Meadstone Hill

by Pink Panther

It's strange, sometimes, the way that friendships develop. I've known Jasveer for almost two years, since the day, as eleven-year olds, we started at King James Boys' Grammar School. At first, we had little real contact, but as time has gone on, we've become closer and closer. Right now, he's the best friend I've ever had. So what brought us together? Several things, I guess. We share a couple of passions, mathematics and cricket. It was only a few weeks into our first term that we found ourselves vying with each other to be the best in our mathematics class.

It wasn't until the following spring that we discovered each other's love of cricket. I guess we're both quite reasonable at other sports like soccer and swimming, but cricket is a different matter for both of us. We've both been playing the game for as long as we can remember, we follow it avidly and play whenever we can.

It goes a lot deeper than that, though. Apart from all his other qualities, Jaz is everything a friend should be: kind, generous, honest, gentle, fiercely loyal, and great fun to be with. I'd trust him with my life. His mum and dad came here from India as children, more than thirty years ago. His dad's a pharmacist; his mum teaches at junior school. They work very hard to give Jaz and his younger brother Ajit the best possible start in life. For them, I guess Jaz is the model son; obedient, respectful, hard-working, an achiever. It's what's expected of him.

I live with my mum and dad and my sister Rachel. Dad teaches physics at the university, mum's human resources manager for one of the biggest companies in the area; we aren't rich, but we do okay. Rachel's sixteen and has just finished her GCSE's; she'll start `A' levels in September. Dad's the cricket fan; my love of the game is really down to him. He's been taking me to matches and teaching me to play since before I started school.

Only in the last couple of weeks has the other thing come into it with me and Jaz. On a beautiful Saturday afternoon in early July, we're playing in a school cricket match. Not just any cricket match though; it's the final of the South of England Schools' Cup, and the opposition, Marchester College, are our fiercest rivals. They bat first and score 115 for eight wickets down. 116 to win in twenty-five overs is a challenging target; we know we'll have to play well to get it. As usual, Jasveer and I open the batting. At one end I'm all watchfulness, solid defence and dogged determination, nudging a single here, gliding the ball for two there. At the other, Jaz is a master of controlled aggression. His stroke play is so graceful; it's an absolute pleasure to watch. He's striking the ball beautifully, dispatching it to all parts of the ground.

After fifteen overs we've scored seventy without loss. I'm on strike to their quickest bowler. The first ball is short of a length and well wide of the off stump. Stepping back and across, up on my toes, I guide it down towards third man and trot through for a single. The next two balls are right on target. Jaz plays defensively, getting everything behind them. Then he gets what he's been waiting for, a full-length delivery, three inches outside the off-stump. He takes a big stride forward and across, the bat coming through as straight as an arrow. With a full follow-through, his left elbow held high, it's the perfect cover drive. The ball fizzes across the grass and over the boundary, leaving the fielders with no chance. Our supporters cheer enthusiastically.

They bring back their left-arm spin bowler. He's good; he's taken loads of wickets during the season, drifting the ball in then spinning it away. The first ball is wide of off stump; I watch it go through. The next ball is a little straighter. I clip it away for a single. Now Jaz is on strike again. He meets his first ball with a solid forward defensive stroke. The next ball is tossed up a little higher. Jaz advances down the pitch and strikes it straight back, high over the bowler's head. It flies over the boundary way out of reach of the fielder and lands on the pavilion balcony. It's a magnificent shot. Even Ben Stokes couldn't have hit it any better! I wish I could hit the ball like that!

Two overs to go, two runs to win and I'm on strike. The first ball is on my pads. I flick it away backward of square. We take the first run quickly and turn for the second just as the fielder reaches the ball. We've done it! And at least I scored the winning runs. As we leave the field, Jaz is mobbed by our team mates and supporters.

"Well done Jaz! Fantastic knock!"

I let him take the plaudits; he deserves them all. Mr. Collins, our coach, takes me to one side. "That was a very important innings you played there, Damien. Jasveer's getting all the attention and that's understandable, but your contribution was just as important. You kept your concentration superbly."

He passes me the scorebook: J. Srikanth not out 71, D. Shaw not out 38, extras 7, total 116 for none.

