Date: Wed, 16 May 2012 08:11:54 +0100
From: tom <amias09@fastmail.fm>
Subject: Brief Encounters Chap 95

Brief Encounters - the ever continuing saga... eekkk!

First the mandatory warnings and disclaimers - basically don't read this if
the naughty sexual exploits of young teenage schoolboys do not appeal. The
characters depicted are fictional and not intentionally based upon any one
person... although, if you do suddenly find yourself in the middle of the
story just think how lucky you are!

This is ostensibly a work of fiction, albeit with a few memories from my
own school days plus some of the many invariably unspoken fantasies which I
and my "best friends" would only ever rarely admit or allude to when we
were at that very special, trusting and certainly innocent age.

Today, it's very hard to imagine what it was like without the internet to
immediately help conjure up fantasies based on images, webcams, stories or
chat. Our sex lives were entirely dependant upon a very fervent imagination
and thus being able to create our own fantasies usually based on friends
and what we saw happening beneath the desk or in the changing rooms! I make
no excuses for the fact that underwear features prominently in this story,
because quite frankly it did, it was a very visible and tangible connection
between us and our ever developing fascination with sex! It's important to
remember that other than the very rare sexual extrovert, we never dared
mention the subject because we were just too embarrassed and nobody
understood what was happening to us anyway!

You might call it a story about the age of discovery - usually in bed - or
if you shared a bedroom with a brother, then discovery would be in the
bathroom!

Do note, at the time of writing the story itself is not finished and for
better or worse, it has now turned into a work of some length but I will
regularly post updates and there are more than enough pages written to keep
it going! Nifty require a text file so if the formatting or punctuation go
slightly up the creek you now know why! And, also during the writing for
various reason I have had to change character names, so I hope for
continuity they are now correct!

Finally, I hope you enjoy it and please, please do let me have any comments
or suggestions and for some of you I it might even jog a memory or two,
three if you are lucky... I would be intrigued to learn!

Tom
email: amias09@fastmail.fm

*******************************************************************************

>>>>>>>>>>> Now your attention please faithful readers as it's time to put
in word for our sponsor. Or, in plain English I wouldn't be getting my epic
published and you wouldn't be reading it if it were not for the Nifty
Archive, so if you enjoy what you read then please, please consider making
a donation to Nifty.

It's very easy and painless, you just follow the donations link on the main
page - I'm sure even our oversexed and luckess hero Art from the story
would do it if he could - come to that, he'd do it anywhere!

####################################################################

Chapter 95 -- David springs a leak !

Doris Webster a sprightly grandmother of seventy one had been quietly
tending her front garden and being very slightly deaf hadn't really noticed
the raised voices which heralded the shambolic arrival of the luckless
duo. However, on hearing the sudden kerfuffle which seemed to be taking
place right outside of her house she got up from the flower bed and went to
look over front gate to see what was going on.

Her hearing might have suffered, but her eyesight certainly
hadn't. Especially when confronted by a teenage boy with his trousers
around his ankles and some very protuberate, revoltingly stained
underpants.

"What on earth are you doing young man?" she demanded wagging a finger and
for someone ensconced in leafy suburbia she sounded as shocked as she
looked!

"I.. I.. fell over.." mumbled Nigel, positively cringing with embarrassment
and wrestling with his twisted jeans.

"But why are you undressed?"

"I was running and.. and me jeans fell down... and they umm.. tripped me
up... and, and look, look.. oh me knees all bleeding!"

She shook her head in disbelief and looked him up and down. Maybe it was
true, his left knee was certainly bleeding, opening the gate she stepped
out and looked at him closely. "But who was that who was with you who then
ran off when I appeared?"

"Me mate.. we uumm... we was late to meet somebody that's why we was
running." Nigel finally made eye contact, thinking it might be the only way
she would believe him. "He's gone on to tell 'em I'm gonna be late."

"Them?" even more confused she raised he eyebrows. "And, what's you name?"

"Nigel."

"I think," she said looking him full in the face after a short pause, "that
your mother is Mary Blake?"

"Wot! Yes.. but.. how.. no!" he exclaimed in panic. He swallowed hard. Only
he would be unlucky enough to meet somebody who knew his mother whilst he
was standing in the street wearing little else but some disgusting
underpants.

"I thought I knew you, you must have been about five or six then. I never
forget a face." she smiled and visibly relaxed. "My daughter Helen used to
be friendly with your mother when her children were young, but she moved to
London when her husband got promotion."

