Date: Wed, 02 Jan 2002 21:58:27 +0000
From: Jo Vincent <joad123@hotmail.com>
Subject: Flip's Tale Chapter 1 (t/t/t..., HS, mast/oral)
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 story has been written in the gap between being unwell and trying to
finish a much longer story to be posted on Nifty at some time in the
future. It is based on various incidents which I have been told about but
all names and places have been changed and it has been heavily
fictionalised to protect the guilty! My thanks to those who have kept in
touch after my previous stories. If you haven't read them yet I have
listed them at the end of this first episode. Bless you all.
Flip's Tale
By
Joel
Chapter 1
1A In the beginning:
I must admit from the start that when I was fourteen I had the beginnings
of a behaviour problem. At least, that was what the educational
psychologist said when the school and my mother referred me to him. Well,
I've always had a short fuse and those two Year 11 boys shouldn't have
started taking the mick. Being five foot nine and muscled with it,
although only in Year 9, I sorted them both out and they went home
complaining to their parents I'd beaten them up. I'd had a few flare-ups
before that but nothing which the school - an independent Grammar School -
hadn't sorted out with what I see now as tact and diplomacy with my
increasingly less tolerant mum.
I suppose I was going through a bit of a rough time. My dad had been
killed in a car accident when on business for the company he worked for as
an accountancy consultant when I was eight and my little brother was four
and a bit. Mum, who worked as a solicitor, had a hefty insurance payout
from the company which she invested wisely but after a couple of years she
got hooked up with some Creep, with a capital C! I couldn't stand the
sight of him. Although to be fair to him he never said or did anything to
piss me off, but the main good thing he did was to make me want to be out
of the house as much as possible, so I joined a gym and the local Rugby
Club.
Me? My full name is Phillip Thomas Menzies, same as my father before me,
but family and friends called me Flip as when my younger brother was very
little he couldn't say my name properly. I didn't like the Thomas because
when I misbehaved my mother called me to order by intoning my full name in
a menacing voice. I tried not to piss off my mother too much, I really,
underneath, loved her too much, but the Creep was another matter. I didn't
want someone else supplanting the happy memories of my dad. Luckily Ray
the Creep had his own house, having divorced about four years previously,
and he, as far as I knew, never stayed at ours overnight. Still I barely
tolerated him and spent as much time out of the house as I could.
The Rugby Club was great. I joined because the playing field backed onto
our house and I had been fascinated from the time we'd moved there, when I
was six, by the games I watched through the fence. As well as the Senior
sides they ran about six Junior sides from eight- year-olds upwards and
once I'd been playing for a few weeks I was, at the age of eleven, put into
the Under 14's side. This was also fascinating because it was after
matches in the showers or communal baths I discovered that the older boys
were sprouting decorative hair around their pricks and their cocks and
balls generally hung or swung lower than my still boyish equipment.
As I turned out to be a valued member of the team I wasn't ridiculed
because of my lack of penile growth or hairy adornment, but I did listen in
carefully to the quite startling conversations and the things called out
when changing or dressing. One common term of friendly, I assumed
friendly, abuse was 'wanker'. I had no idea at this time in my life that
this related to the most common activity of the fourteen-year-olds in the
team who, to a man, had hairy bushes and much bigger cocks than me.
Sometime in that first year I did gather what the activity entailed but my
feeble attempts at replicating it in the privacy of my room produced
nothing startling other than a frisson, like a minute electric shock,
somewhere below my tiny ball sac. I soon gave that bit of experimentation
up through sheer boredom but still listened in avidly and observed
circumspectly.
In fact, I did pretty well at rugby. We had two smashing coaches, brothers
in their late twenties who had played in some big team down South before
moving up to the Midlands to work after they had finished at university.
They made us work hard and I certainly did. I played at hooker between two
hefty fourteen-year-old prop forwards, Justin and Jerry, and I revelled in
the rough and tumble of the scrums, rucks and mauls. I soon got renamed as
Fiery Phil on the team as I was always up with the ball and I could tackle
like a young demon. The other lads didn't mess with me although I was the
youngest in the team because there was one particular incident which got me
the name.
We were playing this other team from some mining village. They thought
they were God's gift to rugby and tried every dirty trick in the book to
win. At one point one lad in our team on the wing, who had always had a
good word to say to me, was bashed straight in the goolies by their lock
forward after a rather nasty tackle. He went down and clutched his nads
while the other team just laughed and said there was more of that where it
came from. God, I was mad! I saw which of their mob had done the damage
and soon after I had the opportunity for revenge. He was a big, lumbering
lad and looked more than the statutory age for being in that team but I
wasn't scared of him even although at the time I was just twelve and a bit.
Anyway, he fumbled around and picked up the ball not more than three yards
from me. It was my opportunity. I launched myself at his substantial
thighs and tackled him. I got him down more by luck than judgment. He
fell onto my arm and pushed down, no doubt hoping to hurt me. I got even
madder. I pushed my arm under him, moved my right hand up, clamped my fist
round his basket of goodies and squeezed as hard as I could.
From the size of his bollocks he was definitely over age, they felt like
two large plums. I squeezed again, even harder, and felt his balls squash
against the meaty tube of his prick. Christ, he bellowed! I let go,
withdrew my arm, stood up and looked around, all innocence, as if I was
wondering where the Bull of Bashen was. Luckily the referee hadn't seen my
action as his attention was distracted by some other nefarious act
perpetrated by another in that roughhewn team. He blew up and awarded our
side a scrum down in any case.
Of course, coach Martin had seen my misdemeanour. Nothing was said until
next practice. The two brothers had a good way of dealing with our
infringements whenever they occurred. One would pick up the offender -
remember although we were all under fifteen some of the others in the team
were pretty hefty - turn him over and smack him sharply on the arse citing
the offence. He would then bodily throw the miscreant to his equally huge
brother who would administer the same punishment before dropping the
laughing youngster to the ground. You had to laugh even though two mighty
thwacks had reddened your arse cheeks.
It was all part of the game and if you couldn't stand that you weren't
rugby material. Next practice was on the following Tuesday and I was
standing chatting to the wing, Tony Bull, whose battered balls had started
the kerfuffle last match and was told to shut it and pay attention by the
other brother, coach Mark. The brothers then quickly dissected the game
and set us to replay some of the moves with the intention of improving our
manoeuvres. I wasn't paying attention again at some point and this riled
Mark who picked me up, smacked me mightily four times, saying two were for
not being in command at that moment and two for being Fiery Phil the
Bollock Crusher on Saturday. He then launched me skywards. I sailed
through the air about nine or ten feet and, landed on the shoulder of his
brother who proceeded to deliver another four fearful smacks to my bum with
the same commentary.
