Date: Thu, 14 Jul 2011 22:21:53 +0100
From: tom <amias09@fastmail.fm>
Subject: Brief Encounters Chap 77

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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>>>>>>>>>>> PLEASE NOTE <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

July 2011 Please note what with summer holdays and all the rest of it the
fortnightly posting routine may go up the creek, but then again it may
not!!!!

Whatever, I should be back on schedule posting regularly again by end
August or so in the meantine just keep checking,


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Chapter 77 -- The weekend draws nigh


"So wot's think about that then?" Simon proudly leaned back against the
wall.

"Shit!"

Tom and Alex looked at each other in amazement. Brian was unable to resist
rather blatantly squeezing the front of his shorts as he visualised
exchanging some soggy underpants on the top deck of a bus. David was the
first to speak.

"Wot's this boy Ian look like then?"

"Bit taller than Art, bit thinner, sorta fairish hair and..." Simon turned
and scoured the playground trying to see if he was there, "and, I knows his
mum always wants him looking smart."

"Well so does mine." said Joe.

"Bet she don't iron yer pants though, `cause his do!" Simon grinned. "I
heard him say that to Art and he's right pissed off with being made to look
tidy all the time."

"Well don't give me mum ideas like that!" Joe looked over the
playground. "D'you see him?"

"Nah." Simon shook his head. "But one things for sure, he won't be fuckin'
looking very smart if he's wearing Art's filthy clobber."

The more David thought about what he had just heard, the more aroused he
was becoming. The facts had to be confirmed once more.

"So let's get this right then. You'd just pissed over Art by accident when
this Ian had surprised you, then Art cums all over his clothes and that Ian
wants to swop with Art and wear his pissy, cummy pants and trousers home."
he paused. "That right?"

"Yeah, about it." Simon nodded. "Then we gets off the bus and starts going
home, but our trousers keep slipping down."

"Because Art's too fat to do Ian's up and," David, was loving ever moment
of this, "the clasp on yours had been broke by Art."

"Right." he nodded again.

"Then when you get's home you and Art take turns to wear Ian's pants.."
added Joe.

"Them Wolsey X things." confirmed Simon interrupting. "And they was all
nice and white, you could see all the marks on `em!"

"Marks?" asked Joe excitedly.

"Pee and that."

"Then you takes turns to wear and wank in 'em under yer shorts and that?"
asked David excitedly. "And then you thinks Art wore 'em all night as
well?"

"Wouldn't you?" Simon grinned.

"Course."

"And I know," continued Simon, "today he's wearing Ian's trousers `cause
his blazers all done up to hide the fact he's too fuckin' fat to fit into
`em!"

"And them pants as well?"

"Course. He loves 'em all cummy like that. Wouldn't you?"

"Uumm..." Joe blushed.

"There he is, there.. look," interrupted Brian pointing to the far side of
the playground, "he's with... uumm.. Nigel and Martin, innit?"

"Yeah, I see," Joe stared into the distance, "and yer right, look his
blazers all buttoned up."

"Well he had to keep holding them trousers up yesterday, so maybe he's got
a bit of string tied round 'em now!" Simon laughed. "He's fuckin' hopeless
isn't he?"

"Might be fuckin' hopeless," said Tom, "but at least you gotta
brother. Wish I did."

Alex just looked, smiled and said nothing.

"Well I gotta little brother and he's turned into a right little wanker!"
said Brian.

"Wonder where he got that idea from?" David watched Brian's undulating
shorts.

"Watching him, innit!" said Tom. "Any minute and he'll be cumming in his
pants like Art does!"

"Gimme a couple of minutes and I could!" the liberated Brian grinned. "Wot
about doing something dinner time somewhere, these morning breaks just
ain't long enough."

"Couple of minutes! Fuck, wot takes you so long?" asked Alex.

"Well, looks like the usual bog dinner time then?" Joe felt in his pocket
to confirm he knew he was already getting a hard on.

"Sort of practice for Sunday, I spose." said Tom smiling. "Come on let's
go, double physics now innit Alex?"



