Date: Wed, 29 Jun 2011 14:47:42 +0100
From: tom <amias09@fastmail.fm>
Subject: Chapter 76 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: amias09@fastmail.fm

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Chapter 76 – Singing in the rain

"Oh uumm.. hello mum."

Desperately hoping he didn't look as embarrassed as he felt Martin sidled
into the kitchen to find his mother busily engaged at the sink.

"Ah, you're awake then?" she turned, smiled and returned to the sink.

"Yeah, I ummm.. I... I.." his preplanned excuses forgotten he dried up and
instead started to fiddle with kettle as a means of distraction, only to
drop the lid onto the tiled floor.

"Butterfingers." she smiled. "Bring it here and I'll rinse it off, I could
do with a cup anyway."

Was this some form of an act, surely she must have seen the state he was in
and what he had been doing. His cock, miraculously still erect even under
these trying circumstances rubbed uncomfortably on the rough denim as he
walked awkwardly over to offer the lid. Surely one of them ought to say
something soon, he was becoming more and more nervous by the second.

"I'll put the kettle on," he felt a hand around his shoulder, "we ought to
have a little chat. So instead of dropping things you go in the lounge and
sit down, I'll bring the tea in."

Feeling distinctly fragile he momentarily closed his eyes and
nodded. Praying that he could control his emotions he walked to the lounge
and sat on the sofa, only to notice how much his jeans were still
tenting. Listening for the sounds in the kitchen he pushed his hand down
the front of the jeans and managed to get his unruly organ back in his
sagging briefs to lessen the bulge.

"Now here we are, move up!"

Putting the tea tray on the small table in front of them, Susan made to sit
beside him, who having moved to make room felt his cock twang free from his
briefs to wedge itself under a seam. Having poured two mugs of tea she sat
back and Martin looking in dismay at his bulging jeans once again felt the
arm around his shoulder. It wasn't that he objected, since with the demise
of his stepfather Frank they often showed affection for each other. It was
just that under these circumstances he felt confused and would have far
preferred a man to talk to than his mother.

"Love, you must know I'm going to find this as tricky as you are..." she
paused and blinked, her composure was already crumbling, "Oh god, I wish
your father was here."

"Yes." his mouth dry. Reaching up he took her hand. "Mum... say wot you
think, I don't care wot it is."

"You know I must have seen you this afternoon when you were asleep," having
finally said it, she cleared her throat, "and, and what you had obviously
been doing."

"Mmmh.." mortified he looked at the floor, "then you did see...you
saw.. oh.."

"Everything." she squeezed him. "I saw today, I saw you're quite a young
man now so... so.. shall we talk, like adults then?"

"I suppose." he swallowed hard. This was awful. It had all been on display,
five hard inches of boyhood and cum stained briefs. Why didn't he have his
father.

"See, love... I don't really want to know what you do in private in your
bedroom.."

"Wot?" he stuttered rather surprised. "You don't?"

"No, not really. Just so as you come to no harm and," she held him, "and as
long as I can keep up with the washing!"

Amazed at the comment he looked up and saw her smiling. She always had a
sense of humour, this time it certainly broke the ice.

"Mum!"

"Listen, as we're talking like adults you mustn't forget that I have been
married, so I do know a little of what men want, do and will do."

That was the last thing he was expecting to hear, he made to interrupt and
was ignored.

"No, no, Martin let me finish, while I can. This isn't easy for me, it's a
fathers job."

"Mum.. I know.. I know." he almost sounded guilty that she was having to
talk to him.

"Anyway, this might help you to understand why I'm not screaming and
shouting at you."

"Oh, why?" asked Martin slowly, whatever revelation was coming next.

"You know uncle Roger is my younger brother don't you?"

"Yer, he's a laugh." Martin nodded.

"Well when Roger was nearly your age he had the room next to me." she
suddenly smiled and shook her head almost laughing.

"Wot is it mum?" Martin was getting confused, just where was this heading
and what was so funny.

"I'm sorry love," she squeezed him, "I didn't mean to laugh but it's funny
now. But, it was very awkward for me at the time. I remember dad had a word
with him."

"Wot was? Mum wot you on about?" Martin was mystified, now this really
wasn't making any sense at all.

"Well the walls in that house were so thin that it didn't take much of a
guess to know what was happening in Roger's bedroom from the moment he got
home from school!"

