Date: Tue, 3 Apr 2007 05:52:38 -0500
From: spasm2 <spasm2@mailandnews.com>
Subject: Pauls Pants: Ewan's Story Part 2

As ever, this story remains my creative property, feel free to reproduce it
in any non-profit form, comments/insults/requests to
spasm2(AT)mailandnews.com always pleased to hear from people.

	I made my way to school with a light heart, my threatening letter
seemed to have had the desired effect and Ewan's persecutor was no longer
in the picture. The note of happiness in Ewan's voice when he'd rung me
that morning made it clear for me that I had done the right thing. The
unexpected benefit gained from this whole episode was that I seemed to have
acquired a lover, one who was both enthusiastic and uninhibited and what's
more, who shared my enthusiasm for underwear in all its forms. The only
negative, that I could see, was that Ewan was two years below me at school;
even though the difference between our ages was less than eighteen months
when you are in your early teens that can seem an enormous gulf.

	Certainly whenever I caught sight of him in his school uniform, the
age gap seemed very great, but then I had only to recall the various images
crowding my mind to reassure me that he was both sexually mature and very
keen to experiment. There was also the not inconsiderable matter of my
on-going relationship with Paul, although he was adamant that we were
simply indulging in sex in the absence of any suitable or willing girls;
our sexual play had achieved new heights and extremes on our recent school
holiday trip.

I couldn't help feeling that despite his protestations to the contrary,
Paul would be rather upset if he believed that I no longer had any interest
in him, the paradox being, of course, that he believed he had a right to
try and cop off with any girl he met.

        This was the first time I had been involved with someone who didn't
seem to have an agenda; there was still a niggling worry in the back of my
mind that he had been abused and that his apparent enthusiasm for me might
in some way have been a consequence of that abuse. On the other hand, he
had made it very clear that he had taken an interest in both me and Paul
before either of us was aware of him.

        As I plodded up the road towards my school, a small figure joined
me from a side street; `Morning,' Ewan said brightly.

        `Morning,' I replied, `this is a bit out of your way isn't it?'

        `Yeah, it is, but I had to see you and thank you again.'

        `Nothing to thank me for,' I said, embarrassed, `I would have done
the same for anyone.'

        `Yeah, but you did it for me, and I'm truly grateful. Oh, and I
looked up suffragettes, and I'm still none the wiser.'

        `It was all to do with the method of delivery of my ultimatum,' I
said. Ewan looked blankly at me; `I wrapped the letter and the picture
round a brick, and threw it through his front window,' I amplified.

        For a moment Ewan looked appalled, then he started to laugh,
`that's fantastic, I bet he crapped himself when that came crashing through
the glass.'

        `I didn't wait to find out, I had made a bit of a racing start. I
don't think that the neighbours saw enough of me to make an identification,
and somehow I doubt that your Mr Symonds will want to make a big thing of
it all.'

        `My dad is still furious, he's been going around muttering about it
being a betrayal of his trust and friendship.'

        `He doesn't know the half of it, and it's probably best kept that
way.'

        `I've got some more news too,' he added brightly, `I told him I'd
lost some of my clothes in the lakes, and urgently needed to buy some new
pants.'

        `Oh, yes?' I asked, `what was his reaction?'

        `He harrumphed a bit, but eventually gave in; he said he'll give me
some money if I can find someone sensible to go to the shops with me. I
think he was referring to you at the time.'

        `Happy to oblige, but I was having a bit of a think last night, and
may have an idea.'

        `A think was it? I've heard it called many things, but never that
before,' He grinned wickedly at me.

        `That too,' I replied, `I often have some of my best ideas when I'm
having a wank.'

        `So what's your idea?' he asked.

        `Well, meet me by the side door to the stage at lunchtime, there's
a school jumble sale coming up, and they stash the clothes donations in a
little room backstage. It just so happens I have the technology to open the
lock, and we can have a little rummage and see if there's anything you
fancy.'

        `Good, `cos I want to be like one of those liberated women,' he
said mysteriously.

        `What, you want to burn your bra?'

        `No, I want to burn my school pants!'

        `But why?' I expostulated, `you look so cute and horny in them.'

        `I told you before, I don't want to do cute (although the horny bit
is good), and I guess I connect them with being abused by that
bastard. It's just a gesture, and a pointless one I suppose, but it would
make me feel better.'

        `They're your pants,' I said, `and anything that makes you feel
good is fine by me.' We walked the remaining few yards to the school gate
in a companionable silence and once we had entered into the hurly burly of
the playground we went our separate ways.

        Lunchtime seemed a very long time away, but eventually the time
passed and I made my way across the playground to the back of the school
hall. As we had arranged, Ewan was standing by the door as I arrived, and I
opened up the door and let us in. `Just be aware that sometimes there are
people in the hall at lunchtime,' I whispered, `the stage curtains are
thick, but they don't screen out that much noise, and we don't want to
attract attention to ourselves.'

        `Ok, he whispered back, `lead on.'

        It is like entering a different world when you go backstage, the
noisy chatter of the playground was shut off as if by a switch, and there
were no sounds at all from the hall. There were only a couple of emergency
exit signs dimly lighting the disorganised muddle of old desks and chairs,
random pieces of scenery, and a couple of old school pianos that
characterised the use to which the stage was put when there was no
production being prepared.

        `Dump your bag and blazer over by the door in case we need to make
a quick getaway.' I commanded, Ewan meekly complied and I did the same with
my gear. `The store room is over the other side of the stage, under the old
lighting box, follow me.' This was the very same, now disused, control room
where I had boosted Paul in through the window and he had lost his
trousers, probably only about eighteen months before, although it seemed
like an aeon ago now. We made our way cautiously across the stage, careful
to avoid falling over debris or bits of furniture. Ewan was right behind
me, indeed, he was almost pressing against me, and when I stopped abruptly,
he crashed right into me, stumbled and in the desperate struggle to remain
upright his flailing hands grabbed hold of me by my school belt. He ended
up half on the ground, his arms round my waist and his face buried in my
crotch. `Steady,' I said, helping him up, `you nearly had my trousers off,
don't want to peak to early now do we?'

