Date: Thu, 03 Jan 2013 18:31:06 +0000 From: tom <amias09@fastmail.fm> Subject: Brief Encounters Chap 110 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! >>>>>>>>>>>>> Happy New Year and all that, so now back to the story... #################################################################### Chapter 110 – A seminal disaster of some magnitude "I think you'd better close the door." Art's heart rate had begun escalating from the moment he had received the message, now it was racing. Racking his brain he just couldn't imagine what heinous crime he had committed to be summoned to see a teacher in the dinner break. "What do you make of that?" Mr Archer tossed him a plastic bag with `Boots the Chemist' written on it. "Uumm.." taken by surprise Art nearly dropped it, just managing to hang onto it. "Go on open it. You don't need to look, just take it out." With shaking hands he reached inside then visibly recoiled in shock. "Yes, disgusting isn't it?" Mr Archer turned to look out of the window leaving Art holding his exercise book, there was no doubt what the cover and some pages were still smeared with. Quaking, Art stood there simply staring at the book. Technicolour visions of the sadistic cane wielding headmaster to be followed by his incandescent parents flashed before him. Mr Archer continued looking out the window, finally he spoke. "By rights you should be seeing headmaster about now. We both know he would be reaching for his cane and undoubtedly ready to follow it up with a letter threatening a suspension or something." "Uumm.." The pallor of chalk, Art gulped and stepped back to prop himself against a desk before his trembling legs finally gave way. The semen must have been soaking into the cover of the book from when he took this briefs off earlier and simply stuffed them in his bag. "However revolting your personal habits, the only thing in your favour is that I don't agree with corporal punishment." looking incredibly angry he swivelled round to face Art. "What sort of home do you come from?" That really hurt, it wasn't his home it was him. He immediately thought of his father and blinked. "Sir they.. they don't know.. honest.." amazingly he managed to blurt out it in one sentence. "I sincerely hope they do not." "I'll have the cane... but not the.. the letter... please.." croaked Art, only to then almost double up as he succumbed to a not too surprising bout of stomach cramps. "You are utterly stupid. Can't you just do these things at home?" Judging by Art's reaction it appeared the object lesson was definitely sinking in and would certainly be far more effective than the cane. Hopefully it might result in some form of trust between them, rather than to totally alienate any further pupil, teacher relationship which caning invariably would. "I.. the letter... not me mum.. please.." was all he managed to say before clutching at his stomach again. "I'll hold off on the letter provided you attend the next four detentions. And, copy out the entire contents of this work book by the end of the week." Mr Archer looked down to the desk and picked up a new blue exercise book. "But.." shaking, the hand took the book and then returned to hold his stomach. "There are no but's, although there is a choice. If you don't like it I'll arrange for you to see the headmaster before start of afternoon lessons." "Alright.. but Sir.. I need.. I.. the.. the.. toilet!" muttered Art squeezing his legs together. "Don't you dare do anything like this ever again." "No sir... yes Sir... the toilet... please.." embarrassment was rapidly turning into humiliation. "Go on," he waved his hand dismissively towards the door, "don't make this any more embarrassing than it already is." Clutching his stomach Art shot out of the classroom and headed down the corridor doing his utmost to contain the dreadful churning feeling in his bowels. "Bleeding hell, yer nearly late." Nigel grinned as Art threw his bag on the floor and slumped onto the chair next to him, it creaked ominously. "Don't matter, old Woody ain't her yet." "I nearly fucked it," replied Art, "and forgot this was in different room didn't I?" "So did I, it's that spare one they uses when there ain't nothing else available, I reckon they're saving all this old junk furniture for November the fifth!" Nigel picked his nose and sniffed. "Anyway, never mind that. Now, tell us who you had to go and see then, was it bad?" "Fuck it." "Bloody hell you don't half stink." Nigel having finally caught a whiff of Izal and the toilets, leant over and sniffed to confirm his adenoidal instincts.. "Fuck off." replied Art. "You must `ave