Date: Fri, 16 Sep 2011 08:48:00 +0100
From: tom <amias09@fastmail.fm>
Subject: Brief encounters chap 80

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

***************************************************************************
If the formatting stays, some of you will recognise the dreaded Lyle and
Scott undies with the baggy bum from the days when we all wore them at
school.. they have a lot to answer for and I'm sure that just doesn't apply
to me either - would I be right there?

=======
|     ||     |
 \   //\\    /
  \____/

I did try and do a Wosley X version but can't recall how they looked, if
somebody sends me pic I'll do it next time - well I thought it was quite
funny anyway!

As ever, comments, fetishes and all ideas welcome!

_____________________________________________________________________________


Chapter 80 -- Double ignominy


"You'd better sit down." Mr Weaver sat on the edge of the desk. Well liked
and about thirty, definitely one of the more popular and younger teachers.

Art looked nervously at Nigel. They each took hold of a chair and sat
slowly down.

"So what's all this about then?"

"I... I.. was.." Art's mouth was so dry he couldn't speak, he literally
dried up.

"Sir, he ain't doing very well!" interrupted Nigel, looking very concerned.

"No, obviously not. Go and get a couple of glasses of water, go on." he
nodded to the door.

Apart from the dreadful state of his uniform Art looked awful, sweaty and
red eyed through crying. Something that didn't go unnoticed by Mr Weaver.

"I had you two in the second year didn't I? What did we used to call
you.. Art, wasn't it?"

"Mmhh yer.. and he's Nigel." he sniffed.

"That right. Now come on, so what happened? Miss Jameson has told me you
trousers fell down and that..." he paused, "well, to put it bluntly you had
an erection which was flashed around the classroom."

Art closed his eyes. Visibly cringing he clenched his fists determined he
wasn't going cry again.

Nigel returned bearing two glasses of luke warm water, Art grabbed one and
gulped it down almost immediately.

"Sir, we was.." began Art, then he slowed. He stopped devoid of excuses.

"No, no you listen to me." Mr Weaver briefly smiled which seemed rather off
putting to Art. "We are going to be honest because we are not really
children any more, are we?"

"No." Art shook his head and clenched his fists again, it wasn't working
his eyes were filling up.

"What are you, both about fifteen now?"

"Just." croaked Nigel. Art nodded.

"So from my experience in growing up and as a teacher I would say that at
about your age you two probably masturbate a lot. Would that be correct?"

Surprised at his candour they glanced at each other and looked very
ashamed. That was something they couldn't deny!

"What I'm trying to say lads, is that having an erection in class is really
very common, isn't it?"

Getting redder in the face they nodded again. Art swallowed hard, where was
this going. Nigel looked equally perplexed and took a sip of water.

"As I see it, what makes this incident so different from boys just having
erections is that, well it's very unlikely that both you trousers and
underpants would fall down so easily," he looked at them, "although, I
suppose accidents do happen from time to time don't they?"

Art smiled weakly, there was hope.

"However, from what Miss Jameson said things didn't look right and she
really was shocked. I mean shocked."

Art's face fell, he braced himself and took a deep breath. All hopes was
dashed. He knew it. A tear was already starting down his cheek.

"So, since I think you owe Miss Jameson something of an apology not to say
an explanation, I want you to undo that blazer that looks so strangely
fastened and show me your school uniform so I can judge for myself."

Art gulped. There was no way in which he could hide the evidence of his
earlier excesses.

"I think it's fair to say that at this school we do allow some latitude on
the standard of uniform, I think but even you would agree that well, you do
look a mess. You know as well as I do if the headmaster caught you looking
like this you'd be sent straight home probably after the cane and with
strong note for your parents. So, what's going on?"

"Please.. don't tell me mum.." mumbled Art slowly getting up from the
chair. He fought to keep further tears back and looked at Nigel. Fiddling
with the buttons he started to undo the blazer.

"Well, let's see what you look like first." despite seeing Art's obvious
distress Mr Weaver knew he had no choice but to pursue the matter. "I'm not
promising anything."

As the tears began to roll Art hung his stained blazer over the back of the
chair and made a supreme effort to turn and face the teacher. Nigel
winced. Mr Weaver opened his eyes in amazement.

Even allowing for the unpressed shirt and badly knotted tie something was
definitely amiss, not only were the trousers were too long but they too
small around his waist and consequently appeared unfastened.

"Oh my god!"

Without the belt, the grubby shirt had pulled out of the unfastened
trousers, now barely zipped half way up and exposing the waistband and top
part of the briefs. There was without doubt a shiny wet patch and there was
equally no doubt as to what it was.

"Sir.. you see.. " said Art plaintively. A tear fell to land on his shirt.

"Don't even try. Just sit down." Mr Weaver rolled his eyes and took a deep
breath. "Do I assume from the disgusting state of that uniform you have
recently ejaculated in your underpants while in the school?"

