Date: Fri, 3 Nov 2006 13:28:23 EST
From: Symzz@aol.com
Subject: Russian Roulette

This is, of course, a work of fiction. However the `game' in the story is
based on true events that occurred over 30 years ago and 12,000 miles
away. I have embellished and extrapolated this small truth for the greater
enjoyment of the discerning Nifty readership. I hope you enjoy it.


Russian Roulette


The young batsman settled in his stance and concentrated on keeping his
head still and his eyes on the hand in which his adversary held the dark
red ball.

The bowler stuttered at the start of his run before finding his rhythm --
12 strides and he reached the crease; he leapt, for a moment appearing to
be frozen in mid-air, before his arm windmilled and the shiny sphere left
his fingers.

The waiting boy, his bat half raised, shuffled his left leg into line with
the ball's trajectory and pushed his bat at it. As in life nothing is
always as it seems and the ball which had been swinging in towards his pads
now pitched, landing on its slightly raised seam.

The 5 or so ounces of leather-clad missile changed direction -- only by a
few inches but enough to fool the falling blade and take its edge, flying
fast and low to the waiting hands of second slip. It smacked into flesh,
fingers tightened around it, grasping it before it was thrown into the air
by its gleeful captor.

The bowler ran to congratulate the fielder who was already surrounded by
back-slapping team mates and shared a boisterous high five.

`Great catch Ollie -- well done!'

`Yeah, I know' the boy acknowledged with mock immodesty. `Mind you, it was
bloody good ball, Marcus. That's five wickets for you isn't it?'

`Yup' replied Marcus, beaming broadly, `that's 30 for the season now.'

`Very good, Marcus but let's get on with it. The new batsman is here and I
don't like the look of those clouds; we may not have time to finish the
match.' The voice of Mr Soames, the coach of the Wimbledown under13 cricket
team overrode the banter of his young charges.

Marcus picked up the ball and walked back to his mark as the new batsmen
took his guard. As he stood there he felt the first tell-tale drops of warm
summer rain land on his head. `Oh, no' he moaned.

He ran in for his next delivery and by the time he reached the crease the
drops had become heavy, wetting his hair and white-shirted shoulders. The
ball whistled through to the keeper who was about to pass it back to him
when Mr. Soames called, `all right you guys, let's go before we get
soaked!'

The two batsmen and eleven fielders scampered towards the pavilion while
the two umpires made a slightly more dignified exit, as befitted their
ages.

Ollie and Marcus reached the covered veranda and, catching their breath,
looked up at the sky in dismay.  `That's that then' bemoaned Marcus. `Look
at those black clouds; this isn't going to stop for a while.'

As he finished speaking, a flash followed almost immediately by an enormous
clap of thunder made them jump.

`Jesus!' exclaimed Ollie. Let's get inside before we get fried.'

The boys skittered into the bar area where the rest of the lads were
sitting and standing around, chatting and laughing. The rain falling onto
warm clothes and bodies had produced that unique steamy/sweaty aroma that
is both alluring and mildly nauseating.

One boy was teasing another from the opposing team, `you were lucky -- we
had you by the short and curlies before the rain came. And you know it!'

`No way, man. We still had our best man to come in. He'd of smashed your
precious Marcus all round the ground.'

`Yeah, right' was the sarcastic reply.

A sharp clap of hands and a clearing of his throat got Mr. Soames the
attention of the boys. `I'm sorry chaps but as I am sure you will agree,
there is no chance of continuing and so we've decided to abandon the
match. Please call your parents and ask them to come and pick you up as
soon as possible.'

There was a murmur of disappointment followed by the sound of bags being
unzipped and mobile phones bing-binging into life.

`Hi Mums' and `hi Dads' rang out across the room, followed shortly after
by, `see you in 5/10/15 minutes' or `later.'

Ollie didn't bother retrieving his phone as he was due to be given a lift
by Marcus' Mum as his Dad was away and his Mum didn't drive (tried to learn
as a teenager but got married and didn't see the need after that she said)
and therefore waited for his pal to finish his call.

He noticed Marcus give an `eyes to heaven' look and heard him almost whine,
`but Mum -- three hours?! Ok, ok, I'll speak with Mr. Soames and ask him.'

With Ollie tagging behind, Marcus went over to his coach, `excuse me Sir.'
No response so he tugged at his elbow. `Sir, excuse me Sir.'

The hassled coach turned to look at the boy. `Yes, Marcus; what is it?

`Sir, my Mum says that her car's packed up again and Dad won't be back from
work for at least 3 hours. She's meant to be picking up Ollie as well `cos
he's staying at mine while his parents are on their `second
honeymoon''. Marcus and Ollie rolled their eyes in unison and pretended to
gag.

`Can't you get a lift with one of the other boys?' asked a weary looking
Mr. Soames.

`I doubt it, Sir' responded Marcus. 'I'm the only one from my village who
plays for the team -- since we moved -- and everybody else lives in the
opposite direction.'

`So what do you suggest, boys?'

`I don't know, Sir. I hoped you would have a suggestion.'

`Er... let me think... Try to cadge a lift when the other parents arrive
and if not... What time did you say your Dad would be here?'

`About eight, Sir.'

`Eight, eh... OK if you can't get a lift I'll have to trust you to wait
here in the pavilion until he arrives. Can I trust you boys?'

`I...I guess so. Will it be safe?'

I'll give you the keys and you can lock yourselves in. No one's going to be
about in this weather anyway. Do you have a problem with that?'

`No, Sir, that'll be fine.' In fact Marcus had already begun to think that
it could be cool to have the place to themselves for a few hours. `Won't it
Ollie?'

`Yeah, no problem, we're not babies!'

`Fine, let me know if you have no luck with getting a ride and we'll get it
sorted.'

Over the next twenty minutes or so parents came and parents left -- many
hooting their horns to encourage their offspring to brave the storm by
running to the cars while they sat warm and dry.

As the last boy apologised for his mother's refusal to help his friends and
scampered back to his car, Marcus and Ollie looked at Mr. Soames. `Looks
like we're stuck here, Sir.'

`Yes, Ollie, it certainly does. Bad luck really -- I'd give you a lift
myself but in today's society driving minors around is strongly
discouraged. I'm taking a risk being here with you now! It's a crazy, crazy
world but leaving you on your own here is considered less dangerous than
being in the car of a male adult.'

