Just One of Those Days, but It Got Better

by N Fourbois

Part 1

For me Friday the 13th fell on a Wednesday that month. Nothing wrong with that except you don't get any warning. Okay, there I was in our Year 10 PE lesson minding my own business and getting on with the circuit our gym master puts us through as a warm up and to build up our fitness when suddenly there was a shout of "Oi, Croker, stop staring at my bollocks!" I was mortified. Mentally I got through circuit training by sending my head to the moon for ten minutes. My mind was a quarter of a million miles away.

"Oi, Croker, stop staring at my bollocks!" My brain had just made a hard landing and I realised it was Aaron Berstead, my gym partner that day and despite the Christian name he was not Jewish at all, as will have become clear before the end of the story, roaring at me and of course it happened at that moment when everything suddenly goes quiet. 'I'm not staring at them,' I wanted to retort, but the words stuck in my throat and as they did, my newly regained consciousness recognised that I really was. Not only that they were clearly bulging through his tight white PE shorts, separated by the seam, one juicy bollock on the right and one bollock of equal size and equally juicy on the left, while his dick disappeared northwards partially obscured under cover of his PE shirt.

Within milliseconds my brain was in gear and I realised that not only was I actually staring at them, but I had had been unconsciously staring at them for some seconds, if not minutes, as if the pressure on my jockstrap were not telling me that I was in fact enjoying staring at them. But that did not save my face among the interested crowd now ogling at us. Attack is the best form of defence. "I don't want to stare at your bollocks, Berstead. I want to feel them," my voice roared in overcompensation for not being able to speak a few seconds earlier. Couldn't I do better than that? And everybody heard that, at which moment the PE master's whistle blew for us to change to the next exercise.

Circuits over, we got on with half an hour of serious gymnastics, but I could not concentrate. Nor could I in maths, nor in French and history in the afternoon. It wasn't that I felt put down by Aaron's exposure of me. By the end of the PE lesson everyone else had forgotten about it and I rationalised that he should buy a new pair of shorts, convincing myself that he shouldn't have been so disgusting / provocative / naïve / hott (all according to my mood changes) in dressing like that in the first instance and it was really his fault that I'd been staring at them. No, it wasn't that I felt put down by the incident; it was the realisation that I had been staring at his balls, that I enjoyed staring at them, that I not only found them attractive for their own sake, but they were for me sexually attractive and had given me a stiffie. I really would like to feel them, but I'm getting ahead of myself.

During the rest of the lesson my contemplations made me understand that a game of bluff was afoot. I don't think that was Aaron's intention, although I must confess that I didn't know what his intention with that remark was. Was it genuine annoyance or homophobia, perhaps with the implication that if he didn't defend his honour, his classmates might think he was the one that was gay, if he permitted it to go on? Did he want to out me as gay to protect his own reputation or did he just want to put me down in front of our classmates? I never did find out and as time progressed it became unimportant. I just knew that my remark meant game on, though that had been far from my intention.

Our gym master always worked us hard and so it was not just a question of instilling good habits in us boys, but out of the necessity of personal hygiene that he insisted that every boy showered after his lessons. The gym was small and antiquated, on the list to be replaced when money and space became available, and a shower room built for fifteen had to handle thirty boys. So it was cramped and you got in quick or had to put up with at best tepid water. Letting the water trickle over me, I noticed someone pushing his way through the cramped body of bodies. It was Aaron Berstead. Trouble, I thought. I was right, but not in the way I was anticipating. "Okay, Croker, so you want to fondle my bollocks. Now's your chance." OMG, I thought, but the brain reacted at normal speed. In an instant it went through the options. If I don't, my bluff's been called and I've lost face. If I do, what then? The consequences were numerous. If I do, I'm out as a queer and all that means among my classmates, and at fourteen, soon to be fifteen, I hadn't given one serious thought to my sexuality. Why should I? But from that day forth it was uppermost in my mind, and not only because of Master Aaron Berstead, but I'm getting ahead of myself again.

If I didn't feel him, I'd lost the game and I was branded as gay just for looking at him. Lose-lose situation. If I did, I'd still be branded as gay, but I would have gained a little pleasure and if I did it well, he might enjoy it too. Lose-win-possible double win situation. I went for it.

I'd never touched another boy 'down there' before in my life. Something instinctual took over. "Okay, Berstead, you're on." There was pushing and shoving in the inadequate shower room as the others, (over)hearing the conversation, gave us space. I looked down at the goods I was supposed to handle. What I had seen outlined in his short, tight, white cotton PE shorts were true to form. His balls were hairless, his black public hair being the sort that was too short to curl, unless of course he shaved it and this was designer stubble, but I think not. I gently put my hand up between his legs, weighed his loose and not insignificant balls in my hand, only to witness the foreskin slowly roll back on his thick cock as it rose to its full glory. A cheer went up among the spectators to the accompaniment of the rhythmic clapping.

There was a sharp blast on the whistle. Mr Timmis's voice rose above the immediate silence. "Stop fooling around in there, boys, and get yourselves towelled off or I'll turn the hot water off."

"What hot water?" came the combined reply.

"What towel?" I wondered.

Now I'm prepared to confess I enjoyed the encounter and fortunately my dick decided to behave itself after its minor rebellion in my jockstrap throughout the lesson. In the shower it was a good size without stiffening up. The last thing I wanted was to have cold water poured over it. I considered that I was the one to emerge as eventual victor that day.

That apart and as I said before, the whole incident weighed on my mind for the rest of the school day. First of all there was the incident itself. Okay, I'll put my hand up to checking out my classmates. I'd been doing ever since my arrival at the school in Year 7 and lemming-like I thought it must be all right because everybody's doing it. And it was fun. And fine, I had been checking Aaron out that morning and obviously for a bit longer than I should have been, but no one ever considered it gay. It was just what boys did together and if it was gay, then the entire class, if not the entire school, was gay. The whole incident had given me a feeling, a thrill if you like, that made me feel really horny and when I wasn't thinking about it, I just wanted to check other boys out to see if it made me feel equally as randy, and it did, so much so that I was wishing that I'd put my jockstrap back on under my boxers after showering. Lunch went okay insofar as no one mentioned the incident, but I was still distracted and nursing a boner all the time, and to make things worse I could feel my dick leaking and my boxers were moist, to say the least. I couldn't wait to get home and sort myself out.

I didn't realise that the journey home from school could be such a pain. I travelled by service bus. The first one that came along picked up ten of us schoolboys and left, unable to take any more. The second one was late because it had to pick up the passengers the first one had left behind, but at least I got on it. I tore down the street, turned the key in the door and raced up to my room. My mum and dad were at work and so no worries there. I dumped my backpack on a chair, took off my blazer and flung it on top, took my shoes off without undoing the laces and dropped my trousers and boxers in one go, not even bothering to loosen my tie. I made sure the tissues were within reach. My dick was already hard. After all, it had had enough practice all day. I lay back on the bed, closed my eyes, put my right fist round my shaft, cupped my left hand under my balls and rubbed the base of my cock with my thumb and while slowly moving my foreskin back and forth over my acorn, I fantasised that I was feeling Aaron Berstead's balls, first through those sexy shorts of his, then naked and watching his cock rise from limp to stiff as it had done in the showers that morning.

I don't know how long it went on for. I was in a sensual heaven that consisted just of Aaron Berstead and me. In my rapture I grew aware of two things. My balls – or were they Aaron's? – were growing tighter – I was nearing the end – and my bedroom door was opening. Bugger! In my haste I had forgotten lock it. There stood my thirteen year old brother. He must have caught a later bus. It was too late. I lost control. So instead of catching it in a tissue I shot my spunk over my school tie and shirt. "Hi, Nick, what are you doing?"

"What does it bloody well look like, Si? I'm having a wank. Haven't you ever had a wank before? And haven't you learnt to knock before going into someone's room?"

"No and yes," he answered. I let out a long sigh as I simultaneously experienced the anticlimax of an interrupted orgasm and the embarrassment of being caught wanking myself off.

It's odd how quickly an emergency will get your brain back in gear. "So no, you've never had a wank before and yes, you do know you're supposed to knock first. So why didn't you?"

"It's just I heard this story about Aaron Berstead going round the school and I thought you'd like to hear it."

"Oh, no!"

"What? You don't want to hear it?"

"I think I've heard it, but tell me anyway."

Simon told me the story of Aaron challenging this other kid who was checking him out and in the showers he got him to feel him up. "Did they tell you who 'this other kid' was?"

"No. No one seemed to know." At least they were protecting Simon. Everyone must know who the other kid was. I tried to clean up my shirt and tie, and naturally I just had to shoot great thick wads of the stuff, when another time I would just produce a few watery dribbles. I'd have to put my clothes in the washing machine before Mum got home.

"And you're not bullshitting me, are you, Si? You've really never had a wank before?"

"No, never. Honest."

"Your voice has broken. You've got hair. You should have started by now. It looks to me as if it's an older brother's duty to teach you. Go and get changed, while I sort this sticky situation I got myself into. and if Mum asks, I spilt my lunch down it, okay?"

In a few minutes I was ready to go again, I was feeling so horny. We had an hour before Mum was due home. At this stage it was important that I simply showed Simon what to do. I didn't want to touch him in case he cried rape. I don't think he would, but you never know. We went into my room. "Right, Simon, this is a family secret and definitely one you don't tell Mum and Dad, okay?"

"Okay. Promise." I sat in the armchair, he on my office chair.

"Watch me." I rubbed my tackle through my sweats. "See how the bulge is getting larger?"

"Yeah, I can do that," and he rubbed his dick and balls.

"Now watch what I do." I took my top off to prevent a second accident, then slipped my sweats down and my dick popped out through the slit in my boxers. There wasn't much precum this time. As my cock got stiff, I dribbled on my courting finger and wiped the spit under my acorn and let my foreskin smear it over the sensitive bit and casually moved my fist up and down while supervising Simon. I soon came off and Simon peered with avid interest as the white juice, not so thick this time, dribbled out of the slit and poured down my shaft into my pubes. Now I could give Simon my full attention. He said it was giving him a nice feeling, but he couldn't describe it. I told him to keep going. It would become more intense, but it always takes a long time the first time you do it. Of course, he didn't know what to expect, but I could see the signs as his balls tightened and suddenly a spurt of the white stuff shot all over his chest and Simon described it as if having an electric shock. He tried to keep on rubbing, but his glans was too sensitive. Before he cleaned up, I told him to put some on his finger and taste it.

"That's a bit yeuky, isn't it?"

"Not really. You'll be surprised," and I scooped some of his, still warm, on my courting finger and savoured it on my tongue. "Mmm, yummy." Simon followed suit and agreed. We both went for a shower and got dressed before Mum and Dad arrived home. Once dressed, I said "Come here, bro." I put my arms round him in a tight embrace. "Simon, congratulations, now you're a man." I felt him deliberately press his dick against mine. It was not soft either and I enjoyed it.

"Nick, I'm sorry I burst in like that."

"I was at the time, but look what happened as a result." We heard a car come onto the drive.


