Date: Tue, 10 Mar 2009 03:28:23 -0700 (PDT)
From: Ami <amias05@yahoo.com>
Subject: Brief Encounters  chapter 13

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: amias05@yahoo.com


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


Chapter 13 - Big boys don't cry

Hurrying down the corridor on the way to the French class, Art was
explaining to Nigel that he had forgotten his shorts and that Simon had
helped him get some old ones from Tom and Alex in the lost property room.

"And, even after helpin' you do that, d'you reckon he still might have
nicked `yer pants then?" asked Nigel as they approached the class room.

"I just don't know." replied Art wistfully, "But if it's me Mum that's done
it, she will have seen and know everything I do. I bet she will have gone
through all me stuff, shit...  she might even have found those pictures you
gave me! Oh bloody hell, I will just fucking die if she says anything!"

"Guess so!" said Nigel thinking, "Shit, I wouldn't know what to do if my
Mum found all my stuff, I mean all me secrets and that! Shit, I could never
look at her again without being embarrassed like!"

"Fuckin' right on!" said Art, "Well, I just don't know what to do, would
you lend me some pants or something to wear tomorrow, I don't care what
they are or even if you've worn `em, what I got on now is just awful! And
stink!"

"All right, I'll find you something. Now, don't worry, look we only got gym
to go and then we are outta here."

"Well, thank fuck I got them shorts or I would have killed meself. That
Peterson is a right fuckin' bustard!" said Art with some feeling.

"Lucky they fitted then." Nigel said as he started to sit down at the desk.

"Ah, well I dunno! But I reckon they will, they might be a bit tight, but
they'll be ok!" said Art looking hurriedly for his French text book.

"I wonder," said Nigel giggling, "if that Mr Du Fuckin' Ponce had been a
bit of a wanker once!"

The gym lesson was due to start after the short afternoon break and there
waiting, hands on hips by the doorway to the changing rooms Mr Peterson
loomed large.

He spelt dread to most of the boys.

Absolutely. No question, he was feared and hated in equal amounts. Not
ideal for a teacher and categorically not a situation designed to either
get the best out of his charges, let alone them to do their utmost for the
him.

Fifteen was generally a boisterous age, but here the boys were always
strangely quiet when they first entered the changing rooms. The fact that
the ex-army instructor stood by the door flexing his muscles and goading
them in did little to help.

"Come on... let's get to it... don't waste any time I want you out in that
gym in two minutes."

"Yes.. Sir..." came a few unenthusiastic replies.

It took a lot to mute a class of testosterone fuelled fourth-year boys, but
Mr Peterson did it. All talk and wise cracking stopped dead. Nothing but
the sound of rustling clothes and the occasional undoing of zip was
virtually all that was heard. Raymond, a rather overweight boy who thought
eating was far preferable to exercise, bent down to undo his shoes and
unintentionally farted and with the resultant giggling the tension was
considerably reduced.

Art looked at Nigel, "All right mate?" he whispered as he pulled the tatty
old shorts out of his bag. They looked a bit small even to him, but maybe
not!

Nigel nodded and looked furtively round before started to undo his
trousers. So far the dreadful state of his clothes had gone unnoticed
although some boys had started to sniff, not really sure if what they
thought they were smelling was what they thought it was!

As his trousers slipped down to his ankles the unmistakable aroma of
stagnating cum was released and it wafted, almost like the gas used in the
first world war, towards Ian who was changing on Nigel's other side.

"Fuckin' hell Nige," said Ian turning in amazement "what's that smell?"

"What, what smell?" said Nigel as innocently as he could!

Art, knowing Mr Peterson's eye was on them, said, " Shut up
Ian... shhh... please!"

"You boy... yes... you!" Mr Peterson's quivering finger pointed directly at
Art from the doorway. "Be quiet... or you will still be doing press-ups
when everybody else has gone home!"

Art trembled inside. How he really hated this man and his sadistic gym
lessons, "Yes.. Sir..." he muttered weakly.

"And," boomed Mr Peterson heading for the gym door, "you lot know the
rules... nothing under your shorts, one of these days I will make a snap
inspection!"

"No Sir..."

"The thought of my Mr Peterson asking them to pull their shorts down for an
inspection was just too much to contemplate, especially as they were of the
age when almost anything could and would trigger an erection!

"All of you in this gym in one minute got it! I'm waiting" He strode
through the open door.

"Yes Sir."

The braver ones muttered "Bastard!" or "Fuckin' pervert!" as soon as he was
out of sight.

Now for the tricky bit. Looking around Art he dropped his trousers and
quickly tried to pull off his revolting briefs before anybody could see, or
worse smell the disgusting state of them. However, in his haste he got one
leg stuck and soon toppled over onto Nigel who was trying to do the self
same thing!

