Date: Mon, 27 Apr 2009 13:32:03 -0700 (PDT)
From: Ami <amias05@yahoo.com>
Subject: Chapter 21  Brief Encounters

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 21 -- Mid afternoon


"I'll see you two later then. I'll about an hour or so, it doesn't take
more than ten minutes to walk round to mums. Bye."

"Bye Sue, see you later."

"Bye Mum."

Within two seconds of her leaving the house Frank's beaming smile had
changed into a scowl.

Staring at Martin he demanded, "What's that I heard about you breaking the
zip on your school trousers?"

Martin was scared. He knew that voice, he shivered.

It had been a few weeks since he last heard that aggressive tone and then
Frank had deliberately found fault with him. Evidently in Frank's view the
time was now ripe for further discipline, he was using the broken zip as
the flimsiest of excuses. and was going to pick an argument
regardless. Knowing this was going to be the catalyst irrespective of what
he said, Martin gamely decided to try and brazen it out.

"It just stuck, I don't know what happened."

"It costs a lot on money to keep you in clothes young man. You should be
looking after them not deliberately ruining them."

"But I didn't." Martin replied indignantly, "The zip just stuck. It's not
my fault."

"Yes, just like the strap you broke off your school bag, we had to buy a
new one of those didn't we? Money is just wasted on you."

He could almost feel Frank's eyes boring right though him.

"That's unfair, the strap was faulty." Martin tried to edge nearer the door
avoiding all possible eye contact. He could see Frank was flexing his hands
and knew from bitter experience that any second he was going to make a grab
for him. Sadly, he had been here before and knew the routine.

"Don't you answer me back. I'm your father now."

"No, you're not." said Martin firmly, "My dad was a nice man, not like
you!"

"What, you cheeky little bastard!" shouted Frank and lunged at him. Martin
tried to sidestep but instead banged into the coffee table knocking a table
lamp to the ground with a crash. He then tripped over the cable and fell on
the floor himself. Trapped.

Driven by his vile temper, Frank towered over him and prodded him in the
stomach with his shoe.

"You little bastard! You did that on purpose.. you broke it. More money
wasted! Time you had another lesson... boy."

With nothing to lose and now obviously captive Martin bravely replied,
"You're not my dad and I'm not your boy. You're just a bully and a fucking
pervert!"

"A fucking pervert Am I?" repeated Frank. He was rapidly losing it, Martin
had never answered back before.

"I hate you. That spanking shit you used to do to me, that was `cause
you're just a fucking perv..."

He never finished the sentence, Frank kicked him hard in the stomach.

"Well now, I'll give you the fucking spanking of you life! One that you'll
never forget!"

Winded, clutching his stomach and close to tears Martin replied, "Fucking
pervert! I'm telling mum this time!"

"Oh no you fucking won't. Anyway who's she going to believe, you or me?"

Frank turned and started to remove his leather belt, "You little shit, you
just wait!"

Martin cowered, scared stiff. Desperately looking around there seemed to be
no avenue of escape. Frank was now holding the belt, doubled over and
slapping viciously it on the arm of the sofa as he grinned down at him.

"Come on then, big boy, I'll teach you to answer back. Let's bare your
little fucking ass!"

"You fucking pervert!" screamed Martin clutching at his trousers around his
waist.

Frank was a strong man and without too much of a struggle he pulled the
protesting Martin up by the back of his shirt. Still winded by the kick to
his stomach and not being particularly strong Martin was being pulled
around like a rag doll. After lifting him to some eighteen inches from the
floor Frank suddenly threw him violently back onto the carpet, winding him
yet again. Martin's head narrowly missing the fireplace.

Virtually spitting out the words, "I'll show you who your father is now!"
he landed another vicious kick in the small of Martin's back which again
doubled him up with pain.

Frank was laughing now, he started to pull the breathless boy up again.

"So, this bloody father of your's, was he a total fucking wimp like you
then?"

Martin saw red. Whatever happened to himself now he couldn't care less, who
was Frank to insult his natural father.

The only option was right before him on the hearth, through his tears he
grabbed the heavy brass poker from the fireplace and swung it with all his
strength to land a blow on the only target he could see. The back of
Frank's knees. His legs collapsed instantly and he fell heavily on top of
Martin writhing in agony and swearing at Martin.

Driven by anger over the insult to his dead father and ignoring the pain in
his back Martin somehow found the strength to pull himself from under Frank
and his flaying limbs. Still holding the poker he scrabbled shakily to his
feet, it was now his turn to stand over Frank who was clutching his legs in
great pain and obviously quite unable to stand up.

