This story contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts between the characters in it. Although the characters are teenagers who may be below the age of consent in the country or state where this is read, nothing written here should be taken as approval of, or encouragement for, sexual liaisons between people where such liaisons are either illegal, or objectionable for moral reasons. Although this story does not include safe sex practices, it is everyone's own responsibility to themselves and to each other to engage only in PROTECTED SEX. It is a story. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Nothing represented here is based on any fact known to the author.
The story is copyright 1999 by "Its Only Me from Across the Sea". If you copy the story, please leave the credits, and the web address of http://www.iomfats.org present, and also the email address of firstname.lastname@example.org. I'd love to receive feedback.
It's odd how these things happen. I mean, no-one ever expects it to happen to them. Well, you wouldn't, would you? Especially if it had never happened before, and if it crept up on you, and just sort of got you. It crept up on me all right. It didn't just get me, it grabbed hold of me and changed my life. It took it a while to do it, but it did it completely, totally, insidiously, and without mercy.
It was all the fault of the school choirmaster. I've got to blame someone, and I'm blaming him. It doesn't matter who he was, any choirmaster would have been to blame. It was the day my voice broke that it started. One moment I was singing a passable treble line, and suddenly all control was gone, and a great growl came out, right at the highest part - almost a bass descant, if there is any such thing - and then back to treble again.
"I think it's time you stood down for a bit."
"I suppose so, sir. I can't control it."
"No-one can, lad, no-one can. It's just a matter of waiting for it all to settle, and then see if it all works in a different register. Let's give it a few months, eh?"
"I suppose so, but it doesn't feel fair."
"Never does, Stamford, never does. It passes, though."
What you have to understand is, though I wasn't one of the soloists, the choir was my life. It took over my Sundays, my afternoons, sometimes my whole weekends on trips and stuff. We were rather a good choir. Next summer we were planning a tour of Germany. If my voice didn't settle, I wouldn't go. I'd been looking forward to it for simply ages, and it was all down to nature conspiring to stop me.
There wasn't any point in staying on in the choir practice, so I went outside, into the late summer air, into the sunshine, and just walked around the school playing fields to try to get though my aggravation at my body. Why did it have to let me down? Sure, it wouldn't last forever, but I might never get my singing voice back, and wouldn't be allowed to go on the trip if I didn't. It wasn't working. I mean the walking wasn't working. I was feeling just as pissed of with the unfairness of life as I finished as when I started. And the bell rang for afternoon school.
I think we had geography and physics. I didn't really notice, because I was so fed up, and I missed both lessons in spirit, though I was certainly there in body. I'll have to find something to do instead of choir practice, I told myself. And there was the problem. What? Here I was, Andy Stamford, ex-chorister, fifteen years old, nearly sixteen, a late developer with no hobbies other than singing, no friends except in the choir, and I wasn't feeling on top of the world with my life.
I lived about two miles from the school, not along any serious main roads, so I cycled to and from the school each day. I didn't hurry home after school that night.
"What's up, Andrew?" Mum always called me 'Andrew'
"I'm out of the choir for a bit, that's all. My voice is breaking."
"I thought you looked a bit fed up. Well, don't strain your voice by trying to sing for a month or two. It'll settle. It just..."
"Takes time! I know."
"If you aren't exercising your lungs, why not exercise your body?"
"What sport do you hate the least?"
"Right. Tomorrow, join the school swimming club, and see just how fit you can get."
Well, it wasn't the worst idea that she'd had. Despite myself, I found I was looking forward to it, in a way. They were a good group of kids in the club, and we had a decent pool at school, so there I was, the next lunchtime, joining in. Anyone could just turn up and swim, and you could join the team, if you were good enough.
I was a pretty confident swimmer. Not fast, but dependable. I was best at breast stroke, but very out of practice. I took stock of who else was there. The most powerful was Dave. I knew him slightly. It wasn't a large school, but he wasn't in my class, nor was he in my house, but he was in my year. I went to a Public School just south of London, towards Kent, and we had a community of half boarders and half dayboys. There were about 800 of us. If you weren't in the same house, or the same class, you rarely met socially. Anyway, I'm getting off the point. Dave was impressive. I wished I could swim as well as he could. As we changed afterwards in the communal changing room, I told him so.
"You could, if you trained," he said. "I watched you swim. You aren't fast yet, but you have a good rhythm, and a bit of training might get you into the team. We haven't a good breast stroker at the moment, and we aren't winning that race in the matches."