He shook his head sadly. `Sorry, boys but that's just how it is.'

He handed Marcus a small set of keys. `Here -- lock yourselves in when I
leave and make sure you lock up when your Dad picks you up. I've got a
spare set so I'll get these back off you next week, OK?

With that, he pulled up the collar on his jacket and walked quickly to his
car. Once inside he wound down the window -- `I'm trusting you boys, don't
let me down.'

`Don't worry, Sir, we won't', called back Marcus. The man waved and drove
out of the car park and down the grass track that led to the main road.

Marcus closed the door, locked it and turned to Ollie. `Right -- what shall
we do now then?'




Chapter Two



Ollie shrugged, `dunno, really -- fancy a game of pool?'

`Sure -- as long as you don't mind being thrashed', Marcus mocked.

`I n your dreams -- loser! You got a pound coin?'

`What -- have you got no dosh again? Typical.'

`Yes, actually, Mum gave me a fiver to pay for the match fee and a drink
but you can't put a note in the pool table -- duh-brain.'

Marcus laughed, `OK but you owe me.'

He fished the gold coloured coin from his pocket and slid it into the slot
under the table. He pushed the chrome tab and the unique sound of the balls
being released echoed round the near empty room.

`Put the telly on too - stop it feeling so spooky.'

Ollie hit the remote and the old set crackled to life. A movie neither boy
recognised was playing. An American in a bar, drinking round a table with a
number of noisy Asian types. A revolver sat in the middle of the table.

`Toss to see who starts?'

`Can't we just spin a coin?' asked Ollie, with mock innocence.

Puzzlement spread across Marcus' face before he fell in, `shut up you
wanker -- heads or tails?'

`Exactly -- wanker!... heads.'

`Tails; I'll break.'

Ollie racked the balls while Marcus placed the cue ball in the semi
circle. The cue slid along the bridge created between his thumb and
forefinger and the multi-coloured balls broke apart and spread around the
table.

`Hah, nothing down; my turn.'

The game progressed, Ollie on stripes, Marcus on plains. Neither boy ran
away with it and when Marcus missed the black, leaving it hanging over the
top right pocket, Ollie had only the ten ball to pot.

He eased a difficult shot into the right middle and slammed the black home,
just avoiding following in.

`Yes! In your face.' Ollie fell to his knees and raised his arms in parody
of the modern footballer.

`You were lucky -- and you know it. I want a rematch.'

`No problem, loser. Can your ego take another thrashing?'

`Loser? I'll show you what real losing is' retorted Marcus as he re-racked
the balls. `Your break.'

`Just watch this a minute' he said, pointing to the TV. What most readers
would recognise as the famous Russian roulette scene in the Deerhunter was
unfolding and the boys watched in fascination until the stunning climax.

`Cool' whispered Marcus. Crazy -- but cool. Come on loser-to-be; your
break.'

Ollie speared the white ball and two stripes flew into the end
pockets. `This is going to be too easy.'

`I told you; you're just a lucky git.'

Ollie swiftly potted 3 more balls before leaving the eleven in the jaws. `I
was getting bored, so I thought I'd let you have go' he said, yawning.

`Yeah, right. Just watch.... And learn.'

Marcus walked round the table, eyeing up the situation from every angle,
before choosing his first shot. He caressed the two into a middle pocket
and lined up the four which was hanging over the top right.

Ollie watched his friend with admiration; he had enjoyed beating him in the
last game particularly because Marcus was better than him at just about
everything -- Ollie was pretty good but Marcus was just... better. Also,
whilst Ollie was on the small side for a modern 13 year old (but perfectly
formed, as his mother always comforted him), Marcus was 5ft 10 and
definitely stronger and more mature than him.

His dark straight hair contrasted with Ollie's near platinum, slightly
curly locks and the deep brown eyes were at the other end of the spectrum
to his pale blue orbs. He looked up to him for sure but it was more than
that -- he got a special buzz whenever he was around him.

Ollie was going to enjoy having Marcus to himself for a few hours.

Marcus sank the four and then continued to push the cue ball around the
table with meticulous care. Ball after ball disappeared until he was left
with just the black to pot. Unfortunately, he found himself snookered
behind two of Ollie's balls.

`Now what are you going to do, huh?' Ollie grinned.

`Like I said -- watch and learn, watch and learn.'

Marcus stood on tiptoe and bringing the cue tip down vertically, stabbed
the top of the ball causing it to spin violently, first slightly backwards
and then quickly forwards and around the blockade. It travelled towards the
left hand cushion, ricocheting obliquely before kissing the black ball and
nudged it to the edge of the precipice where it seemed to hesitate until
gravity pulled it into the abyss.

Ollie's jaw actually dropped -- `Wow, Marcus, that was awesome.' He looked
at his friend with unabashed hero-worship.

Marcus blew on the end of his cue, like a gunslinger who has shot a hole
through a spinning silver dollar -- blue chalk dust hung in the air. `Hey,
it was nothing, kiddo.'

`Right -- the decider.'

`Sorry, Ollie -- no more dosh, I only had two quid.'

`Damn. What'll we do now?'

`Dunno -- what about a game of darts?'

`Only if you want another whipping,' grinned Ollie.

`I'll even give you a hundred start and still kill you,' boasted Marcus.

 Actually Ollie didn't doubt it but he wasn't going to show weakness. He
picked the darts out of the board, `stick your hundred points up your arse
-- nearest the bull starts.'

He stood side on and, holding the dart between two fingers and a thumb,
took aim. As he drew back his forearm the clubhouse lit up and
simultaneously a tremendous thunderclap burst directly overhead. The lights
flickered and went out. The TV was silenced. Ollie's dart flew 3 feet wide
and impaled a wicket-keeper smiling out from a picture of the 1932 first
X1.

`Holy shit -- what the fuck was that?'

`Duh... I fink it was funder... is the baby afwade of a little funder? Is
he eh?' Marcus stuck his thumb in his mouth and made goo goo baby noises.

`Shut the fuck up, dumbarse,' Ollie remonstrated, punching his tormentor on
the arm. `That scared the crap out of me!'

`Yeah, I could tell -- actually it did me too!'

`How can we play now? It's so dark I can hardly see the board.'

`Maybe we can find some candles or something and some matches. Let's look
in the kitchen.'

The boys stumbled into each other as they moved gingerly into the
kitchen. They began to open drawers, rummaging through the contents, being
careful not to spear themselves on hidden sharp objects.