"Oh, I see." he heaved am audible sigh of relief.

"Do say hello to your mother for me, tell her you saw Helen Carter's
mother."

"Yes, I will." replied Nigel very unenthusiastically.

"Now, come here," she gestured to the front gate. "come in the garden and
I'll get a plaster for your knee, then you can get on."

Waddling in and feeling all of five years old again, Nigel tried to hide
from any enquiring neighbourly looks that the net curtains would be
invariably hiding. Standing behind the front hedge he waited dutifully as
his knee was inspected.

"Very unfortunate about your jeans, but you mustn't worry about being
undressed, I've brought up two boys." she said reassuringly from grubby
knee level. "I think this just needs a dab of Germolene and a plaster."

The sentiment may have been there, but Nigel seeing the head only inches
from his spunk splattered underpants thought differently. As she went
inside to get the plaster he automatically began willing himself not to get
an erection, not that it was a remotely sexual situation, more that his
cock had a very perverse mind of it's own.

Re-appearing with the familiar pink tin of ointment, plaster and cotton
wool she smiled, sat on the small garden bench in front of him and prepared
to clean the graze with the damp cotton wool. The combination of strange
hands, the medical attention and him standing in front garden in virtually
just his underpants was fast becoming too much. Mrs Webster looked up for a
moment and smiled reassuringly, returning a fixed smile Nigel was thinking
she must be very short sighted not to have noticed the growing bulge!

"Didn't you have a baby brother about that time?" she returned to dabbing
the knee.

"Yeah, Davey, I `spose about then."

Unnoticed he blushed, knowing the front of his briefs were now rapidly
expanding. There was no need to check he just knew it and was sure even if
she didn't know it at that moment, she very soon would!

"This might sting a bit."

Opening the tin of Germolene she quickly glanced up and saw his red
face. After looking at his knee for a second she blinked and then looked up
again almost as though she had been mistaken.

"Sting. Right." croaked Nigel down from the corner of his eye to see that
her line of vision had now been partly obscured by the expansion of his
grubby underpants.

"I'll uumm..." the voice was changing, "I'll just do this and then you'll
be alright. Now keep still."

From the inflection in the voice it sounded as though her calm demeanour
was rapidly deserting her. Having been married and brought up two boys
meant she had certainly seen the odd erection or two, but the last thing
she wanted at that moment was to have an unknown adolescent's organ
literally thrust in her face.

Nigel shuffled about due to his fraying nerves as much the stinging of the
ointment, by the time the operation had been completed and the plaster
applied he had progressed to a full blown erection. Not daring to touch his
underpants whilst they were still managing to contain matters, he just
stood there his face a delightful shade of beetroot.

"There all done." she said managing a very weak smile as she stood up and
carefully managing to avoid looking anywhere in the direction of his cock.

"Thank, thank you.. I.. I.." he just ran out of words.

"You mustn't be embarrassed," she said still maintaining the smile, "I know
these things happen to boys!"

"You must have watched your boys a lot!" he thought to himself unable to
believe what he was hearing and that if he had uncontrollable erections it
didn't matter!

"Ah.." he eventually muttered, although his bright red face really said it
all for him. He had to escape and return to the relative sanity of Art's
confused world and his friends at the Grammar school.

"Now, I think you'd better go or you will be late for your friends."

"Thank you, I'd... yes I'd better..." he stuttered, then without thinking
made his big mistake! Instead of waiting for her to move away, in a rushed
effort to break eye contact he slowly bent down to pull his jeans up to
allow his final escape.

Nigel though, wasn't the only one planning to leave the scene, his cock
having a mind of it's own pushed out from under the tired elastic of the
Y-fronts as soon as he moved. Rock hard and ready for more action with the
foreskin partly drawn back it winked it's singular red and bleary eye in
the direction of his host and nurse. Had it not been for the fact that
Nigel groaned in horror when he saw it standing proud, Mrs Webster probably
wouldn't have looked in his direction again and seen it staring back at
her!

"Oh my god!" she said as quickly as she too turned red with embarrassment,
"I think you'd better go."

"I.. uumm.. I..." Nigel didn't know what to do. He just stood there with
his magnificent red organ twitching in the breeze..

