensation as the greasy liquid allowed his hand to fly up and down his
tender young shaft. This was much nicer than before, it didn't hurt his
cock as much. There'd be some days when he couldn't touch himself; he' d
felt so raw from his frequent wanking. As he pulled on his pudding memories
of being with Ben, of sitting talking to him on his bed, feeling the warmth
and heat of his brother at his back flooded into his mind. It had felt so
nice just sitting there, talking with his brother; Ben had been really good
and kind. There'd been a funny atmosphere about the place, and the room had
seemed hot and stuffy. He'd tried not to stare at his brothers nipples,
they'd looked hard and red, so much bigger than his own tiny pebbles. For
some reason he'd wanted to reach out and touch his brother's smooth chest,
to feel its heart beating, to lay his head there and rest awhile, his
brother holding him. Terrified, he'd been transfixed, hadn't know how to
get out, he'd felt his cock beginning to stir and thicken in his tight
white shorts. Then just before the end, when his brother, thankfully, had
sent him over to the chest of drawers he'd thought he could feel his
brother's prick under the duvet. Certainly there'd been something there,
hard at his backside. Then Ben had mentioned mum and dad and the moment had
passed as though it had never taken place. Dom had cum buckets then,
brought out of his thoughts by the hot jism that had splattered his chest
and stomach. He'd never been so stiff, never cum so much before; whatever
was happening to him had felt pretty good at that moment.

Worn out, he'd fallen into a deep sleep not five minutes later. When he'd
woken in the morning he'd felt a bit troubled about some of the things he'd
done and thought. Denial seemed the easiest option and with that
fecklessness common to all youth he'd pushed the matter to the back of his
mind. It hadn't gone away however.

Later, the next day, he'd gone into in the bathroom needing to pee. The
boy, not long in from school, had just changed out of his school
uniform. Lifting up the laundry basket lid, he was about to throw his dirty
school shirt in, he'd spied his brother's jockstrap. Ben had only recently
bought the jock, he'd mentioned it in passing, and Dom knew that he used it
on Monday's when he played squash with Simon. It had obviously been worn
the day before, right on schedule. For some reason, which he still didn't
fully understand, he'd found his hand reaching out for the tangled
jock. Dom had grabbed the jock, his fingers marvelling at the rough yet
compliant cotton, and he drew it out of the basket to examine it more
closely. If you looked really carefully you could picture where his
brother's cock had lain and where the evidently meaty balls had
rested. There were a few stains on the jock, not piss, not cum either he
reckoned. Could this be more of the miraculous lube that had appeared so
suddenly the other night? Even better he could see a single golden thread
that was obviously from his brother's pubes. Shifting the jock in his
fingers the hair seemed to glitter and sparkle. Dom had felt his cock
beginning to stir in his patterned blue boxers.

Before stopping to think why, the boy had suddenly thrust the pliant pouch
into his face. The smell of the jock, of his brother's sex, almost
overpowered his young senses. The jock seemed to hold the history of every
point of his brother's game with Simon. What was more it reeked of sex, of
hot cock and bush and the jock was coated with a fine residue of his
brother's oils and juices. Dom flicked out his tongue and his tastebuds had
tingled at the savoury flavour; sort of smoked fish, yet somehow meaty
too. If he thought his cock was stiff the other evening then that was as
nothing compared to now. He couldn't believe how hard he felt, painfully
so, and the young boy pulled down his boxers while all the time he licked
and chewed, fawned and drooled over the tasty jock. Settling himself on the
bathroom floor, Dom had gone to work on his swollen prick, that again wept
precum and felt so hot and slick. His cock was not far off 5 inches, he'd
been measuring its progress for the past 6 months and worried, like most
boys, that he was too 'small' for his age, but surely now it must have
reached 5 he thought. It must have! His cock had never felt so engorged, so
stiff and unbending, it throbbed in his hand and Dom knew he was going to
shoot soon.

His mind was filled with thoughts of sitting on the bed talking with his
brother. This time however, Ben threw back the duvet, and invited him to
suck his hard big man-prick. Dom was just leaning forward to do so, his
tongue scouring the jock in his mouth, when he was brought back to reality
by his own cum hitting his chin. His fuckin chin! Wow, he'd never managed
that before, and still intensely aroused, he spewed his hot steaming load
into the hollow of his belly. His navel, which stood proud and twisted from
the ocean-bed of his flat stomach, was transformed into an island in a sea
of milk.

Shattered, the young teen had lain their, sweating and panting, recovering
his breath. All that he'd done and experienced had totally overawed
him. Gradually though his feelings had slid towards horror and guilt. Since
then he'd been stumbling around trying to come to terms with his new-found
feelings. He knew he liked girls, he'd had an eye on Deborah Parker, a girl
in his class, for a while, but he felt confused and disoriented by the
strength of his feelings. The images of his brother, which arose in his
mind like a thief in the night, could hardly be considered clean and
proper. Even before Ben he'd begun to develop something of a crush for his
best pal Andy O'Hara. He wanted to stroke his hair and cuddle him. Finding
any excuse he loved to tumble and mess with his mate. Taking the
opportunity in the heat of the 'fight' to grab his friends bum or brush
against his cock. He couldn't forget either the occasion he sat in the
theatre next to Ben, his brother had smelled really funny that evening,
dead sexy somehow, and he seemed to playing with himself a lot, always
adjusting himself. Dom had gotten quite hard, sitting next to him,
scrunched up in the back seat of the car.

Then there'd been the new boy, Adam Pearson, who'd recently joined his
scout group. He'd felt strange about him too. There was a chemistry between
the two boy's that Dom didn't understand and couldn't identify either. He
wanted to get to know Adam better and had planned to invite him over to
stay for the night. He usually had more than one mate around to stay, but
with Adam it was different. He wanted to have him around alone, by himself,
the better to--to what? To have sex he'd realised after his encounter with
Ben's jock and the images that had exploded in his brain. God, he hoped he
wasn't gay! He didn't feel gay; not that he had any idea about how being
'gay' felt. Rather, he felt an overwhelming desire to experience sex.

Two months off his fifteenth birthday the boy worried that he'd been left
behind. It seemed to him that everyone was doing 'it' and getting 'it',
except him. Anxious not too miss the train, Dom wanted to make up for what
he thought of as lost time. Fundamentally an honest straightforward boy, it
didn't occur to him that many of the boys in his class were as
inexperienced as he was. That they were not telling the whole truth, or
that they exaggerated what they'd done, blowing it up out of all
proportion. All he knew was that he was desperate for sex and, at this
moment in time, his body didn't seem to care where it came from or how he
got it.