        Ewan had the giggles really badly, and stood there, silently
heaving; somewhere in our inelegant ballet his school shirt had parted
company with his trousers, and his bare midriff with the white waist band
of the hated school pants showing was now on display. I didn't care if he
didn't do cute, he was all of that and more, and I could feel my cock
starting to stiffen in my pants as I waited for him to regain his
composure. We managed to complete our journey without further incident and
arrived at the door of the little room. `Watch and learn,' I said, getting
my penknife out of my pocket. With little ceremony, I quickly and silently
slipped the lock.

        `Wow, that's cool,' Ewan said, wide eyed, `will you teach me how to
do that?'

        `Of course, every schoolboy should know how to get in and out of a
locked room.'

        `I've got so much to learn,' he said, pouting slightly.

        `That's ok, I have a feeling you can teach me a few things too,' I
grinned, `and we're at school to learn, right.'

        `Yeah, so we are,' he smiled angelically at me, `let's have a look
at this stuff shall we?'

        The donated jumble was stashed in about a dozen bin bags, I grabbed
a couple and took them out onto the stage where there was a little more
space, a trestle table and a dim pool of light from an emergency light. I
tipped the first bag onto the table top; `Ok here you are, I suggest you go
through very quickly, set aside anything that takes your fancy, and then
I'll put it away, when you're done, you can then sort through to see if
there's anything you really want.'

        Ewan got stuck in with all the enthusiasm of an umbrella wielding
pensioner. The clothes were a mixture of adult suits and children's
clothes, not a lot of underwear, although with fascinated horror he waved a
pair of enormous bloomers at me before holding them up against his slender
waist.

        `You'll never pull in those,' I spluttered.

        `I'd never find my dick either, how on earth do you wear them?'

        `I've no idea, and what's more I don't want to. Put them back, we
haven't got all day.'

        The first couple of bags were a bit of a washout, although I
noticed he had put a couple of things to one side. I shoved the reject
clothes back into their bags and tipped another one out for him. While I
was carrying the bags back to the storeroom I heard a sharp intake of
breath. `Bingo,' he whispered triumphantly when I came back, and held up a
handful of boys nylon slips; white with a coloured waistband and detailing,
each depicting a different day of the week.

        `These are good,' I said, taking a pair out of his hands, `the
material is really thin and you can feel everything through them. Only
thing is you wouldn't want to wear them all day, they can get a bit sweaty
after a while. I hate to say it, but they're verging on the cute side too,
Paul had some with Tom and Jerry on, and he looked about your age when he
wore them.'

        `What happened to them?' he asked.

        `It's a long story, but I was photographing Paul in the bath with
them on, he slipped at the critical moment and came all over me, I still
have them at home somewhere.'

        `Those are pictures I'd like to see,' he said eagerly.

        `No problem, he took some of me on that occasion too, a bit blurry
but you can tell what's going on.' After our initial triumph there didn't
seem to be much else, until we got to the last bag which yielded a pair of
bright red speedos, two pairs of paisley pattern cotton y-fronts and some
very minimal and quite transparent girl's knickers in pale yellow.

        Ewan snatched the latter from my hands; `Wow, these are even better
than my QPR pants, I've got to try them on.'

        To my faint horror and definite amusement, he kicked off his school
shoes and dropped his trousers. `Hold on a minute,' I said, being vaguely
sensible, `what if someone comes in?'

        `I don't care,' he answered defiantly, slipping his hands under the
waistband of his pants.

        `Let's do this properly,' I said, `it's too dark here, and too
risky, if we go through to the back of the hall, there's the girls'
dressing room that's only used when there's a show on and it has mirrors
and lights.'

        `Won't someone see the lights?'

        `Nope, that room is sealed up tighter than a very tight thing, to
stop us lecherous boys from peeking at all that virgin convent flesh each
time we do a school play.'

        `So how do we get in?'

        `No harder than that storeroom if you have the technology.' I
grinned, `now pull your trousers up before I tell you I think you look cute
again.'

        Like so many school rooms, the girls' dressing room was hot and
airless, with nothing much in it except a few chairs, a big table and floor
to ceiling mirrors on two walls. It had been the work of a moment to slip
the lock after we had made the slightly risky journey across the school
hall with our booty. As soon as we were inside the room Ewan once again
threw off his school clothes, and posed in front of the mirror in his
y-fronts and school shirt.

        `I suppose they don't look so bad really,' he said, lifting up his
shirt and twisting around to get a better view, `I guess it's just because
I don't feel sexy in them.'

        `There's a lot to be said for baggy old school pants,' I replied,
stoutly.

        `Yeah, like what for example?' he demanded, `I think you should put
your money where your mouth is, and show me. What sort of pants are you
wearing today anyway?'

        `Black cotton, since you ask. Ok, how about we do a comparison with
the pants we have just found; I'll try and give you the positives and
negatives for each.'

        `Ok, let's start with these.' He pulled his shirt off over his head
and walked over to me.

        `Right,' I said, pulling up a chair and sitting beside him, `stand
still and watch yourself in the mirrors and I'll give you the benefit of my
expertise.' Obediently he stood before me, legs slightly apart and his arms
folded. He was beginning to show some signs of getting hard, but there was
still a long way to go. `First off,' I began, `the fabric is soft and
accommodating, cool in summer and warm in winter.' As I spoke, I traced the
line of his waistband with my fingers, as my hand moved round the back I
began gently stroking his bottom through the fabric. He rolled his hips and
pressed against my hand in appreciation. `It's important to ensure that you
have the right fit, however, as too tight means it's difficult to gain
access and too loose means they might fall down at a crucial moment.' Ewan
snorted inelegantly as my wandering hands shifted to his hips, and tugged
experimentally at the waistband. `These are just about right, plenty of
room for expansion, and enough life in the elastic to keep them up. Next we
have to consider the means of access, one of the best things about this
type of pants is the ease with which a questing hand can find the treasures
within. Not only that, but the occasional glimpse of a forbidden pleasure
can be most stimulating too.' As I spoke, I slowly slid my hand up the
smooth skin of his inner thigh, until I could feel the heat radiating from
his groin on the back of my hand. Very gently, I slipped my fingertips into
his pants and followed the line of the leg hole round, giving a little tug
to reveal some of his balls by way of making my point. `Look in the
mirror,' I said, and pulled a little more. Ewan twisted round to look at
his reflection, he was getting more aroused (as I was too), `of course, if
you aren't into subtlety and eroticism, then there's always the front
door,' I slipped my hand in through the y-front opening and the back of my
hand touched his cock for the very first time, he wasn't yet fully erect,
but I could feel his cock was warm and pulsing as the blood pumped into it.

