Date: Sat, 5 Feb 2005 23:24:53 -0500 From: Richard Subject: Naked School Teacher Chapter 9 This is an original work of fiction, though based upon some true locations and general circumstances. All of the characters exist only in my own fevered imagination and none of the sexual incidents actually happened. I'm happy to hear your thoughts about the story. My sincere thanks to those who have written me. Your encouragement is helpful in motivating me to write. Richard: rwestgate@rogers.com Chapter 9 Spencer Macdonald had not had a good summer. His dad was home for one thing. Unemployed as was often the case. Drunk most of the time. His mother was all stressed out. Funny, she was stressed out most of the time when left alone for months on end by her wandering husband, complaining of being left alone to cope. Yet when he was home, she complained even more! No figuring out parents! At least his mother worked. Mac did too, when he could find something. The inner suburbs of south London were not healthy places to grow up. Toxic might have been the word. Although better than they had been twenty years ago. Mac didn't know about any of that. All he knew was that the crummy flat his family occupied in the crummy building in a crummy low-income area, sucked. No other word for it. So he'd delivered newspapers, ridden a delivery bike for a local butcher shop, done odd jobs for neighbours, and carried the occasional drug delivery for one of the local gangs. He had now had a year at the school in the Kent countryside. Before he didn't know any life different from this neighbourhood. Now he knew there was a whole world out there of trees and places where you could be free of this drab urban prison. He also knew there were people out there who could actually like you. Like Mr. Jones! Now that guy was a piece of work! He'd seemed the typical Anglo asshole at first. But now look at him! `He's my bitch!' thought Mac. And yet he seems to like it. That last time in the shower! Mac still didn't like to think too much about the way he had broken down in tears, but he did somehow feel that a sort of dam inside him had broken, and he felt freer now. He could not EVER remember having cried before! He supposed he must have when he was a baby -- but no, he could not actually remember having cried about anything in his life. He could only remember the need to always be strong; strong to his dad; strong to his mates and especially, strong to hoodlums on the streets. He couldn't help smiling at the whole series of events with Mr. Jones. That first day, the three of them had planned to really drive him nuts -- get under his skin in a way they never had with any other teacher. They thought maybe they could make him actually cry, or have some kind of breakdown. Mr. Jones was clearly the weakest teacher on the staff, and the kids all had an unerring intuition about that. That day at the beach, they were really going to push all his buttons. They'd teach him, the asshole prick! And yet every bluff they'd put forward to him, he had called. He had taken them up on things that they would never have done with each other. Somehow his willingness to go along with them had gotten to THEM instead of the other was around. He'd suddenly become, not just one of them, but in a sense the inspiration for their little group. In the dares they'd all performed together, it was his willingness to dare ANYTHING they threw at him that had actually motivated them to go through with their own! He was quite sure that David had no knowledge of any of this. He probably thought they played these games with each other all the time. Well, they did, but not to the really blatant extent that they did with David. And now August the ninth was fast approaching! With his dad around all the time, how the hell was he to be naked for 48 hours at a stretch? He shared a bedroom with his younger brother, so it was going to be difficult to do anyway. His dad's presence just made it close to impossible. He thought maybe he could just sort of get into the habit of hanging around the flat wearing very little, just casual-like, until people got used to it, then just as casually start being naked from time to time. It had worked to an extent. He took to wearing nothing but his white Y-front low-rise Jockeys whenever he was home. And the family DID become casual about it after some initial raised eyebrows and questions, "How come you only got underwear to put on, Boy?" his mother had asked. Dad glowered at him. "Oh, it's just hot and more comfortable this way. `Sides, we hang around the dorm like this all the time." That of course was a lie, but how were they to know. "Hmmm," said Dad. So it became common for him to be seen everywhere around the flat in underwear. Even out on the balcony. He even answered the door in his underwear. With some of his money he bought some expensive designer underwear. He stuck to white, so they wouldn't be too noticeably different from his usual underwear, but he bought progressively lower-rise briefs, with narrower sides, and made of more form-fitting materials, and even more transparent materials. Finally he got a transparent-fronted thong! With this his cock and balls could be clearly seen. He got away with it for three days before his dad noticed. "Hey, Spencer!" his dad only ever called him that if he was mad. He called him that a lot! "Get those damned things off!" Mac on a sudden daring whim, whipped the offending thong right off and tossed it onto the sofa, leaving him standing bare-balls naked in front of his father! Not, of course, what Mr. Macdonald had meant! "You insolent whelp!" he cried, striding over to his naked son. He quite failed to see the beauty of his son's body, how he was metamorphosing into a strong man before his eyes. He gripped Mac around the back of his neck and pulled him forward and, sitting down on a chair, forced him forward over his lap, leaving Mac's ass exposed and vulnerable in the air! "Dad, wait a minute, wait..." to no avail Mac struggled and protested. His father had punished him before, that was nothing new at all ... however he'd never been punished on his bare ass, and never while he was completely naked! Mr. Macdonald's hand came up and then down onto Mac's globular buttocks, first one side then the other. The resounding `THWACK' of the slap echoed around the small apartment, drawing the unwanted attention of Timothy, Mac's twelve-year-old brother. He came bounding in, questions on his face, which changed into delighted prurient interest when he saw his naked brother stretched over his father's lap. "What's he done, Dad?" "Never you mind. Just YOU behave, `kay?" "Okay Dad." He stayed and watched. A strange thing began to happen to Mac while his father was spanking his buttocks. It hurt, it stung, but more than that he was feeling humiliated. At fourteen -- almost fifteen -- he felt he was just about grown up. His father had not seen him naked since he was about ten. He felt like he'd regressed to childhood with this spanking. And now here was Tim watching! And yet. And yet he felt himself getting hard! Amazing though it was in such painful and humiliating circumstances, his cock was springing up against his dad's leg. Soon it was utterly rock hard and pressing urgently down between his dad's thighs as they sat slightly apart with is ass centred over dad's lap. Every movement of his prick against the denim of his father's jeans became a shock of erotic stimulation. "Dad, dad! Stop, stop, please!" he cried urgently. His father continued relentlessly, "shaddap! Take yer punishment like a man!" Mr. Macdonald gradually became aware of what was happening between his legs ... perhaps he felt the cock banging against his leg, or perhaps it was the fact that his son was beginning to hump him. Either way, he suddenly stopped and pushed the horny writhing boy onto the floor, where he fell heavily on his side, with his rock hard cock bouncing in full view of father and brother! "You disgusting slime!" yelled Mr. Macdonald. "Get out of my house, get out!" He started kicking Mac towards the door, Mac trying to get up but being pushed down all the time, ended half-crawling towards the apartment door. "Dad! Don't! I gotta get some clothes..." "Just get out, you don't deserve clothes. You're no better than an animal, go live in dump with the other rats!" So Mac ended being physically ejected from his home, naked and with no money, nothing. For some time he just sat in the hallway, knees up to his chest, recovering from his beating and wondering what to do. Eventually he got up and wandered down the stairs, fifteen floors to the ground. He didn't dare try the elevator. Even in the stairs there was a risk of meeting some of the kids who hung out there. But this evening it was clear, perhaps everyone was home having dinner. Dinner! He suddenly realized how hungry he was. At the ground floor exit at the side of the building, he cautiously opened the door and looked out. Behind his building was a rough area where another building had recently been demolished as part of the `urban renewal' project that would ultimately result in his own building being demolished to make way for townhouses and low-rise apartments. For now though, the ground was desolate and waste, with piles of dirt and brick, and newly sprouted bushes growing up on everything. He bolted from the doorway towards the nearest clump of bushes, and made it without seeming to attract any attention. He crouched down and took stock of his situation. There was nothing for him here. He'd lost touch with many of his friends while away at boarding school over the last year. Some had been living in the now demolished buildings and had been relocated who-knew-where. Others shunned him as