However, he ruffled my hair as he let me down more carefully than usual
with the compliment that I was a good lad notwithstanding. I blushed but
felt very proud even though when I inspected my bare arse at home later
that evening there were some very red imprints. So, I was Fiery Phil from
thence onward at the club and received many good-natured smacks on my tight
shorts together with that epithet from my fellow forwards from that day on
as I packed down with them in the front row.
At the gym, of course, coming up to eleven I wasn't allowed to
over-exercise but the older lads there sort of adopted me and kept a
brotherly eye on me and over the next three years I put on a fair bit of
muscle and weight. In fact, when puberty and my growth spurt clicked in I
shot up like Jack's beanstalk so that was why I was tall and hefty when
those two buggers started mouthing off at me. I suppose they thought as
they were at least a year and a half or more older, and both were taller
than me, they could get away with it. No way, I stood it for about two
minutes flat then I let them both have it. Wham! Bash! Wham! Bash! Two
chins and two noses received the full force of my right and left fists.
1B: Working Towards the Incident:
Why were they tormenting me? Good question. As my surname is Menzies and
dad was Scottish he was always correcting people over the correct
pronunciation which is 'Min-ges' with a hard 'g'. So I knew what it should
be but never bothered about how anyone non- Scottish pronounced it.
However, one of masters at the Grammar School was Scottish and also called
me 'Min-ges'. Naturally, some of my more uncouth fellow pupils, mostly out
of my hearing because of my fiery reputation, referred to me as 'Minge'
which I was informed by one brave soul as being a certain part of a girl's
anatomy. He didn't repeat that a second time as he got a fist in his
corresponding bit of anatomy and rolled on the playground asphalt clutching
his version of a minge.
One of the mouthy pair had an older brother of eighteen who frequented the
gym. I was being coached at the time by a lad, Jimmy Lang, who had taken
me under his wing right from the start. When I was eleven he was seventeen
and had a body to die for. All sculpted nicely, wide shoulders, trim
waist, shapely legs, a nice piece of work. Three years later he was even
more tasty and that was the problem. He, like about half of the habitues
of the gym was either gay or bi. He never hit on me but he did tell me one
day when he was a bit down that the mouthy lad's brother, Terry, secretly
fancied him but always made out he was a serious homophobe and put about
all sorts of rumours about Jimmy and another couple of the lads. Terry had
obviously made some remark about me being shafted, probably by Jimmy, to
his brother and that had started the gibes at school.
I hadn't been shafted by anyone. I was, however, into serious
masturbation. The earlier experiments at eleven were tried out again when
I noticed that at the age of twelve and a bit I was also sprouting my own
decorations. Not only that, my balls were getting saggier and bigger and
my cock was lengthening. Accompanying these new phenomena was the frequent
occurrence of waking in the morning with my four inches pointing stiffly up
my belly. I put this down to the fact I needed to pee, but increasingly in
the morning had to wait until my rigid little prick softened a bit so I
could relieve the pressure and have a good piss. Still nothing much
happened when I tried pulling my pud other than a slightly bigger electric
shock feeling.
My prick continued to grow until when I was thirteen it just topped five
inches. I know, because being curious I had measured it on my thirteenth
birthday on the fifth of April of 1995. Later in the year, however, I got
a new piece of information from my best friend, Michael, who lived next
door. He was exactly the same age as me, well, he was three weeks older,
and was as enthusiastic a Scout as I was for going to the gym or playing
rugger.
He had been to summer camp in August 1995 and was bubbling over as soon as
he returned with the news that he had found out he could 'come' as he put
it. He was all eager to impart the knowledge, the action and the result,
so we went into his garage during the afternoon of the day after his return
when no one else was around. He dropped the shorts and underpants he was
wearing, pulled up his tee shirt and began to rub his drooping young cock.
It lengthened and stiffened rapidly until he had his own five inches in his
fist and was pushing and pulling it up and down at an ever increasing rate.
I watched spellbound because as his prick had grown erect so had mine,
still confined within my own shorts and pants. Suddenly he gave three
great gasps and a streak of pearly fluid flashed out of his piss slit and
landed with a splosh about three feet in front of him. He slowed his
tugging down to zero then pulled his foreskin back three times very sharply
and three more pearly jets shot out, one going even further. He breathed
deeply then a real beaming smile lit up his face.
"Oh God, Flip, that's the best yet." He paused, still clasping his tool.
"Can you do that?" Not to be outdone I shucked off my shorts and
underpants and pulled my tee shirt off over my head. I stood just in my
trainers and socks. My cock was at full stretch and I hadn't even touched
it yet. I grasped it just like Michael had held his. I then gave myself
my first proper wank.
The feelings as I speeded up were tremendous. It felt as if hot bolts of
burning lava were being manufactured somewhere in the subterranean regions
of my balls. On one sharp pull my foreskin was wrenched right back and my
hitherto uncapped pink knob was naked and shiny. I leaned back, closed my
eyes and nearly missed my climax. The hot bolts moved and became a raging,
pounding inferno. My mouth and eyes opened simultaneously as did my piss
slit which spewed out a massive jet of thick, white goo which shot across
the garage and spattered all over Michael's dad's workbench. I felt weak
at the knees and almost collapsed with the intensity of that first coming.
Michael watched, open-mouthed, as the cascade flew across the gap. I
steadied myself and smiled at him. I couldn't speak but my brain was
racing. Thanks, pal, I thought, you're my best friend for ever and ever
telling me about that!
Michael, ever pragmatic, blinked and said admiringly, "Gosh, Phil, is that
the first time you've done it?"
I nodded weakly.
"Fuck me! Even Maxie Carter our Patrol Leader didn't fire as much as that
and he's seventeen!"
We sat on a couple of boxes for the next half hour while he regaled me with
the whole story of his initiation into the ways of boys while at Scout
camp. It seemed that all they did other than tying knots, finding hidden
treasure, cooking fry-ups and bandaging imaginary fractures was wank, wank,
wank. Rarely singly, generally with at least one other helping out, but
sometimes, especially after closing down the tent for the night, with six
daisy-chaining their efforts until all had shot at least another load of
fresh young boycream.
Boycream, I liked that term. Apparently it was Maxie's favourite phrase,
and he couldn't tire of producing his own or helping others to fire their
own teenaged gift from Heaven. I told Michael I knew of Maxie in another
way. He was one of the back row forwards in our school First XV. Anyone
in the First XV was a God to us youngsters who aspired to that greatness so
boycream must be a true gift from Heaven... Even at thirteen I had a
poetic streak and Michael, who was no dumb ass either, appreciated my
allusion.