I wasn't particularly looking forward to going to school the next day. If gossip about Aaron Berstead had spread to the years below, then it had probably also spread to the years above and although my name wasn't attached to Simon's version, I couldn't see how I could not have gained a reputation, and you never know, some kudos, round the whole school as well. Then I still had to co-exist with Aaron. I think we sorted that out yesterday, but I'll find out when we get to school. After all, I do like the kid and I certainly don't want any enemies, especially as I now have the big problem to sort out. Am I gay? I don't care if I am. It's not knowing. That's the problem.

Simon and I always went off to school together, but often made our ways home separately. Walking to the bus stop, he said "Hey, Nick, I did it again last night."

I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I said "Did what, Si?"

"Had another wank."

"Did it go all right?"

"Yeah. Not as good as the first one and my nob's a bit sore this morning. Feels like it's bruised. And I ate some." I put my arm round his shoulder and pulled him into me. I loved my baby brother. Not such a baby any more. I tucked my finger inside his shirt collar and pulled the label out so that it was sticking up. In our school that's the sign you've had your first wank.

"You just need a bit of practice, but not too much at a time. Every other day's enough until you no longer get that bruised feeling any more."

"How often do you do it, Nick?"

"Twice a day, maybe. Three times if I'm feeling particularly horny."

"What like yesterday?" he giggled.

"Four times yesterday, actually. The third time was when I was showing you how to do it."

"You must have been mega-randy."

"I was."

"What made you like that?"

"You."

"Do I always make you wank?"

"No, that was the first time."

"Who does then?"

"Mind your own business. I've got to have some secrets, even from my baby brother."

"Yesterday you said I was a man."

"Okay, even from my man brother. Grrr. Hey, we're nearing the bus stop, and other people. We'd better change the subject."

"What did Mum say about your shirt and tie?"

"Good and bad."

"Like what?"

"She said it was a good idea to get a cotton shirt with food stains on it into the machine on as high a temperature as possible and as soon as possible, but not a good idea to put a tie made from artificial fibres in with it. It came out all crinkly and misshapen. She wasn't best pleased about that. Luckily she still had my old one in the bag of jumble she'd put on one side for the British Heart Foundation and she said she'll buy a new one in her lunch hour. She said it was fortunate that it was white sauce and not brown gravy."

"Was that when you choked on your porridge?"

"Huh, you don't miss much. I thought you would notice that."

The bus stopped outside the school gates. We crossed the road and went our separate ways. Something made me look over my shoulder and pulling up behind me was Aaron Berstead. He got off his bike. "Hi, Nick." That sounded more conciliatory than 'Oi, Croker, stop staring at my balls.' I tried to answer in a neutral tone.

"Mornin', Aaron." We continued walking towards the bike sheds.

"Can I have a word?" 'Aye, aye, here we go,' I thought. He lowered his voice. "You know what happened yesterday?"

"Are you referring to anything in particular?" I replied, prevaricating, for I'd rather forget the previous day."

"In the PE lesson."

"During the actual lesson or in the showers afterwards?" With that question I wanted to introduce some precision into the enquiry in case I put my foot in it again. Aaron lowered his voice still further.

"In the showers when you, er… put your hand up between my legs and felt my bollocks."

"You mean when you invited me to put my hand up between your legs and fondle your balls?"

"Well, yeah. I didn't honestly expect you to do it."

"You were calling my bluff, in the same way you were calling my bluff in the lesson. So of course I did it." I softened a bit. "Got to admit I enjoyed it, though" I grinned.

"Well, yeah… that's what I wanted to talk to you about. You see, I enjoyed it too. Not that I'm gay, you understand."

"No, no, no, no… Neither am I."

"No, of course not," said Aaron. "I never thought for one minute you were. It's just that I wondered whether you'd like to do it again."

"What now? Here? Behind the bike sheds?"

"Well, you can if you want, but I was thinking more, uh… My parents go out shopping on Saturday mornings and so I have the house to myself. I wondered if… maybe… you'd like to come round and hang out and perhaps… perhaps do it properly."

"You mean wank you off?"

"Yeah," said Aaron "and maybe something a little more um… interesting." I didn't dare ask what that might be. My mind was in a whirr. I was beginning to chub up. It was such an exciting prospect. We made our way towards our form room. My brain and my dick exchanged places for a few moments.

"Okay, you're on," I replied impetuously. "I usually go swimming with my brother on Saturdays, but he's on a sleep over this weekend."

"We could go swimming afterwards, Nick."

"Only if you promise to wear your speedo and don't bawl me out in public for staring at your bollocks."

"How do you know I've got a pair of speedos?"

"School uniform requirement, dickhead," I retorted.

"Oh, yeah."

"Who's being a tease now? Not that you're gay."

"And neither are you?"

"Of course not."

"Are we on for Saturday?" asked Aaron.

"Yeah, okay."


Well, that was most of Thursday's lessons written off until I got a bollocking in maths from Mr Reid for not paying attention. Then I pulled myself together a bit. After the previous day's experience I was wearing my jockstrap under my boxers. I spent more of that morning erect than I did limp, but at least my dick was under control and it gave me a nice sexy bulge rather than a graphic presentation of my half rampant cock trying to burrow its way out of my trousers. How do I persuade Mum that I urgently need some new briefs to cover my embarrassment? Then in the afternoon I got the piss taken out of me in the changing room, not just because I was already wearing my jock under my boxers, but because I was displaying a sizeable damp patch on the pouch. I tried to keep out of Aaron's way. Not that it mattered for his dark blue rugby shorts were outsize baggies and gave absolutely nothing away… except I could see the straps of his jock stretching across his buttocks in the scrums, rucks and mauls. Not that I'm gay. I just wondered why I was finding them such a turn on. I'd never really noticed his butt before.

Three wanks later I had calmed down a bit by Friday morning and I now had to force myself into monk-like chastity for twenty-four hours before Saturday's encounter with Aaron.

On the way to school Simon said to me "Hey, Nick, Mum's put a big box of man-size tissues by my bed. What's that all about?"

"Think about it, Si, and if you still don't get it, take a look at your bed sheet and duvet cover and if you still don't get it, you can always ask her."

"Oh! I don't think that will be necessary."

"Do you find you're getting a lot of stiffies?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Funny you should say that. It's been happening for a couple of months or so now. Why?"

"It's your age, or our age even. It's just I was thinking it'd be easier if we both asked Mum to get us briefs instead of boxer shorts. From talking to other mums she thinks they're fashionable."

"But then other mums don't have to put up with the embarrassment we have to," said Simon.


With Simon off on his sleep over, that was one distraction I didn't have to contend with on Friday evening. I wanted to get all my homework out of the way so that I could embark on my date with Aaron with the decks clear. OMG! I just said it. Date with Aaron. Who said it was a date? It's just hanging out with him for a Saturday morning to complete a little unfinished business and then off to the leisure centre for a swim. That's not a date. After all, a date would be going to the cinema and having a burger together and holding hands and maybe a kiss. And boys don't do kissing anyway, well, not with each other.

Shocked at what I'd just thought, I got stuck into my homework and it worked. They were probably the best bits of work I'd done all week. I hadn't noticed that it was nine o'clock when my mother called up the stairs. "Nick, don't you think you've done enough for tonight?"

"I'm just finishing off."

"Don't be long. I'm just making a mug of Horlicks."

I went down to the living room and sat with Mum and Dad. The TV had been switched off and they had some classical music playing from the wireless in the background.

"Are you boys all right?" my mother asked. I impertinently looked round the room searching for the other boy.

"Okay, smart Alec. Your mother did mean to include Simon. We're worried about both of you."

"Worried?" I repeated. "Both of us?"

"Well," said my father, "you've been walking round most of the week like a zombie and Simon's been strutting around as if he's cock of the dungheap."

"Oh? I haven't noticed anything," I lied. The trouble is that blushing is a reflex action over which one has absolutely no control.

"If I didn't know better," said my mother "I'd say you were in love."

"You're not, are you?" added my father.

"No, why?" The blush persisted. Now how can I switch the attention on Simon?

"Now you come to mention it Simon has appeared rather cock y this week." Oh, hell. Why did I put that emphasis on 'cock'? I didn't mean to.

"We'll just put it down to his age," said my mother.

"And if you two do share any secrets, we don't expect you to divulge them," added my father with a knowing look, "not unless they're criminal or life-threatening." Then I thought of the box of tissues Simon had told me about. They know, don't they? We drank up our Horlicks before it got cold. Grilling over.

So what are you doing tomorrow as you can't go swimming with Simon?" asked my mother.

"I'm still going swimming, but with Aaron Berstead. He's a boy in my class."

"Have we met him?" she asked.

"You've probably seen him with the gang, but he's never been here. I'm going to his place for nine because he wants me to help him with something we were doing at school." At least that wasn't a lie. "Then we can still get to the pool before gets too crowded."

"Lunch for one then?"

"Oh, yes, Mum. I should be back by then easily."

"Which swimming costume do you want me to put out for you?"

"The light blue one, please, Mum," I answered.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mum. Why?"

"It seems to wearing a bit thin and you're growing out of it. Perhaps we ought to get you a new one."

"Talking about growing out of things, can I have some new underpants, please? Briefs, not boxer shorts. Boxers are so uncomfortable. And I think Simon wants some too. Briefs, not boxers."

"I think the best thing is if we go shopping tomorrow afternoon. Then you can choose what you want and we'll sort Simon out next week."

"Ooh, thanks, Mum, but I'll still wear the blue speedo this morning. Or I suppose I could wear my school swimming costume," I said.

"Who's Simon gone on his sleep over with?" I asked to change the subject.

"Nathan Tranter. Do you know him?"

"Only as one of Simon's group of friends." I didn't add that I thought he was a lush. "And his brother's in our tutor group."


Saturday dawned. Now what do you wear when you're going out in order to feel your classmate's genitals with the assumption that he will want to feel yours (and how disappointed you'd be if he didn't, especially after 'fasting' for twenty-four hours), followed by going swimming at the local leisure centre? I thought of wearing my jockstrap under my boxer shorts, just to give myself some control, but that might look a bit odd in the changing area. I decided after agonising and being called by my mother to say that if I didn't get up soon the pool would have dried up by the time I got there – for goodness' sake it was only eight o'clock on a Saturday morning of all things – to wear my long cargos with my costume already on underneath. Must put a clean pair of boxers in the side pocket. Better get up, I thought. The longer I lie here the more likely it is that I shall have to have a wank and spoil the fun for later on.

I showered, duly appeared at breakfast, devoured it and made my way by cycle to Aaron's place. I got there just after nine to find his mother giving him final instructions before she and his father motored off to the big shopping mall thirty miles down the motorway outside the next big city. Still in his dressing gown he greeted and introduced me and after the formalities his mother nagged him to get dressed as "Nick doesn't want to see you in your birthday suit, Aaron." She couldn't have been more wrong, I thought, but didn't dare say so or that that was the main reason for my visit that morning.

"I don't suppose he'll mind, Mum," answered Aaron. "We are going to the swimming pool, after all."

"I'll cope, Mrs Berstead," I added cheekily.

Once the car had disappeared round the corner, Aaron took me up to his room. It was nice and cosy and he quickly arranged the duvet on his unmade bed, but not before I noticed the wank stains on the bottom sheet. "My mum makes me use tissues," I said. Aaron blushed. He slipped off his dressing gown, but he wasn't, as his mother had said, in his birthday suit, but was wearing his tight white school PE shorts, just as he had been on Wednesday when he caught me checking him out, except this time I don't think he was wearing anything underneath. Perhaps he wasn't on Wednesday, either.