being a `private school snob' -- little did they know! He could think of no one to go to; except maybe Mr. Jones. Of course he no longer had access to David's phone number, it was up there in his room! Perhaps he'd wait for his dad to go out and then sneak back in to get some of his stuff; or maybe, he could talk to Ma? Perhaps she could get him back in. Anyway, for now, he decided to lay low and then see if he could find a way to get some food and something to wear. He lay back in the late afternoon sun and let his troubles seep away as he became drowsy in the heat. He slept. "Is he dead? Do we call the cops?" "Give him mouth-to-mouth!" giggles. "Look at his dick, it's huge!" "Dare you to touch it!" "Okay." It was the feather-like touch on his cock that woke Mac up. He stirred, drew a deep breath and sighed in the middle of an erotic dream of a group of young boys playing with his body. His cock sprang to attention, and he opened his eyes, stretching his body and thrusting his hips up into the surprised fist of the kid leaning over him! "Oh god, he's alive!" "Sure is," giggled another voice. "What the fuck are you doing?" asked Mac, blearily trying to take in his surroundings. He seemed to be lying on a patch of dirt and grass near some bushes on a building site, and he was surrounded by half a dozen small boys aged anything from about nine to eleven. "How come you're naked?" asked the oldest one. "How come you got such a big dick?" asked another giggling. "What's that stuff on the end -- are you gonna pee?" the kid jumped back fearfully. "Wait a bit, wait," Mac sat up and studied the group. He recognized some of them from his building, and some others from the streets around. "My dad just kicked me out..." "Naked?" "Yah. Now I don't know where to go." "Wow," they looked at him sympathetically. "I hope that never happens to me," said one young kid, looking at Mac's naked body. "Doesn't it feel awful for everyone to see you naked?" "Yeah, it does a bit," admitted Mac, "do you wanna give me your clothes?" "No way!" exclaimed the kid, moving back. "I'm just kidding," laughed Mac. "I could get some old shorts and stuff of my big brother," offered one kid. "Yeah?" said Mac, brightening up a bit. "My house is on the other side," the kid pointed across the rubble to the row of new townhouses that had recently appeared there, "come with me." "If I stand up, everyone'll see I'm naked," objected Mac. "Not if we all crowd around you and walk together," said the oldest kid again. So that's what they did. The small kids formed a little group all around Mac and they held his hands and put arms around his waist. He looked a bit like the pied piper surrounded by adoring kids as they made their way across towards the townhouses. Of course with them all crowded so close, and rubbing against his body, Mac became hard again before they'd gone ten yards! His cock was now standing up and out from his body, and the rigid wand was touching the bare arms and shoulders of the smaller kids. They giggled and grabbed at it, an action that did not help Mac in keeping it under control. "Oh, god!" Mac exclaimed when this had gone on for while. "You guys, I can't control this, I'm gonna cum!" "What?" asked a couple of the smaller kids. Mac dropped down onto a grassy patch, "I can't help it, I'm so horny, I gotta shoot!" "Here," said the oldest kid, "I'll show you," he addressed this to the younger kids, and he took Mac's cock in both his small hands. He moved the skin up and down on Mac's magnificent cock. The kids watched in rapt attention as they looked at the skin sliding up and down over the huge veins in Mac's shaft, and sliding over the head of his cock, now drooling pre-cum everywhere. Within seconds Mac was on the edge. He lay back on the grass arching his back, thrusting his hips up. "Wow, look at that," the kids were chattering excitedly. "I never saw that before... why doesn't mine look like that?" "It will one day," said the kid working Mac's tool. Mac let out a loud groan, "Oh, shit, oh shit!" he bucked up high and his cock erupted a great white jet of cum high into the air above them. The smallest kids were totally amazed and chattered excitedly about it. After it was over and Mac was returning to the world, the kid ran off to retrieve the shorts. The others asked Mac a million questions about what had just happened and why. Mac answered their questions as best he could... but some of the answers he didn't know. Mostly what he knew was that it felt good. REALLY good! The kid with the shorts came back. The shorts were dark green army fatigues. The legs quite long, almost to Mac's knees, and they were fairly baggy. They were too big in the waist. When he put them on, they slipped down to his hips and rested there with is cock holding them up just under the waistband. His pubic hair hung out for all to see! "Cool," giggled the oldest boy absent-mindedly sucking Mac's cum off his fingers. Mac looked at him, but said nothing. Mac also got a tee shirt, likewise big and baggy. It covered the shortcomings of his shorts! "Thanks, man!" He felt some optimism now. The kids had to go home for dinner, and Mac decided to start finding some place to hole up for the night and to find something to eat. "Oh, I forgot. I got you these," said the little kid who got the shorts, holding out a couple of chocolate bars. "Thanks," said Mac. "You kids are really cool!" They looked pleased. An hour later Mac was walking north and west having crossed the river. The chocolate bars were long gone. He thought of going into Hyde Park but then thought better of it. Better on the streets where there were people around. He'd picked up someone's left over hamburger that he saw being dropped still in its wrapping into a garbage can. "Five-second rule," he muttered to himself. He eventually found himself in the vicinity of Lord's cricket ground. He could hear the sound of an evening match going on. He remembered hearing the scores on TV last night, but could not remember who was playing. Then he had a sudden idea! The TV was there -- must be an important match. He looked around and sure enough he saw some of the broadcast trucks in a side street. Tomorrow was August ninth! If he could find somewhere nearby to hang out naked for forty-eight hours, he could do his streak here and get on TV -- the others would never beat that! He began a systematic search of the area. He walked all around the walled cricket ground, searching for ways to get in (and out) undetected. There was a tree at one point that had a long branch sweeping right over the wall. It was on a small side street. He looked at the tree and thought he could climb it easy. So he searched around and found an elaborate garage-cum-garden-shed structure backing onto a laneway. It belonged to a large well-to-do house, but was separated from it by quite a large garden. Looking around, he climbed up and into a little roof-window thing. Inside was a dusty loft, with a few bits and pieces around -- tools and old furniture. No footprints in the dust -- it hadn't been used in years. Stairs in one corner led down to the garage. He peered over and could see the hood of a large car. He'd have to be quiet and be prepared for people to come and get the car, or cars -- the place looked big enough for three. Having established his base, he climbed out the way he'd got in, to begin a thorough search of the area. He walked all around hoping to find some way of getting some food for the next two days. There were not many stores around, but he did manage to lift a couple of oranges from a store with an outside display. No-one noticed. He was reduced to searching through garbage cans, which drew some disapproving stares from the well-off residents of the area. A young black kid, with bare feet, baggy shorts almost falling off and a baggy old tee shirt, rooting around in garbage cans. In the end Mac stopped, as he began to realize the attention he was drawing. Maybe someone would call the cops on him! So with two oranges, and darkness beginning to fall, he climbed into his garage retreat, removed his clothes, laid them out in the dust and went to sleep. The heat of the day woke him. He looked out of his little window, and saw that the sun was quite high. It must be close to noon! Nothing had disturbed him in the night. He wondered if the house residents might be away for the summer. He sat and ate his two oranges. He had to pee, but didn't know where to go. In the end he peed out the window, but discreetly so the stream of piss ran quietly down the roof-slope to the gutter just below. He watched as the yellow liquid ran along the guttering and disappeared into the down-pipe. That done, he now needed to get up that tree and do his streak. He wondered if lunchtime might be the best time to do it. Perhaps there would be less trouble if he could time it so that he didn't interrupt play, but could wait until they were just breaking up for lunch and make his dash. The players would be on the field, and all the spectators would be there. Most important, the press and the media would still have their cameras at the ready. Yes! Mac looked carefully up and down his laneway. No one appeared to be around. He leaped nimbly out onto the roof and into the warm sunshine, his black skin glistening. In seconds he was down the drainpipe and scampering along the lane towards the road. At the road he scanned up and down, waiting for a couple of cars to pass. The tree was a couple of hundred yards away. He sprinted across the road and ran close to the wall in the shade, hoping to be less noticeable. He got to the tree before any other traffic appeared. He crouched behind the tree while another car passed and when it had gone, he leaped up and grabbed the lowest