Date: Tue, 09 Oct 2012 23:08:12 +0100
From: tom <amias09@fastmail.fm>
Subject: Brief Encounters Chap 105

Brief Encounters - the ever continuing saga... eekkk!

First the mandatory warnings and disclaimers - basically don't read this if
the naughty sexual exploits of young teenage schoolboys do not appeal. The
characters depicted are fictional and not intentionally based upon any one
person... although, if you do suddenly find yourself in the middle of the
story just think how lucky you are!

This is ostensibly a work of fiction, albeit with a few memories from my
own school days plus some of the many invariably unspoken fantasies which I
and my "best friends" would only ever rarely admit or allude to when we
were at that very special, trusting and certainly innocent age.

Today, it's very hard to imagine what it was like without the internet to
immediately help conjure up fantasies based on images, webcams, stories or
chat. Our sex lives were entirely dependant upon a very fervent imagination
and thus being able to create our own fantasies usually based on friends
and what we saw happening beneath the desk or in the changing rooms! I make
no excuses for the fact that underwear features prominently in this story,
because quite frankly it did, it was a very visible and tangible connection
between us and our ever developing fascination with sex! It's important to
remember that other than the very rare sexual extrovert, we never dared
mention the subject because we were just too embarrassed and nobody
understood what was happening to us anyway!

You might call it a story about the age of discovery - usually in bed - or
if you shared a bedroom with a brother, then discovery would be in the
bathroom!

Do note, at the time of writing the story itself is not finished and for
better or worse, it has now turned into a work of some length but I will
regularly post updates and there are more than enough pages written to keep
it going! Nifty require a text file so if the formatting or punctuation go
slightly up the creek you now know why! And, also during the writing for
various reason I have had to change character names, so I hope for
continuity they are now correct!

Finally, I hope you enjoy it and please, please do let me have any comments
or suggestions and for some of you I it might even jog a memory or two,
three if you are lucky... I would be intrigued to learn!

Tom email: amias09@fastmail.fm

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

>>>>>>>>>>>

Now your attention please faithful readers as it's time to put in word for
our sponsor. Or, in plain English I wouldn't be getting my epic published
and you wouldn't be reading it if it were not for the Nifty Archive, so if
you enjoy what you read then please, please consider making a donation to
Nifty.

It's very easy and painless, you just follow the donations link on the main
page - I'm sure even our oversexed and luckess hero Art from the story
would do it if he could - come to that, he'd do it anywhere!

####################################################################


Chapter 105 – Unimaginable consequences


"She did sound like a right cow don't she?" whispered Tom making sure Mr
Woods wasn't looking in their direction.

"Who?" replied Charles ignoring the grammatical inconsistencies.

Quite unlike maths, Tom found history quite absorbing. However, the
downside of usually sitting next to Simon who wasn't quite that keen on the
subject was that on occasion he would give the impression neither were that
interested, something easily picked up on by Mr Woods.

Today though and quite understandably so, for reasons not remotely
connected with the subject, Charles wasn't taking too much of the history
lesson in either. In fact he wasn't taking very much of anything in
regardless. Totally consumed by the idea of having to undergo the rigours
of the mystery ritual his thought were far away.

"That Queen Elizabeth, chopping their heads off and that. They musta had a
gert big axe," continued Tom enthusiastically, "Cor, there must have been
lots of blood and bits of neck flying about having yer head hacked off with
a gert chopper?"

"I suppose so, I don't know."

Charles sounded totally disinterested. That rather surprised Tom as he had
thought that as Charles had appeared very swot like he might have at least
shared his interest in the blood and gore of Elizabethan history if nothing
else.

"Oh, alright then." Tom shrugged his shoulders and returned to listen to Mr
Woods.

Finally Charles had to say something, unable contain his curiosity of the
perils of the unknown ritual any longer he repeated the question. "What,
what happens? Please."

"About wot?" Tom could also sound disinterested as well if he wanted,
purposely he didn't reply further.

"The ritual!" hissed Charles. "Please tell me."