Both Michael and I had won scholarships to the rather prestigious Grammar
School in our small city. King Edward's had a very good reputation and I
thoroughly enjoyed being there even if my reputation as a slight
trouble-maker got me into hot spots sometimes with the prefects or
masters. Rugby at school was really my saving grace. By the age of
thirteen I had been selected for a permanent place in the Junior XV. Being
a good rugby player got me out of a number of scrapes with authority and
also made me a bit of a hero with my class-mates. I didn't trade on it but
it was useful!
Michael and I sat together in all classes but he was, in his estimation, no
good at games so that's where we parted company. He had his Scouts and
music and I had my rugby and the gym. Still we were the best of friends,
helped each other with our homework and he did keep me on the straight and
narrow more than once.
The straight and narrow that afternoon was definitely more than once. In
fact my cock was up and raring to go by the end of Michael's recital so I
started fisting myself while still sitting. Michael was rather scathing
about my technique and said I was doing it all wrong. He made me stand up,
went behind me and fisted me himself. I must say he was good. I leaned
back on him and the volcanic surges soon started again. My second come
wasn't so spectacular as the first. A few watery spurts but the
feelings!... Oh, those feelings!... I knew at once Maxie was a God, he
wanted it all the time. I wanted to be a God in the First XV when I was
older and I knew I wanted it all the time now, too.
Fair's fair. I also knew that Michael wanted it all the time so we changed
places and I wanked him, holding his dick just as he had held mine. My
technique must have improved by that short apprenticeship. He didn't
complain. After three or four minutes of steady pumping he came, breathed
deeply and then startled me by turning and kissing me full on the lips. Oh
Christ! Me the macho rugby player being kissed by another boy!
A few of the things I'd heard and seen at the gym jangled in my head. Even
at that age I knew at least two of the older lads were in some sort of
relationship from what I had overheard when three of the older boys were
discussing other members of the club when they should have been keeping an
eye on me straining at forbidden weights. In fact, I'd witnessed the quick
peck on the lips when the two muscled blondes in question had met up in the
passageway at the gym on arrival one day. One of them had seen me looking
and had winked and shrugged his shoulders. Me? The last man who had
kissed me was my dad, and that was the morning he went off to work and
never returned. I had loved my dad, so what, these two lads must love each
other.
I certainly didn't think I loved Michael. I liked him very much. It was
odd though, I wasn't repelled by the kiss. In fact, I think it really
sealed our friendship. It didn't happen again in our frequent encounters
that year but I knew somewhere deep down that I liked boys like Michael and
Maxie and the two muscled blondes and this feeling was to grow and grow.
Anyway those two wanks apiece were the start of a very deep friendship over
the next year. Both of us were as horny as hell even at the age of
thirteen and a half. Both of us needed to squirt our boycream at least
twice a day. Both of us revelled in the feel of the other's helping hand
on our pricks. Almost every day after school we would get together and do
our homework. Almost every day we would wank each other off. As Michael
was an only child it was best to do our homework in his room as we could
have at least one of our daily ration, as a preliminary to work, sure in
the knowledge that we wouldn't be interrupted by my young brother.
My brother Stuart being four years younger wouldn't be into wanking yet
and, anyway, as he was that much younger than me and I was always out
practising or playing rugby or down at the gym I had little to do with him.
I tolerated him, as older brothers do, but being nine by then he had
nothing going for him that interested me although he had also joined the
Rugby Club earlier and was now in their Under 10's side.
I'd had one or two close encounters with him over my almost incessant need
to have a wank. For instance, he had wandered into my room quite
nonchalantly one evening because mum thought she'd mixed some of his socks
up with mine and although my door was closed he had opened it and ambled
straight in. I had a real shock. I'd had a sudden urge and was tossing
myself off with my cock held in a sock to catch the spunk. Luckily he
didn't look behind the door where I was standing so I had a moment or two
to drop the sock and pull my trousers back up pretending I was looking for
something under the bed.
Another time was when mum was having his room decorated and he had to sleep
in my bed with me for four nights. By the third night I was frantic
because I was missing my nightly wank-myself-to-sleep session. Thinking he
was fast asleep, as his breathing was quiet and regular, I carefully shoved
my pyjama bottoms down and was giving myself a slow delight holding my
straining-at-the-leash prick delicately between two fingers and thumb.
The little bastard wasn't asleep! I was just about to launch a Cruise
missile or its equivalent in boycream when a quiet voice asked, "Flip,
what's the matter?" My dick collapsed in seconds. All I could manage to
croak out was a throaty, "I've got a dreadful itch. It's OK, go to sleep."
Oh Christ! I had just got to that point where once the friction had been
stopped the build up of spunk somewhere internally causes your nuts to fry,
boil or generally behave as if a blast furnace door had been opened making
you want to scream out and pound your pudding until blessed release is
attained. No way. Young Stuart then wanted to know if he should go and
get some Germolene ointment from the medicine cabinet. When I said the
itch was better the dear boy then asked should he go and get mum to have a
look to see if I had a rash. I felt like raising a horrible red rash on
his arse if the little fucker didn't shut up... my balls were aching fit to
burst... I needed..... Stuart asked where was the itch, was it on my
willy? Oh God, the little bugger must have known I was pulling my wire
even if he didn't know the consequences. I was truthful. I said, through
gritted teeth, that my willy did itch.
I had a brainwave. Creep, in one of his little forays into wheedling
himself into my good books, had mentioned some months before that when he
played rugger in his younger days he had suffered from jockrash. Luckily
mum wasn't there when he said it as he then told Stuart and me in some
detail how he had to get some vile smelling muck from the chemist to anoint
his manly parts, as he put it. I translated the term to myself but Stuart
looked perplexed so I just said straight out that his willy had the itch
because he hadn't washed himself properly. Stuart giggled, Creep shut up
and I chalked up one point to me.
I said did he remember Creep, or Ray as we were urged to call him, saying
he'd had what he called jockrash. I said that as I played rugby perhaps I
had it too. Wrong thing to say! Of course, Stuart remembered that
interaction so I was then asked if I washed myself properly down there and
should he ask mum to check in the morning. I was very tempted to strangle
my little brother but, I suppose, deep down I did love him, so I turned and
hugged him and patted him on the back and then felt his hand on my naked
dick. Oh Christ again! The only other person's hand, i.e. Michael's,
always had an effect, i.e. instant erection. But no, the brotherly hand
let go. I didn't stiffen.
"Your willy is much bigger than mine," a little voice whispered into my
ear, "Will mine grow to be big like yours?"
I assured him it would. This must have satisfied his curiosity as the next
thing I knew he had fallen asleep in my arms and was snoring slightly.