branch, pulling himself up and disappearing into the dense foliage. Once he was up in the tree, Mac realized he could have spent the night here. It was like a vast green cathedral. There were plenty of nooks where he could have slept safely with no danger of falling. Then he remembered that he'd left his clothes at the garage! Oh well, he had to be naked for the next thirty-six hours anyway. A lot could happen in that time! A prescient thought, as it turned out! There were some low buildings on the other side of the wall, so he climbed high enough to see over and onto the field. The slow lazy game of cricket was evolving at its usual mind-numbing pace. The players seemed mostly to be frozen in time, then someone would move -- the bowler - and for a few seconds there would be a slight movement in some of the others. Then all was still while the ball made its leisurely way from player to player and eventually back to the bowler. Then the whole thing started over. Once in a while the batsman would actually hit the ball, though usually not very far. This stirred up more activity, but not much. The crowd sat in bleachers with hats or newspapers on their heads, seeming equally somnambulant. Some were fanning themselves with their programs. The sun shone blisteringly from a cloudless blue sky. Mac noticed the umpire consulting his watch as he gave some kind of signal to the bowler. Mac guessed that this might be the last over before lunch. He slid down the tree onto the overhanging branch, and out over the wall onto the roof of the low building there. He crawled on his stomach over the flat roof and peered down. It seemed to be something like a maintenance yard, with another building screening his view of the field. He slipped over the edge of the roof and lowered himself to the full stretch of his arms, his body elongated, muscles clearly delineated, and dropped softly to the ground. He crept along the side of the building and was immediately able to see the field and all the players. Cautiously he peered around the edge left and right. There were no spectators near him, and only a low green barrier between him and the cricket field. Mac returned his attention to the play. He didn't know how many of the six balls in this over were left, so he watched and waited. Four uneventful balls were bowled before the umpire called lunch. His heart thudding painfully in his chest, Mac drew a deep breath and ran. He leaped the barrier as if he were hurdling and headed out to the middle of the field. It took some seconds for anyone to notice him. The first reaction was from the player who was fielding out near Mac's starting point. He was walking away from Mac, when the sprinting black kid with the perfect body and tight ass overtook him! The player drew a sharp breath, but could not react before Mac was yards away and quite uncatchable. The crowd began to react, and some stood up in their places. Many pulled out their cameras and began clicking. Mac didn't see this, nor did he see the BBC camera crew begin to track him. He was running now through the thick of the players, who were beginning to turn around to see what the commotion was about. One or two were sufficiently far away when they first saw him, to attempt to intercept and catch him. Mac was an accomplished athlete. He ran; he wrestled; he did gymnastics. His perfect bodily shape was only partly the result of his genes; it had been shaped by exercise that required strength and suppleness. He easily evaded them. One player, when he was almost clear, threw himself in a rugby tackle from behind and managed to get his arms around Mac's waist from behind. His grasping hands cupped Mac's generous balls and his swinging cock! As the two of them fell forward, Mac dove into a forward roll with such strength that he slipped cleanly out of his attackers grip. The last thing the tacking player had hold of was Mac's cock! He would remember for many years the feeling he had as he grasped that wonderful organ. How it felt so soft yet so solid. How it seemed to twitch in his hand at his touch. He remembered too the velvety feeling of those great balls as his hand cupped them. Perhaps if he had not become so unexpectedly turned on by the feeling of capturing the teen's black jewels, he might have held on to him. As it was, he lay in the grass empty-handed, but with a head full of strange emotions; emotions that gave him an instant erection. He stayed face-first on the ground for some time before daring to get up! For Mac the incident almost stopped his heart! It was not part of his plan to get caught! The forward roll maneuver was instinctive, though the grasp of the guy's hands on his nuts and his cock was unexpected. It was also unexpectedly erotic! By the time he had rolled up onto his feet again, he had a rock hard erection! Suddenly the enormity of what he was doing struck him. He was racing totally naked through a famous landmark with a huge audience and media watching him. Somehow his erection made him much more naked than before. He was exposed for the whole world to see! He found that he liked it. He was close enough to the stands now for the audience to see his hard cock bouncing in an ungainly fashion as he ran. To tell the truth it was a little painful to run this way, and Mac half-hoped it would soon go down. It didn't. Security personnel were now reacting to the streaker and starting to sprint across the field towards him. Mac could see that one of them was going to get in front of him before he could reach the wall he was aiming for. There was a low shed like building he had spotted that he thought he could leap up onto and then over the wall without too much trouble. He wasn't completely sure what was on the other side of the wall, but he couldn't worry about that now. The security guard was almost upon him now, and Mac could not out-run him, so he began to slow as if he was about to give up and surrender. The guard also slowed and began walking towards Mac with a big grin on his face. "Okay sonny, fun's over!" Mac walked towards him with a surreptitious glance over his shoulder to make sure there were no other guards nearby. As the guard reached out to take Mac's arm, Mac grasped his wrist and with a twist of his body, threw the guard to the ground. He then sprinted towards the wall. The guard went down with a grunt of surprise, but was unharmed. He was up in a flash, but Mac had a few yards start on him. And now there was no one between him and his destination. The guard put up a valiant performance, and he held his own with Mac, but he could not narrow the distance. As a result, when Mac reached the low building and leaped up, got his hands on top of the flat roof and hauled his body right up onto it, the guard was left struggling to find some handhold to climb up. Mac trotted to the wall and hoisted himself over. Looking back he saw the whole scene for the first time. All the players were standing staring at him. Most of the crowd was on their feet. Cameras were everywhere. Some people were cheering and waving. Some were not. Best of all he could see the TV cameras were all trained towards him. He stood on the wall, legs akimbo and waved with both arms, then he blew a kiss to the crowd. They roared in delight. Then Mac turned and dropped into a crouch on the ground outside. As he stood up from the drop, there was a loud bang and the sound of crunching plastic and shattering glass. He looked up to see an amazing sight. He was at a busy intersection where most of the cars had come to a grinding halt at the sight of a gorgeous naked teen dropping from nowhere! All stopped except one unfortunate motorist who had driven into the rear of a stopped car. The drivers got out and began to shout and flail their arms. Mac waited no longer, but took off along the route that seemed the least busy. It was not much less busy, so there were plenty of people who saw him, and hooted. There were also many pedestrians around and they stopped to stare. Some mothers covered their children's eyes, while the poor kids struggled to see the naked teen's dick since it might be the only chance they ever had! Mother's seem to understand nothing! Soon Mac was hopelessly lost. He had no idea where his little garage loft was. He still had a day and a half to go before he could put any clothes on. Here he was in an unfamiliar part of central London, naked and with nowhere to go. He had also only eaten two oranges all day! He suddenly realized he was starving. He could not stop running and he took side streets, never staying on one road for more than a block or two. He knew by now some people would have called the police, so he intended to follow the most erratic course that he could. He turned a corner and saw many trees in the distance -- the Park! Maybe he could hide in there for a while. There were lots of people around as he entered the park. He got wolf-whistles, catcalls, hoots of derision and also applause. He sought out the most uninhabited sections of the park, finally finding himself alone in a thickly wooded area, where the ground was moss-covered and the trees tall and old. It was like being in some ancient temple with huge columns reaching upward to a green sky. Some giant rhododendron bushes in magnificent purple bloom bordered a grassy clearing. He pushed his way into the bushes and discovered the little trails and tunnels that these bushes always contained. Animals and children made them. They formed an intricate network throughout the giant complex of bushes, and formed little areas like small rooms all over the place. Finding a spot deep inside with soft moss and leaf mold on the floor, he sank thankfully down. Mac's breathing slowed and his heart rate dropped. His adrenalin levels