"Please put it away!" she said sounding quite agitated, "Look I know it's
not really you fault because you boys can't help it! I must... I must
go.. I'll.. I'll uumm leave you to get dressed."

Poor Nigel was unable to utter a word. Humiliated beyond all belief he
struggled to hide behind the hedge to finish getting dressed whilst
pondering the dreadful thought of whatever would happen if Mrs Webster met
his mother! Intransigent as ever his cock refused to stay inside his briefs
and at which point he simply gave up trying. Rushing to fasten his jeans
over it and managing to trap some hairs in the zip he escaped from the
garden and limped up the road to find Ian.


David, had been at Joe's house for part of the afternoon. However, with the
imminent arrival of some visitors, who Joe didn't actually know what but
was nevertheless expected to show some interest, David escaped around four
o'clock leaving Joe to welcome his unwelcome visitors.

On his way home he had decided to call at Simon's house purely on the off
chance of ascertaining whether the meeting at the shed was still on for the
Sunday afternoon. The front door had been answered by Art who merely
shouted for Simon and promptly left leaving David standing on the doorstep
wondering what had happened to Art's trademark banter and sexual
innuendo. With Simon having to go out to meet Nigel it seemed logical for
them to leave the house then and cycle together to the small square by the
post office. During which time David received a sanitized version of the
days events together with Simon's presumed explanation of Art's silence
being that he had just had the second talk of the day with his father.

As David had quickly realised Art's trademark banter and sexual innuendo
had certainly deserted him. Pacing up and down his bedroom and peering out
of the window every few seconds he was nervously awaiting his fathers
homecoming knowing he had to confess to yet more sexual aberrations.

Hearing the front gate squeak on it's rusty hinges he rushed to the window
thinking he had missed his fathers arrival only to see Simon and David
wheeling their bikes out and then cycling off down the road. Unusually
where they were going didn't really interest him at that moment, he only
knew he was becoming more anxious and had to do something to calm himself
down. Maybe it was time to see if his mothers good humour was still holding
out.

"Thought I'd, I'd get a drink."  he mumbled on entering the kitchen,
grabbing a glass from the cupboard and heading for the sink.

"Are you alright love?" asked Linda putting a bag of flour down and lifting
the weights from the scales. "Thought I'd bake a quick cake for tea."

"Yer, I `spose." he replied sounding far from happy and fixed his gaze on
the sink. "Wot sorta cake then?"

"Chocolate one. Your favourite."

"Oh, for me?"

"Well, all of us," she smiled despite him continuing to stare at the sink,
"but it's your favourite isn't it?"

"Yeah, I `spose."

He turned slowly around, to face her. He certainly didn't look very happy
and sounded nothing like his normal self.

"What is it Art?" dusting the flour off her hands she walked over towards
him.

He paused, his voice sounding none too firm replied, "It's dad innit?"

"Of course," she put an a hand on his shoulder, "sorry I should have
realised. He'll be alright, I'm sure. You just need a sort of boy talk."

"Mmhh.." tears were forming, "Mum.."

"Yes.." she put her hand on his arm.

"I.."

It appeared to Art that all his chickens were coming home to roost,
unfortunately on the same day and at the very same time. With Linda not
knowing he had already had one heart to heart with his father earlier, the
thought of a second such conversation was adding to the pressure.

"Ah, guessed you'd be in here," Ted walked in smiling, "There's a water
main or something burst the other side of the centre and it feels the
traffic's queuing for days."

"Thought you were a bit late." she replied, her hand still on Art.

"Oh.. sorry have I interrupted something?" said Ted suddenly noticing the
very welcome, but rather unusual sight of Art allowing himself to be held
by his mother.

"We've.. uumm.." she looked at Ted and winked, "we've had a little talk and
I think... uumm.. he wants to have a little talk with you as well."

"Oh god! What's he done now?" said Ted rather too quickly unable help
himself.

"Oh? What d'you mean now?"

Art winced and looked ashen.

"Sorry," replied Ted suddenly realising he'd forgotten she knew nothing of
his earlier talk, "my little joke."

From look on Art's face it didn't appear to be very funny.

"Ted I wish you wouldn't, it's not fair on him when he's like this." as
ever she turned to kettle, "Art you go out in the garden and.. well, while
I make dad a cup tea."

"I'll be out in minute, Art go on." he smiled reassuringly.

"Right." mumbled Art wandering slowly off to go through the french doors of
the dining room to the garden, he glanced back to see them talking and
asked himself, "Wot's she mean, when he's like wot then?"