"What training do I need to do? I've been singing rather than exercising."
"Not a lot wrong with singing for breathing, we really just need some basic fitness work to begin with. Nothing too hard. Let's have a look at you." It wasn't a request so much as a command. "Stand up tall."
So he looked me up and down, and came to a conclusion. "Mainly some weight work and cycling," he pronounced. "You look pretty good to me. Sort of 'lean' but in need of toning."
"I cycle to school. It's only two miles each way."
"Which way do you come?"
It happened that we both travelled the same way, but our routes diverged about half a mile from my home. He turned left and I turned right. "If I made a detour, and came past your place, I'd get an extra mile and a half in."
"Be a start," he said, and a really nice smile lit his face up, just suddenly. I hadn't noticed before, but he looked really nice. Handsome. "Let's start on the way home?" he suggested.
So we did. And over the rest of the first half of the term, we met at his house in the mornings, and returned via his house in the evenings. I guess we learnt a lot about each other on those trips. Not at first, I was out of breath from the extra effort for the first few days, but I found fitness arriving as the time passed, and I could return his conversation. Also we started to hang out together. A sort of bond grew between us, and I almost began to forget about singing.
When we swam, I was getting faster. I mean noticeably faster. It wasn't just Dave who noticed it, though. Dr Smith, the coach, noticed it, too, and was really encouraging. "You might make the team, Stamford, if you carry on this way," was what he said to me as Dave and I changed together.
"Andy and I have a training schedule, sir. He's putting in an extra three miles a day on his bike, and we've had an exercise programme worked out for weight training for the shoulders. We're working on stamina and speed."
"I thought there was something. It's paying off already. Keep it up."
So we did.
"Why don't you stop on your way home one afternoon to listen to records or something?" Dave asked me one Friday on the way. And he smiled that face illuminating smile at me, just for an instant. Do you know, I'd never seen him smile like that at anyone else.
"I'd like that. Do you have a Playstation, too?" Odd, I guess, but we'd never talked about music, games or stuff. It was deeper stuff we talked about on the rides to and from school. Life, the universe and everything stuff. Oh, and girls and sex of course!
"It's a deal. How about tomorrow?" I should explain - we have school on a Saturday, lessons in the morning, and games in the afternoon. We get longer holidays to make up for it, but it's a kind of English thing. "My parents are going to a dinner party, and I was going to be on my own."
"If your parents are going out, why don't we do it at your place? Mine's kind of cluttered up with my sisters at the moment."
"I'll have to ask Mum first."
"Tell you what," he said, "If she says yes, your place, if no, my place." And he looked as though he was purring and washing his whiskers after licking cream from the top of a cake.
I was really looking forward to it. I'd been kind of isolated from my choir friends - not surprising since their free time wasn't free - and I was really happy to know Dave. He was popular with all the kids, and he was good looking. He had light wispy blond hair, so fine that it looked like a halo when it was dry and the sun was behind him, gentle features, and round face with a straight nose, and two of the bluest eyes you ever saw. There were a few freckles just on the bridge of his nose. A sprinkle, nothing more. He had a tendency to blush suddenly, and for no obvious reason. I'd often caught myself wondering what kind of a beautiful girl he would make. He had broad shoulders, and a sleek, muscular body, full of hidden power. Michaelangelo's David, yet not.
And she'd said 'yes', and given me some money for Pizza, and told me not to mess the house up, not to have a party, and not to worry about how late they'd be because they might stay in a hotel. They often did that. In fact they could make a day of it and go in the middle of the afternoon.
"It's my place. And Mum says you can sleep over if you want"
So we arrived at my place. In fact we picked up a change of clothes at Dave's, and then we went to my room. "I'm going to get changed out of this school stuff" It was almost a chorus, but I think he said it first! And he started to undress. And I found I was sitting on the bed, just watching him, fascinated by his grace and perfection. I wasn't thinking about it, I just hadn't really moved, and I was lazing, propped up by pillows, in a world of my own. I watched his muscles move under his skin as he took his shirt off, and as he dropped his trousers, and stood there, in his stockinged feet and boxers.
I jumped, and blushed. It isn't like me to blush, but I coloured visibly and hot. "Er, yeah?"
