George and the Boys

by Ivor Slipper

Give a Dog a Bone

As his laptop came to life George now had the idea for his story and the basic storyline in his mind. Before starting to write it though he decided he should decide on his name for the site on which he hoped it would be posted.

He definitely didn't want to use his own name, George Walker. While there undoubtedly many George Walkers around, to use that would run a definite risk of exposing himself. George mentally giggled to himself as that thought ran through his mind. There was probably going to be quite a bit of exposing happening in the story with the characters he had in mind, but that was a different sort of exposure. Nor did he want to use the name under which his novels had been posted in the past. That would be a definite give away of his real identity. No, he needed a new pen name.

There was a flash of lightning outside as what was happening now was one of those very rare snow thunderstorms. He'd read about them, but never in his long life experienced one. The ideal name came to him then. Jack Flash did spring to mind, along with Lightning Bolt, but he quickly discarded both as being too corny. No, it was going to be George Washington. After all he could never tell a lie and George wanted people to believe his story – or maybe even stories. Plus which it was a name that would mean something to American readers who George was sure made up the majority of readers on those sites. It probably wouldn't mean anything to British readers because of the almost total ignorance of history that today's youngsters had, but then he thought it probable that most readers were older so it might well mean something. Let's face it he thought, most youngsters would be doing it, not reading about it! With that happy thought in his mind he began to type.

Ben Travers lay curled up snugly in his bed under the duvet. He'd gone to bed a couple of hours earlier, but the storm blowing outside had kept him awake. He lived in a house that had been built many years ago. Although his father had had double glazing installed the noise of the wind could easily be heard tonight and he suspected the snow that had started to fall at dusk was still coming down. That was good he thought because if there was enough, school would be cancelled and he could stay at home tomorrow.

It wasn't that he didn't like school, more that he didn't really fit in. He was fourteen now, of average height and weight, but with ginger hair and freckles which had led to a lot of name calling in the past. He was also very bright and, largely because he had to wear glasses, not very good at games, which was another reason he wasn't very popular. Being good at games and getting into school teams meant you became popular and had lots of friends. Being good at chess didn't produce quite the same results! At least he didn't get bullied, much, at this school. They had a non bullying policy which was quite well enforced. Also, he'd been protected by his older brother Mike for most of his school life. But Mike had turned eighteen earlier that year and on leaving school had moved on, and away, to Durham University.

Ben was thinking of having another wank in the hope that would make him feel tired. He'd had his usual one when he'd got into bed earlier as the encrusted sock now lying under his bed would prove. Perhaps that would work he decided and lifting his bum, pushed down his boxer briefs. He'd just started to stroke the head which had happily emerged from hiding in his foreskin, when something banged against the window, startling him and stopping him in mid stroke. He listened and over the wind heard more noise from outside.

There was a sudden crash and Ben laughed silently to himself having a good idea what had caused it. His mother had been telling his father for some time that the fence at the bottom of their garden needed to be repaired or perhaps even replaced as it had been there since the house was built. As his mother had pointed out, their garden backed onto the common and without a fence anyone could walk into their garden – it was an open invitation to be burgled. Ben's father though was somewhat of a procrastinator and had never quite got round to doing anything about it.

Now he'd have to, Ben thought to himself as he decided to get out of his warm bed and look to see what had happened. He padded over to the window and drew back the curtain. It wasn't easy to see in the dark, but it certainly seemed that the fence had come down. He decided to open the window for a better look. That was not a wise decision as he was assailed by a blast of cold air and snow flakes borne on the wind. Yes, he could see the fence had definitely come down and there was enough snow for school to be cancelled. He was just about to shut the window and go back to his warm bed and his wank when in a sudden stillness as the wind dropped for a few moments he heard a noise and saw some sort of movement down by the fence. He dashed over to one of his cupboards and got out his binoculars. Returning to the window he focussed them on where he thought he'd seen the movement and was stunned to see what appeared to be a little dog lying there. At first he thought it was dead but then he was sure it moved.

He decided he couldn't just leave it out there in the storm. If he did it would surely be dead from hypothermia by the morning. Something needed to be done, but he didn't want to go and wake his parents. He'd heard them having another of their arguments after he'd gone to bed which meant they'd almost certainly be grumpy in the morning anyway. If he woke them up in the middle of the night? He could just imagine the result.

So he put on his dressing gown and crept downstairs through the kitchen and into the utility room. He didn't want to turn on a light in case it woke his parents, but that proved to be a mistake as he couldn't see where he was going and thus stubbed his toe into the old typewriter that his father had left by the back door the previous day. Ben did his best to muffle the swear words that poured forth. Why hadn't his father taken the damn thing outside and dumped it in the bin yesterday instead of leaving it there he wondered? It was typical of his father who was a professor at the university, and had a tendency as far as practical things were concerned to start on something but leave it unfinished.