"Oh fffffuu...oh my god!" as though a switch had been thrown Martin turned
bright red. "Wot.. mum.. so you can hear..."

"No, no, love I can't," she hugged him again, "I'm just making the point in
my own funny way that my parents made to me, sex isn't dirty it's
natural. And, I'm guessing at your age, like Roger it's a big part of
growing up."

Martin visibly winced. They sat there in silence for a few seconds until
finally he could resist no longer. "Mum, so wot did your dad say to him?"

"I don't remember really, something about him being a lot quieter as it
wasn't right that his sister should be subjected to certain sounds!"

"Oh. I can see that."  Martin blushed again, quite unable to contemplate
every creak of the bed being overheard by an older sister.

"Now love let's be serious, would it help," she said releasing him and
straighten herself up on the sofa. "I mean, I wonder would it help, if, if
you had a chat with Roger? I'm sure he would, in fact I think he'd love to
be a sort of surrogate father, he always wanted two boys and instead got
two girls!"

"I dunno, I never thought about it like that.. uumm.."

Definite food for thought indeed. At his age Martin was badly missing a
father figure and after all it did sound as though Roger would easily
understand Martin's preoccupation with sex. And, then there was the
question of other boys, but would he ever be brave enough to mention that
aspect of his growing pains to him?

"Well, I couldn't think of anybody nicer so you have a think about it. Now
I must get the tea." she started to get up. "Oh, but there is one more very
important thing."

"Wot's that?"

"Will you promise me that you won't get some girl in trouble or anything
like that?"

Wiping the back of his hand across his face Martin smiled broadly, "No mum
I won't get no girls in trouble. I promise."

"Good, now," she leant forward and kissed him on the top of his head, "just
remember you're going to have to change those sheets at the weekend!"

"Oh mum!"



Trudging home Nigel's mood was as grey as the clouds above. Jesting about
going home was one thing, but the truth was that he had been dreading
having to face his mother, no matter how effective the Tizer was in
disguising his uniform. Knowing deep down that his appearance would
probably be enough to turn her apoplectic he prayed it wouldn't to too
awful a homecoming.

Unaware of the loving response that Martin had received, Nigel would never
have imagined in month of Sundays experiencing anything remotely similar
from either his busy mother or hands-off father. The nearest he had got to
a meaningful adult discussion of his own emotions had been to admit to
Art's father that his own paternal relationships had latterly never been
little more than aspirations.

With about four hundred yards to go to the turning into in his road he
began to drag his heels in the mistaken hope of averting the
confrontation. However, just before the turning his nerve failed and he
stopped altogether under an overhanging bush as large spots of rain began
to slowly fall. Staring up at the up at the darkening sky he wondered if
there was a god at all and if so, why wasn't he helping him in his very
desperate hour of need! It was only a few seconds later he got his
reply. Had he been a regular church goer he might even have thought that
his prayers had really been answered!

With no warning an ear splitting peal of thunder rang out, heralding a
tremendous bolt of lightening which crackled across the leaden sky giving a
blueish tinge to the failing afternoon light. Somewhat apprehensive by the
obvious intensity of the oncoming storm he cowered under the bush before
realising that it was quite safe to look up again at the ever darkening
sky. Maybe there was a god and his prayers were in the process of being
answered as the heavens literally opened to produce a cloud bust the like
of which he had never seen.

Within seconds the pavements and gutters had turned into small rivers, the
rain fell in sheets and all to soon penetrated the foliage of his
shelter. Now wet, it finally occurred to him that this was his
release. Almost crying with joy he picked up his school bag and ran out to
stand in the downpour as the thunder and lightening rolled around in the
sky. Absolutely soaked to the skin, dancing down the deserted street he
made his way home, pausing every so often to ensure he was as wet as he
could possibly get!

Arriving home looking akin to a drowned rat, his mother unaware of the
previous calamities that had befallen his uniform immediately sent him up
to change. Soon the clothes were in the laundry basket and Nigel sent off
for hot bath! Naturally though, for Nigel no bath would be complete without
the obligatory bout of self-abuse even if he had cum three times that
afternoon already!


And then there was Ian, having to face up to the ultimate ignominy of being
caught by his mother having just cum in his underpants, notionally his as
they actually belonged to Art! Desperately worried about just how he was
going to face her prim and proper ways, it seemed ironic that with the
thunder and lightening going on outside maybe it was an apt time to put in
an appearance! There were though, two points upon which Ian had firmly made
up his mind that he was not going to concede. First, somehow he had to get
the message across that like other boys he did masturbate and it wasn't
such a dreadful sin. Secondly, purely for his own enjoyment with his new
found fetish he had decided he was again going to wear the disgusting
briefs!

