Date: Wed, 31 Jan 2007 08:27:31 -0600
From: spasm2 <spasm2@mailandnews.com>
Subject: Pauls Pants episode 5d

This is the final episode, anything further will have a new title : )

Sorry for creating confusion, I'm toying with reworking the whole series and
integrating the newer episodes, but that won't be for some time.

all the best

S2
Paul's Pants episode 5d, In conclusion

This is the concluding instalment of our Lake District adventure, I make no
apologies for introducing a more serious issue, any further reference to
that storyline will be continued as `Ewan's Story' just to avoid
confusion. As ever any comments/insults/brickbats to the e-mail address.
Feel free to reproduce the story, but all rights remain the property of the
author.


	After all that excitement, it was something of an anticlimax to
return to the outdoor centre. As the other orienteers had not all returned,
we were at a bit of a loose end for the rest of the day. As soon as we had
walked back into camp, Paul had shot off to shower and then had arranged to
play ping pong with his new mate Ewan.

        I dumped my stuff back in my dormitory hut and went off in search
of the warden. As before, he was in his office, papers spread all over the
desk and a big mug of tea within reach; `Excuse me Sir,' I interrupted
politely.

	`Yes, what is it? Oh, it's you again, your pal's not gone in the
mud again has he?'

	`Oh no, Sir, although he did fall into a stream and a couple of
lakes while we were out walking, but nothing that couldn't be coped
with. What I wanted to know was if I could arrange to use the darkroom
sometime, to develop some of my nature shots.'

	`Of course,' he said, `you'll probably only be able to develop the
films though, I doubt there's much if any printing paper left in
there. Feel free to use the chemicals though. When do you want to use it?'

	`Anytime really, now would be good, as I've some free time while we
wait for the rest of the walkers get back.'

	`Now is fine, no-one else has expressed any interest,' he said with
a hint of sadness, `the key is hanging up in the key cabinet over there,
when you're in there it's best you lock the door behind you, otherwise who
knows what idiot might walk in on you and destroy the film. Just drop it
back in here when you're finished with it.'

        I wasn't being completely disingenuous when I mentioned the nature
shots, as I did have a couple of rolls of utterly innocent pictures as well
as the three Paul and I had kept back from our most recent adventure, and
the mystery one from Ewan's camera. I decided that it was better to leave
our earlier pornographic efforts for another day.

	I hadn't actually bothered to inspect the darkroom, so I was very
pleasantly surprised to find it clean, well laid out and well
equipped. Even better, though, there were two developing tanks, each one
able to hold three rolls of 35mm film, so I could do all six in one go, not
only that, but there was a drying cabinet, so I didn't have to risk leaving
the films hanging out to dry. It takes about forty minutes from unloading
the canisters to drying the films. The process of developing a film is
sufficiently technical to occupy the mind quite satisfactorily, so the
minutes passed without my being aware of them. I had been able to explore
the darkroom quite thoroughly once the films were safely in the developing
tanks, and the warden had been wrong; there was a part used box of printing
paper, nowhere near enough for a possible 200+ images, but the half dozen
or so sheets I needed to make contact prints wouldn't be missed, and I knew
at least one person who'd be very interested to see them.

	Once the films had finished rinsing, I carefully hung them up in
the drying cabinet; there's nothing much to see before they are dried, and
while they're wet the emulsion is very fragile. Even so, as I hung them up,
I could see that all of them were pretty evenly exposed, and that on the
critical films, there was some evidence of good images; I could feel a
familiar stirring in my groin as the ghostly negatives fluttered gently in
the warm air.

	Patience is an essential quality when you're a photographer, so I
locked the door behind me and went off to get a well earned shower followed
by a cup of tea while the dryer did its job. I decided not to tell Paul
that I had developed the films until I had contact sheets to show him, he
would know soon enough, and anyway, he'd be able to smell the chemicals on
me.

	As it happened, Paul was nowhere to be seen and once I'd showered
and changed into some fresh clothes (shorts, black cotton pants and a
t-shirt since you ask) I was able to drink my tea and eat a couple of
biscuits without being interrupted. As soon as I thought it was reasonable,
I headed back to the darkroom to sort out the films. In order to fit the
negatives into the contact printing frame it was necessary to cut the films
into strips of eight frames on the light box, this was my first chance to
examine them closely. Even as negatives I was very pleased with the
pictures I had taken of Paul; they were sharp and clear, and in all senses
he was very well exposed, even the ones he had snatched of me had come out
well. There's always a moment of excitement when you see the images you
have created, they're very rarely the pictures you had in your head, but
sometimes they are better; these were very stimulating, and I could feel my
cock starting to rise to the occasion.

        Once I had exposed the first contact sheet and put it through the
developing bath and so forth; I turned my attention to the mystery film.