"Okay, Nick (not Croker!), there's no one to disturb us. It's game on." He leant up against the wall and licked his lips slowly with the tip of his tongue, looking very slutty. I was mesmerised. My eyes were fixed on his shorts, a ball either side of the crotch, his dick, though flaccid, nevertheless clearly pointing north. "Come on, Nick. Don't keep a girl waiting. You know you've been wanting to do this since Wednesday." My cock was fighting my speedo. I slowly walked up to Aaron and gently put my hand up between his legs, weighed his balls in my hand and caressed them. I loved the way they were jiggling in my palm. Then it happened. I don't know what made me do it. I'd never done it before with a girl, let alone a boy. I kissed him on the lips. However, it did not stop there. As if on autopilot I licked his lips, the tips of our tongues met and suddenly mine was inside his mouth duelling with his. My erection was so hard it almost hurt and his dick was pressed against my lower abdomen in such a way that I could feel it thickening and growing and heating up. As soon as I could break the kiss, and I found it difficult because I wanted more, I looked down at the goods I was handling. His dick, not only had it risen above the elastic of his shorts, but the acorn was uncovered, winking at me with a little dewdrop of precum glistening out of the slit. Aaron slipped down his shorts and stepped out of them. This time I wasn't staring at his bollocks, I was staring at this sparkling gem and in no way in control of myself I knelt before him, took his shaft in my right hand and savoured this globule of viscous liquid on the tip of my tongue. It tasted different from the wads of spunk I had learnt to scoop up on my finger. Without a word between us I licked his whole glans, sucking to extract more love juice. My tongue with a brain of its own had taken over and was exploring between the ridge of his glans and the inside of his foreskin. Aaron's dick slipped out of my mouth and I licked his balls and the underside of his shaft. "Put it back in your mouth, Nick. That's where I need it." I did as I was bidden. I don't know how long this went on for, but just as I got his whole shaft into my mouth and against the back of my throat without gagging I felt his balls, which I was fondling in my left hand, suddenly tighten, his whole body went into a spasm and he shot his load, the first lot into my mouth, but his cock was bucking and soon squirting the white stuff all over my face. Then it was all over.

I stood up. I was feeling his spunk rapidly losing its heat and becoming sticky. I'd swallowed what had been in my mouth. I couldn't describe the taste, but enjoyed it. We looked at one another giggling like two schoolboys who had just enjoyed a blowjob. Aaron licked a wad from my cheek and keeping it on his tongue, he gave me another long and lasting French kiss. When we had finished, his spunk had dried on my face and there was a difference sort of stickiness as the skin cracked when I spoke or grinned.

"Okay, Nick, it's your turn now." He pulled the zip of my cargos down and without the slightest protest from me he slipped his hand inside. "Mmm, warm and moist in here," he hummed while caressing the bulge in my speedo. "Just the way I like it." I chubbed up. Aaron unbuckled my belt and undid the button on the trousers. I stepped out of them. We both noticed the large damp spot on my speedos. "That'll dry into a white patch," warned Aaron, "but it doesn't matter. No one will notice anything once you get into the water. In fact, we'll go under the shower before we go poolside." I hadn't thought through the ramifications, but then you tend not to when you've got a horny boy's cock in your mouth.

Aaron slowly undid the drawstrings on my speedo and slid it over my butt cheeks and expanding package. Again I stepped out of it as he manœuvred me against the wall, taking my rigid cock in one hand and my loose balls in the other. He did what I had done to him and I was in ecstasy, but I was able to warn him that I was coming and when I had finished spasming – I counted twelve thrusts – he ended up with the first load in his mouth and the rest over his chin, lips and nose. He looked as if he were suffering from a particularly heavy cold. I lifted him up, licked his lips and chin clean and with a mouthful gave him a deep throated French kiss, making him cough and splutter and wasting the first load, but making up for it with the remainder.

Again we looked at one another and burst into a fit of the giggles. "I suppose we'd better clean up," said Aaron, throwing me a towel. "While you're in the bathroom, I'll make some hot chocolate and then I'll show you this vid clip I downloaded from the web."

Ten minutes later we were sitting on Aaron's bed, both dressed, looking at his Macbook and sipping hot chocolate. The clip lasted about twenty-five minutes and showed a teenager in central Europe who hitched a lift to a farmhouse where he was received by another teen in his dressing gown. Ah! That's where he got the idea from. Just as they were chatting, the dressing gown slipped open revealing the second teen's cock. The scene progressed through a snog session, then a bj to a full shag and then faded. It made me feel horny again. I wonder if Aaron was hinting at something? I don't really want to go that far… yet. This morning was a steep enough learning curve.

Aaron took the mugs down to the kitchen and rinsed them. He picked up his swim kit, got his cycle out of the garage and we headed for the leisure centre. As soon as we'd changed, we went under the shower to get rid of any residual stickiness, then headed for the pool.

Admittedly, for me swimming is a labour of love. I am more interested in boywatching, but you must understand I'm not gay. I felt that Aaron and I were the odd ones out, kitted in speedos, but wearing them had the right effect. We became the centre of attention, mainly from girls unfortunately, but Aaron and I only had to mince in front of them holding hands and they quickly lost interest. "How gay," one of them uttered."

"Frigid," retorted Aaron. We ended up talking to a couple of nice boys dressed in boardies, but I think Aaron did quite a good PR job on behalf of speedos. "You don't see Tom Daley in boardies now, do you?" was his final line.

When we were ready, we went and showered off the chlorinated water, towelled ourselves down and got dressed. "Coming to Burger Star, Nick?"

"'Fraid I can't, Aaron. I've got lunch for one o'clock at home and I'm working on my mum for a big favour at the moment."

"What's that?"

"Well, promise not to say anything at school?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

"My brother and me, we keep getting these sudden pop-up boners at the most embarrassing of times and we want her to buy us slips or briefs instead of boxers. So we're supposed to be going out shopping this afternoon."

"Ask her if you can order off the internet. You'll get a much better choice. Otherwise you'll end up in Marks and Sparks and get just ordinary undies."

"What do wear?"

"My favourites at the moment," said Aaron "are 2(X)1st."

"They're not the ones that drop your bollocks either side of your crotch, are they?"

"No. They're just an old pair I keep for that very purpose."

"What? So that people stare at your bollocks?"

"Of course. It got you, didn't it? We wouldn't have done what we did this morning if I'd been wearing the regulation jock."

"So you…" I became speechless.

"You're not mad at me, are you?" said Aaron.

"No, of course not. How could I be mad at you? Not after what we did." I looked at my watch. "Must go. See ya Monday. Thanks for the fun."

"See ya," said Aaron and blew me a kiss. I caught it and blew it back to him, in full view of the girls we'd dissed in the pool area.


I got home for lunch in time. All well there. Over lunch the conversation didn't take the turn I wanted it to. "Nicholas…" Nicholas from mother or father was never a good sign. "Nicholas, don't you comb your hair when you get dressed after swimming?"

"I forgot my bugrake."

"Comb, thank you."

"I forgot that too," I cheekily replied, completely and utterly trying my luck. "Why?"

"You've got this tuft that's all stuck together. Marmalade and sticky fingers from toast at breakfast?"

"I didn't have any marmalade," I protested. Clang! Quit while you're not losing, I thought, when I suddenly realised what the sticky stuff actually was. Aaron's or mine? "You might be right, Mum. I forgot. I stirred some into my porridge," I lied.

However, I did turn the conversation around to underwear and got some unexpected support. Dad said "Good idea. Teenagers need support down there like teenage girls who need bras to support them up here."

"And what do you know about teenage girls and their brassières, Joseph?" asked my mother indignantly.

"More than you might think," he answered with a twinkle in his eye. "Remember I have two sisters." Mother realised that she had been led up the garden path, but it took the spotlight off me. I got my point across about ordering on line, also to the relief of my mother because she didn't really want to go out that afternoon. Saturday was also her baking day.

"Order what you want then, Nick," she said. "I'll measure you and check the size charts. You need eight pairs. That's one per day and a spare in case you have an accident." Mother was terribly well organised in things like that. "When you're ready, call me and I'll fill in the card details."

I looked through the sites and ended up ordering three pairs of 2(X)1st, three pairs of CKs and two pairs of aussieBum. Once it was all done and over with I stayed upstairs and lay on my bed doing nothing. I was thinking through the succession of events of the week since the PE lesson on Wednesday. I was thinking about what I had learnt, particularly about myself. Perhaps I am gay. If what we did is gay, then it's certainly a load of fun. Then I thought about Simon and the fact I'd taught him how to have a wank. I wondered how he was getting on with his sleep over at Nathan Tranter's. I was thinking how lucky he was being able to sleep over with him and I wished it were me. I found my hand straying towards my zip, then pulling it down and slipping inside. I got off my bed, went and locked the door and made sure the tissues were within easy reach. Shortly after coming off, I fell into a dreamless sleep.

I was woken by a knock at the door and my mother's voice calling "Nick, are you all right?"

"Yes, Mum. I wanted a nap. I was feeling incredibly knackered after swimming." Luckily I couldn't see my mother's face the other side of the door when I said 'knackered'. It's hard being an elder brother. Simon would have been able to say 'knackered' without any reaction because I had laid the path for him. Still I can go to bed later than him on schooldays.

"Wash your face and hands and come down. Tea's ready." Again, you simply were not late for meals in our family.


Little brothers can be a complete and utter pain at times, but how you miss them when they're not there. I spent the rest of Saturday and Sunday until the late afternoon when he was due back wondering how he was getting on with Nathan Tranter, one of the prettiest boys in Year 9. And with the same result. In fact, my acorn was beginning to feel a bit bruised from all Saturday's activity. S'pose that's why they call it an 'ache-horn'. I decided to forego my Sunday morning lie-in just to give my plonker a little bit of a rest. "You're up early," my mother said. "I thought you were tired."

"I was, but I had a good night's sleep and now I'm fine." And so I was, except for the slight throbbing feeling I still had in the head of my dick, but I didn't think Mum needed to know about that.

My brother duly arrived home. I don't know what he had been doing, but he was in no fit state to be allowed into the house. Mrs Tranter apologised for the state he was in and explained that Nathan was in the same condition, as we could see even though he was confined to the car. I heard later that they had been playing in the woods by a stream and had both fallen in and that it was downhill from there. I don't know whether Mum was actually cross with him or was just dealing with him in an organised way.

"Okay, Simon, you can come into the utility room and no farther. Stand on that mat and take your clothes off. Hand them to me," and Mum put them straight into the washing machine. He stood there in his boxers while she went upstairs to run a bath and fetch a large bath towel.

"Hey, Si, your dick's sticking out." He looked down immediately.

"No, it isn't. You're bullshitting me, Nick," and he yanked it out. "It is now." I noticed that it was a bit bigger than usual. I went back into the house, passing Mum in the kitchen. Then I heard

"Simon! Do you have to stand there with that thing hanging out for the world to see?" I giggled. I went into the living room and sat with Dad who was watching the news.

"Simon's getting an earbashing from Mum."

"Don't worry too much, Nick. I think she views it as just one more challenge to being a mother. Don't tell her I said so."

