Lunchtime on Monday was mainly spent in talking about the snow over the weekend. Tony was snowed into his posh hotel in the country with his cousin Chas and the girl cousins as well as assorted aunts and uncles. The staff did their best to entertain the guests, but the next shift couldn't get in, nor could those that had finished their work get out and the professional entertainment couldn't get in either. "Okay, Chas and I were perfectly able to entertain ourselves, **evil laughter** but there is a limit and also we were expected to be sociable with the rest of the family. Dancing was fun. Have you ever tried dancing with another boy? Especially the slow smoochy ones? Me and Chas could get away with it because the whole family knows about us. Chas and I shared rooms. That bit was planned, but it was supposed to be a twin bedded room and the hotel didn't have one free. So we were forced to share this kingsize bed. Just imagine."

Simon and I didn't say much about our weekend. Nathan and Ronan had been there for it and I wanted to bring the pub up as a new topic on Wednesday. After school I went home with Tony to work on our PHSE project and Tuesday was as close as you can get to a normal school day. I did at one time see Ronan being 'ticked off' by a prefect and being told he had to report to him after lunch. We now knew what that meant. Wednesday's problem was how to get close enough to Mr Timmis for him to hear what we were talking about and without priming Tony. I had to think through how things ran at the end of a PE lesson. We were told to get showered and change quietly (we never did) and quickly so that we wouldn't be late for the next lesson. Then we went from the changing room to the showers. Mr Timmis stood by the plastic walkway, counting us in and counting us out (allegedly). He didn't come into the changing room unless there was trouble. He remained by the door until the last person had left. He could speak to us individually or we could speak to him. Okay so far. So the logical thing would be to change as near to the door as possible.

Tony and I went off to change before the end of break. "Let's get changed by the door," I said.

"I want to watch Timmis's shorts while everyone's coming back from the showers and perhaps we can do a little bit of checking out for ourselves as well."

"I've never thought of that. If we're first out of the showers, then everybody has to go past us. You're a genius, Nick."

"I'd never thought of it that way, but now you come to mention it, you're right."

"There's nothing like a bit of wit and repartee, Tony, and that was nothing like a bit of wit and repartee."

People are so predictable. Tony and I had no difficulty in getting in and out of the showers first. I gave Mr Timmis one of my tarty smiles as we went past and then stood with my back to him while he stood at his fixed position by the door. I dried off. He can admire my butt for a change. After all he knows all too well what my prick and bollocks look like and for once he can see through my legs how they hang from the back. I'd found that quite a sexy pose on the internet. Then, once I had my undies and trousers on, I took up the conversation with Tony in a loud voice and making sure Mr T's attention was on the lads emerging from the showers, I turned to watch him while projecting my voice towards him. "Tone, we went to a great restaurant on Sunday. It's in the Dog & Duck pub." I'm sure I saw Mr Timmis twitch when the Dog & Duck was mentioned. "We always ask for the same waiter. He's called Ben and he's gorgeous." Mr Timmis's back was towards us, but I could tell that today he was not giving the dicks of the boys coming out of the shower his full attention.

That's as far as I went. I had the fish on the hook. I'd leave it to Simon to haul it in the following day. "Yeah, you want to get your parents to take you there sometime, but only at weekends." I finished there, waiting till we got home before bringing Simon up to date.

We didn't go straight home. Simon wanted to pop into the clinic on the way and so we carried on into town and caught the bus from there. "You haven't got through that lot already, have you, Si?"

"Nah. I gave some stuff to Ronan. His needs are greater than mine, but I told him he's got to get his own next time and how to do it. He's been buying jonnies out of his earnings and was having cash flow problems."

Our walk into town gave me a chance to bring Simon up to speed without worrying if Mum and Dad were listening.

"So it's over to you. I must say, though, that Tony played his part perfectly without knowing it." We just had to wait twenty-four hours and I knew that whatever happened, Simon would be in no way subtle. The word had simply been omitted from his dictionary.

On Thursday my games lesson went on and on and so I missed the early bus and Simon was already doing his homework in the kitchen when I got home. "The kettle's just boiled, bro."

"Make the tea first, Nick, and I'll give you my full attention. Oh, and Mum said we can have some cake from the blue tin." I knew it was no good complaining or challenging him or he would make me wait that much longer. It also proved to me that he had a positive result or he wouldn't have been so cocky. With a mug of tea and a slice of cake in front us Simon started.

"Okay, the difficult thing was to persuade Natt to change near Mr Timmis, made harder because I didn't want to tell him the reason why. Anyway, we did in the end because I just started getting changed by the door and Natt wouldn't change with anyone else. We were first in and first out of the showers. I could even read Mr Timmis's thoughts…"

"… 'Gosh, Simon Croker, your dick and balls are even bigger than your brother Nick's…'"

"Anyway, I said 'Natt, has your family ever taken you to the restaurant at the Dog & Duck?' Mr Timmis's head spun round on the mention of Dog & Duck and then he realised what he'd done and tried to pretend he'd heard nothing and carried on supervising the tackle emerging from the showers more intently than usual. 'Why? Is the food good?' asked Natt. 'Not only is the food good, but the service is excellent. We always ask for the same waiter. His name's Ben…' Timmis was listening intensely. '… but he is soo gay.' I lowered my voice when I said that last bit. 'I was trying to chat him up and he told me he had a partner who's a teacher.' Timmis's face was puce. 'I didn't think you could be a teacher if you were gay,' I continued. 'Rubbish!' exploded Timmis. 'We're in the twenty-first century now,' and he stalked off to his office."

"That's not the end of it. Just as I was leaving, Mr Timmis took me on one side, apologised for shouting at me and said he shouldn't have been listening to our conversation. Then just as I was about to go, he said 'Yes, I've been to the Dog & Duck and the food and service there are excellent," and he gave me a peculiar smile, a smile that meant 'Yes, I know what you're doing. We're all in this together.' So between us I think we've cracked it."

"I think I've earnt a hug," said Simon, lowering his head, looking up at me with those large sapphire eyes and batting his eyelids. That hug ended up in Simon's room and one thing led to another and we hadn't got much homework done by the time our parents came home.

Friday lunchtime I heard the story from Simon and Nathan that they had been acting rather naughtily at break. I knew that at times they would spend their break boywatching. This time they ratcheted it up a stage. At first I disapproved, but the first reason was that I was envious of their enterprise. The second reason remained. I feared they might be caught or reported. Then it would mean big trouble, not only for them, but also for the school's gay community in general. We had a thin line to tread between waving the rainbow flag to show we were out there in the community and causing offence by shoving our sexuality in people's faces. I could foresee a big brotherly talk at home that night, followed by tears, followed by a big brotherly hug to make up. I suppose being big brother had some compensation.

Instead of walking round the fields, Simon and Nathan were sitting on a bench and as mentioned previously, boywatching. Tony and I walked past them. "Hey, Natt, isn't that Felix Grainger walking this way?"

"Mmm, you're right, Si. Just look at his trousers and that's not in the least bit hard."

"He's extremely heterosexual, so I am told, and in Year 11. So strictly out of bounds."

"But leave it to me this time. We want him to come back for more, not frighten him away forever," said Natt. "Hey, Felix, over here a minute. We want to ask you something. Shift up, Si. Let Felix sit down between us. So where are all your friends this morning?"

"I was just lucky not to be there. Otherwise I'd be in the litter squad as well. Felix hadn't noticed that Nathan was holding his hand. It was a typical distraction manœuvre. Nathan carried on chatting and now had Felix's hand on the inside of his thigh. He let go and in an ordinary conversational tone he said

"Pity. You can if you want to. I don't mind. My zip's down. All you've got to do is slip your hand inside." Nathan guided Felix's hand through the open gap in his trousers. Felix was as if mesmerised, completely unable to resist. "Ooh, you're ever so gentle, aren't you? You've done this before."

"You can feel Simon's if you like. Pull your zip down, Si." Nathan took Felix's other hand and guided it into Simon's trousers.

"Ooh!" Simon exclaimed as he felt Felix jiggling his hot, loose balls. "That's sensational." At that moment the first bell rang.

"Okay," said Nathan as we both zipped up, "that's all for now. You know where to find us if you want some more." Nathan grinned. "And you can stop saying you're not that sort of boy 'cos we now know you are and you're damned good at it."

When Felix stood up his trousers were showing an obvious erection. "You need to do something about that, too," grinned Simon, pointing at Felix's crotch. They let him walk ahead.

"From my brother. It's only the same method I use on your brother at lunch. Except I don't have to use the distraction technique with him. Hey, Si, do your trousers up. Your dick's hanging out."

"Oh no, it isn't. My brother tries that one on me and anyway, I remember doing up the zip and I didn't get my cock out."

I must admit I do admire my baby brother. I wouldn't have had the guts (or the foolhardiness) to try it on like that, openly in the school grounds. When we got home that night, I had a quiet word with him. I was as gentle as possible. He dissolved into tears. I gave him a great big hug and we ended up in my bed, naked, sticky and with just about enough time to have a shower before Mum and Dad got in. It was a good job we had the whole weekend to get our homework done.

However, these events never seem to be one-offs or discrete, as I found out on Monday morning. The main boys' lavatory is off the quad with about fifteen porcelain urinals and partitions in between to stop people checking out, plus half a dozen cubicles which have seats, but no lids on the pans. The walls are barely six feet high. These toilets must have been designed by a rampant homophobe in full knowledge of the propensities of adolescent boys. But there are other toilets in the outer reaches of the school and one in particular I make it my job to frequent. You never know who you might meet. It houses one cubicle complete with lavatory seat and lid, a hand basin and a trough just above knee height which comfortably accommodates two. It's great quality is that the trough is made of polished stainless steel and therefore makes checking out your peeing companion much easier. Among the pupils it's known as the 'queers' bog' and was the birthplace of many a homoerotic adventure.