eased, and he sighed. He must have been running for over an hour; most of the time running almost full out; no gentle jog, this! He lay down and stretched his body luxuriously, relishing the feeling of stretching his cramped and tired muscles. He thought back over the last tumultuous hour. The looks on the faces of the players, the yells of the crowd, the cameras clicking, the feel of that player's hands on his cock! The breathless excitement of the final escape, and the endless gauntlet he endured out on the street, with pointing fingers, honking cars, and excited kids. More people had now seen his naked body, had observed his long cock, erect and bouncing in front of him, been titillated by the heavy balls swinging and bouncing against his pounding thighs as he ran, than he could possibly count! His cock got hard again at the thought. He considered jacking off, but he knew that he'd want to get dressed right after. Staying horny was part of how he knew he'd be able to carry through the 48-hour dare. So he slept. Mac woke several hours later but had no way to tell the time in his secluded nest sheltered from the sun as it was. He crawled carefully along the tunnels until he could overlook a grassy slope down towards a river or channel. Several families were dotted around on blankets with playing kids and picnic coolers. The sight so much food so near yet so unattainable, made Mac's stomach growl in protest. There was one family quite close to the Rhododendron bushes, but further to his left. Mac dove back in and worked his way around until he could observe this family from no more than ten feet inside the bushes. He could clearly hear what they were saying, and see what they were eating. They were a group of three, a mother and two boys around his age -- maybe a bit younger. He could clearly see their food -- cold roast chicken, chips, fruit, cookies and pop! Oh this was worse than anything! His stomach was churning so loudly, he was sure they'd hear! The boys were not all that interested in the food, dressed only in Speedo-type swim trunks, they were anxious to get back to splashing in the stream down the hill. They left much of their food on the paper plates and kept bugging their mom to let them go. In the end she relented. They charged whooping down the hill. Mac watched like a circling hawk as the mother put all the leftovers into a plastic bag and dumped it into the cooler for later disposal. Having tidied up to her satisfaction, she stood, brushed off her jeans, and headed down towards her children. Mac poised in readiness as she moved further and further away. The two boys were named Oliver and Nigel. They were in fact twins, although not identical. They had similar build, quite skinny with undeveloped chests, sunny smiles, clear complexions and an enormous sense of fun and adventure. Oliver was blonde -- a brilliant almost impossible platinum colour, and Nigel was more a honey colour. Both had blue eyes, though Nigel's had a tinge of green. Neither shaved. Both had respectable bulges in their trunks, of which they were quite proud. Nigel was winning the race in the pubic hair department, but that might have been because his hairs were slightly more visible than his brother's. They had been playing in the water, splashing around. It wasn't deep enough to swim, but it was fun and cooling in the hot afternoon. They played Frisbee in and out of the water. Nigel was looking back up the hill, "Hey, Mom's coming down, throw the Frisbee at her!" Oliver turned and flung the disc on a deadly accurate trajectory towards his mother. Angela Atkinson knew her two sons well, so she expected something like this. Herself an Olympic swimmer in her teen years, she was still very athletic and had good reflexes. She saw the body language of her sons even before the suggestion to throw the Frisbee was made. When it was launched, she was ready. She stepped sideways and crouched low to lift the speeding disc out of the air as it flew past her. She jumped up and re-launched it back not to Oliver who had thrown it, but to Nigel who had instigated the attempt to catch her off guard! Nigel, not as savvy as his mother, was not prepared, though he did see it coming. Not only was he not prepared, but an odd sight also distracted him. Up at their picnic blanket he could swear there was a totally naked black kid looting their cooler! Before he could articulate anything to alert the others, the Frisbee hit him in the balls! "Aaaahhhhgggg!" he doubled over, holding his crotch. That hurt! Angela clapped her hand to her mouth, part in horror and part laughter. She ran over to her writhing son. He was lying in the grass, squirming and with his hands cupping his privates. "Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, "Nigel, I'm so sorry honey," and she made to reach down to him. Nigel horrified that she was about to do something embarrassingly motherly like try to rub the spot that hurt, reflexively pulled back and jumped up, "I'm fine, I'm fine!" Angela pulled back, again trying her best to cover her amusement, "Okay dear." As the pain subsided and his mother and brother toned down their hilarity, the image of the naked black boy came back to his mind. He looked up the hill. There was no one there. The other two followed his gaze up the hill. "What?" asked Oliver. "I thought..." Nigel looked back at them, "I thought someone was up there." "Oh? Who?" "A kid, a... er... a black kid." "What was he doing?" "He was going through our cooler." "Did he take anything?" "I don't know. That's when I got hit in the nuts!" he looked murderously at his mother. "Well darling, it's your own fault for trying to take me by surprise. You should know better!" Angela smiled at him. "Let's go see." They trudged up the hill, Angela in the middle, her arms around the shoulders of the twins. Life is good, she thought. Nigel was still rubbing his sore testicles. She had not seen either of her sons naked for at least a couple of years, and she had a fleeting thought to wonder how the boys and their `boys' were doing in the maturity department. She had a momentary wish that their father was still around. At the picnic site, nothing was obviously disturbed. Angela flipped the lid on the cooler and it was immediately clear that the bag of leftovers was gone, and maybe a couple of cans of pop. Well, the leftovers were destined for the garbage anyway, so that was no loss, and she didn't begrudge some homeless person a meal and a drink. "The left over food is gone," she told them, "but that's okay. If he was hungry he's welcome to it." The boys seemed satisfied, and wandered off. As soon as they were out of earshot, Nigel turned to his brother, "Oliver, there's something else about that kid. He was totally stark bollock naked!" "What!" Oliver was stunned. What on earth was a naked black kid doing in the park on a Tuesday afternoon in August? Well, at any time come to that. "Do you think he's homeless and naked?" He suddenly found himself quite excited at the thought, and his cock began to twitch. "I dunno, but if he's hungry enough to risk stealing food out here in broad daylight while he's naked, he's probably pretty desperate. I also think I know where he is." "Where?" "In those big bushes," Nigel nodded towards the Rhododendrons, "there are a million pathways all through them. Remember playing in them when we were smaller?" So the two brothers, still dressed only in their brief swimsuits, Nigel's yellow, and Oliver's red, both showing bulging erect cocks pushing sideways against the fabric, entered the bush trails to discover the naked bandit. Mac was stuffing the chicken and potato chips into his face as though he'd not eaten for a week. He washed it down periodically with the pop. He burped loudly, then looked around afraid he'd give himself away. He was much deeper inside the bushes, but not far from the picnic site he'd looted. He saw the family begin a game of Frisbee, so he had no idea he'd been spotted. No one reacted to his theft. One of the kids was rolling around on the ground for some reason. No, they hadn't noticed him at all. He finished everything that could be eaten, and balled up the plastic bag with the bones. He lay back to drink the last of the pop. He closed his eyes. He must have dozed. He did not hear the twins approach. The first he knew was when Nigel grabbed both his wrists and pulled them wide splayed behind him, and at the same time Oliver pulled both his legs out and knelt on them" "What the hell..." he awoke startled and immobile. He saw the cute blonde kid sitting on his legs, with a fierce look on his face. He struggled to see behind his head and just caught a glimpse of Nigel pulling his wrists, with his feet braced against his shoulders! "You stole our food!" Nigel yelled accusingly. "You were going to throw it in the garbage!" responded Mac indignantly. "You're naked!" Oliver stated the obvious, apparently addressing Mac's cock. "Shit, I'm not am I?" said Mac sarcastically, "wish I'd known!" It was about then that Mac noticed Oliver's erection straining to be released. Aha! "Are you hungry?" asked Nigel. "Not any more." "Are you homeless? Oliver. "Kinda, I guess." "Where are your clothes?" "I got thrown out of the house by my dad while I was naked." "Wow!" the boys were aghast, suddenly feeling some sympathy for their prisoner. They looked at each other and at some unspoken signal, released him. Mac sat up, rubbing his wrists and ankles. "Shall I get my shorts?" offered Oliver, "they'd fit you." "Uh, thanks, but no. I have to stay naked for another twenty-four hours." They goggled at him, "Why?" "It's a dare! I have to be naked for a continuous period of forty-eight hours." "Wow!" They both smiled at him with a growing