of a coming of age story which shares a boy's learning of same sex
relationships with a man's understanding of letting the past go.
I hope you enjoy it, if you do and want more, please let me know.
And he scores! 5
After the third large glass of Glenfiddich, Fred felt more relaxed. His mind blotted out the television programme, and rolled the years back.
They were playing together on a piece of derelict land where a factory, bombed during the war, had been. The buildings had gone, and the ground was used as a dumping ground for anything from building spoil to abandoned cars. It was overgrown with trees and bushes, save for the cycle tracks kids like them had made, riding their bikes round and round in pretend Z-Cars or Sweeney chases. They called the area `The Track'.
Jimmy jumped off his bike and ran to a bush.
"Whatcher doin', Jimmy?"
"Takin' a whiz!"
Fred watched the stream of golden fluid spurting from his friend's dick. He flicked it three times when he finished, then pulled up his jeans, allowing it to disappear out of sight. "Now you!" Jimmy said.
"I don't need to."
"It's only fair, you watched me!"
Fred couldn't argue with that. He dropped his zip and pulled it out. Try as he might, he could only manage four drops. "See, I told you!" he said.
"OK" said Jimmy. "I'll be the gangster now. You'll never get me, Reagan!" and he jumped on his bike and was speeding away.
A couple of evenings later -- these were the last of the long summer days when kids could safely go off and play, sometimes a mile or more from their houses -- they were both lapping Silverstone for the tenth time, Jimmy in his Brabham, Fred in a Vanwall -- it was Fred's turn to suddenly need to empty his bladder. He jumped off his bike, dropped his zip and stood in the middle of the track peeing into the bush at its side.
"Bet you can't pee this high!" he called to Jimmy.
"Bet I can!" came the reply, and in less than a second, he was off his bike and aiming for the same bush.
"I didn't need to go as bad." was his excuse
for losing. "At least I did some,
not like you last time!" saved his loss of face. Then back on their bikes
That weekend the weather was warm but it rained. Constantly. Fred and Jimmy were out riding their bikes at the track on Saturday morning when the showers started and they got soaked riding round, their vests and white cotton shorts clung to them as they waited for the shower to pass. It didn't, and it got colder, so they decided to cycle to Fred's home, which was nearest, and play there. When they arrived, Fred's mum had told them both off severely for getting so wet. "You'll both catch your death of cold!" She'd said. "Go and get in a hot bath now, and I'll hang your clothes up by the fire to dry." She said, and turned on the gas fire in the living room.
The boys, subdued by the telling off, trudged upstairs. "Who's going first?" Jimmy asked.
"There'll only be enough hot water for one bath, so you go first, and leave the water for me." Fred said.
"We could share!" Jimmy offered.
"Yeah, come on!" Fred agreed.
They ran to the bathroom, and while the bath was filling, kicked off their pumps (laceless canvas trainer-type shoes), and removed socks, vests and shorts. They looked at each other, standing only in their underpants.
"I will if you will!" said Fred.
"OK!" Jimmy agreed, and with a flourish, they both pulled down their pants.
Fred slid the wet clothes out through the door with his foot, then closed and locked it.
The bath was small, but by sitting facing each other, with Fred's legs over Jimmy's, and both pairs of legs at each other's waist sides, they managed to fit. The water was lovely and warm, and with a sponge and a flannel they soaped, washed and warmed their bodies.
Jimmy dropped the soap into the water, and fished around with his hand for it. It couldn't be seen through the sudsy water, and what Jimmy's hand touched was Fred's hard dick.
"What's this!" Jimmy laughed, holding it tight.
Fred grabbed Jimmy's. "Same as this!" he laughed. It wasn't hard when he first held it, but within a second or two, it was. Jimmy was shocked, and embarrassed, and let Fred's go.
"Hold it." Fred said quietly. "It's nice."
Jimmy held it again. It was nice, and they both sat for a couple of minutes just holding each other's as they both got harder than they'd ever felt before.
"Are you both in there?" Fred's mum's voice at the door made them both jump.
"Yes, Mum, we're just -"
"Well hurry up, there's a cup of tea and a toasted teacake for you both downstairs. Fred, you'll have to let Jimmy wear something of yours while his clothes dry. Alright?"
"OK Mum. We're getting out now!"
They dried off and ran back to Fred's room with the towels wrapped round them. Fred sorted out some pants, socks, a vest and a pair of shorts for Jimmy, and pants, socks, a vest and a pair of jeans for himself. They looked at each other, and Fred dropped his towel. Jimmy looked down at Fred's hard 4-1/2 inches sticking out straight, and dropped his own towel. His 4-3/4 inches stood pointing up at about 40 degrees. They were just at the stage of `swordfighting' with them when Fred's mum shouted up the stairs at them.
"Hurry up, boys -- your teacakes are getting cold!"
No matter how sexy, dirty or exciting playing with your -- or your friend's -- dick is, mention food to any 10 year old boy and the subject changes instantly. "Come on Jimmy, you just gotta taste these hot teacakes -- they're Fab!" Fred encouraged as they both dressed as quickly as possible.