I was in mid stream when the door opened and a figure just below my height jostled his way in beside me. We didn't look at one another. The gaze naturally strays towards the reflection in the urinal wall. My partner's was interesting. That's all I'll say for the moment. Suddenly I heard an OMG. "Is that what I was feeling on Friday?" I looked to my left and recognised who was standing next to me, but I kept my powder dry. I shrugged my shoulders.

"One thing at a time," I answered, leading him on. "Let's establish your identity before I oblige."

"He was probably chubbed up." I suddenly realised that I had finished peeing and that I should be shaking off. I did shake off, but left my dick out, probably because it was growing hard from my enjoyment of the reflection of Felix's cock.

Felix finished peeing, shook off and was about to tuck his dick away when I said "Hey! Where are you going with that? Look what you done to me. You're not going to leave me like this, are you?"

"Oops. Sorry. Remember I'm not that sort of boy." I was too desperate to argue the point.

"Grab my cock with your right hand and start wanking it. I'll do the same to yours. Bloody hell, you stiffened up quick."

"Won't matter. They can't see what we're doing. Well, not till the heavy breathing starts," I giggled.

I've heard of a quicky, but I don't think either of us had ever come off so quickly. Out of hubris we left our spunk to dribble down the wall of the urinal. I took the last drop of Felix's seed from his dick on my finger and licked it clean. I think he was slightly taken aback and since he obviously was not going to return the favour, I did the same with mine. "We'll leave it to drip down there," I said. "If the flush doesn't wash it away, it'll provide something of interest for the next user." We washed our hands. "Perhaps, Felix, we'll meet again sometime." He opened the door and we went our separate ways.

Monday meant that I went home with Tony after school for a little rest and recuperation. While we were walking to his house, he said "Nick, do you know what?"

"At lunchtime I went into the queers' bog and imagine my surprise when I saw two splodges of spunk running down the wall of the urinal."

"Tut," I responded, "these young wankers really need to be taught to clean up after themselves."

It was about a quarter to six when I got home. Simon had just completed his homework. "Good time with Tony?"

"Too much like hard work. I wonder if it's worth it. P'raps we're missing something. What sort of day have you had?"

"Nothing special. Natt and me passed Felix Grainger's name on to Ronan, or Feelit Grainger as he is now known, and he went looking for him, but he said he couldn't find him."

"Oh," he replied. "Nothing much otherwise. We just spent the time boywatching. There's a Year 9 boy we've got our eye… Holy shit! You did what, Nick?"

"I wanked off Felix Grainger," I answered nonchalantly. "And he wanked me off. Needs to improve his technique a bit, but conditions were far from ideal and, as he says, he not that sort of boy."

"C'mon, Nicky, let's hear the full story." The sound of a car on the drive forestalled any further discussion.

Simon and I did as we said we would. The following term we joined the gym club at school, which kept us behind on a Tuesday afternoon. We liked it from the first meeting, but weren't sure we did so for the right reasons. There were never more than a dozen boys there, looked after by Mr Timmis and a colleague from the PE department, Mr Somerset, which gave a safe teacher/pupil ratio. Mr Somerset was obviously a fit man, but he simply was not attractive in the way Mr Timmis was. The age range was from Year 7 into the sixth form. We were expected to be suitably kitted out and with our competition tops that was no problem for Simon and me. Our problem was that all the other boys were 'suitably kitted out' and so for the first couple of meetings we were distracted, but after that we settled down and concentrated on the prime reason we were there for. As we all got to know one another, and for some moves depend on each other, we could think only of gymnastics and keep fun time confined to the changing room. I was beginning to learn why Ronan offered his services to sixth formers; also to become a member of the gym club you had to possess a certain physique in order to participate successfully. Another difference was that showers afterwards were never supervised. We liked to think that it was because we were there on a voluntary basis, keen on gymnastics and were expected to act in a 'professional' manner. I must say that it was more fun in the showers with up to ten hunks (Have you ever seen an unattractive gymnast?) of varying size and age than with thirty of your miscellaneous fellows in a room designed for half that number. As previously stated, Simon and I wondered whether we attended for the right reasons as we would have cheerfully attended any after school club that ended up in the shower with such a range of naked hotties. Was I surprised later in the term when Ronan became a member? We never caught him using gym club for business reasons, but as he told us, it was nice to do an activity for fun once in a while.

One Tuesday evening Simon and I were walking out of the gates late after gym club when we heard a toot from a car. The driver's window wound down and imagine our surprise when who should be driving but Ben, the waiter from the Dog & Duck. "Hi, lads, how are you doing?"

"Just giving Adrian a lift home. Got to hurry. I've got something special in the oven. See ya later." At that the window wound up again and the car drove off towards the staff car park, but not before he blew us a kiss which Simon deftly caught and blew back to Ben.

"Wow!" said Simon and we continued on our way. After gym club we would walk into town. It was easier to do that and go to Mum and Dad's office for a car ride home than to catch the bus.

As time went on, we both became fully committed to gym club. Simon made more progress than me. He hadn't yet reached the clumsy stage of puberty, usually at its worst in Year 10. Perhaps he would avoid it all together, but I was pleased to support him in both the literal and metaphorical sense. However, in my quiet moments I did think about the whole concept, for to me it functioned more than just as a gym club. It was time to share my thoughts with Simon, which I did one afternoon after we'd got home from school.

As time passed it had long been becoming clearer to me that Mr Timmis was playing for the same team as Simon and me, finally confirmed when we met Ben going to pick him up. I don't know about Mr Somerset. Another thing I noticed early on is that the more established members of the club were quite content to train in just their comp tops, bare-footed even. I had read in GY mag that universities would have LGTB societies. Even in these enlightened times it would be unheard of for a secondary school to have an LGTB society. A sixth form college, where the pupils are all over sixteen, possibly. I don't know. To the best of my knowledge there were no lesbians in our school, despite rumours about one of the admin staff; transgender – how would one know? – bisexuals – quite possibly, and gays we know about. Even so, a 'GB' society would still be unlikely, but a gym club where the main principle was the cult of the male body (beautiful) as expressed through a subject legitimately on the school curriculum and when led by a now outed homosexual, that's a different matter. What a cover! Now I am not complaining. I am trying to establish the reality of the situation. Indeed, Simon easily followed my reasoning when I explained it to him, to the extent of his suggestion that we too should no longer wear our shorts when attending. We now paid more attention to our fellow members, not for their undoubted sexual attraction – we had gone past the stage of establishing that – but to discover whether they were in fact gay, rather than risk projecting our thoughts on them. The casual observer saw nothing beyond an efficiently and professionally run extra-curricular activity. The straightforward answer to our problem lay in the relaxed and uninhibited behaviour in the showers, so different from that in the timetabled lessons. I could now see why Mr Timmis needed to teamteach, to have a colleague always present, whether the latter was gay or not. How much did the senior boys know? What were their views?

"You know, bro, you've made me feel all tingly inside, telling me that. It makes me feel something special."

"You are something special, Simon Croker, and you always will be to me. Give me a hug." It had to remain just that, a hug, with our parents due home in a few minutes.

Another Tuesday, another gym club meeting. That day I was in one of my contemplative moods. Nothing could have rushed me until suddenly I was ripped from my inner world by a shout of "Oi, Croker, stop staring at my bollocks!" I was mortified. My mind had been a quarter of a million miles away. Within milliseconds my brain was in gear and I realised that not only was I actually staring at them, but I had been unconsciously staring at them for some seconds, if not minutes. "Oi, Croker, stop staring at my bollocks!" echoed through my head. My brain had just made a hard landing and I realised where I had heard that before. It had been from Aaron Berstead, my gym partner that day. He had said balls. Now it was Freddie Freeman, one of the sixth form members of gym club. We were the only two left in the showers after the session had ended.

"I'm not staring at your bollocks, Freddie. I'm looking at your cock. I've never seen one like that before… well, not in real life. I've seen pictures."

"Yeah, well, I've been circumcised… or cut as people who can't manage long words say."

"I wouldn't know, would I?" A tone of resentment had crept into Freddie's voice.

"How do you manage a wank? Pulling my foreskin to and fro over my acorn is essential for me. I couldn't rub my hand over it. It's too sensitive."

"Tell it as it is, why don't you, Croker?" At that moment the hot water ran out, just when we were both chubbing up. Instant CWE.¹ Freddie's dick looked odd as it quickly shrivelled. My tackle became an empty foreskin and an empty scrotum. With no pubes there was nowhere for them to hide. "If you're really interested, I'll meet you in the queers' bog morning break tomorrow, but I warn you. It'll cost you and I don't mean money, either."

"And if we're going to have sex together, my name's Nick… Freddie! We exchanged the queers' handshake, switched the showerheads off and returned to the changing rooms to towel off. Our CWE caused merriment among the other members, not that it worried us. Everyone in gym club had seen everybody else in full glory on many previous occasions.

The following morning I told Tony that I had something to do at break. I could tell from his face that he wanted to ask what, but he desisted. Turning up at the queers' bog I met Freddie coming from the opposite direction. After saying hi, he looked around, saw that there was no one else about and pulled a laminated printed sheet out of his folder and stuck it onto the door. 'Sorry. Closed for cleaning' and we went inside.

"Okay, Nick, how do you want to do this? You seem the be the expert." I put my hand up between his legs.

"You're halfway there, Freddie, and we haven't even started. Stand at the trough and get your cock out. Look as if you're having a pee." He did. "Let's have a good look. Mmm, nice. I like it as it is. Now show us how you wank." Freddie put his fist round the shaft and made the customary up and down motions. The skin was loose enough to allow his hand to move without coming as far as the rim of his glans. "Yes, I think I have got the idea. Mind if I have a go?" With a little adjustment in technique I got going with Freddie's stiff dick in my hand. From the little grunts and sighs I knew I was getting it right when suddenly he let out a shout and his spunk shot onto the wall of the urinal and trickled down to the bottom of the trough. While he was still in the throes of his orgasm, I said "Freddie, you've got to do me now. After that it won't take much."

"Come in here, Nick," he said in a low voice. He led me across to the cubicle, put the lid down on top of the seat and sat down. He unbuckled my belt, unzipped my trousers and dropped them and my slip in one go. My cock sprang into life. Freddie took hold of it, made sure my foreskin was fully rolled back and took it slowly and bit by bit into his mouth.