	From the very first frame it was obvious that our Ewan was not just
a bit of an exhibitionist, but he also loved the camera. I carefully
chopped the film up and put it into the printing frame. When the contact
sheet was developed and fixed, I spread it carefully on the sink top to
take a look. The first few pictures were innocent enough; although he was
shirtless and wearing tight, faded blue jeans. He stared directly into the
lens, eyes wide and guileless, the very image of an innocent boy. After a
couple of frames, it became obvious that he was rather more excited than
his innocent expression might suggest. There was something strangely
compelling about the way he gazed straight at the viewer, his hands gently
framing the bulge in his crutch, and I could feel myself getting ever
stiffer. A couple more images showed him turned away from the camera and
looking back over his shoulder, the curves of his cute bottom enhanced by
his having his hands in his pockets.

	Next he had evidently undone the top button and unzipped his fly,
as the faded denim was no longer taut and the white waistband of his pants
was now on display. The next images in the sequence showed him bending
forward allowing his jeans to descend further and running his hands over
his round boy cheeks. It was at this moment it dawned on me that he
couldn't have taken these pictures by himself; if he'd used the timer then
the continuity of poses would have been more artificial, and in most of the
pictures I could see both his hands and no evidence of a cable release.

	The mystery was seriously beginning to turn me on, and I had to do
something about it; as I pored over the images I dropped my shorts and
absently began to rub my rock hard erection through the soft cotton of my
pants. Unconsciously I was mirroring the positions that Ewan had taken when
he posed for the pictures I was studying so intently. In the next sequence
of pictures he had lost his jeans completely, and stood with his back to
the camera, wearing a pair of classic white cotton y-fronts. These were
tight enough to show the sweet curves of his bottom, and as he twisted
round to face the viewer, it became very evident why. Even the loose
fitting material of his pants was put under strain by his erection, his
cock was stiff and hard, jutting straight out and very generously
proportioned when you considered his youth and slim hips. It was possible
to get tantalising glimpses of his hairless balls as the leg holes were
pushed away from his slender thighs.

	The next set of images began to unravel the mystery, as he was not
alone; instead he was pictured sitting on the lap of a man, his legs
spread, and the man's hand resting gently on his erection. Unfortunately
the man was only visible from the chest down, and dressed in a very
nondescript fashion, although he was wearing a wedding ring. Ewan's
expression was not quite as innocent or ambiguous as before, in fact I
would have said that he wasn't entirely happy with the situation. As the
sequence progressed, the man gradually began to explore Ewan's body,
slipping his hand into his pants and massaging his penis, and then flipping
him over to explore his cotton clad butt, spreading his legs and pulling
the fabric to one side so that his balls and the base of his cock were on
display. He finally pulled the pants down, and ran his hand over Ewan's
cheeks, reaching through his legs to masturbate him. He then lifted the boy
up, and spread his legs wide in order to explore the hairless pucker of his
anus. The final image was of him slipping his middle finger into Ewan's
virginal anus, after that the film was all shredded and blackened as it had
jammed in the camera.

	I have to confess that I was very turned on, but at the same time
rather troubled. Whenever Paul and I had done a photo session it had always
been by mutual agreement, sometimes the initiative had come from him, and
sometimes from me, and whatever it had led to had been as the result of our
shared pursuit of pleasure. In the case of these pictures, it looked as
though Ewan had been in some way coerced into taking things further than he
was happy with, he'd certainly gone further than Paul or I had together
already. On the other hand, of course, if he liked to have his picture
taken as much as the earlier shots would seem to indicate, then I would
always be happy to oblige him, he was very cute, and possessor of a cock
that many an older man would be happy to show off. Somehow, too, it seemed
to me to be better that he should learn about sexual play from a person
close to his own age.

	I decided not to show the pictures to Paul, he would be disgusted
by the overt gayness of it, and this might lead him to consider that our
play together could also be considered in some ways to be queer too. I
resolved to have a little chat with Ewan, and see how he felt about it, if
nothing else, I could at least help him get out of the clutches of the
mysterious man, should that be what he wanted.

	As luck would have it I bumped straight into Paul after I had
returned the key to the Wardens office, he'd changed out of the scout
uniform and was mooching about in his terrible saggy old tracksuit bottoms
and a t-shirt. `Hi how's it going?' I asked, `got bored with the
ping-pong?'

	`Yeah, stupid game,' he said grumpily.

	`Ah, you lost then,' I said sagely, `want to see some pics?'

	`I thought I could smell developer,' he said, `how do they look?'

	`I've just done some contact sheets for now, but they look pretty
good, and the ones you took have come out really well.'

	`Let's go back to my dorm and have a look,' he said eagerly.

	`Ok,' I agreed.  We walked across the open ground to the wooden hut
Paul shared with eleven other boys, and after checking that we weren't
followed, ducked inside. I dumped the bag with the contact prints on Paul's
bed and we both knelt down on the floor next to it. I hadn't actually
looked very closely at the images, as I had been rather pre-occupied with
the other film. As we looked at the pictures, and I remembered the
circumstances under which they were taken, I began to realise that we had
created some quite powerful images too.

