Date: Thu, 30 Nov 2000 10:59:30 -0800 From: Javu Subject: Forest House - Part 3 This story contains scenes of sex between a man and teenage boys, and between teenage boys. If this is not to your taste, or is illegal where you live, then read no further!! The story is totally imaginative and bears no relation to events, people or places in the real world! Health Warning: There are some dangerously long sentences in this story which contain some philological elements of Anglo-Saxon origin: these may lead to some vivid mental images, sexual arousal or erotic fantasies. If this is what you want, then carry on reading: if not then stop reading now. Story Code: M/t, t/t (Mast, oral, anal)(Cons) Forest House - Part Three by Alexander Chapter Five For various reasons, very little happened over the next few days. Apart from anything else I had a couple of days off and had decided to spend them cleaning and tidying my flat. It's one of the penalties (or perhaps pleasures?) of living alone and working mostly nights that you can live as messily or as tidily as you like. I chose to live messily. Once in a while though, things get to the stage where some sort of action is required, particularly when you can't find any clean crockery or see the living room carpet! The first day I got up late, really enjoying the chance to be lazy for once. I also spent a lot of time thinking about work, Mark, Nigel and me. I was still turning things over in my mind as I wandered about the flat clearing things up, but succeeded only in making myself depressed. Here was I, 25 years old, in a job which I loved and with good prospects. I had the confidence of the boss, knew I could do the work well and was popular enough with the 'clients'. But. I had been seduced, or at the very least allowed myself to be seduced, by two 15- year old boys, and what's more actually enjoyed it. Eventually, and after much thought, I gave myself three options: firstly I could resign and look for another job in the same field, secondly I could talk to Nigel and Mark and tell them that we should stop what we had been doing and never do anything like it again, and thirdly I could carry on and accept things for what they were. In my heart-of-hearts I surprised myself by thinking that my preferred choice would be the last one. In England, the legal age of consent is 18, but there is a strong move to reduce it to 16 and in fact the authorities are reluctant to prosecute anyone over the age of 16. Unless the older participant is 'in a position of trust' such as a teacher, social worker or so on: and that certainly included me on at least two counts. Compromising to myself, I made my mind up that I would not allow myself to be placed in anything approaching a compromising situation again and would tell the boys that as soon as I could. Feeling a lot better, and in fact quite pleased that I had come to a firm decision, I finished working on the flat and decided to go out for a meal with some friends. I was just about to pick the 'phone up and ring them when it rang. "He, It's me!" the disembodied voice said. It took me a second or two to realise that it was Mark. "Hello. What do you want?," I answered, my anger starting to rise. It is strictly against the rules for staff and boys to have any contact outside work, particularly with regard to home visits and telephone calls. Infringement of this rule would certainly result in serious disciplinary action for both parties should it ever be discovered. Before I could say anything, Mark said that he had been allowed into town by himself to do some shopping and could he come and visit me? "How the hell did you get my 'phone number?" I asked stupidly. "It's on the staffroom wall, stupid!" he laughed, "And I got your address from the 'phone book. I'm down the road." Bollocks, I thought, this is the last thing I need. "Hang on a sec.," I said, thinking as fast as I could, "Listen. You can't come here, but I'll meet you in the coffee shop on the corner in about ten minutes." My idea was to meet him in some sort of neutral place and tell him what I'd just decided: that our 'relationship', such as it was, should and must end. I sat on the chair, my mind reeling. Suddenly the choice I'd made about stopping things didn't seem so simple. Uppermost in my mind was the fact that I didn't even want to. Hearing the sound of Mark's voice had convinced me of that. I would have loved to get Mark in my home and take care of him in whichever way he wanted, whether it be food, talking , or whatever. It was the 'whatever' that worried me. Still not having an answer, I slowly walked to the coffee shop. Mark was sat at the back, well away from the window I was pleased to see. Grabbing a coffee, I went to join him. "Hiya. What's up? Got a problem?" I asked, hoping against hope that the problem wasn't what I thought it was. "Naah. Just wanted to come and see you. That's all." Shit! Oh, well I thought to myself, now's as good a time as any I suppose, and steeled myself for what was going to be a rather difficult and unpleasant conversation. I stared into my cup as I explained that firstly it was very wrong of Mark to come and visit me at home, and explained in no uncertain terms why. I also said that what we'd done the previous few days must also stop: it was far too dangerous for both of us and could only lead to trouble for the pair of us. I tried to make myself sound as angry as I could, but knew inwardly that I wasn't succeeding very well. When I'd finished, I looked up and stared at Mark. His face, which had been a picture of