My First Job
by Ivor Slipper
I guess I often asked myself in later years how it came to happen. As is so often the case, such questions are virtually impossible to answer, as one can attribute the cause to any number of things. Undoubtedly, though, it wouldn't have happened had I not been given a bicycle for my 14th birthday. Even then – was the cause my birthday or the actual present? Who knows and does it really matter? What did matter and came about as a consequence is, I reckon, worth relating.
You see, if I hadn't had the bike, then I couldn't have applied for a job as a paper boy, and if I hadn't had that job, then I'd almost certainly never have met Pete. Mind you, I had quite a hard job persuading my parents to even let me apply for the job. They told me I was no good at getting up in the morning – very true; that I had too much studying to do at school – possibly true, as I was at a Grammar school and struggling a bit in some subjects; that the lack of sleep would affect me and anything else they could think of, including the fact that although it was summer now, would I want to get up in the dark winter mornings when it was cold and wet. Jeez, I was fourteen! I lived for the now – this was summer and I could use the money the job offered. I didn't get a lot of pocket money compared to many of the boys at school, a lot of whom were there privately, as opposed to me, who was on a scholarship; so the thought of having to be a bit less cautious about buying things had considerable appeal.
In the end they agreed that I could do it, and so I went and saw Mr. Hicks at the newsagents and tobacconists in the High Street. He actually told me that he didn't need any more paperboys right then, and perhaps he saw the disappointment in my face when he said those words, because then he told me that he would take me on but only as a 'spare'. I'd be required to turn up every morning in case of any of his regulars failed to show, as all were required to report at 7am. If everybody showed, then I could go home; but if anyone failed to show, then I'd do their round. For this he'd pay me what he called a 'retainer', which was something but not a lot. I'm sure I didn't look that enthused at this idea either since it seemed I'd still be getting up extra early but not getting much for doing so. Alright, I wouldn't be doing the full job, but getting up at that time was, I felt, worth more than he was offering. Then he told me he had one other thought – one of his boys was doing a very long round which he was struggling to complete and still get to school on time. He'd see if he'd be prepared to split his round with me, and I'd have to come back the next morning to find out.
I agreed, and at 7am the next morning, I met Pete for the first time. He was everything I wasn't. Long blond hair, blue eyes that sort of sparkled when he smiled – and that smile spelt some sort of devilment lurking I reckoned. He was about 5 foot 6 inches tall, and I reckon must have weighed somewhere round the 9.5 stone mark, so he was well built. What stood out though was the tight white t-shirt he was wearing, along with the powder blue narrow leg denims. Very few kids looked right in such gear – Pete was one of the few for sure. Did I have the 'hots' for him at that point? No, I don't honestly think I did, because at that stage, I'm pretty sure I had no strong sexual feelings. I'd gone through puberty and I wanked on a daily basis, but it was sort of something that just needed to be done as opposed to being done for a reason – if that makes any sense. There certainly weren't any stirrings when I saw him that first time.
He looked me up and down as Mr. Hicks introduced us. I expressed my thanks for him agreeing to split his round. He said virtually nothing in reply, but gathered up his papers and off we went. After we'd got to what was obviously the start of his round, I asked him,
"Aren't you going to give me my portion now?"
"Nah – I ain't gonna give you any."
"Why not? That was what Mr. Hicks told me was going to happen."
"If you think I'm fuckin' giving you part of my round just like that, you've got another think coming. You can come round wiv me for a few days while I see if you're any good. If I think you are, then I'll give you part. See – I don't think you'll last more than a few days, and I don't want you fuckin' up my round for me."
It wasn't the best of starts, although when I thought about it later, I could see his point. So I went with him all the way round and did the same for the rest of the week. When we got back to the shop on the Sunday, we got paid for the week. Mr. Hicks gave me mine, which I saw was just the retainer, saying that as he wasn't sure how much of Pete's round I'd done, he was going to leave it to us to work out the split. I felt sure I was going to get nothing or very little and was thus amazed when we got outside the shop and Pete held out his hand and said,
"I get ten shillings a week for my round. How much you reckon is yours?"
(I should perhaps explain that this happened back in the early 1960s, so money then had a very different value to what it does now.)