It had to end with both boys all but on the floor, their very raunchy
briefs around their ankles displaying some very obvious huge and yellowing
stains. Almost as bad, the briefs were now open to the atmosphere!

Literally being surrounded by a room full of wankers it was soon going to
be obvious to every boy what they had been up to. Ian, with a grandstand
view was nearly in hysterics.

"Hey Andy.." he nudged the boy next to him, "here, have look and a sniff at
these two wankers! Fuckin' hell Nige! How many times you wanked in them
pants?"

Amazingly enough, in such circumstances it only takes seconds for bad news
to travel. So naturally, just about every boy in the class was able to
either see the yellow stains or smell poor Nigel and Art who were both
still scrabbling to get on their feet with their pants twisted around of
their ankles!

To say they were utterly mortified was an understatement, both were
absolutely scarlet with embarrassment as they continued to try to get
changed. Nigel, who had been really worrying all through the previous
lesson about being noticed was getting more and more embarrassed but
managed to brazen it out.

If he was honest, he would have admitted that he actually liked the rather
strange feeling of knowing that some of the other boys were watching him
when he got changed! Miraculously he even managed to pull his white shorts
up without getting an erection. Art however, was really struggling to get
his threadbare shorts up past his rather plump ass and even Nigel had to
grin when he turned to watched him. Three or four other boys were also
getting rather excited as they too surreptitiously watched poor Art try to
get into the shorts. Maybe not all of them realised the risk, in that once
started, there was very little hiding for an engorged member in nothing but
thin cotton shorts!

Being obviously far too small for him, the shorts were fast becoming
stuck. In such a position that his cock, which appeared to be getting
slighter larger each time he attempted to force it into them was now
flopping over the waistband.

Leaning over to Nigel he said quietly, "Help me pull these fuckin' shorts
up can you?"

"Course," said Nigel, "I'll pull the back and you pull the front and get
yer fuckin' cock in!"

"One... two... threeee... up!"

With a heave and a further tug there was slight ripping sound as the shorts
were hoisted up and cut into his ample stomach! The boys who had been
watching were giggling in amusement unaware that their own shorts were
starting to tent as well! Art's shorts on the other hand were just so
incredibly tight that every wrinkle on his cock, the few pubic hairs and
his balls were plainly visible to all through the threadbare
material. Stitched in was the only description since nothing whatsoever was
left to the imagination and dressed as he was it was far more erotic than
if he were naked.

By now the class had simmered down, they had had a really good laugh and
wanted to get in the gym before Mr Peterson came back exploded
again. Although it has to be said, some boys were still more than a little
excited themselves as the opportunities to have a really good long look at
other boy's cocks and some cum stained underpants were pretty far and few
between. For many of the boys in the class, who invariably kept their
sexual habits very quiet, there was bound to have been some relief to
discover that other boys did very much the same sort of thing in
secret. Doubtless there would be some comparative nightly activity to
relive the scene.

"Well." It was Mr Peterson again, "Class, in the gym right now, I am
waiting!"

Slowly they started to shamble in, looking about as enthusiastic as they
were cowed.

"Come on then, what's the matter with you all. Anybody would think you
didn't like this lesson! Hurry, hurry up! I don't bite!" he roared.

"You fuckin' well do!" said Ian under his breath as he followed Nigel out
onto the polished floor of the gym.

Ian smiled as he looked down at Nigel's ass and thought that he'd been able
to have a really good look at both his and Art's cocks earlier. Being
something of an addicted wanker himself, he wondered if Nigel wasn't
adverse to a bit of a cock play with another boy, Art maybe? They were
always together and it was strange they should both have such really spunky
pants, what's more neither was surprised at seeing the other at all. His
cock twitched and he tried unsuccessfully to will it from getting hard in
his thin shorts.

"Now gather round." shouted Mr Peterson, "Today we are going to do some
good old army exercises followed by some vaulting over horse. You got it?
Now get in three equal rows...now."

"Yes... Sir."

"If we do these fuckin' old army exercises once more I am gonna scream!"
said Nigel to Ian as they walked aimlessly around to waste a few more
precious seconds.

"This bloke is a fuckin' twatt" replied Ian, "I hate him!"

"Will you lot get in three lines. I said now." Another order, was he still
in the army?

Art sauntered up seemingly oblivious that his package was on full display.

"He's losing it early today isn't he? Fuckin' twatt fancy fuckin' starting
shouting at us this early in the lesson. Must think he's still in the
fuckin' army!"

Ian looked down at art's shorts and responded a little too quickly with
what was really just a passing thought he never intended to be actually
uttered.