        Ewan gasped; `that's nice, I think I'm beginning to be converted.'

        `Maybe this would be a good moment to move on,' I said, slowly
pulling my hand out of his pants, `how about we consider the speedo next?'

        `Ok,' Ewan said, although he seemed disappointed that we were
stopping so abruptly. I watched as he dropped his y-fronts, his semi-erect
cock flopping free, and he leaned past me for the speedos.

        I caught his wrist as he picked them up off the table, `just check
them over before you put them on.'

        `What do you mean?' he asked, his cock bobbing attractively near my
face.

        `Look inside, do they still have the modesty panel?'

        `The what?'

        `The extra fabric layer intended to hide your outline, obscure
details and generally spoil a pants lover's fun.'

        `Oh, that, yes they do.'

        `Well rip it out my lad, rip it out, this is not a game of
concealment, this is about showing what you want to show.' Ewan ripped out
the liner, and pulled on the speedos, they were quite tight on him and his
impressive bulge filled them out very nicely. `Ok, the thing about speedos
is that they are all about display, the whole design concept is about
showing your bits off, but keeping them contained. They turn me on, but
ultimately don't deliver. Let me show you.' I put my arm round Ewan's waist
and pulled him gently towards me; `It's all very tight.' I demonstrated by
tugging at the waist, hooking a finger in the leg hole. `On the other hand,
they're very sexy on the bottom, and your package looks and feels great
too,' as I said this I ran one hand over his cheeks and then much more
slowly stroked the other up over his balls and onto his burgeoning
erection.

        Ewan shivered, and pressed his crotch into my hand, `I don't care
if you think they're wrong, I just want you to go on touching me.'

        `Don't get me wrong,' I protested, `speedos are great for public
display, and they are very sexy, but they are ultimately designed to
conceal, and what works for me is something that is meant to conceal, but
fails subtly. Let's move on to the nylon jobbies before we get too deeply
into the meaning of speedos, what day would you like to be?'

        `Who cares,' he shrugged.

        I grabbed a pair at random and handed them to him; he paused for a
moment, pulled off the speedos, and put on the next pair. His cock was by
now pretty much fully erect, and the flimsy nylon material was barely equal
to the task of containing his manhood. `Ok,' I said, `here's a different
scenario, thin fabric under pressure. Look how it clings to your bottom,
and how good it feels when I stroke it.' Ewan moaned in appreciation as I
slowly ran the tips of my fingers over his bottom. `There's an important
thing about nylon, which we should be able to demonstrate in a moment or
two,' I added, delicately fingering his erection.

        `Oh yeah, what's that?' Ewan asked impatiently, `don't you think
things are a little imbalanced here?'

        `How do you mean?' I continued my methodical stroking.

        `I think it's about time we compared and contrasted, your pants and
mine, I can see you are just about busting out, there's no need to be shy,'
he teased.

        `Ok, you're on.' As I stripped down to my pants, Ewan jumped up on
the table, and leaned back on his hands with his legs spread apart and
watched me closely. He was right, I had been suffering more than a little
as my burgeoning erection had been filling out my pants for quite a few
minutes; I had chosen to ignore my mild discomfort in favour of the intense
desire that I was feeling. `Right, check these out,' I said, `the cotton
feels smooth under the hand, and the fit is snug rather than tight.'

        Ewan jumped down off the table and walked over to me, he had
continued to give some attention to his cock while I was undressing and his
bulge was still tenting out the front of the white nylon slip. He paused in
front of me, and looked me up and down before putting out a tentative hand
to tug gently at my waistband. He knelt down, and with his face level with
my groin, gravely inspected my pants. Finally, he put a hand up and stroked
the cotton covering my butt; I shivered with pleasure as his cool fingers
explored the silky fabric. His questing hand moved on, testing the fit at
the leg holes before he smiled up at me and gently cupped my balls.

        `If you were to carry on, I think we can demonstrate the main
difference between nylon and cotton,' I said hoarsely.

        Ewan raised an eyebrow, and slowly moved his hand up to take the
measure of my cock; `Was that what you had in mind?' he said as he stroked
my length through the material.

        `Oh yes,' I answered, thrilling to the first touch of his hand,
`stand up, and I'll show you what I mean.' He obediently got to his feet,
and I put my hand on his cock again; `Look,' I said, `your pre-cum has just
passed through the fabric, nylon does not absorb any leakage.' He looked
down, the little beads of pre-cum were clearly visible on the fabric around
his glans, `whereas in my pants, the fluid has soaked into the fabric.'
Ewan carefully felt the damp patch in my slip, stimulating my penis to
produce yet more pre-cum.

        `I see your point; maybe there are benefits to cotton.' I was
feeling slightly overwhelmed, Ewan seemed to be determined to give me
everything I might have wanted, don't get me wrong, I was extremely happy
and that feeling seemed to be reciprocated. What could be wrong? I was
nearly naked with a beautiful young boy and we were both very turned on,
sometimes when you get what you want it can be a bit of a surprise. With a
sensitivity that I came to realise was entirely characteristic of the boy,
Ewan put his arms round my waist and hugged me. `This is great,' he said,
pressing his groin against mine, before he leaned up against me and kissed
me passionately, `I've had dreams about doing something like this.'

        `And woken up with sticky sheets perhaps?' I said drily.

        `Yeah,' he blushed.

        I kissed his sweet lips again, and said; `Would you like to try the
cotton y-fronts now?'

        `Oh, yes,' he answered, `but beware, that crazy pattern will drive
you wild with passion.' Suiting action to his words, he impatiently pulled
off his pants and put on the paisley numbers. By now his cock was fully
engorged and dripping with pre-cum, and it ridged out the front of the
pants in a very attractive way.