had to 'ave had a shit, you stinks of fuckin' Izal bog paper!" "Fuck off. Just fuckin' leave it." "Is you alright, you ain't ill or nothing is you?" "If you must fuckin' know, I've had the fuckin' runs!" "Oh shit!" exclaimed Nigel before realising what he had said. "Sorry." "Well it ain't fuckin' funny." replied Art looking very embarrassed, "The fuckin' runs, that Izal fuckin' bog paper and no fuckin' pants!" "Oh ssshii... fuck, sorry! Izal's like bleeding cardboard, it must be fuckin' awful if you've got the.. the.." Unable to finish Nigel bit his tongue and tried not to laugh. He really didn't mean to make matters any worse, but the situation was rapidly becoming all to ridiculous and so, so typically Art. "Yeah it fuckin' is! Better off with yer fuckin' fingers! D'you wanna see me ass then?" snapped Art squirming uncomfortably on the chair which started to creak in sympathy, "Oh fuck it, wish I'd had me pants on!" "See it, well not right now! Later then?" Nigel couldn't help it, he nudged him and looked him in the face as he turned angrily round. "Art, wot's fuckin' wrong? Come on, please." "It's all fuckin' wrong." Art blinked and lowered his head. "I'm all fuckin' wrong. Everything I do is fuckin' wrong. Be all wrong when I goes fuckin' home as well." "Who was it you had to see then?" "Mr Archer." he replied quietly. "Why, he's usually alright ain't he?" Art closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Because... because, me fuckin' homework book was all covered in spunk wunnit!" "You wot?" Nigel couldn't quite believe his ears. "So... uumm.. wot.. all sticky... oh fuck! Wot'd he do then?" "Well he didn't give me a fuckin' prize did he?" "Probably not!" Art almost raised a weak smile. "That's better," Nigel smiled, "How the fuck d'you manage to do that? So wot d'you get then?" "He gave me four fuckin' detentions and I gotta copy out all of me homework book by the end of the week." "Bloody hell, that's a lot innit?" "Either that or I gotta see that old cunt of an headmaster." Art pulled a face. "Well he loves getting his fuckin' cane out, don't he? Any excuse innit?" observed Nigel absent mindedly rubbing the front of his trousers. "I reckon he'd run one of them awful fuckin' Victorian work house places before he came here." "He's fuckin' old enough!" Art finally managed a weak smile, one of those smiles however faint. "But thanks." "It's alright.." Nigel was stopped in mid sentence. "Boys." Mr Woods swept into the classroom and from his manner was obviously in good humour. "First things first." he looked around waiting for the chatter to die away. "Sorry about the fact we are in this room, it seems my room has a lighting problem." "It's all them old desks and that in here, will we get woodworm Sir!" asked Harry to some laughter. "Quite probably, still, at least you won't get electrocuted like in my room." he surveyed the ancient furniture, "Now to work. First, I have to say how popular of history has suddenly become with the prospect of a half term camping trip." "We all loves history Sir." said Harry grinning. "Yes, I can tell that from your homework." he raised his eyebrows. "Strange none of you were this enthusiastic before the mention of the trip." "Who's tents is they Sir?" asked Andy waving his hand in the air. "Ah well," he looked around at the sea of expectant faces, "unfortunately we've been let down with a promise of some very good equipment so we'll be borrowing some from a local scout troop." Looking towards Andy at the back of the room he could just envisaging the complete and utter shambles as the ex-army tents, probably dating from the Crimea were being erected by a bunch of testosterone driven fifteen year olds. It was going to be total chaos. "The school has many excellent facilities, but possibly not in terms of camping equipment." "Nor these old desks and chairs!" added an unknown voice from somewhere at the back of the room. Over the disappointed comments and groans James called out. "Well then, could we bring our own tents then Sir?" "Well, I don't see why not, but I'll have to check with the school office." scratching his chin he immediately realised that with better accommodation the boys would be easier to handle, particularly if it rained! "See, I got me own tent Sir, sleeps three at a squeeze." said James enthusiastically. "Oh, I see." "I've done it a lot in me back garden Sir." Art along with other more astute members of the class stifled their laughter, James having realised what he had said looked around going red with embarrassment. Even Mr Woods managed a wry smile. "So've I!" whispered Nigel. "I