I was a bit stunned and answered,
"It's your round, you keep the money. When you give me part of it to do, then I'll feel I've earned it."
He smiled. "Perhaps you're not such a stuck up git as I first thought."
And that was how the ice between us was broken. It was extremely unlikely that we would have met in any other circumstances, even though we lived only a few hundred yards apart. My home was a late 1930s built house, which my parents were buying, situated in a little area of three such streets. His house was an old Victorian building, which his parents were renting, situated in very much a working class neighbourhood. Due to where we lived, we hadn't attended the same primary school, and like I said, from mine I'd got a scholarship to one of the grammar schools in the nearby town. He, though, was going to the local secondary modern. Pete was sporty – or at least football mad, whereas my school played rugby, and I wasn't very good at it or any other sports. In fact, I wasn't really much good at anything except perhaps passing exams, as I'd managed to pass the 11+ with flying colours. Thereafter, though, I struggled academically, always ending up in the middle of the middle, and I wasn't coordinated enough to do well at any sports. Add to that the fact that I was, in my view, not a good looking specimen, being just below average height, probably a bit on the skinny side, with dark hair, greeny-blue eyes and a roundish face, I really didn't have a lot going for me. Plus which, I was very much on the shy side and had only a few friends. Indeed, because of being a scholarship boy at this school, most of my classmates came from the richer parts of town, so it was in some ways inevitable that I spent a lot of time on my own.
Strangely, Pete and I hit it off, although I had no real idea why, but within a week he'd agreed to split his round with me. Now this was also back in the days when there were evening papers, and he also had an evening round. There weren't as many of those as for the morning, so it covered a wider area. Within a couple more weeks, I found myself coming home from school, changing and then going out on my bike to 'help' Pete with this round. I made it clear to him I didn't want any of his money for doing it. I just wanted to go along for the ride. I guess it was some sort of hero worship on my part, but he seemed to accept me, although our 'friendship' was limited to just seeing him five or six afternoons a week for an hour or so. Perhaps he was like a drug to me – I really didn't try to work out what it was, but as long as he'd accept me, I'd be his little puppy and follow him.
Obviously we talked a bit, and I knew he came from a fairly rough or tough background, as his father worked on the buildings, whereas both my dad and mum worked in offices. I'd heard his school was pretty tough, and one day I asked him if he'd ever been caned. His response was to burst out laughing before telling me that of course he had, as everyone got the fuckin' cane. Inevitably I asked him if it hurt, to which he replied that as long as you were wearing jeans, it didn't hurt that much. He said when he'd first started at the school, his mum had sent him to school in a pair of khaki shorts; but when after a couple of days he'd got the cane for the first time, it had hurt like hell so he'd managed to persuade her to let him wear jeans thereafter. Unlike my school, which had a full dress code, with his you could wear anything you liked, so of course nearly all the boys turned up wearing jeans – for obvious reasons I now realised! He asked me if I'd been caned and I had to say that I hadn't, but I did point out that caning at our school was quite rare, whereas at his, it almost seemed to be a daily event. When I pressed him as to how many times he had been caned, he told me he didn't bother to keep count, but did admit to having had it three times that term. He also made it clear that his tally was by no means high, as he said that some kids got caned at least once every week. Because all this was new to me, I kept managing to bring our conversations back to the subject.
As he told me more, I realised how lucky I was that I was just that much more intelligent and had managed to pass my eleven plus exam and get into a grammar school. I suspected that I wouldn't have survived at a school like his. From what Pete said, and I didn't think he was exaggerating, virtually every boy in the school could reckon to be caned at least once a term, and most got it more often than that. Plus which, caning wasn't the only thing that happened. For canings you had to be sent to the Headmaster, but a lot of teachers preferred to deal with things themselves using a slipper. Pete reckoned he got slippered at least once every week, sometimes more, as on a few occasions teachers had been known to slipper a whole class if they felt they had reason to. The woodwork teacher had an eighteen-inch ruler that he would use on your hands, and Pete said that you definitely didn't want to get that! For Pete, though, the slipperings and canings were just part of school life, in the same way as doing lines and detentions were at ours. I knew though which I preferred!