        `Actually,' I murmured, placing one hand on his penis and the other
down the back of his pants, `these funky pants do have a certain something
about them.' Ewan wiggled with pleasure as I slowly caressed the smooth
flesh of his boy cheeks; his own hand had moved instinctively to my
erection and taken a firm hold. We stood together for a few pleasurable
moments, admiring the vision in the mirrors before I decided to move things
on a little. `You may recall I mentioned the front door earlier?'

        `Mmm?' he answered quizzically.

        Without speaking, I pushed my hand in through the fly hole and
pulled his cock out. `There,' I said, `you have the advantage over me.' I
was able to grasp the hot and naked length of his cock for the first time,
and firmly wanked him, watching closely as his foreskin pulled back
smoothly to reveal the reddened glans underneath.

        `Aha,' he said, pulling down the front of my pants with one hand,
and grabbing my cock with the other, `but you're front loading, which has
its advantages too.'

        `Very true,' I croaked, `that's one reason why I like them.' The
sensation of Ewan's small cool hand confidently gripping my cock was almost
unbearably erotic; even though I had done all this many times with Paul,
somehow this felt different. I guess the fact that I had powerful feelings
towards the boy made it seem more real; Paul's insistence that what we were
doing was just passing the time until he met a girl who'd allow him to shag
her was curiously devaluing to our relationship. Don't get me wrong, I'd
had a lot of fun with Paul, and learned an awful lot too, but I guess what
was missing was love and affection. For the first time I was with someone
whose feelings towards me seemed to be as strong as my feelings towards
him, if not stronger. All my worries about his vulnerability were blown
away; he'd had ample opportunities to call time out, or to walk away
without either of us getting hurt.

        Enough philosophising for now, I suppose what you really want is
for the story to get back to the sex.

        In a rush of affection, I kissed him again, he pressed back hard
against my lips for a moment, then spoke softly; `I don't know about you,
but I'm missing my lunch and I'm getting hungry.'

        `What did you have in mind?' I asked.

        Rather than speak, he knelt down in front of me, and pulling my
pants further down, he took my hot cock into his mouth. He may only have
done it once before to the hated Mr Symonds, but the boy was an artist. He
had somehow instinctively perfected the technique; varying the tempo, using
his tongue to stimulate the tip, this was in a different league to Paul's
efforts, and Paul was pretty hot too. I was quivering on the verge of
coming straight away, which wouldn't have been good, so before it was too
late, I gently stroked my fingers through his hair and used it to pull him
off me. `What's the matter?' he asked, crestfallen, `don't you like it?'

        `Like it! It's the best, and that's the trouble, I nearly came, and
it's important to me that we both come more or less at the same time.'

        `Oh, I see, so I wasn't doing anything wrong?'

        `No you idiot, you're so horny it's unreal.' I put my hands under
his naked armpits and hoisted his slender body onto his feet, his
neglected, but still firm cock bumping against my legs as he arose. `What
has to happen is not; you do it to me, then I do it to you, but rather, we
do it together. I don't want a lover who thinks all he has to do is
pleasure me, I want you to feel as good and as cared for as you make me
feel, and we begin our adventure by coming together, right now, and then we
can both have a liquid lunch.' With that I guided Ewan back to the table,
and helped him up onto it, he laid back meekly, and I took hold of his cock
again, giving it a few strokes to bring him back up to speed. In truth he
hadn't noticeably subsided, but, having made the breakthrough and actually
touched his body, I was determined to make up for lost time. I had
carefully positioned him so that he could get a good view in the mirrors,
as I started delicately to lick the shaft of his penis.

        Any thoughts of protest on his part evaporated as I slipped my free
hand into his pants and slowly caressed his silky balls and finally took
the hot length of his manhood into my mouth. My ministrations were soon
rewarded by a little jet of pre-cum, which was my signal to move on to
phase two; stripping off my pants, I climbed onto the table next to Ewan,
it was my intention that we should have a sixty-nine, but that he would be
on top as he was smaller and lighter than me. Fortunately the boy could
take a hint, and lifted his bottom up so I could pull his pants off too,
gloriously naked, he straddled my face, his balls tight and firm and full
of unspilled seed, and his cock ramrod straight and dripping with a mixture
of pre-cum and my saliva.

        Craning my neck I could see in the mirror that I was in a similar
condition, until a blond head got in the way and hoovered up the length of
my cock in one hungry mouthful. Conscious that I was neglecting my duties,
I groped for his cock and fed it into my mouth. The advantage of being the
one underneath, of course, is that you have both hands free, and I began to
run them over his smooth cheeks as I gobbled greedily on his penis. A
distracted moan Indicated to me that he liked what I was doing, and ever so
gently I began to play my fingers up and down his crack, from the top,
right down past his pucker and on to the base of his balls. He moaned
again, and I repeated the journey, this time pausing for a moment to
lightly stimulate his anus. There was no mistaking his reaction; he jerked
his head vigorously, enough to start me down the slippery slope, and at the
same time I was aware that his cock was swelling in my mouth. I redoubled
my efforts, as did he, and we went over the edge together, his cock
spraying jets of spunk into my mouth until I thought I might choke, my
simultaneous orgasm was just as violent and seemed to go on for ever.

        Ewan pulled off me and twisted round, his cheeks bulging, sitting
on my sweaty crotch; he leaned forward and kissed me messily, filling my
mouth with my spunk. I hadn't quite swallowed all of his efforts, so I was
able to mix it up a little and pass some back. He then leaned forwards and
snuggled into my arms, naked and sweaty as we both were, we laid still for
a few minutes together savouring the moment, and in my case too wobbly
legged to contemplate moving.

        Eventually the moment passed, and I kissed the dozing boy on his
forehead; `Did you have enough lunch?' I asked.

        `Yes thanks, I particularly enjoyed the soup, had you anything in
mind for desert?'

        `I think we may have to forego desert this time,' I said, `we're
supposed to go to lessons this afternoon, remember?'