"Sorry." After that he performed the perfect blowjob. As I said, it didn't take long. He licked me clean and I pulled up my trousers. We stood at the one wash basin, washing our hands.

"Okay, I'll do it… with protection and not at school. I don't mind bumming you. In fact, I think I'd rather enjoy it, but not here and not a quickie, either. I'm a craftsman and have my professional pride."

"No. I like gym club and too many complications with my brother." The bell rang. "OMG, I'll be late for PE."

"Right, I'll speak to you after lunch." He took a quick look outside. "It's all right. The coast's clear." As we left the queers' bog, he took down the cleaning notice and stuck it back into his folder.

"Where have you been?" demanded Tony when I arrived breathless in the changing room just as the second bell was ringing.

"Oh, that's okay then. I thought you were in trouble with the prefects or something… You what?"

"I'll tell you about it later. Oh, shit! I left my comp top in the washing machine."

"Here you are, Nick. I've got a spare tee shirt." I grabbed it and put it on. It wasn't clean – beggars can't be choosers, I suppose – but the smell of Tony's sweat was already boning me up.

Over lunch I told Tony about Freddie before Simon and Nathan turned up. I'd tell Simon about it later when we were snuggled up together on the bed at home. Suddenly we were interrupted by Freddie. "Hi, Nick. Saturday morning, my place. I'm the only one there. I live in the middle of town. It's easy to find."

"Sounds good, Freddie. I'll confirm tomorrow." He left as suddenly as he had arrived.

"That was hunky Freddie from gym club," said Simon. "Wasn't it?" He looked up from the kitchen table where he was doing his homework. I had just got in. "The sixth former with the funny cock?"

"So I had to do PE in my pants and an unwashed tee shirt borrowed from Tony. His BO and my sweat made me feel horny afterwards and so I'm still wearing the tee under my shirt, and my sweaty undies and now it's getting all too much, especially as Aaron Berstead refused to sit next to me in the last period. And he told everyone why. So that's my social standing out of the window until some other eejit commits a social faux pas and mine gets forgotten. That's why I need a shower, a change of clothes and A MUG OF TEA."

It's times like this when I appreciated how much I adored my baby brother for I still love him deep down, even when he's being an annoying little git.

In the shower it dawned on me that I was washing away the erotic scent and taste of three boys, Freddie, Tony and myself. The purist might not allow Freddie to remain in that list, but it was my fantasy and my private jerk off in the shower, not that it did much to wash away my horniness, just that I felt and smelt fresher. Indeed, afterwards I put on a marsupial aussieBum slip, tucked my tackle into the pouch and wore my light blue sweats with a tanktop tucked in. I admired myself in the mirror and felt really butch. Simon had better watch out if he tries to rouse me. The mood I was in, it would be his butt or nothing, despite the wank in the shower.

When I went down to the kitchen again, the tea was brewed and Simon had cut up some cake for us. "Bugger me, bro, are you on a promise? I could let you take me on the kitchen table now, but the tea would get cold."

"I would watch your language if I were you, my beloved little brother, because I am feeling so randy that I wouldn't think twice about doing it."

"Yes, of course I had a wank in the shower…" I replied without thinking. "Hey, mind your own business. I don't ask what you do in the shower. Anyway, that was only to get the excess water off my belly. You're still at risk from getting an extreme rogering if you say the wrong thing." He cupped his hands round my package.

"No, I haven't. That is all good flaccid outsize equipment… Whoops! It isn't now."

"I read it in a book. It's what they do in the army, especially when there's no women around, to stop the soldiers starting on each other." For no apparent reason we looked at each other and burst out giggling. At that moment the front door opened and Mum and Dad came in.

I went and put my dirty kit into the washing machine before I was subjected to the third degree about that, not forgetting of course to take my freshly laundered comp top out first, then returned to the kitchen to drink my mug of cold tea. Later I overheard Dad saying to Mum "There can't be much wrong with our sons if they laugh like when they're together."

Of course, now Simon was on tenterhooks for another couple hours or so, while we had tea and we got our homework finished.

At eight o'clock, when Eastenders was on the telly – how people can watch such depressing tripe I do not know and I'm sure half of them believe it's real life – Simon and I went upstairs and ended up in my bedroom, more precisely on my bed. "So what do you think about the sixth formers at gym club, Si?"

"They've got some got some pretty amazing bods, but I'm not sure I'd want sex with them."

"Yeah, but just think about it. When you're in Year 11, I'll be in the sixth form. Will you have stopped fancying me?"

"Nicky, I'll never stop fancying you," and he put his arm round me gave me a teasing kiss on the lips.

"Okay, Freddie Freeman and his funny cock. It's not funny, it's cut… I mean circumcised."

"There isn't any, but 'cut' is used by people who can't manage big words. His is the first circumcised cock I've seen in real life and at break we went off to the queers' bog so that I could get a better look. Anyway, it ended up that I jerked him off and he gave me a BJ."

"That's right. He said before he showed me his cock that it would cost me and so I'm off to hang at his place on Saturday morning to pay my debts."

"I'm going on an all-day date with Nathan on Saturday. We're meeting in town. Then after a bit of boywatching, we're going to Burger Star, then to the cinema and back to his place for the evening and then his mum's bringing me home."

"No, his family's got things to do on Sunday. He's got to go to church. He says that if he doesn't, he'll get excommunicated. What does 'excommunicated' mean?"

"It means they get cut off from the Church and they'll go to hell when they die."

"No wonder Natt wants to become a Protestant when he's old enough. We've got two boys in our year that are circumcised."

"One of them is Achmed and that's because he's a Muslim. They're like Jews, even though they hate them. The other one is Sebastian who says he had a phimosis. There you go. That's another big word. That's when you can't pull your foreskin back and so you can't pee properly or wash underneath and even worse, you can't have a wank."

"He had to go into hospital for a few days. He'll show it to you, if you like. He doesn't mind showing it to us. Shall I ask him?"

"It's all right for the moment, Si. I've got one to deal with. That's enough for the moment."

"Oh, and he says that a lot of Canadian and American boys are. He was told that by the doctor before the op. It was supposed to be some kind of encouragement or comfort. It wasn't. The Biebs is cut, they say." At that moment there was a shout up the stairs that cocoa was ready in the kitchen.

It was with some trepidation that I made my way into town on Saturday morning. Over the past few months I had experienced a lot of sex with a lot of boys. Chas was the oldest one, but only a year older than me. These sixth formers were already young men and certainly hairier than my friends. Add to that the fact that I scarcely knew Freddie, either personally or by reputation. He wasn't among the out gays in the sixth and I'd never heard Ronan mention him. I confess that I got more of a thrill from his gymnastic skills than from any sexual attraction. Pursuing this line of thought, I had a confession to make to myself. It was becoming clear that I preferred boys to men. The logic of that statement about his gymnastic skills and my past record made it undeniable. Would my taste in partners age with me? I hoped so for Simon's sake.

Back to Freddie. I hardly knew him. Fortunately I had seen him naked and he'd seen me. So that would make things easier when we got our kit off later because I wouldn't be curious about his body. I had chosen my dress carefully… I mean clothes – makes me sound like a tranny. I was wearing a jockstrap to keep things under control down there until it was time to do the dirty deed, sweats – easy off and on and nice bulge too – a white tee shirt and a pullover under my hoodie. My trainers had velcro straps, again easy off and on. There was a clean slip in my backpack which I had also packed with the 'tools of my trade'. I didn't really expect to need them, though.

When I arrived at Freddie's house, I chained my cycle to a tree in his front garden. He'd spotted me from the front room and came out of the door to greet me. He was wearing a tee and sweats too, but it didn't take great powers of observation to notice that he had nothing on under them. He took me straight up to his room, no messing there, and immediately started to get undressed. "Hold on, Freddie," I said. "We've got all morning, for goodness' sake. And before we start I need to know a few things, things of a personal nature."

"First of all how much experience have you had and why are you so keen to take it up the arse?"

"If you want a pleasant experience, well, yes." There was a silence, for Freddie an embarrassing silence. "Okay, listen to me. Let's just think about things. I shall be very disappointed if I have to leave here without as much as a dribble of precum, and since all my sex buddies are otherwise engaged this weekend, I don't want to go home and have to make do with Madam Palm and her five sons." He laughed at that. I thought I was getting somewhere. "Okay, let's just have a general chat. Have you got a boyfriend?" He shook his head. "A girlfriend?"

"Good god, no," he protested as if I had said something profane. "All that excess flesh bouncing up and down, and the smell."

"Funny someone else mentioned the smell recently. But you don't mind a cock and two balls bouncing up and down?"

"So am I to take it…" Here I hesitated because I could sense this was the big one. "… you're still a back virgin?" He wouldn't answer. "C'mon, Freddie. It's no big deal. We all were once and I need to know so that I don't hurt you."

"And a front virgin?" He nodded. "So would I be right in saying that the only sex you've had with someone else is when I tossed you off in the queers' bog and you sucked me?" He nodded. "From that BJ I would have said you were quite experienced." He blushed.

"I've never even thought about it. I never have a shortage of the real thing from someone else."

"Try it sometime. You'll be surprised." He was so uptight, but why? Even if he was a back virgin now, he wouldn't be in two hours' time. So what's the big hang up? And play his cards right, he needn't remain a front virgin for much longer, either.

He began to chill. "Are you ready to get started, Freddie?" Again he nodded and started to strip his tee shirt off. "Stop! You haven't learnt anything, have you? The first thing we do is a bit of foreplay to get us into the mood. Snogging, smooching, deep throated kissing. Call it what you want."

"Try it sometime. You'll be surprised," I echoed him. "Try it now." I gently took his hand and led him across to his bed, got him to lie down, took my shoes off and lay down beside him. "Bloody hell! Piss breath! No wonder you're still a virgin. What did you have for tea last night? Dogshit pie? Haven't you cleaned your teeth this morning?"