"So what has he done then?" asked Ted dreading the worst.

"Well.. you know.. you know, what he can't stop doing.." Linda blushed and
turned back to kettle.

"Oh no! What? You didn't find him at it or something did you?"

Knowing of Linda's very unworldly knowledge, let alone interest in the
masturbatory development of her two sons Ted did his best to skirt around
the subject without actually mentioning the dreaded masturbation word.

"No, but I was in his room and something fell out of his school bag.. so I
picked it up.. and.." she paused rather unsure what to say or even how to
describe her contact with what were Ian's cum soaked underpants.

"What?" Ted closed his eyes, embarrassing for her or not she had to face
the facts. "Come on love, we're married with two sexually active adolescent
boys, we've got to be able to talk about these things."

"I know," she looked him but obviously still embarrassed, "but, I find it
so difficult."

"You always have, now come on and tell me," said Ted picking up the mug of
tea, "the poor boy's out there worrying himself to pieces."

"Well, it was pair of somebody else's underpants," she couldn't look him in
the face, "and I picked them up and.. and, they were covered in.. you
know.. semen."

"Oh god!" Ted took a deep breath.

"Ted, please, please don't go off the handle." she held his arm, "Please,
we've had talk and we both cried, he really is very sorry."

"Oh love, I know he's sorry," Ted looked at her, "but being sorry isn't
quite enough is it? Be honest, he's got to control himself hasn't he?"

"Oh I know but, you go and talk to him... and be nice." she kissed him
quickly on the cheek. "I wouldn't change him for all his faults."

"No, neither would I," Ted smiled, "oh god, I don't know! What do we do
with him?"

"No, I don't know, but you understand these boy things," she patted his
arm, "just go and talk to him."

"Hang on," he looked round, "where's Simon, it's going to be a lot easier
if he's not around?"

"He's out, gone off on his bike with David somewhere." she blinked, "Art's
my baby.."

"Yes, I know and mine."

Art was sat on the bench staring at the grass, he didn't move as Ted
approached.

"I think this has become our bench hasn't it?" he sat down and put the mug
on the grass.

Art slowly nodded without looking up.

"Hey," Ted put his arm around him and held his shoulder, "what are we going
to do with you?"

Art turned but didn't answer, instead he buried his head in Ted's chest and
burst into tears.

"It's alright," whispered Ted, now having some difficulty in controlling
his own emotions, particularly as Art began to sob, "but, we have to talk
it through."

Art grunted unable to speak.

"Now come on," he held him tightly and released him, "mum has sort of told
me what it was about."

"Oh no, no!" more tears.

"You're going to have to tie a knot in it!" humour seemed to Ted to be the
easiest way to get a conversation started, besides he knew exactly what Art
was going through.

It took a few seconds before Art sat back, with a face streaked with tears
he managed a very weak smile, "It ain't long enough!"

"Probably not." Ted smiled. "So what was this all about then, y'know this
is the second time today we've done this."

"I know and," he rubbed his eyes. "I was so afraid of wot you'd do."

"I don't want you to be afraid of me. Ever." Ted sat back and blinked. "I
might get mad, that's different. If you ever get to be afraid of me our,
our relationship would be finished because it's built on love and
respect. There's a huge difference, d'you understand?"

"I think so. I do."

"Art look, you're now fifteen and not a baby so I'm going to spell it out."
he took a deep breath. "Very plainly."

"Oh."

"We both know you can't stop masturbating . But that is something which is
just between us as your mother will never be able to understand it. I don't
really care how much you do it or that you do it with Nigel, but I do care
that one day you are going to get carried away and you will get caught
doing it where you shouldn't."

"But.."

"Quiet, let me finish. And, I also care that your mother is constantly
finding semen soaked clothing and bedding," he paused, "and because we both
know that really upsets her. Now that eventually means she will either
explode or will start going on at me and I don't need that!"

Ted looked, Art's eyes were tightly closed.

"So please Art, I know you can't stop, but the least you can do is to clean
up behind you and when you do it in bed don't do it over the sheets!"

There was no reply, Ted put his arm around him and with his own voice
sounding as though it too were cracking added. "We love you dearly, we all
do."

Tears ran down his cheeks. Ted took a deep breath and thought having got
this far he might as well continue.

"Art.. I might as finish."