"Oh that, well uumm.." Tom scratched his head, why wouldn't Charles shut up
just as Mr Woods was getting to the more interesting gory parts and the
horrors of being imprisoned in the Tower of London.

"Please Tom, what is the ritual?" pleaded Charles in desperation seconds
later. "Please tell me."

"Uumm.." it seemed to Tom that Charles had now at last found some manners
and was rapidly working himself up into quite a panic. Maybe it couldn't be
better!

"Please..."

"Just a sec, hold on wait for Sir, we don't wanna get told off do us?"

"We."

"Wot?"

"It's we, not us."

"Does it fuckin' matter?"

"No, I suppose not." Charles shuffled nervously on his chair now resigned
to waiting for Tom.

Mr Woods now appeared to be sketching out some form of family tree on the
blackboard. Tom looked at Charles. "Right, but keep yer voice down."

"I will." squeaked Charles in a whispered falsetto.

"Fuckin' hell!" said Tom under his breath, he looked carefully at
Charles. Every item of clothing was immaculately presented, sadly the
clothes were all but empty. Tom concluded that even his dirty underpants
had more charisma than Charles would probably ever be likely to have.

"Please.."

In reality Tom was playing for time and racking his brain to come up with
some plausible reason for a actually having ritual of which he knew
nothing. The only sure thing he could decide upon was that if there were to
be ritual it had to be as big a turn on as possible. Primarily it must
offer the opportunity to get Charles prancing about in his underwear and
naturally the finale would be to discover if he were able to ejaculate or
indeed if he even had a penis!

"Well see," whispered Tom whilst keeping a watchful eye on Mr woods, "it's
all to do with the big boys, sixth formers, the prefects and that lot."

"Prefects!" Charles looked scared to death at the very mention of the
word. Prefects!

"Prefects, yeah that's right," Tom smiled, seeing it was already having the
desired effect, he had obviously struck the right chord, "see them prefects
and sixth formers well they, they uumm, they likes a bit of entertaining
now and again."

"What?" gasped Charles. "How? Entertaining? I don't understand."

"See, it all happens in the prefects room, that's where we ain't allowed to
go," Tom paused unsure if he could continue without collapsing in laugher,
"and course we never knows wot they do in there.."

"What? What do they do? What happens?" Charles' mouth remained open. "The
prefects room?"

"Well we wouldn't know would we? Not if nobody `cept prefects is allowed
in." he lowered his voice to sub-whisper level. "Somebody once said they
takes first or second year boys in every so often, but nobody knows wot
they do to 'em! So kids say they seen 'em walking funny after being in
there!"

"In the prefects room?" Charles was ashen, his eyes now huge behind his
round glasses. "What, you mean first or second year boys... walk funny?"

"Yeah, that's wot I just said innit?" Tom pulled scary face. "Frightening
innit?"

"Yes... yes.." stuttered Charles. He swallowed hard. "But... the ritual.."

"Ah, that ritual." Tom took a deep breath and looked again at Mr
Woods. "See we never knows when, but them prefects will suddenly send a
message saying it's time for their entertainment and that they want's the
boy who's come newest to the school to do it for 'em. They always seems to
know when there's a new boy. Strange that innit?"

"I, I don't understand. To do what?" mumbled Charles nervously. The history
lesson was now absolutely irrelevant, he listened gripped as Tom slowly
continued, milking the situation for all it was worth.

"I've heard older kids who've survived say some of them prefects is a bit
funny, d'you know wot I mean?" not giving Charles time to answer he
continued to whisper. "They likes a nice little boy to
uumm... to.. umm.. to dance for 'em!"

"Survived?" Charles' eyeballs now appeared to be even bigger than the round
glasses he was wearing. His hands started twitching uncontrollably.

Unable to resist Tom put his hand on the bare top part of Charles leg,
making him nearly jump in the air, banging into the desk and attracting Mr
woods' attention.

"Thomas!" Mr Woods warning finger flashed through in the air.

"Sorry, Sir.. I dropped something."

"Yes and I could drop you in detention! Charles, are you alright with him?

"Yes... yess... fine.. Sir..." stuttered Charles doing his best to look
considerably happier than he actually was.