Simon had to suffer at the age of thirteen the indignity of being carried upstairs by his mother, stripped of his boxers and plonked into the bath. "Nick, can you come up and make sure he cleans himself up properly, please? And that means washing his hair twice and rinsing it from the showerhead the second time."

"Okay, Mum." The second indignity was being bathed by big brother. Was it my imagination or did he really have more pubic hair than he did last Wednesday? His dick and balls were looking nearer the size of mine, which I suppose is logical. "So, did you have a good weekend, Si?"

"Fantastic. We didn't sleep in the house, but in a tent in the garden and if we wanted a pee in the middle of the night, we had to do it in a flower bed and certainly not on the lawn." He lowered his voice. "And because it was just the two of us in the tent we could do stuff, you know, private stuff like we did the other night." We heard our mother coming up the stairs. "Tell you later," he whispered. "I'm going to have an early night and you can come and sit on my bed."

"Are you two okay in there?" Mum called out.

"Fine thanks, Mum," we shouted back almost in unison. Since the time Simon was born, we two boys had been naked together and so the whole process was no big deal.

Over tea Simon regaled us with his adventures over the weekend, but I instinctively knew that he was holding back certain aspects for our private conversation later. After all he didn't tell Mum and Dad about peeing in the flower beds, surprise, surprise. After tea we all went and sat in the living room and watched television. Simon sat with me on the settee, nothing unusual about that, but tonight he was being particularly affectionate as he snuggled up to me and I put my arm round his shoulders. I don't know why, but I got a stiffie. Simon shifted and laid himself across my lap with his legs resting on the settee. If he didn't know before, he did then as I felt my trouser bulge pressing into his back. "Ooh, that's nice, bro," he said during a loud bit on the TV and he wriggled around to get comfortable and finished up with me pressing into his back between the shoulder blades. At a guess I would say he knew exactly what he was doing. Where did he get that from? And of course, he's not gay. He told me so.

At the end of the programme Simon announced that he was going up to bed and said good night. "Shall I bring you up some hot chocolate and biscuits?" Mum asked. I answered 'yes, please' as well.

"I'm not going to bed yet. I want to do some stuff on the computer and then I'll turn in." So I said good night to Dad, but he was snoozing in front of the TV.

Ten minutes later there was a knock at my door and in came my cute little brother in his blue and white striped pyjamas. "Your dick's sticking out, Si."

"I'm not even going to look, Nick. You keep bullshitting me on that." Eleven minutes later there was another knock and it was Mum, who was bringing the drinks up for us.

"For goodness' sake, Simon, cover yourself up. That's the second time today. The ducks will come along and bite it off." I sniggered. "And you're just as bad, Nick, for not telling him."

"I did tell him, Mum, but he refused to believe me. Isn't that so, Simon?" Simon reluctantly had to admit that I had told him.

"Are you having your drink in here with Nick?" Still blushing and hastily trying to tuck his dick away, Simon said yes.

With Mum safely downstairs I said "Okay, Si, tell us how the sleep over really went." He drained his cocoa and said

"Yeah, we really did spend both nights in a tent in the garden and yes, we really did pee in the flower beds, but the best bit was that I taught Nathan how to have a wank, just like you did with me. Well, not quite just like that, because you told me how to do it. I showed him how to do it. He let me touch his dick and his balls. How cool is that?"

"So you're gay."

"No, I am not gay. Of course, I still fancy girls, but right now I've been touching another guy and I couldn't be happier. I feel safe and it just feels right and Nathan and me want to be boyfriends… I mean best friends. You won't tell Mum and Dad, will you? We want to see how it goes first. We're only thirteen and thirteen is such an impressionable age."

"You great poof. Who told you that last bit?"

"Ah, that was something we read in the Daily Mail . But you do promise, don't you?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," I sighed.

"But you didn't do the actions, Nick. It doesn't count if you don't do the actions." I repeated it doing the actions.

"You're a lucky lad. That Nathan Tranter is such a QT."

"So you are gay."

"You said that, not me. I admit to nothing. So what did you do the second night?"

"The same, except he jerked me off instead of me having to do it myself. It's much nicer when someone does it to you."

We were silent for a few moments. Then Simon said "How did your weekend go?"

"Great. I spent Saturday morning with Aaron Berstead. Now he is gay."

"What did you do then?"

"We snogged…"

"No!" exclaimed Simon. "Boys don't do that."

"Oh, yes, they do. You want to try it with Nathan some time. I'll show you how."

"What? On him or me?"

"Both. I quite fancy him actually. You'd better look after him or I'll be in there."

"But you're not gay, Nick? You're going through a phase."

"Stop asking me if I'm gay. If I decide that I'm gay, I promise you'll be the fourth person to know."

"Who are the other three?"

"My boyfriend first, then Mum and Dad. Anyway, it's rude to interrupt someone when you've asked them a question. We snogged and felt each other up, then I sucked his cock, he sucked mine and we finished with a porno movie on XTube. After that we went swimming and pissed off this group of girls."

"How did you do that?"

"They were checking out our speedos and making personal remarks and so we held hands and paraded along the poolside. It didn't stop the remarks, just changed them. Then outside the leisure centre they were still hanging around and staring at us. Okay, I admit I had a bit of a stiffie which I made no effort to hide. So when we parted, Aaron blew me a kiss and I caught it and blew it back."

"What? Like Ronan Parke in that video diary he did on the coach?"

"That's right."

"He's gay."

"Stop saying everybody's gay, Si. You don't know that he is and opening your mouth at the wrong time could get you a smacking."

"What by Ronan? Bring him on."

"No, prat. By anyone who doesn't like being called gay."

"I'd have my hand inside his pants before he could land the first punch."

"Simon! For someone who hadn't even had a wank this time last week, that's big talk indeed."

I thought for a few moments. "One other thing. I persuaded Mum to get us some new undies. I got mine on the internet."

"Cool. Hey, Nick, can I sleep in your bed tonight?" Simon bent his head forward and looked up at me with the expression that just melted my heart. How could I refuse?

"If you want, I suppose so. Go and clean your teeth. I'll take the cocoa things downstairs and say good night. When I got back to my room, Simon was already in my bed, hogging the duvet. I got undressed, snatched some duvet back and got in beside him.

A couple of hours later Mum opened the bedroom door slightly to see that I was all right. She was not surprised to see two heads on one pillow. 'How sweet,' she thought. She wouldn't have thought 'how sweet', had she known that under the duvet were two naked boys who had fallen asleep in a sticky mess.


Monday morning – a new week and events took an unexpected turn. On the way to the bus stop Simon said "Nick, how did I get spunk in my hair?"

"How on earth should I know? I was asleep."

"Was it yours or mine?"

"I don't know. You'll have to get it DNA tested."

"How did it get there?"

"You probably ran your fingers through your hair without wiping your hands on a tissue properly. Hey, Simon, we're coming to the bus stop with other people around. Change of subject."

When the bus arrived at school, we got off and parted company. Within seconds I was joined by Aaron Berstead wheeling his bike through the school grounds. "Good weekend, Croker?" 'Croker' – back to school, back to reality.

"Fantastic Saturday, Ber-stead." I spoke his surname sarkily though the 'fantastic Saturday' was genuinely meant. "Do you want to do it again next Saturday?"

"Things have moved on, Croker, old son. You've gone through training and passed with distinction. Now it's your turn to train someone else."

"Am I missing something here?"

"If you thought we were going to carry on dating, you got the wrong end of the stick. Next weekend I shall be training someone else and you can do the same." I could hardly believe what I was hearing, it was so business-like and matter of fact, but on the other hand it appealed to my imagination. "By the way, I've got my sights on Christian Tranter. So stay clear, Croker." Nathan's brother, interesting, though I don't know what he sees in him. Completely different. "See you at break and I'll wise you up."

Berstead and I walked from the bike sheds to our form room in silence. During registration I looked around the room. There were several boys in the tutor group that I fancied. Oddly Berstead was no longer one of them, especially now that I'd had sex with him. Yeah, okay, I'd do it again if the opportunity arose, but that didn't look very likely. Does that make me a slut? I don't know what it is. The more sex I have, the more I want and that looks the same for Simon. A virgin last week and now he's been ravished by two boys, one his potential boyfriend and one his brother. Hey, isn't that incest? At the same time, although I was a consummate wanker – I like that, 'consummate wanker', sounds like a good insult – I was really a virgin, too, and now I had given and received a blowjob from Berstead, after snogging him, and then been snogged and tossed off by my brother. I wonder what next Monday will have brought.

"Croker." I carried on in my reverie.

"CROKER!"

"Sir?"

"I'm trying to call the register, boy. Perhaps you would permit me the courtesy of a little of your attention."

"Sir."

"I don't know what you were doing over the weekend…" There were sniggers from members of the group which made me blush. It was made worse by a loud guffaw from Berstead. "… but it's over and we have to get on with life." I flicked my form tutor the Vs from under the desk while weakly smiling in his direction.

"Sorry, sir," and I immediately returned to assessing the sexual desirability of my form mates, this time as their names were read out from the register. I ended up with a shortlist of four, two of them I'd like to jerk off and two I'd like to be jerked off by. I ended up choosing Tony Maltby, not only for his large trouser bulge, and for his amazingly attractive face and hair, but also, if the rumours circulating were true, he was the boy most likely to. I wonder why Aaron picked on me. I must ask him at break.

The three periods until break dragged, but by and large I managed to pay attention, my mind being enticed away by thoughts of the weekend past and the weekend yet to come, and a lapse as I tried to recall in detail Aaron's successful technique as used on me. I didn't have a reputation as easy meat, did I? Difficult to judge your own package, but I never thought of mine as particularly outstanding, just 'normal'. Am I good looking? Simon is, I know, and people say that as brothers we look very similar.

Aaron and I met in the boys' urinals at the beginning of break. We were robotically checking each other out and when we noticed what we were doing, we decided to have a peeing competition. Unfortunately he decided on how high we could pee up the wall and I decided on a swordfight and before we could come to an agreement we had run out of ammunition. We shook off, washed our hands and walked out onto the fields.

"Okay, Croker, have you decided who you want to take?"

"Yeah, Maltby."

"Good choice. He's also on my list, but if you succeed, I'll scrub him. Have you seen him in the showers?"

"I have seen the whole of our year group in the showers, Berstead," I boasted "and quite a few more."

"You know the routine. The hardest part will be getting him as your partner in PE. He might have a regular. If he has, work near him. I'll work with Tranter up at the other end of the gym so as not to cramp your style."

"What if Mr Timmis spots any 'funny business'?"

"He's the least of our worries."

"What makes you say that?"

"Don't you ever notice anything?"

"Well, er…"

"You don't need gaydar to pick out that he bats for our team."

"Meaning?"

"Look at the way he dresses. Not only is he always immaculate, but in PE he wears the correct gymnast's kit, a dark blue competition top and tight fitting translucent white stirrup pants, all in lycra and which between them leave nothing to the imagination. He's always there at the end of the lesson, supervising us as we go into and come out of the showers. You say you know all of our year group in the showers. I bet he knows every boy in the school and could tell you his name without even looking at his face."

"Yeah, all right. Nice story, but you're 'aving a larf."

"And how many gymnastic movements do you know where the supporter has to support the gymnast by putting his hand between his legs?"