        `Oh yes, must we, can't we stay here and play some more?' he
frowned.

        `I really can't,' I said firmly, `I've got exams coming up, god
knows it'll be hard enough to concentrate after this lunchtime.'

        `Ok, but promise me you'll find the time to play again.'

        `You can bet your life I will,' I responded fervently, `I want to
do it over and over again, but for now, we'd better get cleaned up.'
Actually, we weren't that messy, just a bit sweaty, but I took out my
handkerchief and wiped the last remnants of spunk off Ewan's now sadly
deflating cock. `Which pants are you going to wear for the rest of the
day?' I asked.

        `Oh, I don't know, why don't you choose?' he replied.

        `Paisley then,' I replied, `I'll be day-dreaming about you wearing
them all afternoon.' I held them up for him, and he obligingly stepped in,
wiggling his lovely bottom as I pulled them up to his hips.

        `I was wondering?' he said slowly, as he buttoned up his school
shirt.

        `Yes?'

        `You know all those pictures you took with Paul?'

        `Yes?'

        `Did you take them because you wanted to cop off with Paul, or did
you take them because you wanted to take sexy pictures?'

        `If I'm honest, I have to say the answer is both; he asked me to
take them, and I was thrilled to be asked, but there was always a bit of me
that just wanted to fuck him. Why do you ask?'

        He looked agitated, `thing is, and please don't take this the wrong
way, but I would really like you to take some more pictures of me, but I
don't want to spoil something we've only just started.'

        I was startled, flattered and turned on all at the same time;
`Blimey Ewan, you do like to drop the bombshells don't you. Of course I'd
love to photograph you, I think you have a special relationship with the
camera, and any photographer would be mad to pass it up. I agree, though,
we've just started something new to both of us, and I don't want to do
anything to spoil it. Most of all, I don't want you doing anything that you
are uncomfortable with, you know you can just say stop at any time and I
will, whatever I'm doing. I'll never ask you to do anything I'm not
prepared to do myself either.'

        `I know,' he said, his beautiful hazel eyes brimming with tears
again, `I trust you, and I'm sure that you won't let anything happen to
me.'

        I was lost again, this lovely boy was giving me everything, I
hadn't even had to hint, there was no way I could betray that trust. `What
did you have in mind? I think if we're going to take some pics, you should
choose the set-up, I'll come along blind, and we'll take it from there.'

        `I've been thinking of a couple of things,' he giggled nervously,
`not sure how you are going to react though.'

        `You've not managed to shock me yet,' I said staunchly, `and if you
want to try something a bit kinky, that's fine by me as long as you are
happy with it. After all, we're `come lovers' not `come brothers', and that
makes all the difference.' We were saved from any further analysis by the
sound of the bell for afternoon school. We hastily pulled on the rest of
our clothes and bundled Ewan's jumble sale booty into a spare carrier
bag. `I'll hide this out by the bins and you can collect it after school,'
I said, as we gathered up our blazers and school bags from their dumping
ground by the door. `Give us a kiss before you go, will you.'

        `Glad to,' he replied gravely, and clasping my head with both hands
he gave me a long lingering snog that had my cock showing signs of
revival. I hugged him tightly, and then, with enormous regret, I opened the
door onto the madness that was the school playground and we went our
separate ways.

        I didn't see Ewan after school that day, no idea why, so I made my
way home wondering if it had all been a curious dream. When I got in the
front door, my mother pounced on me; `What have you been up to with that
nice young boy?'

        `Which nice young boy?' I replied.

        `That Ewan that you got pally with in the lakes.'

        `Oh him, what about him?' I decided to brazen it out.

        `I had a phone call from his dad, who seems to have taken a liking
to you for some inexplicable reason.'

        `Oh yes, what did he want?'

        `Well, you know that Ewan is a bit behind with his reading?'

        `Yes,' I answered, `what of it?'

        `Well it's not because he's stupid, he's got a medical condition
called dyslexia.'

        `I know that, he told me.'

        `Well, it appears that an old family friend who had been helping
Ewan with his reading exercises has let them down at very short notice, I
didn't get the whole story. Anyway, he was wondering if you might be
prepared to help out for a few weeks, until something more permanent can be
sorted out.'

        `Help out? How? And why me?'

        `No need to sound so appalled, just spend some time with Ewan and
help him go through his reading and his word recognition exercises. I don't
want to sound judgemental, but I think part of the whole story was keeping
Ewan out of harms way on the one evening a week when his dad has to work
late.'

        `Oh, right, so I'd be some sort of glorified babysitter.' I said,
even though my heart was leaping.

        `Not at all, this boy needs some companionship, and for some weird
reason his dad thinks you might fit the bill. You don't hate him do you?'

        `No, he's ok really, just don't know if I'm cut out to be a
teacher.'

        `You'll be fine, you come from generations of teachers, and anyway,
it's all about learning word recognition and shapes. Plus, I didn't tell
you the sweetener.'

        `Oh yes, what's that?'

        `He'll pay you, far too generously in my opinion, and if there's a
night when he needs you to sleep over, you can use his brother's room. Just
remember to let me know if you are planning to stay over. Well, what do you
think?'

        I pretended to ponder for a few moments; `If you think I'm up to
it, then I'm game to give it a try.'

        My mother hugged me, in that embarrassing but strangely
unforgettable way they have; `I'm so pleased, the poor man sounded quite
desperate, and I know you can be helpful when you want to be.'

        `Oh great,' I said, in sarcastic teenager mode, `how desperate was
that then?'

        `Oh, don't be so sensitive, I only meant that the poor man was
worried sick that his boy wasn't being properly taken care of and I thought
it was very far sighted of him to think of you.'

        `Oh, ok,' I said, inwardly jubilant, `what should I do?'

        `I promised I'd ask you, and I'd ring him back tonight to let him
know your answer.'

	`Oh, ok well when you do, would you ask him to put Ewan on, and
I'll make some arrangements.'

	`That's my boy,' my mother said affectionately, `I'll phone him in
about ten minutes, give you a chance to get changed.'

	When I spoke to Ewan a few minutes later, he sounded really
excited; `My dad says he's asked you to come and help me with my reading
exercises, and you've said yes.'