"Told you old Woody was alright didn't I?" whispered Tom.

With extreme difficulty Charles waited nearly a minute, then when he was
quite sure Mr Woods was again occupied he gently nudged Tom. "Please, tell
me what, well what happens. The dance? I don't dance!"

"Charlie it's alright, there's no need to panic, `cause you gets to do a
rehearsal."

Tom's hand was warm and Charles' leg felt strangely cold. Slowly the
fingers began to massage in a small circle which edged neared the bottom of
the immaculately ironed shorts.

"And, and... what.. a rehearsal?" croaked Charles sounding quite desperate,
"Dance? Dance what do you mean?"

Tom's fingers crept nearer the opening of Charles's shorts, he had a full
blown erection and had pushed his fingers through the hole in his own
pocket.

"See... it's OK `cause like I said before you get to rehearse the dance for
all them prefects and that," he paused again knowing it was enough to keep
Charles well and truly hooked, "the tradition is you do the rehearsal for
dance for just a few of us second years first. Then we all knows you's
doing it right."

"I still don't understand." stuttered Charles looking wildly at Tom for
help. "Dance?"

"See, it won't be no good sending you into that prefects room if they's is
expecting you to know what yer doing and you don't, now will it? That's why
you gotta rehearse first, makes sense don't it `cause we can tell if wot
you's doing it wrong."

"Uumm.." it made no sense whatsoever to Charles, but by now he was so
agitated he would agree to do anything.

"So, it'll be best to get the rehearsal out the way quick wunnit?" Tom
smiled innocently, "Now didn't Brian say we'd do it dinner time. See `cause
then you'll be all ready for when they wants you to perform won't you?
Could be tomorrow or that see, they just sends out word they want's the
newest boy like I said."

"Yes, I suppose." agreed Charles very shakily. "So, so when would I dance
for the prefects then?

"Wot in the prefects only room?" rubbing the head of his very hard cock
inside his shorts Tom pretended to think. "Like I just said could be
anytime now they've heard there's a new boy. See that's why it's so
important to be ready innit?"

"Do you think they've heard there's a new boy, already?" Charles swallowed
hard.

"Oh, I'm sure they will." Tom looked at the desk barely able to contain his
laughter. "Now, they will ask one question and it may sound silly, but you
must answer it."

"Oh...  what... what?"

"Do you wear a vest?"

Tom's fingers were now very carefully beginning to just enter the leg of
Charles shorts.

"Why? What? A vest, yes of course." Charles was now totally confused, he
looked at Tom, "What is this dance thing? A waltz? My vest? Please? I don't
dance!"

"Vest, oh fantastic! They'll love you." replied Tom wishing he could pull
bis cock out and masturbate right then and there.

"Tom, the dance please, please tell me what is it all about?" by now
Charles neither sounded not looked like the aloof boy who had arrived only
an hour earlier. "Where's the rehearsal, you didn't say?"

"The rehearsal.. oh yes.. that's usually in the bog in the science block."

"In the bog?" he looked very puzzled. "What's a bog?"

From the frightened look on Charles' face it seemed very unfair to keep him
in suspense much longer, he might even burst into tears. Tom smiled
reassuringly and gently pushed his hand another inch up the leg of the
shorts to which Charles didn't seem to react adversely to at all. That was
if he even noticed!

"The bog?" Tom barely stifled his laughter "I, I.. think we'll show you
that later."

"Never mind what the bog is," whispered Charles, wringing his hands in
desperation, "What's the dance... what is it? Do I have to wear a costume
or something?"

"Don't worry about a costume," spluttered Tom trying to hold onto his
composure, "as for the dance certainly ain't no costume, I think they calls
it a striptease!"



"Sykes, what are you doing now? Are you really with us today?"

Mr Weaver sighed. Again.

Why were the forth form ever timetabled for the first lesson, it was
wearying in the extreme. First, second and even third year classes would
pay attention, fifth and six forms knew they had to study with exams
imminent, but not the fourth form. A classroom full of fifteen year boys,
notoriously inattentive, invariably testosterone driven and far more
interested in what was happening in their trousers beneath the desk than on
top.