smiles and happiness when I came in the shop was now showing signs of anger, frustration and tears. I watched nervously as his fist tightened around the cup. The last thing I wanted was a scene here, in public. I knew his temper of old, and didn't want an exhibition of it now. Neither did I want to be seen with a 15-year-old boy in tears. It was now his turn to stare at the table. Slowly he wiped the tears from his cheeks with his arm before he said anything. "Sorry, but I thought that ...., I thought you'd like ...." He paused, searching for words. "Dave (the boss) thinks I've gone to the football match," he re- started, "But I thought I'd come and see you instead. It seems ages since we talked - and I've missed you." There was no innuendo, no hidden meaning in what he was saying I thought. Perhaps he does actually want to talk, and nothing else. I could allow that I guess: but definitely nothing more. Inwardly I sighed, accepting the fact that I'd lost the battle even before it had begun. But I could still win the war. "OK, I suppose you'd better come with me then. Better than leave you sat here for the next couple of hours." We left together and walked the few yards to my flat. He'd cheered up considerably by now and was chattering away, rambling on about everything and nothing, his excitement causing him to babble complete nonsense. That endearing and disarming child-like side of him has got to me again I thought to myself. We went in the kitchen and I made a sandwich and drink for us before going into the living room. Inviting Mark to sit down, I pointedly closed the bedroom door, hoping that the inference wouldn't be lost on him. Mark was sat on the big easy chair and so I made myself comfortable on the sofa. "So. How are things?" I started. "OK," Mark managed to say between mouthfuls of cheese sandwich, "Neat flat. Messy though ain't it!" And I thought it was tidy! - he should have seen it a couple of hours ago. "Yeah. Well," I said, feeling a little embarrassed for some reason. Mark stood up and wandered round the room, inspecting my collection of CD's and videos. Thankfully there was nothing untoward anywhere among them, I wasn't into that sort of thing. "Can we watch a video?" he asked, waving an old "Startrek" one in my direction. "Sure," I said, Go ahead." He turned the recorder and TV on, pushed the tape in and watched as it started. Then to my astonishment he closed the curtains, turned the wall lights on and sat on my lap. There was nothing sexual about this: he simply settled himself comfortably , stuck his thumb in his mouth and watched the video. Having seen the film a hundred times before, it had little interest for me. Instead I stared at Mark, trying to puzzle him out. Despite his fifteen years and all-too obvious adolescent maturity, he still acted like a five-year old when he was relaxed enough, a trait which I rather liked in him. Soaking in the peace and calm of the atmosphere, I put my arms round him, nestled his head on my shoulder and stared at the film. Mark, for his part, removed the thumb from his mouth for an instant, kissed me on the cheek and returned his attention to the TV. Unintentionally I'd placed my clasped hands in Mark's groin and as I sat with him, I could feel his steadily growing erection. I decided that as it didn't seem to bother Mark, or even that he was aware of it, I left them there. My own prick was also rising and was pressing against his bum cheeks, but as he didn't seem aware of this either, I left it well alone. I was mistaken though. Mark adjusted his position slightly to give himself more room for his now full erection: he didn't look at me at all, just wriggled about a bit as if it was a perfectly natural thing to do. He then slid a hand behind him and searched for my cock. Finding it as stiff as his, he grasped hold and gently started to play with it. Unsurprisingly, he was paying as little attention to the film as I was. This was confirmed when he twisted himself round on my lap, and sat on my knees, facing me. Looking very seriously at me, he leaned forwards and kissed me softly on the lips. Then again, but this time forcing my lips open with his tongue and pushing it in, searched out mine. It was far too late now for me to do anything about it. I was much too far gone to try and stop him, and in fact actually encouraged him by laying full length on the sofa with him on top of me. Hugging him tightly, I returned the kiss. With some difficulty, Mark raised himself up and unbuttoned my shirt, sliding it off my shoulders. Not to be outdone, I pulled his T-shirt off and hugged him to me. The feeling of flesh against flesh was wonderful. He was warm, smooth and deliciously endearing. I could feel his nipples against mine, and with only a tiny effort stimulated them to a magical hardness. Rolling onto his side, he frantically unfastened his trousers, shrugged them off and almost tore his underwear in his panic to be rid of them. Finding it impossible to remove his shoes and socks whilst laying down, he stood up and kicked them off. Still holding his hands, I stared at his body. It was truly beautiful. Even the few scars and marks he'd managed to accumulate on his legs from playing football seemed to add to his attractiveness. I was entranced by his handsomeness, and couldn't wait whilst he wrested his hands from mine and stripped me of my remaining clothes. We stood for a moment or two, facing each other in our nakedness, our rigid cocks just few electric centimetres apart. Silence. Neither of us wanted to break the spell, and in any