The only sexual intimacy he knew was his brother's underwear and his own
right hand. Both would have to do for now but he sure as hell wanted more
than that. He didn't exactly feel comfortable chewing on his brother's
underwear now did he? But he couldn't stop himself either and he found
himself each evening laid in his bed waiting for Ben to retire for the
night. When the coast was clear he'd slip quietly out of bed and creep into
the bathroom. There he'd find his brother's briefs, still warm to the
touch, and host to all sorts of odours, flavours and fun. By now he knew
how his brother arranged his tackle, what his piss looked and smelled like,
if he'd been horny and leaked precum or left traces of spunk in his
briefs. For fuck's sake, he even knew if his brother had bothered to wipe
his arse properly or not! Not that that particular experience excited him
any.

Whatever else, it sure wasn't what he'd expected. You found a girl, you
kissed her, fell in love with her and you became boyfriend and girlfriend,
it was supposed to be as simple as that. His brother had been right about
how his desire, to change his underwear, must be connected with his hoping
for people to see him. Certainly when he'd gone over to Andy's on Saturday
night and changed for bed he felt the other boys regarding him in a new and
different light. Dom felt he looked okay in his crisp spanking new white
briefs, and he was pleased to feel a certain acceptance and note a certain
change in his relationship with his friends. He'd felt eyes appraising him
in new light, caught hurried exchanged glances that seemed to say, "Hey
check Dom out, he's becoming a real man, not a kid any longer." What he
didn't know, was that two of the boys present, out of the group of five,
had immediately sported stiffies at the sight and had become consumed with
their own worries. Dom sensed, rather than knew, that his change to briefs
signalled some sort of rite of passage. What he desperately wanted, more
than anything in the world, was to reach his destination and complete the
journey...

Ben being up and about so early in the morning had surprised Dom. What had
really got his brain moving though, was the sight of his brother standing
in the bathroom doorway looking sexy and damp. Just showered, not fully
dried, his brother had looked unimaginably desirable, the white towel
around his waist only added to the effect and it had clung to the bulge of
his older brother's more mature manhood, defining and enhancing
it. Entering the bathroom he knew he was going to have to wank. He could
never get through a day at school carrying that around in his
head. Instinctively, he threw open the lid of the laundry basket and saw a
pair of white Man Utd footie shorts that he'd not seen before. They were
obviously his brother's, and picking them up he was delighted to find that
they were still warm. Plainly, they'd just been slept in and soon Dom was
exploring the slinky warm nylon with his nose and tongue. They were a
particularly rich pair, the tell tale stains, which overlapped, testified
to their multiple use. His brother had left a great deal of evidence as to
the contents of his dreams. The shorts were blotched with patches of old
and dry cum and reeked of musk and sex. There were indeed traces of Chris
Morgan in the shorts too, though Dom didn't know it. Smiling, telling his
self that really he was doing his brother a favour, the boy obliterated all
traces of past passion as he sucked the shorts dry. Shooting his cream onto
the tiled bathroom floor the boy was soon under the hot shower and humming
a song. Having dried himself, he tossed Ben's shorts back into the basket,
checked that he'd wiped the floor properly and returned to his room.

Dominic had decided on a new policy over the weekend, what he called his
'fuck it' policy. Tried of all his doubts and anxieties over the last few
days, he decided that he didn't know what the hell was going on inside of
him. He certainly couldn't bloody understand it that's for sure. He'd
decided 'fuck it, I'm only 14!' and reckoned that things would soon sort
themselves out one way or the other. For the moment he was having a great
series of wanks, the best he'd ever had, and well, if that's all he could
get then so be it. He thought it extremely unlikely he'd ever get anything
out of his brother anyway. Ben was sure to be horrified, hadn't he been
avoiding him since the briefs thing? It sure seemed that way to
Dom. Besides, his brother had had a number of girlfriends and Dom couldn't
conceive of them not 'opening up' for his stud of a brother. Nah, Andy or
Adam were a more likely bet, if then. Wasn't there supposed to be a thing
about a 'phase?' Hadn't he read somewhere, his dad's newspaper maybe, about
lots of boys his age developing a crush on another boy? Something to do
with puberty he thought. Nothing usually came of it he remembered, or if it
did, it usually didn't last. Oh yeah, and another thing, he resolved to
screw up his courage and ask Deborah Parker out on a date. It was suddenly
very important to find out if was screwed up on that side of things too!

Ben had left his brother and closed his bedroom door. He sank wearily onto
his bed, just sitting there with his eyes closed, trying to control
himself. The sight of his brother looking so cute and adorable was the last
thing he'd needed. Suddenly he'd remembered been groped during yesterday's
footie match. Who the hell was that he wondered? Had it been Dom? It
certainly could have been, his brother had undoubtedly had the opportunity
that's for sure. Ben had briefly considered asking Adam, but somehow he
just didn't think that he was the guilty party. There'd been something so
open and honest about the boy that Ben couldn't believe he'd misjudged
him. Adam just didn't seem the type somehow. No it had to have been someone
else, but who? Ben didn't know but was determined to find out. Hell, he
thought, shaking his head, a wry smile at his lips, with my record I might
as well sleep with 'em all and know for sure!

The thought lightened his mood somewhat and getting dressed for school the
scholarly teen was soon at his desk taking notes from a learned tome. He
found study came easily to him, and he resolved to do this more often,
particularly with the need for revision fast approaching over the
horizon. Besides being greeted in the morning by the sight of his own kid
brother wasn't too shabby now was it? Grinning, despite himself, Ben
returned to his study, though less bookish thoughts were never far from his
consciousness, hovering there in the mist of his mind, rising and falling
with the beat of his churning heart.

Soon the normal sounds of a school morning filled the house and Ben;
looking at the time, realised he'd better grab some breakfast. As he made
his way down the stairs he could hear his brother in the kitchen, telling
his mother about Ben being up early. His mother laughed, obviously
understanding her younger son better than he thought,

"You can't have the house to yourself Dominic, Ben must have needed to get
on."

Ben entered the kitchen and was soon munching his way through a bowl of
cereal. His brother, as so often seemed to be case recently, avoided his
gaze and Ben worried that somehow Dom knew of his thoughts. Packing his
school bag Ben was soon out of the door and on his way to call at
Simon's. He hadn't seen Simon over the weekend, in itself an unusual
occurrence, and he was suddenly anxious to see his beloved and to hear what
he'd been up to. Hmm, loved one's; it was always a worry when you weren't
around to keep an eye on them, to know who they'd been with, what they'd
been upto. While they were never far from your thoughts, it might well be
the case with them of 'out of sight and out of mind'.