`Eureka!' called Ollie. `Matches.' He shook the box for emphasis. `Now all
we need are the candles.'

They searched high and low but to no avail -- no candles.

`Brilliant -- now what?'

Both lads were silent as they cogitated. Ollie subconsciously rattled the
matchbox as a partial idea formed. `How about Russian roulette?'

`Good idea -- just a couple of flaws; one, no gun and two, no gun,' Marcus
responded sarcastically.

`Wait, I've got an idea,' he said, rattling his matches. `Just let me work
it out in my head.'

Marcus drummed his fingers in mock impatience as his friend's brain
whirred. Where Ollie admired Marcus' athletic skills he in turn was under
no illusions that Ollie was the smart one.

`OK, listen. The whole point of the game is to see who has the courage to
pull he trigger without flinching, isn't it?'

`Sure... but...'

`Shut up and listen a minute. Imagine for moment that this matchbox is the
gun and the matches are the bullets...'

`What?'

`Shut up. We take six matches then light and blow out five of them --
they're the blanks. The live one is the - well the live one. Got it so
far?'

`Yes, but...'

`What happens next? Yes that the tricky bit. It needs to be scary enough to
make it feel real but not something that will actually maim us if you know
what I mean?'

`Yeah, I think so.'

`I've got an idea but I don't think you're brave enough.'

`What do you mean?' Marcus asked indignantly. `What is it?'

`No. I'm sure you wouldn't go for it -- forget it.'

`Tell me now, shrimp or I'll chuck you outside... wiv de funder an'
lightnin'.'

`OK. But you won't agree, I know. Listen until I've finished explaining. I
haven't worked out all the rules yet.'

`Come on Gamesmeister -- give it to me.'

`Right, we put the six matches into the box and close it with just the
bottom ends sticking out. We decide who goes first and he has to lie down
on... I know -- the pool table -- with his hands behind his head...'

`But why?'

`Listen! It'll become clear -- it's all part of the bravery thing. He picks
a number between 1 and 6 and the other one pulls that match out, without
the other seeing of course, and it's either a blank or the live one...'

`Obviously.'

`He raises his open hand, holding it above -- like a guillotine -- and then
brings it down. If it's blank, he stops an inch away, if it's live he
delivers the blow -- the equivalent of the bullet to the head, see?'

`Yeah, I get it but where exactly does he `deliver the blow'?'

`Well... where's the worst place you could imagine?'

`I see where you're going with this. No way man! A guillotine to the
knackers --I don't think so!'

`I knew you'd be too much of a wimp to go for it. Is the baby afwade of a
likkle pain? Ah, poor diddums.' Ollie revelled in getting verbal revenge on
his mate.

`Wimp am I? OK, you asked for it, you know you'll lose anyway and then
we'll see who the baby is!'

Even though Ollie had planned to goad Marcus into accepting his challenge,
he was quite surprised that it had worked. `Who goes first?'

`Let's do scissors, paper, rock.'

`One, two, three.' Ollie's scissors were beaten by Marcus' rock (not a good
omen he thought).

`You want to go first or second?'

`First, I reckon -- should give me better odds'

They lit five matches, blew them out and Marcus watched carefully as Ollie
`shuffled' the wooden sticks before shoving them into the box. With both
boys satisfied that the other could not have seen where the live match was,
they continued.

Marcus hoisted himself onto the pool table and stretched out on his
back. He placed his hands behind his head as instructed. He immediately
felt exposed and vulnerable and wondered whether his bravado had got the
better of him.

`Right, choose a number.'

`Three -- no wait, two.'

`Are you sure? Last chance to change your mind' said Ollie, obviously
enjoying his friend's discomfort.

`Yes, two --definitely two.'

Ollie slowly withdrew the chosen `bullet', being careful not to show it to
Marcus, noted its status and put in his pocket. He whistled softly, `who'd
of thought it -- first go?' he murmured, almost to himself. He opened his
hand and raised it directly above Marcus' groin.  He looked down at the
trepidatious boy beneath him; `Before we start there are another couple of
rules I need to tell you about.'



Chapter Three

`Rules, what rules?'

`Well.... as this game is about bravery there should be a penalty for
flinching, I reckon.'

`What sort of penalty?'

`If the player has drawn a blank but as the `trigger is pulled back' --
which means when the hand comes down -- he flinches, then the other player
gets a free hit.'

`No way, man -- forget it.'

`Can't hack it, eh? I thought you were Mr. Cool. Anyway, I'm only talking
about a tap; like this....' Ollie brought his hand down and lightly
chopped Marcus' left thigh.

`Yeah, OK. No problem -- you'll be the one flinching anyway, pussyboy.'

`Really? We'll see, won't we? You can take the alternative, if you want.'

`What's that?'

`If you can't take the pain you have to do the next round in your
underpants.'

Marcus hesitated momentarily before nodding. `Do your worst kiddo.'

He didn't know whether Ollie's reaction to the first match was a bluff or
not but he noticed the glint in his friend's eye and was worried as the
hand returned to hover over his most sensitive region.

He squeezed his eyes shut and waited.

`Hey, eyes open -- you cheat!'

He forced them open and watched as the edge of Ollie's hand descended --
fast. Despite his best efforts, self preservation took over and he clenched
his butt cheeks and pulled his thighs together. The hand stopped half an
inch from its target.... But he'd flinched!

`You flinched,' Ollie cried triumphantly. `A blank, but you flinched.'

`No I didn't,' Marcus protested.

`Yes you did -- you liar. Definitely.'

`Yeah, OK I did. Wait till your turn -- you'll see how bloody hard it is
not to.'

`We'll see. Now choose your penalty,' Ollie giggled, enjoying his mate's
discomfort.

`I guess I'll have to take the hit then.'

`Sure?'

`Yeah, get it over with.'

`OK, ready?'

Marcus nodded grimly.

`You realise that if you flinch this time, it means two hits or lose the
underpants as well next time?'

`You sadistic little bastard! Cut the chat and get on with it.'

Ollie positioned his hand about five inches above his friend's groin and
let it drop. He felt it impact on the slightly squishy package.

Marcus groaned extravagantly. `Shit, you got the bottom of my dick and a
piece of my left bollock!'

He cradled his balls in his hand and eased himself off the pool
table. `Your turn, mate -- good luck... I don't think!'