One afternoon when I joined Pete on his round, I was surprised to see him wearing black football shorts as opposed to his usual pale blue narrow legged denims. I didn't, though, take any real notice, as I assumed he must be going off to play 'footie' as he called it with some of his mates at the rec. after he had finished the round. Near the end of our round, we had to deliver a few papers to a block of flats, so of course our bikes were left outside while we did those. As we exited the block, I was walking a bit behind Pete when he stopped and bent over to tie up the lace of one of his plimsolls. I really didn't know what made me do it, but seeing his arse in perfect position, I just couldn't resist, and coming up close behind him, I whacked my hand down on it – hard.
I'd been expecting a reaction, but I wasn't prepared for what happened. Pete swore, jumped up, and then turned round to face me with his fists raised and an angry expression on his face.
"What the fuck did you do that for?" he spat.
I took a step backwards, bewildered by his reaction. This was a different Pete to the one I knew.
"Sorry, Pete. I was only messing around and just couldn't resist the offer."
To my surprise, he calmed down as quickly as he had flared up.
"S'pose you weren't to know. Not a good day to do something like that, tho', cos I got the cane this afternoon."
Cue further surprise on my part. Looking back I guess I might have realised something was wrong, as Pete had spent virtually all the time on his bike standing on the pedals rather than sitting in the saddle. However, when going only short distances, it wasn't that unusual to ride your bike like that so I hadn't really noticed. Now, it made sense – or did it?
"But you said the cane didn't hurt that much if you got it over jeans?"
"Yeah, well this was a 'special' and that's different."
Suddenly I needed to know what was different about this caning. For the first time in my life I noticed a reaction, and my prick started to harden. It was that word 'special' that had done it. I thought quickly.
"I bought a bottle of pop and some ice cream on the way home from school. Want to come back to my place and have some? Might cheer you up a bit."
I'd never asked Pete to come to my home before. We just did the round together five afternoons a week and then went our separate ways. I suppose it was a very strange relationship, but that was how it was.
A bit to my surprise Pete agreed and a few minutes later found us in my kitchen, drinking lemonade and eating ice cream – standing up. When we'd finished, I could delay no longer asking the question.
"So what was so special about your 'special'?"
Pete laughed before saying,
"Reckoned that was why the invite. S'pose you don't only want to hear but see the evidence"
Until he said 'see' I hadn't even thought about seeing, but once he did I was sort of speechless yet mumbled something that must have sounded like 'yes' while at the same time I felt my prick start to climb.
"Oh yeah. I can see you wanna see," said Pete with a big smile and looking down at my crotch. "What time do your parents get home?"
"Not for another hour or so."
"Better go up to your bedroom then, eh?"
That was said in a tone and with a smile. I hardly ever had friends come to my house, and none had ever been in my bedroom. But it seemed like a stone had started to roll downhill as I led the way up the stairs.
We lived in a three bedroom house, but as I was the only child, I had the second bedroom, which had a double bed. I knew Pete had two brothers and a sister and I suspected he didn't have the same sort of surrounds.
We went into my bedroom, and I initially sat on the edge of my bed while Pete flopped face down on it – which was hardly surprising in the circumstances.
"So, what happened?"
"Guess you want the full story?"
I nodded, and Pete rolled onto his side facing me.
"Dead simple really. I got caught smoking a fag at lunchtime in the bogs. If it'd been a teacher what caught me, I might've got away with him slippering me or being sent to the Head for a normal caning, but it was just my luck that the Head'd decided to do one of his tours, looking for victims. So I was told to report to him after school for a 'special'."
"So, what's different about a 'special'?"
"Jeez! You've got no bloody patience, have you? I'm getting to it. For a start, for a special you get six strokes – and this is the important bit – you have to change into either your PT kit or your football kit for it. Then you have to go and wait outside his study. If you're lucky, you're the only one there, 'cos then you ain't gonna be stood outside listening while some other kid gets it."
I'd let out a low whistle when he'd mentioned changing into shorts. As far as I knew, canings at our school were both rare and done over your normal school clothes. I'd never thought about anyone getting caned while wearing a pair of thin shorts.
"Yeah, shorts only and when he's got you bent over and touching your toes, first he pulls your vest or shirt out of your shorts and then he runs his hand over your arse to make sure, so he says, that you ain't wearing any pants underneath."