	Paul had snatched the first contact sheet from me, and held it up
in the light, his silence was evidence enough to me that he was totally
absorbed, and a sideways glance revealed that the front of his tracky
bottoms was under some pressure from an instant erection.

	`Like them?' I asked slyly, and put my hand onto his bulging cock.

	He wiggled his hips to get his cock into a better position under my
hand before answering; `these are fantastic, the best we've ever done, what
do you think?'

	`Yeah, you're right; they're a real turn-on.' After a few moments
companiable silence while Paul perused the pictures, and I gently stroked
his dick through the fabric of his jogging pants, I eventually felt Paul's
hand creep up my bare thigh and up the leg of my loose shorts. With a
little effort he was able to pull my cock out of my pants and out through
the leg hole, all the time concentrating on the images he held in his hand.

	Aided by the near death of the elastic in Paul's jogging bottoms, I
pulled them slowly down, a sideways glance revealing that he was wearing
nylon y-fronts. I reached in through the fly-hole and tugging his cock out
I was able to masturbate him. He wiggled his bottom to help his joggers
fall free, and still kneeling, spread his legs slightly to give me better
access. We stayed in that position, shoulder to shoulder, slowly
masturbating each other and staring at the images for some time. I had a
bit of a head start on Paul, as I'd been pretty turned on by the whole
printing experience, and my cock was already hot and slippery in his hand,
mind you, he was really turned on by the pictures, and I could feel the
pre-cum starting to lube him up as I ran my fingers up and down his rigid
shaft.

	There were a couple of things we didn't consider when we embarked
on this little sexual episode, firstly, that we would get so carried away
that we would cease to be aware of our surroundings, and secondly, in our
eagerness we had failed to latch the hut door properly. Suddenly, in that
state of heightened consciousness that can precede a really good orgasm, I
became aware that we were not alone in the room. I looked round, and saw
Ewan standing silently just inside the door, watching our performance, a
hand pressing against the front of his white nylon football shorts. Paul
was completely unaware, and I was so close to coming, that I decided that
we might as well carry on. I winked and smiled at Ewan, and slipped my own
shorts down, Paul was still engrossed in the pictures and without looking,
he pulled my pants to one side and picked up the rhythm on my cock again. I
carefully pulled Paul's y-fronts right down, he spread his legs wider yet,
and I was able now to give some hand action to his balls, still smooth and
hairless despite it being a couple of days since they were shaved. Knowing
that we had a witness gave my efforts a new intensity; this enjoyment of
the whole voyeur/exhibitionist thing was a total surprise to me.

	I wasn't going to last much longer, I could feel the pressure
building up in my balls, and I could see from Paul's pink earlobes and
sweaty brow that he was on the verge too. I looked round at Ewan; he was
now openly working on his erection, a hand down the front of his football
shorts and his impressive bulge better even in life than in pictures. I
turned over onto my butt so I was facing Ewan, and sat back with my legs
apart, Paul still wanking me. I watched the boy's face as I picked up the
pace on Paul's cock, he took the hint, and we both began to slide down that
slippery slope towards orgasm. I locked eyes with Ewan as I felt the
pressure rising and then suddenly great gobbets of come squirted from my
cock and all over me and Paul, a moment later and he too let go with a
great groan, spraying sticky semen over my belly and up my arms. In the
momentary confusion that often follows a great orgasm, I forgot all about
the boy, and when I looked up again, Ewan had departed as silently as he
had arrived.

	I mopped us down with Paul's nylon y-fronts, we were going to have
to stay sticky for the rest of the day, too much showering was as likely to
draw attention as too little. I also decided not to mention our audience to
him; that could be my little secret. I was encouraged though, Ewan had
plainly been very turned on, and he hadn't run away screaming to a
teacher. I was going to have to have a chat with the boy, see where he
stood; there was no point in getting involved in our sex play if that
wasn't his thing. Even in those more innocent times I was aware that there
was an element of danger, we were both well under the age of consent, but I
would inevitably have been labelled as the offender and he the innocent
victim should we be discovered. Going by the photographic evidence, I would
have begged to suggest that despite his relative youth he seemed to be as
sexually aware as I was, and more experienced in certain areas.

	At this moment my reverie was interrupted by the dinner bell
summoning us to tea; `What shall I do with these?' I asked, waving the
contact prints at Paul.

	`Stick `em under my pillow, you can get them back after tea,' he
replied.

	I stuck them into his tattered wank mag, and shoved them under the
pillow as he suggested and then we made our way to the dinner room for tea,
improving sermons and yet another tambourine swinging session. Across the
room I could see Ewan with his classmates, he studiously ignored my gaze,
although I saw him glance over at Paul and blush prettily.