Ollie nipped up and lay on the green baize. Marcus proffered him the
matchbox and he immediately chose one of the five remaining sticks.

He turned his head away as Marcus checked it out. `OK, prepare yourself,'
he grinned. Ollie put his hands behind his head and watched the other boy
line up his hand with his groin. He felt a mixture of fear and excitement;
he hadn't expected Marcus to go for his game anyway, but now he had it was
going better than he'd anticipated.

In a subconscious recess of his brain he saw this as an opportunity to
engage his friend in some sort of sexual play -- even if it was combined
with pain! He'd never consciously thought about Marcus in that way but he
was aware that another part of him -- a secret, hidden part -- was knocking
on the front door of his mind, demanding to be let in.

As the hand descended, he was certain he could maintain his
position.... But, he was forming a plan. The hand was an inch from its
target when Ollie flinched.

It stopped -- another blank.

Before Marcus could crow Ollie said `Yeah, OK, I know -- I flinched.'

`Too right you did wimp. Choose your penalty.'

`Well that was a fluke; I won't flinch next time -- for certain. So I'll go
for option two.'

`What -- in your underpants?'

`Yep.'

`Boy, are you going to suffer next time.'

We'll see won't we? Your turn and only four left.'

Marcus drew another blank but Ollie tried to wind him up again. `This is
the one, man. I hope you can take it.'  `I know you're bluffing, I can tell
by your eyes,' he said boldly but Ollie could see that this was just
bravado.

The hand was up, then it fell -- fast. Marcus managed not to flinch as it
stopped short and he let out a sigh of relief. `See, no problem, nerves of
steel.'

Disappointed, Ollie changed places with Marcus.

`Aren't you forgetting something? He asked slyly.

Ollie looked at him quizzically. `You appear to have one item of clothing
too many -- or did you forget your choice of penalty?'

`Um, oh yes, right.'

Feigning reluctance but with a heady buzz in his ears Ollie unclasped the
top of his white cricket trousers and slowly lowered his zip.

`Come on boy, don't be shy.' Marcus crooned and grasping a piece in each
hand yanked the whites down to Ollie's knees.

`Oy!' cried Ollie. `Leave off.'

`What? I have to see what I'm aiming at. It's almost like night in here.'

`Whatever,' Ollie sighed and settled back to await his fate.

The boy was wearing a bright, white jock-strap with a special pocket in the
front designed to hold a cricket box (US cup) and it wrapped snugly around
his youthful genitals.

His dick, maybe two or three inches long, was clearly outlined as it lay in
a north-easterly direction, the tight material even allowed the ridge
between the shaft and the head to be observed.

There was an awkward moment as Marcus stared and Ollie stared at Marcus
staring, then the taller boy broke the silence, `right mate -- choose.' He
held the matchbox in front of Ollie. `And chose well!'

He touched the middle match then faltered, changed his mind and opted for
the one on the left. Marcus looked at it, put it in his pocket and readied
his hand.

`Now then, what shall I aim for -- top, middle or bottom?' He mused,
mimicking an old TV quiz show. To illustrate he moved his hand, likea
butterfly flitting between flowers, to rest it on the boy's dick head, the
middle of his shaft and his balls.

Ollie's eyes widened slightly and his dick gave an almost imperceptible
twitch, which didn't go unnoticed by Marcus but he said nothing. `The balls
I reckon, for the greatest guaranteed pain!'

`Not the balls Marcus - not the balls!'

`It's your game; you made the rules -- not me.'

`True....it's just that...'

`Just what?'

`Oh never mind, but not too hard OK.'

`Would I?' Marcus asked as he rested his hand on Ollie's balls again and
then lifted it vertically before letting it fall.

Ollie knew the odds were now against him and try as he might he failed to
curb his natural defence mechanism -- and he flinched... just before the
hand stopped.

`Damn -- another blank. I was sure I was a goner that time.'

`Yeah, I certainly fooled you, didn't I?'

`No, I just looked at the odds.'

`So, Ollie, you have a choice to make --again. Take the hit or....'

`I know -- or ... no underpants next round.'

`And your decision is?'

`If I chose hit, not in the balls, right?'

`Sorry, I can't guarantee that.'

`OK -- I'll have to take my chances, so hit then. Get it over with.'

Marcus rested his hand on the middle of his victim's cock, like a butcher
laying his chopper on a rack of pork ribs before cutting. He even mimicked
a gentle sawing motion which caused the soft tube to harden slightly.

Ollie was worried what his friend might think about this but again Marcus
said nothing. His hand lifted away and returned from about six inches
whence it came, causing Ollie to pull his knees up sharply as he felt the
hit. He wanted to show bravery so he suppressed any groans or expletives.

`Huh -- is that the best you've got? Give me the matchbox and get your arse
up here.'

Ollie pulled up his trousers, got off the table and Marcus took his
place. `Two bullets left, so are you feeling lucky punk? Well are you?'

In fact Marcus wasn't feeling lucky -- with odds of 50/50 he was distinctly
worried and Ollie could sense it. `Left or right? He asked waving the
matchbox in front of the boy's face.

Ollie could see his friend's eyes flicking between the two remaining
`bullets' `I... er I....'

`Well?'

`Left.'

`Sure?'

`Yes -- wait -- no- OK -- yes... left.' Marcus took a deep breath and
watched as the match was slowly withdrawn, behind Ollie's hand.

Ollie looked at it, raised a single eyebrow and put in his pocket.

`It's the live one, isn't it? Marcus blurted.

`I couldn't possibly comment,' replied Ollie with a devilish grin. `That
would spoil the fun wouldn't it?'

`Like I said earlier -- you're a sadistic bastard! Listen' he said
nervously, `if it is the live one -- not the balls, OK? I didn't go for
yours, did I?'

`Mmm...' mused Ollie. `You make a fair point so OK, I'll do my best to miss
your precious knackers... if it is he live one. Of course, if it's not
you have to make me the same promise.'

`Of course -- naturally. Is it a deal?'

`Deal.'

Ollie rubbed his hands together dramatically and positioned his right one
at shoulder height. `Remember -- if you flinch before the hand either stops
or hits you have to pay the penalty.'

`That's not what you said before,' spluttered Marcus.

`Sure it is -- flinch and you pay. Anyway you're the one with nerves of
steel -- right?'

Marcus gave Ollie a look that said `just you wait!' as he lay back and put
his hands behind his head.