To his great surprise, his arrival in the kitchen was greeted by a totally
neutral response by his mother. Nothing was really said at all other than
some comments about the terrible storm and how much the garden needed the
rain! Surely, he thought to himself she must have some comment, however
small on what she had caught him doing in his room. The only conversation
was about the James Bond paperback which she had borrowed, so concluding it
was rather pointless trying to raise the main subject himself, he returned
to his bedroom with the book. Lying on the bed, he flipped though the book
and he was soon engrossed in the second chapter when a firm knock on the
door broke his concentration.

"Hello."

Lost in the world of James Bond the relevance of the firm knock was
initially lost and only on seeing his father cautiously enter did it take
on any meaning.

"What's that then?" Nevil smiled and gestured towards the book.

"Oh, James Bond," Ian said putting the book on the bed beside him, "mum
borrowed it for me."

"Somebody at her work, I suppose."

"I think so." he replied sounding very cheerful. Then to Nevil's surprise
he indicated the side of the bed. "You, gonna sit down dad?"

"Uumm, yes." Nevil was slightly thrown at Ian's relaxed attitude when it
was perfectly obvious to both of them why he had appeared.

Ian, bolstered by his new found independence slid over on the bed to make
room, enjoying the feeling of the briefs sticking to him under his jeans
and the fact his father knew nothing of them!

"Mum thought I ought to have another, uummm, chat with you."

"Oh, I see. Another?" he smiled innocently.

Determined to assert the fact he was no longer a child, Ian had mentally
prepared himself for the occasion. Nevil though, having previously avoided
all such father and son talks was plainly finding it far more awkward that
Ian and beginning to wish he had broached the subject a couple of years
earlier!

"Yes, she said that she had, you had, uumm.." he paused.

"She had seen that I had just had a wank!"

Ian felt dreadfully embarrassed saying it like that to his father, but on
the other hand it seemed the only way to open the conversation. Strangely
enough in another sense he found it quite exciting. "Dad, I'm fifteen.. all
boys do it, a lot!"

"Yes, I know," Nevil looked flushed, "I suppose so."

"And dad," unable to quite look him in the face he delivered the coup de
gras. "dad, I mean, well didn't you?"

"Well uumm, of course." now Nevil looked even more flushed. "But, your
mother she doesn't understand these things, she doesn't have brothers or
anything."

"I know that dad, but can't you explain it a bit to her? Like, it's wot
boys do isn't it? You know that don't you?" Ian was amazing himself at his
own assertiveness. "It's not dirty or anything is it?"

"No, no, not that. But," Nevil was beginning to feel he was the guilty
party, definitely time for him to grasp the nettle, "but, she did say she
was very surprised that you were dressed in what looked like some very
uumm, how can I say.. very stained black underpants and she wondered where
they came from?"

"Ah.."

Ian had been stopped dead in his tracks as the look of embarrassment
proved.

"What was that all about then?"

Inside the sticky briefs Ian's semi-erect cock began to wilt. Nevil had
played the trump card. It was to be fair, something he hadn't intended to
mention. However, underhand as it was, it seemed the only way to get back
on top.

Clearing his throat Ian racked his brain for a plausible excuse.

"Somebody... they uumm, they.. mixed up our clothes while we was in the gym
and," he tried to look convincing, "there was no time to sort it all out,
so we wore what was about."

"Strange thing to do." Nevil looked puzzled. "So who's clothes were you
wearing then?"

"I think they're Art's.." he looked over to the corner. "See, the trousers
over there?"

"Oh yes, I see." Nevil scratched his head, "So are you still wearing this
boy Art's underpants then?"

Ian cringed and momentarily closed his eyes only to then feel a firm hand
on his leg.

"Ian, listen." some of his own memories rekindled, Nevil was finally in
father mode. "I don't want to labour this, but it seems as though you have
enjoyed wearing them. So don't you think we ought to at least give them
back clean?"

"Sorry dad, I didn't mean to talk like that..." he slowly and looked up.

"It's OK."

Ian nodded in acknowledgement.

"And the washing? I think you should."

"Yes." he smiled weakly. Not daring to admit how much Art would have
appreciated the multitude of new stains, "You're right."