"Oh sorry... Sir yes! What was the question?" Martin suddenly sat bolt
upright, withdrew his hand from his pocket and snapped out of his camping
daydream.

"The question was, were you really with us today?"

"Sir?"

It was the traditional implied rhetorical answer to the question, meaning
Martin didn't have a clue what was going on.

"What topic are we currently dealing with? I say we, but that's means also
assuming the rest of the class who have been paying attention."

Martin looked at the blackboard which had just been wiped clean. Having
been daydreaming about sharing his semen infested sleeping bag with Ian for
most of the lesson his mind was as blank as the blackboard.

"Rivers." hissed Ian under cover of his hand.

"Rivers.. Sir.." he looked hopefully at Mr Woods.

"And... what about them..."

Martin looked vacuous, the only think he knew was his erection was rapidly
subsiding despite Ian's encouraging hand rubbing on the inside of his leg.

"They're wet Sir?"

That brought a round of laughter.

"Factual I suppose. Try again."

"Gert big erosion and that." came a helpful whisper from behind.

"Umm.. was it a big erection... oh sorry.. Sir.. I mean.. erosion Sir.. oh
shh..!"

Too late the entire class erupted in laughter. Martin having inadvertently
said what was on his mind looked very embarrassed and blushed.

"Was that a statement or a question?" a smile crossed Mr Woods face, he
shook his head and glanced at his watch, thankfully there were only a
couple of minutes left till the bell.

"A statement.. Sir."

"Who's? Your's or Blake's'?"

Behind, Nigel pretended his surname wasn't Blake and looked studiously at
the desk.

"Has it ever occurred to you lot," he looked around the class, "that
teachers know that generally when a pupil has his hand in front his mouth
in class it's a sure sign that he's whispering to somebody?"

"No Sir." stuttered Martin. The rest of the class groaned having never
realised the simple truth either.

"Did you get that Blake?"

"Yes Sir." Nigel nodded.

"Well, I expect that's something you might actually retain." Mr Woods
glanced again at his watch. "Go on, start packing up the bells going any
second."



It wasn't every day that one of her offspring was in hospital so with her
routine being totally thrown Linda had become very flustered and occupied
herself by taking Art to task in readiness for his impending doctors
appointment. Normally she would have accompanied him, but having to collect
Simon later in the morning she had with some reluctance decided to send him
there alone and trust to luck. However as Ted had quickly noticed and taken
suitable avoiding action, her trusting to luck was never going to be quite
enough even if it only entailed Art simply displaying his offending foot!

Linda was absolutely determined the family name would not be besmirched by
Art's typically shambolic appearance. Having been forced to have bath the
previous evening he was lucky to get away with her not joining him in the
bathroom to check on his washing habits! Then followed a lecture, much to
Ted's amusement on the importance of wearing clean clothes, should the
doctor wish to examine him further or heaven forbid he have the proverbial
accident en route. Heaping embarrassment on embarrassment Linda ranted on
with specific reference to his underwear, all but spelling out she knew he
was a prolific masturbator as the crustaceous evidence was everywhere!
Finally, if it was made crystal clear if he dared attend the surgery with
even a tiniest blemish on his clean clothes he would undoubtedly face
certain death. Under no circumstances would a child of the Weldon household
ever be called dirty in any shape or form.

That Monday morning there was definitely a the rush in getting him ready
for his appointment with Linda endlessly flapped about ensuring he was
clean enough to be let loose on the unsuspecting medical
profession. Whatever she had said the previous evening really had carried
some weight since Arthur Edward Weldon had for the very first time ever
managed not to ejaculate between Sunday bathtime and school on the Monday
morning. That was not say that didn't want to as his almost permanent
erection bore witness, even the delightful prospect of a wet dream was
narrowly averted at four in the morning, when nursing his aching member he
went for a pee and had such difficulty aiming wetted the floor!