"You've smashed my fucking knee!" screamed Frank in agony.

Totally out of character Martin now sought to extract his revenge for all
the accumulated beatings he had suffered from the man.

It was going to be an eye for an eye.

"Fuck your legs! And fuck you too!"

More concerned with his knees than anything else Frank didn't see Martin
raise the poker. He certainly felt it when the heavy, bulbous brass handle
scythed through the air and buried itself a sickening thud buried deep in
Franks groin.

For Martin that was it. The room, his home was a shambles, Martin didn't
care as he knew that Frank would never again bother him. Standing for a few
seconds he looked down without a shred of pity at the man, now huddled up
in ball, white with pain and screaming in agony as he clawed his
groin. This was the man who had made the probably best part of his boyhood
sheer hell for the last few years.

As a final gesture of defiance he kicked Frank hard in the back and with
tears starting to stream down his face he ran out the house and down the
street not really knowing where or what he was going to do.

Saturday, late afternoon.

With a subtle hint from Ted, Art had been left to his own devices by his
mother who was genuinely pleased that he might actually be getting himself
together.

True to his word Art had been busy in his room for the greater part of the
afternoon! Bravely he had tackled the huge pile of smelly, dirty clothes
even to the extent of putting them on to wash without parental
assistance. Well, even if that was only to save himself any further
embarrassment.

He had not yet solved the riddle of his missing underpants but had rather
reconciled himself to the fact it must have been his mother who had taken
them. The next problem was whether to broach the subject with her, or to
let her raise then subject with him. Whatever, he couldn't cope with
everything that afternoon and he just wanted to sort out his fetid bedding
before getting his mother in to see the progress.

He had just reached the stage where the cum stained sheets were heaped on
the floor and had removed the under blanket from the mattress only to
reveal a large stain from when he used to regularly hump the bed at
fourteen!

It was at this juncture that his father reappeared to see how progress was
going.

"Looking good, Art." he said looking around, "And it'll smell a lot better
without all those filthy clothes about won't it?"

"Yer." Art nodded. He was really very pleased with himself.

"So, what's next then?" Ted looked around, "Oh, the bed is it?"

"Yer, I was ummm... just doing the bed..." replied Art cautiously, hoping
the enormous stain wouldn't be noticed. He tried to move in front of it to
hide it.

His father was already grinning.

"What is it dad?" Art said as innocently as he could. It was too late and
he knew it. "Have I missed a joke or something?"

"No, be very difficult to miss that.." Ted nodded towards the
mattress. "Maybe best if mummy doesn't see it, what d'you think?"

"Dad!" Yet again he hid his red face in his hands and then started
giggling.

Ted went over and looked. The stain really was enormous and obviously the
product of many a happy hump!

"Art! You really are a dirty little bugger!" he said in mock shock.

To late, Art despite his blushes was now giggling uncontrollably and was
soon joined by his father.

"Art, I can't believe you can produce all this... quick, give me a hand
let's turn the damn thing over before mummy comes in"

They moved to the side of the bed and were about to lift the offending
mattress when Simon burst in having heard all the laughter in his room next
door.

"Wot you all laughing about then?" he asked. Then looked around in surprise
at the almost tidy room.

"Nothing!" replied Art still giggling.

"Well wot you doing then, why you laughing?" Simon was grinning now, the
laughter was infectious, "Go on, wot is it?"

"It's really nothing Simon, just something that came over Art," Ted
couldn't resist it!

That did it, Art dissolved into laughter.

Ted trying not to laugh said, "Well, we were... just going to turn the
mattress over."

By now Art was laughing so much that had to sit on mattress which served to
draw Simon's attention even more.

"Hey, I know!" said Simon noticing and pointing at the stain, "Your
laughing `cause look, he's wet the bed hasn't he!"

"Uummmm.. no!" said the bright red Art.

"Oh no! It's..." The penny dropped from a great height. Simon went bright
red and rushed out of the room!

Ted was now laughing as well, he turned to Art and asked quietly, "Hey, do
you know... is he ummmm.. well, is he... ummm...at it as well?"

"Not quite or the place would be flooded!" replied Art who then collapsed
on the bed in laughter.

The ridiculous situation was not lost on Ted!

Finally they turned the mattress and Ted said "Y'know Art, this was going
to be my quiet day! Now I'd better go in and have a word with Simon!
Listen, you make the bed and finish up for today and then get mum to have a
look. Right?"