Outside, leaning against the wall around the corner from the science block
Art had just finished telling of his own adventure with Ian and Simon on
the bus journey home and how he had acquired Ian's clothes. That was
followed up by a very graphic description of Simon's fascination with Ian's
briefs and their mutual clothed wank along with the subsequent telling off
he had received from his father.

Having listened to that and caught glimpses of Art playing with himself
through the hole in his pocket it was no great surprise that by the end all
three had very obvious erections. If reliving that hadn't been erotic
enough for Art it was followed, much to his delight by a jointly told
version of Martin and Nigel's bus trip which ending in Martin's bedroom,
although the fact they were thrown off the bus rather quickly glossed
over. It concluding with the Tizer saga and Martin being discovered asleep
by his mother, Art though made Martin repeat in great detail the condition
he was in when he woke up. Not unnoticed by Nigel, on the second telling of
Martin's embarrassing predicament Art's fingers were rapidly moving through
the hole in the trouser pocket. As Art had guessed from the slime around
the end of his cock a wet spot had already started forming inside the
already stained briefs.

"Bleeding hell Mart, you're fuckin' lucky. Cor, wish my mother was bit more
understanding like that." said Nigel. "So that was it then? Nothing else
was said?"

"No."

"Lucky you." said Art.

"No, she didn't." replied Martin. "But I still can't look her in the face
after catching me like that though."

"You will. Don't worry about it." said Nigel.

"Hey, I've said just remembered. the funniest thing was that she was afraid
I'd be getting girls in trouble!"

"Well you can fuck me anytime and get me in trouble!" said Art with a grin.

"Looks like yer fuckin' yerself at the minute!" observed Nigel. "Didn't you
do it when you got up this morning?"

"Mmmh, well." Art nodded, "But I could do it again right now as well."

" `spose I could as well." Nigel grinned.

"Well talking about that," said Martin looking around to see if anybody
could overhear, he lowered his voice, "Nige thought a threesome might be
fun and I gotta get something bigger than a couple of fingers up me ass so,
wot's think Art.. would you do it?"

"You had to ask!" Art laughed. "Right now if you want, get 'em down! Just
tell me when and where!"

"Well you can ask Ian as well, he's finally bloody arrived!" said Nigel
pointing to his left.

"Where the fuck you been?" asked Art turning and rather surprised to see
Ian smartly dressed in his own clothes. "Oh fuck, you ain't got 'em,
where's me clothes?"

"Oh shit I'm sorry Art, it's a fuckin' long story! Me dad keeps wanting to
have little chats with me about growing up.."

"So?" replied Art puzzled at what Ian's father had to do with it.

"Wanking you mean?" asked Nigel.

"That's not wot he calls it, but yeah that's about it. Especially after
yesterday when me mum caught me as I was cumming in yer pants!" he looked
at Art and pulled a face.

"Mine you means? Wot me black pants, you cum in 'em... oh fucking hell!"
Art started giggle, "But they'd had about few loads in 'em already!"

"I know.. and so does me mum now!" Ian had to grin. "I was covered in cum,
so was yer pants and everything else. Then the silly cow pretended she
ain't see nothing and there's me cock dribbling right in front of her!
She's so prim and fuckin' proper you wouldn't believe it!"

That brought a peal of raucous laughter.

"So me dad has to talk to me later on don't he?" Ian shook his head. "
`cause she told him to, but he don't really know what to say so I just told
him I was having a big wank like wot other boys do!"

"Wot, you actually said you was having a wank?" asked Martin giggling.

"Yer, just like that! Anyway, he wanted to give me lift in this morning and
talk some more. But, the fuckin' car got a fuckin' puncture and now I'm
fuckin' late and he had to scribble a fuckin' note and all that fuckin'
stuff!" he drew breath, "and I'm fuckin' pissed off with it all!"

Another bout of laughter followed.

"Art listen, `cause I'm really sorry to have to tell you this," Ian paused
trying not to laugh, "but my dear mummy is going to wash your smelly,
sticky black pants and trousers so I can give 'em back to you all fuckin'
clean and pressed tomorrow. She might even do it by hand to get all the
stains out!"

A roar of laughter positively erupted.