"Er, no, I overslept and realised that you were due." I rummaged in my backpack and took out a bottle of Listerine.

"Take a swig of this and rinse your mouth. Don't swallow. Then go and clean your teeth. And you haven't shaved, either?"

"Doesn't matter. I can hack it." Freddie spat the mouthwash out into the coffee mug by his bed.

While Freddie was in the bathroom, I was thinking he would give Eric McBride, the school's halitosis champion, a good run for his money, and he could do bad breath for England. I only came here for a shag and now I've got a complete social disaster and sexual numptie on my hands. It's going to be back to basics. I'd never viewed myself as personal sex trainer before. It could be fun.

When he returned, I said "Freddie, here are the options, and they're not very flattering. Either we make you fit to have sex with any guy, starting with social and sexual etiquette, or I go home." I didn't give him a chance to decide because I really did want to fuck him and familiarise myself with that cut cock of his, especially after all the effort and preparation, both practical and mental, I'd put into this encounter. "So I am going to ask you another very personal question, but since you can't get more personal than shoving your dick up someone's butt or into their mouth, there is nothing for you worry about. Okay?"

I went with Freddie to the bathroom, taking my rucksack. "Okay, Freddie, when you sucked me on Wednesday, did you notice anything about me?"

"Right. So that's the first thing we're going to sort." I fished my battery hair trimmer out of my backpack. Freddie was too taken aback to protest or resist. "Stand in the shower. By the way, when are your parents due back?"

"Not till early evening. They have their own business and have to work on Saturday."

"I have to be home for lunch at one. With my mother you just are not late for meals."

"That gives us plenty of time." I started taking off his fuzz and it dropped into the shower basin.

"I'm sparing your treasure trail. I rather like it, but we'll have to finish off with a wet razor. The trimmer will nick the loose crinkly skin on your scrotum and make it bleed. Then we'll make the rest nice and smooth."

"The wrinkled bit of skin at the entrance to your butt. Mmm, that's hairy too. It's a Marmite thing. You either like a hairy butt or you don't. I don't and as it's my cock going in there, we'll shave it." That done, I said "Now we're going to make you clean inside as well as out." I took the rose off the showerhead, used the mixer taps to get a gentle stream of tepid water. "This might be uncomfortable, but it won't hurt. Keep the water in as long as you can and warn me before you expel it. Bend over." I trickled some water in. Freddie made a splendid job of retaining it and when he did let it go, he watched the detritus float down to the plughole. "You can do that for yourself next time. Okay, you can get dressed now."

"You're a slow learner, aren't you, Freddie? I'm going to seduce you, not rape you, and put a jockstrap on. It'll keep your dick and bollocks under control and stop you playing with them, while I still get unimpeded access to your hole."

We went back into the bedroom and I got Freddie onto the bed and started snogging him. "Much sweeter," I said. By the time we agreed we were ready, I'd already got his sweats and his tee off. He had a splendid bod, but have you ever seen a gymnast that hasn't. I approved of the shave and by the end of the morning I think he did too. My dick was challenging my jockstrap. "Kneel on the bed." I ran my tongue along his crevice and then gave his rosebud full attention.

"You wouldn't have got it if I hadn't shaved you, either." He was obviously enjoying it.

Finally I could no longer resist the demands my dick was making on me. "This will feel cold." He started as I began to knead K-Y into his hole, one finger, then two. Pulling my jockstrap off, I said "Freddie, roll this jonnie over my tool." A frisson went through my body as he did.

"That's a nice chunky cock you've got there, Nick. I've never really looked at it properly before."

"Yeah, what I lack in length I more than make up for in thickness. My brother's just the same, but I suppose that's logical really. Same genes. He gives a really good shag with it, too,"

"Yeah, and I do him, except we do it bareback. We keep that in the family as the saying goes. If Ronan Webster can do his sister, what's so strange about brothers doing it together?"

"What? You mean Ronan Webster, the slut with red hair from Year 7? I've seen him sniffing around the sixth formers."

The hour had come and none too soon. I pointed my dick against Freddie's rosebud, pushed gently and withdrew, pushed again. "You now know why I have to go carefully so as not to hurt you." Then on the third attempt I penetrated his sphincter. I took it slowly and assumed from Freddie's moans and groans that I was giving him pleasure, not pain. I did what I love doing, that is letting my balls swing against my partner's butt cheeks. Eventually nature took over and I could hold back no longer. Without warning I shot my load inside him, obviously without having hit the P-spot, and tried to keep my dick inside him, but it quickly went limp and flopped out.

"That was better than I could ever have imagined," Freddie said, kneeling upright.

"Stay down. There's more to come." Freddie looked puzzled. I emptied the contents of the condom onto the top of his crack and let it flow down over his rosebud, then proceeded to lick my own still warm semen and his rosebud and when I was ready with a mouthful I turned him over and gave him a long, deep throated French kiss.

When we were ready, I said "It's my turn now. Get your jock off and sit on the bed. Obediently he sat there, circumcised penis erect in all its rampant glory immediately upon its release from the restraint of his jockstrap. I knelt in front of him, studied his (to my mind) mutilated cock, licked his balls, took them one by one in my mouth, slurped his shaft, savoured the copious precum before taking first the head and then the pole into my mouth. He was on such a high from his shafting that it could have taken only minutes before I felt his body judder and sensed the hot taste of his boy juice at the back of my mouth. After a further oral exchange of semen, we both felt the need to relax, but then a powerful feeling of naughtiness overcame me. I licked his cock clean, sucked one of his balls into my mouth and to finish I kissed his lower abdomen, just above where his pubes would have been prior to shaving. Love bites don't have to be confined to the neck. I was already looking forward to seeing him naked in the showers on the following Tuesday.

We grew cold on the bed and decided to get dressed. I put on the clean slip I kept in my rucksack and then the rest of my clothes. Then we tidied up the bedroom and the bathroom, making sure there were no telltale signs. We went down to the kitchen where Freddie made us some tea, teabags dipped in the mugs unfortunately, rather than properly in a teapot, but I had already taught him enough in the way of social graces for one morning.

We chatted away, basically a post mortem , but one interesting piece of information did come out. "Nick, I asked my parents why I was circumcised. My mother said that when I was born, the doctor in the hospital gave her the option and because Dad is cut, she automatically thought it was the right thing to do and that's how the decision was made."

It was getting close to lunchtime and I gathered up my things to go. When I got home, my mother asked if I'd had a good morning. At least she didn't ask whether I had been out with one of my 'gay friends'. Perhaps by now she just made the assumption. After lunch I went up to my room to sort out my backpack. As I said, I was looking forward to gym club in three days' time, to find out how Freddie was, yes, but more interestingly to see what he looked like in the shower after his coiffure. The comments from his mates would be interesting too. I carried on emptying my backpack. "Oh, shit!" I exclaimed as I pulled out Freddie's jockstrap. He must have mine. How do I explain that one to Mum? Looks as if I'll have to do my own laundry again. Then an idea struck me. I sniffed his jockstrap. I was horny already. That just made me more so. I pulled off my sweats and slip and pulled on Freddie's jock, then my sweats back on. Now I was feeling extra horny, but there was not much I could do about. In an instant I understood the theory of cannibalism where cannibals would eat another human being in order to absorb his powers.

By four o'clock Mum had finally lost patience with me. "Nick, why don't you find yourself something to do? You're wandering around the house, kicking your heels. Have you done all your homework?"

"All up to date except our PHSE project," I answered, trying my luck, "but I can't do that without Tony and he's not free this weekend."

"You're going to have to get used to that as you get older, Nick. What are you going to do when you go away to university?"

"Oh, Mum, that's still three and half years away. I might have found myself a nice boy by then and fallen in love." As soon as I said it, I realised I had probably said too much, not the bit about finding a boyfriend, but the unambiguous insinuation that Simon might already be something more than just my brother. At least I'd got away with it for the time being.

On Sunday Mum and Dad suggested we came to church with them. The rector was on holiday and there was a locum. It was time to start Simon's rehabilitation. The church was forgiving, so we were taught, but not so the congregation.

After I had showered, I was in a bit of a quandary. My libido told me that I wanted to wear Freddie's jockstrap for another day. My common sense told me I wouldn't get it washed and dried if I did. My libido won. Common sense dictated it was yeuky wearing dirty undergear, especially someone else's soiled undergear. Again my libido won and I pulled on my school trousers to get ready for church.

The church service went fine. Perhaps not so many people knew about the 'choirboy incident' after all. We weren't allowed to go and chat to the choir afterwards, but had to go straight to the church hall with Mum and Dad. Why the innocent had to suffer with the guilty I do not know. Since they had to help clear away, Simon and I decided to walk home. It was a sunny spring day and beginning to get warm. We talked about what we'd done the day before. When we got in, Simon grabbed me from behind in a full nelson and started to lick and kiss my neck and ear. I could feel him rubbing his half hard dick against my bum. "Si, don't do that. If you want to do something, put your hands in my trouser pockets and play pocket billiards." Wearing Freddie's jockstrap, I was halfway there anyway. It's queer the way an orgasm feels more intense when your bits are severely restricted. It didn't take long before Simon brought me off, the jockstrap soaking up my spunk. I rushed upstairs to change before the warm sticky liquid oozed through onto my trousers. I put a pair of sweats on, but still kept wearing Freddie's jockstrap, despite the fact that ooze was now growing cold. I'd let my body heat dry it out.

"Remember you grew up from a little squirt too, Nick," and he fled. When I eventual caught him. I plunged my tongue deep into his mouth and ran my free hand down to his crotch. I had just pulled the zip down on his trousers when we heard the front door open. I rushed upstairs, Simon went off into the kitchen and put the kettle on. "Tea, Mum?"

"No, thank you, Simon. We've just had coffee at church. Remember? And zip your trousers up, boy. How many times must I tell you?"

I couldn't wait till Tuesday, but had to. Meanwhile I had the problem of returning Freddie's jockstrap. I didn't really want to do it in the dining hall in front of everybody, although that was the easiest place to find him. Then it struck me he might use the queers' bog at morning break. My hunch was correct. I caught him as he was walking towards the loo. "Hi, Nick, I've got something for you," and he pulled a freshly laundered jockstrap out of his blazer pocket.