In Simon's case he needn't have worried, his newly acquired driving licence
had meant that the keen teen had spent every possible spare moment of his
weekend in the car. In fact his only worry had been that his best friend
hadn't been there to share it with him. He'd known Ben was busy with work
and had a barbecue to go to, but he'd still wished that the two of them
could have managed to get together. Besides, Benedict Johnson had been
acting a bit funny lately, and Simon was hoping that by going to the
concert together on Friday he might have a chance to straighten things out.

The two boys chatted amicably and easily. Ben listening to Simon, who was
still enraptured by being able to legally drive. Simon looked so
enthusiastic that to Ben he positively shone with radiance and boyish
charm. I wish school uniform looked as good on me, he thought. Indeed, the
uniform of black trousers, white shirt and 6th Form blue tie with red and
white thin stripes, looked particularly good on his special friend. Simon's
olive smooth skin and short tight curly black hair, which sparkled with
gel, seemed to Ben, the ideal compliment to his school's attire. The dark
and deep hazel eyes and the sharp jaw and cheekbones only added to the
allure, and the navy blue school blazer helped matters too. Remembering
Adam, Ben regarded his friend again, and took time to consider his
beauty. Yes, Simon was beautiful, there could be no doubt about that, and
he had floated into school exactly like the lovesick teenager he was.

The school day passed quickly and Ben was soon on his way home
again. Waving goodbye to Simon, he hadn't called in as he often did,
because he feared that he might not be able to control himself. There would
be a weekend's worth of underwear in the Jones family laundry, and while
for Ben this would normally have been an invitation not to be missed, he
couldn't face going into the house and encountering Luke. Even worse was
the thought that while he was there Luke would all the time be wondering if
Ben wasn't in the bathroom licking and sniffing his and Simon's
underwear. No he couldn't face that, not yet anyway, and the thought had
brought on a cold silent shiver. Still feeling pretty fragile, the boy
continued on his way, hoping that Tom would ring him back, soon. He was
beginning to get worried about this evening's game of squash and
desperately hoped that either Tom would ring or not turn up at all.

Back home, tugging off his blazer and tie, Ben grabbed a coke from the
fridge and wandered into the sitting room. His brother was laid on the
floor dressed like Ben in just a white shirt and coal black trousers. Flat
on his stomach, the younger boy was watching television and munching a
ragged looking sandwich. A half-drained glass of orange juice also stood on
the floor, greasy fingerprints smearing the glass.

"Hi," said Dom, breaking off from the TV to greet his older brother.

"Good day?" enquired Ben, as he flopped onto the sofa directly behind his
younger brother.

"Yeah, not bad thanks," said Dom turning back to the TV, "yours?"

"Err, yeah, all right I guess," said Ben suddenly distracted.

As soon as he sat down Ben realised he'd made a mistake. It wasn't the
cartoons on TV that caught his eye. Oh no, far from it. It was the twin
black orbs that packed and stretched his brothers school trousers that had
taken his fancy. The trousers were an old pair; shiny and worn, and through
the thin material the ridge of his brother's briefs was clearly
visible. The briefs cut high and deep across the cheeks only added to the
lustre of the peachy package, helping to define and contain their
blossoming ripe fruit. The sight soon had Ben's cock hard and he put his
hand into his pocket to try and sort out his tangled tackle. His brother's
bum seemed to be developing much faster than the rest of him. Rather like a
pathfinder, his brother's ass led the way and pointed to what was to come,
basking in its present elite status, and its dominance of the frail lean
body. It seemed to be way too big and ... juicy? Yes, juicy, thought Ben,
unable to stop himself from massaging the burning bulb in his pocket. His
brother's ass seemed to be perched somehow on top of the thin lean legs. As
though a potter had suddenly found too much clay left over and had sculpted
an extra layer onto the boy's flanks.

"Where's Sarah?" asked Ben.

"Eh?" said Dom lost in the cartoon, "Oh, swimming I think, or maybe
netball."

The boys' parents were both at work, so the two brothers were in the house
on their own. Ben decided to head upstairs and have a wank. There would be
a pair of his brother's briefs, fresh from yesterday, to consume. He'd
promised himself to try and stop. However, what he was staring at, had
aroused a painful erection that couldn't be denied. Already he could feel
the telltale stickiness clogging his briefs, as his cock began to leak its
lube and begin its relentless odyssey towards climax and fulfilment.

Dom had been laid on his stomach feeling reasonably happy with things. For
once his older brother hadn't run out on him and, although he'd not said
much, at least he was still there. He'd become absorbed in the cartoons
after that, quite content to just be with his brother and know that he was
happy to be in his presence.

Benedict adjusted himself in his briefs and put his left hand into his
pocket so as to mask his hardon. Standing up he said,

"Right, better go and get some work done," and he turned to leave the room.

Dragging his eyes away from his brother's pubescent peaches wasn't easy
however and, not looking where he was going, Ben's foot caught the TV
remote control that Dom had earlier tossed onto the floor. The sound of
high pitched squealing voices, emanating from the TV, ceased and the
cartoon on the screen froze and died, disappearing inside a tiny white dot.

"Oi!" cried Dom, whirring around to face his brother, raising himself up on
his elbows, his knees drawn up and his feet biting into the carpet, "Ben! I
was watching that!"

"Soz," said Ben, defensively, knowing what had distracted him, even then
recording the images of his brother's scrunched up basket, "wasn't
looking."

Ben stooped down to pick up the remote. As he bent his head forward he
suddenly found his brothers arms around his neck and he was pulled rapidly
to the floor.

"Gonna make you pay, you streak of piss!" laughed Dom, attempting to hold
his lean taller brother in an armlock.

"We'll see about that short-arse!" laughed Ben in return, gasping somewhat
at the suddenness of the attack, his left hand trapped in his trouser
pocket underneath his body.