That put paid to that night's comforting wank. However, I fell asleep
quite quickly myself and woke at six o'clock still holding a peacefully
sleeping Stuart but with a raging hardon and a need for instant
alleviation. I managed to extricate myself without waking him and went as
silently as possible to the bathroom where I released an accumulated load
of hot spunk with a great sigh of relief. Luckily when Stuart woke he
seemed to have forgotten the incident and was much more interested in how
his newly decorated room was looking. I made sure that evening I
discharged two volleys of youthful semen before I went to bed and spent an
uneventful and restful night with my young brother's arms lovingly round my
neck.
1C: My Mother's News: May 1996
I managed to get through the rest of my fourteenth year with mainly minor
infractions of school rules, in my view, until several things came to a
head in my fifteenth year. The major one was that just a month after my
fourteenth birthday mum announced after supper one Friday night, that, with
the permission of her sons, she was going to marry Ray the Creep on August
Bank Holiday Saturday. She didn't actually say Ray the creep, just Ray,
but I saw red. Red to match my flaming red hair. I went berserk. I
shouted. I swore. I called him an effing, cunting, cocksucking, arsehole
licking, pissing, shit-faced miserable prick, just as starters. I screamed
out that I didn't want the poxy wanker as my father and that I would
personally castrate the bastard if he went near mum with his mangy dick. I
had only one father and he was dead! Mum went pale and looked at me
aghast. Poor little Stuart burst into tears and ran from the room. I
finished my tirade, really overwhelmed as I didn't realise I had such an
extensive vocabulary of invective, and rushed out too, in a tearful state.
I went next door, pushed past Michael's mum in her kitchen and galloped up
the stairs to Michael's room. Luckily he was there.
He looked very startled at my sudden entry in floods of tears and stood up
from his desk blinking rather nervously. I grabbed him and hugged him and
we fell onto his bed. I felt I needed to be close to someone I could
trust. I entwined myself round him and very breathlessly told him the
news. "Oh shit, shit, shit!," was all he could say. As I was telling him
everything I'd said and how awful I felt we heard the back door close. His
mum was obviously going next door to find out what had happened.
Michael was hugging me as I finished and looked at him with tear-stained
eyes. He released me and took my arms from around him. His face was a
picture. He was close to tears himself. He went to the bedroom door and
closed it carefully before coming back to the bed and standing in front of
me. I stared up at him and he smiled. "I know something to calm you down,
Flip," he said and turned me on my back. I complied passively.
Then he did something quite unexpected. He leaned down and unzipped my
trousers and got my dick out from the leg of my boxers. He leaned over me
and kneeling down took my soft cock into his mouth. With one hand he
circled my shaft and pulled down so my knob end popped out from my foreskin
and rested on his tongue. Then he started to suck gently and at the same
time massaged my knob with his tongue. With a grunt coming up somewhere
from the pit of my stomach I went hard within a few seconds.
I lay back and closed my eyes as soon waves of ecstasy pulsed up and down
and round and round my knob and shaft. Michael began to bob his head up
and down and my breath became more ragged. My mouth was open and I was
gasping in synchrony with his sucks which became more and more intense
until.... I was lost. A bolt of lightening struck me somewhere
internally. I involuntarily squeezed my buttock cheeks together and fired
squirt after squirt of my precious boycream into his willing mouth. He
continued sucking and licking until I could stand it no longer. I reached
up and gently pulled his head away and, looking straight into his eyes with
such love and gratefulness. This time I drew his face close to mine and
kissed him full on the lips. His mouth opened and our tongues pressed
together with my come pouring out and mingling with my saliva. We
tongue-fucked for what seemed like ages until he drew his head back and
gulped. There was still some of my come in his mouth but most seemed to be
in mine. I swallowed that, too.
"Oh, Michael," I whispered, "I don't know what I would have done if I
hadn't got a friend like you." I pecked him on the lips gently. "Thanks,
you're right, I'm much calmer now." I sat up and reached down to get my
handkerchief from my trouser pocket but they were now down around my
ankles. Michael just smiled and reached into my pocket for me and gave me
it. I blew my nose, wiped my eyes and pulled my trousers up and fastened
them. I was much calmer but still seething somewhere underneath.
Michael got up and sat next to me on the bed. He put an arm round my
shoulder. "It must be awful for you, Flip, but you want your mum to be
happy and Ray hasn't got in your way, has he?"
I had to agree, but no way did I want a new and different father. I was
determined I would have nothing to do with this intended marriage. And
where would the fucker live? I stopped. My thoughts were too intense. I
realised what I had just thought. If he lived with my mum then he would
fuck her.
My knowledge of male/female coupling was still rudimentary, but even from
the sex education lessons at my all boys' school and the garbled
conversations I had listened in to, I knew that little boys, and I supposed
little girls, appeared nine months after some act which we boys knew was
colloquially called fucking. No way could I imagine Ray, with his little
bristly moustache, lying on my mother indulging in these actions. No way
did I want another little brother or sister. No way!
I was pouring all this out in a rush to Michael when there was a discreet
knock on the door. Michael's mum had returned. Michael called out that we
were OK and she should come in. Mrs Hollis looked very sad as she came in.
"Are you alright now, Flip," she asked with a great deal of concern in her
voice.
I really liked Mrs Hollis. She was warm and kind and, considering the
amount of time I spent in her house with Michael, she was just like a
favourite auntie.
I nodded. I couldn't speak or else I might really break down. Michael
came to the rescue. "Flip's told me what's happened. Do you think he
could stay here tonight?"
Mrs Hollis smiled and said that's exactly what she was going to ask me.
Did I want to stay? She also said that although mum was greatly upset by
what I had said she wanted me to know she still loved me and wanted me back
home as soon as possible. I nodded dumbly then asked if Stuart was OK.
She said he'd gone to his room and she had put him to bed. She told
Michael to come down and get some cocoa and cake and we should get to bed
early.
While Michael was downstairs I thought about all the events of the evening.
My lost temper. My exit from the house. Michael's true friendship and now
his mum giving me, what I considered, shelter for the night.
I thought about how Michael had calmed me and for the first time that
evening I grinned. To myself, but it was a grin. As it happened Michael
was not the first person to suck me off. I thought about that incident as
I waited.
Actually, it was on the Wednesday after my fourteenth birthday so it was
just over four weeks previously. I was at the gym and it was a
particularly quiet evening. In fact by eight o'clock there were only two
of us still there exercising, Darryll Matthews and me, and the chap who ran
the place. As he trusted us he said he had to go and see someone and we
should lock up as soon as Darryll had finished his session on the weights
where I was spotting for him. Darryll had been late that evening for some
reason and although he was seventeen and in our First Year Sixth Form and
in the First XV with Maxie Carter he didn't treat me as a kid. All in all
we got on very well together as I would spot for him and he would spot for
me and chide me if I tried to do too much. He had a very winning smile and
had already joshed me about my new sweats I had on which mum had bought me
for my birthday so we were in a happy mood as he finished off with another
dozen reps.