`I've got a slight problem here,' said Ollie, `I don't want break my
promise but I need to know what I'm aiming for or, more importantly, what
I'm aiming to miss!'

`What are you saying?'

`That,' he replied, pointing at Marcus' groin, `your whites are so loose
and it's so gloomy in here I can't tell what's what. I might hit your balls
by mistake.'

Marcus looked, `yes, I can see what you mean. Wait a minute.' He put his
right hand under his waistband and Ollie could tell that he was readjusting
himself . He removed his hand and then used both of them to smooth the
white material either side of his dick so that Ollie could clearly make out
his boyhood.

>From what he could see, it looked to be a little longer than Ollie's but
about the same thickness. `Yeah, that's better,' he said and, copying
Marcus, he rested his hand on the middle of the shaft. He had a sudden urge
to wrap his fingers around it but he resisted. `Have I got it?' he asked,
moving the edge of his hand as if searching for the perfect spot.

`What do you think -- that I've got a pork sausage down my pants?'

Ollie laughed, `no way -- it's too small, maybe a chipolata!'

`Ha-Ha - very funny,' said Marcus sarcastically.

Ollie retook the position. He gave Marcus one more look before his hand
came down and crashed full-pelt into the middle of the boy's dick -- but
not before Marcus had visibly, definitely, flinched. He knew it, Ollie knew
it but all Marcus could think about right now was the pain.

`I knew it -- I knew it would be the live one. Shit that hurt! I want a
rematch.'

`OK' said Ollie, `but you flinched, so you have to pay the penalty first.'

`But I only flinched the tiniest bit'

`Rules are rules... sorry mate.'

`Yeah, I bet you are!'

Ollie shrugged, `well, what's it to be?'

`Seeing as how my dick feels like it's been chopped in half, I'll have to
go for the trousers down option, won't I?'

`Righto, do you want me to go first this time?'

`Yes. Give the matches from your pocket so I can put them back in the box.'

Ollie passed them to him and watched as he put them in, added his own then
shuffled them around before closing it again with bottom ends sticking
out. He lay back on the green clothed table, ready for round two.

`One to six; take your pick,' said Marcus.

`One.'

Marcus removed the match at the far left. Ollie tried to gauge his friend's
reaction but he remained expressionless.

`Want to up the anti?'

`What do you mean?' asked Ollie.

`If the person flinches, it's a double whammy -- two hits -- left hand,
right hand; like a double barrelled shotgun!'

Ollie thought for a moment; Marcus' competitiveness was helping to progress
the game faster than he had dreamed, `OK, you're on.'

`Good -- let the fun begin!'

Marcus raised his hand but before he pulled the trigger Ollie interjected,
`wait a minute; you're already due to start next go in your pants, so how's
that going to work?'

`Good point... I'd hoped you'd forgotten that.'

`You wish! You'll either have to take a hit -- trousers down -- before the
real go or start the go minus your undies too.'

`Fair enough, I guess. I'll think about it and decide at the time. Now
prepare for action.'

Ollie was as confident as he could be that the first bullet would not be
live and he managed to keep stock still as Marcus' hand stopped millimetres
from his groin -- much to his relief and Marcus' chagrin.

`Made up your mind?' Ollie enquired as Marcus lay himself down.

`Give me a chance -- I'm still thinking.'

Ollie drummed his fingers on the wooden edge of the table and whistled
tunelessly in mock impatience.

`OK, OK, I reckon I've recovered enough to take the hit.'

Ollie was disappointed that he wasn't going to get a chance to see his pal
bereft of his briefs but he tried to hide his excitement as Marcus loosened
the cord of his whites and pushed the elastic-waisted trousers down to his
knees.

The smaller boy felt his young dick jump as Marcus lay back down. He too
wore a white jock strap but he had his over a pair of short boxers, powder
blue and made of a soft silk-like fabric.

His penis lay perpendicular and his left testicle hung visibly lower than
his right.

`Hang on a minute,' said Ollie. `That's not fair; you can't have two layers
when I only had one. You'll have to lose the jock.'

Ollie thought Marcus might object but he just kind of sighed, sat up, eased
the athletic support off his hips and down to join his trousers at his
knees. `Satisfied?'

Involuntarily, Ollie licked his lips and his dick lurched into three
quarter hardness. Marcus' dick, set free from the tight jock, now lay
sideways towards his right hip and the soft material of his boxers left
little to the imagination.

`Yeah, that's fair now,' he said quietly. `Do you want to, you know, put it
so I make sure I miss your balls?'

`Good idea,' Marcus responded and he shifted his 3 inches of boyflesh so
that it pointed at his navel, smoothing the cloth again making it stand out
like an island in a sea of blue.

`Remember, this is just the gentle hit -- a penalty; right?'

`No problemo -- trust me.'

Ollie laid his hand midway and pressed down lightly. He imagined he could
feel the heat coming from the soft tube that had the hint of hardness
beneath. His own dick expanded to its full capacity as his hand lingered.

`What are you waiting for? Get on with it.'

`Right.' Ollie raised then dropped his hand from about six inches, Marcus
grimaced as the pain hit him, stifling a groan -- he may have flinched --
just, but Ollie decided to let it go.

`You all right?' Marcus nodded. `Ready to start the new game?' He nodded
again. `OK chose your bullet.'

`The middle one -- number three.'

Despite the residual pain, Marcus was able to hold still -- a blank.

`Time for revenge; get up here and prepare for pain.'

Ollie hesitated, his erection had not subsided one bit and he was worried
what Marcus would think.

`Come on, move it.'

`Er... wait a minute, I just need to...' he slipped his hand under his
waist band and into his jock.

`What are you doing?'

`I'm giving myself extra protection.'

`What d'you mean?

`Well,' said Ollie, thinking fast, `I reckon that being hit when it's soft
will hurt more than if it's -- you know -- hard, so I'm making
it.... hard.'

`You sneaky bugger! I wish I'd thought of that,' laughed Marcus.

`Really?' asked Ollie, visibly relieved, `you should remember I'm the one
with the brains.'

`You might have the brains but you won't have a dick after I've karate
chopped it off! You ready yet?'

`I reckon.'

`That was quick; I bet you were thinking about that Sharon Wetherspoon in
year 9'

Ollie said nothing but climbed onto the pool table and dropped his
trousers. His dick, now lengthened to almost five inches, strained against
the jock and both boys could see it pulse in time with Ollie's pumping
heart.