"You actually played more scoring shots than he did," Mr. Collins continues. "You played your best-ever knock when the pressure was on. That's the real test."

After the presentation we wander into the pavilion and start to get changed. I've batted for more than an hour and a half under the hot sun; my kit's soaked. I strip off and head through into the showers; a moment later Jaz follows me. There's no conversation; we're both very tired. We know what we've achieved; talking isn't necessary.

Suddenly, I realise how stunningly fit he is. We're much the same size, about five feet six, and slim without being skinny, but he's such a beautiful colour, with deep brown eyes and collar-length, slightly wavy black hair that just covers the tops of his ears; I'm very fair with blue eyes; the contrast couldn't be starker. His nose is straight and just the right size, nice lips and wonderfully white, even teeth that seem to sparkle when he smiles. He is perfection! I take a peek at his privates. His cock's uncut like mine, but a bit smaller, with average size balls, about the same as me. He's got more hair down there than I have though, a small crop of thick, jet-black pubes; mine have only just started sprouting. I hurry out of the shower before he notices me getting a hard-on.

I wish the thoughts would go away but they won't. I lie in bed at night, wishing he was there with me, wanting to feel his body close to mine, wanting . . . well I guess you know. It's so confusing. Does this mean I'm gay? That can't be right, surely? There's a boy in our year at school that everybody knows is gay. Everything about him gives it away. I'm nothing like that! It doesn't make sense. I don't feel like that about any of the other boys. I don't want to feel like that about Jaz either; what would he think if he knew? Maybe we wouldn't be friends anymore; that would be devastating. I don't want to feel like that, but I can't help it; I just do.

The summer holidays started a few days ago. It's a hot, late July morning and I'm cycling the two miles to Jasveer's house. Any opportunity to be together is one not to be missed. We spend the morning playing cricket in their long back garden; myself, Jaz, ten-year old Ajit, and Ajit's school friend Rakesh. The confined space makes it a bit tame, but it's very enjoyable nonetheless. After a couple of hours, we go inside for a snack lunch.

"Afterwards, let's go out on our bikes," Jaz suggests. "Head out into the country towards Lakenfield; leave the two kids here."

"Sure!" I tell him. "That's cool!"

Outside, the sun blazes down from a cloudless sky. It's probably not ideal cycling weather, but if it means I get the chance to be alone with Jaz, I'm not going to miss it. Twenty minutes later, with bottles of iced drinks clipped to our bikes, we're on our way. Pretty soon we're leaving the city behind, and climbing along narrow, winding lanes into the rolling countryside beyond. We take a left turn, the lane snaking around the bottom of Meadstone Hill. Jaz brings his bike to a halt.

"Let's push our bikes up the hill a bit; we can chill out among the bracken. I love doing that; it's like there's nobody else in the whole world."

We push our bikes up a broad, grassy track towards the summit for fifty yards or so. On either side, the bracken is almost as tall as we are. We look around; there's not a soul to be seen.

"This'll do," he tells me. "Push through the bracken; it's quite easy."

I do as he says, the fronds parting readily as we move through them, until we're maybe fifteen or twenty yards from the track, just the tops of our heads poking out above the lush vegetation.

"Yeah, this is cool," Jaz says from behind me. "Let's chill for a bit."

We rest the bikes against the bracken, unclip our drinks bottles, and sink down onto the soft fern carpet. Jaz was right; there must be people not that far away, probably only a few hundred yards, but for all the difference it makes, there might as well not be anyone else for miles. Ever since that cricket match, I've fantasised about being alone with him like this, now here I am.

"I love this," Jaz says quietly, lying back against the bracken. "Alone up here, just the two of us. So peaceful; no need to worry about anything."

He smiles, showing off those beautiful teeth. He's dressed in a white England football top and dark blue shorts that finish half way down his thighs. His legs are just perfect, slim, but strong and athletic. He is stunning!

"You okay?" he asks gently.

"Yeah, sure," I reply casually, trying not to betray how nervous and excited I am.

"I really like being with you, Damien," he continues. "You're always there for me when I need someone. That's what friendship's about; that's what I think, anyway. Like at the cricket final. Everyone was patting me on the back, telling me how well I'd played. Nobody said a word to you, except for Mr. Collins. But I know how important it was. I could only play the way I did because I knew I could depend on the guy at the other end. Most people haven't got a clue about that sort of thing."