"Yeah and I wish you'd loose those fuckin' silly little shorts Art!" and
then realising what he had said added, "Oh...fuck! Art...I
was.. just... joking..!"

"You dirty bastard!!" said Nigel, "You fuckin' meant it... you want to see
his cock!"

"No, no I was joking..." said Ian going slightly pink.

"Well, I'll tell you wot mate." said Art grinning. Never one to lose an
opportunity he looked down at Ian's little tent, "Ah, I see! Now I'll show
you mine... if you'll show me yours!"

Ian was now bright red, hoist by his own petard as the old expression
went. What an offer! It would really be the first time he had ever
purposely seen, let alone touched another boys prick, something he had
fantasised over many times whilst having his nightly wank. But did he have
the courage. The balls even?

Blatantly, Art pinched the very bulbous head of his now obviously hardening
three inch monster between his thumb and forefinger!

Ian's shorts twitched and his embarrassment level went up several degrees
as turned he puce!

"Don't be shy," said Art, pinching it again, it looked a little fatter, "I
know you want to... and I wouldn't mind you if you did... and, you know you
want to! Poor fucking Nigel here will do anything for a look at a bit of
cock!"

Ian looked down, his own cock was now visibly growing, just as Art's was,
Nigel very openly just squeezed his own half hard cock.

Never had Ian thought that Art or anybody would be so up front. Was it a
bluff?

"All right Art," he replied trying to sound very matter of fact, despite
still being bright red with embarrassment, "uuummhh... where... when?"

"Well, here, where else!" said Art boldly.

"Yeah, what about down behind the old vaulting box, when they all start
lining up to do the do the jump thing?" said Nigel excitedly, "Be dead easy
in yer shorts to get yer willies out of the legs, wouldn't it?"

"Fine with me." said Art, his shorts now really showing the strain, the
three inches was now nearly four and growing!

Ian had no choice. He had hoped to put off the bluff and mull it over
during his wank that night. Too late now!

"Yer, ok." he muttered putting his hand down to cover his rather small
protrusion. He was quite small anyway and was worried that his modest four
and a bit inches could not compete with what Art had to offer. One thing
was sure, neither boy had any chance to compete with Nigel's now very
obvious five very thick inches which were bobbing around inside his shorts.

Nigel sniggered and Mr Peterson bawled at the top of his voice "Will you
lot get in line... or you are all on detention.. DO IT NOW!!!"

"Yes ...Sir."

Three very untidy row of boys eventually stood before Mr Paterson. As in
the time honoured army tradition he stood out at the front of the class and
they imitated his actions.

"Right, press ups... ten to start with..."

In fairness though, he could and would still do it all with the boys!

Amid the fictitious groans the boys got down did their very best imitation
of press-ups with lots of stifled giggles at how ridiculous it all was,
after all they were not in the army!

Ten healthy press-ups later Mr Peterson bounced back on his feet and
ordered the class to stand. Next it was time to get ready for some good old
fashioned toe-touching, ten times on each toe with right hand to left toe
and vice versa. It was a pretty mind numbing experience and all that made
it worth while was the fact those behind could watch the ass of those in
front!

Shorts tightened and slackened as rear seams got pulled further into the
ass cracks,

Nigel rather fancied the look of Richard's tight young ass and was just
dreaming of slipping a hand up his shorts when he was distracted by a sort
of faint farting sound to his right. It was Art, looking more than a little
unhappy.

"What's up? Something you eaten?" whispered Nigel trying not to giggle. Ian
on Nigel's left side overheard and turned to see what it was.

"It's me fucking shorts!" said Art in an alarmed voice. "I reckon they
might ripped a bit!"

"They look all right." said Nigel.

"Can't see anything." added Ian.

"Now..." Mr Paterson shouted, "Now swap sides, it's left hand to right
toe..."

"He's a right fuckin' toe-rag if you ask me." said Art grinning, "Hold on,
I'll check." he reached round with his free right hand and felt up the rear
seam of the shorts.

"Oh fuck me!" he said looking in horror, "The bloody things have split a
little bit!"

"What can I see yer ass?" chimed in Ian excitedly.

"Yeah, if I can see yours!" retorted Art grinning. "Fuckin' wanker!"

Ian rolled his eyes, "You wish..."

"Bloody right I do... and I fuckin' will in a minute! You wait till we get
behind that box thing, I'll have your fuckin' shorts right off!"

"Mmmm...  and I like a bit bum too!" added Nigel, purposely adding to Ian's
distress!

What had Ian said now! If only his cock was as big as his mouth! He was a
nice enough boy but knew he had a small cock and now somebody wanted to see
his ass. Well only his mother had ever seen that and that was when he was
much younger. The hole he had dug for himself was getting much deeper!