started when I was twelve, doing it behind the shed!" "You don't think he means wanking do you?" asked Art in mock horror, his mood improving. "Dunno, I used to have a good wank over the shed, then have a gert piss over the flowers!" "Washes yer willy out after dunnit?" added Art thoughtfully. "Waters the garden as well I `spose?" The merest mention of the subject was already having a subconscious effect and proving sufficient to incite activity through the single layer of Art's grey trousers. For some reason, possibly telepathy and a connecting theme of no underpants, Nigel turned to look around the room to see where Robin was sitting. The class having been allocated a different room with few disintegrating single desks meant the boys had naturally sought safety in numbers and just paired up anyhow. Nigel smiled when he saw that the uninhibited Richard had decided to sit next to the underpantless Robin at the back, which in an ideal world would virtually guarantee a seminal disaster of some magnitude! "What lesson is it now?" Charles' plaintiff voice came from somewhere in the middle of the throng as the class thundered down the corridor. "Well it's art innit. We gotta double then that's it, we can piss off home!" replied Alex. "You gotta copy out the timetable or you'll be stuffed tomorrow." "I am stuffed!" replied Charles quietly to himself. The first day's lessons had been a blur and he was sure he could never remember his way around the school, let alone know the various teachers or what they taught. Neither had he ever expected to have had such a frantic initiation into the wonders of his sexual organs, although since every sex lesson had been curtailed he still didn't know what was supposed to happen! Finally, there was the frightening prospect of doing the dance for the prefects and the additional worry of whether Tom would be able to delay it until he had been able to practice. "You getting a bus home then?" asked Brian pulling on Charles' arm and almost knocking his bag from his hand. "No.. not today," he looked round at Brian, "mummy's picking me up as it's the first day." "Lucky you, would she give us a lift as well?" said Tom grinning. "No, I don't think there would be room in the car." Charles totally missed the joke. "So wot bus is it you'll be getting when you gets one then?" asked Brian. "What?" "Oh for gawd's sake Gog's wake up! Wot's yer bus bleeding number, that's all he wants to know." said Joe. "Oh.. uumm.." Charles racked his brains then looked up, "I think it's the number twenty two." Tom looked Alex, Alex looked at Joe and Joe looked at David who was now grinning from ear to ear. "Shit, that's lucky innit!" said Tom smiling. "Why?" Charles couldn't see what was making them all so happy. "Well `cause you comes home with us, we's all on the same bus." Alex smiled, a hand already in his pocket in anticipation. "Oh goody." Charles smiled innocently at his new found friends, quite unaware that in a day or two he could well be practising his dance routine on the top deck of number twenty two bus! "Right Gog's, we're here." announced Alex as they arrived at the art room door and followed the other boys inside. The room was arranged with square tables that would comfortably seat two boys to each side with the central area being used to store the communal materials or paints for the table. Generally though, for six pupils to use three sides was considered more than enough also giving the teacher room to work with them as necessary. "Yer Gog's, park yer bum, you can sit here for this." David grabbed the sleeve of his blazer and hauled him down onto the chair to his left. On the corner to David's right sat Joe and then Brian, while on Charles left were Tom and Alex. "Wonder wot we'll do today, I'm tired of that clay stuff, it's too messy," Alex turned to Tom, "I likes drawing and that." "That's `cause you can do draw innit??" replied Tom. "Some can and some can't, I can't draw nothing." "Well," Alex grinned, "you're right there!" "Piss off! D'you reckon Gog's is any good, he looks clever enough don't he?" "I dunno, let's ask him." "Oi Gog's," said Tom kicking him under the table, "yer, bet can you draw pictures and things?" "Oh," startled Charles looked up, "uumm.. yes, I won a prize at my last school." "Fuckin' told you didn't I?" Tom turned to Alex. "He might be able to draw, but he can't wank!" whispered Alex. "Yet!" Tom grinned. "It's Dave turn, let's see if he can get him to do it." "Is this teacher nice?" asked Charles glancing over to Mr Williams sat behind his desk looking through some papers, "he looks alright." "Yeah, he's really