	At the end of our meal, the senior teacher stood up and tapped on
his water glass with a spoon to attract our attention; `Right boys, this
won't take long, I just wanted to remind you that tomorrow is our last full
day here, so if there are any activities you have not yet tried, this will
be your last chance.' I caught Paul's eye and stifled a giggle, I think
we'd covered most of the bases so far. `The following day we have to leave
the centre, and it is important that we leave it as clean and tidy as we
found it, so tomorrow I am going to inspect all the sleeping huts and woe
betide anybody if I find anything out of place. So, take a look at the
lists of activities available, see if there's anything you fancy and sign
up for it, remember, first come, first served on some of them, and don't
forget you have to sort your dormitories out between now and the morning.'

	Once we had cleared our plates, and set the room up for the
evening, I wandered over to the notice board with all the activities pinned
up on it. Some of the keener boys had already signed up for a range of
activities, as I looked though the list, Paul slobbed up to me; `what are
you thinking of doing?' he asked.

	`Dunno, really, just having a look.'

	`I thought I might try the rock climbing,' he said.

	`Oh yeah, I did that last week, it was good fun, don't think I want
to do it again though.'

	`That'll do me,' Paul said, and signed his name on the sheet, `I'm
going to get a cup of tea, you coming?'

	`Yeah, in a minute, when I've decided what I'm going to do
tomorrow.' Paul wandered off, and I looked through the list again. I was
already quite an experienced and agile climber, so I didn't see the point
in doing such a heavily supervised and relatively simple activity
again. Eventually I decided to try my hand at kayaking, and put my name in
the little box.

	Not a lot happened for the rest of that evening, we did a bit of
religion, a bit of clearing up and after the younger boys were sent off to
get ready for bed, we played a few board games before being sent off
ourselves.

	It was around 11.00 when I woke up, I could hear scratching outside
the hut, and whilst the nocturnal activities of Cumbrian wildlife didn't
bother me, the need to pee meant that I wasn't going to go back to sleep
unless I did something about it. Suppressing a yawn, I threw back the
bedclothes, and shuffled quietly out of the hut, taking great care not to
disturb the sleeping occupants. It was cool and clear, there was a light on
outside the toilet block, otherwise there was only the moon and the stars
to light the way. Whatever had been scratching around outside the hut had
long gone as I made my way to the hut, and pulling my limp cock out of my
pyjama bottoms; had a piss. Once I had done, and washed my hands I made my
way out, immediately I sensed that someone was waiting there; I could smell
cigarette smoke.

	`Hi Paul,' I said, `what got you up?'

	He emerged from the shadows, fag butt glowing in his hand. He
seemed very agitated, shifting from one foot to another; `Um, I don't know
how to tell you this, but we have a problem.'

	`From here it looks like you have a problem, mate. Do you want to
have a piss and then tell me about it?'

	`Nah, I'm serious, someone's nicked the pictures from under my
pillow, if the word gets around they're going to think we are a couple of
poofters.'

	`Ah, right, this could be a little embarrassing,' I replied,
thinking hard, `did they take the mag you'd hidden the pics in?'

	`Just the pics, the mag's still there.  '
	`Intriguing,' I said, `Oh well, we're not going to find them now, I
suggest you go back to bed, and sleep on it, I'll have a think, and we'll
meet up in the morning.'

	`That sounds ok,' he said, evidently relieved that I wasn't
panicking, `see you in the morning.'

	Truth was, although I had no idea who might have committed the
crime, the fact that he had taken the pictures and not the girly mag
indicated that he was more likely to be `one of us'. I had no doubt that
all would become clear in the morning, and made my way back to my hut and
my warm bed.

	The next morning was bright and sunny, perfect weather for boating,
when I saw Paul across the breakfast room, he shrugged his shoulders and
raised his hands, as if to indicate that nothing had changed. I smiled and
gave him a thumbs up to reassure him. At that moment the climbers were all
summoned to the minibuses, as the climbing centre was a few miles away. I
had time for a leisurely breakfast and then made my way down to the lake,
once kitted out with life jacket and so forth; we were loaded into our
kayaks, given an instructional talk and shown the area within which we
could paddle. This was quite a lot of our end of the lake, there was a
safety boat sitting well offshore, in case anybody got into
difficulties. That, for the first session before lunch was to be that, I
paddled gingerly out onto the lake, enjoying the feeling of the sun on my
back and the water under me. I concentrated on developing a good rhythm,
and was totally unaware of any of the other kayakers as I shot across the
lake. I paddled out as far as the safety boat, nodded to the bored looking
teenager who was entrusted with our safety, and then looked about me to see
who was around. To my surprise no-one else had come as far out onto the
water and instead they were all bumbling about near to the shore.