The class, with much huffing and puffing eventually completed the exercise,
but there was no respite since Mr Peterson was ready for the next round of
torture.

"Easy one now, boys...hands on hips and knees bend.. twenty times, lets
go... now!"

"I'm fucked!" said Nigel. "Twenty times he's fuckin' mental!"

"You think you're fucked! Look at poor Raymond!" said Art nodding towards
him and forgetting momentarily all about his shorts.

Poor Raymond indeed. The boy was so overweight that he was now having great
trouble keeping up with the class and resembled a pile quivering of sweaty
jelly. The gyroscopic movement of the roll of fat overhanging the waistband
of his shorts being particularly impressive.

"Fuck!" said Ian. "He's fuckin' gross!"

"That's number ten," shouted Mr Paterson, "come on keep up.. halfway
now.. ten to go. Hurry up."

"Halfway! Thank fuck for that!" said Nigel.

A distinct farting noise rang through the gym and everybody giggled and
turned to look at Raymond, who true to form looked around in all innocence.

"Wasn't me!" he said puffing much to everybody's surprise.

A few boys sniffed the air but with that unique school gym smell of sweat,
pubescent boys, dirty shorts and fetid plimsolls they weren't sure what it,
or who it was.

Art knew, his ass suddenly felt very cold and the pressure on his balls had
been suddenly released. He looked down afraid of what he might see, but it
didn't look very different at all. The shorts looked the same but strangely
they seemed to have lost all the tension in the front and his pink tip of
cock was now just peeping out beneath the leg of shorts.

Very nervously, so Mr Peterson would not see, he put one hand behind his
back and started to explore. All he could feel was his own sweaty ass
crack! Panic. He reached up and found the waistband still intact with the
material of the rear seam still attached at the top but totally ripped
apart!

Was it that bad? Yes, his heart almost skipped a beat. With a trembling
finger he traced his exposed crack down, past his winking bumhole, all the
way down, between his legs and around to his wrinkled scrotum.

""Nige..  Nige..." He hissed in panic, "please, please, help me!"

"What is mate?" Nigel could sense something was badly wrong, Art looked
ashen.

Ian looked over as well. Naive, but he meant well, "Can I help too?"

Twenty tortuous knee bends later Mr Peterson relented, "Right you in the
front row get the mats out in front of the horse and the rest of you move
over in the corner and just be quiet"

The boys shuffled over towards the wall.  Art was sweating and walked
backwards to stood with his back to the bricks, "Nige.. please have a look
at me shorts... the back..."

"Oh fuck me!!" was Nigel's immediate reaction.

Ian looked over at Art, "Can I see?" he asked.

"You might as well, `cause every other fucker is going to soon enough!"
said Art despondently.

"Hey," said Nigel, "I reckon if we get Ian here to help us we can keep you
pretty well shielded, `cause the front looks fine! So if no bugger sees yer
ass and can keep out of the jumping you'll be alright."

"You reckon? How the hell am I gonna do that?" said Art, not at all sure it
would work. "I can't not fuckin' jump can I?"

"Ian what do you think?"

"I like your ass! And, and I will show you mine!" he said giggling, "Yeah,
course I'll help. But how do we do this then Nige?"

"Ian, be fuckin' serious or you can fuck off, 'cause this ain't funny!"
said Nigel thinking hard, "What if we sort of keep very close behind him so
nobody can see his ass."

"I'm sorry, only joking." said Ian a little deflated.

"It's all right Ian, he didn't mean it." said Art, "Well anyway I can't
think of anything else, can you? So lets have a go, what we got to lose?
Only my ass!"

"Sorry Ian, this bastard Peterson mustn't find out." said Nigel, "Well come
on then lets try it when you gotta move. There ain't nothing to loose is
there?"

"No, I `spose not." said Art. He thought for a minute.

"Look I don't mind me mates in class seeing me ass, so you can tell `em if
it will help but, I don't want that fucking bastard Peterson to see
it. He'd fuckin' enjoy making me feel like shit." He blinked several times
and continued, "D'you know I ain't never forgotten how me made me play
football in just me pants last year in front of everybody `cause somebody
had stolen me kit. It wasn't my fault. He made me feel a total fucking
twatt and everybody laughed and fuckin' laughed for weeks. I hate him, he's
a fuckin' bastard!"

"It's all right Art, calm down." said Nigel, "I know you hate him, we all
do. He's a fuckin' bully and I said at the time you should have bloody told
yer Mum about that."

"I couldn't."

"Right!!! Boys here now!!!"

Mr Peterson was shouting again. He looked round the gym as the class
gathered in front of him like frightened sheep.