admiration. They liked how he looked. They both thought he was older than them, and they liked his developed chest muscles, his visible abs, and most of all were fascinated with this huge cock, and his heavy balls. In fact when they spoke they looked more towards his cock than at his face! This was not lost on Mac, who was beginning to form a plan. "I also did a naked streak at Lord's," Mac mentioned casually. "No way! Oh my god!" The boys were now so excited their cocks were going to split the material of their trunks. Wet spots appeared. Mac was getting excited too, and is cock was beginning to grow. "Jesus, look at that!" said Oliver, staring in fascination at the sight of another boy's cock growing. He'd only ever seen his own do that, but his was nothing to compare with this monster! He and his brother, though they saw each other naked all the time, had never played together. "Looks like those guys want out!" Mac nodded to the two straining groins. The boys looked down and then uncomfortably at each other. "Uh, no," I don't think so, said Nigel blushing. Oliver blushed and said nothing, but his eyes shone questioningly at Mac. Mac nodded understandingly, and lightly began to run his fingers along his cock. If anything the boy's cocks swelled even more. They both reached down almost unconsciously to put their hands over them. Mac lay back with a sigh, and continued to touch himself. He moved the toes of his left foot under the squatting Oliver and very gently rubbed under his perineum and over his balls. "Oooohh!" sighed Oliver, rubbing his cock through the material. The red material was now soaked and sticky around his cock head. The outline of his cock was clearly visible. Mac sat up, leaning forward, and whispered close to Oliver's ear, "take `em off!" Oliver looked nervous, but he was also being overcome by lust. He hesitated, then stood up and slipped his trunks off, casting them aside. His cock sprung out like some wild animal released. Pre-cum was dripping off his hairless skinny cock. "Olly!" exclaimed his brother, "what the hell are you doing?" "I don't know, but I can't help it!" Oliver said, "it feels so good!" He stood naked, touching his cock in emulation of Mac. Mac stood up next to him, "This feels even better," he said replacing Oliver's hand with his own. "Ahhhhh!" Oliver's legs almost collapsed. Nigel stood watching this, his cock absolutely bursting to join in, but his head was fighting. He felt somehow detached from reality. Nothing like this had ever crossed his mind before. He was hornier than he had ever been; yet he was also somehow ashamed of his feelings. He wasn't consciously aware why playing with his dick was wrong, but he had the impression that it was. Like most western kids he had absorbed an unspoken moral rule that was never verbalized. He KNEW this was wrong, but he didn't quite know WHY. His leaking, throbbing, straining cock clearly saw nothing at all wrong and was in fact completely committed to forcing him to join in. Which head would win? At last it was his cock that won the day! He could stand it no longer, he pushed his now soaked yellow trunks down and cast them aside just as his brother had done. Mac turned to him and pulled the boys both close. He knelt down in front of them and grasped the two cocks. Slowly with the tenderest touch, he massaged the inexperienced penises. The boys looked at each other, embarrassed but at the same time overcome with lust. They reached out to each other and they kissed for the first time. Mac reached around their buttocks and pulled them closer and then he gripped first one, then the other erect cock into his mouth. The boy's cocks were immature enough and skinny enough to fit comfortably into his mouth at the same time. The sensation that Oliver and Nigel felt as their cocks touched each other, enveloped in Mac's moist soft mouth, was indescribable. If ever there was an experience to instantly addict two pubescent young men to a life of lust and sex, this was it! Mac sucked the twin cocks, pulling them as deep as they would go, wrapping his tongue around one and then the other. He pushed into the slits, he massaged around the heads, he slurped up and down the shafts. It could not last. Two things happened. As the twins were reaching their peak of sexual excitement with Mac sucking on their cocks, while his fingers probed into their ass cracks and slid his fingers into their assholes, they all clearly heard Angela Atkinson, sounding only a few feet away, calling, "Oooooliverrr, Niiiigelll!" The boys gasped and came almost immediately, their sperm shooting sweet and sticky down Mac's throat. They collapsed onto his shoulders. He held them tight around their bums, their deflating cocks still in his mouth. "It's Mom!" "Yeah, I guessed," smirked Mac. "Oh, god, we gotta go!" Oliver looked as though he were suddenly bereaved. "Okay," said Mac. "But what about you," he wailed. "Where will you go?" "We're coming, Mom!" yelled Nigel. "I dunno." "Come home with us," pleaded Oliver, "You can sleep in our room!" "I don't think your mom will like that!" "Suppose not." The boys picked up their trunks, and put them on, but the wet patches at the front were just too obvious to be decent. "Oh, god what are we going to do?" "I think you better get in a final swim!" suggested Mac grinning. So the three made their way close to the edge of the bushes. The boys looked at Mac. "Will we see you again?" "I don't expect so." They each hugged him tight, and kissed his lips. He patted their swimsuit-clad bums. He felt oddly paternal, yet he was the same age. The two ran down to the river, yelling to their mother as they went. Angela relieved that they hadn't run off and got lost -- or worse -- sighed and smiled to herself. It was a smile that Mac observed. He felt a pang of jealousy. Why couldn't he have come from a comfortable middle-class white family like that? He watched the boys dunk themselves in the water. He could tell that they were scrubbing away at the pre-cum stains, though their mother thought they were just playing and splashing each other. They returned soaking wet and she threw the towels toward them. "Dry off, I want to get dinner on soon!" They dried off, and wrapped the towels around themselves, slipping their trunks off and putting their underwear and shorts on. Then their tee shirts, and the towels were discarded along with their trunks, which Angela scooped up and put into the bag. She had packed all their picnic gear together as they dressed. "Mom?" began Oliver. "Yes, dear?" "We found that kid who stole our food." "Ohh! Did you get into a fight? That wasn't very safe, was it?" She looked anxious. "Nah, he's only about our age, though a bit stronger, I guess," chipped in Nigel following Oliver's lead, and wondering what he had in mind. "Um, Mom?" Oliver was hesitating, staring at his Mother, willing her to be agreeable to his suggestion. "Mom, he's been thrown out of his house!" "Oh god!" gasped Angela, "why?" Oliver had no idea how to answer that. He had not planned as well as he thought! Nigel blurted, "Oh, his dad's a drunken unemployed bum and just chucked him out!" "Oh dear." "So, Mom, we were wondering," said Oliver, painfully aware that Nigel was completely ignorant of what `we' were wondering, "if he could come home with us," he finished in a rush. "For a night." "Oh, well, I don't know about that," Angela was quite taken aback. "It'll be fine, Mom," said Nigel, "he can stay in our room, we'll keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't steal anything." The argument went back and forth for several minutes, but it became clear to Angela that her twins actually liked the boy who stole their picnic scraps. Angela, compassionate, Good Samaritan that she was, suddenly had vision of herself as Mother Theresa, doing good works for society's downtrodden masses... and she said, "Yes." There were of course still a few problems to overcome. Mac had overheard the entire conversation, so he was ready for what came next. It was Oliver calling him to come out. When he suddenly materialized at the edge of the bushes right beside them, Angela gasped in fright. She saw a totally naked, very black boy, well built, muscles rippling in the late afternoon sun and she could barely take her eyes off his cock! Her husband had been well endowed, she'd thought -- not that she'd had experience of a multitude of male appendages -- but this... kid... was enormous! Of course Mac was not really that big, but the recent sexual encounter with the twins had left him incredibly horny and since he hadn't cum yet, he was still looking definitely `plump' in that department. Plus having the twins' mother staring at his dick like had also turned him on. "He's... naked!" she exclaimed. "Oh, yeah I forgot that bit," said Oliver looking hopelessly at Nigel for inspiration. Mac came to the rescue. "I was naked at home when my dad threw me out," he stated. "Being naked for forty-eight hours is a big part of my religion, so I cannot get dressed until after midnight tomorrow." Mac had absolutely no idea what religion this could possibly be, and he fervently hoped she wouldn't ask. "Oh," said Angela uncertainly, "how very interesting." She drew a deep breath and looked at her son's pleading eyes. "Okay," they all exhaled, "but how do we get him to the car?" They all collapsed laughing at the ordinary practicality of the question. "What?" asked the perturbed Angela. They told Mac where the parking lot was and he undertook to meet them there. In fact, by the time the small family had struggled back to their car with the picnic stuff, Mac was waiting, sitting near some bushes that screened him from other families also preparing to leave. They backed the car up near to him so