	I decided to explore the little island that had seemed so promising
when we first arrived at the lakes, but had so far delivered nothing. Not
that I was complaining, during the holiday Paul and I had been given sexual
opportunities that were beyond my wildest fantasies, and we had seized them
gratefully. At this point in my philosophical meanderings I realised that
my kayak was taking on water and I had a wet bum. Twisting round I saw that
I hadn't fixed the splash cover properly and must have been gradually
filling up for some time. I headed straight for the island and after
beaching the kayak, I inexpertly crawled out. I emptied the water out of
it, and looked around me. The island was small, with a sandy beach and a
couple of trees giving protection from the wind. Although it was quite
sunny, there was a bit of a breeze, and my bare legs and damp bottom were
getting quite chilly. I should perhaps have pointed out that the approved
costume for kayaking was a t-shirt worn under the life jacket and a pair of
speedos or swimming shorts. I, of course, had opted for the speedos,
although I was regretting it slightly now. Rather than get straight back
into my damp canoe, I decided to have a little sunbathe on the beach, and
dry off out of the wind.

	I stretched out on the sun warmed sand; face pillowed on my life
jacket and soon dozed off, dreaming pleasant boy dreams about my adventures
with Paul. I was awakened from my sleep by the soft tickling sensation of
sand being sprinkled over my bottom; I turned over with a start to see that
someone looming over me, silhouetted against the sun. At first it wasn't
clear who was dropping sand on me, but then as I looked from the ground up
I saw sandals, skinny legs, pale blue speedos containing an impressive
package and a faded red t-shirt under a life jacket. `I know that face,' I
said, squinting up at him.

	`Sorry, to wake you,' Ewan said apologetically, `but I saw your
kayak on the sand, and wondered if you were all right.'

	`I'm fine,' I said, sitting up and suddenly rather aware that I had
woken up with a bit of a stiffy, `I just sprang a leak, and decided to stop
off in the sun to dry my backside.'

	Ewan giggled and sat down beside me, it was the first time I had
actually been that close to him and I looked him over with approval. Up to
now, I guess my attention had always been focussed on his genitals, and
whilst I was very well aware of what he looked like, I had never examined
him that closely. His hair was wavy and blonde, shoulder length and tucked
behind his ears, and just beginning to bleach in the sun and his eyes were
a rich hazel brown. His complexion was clear and pale, betraying his Scots
or Irish ancestry, and contrasting vividly with his startlingly red
lips. He watched me as I inspected him, a faint smile on his face, meeting
my gaze without a hint of embarrassment. I think it was that direct and
unself-conscious attitude that I found so attractive, that and the fact
that he really was rather gorgeous.

	We both started to speak at the same time, I laughed and said; `You
go first.'

	`I think I owe you an apology,' he said slowly.

	`Why so?' I asked.

	`Umm, you know when I walked in on you and Paul in the dormitory
yesterday?'

	`How could I forget?'

	`Well, it really turned me on.'

	`Yes, I could tell that,' I agreed, beginning to get quite turned
on myself at the memory, `it did quite a bit for me too, I have to say.'

	His face flushed, either because I'd paid him a compliment or
because he was embarrassed, I'm not sure which. `Well, you see,' he said
carefully, `I'm not sure how to put this.'

	`Any way you like,' I said cheerfully, `there's no-one else
listening to us.'

	`I just feel bad about it, though.'

	`About what?' I urged him, `better get to the point.'

	`Ok then, here goes, please don't be angry with me. After you had
both gone to tea, I went back into the hut and nicked the pictures that you
had been looking at.'

	`I thought it might have been you, what did you think of them?'

	`They made me spunk all up the walls when I looked at them in the
toilet. So you're not cross with me?'

	I leaned over and gave him a hug, his skinny body was warm and
sweet smelling; `No, of course not, why should I be? There's at least
another 400 pics I can show you some time, if you fancy it.'

	`That sounds fabulous, I'll hold you to that.' he said, grinning
naughtily, `What I don't really understand, though, is that you and Paul
seem to have so much going on together, but he's always banging on about
poofters.'

	`I don't think he understands either,' I said dryly, `I'll let you
into our secret; Paul believes that he is completely straight, and what we
are doing is a bit like having a wank. The photos started as a ploy to
enable him to get off with girls, now that he has discovered that he enjoys
dressing up, and undressing too, they have gone a bit further. The point is
that it doesn't really matter what he thinks; we're both having loads of
fun doing it.'

	Ewan looked at me, his hazel eyes wide with amazement, `that's
bonkers, how on earth did you two ever get it together?'

	`It's a long story,' I answered, `and one I'd be delighted to tell
you some other time, but for now, I too have a couple of confessions to
make to you.'

	`Oh yeah, what?' he sounded intrigued.

	`First off, I hold you responsible for Paul's latest obsession.'

	`What, ping-pong?' he looked confused.

	`No, shaving his pubes off, you idiot.' I laughed.

	`But I don't shave my pubes, they only just starting to grow about
six months ago, and they're so pale that they don't really show.'