Ollie chose number one (of the remaining four) again and awaited his
fate. He was shocked when Marcus gently took hold of his dick between his
thumb and two fingers, swinging it into a North-South alignment.

`There, that's better.'

Ollie shivered, `thanks, mate.'

He watched Marcus' hand hover above him. As it descended all he could think
about was how it had felt having Marcus hold his dick -- even if it was
only for a couple of seconds and with elasticated cotton between. His
concentration went and self preservation took over and he flinched
big-time. However it didn't stop the falling hand from plunging onto his
hard dick and, because he'd moved position, ricocheting into his scrotum
and whacking his thinly protected balls.

`Oh fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck... Jesus that kills!' Ollie pulled his knees up
to his chest and rolled onto his side, cradling his aching dick and balls.

`Sorry, Ollie -- you flinched and I hit your balls by mistake.'

`I know - it was my fault -- but shit it hurts,' he said, now half laughing
through the pain. `Only the second bullet -- how unlucky is that?'

`Yeah, really unlucky,' Marcus laughed. `A bad time to mention it I know,
but there is a penalty to pay.'

`OK, wait a minute, I feel like I'm going to be sick.' Ollie massaged his
aching balls for a moment before he eventually eased himself up to sit on
the edge of the table. `I guess we need to have deciding match then?'

`Yep.'

Well, there's no way I'm taking another hit, especially a double, now so
I'll have to go for the other option.'

Marcus raised an eyebrow, `are you sure?'

`Too right -- I need time to recover. Help me off, you go first.'

`OK but let's make it even more interesting... the starting position will be
trousers down -- then we'll see how the nerves hold up!'

`My nerves are fine, mate -- it's yours you should worry about. You're on
-- let's go.'

Matches back in box, Ollie re-trousered, Marcus on table and de-trousered
-- game three on.

`Choose.'

`Wait on, man -- extra protection, right?'

Ollie's eyes widened as Marcus slid his right hand under his boxers and
began to stroke his soft dick. He had his eyes closed as he rubbed it
slowly. His left hand moved to cup his balls and in less than 30 seconds a
log appeared where a twig had been.

He put his hands behind his head. `OK, ready.'

Ollie couldn't resist copying his friend and he leaned forward to readjust
Marcus' cock. His trembling hand took hold of it and his thumb
inadvertently slipped through the fly and made flesh on flesh contact.

`Thanks Ollie... er... you can let go now.'

He pulled his hand away sharply and looked at Marcus but saw no
annoyance. Relieved, he asked him to choose a match then pulled out number
four as requested. It was dead.

Unfortunately for Marcus, his resilience had weakened and he
flinched. `Hit,' he said wearily and Ollie duly delivered the two blows;
the first just under the head and the second near the base.

`You were right, Ollie; it doesn't hurt as much this way -- good thinking.'

Ollie swapped places and took a deep breath; this was it! He slowly removed
his whites, put his thumbs under the waistband of his jock, and then
hesitated. Nobody had seen that part of him since he was kid, never mind
stiff!  Even though they were available, none of the team took showers and
they had been withdrawn at school ages ago -- something about the teachers
not wanting to be put in a vulnerable position or something.

`Come on Ollie, don't be shy. This is your game after all.'

`Maybe we should, you know, play a different game,' Ollie pleaded, a bead
of sweat appearing on his brow.

`Don't be daft -- it's no big deal, is it?' Marcus looked at him
quizzically.

`No I guess not.'

He pushed with his thumbs and lifted his bum. The front of the jock slipped
downwards, catching the top of Ollie's dick in the process. It was raised
into a perpendicular position before he lifted the waistband setting it
free to slap back onto his lower stomach. A second later his unrestrained
scrotum flopped his balls between his thighs.

Marcus watched his friend push the jock all the way to his knees before
lying back down and putting his hands behind his head. The skin on Ollie's
dick was almost alabaster and had a translucent quality; a dark blue vein
was clearly visible running the full 4 inch length. His ball sac was
completely hairless but a few fair, wispy pubes sprouted from the base of
his dick.

 `I've got to give it to you, Ollie; I didn't think you'd do it. You've got
balls... as I can see,' he sniggered and gently tapped the naked
scrotum.

`Ha bloody ha -- I'll have number three.'

Marcus went to remove the match then stopped -- `Sorry to mention this
Ollie, but I've just realised that because we've changed the rules in this
round you're a penalty behind, if you know what I mean?'

Ollie thought for a moment, then groaned as he realised that His friend was
correct; if he'd started in his underpants he'd have to be receiving a hit
naked and needing another penalty.

`Shit! You're right,' he grimaced. `What do we do about that?'

`I don't know -- you're the rule-maker, remember?'

`I suppose it means I have to start the next round naked too.'

`But what happens if you flinch this time?'

`This is getting complicated; what about a double-double hit -- right left,
right left?'

`Wow! If you're happy with that -- OK.'

`I'll have to be, won't I?

As Marcus laid his hand on his naked dick Ollie bit his lip and resisted
the urge to moan. Things had progressed beyond his wildest dreams -- dreams
he hadn't even admitted to himself.

 His suppressed feelings for his friend were rising to the surface like
cork from a bottle popped at the bottom of the ocean and he made a
conscious decision to see how far he could take this -- even if it meant
risking his friendship and potentially his reputation amongst his entire
peer group.

He was enjoying having Marcus' hand on his dick and he wanted more -- there
could be pain along the way - but it would be worth it!

So, as the hand came down, Ollie flinched and made sure there was no doubt
about it. It was a blank but there was a penalty to pay...

`You flinched Ollie, sorry mate but it's the double-double hit for you!
Reckon you can take it?'

Before Ollie could answer Marcus placed both hands above Ollie's obviously
throbbing dick and then chopped; right, left, right left into the already
bruised shaft. Rat-a-tat-tat -- more machine gun than shotgun!  It happened
so quickly, he had no time to flinch. A mixture of pain and pleasure washed
over him but he made sure he only exhibited pain; `Fuck -- talk about a
double-double whammy!'

`Yeah, sorry mate, but it's your game,' Marcus grinned and to Ollie's
surprise wrapped his left hand around the pale dick with and gently moved
it up and down two or three times. `There, there shall I wub it better for
the baby?'