nice, so don't worry," said Brian, "look he ain't too old and sometimes he even tells jokes." "Oh, good." Charles felt a lot happier. Feeling rather fragile after a pretty arduous first day he wasn't sure if he could cope with too much more. "Quiet boys." Standing up from behind his desk Mr Williams looked around the room and focused his gaze on Charles who in turn immediately cringed, thinking he was yet again going to be made the centre of attention. However, much to Charles' surprise and relief other than to acknowledge his presence as a new boy he merely continued to say that the class were to attempt some serious watercolour painting. "Now listen boys, watercolouring is unlike any painting you may have done at primary school where you simply plastered a piece of paper with as much paint as you could." Mr Williams paused and looked around the class, knowing only too well that he'd be lucky to find even one boy with any real artistic talent., "I was good at that Sir." said Jimmy grinning proudly. "I used gert loads on paint!" "Yes, I can imagine and expect you were," he smiled briefly, "anyway the point about watercolour painting is that is exactly what you won't be doing." That brought some disappointed groans and sighs. "How do we do it then Sir?" "We're going to start by doing what's called a wash." "A car wash Sir?" "No." "A hand wash Sir?" "No." "A mouthwash Sir?" "No! It's going to be an after school wash unless you all shut up and listen." he beckoned to the class. "Gather round here and I'll show you what I want you to do." Mr Williams had a way with the boys, they liked his easy and very enthusiastic teaching style even if they couldn't emulate his artist talent. However, even knowing his chances of finding another Rembrandt amongst his students was minimal to say the least, he was determined that the boys should have a proper grounding in the basics and not the merely daub paint about just to pass the lesson. A good ten minutes later the boys returned to their tables and began to experiment in the subtle art of watercolour painting. Alex soon picked up the wash technique whereas Tom, like the majority of other boys simply stared at a rather soggy piece of paper containing a pool of limpid green water. "Fuck this for a game of soldiers!" said Tom putting the brush down. "I can't do this, don't look like grass do it, it's like a pond! It's just a bloody mess innit?" "Hhmm..." Alex peered over, "well, yer right there!" "Oh, piss off!" "Come on, I'll show you, get yer brush." Tom picked it up and glanced over at Charles' who it seemed, like Alex had produced a perfect wash. "Typical innit!" "Well we guessed that would happen didn't we!" said Alex smiling. "Come on you tosser let's see wot you's doing wrong." "I ain't a tosser." "You fuckin' is! Now get on with it." Alex watched as Tom charged the brush and made a couple of shaky passes. "Right, you got too much stuff on yer brush so yer flooding everything and yer pulling it across too quick." "Is that all?" Tom pulled a face. "It's enough innit?" Alex grinned. "I'll guide yer hand so you can get the idea." "Oh OK, right." "So first of all get some of that paint off the brush." Tom duly wiped the brush on the edge of the pot and then looked at Alex, "Right then teach, off we go, so wot now?" Alex leant over, put his hand on top of Tom's and began to draw the brush slowly across the paper, "Right watch, see it's slow and steady strokes.." By the end of fourth stroke it appeared that Tom was getting the hang of it, he whispered to Alex, "Could we stroke me willy slowly now `cause it's gone all hard?" "So's mine!" Alex blushed, gripped Tom's hand tighter and shuffled on his chair. "D'you remember we tried, we tried.. uumm.." Tom's voice became almost inaudible. "We tried wot?" whispered Alex in his ear, adding a second later. "Careful, don't get seen, just act normal." "Kissing.." replied Tom, reaching under the desk with his left hand to place it firmly on Alex's shorts. "I can't act normal, `cause it's you innit?" "Uumm.. yes.. I remember," Alex craned his head to look into Tom's face, he pushed his body upwards into Tom's hand, "don't stop please... so, so wot about kissing?" "I.. I.. don't know.. I just wanna do it!" replied Tom hesitantly looking at Alex who's hand had now joined his and was directing his fingers towards the zip. The truth was Tom was feeling extremely emotional, something had triggered an overwhelming desire to hug and kiss Alex. Whether is was simply the holding of his hand he had no idea, the only thing he knew was he wanted Alex in some physical way. Before he realised