Still giggling Art nodded as Ted went out and knocked on Simon's bedroom
door.

"You OK, Simon?"

"Yer, dad... fine. You can come in, it's all right...I'm not uummm...
doin' anything.. you know!"

"Oh thank God for that!" said Ted still grinning. "I'm sorry... it's been
one of those days!"

At that point Simon realised that he had innocently said the wrong
thing. Ted was now grinning and Simon looked a little flushed.

"Come here a minute," said Ted sitting on the edge of the bed, he beckoned
with his finger and patted the bed, Simon came over and sat next to him.

"Wot dad? Have I done something wrong?"

"Not that I know of! Why you going to admit to something!"

"No! Would I?" he grinned back, "Wot is it then dad?"

"You see," began Ted, "I seem to have my free afternoon used up by these
two boys who have been having some very obvious growing pains... and well
maybe now and again they both need a little bit of advice."

"Wot?" asked Simon cautiously, this sounded ominous, "Wot's growing pains,
wot they? Wot d'you mean?"

Ted grinned, he put his arm around Simon's shoulders, "I think we have just
both seen the results of your brothers growing pains haven't we!"

If took a few seconds before Simon realised what Ted was referring to and
then he blushed.

"Oh, you mean... oh, no the..." he drew a breath and purposely looked down
at the floor, "the... mattress!"

Pink was now turning to red.

"Yes. So we both know what I'm talking about then?" said Ted making a point
of looking him in the face.

Simon nodded slowly. He quickly looked back at the floor but was getting
visibly more embarrassed as the seconds ticked by.

"Now this may amaze you Simon, but once upon a time even I was your age
so," Ted purposely bent round and caught his eye, "and I had those ummmm
growing pains as well."

"Wot? Wot, you mean... oh... not you!" Simon was confused, was his very own
father trying to tell him he had been little wanker as well!

"Yes, you know what I mean, don't you?"

"Yer, I think! You... ummm " Simon grinned but was now very red. He
couldn't believe this, what other dad would ever admit to something like
this to is son.

Ted grinned back. "So all I really wanted to say was that if you ever need
any advice or anything connected with these funny growing pains you must
never, ever be afraid to ask me. I would never laugh at you or say anything
to anybody, would you promise me that?"

"Yer, dad." he nodded. "it's ummm.. tricky isn't it?"

Ted nodded, then hugged him. "Yes it is. It's about growing up you see. Now
Simon, am I right in guessing that your growing pains are not quite
as... ummm.. advanced as Art's and you are still ummm.. shall I say,
practicing!"

Simon looked mortified, he couldn't admit to this or anything like it! His
jaw nearly dropped.

"What I'm trying to say Simon, is do I need explain the mechanics of these
growing pains to you? Is there anything you want to know?"

That did it. Simon was rapidly now going from red crimson, short of saying
he could only manage dry orgasms, he shook his head vigorously.

"No. No. Dad, no I'm alright, uuummm I, know a bit about it.."

"Really, are you able to talk to your mates at school? Simon, I know this
is a bit embarrassing for both of us, but it's part of growing up. I'd
rather you knew about these things properly and I'll tell you anything you
want to know.."

Embarrassed wasn't the word but Simon managed to look him in the eye and
mumbled. "Dad, thanks. I know wot you mean and I do... I do ummm and I
do.. have a couple of school mates who.. ummm you know... can...uumm do..."

"You don't have to say any more."

Ted kissed him on the top of his head, got up and winked as he went out the
room. "That's fine, all I want to know."

Still very red in the face Simon smiled back. "Dad... thanks
for... trying... ummm you know!"

Simon desperately hoped that maybe practice would soon be over.

At about that very same time Martin was still wandering aimlessly
around. He had ended up in the high street to be near other people. As yet
he had not, nor could not bring himself to even consider what to do
next. mentally and physically exhausted he eventually sat on a bench and
just stared blankly for several minutes at the shoppers milling around.

"Got you!"

A strong hand squeezed his shoulder, Martin immediately spun round with his
fists clenched ready to ward off any attacker.

"Fuckin' hell mate, don't hit me! It's only me!"

"Oh shit! sorry."

It was Nigel, he quickly realised that all was not well. He walked around
and sat down by him.

"Martin, you look fuckin' awful! You alright, what's wrong?"

"No! I'm fuckin' not!" Somehow, it just seemed the expected reply.

