Date: Wed, 29 Jan 2014 10:51:36 +0000
From: tom <amias09@fastmail.fm>
Subject: Brief encounters chapter 136

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
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would do it if he could - come to that, he'd do it anywhere!
####################################################################


Chapter 136 – "You'd better sleep with me then!"


"Mum, when's Art back?"

"Oh Simon, you're useless! He's only been gone a few hours, you don't
normally want to know where he is!"

"Wonder what he's doing?" Simon looked out the window into the pouring
rain. "Must be gert fun camping with his mates."

"Not in this weather it's not!" Linda laughed and looked at her watch,
"Knowing him, he's probably got himself soaking wet and is thinking it's
nearly feeding time again!"

"It's boring, having half term in the rain." Simon continued to stare out
the window.

"Sorry love , but there's not a lot we can do about it is there? Anyway,"
said Linda, "didn't you say you were going to Brian's in a tent or
something tomorrow?"

"Yeah, late morning and I gotta a take a picnic for dinner. He got his dad
to put it up in the back garden, to give us somewhere to go when it was
raining."

"Good for him, keeping you lot out of the house and it's certainly
raining!" she winked. "So you'll be doing a bit of camping as well then,
won't you?"

"Not the same though is it?" Simon pulled a face. "Not like real camping is
it, we ain't sleeping in it or nothing is we?"

"Thankfully not! I would think if I were Brian's parents," she said, "I
couldn't imagine much worse than taking the responsibility of making sure
you and all your little friends were safe and sound!"

"We ain't that bad." protested Simon, not seeing the joke.

"Anyway it's lunch, not dinner." Linda smiled. "So what do you want, some
sandwiches, some crisps and stuff?"

"Yeah, please mum that'll be good." Simon turned and started to head out of
the room, one hand in his shorts pocket. "I gotta go and pack now."

"You've got to pack, now?" repeated Linda in amazement. "But, it's tomorrow
and you're only going for a few hours."

"Yer, but I gotta take me stuff." Simon sounded very serious as he
disappeared towards the stairs.

"Of course." replied Linda, trying not to laugh. "Right, well I'll better
make sure your picnic is ready on time then."

"Oh yeah, please!"

With the bedroom door firmly closed behind him Simon reached under the bed
and dragged out his old school bag which he thought would certainly hold
all he wanted to take. Already in the bottom of the bag, wrapped in an old
junior school vest was a milk bottle. Next, he went to the chest of drawers
and sifted through his underwear drawer to find the old pair of white
briefs kept for emergency or a special occasion such as this. Finally he
rummaged in the back of the wardrobe to locate his old white football
shorts and with the bag carefully packed leaving room for the picnic it was
pushed back under the bed.

Feeling please with himself, he lay back on the bed and with thoughts of
what the next day were to bring he slipped a hand down the front of his
shorts. Despite still feeling incredibly embarrassed should anybody see him
wearing his new string briefs, they nevertheless now held a certain
fascination. Particularly if fingers were inserted through the wide mesh on
either side to reach around to the front and stroke his cock inside the
fly. Not quite yet up to Art's daily rigorous masturbation schedule, it was
only going to be his second ejaculation although there was still the rest
of the day and bedtime routine to look forward to. The following morning he
had been planning to try and resist all pleasures of the flesh to save
himself for when he was in Brian's tent, that was promising to be a real
test of will power!



By mid afternoon, with tents erected, personal items stowed away, underwear
swops and the praxis of masturbation completed the class had been assembled
in the field centre to be given the instructions for the project they were
supposed to carry out whilst on the trip. Luckily the rain was beginning to
abate offering an opportunity which Mr Woods immediately grasped to
galvanise the boys into action, rather than leave them to their own devious
devices and take them on quick tour of the castle.

Squelching through the mud in their wellies whilst muttering a few choice
expletives as they trudged along, the budding history students followed Mr
Wood across the field in a rather crippled crocodile formation and up the
path towards the main gatehouse of the castle.

"Bleeding hell, it's gert big innit?" said Andy looking up at the stonework
towering above against the leaden sky.

"Doomy innit?" said James. "Don't look like that Lionheart thing on the
telly do it?"

"Well it's the real thing innit, not some bleeding telly studio castle
thing innit?"

"Cor, look at that moat, take a lot of rain to fill that up it's gert deep
innit?"

"It's already filling up innit, reckon it'll be full by morning?"

Andy peered over the edge of the drawbridge as they approached the main
gatehouse. Originally the moat would have been several feet deep, but for
safety reasons with so many school parties visiting the castle it was now
kept with only a foot or so of water.

"Is this bridge thing safe?"