He finally located his wellingtons by the back door. He pulled on the pair of long woollen socks that were inside them, followed by the boots and then an old long anorak plus a beanie. He grabbed the flash light that sat on the shelf by the outside door before unlocking it. He was immediately aware of the howling wind which was blowing snowflakes into his face. He turned on the flash light and made his way down the garden. As he got towards the bottom of the garden he could see most of the fence had indeed now blown down and there close to it, cowering under a conifer was a small brown and white dog. He could hear it whimpering and see its fur was soaking wet. He'd never had a dog, but wasn't scared of them, so he got down on his knees and slowly inched towards it, talking quietly as he did. The dog was obviously scared and lost. It didn't look like any of those in the neighbourhood that he'd seen. He stretched out a hand and the dog sniffed it. He extended his hand further and stroked it under the chin; it didn't pull away. He now wished he'd put some biscuits in his pocket before leaving the house, but suddenly the dog inched towards him and emerged from its hiding place.

As it went to stand Ben could see it didn't want to put any weight on one of its front paws. He continued to stroke and talk to the dog, at first telling it it was a good boy before realising he didn't know if it was a boy or a girl. He then tried various names and thought he got a reaction when he addressed it as 'Rover'. So telling Rover to follow him, he stood up and headed back towards the house. Looking over his shoulder he was surprised to see the dog limping along behind him. He was even more surprised when after opening the back door Rover hopped into the house in front of him. He took off his anorak and boots before finding some towels with which to dry the dog. Rover was happy to let him do that until he reached the injured leg when a little growl was uttered. Ben decided to leave well alone.

He knew little about dogs, but to him this one looked thin. He remembered that in the fridge there was the remainder of the beef joint they'd had for dinner earlier. He took it out, found a knife and cut some off. Rover needed no second invitation and the rest of the joint quickly disappeared. He then found a packet of cheese biscuits and Rover equally quickly demolished most of those.

Ben wondered what to do next. He didn't want to stay there as it was cold with the heating turned off. He really wanted to go back to his bedroom but didn't want to leave Rover on his own and doubted if it could climb stairs with an injured leg. He decided to see what would happen so he left the kitchen and walked to the foot of the stairs. The dog followed him and as Ben started to climb, Rover using three legs hopped up behind him. Ben went into his bedroom, lifted the dog – who didn't object to being picked up – onto his bed and then slid under the duvet. Rover curled up alongside him.

"What on earth is that? How did it get there?"

Ben was woken from his sleep by the sound of his mother's voice penetrating his fuzzy brain. It took him a good few seconds before he realised what she was yelling about.

"Oh, that's 'Rover'. I found him in the garden last night."

"What! What were you doing out in the garden in the middle of the night. You could have caught your death. And this thing is probably riddled with fleas. Give it me and I'll take it back outside."

His mother made to reach for the dog which gave a soft growl and she backed away.

"You can't! I won't let you. It's injured and lost. You can't just put it outside in the cold and snow. It'll die."

"Well it can't stay here that's for sure. I guess your father will have to take it to the vets once they open. Meanwhile bring it downstairs and out it in the utility room. Then come back and strip your bed as all the bedding will have to be washed – and have a good shower yourself before you come down again for breakfast."

Ben wanted to protest but decided it wasn't worth it. He sort of hoped his father would think differently about the dog, but if he did it would probably result in another argument and he didn't really want that. So he got of of bed and did as he was told.

An hour or so later Ben and his father were standing in the vet's surgery. They had found a box into which 'Rover' had reluctantly agreed to be placed. The top had been secured with a combination of sticky tape and string and Ben had sat in the back of the car with the box on his lap, talking to the dog on the journey, which luckily had only taken about ten minutes. Indeed the wait to see the vet had been longer than the journey to get there!

Now they were there, because they weren't clients the vet had first of all asked what brought them there. Ben had explained how he'd found the dog last night in his garden.

"Aha, in that case," said the vet, "I'd best scan him first to see if he has a microchip."

"What's that?" Ben asked.

"It's a little thing about the size of a grain of rice that is implanted under an animals skin. It has a unique number and when we check that against the database we can find who the owner is."

"That's clever," Mr Travers commented.

Ben wasn't sure at first if he wanted Rover to have one, but then realising his mother wouldn't let him keep the dog, decided it was best if he did have an owner.