case there was no need for words. This time it was my turn to cry. I felt the salty tears start to run down my face. Strangely, I didn't care in the slightest - I was quite pleased in an odd sort of way in fact. Still not needing to talk, I led him to my bedroom. Covering ourselves with the single sheet, we lay holding each other and kissing passionately. I could feel his cock, laying alongside mine, pressing almost painfully into my stomach. Our pricks, despite the difference in our ages, were almost identical in size, and neither were circumcised. They made a perfect pair. We explored them, together with every other square inch of each other's body as we lost ourselves in giving our everything to each other. It seemed as if we had been lost for an eternity when, eventually taking a much-needed breather, we lay back on the bed, stroking each other's hair and smiling into each other's eyes. My mind was a mess. It's impossible to describe the seething turmoil that used to be my brain: the mixture of emotions of love, fear, happiness and self-disgust were all hopelessly mixed up. But for the moment, rationality and logic were the furthermost things from my mind. The only conscious thought I had was that for the first time in my life, I was with someone who cared for me and I cared for them. The fact that it was another male - a boy at that - didn't seem in the slightest bit important. As if to confirm it, I squeezed Mark tightly, very tightly, and kissed him almost viciously. Mark must have sensed how I felt because he accepted the pain I'd just inflicted and even kissed me back with just as much passion. I don't think either of us noticed the tears now flowing freely from both of us, at least not consciously. It was the sound of the video player switching off that broke the spell. Suddenly we were dragged reluctantly back into the real world. The film must have been at least ninety minutes long. Where had the time gone? Mark was late - very late. Somewhat disinterestedly I reminded him of this. Like him, at that particular moment, I couldn't have cared less. "Bollocks!" he grinned, " I don't care. I wanna stay here for ever!" And we did. At least for another half hour anyway. Slowly and with infinite tenderness we masturbated each other, kissing and cuddling constantly, concentrating with all our hearts on getting and giving as much pleasure as we could. I climaxed first, but was closely followed by Mark. To me, seemed as if the infinitely magical mutual ejaculations somehow cemented our relationship even further. It was so painful and so desperately needed that I gasped with the shock of it. It took another ten or fifteen minutes before either of us could summon up the energy to move. With the greatest reluctance, I struggled off the bed and went in search of my clothes, reminding Mark that it was about time we made a move. It didn't take a genius to work out that allowing for the bus journey, Mark would be well over an hour late in getting back to his home. Even if I took him in the car, he would still be late, but if I put a move on, only by about a quarter of an hour. This was just about within limits and would mean that he wouldn't be quizzed too closely as to where he'd been and why he was late. Fortunately the road was fairly quiet and I managed to keep up a good speed for most of it. Mark sat happily in the passenger seat on the way back, alternating his gaze between the road and me, grinning beautifully. He also held my hand tightly whenever he could. We stopped about a hundred yards short of the house, in the lee of a row of trees which hid my car from prying eyes. I opened the door for him and was about to give him a playful push out when he leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "Love you!" he whispered - not in a silly, childish way, but seriously and without a trace of guilt or embarrassment. He meant it. "Love you too!" I replied. And I meant it too, very much to my own amazement. I drove slowly home, reflecting on Mark. And me. Sex, of course, was where it had all started between us: then it was a combination of frustration and lust I suppose. At least on Mark's part if not mine. I had been a willing partner admittedly, but had accepted it as a purely physical thing, something which Mark needed at the time. I wasn't at all happy with it, but had somehow managed to justify it to myself. But now there had been a serious development between us. It was no longer simply physical or even sexual, there was something else there. Again, the word 'love' flashed through my mind, but I quickly discarded it, horrified at the thought that I could actually be falling in love for the first time in my life, and with a teenaged boy! I was also terrified of the consequences. At this particular moment though, I couldn't give a damn. I was with Mark, and he was with me. We were deliriously happy with each other and didn't give a shit about anybody or anything else. Chapter Six There was, however, a serious complication which didn't strike me until the following day when I was washing the bedclothes which Mark and I had soiled. I could still smell the odour of him as I pushed them into the washing machine, and was smiling to myself as I did so. I'd already come to some sort of terms with our relationship and made my mind up that if we took great care, then there was no reason why we couldn't continue it. It would be difficult of course, not to say frustrating, being so close to him day after day and unable to show any signs of our more than close friendship. Difficult, but not