What could possibly be said now?

"It seems that," Ted cleared his throat, "that.. uumm underpants seem to
feature a lot in your life and ummm, they're not just yours are they?"

Art appeared to shake, his arms unseen he clenched his fists.

"Art love, again that's something else I don't really care about as I'm
expect everybody has some sort of secret," said Ted quietly, "but, d'you
think you could just let mum only see your clothes and preferably without
too many stains?"



"Nigel ain't here yet." said Simon looking down the empty road as they
arrived and circled towards the empty bench under the large oak tree..

"So is yer dad really mad with him then? Wot's he done?" asked David
leaning his bike against the tree and sitting down on the wooden bench.

"Umm.." Simon remained on his bike although got down from the saddle to sit
astride the crossbar with both feet on the ground.

"Go on, tell us wot's he done? Is it serious?" David looked at him
expectantly, unable to even contemplate having one, let alone two heart to
heart talks with his father on the same day.

"Dunno really, honest." Simon slid his bottom up and down the crossbar a
couple of inches, "I wasn't there, but when they came out the kitchen dad
didn't look too mad and Art weren't crying or nothing."

"Wish I had a brother like him." said David watching Simon's
movements. "He's a laugh we all thinks so."

"Everybody says that, dunno why really." Simon stared at the grass. "He can
be a right fuckin' sod at times, he can."

"But he's got that look though hadn't he? You know, we've all seen it, it's
like putting spell on us innit," said David covering the front of his
shorts with his hands to hide his growing erection from watching Simon.

"I `spose he has."

"It's like, well when he smiles we all have to smile, don't we?" David
glanced at the crossbar and then to the front of Simon's shorts.

"Yeah, I know, yer right." Simon pressed himself hard on the crossbar, his
briefs being rather pleasurably pushed into his elongated bumhole, "D'you
know I'm sure he just sorta thinks about wanking and that all day long. I
don't think there's anything else in his head!"

"He ain't the only one lately!" David giggled.

"Well, you're dirty boy ain't you?"

"So's you! But he does more than think about it though, don't he?" David
grinned and rather obviously pushed on the bulging front of his shorts
hoping Simon would see and possibly let slip a few intimate details of home
life with Art.

"Hey, have you ever done this?" asked Simon looking directly at David.

"Done wot?" David looked at him and shrugged his shoulders. "Wot? I dunno
wot you mean?"

"Well," Simon looked round and grinned, "sat on yer bike like this and
rubbed yer ass up and down? It's like trying to push yer pants up yer
hole!"

"No," David blushed a little, "but, I'm bloody hard from watching you!"

"I can see that, thought you would be!" said Simon moving on the
crossbar. "Now come here, stand by me bike."

"Wot for?" the tent in David's faded green shorts was fairly obvious once
he stood up and moved to stand beside Simon.

"Here, put yer hand on the handlebar just like we're casually talking or
something and stand closer." Simon pressed on the front of his own shorts.

"You fuckin' got one as well, I knew it!" David grinned. "It's hard to see
`cause yer shorts is all bunched up on that bike."

"Course, well it's `cause of you innit!" Simon nodded towards David's
shorts. "Now, d'you want me to wank you off, through yer shorts?"

"Wot here! Outside the fuckin' post office!" David looked shocked. "You're
joking!"

"No I ain't and anyway it's closed innit?" Simon started to giggle. "Come
on and risk it, I've always wanted to do something like this outside. You
can do me after!"

"But `spose we get caught?" David swivelled round and saw for himself there
was nobody around. The trunk of the huge tree more or less shielded them
from the view of the few shops that were all seemingly empty and in the
process of closing anyway.

"Well, there ain't nobody about is there?" said Simon encouragingly
pressing on his shorts again. "Look, I got me favourite old shorts on, the
elastics a bit loose so you could have yer hand the front and wank me
though me pants. I do that in the park now and again!"

"No.. no.. `spose we get seen. You wot!" David's eyes opened wide, by
Simon's standards he was quite innocent. "Wot, you does that in the park in
them shorts?"

"Yeah!" Simon grinned. "I goes in the bushes and does it, I done it three
times now!"

"Shit!"

David was almost trembling with excitement, he would never have dared to
even suggest anything like it. He looked around once more and then moved to
stand by Simon, who pulled on his arm to get him closer and told him to
hold onto the handlebar to look as though they were just talking.

