Date: Thu, 14 Feb 2013 15:56:24 +0000
From: Joe Ferns <alohareaders@gmail.com>
Subject: Blind Faith 5a

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C5  Dream on, boys!

"You bought what?" questioned Peter.
Matt couldn't bring himself to answer straight out. It was a secret, and
yet a secret he was deviously proud of.  Condoms.  He had bought a package
of condoms, individually tested and certified. He had taken a bus clear to
the other end of town for them, not wanting to be seen buying them by old
man Hank, proprietor of the chemist's shop beside the doctor's surgery
where Mum bought all of her hygiene needs. He had been nervous the whole
bus ride. What if anybody saw him buy them? Someone who knew him or worse,
also knew his parents. He ended up buying chewing gum, toothpaste and three
bars of soap, just to cover up his secret purchase, the package of Trojan
condoms, lubricated with spermicide. Thankfully the girl at the cash
register just rang things through without even looking up at him, like she
was handling nothing more than soap or nappies.
Now he was about to share his secret. Peter would be so impressed. His best
friend was a man now, ready for... well for anything. But Matt was thinking
Mink. The Mink put out. And the Mink had a thing for him, for him, for
Matt. Manhood was smiling kindly on Matt. He had grown over ten centimetres
in the last year, his voice was deeper, and looking in the bathroom mirror
there was a definite six-pack smiling back at him. A babe magnet. That was
him, the new Matt.
Rather than tell him about it, he would show Peter. He had the package
right there, burning in his pocket. He took a sidestep, scooted through the
change room doors, and turned on the lights. Inside it was warm and humid
and redolent of farts and sweat. All that mattered was that it was empty,
and the night cleaners were not expected for at least another half hour.
"No way!" exclaimed Peter, with a gratifying mixture of awe and disbelief.
"Be prepared" grinned Matt, lending new meaning to the Boy Scout motto.
"Have you tried them out yet?" asked Peter.
"Uh..." Matt sputtered, turning red now. "Not yet, but I'm sure to pretty
soon..."
"No, not like that. I meant have you tried one on, just for size?"
"Huh? Isn't it one size fits all?"
"Well maybe, but I heard they're pretty tricky to get on right. We should
practice."
"We?!?"
"Well duh!" answered Peter, unbuckling his pants, then pushing down his
underwear, revealing a rapidly expanding and rising sausage.
Matt stood there transfixed, staring at his friend's burgeoning boner.
 "Can I try one?" asked Peter, holding out his hand.
Matt's hands trembled as he fumbled with the carton, ripping it open at one
end before pulling out a string of individually packaged condoms.
"Just one," repeated Peter, and Matt complied by tearing off one square,
feeling a mixture of excitement and jealousy. He was the one who had had
the gumption to buy these, but Peter had to be the first to try them out,
stealing his thunder. Peter always had to be first in everything. Not this
time. Matt lowered his own pants and underwear, giving Peter his first
glimpse at his friend's not-so-shabby boner.
"Nice!" commented Peter, appreciatively.