Pete was watching me as he said that. My prick reacted and I knew he knew that it had.
"Right, Grammar School Boy. Hey, I like that name! You've never seemed like an Andy to me, and I ain't calling you Andrew – that's poofy – but GSB will do nicely for you. So, GSB, you're overdressed. Get those jeans off! Time to see what you've got under there."
My face must have shown my surprise before I could even say anything. If, though, I wanted to hear more, which I definitely did, it seemed I had little choice. I stood up and quickly removed my plimsolls and jeans to show a pair of white briefs beneath my navy blue cotton sports shirt. The briefs were quite tight anyway, and my swollen prick was well outlined.
"Not bad, but I'll have a better look in a minute," said Pete.
Now I was beginning to get a bit worried. What had I got myself into? I'd never been in close company with a solitary boy before. I'd taken quick glances at some of my classmates in the changing rooms, but this was totally different.
"So, once he's got you bent over and stops giving your arse a good rub over, then you know it's about to happen. There's a couple of little taps and then 'Crack!' and this bloody line of fire explodes across your arse. You feel like shouting and screaming, but you know you can't, 'cos that's only the first one and you've got another five to come. Then there's a pause, while you wait before it cracks down on you again. If you're lucky, he's aiming well so he don't hit you in the same place twice, but the odds are, with six, he's going to do that and that is when you do yell. You try hard not to blub, 'cos if you do, he knows he's got to you, but I reckon everyone does before they've had all six. And that's it. Now I guess you wanna see?"
Pete rolled over onto his front again and pushed his shorts down to his thighs. His t-shirt was quite short and I could see those stripes as the shorts were lowered. They were red and angry looking, in places turning purple and crossed in a few places.
"Do you wanna touch, GSB?"
I nodded. "Can I? I'll be gentle. I'm not surprised it hurts, Pete."
"You can, but there's a price to pay."
"Nah, not money, GSB, but at our school anyone who you let see your stripes has to toss you off."
He'd rolled onto his side and looked at me as he said that. I stuttered
"But... I've never..."
"First time for everything, GSB," he said, while reaching out and placing his hand on my own prick, which was now straining to get free of my briefs. Indeed there was! I had never touched another boy before except when tackling or in a scrum on the rugby field but now not only was I going to see all of Pete and touch his arse I was going to toss him off!
I crawled across the bed. Pete lowered his shorts still further so they were now around his ankles, and then pulled down my briefs so that a little kicking of my legs removed them. My released prick was standing rigidly at its full length of about four and a half inches. I was within touching distance so I extended my hand and gently laid my fingers on one of the angriest looking stripes. He quivered and I quickly took my fingers away but as he said nothing I put them back and then gently ran my fingers along its length. As I did so, I swear my prick grew another inch! He seemed happy at what I was doing so I let my fingers move gently along not only some of the other ridges but the unmarked skin in between. Then he rolled onto his side to face me and for the first time I saw his prick. I'd been worried that mine would be puny in comparison to his, but I was pleasantly surprised to find that both of our circumcised pricks were about the same size.
"That's not a bad package you've got there, GSB," he said, stretching out one hand to grasp and then squeeze my balls. "I think I might give you a little treat in a minute if you do a decent job. Now get some saliva on your fingers, and you'd better have your pants handy for when I come."
With that, he rolled onto his back and his knob stood vertically. I did as instructed, which again was something new to me, as until then, I'd only wanked either dry or with soap and water. However, I seemed to be doing it to Pete's satisfaction, as he soon started to moan before a fountain shot from his prick to land over his stomach and chest.
"Pretty good, GSB," said Pete, taking my briefs and wiping the spunk from his body. "Now, it's your turn. Lay back and close your eyes."
I did as I was told and could hear Pete shuffling around. Then I felt something wet on the head of my prick but it didn't feel like my fingers did when I wanked off. I opened my eyes and could see that Pete had his lips around the head of my prick. Slowly, ever so slowly, he drew it into his mouth, while I felt pleasurable sensations I had never dreamt possible. In next to no time, it seemed I came to a shuddering climax.