impossible. Then it hit me like a thunderbolt. Nigel. Bollocks! What the hell could I do about him? Nigel knew already about Mark and me, at least a little bit anyway. But did Mark know that Nigel and I had 'messed about'? If he did, then it hadn't made any difference as yesterday had proved. But if he didn't and he found out, then what would he do? And how could I deal with Nigel? I hadn't come up with any answers at all by the time I got to work that evening. Once the hand-over business with the boss was out of the way, I joined the boys for their evening meal. Somehow I managed to maintain a professional approach to Mark, but only by ignoring him almost completely. I was terrified in case I said the wrong thing to him and the others picked up the signals which I was certain must be patently obvious to everyone. Mark was much better at dealing with the situation than I was, managing to act perfectly normally. He was so good in fact that it was only with a great effort I managed to convince myself that the events of yesterday day hadn't been imagined. I was watching a game of Monopoly the two brothers and Geoff were playing when I heard Mark shout "Fuck it!" from his room. The tone of his voice told me immediately that he was in one of his moods. I had decided to ignore it at first, but when he then screamed "Bollocks!", I had no alternative but to go and investigate. Apprehensively, I went to his room. He was sat at his desk, the remains of what had been a half-completed jigsaw puzzle scattered all over it. "I can't fucking do it!" he yelled. "Bollocks to it!" I stood in the door frame, not knowing quite what to do next. This was the old Mark, dangerous and unpredictable. He stood up, looked at me and grinned from ear to ear. "Shit to it!" he shouted, and still grinning threw his chair across the room, taking care not to do any damage in the process. The others all knew Mark and his temper. They would keep well out of his way until he'd calmed down: the last place they would want to be is anywhere within his range. I took a step towards him, still not sure as to what his real mood was. Kicking the door closed with his foot, Mark leapt at me, put his arms round my neck and kissed me on the lips. "That's better! I needed that!" he whispered in my ear. "Piss off. Leave me alone!" he screamed, simultaneously grabbing my balls and giving me a rather painful squeeze. "But not just yet," he whispered and kissed me again. I gave him a hurried kiss back, grateful that he wasn't in the vile mood I thought he was, and also thankful for the proof that we were still .... friends. "I'll come and see you later," he said, letting go of me and picking the chair up. I nodded in agreement, my mood instantly changing from worried to happy. "And you can stay there until you calm down," I said, hopefully loud enough for everyone else in the house to hear. I slammed the door shut behind me and went back into the main room. The gang were studiously trying to ignore the episode as I sat down and gave a sigh of relief for their benefit. "Leave him alone until he calms down," I said to the room in general, "He'll be OK in a few minutes." Gratefully the boys returned to their game. Nigel, who until now had been watching the TV caught my eye and gave me a most disconcerting look. He knew something - but what? I was puzzled and not a little concerned. "Anyone wanna cup of tea?" he asked. Everyone did. "Come on, then. You can help if you like," he said looking straight at me as if to say 'I want to talk to you'. We went in the kitchen and started to make the tea. I almost dropped the kettle as he stood by my side and said, "Mark's told me all about it." I stared at him, speechless. "He told me today about going to your house, and everything." My heart almost stopped with the shock. I gripped the edge of the sink for support and listened in fear as he went on, "Don't worry. It's OK. He didn't want to, but I made him tell me." Relaxing just a little, I let him continue. "He likes you a lot you know and is always ratty and bad tempered when you aren't here. We had a bit of a fight today when I asked him about the football match and he wouldn't tell me. I guessed he hadn't gone and so I made him tell me where he was." I wondered just how much Mark had said and was busy trying to work out how to find out when he finished by saying, "Can I come and watch some videos as well?" I looked directly at Nigel to see if he was hiding anything. "Yes. Of course. Sometime." I said quietly. I had no choice. "Great!" he smiled, "Come on, tea's ready." Carefully I carried the tray into the living room and put it on the table. Mark, I was pleased to see, was sat reading the newspaper. Picking up two cups, Nigel handed one to Mark and sat next to him. Intrigued, I watched them out of the corner of my eye. There was a knowing sort of look exchanged and they both gave me a quick, sidelong glance. The rest of the evening was spent in a sort of strained silence, no one wanting to say anything unless Mark flipped again. It was well past eleven o'clock when I reminded them it was bed time. "Come on. Showers and then bed." I commanded. There wasn't a murmur of discontent for once. Geoff and David had already showered and were in their rooms fairly quickly. The two brothers I noticed with interest had gone to shower together. They were obviously not bothered now about what the others thought or said. Nigel noticed this too. "Must be at least three hours since they wanked each other off," he grinned, "Time for another one." Mark got up and went