The two brothers had often wrestled and fought in the past, hurling
insults, each attempted to best the other, both in the quality of their
grip and the sting of their taunts. The fights were never equal of course,
and it was an unwritten rule that Ben would hold something back, while his
brother snapped and harried the older boy like a small feisty terrier. The
'fights' were nearly always good-natured, usually a way of releasing the
pressure and excess that seems to build up in teenaged boys. Their feral
ancestry, inhabiting still forming bodies, occasionally broke through the
veneer of sophistication and civilisation. Some of the fights had ended in
tears, though not many, and in the last year or so they had grown fewer in
number. Although they happened less often, they tended to be much more
intense affairs now, as Dom flexed his developing muscles and Ben was
required to use more of his strength to subdue his growing brother. They'd
not wrestled in a while. Neither boy had recently dared to expose his
turbulent emotions to the maelstrom of their fight. Now that this encounter
was underway, each brother instinctively sensed that its outcome mattered
in a way no other had. No easily forgotten, quickly forgiven, 'I submit'
would determine the course of this particular grappling. There was an
uncertainty about the whole affair that was tangible and for a moment the
two boys froze, locked in an unwelcome, though much-desired embrace.

Having grabbed hold of his brother Dom suddenly didn't know what to do. It
had been a reaction thing, nothing particularly special or different from
hundreds of other times. Until now that is. Struck by the enormity of what
he'd done the young boy temporarily froze. He could feel his young cock
humming in his trousers and the smell and feel of his brother, exerting
himself, trying to break free from his grasp, bewitched and becharmed the
ensorcelled youth. Dom was on his knees, and had his older brother's head
trapped and locked under his right arm. His body was pressed against Ben,
who felt hot and wiry, and Dom, recovering quickly, found himself trying to
pull his brother's head forward and down, to drag him off his knees.

Ben had been taken completely unawares at first. Like his younger brother
he too had frozen, had wondered what the hell to do. He was very conscious
of how stiff he was, and that the reason for his hardness now held him in
its grasp. The left side of Ben's face was pressed against his brother's
chest. He could feel the heart beating rapidly and the smooth tight skin,
exuding heat beneath the cool cotton shirt. He could smell his brother too,
an odour not unlike his own, though he didn't know it. His brother produced
a rich incense of honeysuckle and sandalwood, filling his nostrils with its
aromatic perfume. Looking down, he could see his brother's small tight
mound, and he thought he could detect a hard edge to the bulge before it
disappeared into the jet-black folds and ridges of his schoolboy
trousers. Still off balance, Ben could feel his brother tugging him forward
and down, and inexorably he slid to his fate, doomed to encounter whatever
he was to befall.

Dom was pushing his brother now, forcing him onto the floor. Putting his
knee into the small of Ben's back he forced his brother face down into the
carpet and, in order to increase his purchase he straddled his brother and
slipped onto his back. Seeking dominance Dom pushed down while Ben,
beginning to recover attempted to force his self up onto all fours, in
preparation for the moment when he could cast off his brother. As Ben began
to rear up Dom instinctively grabbed onto the sides of his older
brother. Like a bear back raider attempting to tame a wild stallion he
clung to the older teen. Trying to keep his weight on top of Ben, not
wanting to be vanquished, his stiff hard cock prodded his brother's firm
taut buttocks.

Ben reacted like a scalded cat; he spun round under his brother, and
suddenly lay there stunned, regarding his younger brother who still sat
astride of him. If he thought the situation was bad before then it had
suddenly become infinitely worse. Feeling his young brother's prick, so
obviously hard and pressed against his ass had triggered an immediate and
instant reaction in Ben. Instinctively, he'd spun around to face his
assailant and in doing so confronted a truth that neither boy could anymore
avoid or ignore. The brother's automatically glanced, they couldn't help
it, and then they looked again, only this time it became a more considered
and searching probe. Yes, they were right, both of them! And then they
stared at each other, both feeling utterly helpless and speechless, holding
their breath and not daring to move a muscle.

As Ben had spun around and attempted to shake Dom off him, the younger boy
had slid a short distance down his brother's legs. Now, as they faced each
other, both of their bulging baskets were open to inspection by the
other. As soon as he'd faced his brother, Ben's eyes had locked onto their
target like a heat-seeking missile. It had happened instantly, complete and
pure reflex, he'd quickly glanced and then looked away. It was too late,
snared by the charm, as though hypnotised by a snake, his eyes had been
dragged back to Dom's shiny-black groin. His brother was hard, no doubt
about it, his young prick was clearly visible through the taut tight
material; a thick pencil of engorged tissue, straining to be released from
its prison. The head reached up to his brother's waistband and Ben felt
sure that it was only the black leather belt, that clung to the slender
boy's tightly bound waist, that had stopped it from escaping.

As Ben had tried to throw him and slip from under him, Dom had hung on to
his older brother with the intensity of a drowning man clinging to a
lifeboat. Clamping his legs once again around the nearly escaped limbs
Dom's eyes had momentarily gazed upon his brother's swollen booty. He'd
almost burst into tears. He hadn't meant to look, he didn't mean any
harm. His brother's treasure chest was packed to overflowing. The black
school trousers, dishevelled and pulled by the fight, had become stretched
and clinging. They revealed, what looked like to Dom, a huge slab of thick
pulsing meat. He'd never seen an erection on anyone else before. A picture
of the giant Gulliver, snared and pegged out by the Lilliputian's suddenly
flashed into his mind. That's how his brother's cock seemed to him. It was
bloody enormous, really thick too, you had no difficulty in making out the
helmet. Its inverted 'v' was clearly visible through the material; you
could run your finger across the ridge and you'd have to use your hand to
grab hold of the corpulent shaft. Even better, his brother's white shirt
had become tugged loose, and golden hair and creamy smooth flesh taunted
him through the rupture in the material.

Both boys just stared at one another; their eyes locked in seemingly an
eternal embrace. They exchanged hopes and fears, lust and longing. Each
searched the other, suddenly exchanging places and exploring the world
through another's eyes. Both still hoped that their own individual secrets
still lay safe and sound under lock and key. Neither had drawn breath,
their bodies were rigid, yet each sensed the trembling at their core.

"Dom," gasped Ben, his throat suddenly terribly constricted, his tongue
bone dry and rough as sandpaper.

"bbbBen," stammered his younger brother, the word strangled, dying in his
throat.

Ben reached up to his brother, and pulled him towards him. With
unimaginable tenderness he drew his brother to his breast and clutched him
there, like a mother sheltering her brood. Dom snuggled upto the pillow of
his brother's white cotton shirt. The hot flesh, radiating heat from
beneath and the steady pulsing rhythm of the heartbeat soothed and calmed
his fevered brow. This was where he had wanted to be; this was where he
was, at rest on his brother's chest. All he knew at that moment was
contentment and peace, calm and fulfilment.

