Date: Tue, 25 Apr 2000 02:07:14 -2200 From: Opus Gay.com_Member Subject: Waking in Holland - Chapters 1-2 This is an account of a trip that actually took place, although I have obviously changed a few things to how I wish they had happened. If you do not approve of young teen love, then what are you doing here anyway ? If you are not old enough to be reading this story where you are, then log off and persuade your folks to move somewhere else Chapter 1 - Getting there Coming out of a long bad dream, I found myself on a bus in Holland, somewhere near Zwolle. I stared out of the window at the passing countryside, so different from Liverpool's industrial landscape, geometrical and orderly instead of higgledy-piggledy and decrepit. The buildings looked clean, the cars new. The people even wore different clothes. With a sigh, I thought for the thousandth time that week, or maybe that day, how much I hated England. Twelve months before, I had been suddenly and violently uprooted from an idyllic life 'n Portugal, where my only thought each morning had been how to spend the sixteen hours of sunshine lying ahead of me. Our expatriate bliss had been destroyed in a weekend, in a whispered conversation, in a strange instruction to pack a single bag, and be ready to leave the next morning. It wasn't until days later, when I was ensconced in my grandmother's living room in Liverpool, amazed by my first sight of colour television, that my father's lung cancer was mentioned for the first time. My aunt, not realising that I was in the room, confiding to my grandmother "He can't get any air - he wont last the night", then seeing me for the first time, shocked, leaving the room too fast, her hand over her mouth, wishing she could take back the prophetic words. He didn't last the night. And now I was goalkeeper on the under-15 hockey team of Cardinal Williams, a minor public school in the north of England. I hadn't really wanted to come on the tour - my mother had made it clear that scraping the money together would mean sacrifices for all of us, not just me. My two sisters and brother would loathe me for weeks afterwards. I always seemed to be the butt of their rage these days, and now they would have just cause to resent me. It was my coach who had convinced me in the end. Mr Wallace was no taller than my 5' 6", and considerably less than my 175 lbs. It took me by surprise when he asked me to wait after practice and made a point of asking me if I was going to be taking part in the tour of Holland and Germany that Easter. He evidently knew what my mumbled good intentions really meant. Placing both hands on my shoulders, he made sure I could not help but meet his eyes. "It would be a good thing for you to be with the other lads for a while, get to know them better" "I know them just fine, sir" I was suddenly defensive. "Do you have any friends, Carter ?" The directness of the question took my breath away. How had he seen through me that easily? "I choose my friends carefully, sir " "Do you choose them, or do they choose you, Mr Carter ?" I had never been addressed as 'Mister' before. Something changed. I looked around the bus at some of my teammates, my new friends. Grant Anderson, strangely pale as he slept. Dougie Brown, tellling yet another crude joke, Tommy McCulloch, listening to his Walkman, looking like a girl with his wavy ginger hair and freckled skin. I felt alone. Arriving at the hotel, Mr Wallace began to call off the names of boys who would be sharing with one another. I listened tiredly, wanting only to shower and get to bed. We had been on the bus since seven that morning, and the sun was going down now. "Carter, McCulloch, Patterson." Inwardly I groaned - Patterson was the oldest boy on the tour, almost sixteen, and the best player on the team. He knew it too. I looked over at him and caught him raising his eyes to heaven as if in exasperation. His features were large, jutting cheekbones and chin, his lips just a little too full. Certainly no oil painting. He tried to talk to Mr Wallace after the list was complete, but was dismissed with a few short words. He stalked off towards the room, and Tommy and I followed, shrugging our shoulders. When we got in, to our surprise there was one double bed and one single - Patterson had already claimed the single and was arranging his things in the bedside cabinet, theatrically ignoring us. I looked at Tommy as he stared at the double bed. "No way" he said with a nervous laugh. "I'll go and talk to Mr Wallace" I said. Mr Wallace was nowhere to be found - his room was locked and he wasnt in the lobby. I asked at the front desk if they had made a mistake. The young Dutchman looked through his sheaf of papers and shook his head. His English was almost perfect with a strange drawl. His voice seemed somewhat effeminate and I found myself wondering if he was gay. Why