Date: Sun, 5 Apr 2015 20:38:01 +0100
From: Joe Ferns <alohareaders@gmail.com>
Subject: Blind Faith 8

C8 Best Laid Plans?

The Mink was at her toilette.  She had showered quickly and then spent a
further twenty minutes under the jet as she worked on her hair – shampoo,
colourer, conditioner.  Each had to be allowed to penetrate deeply in order
to have the desired effect.  Attraction.  Temptation.  Seduction.  And the
greatest of these was of course seduction.  It was only then that you knew
the effort had truly paid off.
They say that man is fickle, that once he has his wicked way he will move
on to the next conquest.  The Mink was even more fickle. She was
surprisingly uninterested in getting her wicked way with the men she
targeted.   For her the assurance of conquest was all; to see them slaver
as they tried to get an already engorged penis out of their fly was
satisfaction enough for her.  The slavering was more important than the
penis.
She sat now in front of the mirror working on her hair.  She brushed with a
relentless vigour like a groom preparing some mare for an important event.
Her mind wandered.  She remembered Dolly's hair, how she had brushed it,
how she had attempted to style it, to give Dolly a cooler, a more modern
look.  All her young skill could not achieve the desired effect and in one
final effort, a combination of desperation and frustration, she had fetched
the scissors and given Dolly a cut.  An extreme one.  The Mink remembered
looking at the result with even greater dissatisfaction before going to
bed.  The next morning she fetched Dolly from her cradle.  She held the
poor plaything at arm's length and stared.  The hair had not grown back;
there was not the least sign of any effort for the hair to re-grow.  A deep
sadness swept through her and tears began to form in her eyes.  She shook
Dolly. When this had no effect she felt her sadness turn to rage; she
cursed the poor thing and hurled Dolly from her, tossed her to the far end
of the room where the toy lay crumpled and broken for several days until
the Mink's mother removed the offending Dolly and quietly disposed of it in
the incinerator.
Staring at her reflection the Mink recalled her frustration and anger.
Things never worked out as they were meant to.  You could plan, plan, plan
and things still didn't go as you wanted.  Not that she had expected Joey
to welcome the news.  She had anticipated shock; she had hoped for anger.
His reaction she found difficult to explain, to understand.  Her news was
greeted with disbelief – that was fine.  But as the facts sank in his
disbelief had turned to despair, to depression.  All her feminine efforts
to comfort him, distract him, had been to no avail.  He had become morose,
unable to respond to any blandishment.  Finally she had left him slumped
across the cafeteria table with his head in his hands.
Instinctively she now reached for her phone.  No messages.  There was a
missed call but that was from Manda.  The Mink's hand hovered.  Her finger
moved to speed dial.  Joey's number.  Should she?  On balance she decided
against.  Anything she had to say was better said in the flesh.  Yes, she
concluded, her flesh would be a major asset in any conversation.
She had stopped brushing.  Turning her head left then right she examined
the effect.  Her lips pursed and she nodded.  She had laboured hard and the
result was good.
Opening the drawer to the left she took out her make-up kit and laid it out
on the table.  She leaned in close to the mirror to examine her face; each
angle was studied for any possible defect that might require attention.
She smiled as none was detected.  Her hand reached for the midnight blue.
Sombre, serious and slightly mysterious.  Just the effect she wished to
create.
It was then that the doorbell rang.