to get undressed, leaving just Nigel and I in the room. "Gonna come and see me later?" he whispered, rubbing his crotch. "I'll try, but I can't promise," I replied, "Let's see what happens shall we." The brothers finished their shower remarkably quickly for them, their place being taken by a visibly aroused Nigel. I chose to ignore it, thinking instead of the reason the brothers were in so much of a hurry to get to bed. I made a gesture of tidying the house as I waited for the boys to settle. Around midnight I decided to walk round. The first thing I noticed was that both Nigel and Mark had their lights on: thoughtfully I left them alone whilst I tried to sort out the dilemma I had out myself in. On the on the one hand I had promised to go and see Mark before he went to sleep: but I had also said that I would pay a visit to Nigel as well. I knew perfectly well that I ought not to go to either of them, but I had given up all pretence of denying to myself who and what I was. the only problem I had was deciding which to go to. Nigel was better looking and was probably more fun (and probably more desperate at this point in time) but Mark I knew better and I would perhaps be more at ease with him. The two brothers were, just as I was learning to expect, in bed together. They only interrupted their cuddling and kissing for a moment or two as they turned to face me and wished me goodnight, with just a trace of a contented smile on their faces. Returning their wishes, I left them to it, only slightly envious of their ability to spend so much time together in such close friendship. I had almost decided to go and have a cup of coffee when my mind was made up for me. Walking slowly down the dimly lit corridor, I was startled out of my reverie by the bathroom door opening and Nigel coming out. In the instant before he recognised me, he hurriedly used the bathrobe to cover his nakedness. "Oh. It's you. Hiya!" he grinned, letting the robe drop open to reveal not only his nakedness, but a very obvious erection. "I was wondering where you'd got to. Coming to say goodnight to me?" The inference was made even more obvious by his grasping his prick and waving it at me as a direct invitation. There was no real need for me to answer him in words: my instantly hard cock was all too obvious to Nigel, and said a great deal more than mere words could. I nodded slightly at him and simply said "I'll be there in a few minutes." Stepping round him, I continued with my round of the house, hardly seeing or hearing anything, my mind being far too full of other, more exciting things, than what was happening around the home. Thankfully, everything was peaceful - the only other sign of life being that of Mark's light glowing dimly under the door. I choose to ignore it and made my way to Nigel's room. Thoughtfully, and perhaps a little too obviously, he had left his door slightly ajar. I closed it carefully as I went in. The room had been re-arranged sometime during the day, I noticed. Instead of having his bed under the window as they were in the other boys' rooms, he had put it behind the door so that it was out of sight when the door was opened. Quite a deliberate move, and an intelligent one I thought. Nigel was laying on top of the bedclothes, completely naked now, and stroking a superb erection. He turned to look at me, unsmiling, but obviously very much at ease with the situation. Much more than I was, I must admit. My instantly acquired erection was straining painfully against my trousers, but this was only a minor thought as I stared at Nigel as if for the first time. He was truly handsome: almost god-like in fact, in my eyes. I was mesmerised by his superb, tanned and perfect body. There wasn't even a change in colour where his shorts would normally have shaded him. I was in love - again! His prick was perfect: just the right size and shape for his body. I had seen him naked before of course, but at the time I had other things on my mind than looking at his beauty. This time, I was stunned into silence. "Come on, then., Hurry up before you come in your trousers!" he laughed quietly. I took the step or two to the bedside, removing my T-shirt as I did so. Frantically, Nigel reached over and unfastened the belt on my trousers, slid down the zip and pulled them down, together with my shorts. As quickly as I could, I tore off my shoes and socks, stepped out of my pants and lay on the bed beside him. Ferociously we hugged each other, the pain lost in our passion for each other. We were both so desperate for each other that nothing else in the world existed from the moment we held each other. Our mouths met, and, eyes closed we kissed hungrily, our tongues hastily entwining. Breaking apart for a moment, I heard Nigel whisper "Christ! You'll never know how long I've been waiting for this!" My only reply was to give him another hug and kiss him again. "Me too!" I managed to say at last, "Me too!" Relaxing my hold just for a second, I arranged our cocks so that they were side-by-side and held him again, lightly. For a timeless age, we kissed, cuddled and fondled each other, solely intent on savouring every wonderful moment, both giving and getting more pleasure and delight than I would have ever thought possible. Nigel must have been thinking exactly the same thoughts as he never stopped moaning and groaning with happiness: so much so that I was certain he would wake the whole house up with his noise. Eventually, and very unwillingly we broke apart so that we could regain some sort of strength and sense of reality. "Hang