	`That's true,' I answered, `and even better, I might have to sleep
over if he's got a late night, apparently I can sleep in your brothers
room.'

	`Over my dead body,' he retorted, `you'll sleep with me if you
sleep at all.'

	`That's more or less what I was hoping I'd hear,' I said, `what
happened to you after school today by the way?'

	`Oh, I got detention for being late and cheeking a teacher.'

	`Ah, that's alright then, I was worried you were avoiding me.'

	`There's another bit of news,' he said.

	`Oh yes?'

	`My dad says he'll give me some money to go clothes shopping on
Saturday if you'll go with me, I put on my most scabby jeans tonight, ones
that have great rips in the arse and in the crotch, and I think he took
pity on me.'

	`Didn't he say anything about the paisley pants?'

	`No, I'd changed into an old ripped pair of white ones, he said I
looked like an obscene tramp and I wasn't to go out of the house dressed
like that.'

	`That sounds good, shall I come round and meet you on Saturday
morning then?'

	`Yes please, my dad has to go out mid-morning, so come round
anytime before he goes.'

	`That sounds good, I'll see you later.' I didn't get much of a
chance to see Ewan next day at school, I saw him in the distance a few
times, but wasn't able to speak to him. Still, the pleasurable thought of
spending part of the weekend in his company was quite sustaining in its own
way.

        When Saturday morning came, I dressed carefully; putting on the
pale blue nylon pants that Ewan had so admired, a pair of tight black cords
and a white t shirt. It was quite sunny and mild, so I knotted a sweater
round my waist and cycled off across the common to Ewan's house.

        The door was answered by his dad, who was obviously ready to go
out; `Ah, you're here, that's splendid, thank you so much for agreeing to
spend some time with Ewan, he knows that he has to work at his reading
skills, but I'm afraid he is quite inclined to try and wriggle out of it
when he can. It's good of you to take him shopping too, I just haven't got
the time at the moment, in fact I'm running late already. I'll just give
you some money, and give him a shout, then I'd better be on my way.' He
handed me a couple of banknotes, more than enough in the `70s to buy what
we needed, and yelled up the stairs. A moment later, there was a thundering
noise and Ewan came running barefoot down the stairs. He had put on his
terrible jeans again, at least I assume he had, they were extremely tight
and had worn thin and split in all sorts of interesting ways, the zipper
was only halfway up, and samples of his white pants were visible all over
the place. `Oh, god,' Ewan's dad groaned, `not those terrible old jeans
again, promise me you won't go out of the house in them and you'll have
them painlessly put-down.' He swatted his son affectionately on the bum
with the bundle of papers he was carrying, `right, I've got to go, have a
good day both of you and don't get into trouble, see you later.' To our
chorus of goodbyes, he smiled, got into his car and drove off.

        Ewan dragged me inside and shut the door; `right, we'd better get
going too,' he said.

        `Not in those jeans,' I said firmly, `We promised your dad.  '
        `Oh,' he pouted, `but these are my favourites.'

        `I don't care, they won't last to the end of the street, and you'll
get arrested for flashing.'

        Ewan darted away upstairs, shouting; `you'll have to make me take
them off, then.'

        There's nothing like a challenge, I dumped my jacket on the floor
and chased him after him up the stairs, he had paused on the landing to
make sure I was following, and then disappeared up the steep staircase that
led to the attic. When I got up to the attic space that he and his brother
shared he was nowhere to be seen, nor was he in his bedroom. I cautiously
pushed open the door to his brother's room, not there either, I went in to
check, and as I did so, a small boy leaped giggling onto my back from
behind the door. I staggered across the room, thrown off balance by the
teenage projectile, and we collapsed together onto his brothers' bed. There
had been an ominous ripping sound when he jumped, and when I, by virtue of
my superior size and weight, was able to subdue him and pin his struggling
and giggling body to the bed, it was clear that another bit of his jeans
had given way. I held him down with a hand in the middle of the back and
closely inspected the offending garments. It was clear that I had a duty to
his father to remove them, although I had to confess I found them very
appealing, if I hadn't already done the castaway scenario with Paul these
jeans would have been perfect, with splits across the bottom of the
buttocks and at the crotch, they revealed a lot, but concealed a little.

        With a slight feeling of regret I hooked a couple of fingers
through one of the rips at the top of his thigh, feeling his warm, firm
flesh pressing against my knuckles, and gave a sharp tug. After a momentary
resistance, the worn cloth gave way, and the whole leg ripped away, until
it was only attached at the seam. Similar treatment to the other leg left
Ewan wearing the beginnings of some very abbreviated shorts; I grabbed my
pen-knife, and sternly instructed him to stop struggling for a moment, as I
severed the seams.

        `Ok, you can stand up now,' I said.

        Pink faced, Ewan got up, the legs of his destroyed jeans bunching
round his ankles, impatiently he kicked them free and turned to face me, an
impish smile on his angelic face; `let's go and burn them,' he said.

        `Good idea,' I replied, `but come here first, I think you might
have a problem with your bollocks.' Ewan obediently stepped towards me, and
stood still. The thin strip of fabric that ran between his legs was indeed
pressing very tightly between his balls, and it looked uncomfortable to
me. I gently cupped his balls with one hand, relieving the pressure for a
moment, and enjoying a feel too; `Hmm,' I said softly, `I think I may have
to operate to reduce the tension, otherwise the blood flow might be
impaired, and you don't want that.'

        `Don't I?' he questioned, sounding a little alarmed, but pressing
against my hand all the same.

        `No, you don't, good blood flow and not being squashed are two of
the ingredients that are vital to quality sperm production.'

        `Aha, and what are the others, just so as I know for the future.'

        `Well, a healthy diet, plenty of zinc and most important of all,
regular and prolonged use, the more you empty them, the more they fill.'

        `Well, you'd better operate then,' he replied.