"And where did that story come from?"

"Me, Croker. He did it to me. That's why we have an understanding and I can get away with certain things."

"Like shouting out 'Oi, Croker, stop staring at my balls!' in the middle of the lesson?"

"Exactly. He knows I could end his career in one fell swoop."

"Why don't you?"

"Why should I? Too much to lose and nothing to gain. He knows I like his lessons, and not only because of the gymnastics, either, may I add," Aaron said with a knowing grin, "and we have no reason to screw things up for each other."

"Are there other boys like that in the school that enjoy his 'support'?"

"Possibly," answered Aaron. "Probably on second thoughts. Just a little bit of advice for Wednesday. Wear an old pair of PE shorts you've grown out of."

"I could pack my brother's by mistake."

"Good thinking. Make up your mind whether you're going to freeball or wear a jockstrap. If you wear a jock, tuck your bollocks up like a dancer does. It'll give Tony more to stare at. The rest you know from last week, and I can mail you that video clip, if you want it."

At that moment the first bell for the end of break rang and we made our way back towards the school buildings. "I wanted to ask you, Berstead. Why did you choose me last week?"

"Isn't it obvious?" At that minute the second bell for the beginning of lessons rang and we had to run to our separate classrooms. "I'll talk to you later." He never did. I had served my purpose.

I had forty-eight hours to formulate my plans. First I sat next to Tony in some lessons. That in itself confirmed I'd made the right decision for checking out his trousers was dead easy sitting next to him because I didn't draw attention to myself. On Wednesday I again sat next to him in the period before break and stuck with him during break when we went off to the gym together. We were always encouraged to use part of our break for changing so that we could have a decent length session. I'd gone for the jockstrap option. I knew how unpredictable my dick could be and I didn't want to pop a boner, especially as I was wearing Simon's shorts and there was nowhere to hide in them. It was hardly a textbook execution.

Tony asked me to be his partner, even better. We got on with the warm up circuit. At the crucial moment I shouted "Hey, Maltby, stop staring at my balls." Mr Timmis heard me, I'm sure, grinned to himself and walked off to supervise something at the other end of the gym. Aaron was right about the leotard and the stirrup pants. Impressive.

"You're quick," Tony answered. "Have you only just noticed? I've been looking at them all morning, and I saw you pop a boner in the maths lesson. With that bulge they look nearly as big as mine." Okay, I thought, we're off script. Time to ad lib.

"Bigger, I would say," I retorted. "We'll settle this at the end of the lesson, okay?" He grinned. Mission phase 1 accomplished, we got on with the circuit.

At the end of the lesson the thirty of us crowded into the fifteen-man shower room. Tony and I stuck together. Because of lack of space it was hard to look down and compare. "Okay, Tony, we weigh them."

"Weigh them?"

"Yes. Put your hand down and pick my bollocks up, test the weight and do the same with yours. Then I'll do it to you," I said in an urgent whisper. "But hurry or we'll be the only two left in here and the water'll be cold." Tony grunted as he felt me gently lift his balls. I knew how heavy mine were and so I didn't bother to weigh my own, but I then felt Tony's fingers and hands, not just lifting and weighing my balls, but having a jolly good grope. Huh, I thought, why didn't I think of that?" Mission phase 2 accomplished, we got under a showerhead while the water was still warm.

Over lunch that day I took control and said "Tony, you enjoyed that, didn't you?" Tony gave a little grin and played hard to get.

"Enjoyed what?" he said all innocently. "The gym lesson?"

"No. Feeling my balls."

"Might have."

"Do you want to do it again?"

"Might do."

"I'd like to feel yours again, and have a good grope like you did." Tony had the grace to blush.

"So you're going to pick me up, carry me over your shoulder in a fireman's lift and take me off to the bogs and have your wicked way?"

"I hadn't actually thought of that solution. I was going ask if you wanted to come over to my place and hang out on Saturday morning. It'll just be the two of us as my parents have got to take my brother out to do some shopping with him."

"I'll let you know tomorrow. I've got to ask at home. Sounds like a good idea," said Tony. Mission phase 3 still to be accomplished.

Aaron caught me in the corridor between lessons. "How did it go, Croker?"

"All right. I'll know definitely tomorrow. How about you?"

"He's thinking about it. Not only that, Timmis knew what we were talking about and stood there with his back to us, listening. It's so distracting having to watch him clench and unclench his butt cheeks. It's as if he is holding a fifty pence piece up there and he doesn't want it to fall out." I giggled. "And I'm sure he's doing it on purpose."

"What? You think he fancies you?"

"Me and seven hundred and fifty other boys."

"Why you?"

"Because he knows that I'm one of the seventy-five boys that might fancy him back."

"Oh, the ten percent factor," I replied. "And do you fancy him back?"

"What do you bloody well think? Of course I do, but nothing's ever going to happen. He likes being a teacher too much and anyway, he's probably got a boyfriend or a partner."

"That's interesting."

"What, that I fancy him?"

"That too, but I was thinking about the ten percent bit. There's thirty in our tutor group and there's you, Maltby and Tranter. So that works out. Ten percent are gay and there must be another six or seven in the whole of Year 10."

"What about you then, Croker?"

"I don't count. I told you. I'm not gay."

"You do a damn good imitation," said Aaron in exasperated disbelief.

"Do you think so?" I said in the most coquettish manner I could, but I just came across camp. I pouted. We moved off to our lessons.

Wednesday… Thursday… Friday… Saturday finally arrived, but beforehand there were one or two little distractions. Thursday Simon was pissed because I'd taken his PE shorts to school and he had to use mine while his were in the wash. Mine were too big and made most of his bottom visible to the world in general (not that he actually used the word 'bottom') and everybody would stare. I simply told him that Nathan Tranter wouldn't object and that he had to learn to take the rough with the very rough. It also let me in on the question of his brother. "Hey, Si, is Christian Tranter gay as well?"

"Not sure, Nick. Nothing was said or done to suggest it when I was there last weekend, but there again Nathan's not out. He says that he likes mucking around and doing stuff with boys, but that it's just part of growing up. It's not serious."

"I wonder if his brother told him that."

"Are you saying that Christian is gay?"

"Not at the moment, but I might be after the weekend." Actually Simon was not so pissed off when he came home. He only discovered the fact after the lesson, but he found that the large shorts had made him a very popular member of the class. A number of classmates had wanted to be his partner and Mr Timmis used him to demonstrate the handstand they were learning. I bet he did, I thought. "What were you wearing under them?"

"Nothing," said Simon. "You can get away with it in large shorts and I like the feeling of my dick flopping around."

"And so did everyone else by the sounds of it," I added.

"I wondered why I got a round of applause at the end of the demonstration. You don't usually."

"You're a big boy now and should be wearing your jockstrap."

"I thought I only needed it for cricket."

"Does it say so on the label? 'Do not bleach. Do not iron. Wash at 30°. Wear only for cricket.' Now that your balls have dropped they need support to avoid what are called groin strains as well as to avoid frightening the horses."

"How do you know my balls have dropped?"

"Simon! You've got a very short memory. I was playing with them only last Sunday night, remember?"

I felt myself getting exasperated with him, the last thing I wanted to do. "Come here, Simon." He came up to me and I put my arms round him in a hug and kissed his brow. "You know, Simon, you're the bestest brother a brother could have." He melted into my arms.

"Thank you, Nicky, and you're the bestest brother I've got." We held each other tenderly until we heard someone coming up the stairs. As we pulled apart, he said quietly in my ear "Hey, Nick, now you've gone and given me a hard-on," and he started giggling uncontrollably.

"Time you boys started getting ready for bed." It was Mum. "You've got school tomorrow, don't forget."

Friday evening I got the third degree from mother. "Now who's this boy that coming tomorrow morning?"

"Tony Maltby."

"Do I know him?"

"Yes. You gave him a lift home from Christian Tranter's birthday party."

"He wasn't the one that was sick in the back of the car?"

"No, that was Luke Dangerfield and he was sick outside the car on the grass verge."

"And what's he coming for?"

"We're going to have fun."

"What sort of fun?" I'd hoped she wouldn't ask that question. Is partial truth the same as a lie?

"We're going to listen to my new Ronan Parke album."

"I'm going to leave you some snacks. Don't scald yourself if you boil the kettle for hot chocolate."

"Mum, I'm nearly fifteen. I'll do my best not to," I replied sarkily.

"We'll be back about one. This Tony, he's not stopping for lunch, is he?"

"No, he's got to do some jobs to do for his father in the afternoon."

"You've got my mobile number in case anything happens, haven't you?"

"Mother, it's written in large figures pinned to the kitchen notice board where you put it in case you forget it."

"Oh, I'd forgotten that. Take him up to your room. I don't want the front room to get all untidy in case we have visitors."

"Are we expecting some, Mum?"

"No, but you never know." I was beginning to wind Mum up. I knew I would be going through the same routine over breakfast in the morning.

I went down to breakfast on the Saturday morning with some apprehension. I'd like to have done what Aaron did the week before and gone down in just my dressing gown, but Mum's rather strict about things like that. No breakfast unless you have showered and dressed. I was right. I got the third degree again over the meal table, even down to the Ronan Parke album. "I'd like to hear that sometime," Mum said. "I think he's rather cute and so polite and full of fun when you see him on the television."

"I like him," I replied.

"So do I," added Simon.

"My ladies at the WI say that he's gay." Simon blushed. Fortunately Mum was looking at and talking to me.

"Some people like to gossip and say horrible things about famous people," said my father, "especially if they're young. It's jealousy usually. You know the next thing they will be saying is that Tom Daley is gay."

"He is, Dad," I said, trying to say it as in as uncontroversial and disinterested a way as possible.

Time sped by and before we realised it, there was a ring at the front door. It was Tony Maltby with his rucksack on his back, though I hardly recognised him at first, but more of that later. I introduced him to Dad, he said hi to Mum who seemed to recognise him better than I did and he said hi to Simon. "We must go," said Dad "or we'll never be back for two o'clock, let alone one." With that the family disappeared leaving Tony and me alone together in the kitchen.

"Come on, Tony. Let's go up to my room." We went upstairs. "I hardly recognised you."

"Yeah, well, school is school and home is home. I didn't know whether to dress emo or just cool."

"How are you going to get those highlights out of your hair for school on Monday." Not only did his hair have blond streaks, but it was all frizzed up. It looked really cool.

"Just stand under the shower and use shampoo."

"So how much did that cost you?"

"Nothing. My sister does it."

"I didn't know you had a sister."

"Yeah. She doesn't live with us any more. She's moved in with her boyfriend."

But it wasn't just his hair. He was wearing an earring in his right ear, a dark pink granddad shirt, water melon I think the fashion people call it, under a black leather waistcoat and matching pink trousers, so tight that they must have been sprayed on and they certainly didn't hide anything. Now I was the one staring at his balls. Then trainers and coordinated pink socks. On his right wrist he had various bracelets and bangles and on his left a rainbow sweatband. It was finished off with his keys clipped to a black leather belt one side and his mobile on the other. It was only a cheap basic one that nowadays it wasn't worth getting mugged for. He said he kept his smartphone at home.

Looking at the sweatband on his wrist, I said "You must be out at home if you're wearing that."