	`I'm sure they're lovely,' I said, `no, what happened is that Paul
caught sight of you having a crafty wank one morning, and thought that
shaving his pubes off would make his cock look bigger, cos he said yours
looked pretty massive without them.'

	Ewan blushed again, `I didn't think he'd seen me, I forgot where I
was for a moment, and I'd been having one of those dreams.'

	`Well anyway, I saw it as a good sign; he's never expressed an
interest in anybody's cock before, not even mine.'

	`There's nothing wrong with yours,' Ewan said stoutly, `and
watching you come was even more of a turn-on than looking at the pictures
if I'm honest about it.'

	`Thank you,' I said, blushing in turn, `that's nice to know, and
you could probably tell that we were having a good time.'

	`What was the other thing you wanted to confess?' he asked,
changing the subject.

	If I hadn't already been blushing, I would have blushed then, `do
you remember that film you couldn't get out of your camera?'

	`Yes,' he answered slowly.

	`Well, I managed to get it out without destroying it, and I
developed it when I did my other films.'

	Ewan looked stricken, `God, you must think I'm some sort of a
tart.'

	`I think you're fine,' I said to reassure him, as it looked as
though he might cry, `but I was a bit disturbed by some of the images. Not
what you were doing especially, but more that you didn't seem very happy
about it.'

	`There's a bit of a story,' he said, his voice wobbling slightly,
`do you promise you won't say anything to anyone.'

	`Of course, your secrets are safe with me.'

	`Thanks, I've never told anyone about this before.'

	`Take your time,' I prompted gently.

	`Well, to begin at the beginning, a couple of years ago my dad
decided that I wasn't learning to read and spell as quickly as I should
be. He sent me to an educational psychologist for tests, and he realised
that I had a specific learning problem, not that I was dumb. So I was sent
to have extra tuition with an old college friend of my dads; at first it
was all fine, he's a really nice bloke and took a real interest in
everything I was doing. He is a keen photographer, and encouraged me to
take it up, we'd go for walks in the park and take pictures, and sometimes
he would take pictures of me. I found that I really liked to be
photographed; I could pretend to be something I'm not, and no-one would
know any different.'

	`You certainly do look good on film,' I said firmly, `tell me what
happened next.'

	`Right, a few months ago things began to be different; I had
realised that my body was changing and when he asked me how I felt about
it, I couldn't think of any reason not to, so I told him about my pubes
starting to grow. When he asked me if I ever played with myself, again, it
seemed perfectly reasonable and so I told him that I'd been wanking since I
was little, but I had recently started to spunk for the first time. That
was it for the moment, he changed the subject, and we went back to our
lessons.'

	`Hmm, I don't like this very much,' I said, `how do you think your
father would react if you told him about this?'

	`Mr Symonds, that's my tutor's name, told me that my dad wouldn't
believe me.'

	`He probably wouldn't want to,' I agreed, `go on.'

	`He started asking me to pose for him; `just to finish a roll of
film off', he'd say, and I was ok about it, after all, I enjoyed having my
picture taken. So we would start each tuition session with a few pictures,
perfectly innocent, just me sitting at a desk, or in an armchair. After a
few weeks, this all seemed quite natural, and when he asked me to take my
shirt off, that seemed ok too.'

	`Was this when you took the pics I developed?'

	`No, that was much later, once he'd got me used to posing
shirtless, it wasn't long before he asked me to pose in shorts, then in
swimming trunks or my pants. Soon, I was spending the whole tutorial
sessions just wearing speedos, or some costume that he had found for me to
wear. It got so that I would strip off down to my pants as soon as I got
there, he would give me something to put on, and we'd take a few pics
before doing the lessons.'

	`But he wasn't touching you up or anything?' I have to admit that I
was getting rather turned on by his story, even though I hated the way that
the man had abused the trust of this young boy. I hoped that the bulge in
my black speedos wasn't too obvious to Ewan.

	`No, this wasn't at all sexual, or at least not for me, I guess it
must have been different for him.'

	`So what happened to change things?'

	`One time when I went round to his house, I'd stripped off to my
pants as usual, he wasn't in the room; he'd said something about having to
make a phone call. As I waited, I looked around me, and noticed a pile of
magazines carelessly dumped in the corner. When I looked a bit more closely
I realised that they were girlie mags, and naturally I picked one up to
look at it. These were quite a bit stronger than I'd ever seen before, with
girls and men really getting it together, and I was very turned on by it.'

	`What then?' I asked, suddenly dry mouthed.

	`He must have planned it, because he left me alone with the mags
for ages and I just couldn't keep myself from wanking. Suddenly I heard him
coming back, and stuffed the mags back where they had been; there was
nothing much I could do about the state of my cock though. When he entered
the room he was carrying his camera, looked at me and smiled, not
mentioning my erection. He asked me to pose in an armchair, and I did, I
felt very relieved he'd said nothing, and really didn't feel embarrassed
about my stiffy after a while.'