"Fuck knows! It's been here long enough, so I `spose it is."

"Wot was we supposed to do for project, I didn't get it all when old Woody
told us." whispered James.

"We gotta name all the different bits on that plan thing he give out and
say what happened in each bit." Andy paused trying to remember what had
been said. "Oh yeah, then we gotta describe how like they kept out
attackers and that sorta stuff."

"That all?" James pulled a face. "He'll be bloody lucky!"

At that point Andy stopped walking and looked down at his boot, bringing
the tail of the crocodile behind to a rapid halt and generating a
collective a tirade of abuse.

"Oh shit, me foots gone all wet!" exclaimed Andy. "I think me wellies got a
hole in it!"

"Come on, move on, get on with it. You gone fuckin' lame or something!"

"Hurry up Andy, let's get in the bloody place and keep up with old Woody."

"Reckon he's stopped for a quick wank!"

"Who Woody?"

"Nah, you silly fucker, Andy has!"

"Wot's he doing, looks like he's gonna wank in his welly!"

"No he ain't, he's wanking in that later when they swops pants!" said Harry
laughing. "I heard 'em talking about it in his tent earlier, James has got
on his new string pants."

"Wot!"

Shocked at their plan now being public knowledge James turned angrily round
to Harry. Looking very red in the face at the very mention of his new
briefs he spluttered. "How.. how, d'you fuckin' know?"

The laughter was rising as was the colour temperature on both Andy and
James' faces.

"So you gonna wank in 'em before or after you swops `em?" asked Ian,
something akin to the pot calling the kettle black.

"Wot his boot or his pants!"

"Fuck off!" snapped Andy.

"It'll squirt out the holes if he's got them string pants on won't it!"

"Fuckin' shut yer teeth!" added James angrily.

"Bleeding hell, stop it. Stop taking the fuckin' piss!" interrupted
Andy. "Leave him alone!"

"I'm sorry, really sorry mate, I only meant it as a joke." Harry now saw
that he had unintentionally caused James the maximum discomfort.

"Well you fuckin' prick, didn't have to tell 'em about me new pants as well
did you?"

"No. I'm fuckin' sorry, I fuckin' mean it." Harry looked very contrite, it
certainly hadn't been intention to upset James. "Ain't none of you lot
realised you can hear everything that happens in every one of them tents."

"Fuckin' assholes! I never thought of that." Ian looked at Martin. "Oh
shit!"

"James," said Harry rather contritely , "if it helps you, can have a
fuckin' good laugh at me `cause me mum's just bought them fuckin' Aertex
things and she's made me wear 'em here!"

"Wot?" replied James, thinking that admitting to wearing Aertex underpants
was almost as bad as wearing string ones.

"Yeah, now you can all laugh at me instead!" Harry flushed. "Happy!"

"Oh." James was still a little red in the face, "Sorry Harry, I just feel
such a fuckin' twatt wearing 'em. I thought mum was gonna buy me some of
them coloured ones, then I finds these, it was bit of bloody shock. I still
can't believe I'm stuck with these fuckin' things till they wears out!"

"That's just how I feel." Harry sighed, then smiled, "Alright. Well `spose
we kiss and make up later and we'll have a private showing then. You show
me yer string ones and I'll show me fuckin' Aertex!"

"You wot! Not in our tent yer not!" exclaimed Charlie in mock
horror. "Don't like the idea of sleeping in there tent with you in them
poofy Aertex pants anyway, you might come and get me!"

"Come's the right word!" added Martin who had been listening with
interest. "Bet you does it as well!"

"Piss off!" Charles blushed.

"Alright that's settled then, Harry and Charlie wanks!" said Andy laughing.

"Fuck off!" repeated Charlie going even redder.

"Now James, shake hands with Harry's wanking hand and that's the end of
it. No hard feelings, so let's just get fuckin' moving before Woody catches
up with us."

"Hard feelings, dunno wot you mean!" said Martin, watching as they shook
hands.

"Anyhow, now that's settled," said Andy, "I got a fuckin' great idea."

"Yeah, which is?" asked Martin, fully erect and playing with himself
through his pocket wearing the briefs he had swopped with Ian earlier.

"Well, we got so many different makes so why don't we have a pants fashion
show!"

"Where?" asked Ian immediately jumping on the idea. "When?"

"Somewhere in the castle? There must a room or some bloody place where we
can't be seen." said Charlie. "That would put a bit of spice in it, the
thought of being caught eh?"

"Well let's get in it and find somewhere then." said James, immediately
seeing the possibilities of such an idea.