He said he was ready for a shower and we both headed off for the
locker-room but he went back into the gym as he'd forgotten to turn off the
lights. This meant I was already under the shower when he came in flexing
his muscles. I wasn't at all fazed by any of the others at the gym seeing
me nude in the showers as I'd had plenty of experience of seeing me
team-mates and players from sides we played at our or their Rugby Clubs.
Until I was fourteen, those few weeks before, the owner always made me and
two other youngsters shower separately and we'd happily seen each other
many times but this week I had been promoted to the senior shower room and
Monday night I'd had a shower with three of the older lads. No big deal,
they eyed me and I eyed them and that was that. I memorised carefully,
however, what I'd seen which gave me food for thought in bed later!
I hadn't seen Darryll in the nude before and was rather surprised as his
dick didn't look much bigger than mine. I was trying to soap my shoulders
as he came in and he saw me glance at his equipment as he turned his shower
on. Also, although he was seventeen he wasn't much taller than me,
probably just half an inch or so, but, my, he had a powerful set of
muscles! As he soaped himself I unabashedly ogled him. His muscular body
glistened under the cascading water, I wished mine looked even half like
that. He must have read my thoughts. "Takes a bit of effort to get like
this but I don't recommend you trying any of Frankie's little pills"
Frankie was a huge twenty-five year old who boasted he'd taken every pill
in Christendom and elsewhere to get his body. Although I'd never seen him
nude either, the common story in the gym was that his balls were the size
of peanuts, even if he'd got muscles the size of an elephant's leg.
"I don't think you need Frankie's pills either," I said.
He laughed. "I did try a few but gave them up in case they had the same
effect." I must have looked puzzled.
"They frazzle your balls," he said, "but you're coming on well. Yours are
twice the size of Frankie's even now."
This talk of balls was enough to get me a bit excited. Even more when
Darryll saw my efforts at trying to soap my back.
"Here let me do that," he said, stepping over and joining me under my
shower.
He took my soap and turned me round and began to lather my back, my
buttocks and then the backs of my legs. When I turned to face him under
the flowing water we both had hardons. "I'd better help you with that," he
said, grasping his own and easing his foreskin back. I said nothing. He
grinned at me and dropped to his knees. Next thing I knew was the whole
length of my shaft disappeared into his open mouth and terrific suction was
being applied most rhythmically. He hugged my legs to him and started to
move his head back and forth very rapidly. What with that and the violent
sucking involved, my seminal floodgates opened and I shot a huge load
within half a minute straight down his throat. He didn't even gag. He
swallowed. My still erect prick popped out of his mouth. Immediately he
started rapidly wanking his own short stubby cock and after very few pulls
he also launched a mighty jet which sprayed all over my chest and was
rapidly washed away by the still flowing shower.
"What did you think of that, young Flip?" he asked. "There's always more
if ever we need it."
Ever need it? I just nodded and smiled. I felt weak-kneed and blissfully
happy. Why had no one ever explained how wonderful being sucked off was?
We finished showering, dried off and dressed. We switched off the lights,
shut the door on the dead lock and both left on our separate ways
whistling. Unfortunately, until tonight I hadn't had the opportunity for a
second encounter of that sort. Darryll was either among his usual group of
pals early on or not there as he had to swot for some exams he was taking
at school. However, he had whispered to me a couple of times when he was
spotting me on the weights that I was a lucky boy to still be growing.
I was still contemplating the sheer bliss of the two encounters when
Michael returned with a tray of goodies. We munched our way through the
lot, swigged the cocoa and undressed ready for bed.
Of course, I hadn't any pyjamas so I stripped to my boxers and was about to
get into bed with them on when I saw Michael had shed all his clothes and
was getting into bed in the altogether but bearing a towel. He looked at
me and made 'pulling down boxers' movements. I complied and got into bed
next to him. He reached over and switched off the light. "How do you want
it, Flip?" he whispered.
I knew what I wanted. I slid down the bed, pulling the duvet down as I
went, so I could see Michael's torso in the gloom. I aimed straight for
his prick and enveloped that in my hot mouth. I gave him the Darryll
treatment. Twice or three times as intense as the wonderful suck Michael
had given me. I got my reward very quickly. Michael's spunk splashed all
over my tongue, the roof of my mouth, the back of my throat. I tried not
to gag but the sheer force and volume of his spunk took me by surprise. I
swallowed as best I could and waited while two or three minor squirts of
cream followed that major effusion. I swallowed most of this extra amount
too and tentatively licked his now naked knob.
I hoped his parents didn't hear the noise he made than. The nearest
description I could think of was a recording of a wolf I'd heard once on a
televison nature program. Oh God, to shut him up I scuttled up the bed and
covered his mouth with mine. This wasn't a real kiss but it just turned
into the most intense tongue-fuck with me sharing the remains of his
boycream with him. No sooner had he had his fill of that than he also slid
down the bed and impaled his mouth on my prong. I came a second time that
day in my dearest friend's mouth. In fact, that night Michael came four
times and I managed five. We ended up for the final two in a frenzy of
simultaneous sucking as quite independently of the rest of the world we
re-invented the process of sixty-nining.
Needless to say we both slept soundly after that and it was mid-morning
before we woke. I glanced at my watch. Nearly eleven o'clock! I had the
final match of the season to play that afternoon! Michael came and watched
the game for once and cheered us on as we trounced the opposition. At
half-time I was praised by both Mark and Martin for the way I heeled the
ball back in the scrums. Not only that, I raced up and down the pitch and
managed to tackle at least two lads who were on their way to getting a
touch-down with no diminution of my stamina. If five comes in quick
succession aided my rugby playing Michael and I were going to have some
joyous Friday nights!
I stayed at Michael's for that Saturday night as well. I didn't feel like
facing my mother just yet. Stuart came to see me after I got back from
rugby and didn't say anything but looked at me with a woeful face and then
rushed off again. I was pretty low when we went to bed. That night we lay
and talked for ages. I had to tell Michael the whole story again. He was
sad for me too and we comforted each other as we talked by just, very
slowly, caressing each other's hard cocks until our warm spunk finally
jetted out over each other's chest and stomach within moments of each
other. Ever practical and thoughtful Michael had placed a towel between us
so no tell-tale cum stains would appear on his sheet. In the end we
drifted off to sleep with me resolving, somehow, to patch things up with
mum.