As the noise died down it was a very red faced Art who looked at Ian with a
look of total disbelief.

"Wot! Your mum's washing me pants? Not with her hands?" he asked
slowly. "Does she know who's they are and... and... wot's all over `em?"

"Dunno, I ain't asking her, but you can! Be bad enough when she hands 'em
back to me tomorrow all nicely ironed won't it, wot am I supposed to say
then!"

"Oh fuck me!" said Art imaging one fine day his mother getting to meet
Ian's mother!

"I've already offered!" said Martin grinning.

"So, wot you wearing now," Ian looked down at Art's trousers, "oh shit,
you're not still wearing my stuff from yesterday are you? I'm sorry."

"It's all right, trousers is a bit tight though and I had to find an old
belt." Art grinned, "It's fuckin' horny really, `cause yer pants ain't
really staying up `cause Simon's had a wank in 'em and pulled 'em about a
bit!"

"Wot, little Simon, him on the bus?" Ian was shocked.

"Yer, he can't half wank for a little `un!" replied Art performing a pincer
movement by rubbing the front of the trousers with one hand, the other deep
inside the pocket feeling for the hole. "Don't forget they've had about
four loads from me as well!"

"It's gonna be fuckin' five the way you're going!" said Nigel trying not
laugh and pointing to the growing gap at the top of the bulging fly and the
exposed waistband of the briefs.

"You let Simon wank in 'em as well?" asked Martin staring down at Art's
bulge. "Fuckin' hell I think we all ought to wear 'em and have a wank in
'em then!"

"Fuck me!" exclaimed Ian. "Don't you dare get 'em washed or nothing, I want
'em back like they are!"

"You really want a good fuckin' ?" Nigel smiled and pushed his tenting fly
towards Ian.

"Well I'd fuck you anytime, but I thinks Mart wants to have a go at me
first!" Art looked towards Martin as he spoke, who felt a tingle of
excitement run down his spine.

"Oh I do. I really fuckin' do!" he replied sounding as though it were a
joke. It was no joke as his cock confirmed by lurched in the pale blue
Y-fronts and leaving another streak of precum.

Almost as if to draw attention to himself Art then said to Ian. "And I can
feel you got a little hole in yer pocket, haven't you?"

Ian might have blushed, but all eyes had turned towards Art and the
frenzied action in the trouser pocket. The zip, slowly going down with
strain of all the activity was allowing the fly to gradually open and
expose more and more wet, stained white cotton. For Art's friends, being
assiduous students of dirty underwear it was highly erotic as they waited
expectantly for the first sight of his drooling organ to appear in view.

Consumed by sex, Art's mind was focused on his much abused cock which had
been more or less constantly erect since the last lesson the previous
afternoon. From his actions it was plain to those around him that now on an
another of his unstoppable rolls he and had no inhibitions.

Having rediscovered the small hole in the lining it seemed at best that
only two fingers could get through. Nobody seemed to hear the faint rip as
the pocket lining gave way under the pressure allowing Art to push his hand
though and grope for the slimy fly of the briefs. At first just watching
the hand movements was exciting enough, but more satisfaction was
required. Soon Art's actions were being mirrored to prove he wasn't the
only one with a growing wet spot on his underpants, although he was
definitely in pole position!

Nigel was about to make a pithy observation on the rapidly degenerating
state of Art's uniform when the lesson bell rang out immediately killing
any chance of being heard.

"Aaawwwwwhhhh..." cried Art immediately following on from Nigel's equally
silent comment before suddenly doubling up and clutching wildly at his
stomach. Several hands grabbed at Art thinking he had been taken ill and
was going to collapse as the bell continued to ring rendering all
conversation useless.

"Fuckin' hell kid, wot's happened? You all right?" shouted Nigel trying to
pull him upright and lean back against the wall.

"That fuckin' bells deafening!" added Martin stating the blindingly obvious
as he watched Nigel and Ian prop Art back up against the wall.

"It's a fuckin' appendix or something innit?" said Ian, seeing that close
up Art really did look pretty awful and had now broken out in a sweat.