it, he found his trembling fingers were being pushed through Alex's now unzipped fly to feel the familiar ribbing of a pair of Y-fronts being all that were separating Alex's erection from his touch. "I want you too," whispered Alex hoarsely, forceably wrapping Tom's fingers around his erection. "please.. make me cum..." Tom was incapable of either replying nor resisting. Was it about bonding, friendship or love he didn't know. All he did know was that Alex and he were as one and the act of masturbation an essential element between them. Brian and Joe sat opposite had both guessed from the whispering and close bodily contact that something could well be going on, presumably out of sight beneath the table. "Oh!" said Joe in mock surprise knocking a pencil off the table onto the floor. Bending down to retrieve it gave him the opportunity to first check that the seam which had split in his shorts wasn't that obvious now he had managed to borrow a rather tired safety pin secreted in Jimmy's collection of bent paper clips and rubber bands that filled his blazer pockets. And, second that Tom was indeed playing with Alex under the table. "Tom's got his hand in his shorts!" he whispered to Brian on surfacing. "Shall we?" Grinning, Brian didn't need to be asked twice and instantly reached under the table for the split in Joe's shorts, his fingers slowly running up the bare skin towards the pouch of his briefs. Joe pushed his right hand deep into his pocket and through the hole allowing him to poke a finger under his flimsy Aertex briefs to stroke the head of his cock. All it needed to complete the set were for David and Charles to begin exploring each other. However, whilst David was nursing an erection and wondering how best to broach the subject of mutual masturbation, Charles had devoted his full attention to the artwork. Alex squeezed his legs together as hard as he possibly could in an effort to attain the utmost pleasure from his silent and almost instant climax. Tom, clutching at Alex's cock felt the tremble as semen was forced into his underpants only to immediately soak through the thin cotton to coat his fingers. "Charles, I gather that you won a prize at your last school for a painting you did." "Oh!" his concentration broken Charles glanced up to see Mr Williams looking down at his work. "Looks like you've certainly got the hang on that." "My mum went to art school and she's shown me a few things," said Charles looking up, "I like painting." "She certainly has." he bent down to have a closer look. Desperately trying to look as though nothing had happened, Alex had been surprised by Mr Williams silent approach and was still breathing quite rapidly having just cum. Even though the teacher was only an arms length away Tom found it incredibly exciting to keep his left hand inside Alex's underpants and finishing the process of smearing the dribbles of fresh semen all over his hairless stomach! "And you've been helping Tom then, by the look of it Alex?" said Mr Williams moving over and looking at the sheets of paper clipped to the workboards. "I thought you'd probably get the hang of it." "Yes, yes." Alex's voice varied between a croak and a squeak, somewhat flushed he looked across and did his best to smile praying that he didn't have to stand up and display the fact his fly was still wide open. "He's good Sir, isn't he? It's coming on isn't it!" Tom smiled and casually drew his hand across his mouth tasting the thin semen as he did so. "Yes, he is. Well that's very good boys. Now we'll move onto a graduated wash if the rest of the class have got this far." Mr Williams made to stand up. Unfortunately he just caught the corner of Alex's workboard with his coat which in turn twisted the board around and before anyone could catch it the water pot had been tipped over. Charles sat there open mouthed as the green water ran down from the table onto his leg. "Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry." Mr Williams looked down to see the water dripping off the edge of the table and onto Charles' once immaculate shorts, "David, please help, will you take him to the toilet and help get him cleaned up." "Yes Sir." David nodded, carefully pushing his chair back he hoped his tenting shorts weren't too obvious, "Come on Gog's let's go, we'll get you sorted out." Watched with some amusement by the rest of the class Charles, now with a distinct greenish hue to his right leg followed David out of the room wondering if the day could possibly have any more surprises in store. It could and it would. ######################################## Chap 111 to follow