on earth should that matter ? "No Mr Carter, that is the way it was booked - there are five such rooms. The rest of the hotel is full, I am afraid." I was surprised to be addressed as an adult and so deferentially. Again I found it pleasant. I retreated to the room. "We'll just have to get on with it, Tommy. I'll talk to Mr Wallace in the morning, but it doesn't sound like they'll be able to change anything. The hotel is full. Hey, Patterson, why dont we draw straws for the single ?" "Piss off, Carter" came the reply from the shower. "If you dont like sharing, sleep on the floor". That, it appeared, was that. I began to arrange my things in the cupboard. I was aware that Tommy hadn't moved yet. "What's the matter, Tommy ? I won't bite." "I can't share with you. This is ridiculous. We're both guys. I wont be able to sleep. What will everybody else say ?" The words came tumbling out of him in a torrent. I though he was going to cry for a moment. "Tommy, everyone is doing the same so nobody will say anything. It's only for three nights, so just go with it for now, okay ?" I explained about the other rooms and this seemed to put him a little more at ease, but he was still slow to put away his things, and kept staring nervously at the bed as if there was a snake hiding under the covers. Patterson emerged from the shower and suddenly Tommy and I were silent. His dick was enormous. Even though flaccid, it hung a full six inches, and was surrounded by a forest of reddish-brown pubic hair. It bounced off his thighs when he walked. He made no effort to cover himself, but stood by his bed, towelling himself off. I felt something stir in my own underpants, and quickly sat on the bed and removed my shoes. "What are you staring at, McCulloch ?" Patterson asked gruffly. "God save me from queers and useless right-backs" He muttered under his breath. "I'm not queer" said Tommy defiantly "and if I was, there are better things to look at than you." By now Patterson had only his towel around his waist, but he still came around his bed and shoved Tommy back down onto our shared double. As he did so his towel came loose and I got another look at the monster between his legs. It looked slightly smaller now, and there was a drop of opaque fluid at its circumcised tip. "Did you have a wank in the shower, Patterson ?" I asked slyly. "Looks like you missed a bit." Patterson stared down in horror and closed his towel quickly. "Yeah...well... that was a long bus ride." He said lamely and went back to his suitcase to pull out a pair of bermudas. "Just forget about it. Both of you." He turned his back as he pulled on his underpants and then his shorts. He mumbled some excuse about seeing his mates and left the room in a hurry. "What a prick " said Tommy and then we both realised the joke and burst out laughing. Tommy lay back on the bed, still laughing and his shoulder came to rest against my thigh. "We have to shower too, we're both a bit ripe " I reminded him. "You first - I'm not going in there after what he was up to." Tommy looked towards the small shower. I examined the cubicle but couldn't see any evidence of Patterson's solitary salaciousness, so I began to strip off. Although I had my back to our bed, I felt Tommy's eyes on me as I removed my shirt and trousers. To my surprise, I found it exciting, knowing that someone else was admiring my body, even if it was another boy. I felt myself stiffen slightly, and rushed to get in the shower before things became too obvious. The shower had a thick glass door which distorted the view of the room outside. As I soaped myself down, my prick got stiffer and I tried to ignore it. Suddenly I saw a shape move in front of the door. It was Tommy walking to the sink to brush his teeth. Strangely, he was naked. I could clearly see the fleshy pink of his fourteen-year-old body and the slightly whiter buttocks, although through the glass there was a maddening lack of detail. When he turned side on, however, there was no mistaking his raging hard-on. I was astonished, as he must have worked out that I could see him. Wondering if he could see me also, I turned my back on him and kept showering, desperate for my prick to subside. After about ten minutes, he called out "Are you ever going to get out of there - we'll never get to bed otherwise." My erection had just about gone down, although my dick was still bigger than usual as I pushed the door open. He had wrapped a towel around his waist, but the outline of his semi-stiff dick was plain to see. My towel was on the edge of the bed and I felt Tommy's eyes on me as I walked over to it. I turned to see his white bottom disappearing into the shower. The fleeting glimpse was enough to make me suddenly nervous about sharing a bed with him. He was beautiful. What was going on here ? Since when were guys beautiful ? And since when did I find