"Cheers, I've got something for you," I said handing him his own jockstrap. "'Fraid I couldn't get it washed in time."

"Doesn't matter, Nick. The main thing is I've got it. Need it for games this afternoon. See ya later."

I went home with Tony after school. Mutual masturbation was the only topic we covered in our PHSE project. Otherwise we just talked about what we had been doing over the weekend.

Tuesday after school and time for gym club. Would I be able to face Freddie and then it struck me. He was quite affable when we spoke on the Monday, but there was still that other little matter. I enjoyed gym club, but then I always did. I enjoyed seeing Simon making such progress. I think you can be proud when you see your brother progressing where you can't. It's better than jealousy. Then at the end we went off to shower and change and I could discover what I wanted to, what Freddie looked like two days after his shave and whether I had succeeded in my attempt to give him a lovebite just above the pubic area. He was showering with everyone else quite normally, but then I remembered that sixth formers had games on Monday and so his shaved pubes and hickey would have been yesterday's news. But yess! I hissed to myself. There it was. Still in the purple stage, just, with the yellow area where the blood was dispersing. I stared at it and automatically at the same time at that splendid cock of his. The thought of his foreskin being cut still made shivers run down my spine, but it was still a fine specimen of a penis and compared with some of the pictures I'd seen of cut boys quite a commendable job. I instantly got the feeling I'd like it slipped into my butthole and pumped. I wondered when Tony was next going to spend a Saturday with Chas.

Simon had been let in on the secret of my Saturday goings-on and he was standing there staring. It must have made quite sight seeing us not dissimilar brothers standing there like Gog and Magog, but perhaps not so big. However, we were soon torn out of our reverie. I hadn't noticed and I don't think Simon had either, but we were standing there with full grown boners. They couldn't have been more rigid or more erect, and then one of the sixth formers spotted us. "Hey, look everybody. Our two new members are boned up."

"Then we'll tell. You have the option of jerking off or being jerked off." This is where Simon came into his own. He couldn't have been more Simon-ish. He stood there, arms folded, with a salacious grin on his face, legs apart (Here it is, boys, if you want it stance).

"Well, I'm not going to toss myself off in front of all you meaty boys," he declared most coquettishly "and nor is my brother."

Obviously this sort of penalty had been enforced many times before, for the club members spontaneously formed a ring around us blocking the view and entry from the door while two of the lads nearest our own size came up behind us, put their left arms around our bodies and started wanking us off with their right. Okay, their action could in no way be described as an art form, but the whole process was enhanced by our being manhandled and feeling their pricks lodged in our crevices. It didn't take long. I suppose we were halfway there just from checking out Freddie's weapon. We didn't let ourselves down; we shot our load, and we did shoot it. No dribbling ejaculation from us two. We were already thinking of getting a horn in the showers the following week. We were released and went and cleaned up our privates under the shower.

"Hurry up in there, lads," came Mr Timmis's voice "or I'll switch the hot water off."

"It's already off," came the ritual reply. The group finished off their ablutions. Simon and I even went up and thanked our ravagers and told them that anytime they wanted a return match we would make ourselves available.

On the way to town walking to Mum and Dad's office, Simon and I discussed our 'ordeal'. "Okay," said Simon "I'm going to speak the unspeakable." I raised an eyebrow. "That is no gym club." I raised the other eyebrow in unison. "Every single member of that club is gay. I don't have to exercise my gaydar to know that, and that includes Mr Somerset!"

"So it's now homsoc?" I replied in recognition of and agreement with Simon's thesis.

"You bet, bro," and he slapped me on the back and then put his arm round my waist and pulled me in.

"Queers," shouted some odious specimen of the underclass from the anonymity of his hoodie.

"Leave it, bro. It's not worth the hassle, and if you want to hug me in the street, you just go ahead and do it. OMG, no!"

"That's given me another boner and I only sorted myself out twenty minutes ago." Simon slipped his hand down and shoved it into my trouser pocket.

Tony and I were running out of ideas to wind up Mr Timmis. Now that he was out and we'd discovered that Ben the student waiter was his partner, there seemed little point to it. However, we found something else to concentrate our minds on. It had been announced in assembly that because of the time of year and the recent weather the pitches needed resting. So not only were they out of use for games lessons, but out of bounds during break times, although we could still walk round them. Instead we were to do cross-country during our games afternoons. The news was received with mixed feelings. For myself, and I think I can include Simon in this sentiment, there were two good reasons for looking forward to the remaining games lessons that term. We both had the right build, lean bodies, long legs and large lung to body ratio, but perhaps what we were expected to wear outweighed for us the first reason for liking cross-country. You had to accept that you could not do cross-country without getting muddy. That in itself was an incentive to get back as early as possible while the showers were still hot, and then the rest of the afternoon was yours. You didn't have to wait for the final bell before going home. And so the prescribed kit was kept to a minimum: old trainers preferably without socks, short shorts and a running vest. Imagine all the arousing combinations of that, and Simon and I did so. Tony was indifferent until I explained reason number two. Tubby Christian Tranter was definitely against and Nathan would always go with Simon. Another advantage was that whereas we did PE in tutor groups and games in squads, the whole year group was together for cross-country and gave us additional opportunities in our constant search for male sexual talent. It was in this search, particularly with tight vests that left an outline or loose vests that left the skin bare that we developed an interest in the male nipple, its pleasure and its pain.

Mum made Simon and me wear nylon shorts for cross-country because they were easier to wash. I don't like wearing nylon in general. It chafes and doesn't absorb sweat, but these did have one advantage, that they were so short and wide fitting that they only touched around the waist. "They're disgusting," said Simon.

"They leave most of your butt cheeks bare for everyone to see and not only that, the straps of your jock are visible for all the world to see."

"At times I don't understand you, Simon Croker. You're in Year 9, you're fancied by other boys, you wank and are wanked off, suck and have been sucked off, shag and have been shagged, and obviously enjoy, but find a jockstrap showing under someone's shorts disgusting. That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"Calm down, bro. It wasn't meant seriously, just to wind you up." I gave him a big hug and after his first run Simon definitely shared my view on the second point. It was only later that it came out in idle chat that one of the boys in his year had come up behind him, pulled one of the visible straps and let it snap back on his bare bum. In retaliation Simon put his hand up between the boy's legs and squeezed his balls, just like a professional footballer on television. As a bonus it was one of the straight boys in his year that he fancied, but ordinarily would never be able to get near.

"You know what I would really really like, Si? A one piece, I think they're called singlets, too, that tri-athletes and professional athletes wear. Now they really are disgusting."

Before all this we had accepted a boy's nipple as simply there. Fine, we'd given it the odd kiss and suck during a smooch, but we hadn't learnt to finger or play with it. We hadn't noticed that it came in various shapes, colours and sizes from the round, dark red ten pence piece with the teat permanently erect in the middle to the small, flat roundel the same colour as the surrounding skin, which on some boys might distend to an oval shape. Those boys with flat ones could develop a nipple erection and not only when they were aroused, although it was a good clue that could supplement gaydar, and as a consequence of our new found interest, the formerly unbroached topic of breast knots in adolescents came up in PHSE.

During the first cross-country session of the year the staff would run with us to make sure we knew the course, even though as Year 10 boys this was our fourth season of running it. We were put through a fifteen minute warm up session before being released. The winner was expected to come home in less than twenty-five minutes, the last straggler within fifty. If anyone took longer than an hour, a search party was sent out. The worst bits were at the beginning and the end where we had to use the public highway before the course took us off road. It led us past a pig farm, along public footpaths, over farmers' land (with permission) along a main road for half a mile until we reached the entrance to a ravine we ran through, on to a fast flowing stream with a water mill and a mill race, past some private gardens and back on to the highway until we reached the entrance to the school playing fields.

After the first session we assumed the staff just sat around in the gym drinking tea, but to be fair, and we leaders of the pack were not to know it, Mr Timmis would always run as back marker, equipped with mobile telephone, another master would sit in his car parked in a lay-by on the main road halfway round with mobile, and another in his car on the road outside the mill cottage, likewise with mobile. I found that out one afternoon when I was off-games with a slight groin strain (pause for mirth) and I sat with one of the (hetero) masters in his car. While they were running past, he sat there checking the boys off on his list; I sat there checking the boys out. It was one of the best boy watching sessions I'd ever had and I might have been tempted to do it again if it didn't mean sacrificing the pleasures of boy watching on the hoof with occasional physical consequences.

The car was parked in such a way that we could see the runners approach, pass and disappear in the distance, which meant I would recognise them from their faces (usually), enjoy their packages, especially Aaron Berstead's, glimpse the profile of their bulges and bums in passing and then see their butts, some half uncovered, some with shorts well tucked into their crevices, some giving absolutely nothing away as they disappeared towards the ravine. The master was too involved in his paperwork to pay any attention to me, perhaps sometimes even to the boys he was supposed to be ticking off on his list.

The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner , Alan Sillitoe's title, is an apt description for cross-country. Try as schools may to turn it into a team sport, it remains in essence a battle of the individual versus the terrain and his own body. Because of my physique I would be out there in front, though it was by no means a foregone conclusion that I would win. It might be a social sport among the less keen, the stragglers, even the middle bunch, as they chat along the way. My keenness to win deprived me of the social side, Simon too, but we did hear later about some of the gossip and goings-on among the slower runners. Forcing the body to excel former performances left the brain free to think, and think I did. Leading long distance runners, lacking the team mentality of cricket, rugby, hockey and soccer players, are often characterised by introspection. I would never call myself an introvert. You couldn't be, living with Simon, but you could have your introspective moments which for me came to the fore during a cross-country run.