The vet got out his scanner, moved it over the dog's neck and they all heard a little ping.

"Aha, we're in luck – and so is he," said the vet who walked over to his computer terminal. "I even know which company this one is from, but best be sure. Yes, as I thought. Now I need to make a phone call."

Ben listened as the vet spoke to someone and wrote things on a pad. He ended the call and turned to Ben and his father.

"Rather odd. The owner is registered as living in Truro."

"That can't be right, said Ben, "Godalming is a long way from there."

"There could be lots of explanations, but the likely one is that the owner has moved and not updated the microchip people with their new address. Luckily they do have a mobile number on record, so I can call them. I think though I'd best do that in private, so if you could go back to the waiting room?"

Ben wasn't too happy about that, but a couple of minutes later the vet emerged, said that he'd spoken to the owner and they'd be along shortly to collect the dog. He added that they'd asked if the people who had found it could wait so they could thank them. In the meantime he'd treat the dog's injuries which didn't appear to be serious.

The waiting room was empty, no doubt the weather had kept potential clients at home, so Ben and his father passed their time leafing through the selection of various magazines that were there to keep clients entertained while waiting to see a vet. It was about twenty minutes before the door opened and a man came in followed by a boy.

As soon as he saw the boy Ben felt a tingle down below. He'd known for some time that he liked boys but had learned to conceal his feeling at school. However he'd never seen this boy before and thus the reaction was one that just couldn't be stopped. He looked to be about the same height and age as Ben. He was dressed in a black puffa jacket, black skinny jeans and black hi-top trainers. He had light brown hair that was cut fairly short but still came down over his forehead. He smiled at Ben, who felt his knees go weak at the sight, before running over to him.

"Are you the one would found 'Rover'?"

Ben got to his feet, although scared his legs might give way.

"Yesss." he stuttered. "Is he really called 'Rover'?"

"Yes, he is. Why? But, thank you, thank you, thank you, for finding him."

Ben managed a little laugh. "Because that's what I called him."

The boy's smile became even larger and Ben's knees felt weak again, but suddenly he didn't have to worry about that as the boy stepped forward and hugged him.

"Jake, put that boy down. You don't know where he's been!" said a laughing voice that evidently belonged to Jake's father. "I'm sorry Ben, but Jake's been distraught because Rover's been missing for a couple of days and was worried we'd not find him. We've only moved in last weekend and were thinking he might try to find his way back to where we lived before."

"Truro's a long way," said Ben.

"Indeed it is. I assume you go to Heathfield?" said Jake's father. Ben nodded.

He turned to Ben's father. "My name's Charles Wyatt. This is going to sound very forward, but I'm going to make a suggestion. Would you let Ben come and spend the weekend with Jake? He can get him up to speed on the school and the teachers. I'd not be surprised if they aren't going to be in the same year looking at the pair of them. It would sort of be a way of saying thank you."

"Great idea, Dad. Best one you've had in years," Jake said laughing. "Please say you'll come Ben?"

Ben looked at his father, "Can I please?"

Mr Travers looked at Ben. He hadn't seen him looking so happy for a long time. He knew things between him and his wife often weren't good and his son didn't seem to have any real friends, certainly none he ever brought home. Maybe this could be a chance for him to find a friend. He knew his wife would probably shout and scream when he told her, but he'd put his foot down.

"Why not, Ben. Let's just get Mr Wyatt's address and then we'll go home so you can pack a toothbrush – and a few other bits and pieces."

Addresses were exchanged and it turned out that the Wyatts lived in a new development on the outskirts of the town, perhaps a couple of miles from Ben's home. Just as they finished with that the vet emerged to say that Rover's injury appeared to be a bad sprain, but there was no reason he couldn't go home, although he should be kept quiet for a couple of days to give it time to recover.

Mr Wyatt laughed, "Keeping that dog quiet is a bit like Canute trying to turn back the tide."

"Well, do your best," said the vet with a grin. "Otherwise, you now know where we are."

"Indeed we do. Suppose while I'm here and paying the bill we may as well register him with you. Give us half an hour or so Mr Travers and then bring Ben over."

"Yeah, don't be too long or this snow might all have gone," said Jake.

"Fight or snowman?" asked Ben.

"Definitely balls!" replied Jake laughing.

"Jake! Behave yourself!" said his father aiming a clip at his ear that Jake easily dodged.

'Balls indeed', Ben thought to himself as he felt another twitch and looked at Jake's crotch. Was it possible – surely not?