Silent, Art stared ahead visualising the doomy interior of the headmasters
office and the cane kept by the bookcase which he had heard so much
about. At home he could see his mother turning ballistic before throwing
him out of the house.

"Is it any wonder Miss Jameson was appalled? You are your own worst enemy,
you've got to grow up."

Nigel had his head in his hands. Art was still looking straight ahead with
tears rolling down his cheeks unable to speak.

"And, unless I'm not mistaken," he looked at Art's blank face, "they're not
even your clothes are they? They don't fit, what the hell is going on?"

"He swopped clothes, with somebody didn't he, it was a sorta joke."
muttered Nigel knowing it sounded lame, but it broke the silence.

"Some joke! It's disgusting."

"Sir, please, look at him."

"I am!"

Not only was he looking, he was thinking very hard. What action should he
take that would not send the boy over the edge?

Nigel sniffed, blinked and with his voice cracking entered a plea straight
from the heart.

"Sir, please don't do nothing, not the headmaster. Send him down the gym
for a shower... run round the field something, clean the
floors.. anything!" he sniffed. "Please, he's had it.. his mum will kill
him! Sir, please.."

With that impassioned plea Nigel sat back and closed his eyes as tears
began to rolled down his cheeks. Surprised at the passion, Mr Weaver looked
rather touched at Nigel's out burst on behalf of what was obviously a very
dear friend and as requested turned to look at Art again.

Here was a boy who looked as though it would take very little to break his
spirit, something he never wanted nor intended to do. Quite what the two
boys had been up he would never learn, but it had obviously been rooted in
some sex play and at fifteen in a boys grammar school how unusual was that,
at least it wasn't a boarding school! To totally demoralise the boy was not
the answer, whereas a short, sharp lesson could well register the point far
more effectively. What lesson though?

"What's happened to you Art?" the tone was understanding. "You weren't like
this when you were younger."

Mute, Art just looked back through his tears knowing something was going to
have to give. The number of times he had been recently reprimanded by
teachers for looking scruffy, not to mention the constant flak he was
receiving at home meant he was living on borrowed time and he knew it.

"Sir.." Nigel looked up whilst Art continued to stare at the wall.

"Hold on. As I see it, there are three choices." Mr Weaver shuffled on the
edge of the desk and prepared himself to gauge the boys reaction.

"First, we have the option of a visit to the headmaster and I think we all
know what that will entail, don't we?"

The reaction to that he already knew, but wanted to reinforce the
point. Art visibly shivered and shot a glance at Nigel before returning to
stare at the wall.

"Or there is the detention route and I could arrange give you a lot of
extra work as well."

"Anything, no, not the head, please." mumbled Art slowly making a big
effort to join in.

"I actually rather favour," he looked at them both and then his watch,
"your friend Nigel's suggestion."

"Sir, yer wot?"

"Simple, a nice old fashioned cold shower will soon cool you down and I
think make far more of an impression on you than caning or a couple of
detentions."

He half smiled as he got off the desk and walked behind it to look in the
drawers. The boys looked at each other in bewilderment, no headmaster? No
detention? Just a shower? Being an ex-secretarial desk it soon yielded the
necessary paper and envelope.

"Now I'm going to write a note to Mr Hawkins, you've have a couple of
minutes before the lesson bell to get it down to him at the gym so that he
will be expecting you for that shower in the afternoon break."

"Me?" croaked Art looking shocked. "But, but Sir.. I ain't no towel or
nothing?"

"This is a punishment and meant to teach you a lesson or would you prefer
to see the headmaster?"

"No.. no.." Art shook his head and chewed very nervously on a grubby
fingernail.

"Sir, I'll find him something." volunteered Nigel looking so relieved that
the headmaster was not going to be involved. "I'll borrow him a towel or
something."

"No, you won't. You will find somebody to lend him a towel!"

"Sir."

"God knows what he's going to do about the trousers and those underpants!
He can't wear those, they're disgusting!" Mr Weaver shook his
head. "There's always lost property, maybe Mr Hawkins has something that's
been left in the changing room!"

Art was feeling about an inch tall. To hear a teacher discussing the state
of his underwear with his best friend and suggesting trying the lost
property for something cleaner to wear was the ultimate humiliation. The
writing was writ large on the wall, he had to change his ways, lest his
ways were to be forceably changed for him. The lesson was finally and
genuinely sinking in.

"What would you do without Nigel here, you're lucky to have him." said Mr
Weaver standing up. "Now off with you both. Don't you dare let the head see
you like that or you know what will happen!"

"I ... will you say.. sorry.. to.. Miss.. uumm.." mumbled Art struggling to
fight back his tears as he put on the blazer. It was a losing battle.