"Pull yer shirt out so it'll cover me hand." said Simon reaching over and
beginning to wriggle his hand down the front of David's shirts. "Lucky we
both got these elasticated tops to our shorts innit?"

"You sure this is this safe?" whispered David very nervously, looking round
the deserted street yet again.

"Yer course it is, anyway the trees hiding us innit?" replied Simon finally
getting the palm of his hand past the elastic and feeling the cotton of
David's underpants.

"Oohhh!" moaned David, his cock very hard due to the combination of
eroticism and risk of being caught.

"Where's yer little pants?" asked Simon excitedly, his fingers running over
around David's waist and stomach and instantly feeling the difference
between the cut of bikini briefs and something far more traditional.

"They're all for the wash and... ohhhh shit! Ohh fuck! Go easy! Ohh... I've
had to wear me old white ones, ain't nothing else." David shuddered as
Simon's roving fingers brushed the tip of his foreskin.

Simon grinned, David had closed his eyes and was plainly enjoying the
experience despite trying to relate the tale of the unwashed clothes!

"See, ohhh stop!"  Ohhh... shit! See... me mum's, me mum's washing machine
has broke again...oohhh... and she's having rows with dad about buying new
one!"

"Mum's always has rows don't they?"

"Simon... oh shit... slowly.. I'm.. I'mm gonna...ohh.. this is to
toooo...I'm gonna.."

David's voice began to tail off, Simon his fingers slimy with the very
modest amount of precum that David had managed to produce continued to
burrow deep and was rapidly rolling the short length of David's foreskin
around between his fingers.

"D'you think you'll cum?"

Simon needn't have asked. David was incredibly aroused by the very act of
being masturbated in the street and was only seconds away from ejaculation,
in fact as his trembling body attested it would be the fastest climax he
had ever attained!

"Hello lads, what are you doing here?"

"I am now!" exclaimed David rather hoarsely in reply to Simon's
question. Eyes firmly shut he screwed his face up and shuddered as he
pumped his load over Simon's fingers. The worn out cotton of his briefs
offered minimal protection immediately allowing his shorts to absorb the
watery semen.

Simon meanwhile, had turned a ghastly white and was attempting to withdraw
his sticky fingers from David's shorts as Mr Hawkins appeared smiling from
behind the tree brandishing a letter for the postbox.

"Ah.." croaked Simon, it was as far as he got before his mouth went dry and
nothing came out.

"It's Simon isn't, Simon Weldon? And, uumm.. is that David?"

Mr Hawkins paused in front of them and looked at his watch, checking there
was still time to catch the last post. "Half and hour to go, plenty of time
I'll just pop this in the box."

"Uumm.. uumm.." Simon's vocabulary may had doubled, but it was still of
little use. Rooted to the spot he watched as the letter was pushed into the
box and Mr Hawkins returned towards them.

"Fuckin' hell that were the best I've had!" uttered David excitedly much to
Simon's dismay.

"What did you say?" asked Mr Hawkins looking at David.

Knowing all too well that his buttocks were spread wide by the crossbar
Simon really thought as though he was going to have a very nasty, messy
accident in his underpants. Absolutely dreading the thought of his father
being told of his antics, especially after having to sort out Art twice in
the same day his stomach was churning over and over. It was only by
exercising supreme sphincter control that he avoided anything more
disastrous than quietly farting!

Puzzled at what he thought he'd heard, Mr Hawkins looked at David and then
looked again. The bulging front of the faded green shorts had an ominous
wet patch and Simon appeared to have his hand pushed well down inside
waistband, there was no mistaking what had been going on.

"Oh no! Not you as well?" he said to Simon in dismay, the smile slowly
falling from his face. "You really are Arthur Weldon's brother aren't you?"

Simon nodded just once, unable to speak.

"Who is it? Oh shit no, no!" squealed David on recognising the familiar
voice speak yet again. Momentarily he opened one eye and then closed it
rapidly. It wasn't happening. I couldn't be happening!

"Less of the language please."

Petrified Simon, still had his hand still embedded in David's shorts.

"So you're at it as well as him?"

"Sir.. him?" stuttered Simon quite unable to continue and looking as though
he was about to burst into tears.

"Your brother!"

Mr Hawkins paused and scratched his head unsure what to do, one thing he
was sure of was that he really shouldn't have just mentioned Art in the
heat of the moment. Importantly though, it didn't look as though anybody
had seen anything and after all the boys weren't meant to be in
school. Maybe just the fact they had been caught and given a good telling
off might do the trick.