"I am. I'm probably out at school and if I'm not now, I will be by Monday." I didn't know what he meant, or rather I did know what he meant, but couldn't believe it.

"So how did that happen?" I enquired.

"Why are you interested?"

"Because I might have to do it one day… OMG!" I squealed. "What did I just say?"

"It's all right, Nick. Your secret's safe with me."

"Yes, but I'm not gay."

"You are. Some people are gay. You'll get over it."

"What makes you say that?"

"Have you heard of gaydar?"

"Yees?"

"Well, I have the gift of gaydar and I can tell you're gay from a mile off. And your brother is."

"Simon says he not gay, too."

"Simon says… Isn't that a kids' game and Simon is always right? Not in this case, heart face."

"Who else do we know in our year that's gay?" I asked, warming to the topic of conversation.

"Berstead."

"Yes, I found that out by experience."

"Timmis, though strictly speaking he's not 'in our year'."

"Yes, I was told about him."

"The Tranter brothers," said Tony.

"Both of them?"

"Both of them."

"Interesting."

"Why?"

"Because my brother recently had a sleep over with Nathan and er… they did stuff… Whoops! Too much information and family secrets and all that." I remained silent for a moment. "I didn't know Christian was, though. So that's why Berstead was after him. I thought it was a try on, a conversion."

"You cannot convert people either to or from homosexuality," Tony retorted sharply.

"Why do you know so much?"

"When I came out," said Tony "I just wanted to find out as much as possible, since I've got to live with it for the rest of my life, and that's what the internet's there for. But we're getting sidetracked. You asked me a question and if you're really interested, and it seems you are, there's no short answer." I made myself comfortable on my bed and Tony took his backpack off and settled down in the armchair.


"It happened last Christmas. We were all invited round to my auntie's for Christmas Day. It was our turn on Boxing Day. The grown-ups had spent most of the morning boozing and were pretty merry. We 'children' were allowed a glass of Asti Spumante with our dinner. Anyway, it was a long lunch. Goose, I remember, because my auntie thought my mother would be serving turkey the next day. In fact, she roasted a large joint of sirloin for the same reason. Anyway, lunch lasted until the Queen's speech and all the adults afterwards fell into a deep slumber. My cousin Chas – he's roughly a year older than me – said 'Tony, do you feel like doing something? Having a bit of fun?' Back then I was quite innocent and naïve and so 'having a bit of fun' was to me exactly that, no more. Not used to the Asti, even with a meal, we were both in a good mood. I don't mean drunk, not on one small glass of fizz. We went up to his room to play a new game Father Christmas had brought him. When we went in, I didn't notice him slip the bolt on the door. His room was nice and warm and for some reason he's got a double bed.

"Chas pointed up to the lampshade in the middle of the room. A sprig of mistletoe was hanging from it. 'You know why that's there, Tony, don't you?'

'For you to kiss your girlfriend under,' I replied.

'Wrong! It's for me to kiss my boyfriend under, but I haven't got a boyfriend.'

'But boys don't do that.'

'Wrong again.'

'Isn't a bit yeuky?' I protested.

'Don't knock it until you've tried it.' By that time the brandy butter was taking effect as well and so it seemed a good idea. Chas took me in his arms and, well… kissed me and it was like no kiss I had ever had before. As well as making me hard, it made me feel so good inside. I'd never felt like this before when kissing a girl, not that I'd kissed many and certainly not with tongues. We stopped and he told me it was my turn to put my tongue into his mouth now and try and lick his tonsils. I couldn't, of course, but it was fun trying and while I was concentrating on that he started to undress me and I didn't mind. We'd undressed together before when we shared a room on holiday and finally we were standing in our undies. I was so aroused and in such a good mood I couldn't refuse him anything. 'Tony, I want to give you your Christmas gift.'

'But you gave it to me earlier. I just loved the Justin Bieber CD.'

'This one I couldn't leave under the tree and it's rather special because in giving it to you, you will be giving me an extra present in return,' said Chas. 'I want to slide my prick up your bum.'

'Won't it hurt? I've heard people have difficulty walking afterwards.'

'Fairy tales,' said Chas. 'If you're a first timer, it might hurt for five seconds and then you feel good, really good and the way I do it I doubt it will hurt at all.'

'Okay, let's try it, Chas, and if it hurts, you promise to stop.'

'I promise.'

"Chas slid my boxers down and told me to kneel on the bed. He then got this tube of jelly stuff and started rubbing it into my crack. It was cold at first, but soon warmed up. Then he started massaging it inside my hole. I was in heaven and he knew it. Then he said 'Are you ready for the real thing.' I nodded. 'Put this on for me. I've got sticky fingers.' He handed me a rubber and while I was taking it out of the foil, he downed his slip. I rolled it over his shaft – that was real turn on – he manœuvred me into position so that he could stand at the edge of the bed and point his dick at my hole. He pressed gently, his dick met my sphincter, which his finger had already penetrated, and with a little more pressure pushed his cock all the way in. I yelped, but the pain disappeared instantly and I loved feeling his balls swinging against my butt cheeks. At the time I didn't know what his dick was rubbing against, but it made my cock so hard that in the end it shot its load without any help from my hand, and just after I could feel Chas shooting his inside of me.

"After knotting the rubber he laid me out on the bed and started snogging me again. 'Was that good or was that very good, Tony?'

'Excellent,' I replied. 'I've never experienced anything like it.'

'And you'll experience it again, even better if I have anything to do with it. We'd better get back downstairs.'

'Chas, I think you've proved to me something I've always really known. I'm gay.'

'As you've probably guessed by now, so am I.'

"I chose my moment to come out. I waited until we were speeding along the motorway on the way home and there was nowhere to pull up. My mother was driving so that father could have a drink. 'Mum, Dad, did you know that Chas is gay?'

'Yes, your Auntie May told us a couple of months ago.'

'Why didn't you tell me?'

'We didn't want to worry you with it,' answered my mother.

'I found out this afternoon when we went up to his room and it doesn't worry me in the slightest.' Pause. 'Oh, and I found out that I'm gay too.'

'We know, dear,' said my mother.

'You know?' I squeaked. 'How did you know?'

'Mothers always know. Auntie May knew before Chas came out. Call it instinct.'

'It's all right, Tony,' said Dad. 'We still love you. We're not going to put you into an orphanage, and for goodness' sake, son, if you find yourself a boyfriend, do tell us and let us meet him. That's one problem Chas has at the moment.' We got home at about ten and I went to bed."


The grandfather clock in the hall struck ten as Tony said that. "Thanks for telling me, Tony," I said. "It somehow gives me more confidence."

"Well, we'd better get on with what I came here to do or my dad will be complaining that I'm shirking my responsibilities if I'm late home."

Tony seemed to take charge, funny because I thought I was the one that had started all this off. "Okay, the aim is to see who has the bigger balls, right? Not the bigger prick or the bigger package?"

"Right."

"Now before we begin, let's make this a little more interesting. The loser has to pay a forfeit. Agreed?"

"Agreed as long as it's not too extreme," I replied cautiously.

"If I win it won't be too extreme, I promise. Let's go." I started to get undressed. "Hey, hang about," said Tony. "We're two gayboys. Let's undress each other. You begin." I took off his waistcoat and granddad shirt and laid them over one arm of the armchair. He pulled my tee shirt over my head and laid it over the other arm. I was about to unbuckle his belt when he stopped me. "Not so fast, Nick." He lifted my arm and smelt my armpit. "Mmm," he exhaled with his eyes closed, then licked it. It tickled. He licked my left nipple which went from flat to erect. I enjoyed that. There was something erotic about it. He undid the drawstring on my sweats, stretched the elastic in the waistband and let them drop to the floor. I stepped out of them. I finished unbuckling his belt, undid the clasp on the waistband and unzipped his trousers. They fell to the ground and he stepped out of them. We were standing there just in socks and briefs. We took our own socks off and threw them onto the bed. Tony looked at me. There was only one thing in his eyes – lust. He put his arms round my waist and his hands on my butt cheeks and pulled me in. He ran the tip of his tongue between my lips. The tip of mine went to meet his. Then before I knew it my tongue was fully inside his mouth fighting a battle royal and our hard cocks were grinding against each other. I knew what I wanted if I won our little comparison wager. We came up for air, looked at each other and grinned.

"Okay," said Tony, "let's get on with the biz." We dropped our slips.

"OMG," I cried. "You've shaved your pubes off. You've done that since Wednesday."

"It's called gamesmanship. Haven't you noticed on porn sites that the equipment always looks bigger on shaved models than on unshaved ones and most people prefer to give a blowjob to a shaved partner?"

"How are you going to explain that at school?"

"If anyone's particularly interested, Nick…"

"And they will be," I interrupted.

"… with exactly the same answer as I gave you and now I've done it, I'm going to keep them shaved. Let's get on."

We stood in front of the full length mirrors on the built-in wardrobe. No competition. I'm in no way undersized, but his balls were fantastically large without making him look a freak. Hairless, naturally, large eggs of equal size, hanging level and separately, slightly away from his body, begging to be licked, and sucked if your mouth were big enough to take one. I preferred my chunky cock to his python and volume for volume I had the bigger cock if not the longer one. We both stood there looking at one another in the mirror, a dewdrop of precum glinting on the end of each glans. "Okay, Tony, you win," I said, shaking his hand while holding his prize bollocks in my left, groping them, feeling them, kneading them, weighing them, stroking them with my finger, jiggling them. His dick co-operated by becoming erect and keeping completely out of the way of what I was doing. "So what's my forfeit?" Without hesitation he said

"I want you to fuck my butt." Slightly taken aback, I answered

"I've never done that before."

"Nor have I," said Tony. "I'm strictly a bottom."

"Fine. My word is my bond. We all have to start somewhere. I'll do it, but you'll have to help me," I said.

"I've never had a prick as thick as yours up my arse before. It'll be interesting."

"Wait a minute. You've been engineering this situation?"

"Yes, just like you, n'est-ce pas?" He raised his eyebrows and grinned, the smile on the face of a tiger.

Tony bent down and fiddled around with his backpack, fetching out a packet of condoms and a tube of lube from one of the pockets. "It's just like I described with my cousin Chas." He knelt on the bed in a way that I could get at him and he could supervise by looking into the mirrors on the built-in wardrobe. I already had a vertical stiffie in anticipation. I started to lube his crack, tentatively at first. "It's all right to put your fingers up there. I had a king-size dump when I got up and shoved the shower nozzle up there to clean everything out. You could eat your dinner off my butt and lick up the gravy afterwards." I giggled. "Perhaps you will one day," he added quietly, almost as if talking to himself. I proceeded as instructed. He rolled the rubber over my cock and I penetrated. Then nature took over. It seemed to take all of five minutes, but according to my alarm clock we must have been at it for half an hour. When I finally took my cock out and knotted the jonnie, I thought 'Well, I lost my front virginity while still fourteen. I wonder if I can lose my back cherry before my birthday, but I'm obviously not going to with Tony. I felt that I had crossed the Rubicon along with Caesar. Now there was no going back. I must give some serious thought to coming out officially. Have to talk to Simon first. Perhaps we can do it together, but then he's not gay.

"Penny for your thoughts, Nick," said Tony.

"Sorry, Tony. I was miles away, lost in that wonderful experience. That's the best sex I've ever had."