Martin however, being a little more astute and in possession of further
highly attuned diagnostic skills stood back as the bell stopped to take
stock of the situation. Seconds later he burst into a fit of uncontrolled
laughter which took Nigel and Ian totally by surprise.

"Wot you fuckin' laughing at?" asked Nigel rather surprised at the apparent
lack of compassion.

"Well, come and fuckin' look here!" Martin pointed a wobbly finger at Art
in between guffaws of laughter.

"Wot? Wot's fuckin' mean then? Yer, Ian you fuckin' hold him up a minute or
he'll fall over!"

Nigel pushed Art, rather like a sack of potatoes towards Ian and stood back
as instructed. He looked, turned to Martin and then looked again.

"Oh fuckin' hell Art... you... you fuckin' cunt!"

Now with both Martin and Nigel rolling around with laughter, Ian abandoned
Art to slump against the brickwork and rushed over to join Nigel to see
what was so funny.

Scarcely able to breath and crying with laughter Art was barely managing to
stand up without support. The old elasticated belt dangled from a couple of
belt loops around the trousers, the S clasp lay on the ground having
allowed the trousers to drop well below his thighs. Without the belt, the
zip aggravated by the energetic masturbation had evidently given up the
unequal struggle and allowed the trousers to fall revealing the disgusting
mess that were Ian's once immaculate white Wolsey X briefs. Shapeless and
soaking wet with cum they sagged below Art's balls serving only to frame
his red twitching cock and the long string of cum which swung ever
downward.

Martin took a very deep breath and willed himself not to cum on the
spot. The temptation to get his cock out then and there and stuff it up
Art's moist hole was incredible. Most definitely a supreme bedtime fantasy
in the making.

"Fuck!" Nigel also took a deep breath and paused. "Art, you bastard just
wot is about you that makes you so fuckin' sexy?"

"Mart's fuckin' right!" said Ian who, hand in pocket was very slowly and
deliberately rubbing the spot of precum which had formed on the head of his
cock into the crisp white cotton of his underpants. "We gotta take it in
turns to cum in them pants!"

"Not now! Don't forget the fuckin' bells just gone!" said Martin
desperately trying to get the picture of Art out of mind. He failed. Unable
to resist looking once more he stared at the oozing head of Art's cock
wondering if it would slip up him without too much pain. And when?

"You bugger, so why d'you grab yer guts then? We all thought you was
fuckin' ill." asked Nigel watching out of the corner of his eye the last
few boys hurrying from the playground.

"That's when the fuckin' belt broke innit?" Art was still laughing, "I went
to grab me bloody trousers as they fell down and shot me fucking load
instead!"

"Don't forget," said Ian who still looking excitedly at the stained briefs,
"them's my clothes you've been cumming in!"

"I'll get 'em washed and that, promise." replied Art struggling to pull the
sticky briefs up over his erection.

"Hey," exclaimed Ian, "wot's them blue marks on me pants?"

Art looked down and started giggling. "Quink!"

"Quink fuckin' ink innit! Dirty sod, look at him, he's been wanking with
inky fingers!" added Nigel laughing. "It'll wash out, always does or the
whole bleeding school would be blue! You ever had a pen that don't leak
then?"

"No. Oh, well.." Ian paused and grinned, "so don't wash them pants then, I
want 'em like they are!"

This was definitely the new Ian speaking, the one that had rediscovered
himself as having a fetish to wear other boys dirty underwear.

"I could be interested in trying 'em on as well." Martin winked at Ian who
having realised what he had just admitted was blushing.

"No need for that," Nigel put a hand on his shoulder and whispered, "I
think we all understands the attraction."

"There, look." said Art proudly. "That alright?"

"Yeah, sort of." Nigel looked rather worried, too late now.

With the grubby, crumpled shirt stuffed in around the waistband, tie askew
and the blazer rebuttoned Art considered he had now finished
dressing. However, without the belt the zip was now the only structural
item holding up the trousers, a very important point which everyone except
Art seemed to appreciate.

"Come on or we'll be late and don't wanna get in more trouble." Martin was
already picking up his bag. "We got French now ain't we Ian? Wot you got
Nige?"