David started to sniffle, tears slowly ran down his cheeks and Simon felt
something hot running over his hand. Knowing only too well from his own
recent experience on the bus how David must be feeling, he didn't dare look
in case he too broke down. The sound of the hot pee escaping from the legs
of the green shorts and dripping onto the paving slabs in front the bench
was unmistakable.

"Simon, take him away, go on off with you, the pair of you."

"Sir, wot?" croaked Simon, had he heard correctly?

"I said take him away, you are not at school so," repeated Mr Hawkins,
"let's just imagine that this never happened. Clean him up and off you go."

"Thank you.. Sir.." mumbled Simon, "we didn't mean nothing.."

"I'm sure you didn't, but it would be a lot better if you two didn't mean
anything by doing this sort of thing in your bedroom like other boys!"

"Uumm.." Simon went bright red swallowed hard.

"Look all teachers know you boys do it, but for god's sake not in public."
he wagged a finger. "Now, you've had a very lucky escape in that nobody saw
you. So just don't let me ever hear of you doing anything else like this
again or you will be for it and you'll seeing head, got it?"

"Thank you." repeated Simon lamely and looked towards David, motionless and
still with his eyes tightly closed.

"Right, well you'd better try and clean him up." Mr Hawkins turned and
walked off, although just before disappearing behind the tree he looked
back shook his head and briefly smiled.

"Come on Dave, he's gone," said Simon breathing a huge sigh of
relief. Finally pulling his hand out from the front of David's shorts and
putting in on his shoulder he said, "Dave you can open yer eyes now,
please."

David did open his yes, but very slowly, blinked, then burst into a flood
of tears and threw his arms around Simon.

"Hey, sorry I'm late." called out Ian rather breathlessly as he suddenly
appeared from the side of the tree and staggered to a halt before
collapsing on the bench.

"Where's Nige?" asked Simon in panic looking at Ian, thinking that surely
nothing else couldn't go wrong that afternoon.

"He fell over and some old grannies putting a plaster on his knee!"

"Wot?" Simon screwed his face up in disbelief unable to comprehend what was
going on. Which was probably just as well.

Ian having drawn breath looked around and then noticed David clinging onto
Simon, he didn't say anything but merely pointed and shrugged his
shoulders. Luckily Simon understood what he meant and in turn pointed down
to David's very wet shorts and the paving slab!

"Before I forget," said Ian glancing again at David and trying sound as
though there no problems. "Nige said to tell you it's OK for tomorrow
afternoon and he'll drop the key into your house in the morning."

"Hey, Dave d'you hear that?" said Simon immediately brightening up. Gently
shaking David he said him. "Now come on, we can't stay here can us? We'll
go back home and make something up about you having to borrow some
clothes."

"Is.. is he gonna laugh?" whispered David wiping his eyes with the back of
hand and refusing to look in Ian's direction.

"No, course he ain't gonna laugh," replied Simon looking at Ian and
winking, "it's Ian innit, he's alright and he knows we all has accidents."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm bloody sure and," Simon moved closer to whisper, "he's seen me
wet meself with fright on the bus, but please don't say nothing to nobody."

"Oh shit. No I didn't know," David was very surprised, he pulled back and
looked Simon in the face, "then you knows wot it's like?"

"Yeah, fuckin' right I do. Look, it's our secret now innit?" Simon looked
round to make sure Ian had heard.

"Yeah." David blinked, wiped his eyes again and looked quickly at
Ian. "Yeah, yer right it's our secret."

"It's alright, I won't say nothing." Ian smiled having guessed what was
probably going on. "Simon, why don't you take Dave home. I'll wait for Nige
and just tell him you got the message and you had to go."


By the time Nigel appeared hobbling as fast as he could, Simon and David
were well out of sight.

"Bleeding hell! Where's Simon?" Nigel looked around for Simon, then seeing
the bench almost fell onto it by Ian. "I'm fuckin' knackered! D'you mean
they ain't here after I've fuckin' crippled meself rushing back?"

"He was, with his mate David, but they had to go," Ian looked down at
Nigel's knee, "I told him you'd drop the key in tomorrow morning. Anyway
how's yer knee? Did that old granny touch you up?"

"Oh fuck off!"


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Chap 96 to follow