"Are you boys with us or on a tour of your own?" called out Mr Woods
suddenly appearing the doorway at the far side of the gatehouse.

"Sorry Sir, we was, uumm.. Andy's got an hole in his boot and his foots all
wet."

"Oh, the poor child!" Mr Woods raised his eyebrows. "He'll live, now come
on lads, the way the weathers looking you're going to get a lot wetter than
the leaky welly, so while it's dry get in here and have a quick look
round."

"What they doing then?" asked Art peering back though the large gateway to
see the boys standing on the other side by the drawbridge entrance.

"Fuck knows." said Nigel. "Old Woody's gone for a look, he'll hurry 'em
up."

"Weldon."

"Wot? Who?" Art looked round and saw Mr Hawkins standing by the wall a few
yards away, he beckoned for him to go over.

"Fuck, wot have I done now?" said Art to Nigel.

"Nothing that I know of," Nigel grinned, "you'd better go and see wot he
wants. Just make sure yer flies is done up!"

Immediately Art looked down.

"Got you!" Nigel giggled.

"Piss off!" Art grinned and turned to walk over towards the wall.

"Wot is it Sir." he asked. "Wot have I done now?"

"Nothing, unless you want to admit to something!" Mr Hawkins smiled. "It's
just that I haven't really had the chance to talk to you since that
unfortunate episode when you were sent to me for a shower and I just
wondered how you were getting on?"

"Oh, that." he pulled a face and looked at the ground and blushed. "Well
I'm.. uumm still.. uumm.. you know.."

"Don't worry. Your dad sounds like he understands you and he seemed really
nice."

"Oh. He is." Art blinked.

"I'm pleased."

That was something Art didn't really want hear coming a teacher who he felt
couldn't have been more sympathetic when he had been at his lowest ebb.

"So are you..."

"Sorry, so I am what?" Mr Hawkins didn't quite follow Art's train of
thought.

"I mean you're really nice... Sir!"

The words just tumbled out leaving Art quite unsure what to say next. He
did the next best thing and gave one his so special smiles tempered with a
delightfully naive reply. "I'm still at it, well if that's wot you mean's
Sir!"

"You're incorrigible!" somewhat embarrassed, it was Mr Hawkins who
succumbed to the smile, the warmth radiating from Art was almost tangible.

"I'm wot Sir?"

"What you are," he paused, "is a walking disaster!"

"Oh!" Art didn't quite know how to take that, his face fell. And, this a
comment from the teacher who he really liked and respected.

"But, I have to say, you are one of the nicest walking disasters that I
have ever had to teach." Mr Hawkins continued with a broad smile. "Now
seriously, how are you getting on? Are you managing to keep that thing
under control and at least contain your urges a little more?"

"Sort of, but, but, it's hard work!" Art positively beamed at the
compliment. In fact he not only beamed, he blinked several times and then
bit his lip before mumbling. "Oh, sorry.. I, I didn't mean it like that!"

"Don't worry, I didn't think you did either." he replied. "You were in a
hell of a state when I saw you last which is why I thought it a good idea
to talk to your dad. So are you coping with things better? I know it's all
very well for somebody to say control yourself, but it's not that easy is
it?"

"No it ain't, I'm trying. Dad's been really good. But," the eyes were
tightly closed, even the hand ceased it's pocket manipulations. "but Sir,
why you so interested, yer, yer too nice to me.."

"Oh! I can always change and not be nice if you want!" Mr Hawkins was
really very touched and couldn't stop himself putting a hand on Art's
shoulder for a few moments.

"Now come on, I can't have you going all soppy on me can I? What would the
others think? Promise me you're not going to let me down, get carried away
and do anything silly while you're here."

"No, I'll try not too." Art shook his head and rubbed his eyes, emotions
had the better of him. "But you know I.. I.. can't... stop.."

"Yes I know and I do understand, so don't get embarrassed. You're not the
first boy who's got a problem dealing with it and you certainly won't be
the last. Teachers aren't just here to fill you up with knowledge, we try
to help you with growing up as well."

"I'm not the first?"

"Of course you're not. I'll bet there are a few others in your class who
aren't far behind if only they were honest enough to admit it!"

"Oh. Oh, I never thought of it like that." the rather obvious revelation
immediately turned Art's thoughts to Nigel and the rest of his underwear
fetishist's friends.

"Look, let me offer a word of advice," he paused, "and, I honestly don't
mean to embarrass you, just some advice."

"You don't?" Art was already embarrassed wondered what could be coming
next.

"No honestly, I don't. We both know what we're really talking about and
you're about to share a tent with your best friend," he smiled, "so just
keep it all inside and remember that canvas isn't soundproof!"