Ben held his smaller brother; indeed, fierce and tight was his grip, yet
something of softness and gentleness was present too. Raising his head he
beheld his brother's luxuriant crown. Stretching slightly, he grazed his
nose over the boy's field of ripe golden corn, the soft blond hair
reminding him of fresh cut grass, damp after a short shower. Emboldened, he
kissed the golden locks, before his head fell back to earth and he wondered
and waited.

His brother's arms, until now lifeless and forlorn, their fingers clutching
the thick pile of the carpet suddenly began to slowly stir. Tentatively,
the boy's tenuous fingers reached for Ben's head. Stumbling like a blind
man; Dominic's eyes were scrunched shut and he still adhered to his
brother's bosom, the fingers traced their faltering path over Benedict's
face before coming to rest in the undergrowth of his kingly mane. To
Dominic his brother's hair felt soft and pliant, warm and alive, the little
gel that his brother habitually applied gave it an adhesive quality as
well. It were as though the thin tendrils of golden thread were weaving
their way around his fingers, ensnaring and cocooning them in a gossamer
web. The scalp felt hot, slightly sticky, and the skull underneath hard and
unyielding.

As the younger boy's hands had reached up to his brother's head his body
had eased slightly, finally moving. The action of stretching had drawn the
young teen's rigid cock over his brother's straining mound. Both boy's had
shuddered and they became locked in a writhing and agonising
embrace. Pleasure ran through their lean slender forms, lust rippled and
coursed through every joint and sinew. Slowly, with increasing speed and
rhythm the two hard youthful bodies bucked and thrust. Their whole spirit
and essence seemed to have concentrated and pooled in their pleasure giving
bulges. The boy's clothes became drenched with sweat and labour. The
atmosphere in the room had changed; the temperature had surely risen and
the air was thick with boymusk and sex, which seemed to rise invisibly from
the melted and moulded forms.

Dominic's fingers gripped Ben's head tightly as he strained to release his
burdensome load. Like scratching an itch, he returned again and again to
the spot that burnt and tingled. His cock skidded and slued over his
brother's engorged protuberance. His tight hugging briefs were slick with
lube and juices as his straining cock bucked and mashed against the larger
pole. Feeling his brother's hands, suddenly at his young tight buttocks,
only increased his fervour. The fingers bit deep, as they ranged and played
over his marbled ass, and they paused occasionally to stroke and
pleasure. Dom had never known such a feeling and his tight young balls
began to simmer and shake in their compressed cotton cup.

Benedict was equally lost in the frenzy of his passion. His hands were full
of his brother's wonderful arse; the firm meaty cheeks brimmed with fruit
and promise. The shiny tight material of the black school trousers only
added to the whole. They hugged his brother like a second skin, warm and
soft they, and the briefs beneath, slid across the glacis of the smooth
spotless cheeks that were oiled with sweat and lust. Ben's own cock was
like steel, though it was molten at its core, as it burned and toiled in
his briefs. Ben had chosen Tom's white nylon briefs to wear to school
today. He'd be handing them back soon and knew that Tom wanted them worn
and full of his juices. He sure wasn't going to be disappointed! His cock,
throbbing and pulsing under the weight of his brother, repeatedly battered
and bruised by the youth's raging assault, waxed and waned as it slipped
inside the slinky briefs. The more abrasive cotton of his trousers added
extra grip, and sent ripples of voluptuousness coursing through his
straining cock. Even better was the relentless poking his mushroom received
from his brother's sharp spear; it poked its barb into his mound as though
it sought to burrow into his bulge.

Although the two pricks snapped and nipped at each other like true fighting
cocks or, indeed, angry muzzled dogs, this was no mere fight for dominance
and victory. This was pleasure unalloyed, shared and enjoyed, brother to
brother, sharing their common heritage and life giving essence. The tensing
of his brother's buttocks, the way they clenched and tightened, told
Benedict that his younger brother was close to orgasm. Instinctively,
wanting to join his brother, to share the moment, he thrust his pelvis into
his brother's sex crazed swelling.

In the grip of the most primal and powerful experience of his young life
Dominic suddenly began to shudder and shake, as his loins were seared with
heat and fire. His thrusting became ragged and wild as he spewed his hot
creamy load inside his new pair of yellow cotton briefs. The feeling of
this new lubricant, thick and cloying around his cock, seemingly melting
the cotton onto his flesh sent further spasms rippling through his slight
frame. Knowing the uncontrolled bucking and grinding for what it was
Benedict too suddenly found himself swept away in the torrent of his
climax. The thin nylon briefs, already soaked with sweat and his copious
lube, suddenly filled with his hot rich cream as he strove to empty himself
into the velvety heaven. The rich cum rapidly filled the briefs, and it
boiled and bubbled along the shaft and balls and seeped through the black
thin cotton of his trousers.

Easing up, though slowly, like two deep-sea divers fearing the bends, the
depth and richness of the experience not easily abandoned, the two boy's
lay there, still silent, panting and gasping. Ben mussed his brother's hair
and gently stroked and teased it, running it through his finger's, trying
to surely convince himself that this had really happened. Dom just lay
there, still nestled against his older brother, utterly overcome and
exhausted. It was funny, he felt diminished yet enlarged, in losing
himself, in giving, he had somehow received and found something greater.

Finally Ben summoned up the energy to speak,

"Dom," his voice creaked, cracked and strained.

Slowly his brother turned up to look at him. It was the first time they'd
exchanged sight since the beginning.

Not knowing what he was about to say, not yet at peace with what he felt,
Ben stumbled for words, suddenly tongue-tied, lacking the vocabulary to
express what he wanted.

"I--I--" he began, stumbling and faltering.

No clue existed upon his younger brother's knotted brow; no guide existed
in those deep blue eyes to help guide him along his way.

"Dom, I--I--"

Brrrp, Brrrp, cheeped the phone, suddenly ringing, breaking the cathedral
like silence, and shattering the spell that held the two boys.

As though it signalled his chance to escape, his younger brother suddenly
slipped off the older boy and dashed out of the room. Hearing the footsteps
thunder up the stairs, Ben was momentarily stunned. Shit!

"Dom!" he called, torn between answering the insistent ring of the phone
and the needs of his younger brother, "Dom!"

"Fuck! Shit, shit shit!"

Somehow, knowing the moment was gone; he picked himself up and made his way
wearily over to the phone. He felt old beyond his years, and his movement
was lifeless and heavy. Picking up the phone, he enquired,

"Hello?"

His voice, emotionless and flat, lifeless and spent.

"Err, hello, Ben?" enquired Tom, sounding cautious, not sure that it was
indeed Ben he was speaking too.

"Oh, err, hi, Tom, thanks for calling back," said Ben, biting his lower
lip, attempting to concentrate and failing.