"Thanks!" I reply quietly, smiling back at him, adjusting my position to hide the bulge that's rapidly developing in my shorts.

For a few moments we sit in silence. I twiddle some ferns, basking in this wonderful feeling of togetherness, enjoying the serenity, the tranquillity of the moment, out here where nobody can get to us. I take a swig from my drinks bottle. The ice is almost gone; it's perfect.

"Jaz," I ask. "Do you often come up here then?"

"Quite often. When it's warm like this and I need to get away for a bit, chill out, think about stuff, you know? I love it."

"Yeah, cool," I reply awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.

"You don't have to be shy, you know," he says, giving me another stunning smile. "I think I feel the same way you do."

I look straight into his eyes, hardly able to believe what he's just said, then look down at his shorts. My eyes almost fall out; he's got a raging hard-on.

"Shit, man!" I reply, smiling back at him, taken right out of my stride by this turn of events. "I never had a clue!" I grin sheepishly. "I thought it was just me!"

He moves across and puts his arm round my shoulder.

"I've wanted us to be alone like this for ages! Then, after the cricket final, when I saw you in the showers . . . . I just knew!" He grins and strokes my leg just below my shorts. "It's funny. I wasn't going to have a shower, but then you did. I just couldn't miss it! I've been up here three times since then; every time I wank myself stupid just thinking about you!"

"Jaz! What would your mum and dad say?"

He turns towards me so our noses are almost touching. "I spend all my life being the perfect son, the son they always wanted, and that's cool. I love mum and dad to bits, of course I do. I'd never want to hurt them. But sometimes, just sometimes, I need to do something a bit wild, to just be me, without worrying about what they think; even be a bit naughty, you know?"

"Yes."

I do know; I know exactly. I'm just amazed to hear him say it.

"Shall we . . . . ?" he asks.

"Yeah."

We help each other pull our tops off. I run my hand down his back. His skin is as smooth as silk; it sends a shiver of excitement right through my body. Shoes and socks are discarded. We pull down each other's shorts. He's got about five inches, not quite as thick as mine, just the tip of the small, shiny head sticking out beyond his foreskin. Mine's nearly an inch longer; the head's bigger too, and when it's hard, like now, the foreskin goes right back. I run my fingers up and down his shaft; it's hard and hot. He returns the favour, the touch of his slender fingers making me tingle all over.

"Damien, you're so fit!" he whispers. "What a beautiful cock! Even better than I dreamed about!"

"You're pretty stunning yourself!" I respond. "In the showers after the cricket final I couldn't get my head round how fit you are! I had to make a quick exit before you saw me getting a hard-on!"

"And you nearly made it!" he laughs. "I saw you getting horny and then you rushed off! It's cool; it means you actually cared enough not to want to embarrass me. The very next day I came up here, stripped naked and wanked off, dreaming about what we might have got up to! I'm glad we didn't though; you never know who might have walked in! That's why I love it up here; you can be naked, out in the sunshine, yet it's the most private place you could ever want."

I lay right back, pulling Jaz over on top of me. We lie there for several minutes, bodies intertwined, gently stroking and fondling each other. Every night for over two weeks I've fantasised about doing this; the reality is so much better, so much more exciting; the perfect expression of the way I feel about Jaz and this wonderful friendship we've got.

"Jaz," I ask, looking up at him. "Do you fancy other boys like this?"

He screws his face up. "Not really," he says after a long pause. "I suppose I do in a way, but not the same. Sure, I'd probably enjoy having sex with some other fit young guys, but somehow it wouldn't mean anything, it'd just be a physical thing. I'm not saying that's wrong, just sort of second best, if that makes any sense. What about you?"

"No. I just don't feel this way about anyone else. I was horrified when I started fantasising about you."

"And now?"

"Well, now I know it's okay to feel like that."

He gives me another stunning smile. I'm sure I'll die if he does it again.

"Yeah, that's cool!" he says ruffling my hair. "It's about us being friends, I mean real friends. Having sex is just part of that; it sort of says how we feel about each other. I'll show you."