"Hey, what's up? I was just going to ask if I could have a shower! I guess you need one, too. We rode here pretty fast and I'm all sweaty. Feel how damp I am." And he came over to the bed, and put my hand on his chest.
Have you ever had a moment in your life where something imperceptible happens to you that sets you on fire? Me too. Then. As he touched my hand, and he'd touched me often enough while swimming, as he touched my hand, I felt the breath leave my body, and as he placed it on his chest, on the left, just at the base of the ribcage, I felt an electric shock, as though I were Ben Franklin and he were the thunderstorm. And I breathed in and my breath sort of vibrated, and I felt all strange. Damp, he certainly was, smelling slightly of sweat, too, an exotic mixture of soft boy and hard maleness, and I was getting drunk on it, and I think slightly mad, too.
"Sure, but I'll wrestle you for the first shower!" What was I saying, this wasn't me, surely, was it? I couldn't wrestle rice pudding.
"You're fully dressed."
"That's easy to cure," I said, and lost my shirt and trousers, then grabbed him by the waist and tried to get a hold on him. This was fun. We grabbed, hugged, forced, twisted, grabbed some more, and got into all sorts of knots. Then I found myself held in a leg scissors, between his knees, with his feet locked together, and we both were laughing fit to burst.
"OK, you win," I gasped, exhausted and exhilarated at the same time.
"I'm not sure I want to win," he mumbled, a little strangely. "I, er, I was rather enjoying it. It feels good and I don't really want to stop." And he blushed so deep crimson that I thought he wasn't well, or something. And then he let me up and grabbed me again.
"OK, you still win," I gasped, "you get the first shower."
To tell the truth I was enjoying the tussle. There was something exciting about it, something strong and animal in the air, something I couldn't work out, wasn't sure I wanted to work out, was a bit scared of, and didn't understand.
But it didn't carry on. Dave said "Yeah, shower," and looked kind of sheepish. I pushed him down onto his back, got up, and grabbed a couple of towels.
"Come on, lazy, don't just lie there! Come and get a shower." And I went back, and grabbed the nearest bit of Dave and started to pull him showerwards.
"I may be an idiot, but I'm not the one being dragged towards the shower!" I looked down at Dave. He was grinning again. The sheepish look had gone, and that smile flashed across his face again.
"How big is this shower of yours?"
"It isn't a real shower, it's a shower head on the wall in the bath, and a long curtain so we don't splash the floor."
"Since I won," he giggled from the floor, "I get to Choose who has the first shower, and I bags you have it."
"OK, 'idiot'! You get your way."
So I stripped off, turned the water on, grabbed the shampoo, and got in. And Dave got in as well. "I reckon there's room for two," he smiled.
Well, nothing strange in that, the whole swim club showered together, and we'd been naked together often. I hadn't shaken off that animal feeling, quite, though, and it felt a bit strange, just the two of us together. So we got wet and started to wash. And as I was rinsing the shampoo out of my hair I got that electric feeling again as Dave and I brushed into each other.
"What's this?" he asked, looking past me at waist height
He'd reached past me and grabbed my Mum's herbal body wash, and one of those sort of scrubby plastic mesh things you use to wash with, and was squeezing the one onto the other. "Hey, this feels good. You try it." Before I knew it, he was scrubbing my back with it. And I liked it.
It sort of took me back to when my Mum used to wash me when I was little kid, and took me forward at the same time to.... Well I wasn't sure where to, but it felt good, sort of scrubby and fiery, and cosy. "You're right. Shall I do yours?"
"If it feels that good, sure." So, I turned towards him, and started to scrub him, working down from the shoulders to his waist, and then back again, and, as I did, I started to notice how excited I was feeling, and got nervous in case Dave noticed what was happening, and stopped. And that was the worst thing I could have done, because he turned round, and saw me standing there, with my cock pointing sort of horizontally towards him.
"I, I, er, I, but, it's not, er...."
"It can happen, Andy. I can't control mine sometimes. Don't worry. It's OK"
But it wasn't OK, I felt weird, still excited, but weird, looking at Dave, standing there, water running down his chest. "But..."
"But nothing. It's OK."