Every stitch of clothing including trousers and blazer had been tracked
down and washed and ironed to Linda's high standards before he was finally
packed off to the surgery. Looking almost as smart as the first time he
went to the school it was a transformation, although from that very first
day onwards it had been a steady downward spiral. Feeling rather proud with
himself he set off down the road, one hand already deep in his trouser
pocket comforting his aching cock though his clean, bright red
briefs. Maybe there was something to be said about not looking a total
wreck after all. Maybe not!

Amazingly, the surgery was running a little ahead of time and with only
needing a few minutes in with the doctor meant he didn't have to rush. With
the surgery visit over there was an advantage to being able to get an
earlier bus to school which equated to having more time in the school
toilet to provide the very necessary hand relief before the morning
break. The bus journey was only fifteen minutes at the most and climbing
the steep stairs to the upper deck he was surprised to find it
empty. Heading for the right hand front seat which was traditionally out of
the view of the conductors large convex mirror, he dropped his bag, sat
down and reached in his blazer pocket.

Pulling out a crumpled doctors prescription from his pocket he read it
several times smiling to himself as he did so. If proof were needed this
was it, a prescription for a magic ointment designed especially for Grade
A, Class One, Terminal, schoolboy type athletes foot. Better still, stapled
to it was note to his mother advising her to inform the school he should be
exempt all gym and games for the next month until the infection cleared up
or he was to make another appointment. Absolutely elated at being able to
escape forced physical activity he carefully folded it back and put it back
in his blazer thinking how jealous would Nigel be of that!

As ever his mind had just the one track and it was soon back on it. Looking
around there were still no signs of the conductor so closing his eyes he
slipped a hand down the front of his trousers and held the end of his
erection through his briefs. What a snug fit they were and how comfortable
they felt. None of the circulation inhibiting thin elastic of the dreaded
Y-fronts or the drooping look of the elephants ass!

"Ticket son, where you going?"

"Oh!" surprised Art opened his eyes and rapidly pulled his hand out from
his trousers and looked up, blinking in the sunlight.

"Wake up, you should have done before you left home!" the conductor
grinned, pushed his hat back and scratched his head. "Where you going,
Stovall Street for the grammar school?"

"Uumm.. ffu... yes.." Art went bright red, "Stovall Street, yes."

"Sorry, didn't mean to embarrass you." he smiled. "Got boys of me own about
your age, so well.. you'll know what I mean."

"Yes.." interrupted Art fumbling around in the side pocket of his bag for
some money. As much as he would to loved to hear about the masturbation
habits of conductor's boys it was sadly neither appropriate, the time nor
the place.

"You're a bit late for school ain't you?"

"I been to the doctor." replied Art trying not to make eye contact as he
handed over a collection of assorted coppers.

"Why d'you kids always have pockets full of pennies," the handle spun round
and the ticket spewed out of the machine, "they weighs the earth at the end
of a shift."

"Cor, I never thought of that." Art finally looked up and smiled. "Sorry,
it's all I got, that and enough to get home."

"Ah well, there we go," he turned to leave, "oh I nearly forgot, just so
you know we might have to wait a few minutes at Parsons Green. It's a
timetabling thing and I know your stops only another five minutes on, but
that's the bus company for you!"

"Thanks."

Art slumped back in the seat as the footsteps receded down the bus.

Slumping in the seat was all very well, but one thing that wasn't slumping
was his cock! Now, determined to keep his wits about him he slid his hand
back down his trousers for a second time, didn't close his eyes and
listened out for sounds of footsteps. Discounting any possible delays at
the Parsons Green stop he calculated there should be about ten more minutes
worth of journey left before he got to school where he should have just
enough time to complete his plan and attend to matters before the morning
break.

Gazing idly out the dirty window as the bus ground slowly on it's journey
there was little to do except occasionally look at his smart uniform and
keep gently stroking the front of his briefs. Arriving at Parson Green, no
passengers got on or off and at first it seemed the bus was going to start
off again, when with a shudder the huge diesel engine stopped.

"Shit."

Art knew that the extra stop meant it was going to be at least five minutes
less masturbation time at school. Mathematics might not have been his top
subject, but when it came to working out a tight schedule for masturbation
he was unbeatable!  That five minutes worth of masturbation time might be
worth hours in any other situation, but at that moment with sex foremost in
his mind and a drooling erection there was little else to hold his
attention.