During one such run it occurred to me how much I owed to Aaron Berstead for his grouchy intervention that time when I was staring at his balls. That was my entrée to the school's gay underworld. Would I ever have discovered my true self and the concomitant pleasures without that little incident? Then there were personal relationships. Simon: yes, I loved him beforehand as a brother, but our relationship changed, deepened and now I adored him as a lover. I craved his company, I'd grown even more protective, I wanted to see him succeed, in everything, even at my expense. I sensed him returning my love. Tony Maltby: would we have been best friends if we hadn't had our sexuality in common? Similarly Simon with Nathan Tranter. Would I have picked Tony from a short list of form mates if Aaron Berstead had not told me to go forth and preach the gospel and, to mix metaphors, I hit the bull's eye in one? That drew Chas Bunsen into my circle of sex buddies. Then there were the crushes. Oh, how I enjoyed the crushes which in no way detracted from my love of Simon: my brother's best friend, Nathan Tranter's crush on me, duly reciprocated, closely followed, dare I say it, by mine for Mr Timmis, my gym master; Simon's for Ben the waiter. Then there was the casual sex: mine with Chas and Freddie, Simon's with Felix and Ronan. All this within a space of six months from zero – zero relationships, zero experience.

The thoughts had brought me to the gates leading into the school fields. I had a competitor on each shoulder. Just think if I'd been concentrating on running rather than sex I'd have left them behind. I had two hundred metres left to redeem the situation.

In the showers the three of us enjoyed the hottest of the water. The blood coursing round my body made my tackle hang loose. The other two must have felt cold for everything was as tight in their crotch as it could be. "Hey, Croker," said Peter Knight "why do you shave your pubes?"

"Okay, Knight, you asked for it. It's so people like you can get a better look at my dick and balls, when you're checking me out and admiring them and it's much better for when I'm being given a blow job."

"If you really wanted to, yeah, but not at school. You would have to join the queue and wait until I can find a window in my schedule, and you would have to let me suck yours."

"I said you didn't want to know, Knight." By now the shower room was beginning to fill up with the rest of the year group, and it was still designed for fifteen. I went to towel off and get dressed. Mr Timmis was not back from rounding up the stragglers. Can't win them all.

I arrived home quite early that afternoon which meant that I could almost finish my homework before Simon came in and started distracting me, or more precisely, distracting my loins.

I was pleased with how much work I'd got done. After tea I went back up to my room while Simon was continuing with his homework. There is just so much adult television – and I mean television for grown ups, not **adult wink wink nudge nudge, say no more** television – that a normal boy can take, and if I want the other kind of adult viewing, I know where to find it on the computer. In fact as I was lying on my bed with my hand roaming, first over the outside, then on the inside of my sweats, that's what I thought I'd do while the rest of the family was otherwise engaged. I slipped the bolt on my bedroom door against an impulsive Simon or an inquisitive mother. What sort of porn did I want to watch? Boys jerking off? Fine, but once they got their kit off and you'd ogled their tackle, there were better things to do for the next ten minutes until they dribbled their spunk all over their pubes. Don't these hotties shoot thick wads rather than the anaemic water that dribbles out of their urethra? Too much filming and not enough recovery time I suppose. What did turn me on was to watch two really hot teens teasing one another, followed by deep tongue smooching, a bit of frottage before undressing each other, and a suck to orgasm. I would fantasize that it was Simon and me. On a good day it was no porno vid, but happened in real life, or real time as people say nowadays. It actually was Simon and me on a Sunday morning when Mum and Dad were at church. I still maintain that after all the boys I've had and those I would still like to have, my brother is the hottest, the sexiest, the best looking, the most satisfying guy I've ever had fun with and he knows a trick or two when it comes satisfying his big brother. And that can be more satisfying than a shag. God, how I adore him.

But I was developing another interest, one I discovered on the flat screen, yet had not found the opportunity to experience in 'real time'. I shared these vids, which held a real fascination for me, with Tony at his place and they really would turn us on. It was something I could never inflict on Simon, but I felt the time was coming, and it would not be too long, when Tony and I would be experimenting. He had been hinting for some time that he was willing to try it out and that his cousin Chas had shown no interest. Indeed, it was growing obvious that providing Chas could frequently dip his dipstick, that was all the sex he was interested in. So for Tony I was the sole one remaining and I must confess, the vids didn't leave me unmoved. It was clear that we were developing a common interest in bondage and domination.

At that point the screen of my mind went blank. Not that I fell asleep. Au contraire , my brain was at its sharpest that day. I was thinking back to the showers, the three of us, Peter Knight, Andy Craig and me. I temporarily dismissed the thought of any action with Andy. That was a foregone conclusion once we could arrange time and place. Was Knight being flippant, provocative, deliberately obnoxious or was there some substantial feeling behind his homophobic attitude? I must consult the boys and if there is, he might need a slap.

On Friday when I got home there was a jiffy bag waiting for me. It had come through the post and Mrs Fanway had left it on the kitchen table with some letters for our parents. I undid it carefully. It contained some bits and pieces I had ordered on the internet. After my fifteenth birthday Mum and Dad signed the forms for me to have a debit card for my bank account. There was a strict limit on it, but Dad said that would teach me to budget and if I went over the limit, it would automatically be taken out of my allowance before it even reached my account. I took out the contents: two pairs of rainbow wristbands and two strips of black leather with velcro on. I immediately put the strips of leather round my wrist.

I heard the front door open and in burst Simon. When will that boy slow down? "Hi, bro. Hey, I'm spitting tacks for a mug of tea."

"What a good job I've just put the kettle on. Sit down a minute. I've got something for you." I handed him the card with one of the pairs of rainbow wristbands on it.

"Hey, Nicky, where did you get these from? I've been looking in the shops everywhere for some."

"Off the internet, but I've got something else for you." I showed him my wrists with the leather straps round each of them.

"They're not? They look like bracelets, you're wearing them round your wrists just as you would bracelets. Therefore there must be a very great probability that they are bracelets."

"Not so, Master Smartarse." At that I dropped my trousers and undies, tore one strap off my wrist and fixed it tightly round my cock and balls. My cock immediately began to swell and my scrotum couldn't tighten up against my body. My balls were just dangling there. "It's a cock ring." I pulled the other one off my wrist and was just about to hand it to Simon when he said

"You sure know how to appreciate the good things in life, Si." I took it off and handed it to Simon who immediately sniffed it. I took the other once and wrapped it tightly round my equipment before my balls tightened and my semi softened, pulled up my slip and trousers and showed Simon the bulge which was tenting my trousers. He came round the table and kissed me to say thank you.

"In that case, Nicholas Croker, I shall allow you to make mad passionate love and ravish my body when Mum and Dad at are church on Sunday."

"An offer I find very difficult to refuse." Meanwhile our tea had grown cold and Simon made a fresh pot.

The weekend passed as the weekend does and Simon more than fulfilled his promise. We were lucky because it was one of those Sundays when Mum and Dad were in charge of the coffee and biscuits which meant they had to leave home early to set up and they returned later after clearing up. That gave us an extra ninety minutes alone in the house and so our lovemaking could be particularly relaxed and unhurried. All I'll say is that I would willingly buy Simon a pair of sweatbands and a cock ring in future.

Of course there was more spin off. Dad always thought it inconsiderate to expect Mum after working hard in the church hall to come home and cook a Sunday roast and so naturally we would go out for lunch. Because of previous prowess he left it to Simon to make the booking, ("Yes, anywhere you like, Simon. You choose.") which he'd done on Saturday. It was hilarious listening to his imperious tone during the call. "Ah, the Dog & Duck. Good morning to you. With whom am I speaking?"

"What a lovely name. This is Mr Croker… No, Croker… C-R-O-K-E-R." I sniggered. "I'd like to book a table for four tomorrow."

"No, it's Croker with an R. One o'clock, please. And Mrs Choker… I mean Croker would like the table in the window with Ben as our waiter. Would you please advise Ben that we are coming?"

"And the address is 57 Morningwood Avenue." At that I could contain myself no longer, but broke out in a guffaw. Simon gave me a look. "Thank you, Tracey, and we look forward to seeing you as well." Then he put the phone down.

"No, I didn't. You're pulling my plonker like you always do, like when you tell me my dick's hanging out… oops! I shouldn't have said that," and we both fell about with a fit of the giggles.

"No, I'm not," he protested vehemently. Dad harrumphed and carried on into the study. "I've booked the table, by the way," Simon called after him. Dad came back and said

"Oh, I thought it might be quite nice if we went to the Dog & Duck for a change."

"No, it isn't. That was the receptionist's fault, not mine." Meanwhile Dad had disappeared back into the study, not wishing to get involved.

On Sunday morning I woke quite early. It must have been early because Mum and Dad hadn't gone to church and they're usually gone by nine when they're on coffee rota duty. I went downstairs and said good morning before they disappeared. I went back up to my room, took off my dressing gown and went for a shower. I reckoned we had three hours to ourselves. After I'd towelled off, I went into Simon's room still naked and woke him up. "C'mon, sex buddy, time you got showered. Then we can have breakfast and the rest of the morning's fun time." He looked at me and yawned.

Dressed in just dressing gowns we sat at the kitchen table over breakfast. Mum wouldn't have approved, but then she wasn't there. We chatted about what we were going to do. "So, Nick, it's your shout."

"I'm going to make it last a long time and I want to make sure that I give you more pleasure than you give me."

"No, I'm going to make love to you, Si. It might feel as if I'm shagging your butt, but the whole point of us being in love is that I try to give more than I take."

"That's exactly the right way to look at it. It's not a competition and if that's what we try to do, we'll both win."

We put our stuff into the dishwasher and went upstairs to clean our teeth. We went to my room. The bed is slightly larger and once Mum and Dad had driven off, I had put out all the stuff I thought we'd need: lube, tissues, towels. No condoms. Simon and I always did raw. We were clean and it was something special we kept for ourselves. The casual sex we had with our mates was always protected. These private moments together were times when we forgot all our quarrels and mickey-taking, our age difference, the fact we were brothers. We simply melded into one, there for each other, deeply in love, happy and content beyond words, and so it was until the alarm clock woke us at half past eleven. Both of us were shocked out of our post-coïtal slumber, both of us realised that we had less than half an hour to tidy up, clean ourselves up and get ready to go out to the Dog & Duck for lunch.