on a sec!" Nigel whispered as he slid off the bed. I watched, more than a little intrigued as he skipped round the bed and went to the door. In my haste, I had forgotten to jam the door shut when I came in: this Nigel did now; and within a few seconds was back on the bed holding me again. But not before turning the light off though. "That's perfect now!" I heard him say. "Just fucking perfect!" Once again we lost ourselves in each other, the darkness and security from intrusion making the atmosphere much more erotic than it was before. I don't think that we had even touched each others cock and balls up to this point. Much to my surprise, just the physical contact and feeling of his huge erection against my stomach were more than enough for me. So much so in fact that I was aware I would come very shortly unless we calmed down a little. "Hang on a bit," I somehow managed to say, "I'm gonna come if I'm not careful!" We separated a bit and lay on our backs, idly toying with each others hair. "Will you fuck me?" Nigel asked after a while, his voice trembling with emotion, "Please?" I nodded agreement, it suddenly being the only thing in the world I wanted to do. As if from nowhere, the Vaseline appeared, and after my companion had taken a liberal handful, it was handed to me. A few days ago I would have had no idea what to do with it, or even that it would be needed: but now I didn't need any lessons. Carefully, but speedily, I smothered my cock with it, only with the greatest strength of will stopping myself from coming as I did so. Nigel was now on his back, legs in the air, ready to rest them on my shoulders. Both pillows, I noticed being placed underneath him. "Tell me if it hurts," I said as I gently placed my cockhead against him. "Just hurry will you!" he said from somewhere in the dark, "It won't hurt." I pushed forward slowly. I had never done this before and didn't have a clue what to expect, but one thing I was sure of. My cock shouldn't have gone in as easily as it did. Nigel must obviously be used to this: there could be no other explanation. Still, that didn't worry me in the slightest. Made it more acceptable in fact somehow or other. Gradually I forced myself deeper and deeper into him until I could feel my balls against his butt. As I got further and further in, Nigel almost purred with pleasure, the volume raising the deeper I got. Thankfully I was as far as I could go before it got too loud. I paused and rested. "Fucking wonderful! Fucking brilliant!" he whispered, as much to himself as to me. Very slowly I began to fuck him. I was getting extremely close to coming and apart from anything else I wanted to prolong it as long as possible. The intense delight I was feeling was indescribable - much, much better than I thought it would be: not that I had ever given it that much thought before of course - but nevertheless ...... Of one thing I was certain though: much to my amazement, it was a far better feeling that I had ever got from screwing a girl. Nigel was on another planet. He was rolling his head from side to side, biting his lips to stop himself from crying out. If anything, he was even more ecstatic that I was, although I find that hard to believe. Dimly I was aware that he was gripping me round the hips so hard, forcing me into him, that his fingernails were digging deep into my flesh - so hard in fact that I later discovered that he'd made me bleed. Despite all my efforts I soon lost all self control and started to thrust myself harder and harder into him, almost viciously if the truth be known. This only seemed to heighten Nigel's passion though and despite his best efforts he couldn't help but shout out once in a while. Then I climaxed. Suddenly and without any warning whatsoever I rammed myself deeper than I would have thought possible and I shot my lot. It felt as if it would go on for ever: spurt after spurt after spurt ejaculated into Nigel's bowels: there was such a lot that I was uncomfortably aware that even my balls were aching with the effort. Spent, exhausted and utterly drained, I collapsed on top of him. Nigel's legs slid off my shoulders and he wrapped them round my waist, effectively preventing me from pulling my now sore and limp tool out of his butt. "Jesus!" was all he could manage to gasp. I couldn't even summon up enough energy to say that. Gradually we came back down to Earth and I managed to extricate myself, albeit reluctantly. "That was the best. Ever." Nigel moaned, eyes still closed. "Simply the fucking best." Turning onto our sides, we lay cuddling each other and kissing once in a while. We must have dozed off as well because I suddenly opened my eyes, feeling a bit cold. Glancing round the room, I was more than a bit disturbed to see it was bathed in a cold, grey light. It took a second or so to realise that it was dawn! Frantically searching for a clock, I saw with horror that it was half past four! In a major state of panic, I leapt from the bed and grabbed my clothes. Throwing them on as quickly as I could, I almost shouted "Nigel! For Christ sake! It's dawn!" The only response I got was a very sleepy opening of the eyes and a distant "So what?" I ignored this and as quickly as I could opened the door and ran to my room, carrying my shows and socks, and trying frantically to fasten my trousers at the same time. Once there, I collapsed on a chair and gathered my thoughts. The initial state of terror had subsided, and now thinking a little more rationally, I thankfully realised that there was no real reason to panic in fact. Chapter