"If you mean to say sorry to Miss Jameson, yes I will." he smiled. "Now get
out of here."

Roughly pushing his way through a crowd of first year boys queuing to get
into the gym Art, looking extremely red eyed and out of breath burst in
through the door to push the envelope into the hands of the very genial, if
somewhat surprised Mr Hawkins. Surprised, because it wasn't every day that
someone such as Art, likeable even if notorious for his complete lack of
interest in any physical activity, should come rushing to the changing room
in such a state of panic.

"What have you done Weldon?" he asked glancing between the envelope and
Art's tear stained face. "What have you done?"

"Uumm.." his eyes red rimmed told part of the story, he tried to look away
as the envelope was opened.

"Is it really that bad?" Mr Hawkins looked at him beginning to really did
feel sorry. Plainly something terrible had happened.  "Let me have a look
at this."

Scuffing his shoes Art fought yet again to hold back tears. The sounds
coming the first year boys in the corridor didn't help, they would all see
him crying at this rate.

"Oh Weldon!" he put the note in his pocket. "You idiot! You stupid boy!"

Much to Art's surprise he felt a hand on his shoulder, he looked woefully
up.

"For heavens sake, we all know you lot do it, but to be caught like this!
Couldn't you do it in a toilet or something!"

That did it, a teacher who actually understood. Art started to cry whilst
trying to say that he had no towel, other clothes or anything.

"Listen, now calm down. First you've get to your next lesson without being
late or you'll be in even more trouble. Now come get yourself together."

Mr Hawkins propelled him towards the door speaking quietly, but firmly in
his ear as he did. "This is all of your own making. You have to take your
punishment and learn the lesson that goes with it. I'll see what I can find
for you."

Watched with great amusement by the younger boys Art, very red in the face
pushed his way though the crowd and set off up the corridor determined not
be late and draw any more attention to himself than necessary.

The second bell of the afternoon signalled the end of the history class
which freed Simon, who by now had conscripted Tom and Alex in the search
for Art. The thought of Art going home in such a dishevelled state to be
greeted by an incandescent mother had Simon extremely worried. Having
already convinced himself that something dreadful had befallen his brother
since Mr Weaver had taken him from the dining hall, he thought the short
afternoon break offered the golden opportunity to locate him.

"We've looked everywhere." said Alex somewhat out of breath, leaning
against the entrance to the science block. "He ain't nowhere."

"Shit!" said Simon looking anxiously around. "Where the fuck is he? Can't
have gone home can he?"

"Looking like that! No, you're bloody joking!" said Tom. "He's gotta be
here in school somewhere, has to be."

"Well I don't know. I'm fucked." Simon leant back against the wall and
closed his eyes, it was all becoming a little to emotional. "We can't do no
more can us?"

"No, we've run all over the fuckin' place." said Tom only too pleased to
have a rest.

"He'll be alright," Alex smiled at Simon, "he always is, he's a lucky sod
like that."

"I `spose." Simon sighed. "Well, if you lot look at the sky tonight and you
see's flashes and bangs it's gonna be our mum giving him fuckin' wot for
innit!"


"Well, you'd better strip off then, take it like man. I'll turn it on."
said Mr Hawkins. He walked off towards the shower.

Art bit his lip and looked after Mr Hawkins and then to remaining first
year boys who were still finishing getting dressing on the adjacent
bench. They had obviously heard the order, progress had slowed and suddenly
all eyes were on him.

"I borrowed you a towel, from Andy." whispered Nigel clutching a grimy,
threadbare cream coloured piece of cotton. "It's all there was."

"Ta."

Nigel turned when he heard the water start running in the shower. "Art,
you'd better hurry up, please, you ain't got long."

Art closed his eyes and began to undress, clenching and unclenching his
fists as he did so. Other than the sound of running water the room had gone
quiet, several pairs of eleven year old eyes were glued to the obvious lump
in the front of the ill fitting trousers. Just what did a semi-erect fourth
formers cock look like, this was promising to be sex education in the raw!

To a growing chorus of laughter and sniggering from the young audience Art
managed to pull both trousers and briefs down in one movement hoping to
keep the sight of the semen ridden underpants out of sight. Even Nigel
wrinkled his nose at the smell, congealing semen in well worn underpants
combined with more than a hint of very unwashed adolescent boy was very
distinctive. With the background noise increasing Art stumbled naked, white
and trembling towards the tiled shower area. Tears filled his eyes as he
stumbled on feeling utterly crushed as he past the younger boys whilst
keeping his hands in front in the vain hope that at least his normally
proud erection wouldn't be seen. Naturally they passed comment as he
passed.

"Ain't very big is it?

"Cor, he stinks!"

"Me brother's is bigger than that!"

"Weldon, come on. It's running now, in you go, soon be over."