he could get in unseen, and they were off. Their house was magnificent to Mac's eyes. In truth it was an ordinary middle class house, but in an affluent part of Knightsbridge. It was free and clear, having been part of Angela's divorce settlement. There were four bedrooms, but the boys shared the master bedroom, while Angela had two side-by-side bedrooms for herself. That left a spare bedroom, but the boys absolutely would not hear of it being assigned to Mac. "He stays with us," they announced firmly. Angela thought how touching it was that her boys were so concerned for the young man's well being. She had absolutely no idea that she was about to provide her sons with the means and the opportunity for their first (but not last) sexual orgy! So Mac spent the evening in the Atkinson household, completely naked. He came to dinner naked; he sat with the family and watched TV naked. He even got up and went to the kitchen naked, offering to make Angela a cup of tea halfway through the evening. She accepted and found the tea to be delicious -- not like the weak insipid stuff her sons sometimes made. Not that she would ever have complained. She questioned Mac on his family and upbringing, not that she liked to pry too far. She took all his answers at face value -- the true and the false. She was interested in his school, and actually knew of the village where it was located. She was interested in Mr. Jones, who seemed to have taken such an interest in his pupil, though of course she did not realize how far that interest extended. She developed contempt for Mr. Macdonald who could so cavalierly throw out his son naked into the world. She dragged a spare mattress onto the boy's bedroom floor and made up a bed for Mac. Mac never slept on it, but he did have the foresight to muss it up enough to look as though it were slept in. They all climbed into their respective beds while mother kissed them all -- including Mac -- goodnight. When the house was quiet, Oliver whispered, "Do you wanna come in here?" Mac of course wanted to cum anywhere, so he said, "yes!" He slid into Oliver's bed, and Nigel slid in beside Mac. The twins were wearing their pajamas. "I guess we should get these off," giggled Oliver. "Not yet, let me," said Mac. He began to fondle the two boys, gradually undoing buttons and teasing them slowly out of their clothes. Eventually they were all naked, rock hard and oozing. The three of them cuddled together as if they were trying to meld their three bodies into one. Mac as horny as he was and as sexually aggressive as he was, took a wise approach to sex with these virgin teenaged twins. He let them lead the way. He felt they would do what they were ready to do, and he would not push them too far into uncomfortable places. After all, if he upset them he could find himself back out on the street, or worse, in a remand home. Lying on his back in the middle, Mac hugged the two boys to his body. He allowed his hands to travel down their backs to their buttocks. The squealed in delight. "I can't believe how good this feels!" exclaimed Nigel, who seemed to the shy one of the two. "How come we never did this before?" Mac ran his fingers down inside the two ass cracks. He was conscious of the two hard wet cocks pressing on his body from both sides. The boys were both gently humping him. He reached up between their legs from their rears, and tugged at their balls. "Ohhhhh!" groaned Oliver, "I think I might cum!" "Not yet, baby," murmured Mac. He turned over and pushed the twins onto their fronts. He then began to use his tongue all over their backs and buttocks, first one, then the other, back and forth. He licked the full globes of flesh and then started flicking his tongue along their cracks. The twins wriggled and writhed with the ecstasy. They each put their arms around the other's shoulders and brought their lips together into a passionate kiss. Mac pushed his tongue hard into the crack, straining to reach the little pink holes. They each gasped in turn as he succeeded. He pushed his tongue into the hole, drilling with the point. They each opened up to him, experiencing the electric excitement of the unfamiliar action. They would never think of their ass holes the same way again! The twins moved their legs apart and Mac dove down between them, probing with his tongue down along the perineum and to touch the base of their balls. Involuntarily, they both raised their hips off the bed to allow greater access. Mac sucked their balls into his mouth and tugged. "Oh, oh, oh my god!" Mac rolled them both over onto their backs and continued tonguing their balls. Then he began to tease their pricks with his tongue. He licked them all over then he swallowed each one whole. The twins bucked and thrust their hips up high. Then Mac back away and said, "Do you wanna fuck me?" "Yes!" hissed Oliver. Mac turned around on his knees, ass towards Oliver, his head down in his arms. "What do I do?" "Kneel behind me and let your cock run up and down my ass." Oliver complied. "Now use your cock to feel slowly up until you find the hole... oh! That's good! Then gently push in... ahhhh perfect!" Oliver's cock was wet and slippery and Mac's ass was quivering with open anticipation, so it slipped in easily. Oliver's cock was buried in Mac's ass to the hilt. "Shit... I'm cumming," said an exasperated Oliver. "That's okay, just pump as hard as you can -- make your cock cum out my head!" Oliver rammed his spurting prick in and out about half a dozen times, before collapsing, spent onto Mac's back. "Oh god, oh, oh... Nige, you gotta try this." So Nigel replaced Oliver at Mac's hole. He too plunged in and fucked hard and fast, cumming in a short time with the feeling that he was exploding his entire essence into the boy impaled on his cock. The three collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs onto the bed, panting. "That was soooo awesome!" murmured Oliver. He had truly never imagined what sex would be like. He knew the mechanics, but the idea of letting some girl see his cock was something that never bore thinking about. The idea of ANYONE seeing him naked was enough to make him blush to his toes. And now look at him! He was naked with Nige and a complete stranger. And not just naked, but hard and cumming all over the place, with his private cock in that kid's face and even up his bum! Holy shit! Nigel was having similar thoughts, but was less articulate about it. He was also thinking about Mac. "Mac?" "Yup, what's up buddy?" "What about you?" "What about me?" "Well, you didn't cum yet. Shouldn't we..." he tailed off embarrassed. "Nigel that's real sweet of you, ya know?" "What should we do?" "Listen guys, I've had a lot of fun getting you guys off. You don't have to do anything, but if you want to... just do whatever you want. Let your imagination go free and do anything you've ever dreamed about doing to another boy!" Nigel looked at Oliver. They had both fantasized about this kind of thing, but never once had either confided in the other. Oliver got up off the bed and went to a drawer. He searched around, found what he wanted and came back with four pajama cords! Nigel's eyes widened. This was something they HAD talked about. They had talked about having someone at their mercy, tied up so they could torture him any way they wanted! That discussion had been fun, but they had not ventured into sexual territory, and in fact they didn't even think of making their prisoner naked! Well, Nigel didn't, and though Oliver thought about it, he hadn't mentioned it to his brother. Oliver threw two of the cords to Nigel and nodded towards Mac's feet. He took the cords to Mac's wrists. In a few minutes they had tied Mac spread-eagled on the bed, with his legs spread as far as they would go -- almost painfully so. Mac was intrigued, and when he got a good look at the knots the boys had tied, he was a little worried. They were very efficient! He did not think he could get out of this without them untying him. However, he realized suddenly that the edge of fear and uncertainty lent a charge of sexual excitement that was very arousing, and his already hard cock twitched up a few notches and spurted a few more drops of clear liquid. Oliver returned with the lace from his swim trunks. He proceeded to bind around Mac's scrotum just above his balls. Where the hell had this innocent kid learned to do that? The effect on Mac was dramatic. His balls pulled tight yet felt constrained and his cock strained even harder, making his cock-veins stand out in dramatic relief against the velvet skin. Next the two boys whispered and then approached him on either side, they began at his feet and licked their tongues all over his feet, even between his toes. They also sucked his toes one by one. The sensation was amazingly erotic for Mac, who had never done this before. He'd have to remember this one! The boys in unison worked their way up his legs to his thighs, inside his thighs, around his waist, across his abdomen ... wait a minute, they missed his cock and his balls! Go back! He wanted to yell, but he realized that this was the form of torture that Oliver had chosen. They licked all over his chest and nibbled on his nipples, "Aaahhhhgg!" They ran those soft wet probes all around his neck and into his ears, giving him goose bumps all over his body. His hips were jerking in a vain effort to hump something with his cock, which was twitching and drooling floods of pre-cum. Then, oh then, at long last they went down to his cock. And they just looked at it from about two inches away. They studied it for what seemed like ages, and then gently they started licking his balls. The pent up sexual energy in Mac's loins was at fever pitch, he was straining and sweating to cum, but