"Thanks," grunted Matt, not sure if that was the right thing to say.
They each tore open a package and pulled out a slippery condom, then tried
pulling it over their superhard dicks. Peter had been right, these things
were tricky.
Then the door opened.
In stepped the Mink, eyes wide open.
"What have we here?" she asked.
Matt's heart stopped beating. He thought he was going to faint. But the
Mink smiled at him, pouted.
"Are you guys having fun without me?"
"Let me show you how it's done," she added, stepping forward.
She took the condom out of Matt's hands, poked it with one finger to start
unrolling it, then deftly swooped down to Matt's penis. It had gone down.
Poor Matt stood there trembling, knees knocking.
"What's wrong?" asked Mink, pouting her sexy lips. "Can I kiss it better?"
With that, she went down on her knees. Matt could not believe this was
happening, had never been this scared in his life. Her lips touched his...
It was too much. He peed....
And woke up wet - in a cold sweat and with cum soaked pyjamas.  Again.
What a dream, or was it a nightmare? Lately it always ended with seeing
Peter's boner, with the Mink, and with soaked pyjamas. Peter had been
right, he should beat off more instead.
He threw back the covers, opened the sock drawer and reached for the
package hidden in the back: Trojan brand condoms.  This much at least was
real. He had bought them to do "it" with the Mink, fantasized constantly
about it. Silly dreams with Peter meant nothing. Sure they had been best
buddies for over five years, but those were the things of childhood.  He
was a man now. He would prove it, to the Mink and to himself.
Matt stripped off his wet pajamas, wiped his still-dripping penis with
them, rolled them up, stuffed them into a plastic bag and then into his
backpack. It was his second set this week already and he had only one clean
set left. He did not need his mother to find these in the laundry hamper.
Instead he was taking them to his dad's on the weekend. These days he
wished he were living with his dad.  Dads don't mother over you, don't
smother you with questions about school and friends, advice about school
and commands on what to eat. Dads let you live your own life.  Live and let
live, and do your own laundry, that was his dad's motto.
Matt slipped naked and very quietly out his door and right through the next
to have a shower. He imagined the Mink standing there with him in the
stall, fluttering eyelids, pouting lips, her naked breasts bouncing like
tennis balls, brushing his chest with her nipples. The image had the
desired effect on his penis, rising slow but steady. He soaped up the wash
cloth and pretended this was her cunt, wet with desire.  He wrapped the
cloth around his boner and started pumping it, rhythmically like the
proverbial shit-house door banging in the wind.
He grunted. "Ooh" she replied. Harder he went at it. "Aah" escaped from her
lips. Faster he went. Up she rose on her tiptoes. And faster yet. But he
didn't cum. The washcloth was drying out, his dick rubbed raw.  He rinsed
it off. This wasn't any good. The real thing, that is what his dick needed.
Once he banged the Mink's cunt for real everything would sort itself out.
Nature would take over. There would be no going back.