He rolls off me and bends forward, his head on my tummy. He holds the base of my cock between thumb and forefinger and takes it between his lips, gradually pushing down on it until he's sucking it almost down to the base. Stroking and fondling each other was exciting enough; I never dreamed we'd do this! He's getting me so horny my body's tingling all over. I pull his legs around so we're lying in opposite directions. His tongue's working all over my bell-end, driving me crazy with excitement. I swallow hard, moisten my lips, and dive down on him. Having his steel-hard, dark-chocolate sex in my mouth is just the most perfect feeling of all. He releases me for a second.

"Oh Damien! That is so cool! Go for it! Please!"

He doesn't have to ask me twice. As he goes back down on me, I get down to some serious sucking, my nose pushing right into his little mat of pubes, my fingers caressing his balls and running all over his bum. I sense his thigh muscles tightening. A moment later his cock swells and jerks between my lips, warm, salty fluid spurting into my mouth. Before I have chance to let him go, it's my turn, my body going into wild, uncontrollable spasms, balls exploding into action, spunk flooding into his mouth in several massive wads. Absolutely, unbelievably brilliant; I've never cum even half that much before! Jaz keeps sucking and licking until he's swallowed every last drop. I hesitate for a second, then do the same for him. Quietly, instinctively, we re-arrange ourselves; without a word being spoken, we're more or less back as we were, bodies pressed together, gently stroking each other.

"Jaz! That was wicked!" I tell him, running my fingers through his hair. "How did you know how to . . . suck like that?!"

He kisses my nose. " I don't know really. Sort of knew about sucking, but I've never done it before; never seen anyone do it or anything. I suppose it's instinct mainly. I knew I wanted to, especially when I saw your cock today!" He rubs his nose against mine, killing me with his smile. "Anyway, you didn't do such a bad job yourself! That was so cool, especially letting me cum in your mouth!"

There's nothing else to say. Our mouths meet in a wonderful, perfect kiss. Even up to one minute ago I hadn't even considered kissing him, but there's no hesitation, no awkwardness. It just feels right, completely natural.

We lie there for ages, perfectly at peace with the world, with each other. In a way that's hard to explain, having sex has added a new dimension to our friendship, making it even stronger, even closer, even deeper. Not in some sort of `dirty secret' way either; I want to tell the whole world about what we feel for each other. Of course, I'm not going to do it; we'd just get into a whole pile of shit and it would serve no purpose, but in no way am I ashamed of what we've done, and I know Jaz feels the same. We've expressed the way we feel about each other; it's as simple as that. It's four o'clock. Reluctantly, we slip back into our clothes and head for home.

"So what have you been up to today?" Dad asks me as we eat our evening meal.

"I went over to Jaz's house," I reply casually. "This morning we played cricket in the back garden. Then this afternoon we went out on our bikes, over towards Lakenfield."

"Well done! I'm glad you're keeping yourself out of mischief. I'm really pleased you've got a friend like Jasveer; he's a super kid."

I smile back and say nothing. If only he knew!

"When we go to France, the week after next," dad continues, "why don't you invite him to come with us? There are twin beds in your room; it'd be ideal."

I can hardly wait to finish eating so I can phone Jaz to ask him.

"Jaz! It's Damien. Dad's asked me to invite you to come to France with us for two and half weeks. We're going a week on Monday."

"Damien, that's awesome ! We're not going to India this year. I'll have to ask, but I'm sure it'll be okay!"

"Brilliant! It's out in the country." I say quietly. There are lots of places like . . . you know."

"Cool!" he responds enthusiastically.

Five minutes later, his dad's on the phone, thanking us for the invitation and fixing up all the details. It's all set; it's going to be the holiday of a lifetime. Today has been the best day of my life. If only we could tell people about it, let them celebrate it with us, but we can't, not yet anyway.

Sixteen, that's how old we're supposed to be. Jaz is a few weeks younger than I am; his birthday's just before Christmas. We'll have to wait almost two and a half years. Will it last that long? I'm sure we'll still be friends like we were before, but maybe one of us will have got into girls and want to pull back from the sex thing. Maybe both of us will, who knows? I don't want to think that far ahead; it's pointless. I'm just thinking about now, tomorrow, next week, the holiday we're going on. I'm just going to make sure I enjoy every single second.

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