Date: Fri, 5 Feb 1999 20:32:36 -0000
From: jimmykirk_uk@hotmail.com
Subject: Not Out

Disclaimer:The following story is fiction. It contains detailed
descriptions of consensual sex between boys and men. If any of this offends
you, or you just don't like gay sex, then please hit "go back" on your
browser.

Please mail any comments to :jimmykirk_uk@hotmail.com

	Glossary of Terms: There follows a glossary of cricketing terms for
potential readers from outside the UK and Commonwealth of Nations who might
not be familiar with this wonderful sport:

Cricket: a game not dissimilar to baseball, at least as far as a bat and
ball are used!

Midshire County Cricket Club: a fictional professional cricket team

County Cricket: the professional part of cricket, 18 teams based on the
English counties(4 day games)

First-class cricket: the professional game

Test Cricket: International cricket(England, Australia, West Indies, New
Zealand, Pakistan, India, Sri Lanka, South Africa), Test Matches are best
of five, five day matches=Test Series.

One-day cricket: limited overs games, played in one day eg. 40 overs per
side

Over: a six balls/bowls (or pitches for Americans)

Off-side: the side of the field in front of the batsman

Leg/on side: the side of the field behind the batsman

Bowler: a pitcher. Can be fast/medium/slow

Spinner: a slow bowler who deviates the ball off the wicket by spinning it
first in his hand

Wicket: the pitch played on, or "a wicket falls" when a batsman is out
(each side has 10 wickets per innings)

				  Not Out
				    by
				 jimmykirk
	      Copyright 1999 jimmykirk - all rights reserved

Part One

I had always wanted to be a professional cricketer and I devoted all my
efforts towards this end. I screwed up bigtime at school, but I didn't care
because I `knew' I would `make it'. And so it was, one month before my
eighteenth birthday I was awarded a professional contract by Midshire
County Cricket Club in April 1981. OK, so it was only a twelve month
probationary contract, and I'd have to prove myself in the endless round of
Second Eleven games, but with several Test players at the county, and
injuries always a possibility to others, I knew I would get a chance
sometime to make my first-class debut. With that under my belt I would be
well on my way, or so I thought.. As I signed that contract my whole career
opened up in front of me.

To celebrate my new status my parents bought me a brand new motorbike for
my birthday in May, and six weeks later I was laid up in hospital with a
fractured vertebrae. I was there for ten weeks, which at least allowed me
the opportunity to watch every ball of `Botham's Ashes', and I managed to
keep my spirits reasonably high. Of course, I knew I wouldn't play again
that season and I accepted the setback, and I just looked forward to
training over the winter and starting all over again the following year.

I was back at the County Ground in November for physiotherapy and
everything seemed to be going well. I regained my fitness quite quickly and
that encouraged me to try bowling again just after Christmas. I warmed up
as usual and tried to bowl very gently, gradually increasing my pace. At
the very end of the session, I ran up and tried to bowl at normal pace, and
after delivery my back immediately went into spasm. My whole back was
locked and I was in agony.

More physiotherapy followed and endless visits to specialists, but each
time I tried to bowl at full pace the same happened. Early in March I was
summoned to the Chairman's office. It had been nearly nine months since my
accident, and for the first time I was beginning to feel depressed. I
feared the worst as I knew my contract was up for renewal. I arrived
dressed in club blazer and tie and I was shown straight into the Chairman's
office.

Sir Peter Fosh, ex-army colonel and MP was an imposing figure, and he sat
behing a large mahoganny desk in front of a big picture window overlooking
the square at the county ground. To his right was the physio, sat nervously
on the edge of his chair, wearing his tracksuit, obviously feeling as out
of place as I did.

"Ah, James, my boy! Do come in, " he gestured to the chair in front of his
desk without getting up.

"Thankyou Sir Peter," I replied, sitting down. I looked at the physio and
smiled thinly.

"To be blunt," he started, "I have some good news and some bad news." There
followed a long pause, ended when Sir Peter coughed loudly, giving the
physio his cue.

"Oh yes," continued the physio. "As you know Jimmy, I mean James, we have
had some problems with your recovery from injury. The latest specialist's
report suggests that the problems we have had will continue with no hope of
a full recovery.

I felt the colour drain from my face and the room seemed to close around
me. "So what's the bad news?" I thought to myself.

"Therefore," continued Sir Peter, " we feel that we cannot offer you a
playing contract for the coming season." My head dropped into my
hands. "However," clearly embarrassed by my small show of emotion Sir Peter
interjected, "we can offer you something else instead."  I looked up.

"Yes, sir?"

"Here at Midshire County Cricket Club," his chest puffed out with pride as
he spoke, "we pride ourselves on the way we look after our players. Many
other counties would throw you on the scrapheap now, but not us. We are
prepared to offer you another contract, conditional on you passing the
National Cricket Association's Coaching courses up to Advanced coach
level. You will be entered for the first two courses this year, and then
the final one next year, when you will be given a full-time coaching
contract." I became aware that my mouth was hanging open. "Well James?"

"I don't know what to say," I hesitated. "I had thought about coaching, but
much later in my career. But now I guess if I want to stay in the game,
then this is how I shall have to do it." I paused again. "Yes, yes I
will. Thankyou Sir Peter."

"Splendid my boy!" Sir Peter stood up and stretched out his hand. I took it
and was surprised by how firm his shake was. The physio came over and
slapped me gently on the back.

I went home that night not really sure what to think. My dream of playing
professionally had been shattered, yet coaching offered me a way to stay in
the game, so I was happy for that. What surprised me over the next two
years was how readily I threw myself into it. It was bloody hard work too!!
When I was asked what I did for a living and I said `coach', people kind of
sneered at me, but few realised exactly what was involved.