An hour, or slightly less later, Ben arrived at Jake's house and was introduced to his mother and six year old sister, Rebecca. Less than ten minutes after that the pair were out in the garden building a snowman. Once that was done the snowballs were prepared and the fight took place. Rover sat disconsolately in the conservatory missing all the fun. Ben couldn't remember ever enjoying himself so much.

When they finally went indoors, because Mrs Wyatt called them in for lunch, she also insisted that they take off their wet shoes, jackets and jeans in the conservatory before coming into the house. Ben hadn't considered having to undress in front of Jake. Jake simply went ahead and removed the specified items with a second thought. Ben's only problem was the jeans, but he had little choice, so down and off they came. Inevitably he sneaked a look at Jake. His navy blue boxer briefs looked snug and well filled. He looked up to Jake's face and saw a smile as Jake lowered his right hand to adjust his package. They scampered up stairs to Jake's bedroom where Jake grabbed a pair of sweats out of his wardrobe. Ben started to pull a pair of jeans out of his backpack.

"Hey, wanna be comfortable and borrow a pair of my sweats?"

Oh boy, did he! The boneometer level went up a centimetre or so at the idea of wearing a pair of Jake's sweats. "Mmm, yeah. I didn't think to bring any."

"No worries. We're pretty much the same height."

Ben wondered if a certain something else was the same height and gained a good part of another centimetre. Something he was sure hadn't gone unnoticed by the look Jake gave him.

"Oh, I didn't ask earlier Ben. There's a guest room you can have or you can sleep here and share my double. Rover won't take up too much of it!"

Ben was sure he blushed, but hoped he hadn't. "If you think there's enough room, I'm happy to share. Makes less work for your mum."

With that decided they went down for lunch, but soon came back upstairs afterwards. Ben was pleased to discover that Jake played chess and was of a similar standard to him, so the afternoon passed quickly as they tested each other. Then it was dinner after which they came back upstairs. Now it was time for the x-box to come to the fore, but Ben proved to be nowhere near as good on that as Jake. So they decided to watch a couple of horror films. It was only natural, and very comfortable to do this lying on the bed together, almost, but not quite touching. During the evening Jake took off his sweats and Ben felt reluctantly obliged to follow, wondering if there might be a way for him to wear them again on Saturday. Now occasionally bare leg would make contact with bare leg.

At some point there was a knock on the door and Mr Wyatt's head appeared round it to say he and Mrs Wyatt were going to bed, adding, with a chuckle, that they shouldn't stay up too late. Some time later the film they were watching ended. Jake suggested that before he put on another one they should get ready for bed and watch it under the duvet. He went off to the bathroom returning a few minutes later wearing just a clean pair of boxer briefs. Ben followed him there, had a quick shower, cleaned his teeth and put on a clean pair of his own boxer briefs.

He slid into bed and turned on his side with his back to Jake.

"You don't have to stay on the edge."

He rolled over so he was facing Jake and was surprised when he found him already in the middle of the bed facing him. A hand came over his back and pulled him closer while a head move close enough for Ben, for the first time ever, to feel a pair of boys lips gently touching his. A spark went through him and the boneometer rose again. Instinctively he put his hand over Jake's back and moved it slowly and gently downwards, but where he expected to encounter the waistband of a pair of boxer briefs there was nothing. Instead his hand was caressing the soft skin of Jake's rear. He stopped, frozen in mid stroke.

"You're overdressed, Ben," came a whisper.

"But... I saw you come in wearing boxers."

"Didn't want to frighten you." The hand on his back moved lower and underneath the waistband of his boxer briefs. Now he had an idea of what Jake was feeling as the hand caressed his orbs.

Ben grinned to himself. "I think I need to get properly dressed," he said, and suiting action to words moved around so he could help Jake in removing them.

"That's better," said Jake.

"Much better. Do I get my reward now for finding Rover?"

"What sort of reward do you have in mind?" Jake whispered. His lips came into contact with Ben's again but now his tongue was extended to lightly moisten Ben's lips.

"I'm sure we can think of something."

George ended the story there. He ran it through spellcheck, read it through a couple of times to check for any other errors and then submitted it to the site. It was accepted and duly appeared a few days later.

He received a few 'likes' and a couple of comments from readers. On the third day after it had appeared he received an email.

Hi George Washington,

Ben and I want to know how you know all about my dog 'Rover' getting lost and him finding it? More than that, do you have a spycam or listening device in my bedroom?

We're not sure we want the world to know what you think we do next. But I s'pose it would be fun to find out if what you think we do and what we actually do are the same, cos if they are I'm gonna find that bleedin' camera!

Jake & Ben.

George was taken aback. Was life really stranger than fiction? Should he write a sequel story? It would be fun to do so he thought.....

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