"Eight volunteers. Yes! You, you, you, you and you and the four behind
them, yes you lot! Come on over here and carry the horse over to the mats
by the wall. Now!"

Even with two boys to each leg they still struggled to get the heavy
vaulting horse over to mats.

"Right, form a queue, back here on the yellow line. The horse won't hurt
you!" That was his only joke, he said it every time. The boys groaned
inwardly.

He thought for a second, "And...  yes, I need two., yes two volunteers to
stand by the horse in case anybody falls."

He looked again round the room knowing that the sensible thing was to pick
two boys who had little chance or interest in actually jumping over the
thing in the first place. Had he any feelings he would have realised that
applied to the just about whole of his class. In fact all of his classes!
It was something not helped by his bullying attitude nor the fact that he
never ever bothered to learn any of the boys names.  They were all called
"boy".

"You boy... there..." he said, pointing his stubby finger at Raymond who
appeared to be still recovering from his previous exertions,
"and.... you....boy, yes.... you at the back by the wall."

"Me?" asked Art shocked a being picked, this was becoming too much, this
man seemed to single him out for everything.

"Yes, are you deaf? Come on the pair of you get over here. Now!,"

He looked with disgust at Raymond as he wobbled into view and pointed at
him.

"You, the fat boy come over to this side by me and you.. the other boy, you
go over the other side and stand by the wall. Don't I know you from last
year?"

"Don't think so... Sir." stuttered Art now absolutely scared stiff of being
recognised or being called out to the front.

As the horse was parallel with the wall he managed to sidle up to it and
keep most of his bare bottom facing the wall well away from Mr Peterson's
line of sight.

"Oh well, maybe not." he turned to the class and shouted, "Well don't hang
about come on and form a queue so you can go one at a time...run down by
the wall and over the horse.. land on the mats ... then back up for another
go... got it?"

Whilst he was bawling away Nigel and Ian worked a diplomatic miracle and
whispered to the other boys what had happened to Art's shorts, they pleaded
with them not to say anything or laugh in the hope that Art could escape
the lesson unscathed. To be fair the boys all had a pretty good idea of
what it could be like to be bullied by Mr Peterson and were only too
pleased to help Art, who was generally well liked by his classmates. Not
least since several of the boys knew he was a total wankaholic!

Feeling a little less apprehensive as the minutes ticked by Art watched the
boys jump over the horse, in fact he soon started to forget his own
predicament when he discovered he was in an ideal position to look up the
legs of their shorts as they jumped! Looking up shorts had long been one of
his favourite pastimes and now having been able to have good look up
several pairs! The blood supply to his cock started to work it's singular
magic as he drank in the sight of cocks, small, medium and large. Some
circumcised, some with long droopy foreskins and even the odd bum hole
winked at him. It was a delightful education!

Glancing over to Raymond he wondered if there was anything at all under his
ample shorts, from what he had observed fat boys always seemed to have tiny
cocks! Luckily Mr Peterson had now moved to the end of the mats to watch
the boys landing and his view of Art was now very restricted.

Art relaxed further and thought there couldn't be much time left before the
end of the lesson. Other than the fact his entire bottom was open to the
elements and rude comments, things were looking pretty good as far as any
further incidents went before the end of the lesson.

The boys who had already vaulted were walking along down by the wall to get
in the queue to run again and consequently they all had to pass behind Art
to get there. Most just whispered something about having a nice bum and had
a crafty peep before going off giggling as they returned to the back of the
queue.

Most that is, except Nigel who's totally oversexed and very fertile mind
was as usual in overdrive. Particularly in the gym where boys in shorts
with tents and nicely rounded bums were to be seen! He had been thinking
about Art's bum, whilst the two of them were happy to look at each others
cocks, bum inspections were still a bit taboo and Nigel saw this as an
opportunity to move things on a bit! It never took much to get him going
and these thoughts now had own shorts were tenting ominously. His ample,
meaty five inches was on the verge of popping out from the leg of this
shorts.

Standing behind Art he whispered, "Oi.. Art!"

Art glanced round and started giggling, "Fuck off before Peterson gets us,
we done all right so far!"

"But I'm so fuckin' horny mate, I want to stick your ass!" said Nigel
gripping his ever hardening cock through his shorts.

"Fuck off! Nige fuck off! " Art said again, still giggling "Later, later,
not now! Fuck off!"

"That a promise?" said Nigel blowing in his ear, still giggling.

"Yes!! If we get out of this lesson alive, then yes.. now just fuck off!"
said Art.

He half turned and caught sight of Nigel's bulging shorts. "For fucks sake
Nige.. you're mad! Put it away! Get it down... you're overacting!"