Just after twelve Mum and Dad arrived home. They changed out of their church clothes, Mum taking rather longer than Dad, and we set off in the car. "The rector was enquiring after you two," said Mum.

"I had until now." Dad harrumphed and Mum took the hint and changed the subject. Blessed are the peacemakers.

When we arrived at the Dog & Duck we marched in as a family and went to reception. I noticed the receptionist had a name badge with Tracey on it. This could be fun, I thought, but said nothing. "Mr and Mrs Choker?" she enquired.

"57 Morning ton Avenue," though I think he only considered it a clerical error with no double meaning. Tracey was looking down the bookings, saw the entry and blushed. Only I knew why and perhaps Simon would believe me now. I took Simon to one side and told him to look at the diary. He giggled. Tracey blushed even deeper.

"Would you take a seat in the bar and I'll let Ben know you're here. Would you like any drinks?"

Within a minute Ben was there to greet us. Simon ran up to him and gave him a big hug. I then saw he was wearing his new wristbands. So did Ben. The 'formality' over, he showed us to our seats, our regular table in the window with the view. We enjoyed our meal. It was all part of the routine that after pudding Simon went off, ostensibly to the loo, but in reality for his not so secret assignation with Ben. They took longer than usual and Simon seemed to have lost some of his bounce when he returned. He didn't say anything and I didn't ask. It had also become part of the routine that Simon paid the bill, with Dad's card naturally, which meant that he could spend a little longer with his mentor. He brought the machine across to the table for Dad to tap in the PIN. After saying goodbye we went for one of our family walks. "You know, we ought to get a dog," said Dad. "We'd go on more of these walks."

"Yes, dear," said my mother with little conviction in her voice. "Don't forget that the house is empty for eight hours a day during the week. It wouldn't be kind."

While we were walking, Simon told me his news which didn't leave me totally unaffected. Ben had been on a high. He told Simon how within a few weeks now he was to graduate from university and that he already had a job lined up, but his special news was that now that the law had changed, he and Adrian, Mr Timmis to Simon and me, were going to get married in the summer and that with a full time job, Ben would no longer have to work at weekends, and Mr Timmis would be moving to be Head of Physical Education at a much larger school. We were both devastated.

It took until teatime for Mum to wheedle out of us why we were so down. Dad had put it down to adolescent moodiness. I think they were both taken aback when we explained, and quite openly at that. "You see, Mum, Simon and me have each other and we have our best friends, our gay friends if you like, Tony and Nathan, and we have our normal school friends…"

"Not exactly," I countered, refusing to be forced into saying something I didn't want to. "I mean friends who are friends and we haven't the slightest idea whether they're straight or gay, and it doesn't matter anyway. What I want to say is that for me Mr Timmis is someone special, a role model I suppose you'd call it, someone who's gay and normal, and a good teacher."

"And Ben's the same for me," said Simon. "He's someone I can talk to about being gay and he gives me advice." Mum looked as if she was beginning to understand; Dad remained his normal inscrutable self. "And of course he's scrumptiously good-looking," Simon added defiantly in his own way of waving the rainbow flag.

Then Dad spoke, and when he spoke, especially from his seat at the head of the family table, everybody listened, even Mum. "' Boys, people come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime. When you know which one it is, you will know what to do for that person. ' That's all I remember for the moment. I'll look it out and I'll read it to you. It might help you understand how life works and why sad things happen." We carried on with our tea, but despite all Mum's efforts, the atmosphere was subdued to say the least.

After tea I went up to my room. I wanted to catch up with the latest copy of GY mag. I was lying on my bed reading it, yes, reading it. I don't just get it for the 'Spot the Ball' competition. I enjoyed the articles and furthermore the readers' letters. Despite the centrepiece, which was always accompanied by a good biographical article on its subject, it could in no way be described as a porn mag. There was a knock at the door, and although I was chubbed up, it was well within the confines of my 501s. I was not exactly popping the buttons. I said 'come in'. It was Dad. "I'm not disturbing anything, am I?" That was his way of being ultracool about 'I know what teenage boys get up to. I used to be one myself.' It wasn't as if I was having a wank. I was saving that for later. I kept my magazine in my hand.

"No, not at all, Dad. Just reading about the differences between gay civil partnerships and gay marriage. You know, after the news about Ben and Mr Timmis. At that point the calm was shattered by the arrival of Simon who came in and jumped onto my bed, landing next to me, putting his arm round my shoulders and pulling me in.

"I've found this piece I started to recite to you, boys. I only had to google the first line. It's by Anonymous." He read from the sheet of paper he had in his hand.

" When someone is in your life for a REASON, it is usually to meet a need you have expressed.

They have come to assist you through a difficulty, to provide you with guidance and support, to aid you physically, emotionally or spiritually.

Then, without any wrongdoing on your part, or at an inconvenient time, this person will say or do something to bring the relationship to an end. Sometimes they die. Sometimes they walk away. Sometimes they act up and force you to take a stand.

What we must realise is that our need has been met, our desire fulfilled, their work is done and now it is time to move on.

" Some people come into your life for a SEASON, because your turn has come to share, grow or learn.

" LIFETIME relationships teach you lifetime lessons, things you must build upon in order to have a solid emotional foundation.

Your job is to accept the lesson, love the person and put what you have learned to use in all other relationships and areas of your life.

Thank you for being a part of my life, whether you were a reason, a season or a lifetime. "

It left both of us in a contemplative mood, but I could feel the dampness of Simon's tears as they rolled down his cheeks and dripped onto me. "So you see, boys, life has to go on. Mr Timmis and Ben have given you pleasure, teaching, and without knowing it, you have given something to them." Simon was thinking of feeling each other's balls; I was thinking of showing off my naked body. At least that thought made Simon giggle through his tears and I must make sure that Mr Timmis sees as much of me as possible between now and the end of next term. I decided there and then that on the last day of next term I was going to give Mr Timmis a thank you card with that… I wanted to call it a poem, but it wasn't a poem… with that 'poem' inside. Dad handed it to me. "Here you are, Nick. Keep it safely till you need it. And Simon, we must try to go to the Dog & Duck as much as possible until Ben leaves."

School was normal as school gets. Tony asked me if I wanted to go back to his house, but it was when I arrived there that things started to become rather surreal. Going through the front door, it was the normal routine. I took my shoes off and left them in the porch. I took my tie off, stuffed it into my school blazer pocket and hung the jacket up, likewise in the porch. "So what are we going to do today, Tone?" I asked, expecting it to be a shag.

"Wait a mo and I'll explain." He took a carrier bag out of his wardrobe. "I was at Chas's on over the weekend. He'd had a birthday the previous week and he had an 'unwanted gift', which he passed on to me," said Tony, holding up the superior paper carrier bag. "I also made a little purchase on the internet. Also in the bag. It only cost me a fiver." He slid open the drawer in his bedside cabinet where he kept his 'stuff'. "Okay, Nick, are you ready?"

"Get your shirt off and I'll show you." He took a pair of black leather gloves out of the bag. He smelt the leather. "Almost as big a turn on as smelling your rosebud. Do you want to try them on?"

"Okay," I said innocently. He helped me to put them on. "Lovely soft leather." Then I realised that they weren't gloves at all. They were mittens. As he did up the buckles on the wrist straps, I noticed that they were not normal mittens. They didn't have thumbs.

"Comfortable, Nick? Just this clip to do up…" and he clipped the clip on the right mitten onto the D-ring on the left one "… and bingo. Done. They're special gloves to stop you playing with yourself. So much neater than boxing gloves I always think. Oh, I forgot to mention. You're now my slave."

I was all right till then, but the thought of being Tony's slave, rather than filling me full of panic, made me feel really horny and I began to harden up. What's more, Tony put his hand between my legs and checked. "You like that, don't you?" I had to admit it. "Now as long as you obey me, everything will be okay, but if you give me any jip…" He tweaked one of my nipples. He didn't finish his sentence. "If you're going to be a slave, you need a slave collar." I tugged the mittens apart, but the metal and leather were too tough for me and they held.

"No. We didn't get round to throwing it away when Rex was put to sleep." I tried to resist having it put round my neck, but it's hard when your assailant is standing behind you and resistance just means having your nipples tweaked. Tony took a small bulldog clip off his desk. "It's this next time, Nick. So be a good boy." I shuddered. He finished fixing the dog's collar round my neck and wound the chain lead round the bed frame. With my gloved hands I could unwind it, even though it was within easy reach.

"So what's your five pound purchase off the internet?" I tried to sound defiant, but it didn't work. I knew Tony was ninety percent in control and if I tried to kick him, I would fall over and I would still be incapacitated.

"As you've been a reasonably good boy and learnt your lessons, you're going to get a reward." Tony slowly unbuckled my trouser belt, undid the clasp on the waist, pulled the zip down excruciatingly slowly and let my trousers fall to the floor. "Step out of them, slave." He picked them up and threw them onto the bed. There was I standing there in just my white CK slip, the one with the red trim, my dick bulging, feeling bigger than it had ever felt before, straining against the white cotton now absolutely soaked in precum. I had no motivation left for resistance, nor to get the ordeal done and over with. I just wanted sex, sex with Tony, the stimulation of Tony's body.