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

The boys met up as arranged at the entrance to the park.  The gates were
locked but it was a simple matter to shin over the railings.  Walking
through the park in the direction of the Mink's flat they went over the
plan they had agreed.
"Look, mate.  I got you into this," said Matt, "and it's up to me to get
you out of it.  You know what they say.  You dug a big hole for yourself?
Stop digging."
Peter smiled.
"You're a good mate, even if you have been stupid.  Yeah, you got me into
this mess but know what, Matt?  Some guys would have seen me in this hole
and jumped in to help.  You haven't done that.  You've fucked off ..."
Matt's face fell at an anticipated reprimand.
"... and come back with a ladder!"
The boys clunked fists and exchanged a smile.  They then ran through their
plan again to make sure each knew his part.  Timing was everything.
"I got one advantage," Matt remarked.
"Here comes Mr Boasty again?"
"Not that!"  Matt sniggered before adding, "Not that I ain't well endowed."
"So what is this big advantage?" asked Peter, ignoring Matt's exaggerated
hefting of his genitals.
"She can't afford to have me spilling no beans.  Now, can she?  I mean, I
could go blabbing to the cops, not just Joey.  So she'll have to play
along.  Well, I reckon so.  What d'you think?"
"So? You still hoping to poke her one?" laughed Peter.
"No!  Well ... wouldn't say no ..."  Matt left that hanging and put on a
lustful expression.  "Seriously though, I'm guessing she'll string me along
but nothing more.  But I do think she'll try to keep my mouth shut."
"Bet she tries to get away with giving you a hand job," Peter asserted.  He
looked at Matt and smirked.  "Beggars and all that."
"Yeah!  Okay, big man.  But see.  I've come prepared.  When I fetch these
out my pocket she'll see I'm expecting more.  That's where I can play for
time."
Peter stared at the condoms Matt had produced.
"You got spunk catchers?  Wow!  Where you get them?"
"I had a dream, mate.  Seriously.  Came to me in a dream.  I went over to
the other side of town, so as I wouldn't be recognised.  I thought if I
produce these she'll know I'm expecting to go all the way."
"You ever used them things before?" asked Peter, his voice filled with
doubt.
"Well, no," confessed Matt, "but come on, mate, it's not nuclear physics."
Peter continued to look doubtful but said nothing.
"Don't you just .. like ... put them on your thingy?"
"I don't know either.  But I don't think it's like wearing socks.  You
know?"
Matt stared at the unopened packet and then stared at Peter.
"Shit.  I do not want to look like an amateur, now do I?"
"Exactly.  A boy's got to look like he knows what he's doing," asserted
Peter.
Matt glanced at his watch.
"We got time.  Come on."
Matt hastened off ahead in the direction of one of the shelters.
"Come on!" he called back at his friend.
As they slipped into the park shelter, the one near the kids' commando
course, Peter asked what the idea was.
"We're going to practice putting them on.  What you say?  Pure dead
genius?"
"Slipping rubbers on our cocks, like right now?" gasped Peter.
 "Well, yeah ..." Matt sounded hesitant.  He hadn't really thought it
through.  He had decided that possessing the condoms would give him the
upper hand when he confronted the Mink; they showed he was deadly serious.
He had then decided that he really needed to look like he knew what he was
doing.  He couldn't very well practise in front of the Mink.  Much easier
in front of his mate.  Peter shouldn't object, it was him showing off his
boner in the change room last week.
"So what?  It's no big deal.  I've got the fucker up already."
"Wow!"  Peter muttered, taken aback by Matt's bravado.
Matt shrugged as if it was a matter of no importance.  He handed the packet
of condoms to Peter, telling him to get one out.  Quickly he undid his
pants and lowered his briefs down over his boner.  Peter stared, feeling
his own cock rise and swell in response.
"Well.  Get a move on.  Give us the condom and stop perving on the beauty!"