I had been introduced to a new world. I lay there exhausted but exhilarated for what seemed like ages but almost certainly was just a few seconds. I think my eyes may have been closed, as when I looked down, I could see Pete grinning at me, but there was no sign of the spunk I was sure I had shot. Slowly it dawned on me that he must have swallowed it.
Wow! That was something else I had never considered. My 'innocence' had been well and truly shot to pieces this afternoon.
"Enjoy that?" asked Pete, to which I managed a nod and a smile. "Bet you'd like it again," he continued, while giving my prick a flick with his finger. It tried to come back to life but not very successfully. I nodded and smiled once more.
Pete rolled onto his back, grimacing as he did so, and clasped his hands together behind his head at the same time letting out a sound of pleasurable satisfaction.
"You don't know just how fuckin' lucky you are – do you GSB?
I didn't know what to say in response so said nothing, hoping he'd continue which, after a pause he did.
"You've got a nice house to live in but best of all you've got a great big bedroom and a double bed all to yourself. I've gotta share a bedroom that's smaller than this wiv me little brother, Johnny and we've only got narrow bunkbeds that ain't anywhere near a comfortable as this."
"How old is your brother?" I asked.
"That's another problem. He's only ten so he don't know anything about sex yet so I can't even toss meself off unless I'm sure he's asleep. And then me Mum's at home all day so I can't even do it properly during the day. But you, you've got the house to yourself."
I sensed Pete might be trying to tell me something without saying it out loud, but I was worried that if I was misreading him I could say the wrong thing and that would be the end of everything. I'd sort of liked him from the start and I'd definitely liked what we'd just done! I very much wanted to do it again.
"Guess I am lucky when you put it like that. You could come round here again – if you wanted – but I expect you've got other things to do like play footie."
"I do usually go down the rec and play most days after the round, but I don't have to. If something else comes up……"
As he said that he looked pointedly down at my groin where my prick was definitely lengthening again. I looked over at him and his prick was also hardening. I shifted my position so I could place my hand on it and it stiffened some more. I wondered about taking it in my mouth and Pete must have sensed what I was thinking.
"Perhaps we should save that for tomorrow?" he said.
I looked at him; he was smiling and his blue eyes were sparkling. I was hooked. I wanted to be with him. I'd do anything to make him happy and to see him like that.
"I'm up for it." I replied, stroking his prick more firmly and feeing my own getting firmer as I did.
He laughed. "GSB, you're on. Let's get that round done in record time tomorrow."
That night I lay in bed and wanked twice while thinking of Pete and what we had done that afternoon. For the second one I used one hand to wank while sucking the index finger of the other. I knew it wasn't going to be the same as sucking a prick, but I reckoned at least it would give me some idea of what to expect and how it might feel.
The next afternoon we flew round on our bikes and the paper were delivered in record time. When we got back to my house we had a quick glass of orange squash and then went up to my bedroom.
"Might be an idea to put a towel on the bed GSB. Don't want your Mum finding marks on the covers that you have to try and explain."
I went and got a couple of bath towels from the airing cupboard and spread them out on the bed. Then we both stood looking at each other wondering how to start – at least I was so I guessed Pete was the same. Today he was back to wearing a white t-shirt and his narrow leg powder blue denims. He reached over his shoulders and pulled the t-shirt over his head, shaking his long blond hair back into place afterwards. I was wearing a dark blue toweling short sleeve sports shirt which I proceeded to pull up from the waist and over my head. We were both wearing plimsolls which in turn we proceeded to unlace and remove along with our socks.
Pete moved towards me and I was amazed when he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me tight against him. Our denim clad crotches came together and proceeded to rub against each other in a little dance of erotic delight. I felt his hands move slowly down my back until the came to the waistband of my jeans; unlike Pete's mine were not that tight fitting so he was able to slip his fingers under the waistband and then under the briefs I was wearing underneath. I moaned as I felt his fingers roam across my arse, kneading and pinching lightly as he explored. Slowly he pulled his hands out and now they moved to the front, unbuckled my belt, undid the top button and then pushed down the zip. I was experiencing totally new feelings, ones I had never contemplated but ones that I was greatly enjoying. His right hand went inside my fly and rubbed over my prick which by now was fully erect and leaking a little precum.