"Oh no!" Art went bright red. As much as he liked Mr Hawkins it didn't seem
right that he had immediately guessed what was likely to be happening under
wet canvas.

"And, you won't be the only ones will you? I think we both realise that as
well, don't we?" he smiled. "

"Hhmm... it's possible innit!" Art looked at the ground.

"Also considering how personal all this is, I think it's very mature of you
that we can have this conversation in the first place."

"Me mature, nah? But I trusts you Sir, I do." said Art beginning to smile
again.

"I appreciate that." Art's smile was getting to him and he had to look
away, only then to realise they were being watched carefully by Nigel. "Now
from what I've heard Blake really cares about his friends, so let him guide
you."

"Yes Sir." Art was now getting choked that Mr Hawkins was taking so much
interest in him and even offering advice on keeping his insatiable
masturbatory desires in check.

"You can always come to me anytime, if you need advice or have a
problem. Don't forget I've brought up two boys myself so I do know more
than a little about it." he smiled again. "Now, I've got to start thinking
about this barbecue thing."

"Thank you," Art blinked again, "you really understands me."

"Maybe I do. Now off you go, I'd better go and look at all this food for
the evening meal or there won't be one!"

"Could we help with the food?" suddenly volunteered Art much to Mr Hawkins
surprise. "Nige will help."

"Uum.." he was rather taken aback, "well why not, I'm going to need
somebody to help. First, you'd better go and find Mr Woods and tell him
what you're doing. I'll see you down in the field centre then."

Smiling all over his face, Art took off at forty thousand miles and hour
with Nigel in tow to find Mr Woods.


The numbers of Mr Woods' tour of the castle had gradually dwindled as the
boys took off in various directions to explore on their own, something not
entirely unexpected. The lure of leaping around the battlements and
possibility of discovering undiscovered dungeons replete with heinous
instruments of torture being the two prime adventure scenarios. With the
sky turning darker and threatening another downpour at around six o'clock
Mr Woods finally mustered the class and started to return to the field
centre area hoping to find that the food was in preparation.

Food was indeed under way with hygiene strangely now top of Art and Nigel's
amusement list. The boys having been persuaded by Mr Hawkins to wear aprons
in an attempt to preserve some cleanliness had quickly discovered the
temptation to rub themselves along the edge of the worktop. Erections
abounded, naturally Art being Art found he could barely keep his hand out
of his jeans pocket as he continually forced himself into the table
edge. With his bubbly charisma, yet knowing his obvious weakness, Mr
Hawkins was finding it rather difficult himself not to laugh at his
antics. So with great amusement Nigel found himself put in charge of an
embarrassed, but nevertheless giggling Art tasked to ensure he washed his
hand every time it ventured into the hole in it pocket with to rearrange
matters penile.

Proving to be quite useful when it came to tasks of the culinary nature,
Nigel and Art actually learnt a few very basic cooking techniques in the
process. Albeit they were determined not to be seen in their aprons when
they served up their gastronomic delights and were actually very proud of
their efforts. Their hard work was marked by a round of applause when the
other hungry boys returned to find that their premonitions of inedible
charcoaled sausages and cremated burgers were thankfully just rumour when
news of Art and Nigel helping in the kitchen had spread.

The main problem for the two teachers was how to keep the boys occupied
until bedtime since they were all confined to the field centre area with
the rain still lashing down. For the majority of boys though, the problem
was quite the reverse because they actually wanted to escape to their tents
to begin the nights promised activities.

"It's nine o'clock," Mr Woods looked at his watch, "with this rain it's
going to be dark soon, what shall we do with them?"

"Well, I would say." Mr Hawkins surveyed the room, the noise level was
increasing being cooped up for too long was likely to cause some fractious
behaviour. "Well, it looks like they've exhausted the board games and
really need to loose a bit of energy."

"I know, but they can't kick a ball around in a monsoon can they, that's
what we normally try to get them do with the longer evenings."

"Well we could always ask them. Some might want an early night." he raised
his eyebrows.

"Undoubtedly some will. Well let's do that."

Mr Woods smiled knowingly and then peered out of the window at the sheets
of rain and the motley collection of tents.

"I have to say it doesn't look as though anything has collapsed yet, but
I'll bet things aren't very dry in some of those tents. Something
disastrous is bound to happen on the first night, it always does."

"Right lads, attention please." standing up Mr Hawkins clapped his
hands. "Look, the weather is awful and it's going to get dark pretty
quickly now, so the choice is your's what you do. You can stay in here and
continue with whatever you are doing or go to your tent, get things sorted
and see how badly it's leaking!"