Seven Breakfast some three hours later was a very strange meal. At least it was for me, Nigel and Mark. The others weren't aware of any atmosphere, but I was. And so were Nigel and Mark. Nigel, understandably, was tired and irritable. It didn't help when one of the others noticing it, said that he ought to 'go to sleep and not spend all night tossing himself off'. Thankfully he didn't rise to the bait, and carefully avoided any eye contact with me. Mark was also bad tempered, but for a very different reason as I well knew. He was seriously pissed off, and we both knew why. Once or twice he opened his mouth as if to speak, but thought better of it. I was dreading him losing his temper as I knew full well he could very easily. Somehow though, he managed to keep it in check, satisfying himself by giving me a hard, cold stare once in a while, and totally ignoring me other than that. Nigel was given the same treatment, but he was so tired that I don't think he noticed, much to Mark's annoyance. By eight o'clock the breakfast things had been cleared away (or at least thrown into the sink) and the gang were all busy getting ready for school. The boss arrived about this time and wandered about chatting to the boys. I busied myself gathering my things together before I headed for home, glad to be relieved of the boys for a while. I had put my bag in the car and was just going to leave when I was summoned to the office. Very much alarmed by this unusual request, I was visibly sweating as I closed the door behind me. The boss was sat on his desk rather than behind it. This slight hint of informality relaxed me a little, but not enough to put me completely at ease. "Listen," he started, "Can you do me a favour?" I almost fainted as I realised he hadn't found anything out, and in fact was asking me to do something for him. At this point in time, I would have done absolutely anything for him, but anything! "Yeah Of course. What is it?", only keeping my voice on an even keel with the greatest of effort. "Could you take the kids to school today in the mini-bus? I have a meeting to go to a bit later and I don't have the time. You can keep it with you today, and pick them up on the way into work tonight if you like." More than happy to oblige, I said that it would be no problem, and after a bit of idle gossip, left the office feeling a lot better than I thought I would when I first went in. There was one major drawback in this plan. Mark was always the last to be dropped off as he went to a different school, and I wasn't looking forward to the ten minutes I would have to spend alone with him. A sign of things to come was given to me when, for the first time, he chose not to sit beside me in the front, but rather electing to sit at the back, as far away from me as he could. Nigel, using his intelligence, decided not to take his place, but sat behind me next to Geoff. I was right. The ten minutes spent driving Mark to school were strained: you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife, not a word was exchanged between us. I looked at him once in a while through the rear-view mirror. He was usually staring out of the window, but the once or twice I managed to catch his eye for an instant, he looked away immediately, but I thought I could see something in his look. It wasn't anger as I had thought. It wasn't even loathing or hate as I might expect from him if he knew or even suspected what had happened between me and Nigel last night. It was something else, but I couldn't work out what. Pushing these thoughts to the back of my mind, I concentrated on my driving instead. Pulling up outside the school gates, I waited, expecting Mark to get off. "Come on, mate!" I said, far more cheerfully than I felt, "We're here." "Fuck you. I ain't goin' to no fuckin' school today." This was the old Mark. I knew from bitter experience that there were only two ways forward from here: either we had a blazing row, probably ending up in a physical confrontation, or I gave in to him and let him have his own way. I was way too tired to argue with him, and in any case this was neither the time nor the place to have a bust up with him. Sighing inwardly, I turned to face him. "OK, Mark. I'm too tired to argue with you today. I think you should go to school, but I can't force you, even if I wanted to. But you can't sit there all day. I want to get home and get some sleep anyway." We stared at each other for a moment or two, neither quite knowing what to do next. There was that odd look again. Slowly he stood up and walked down the 'bus, making a definite point of leaving his school things behind on the seat. He stopped by the door, one foot on the road. "I know why you're tired. And why Nigel was tired as well. I saw you last night." Before I could fully comprehend what I'd just heard, he slammed the door closed and ran off, away from the school. "I fucking hate you!" he screamed as he did so. "Shit!" was all I could think. I sat there, my mind reeling. Slowly, I put the bus in gear let the clutch out. I don't actually remember the drive home: in fact, the first conscious thing I remember was taking my clothes off and laying on the bed staring at the ceiling, worried, puzzled and frightened. I'm lucky in some ways I suppose. Whenever I am stressed, or seriously worried about something I sleep. Some people hit the bottle; others go for long walks or whatever. But I sleep. And I did. That is until I heard a bell ring. Struggling to rouse myself, I glanced at my watch as I stumbled to the door and noticed that I had been dozing