It was rather difficult the next day. Mum was in a terrible mood. I knew
I had done wrong in saying what I had said. Mum had been so startled, not
only with the vehemence of my response but also with the range of foul
language I had used. She actually said she would find it very hard to
forgive me but for my sake and for Stuart's sake she was willing to forget
the whole incident. In all of this, Ray the Creep's name was not
mentioned. I wasn't going to ask about him but mum certainly wasn't in the
mood for any more shenanigans from me. That's why my encounter with the
two mouthy youths sealed my fate.
1D: The Major Incident and the Aftermath: May 1996:
I was just walking out of the main door of the school the next Wednesday
afternoon having been in detention for a minor infringement of some rule or
regulation, probably caused because I was still thinking about mum and me,
when these two Year 11 yobs, who had also been in detention as well,
followed me out.
It started with the first one saying to his pal, "There's that young Minge.
He's a naughty ginger Minge isn't he. I wonder if he's got naughty ginger
hair round his little minge." Then the other one, who I realised was
rumour-monger Terry's brother, laughed and started in a louder, sing-song
voice, "Eh, sweetie-pie, Ginger Minge, can you heeear me? I've got a big
prick you can have right where you liii ke it, right up your sweet little
ginger minge!"
That did it. I turned in a fury and two bloody noses later I felt a lot
better. It shut them up except for threats of family reprisals. I didn't
care. Those four blows had got rid of ninety- five per cent of my teenage
anger and frustration. I went home and straight round to Michael's where
the other five per cent was assuaged by a very intense joint wank. I went
home after that feeling quite at peace and really tried to apologise to my
mother. She was still very iffy about it all and said she was going out
with Ray (the Creep in my mind) that evening and I really had to apologise
to him as she'd had to tell him all the things I'd said. Fuck me! No way!
My dander was rising again. I wasn't going to ever speak to that arsehole
again! And what was my mother doing repeating that language!
I went up to my room and almost slammed my door. But that would have shown
I wasn't under self-control. In fact, I even played a game on Stuart's
Nintendo that evening with him to show he was still my favourite brother
but I vented my pent-up anger later in bed by whipping my innocent dong
three times to climax in as short a time possible.
On Thursday the shit hit the fan. Reprisals came swiftly. Complaints were
made straight to the school by two outraged fathers. I was called to the
Head's study during last period the same day. He said he'd heard about the
incident and wanted to know my side of the story. I just told him it was
just a boyish squabble but he wasn't buying that. There was a 'phone call
home to mum that evening.
I found out the next day, when mum had been asked to come to the school and
we were interviewed together by the Head, that I'd broken both boys' noses
and the parents were after my blood. My behaviour record at the school
told against me. When mum launched into an account of the row we'd had on
Friday night, with her repeating just a few of the choice expletives I had
used this, I thought this would also count against me. The Head didn't bat
an eyelid at all this, though even I was shocked and embarrassed to hear my
mother say 'cock- sucking' and 'arse-licking', but he did go on to say my
excellent academic progress and my rugby prowess counted for me. In fact,
the Head said, if it wasn't for the fact that I was in the top three in
class and was a good team member I would have been disciplined severely
before now. I think he meant by that statement that I would have been out
on my ear! Anyway, he had a solution. Would I be willing to be assessed
by the local educational psychologist who would advise on the next steps to
take?
What could I do? Some poxy shrink was going to assess me and I would be
chucked out. I had to agree. Mum agreed too, much too promptly I thought.
In fact everything moved very quickly. I was told Monday morning that I
was to be at the Education Offices at a quarter to ten the next day to see
Dr Williams. I wasn't going to be given any time to contemplate my fate I
was to be up before my judge in the morning!
Things did work out OK in a couple of ways later which cheered me up
somewhat. First, I went home with Michael and told him my worries. He
grinned and said I would survive. I survived the next five minutes
although he said he was fed up wiping my spunk off his wardrobe mirror.
Then when Mrs Hollis came home she invited me to stay for supper. I told
her I had to go to see someone called Dr Williams tomorrow. She didn't say
much then but something was afoot because during supper Michael's dad said
he didn't have to be into his office before half nine in the morning and I
could go into town with him. Unusual. Anyway before I went home Michael
reminded me that his dad was also one of our school governors.
1E: Planning My Exile: May 1996
I usually went to the gym on Monday evenings but missed out. When I got
home I just relayed the information that Mr Hollis would take me into town
the next day and went straight up to my room and went to bed. I must admit
I cried myself to sleep that night. I didn't even want to wank, I felt too
depressed and low. In the morning it was the same. No morning stiffness.
I washed, dressed and had my breakfast like a zombie. I was ready and
waiting for Mr Hollis at nine o'clock and, sensing my mood, we didn't talk
on the way in. I found the right entrance to the Council Offices in the
huge city centre building and asked a receptionist for Dr Williams in the
Education Department. She flashed me a smile which did cheer me a bit and
said third floor, room three hundred and ten. I found it, knocked
tentatively and a voice inside told me to come in.
I was rather startled to see a very comfortable room, not like the Spartan
sort of office mum worked in. A desk was pushed against one wall and there
were bookshelves overflowing with books and papers. Four low easy chairs
were in the centre of the room and a tall, bearded, powerfully built man
rose from one of them wreathed in a cloud of smoke from a very aromatic
tobacco he had in the pipe clenched in between his teeth.. He advanced
towards me with one outstretched hand while waving away the cloud about him
with the other as I shut the door behind me. I winced a bit as he crushed
my hand in his. He motioned for me to sit in one of the chairs. We both
sat and he looked rather gravely at me with piercing blue eyes.
"I'm glad you came, young Flip, or do I call you Fiery Phil today?"
I looked at him flabbergasted. But he had a twinkle in his eye and he also
looked vaguely familiar. He saw my amazement and chuckled.
"You know my nephews, Mark and Martin, don't you? They think very highly
of their Fiery Phil. And I ought to tell you your Head and I were fellow
students at University and he thinks rather highly of Flip the scholar. So
who are you today I want to know?"
It was all too much for me. I burst into tears. I snivelled as I got out
my hankie and blew my nose. Dr Williams said nothing. I looked up at him
and his eyes were twinkling at me. He shook his head.
"Not to worry, you can be both you know and you can also be Phillip Thomas
Min-ges, without the emphasis on the Thomas, as well. In fact, you must be
all three in my view or we won't survive in this cruel world."