"D'you think they'll leak Sir?" asked Richard.

"Depends on how old and how well they've been put up I imagine, but in this
weather I'd be very surprised if they were bone dry and that goes for our
tents as well. So be prepared."

"Do we wear our wellies in bed Sir?"

"In your case Stokes then probably, yes!"

"Can I suggest, if you are going to head for your tent," said Mr Woods,
"then while it's not too dark now is the time to wash and all that since
the toilet block is adjacent, it might save you getting too wet. And don't
forget to bring a torch when you come back with your toothbrush or you
could be tripping over the tent pegs in the dark."

By now there were lots of whispers and mumblings. The boys were not only
faced with the prospect of actually using the basic facilities of dreaded
toilet block, but whether to stay in the dry for a while longer or venture
forth for the start of bedtime manoeuvrers.

"Is it going to rain all night Sir?" asked Harry.

"I have a nasty feeling it is, but tomorrow was meant to be drier in the
morning at least."

"Wot times breakfast Sir?"

"Ah, now that's a good point." he looked at his watch, Suppose we say half
eight to nine, would that give you time to get yourselves organised?"

The murmurs of discontent were carefully ignored.

"Good, glad we all agree, so breakfast half eight till nine then. Then
you'd better make the most of the morning if it's going to rain later." Mr
Woods looked around at the sea of blank faces, camping in the rain was
obviously not what had been envisaged. "So then, what are you all going to
do now? Stay here or risk the rain and sort out your tents?"




"Well get in the bloody thing, I'm getting soaked out yer in the fuckin'
rain!"

Robin forceably pushed on Richard's ample bottom through the opening and
crawled quickly in behind him, the tent flap falling and instantly blocking
the remaining daylight.

"I can't see, it's all dark."

"Wot d'you expect, it's bloody nearly nightime now innit!" Robin started to
giggle. "Now where's the torch?"

"I dunno, it's dark and I can't see it."

"Oh for fucks sake, move yer ass over and lets have a look!"

Robin pushed past Richard, inadvertently brushing against the leaning tent
pole and putting his knee into the pool of water which had been collecting
around the base.

"Oh fuck! Me legs got all wet now!"

"Oh, well take yer trousers off then!" Richard was rapidly dissolving into
laughter. "I'm getting on me bed out yer bloody way, you try and find the
stupid torch then."

"There should be two of 'em, we brought one each didn't we?" replied Robin
scrabbling around and totally disrupting their earlier efforts at neatly
tidying things away.

"Fuckin' hell, me bed's gone flat again! I only blew the fuckin' thing up
before we left." exclaimed Richard from somewhere in the darkness. "It must
be fuckin' well punctured or something."

"Got it!"

A yellow beam of light swung around the tent and finally focused on
Richard, looking very unhappy and kneeling on the deflated airbed, his
mirth of seconds before now stifled.

"You'd better sleep with me then!" saying out loud what first came into his
head even surprised Robin. "Oh shit! I mean.. uumm.."

"Wot? You wot?" said Richard quietly. "Fuckin' hell. I thought we might
have wanked and that together, but, but not shared a bed! Ain't that wot
queers do?"

"I'm sorry, I, I didn't mean quite like that." stuttered Robin.

He might have fantasised about it, but was never brave enough to suggest it
let alone actually propose it. Having thought that some mutual bodily
exploration and masturbation followed by a retreat to their own beds would
probably be more than brave enough.

"Well, me airbeds fuckin' knackered anyway innit? And, I ain't sleeping on
the wet floor, so, so shall we?" Richard waited silently. Hopefully. His
mouth now dry, his briefs wet with precum.

In the darkness behind the torch Robin was bright red in the face, he
cleared his throat and rather hoarsely replied. "We'd better not tell
nobody we both slept in me bed then, `cause I reckons everybody expects to
have wank with their mate, but not sleep with 'em."

"I ain't never slept with nobody before, have you?" asked Richard. Was it a
case of the blind leading the blind or more likely, schoolboys trying make
themselves blind?

"No. I dunno. Wot do we do? Uumm, I mean do we hold each other all night or
wot?" Robin's response summed up how desperately naive they were.

"Well I dunno." Richard looked towards the silhouette behind the torch, the
light wavering as the batteries began to fail. "But if we're gonna do it,
can we undress each other down to our undies?"

"Have you gotta spare vest I could wear?" asked Robin excitedly. "To match
yer pants I've got on?"

"Yeah, but have you got some spare batteries for that bloody torch?"

"Course. Now fuck the torch and let's get on with it before I cum in me
pants!"

"You mean, cum in my pants!" Richard giggled.


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Chapter 137 to follow