His cock felt all hot and mushy in his briefs, while his cum as it cooled,
felt gammy and sticky, and the slick nylon now clung to his shrivelled
member like old wrinkled skin. His mind's-eye could still picture his
brother, how he'd rapidly fled from the scene of the crime. Already guilt
was beginning to gnaw away at him, the euphoria, dissipated by the sudden
exit of Dom, had been replaced with even more doubts and uncertainties than
he'd had before. Shit, shit and fucking shit he cursed. Trying to control
himself, trying to catch Tom's words through the haze.

"I'm sorry?" said Ben, "what was that?"

Tom laughed, oblivious to the boy's plight,

"Cloth-ears! I was just saying I won't be seeing you tonight. I can't make
it. Can't do Wednesday I'm afraid either," he mumbled somewhat
apologetically.

"Oh," said Ben, relieved that at least for tonight he wouldn't have to be
worrying about Simon meeting Tom, he could do without that just now.

The boy however, was disappointed too; he suddenly needed to see Tom and to
talk to him. His young shoulders were carrying a load he could no longer
bear; he was desperate for help. He felt crushed under the load and his
chest suddenly felt tight and constricted.

"Can I see you at all? Soon, real soon," Ben pleaded.

Tom, catching the note of urgency, knew something was not right with the
boy, this was not the Ben he knew, certainly not the dreamy sex-mad teen
from the other night.

"What's wrong Ben?" he enquired, his voice suddenly gentle and
compassionate.

Ben sighed,

"I can't go into it now, its too, oh, I don't know, its too fuckin complex
that's for sure."

"Okay, okay," said Tom, indicating understanding, though of what he didn't
know.

"You have free periods don't you? How you fixed tomorrow afternoon? I'm
free and the house will be empty."

"Erm, yeah, sure," replied Ben, trying desperately to remember his
timetable, finding concentration and focus difficult, "err Tuesday's are
good for me too. I could come from school. Say, half-two?"

"Great," said Tom, "I'll put the kettle on. You're obviously in need of
some tea and sympathy. Hope I can help."

"Hope so too," said Ben wearily, "though you might not have much sympathy."

"Hey Ben, I'm here, okay? Whatever you've got to say I'll be sure to
listen. Will keep my hands off you to if that'll help!"

Tom had emphasised the last part, hoping to cheer up the boy who sounded so
gloomy and glum. In a way, he was trying to encourage him too, letting him
know that someone still cared and wanted to be with him.

"Its me keeping my hands off that's the problem," said Ben.

"Ah, right," said Tom, glimpsing the truth, beginning to understand
something of the boy's predicament.

Screwing up his courage, remembering the tears of the other night, he
gently enquired,

"Is it Simon?"

"No, not Simon," Ben sighed, "look I better leave it 'til tomorrow. We'll
talk then."

"Sure, no probs," said Tom, backing off, knowing that he'd have to wait and
see. Whatever it was he just hoped he could help.

His own life hadn't been too hot when it came down to relationships and he
was hoping that Ben might be able to learn from his experience. Perhaps
profit from them too? Who knows, he thought? I'll just have to do my best.

"Okay Ben, will be thinking of you, take care now, see you tomorrow."

"Thanks Tom, see you at half-two," replied Ben.

"Bye Ben," said Tom.

"Bye," answered Ben.

Ben put down the phone and sank into the armchair at its side. Cupping his
hands in his face, he rubbed his eyes and then ran his fingers through his
still damp hair. He breathed deeply, calming himself, attempting to steady
the rocking rolling ship. He thought of his brother upstairs, considered
going up too see him and talk - about what? He wasn't sure what words he
could use, was uncertain if it would do any good. He just wanted to hold
his brother. Yeah, like that would do them any good for fucksake! Look what
had just happened you idiot!

The older boy just wanted to tell his brother that he'd done nothing wrong,
it wasn't dirty. Dom wasn't to blame. It was his fault. He should have
known better, reacted differently should have seen things coming. Whatever
he might want to tell his brother, to absolve him, take the weight off his
shoulders, Ben felt that he had done wrong, and soiled something good and
beautiful. He was the older brother his was the responsibility. His parents
trusted him for God's sake to look after his brother and sister whenever
they were out. He wasn't supposed to pervert his own brother! Feeling a
mess, suddenly wanting to get out of his clothes, the cold sticky nylon now
a silent reproach, he made his way slowly upstairs. He paused at the top of
the landing, glanced at his brother's closed bedroom door, and briefly
considered knocking. The door suddenly looked forbidding and
uninviting. Shrugging his shoulders, knowing he should have done better,
feeling an intense sense of failure and loss, he entered his room and
quietly closed the door.

He quickly stripped out of his clothes, the damp material clinging to his
body, and he used the sleazy nylon briefs to wipe down his cum laden
cock. Examining his school trousers he found a spot where his spunk had
oozed through the material. It was already starting to dry and crust, and
Ben, slipping on his dressing gown, popped into the bathroom to sponge it
down. He was just about to throw his shirt into the basket of dirty laundry
when he caught a glimpse of something bright and canary yellow. Reaching
down into the basket he pulled out a small pair of yellow cotton
briefs. They were warm; Dom had obviously been here before him. That they'd
just been subject to the two brothers encounter was confirmed by a pool of
thick spunk now congealing on the inside of the briefs. The pouch was
sodden with cum and lube and was rank with the sex of his brother.

Unable to stop himself, it being a long-standing practice of his to wank
his way out of any misery, Ben drew the pouch up to his mouth and licked
his brother's young astringent cream. His other hand was already pumping
his cock and as he sucked the savoury briefs and inhaled their musk Ben
found himself shooting a few dribbles of spunk onto his fist and the
floor. The anaesthetic of the moment passed, Ben returned to misery
again. In fact he felt worse, filled with self-loathing and disgust, he
shoved the briefs and his shirt guiltily into the basket and fled the
bathroom. Back in his room, he slipped into an old red T-shirt and black
trackies and he flopped onto his bed. His mind blank, numbed, soon took
refuge in sleep and the boy dozed fitfully.