Oh my God, how did he know all this about me so soon? I was swiftly
enlightened. "It's OK, Flip, I only know all about you by asking people
questions, though I'd actually heard about you before when my nephews were
telling me about the teams they coach. Crushing a bully's balls on the
rugby field is very much the same as bloodying a bully's nose in the
playground in my opinion. What do you think?"
I was rather taken aback by this question. It was true. The rampaging
lout of a forward and the two mouthy creatures were very much alike. But,
should I have exacted vengeance on these horrors as I did? I needed time
to think.
"I caused two bloody noses," I said.
"And probably ruined another lad's procreational abilities into the
bargain," he said with a chuckle. "Serve the bugger right," he said sotto
voce, "but you've got to learn to control that temper of yours."
I agreed but wondered what would happen next. I was going to get the
biggest surprise of my life. He looked at me long and hard for almost a
full minute taking several great puffs at his pipe and producing even more
clouds of smoke. I stared back at him. At last he spoke.
"Have you watched Blackadder?" he asked. I nodded, not knowing which way
this interview was going to go. Seeing my nod he smiled. "I'm like
Baldrick because I have a cunning plan." He paused again. "I'm not going
into all the ins and outs of your minor infringements, or major ones in
some eyes, but you can always come and talk to me whenever you like if can
stand the stink of tobacco smoke." He leaned forward confidentially. "The
Council has a No Smoking Policy but I can't abide all that political
correctness so you're welcome if you want to come and see me, just follow
the blue cloud."
I nodded again. I wouldn't mind talking to him. I instantly recognised
someone else I could trust. And, if Mark and Martin were anything to go
by, their uncle was someone to trust at the highest level.
He puffed at his pipe again before continuing. "How would you like to go
to school away from home?" he asked. "I'd better explain in detail and I
won't mince matters. Your Aunt Margaret lives up in Scotland. She's
willing to act as guardian for you if you go to boarding school up there.
Your mother is adamant she is going to marry Mr Adams and the parents of
those two broken-nosed toads want you expelled, so I think the best thing
is for you to have a complete break from down here for the rest of your
school life. I know it's a shock but I'm afraid it's the best I can do.
The Head backs you and you are lucky one of the masters heard and saw what
happened last Wednesday so you are covered to a certain extent by that.
But?..."
I gaped. What was I to say. I didn't have time. There was a quiet knock
on the door and the receptionist I'd seen below came in bearing a tray with
two mugs of coffee and a plate of biscuits. She flashed us both dazzling
smiles.
"Here you are Dr Williams, right on the dot, eh? And is Fiery Phil dealt
with?"
I gaped again, some anger rising as I was obviously being discussed by all
and sundry. Dr Williams must have seen my reddening face. He laughed, a
kind laugh. "Don't worry, Flip, this is my niece Jennifer, she's Mark and
Martin's sister so she's heard about you from them. Haven't you Jen?"
She laughed. "More than once and they're both full of praise for you. I
shouldn't say that really, it'll only make you blush, won't it? And I was
to tell you there's the start of the summer practice tonight!"
It did make me blush but I knew they liked me, the ruffled hair, the smacks
on the bum and now the reminder to be at the practice session tonight
wouldn't have been given to someone they weren't comfortable with. Anyway,
I had much to cogitate on. When Jennifer left I asked Dr Williams what
sort of school would it be. He said it was a boys' boarding school, a
minor public school, in Scotland about thirty miles from my aunt's village.
He said he highly recommended it and had spoken to the headmaster already
that morning and he was willing for me to have a place a year later than
normal on the basis of my school marks and assessments. He did make the
point that it would take me time to settle in but my aunt would be fairly
near at hand if, and he said this with a grin, there were any crises.
Unknown to me all this had been set up at the weekend. Phone calls all
over the place and I got the impression that my Aunt Margaret was a pivot
in all this. I liked Aunt Margaret. She was dad's older unmarried sister
and was a doctor. She lived in a village on the West coast of Scotland,
would never come down to England although she had trained in London, and
rushed around the countryside to see her patients in her Range Rover. I
had stayed with her during the summer after dad had died and I found her to
be very much like him.
Dr Williams then told me the plan was for me to go to Scotland as soon as
the summer term ended. I could spend the summer holidays at my aunt's and
join the new school in September. I would, of course, have to visit the
place to see if they liked me and I liked them. He said I had plenty to
think about but not to worry and I could come and see him again on Friday
afternoon.
1F: Getting ready for Scotland:
I went home and mooched around there for the rest of the day. I was going
to miss my friends at the Rugby Club and the gym. I was going to miss
Michael especially. I thought I would cope with not having mum around and
even more so if the Creep was to loom larger in our family life. I worried
a bit about young Stuart but thought he was perhaps more tolerant of the
Creep that I was. I relieved some of my anxieties by making up for the
fact I hadn't wanted my nightly wank in bed the evening before. I made up
for that twice by the time I saw Michael next door arrive back from school.
I went to talk to him and told him what I had heard that morning. He
looked very upset at the prospect of losing his friend so, really to
console him, I laid him back on his bed on which we were sitting, undid his
trousers and nuzzled his cock through the fabric of his pants. His boy
scent was so aromatic and heady to me I went stiff in seconds.
My simple action caused his length to harden in moments. I was so wound up
with what was happening to us I almost lost control of my senses. I
managed to calm myself slightly but still pulled his trousers and
underpants off quite roughly. However, I knew within me I wanted him to
have the best of me so I forced myself to suck him as slowly and sensuously
as I could until his fresh boycream gushed out freely into my mouth. I
relished the taste of his come. It was both sweet and salty, but, before I
swallowed it, I took a drop from the tip of my tongue on a finger and
rubbed it across his lower lip. He smiled at me and licked it and asked me
what I would like. I told him I'd already come twice since twelve o'clock.
He just grinned and said that was nothing for me. My trousers and pants
were soon off and after fifteen minutes of exquisite pleasure I too spilled
my load which he swallowed eagerly. We talked for ages after this act of
friendship. Michael said he was going to miss me so much but he would
still think of me as his closest and dearest friend whatever happened. He
said he wanted the best for me and that, perhaps, going away was the best
plan. I said I wouldn't forget him and that we should enjoy our time
together as much as possible before I went away.
Actually, the next couple of months weren't too bad. Things started well
even that night at rugby practice. Although neither Mark or Martin
mentioned they knew of the altercation, or the aftermath, news had
travelled fast so much so that even the older lads on the team kept their
distance for a while. This didn't last long and by the time the hour and
half was up everyone was back to normal. I was still a very much accepted
member of the squad. Mark did say to me as we came off the field that he'd
heard from his sister that I was going away to school but, he said, I was
to continue coming to practice until I went and that he hoped I would come
back anytime I wanted. I was so overcome by his sincerity I could only nod
and whisper a thanks.