Peering down from the front window he could see the driver and conductor
leaning on the engine cowling and had just lit a cigarette. Pulling his
hand from his trousers he stood up and looked in the big mirror, there were
no signs of life anywhere near the stairs and it seemed so quiet he could
well be the only passenger.

There had always been something exciting about masturbating whilst wearing
underwear and he had discovered the experience could be really heightened
if there were an element of being caught, typically by doing it in
class. That morning something triggered the exhibitionist in him and he
slowly lowered his trousers to parade up and down the aisle in his bulging
briefs safe in the knowledge he would be bound to hear anybody coming up
the stairs. Under the circumstances his actions did little other than to
exacerbate his strong desires and he soon found himself openly rubbing his
erection with his briefs pulled down beneath his balls. Under the delusion
he was totally in control and could stop himself at any moment he sat on
the edge of the seat and pulled his briefs back up, leaving his trousers
around his knees.

Earlier over breakfast he had carefully worked out that he was at least
three ejaculations down over what should have been, so being fully primed
it was no wonder precum production had started after the surgery whilst
waiting at the bus stop. The confirmation of his calculations being that
the inside of his underpants were now well lubricated, which when wrapped
around his shaft the exquisite tingly feeling would send him well on the
way towards ejaculation.

Obviously the more excited he became, the more precum he produced and the
faster he rubbed. It was a very vicious circle and promised to be a
typically full on performance for once he'd started the process there was
to be no stopping. Excitement increased when his other hand was pushed hard
between his legs to do it's best to force the material of his briefs into
his bumhole. Unfortunately, in his excitement the one thing he had
forgotten was that split second timing was vital in pulling his briefs down
before the absolute torrent of spunk were to erupt from his cock.

To say this was a climax to remember was indeed something of an
understatement.

The rumble of the diesel engine springing back into life was followed
immediately by the conductor ringing the bell which snapped him out of his
erotic reverie. Sitting bolt upright a cold sweat immediately descended as
the words of warning from his mother began ringing in his ears. Dreading
the worst and still trembling from the power of the orgasm he was afraid to
look down. It had to be a mess and it was. Hot semen had been forced
through the cotton and clung to the surface in large globules decorating
the red with pearly white sheen, inside it almost felt as though his briefs
had been filled with something hot and slippery. In truth they had been
filled with something hot and slippery, so much so that the excess was
dribbling out from under the elastic and sliding dangerously down between
his legs towards his clean trousers.

With the clock already ticking he knew he had to look. Blind panic ensued.

Hiding a pair of cum impregnated underpants was almost a daily event and
relatively easily dealt with, but that wasn't the problem. It was the
thought of accidentally getting spunk over any of his other school clothes
and the prospect of his mothers wrath which had him frightened. Something
was needed to help wipe away the evidence and he began desperately
searching every pocket of his blazer for the yellowing remains of a
disgusting snotty handkerchief which also doubled as an emergency cum rag.

And, if ever there was an emergency this was it. His face fell with every
second as the bus neared the school and the realisation that the
handkerchief must have disappeared when his blazer was washed.

Staring at the gooey palm of his hand something obviously had to be
done. Wiping it on the underside of the seat only to then recognise that it
was the very same hand that had just been handling his blazer didn't help!
He didn't dare look, being distracted by the bus changed down a gear as it
slowed and rumbled to the penultimate stop against the kerb. The
penultimate stop! In horror he peered out the window, as the bell rang to
signal the driver to move off the next stop which was only a couple of
minutes down the road was as he knew well the school!

Such a turn of events could only happen to Art. Sadly, they had and that
was even before reaching school. From the impeccable to the incredible,
within barely an hour things had dramatically changed for the worst. His
underpants squelchy with spunk, a stained shirt, blazer and trousers it
couldn't get much worse, well that was until he got home. Where, to greet
him would be his mother's threat of unspeakably dire consequences after all
the trouble she had taken to smarten him up.

It just didn't bear thinking about.

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Chap 017 to follow