"P'raps we can do it again sometime."

"I'm sure we can, but I'd like the bottom experience as well."

"I can always introduce you to Chas. He hasn't got a boyfriend yet."

"Maybe you can just. We'll go and have some hot chocolate, then watch the Ronan album, just in case Mum gets back early and there's an inquisition." Finally, cleaned up and dressed, we went down to the kitchen. "That must use up quite a slice of pocket money keeping a supply of K-Y and Durex. I've seen the price of them on the shelves in Sainsbury's."

"Au contraire, mon ami."

"Why the French this morning? That's the second time."

"Because the words are made up of French letters! Boom boom, I thank you!"

"Oh, very good," I replied in a deprecating tone of voice.

"If you've got the guts to do it, you can get them free. I learnt this from Chas. The trick is you go into the STD clinic at the local hospital and ask for some confidential advice. When the practitioner sees you, you say you're in a relationship with another boy, or, if you want to, with several boys, which sets the alarm bells ringing, and can they advise on protection? They dole out the goodies and they're not allowed to be judgemental or even tell your parents. It's genuine K-Y even though it's not on the tube and when you say it's another bloke you're seeing, they give you these extra strength polyisoprene jimmy hats that are a lot stronger and thinner than ordinary rubber jonnies."

"You know a lot about it."

"Chas keeps me up to date. It's a sort of protection racket."

"Let's go and watch Ronan. Ooh, mustn't forget to dispose of that rubber…"

"Polyisoprene."

"Of course. … before my mother discovers the débris. My mother's got sharper eyes than Hercule Poirot."

"It's already done, in a placky bag in my rucksack. I'll dump it in a litter bin on the way home."

"You didn't bring your rucksack just for the protection goodies, did you?"

"No. Thanks for reminding me. Do you know GY magazine? Gay Youth it's short for. It's published for gayboys our age, though they have to pretend it's for over eighteens. Chas has got a subscription and now I'm out, he passes it on to me. Take a look while we're listening to Ronan." He handed it to me and it immediately fell open at the centrefold. Tyger Drew-Honey, Jake from Outnumbered . Naked. An involuntary intake of breath.

"He's adorable," I said. "I've always fancied him, ever since his voice broke, and now I can see why he sported a good trouser bulge. Instant wank material. I thought he was only seventeen."

"That's in the telly series. He's actually eighteen and his real life parents make porno films for a living." I tore myself away from the GY mag and clicked on iMovies to play the Ronan vid.

"Can I borrow this sometime, please?"

"You can have it when I've finished with it."

"I daren't. My mother's bound to find it and I'll be in deep doo-doo. Grounded probably."

After watching Ronan we both decided he was camp. Tony's gaydar said he was gay, but we thought we'd better wait for the official announcement and we agreed we'd both like to get our hands inside his pants. I thought his broken voice was to die for and his eye contact so hot.

Tony got his things together and just as he was leaving, the car with my parents and Simon drew up. One o'clock already? Simon leapt out of the car and started tarting like mad round Tony. My parents told him to start unloading the car, especially as most of the stuff was his. "P'raps one day I'll feel his prick inside my bum," Tony said quietly to me out of earshot of the others. "Is it like yours?"

"Not quite, but give him a year and it'll be as big as mine."

"Bigger I should think, Nick."

"Now don't start off all that again, Tony. You see where it's got us so far."

"Mmm, yes. I'm looking for a boyfriend, strictly a top only."

"Don't forget that I'm still a back virgin. I haven't got enough experience yet to commit."

"See ya at school on Monday."

"Sure."

"And maybe a date next weekend, Nick?" I smiled in a non-committal way. "For a beginner you've got an amazing talent there."

"Where?"

"Between your legs."

"Cheers, Tony."

"See ya later, Nick," and he walked off down the street.

"Tony said thank you for the snacks, Mum."

"He seems like a nice boy. Dresses a bit odd."

"Fashionably, Mum, not odd."


After tea the four of us were spending Saturday evening in the usual way. Dad was asleep in his armchair, Mum was watching Corrie on catch-up TV and Simon and I were sitting on the sofa, trying to be interested in the soap and failing miserably. I hadn't realised I'd put my arm round him. He wriggled around and ended up as he had done the other day, sitting in my lap with his legs and stockinged feet on the settee. Mum was lost in her TV programme and so taking no notice of us, or Simon would have promptly been told to remove his feet from the sofa. I loved the warmth of his bum and I know he could feel me hardening up under him. It was not just that I was getting hard, but I felt really horny with it. I could see that I was arousing Simon too as the bulge in his sweats grew. He leaned over, picked up a large cushion and placed it strategically over his lap. I slipped my hand under the cushion and started feeling him. He turned his head and gave me such a sweet smile. Suddenly he got up. "I've got to go to the loo," he whispered with some urgency. "I've pissed my pants." I let him get up and then, a coupled of seconds later, I followed him upstairs. I caught up with him in his bedroom. He was stripping his sweats off.

"It's all right, Simon. You probably haven't peed yourself. It's because I was fiddling with you."

"What, I've come off in my pants?"

"I doubt it or your body would have shaken. It can happen to people our age when we get aroused. It's called precum and it's a natural lubricant. It can happen to girls as well when they feel horny. Smell your slip. Does that smell like piss?" He kept it about an inch away from his nose, took a sniff and shook his head.

"No, it doesn't."

"Clean yourself up, put some fresh underwear on and come back downstairs. It's nothing to be afraid of. It's happened to me a number of times. Like wet dreams it's just nature's way of telling your body that you need a wank."

"Will you do it for me, Nick? Please? It's so much better when you do it."

I didn't know what to answer. Should I really be doing this with my brother? But he enjoyed it. He'd asked me. It wasn't as if I were forcing him to do something he didn't want to do and yes, I wanted to as well. I looked at him standing there just in his tee shirt and white socks. His dick wasn't hard, but it wasn't absolutely soft either. Then something inside me snapped. I locked the bedroom door, told him to lie on his bed. I went and lay next to him and stroked the inside of his thigh. He quickly stiffened up and I gently took hold of his shaft and started wanking him. I was dribbling because I was enjoying giving him such pleasure. I looked at my watch. Mum will be watching TV for another three quarters of an hour. I continued to dribble and let it drip onto his glans and rubbed it in with his foreskin. "Simon, come and sit on the edge of the bed." He was so compliant. I knelt in front of him, started to lick his balls, then the underside of his shaft, then his acorn and finally I took his whole dick into my mouth.

After he'd come and I licked him clean, he sat on the bed looking up at me, giving me one of those helpless, innocent looks that he knew melted my heart under any conditions. He whispered with a kind of sexy hoarseness in his voice "You know what we've just done? That's very naughty, isn't it?" I nodded and said

"Very naughty. Probably the second most naughty thing we could do. Mum and Dad must never find out. Do you understand? Because we'll both be in big trouble." Simon nodded, still fixing me with those big blue eyes of his.

"Is it so naughty that we must never do it again?" I didn't know what to answer. Finally I replied

"No, not quite that naughty because I know we will do it again, even if it's not with each other."

"What? We might do it with someone outside the family?"

"I'm sure we will, but people always say that sex with your family is worse than sex with someone outside. They have a special word for it. It's called incest."

"Incest. I've heard that word before somewhere."

"It's usually between brother and sister or father and daughter and it's worse because if they make a baby, it can be born with all sorts of defects."

"But we can't make babies, Nick, and can we do it again sometime?"

"I never say never because these things are rarely planned. They happen on the spur of the moment. There's a saying. A standing cock has no conscience, but if you really want to do it, you'll do it because when you get horny, really horny, you won't think about it with your brain. Your cock will take over from it. So if you really want to do it, you'll have to find another boy, a boy you can trust."

"Have you ever done it with another boy?" I nodded.

"Two, Si, and as I said, I can't promise I'll never do it again."

"And have they sucked your cock back?" I nodded again because I could not bring myself to say the word yes. I took my baby brother in a hug and kissed him… I kissed on the lips… we kissed with tongues.

I suddenly came to. Reality had regained control. "Get yourself cleaned up, Si, and come downstairs when you're ready." I went downstairs. I could hear the Coronation Street signature tune playing. Reality would be returning to Mum as well.

"Everything all right, Nick?"

"Yeah, it's okay, Mum. Simon's just had a bit of an accident."

"OMG! Is it serious?"

"Calm down, Mum. Not that sort of accident. It was an accident in his pants. You know, a boy thing. Like a girl having her first period. I've sorted it. Don't tax him with it when he comes down. He's feeling very vulnerable and sensitive about it."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely. Is it time for cocoa yet?"

"A bit early, but I think it might be an idea if I make some now."

"Promise you won't say anything?"

"Promise. Thanks for dealing with him. A mother can know about that sort of thing, but that doesn't make it easier to deal with. I'm lucky to have two sons like you who look out for each other." I went to the downstairs loo to take a slash. It was getting too emotional for me and there was dear old Dad, still asleep in his chair.


That night I lay in bed contemplating not only that day's events, but also those of the last couple of weeks. From being just an ordinary everyday wanker, typical of anybody of my age at school I had sucked off and been sucked off by Aaron Berstead, jerked my brother off, buttfucked Tony Maltby and given my brother a blowjob, all within a space of eight days, and just because I was busted by Berstead when I was unconsciously checking him out. After that thought I must have fallen asleep for it was light when I was woken up by knock on the door. "Come in." The door opened and it was Simon, dishevelled, but looking as devastatingly pretty as ever. Heavens! I just used the word 'pretty' about my brother, and to boot we look the same. "What are you after, Si?" I tried to say it in a kindly manner, but I had just been woken up.

"A cuddle."

"What time is it?"

"Just gone nine."

"Come on then." He climbed into my bed with just his pyjama bottoms on. "Ooh! You're all cold."

"Sorry."

"Aagh!"

"What's up, Nick?"

"I've still got morning wood and you bent it. Stay there." I got out of bed, put my dressing gown over my naked body and went to the bathroom. When I got back, I hung the dressing gown on the back of the door and got back into bed.

"Ooh! You're cold now, Nick."

"Sorry."

We lay there in each other's arms. Even after a night's sleep his body smelt sweet. It wasn't a sexual cuddle. I wasn't hard, not even chubbing up and if Simon was, he didn't let me know. "We're just off to church, boys." That was our father calling up the stairs. "We expect you two to be up, showered and dressed when we get back, okay? We're going out for lunch." I looked at my alarm clock.

"That'll give us a couple of hours," I said to Simon and we both shouted out "See you later, Dad." I thought back to last night and to the three boys I'd had sex with, and the dearest one was my own brother. What did that say about me? Did he feel the same? But he'd only had sex with two boys. It felt as if we had both grown over the last fortnight.

"Simon, I've got something to tell you, something very private, so private that Mum and Dad mustn't know." He broke the cuddle and turned over to look me straight in the face. It was full of curiosity mixed with love. "Do you promise not to tell anyone until I give you permission?" He nodded, looking straight into my eyes. That was good enough for me and in any case I had to unburdened myself to someone. "You know when you were out with Mum and Dad shopping yesterday?" He nodded again.

"And you were here with Tony Maltby?" It was my turn to nod.

"I lost my cherry, my front cherry."