"I can't mate, I am so fuckin' horny for your ass...." Nigel said through
giggles, "I'm even gonna have to wank on the bus going home! It's all these
boys in shorts... and your ass mmmm!"

Uncontrollably giggling Art now followed Nigel's lead as the front of what
passed for his shorts was slowly moving outwards. "Shit! Nige, you got me
with a boner started now... just fuck off a minute!"

Nigel winked at him, "All right mate, but just have a length of this, see
I'm ready for you!"

With that he started firmly pushing the front of his shorts into Art's
exposed ass crack!

Intending only to do it a couple of times for the laugh he suddenly found
his cock had escaped from the leg of his shorts and was now doing it for
real ! Before he could stop himself he found his throbbing cock had slid up
and down Art's hot ass crack at least a couple of times. With his foreskin
was pushed right back the sensitive head was passing over Art's inviting
little puckered hole and now leaving smears of precum.

The fact that he had cum so profusely earlier made no difference to
Nigel. Whatever the circumstances he was always able to cum with a full
load, something he had proved to himself at barely fourteen when one night
he had wanked five times in an hour!

"Holy fuck!" said Art through gritted teeth. "Stop it!"

This was very much a new and incredibly sensual feeling, a leaky cock
running up and down his crack was indeed an exquisite sensation, He was so
stimulated that his own cock instantly burst free from the leg of the
tattered shorts and was now jerking in front of him. Grabbing it quickly he
tried rather unsuccessfully to hide it from view back in the shorts.

It was too late for Nigel. In those few fleeting seconds of lust he had
floated way up past cloud nine, losing all self control on the way. His
sticky purple cock head was now in control of both his body and his
mind. The result inevitable as Nigel's much abused cock jerked
uncontrollably for the third time that day. It blasted another heavy load
of fresh, hot, sticky, sweet boy cum this time into Art's ass crack.

To Art, it was good. Really good! Even something he had dreamed
about. Nothing compared to it. Nigel's hot cum mingled with his best
friends sweat, his cock glided up and down in the ultimate lubricant whilst
it continued to spew out the last of it's precious liquid. Globules were
already forming and starting to slither down Art's bum, all to eventually
find their way down the back of his legs or hang in long strings down to
the floor below.

Art was utterly speechless and Nigel had not even been inside! Whatever
would that be like! This beat stuffing a skipping rope handle up his ass
hands down!

Nigel knew what he done a second after the event and was
horrified. Grappling to get his dripping cock back inside his shorts all he
started to whisper into Art's ear.

"Oh fuck...Art.. I am so sorry... oh fuck, what have I done.. !  I... I..
Oh fuck..."

Art didn't know whether to laugh or cry, this was one situation he had
never imagined. "Nige... I don't fuckin' care ...just fucking wipe it off!
Use yer fucking hands... anything fuckin' thing ....just so long as fuckin'
Peterson does not find me like this!"

Luckily for Nigel the queue of boys going back and forth to the horse had
slowed considerably since the boys were all tired out and were just
stringing things out till the end of the lesson. Looking down, he saw blobs
of his cum were everywhere and with nothing else to use he started to try
and collect the gooey stuff with his hands.

Sadly for Art, the effect of being stroked by a pair of cummy hands did
little to keep his erection down as it now started to rise again! Nigel's
own cock had taken the same idea on board and was even now showing it's
sticky end from beneath his shorts!

"Where you putting the cum?" hissed Art, "It's fuckin' Peterson that
frightens me, this washes off in the shower. He fuckin' don't!"

"You'll fuckin' need one!" replied Nigel, very relieved that Art did not
seen too badly upset with him, "It's all right, I'm wiping me hands on me
shorts... they look like yer pants now!"

"Cheeky fucker! All right, you dirty sod, just get fuckin' wipe it all
off." said Art, sounding a little more like his normal self.

Nigel was delighted, he wouldn't know what to do without Art and didn't
mind that for the second time that day he now looked and smelt a cum
rag. Friendship was the bond and for that he could cope with wet cum
patches on his shorts and the red end of his prick on public display as it
poked out the leg of his shorts.

"Fuck me!!!" Nigel whispered, "It's fucking Peterson, I'm going back in the
line."

Art stiffened in fear, whereas his cock shrivelled, Mr Peterson had at last
done something useful.

"Right, back in line you lot." he shouted menacingly.

Raymond wobbled his way over to the wall and Art shuffled back over keeping
his bare ass hidden by the wall. The cum stains he could live with, it was
being singled out again by Mr Peterson for no apparent reason that really
had him scared him.

Why was it always him that he picked on and why did he always have to
shout? The gym wasn't that big and nobody was deaf!

The other boys had really done their best to help hide him so for a few
giggles and the occasionally bum pinch it was a price worth paying. Sadly
though that protection was soon to be removed as Mr Paterson gave the order
to stand in line.