In the other bedroom, across the way, his younger brother Dominic lay also
on the bed considering his fate. Curled up like a foetus, clutching a
pillow, the boy stared blankly at the wall. The long lashes were dark and
damp and the deep blue eyes were misty with silent tears. Dom felt
awful. No, that wasn't quite right, because he felt great too. Hadn't he
just had his first sex? Well sort of anyway. He'd just undergone an
incredible experience, none better, and he was already desperate for more,
but, with his brother? That was the problem, there in a nutshell, his own
fuckin brother. He felt terribly guilty, like he'd led his brother astray,
why should Ben have to suffer too? Just coz I'm screwed up it doesn't mean
I have to fuck Ben up as well. The fact that his brother had sported a
massive hardon and had so obviously cum meant nothing to Dom. He was stiff
all the time wasn't he? It didn't mean anything. It wouldn't have mattered
if he hadn't looked. Could have been laughed off, if he hadn't then
proceeded to rub himself off against his brother. What was Ben supposed to
do? If anything he'd been really kind while Dom had suddenly fucked off and
abandoned him. It was just that Dom didn't know what to say, 'cept sorry,
and he was sure his brother didn't want to hear him at the moment. Surely
for Ben, cumming had been an accident? He couldn't believe his brother
would actually want to do that with him. Poor Ben! He must have gotten off
on all Dom's rubbing. He was probably really mad, hadn't he shouted after
him when he'd fled? That was the difference, Dom had wanted it, he was sure
Ben hadn't even dreamed of it, and it must never be allowed to happen
again. Hope he's still talking to me, he thought, worrying if Ben might
mention it to his parents.

Ben awoke to the sound of the front door being closed. Checking the time he
realised it must be his mother. He got up off the bed and switched on his
computer and attempted to lose himself in some mindless game. He knew that
soon enough he'd have to go downstairs and eat, his parents were very
particular about shared meals, and he wondered what he was going to
do. Sure enough it didn't seem 5 minutes, though it was in fact longer,
before his mother was calling him and Dominic down to eat. So, his brother
was still upstairs too? Taking a deep breath, he opened his door only to be
greeted by the sight of his brother Dom, passing on his way downstairs.

The younger boy looked startled, and Ben felt momentarily
nonplussed. Before he got chance to do or say anything Dom had disappeared,
taking the steps 3 at a time.

"Dom!" shouted his mother, knowing whom it was making the noise.

"Sorry," Ben heard him reply.

Shrugging his shoulders, praying that the whole thing wasn't about to come
out over dinner, Ben gingerly descended the stairs.

The meal passed, it wasn't great, but at least they'd got through it
okay. There was definitely an atmosphere though. Neither of the brothers
dared look at the other, least not openly anyway, and they spent the meal
stealing surreptitious glances when they thought the other off guard. Both
boy's had suddenly felt their stomachs churn when there mother had asked,
"Have you two had a fight?" Both boys had blushed and mumbled no.

Marie Johnson knew that something had gone on between her two son's though
she wasn't sure what. However, she had enough sense not to probe any
further and, in truth, had great faith in the ability of her two boys to
sort things out between themselves. She was intensely proud of her
children, and while Ben was doing so well, she was enjoying her middle
child in particular at the moment. Watching Dominic becoming a fine young
man was, for her, a beautiful moment, even though it signalled to both her
and her husband, Peter, their age, and the fact that the coop would soon be
empty. Only a few more years and, like as not, they'd all be gone and this
house would suddenly seem empty and sad.

Ben had helped stash the dishwater and then disappeared upstairs to do a
little homework. He had a few notes he had to get done and, as he'd soon be
out to play squash, then he knew he'd better get them done. Dom had stayed
downstairs, watching TV, and Ben couldn't help wonder, periodically
breaking off from his studies, if he was going to say anything to their
parents. He was half-expecting his father's voice, calling, outraged and
demanding his presence. The call never came however, and soon it was time
to get ready for squash.

Ben changed quickly, not even bothering with his jockstrap, he decided to
keep to his white CK's instead. It was almost as if he was punishing
himself, was fed up with his errant cock and his deviant desires. He'd just
finished changing when he heard Simon call, it was Simon's dad's turn to
take the boys and as usual Simon was dead on time. Ben, who was a little
bit more relaxed about these things, could picture Mr. Jones being badgered
and hectored by Simon so as 'not to be late'. He could sympathise; Simon
was always hassling him too, but it didn't bother him, like all things
Simon, he rather liked it actually, enjoyed surrendering control, placing
himself in the hands of his beloved. Grabbing his bag and racquet he ran
downstairs and greeted Simon.

Soon the two boys were in the car and, 10 minutes later, were stood outside
the squash club.

Waving his father off, Simon turned towards Ben,

"You okay? You look like shit?"

"What?" answered Ben, surprised the boy had noticed, "Oh, err, yeah, I'm
fine, just tired s'all."

"Okay," said Simon, somewhat doubtfully, sensing that he wasn't going to
get any further, wondering what it was with his friend lately.

Ben tried to shrug off his feelings but he played poorly and lost
easily. Indeed, the match was over far quicker than usual, and after
showering and dressing the boy's had time to have a drink before Ben's dad
would arrive to pick them up.

Sipping his coke in the bar, the staff here knew the boys were not yet 18,
Simon tried again.

"Sup Ben? There's gotta be something, you've not played so shite for
ages. I know I'm good," his face had broken into a smile at that, "but I'm
not that good. So what is it? You've been acting funny lately, definitely
not yourself. I'm a bit worried about you. I hardly see you these days."

There, he'd said it, what more could he do?

Ben was still feeling miserable, he knew he'd been lousy company, hadn't
really given Simon a game either. These nights were special, now it seemed
he'd infected them. Something he had sought to keep separate had somehow
seeped through, crossed over, into his relationship with Simon. Now he was
in danger of ruining even that. Simon might not bother with him soon and
who could blame him? Who'd want to be friends, never mind lovers, he
sighed, with a boy who messed with his own younger brother? And, what was
even worse in this case, a friend, your best friend at that, who fucked
your own younger brother? Ben doubted he could be so magnanimous, even
though he knew it wasn't quite like it sounded, hadn't really happened as
though he'd planned it.

The only light on the horizon was that Simon was still here and was
actually concerned, worried. Even better, Simon had missed him!
Unfortunately, at the best of times Ben found his self a bit tongue-tied
around Simon, well, about certain things anyway. Now, it was infinitely
worse and much more difficult.

"Oh, I don't know what it is," said Ben, "gimme time, it'll sort itself
out."

"I see," said Simon, looking pained and a little anguished, "but whatever
'it' is, you can't tell me, right?"

"I'm sorry," was all Ben could bring himself to say, his sense of
affliction undiminished, in fact, even growing.

"Sorry eh?"