for about two hours or so. Not giving a thought as to who might be there, I opened it and stared blearily at my visitor. It was Mark. He was still wearing his school uniform, but had taken his tie off. He had also been crying by the look of him: his eyes were red and there were tear marks on his cheeks. Without a word, I opened the door wider and stood back. Avoiding my eyes, he stared at the floor as he walked over to the easy chair and sat down. Not having a clue as to what to say, I sat opposite him and stared at the same spot on the carpet. He was the first one to speak. "I saw you with Nigel." he said, slowly and painfully. "I couldn't sleep and was waiting for you, but you didn't come. I went to find you but you weren't there. I searched all over and then I saw the light go out in his room and I knew that you were with him. I even tried the door, but it was jammed." He was speaking in a low, flat monotone. No emotion, no feeling. Just a series of statements, said without a trace of compassion. I didn't have the courage to look at him, I was too upset and angry with myself to do that. I had let him down badly: and that was the last thing in the world he needed. I felt wretched and sick. "I went outside and looked through the window and saw you both." He didn't enlarge on what he'd seen - he didn't need to. "I thought you liked me, but you're just like all the others, you couldn't give a shit about me." I was struggling in vain to find the right words when he finally said, "I just thought that I'd come here and tell you that I'm not going to do a runner or anything like that, but I shall ignore you from now on and I don't want to talk to you again. Ever." For the first time in my life, I was truly speechless. I had let him down very badly, and that was the last thing he needed in his life. I had destroyed a good relationship and lost a friend I loved, all because of my own, selfish, thoughtless desires. Mark depended on me and trusted me and I had destroyed everything. Mostly though, I had destroyed Mark, and for that I could never forgive myself. Helpless, I looked at him, the tears running freely down my face. Without having a clue what I was going to say or do, I reacted automatically. I got up slowly, stepped across, and stood in front of him. Putting a finger under his chin, I lifted his face up. He stared at me, the pain he was feeling showing clearly. "I don't know what to say Mark. I'm sorry. Truly sorry. I don't know why I did it, but I'm sorry. I didn't think. I didn't want to hurt you - I ...." Taking a deep breath, I swallowed and continued. I didn't need to think, the words just flowed out. "The last thing in the world I want to do is deliberately upset you. I didn't know ... I didn't think. Mark, I .... Mark, can we start again? Please?" I put my hands on his arms and tried to get him to stand. Reluctantly, he got to his feet and looked at me. I pulled him to me and attempted to cuddle him. There was nothing I wanted more than to get him back to me - for us to become friends again. He fought against me at first, tensing up and trying to pull away, but then I felt him relax and he fell into my arms, sobbing. I suppose it could have been just like one of those sloppy scenes from a 'B' movie, the two of us trying to stifle the tears and hug each other tightly, our friendship and - let me say it, love for each other, not only confirmed but strengthened. It would never be the same again of course, but somehow we both knew that whatever happened in the future, our love for each other couldn't be broken. "Come on, dickhead!" I said, ruffling his hair in an attempt to brighten things up a little. "We must both look a mess. You know where the bathroom is, go and get cleaned up. I'll make us both a drink." For the rest of the day, we lazed around the flat. I decided not to press him into going back to school but instead let him hang around the flat. Just after lunch, I said that I was tired and must get some rest as I was working again that night. Nothing was said about why I was so tired, Mark simply agreed that I needed some 'beauty sleep' and let me go. I awoke about three hours later: still tired but feeling a lot better. Mark hadn't been idle while I was resting. He'd cleaned the flat, tidied up, and even made some sandwiches for us. It wasn't long before it was time for me to pick the others up from school and get them back home. Mark and I decided that it would be better if I dropped him back at his school, went to pick the others up and return for him later. Hopefully this would fool everyone into thinking that things were 'normal'. And they were, thank goodness. On the way back, Nigel and Mark sat together and chatted away as if nothing had ever happened to spoil their friendship. To begin with, Nigel was puzzled by the complete reversal in Mark's attitude from this morning, but soon relaxed when Mark playfully gave his balls a squeeze, together with a broad wink which said volumes. I smiled to myself as I guessed (rightly) what they would get up to later. I didn't even mind as I now knew that Mark was completely mine, and I was his. We might both stray once in a while, but it wouldn't matter that much: nothing could break us up now. Then I had a wicked thought. I momentarily lost control of the mini-bus as it struck me. Perhaps Mark, Nigel and I could ... I glanced in the mirror, my thoughts being strengthened as I saw their hands resting on each others erections as they chatted. I must remember to talk to Mark later tonight and see what he thinks of the idea. The End