"Now, I know we don't talk much and it's my fault, we should." Nevil stood
up and put a hand on his shoulder, "Even I can remember that fifteen was a
very confusing age, so if have any problems you come and we'll talk, mum
wouldn't have to know."

"She wouldn't?" Ian smiled, more than pleased that at last he had a real
father, putting his hand up he touched the hand on his shoulder.

"Talk about anything you want."

"Dad, but wot about mum and these clothes and that?"

"Tricky!" he smiled. "I'll have to try and talk to her and at least tell
her to go easy on comments about the washing!"

"Dad!" Ian blushed.

"Now," he walked towards the door, "now get changed and bring all that
dirty stuff down for a wash."

"Will it be ready for tomorrow?"

"I don't know, doubt it. Anyway you've got other clothes and your friend
Art must have other stuff as well."



Friday dawned, bright and clear. The air felt fresher thanks to the
thunderstorm.

Far, far fresher in fact, than the clothes which Art wore that sunny
morning.

Unaware of the finer points of the mysterious ritual of the laundry, he was
under the misapprehension that the clothes he had swopped with Ian would be
returned to him in pristine condition that very morning. Consequently, he
had worn the Wolsey briefs all night, during which time they had been
further impregnated with two loads of spunk and acquired a few stains from
where he wiped his exploratory anal digit.

Disappointed at not having miraculously lost any weight overnight, he found
the trousers still didn't stand much chance of fastening. A belt was called
for and after much rummaging around an ancient striped elasticated belt
with an "S" clasp. It had been last used when he was about nine, but
despite being very overstretched it was the only option and pressed into
service. So long as the blazer was fastened to conceal the gap where the
top of the fly didn't meet and his grubby shirt tucked in to hide the
Wolsey briefs he didn't think it looked too bad. Ignoring the trousers
being a good inch too long he buttoned up the blazer and put a hand in the
trouser pocket aiming to untangled his half erect cock from the sagging
briefs only to be rewarded by finding a hole in the lining. His finger was
soon rubbing the end of his cock through the hole which gave unfettered
access to the inside the briefs, smiling to himself he set off downstairs
for breakfast thinking that Ian could have been doing the self same thing
only hours before.

Quite how he had evaded maternal persecution at teatime the previous
evening after covering his jeans in spunk he wasn't quite sure. Having
noticed and immediately guessed what the stain adorning the front of Art's
jeans probably was, Ted was faced with a dilemma. Should he admonish Art
and reignite the internecine warfare or as relations between Art and his
mother were currently quite amicable opt to keep the peace. He chose to
gamble and try to keep Art out of sight of the matriarchal gaze something
that could prove tricky, especially with Simon who saw the whole thing as a
big joke and a running joke at that. Taking a chance on that option meant
having a few very sharp words in Art's ear, very sharp words indeed.  There
was no hint of humour in his threat of instant castration and being handed
over to his mother should Art ever, ever even consider appearing in public
like it again, the point was well and truly made.

All that though was the previous evening and today was another day.

Late as ever he arrived in the kitchen wearing his blazer fully buttoned up
which immediately drew enquiring looks from Simon and his mother. On seeing
the expression on his face, Simon quickly realised that discretion was the
better part of valour and best not to crack any jokes about his appearance
or the aroma which seemed to pervade Art's movements. Amazingly, Linda
didn't pick up on the delicate hint of unwashed teenage genitalia and
congealing cum which combined with the horrors contained with the
disgusting briefs made it quite memorable.

As he bumbled around the kitchen it was pretty evident that some highly
improbable plan was in the process of being hatched inside Art's rather
shambolic, sexually charged teenage world. That remote world to which all
boys subscribed where they could easily retreat from the realities of life
at home or school.

From the previous afternoon's events Simon had a fairly good idea what it
would be about, although not knowing about the belt had been amused to
think of the trousers constantly descending at school. Linda was rather
mystified, she couldn't quite put a finger on neither his actions nor
appearance and with time running out didn't want to begin asking questions
in front of Simon. It was only when Art had gathered up his school bag and
headed out the door with Simon in tow to get the bus did she realise that
it was the trousers that had been nagging her. They didn't look right. For
one thing they almost had a crease in them and they suddenly appeared to
have got longer in the leg.