*****************

Peter had an equally restless night.  It all went round and round in his
head; the excellence of the party, the growing intimacy with Joey, the
Glencoe meet, the photographs.  And that was what it all still came back
to.  The photographs.  How had photos of the meet ended up being sent to
his mum?  How?  Who?  And what were they showing?  He would begin to drift
off to sleep and then it all came flooding back and he was wide awake again.
He spent the night tossing and not the way he usually did.  He kept
thinking pictures.
Breakfast next morning was a dour affair.  Not that there ever was much
chatter over breakfast but that morning there was a definite atmosphere.
Dad left for work and Peter finally plucked up enough courage to ask his
mother if he could see the pictures.  She almost hurled the mobile at him.
"Look at them then.  But Peter, you might as well know I am not happy."
Thinking that that must be the biggest understatement for a while, Peter
flicked through the downloaded photos.  His immediate reaction was relief.
Nothing looked all that incriminating to him.  Maybe mothers thought in a
different way from teenage boys, reflected Peter.  As soon as this occurred
to him he realised it was true.  Mothers can read all sorts of hidden
messages into everything.
"Honestly, mum.  It was just a meet.  Okay some people had a beer.  Not me
or Matt.  Some people had a smoke though Joey objected to them stinking out
the flat but ..."
"The camera does not lie, Peter.  I'm not blind.  I see what I see and what
I see I do not like.  And that's an end of it.  Understood.  I believe
you.  I trust you, Peter.  But that changes nothing."
"What do you mean 'changes nothing'?"
"I do not like these new friends of yours.  They are much too old for you.
You stick to friends your own age."
"Does that mean ...?"
He got no further.
"Yes it does.  And that's an end of it."
"But ..."
"No!  No buts.  End of it, Peter."
And she clattered away with the breakfast dishes.
Peter's last hope was that he might talk dad round into having a word with
mum but he didn't feel confident.
Peter was thoughtful as he left the house for school.  He had checked.  The
photographs had been sent from his mobile so they must still be in the
memory there; so he could have checked last night, maybe been better
prepared.  Someone had gained access to his mobile, had taken the
photographs and had sent them on.  The obvious suspect was Matt.  Matt knew
Peter had stuffed his mobile into his jacket pocket; Matt knew where they
had stashed their jackets at Joey's flat.  And if he thought about it
carefully it made sense that Matt was a bit jealous of Peter's new
friendship, the friendship with Joey.  After all, Matt had managed to
inveigle himself onto the Glencoe expedition but it was Peter who was
Joey's friend, not Matt.  Matt was an extra, a hanger-on, expendable.
Peter did his best to avoid Matt for most of the day at school.  He was not
sure how to tackle the issue.  Normally, like most boys his age, disputes
were taken head-on by Peter.  Angry words and a quick exchange of blows
usually resolved an argument fairly fast.  The good thing is that
ill-feeling rarely lingers.  But for Peter this was different.  It was not
that he had any doubt about Matt's guilt, he'd persuaded himself of that.
It was the motive that bothered him.  Why had Matt done it?  The way Peter
figured it Matt was not stupid so if the idea had been to get Peter banned
from the Glencoe trip then that was likely to backfire.  Peter's mum was
more than likely to talk to Matt's mum with a predictable result.  So what?
Matt didn't notice anything amiss at first.  In classes like Technical and
Art there was no fixed seating pattern which meant that Matt wasn't
immediately aware that Peter was avoiding him.  Even at break, although the
pair usually hung out together it wasn't inevitable.  But when the bell
rang for them to go to English class then it became very obvious that
something was up.
As the boys piled into the classroom Peter took Gavin by the elbow.
"Hey, Gav.  Okay of I sit with you today?"
Gavin gave Peter a curious look but he nodded his agreement.  Matt had
already taken his seat when Peter went past to sit with Gavin several rows
behind.  Matt turned to stare questioningly but in response all he got back
was a blank expression.
At the end of the lesson Mat was waiting at the classroom door.
"Hey.  Are you avoiding me or something?  I suddenly got body odour or
something catching?"  asked Matt with jovial good humour.  He grinned as he
spoke.
It was the lightness of tone that made all the difference.  Peter stared
momentarily at his friend and then grinned back.  It was suddenly obvious
to him that Matt had nothing on his conscience.  At the same time the doubt
that had been chiselling away at the back of his mind became a certainty.
Matt had nothing to gain and much to lose by sending the compromising
photographs.  Peter realised he had been stupid, that he should have had
more unquestioning faith in his oldest friend.
"Well, yeah.  To be honest I was sort of avoiding you.  I ... " and here
Peter hesitated and decided that being honest was not always the best
policy.
"... I was protecting you really," he continued.
Peter went on to explain about the photographs and the grief they had
caused.  He argued that although he was in deep trouble there was no need
for Matt to be and that one way of keeping Matt out of it would be to
distance themselves, one from the other.
"Decent of you, mate, but no way.  All for one and all that shit.  But how
the hell did that happen?"  For a second Matt was puzzled but then his face
broke onto a terrible smirk, something closer to a leer in fact.
"Hey, dirty piccies, you said?  Like one of your outsize boner?" he giggled.
"Hey, not one of you sticking it somewhere you shouldn't?" continued Matt
with an expression that mingled shock and high expectation.
Peter laughed.
"Well, if it had been that sort then I would have known who to blame."  And
with that he whacked the back of his hand hard in Matt's crotch.   "No man
gets access to the Peter prick except my best buddy Matt."
Matt flushed scarlet as he remembered the incident in the boys' dressing
room.
"B ...but ... I wasn't ... I mean really ...." he spluttered.
Peter laughed and threw his arm across Matt's shoulder.
"Don't be so effing touchy!" said Peter.
"But, hey.  It was impressive, now was it not!" Peter added with a smirk.