Peter suddenly laughed and with his teeth tore open the packet before
extracting the rubber.  He thought of Joey at that moment and of how Joey
had taught him to seize the moment, go with the flow, not think too much.
What was it Joey had said? `Think no more, `tis only thinking lays lads
underground.'  His cock stayed up but his heart-rate slowed to an easy
canter.
"I never seen you full up before.  Well, not since we grew up.  Started
shooting.  Looks good, mate," Peter complimented his friend as he passed
the condom over.
"You nip the top .." said Peter helpfully."That's what this leaflet thingy
says ..."
Matt looked blank.
"Like this.  I think."
Peter reached across and squeezed the bulbous tip of the condom between his
thumb and index finger.
"Now you roll it down over your cock."
Easier said than done.  The thing was lubed, treacherously slippery.  As he
tried to push it down it slipped out of his hand and unto the ground.  Dirt
stuck to the lube when he picked it up.  How do you clean a thing like
this?  He was in a hurry, and did not want to look like a sissy in front of
Peter.  He shrugged and pushed the rubber, dirt and all, over the tip of
his cock. Coated in dirt it was less slippery now. He got a good grip on it
and managed to unroll it more than halfway down his shaft.  Then some of
his pubic hairs got in the way. Ouch! Be a man. He ignored the pain of
pulling out some of his own hairs and finished unrolling the instrument of
torture.
"I think you need more practice," observed Peter.
"Thanks for volunteering your cock," answered Matt, seizing the opening.
"What? Volunteer what?" asked Peter, not quite making the connection.
"Hand me another one of those." Peter handed Matt another condom package.
"Well?"
Peter looked puzzled.
"Come on.  We ain't got all night.  Get the monster out here."
With a shake of his head Peter laughed before unzipping and hauling out his
engorged cock.
Matt tore off the end between his teeth, poked his finger into the condom
to start unrolling it, and before Peter could protest placed it on top of
his mate's firm and shiny glans.
"Practice makes perfect," Matt agreed.  Peter just sucked in between his
teeth and Matt started pulling down the rim of the condom, unrolling it
over Peter's steely shaft.  No dropping the condom this time.  Matt kept a
firm grip on the top of Peter's cock covered in rubber while rolling down
the rim with his other hand.
Peter was filled with uncertainty.  On earlier occasions, like that time in
the locker room at school, Peter had been filled with self-confidence.  He
had been in charge and it had been easy to act the part.  But now that he
had time to think, now that it was Matt who had taken the initiative, he
felt vulnerable.  All the emotional conflicts that had been piling in on
him over the past few days seemed now to be coming to a climax.  He stared
at Matt working over his cock and felt a lustful desire ride at a gallop
through his loins and it bothered him.
When Matt finished the job he let go of Peter's boner, reluctantly it
seemed.
"Well?  What you think?"
"Looks good."
"Yeah!" exclaimed Matt with a filthy leer. "Oh yes he does!"
Peter laughed. "Thanks, but what I meant was that you are getting better at
pulling in the rubber."
"See!" Matt exclaimed triumphantly. "Practice makes perfect."
The pair stood there, facing one another, with cocks at full attention.
There was a sudden crunch of gravel outside.  They turned.  A face appeared
round the corner of the shelter.  It was smiling.  The eyes looked from one
boy to the other.  The eyes moved down from the boys' faces to their
sprouting members. There was a rapid theatrical double take as the stranger
moved back to faces, then back to cocks.
"Fuck!  Sorry guys!  I'm interrupting!"
And suddenly the stranger was gone in another crunch of gravel.
The boys both stared at where he had stood.  They then turned to stare at
each other.  And then they burst into laughter.
"He thinks we're a couple of queers getting in on!"
"Yeah!" agreed Peter."Fucky-fucky time! Us all tooled up!"