Art had no escape. The torn shorts had put everything on display at the
rear but still looked fairly authentic at a distance from the
front. Provided he could keep his cock under control he might get away with
it.

He cast a glance up the line and saw Nigel looking rather pensive, Nigel
smiled nervously back as he was still unsure if he had upset him.

Art half smiled and raised his eyebrows. all was well.

Nigel was so relieved, it seemed as though Art was still going to be his
friend, he desperately hoped so. To lighten matters Nigel indicated with a
slight nod of his head to look down at the tent which was still very
obvious in the front of his own cummy shorts!

Art saw it grinned widely and winked.

"Just what is so funny then boy?" shouted Mr Peterson, "You can tell us all
the joke... boy. I'm talking to you... what is it, boy?"

Art didn't respond. For once he didn't think it was him that was being
shouted at.

"You boy!!!!!!!! Yes.... I'm talking to you!"

Mr Peterson strode over as only an ex-army PE instructor can do. He was now
standing only a few feet directly in front of Art.

Art felt cold and alone. It was the hand of fear.

Mr Peterson looked him up and down "Yes... you boy... with those dreadful
shorts on!!"

"Me... me...? " stammered Art who had now turned virtually white with
fear. His bowels churning.

"Where are your proper shorts boy? It's an insult wearing those to my
class! They look as though you found them in the ragbag."

"Ummmm...." replied Art, pretty well dumbstruck. He couldn't very tell the
truth!

"Don't Ummmm at me boy! Now what's you name?"

With great difficulty Art tried to speak. Opening his mouth but nothing
came out. His legs were trembling and he desperately tried to keep them
squeezed tightly together in an effort to retain control over his bowels.

This man was just a bully and should never have been allowed to become a
teacher.

"What? I didn't hear you boy?" Mr Peterson was rapidly losing control. Not
an ideal trait for a gym teacher. Any teacher come to that.

"I said, boy...what's your name... boy?" Mr Peterson shouted at him, right
in his face, "Don't you even know your own name... boy?"

The class were cowed. Shocked. They all knew Mr Peterson was an obnoxious
character but to continually pick on the same poor boy and bully him into
submission in front of them was beneath contempt.

Soon those boys with a milder disposition were also beginning to shake with
fear wondering if they would be next. Some even proved that Art wasn't
alone in having to exercise control over his bowels. They looked at Art by
now visibly trembling and knowing full well it could have been any one of
them that had been picked on.

"What's you name boy? You do have one?" Mr Peterson's patience was running
out.

Bravely, Art struggled to hold back the tears, his mouth was dry and he all
but whispered, "It's Art...  Sir..."

"Speak up boy! Art???" said Mr Peterson sounding confused, "This is a gym
class.. not an art class... don't you dare be funny with me boy
or...I'll..."

"Art... Arthur... Sir... Arthur" croaked Art desperate to be heard, barely
audible but as loud as his voice would allow.

"What you mean Art... you mean Arthur??" said Peterson, "Arthur, but Arthur
what? who are you boy? King Arthur? Your name... boy, your surname name?"

He was going to cry any second he knew it. Either that or shit himself with
nerves. Maybe or probably both.

Tears welled in the corner of his eyes. "It's... it's Arthur... Weldon
...Sir... Weldon...."

"Well.... Arthur Weldon..." said Peterson, revelling in his power, "You
boy, you are in detention tonight for insubordination."

This was bullying on a grotesque scale.

Insubordination !!!!

Art was lost, it was too much.

Mr Peterson stared at him as though he were dirt.

Speechless and with tears beginning to roll down his cheeks he managed to
hold himself together for another few seconds having no idea what he would
do next. Squeezing his buttocks together as hard as he could he managed to
retain control over his bowels which felt as though they were going to
explode.

"You hear me boy?"

Art wasn't sure what he was hearing any more. His legs were wobbling and it
was all he could do to control his sphincter.  Something warm and wet was
dribbling down his legs.

The tension was broken by a firm, but very, very nervous sounding voice,
which called out, "Innsuubboordd ... what... Sir.. what's that...Sir ?"

It took a lot of courage but Nigel owed Art.

He had just witnessed his best friend wet himself with fear and he just
couldn't watch him be subjected to any further degradation, even if it
meant deflecting the mans grotesque temper onto himself.

"What??? " barked Peterson, "Who's the hell's that?"

"Me... Sir... Innsuboordd ... Sir... what is it Sir?" repeated Nigel
bravely.

Art looked over and barely managed a weak smile through his tears. His left
plimsole was now full of pee, he didn't dare look.

Nigel, what a mate.