        `Legs apart then, and be brave,' I said. He did as he was told, and
stood very still, his eyes screwed tight shut. I gave his crotch a little
rub; there was the beginning of a solid column of flesh there, so obviously
our little role play wasn't disturbing him too much. I slipped my hand
between his legs, and traced the strip of material from the bottom of his
buttocks through to where it was so painfully dividing his balls. Gently I
pushed a finger under the strip and pulled down, and with the other hand I
carefully (after all, the boys' crown jewels were there!) cut through the
fabric with my penknife. Ewan was now left wearing a slightly obscene
miniskirt, the flapping fabric; front and back doing little to conceal the
treasures below. `There,' I said, giving him another rub, `how does that
feel?'

        `Much better, thank you,' he replied, pirouetting experimentally,
`I'd often wondered what it was like to wear a skirt.'

        `Well now you know,' I said, `and there's another good thing about
skirts.'

        `Oh yes?' he queried.

        `You can put your hand up them,' I suited my action to my words and
caressed his rapidly engorging cock through the fabric of his cotton
y-fronts.

         He pressed his erection firmly against my hand, `Mmm, perhaps we
should test your theory of spunk production?'

        `I agree, but shouldn't we burn your jeans first?'

        `Slave driver,' he pouted, pulling away from my hand, `Ok, let's
get it over with.'

        He grabbed up the discarded legs of his jeans and dashed out of the
door before I had a chance to say anything. I followed him more slowly,
rubbing at my own burgeoning and neglected stiffy as I went. Life with Ewan
was never going to be dull, as I was beginning to discover, his spontaneous
and mercurial personality meant that my more considered and cautious nature
was frequently wrong footed. When I got downstairs there was no sign of him
although a cool breeze indicated that a door was open somewhere. I went
though to the kitchen, and indeed the garden door was swinging open. Ewan's
back garden was long and narrow, with tall brick walls on either side, at
the bottom was a row of tall dense conifers, which screened the garden from
being over looked by tube trains, which ran in a cutting on the other side
of the trees. Midway down there was a brick paved area, with a barbecue and
a swinging garden seat, this was where Ewan was standing, still wearing his
obscene skirt. He had bundled the cut off legs of his jeans into the
barbecue, and was standing there holding a can of lighter fluid and a box
of matches as I wandered up.

        `Aren't you worried about being seen?' I asked.

        `Nah, look around, can you see any windows?' I looked round, it was
true, whoever had laid out this garden had made certain that it was very
private, and at no point did any of the neighbouring houses overlook this
area. It was also pretty quiet, only the cheeping of sparrows and the
inevitable hum of a lawnmower disturbed the peace. I kicked off my shoes
and socks and stretched out invitingly on the garden seat, a moment later
Ewan joined me, snuggling cosily into my arms. `This is nice,' he said, `I
could get used to this.'

        `So could I,' I agreed. At some point, in the previous melee the
zipper on his jeans had given up the unequal struggle, and it seemed
perfectly natural to slide my hand into the inviting darkness. His young
cock was still stiff and hard beneath my fingers, and he moaned happily as
I gently stimulated the tip. `Maybe we should lose these?' I murmured,
undoing the waist button. He obligingly lifted his bottom up and wiggled
deliciously, allowing me to slide the demolished garment over his slender
hips and down to his ankles. He kicked briskly, and the tattered remains
flew across the garden and hooked up in a rose bush. He settled his bottom
against my now fully engorged penis with a happy sigh, and I resumed my
subtle stimulation. His white cotton y-fronts were, even by the standards
of the day, unusually baggy, and the sagging elastic at the waistband was
barely capable of constraining his generously proportioned cock. Soon the
tip and most of the shaft had slipped into view, and I was able to take it
in hand.

        `Hold on,' he said suddenly, `what about you?' He sat up abruptly
and twisted round to face me, setting the seat swinging wildly. Straddling
my hips, he put a hand on my crotch, `I think you need a taste of your own
medicine,' he grinned, as his fingers explored my rigid length.

        `You're not chopping up my nice cords,' I said.

        `No, not that, I meant the idea about spunk production,' he said,
as he undid my top button and slowly unzipped my fly. He smiled with
pleasure as my stiffness came into view, straining at the fine nylon fabric
of the pale blue briefs that I was wearing. `Wow, they're the pants you had
on in the picture,' he gasped, putting a hand on my erection and stroking
it through the material, `they're lovely and soft, do you think we'll find
anything like them today?'

        `I doubt it,' I said, `the sort of shops we have round here don't
really cater for the more sophisticated tastes.' I lifted up my hips and
allowed Ewan to pull my cords right off. He ripped off his t shirt and
tugged impatiently at mine, until I leaned forwards and allowed him to
remove it.

        `That's better,' he said, climbing back onto the swinging seat. He
once again knelt across me, our two swollen cocks rubbing together through
our pants. He very solemnly leaned forward and kissed me, I put my arms
round him and our lips mashed together in mutual lust. With a slow rocking
motion he rubbed his cock back and forth against mine as I softly stroked
his butt. `I think I'd like to come now,' he whispered, and sitting up
again he pulled my pants partway down. My hot and sticky cock sprang free
from its confinement, and settling back, he pulled his pants to one side
and attempted to grasp both cocks with his hand. He quickly realised that
his hands were too small and modified his idea, taking hold of a cock in
each hand. I was content to lie back and watch him, realising that he was
enjoying being in control.

        With the skill of long practise he wanked our slippery cocks in an
accelerating rhythm, his reddening face and pink ears witness to his
impending orgasm, suddenly, with a groan he fell back, the spunk pulsing
from his purple cock and spraying across our bodies, a moment later and I
joined him, my creamy sperm spraying into his pants and onto his sweaty
chest. After a moment to rest, Ewan scooped up some of our mingled spunk
and solemnly offered his dripping fingers to me, equally solemnly I licked
his fingers clean, and returned the favour to him, before kissing him
tenderly.

        `We'd better get cleaned up,' I said, `or we'll never get out of
the door at this rate.'

        `Yeah,' Ewan said, grinning widely, `but I'd better do my sacrifice
first.' He stepped out of his pants, and I used them to mop the last
remnants of our jizz off his naked body. Collecting his skirt from the rose
bush, he threw it on the barbecue with the other bits and soaked them with
lighter fuel.

        `Careful with the match,' I said, `you don't want to burn your
pubes off, now do you?'