Martin hadn't been able to stop thinking about the pleasures of Nigel's
flesh since the previous afternoon and had been waiting excitedly just
inside the school gates for his arrival. Such thoughts naturally caused an
erection which seemed in danger of becoming permanent with his fertile mind
consumed by fantasy leaving the swollen member little chance of
subsiding. It certainly wasn't helped by the events of the previous evening
when, unable to leave it alone he had slipped off to the bathroom to
masturbate twice more during the evening. Then, just prior to falling into
an exhausted sleep he made the discovery that by interlocking his fingers
and forcing his cock through the gap adjacent to his thumbs it made quite a
good substitute for a tight sphincter! With a lot of spittle for lube that
made for the third dribble of spunk that evening on top of the days hectic
activities.

"Well, how d'you get on?"

Martin rushed over to Nigel seconds after he had walked through the heavy
iron gates.

"Not very well."

Nigel pulled a face and looked around at some of the other boys coming
though the gates, many with hands in pockets after playing with themselves
on the bus. Martin too had a hand in his pocket and all the signs of a
tenting fly to match. "Come over yer."

"Well, but did it work at all?" Martin followed him over to a low wall near
the science block entrance. "The Tizer and that?"

"Sort of.."

"Wot d'you mean sort of?"

"Well, it fuckin' poured with rain didn't it?" Nigel started to laugh
unable to keep up the pretence any longer. "Like having a bath with me
clothes on! I was fuckin' soaked, everything I had on was washed in the
bleeding road!"

"Bloody hell! I `spose you're right, it was a hell of a storm. You were out
in that?"

"Yeah, made sure I got soaked! We could have drunk the fuckin' Tizer!"

"Fuck the fuckin' Tizer!" Martin paused, he had to restrain himself from
grabbing Nigel in public, his voice dropped to a whisper. "It's you, I
wanna fuck you again!"

"Wouldn't mind."

Almost fully erect, Nigel knew it had started getting aroused on seeing the
bulge Martin was unsuccessfully trying to hide. Glancing around to see who
was looking he elbowing Martin to draw his attention to his own predicament
provocatively pushing his straining fly towards him.

"Oh shit! You as well?" Martin drew a deep breath. "When?"

"Bloody right and bloody soon! And, I know somebody who'd just fuckin' love
to get up your tight little ass! We could do a threesome!"

"Art?" Martin grinned. "How'd I know that?"

"Probably `cause yer cocks are about the same size! Anyway, it ain't this
weekend, `cause we got other important things on ain't we?"

"We? Wot's mean?"

Martin turned towards the wall and put both hands in his pockets in an
attempt to manipulate his erection up so it wouldn't look so obvious, being
short the bulge in his trousers looked out of proportion.

"Looking at you I think we ought to have quick one in class sometime
today!" Nigel grinned.

"Sooner the better, or I'm gonna cum in me pants!" replied Martin already
feeling the start of a wet spot. Wot's this weekend thing about then?"

"Well you daft fucker, this is the weekend innit? It's all gonna be
happening in the fuckin' shed on the allotment on Sunday afternoon with you
with your little second form mates. You're our spy and you can't fuckin'
get out of it!" Nigel clapped him on the shoulder.

"Oh fucking hell!" Martin looked aghast. "How could I forget that!"

"Too much wanking I `spect! Come on let's get in before the bell. Besides
you're gonna have all your little mates to finger and fuck with ain't you?
D'you know sometimes I could just fancy putting a finger up that Tom or
Alex and wanking 'em off!"

"It's wot I'm gonna do!"

"Oi!"

Turning they saw a rather breathless Art approaching up the path.

"You're nearly fuckin' late." Nigel grinned. "Wot's up then?"

"The fuckin' bus was held up at some fuckin' junction, some fuckin'
accident or fuckin' something!" Art sounded as flustered as he looked. "So
have you seen Ian?"

"Beautifully put." Martin managed to keep a straight face.

"Ian, no I ain't, not yet. Why?" asked Nigel as the bell began to
ring. "Why's you all buttoned up then?"

"Oh, fuck the bell!" replied Art. "Well he's got me fucking clothes ain't
he?"

"Wot?" replied Nigel unable to hear with the ringing in his ears.

"Has he?"

"Oh fuck, come on lets go in then and I`ll tell you."

With Art beginning to give an expletive ridden, if not garbled explanation
of why Ian had his clothes they began walking somewhat lethargically in
towards the main hall and the rather otiose ritual of morning assembly.

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Chap 77 to follow