My own hands had by now dropped to the waistband of his jeans but they were too tight for me to explore inside, so instead with his co-operation I managed to unbutton and unzip his jeans. I almost freaked out when on inserting my hand into his fly I came into immediate contact with his prick and pubic hair - I'd never known anyone not wear underwear!
In unison we started to push down each other's jeans. Mine of course dropped quite easily, rapidly followed by my briefs, but Pete's took some jiggling and wiggling before they reached his ankles. We briefly disengaged in order to remove those items before returning to run our hands across each other's rears. I could still feel the ridges from his caning yesterday, but he didn't appear concerned when I touched them; indeed his prick jerked with apparent pleasure when I did.
"Think we should make use of them towels" said Pete and we separated long enough to clamber onto the bed and lie alongside each other.
He positioned me on my back and then knelt above me, his long blond hair hanging down around his face but not concealing the smile and sparkling blue eyes.
"Same as yesterday?" he asked.
"Yeah, don't worry, you'll get your turn in a coupla minutes."
His head came down and first his lips and then his tongue began to caress the tip, the slit, the sides and eventually the whole of my prick while one of his hands played with my balls and the other stroked over my chest and side. It wasn't long before I could feel the tension rise in my balls and my body prepare to spasm – and then it came burst after burst after burst. Yesterday had been good, but today was magnificent and eventually I fell back on the bed spent.
"Enjoyed that did you?"
I opened my eyes to see Pete looking at me. There was a small dribble of my cum running down his chin. Some instinct made me wipe it off with my finger and then place my finger in my mouth to suck it off. In all the many times I'd wanked I had never before thought of tasting my cum but now I wanted to and it was good.
"Do you want some more to go with that?"
"Please." I said as I sat up partway, resting my back on the pillows. Pete moved further up the bed still straddling me and offered his prick to my mouth. Of course I'd never done this before, but I'd watched him do it twice. Like me he was circumcised and his prick was standing tall with a round pink head from the slit of which a little precum could be seen. I licked that off first and found it tasted different to my own, but every bit as nice, and then tried for the next few minutes to give him as much pleasure as he had given me. His balls were hard and he groaned when I squeezed them. I was bothered as to how much spunk he had and whether I could cope with it when he came. Might I choke? Might I bite his prick? I took him longer to come than it had me, but I could feel the tension building in him.
"I'm going to cum GSB" I heard him say as he went to pull his prick out of my mouth but I placed my hand on it and kept it inside and suddenly it was jerking in my mouth and this stream of warm salty cum was flooding it. I did think I was going to choke then and allowed him to pull back where he continued to jerk and spasm over my chest as my hand milked him.
I looked up at him and he was smiling – as I'd hoped he would be. His right hand reached out to my chin and now it was his turn to scoop some of his own cum and eat it himself.
"You were pretty good GSB."
"I had a good teacher, but who taught you?"
"There's a girl down the street who'll give anyone a knee tremble in the rec for a tanner."
"Oh." I said and I'm sure the disappointment sounded in my voice as I'd assumed it was another boy.
There was a long silence before Pete spoke.
"Listen GSB. Where I live you have to be tough to survive. Even if you aren't tough you have to act that way. If any of your mates guessed you fancied boys rather than girls you'd have the shit beaten out of you. For the last coupla years I've know I don't fancy girls but I have to make out that I do. Then you come on the scene. You're different. You're not like anyone I've ever known. At first I thought you'd be all stuck up; didn't expect you to keep doing the round, but you did and then I stared to see something, I dunno, feel something like I'd not felt before. When you asked me back yesterday I jumped at the chance. I just thought maybe something might happen – and it did. Thing is I can let something happen with you 'cos you're in a different world to me so it'll only be between us with no chance of anyone else finding out.
Shit. I've never said so much at once, but does it make some sorta sense?"
I couldn't think of anything to say, but instead I put my hands behind his head and pushed it down so that his face met mine – and then I kissed him. His mouth opened and our tongues explored where our pricks had earlier been. We had started on a journey that was destined to take us to new places that would prove to be full of joy and delight.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. If the email address pastes with %40 in the middle, replace that with an @ sign.]