Fred remembered the taste of his mother's teacakes with affection. He poured out another Glenfiddich, switched the TV off with its remote buttons, and relaxed with his memories.
His mum had fussed about with the wet clothes, turning them on the clothes horse which stood in front of the gas fire. Having that fire on made the room too hot and steamy and eventually his mum turned it off and said, "Oh hang it. Jimmy'll have to go home in your clothes and bring them back tomorrow. You are coming tomorrow, aren't you Jimmy?"
"Yes please, ma'am!" he replied politely.
Fred thought for a moment or two, then asked, "Mu-um? Can Jimmy stay the night? It'd save him getting wet again, cycling home, it's still pouring, look!"
"I don't know Fred. He'd have to ask his parents first -- have you got the phone at home, Jimmy?"
"Yes, ma'am!" Jimmy replied proudly. Not everyone had in those days.
"Well, if you'd like to stay, pop and ring your mother and ask her. The phone's in the hall."
They heard half of the conversation, then Jimmy shouted "Mum says Dad'll come for me in the car if it doesn't stop. She doesn't want me to be a nuisance!"
Fred's mum went and took the phone from Jimmy. Fred was so excited at the prospect of his friend staying the night, he listened carefully to every word she said.
"Mrs. Carson? Hello, this is Fred's mother. Hello, Cathy, call me Mary. (pause) No, he's no trouble at all, they're both sitting eating toasted teacakes and having a cup of tea at the moment. He's a very polite boy, I hope some of it rubs off on Fred! (pause) No, I won't hear of it. Not with petrol at nearly six shillings a gallon now. I think people will stop driving their cars if it goes up again! No, he'll be fine here. He can have Sunday dinner with us, and I'll see he gets home by . (pause) I will! Goodbye, Cathy, thank you!"
the boys grinned and wriggled in their chairs. It was going to be an exciting night!
Fred remembered that they played with his Dinky and Corgi toy cars on his bedroom floor until teatime, then after fish fingers and chips followed by tinned fruit and ice cream, they'd sat and watched television all evening, programmes including The Avengers, with Patrick MacNee as John Steed and Diana Rigg as Emma Peel, and the Morecambe and Wise show. At , Fred's dad (who had hardly said a word to them after getting home from his work in the railway yards) suggested it was time for bed, and Fred's mum had gone up with them to get Jimmy a sleeping bag to go on Fred's bedroom floor. She got a pair of pyjamas for Jimmy, and told him to go to the bathroom to clean his teeth and change. When he'd gone, she told Fred, while he was changing, that they weren't to make any noise and go to sleep straight away. "It's bad enough your father has to work Sunday, but he's doing the early shift and starts at six, and I don't want him disturbed by you two playing about." She said.
"We won't, mum!" he promised and kissed him goodnight when he'd climbed into bed. Jimmy came back, in pyjamas now, and she saw him get into the sleeping bag. "Are you alright there?" she asked. "Yes ma'am!" he replied. "Goodnight!" She turned off the light as she left.
After a few minutes, they talked quietly for a while, then were quiet as they heard Fred's parents come up to bed. Eventually the light on the landing was switched off, the small amount of light coming under Fred's bedroom door disappeared and all was dark.
Fred broke the daydream and poured another glass of Glenfiddich. Was it his third? Or fourth? He couldn't remember. Funny, that. He could remember exactly what happened forty years ago, but not how many whiskeys he'd had tonight. He took a sip, set the glass down, closed his eyes and remembered that night again.
He'd woken up, and Jimmy was shaking him. "Wake up, Fred!" he was saying quietly.
"Wha --what's up? What's the matter?"
I'm freezing, Fred. There's a cold draught blowing under your door and I'm frozen!" Jimmy whispered. To show him, he put the back of his hand on Fred's cheek.
"Oh, right. We don't have central heating, and the room heaters are off in the summer." Fred explained.
"Can I come in there with you?" Jimmy asked. "Just till I warm up, please?"
"OK, jump in. Quiet though!"
Jimmy slid between the sheets. He made sure his cold feet touched Fred's.
"Hey! They're cold! Watch it!" Fred said, moving aside.
"Mmm! Nice and warm in here!" said Jimmy.
They lay together for five or six long minutes.
"Give me a hug, Fred!" whispered Jimmy. "Warm me up, please!"
Fred moved closer and put his arms round his friend. Jimmy felt Fred's hard dick touch his, and that was hard too.
"Hold it, Fred, like in the bath!" Jimmy whispered. Their hands fumbled through pyjama flies and held each other's hard dicks. Somehow, here in bed, in the dark, it was more daring, far more exciting.
After just holding for a few minutes, their fingers started moving. Just moving about, feeling somewhere new, they didn't know how to do any more. Then they found that by sliding their foreskins a bit, it felt better still. Suddenly Jimmy pushed Fred's hand off, and shook violently in the bed.
"What's the matter? What happened?" Fred asked, concerned that he'd hurt his friend.