of course his supply of that precious white juice was trapped behind the tight cords around his scrotum! He could NOT cum! `Oh, god help me!' he thought. But God either wasn't listening or didn't approve! Mac suffered. Then as one licked and sucked his tight, trapped balls, the other very gently blew on the head of his cock. This was heaven and hell all rolled into one! "Oh please, please make me cum, I can't stand it, I'll do anything, anything, just let... me... cumm..... oh god oh godohgod!" Mac was babbling in desperation. The twins stood up and Oliver had a totally unreadable expression on his face. He turned away and returned with a thin leather belt. "Jesus Christ!" Mac turned pale, "what are you going to do to me?" For answer, Oliver took a short length of the belt and gently slapped the side of Mac's penis shaft. "Ahhhgg," Mac screamed in both agony and ecstasy. Oliver slapped from the other side, the began a slow rhythm of slapping the unbelievably swollen and drooling cock from side to side, up and down the shaft. Then a pause and then he began slapping not the shaft but on either side of the cock head itself. The slaps were not really painful, they sent electric jolts through Mac's genitals and into his abdomen, and if his balls had not been tied, he would have come in a Vesuvian ejaculation within just a few slaps. As it was, he could not cum, so his orgasm arose within in him, he could feel it, but he could not ejaculate. "Help.. ah god, oohnononhoaahhggg!" Oliver increased the rhythm of the slaps and also increased the force, it was now edging over into real pain for Mac, as Mac's screams reached a crescendo, he nodded to Nigel, who pulled the bonds around Mac's scrotum and tugged hard. The balls unwrapped quickly the cord flicking the balls around and around at high speed. The cock head slaps continued faster and faster, as Mac's balls were finally released, Oliver stopped. "Aaaaahhhhhhggggg!" Mac screamed in pain and relief as his ejaculate surged and surged feeling like a river in flood inside his loins, it erupted and shot clear up to the ceiling, hanging there in dripping festoons. Other shots returned to coat his chest. No one counted how many jets erupted. But the orgasmic jets were still erupting from the captive boy when the door suddenly opened and Angela, hearing Mac's screams, came running in to see what on earth was going on... "What's happening, are you boys ok....... Oh my GOD!" she stopped dead in her tracks. What she saw was enough to curdle any mother's breast milk! The first thing she saw in her son's low-lit bedroom, was the black boy tied up and spread-eagled on the bed, sporting the most enormous erection she had ever seen in her life! Not only was the kid erect, but he was in the middle of spurting an unbelievably enormous load of cum all over her CEILING! He shot all over her sons and all over himself. And as she watched, he kept shooting and shooting. It took her a moment, but she next noticed that both her sons were totally naked, wrapt in the spectacle, sporting huge erections themselves, which they were stroking with their hands, and as she watched and as they turned towards her in slow motion, they both in unison came as well, shooting half towards where she was standing! As the boys took in the fact that their mother was standing in utter shock inside their bedroom, the boys let go of their cocks, but were too far gone to stop shooting. So they stood there like statues, hands at their side, while their cocks continued to shoot copious amounts of sperm in the general direction of their mother! There was utter silence in the room. Angela Atkinson had absolutely no clue what she was going to say. The three boys stared at her standing silhouetted in the doorway with the hall light behind her. Mac, completely forgotten by the twins, continued to lay in strung out captivity on the bed, his rampant cock spurting its final drops. When it finished it did not wilt, but remained stubbornly iron hard and pointing towards the ceiling. It quivered wetly in the dim light. Angela could see it moving and twitching, reflecting little sparkling lights from it's slickness. Angela could not help staring at her son's cocks! She looked from one to the other and then back, occasionally shooting equally intense stares at the monster prong on her son's bed. Absently, Angela reached out to the light switch. The brilliant light suddenly illuminating the scene snapped everyone out of their paralysis. "Mom, no!" yelled a mortified Nigel, grabbing at his cock. Oliver also covered himself. They both raced for the bathroom. Angela and Mac, alone for a moment, stared at each other. "Is this your doing?" she asked calmly. Mac's eyes bulged, "No!" he protested vehemently, "well, yes, I suppose." His eyes dropped from contact with her and focused on his dick. It was a hard as ever, `probably stay like this the rest of my life,' he thought resignedly. "I thought so," said Angela feeling a certain amount of relief, "I didn't think they were into this kind of thing." "Well, I did start the sex..." admitted Mac, "but this, he indicated his present circumstance with his eyes, "was actually Oliver's idea. They're not as innocent as you think, I didn't force them into anything." "Oh," she stared into his eyes intently. They were deep black unfathomable pools. She realized she knew nothing whatever about this youth. He could be infected with anything. He could be capable of anything. She came to a decision. When the boys returned wearing towels around their waists, their mother had gone. "Where's Mom?" asked Nigel, fearful. "I don't know," said Mac, "can you guys untie me now?" he desperately wanted to be free. Free to flee if need be. Before they could begin to attack the knots, Angela returned. "Okay boys, go downstairs please, I want a moment alone with Mac." Wide-eyed the boys left. Angela turned to Mac still imprisoned on the bed. Still erect and rock hard, covered in cum. Cum still dripped onto him from the ceiling. "I've called the police, Mac," she said. Mac closed his eyes, shutting out the world. So it was all over. He could not believe that all the fun and excitement of the last few days was coming to such a horrible end. They would probably identify him as the Lord's streaker, and then there would be some kind of charges for corrupting innocent little white boys, and he'd end up in some sort of junior prison. Where he'd probably be raped daily by an endless succession of thugs! "They are bringing a social worker with them. I made it clear there are to be no charges." `Shit!' Mac thought, `some hope of that, the cops will do what they want... Angela bloody Atkinson can believe in her nice little white house that she could decide IF there'd be charges, but for him, a black kid from the ghetto, there WOULD be charges!' The young policeman that arrived was having trouble figuring this all out. He'd been told that a young boy had seduced the children of this house, and he'd arrived to find that same young boy tied up to the bed. He was naked, with the most enormous cock he'd ever seen. Not that he'd seen many. Not rock hard solid erect, he hadn't! This naked kid, black kid, was tied up on the bed. There was something dripping off the ceiling. Some fell on his head. He looked up. NO, it couldn't be! "Ah, ma'am, can I just get this straight?" he asked for the umpteenth time, "this boy -- the one lying here tied up, is the one who seduced your boys? Is that it?" Angela pressed her hands to her temples, briefly closing her eyes. "Yes, officer, that's exactly it!" "And it was his idea to be tied up?" "Well, no." "It was the idea of one of your sons?" "Well, yes." "And this boy went along with it willingly?" "Yes!" Angela was losing patience. They'd been through this already. "And this boy was an overnight guest staying with your boys?" "Yes, dammit, I've told you!" "Well, forgive me, Ma'am, but I would have to question here who was seducing who." "Whom," stated Angela testily. "I beg your pardon?" said the puzzled officer. "It's `whom'... `who was seducing WHOM.'" "Well, Ma'am," frowned the constable, "whomever whom was the seducer or the seducee, it doesn't seem to me that THIS boy was the WHOM!" "Officer, if you do not arrest this boy and throw him into gaol for the rest of his life for gross indecency, corrupting innocent minors, I shall speak personally to the Home Secretary -- WHOM I know! Personally." "Very good, Ma'am. I will take the young man with me, and I will return tomorrow to interview yourself and your sons again." He turned to Mac still tied spreadeagled, naked and rampant, "okay, son let's get you out of here." He proceeded to undo Mac's bonds. Mac sat up and rubbed his wrists and ankles, "Thanks." "No problem, son, where are your clothes?" "I, uh... don't have any." "What were you wearing when you arrived?" He looked questioningly toward Angela, who was feeling a migraine coming on. "Nothing," stated Mac. The constable looked at Angela again, and she nodded. "Ma'am, am I to believe that this boy arrived at your house already naked?" Angela nodded slightly her eyes firmly shut. He looked at Mac. "Mrs. Atkinson picked me up at the Park." Another nodded confirmation from the now totally defeated Angela. What the HELL had she been thinking? "Mrs. Atkinson, did you first meet this boy at Hyde Park and he was already naked?" He stopped suddenly, not caring about the answer. He turned to Mac, "Son, were you the boy that streaked the Lord's cricket match today?" Mac nodded, no point denying it. "Do you have anything to give this boy to wear?" asked the officer. Angela was about to answer, but Mac interrupted, "It's okay, I don't want to get dressed." The cop's eyes almost bugged out of his head. "What