"Isn't that what they do in the army Sir... please Sir isn't that right?"

This time it was Ian who called out, others immediately grasped the idea
and the flow of inane questions soon picked up.

"Is that right... it's what they do in the army... Sir? Is it?? " shouted
Ben.

"Who said that??" Peterson said sternly.

"It was me!" shouted Ben again quickly.

"But isn't it, Sir?" joined in Raymond gamely.

Art was openly crying, but no longer with fear. It was relief.

"Please Sir tell us... what is subdoororobby what is it Sir?" shouted Timmy
from the corner.

"What's the fuckin' army... Sir?" added Richard

"Who said that?"

"Who said what Sir?" said Harry

"Are they all cunts in the fuckin army like you Sir?" shouted Richard with
considerable venom. He too had been a victim the previous year.

"What!!! Who said that?"

"What was it Sir.... I missed that..." shouted Tony.

"Go fuck yerself Sir!"

"Yeah, fuck off you bullying bastard!"

"Who said that!!!" roared Mr Peterson staring wildly around the gym.

The barrage of comments and silly questions rapidly grew to a crescendo
until just about every boy had joined in with a fair proportion of very
choice expletives! It was their release, a chance to vent their anger after
all the humiliation.

Out the front Peterson tried his usual shouting tactics but this time to no
avail. The boy's shouting continued, he couldn't be heard and even if he
could the boys now saw him for what he was. A total bully who had lost all
respect and control.

His authority had been effectively neutered by his own sadistic temper, the
boys knew it and worse, now he knew it.

The final lesson bell rang, school was over. Mr Peterson's reign of terror
was also over. News of his final lesson would spread like wildfire
throughout the school.

The class did not wait to be dismissed, leaving Mr Peterson still ranting
they just went of their own accord back to get changed.  Art was sheltered
in their midst and treated him like a hero, Nigel had his arm around his
shoulder and they were now both crying as they entered the changing
room. The tears were more of an emotional release than anything although
the afternoon was undoubtedly something of a bonding for both boys.

And, one thing the boys now knew was that Mr Peterson would no longer
frighten them, he had finally been crushed and now had to be got rid
of. The entire class agreed to get their parents to write letters of
complaint to the Headmaster about the way he had acted.

It was a rather subdued and very tired Art that went home that afternoon on
the bus, Simon came and sat next to him. It was quite plain see that he had
been crying. Art felt and looked awful, after the early mornings events and
the telling off his mother had given him, through to the fiasco with Nigel
in the toilet at lunchtime, followed by the absolutely dreadful afternoon
in the gym he just wanted to be left in peace to think it all through.

Simon quite naturally wanted all the gory details, however Art gave him a
very sanitized version of what had happened in the gym with Mr
Peterson. Understandably leaving out the more juicy references about Nigel
cumming in his bum crack and merely said that the shorts had split only a
little and were since binned!

He got home that afternoon looking exhausted both mentally and
physically. He was delighted that his mother had relented and she even said
that she had been a bit over top that morning, but he still had to get
himself together. Hugging him she obviously wanted to know the full details
of what Simon was excitedly gabbling on about. Art told her much the same
as he had told Simon of the episode in the gym and Mr Peterson's bullying.

She was fuming and it was all his father could when he returned from work
to get her to agree not to drive in and confront Mr Peterson in person the
following day. They would most certainly be writing to the Headmaster!

Faced with this sort of real trauma to contend with, Art's mother had
mellowed somewhat in her hard-line approach to getting her number one son
sorted out. He now felt a lot easier about it, though he still knew he had
to get himself up together or she would be back on the warpath at a moments
notice.

So it was a very tired Arthur Weldon that went to bed early at nine o'clock
that night. In fact so tired he even resisted having a bedtime wank. That
bad! And, with no bedtime wank that meant his sole pair of briefs would
remain dry, if not just as uninviting and revolting to wear the next day.

Praying that Nigel would remember to bring him some clean pants he quickly
drifted off to sleep. As usual his cock in his hand this time accompanied
some naughty thoughts about slippery bum cracks. Maybe he should have had
that bedtime wank after all!

Certainly his little brother Simon was at it, he had been trying to hide
his hard cock all night in front the television and for once he seemed only
too keen to go up to bed when it was suggested. Once safely in bed, with
his cock sticking out of his pyjamas he managed two dry orgasms before
falling asleep. Art would have been proud of him!

Tomorrow would be another day, Simon would be sure to hear more of what
happened in the gym and also what the two spies Joe and David had to
report.  Plus of course there were the plans to make with Tom and Alex as
to finally ensnaring the long suffering Art and Nigel to teach them not to
steal other boys underwear!

--------------------
Chapter 14 to follow