Having commenced the punishment as requested Mr Hawkins, was by now looking
rather concerned having seen the precarious state Art appeared to be in,
the situation was literally laid bare. He beckoned to him and spoke in his
ear.

"Just get in for a minute and at least wash, I'm going to get rid this lot,
you don't deserve that as well."

Touched by the teachers compassion Art, smiled through his tears as best he
could and rubbed a hand across his face before stepping in under the
water. At first it was cold, very cold. After a few seconds when he had it
acclimatised himself he opened his eyes and was more than relieved to see
the giggling first year's being rapidly ushered out.

"Leave him with me, I need to talk to him." said Mr Hawkins turning to
Nigel. "He's a stupid boy. What are your last two lessons?"

"Uumm.. will he be alright? " Nigel was rather surprised at the obviously
caring attitude that Mr Hawkins had adopted. His mind went
blank. "Uumm.. we got.."

"Not you as well! Come on, now think what lessons, just stay there a
second."

With that he walked over to the shower and turned the water temperature
up. Surprised at the change Art looked up from the floor to see he was
being offered a bar of soap.

"Now wash yourself down there!" The hand holding the soap pointed towards
his genitals.

Shrivelled by the cold water to barely an inch his cock had merged into the
pubic hairs still matted with semen. The soap would be a very welcome
addition. Biting his lip he looked up.

"Come on," Mr Hawkins smiled, "there isn't much I haven't seen after
teaching here for eight years. I want you clean and then we are going to
have a little chat."

"But me lessons?" he croaked pathetically.

"We're going to tell them you will late. Now move it, get washed."

"Sir, I knows, we's got English and Geography," chimed in Nigel, "we always
seems to get geography for the last lesson."

"Right, well you get off to the lessons and tell the teachers quietly
without shouting it around the class that I have said that Weldon may or
not appear at their lessons." he looked at Nigel. "Any queries they can
contact me to sort it out. You got it?"

"Yes Sir." Nigel looked to the shower and Art blurred by the steaming hot
water. "But... will, he be alright?

"Yes, I promise, now get a move on."

Nigel smiled, a lump came in his throat. He was undoubtedly surprised and
at the same time absolutely delighted that at last somebody had taken Art
and his compulsive masturbation seriously. After his own recent incident of
the bus and battles with his mother he knew he was no saint and equally
permissive himself. At least though, unlike Art he had managed to keep out
of too much trouble at school. This could be the turning point they both so
desperately needed.

Glancing back for a last look as he made for the door he saw that Art had
appeared to have dissolved the whole bar of soap around his cock! He was
absolutely incorrigible. Smiling to himself he just imagined it would
probably be Art's luck to end up with another erection right in front of Mr
Hawkins!

"Come on, out now."

Mr Hawkins didn't know it, but Art had just become his biggest fan in
gratitude for being treated like an adult even after behaving like a total
idiot.

"Sir."

Art looked up and sort of smiled, he left the comfort of the warm water
trying to cover his growing boyhood made for the bench. Nigel had guessed
correctly, it appeared no matter what the circumstances or how dire the
consequences Art could guarantee to have some form of erection.

Grabbing the distinctly worn towel he started to dry himself, taking great
care to face away from Mr Hawkins. Definitely well on the way to another
erection and this, the one critical time he didn't want one! All too soon
the small towel was soaked, he glanced looking around wondering what else
he could use to dry his hair. Hair. That though was a minor problem in
comparison to the seeming insurmountable question of what clothes he had
that were fit to wear.

"You're very lucky you know, my next class went to the pool instead of the
gym. Think how you'd be feeling with another class of first years staring
at you."

"Wot?" the vision of being watched wasn't a pretty thought. "Oh, shh... oh
god!"

"That's enough of that, hurry up."

Art turned, dangling the towel in front of his hardening cock, it looked
ridiculous and he knew it. Taking a deep breath he asked what seemed to be
the only question that counted at that moment in time.

"Sir.. you uumm.. said something about looking for, for.. something for
me.. to wear? You.. know.. me clothes is uumm.."

"Oh yes." Mr Hawkins looked across to the bench and saw the pile of
clothes, the spunky underpants leered out of the trousers where he had
taken them off. Dreadful.

"Your clothes are disgusting. That's the word you are looking for!" he
shook his head. "I'd hate to be your poor mother having to deal with that
lot!"

Red in the face Art too a deep breath and didn't dare look up, the towel
was tenting.

"I can't find you any underpants, strangely enough that's the one thing
most boys seem attached to." he held out his hand, "The best I can do are
these, you'll just have make do."

Cautiously Art looked up to gratefully acknowledge the effort the teacher
had gone to, he smiled weakly and then glanced down to see what he was
being offered.

"Oh.. fffff iiine!" He looked again, it appeared to be a pair of lime green
briefs!
****************************************************************************
Chap 81 to follow