Said Simon shaking his head,

"What happened Ben? We used to be mates, best friends, now I'm beginning to
feel I hardly know you. There's something wrong with you and you're telling
me I can't help. You know how that makes me feel? This big!" said Simon,
creating a half circle between finger and thumb, leaving a gap between the
two of about half-an-inch.

Ben sat there stunned, weathering the storm as best he could, he could feel
his friend's passion and intensity, his confusion over what he couldn't see
and wasn't allowed to understand. Still Ben said nothing, feeling somehow
that he deserved all of it and more.

"Whatever it is Ben," Simon continued, "get it sorted, please?"

"If its home or a girl or--or fuck knows what, just deal with it, okay? Or
let me know you're at least underway, trying to sort whatever it is, out,
'kay? We're going to the concert on Friday. I was looking forward to
it. Don't make me regret asking you Ben.  Jeeze, I never thought I'd say
that Ben," said Simon hurriedly, suddenly terribly contrite.

Shaking his head, as if surprised by his own words and the force of his
feelings, he continued, the words tumbling out of him,

"I'm sorry I said that, I apologise. You know I didn't mean it. I just got
carried away for a moment, sorry. Its none of my business, forget I
asked. I suppose I'd just hoped--" he trailed off lamely.

"Still friends?"

A single tear trickled down Ben's cheek, and he nodded, hardly able to
bring himself to talk.

Seeing his friend suffering, feeling awkward and embarrassed, as though
somehow responsible, Simon reached out and self-consciously patted Ben's
hand on the table. The lean delicate fingers, (surgeon's hands perhaps or
possibly pianist's fingers?), felt clammy and hot and Simon could feel Ben
trembling. He could feel a number of pairs of eyes suddenly looking at the
two of them. He thought, fuck 'em! He's my friend. He turned to stare down
a middle-aged woman who was looking over at them disapproving.

Clenching Ben's wrist, gripping it tightly, He leaned forward and
whispered,

"I'll always be your friend Ben, always. If I can help, then let me, but
please, don't cut me out all together."

Relinquishing his grip, he got up and walked out of the bar. His dad would
soon be here anyway and, more important, he suddenly needed some air. He'd
been surprised by how much hurt he felt, amazed at the pain of not knowing
what was wrong with Ben. What was worse, was why wouldn't Ben talk to him?
What had he done, or said, or missed? Simon didn't know. If anything, he
felt a little sick, and he wondered if his evening meal hadn't agreed with
him, or pondered if perhaps he'd eaten too late, and that the game had
shaken it all up inside of him.

What really scared him though was what had happened at the end and that was
why he'd suddenly fled out here, safe and no longer under any threat. He'd
taken Ben's hand to comfort his friend, wanted to show him he cared. It was
no big deal, he was sure Ben would have done the same for him. Instead of
comforting his friend however, Simon had found himself considering his own
fears and anxieties. He'd known for a while that Ben was special to him,
different somehow from all his other friends. What he didn't know was that
at night when he dreamed, he was often in Ben's arms, kissing, exploring,
and making love. When he woke up in the middle of the night, glossy and
sweaty, his body and bedclothes covered in thick sticky spunk he could
never remember what had brought him to that point. His conscious mind
blotted it out, denied it ever had happened. It seemed to say, Ben, Ben
who? No, I don't know any Ben, believe me you don't want to know
either. Look at Susan Jackson she's nice, or perhaps Tara O'Connor.

Instead of just patting his friend's hand Simon had wanted to explore some
more. He'd wanted to wipe away the tear that had formed on the soft downy
cheek with his tongue, and mesmerised by the luscious red lips, had wanted
to lean forward and kiss Ben. He'd become lost for a moment in the soft
blue eyes, could have stayed there for ever actually, and his fingers had
wanted to stroke his friend's soft smooth skin that had somehow burned him
as he touched. Indeed, his fingers still tingled with the memory of the
moment. Simon shook his hand and banished the thoughts. Whatever Ben was
going through at the moment he needed a friend, not this, not some daft
puff slobbering all over him. Puff? Nah, thought Simon, must be the food,
can't be. I'm nearly 18, I'd have known by now, surely? But he was
beginning to doubt, and the young scientist in him hated doubt. Wasn't his
life about rationality and order? Didn't he like to know the answer, to
prove something true or false, demonstrate the fact, to explore? Yes, to
explore! He needed time to explore his feelings and hoped that in doing so
he wouldn't distract Ben from sorting out whatever was troubling
him. Whatever happens he thought, I must be there for him. I can't let this
get in the way. Ben, emerging from the club suddenly interrupted his
thoughts and Simon turned and tentatively smiled, looking at his friend in
a new and different light.

Ben had remained sitting in the bar when Simon had upped and left. He'd
almost died when his hand had been grabbed, felt he didn't deserve such a
beautiful friend. Stinging from the lash of Simon's rebuke, he'd wallowed
in self-pity before finally realising that whatever happened on Friday he
was soon going to have to confront his friend with the truth. Simon
deserved it, it wasn't fair on him and it sure wasn't his fault! It might
not work out, okay, probably wouldn't, but he was getting to the point of
being beyond caring. Ben felt as though he'd turned a corner, had come to a
decision. The feel of Simon's hand had warmed him and for a moment he'd
luxuriated in the afterglow of heat, the residual compassion he'd felt, it
seemed to seep through his body and helped brighten his mood. Stumbling
outside, he was confronted by Simon who was grinning at him, silently
asking him if he was okay.

"Thanks Simon," said Ben, "sorry for messing up your evening, I'll do
better on Friday, believe me. You've helped me a lot and, well, I guess
I'll get back to you soon, we'll talk it over. Okay?"

"Fine, no rush Ben," said Simon, nodding agreement, yet wondering exactly
where the door he'd just peeped through might personally lead him.

Mr Jones, well trained as ever, arrived spot on time and soon the boy's
were exchanging goodbyes and settling into their own homes. In opening his
front door, Ben suddenly remembered that he'd have to confront some other
'hometruths' too and he resolved to treat Dom as best he could. Had Dom
taken the opportunity to tell his parents? Waited until he was out and got
his side of the story in first?

Dom in fact was in bed, 'Haven't seen him all evening, are you sure he's
alright?' his mother had said. Ben had mumbled that he was sure Dom was
okay and, feeling relieved, he was too tired to have to deal with that now,
he made his way up to bed. He was soon asleep, and in his dreams Simon's
hand moved up his arm and grabbing his head pulled him forward. The boy's
lips had lingered in a passionate exchange of love and they'd fallen to the
floor to...

To be continued? If you have any thoughts or comments then please let me
know. Feedback is always helpful and much appreciated. Many thanks.