Jimmy was frightened. "I-I don't know, Fred. It was nice, very nice, then-it felt funny, and I wanted you to stop. I pushed your hand off, and then I started shaking. I still feel funny inside now. And my dick tickles, Fred. Oh, I can't stop shaking-hold me Fred, hold me tight!"
Fred hugged Jimmy as tightly as he could. He was scared too, scared he'd damaged his friend's dick by playing with it. He wouldn't touch it ever again, he promised himself.
Fred opened his eyes and smiled. How innocent they'd been. He had another sip of the whisky.
Three months later he'd experienced the same feeling, while playing with it in the bath one Sunday night. He felt alright a few seconds later, and when he'd gone to bed, played with it again until that feeling came again. It felt nice, extremely nice, and more importantly, he hadn't broken Jimmy's when he'd done it to him!
On Monday, Fred couldn't wait to see Jimmy and tell him.
"Oh, I know!" he'd said, "I've done it a few times now!"
"But you didn't tell me!" Fred complained. "Why didn't you say! I thought we were friends, I thought I'd broken yours!"
"I'm sorry, Fred, but when I did it myself, it scared me, so I asked my mum about it." Jimmy apologised.
"You asked your mum? About your dick?" Fred was astounded.
"Yea. She said it was to do with making babies, and was quite alright. But she said I shouldn't do it, and never talk to anyone else about it, so I didn't tell you. Sorry."
Fred was a bit put out that his friend hadn't told him what he'd learnt, but that wore off after a few hours.
After school, Fred asked Jimmy to come home with him. Jimmy hoped there'd be some freshly baked biscuits or cakes he could have, Fred's mum was a very good cook. They were alone when they got there, though.
at work, and Mum's at
"No, Fred, we mustn't." Jimmy said. Inside his trousers, though, his dick told him different.
"But you said you'd done it a few times, and you talked to your mum after the first, so you must have done it since!"
Jimmy thought that through. "Please! It feels so good!"
"I'll do it to you, but I don't want you to do mine!" he relented.
Jimmy played with his friend's dick, sliding the skin up and down, round and round. Flicking it up and down, letting it bounce back. Rubbing the tip with the palm of his hand.
"It's happening -- the feeling's coming, Jimmy-oh!-oh!-oh!"
and Fred squirmed about as his dick tickled in that funny way and he felt warm all over.
"I'm going home now." Jimmy said, and left soon after.
were distant for a few days, then the friendship was
as strong as ever. Playing with their dicks was
Fred slugged back the remaining half glass of
Glenfiddich. The spirit bit the back of his throat, then plunged down the tube
to his stomach, making him gasp for
Fred had discovered that instead of just playing with the skin on his dick, he should just rub it up and down. He'd learnt about sex, and that's what dicks were supposed to do, go up and down, fast. He read and re-read the chapter in the book he'd `borrowed' from the school library, all the time rolling and feeling his hard dick through his trousers. A couple of times he'd felt `the feeling' start, he could recognise it now, and stopped for a minute or so. Now, after his dad had shouted "Bed!" at him through the quickly opened and just as quickly closed bedroom door, he was undressed and in bed. It was a hot night, and he'd left his pyjama jacket off, and the trousers were bunched round his ankles. He lay on his back, thinking about what he'd read, and held it tight between his fingers and thumb. He moved his hand fast, sliding the skin on his dick. Yeah, this was better, easier. Faster, that was better still. He wondered if Jimmy knew about this. He imagined Jimmy laid naked on his own bed doing it. He watched, in his mind, Jimmy's fingers jerking up and down fast like his were. Then he imagined Jimmy's fingers doing it here, now, to him. He pictured Jimmy's face, smiling, his fingers doing this, his own hard dick pointing up, waiting for Fred's fingers to-to-.
Jimmy's fingers. Jimmy's grinning smile. It was coming, it was happening-.
It felt different. Better. Harder. His dick was jerking, pulsing. He felt a muscle inside, at the base of his dick, jerk hard. He felt a splash of wet on his face and chest, another on his chest and belly, and another on his belly and hand. Oh no! he'd pissed on himself!
Fred half sat up and turned on the lamp on his bedside table. He looked down at his chest, belly and hand. It wasn't piss, it was white, and didn't run off but stuck there, sliding slowly down his skin. He lifted his wet hand to his face, smelled it, put his tongue out and tasted just the tiniest bit of it. Was it-? It had to be! Yes! He'd made sperm! For just that few moments, without any doubt, Fred was the happiest, most excited boy in the whole world. He'd made sperm! Just wait till Jimmy heard about this! Fred kicked off his pyjama trousers and wiped himself dry. Oh yes! Just wait till I tell Jimmy!
Ten minutes later, Fred just had to try it again. He felt the moment coming, opened his eyes and watched in the dim light coming under his door his sperm fly high in the air, half way to the ceiling it seemed, then fall back on his chest and stomach again. Oh that was wonderful! He knew he'd be doing it again, and again, and again.
He just hoped Jimmy would join in.