At which point Martin firmly grabbed hold of Nigel's arm and then burst
into tears without letting go. Not being particularly emotional himself
Nigel was rather unsure what to do and wisely let matters take their
course. Despite a few strange looks from passers by, within a few minutes
Martin had calmed down sufficiently to start to explain what had happened
and the history that had led up to it.

Very concerned but quite out of his depth, Nigel concluded after hearing
most of Martin's rather garbled story that he really ought to take him home
and let his mother decide what to do. An adult was good at times like this.

He didn't live very far from the high street and within some ten minutes
they arrived at his house. Luckily his annoying little brother Davey was
out at a friends house and his mother was in a very receptive mood. Martin
was made to slowly, albeit tearfully and painfully repeat all he had told
Nigel earlier, this time it made a lot more sense to Nigel. His mother then
suggested that maybe it might be best if she were to telephone Martin's
home and speak only to his mother, assuming that she was there as they
presumed she would very worried about what had happened to Martin.

Indeed she was.

Having returned from visiting her own mother's to find the house a mess and
Frank barely hobbling about and constantly shouting expletives as to what
he would do if he ever caught Martin again she was understandably quite
distressed. That was further compounded when she realised that Martin was
now missing. He had now either run, or been driven away from his own
home. However, it was Frank's phrase `caught Martin again' that was
resonating around her head. Caught again? That implied there really were
previous occasions? Why ever hadn't she believed her own son, the feeling
of guilt made worse knowing that he had even warned her less than two hours
earlier.

Thus fueled by her concern for Martin it wasn't long before she became
embroiled in a bitter row with Frank and demanding to know why he had `been
caught' in the first place. Martin's complaints about Frank's violence came
flooding back to her, which she in turn put forcefully to Frank. Once he
was accused it didn't take long for his anger to violently erupt and
inevitably the truth that he had been abusing the boy became blatantly
clear. It revealed a side of the man she never dreamt existed.  With
tempers and voices rising by now both he and the neighbours were under no
illusion as to what he had done and that he was under threat of being
reported to the police. The vilifications and accusations continued until
Susan, virtually incandescent with anger quite literally threw him
unceremoniously out of the house, telling him never to return and slamming
the front door behind him.

Much to the consternation of the immediate neighbours who were safely
watching from behind the inevitable net curtains he dragged himself slowly
into the car. Barely able to bend his left knee and suffering excruciating
stabs of pain from his crushed testicles he pulled himself into the driving
seat. With considerable effort he eventually managed to drive, albeit very
unsteadily away, intent on getting to the local hospital whilst he was
still just about able. Slowly the net curtains dropped back, no doubt the
tongues would soon be wagging after such dreadfully graphic happenings in
the depths of suburbia!

Realising what Martin's mother must be going through over her missing son
it didn't take Mary, who was Nigel's mother, very long to telephone. She
was relieved that it was Susan that answered the telephone and after
briefly explaining what Martin had been through and that he was quite all
right she offered to drive him over.

Nigel came for the ride and the two boys sat in the back, Nigel put his
hand on top of Martin's knee, he looked at him.

"Be all right mate. You've done it, the worst is over."

Martin nodded, desperately wanting his mother. This was one day he would
never forget and in particular the genuine and supportive friendship shown
by Nigel. He didn't know what to say and although managing a smile he was
still very close to tears.

A couple of minutes later Nigel leaned over and grinning whispered in his
ear. "Hey, you know the other day in the bog?"

Martin nodded, he started to grin. He had to, Nigel was incorrigible.

"Well, I'm `sposed to go round to see Art tomorrow afternoon, then we might
go down to our little shed! D'you wanna come?"

"Wot, d'you mean?" answered Martin very quietly, "Wot me? Come as well?"

"If you want, might cheer you up after all this!"

This was surreal. There they were in the middle of this dreadful affair,
his family split up and yet here was Nigel totally preoccupied as ever with
sex and inviting him to meet in some garden shed!

Martin smiled, in fact he nearly laughed.

"Is it that funny then?" asked Nigel.

 "It's funny but, it's also.." he blinked, "it's also, very, so very
nice. I'd love to come."

"God, you are so well spoken!" said Nigel laughing.

"Fuck off!" mouthed Martin

"Hey." Nigel lent over and whispered, "Good. Then come round to my house
about three o'clock tomorrow."

Martin nodded, tears were very much in evidence. "But, I might not uummmm,
do anything after today, but, but I'd still love to come."

"Understood!" said Nigel, he winked then said laughing, "Hey, mum, hurry up
he's crying again!"

The sharp poke in the ribs shut him up" Nigel turned to Martin, "See you're
getting better now!"