"Uummm... geography, then maths before dinner break, innit Art?" Nigel
sounded rather absent minded with his eyes focused on the outline of
Martin's briefs visible through the tight grey trousers.

"Maths! Oh fuckin' shitbags!" snapped Art, the laughter of a minute earlier
instantly evaporating. "I thought fuckin' maths was this afternoon."

"Wassup?" asked Ian surprised at seeing the immediate change.

"Wot's a shitbag?" Martin looked puzzled at Art's new expletive.

"Fuck the shitbags! I ain't done the fuckin' maths homework have I? Fuck
it, fuck it, fuck it! I was gonna do it at fuckin' dinner time."

Ian looked hopefully at Nigel, to whom they all appeared to turn when there
was problem. Continuing to angrily mutter to himself Art gave up tugging at
the twisted knot in his tie, grabbed his bag and ran to catch up.

The reality of school life had yet again brought him crashing down from the
sexual high. For Nigel, knowing only too well that he often had similar
problems himself, guessed that he as going to have to take on the role of
counsellor again. Quite why his friends looked upon him as some wise sage
able to deliver the solution to all their adolescent problems he never
understood, but really wasn't that friends were for?

"Nige, do I really look all right now?" normally vibrant, the life had gone
from Art's voice.

A lump formed in Nigel's throat knowing that voice signalled Art was close
to breaking, pausing he turned to look. Art was still fighting the losing
battle to make himself look even vaguely presentable. Nigel's immediate
dilemma was how to tell him that he had actually lost the battle and if he
were to be brutally honest, that Art looked and smelt like the cumrag he
kept under his bed! From his demeanour, Art had already folded under the
pressure of the latent maths homework so the last thing Nigel wanted was to
actually push him further down in the slough of despond.

"Ahh... uumm.. sort of.." he smiled. A real test of friendship in an
impossible situation. "I think maybe yer tie could do with retying.."

"Can't!" replied Art. "Never undoes it, it won't! I just puts it over me
head."

"Nige," Martin looked very sadly at Nigel and raised his eyebrows. "I'm
sorry, but we're gonna have to go `cause we're right down the far
corridor. Art, we'll see you at dinner break. The best of luck mate."

Ian looked at Martin then walked over and gave Art a quick hug. "Yeah,
uumm.."

"Oh fuck off!" Art looked away, from high to low he was emotionally
exhausted.

Ian and Martin reluctantly walked off wondering what the outcome would
be. Somehow, Art always seemed to engineer his own downfall. Very little
was said.

"You Ok?" Nigel picked up his bag. "We can just do it if get a move on."

"Not really." he wiped his eyes as he looked for his bag. "I'm gonna get
really fuckin' bollocked now ain't I? Me maths is never any fuckin' good
and just fuckin' look at me."

"Maybe," putting an arm around him Nigel started to propel him down the
corridor, "now wipe yer face and stop that or you'll fuckin' get me at it
as well."

"Do I really look alright?"

Red around they eyes and his uniform a dishevelled mess he looked anything
but.

"Well.. sort of.. oh fuck. I hate seeing you, like this." Nigel wiped his
face with the back of his sleeve, "Now don't get fuckin' mad, but I gotta
tell you, just don't get too near the teacher, `cause you stink of cum!"

"You're.." blinking Art looked him in the face, "fuck, I can't say no
more.. oh fuck it all."

"That's it, the old fighting spirit!"

"Oh piss off!" said Art managing a weak smile.

"Now save yerself, calm down `cause we're here. Anyway it's geography first
innit, they might not... uumm .. y'know notice yer ain't quite as tidy as
usual!"

Something of a classic understatement, but Nigel was feeling the strain as
well. They stopped at the half open door and listened to the noise from the
classroom.

"We did it, there's about ten seconds left before we're officially late!"

Clenching his fists and closing his eyes for three of those precious ten
seconds Art steeled himself for what he imagined was to come.

"Come on boys, in you go."

Mr Vincent the geography master stood behind them holding a pile of blue
exercise books. Art looked askance at the dog eared covers, presumably
somewhere in the pile was the homework he had submitted after quickly
cribbing it. His heart sank, now he had something else to worry about as
well.

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Chap 78 to follow