Ollie said nothing; he wanted the feeling to go on -- so badly -- but he
forced himself to slap Marcus' hand away. `Your turn and expect no mercy!'

`None asked for,' retorted Marcus as he swung onto the table and swiftly
pushed his white trousers and jock to his knees. His dick was semi erect
and had fallen towards his right hip. He chose his match and Ollie prepared
to `shoot'.

`You need straightening,' he said and moved his friend's dick to the safety
position; `feels like you don't have full protection,' he suggested, giving
a squeeze that proved his point as his fingers squished the half hard tool.

Marcus just looked up at Ollie noncommittally so, plucking up his courage;
he began to knead the blue-clothed flesh. The reaction was immediate and
within 30 seconds blood had pumped up the dick to its full
potential. `There, that's better...' He looked down at Marcus but didn't
let go.

`Thanks mate.' Ollie was sure he detected a new hoarseness in his voice;
`OK, pull that trigger -- I'm ready.'

Reluctantly, he lifted his hand from the pulsing dick and up to the ready
position. `One, two, three;' the weapon fell, Marcus watched its path and,
convinced his luck was out, brought his knees together in classic flinching
mode. His eyes opened wide as he realised it was yet another blank.

`I don't fucking believe it -- why is it so hard to keep still? I was so
sure that would be the bullet!'

`Just proves you're human, that's all,' said Ollie smugly. `Self
preservation mode -- instinct.'

`OK, professor, you can shut up now!'

`Fine; now chose your penalty.' Ollie bit his lip and crossed his fingers
behind his back; `Choose two, choose two,' he repeated the mantra in his
head. `Please -- choose two.'

`Two,' sighed Marcus as he swapped places. Ollie covered up the glee he was
feeling and quickly shucked his lower garments. If it was possible, his
dick had expanded even further and half of its head had emerged from the
fleshy hood, deep purple and moist. He couldn't believe that he was about
to see his friend's cock -- and not soft but rock hard.

He had no idea what might ensue but he was fast losing his normal caution;
his main worry now was that this might be the bullet (a one in three chance
now) and the game would be over. `Please be blank, please...' he extolled
some unspecific God of sex.

Not only did he get his wish but because he was concentrating so hard he
`forgot' to flinch. `Shit Ollie, how did you manage that? I've got to hand
it to you, they were nerves of steel.'

`No problem -- easy-peasy,' said Ollie nonchalantly. `Two left; how
confident are you feeling?'

`No comment,' responded Marcus ruefully as he slowly prepared for the next
round. Ollie watched as he slipped down his trousers, followed by the
distended jock; he could feel himself physically shaking with anticipation
as the boy's thumbs slid under the waistband of the skimpy blue boxer
shorts.

He pushed down and as they moved off his hips the object of Ollie's
curiosity was revealed -- inch by inch. Ollie was transfixed as Marcus'
naked dick appeared; It was much darker than his, a kind of dusky olive and
around five and a half inches long (Ollie felt a pang of inferiority as,
once again, Marcus beat him at something!), the girth was similar to his
though which made it appear thinner, because of its greater length.

The biggest difference was in the hair department; where Ollie sported a
few wispy, blonde pubes it looked as if someone had painted a black patch
across Marcus' pubic bone -- a comparative forest grew at the base of his
dick and multiple saplings sprouted from his burgeoning ball sac whilst
Ollie's was a soft, wrinkled desert.

Ollie was transfixed; he wanted to throw caution to the wind and grab the
jewel with both hands.... `Right, please.'

`Pardon?'

`Right, please Ollie... the right-hand match?'

`Oh, right....yes...right...you want right? Sure?'

`The odds are even -- right it is.'

Ollie eased the match from its case, ensuring as always that Marcus
couldn't see it. As the end appeared he could hardly contain his excitement
-- the red head shone like a ruby -- as he realised that not only was he
going to `win' the game but that he had an opportunity to manipulate the
situation to his advantage.

>From his point of view, Marcus was fatalistic; he knew he had ridden his
luck and that the one in two odds were not good. His dick was already sore
from previous attacks and he could only hope that he had chosen the final
blank.

Ollie's hand was trembling as he rested it on smooth skin of his friend's
dick -- he could feel the steely hardness beneath -- before raising it to
shoulder height.

Ollie was sure that Marcus would be feeling nervous and whilst he felt a
little bad doing it, he feigned `pulling the trigger' by quickly dropping
his hand a few inches before stopping in mid-air. His trick had the desired
effect; Marcus flinched.

`You cheating bastard!' cried Marcus. `That's not fair.'

`What do you mean?' Ollie asked innocently I started to pull the trigger
and stopped when I saw you flinch.'

`Yeah,' said Marcus sarcastically, `right.'

`No choice on the penalty, I'm afraid; this is your last go, whatever, so
you get the double whammy.'

Marcus just glared at Ollie as he set himself to deliver the
penalty. `Ready?' he asked `Don't flinch.'

Marcus braced himself as Ollie cannoned two (hard) chops onto his tender
boy cock. `Christ Ollie, steady on -- penalties are meant to be gentle,
remember!'

`Ah, can't the baby take it? Ollie giggled as he imitated Marcus' taunt
from earlier. `Shall I wub it better?'  Without waiting for an answer he
cradled the boy's dick and began to rub along it as Marcus had done to
him. He was in make-believe land now -- Marcus' dick in his hand and the
live bullet still to be fired. He carried on for as long as he dared;
Marcus did not push his hand away but was observing Ollie with a curious
look on his face.

With extreme reluctance he released the hot shaft and re-cocked the
trigger. This was it; this was where he went for broke -- he had his plan
now and he was going let it run -- all the way.

He pulled the trigger for the final time and the `bullet' flew fast and
true -- straight onto the middle of the unprotected target.

Marcus probably flinched -- who wouldn't have? -- but that wasn't part of
the plan now. Marcus grunted with pain and grabbed for the damaged organ,
`fuck me! I knew I'd get it again. Fucking hell... aaaww!!

`Sorry Marcus, that really was bad luck.' He pulled the boy's hand away and
replaced it with his own. `Here let me wub it better.' No resistance from
Marcus whose eyes were tightly closed as he grimaced in pain, so Ollie
continued his ministrations, encircling the dusky cock with his fingers and
moving the loose skin up and down the steely core.