"Nigel, now stop it. Don't upset him!" it was Nigel's mother in a very firm
voice.

"Yes mum." said Nigel, "But look I got him smiling again!"

"That's not difficult with you about! Is it?" She said looking in the
mirror at them.

Martin was indeed smiling, "I'm all right Mrs Blake, don't worry, I'm used
to him!"

"So am I!" she said, "Now, Martin, we're nearly there, now think, d'you
want me to come in the house with you?"

He didn't have to think very long, it was the moment of truth and his house
was in the distance.

His smile had deserted him again and his voice was faltering. "Please. Yes
please, please, Mrs Blake."

"Fine, be there in a minute. Now don't worry, your mum can't wait to see
you."

"Nige, will you come in as well... please? I not sure what's gonna happen."
Gingerly he put his hand on Nigel's leg.

Nigel smiled and nodded. He wasn't sure either, this was all unknown
territory to him.

Before the car had even come to a complete stop outside the house Martin's
mother had rushed out and pulled the rear door open. Martin hesitated, then
got out the car unsure what to expect or even really knowing what had
happened since he had left. He had nothing to worry about as his mother did
nothing except clasp him to her and burst into tears, within seconds he was
also crying and they moved slowly down the pathway into the house.

The house was tidy again, the broken lamp being the only real
casualty. Martin flinched when looked around and saw the poker back in the
hearth, he didn't say anything to his mother although doubtless he would
have to recount it all again when they were alone.

The two women seemed to hit it right off, soon drifting off to the kitchen
to prepare the inevitable pot tea and try to make sense of it all. Susan
eventually admitted to Mary that she had been unhappy for some time and
that not long after the marriage she had sensed that Frank was not the same
man she had first met. It had come out in their argument that Frank had
been equally abused by his father, had she known earlier she might have
tried to understand his actions but it was too late now and he appeared to
have become an overbearing bully. However, what really saddened her was the
fact that he had been abusing Martin for so long and she had believed him
and not her own son.

Nigel was unsure of quite what to do, he could see Martin was a little edgy
and probably wanted to be with his mother, so to pass a few minutes he
suggested that it might be good to see Martin's room. Unlike his or most
other boys bedrooms, which were based on Art's total chaos theorem,
Martin's room was typically Martin in that it was the epitome of neat and
tidy.

"Cor, bloody hell!" Nigel was amazed, "D'you keep it like this all the
time?"

Martin grinned, "Yeah, I like it tidy."

"Shit, my rooms a mess!" He looked around, even the books were lined up on
the shelf in the order of height.

"You little bugger!"

Martin laughed, "You are funny!"

"Yer, but I'll bet you that..." said Nigel with a certain glint in his eye.

"Wot?" said Martin intrigued.

Before Martin could say anything else Nigel had dived down on the floor and
gone under the bed only to emerge tens seconds later clutching his prize!

"This...!" Nigel waving what looked like an old vest at Martin, "Shit and
it's still damp... you dirty little fucker!"

Well this had certainly taken Martin's mind off his stepfather.

At first he turned away with embarrassment and then dissolved into a fit of
the giggles and tried to grab it back.

Too late, with Nigel giggling as well he was carefully inspecting it!

"Bloody hell, Mart how many loads you put in here!" he sniffed it, "Cor
that's nice! I could almost add one me self, right now!"

"Any other time, do! But maybe not right now?" said Martin.

"Sorry Mart, I forgot. It was just a laugh, bet you'd never guess but I
keeps one like this under my bed as well!"

He handed it back to Martin, he grinned and threw it back under his bed.

"I'd never have guessed!"

"Tell you what, but don't tell him I told you, but Art used to have a few
pairs of pants under his bed and he'd use 'em all in turn!"

Martin looked amazed, "So I'm not such a dirty sod then?"

"Gawd no. I reckon every boy keeps something somewhere don't they?" Nigel
thought, "Otherwise just think of all them stiff pyjamas and sheets and
that, yer mum would soon guess wouldn't she! Mine did!"

Martin laughed. Nigel moved over and put his hand on his shoulder, "Hey,
it'll be alright... I mean... you know, yer mum and that... I reckon it'll
be a bit odd for a bit, but you'll soon be back to normal."

That did it, yet again. Martin's eyes filled up again.

He sniffed, "Nige, y'know I couldn't have got through this if I hadn't met
you at the shops."

And now, at last it was Nigel's turn to look away. He rubbed his
eyes. "Yer, right!"

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Chap 22 to follow