	`Is that when you took the pics, then?' I asked again.

	`No, things went on as before, except that now he encouraged me to
get hard for the pictures, said it looked more grown-up that way, and after
a while he got me to touch myself more and more, but still without taking
my pants or whatever off. Finally, just before I was due to come away on
this holiday, he said I should take some of the pictures with my camera,
and he'd help me to pose. It started out alright; he suggested that I pose
in my jeans and then gradually lose them; he would operate the camera for
me to my directions. I really liked doing it; I was in control and felt
good.'

	`Yeah, the first frames have a real air of confidence about them,
but then it all went wrong I guess.'

	`I suppose so, he didn't really like the way I was doing things,
and after a few shots he said he wanted to pose with me too, said it would
look more adult. Those pictures were the first time he'd ever touched me,
apart from patting me on the shoulder.'

	`How did you feel about it?' I asked.

	`At first it was ok, he was very gentle and it feels nice to have
someone else touching your cock.'

	`You're not wrong,' I agreed, `but it needs to be the right
person.'

	`It was only when he picked me up that I realised how strong he
was, and that I wasn't really in control at all. At some point my camera
had jammed, but it didn't make any difference to him, he'd forgotten about
the pictures by then.'

	`What happened?' I asked, not really wanting to hear.

	`He made me undress him, and then I had to suck his cock while he
was playing with me.'

	`You poor thing, did he hurt you?'

	`Not really, after I'd sucked him for a little bit he came in my
mouth and it all calmed down. He made me promise not to tell anyone, and
he'd make it worth my while. I got my clothes together and made a dash for
it while he was in the toilet, thing is, I'm supposed to go back for a
tutorial next week and I don't know what to do.'

	`Well one thing's for sure,' I said firmly, `you're not going back
to that bastard for any more so-called tutorials.'

	He turned his suddenly tear-stained face towards me and my heart
melted. `How can't I?' he stammered, `my dad would kill me.'

	`He'd probably kill your Mr Symonds if he found out that he'd been
fiddling with his son. Anyway, what about your mum, can't you talk to her?'

	`I don't have one, she died when I was little, there's just me, my
dad and my big brother away at University.'

	`Oh God, I'm sorry,' I blurted out, `that's terrible, I had no
idea.'

	`How could you have? It's not something I talk about much.'

	`Hmm, I'm sure there's a solution, there's probably enough
information in the pictures to identify him, it was clever of you to
remember to bring your camera away.'

	`Yeah, but won't that expose me?'

	`Aha,' I said sagely, `but we can blow up bits of the picture so
that all you get is the background, or some details that would identify
him, and not show any of you at all.'

	`Can you really,' he said, hope dawning on his tear streaked face,
`that would be fantastic.' Suddenly he flung his arms round me and hugged
me, taken by surprise, I put my arms round him and he climbed into my lap
for comfort, resting his head on my shoulder and sniffling slightly. We sat
entwined for a few minutes, and I became very aware of the proximity of his
sun-warmed body, the silky nylon of his Speedo-clad bottom pressing against
my crotch. My cock, which had subsided during his story, began to stiffen
up again, and I was very conscious that it was rubbing against his thigh.

	`I'm really sorry,' I said, `but it isn't fully under my control.'

	`What isn't?' he asked, lifting his head up.

	`My dick, sometimes it just does its own thing, no matter how
inappropriate.'

	`Oh, that,' he laughed, `don't worry, mine does that all the time
too, look:' He stood up, and indicated his crotch; his Speedos were indeed
distended, as his generously proportioned cock had grown erect and was
putting the pale blue nylon under pressure.

	I leaned back on my hands and openly admired the bulge in his
pants, my own erection blatantly on show, `that's ever so nice,' I said,
`but you want to be a bit careful who you show that to, it could get you
into a load of trouble.' To my considerable relief, and slight frustration,
we were interrupted by the series of blasts on an air horn, that signalled
the end of the morning's activities. `Here, we'd better get a move on;
we've half a lake to cross before we get our lunch.' I helped Ewan into his
kayak, and as I fitted the splash cover on for him, I stroked him gently on
the back and said; `don't worry, we have the technology, all we need to do
is send your Mr Symonds some blow-ups and say we'll pass the rest on to the
police if he doesn't drop teaching you and back off, and he'll crumple like
a wet tissue. Now, give me a hand getting into my canoe, and I'll race you
back.'

	Ewan steadied my kayak as I climbed in, helped me to fit my splash
cover, and as we prepared to set off, he very quietly said; `Thanks.'
	We raced splashily across the lake, the physical effort of paddling
my canoe helping me to clear the thoughts tumbling through my mind. As I
was both stronger and heavier than Ewan there was no way that he was going
to beat me across the lake, but he was game, and gave it his best shot, and
I have to confess I held back a little to make it feel more like a
contest. We arrived, soaked and sweating, within a couple of boat lengths
of each other; once we'd disembarked we went into the boathouse to put on
dry clothes. Having pulled on some trousers over our speedos, we sorted our
gear ready for the afternoon, and I waved Ewan to one side to have a quiet
word with him, `When is your next tutorial session supposed to be?' I
asked.