But I was shaking, and suddenly he was looking worried. "Are you OK," he asked me, "you're trembling"
"I think I'm cold"
"Turn the water off." And he was out of the shower, holding a towel outstretched between his hands, and I stepped into it, and into his arms, which he wrapped firmly round me, round the towel. And I still had that scary feeling, and I was still trembling. Gently, "Andy... " more gently "Andy... ", and he just stood there holding me, stroking me dry, looking me in the eyes, looking really nervous. "Andy... " stroking my wet hair with the towel, "I, er, oh heck, I... " and his lips just brushed mine, and I felt him sigh and tense at the same time, and I liked it. I liked it.
"I'm dry, I think." His lips brushed mine again. I had no idea how to respond, but I moved towards him, just increasing the pressure slightly. "You can take the towel away, Dave."
"Andy, I, er, I'm, I don't know, er... "
"Nor do I, but it doesn't matter"
"But I, we, it's... "
I made up my mind. I don't know why, but I did. Suddenly I seemed to be the strong one. "Dave, I want you to touch me, again, without the towel, gently, wherever you like."
"But you're scared"
"So are you, but it feels right. Forbidden, but right."
And I wasn't the one trembling, now, well not the only one, and, as the towel dropped to the bathroom floor, I brushed his lips with mine, and felt him move towards me. It almost all happened in slow motion, and he was in my arms, trying to kiss me back, but weeping softly, and saying "I'm sorry, so sorry, so sorry..." over and over again, and holding me so tight. It felt good, breathlessly good. And since he wasn't moving I stroked him, his hair as it was drying, and his firm strong back, and down his spine to his waist, and I sensed that he wasn't weeping anymore, though his face was still streaked with tears, but I could feel his cock pressing into my belly as I stroked him, and felt it hot and hard as he tensed, and then came so hot and strong against me, and gasped and came. And I stroked his hair until he had finished, and kissed his eyelids, and held him close.
"Oh, Andy, how can you hold me, I've made a fool of myself, I'm ashamed, I've spoilt everything and ...
"made you all sticky and ..."
"Yes, shh. Absolutely shh. I think I love you. I don't care even if it's wrong, I think I love you. I didn't realise it, but I love you. Dave, I love you. Anything you do is fine by me."
"Cumming just now while I was holding you?"
"Was a thrill for me."
"Was a thrill. I want to do it properly, soon, but it was thrilling, electric, amazing." I still didn't know what, or how or anything, but I knew that Dave was the most wonderful person in the world, and that he could cum just by holding me. And I wanted him to take my virginity in all possible ways, so I led him to my room. "I want to talk, for a while, Dave, then I want to learn how to love your body."
So we talked, and I heard how he had fallen for me when I joined the swimming club, and how he had, well, set me up with this 'date' with him, and how he had planned to seduce me, and how scared he had been, and how he thought I was beautiful, and how he hadn't dared tell me, and how he had fantasies about me, and how he was so scared of my reaction, and had nearly lost his nerve on the way over, and I listened to him, and stroked his hair, and kissed his hands, and wondered all the time what to do, and how to do it, and how to please him, because I was more and more in love with him.
And as he talked, going round in circles, telling me in so many ways how he loved me, and how frightened he was, and how grateful he was that I loved him and had come into his life, I moved down his chest, and took his cock into my mouth, and worshipped it with my tongue, and licked it all over, and withdrew the skin, and licked inside, where it still tasted of his juices, and under the rim, and round to the tip, and licked and sucked. I was worried he would cum in my mouth, and scared he wouldn't. And as I was there, with my head in his lap, I felt his hands reach between my legs and cup my balls between them, and take hold of my cock, and stroke it, down, then up, then down, releasing the head form the foreskin, and running his fingers round the tip, and driving me forward. No-one else had ever touched me there before, no-one, and the feelings were indescribable, as he brought me closer, closer, and I licked and sucked harder, and took him as far into my mouth as I could manage, as he fucked my mouth and I fucked his hands, and we loved each other. Then I felt him tense, and thrust so deep into my mouth I thought I'd choke, and salty, sweet, sticky juices were flooding into my mouth, and I managed to swallow some, and spill most of it, and the thrill was there again as his hands gripped my cock convulsively as he came, and brought me right over the edge as I coated us both with my seed, and it was my turn to cry in his arms.
Later, after half an eternity,
"If I hadn't had to leave the choir... "
"We would have met somehow. Somehow."
"I wouldn't have a beautiful lover If my voice hadn't broken
"Come here and kiss me."
So we spent the next hour learning how to kiss, and how to be safe in each other's company, and being lost in each other. A whole new life ahead of us, and so much to find out, so much.