"What? You mean… you mean you actually stuck your cock into his bottom?"

"That's right."

"Wow! And did it hurt?"

"No, it felt very nice and I want to do it again."

"How cool is that! My big brother has done another boy. Respect. I'd like to do that with Nathan one day."

"Slow down, Simon. It's not compulsory and you're two years behind me."

"And bro, did you use a jonnie or just do it?"

"That's getting a bit personal, Si. The answer is yes. Tony had some in his backpack. It wasn't his first time, you see, and he does it with his cousin."

We lay there in silence for ten minutes. Simon was more excited about it than I was. "Do you want to do something with me, Nick?"

"Yes," I croaked, "but not just at this moment, Si. This is a perfect moment, just lying here with you in my arms," and I kissed his cheek.

"We've been naughty boys, haven't we?" he said. I pondered.

"Some people might think so. I don't, but all the stuff we've done has still got to remain a secret between you and me, between us and Aaron and Nathan and Tony."

"Do you like Aaron, Nick?"

"Yeah, he's okay. I like Tony more. I like your Nathan Tranter even more still. He's cute and when you don't want him any more, you can give him to me."

"Hands off! He's mine. He's not only cute. He's dead sweet, gorgeous, hot and cool."

"Hot and cool, Si?" We giggled again.

I think we dozed off then. When I woke up, I looked at alarm clock. "Come on, lazybones. We'd better get up before Mum and Dad get back. Do you still want to do something naughty, Si?"

"Ooh, yes."

"We'll take a shower together and see what pops up." We both had another giggling fit."

I got up and stretched, still naked, in front of the mirror. I knew how Narcissus felt. I liked my body. No fat, but not emaciated either, nipples reddish-brown contrasting with the surrounding pale skin, a nice innie for a belly button and my dick and balls looked just right, a nice size and shape without being freakish. As I looked in the mirror I could see Simon peeking behind me, standing there with his dick poking out of his pyjamas as usual, and I could feel my dick stiffening up. "I'm just going to the downstairs loo to sort myself out, Si. You get the shower going." I gave his cock a couple of tugs as I walked past.

"I'll get you back for that, Nicky," he grinned.

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't," and I continued on my way.

I don't know what it is, but there's a great feeling to walking through the house starkers. My cock had stopped expanding and was bouncing up and down as I walked, especially on the stairs. My bollocks were in loose mode and jiggling about as well. I did what I had to do, went back upstairs and climbed under the shower with Simon. I took the shampoo and washed his hair, then the shower gel and washed the rest of his body. Half way through I stopped and said "Why am I doing this, Simon? I've never done it before."

"I don't know, but don't stop now. It's much nicer than when Mum used to do it." I carried on making extra sure that his tackle and bottom were clean. I even slipped my finger into his hole. He didn't protest, but just said "Nathan did that as well." I raised an eyebrow, but when I thought of what I'd been doing with Tony, I knew I was in no position to comment.

When I'd finished and Simon had rinsed off, he said "Stand still, Nick," and started to bath me. Then I knew what he had been experiencing when I was washing him. When he wanted to rinse my hair, he tilted my head forward and gave me a kiss. It couldn't be an ordinary brotherly kiss. It was smack on the lips and tongue in. At first I wanted to resist, but couldn't. What if Mum and Dad should come in at this moment? Inevitably my cock stiffened, as did his. He switched off the water, knelt down in front of me and started doing what I'd done to him the previous day. It was heaven, except that because I hadn't had my customary wank that morning, I came off very quickly. As if on autopilot I licked up my spunk from his lips and locked him into a French kiss.

When we broke, Simon's voice was hoarse with emotion. He looked up at me with those sapphire eyes and said "Now you've got to finish me off." By now we were being pressurised by time. I took hold of his dick, but it was all over in a trice. I switched the hot water back on and under the power shower we were clean in no time. We dried each other, made sure the screen and the bath tub were clean – no telltale marks – and we went and got dressed.

We were in the middle of breakfast when Mum and Dad came in, but before that we'd had an interesting conversation. We were sensible enough to dress tidily as we were going out for lunch. No jeans, shorts or cargos, but shirts with collars, pullovers optional. Simon had put on his school trousers, which he was rapidly growing out of, and I noticed he displayed quite an attractive bulge with his new undies on. "Nice," I said. My new kit had arrived during the week too.

We just had a bowl of cereal and a cup of tea as it was so late in the morning. "Si, I'm thinking of shaving off my hair."

"You can't do that, Nick. Mum and Dad'll go ape and you'll have to go round with a beanie on your head for a month."

"No, dummy, my pubes."

"You didn't say that, shit for brains. Why do you want to do it?"

"It makes your equipment look bigger and it's more pleasant if you're into blowjobs. You don't get your teeth flossed."

"Yeu-kee!"

"You'll find yeukier things than that if you're going to be a proper gayboy."

"I told you, Nick. I'm not gay."

"Let me see if I've got this right. You're a boy…"

"Yes."

"And you've got a boyfriend that you have sex with?"

"Yes."

"But you're not gay?"

"No," said Simon. "It is just a phase that we early adolescents go through and we'll get over it."

"You great pretentious hypocritical poof! Where on earth do you get these ideas from?"

"We were told that in our PHSE lessons. Anyway, you're gay."

"I'm gay?" I said. "How can you say that after what you just said."

"Because you're in late adolescence and you haven't got over it."

"I haven't even got a boyfriend."

"I think you have."

"Who?"

"That Tony Maltby."

"If only…"

"See? There you go. You are gay," retorted Simon.

"I'll only agree to that if you admit you're gay. Otherwise watch out because when I get hold of you I shall squeeze your balls hard."

"I'll tell Mum."

"Oh, yeah. I can see you doing that. 'Oh, Mummy, Nicholas just squeezed my testicles very hard and hurt me.' 'Oh, Simon, why would he do such a thing?' 'Because he's gay and I told him so.' I don't think I'd be the one who was sent to bed early and not allowed to watch TV for a week." Simon couldn't hold the pose any longer and he burst out into a fit of the giggles. When he'd recovered, he said

"If you do yours, I'll do mine."

"I wouldn't if I were you."

"Why?"

"For early adolescents aged thirteen hair down there is a status symbol to show they're becoming a man. If you shaved it off, your form mates would think you're eunuch or a little girl. We later adolescents have nothing to prove. We've proved it already."

"Oh. What's a eunuch?"

A man that's had his balls cut off and it leaves him with a high pitched voice if it's done before puberty."

"Why do they do that?"

"They don't any more. It's against their human rights and they only did it in foreign countries anyway. It was to stop them having sex and breeding like you do when you take a cat to the vet to be done. 'Castrated' is the proper word."

"Ooh, nasty." On the way as I was taking my cereal bowl to the sink for rinsing, I tousled Simon's hair.

"Oh, Simon, I absolutely adore you when you get into a stroppy mood." That's when we heard a key in the front door latch.

"Hi, boys," said Mum. "You missed a good service."

"As if…" mumbled Simon.

"We missed checking out the choirboys," I mumbled under my breath after she had gone to take off her hat and coat.

We duly went out for one o'clock Sunday lunch. Dad drove us to a country pub some four or five miles away. We had a table reserved by the window that looked out onto the hills. Our waiter came and took our order. Simon nudged me when he had gone and in a stage whisper said "That waiter's gay." I feigned indifference, but Mum didn't. Sharply she said

"Simon, that is not a suitable comment for the meal table." Enough said, at least until we got home, but from then on I confess Simon and I were both watching points and giving each other glances and suddenly Simon would burst out giggling again. I maintained the moral high ground. "I don't know what's got into your brother today," Mum said to me on the way back to the car.

"Don't worry, Mum. He's going through that terrible phase, the one where you said to me once that a switch clicks over in boys on their thirteenth birthday. Remember?"

"And you're through it, Nick, I suppose?" she replied as a put down to prevent me from being superior.

We went for a walk as we quite often did on a Sunday afternoon. I found myself once more conscious of boywatching. Yes, I had done it before and frequently, but today I was simply more conscious of it. Simon kept us amused with his chatter. He knew he was in need of a few Brownie points and the need to make Mum forget his behaviour in the restaurant. Dad distanced himself as usual. If he disciplined us boys, we knew we were in real trouble. He knew that Mum was quite capable of controlling the reins.

When we got home, Simon and I knew two things had to be done. We had to keep out of Mum's way and we wanted to talk privately. "We're going to play football in the garden," I announced after we'd got changed.

"Tea's at six o'clock, boys. Do try not to get too dirty."

"We won't."

We kicked the ball around for five minutes, then went and sat on the bench at the bottom of the garden. It catches the setting sun in summer and there it was far enough away from the house for us not to be overheard. "What on earth were you up to in the restaurant, Si?"

"Having fun." He grinned at me.

"Okay."

"It was just that the waiter was so cute… and gay."

"Simon, how can you say that? I told you before, you're going to get yourself into big trouble when you pick on the wrong person. Can you prove he was gay?"

"Yes."

"Do it then and you'll have to do better than say it was gaydar."

"Well, it was. That's what started me off, but if you want the full SP, you can have it. Are you sitting comfortably?" I nodded. "Then I'll begin. Tell me what you saw when the waiter was serving us."

"Mmm, a boy aged sixteen to twenty, cute face, clean shaven, white shirt, black bow tie, waistcoat, trousers and shoes."

"Anything else?"

"No, just ordinary waiter's kit."

"That's all, Nick, sure?" I nodded. "This is what I saw. Styled and well groomed hair and cute face given. Bow tie tied, not ready made. Did you notice that?"

"That doesn't make him gay."

"Nick, let me finish. Waistcoat just long enough to cover his shirt and give a full view of his trousers, back and front. Name badge with the name Ben. So we can call him Ben now. The trousers are the important bit. Nice bulge if looked from the front, but an even nicer view from the side. I'm even dribbling at this moment at the thought of what his package had in it. Now from the back. Tight little butt, made hotter by his trousers separating his cheeks and showing off his crack.

"When we arrived and were standing, waiting to be seated, you remember Ben was coming towards us and he checked both of us out, you first?"

"I didn't see that."

"You see, you don't notice anything and so you can't come to the same conclusions as I do."

"I'm not Sherlock Holmes or Hercule Poirot, Si."

"More Miss Marple."

"Cheeky sod."

"Then when he was checking me out, I was doing the same to him and we busted one another. He who dares, wins. I winked at him. Did you see him wink at me?" I shook my head. "Nicholas, you really must pay more attention to what's going on around you. Anyway, after that it was game on. Whenever I caught his eye without Mum and Dad looking, I would wink and he winked back. Then I knocked that fork onto the floor? That didn't work because I was hoping he would bend over and pick it up and I'd get a full view of his butt, but, of course, he knelt down to pick it up. And another time I blew him a kiss while he was giving Dad the bill and he tried to ignore it, but he couldn't stop himself from blushing. Now for the final proof. When we left, I was the last to get up from the table, remember? And while Mum and Dad were busy putting their coats on, he patted my bottom."

"And so that's why you asked Dad if we could go there again?"

"Dead right."

"Do you know what the word 'jailbait' means?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Because what you're doing could get someone into serious trouble until you're sixteen."

"Nick! Simon! Tea's ready."

Talk about this story on our forum
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily. Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.

[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.]