myself sneaking looks at guys' pricks and admiring their arses ? Suddenly a thought went through my mind. I have always done that. Back then when I was just eleven, in the changing rooms in Portugal, I had stared at Iain Richardson, not knowing what I was staring at, but not able to look away until he had looked up and glared at me. Often since then I had found myself staring at other boys, out on the street, in school, out shopping. Looking but not knowing what for. Now I was beginning to get a pretty good idea. Chapter 2 - The first night It was after ten and Tommy and I were snug in the double bed, having a sleepy conversation about Holland and the long bus ride. His longer hair was still wet and he didnt want to go off to sleep until it was dry. The door flew open noisliy and there was Patterson, unstable on his feet, trying to focus through an alcoholic daze. "Well if that isnt a lovely picture" He mumbled almost incoherently, lurching to his bed. "Two gay boys in bed with each other" He managed to get out of his bermudas before collapsing onto his bed in just his tee-shirt and underpants. He was asleep in seconds, still lying on top of the covers. "Look at the size of that thing". It was a while before I realized that it had been me that had spoken, not Tommy. Patterson`s dick was bulging in his underpants, a few piss-spots dotting the material. "I wonder how big it gets when it's stiff." That was definitely Tommy. "My brother told me that the ones that are bigger when they are soft dont grow that much - they just get hard" I replied, trying to act as if I knew all about this sort of thing. "Which are you ?" Tommy asked me, not meeting my eye. "I'm a little on the small side, I'm afraid " I replied, wondering where this conversation was going, "but I've had no complaints so far." I didnt want to add that there had been no-one to complain up until now. "How about you ?" "I seem to have a permanent erection these days, so it's hard to say." "I noticed" I confided and we both laughed nervously. "Look" said Tommy urgently, pointing at Patterson. "He's got a hard-on". Sure enough Patterson`s underpants were now bulging upwards quite dramatically. His hips twitched from time to time, his head moving from side to side. "He's having a sexy dream." Tommy couldnt take his eyes off Patterson's prick. The tip had now forced it's way out through the elasticated waist of his pants, and looked very red indeed. As we watched a small pearl of fluid formed at the tip. "He's cumming" Tommy whispered feverishly, and I saw his had moving under the bed covers, stroking himself. I had to do the same. "No, that's just pre-cum - it means he's almost ready though. Just wait." So we lay there, two fourteen-year-old boys, mad with lust, watching our room-mate having a wet dream, rubbing our stiff dicks under the covers, not knowing what to do next. Suddenly Patterson went over the edge and, with a cross between a sigh and a moan,a thick stream of white cum shot from the tip of his prick, filling the room with the sweet smell of sex. Tommy and I both gasped and looked at each other. Suddenly I felt his hand on my thigh, then inside my boxers, then grasping my jerking cock. Within seconds I shot a huge wad of cum into my shorts, unable to breathe and seeing stars. After a few seconds I looked down and saw his hand still resting on my stomach, covered in my sticky mess. He was smiling at me almost quizzically. I nervously moved my hand to his prick, which was sticking up at a vicious angle from out of the leg of his underpants, and began to rub it. "That hurts" he whispered. "Take your pants off" I said, my voice wavering. He raised his hip and shucked his pants off, lying on his back. As I moved on to my side to get a better grip, he slowly raised his hand to his lips and took a little taste of my semen. I was shocked but deeply excited at the same time. My prick was already beginning to rise again. I rubbed him quickly as he continued to lick at his hand. Suddenly he arched his back and gave a strangled moan. An arc of spunk shot from the tip of his cock fully two feet in the air , falling back down onto my forearm and his belly, followed by another and then another, He bucked so hard I could hardly keep hold of his prick, then collapsed back on the bed, pushing my hand away, sucking in a lungful of breath. "Jesus Christ" he gasped. "That was unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable" The smell of his sperm filled my nostrils as I closed my eyes and quickly brought myself off again, heaving myself up to come on his belly, sending my spunk to mingle with his. I collapsed onto his stomach, exhausted and confused but strangely happy. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- There are two, maybe four chapters left in this story. Feel free to send constructive criticism to Flames will be ignored