Meanwhile he had shed his own clothes and was standing there in nothing but a jock, a sexy black jockstrap I hadn't seen before. He must have been wearing it all day at school. Why didn't I spot the straps across his cheeks through his trousers? He stood square in front of me, his hands behind his back, as if about to kiss me, but every time his face approached and I put my tongue out to meet his, he let me lick his lips once and then he withdrew out of range. I was going mad for more sex. I tried to do something to my crotch, but all I could do was rub the mittens over my package and Tony soon whipped my hands away and tweaked my nipples. He took another chain, I don't where from, and clipped it onto the D-rings on the mittens and undid the clip. My relative freedom was short lived for he then took a bar about eighteen inches long and clipped that onto the D-rings, taking the chain away. I was worse off for although I could touch my crotch with one hand I couldn't hold it there because of the weight and balance of the other. He told me to turn round and lean on the bed frame. I was still in some urgent needed of relief for my horniness. Tony kneaded my butt cheeks. Some relief, but too little. I begged him to do something for my cock, but my plea fell on deaf ears. He had his own programme. While kneading my buns, he contrived to remove my CKs and told me to step out of them. He picked them up, sniffed them and put them reverently on the bed by my trousers. I suddenly felt the coldness of an application of lube, K-Y if I wasn't mistaken. First one finger, then two. "Ouch! Cut your nails if you're going to do that, Tony." All that did was to hype up my sexual tension. Then he produced his prize internet purchase, a jelly butt plug in black. I liked it. I watched him roll a white rubber down its shaft, lube it up and he said "Feet apart, hold the frame and bend over. I don't want to hurt you." It went in like a dream. It felt good, but gave me only temporary relief to my needs. Four inches long I would estimate. He made me turn round and teased my lips with his tongue, but would not permit a proper kiss. Eventually he kissed and nibbled my nipples, knelt down and licked out my belly button and finally slurped his tongue over my balls, up my shaft and popped my dick into his mouth, but he had worked me up too well and it could only have been a minute before I shot my load in his mouth. I could feel him swallowing, but he had enough spunk left to administer, at last, a proper French kiss.

I experienced a slight feeling of relief, thinking this must really be the finale, but no. He dropped his jock, rolled a rubber over his cock, lubed it, turned me to face the bed frame again, removed the butt plug and quickly replaced it with his own cock. Tony too must have been highly worked up because the fuck couldn't have lasted five minutes before I felt his body judder. He didn't leave his cock in, but withdrew, whipped off the jonnie, dribbled the contents, still warm, along my arse crack and proceeded to felch me, ending with a deep throated kiss as he transferred his love juices into my mouth.

Tony suddenly became quite businesslike. He took the dog's collar off, unclipped the spacer bar, unbuckled the wrist straps of the mittens and pulled them off. "Did you like that, Nick?"

"Thanks, but I'll catch one at home. Talking about catching, I'll have to run if I want to catch the bus." It gave me a jolt as I put my cold, wet CKs back on. "Can you do me a favour, Tone? Can you text Simon to let my mother know I might be late. That'll be one less hassle."

"And I'll give you a call tonight when I've got my homework done, to talk about our er… project work." Tony grinned. I got dressed, went downstairs, retrieved my shoes and blazer just in time to wave to Mr and Mrs Maltby as I dashed down the road towards the bus stop just in time to see the bus close its doors and depart. 'Oh shit, now I will be in deep doo-doo when I get home,' I thought. To add to my annoyance a car kept beeping its horn at me as I stood in the middle of the road. It was doing my head in, but I was rooted to the spot. I covered my ears and as I did, I realised that the beeping of the car horn had morphed into the beeping of my alarm clock.

I was lying on my bed. I looked around. Yes, it was my room; that was my blazer tossed over the arm of my chair and my tie dangling from the pocket. I had my shirt on, soaked in sweat, my slip on, soaked in something that didn't smell, or taste, like sweat and my trousers were round my ankles. The door burst open and Simon burst in. I obviously hadn't slipped the catch. "Hey, bro, come on. Mum and Dad'll soon be home… Whoops! Fun time. I suppose I should have knocked. But why didn't you tell me, Nicky? I'm feeling as horny as hell."

"That I was going to be late for tea. I texted you." He whipped out his smartphone.

"You haven't texted me. Sure you pressed the right button?" Then Simon was suddenly silent. "C'mon, bro. You're pulling my plonker again."

"You got home about ten minutes after me. You didn't even say hi, but went straight up to your room. I thought you were in a moody or had fallen out with Tony, 'cos you normally hang out with him on a Monday."

It was all terribly confusing. Then my phone vibrated. I pulled my trousers up and took it out of my pocket. Text from Tony asking where I was. He couldn't find me anywhere after school. I texted back that something had happened and I'd ring later. "Something strange has happened. Bad dream. I don't know. One thing I do know. I must get these manky clothes off and get into the shower. Even I can't stand the smell. Don't say anything to Mum. She'll only worry. I'll be okay when I've sorted myself."

"Simon, you seriously do not want to hug me in the state I'm in. I'll give you two later."

We didn't hear Mum and Dad come home until Mum called up the stairs. "Hi, boys, we're home."

"Hi, be down in a minute," Simon called back. I panicked to pull my trousers up. Simon blocked the view from the landing. Suddenly Mum was there.

"Nothing, Mum," Simon answered truthfully, but I could tell from Mum's face that she didn't believe him. She had leapt to the wrong conclusion and there would be no shifting her. However, she dropped the subject, or rather changed the emphasis.

"You're smelling very small boyish tonight, Nick. You've just got time to change and have a quick shower." Tempted as I was to contradict and say 'big boyish' or 'you wouldn't expect me to smell girlish, would you?', I had the sense to keep quiet, smile sheepishly and quit while I was not losing.

Now I was on rather a tight timetable for the rest of the evening. Tea was late. Guess whose fault that was, and so I was late beginning my chores. I had lost the homework time from before tea and it was past nine when I finished. Just as I was finishing off, Simon tapped on my bedroom door and waited until I said 'come in' before entering… Sorry, I got that bit wrong. Second bit of fantasy today. Just as I was finishing off, my bedroom door suddenly burst open and in rushed Simon and from behind put his arms round me while I was still sitting at my desk and licked my ear. "Geroff, bender!" I shouted. I got up out of chair. Simon was dressed ready for bed, pyjama bottoms, no top and dick sticking out and waving free in the wind. I could swear it was noticeably bigger than when I last saw it. "Your dick's sticking out, Si."

"It'll have to be a quickie. I've still got to ring Tony about our PHSE project. Have you said good night to Mum and Dad?"

"So they shouldn't disturb us until Silent Witness is finished." I locked the door and went over and gave his dick a couple of tugs. "Give me a kiss to get me in the mood." Instant erection for both of us, but I kept mine inside my sweats.

In less than five minutes I had brought Simon off. I handed him the box of tissues. "Clean yourself up, then off to bed or I won't tell you about our project work till tomorrow. And don't forget to pack your kit for gym club." I gave him a kiss on the lips, let him out of my room and locked the door again. How I kept my dick in my tracksuit bottoms I do not know, but my slip was wet again, the second clean pair of undies in one day. I'm going to have to put them in the washing machine with my sports kit. I don't want Mum asking embarrassing questions or taking me to the doctor's because she thinks my clack valve is not working properly. If things go on like this, I'll have to get one of those cock cages I've seen on the net, but would it be for me or for Simon?

«No, not at all. I'm just puzzled about what happened. I knew it had to be serious. It's so unlike you. Usually you've got everything planned to the last detail. I thought something must be as you hadn't phoned before.»

"No, too much homework and then I had to help Simon out with a little problem. Well, not so little, as I discovered."

«I bet you're talking about his prick, Nick. Hmm, pricknick, I like that. The Teddy Bears' Pricknick . We know a song about that.»

"Okay, Tone, climb down off your high, and I cannot tell a lie. You're partially right, but only to a small extent."

«It must be nice to have a brother and sex on tap. I've just got a much older sister, although admittedly she does like boys as much as I do. Wouldn't mind getting off with her boyfriend.»

I finally got down to telling Tony what had happened, though I couldn't explain why. At the end of my tale he said

«I'm off to bed now. I feel in need of a really good wank as we couldn't do our project.»

"Oh, I'm going to have one and I'm going to fantasise about shooting lots of thick, sticky strings of spunk all over your face, up your nose, in your ears and all over your hair. I feel a twelve-spasmer coming on."

"I owe it you for standing you up. See ya at school tomorrow. I'll be the one limping from having a dildo shoved up my bum."

«Butt plug. It wasn't a dildo. You said it was a butt plug, a three and a half incher.»

Then something else occurred to me that was strange in the dream. I had been topped by Tony.

If Monday had been surreal, Tuesday was scarcely a return to normality. From ten o'clock lessons were cancelled because Years 8, 9 and 10 were to undergo medical checks. The nit nurse, we thought. Well, that's what the checks were called officially and although they did check our hair for nits and sounded our chests, the examination of our groins was rather more than a 'cough and drop', and since when did it include measurement and photographs of our genitals, flaccid and erect, front and profile? At least it wasn't done in front of our mates. They would never have taken a flaccid shot of me, if it had been. Admittedly there was something different, and I rather liked it, about having your tackle handled by those white medical gloves with the rough surfaces for extra grip, a cool hand rather than a hot one. Reminder to self: pop into Boots on the way to the office this evening. We had to fill in a questionnaire, usual health matters, smoking, alcohol, diet, exercise and rather an inordinately large section on 'sexual health'. It was explained beforehand that although we didn't write our names on the questionnaire, there was an alphanumeric and a bar code in case they needed to get back to us on some health matter and that we should tell the truth, otherwise there was no point in filling them out. No one was going to tell tales. I was proud to tell the truth and, when I questioned him later, Simon had been too.

Normality had been restored by the end of the morning and Tony and I went into lunch to be joined by Simon and Nathan. Ronan Webster sat with us because he'd heard about the goings-on, but being in Year 7, he wasn't included. Not enough boys in puberty to make it worthwhile and his time would come. "They kept on at me about chlamydia," said Tony.

"I got quizzed about why I had no pubic hair and I told them all my reasons," I added.

"They wanted to know if I did stuff with my brother," said Nathan "when the computer matched us."

"Eugh! Do you mind, Nick?" I was relieved because I hated the thought of my brother's best friend being polluted by that slob. "You can't see his dick under all those rolls of flab, even when it's hard." A slight exaggeration for I frequently saw his dick in its normal state after gym and games, and to be fair Christian Tranter was overweight, but not fat, and, ironically or perhaps genetically so, his equipment was the same size and shape as his brother's. I wondered just what he had done to upset his baby brother who was not normally so vituperative.

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Just One of Those Days, but It Got Better

by N Fourbois

Part 4