the hell do you mean, you don't WANT to get dressed?" "I'm NOT getting dressed." "I'm afraid you have to son, I can't take you out of here while you're naked." "Then I'll have to stay, won't I?" There was a hint of the old defiance and truculence in Mac's voice. So, the arguments went on for some time, around and around. The police officer had interviewed Angela, the two boys separately and Mac separately and with Angela present. He had no idea what he was dealing with. The social worker failed to show. He could not think what he was supposed to do with this situation. In the end, since Angela clearly didn't want the naked black kid in her home, and the naked black kid didn't want to stop being naked, all he could do was march Mac still naked, into his squad car, in full view of the neighbours who had come out onto the street in the middle of the night to see what unusual event was taking place on their upper class street. Mac sat in the back of the squad car and watched the London streets go by. He was taken into a cop shop and booked. They told him some stuff, but it didn't really register. He had no idea that he had any rights. He did not know that it was illegal for the police to detain a minor in a police cell, or to arraign him without the presence of his parent or guardian. He was placed into a small one-man cell. Thick iron bars fronted onto the corridor. There was a stainless steel bench that he could sit on or sleep on. There was a stainless steel fixture that was a washbasin and toilet all in one. To wash he had to lean over the toilet. The toilet had no seat and no lid; no moving parts. The washbasin taps and the toilet flush were operated by a simple push button. The washing water was cold only. Mac lay down on the bare steel bench. His body was still damp and cum-covered, so he rapidly became chilled. He was given no blankets. The steel bench robbed his body of heat, and soon he was shivering. He spent a miserable night, alternately trying to sleep and getting cold, then sitting up and trying to rub warmth into his body. Morning came, although the only way to tell was the increased activity. A grilled cheese sandwich was pushed through his bars, and he ate it hungrily. An officer came for him and led him down the hall between all the cells. Catcalls and jeers as well as offers of marriage followed him. In an interview room the officer had a pile of clothes for him to put on so he could attend court that morning. "I'm not getting dressed," Mac announced. So the argument began again. From Mac's point of view, he figured, `what do I have to lose?' He was thrown out of his home. There was no going back. He had not even identified himself to the police, so they had no way to contact his dad. He was fairly sure (not completely sure) that in spite of what the officers said, they could not actually FORCE him to get dressed, or force him to reveal his identity. He did realize he was a minor and that there were legal limits to what they could do to him. Or make him do. In the end, the only charges that the police felt would have any chance of sticking in court were those related to nudity and his Lord's streaking escapade. They could not take him into court naked, so they dithered until they had to keep him a second night in the police gaol. They were now on extremely thin legal ice. They still were unable to get a children's social worker in to help. The next day, the local Superintendent felt that they could not go on any longer. He knew he'd be in trouble if they kept the juvenile in an adult gaol for three nights without charges, without legal representation and without parent or guardian. They took him to court. It caused a media sensation! He was spotted being loaded naked into a police van, and when they reached the municipal courthouse, the media were waiting. The officers tried to cover Mac with blankets, but he would have none of it, and rather than be seen dragging a struggling minor into court, they allowed Mac to walk proudly naked in to face his consequences. The cameras snapped, microphones were thrust in his face, "Are you the Lord's streaker? Where are your clothes? Did the police strip you?" To which Mac answered nothing. Nor did the police offer any explanation. The Justice of the Peace, who heard the case, could not make head or tail of it. "Officer, I want to make sure I have the facts straight in this case." "Yes, Your honour." "This boy, who earlier had run across the Lord's cricket ground naked as a dare, was later found by the Atkinson family, still naked in Hyde Park?" "That is correct, Your Honour." "The family then invited the boy home for dinner and to stay overnight?" "Yes, Your Honour." "The boy was naked all this time? He was naked when they drove him home, he was naked when they all sat down to dinner. He was naked when the three boys went to bed in the same bedroom?" "Yes, Your Honour." "The Atkinson twins were in fact insistent that he should sleep in their room? "Yes, Your Honour." "When you arrived, the accused boy was tied to the bed, and the other boys agreed that it was their idea, and that he had willingly submitted to this?" "Yes, Your Honour." "Officer, do you happen to know what the penalties have been for public nudity and for such pranks as `streaking' in recent years -- for adults?" "Ah, no, Your Honour, not exactly." "I'll tell you. At most a small fine. Usually a reprimand. Do you know the last time in this country that anyone spent two days in gaol for a nudity related offense?" "No, Your Honour." "Well, I do. And it was six months in solitary confinement! And when it came to trial, the jury acquitted the accused! He walked free from the court still naked!" "I see," said the Officer, clearly not seeing. "The decision of the court," explained the Justice patiently, is that there is no penalty to be issued for a law still on the books related to public nudity ... therefore it is unconscionable that this juvenile should have been imprisoned for nudity -- and that's the only charge you have brought. As for the sexual games played by the boys, it seems to me that all three were responsible -- and since they are all the same age, I could not hold one more responsible than the others." The officer did not know where to look. "This case is dismissed." "Ah, your honour?" "Yes, Officer?" "What are we to do with the boy?" "The boy is to be released." "But Your Honour! We don't know who he is, we don't know anything about him!" "That is quite correct officer!" said the Justice, "and since we have nothing against him, there is really no reason why we should." With that he got up and left. The court, the lawyers and the officer stood as the court was recessed. They looked at each other. Mac, taking his cue from the Justice, stood and without speaking to anyone, simply left the court. The media naturally chased him outside and trapped him on the steps to the courthouse. Microphones were thrust into his face. Questions were flung at him. He answered some, he shrugged his shoulders at others. He became in those few minutes before the media, a man. It had dawned on him throughout this whole ordeal, that he was his own man. He could do what he wanted, and he could ignore other people or not. If he chose to go his own way and damn the consequences, he should stick to it no matter what. He had some understanding of human and legal rights, so he knew that there were limits to what could be done to him. He also was beginning to understand the power of the media. If he came across as sympathetic in the media and the media liked him then the population would like him, and THEY would prevent the worst happening to him. He experienced an apotheosis in his understanding of power. So, in his interviews, he smiled a lot. He answered questions truthfully even naively; he refrained from the impulse of false bravado. He was humorous. The press loved him. They were laughing and kidding him, calling him `Mac.' He had not given any other name, so they had no way of tracing him. Except of course unless his father came forward to claim him -- unlikely. Eventually the questions wound down. The press started leaving to make their deadlines. Mac was on his own with nowhere to go. One thing, he no longer seemed to have to worry about wandering around totally naked! He walked away from the courthouse. A young reporter ran after him. "Where are you going now?" "I've no idea," said Mac. "You don't have anywhere to go?" "No." There was a pregnant pause, very pregnant. Mac looked at the guy. He was young-ish -- maybe twenty-five or so, quite good-looking in an Anglo kind of way. "Do you wanna crash with me?" the guy was hesitant, almost shy. It suddenly hit Mac. Here he was, standing totally naked, having just been exonerated in a British court in the heart of London, he a kid, a black kid from a poor suburb, talking to a reporter from a national newspaper, and it was HE, Mac who had the power in this scenario! It took his breath away. The guy kept glancing at his cock. Mac pretended not to notice. But he noticed! "Why?" "Huh?" "Why do you want me to stay with you?" "I ah, I just don't like the idea of you being out on the streets naked. You won't get anything to eat, no-one will take you in..." he was a bit off base there, even as they spoke Mac's picture was being broadcast around the country, and there were men and boys across the entire nation who would have given him a home in an instant! "Okay," said Mac, moving close to the guy, putting his arm around his shoulders and hugging him close. He put his lips to the guy's ear and whispered, "What's your name?" The reporter gasped in astonishment, and found himself incredibly turned on, "Ah... Si..si..simon." "Okay, Sisisisimon, let's go." So they went.