**********

>From the far side of the road Peter watched Matt go towards the building.
He glanced at his watch.  Fifteen minutes, that was what they had agreed.
Fifteen minutes and then Peter would follow.  Both boys were feeling
super-confident.  They had a plan and so far the plan had worked out
smoothly.
Matt crossed the road and headed towards the building.  Peter stared at the
block trying to figure out which window might be hers.  All the while his
head was trying to unscramble.  Having left home in a determined rage he
now found that although his determination had not receded, other emotions
were crowding into the space in his head.  He saw Matt unrolling a rather
grubby rubber down the length of his shaft while he stood watching, his
fingers pinching the bulbous head of the rubber where the spunk was meant
to gather.  Even the memory was enough to cause a stirring in his
underwear.
Closing his eyes and breathing hard he tried to shut out the next images
that flickered across his brain.  Matt reaching for his cock.  Matt's
fingers closing round him, gripping his cockshaft.  Matt's tongue resting
on his lower lip as he concentrated hard to ease the rubber smoothly down
the length of Peter's prick.  Peter biting his lower lip as he fought the
temptation to buck his hips, thrust hard against the fist that held him.
Peter let out a long slow breath and opened his eyes.  No point pretending
to himself.  He had wanted Matt to wank him off.
The boy shook his head in an effort to clear his mind.  Stick to the plan.
Like Matt said.  Timing is everything.  Timing.
Quickly Peter tried to run through what they had agreed.  Matt would go
into the flat.  Matt would be remind the Mink they had a deal.  Matt would
point out that she better come good.  Matt would reach for the titties.
Matt would slip the condoms from his pocket.  The Mink would  unbutton her
blouse.  Matt would unzip his fly.  Give it a few more minutes and Peter
would burst in, confront her.
And that was when it all started to unravel in his head.  It didn't
actually make sense.  First there was that secured entrance front door.
How was he to get past that?  And the flat door?  And even then.  So what
if she broke down in tears like they imagined and told all.  What could she
tell that they didn't already know?  It was Joey she needed to tell, to
confess to.  It was Peter's mum and dad who needed to know that their son
was innocent.
Innocent.  Peter stalled at the word.  His brain had been slowing down,
confronting problems that really should have been foreseen.  But now he
stopped thinking.  Guilt swept over him.  Innocent.  This was the boy who
had lusted after Matt's cock a few minutes before.  This was the boy who
had felt a thrill go through him when Matt had reached out and grasped his
spunk-gun shaft.  Hell, this was the boy who had started off with a hero
called Joey and had ended up whacking off nightly on Joey fantasies.
Peter looked up at the third floor windows and ran his hand across the back
of his neck.  What was the point of hanging around for fifteen minutes?  He
sighed, shook his head and took off at a trot in pursuit of Matt.

*********

"Something ain't right."
"Well we know that."
"No, Vern, I mean it.  It needs sorted.  Joey's head is such a mess he
ain't capable of sorting anything.  It's down to us."
"You reckon?" murmured Vern with obvious reluctance.
"Yes!"
Vern stood staring at his pal.  Ally tilted his head to one side and raised
an eyebrow as if to say `well?'
Vern averted his eyes.  This was a good sign.  It meant Vern was thinking.
"Okay.  Let's get it sorted."
Together the friends headed out the front door.  As he reached for the
handle Vern suddenly paused.
"Hey up!  Hang about, man.  Is there a plan?  Fuck, come to think of it
what is the actual problem?"
"Joey's head is all over the place and ... well, to be honest, it's all down
the that kid ..."
"But you like that kid ..." began Vern but then he paused and turned red.
"Not like that ..."
"You are an ape, sometimes!  Course I like the kid.  So do you.  Don't mean
we want to shag his tight young boyhole ... "  It was Ally's turn to pause.
He grinned at Vern.  "Not that we wouldn't say no ..."
The pair laughed their agreement.
"Fact remains.  Joey's head is all over the place and he needs to sort it
out.  So, come on.  We find him and we deal with him.  One way or another."
The two lads hurried off.  They were making their way up the stairs towards
his gaff when they were stopped in their tracks.
"If you guys are looking for Joey, he's just scarpered."  It was Rony!
He was being helpful - as usual.  Rony liked to be helpful.  He had
recently arrived at the college to do preparatory work on his English
before taking up his place at med school.  The other guys found this funny
as his English was better than theirs – all he lacked was a familiarity
with the street jargon.  All he needed, they told him, was an illustrated
talk on genitalia – OK, maybe with a demo thrown in.  To be honest he
didn't actually need the demo but he was a very polite lad and he dropped
the boxers when instructed.
"He has not been gone for long.  Scarpered, you say?  Yes, scarpered. About
five minutes."
"Thanks, Rony.  Say, how did he look?"
"He looked very serious.  Worried.  I have noticed of late that he has this
look about him.  As if it all has become very complicated.  Before, when I
first arrived, he was more ... carefree.  Hoopy go lucky..."
"Happy ...." corrected Vern.
"Yes, that too.  Joey I knew took things as they came .... you know?  He
trusted that things would all work out.  But these last weeks ... Maybe it
is not working out and he needs help."
Vern looked at Ally.  Ally nodded.
"Rony, maybe you should tag along.  Maybe we could do with your help."
"Okay.  You want I drop my boxers again?"
Vern hesitated.
"Maybe later."

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