I stayed at Michael's quite a bit until the end of term. Mum didn't
question me at all if I didn't come home to my bed. Mrs Hollis never
complained about having two ravenous boys at the breakfast table or panting
for their supper. Mr Hollis never commented but was a quiet steady
presence in the background. Michael certainly didn't complain. In fact,
he made sure we assuaged our teenage lusts at every opportunity especially
when I stayed overnight and slept with him. I always let him initiate the
love-making. It wasn't just boy sex it was more, there was passion and
commitment and we both realised that if we were not careful we would both
suffer badly when we parted. We did manage to discuss this a few days
before I had to leave and we knew that both our lives had to be managed
separately. I think, looking back on it, we showed a maturity way beyond
our years.
I was still going to the gym four nights a week and on Saturdays as there
were no matches now the summer season was upon us. I even got Michael to
come to the gym with me. His dad grumbled good-naturedly about what he
called the colossal fees but he was happy really as he pulled Michael's leg
by saying he wanted to get a bit of muscle on his skinny bones. Mum had
never minded paying my membership fees. I always felt it was a small price
for her to pay to get me out of the house so she could spend more time with
the Creep. Poor Stuart was very much pig in the middle. Luckily he had a
good friend whose mum didn't mind how much time he spent fiddling with some
crap computer with her nerdish son.
Michael actually enjoyed his efforts at the gym To begin with he was very
apprehensive. He wondered what the others would think of his puny body as
he put it. Seeing everyone swathed in sweats immediately put paid to his
worries and the older lads soon took to him and, as with me, chivvied him
along and kept a good eye on him. He did gape a bit when he saw Frankie
for the first time doing his posing routine in a minuscule thong. I
whispered about his peanut balls but said we never got to check them out as
he never showered at the gym.
Soon after our first blow-jobs together I'd confessed to Michael that his
hadn't been the first. He laughed at my contrite expression and said he
didn't realise I was so far ahead in my experience so he was very jealous
because he'd learned about them at Scout camp but hadn't experienced any.
He wasn't really jealous or angry and Darryll and he became good friends
and when I left to go to Scotland Darryll promised to keep an eye on his
progress. Although I showered with Darryll a number of times before I left
we never indulged again. He knew that Michael and I were too great a duo
to risk parting us before the time for me to go.
I went to see Dr Williams about six times before the end of term in July.
He talked me through my frustrations and my behaviour. He explained that
the loss of my dad was the root cause of how I felt and that this happening
at the age of eight meant I wasn't able at that age to really come to terms
with it. We discussed all sorts of intimate things too. In fact, in one
session I blurted out that Michael and I were having sex regularly. He
questioned me carefully about this and was very relieved that this only
meant wanking and sucking and nothing more. He never asked me anything
about my orientation but gave me good advice about protecting myself in the
future. Never a word of condemnation, just careful advice, all delivered
in a haze of blue smoke. I felt really sad when our sessions came to an
end but he said that if ever I needed him he was at the end of a 'phone.
School continued. I returned the next day after my first session with Dr
Williams. The broken-nosed sods didn't appear full-time for another three
weeks. I heard later they had come into school on days in between to take
their GCSE exams. My reputation, in some ways, soared and a couple of my
classmates even congratulated me on dealing so effectively with two
well-known bullies.
At the gym there had been a bit of worry in case the mouthy lad's brother
retaliated in some way. Both Darryll and Jimmy Lang were obviously keeping
a weather eye open in case of any trouble but Terry and I kept our
distance. But then, after about a month, just as I was coming out of the
shower to go into the locker room he cornered me. I was straight on the
defensive within a second. There was no one else around. My adrenalin was
racing and I was ready to give as good as I thought I was about to get and
to counter any move of his.
There were no moves. In a quiet voice he said he wanted to apologise for
his brother's behaviour and said he'd given the little bugger the hiding of
his life so he would have something else to remember. We shook hands and
he smiled and said he really admired what I had done because his brother
was a real little shit. It wasn't long after this occasion that I saw him
and Jimmy leaving the gym together one night laughing and joking together.
Perhaps, I thought, he'd also come to terms with something inside.
I knew as term came to end I had come to terms with myself and my inner,
unrecognised feelings. Over that summer term I became much more in control
of myself and my continual flare-ups of anger. It didn't mean I could
tolerate Ray the Creep any better. It was probably irrational, but having
lost one parent, I suppose there was the deep down fear of losing the
other. Mum would still be there but would belong to someone else. I did
try to talk to Michael about it but it was too personal. I knew Dr
Williams understood and I valued his friendship and advice. Michael in
some way was not yet ready to have to wrestle through these subtle,
internal battles as he was lucky in not having yet experienced loss.
Michael was, however, a constant and tolerant friend and inside I knew I
now respected him deeply.
However, I had by this time alienated mum completely, perhaps through my
initial outburst but more so because of my complete unwillingness to
compromise over Ray the Creep. I admit I had been a somewhat difficult
son. Several times she'd had notes from school about my altercations with
authority or other pupils. The animosity I felt towards Ray the Creep was
the last straw. She couldn't understand why and I thought, refused to try.
An impasse which separation might cure. She was determined on her course
and with me out of the way... Well, time would tell.
School ended. I was off to Scotland within a day of the end of term. My
classmates wished me well. A couple of masters said they hoped I would
like the school, it had a good reputation. I said a sad farewell to my
friends at the Rugby Club and especially at the gym. Darryll in his usual
jokey way said I wasn't to do anything he wouldn't do, but, if I did, to do
it often!
My few possessions had been packed and sent off before me. Michael and I
had a tearful but very active last day together on that Friday in July. We
disappeared off to the Rugby Club first thing in the morning and hid
ourselves in a back room to which I had purloined a key the week before.
My mother had taken the day off from work and sent Stuart looking for us.
He didn't find us although we heard him outside calling our names. As both
our mouths were full at the time we couldn't very well answer.
We did reappear for lunch, where mum seemed even more pissed off with me
than usual, and spent the afternoon mooching around town looking miserable.
Michael came to supper with mum, myself and Stuart. It wasn't a happy meal
although mum had tried to get all the things she knew I liked. Michael and
I had a final wank together in his room when I went round to say cheerio to
his parents and so we sealed our friendship in our boyish way.
That night two very tired boys and one still very resentful mother saw
another very tired boy off on the train at one minute to midnight. So
ended my life at home. A new chapter was now ready to unfold.
To be continued:
Other stories you might be interested to read are:
Spying on My Brothers: Incest Section: May 2000
Easter Rugger Tours and after: H/S Section: Jun 2000
Jordan's Story: H/S Section: July 2000
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