*****************

Later in the day the pair of them sat in a Macdonalds to review the
situation.  Peter suggested that Matt should take the bull by the horns and
get in first, tell his mother about the photographs, that Peter's mother
had put a ban on Glencoe, that it was all a fuss over nothing.
"If you get in first with your version then it won't sound so bad.  Then we
can get to work on sorting out my folks.  I really, really want to go on
this trip, Matt."
Matt nodded but said nothing.
"Well, you like my idea?" urged Peter.  He was surprised that Matt wasn't
more grateful to him for coming up with this scheme.  Peter felt he had
been more than generous in devising a way that at least might allow Matt
still to go.
"It's cool, it's cool," replied Matt hurriedly.  "But it's your folks are
the prob, mate..."
"Maybe dad will see sense," interrupted Peter, "but first things first.  We
need to get to the bottom of this.  Somebody is out to get me and that's a
fact, not paranoia kicking in."
They put their heads together and began to plan out a piece of detective
work.
"We know one thing.  Whoever did it had to be at the party and it can't be
Joey because he is in the piccies.  Well, some of them.  Hey!  That's a
thing.  Let's look see who is NOT in any of the piccies.  That might be a
clue!"
"And then what?"
"I'm not sure yet, Matt, but we'll think of something."
Together they made a list of suspects.  Then they scanned through the
offending photographs and crossed off the list anyone who appeared in any
of the photos.  They were left with Matt, Vern, Ally and the Mink.
"Well we know it wasn't you so it has got to be her," averred Peter.  "She
really hates me."
"No she doesn't," protested Matt.
She didn't HATE Peter, she just likes ME better, Matt thought to himself.
The Mink had shown exactly just how MUCH she liked him.  As in SEXUAL
attraction. So now Peter was jealous. It's tough to reason with guys when
broads are involved, but for the sake of their friendship, he would try.
  "I'm sure the Mink likes you, just give her time. But how about that guy
Ally?  We don't know him. Maybe he doesn't want us kids tagging along?  And
same goes for Vern if you think about it."
"I still say we check out the Mink."
Peter's phone went off.  A text message had come in.  From his dad.  Peter
read it and frowned deeply.
"What's wrong?"
"You'll have to go Glencoe without me, I'm not allowed.  That's definite
now.  Dad really backed mum up."
"Shit! I thought your dad might talk her round."
"He didn't even try.  Worse than her if anything.  You do not want to read
this!"
"You'd think they'd worry more about you falling off a mountain instead of
this shit about fags and booze and sex. I know my mom would have a heart
attack if she knew I was going."
"What?!"  Peter spluttered in disbelief.  "You mean she doesn't ..."
"Ah!" gasped Matt.  "I shouldn't ought to have said that, should I?"
 "You haven't told her?  "
"Hell no, I know better than that. I just told her I was going to dad's
that weekend.  I said nothing to you in case I got you into trouble.
Sorry, mate."
"And....?  You will still be going?" Peter felt a surge of jealousy
"Well dad won't care what I do. You know him."
"Uh, I guess..."
Matt looked suddenly thoughtful.
"Say why don't you just tell your parents you're coming to Glasgow with me?"
"That will never work. One: they know you are going mountain climbing. Two:
I have never been to your dad's. Three: we haven't had sleepovers since
uhm...."
"..since my parents split up three years ago," Matt finished the sentence
for him. "Shotts Highland Games."
"Huh?"
"Shotts Highland Games will be on. Tell them my dad's invited us for that."
"He has?"
"He will."
"Then how do we get to Glencoe?"
"Last minute change of plans, it will work out. Trust me."