`Is that better, diddums? No? Perhaps you want me to kiss the baby's dicky,
mm? Will that make it better?' Without waiting for an answer, Ollie leant
forward and planted a peck on his friend's turgid tool; he glanced
anxiously at him but Marcus now had his right forearm draped across his
eyes.

Emboldened, he began to lightly kiss his way along all five and a half
inches, from the plump ball sac up to the slick head and back again, all
the time murmuring, `poor baby, poor diddums, Mummy kiss it all better.'

As he reached the fleshy summit for the second time he stuck out his tongue
and ran it back down to the base and then over the balls , lapping at them
like a kitten with a bowl of cream.. The soft pubes were moistened and lay
flat against the wrinkled scrotum.

The wet, pink organ travelled up again, this time staying at the peak; its
tip invaded the caldera and plunged into the steamy volcano, causing Marcus
to groan again, not with pain this time but with exquisite pleasure, as the
sensitive glans was teased by Ollie's gentle caresses.

Now, he took the head into his mouth, bobbing his own whilst continuing to
swirl his tongue, occasionally pushing the tip into the cyclopian eye, and
moved his left hand to cradle Marcus' balls.

He wasn't looking at Marcus now -- he'd gone too far to care -- and he was
finding that sucking cock had come as naturally as suckling on his mother's
teat had. He pushed further down and felt the head collide with the roof of
his mouth, further again and his nose was tickled by the cashmere mat of
baby soft hairs as the boy dick slipped into his throat.

As if Ollie was not in enough ecstasy already, it was ramped up another
notch as he felt Marcus' left hand unclasp his waistband and burrow its way
into his straining jock. The long fingers wrapped around his dick and
started to manipulate the aching tube of flesh.

He responded by pushing furiously into the warm palm, pumping his pelvis in
time with his bobbing head; the two areas with the most nerve endings, the
tongue and the penis head well into the red zone on the sensory rev
counter.

Within less than half a minute several million frenzied spermatozoa burst
from his young balls, hurtled through his 4 inch erectile super highway and
exploded onto Marcus' shuttling palm. Three, four, five pulses squeezed
through his fingers; rivulets of hot cum ran down the back of his hand.

Ollie's knees buckled as the sensation overload short-circuited his nervous
system. He whimpered when Marcus' dick slipped, momentarily, from his
mouth, causing his friend to groan in return. Marcus grabbed Ollie's head
with his right hand and urged him back onto his abandoned prick.

Ollie responded by hoisting himself, with some difficulty as his trousers
were pooled around his ankles, up onto the pool table. This enabled him to
lie along it and gave him better access to the object of his desire. He
plunged his head once more, swallowing the throbbing flesh until the
engorged head kissed his uvula and he could feel Marcus' boy-size orbs
against his chin.

As he resumed his oral travels along the boy's dick he reached up moving
his ands along the taut torso and caressed the pale pink nipples that
pinnicled the developing pecs, gently squeezing them into erectness.

Now he retraced his steps, until he came to the prominent hip bones,
reaching outwards and then under the bouncing bum he grasped one cheek in
each hand and pushed upwards, trying to force the whole of Marcus' body
into his mouth. With Marcus now using both hands to push Ollie's head
downwards it felt as if his dick had passed through the throat and was now
pressed up against the boy's wildly beating heart.

How he had held on so long was a mystery but now the dam burst and with
Niagara-like force he spewed multiple jets of youthful spunk deep into his
friend's core.

He threw his head back in the throes of orgasmic pleasure and screamed a
guttural, almost feral, moan. `Ollie! Oh my God Ollie...shit Ollie!' He
pulled the boy off his spent cock and up towards him. Needing no further
encouragement, Ollie grabbed the edges of the table and scrambled his way
up until he lay symmetrically along Marcus' sweaty body.

Their heaving chests rose and fell together and their teenage dicks
embraced like two long lost friends. Ollie's left cheek lay against Marcus'
right as they hugged, at that moment not two people but one. Marcus lifted
Ollie's head up so that he was looking directly into his clear, pale blue
eyes. He held his gaze for a few seconds before lifting his head up until
his lips touched Ollie's -- blood rich and swollen -- kissing him gently at
first before pulling his head down hard onto his now open
mouth. Instinctively Ollie ventured his tongue into the warm cavern where
it met its counterpart and began the age-old dance of cut and thrust;
Marcus tasted his own cum for the first time.

Ollie's dick, which had hardly softened, now regained its previous rigidity
and the boy, discovering Marcus' to be in a similar state, started to grind
his groin into his friend's. Marcus responded by pumping his hips, arching
his back and then, as the two of them thrashed about like whirling
dervishes, he wrapped his legs around Ollie's back. Their straining dicks,
slippery from cum mingled with saliva and sweat bounced off each other like
a couple of female mud wrestlers.

Ollie now grasped Marcus' wrists and held them above his head as he arched
his own back and thrust violently as if trying to eviscerate his friend
with his blunt sword. Animal-like he continued to pump his hips; his second
coming coinciding with that of the boy beneath him. The two expulsions,
smaller than before but of equal sexual intensity, converged, matting the
boys' pubic hairs and settling in the crevices between stomach and thigh.

Ollie kissed Marcus with adoring tenderness before collapsing back onto his
chest, tears of happiness welling in his eyes.

They lay like that for several minutes; not moving, not saying a word --
just enjoying the moment.

Eventually Marcus gave Ollie a gentle slap on his smooth white butt;
`You're going to have to get off me, mate.'

`Why?' Ollie sighed.

`One -- you're squashing me, two -- if you don't, our pubes will become
glued together and three -- my Dad will be here soon!'

Reluctantly Ollie unpeeled himself from Marcus' body and eased off the pool
table, settling his feet on the floor and pulling up his jock and
trousers. He looked at Marcus who remained on the table with his hands
behind his head; the boy's dick, so recently a raging engine was now
shrivelled and spent. Ollie bent down and pressed his lips lightly to the
slack skin, kissing it as one might kiss a young child as it slept.

Lifting his head he looked Marcus deep into hid dark eyes and said `Marcus,
I think I lo...'

Probing light from a car's headlights cut through the gloom; `Quick -- my
Dad.' Marcus leaped down and hurriedly redressed, finishing just before his
father's face appeared at the door window. `You boys in there?'

As they went to let him in Marcus put his arm round Ollie's shoulder, `that
was a good game -- a very good game.'

` No,' said Ollie quietly -- `that was a great game.'