        `I've got it covered,' he replied disdainfully, and produced a
sheet of newspaper, which he rolled into a ball, lit, and tossed onto the
barbecue. There was a satisfying `whoomp' as the petrol fumes caught, and a
generous fireball, if he had been closer, he would have burned more than
his pubes. As it was, he danced back to avoid the flash and stumbled into
my arms. His naked butt pressed deliciously against my still semi-erect
cock, and his warm body in my arms, what more could a boy ask for. The
moment passed, and as his old jeans burned merrily away, Ewan bent down and
picked up his baggy old y-fronts; `Time to say good bye,' he said, waving
the spunk sodden pants at me.

        `Never say good bye,' I said, `let's just say adieu.'

        With little ceremony he tossed his rejected garments into the
flames, and returning to the comfort of my arms, we stood together and
watched them burn until there was nothing but ashes.

        `Good,' Ewan said briskly, `that's done, now let's go and buy some
funky new ones.'

        `I think we ought to get cleaned up a bit first,' I answered, being
practical for a moment, `we're both covered in spunk and stink of smoke and
petrol fumes, just the sort of thing to get us all sorts of unwelcome
attention.'

        `How about we grab a shower? There should be plenty of hot water.'

        `Great idea, but it probably ought to be just a shower,' I said,
`or we'll never get to the shops.'

        `Spoilsport,' he grimaced, `ok, follow me.' He raced naked down the
path, I followed more slowly as I needed to collect my clothes.

        When I got inside I climbed the stairs to the attic rooms and could
hear the sound of a shower. I went into the bathroom, but although the
shower was running, there was no sign of Ewan. I looked in his bedroom and
he was sitting naked on his bed; `Aren't you going to shower?' I asked.

        `I thought I'd let you go first,' he replied gloomily.

        `I didn't mean that we shouldn't shower together, you idiot, just
that we probably shouldn't get too excited about it, or we'll never leave
the house, anyway, come on, the water's wasting.'

        His face lit up; `you mean it?'

        `Course I do, why would I pass up an opportunity to get my hands on
your lovely body again?'

        He jumped up and once more led the way to the bathroom; we both
crammed into the shower cubicle and stood face to face under the stream of
water. He kissed me passionately, and we stood there, our lips locked
together in the warm water for what seemed like an age. Finally, I
disentangled myself from his embrace, and groped for the soap; `right,
let's get you clean.' I gently soaped his upper torso and under his arms,
washing the suds off with my free hand. There was just room for me to kneel
down beside him, and so with great ceremony I lathered up his tummy before
moving on to soap up his pubes and his crotch. His cock was still red and
slippery with come as I gently pulled back the foreskin and cleaned his
glans, naturally, with all this attention it started to grow again, as
indeed mine was doing too. Regretfully, I let go of it, to hear a moan of
protest from Ewan, I wasn't finished yet, however, and used the bar of soap
to lather up his butt, parting his cheeks and making sure that his crack
was well soaped up too. I then softly massaged the lather on his cheeks,
before pushing his legs apart and giving his crack the same attention. As I
ran my fingers over his anus, I could see that he was now fully erect, and
each time I gently touched it, his cock jerked with appreciation.

        `Hmm, you like that don't you?' I said, running my finger tip round
his pucker. He didn't speak, just moaned and I assume nodded, as his body
shook. `Would you like me to take it a little further?' I asked, continuing
my gentle torture.

        `Yes please,' he whispered.

        I took hold of his cock with one soapy hand, it was already hot and
very stiff, and while I slowly masturbated him, I was able to carefully
insert a finger into his anus. He shivered with pleasure as I pushed it in
and out, going deeper with every thrust. I could tell he wasn't going to
last very long, the pre-cum was welling up from the tip of his cock and I
could feel his legs beginning to shake as his orgasm approached. With a
sudden shudder his back arched, and an uncontrollable spray of spunk
erupted from his cock and all over my upturned face. He stumbled, and sat
down abruptly in a tangle of loose limbs. I couldn't stop him, and we ended
up in a heap on the floor of the shower. Ewan threw his arms round me and
kissed my face, cleaning what was left of his spunk off me.

        `Wow, that was fantastic, I've never felt it like that before,' he
said, `but what about you?' He put his hand round my throbbing cock and
gave me an experimental tug.

        `I'm good,' I said, `didn't really mean that to happen, we're
supposed to be going shopping, remember?'

        `Oh yeah,' he giggled, `sure I can't do anything for you?' He
leaned over and took my cock in his mouth, at this rate we'd never get out
of the door, and we'd both be looking like prunes. Fortunately, or perhaps
unfortunately, this was the point where the hot water ran out, and there's
nothing better at dampening desire than a freezing cold shower. Shrieking
with laughter we leaped out of the shower, and grabbed for the towels.

        Before Ewan could protest, I wrapped him in a towel and began to
rub him dry, `Come on, we've got shopping to do,' I said, as my erection
began to subside slowly.

        `All right,' he replied, `but promise me you'll let me make you
come later.'

        `Of course,' I said, `I'm counting on it.'

        `That's Ok,' he said, and I felt his tense body relax under the
towel, `just didn't want you to get bored with me.'

        `Bored!' I practically shrieked, `you crazy boy, how could I get
bored with someone as lovely as you. Give us a snog, and I'll prove it.' He
turned round to face me, and we kissed for a long time, my cock reversed
it's decline and began pressing against his towel clad thigh, a moment
later an exploring hand verified that fact and he gently wanked me as we
pressed our lips together.

        Eventually we had to come up for air, and he looked gravely into my
eyes and said; `I guess I believe you.'

        `Good,' I said, `but if we don't go out soon, the shops will all be
shutting, what time does your dad get back tonight anyway?'

        `Not `til the evening on Saturdays, he'll bring in a takeaway or
something I expect. Shall we go shopping then?'

        `Yeah, let's.' We got dressed, Ewan opting for a pair of the nylon
slips, some tight jeans and a t-shirt. I pulled my clothes back on and we
clattered down the wooden stairs and out of the front door to buy some him
some more pants.

To be continued...


 Self-suck.