**************

Peter hastened home from Macdonalds.  The text from dad had made it clear
that he was on probation for the time being.  It was all very well his
parents protesting that they still trusted him but clearly they did not
trust his new found friends.  Peter found the idea bizarre, absurd even,
that he might be being corrupted.  But better to keep his folks happy
meantime, he decided.  He took farewell of Matt and hurried off.
Matt stood reflectively on the street corner.  He had sounded very
confident about the ruse he had suggested but he was not sure they could
pull it off.  Still, he was fourteen and at that age boys have a tendency
to think they can pull anything off.
That was his thinking when he felt a hand on his shoulder perfume wafting
into his nostrils and a husky voice purring in his ear.
 "Hey, gorgeous."
It was her.  Matt froze.
"What is Mister Cool doing here?"
That's me, play it cool, he told himself.
"I was in Macdonalds.  Sometimes me and Peter have a coke after school.
It's just up there, our school," explained Matt pointing to the rather
grand building a little way up the hill.
"Oh?  Really?  Didn't know you went there.  Some coincidence, eh?"
"Yeah wow" answered Matt, somewhat gullibly.
"I was over in Zuzzies.  Over there?  The boutique.  Wanted something
special.  You know?"
Matt did not know but he nodded as if he did.  However the Mink removed any
doubt by placing her hands underneath her breasts and heaving slightly.
"You know?" she repeated.  Now Matt did and so did something inside his
pants.
"They do a special line in bras.  All my friends shop there.  A girl's got
to make the most of her ..."
The Mink paused as if seeking the mot juste.
" ... assets," she finished demurely.  "If you got it, flaunt it."
She smiled warmly and scanned Matt from head to toe.
"Just like boys do too," she said looking pointedly at Matt's crotch where
she detected distinct movement.
Flustered Matt tried surreptitiously to move his growing erection into a
less obvious position.  She leaned forward again and whispered.
"If you got it, flaunt it, babes."
They stood for a second and she looked at Matt as if expecting him to
speak.  Matt felt like a kid on a first date.  He had no idea what to say.
"So?" she asked, coming to his rescue.  "You taking me for a coke or a
'cino?  Or will we go dutch?"
Matt felt relieved.  Somehow he was back in the driving seat, no longer the
dumbstruck teenager.  He straightened himself and ignored the slight
protuberance in his pants.
"I'm all coked out.  So shall we cross to Fazzi's and have that 'cino?"
He offered an arm which she took and they strode off across the road
together.
Fazzi's was an old fashioned coffee shop.  It consisted of two rows of
wooden booths designed to afford some privacy to customers.  Matt ushered
the Mink into one of the booths and was about to sit opposite her when she
grabbed his arm and pulled him in alongside her.
"It's cosier if we sit this way," she pouted.
Matt did not disagree.
Old man Fazzi arrived with the coffees and gave the pair a very
disapproving look.  The booths were designed for private conversation not
for what Mr Fazzi termed hanky-panky.  They sipped together and they
chatted.   Mainly the Mink chatted in fact - about TV programmes, about
movies, about clothes, about make-up.  She talked and talked as if fearful
of silence, as if fearful that Matt might get to thinking if she gave him a
chance.
She placed a hand on his knee.  Matt just slurped on his 'cino, trying to
remain Mr. Cool. Getting no reaction she moved her hand to his inner
thigh.  Even an amateur, she reckoned, would understand that opening
gambit.  Matt was breaking out in a sweat, but still gave her no tangible
sign.  Her hand remained on his inner thigh.  His hands remained clenched
tight around the coffee cup.
"Oh for God's sake," she muttered and she moved her hand firmly up and onto
his crotch where she closed around his tumescent penis.
"Nice!" she exclaimed finally getting a reaction.
Matt wiped himself with a paper napkin, then stuck his hand in his pocket,
reassuring himself the condom was there.
At that point Matt lost what little reason remained to him but he did
manage to start reciting the top goal scorers of last season, one by one,
and all the while he kept thinking...
"I mustn't cum in my pants."

*******************

Peter was flying.  Where he was flying was not clear to him at first but he
knew he was flying.  Beneath him was green and lush, long glens filled with
heather through which brooks gurgled .  Ahead there was water, blue and
green, speckled with little islands.  On either side towered great
hillsides, snow-capped, beautiful.
He was not in a plane, he realised.  But he was flying.
The clouds had been wisps of white as in a child's painting but now they
were changing shape, changing colour.  They appeared as faces almost.
Smiling.  Like cherubs, cherubs that all looked like Joey, they seemed to
fill the sky around him.  Again it changed, quickly, as the weather can on
a mountain slope.  Darker now, they seemed to leer at him out of the sky,
veer in towards him as if malevolent, attacking.  They seemed to be all
teeth and white.  Sharp too.  Like fangs.  Not Joey now for they had taken
on a female cast.
He flew through them.  He was wet from the clouds.
There was a rounded mountain top ahead now, round like in a kid's drawing.
On top sat a figure.  A man.  He was laughing.  Peter could not make out
the face but it was laughing.  No, not a cruel, mocking laugh.  A laugh of
welcome!  It was Joey sitting astride the mountain's peak.  Peter seemed to
hover overhead.  Joey had spread his legs wide, leaned back on his elbows,
his crotch seemed to pulsate as if with the beat of his heart.
How was he flying?  It was as if it was a broomstick but no, for there was
now a figure alongside him and she was on a broomstick.  Pointy hat and
warts and all.   He was astride something that was somehow like one of
dad's Christmas cigars ... but not like tobacco ... more flesh-coloured ...
And that was when he woke.  Damp and sweating and firing spunk into his
boxer briefs.

Author's Note - for those losing patience (but only those) I append C5b
appendix