        `Next Wednesday,' he replied, `Why?'

        `Bugger,' I said, `that's the only night we have the darkroom until
late, it's used by adult learning groups for the rest of the week. How
easily can you get out of doing your tutorial session normally?'

        `Actually, my dad's not too bad about it, he's a lecturer himself,
and knows that everyone misses the odd session (as he says when he can't
get up in time). I'm allowed to miss a few, but I have to have a good
reason, or I'll be in trouble with him.'

        `Ok, I've got it, tell him you've got really interested in
photography while you've been away, and that someone; yours truly, has
offered to help teach you to develop and print your holiday pictures.'

        `Wow, that's a great idea, he'll love that, I think he thinks I
don't want to learn about anything, if he wasn't so tied up in his work I
think he'd take more of an interest.'

        `That's great, I'll book the darkroom as soon as I get into school,
and we'll sort out your Mr Symonds once and for all.'

        `Oh,' he said, his voice quavering again, `there's just one
problem.'

        `Only one?' I said cheerfully, `give it to me and I'll see what I
can do about it.'

        `I haven't actually taken any pictures since I came up here, I
arrived with that film jammed in the camera, and forgot to get any film
once I was here; my dad really knows this area, that was why he was so keen
for me to come away, so he'll spot any fakes.'

        `Ah,' I said, `but you're in luck, I have two already developed
rolls of hills, mountains, lakes and trees, although the only ones I have
with humans in are probably a tad too pornographic for your dad to
see. Maybe this afternoon you could take a few, and as the sucker punch,
I'll take some pics of you having a great time in your canoe. That way,
you'll have a picture to give to your dad of you looking happy, an excuse
to come to the photography club, and he won't think that I'm some sort of
weirdo.'

        `That's perfect,' Ewan said, his face breaking into a sunshine
smile, `let's do it, but in the mean time, let's eat; I'll race you back.'

        Much relieved, I raced him up the path to the outdoor centre for
our lunch.

	The rest of our day was devoted to supervised activity; we each had
to learn an Eskimo roll, and then we were taken by minibus to a busy river
to experience the white water. As we were put through our paces in turn by
the instructor I was able to take some pictures of Ewan while he was being
instructed. The need to concentrate on the job in hand meant that he was
oblivious to my presence, and I was quite pleased with what I thought I had
taken. Afterwards, as we bucketed down narrow gulIeys and over rocky beds I
was rather glad to have more thinking time to myself, Ewan had given me a
lot to think about, not just about the bastard who'd molested him, but also
about where that left me. There was no denying that I found him very
attractive, but I also became aware for the first time that relationships
have responsibilities and consequences. I'd been spoiled by my simple
relations with Paul, there could be no consequences, because as far as he
was concerned, there was no relationship. With Ewan, I was very aware that
I could really hurt him if I handled things the wrong way, at the same time
I was coming to realise that I was developing real feelings for him. This
was not a situation that would be resolved overnight.

	Paul didn't get back from his climbing until quite late that
evening; they'd had mechanical trouble with their minibus and turned up
after we'd all eaten. I was able to reassure him that the missing contact
prints had been found, and skirted round the issue of where I had found
them, simply saying that I'd found them while I was helping to tidy his
hut. Fortunately Paul didn't question me further, the feeling of relief
that he wasn't going to be a laughing stock around the school was enough
for him.

	He was lucky, because the rest of us had already had to finish
cleaning the huts and tidying up the rest of the centre, which took far too
long. Still, we had a shorter religious session, which was a bonus, and
were all sent off to bed early as we had the epic drive ahead of
us. Despite all that had happened, I slept like a baby that night and
didn't wake until the sound of the bell. As with so many adventures, it all
ended too soon, after a hasty breakfast we were herded onto our double
decker buses and waving and shrieking from the windows, we made our stately
way out of the village and on towards home.

	As I watched the Cumbrian hills slowly disappear behind us I
thought back over the past fortnight and how much fun we had managed to
pack into it. Not to mention the intriguing and disturbing discovery of
Ewan, I resolved that whatever else might happen, I was going to make sure
that he wasn't hurt any more; in a very short space of time he had become
very precious, a condition that was quite fresh to me and I wasn't entirely
sure how to deal with it.

	After an entirely humdrum and tedious journey, we were deposited at
the school to be collected (or in my case to walk home), Ewan's dad came to
pick him up, and I was swiftly introduced, as was Paul, his dad seemed
pleased that his son had made some friends on the holiday, so all in all,
it was a satisfactory end to an amazing holiday.