Whilst I was in my `apprenticeship' I was used as an assistant coach, going
out with senior coaches to schools and clubs in the county. Learning and
watching. After two years I was awarded a permanent coaching contract, the
youngest ever at Midshire CCC.

I had first played cricket when I was eleven. I started at school and
within a year I had been selected to play representative cricket for the
county. I worked my up through each age group until I was playing Midshire
Under-19 at seventeen. I twas at this point I was given my playing
contract. This system of schoolboy sides was the `feeder' for the
professional game and was one which the County took very seriously. Strong
youth sides meant a strong senior side in years to come, and with all the
money being pumped into cricket in the eighties, a successful side was a
wealthy side. To this end, Midshire CCC appointed a manager to each youth
side and a coach. Usually, these appontments were made from retired
ex-players who still had something to give back to the game. At some point
over my first few years of coaching I must have impressed because in 1983 I
was appointed coach for Midshire Under-12. The manager of the side was an
ex-Midshire and England player, who had retired in 1981. At this point the
story really begins...................

				Chapter One

Smithy (the manager) and I, hit it off immediately. He was twenty years
older than me and instinctively called me "son", he had the experience, and
I had the expertise. Admittedly, I was a little in awe of him at first as
he had done all the things I had only dreamt of. He had bowled for England
and I could listen to his stories for hours on end.....how he had bowled
Gary Sobers with a full-toss, got Graeme Pollock with one that bounced
twice, and had Clive Lloyd caught at deep square leg all in the same over
(yes, I know Pollock was South African, but this was England v Rest of the
World in 1970!).

My role as coach, was to compliment that of the manager. Each age group had
a squad of some fifteen players, which had training all winter. In March a
series of open trials was held throughout the county and a summer squad of
maybe twenty players was chosen. In a season, over twenty inter-county
games would be played. My role as coach, was to offer advice at selection
and to provide warm-ups etc. on match days. Smithy and I soon decided that
we would play a `good-cop-bad-cop' routine with the players so that he
would keep them disciplined and I would be their `friend'. That role suited
me fine as I was still young enough to feel uncomfortable with a
disciplinarian role with kids not that much younger than myself.

That first season was a period of adjustment for both of us, and it wasn't
until half-way through that either of us began to relax (we were both new
appointments). Our season finished with a cricket festival in
Lancashire. This involved taking a squad of thirteen away for a week to
stay at a large boarding school where they would play in a competition
involving seven other counties. In the few remaining games before the
festival, I used the time to get to know the boys a little better, afteral,
I would be spending a week with them soon enough. Such had been the
intensity of the cricket and the new job, I felt that I hardly knew any of
them beyond whether they were left or right handed, or whether they bowled
off-spin or legbreaks.

Of course, some characters had already emerged, but I realised that there
was a great diversity of personalities within the squad we would take
away. The differences didn't end there, physically the boys differed
greatly too. At twelve years old some boys were already well into puberty
and almost six foot tall, whilst others were tiny-tots of four and a half
feet!. Our wicket-keeper, Jason, was the latter, whilst our Asian,opening
bowler, Ahmed, was 5'10" and already had a beard!! Some cried like babies
when they were out for a duck, others threw their bats and swore (I
encouraged neither). For sure though, we had a great bunch of very talented
cricketers, who sometimes needed `slapping-down', as Smithy put it.

At the end of the last match before we went away, one of the parents came
to speak to me. She was worried about her son going away. It was to be his
first time away from home on his own (others of course were used to it as
they atttended boarding schools), and she asked me to make sure he would be
alright. I offered what comfort I could, and she finished by saying:

"I'm not worried really. I'm sure he'll be fine because he thinks of you as
a big brother anyway."

That comment made me think, and I guess it was true. By this time I had
grown fond of `my boys' and I felt very protective towards them all. I
guess I was like a big brother and I tried to keep that in mind. Even
though I knew I was gay by this time, I had never thought about the boys in
any sexual way.OK, so now and then I had sat on the boundary and wondered
what some of them might look like in ten years or so (I usual used their
father as a guide), or seen some of the bigger, more developed boys in the
shower and thought, "potential there", but nothing else. `Big brother',
just about summed it up for me.

Unless you have ever done it, you will not appreciate just how tiring
thirteen twelve year olds can be when confined in a mini-bus for five
hours. Smithy (oh, the wise-one!) had arranged to drive his car north,
leaving me and the boys to the mini-bus. This first day was an important
part of the week, close confinement helped to build team-spirit and we
arrived tired, but happy mid afternoon.

Our first task was to move into our living quarters. We had been assigned a
dormitory block on the far side of the extensive playing fields. The block
was very basic and divided into two halves (another county had one
wing). Upstairs were three large rooms with two bunkbeds in each, plus four
singlerooms (I assume for sixformers), there was also one toilet and a
single-shower. Downstairs was the communal bathrooms and showers, a
recreation room (with the obligatory TV and tabletennis table) and a large
bedroom with its own bathroom (a masters room I guessed). Smithy had
arrived first and encamped in the masters room, leaving me to one of the
upstairs single rooms. I picked the one nearest the stairs, reckoning that
that would act as a deterent to late night escapades.

The first job was to assign the boys to rooms. We had three fours and three
singles left for them. An indication of the teamspirit was the fact that
none wanted a room on their own, so I dragged a singlebed into one of the
dorms and removed one of the desks and we settled for two fours and a
five. Each dorm had two sets of bunks in the middle of the room with a desk
in each corner. Two desks were against the interior wall, with the door in
the middle, and two were under windows on the far side. In addition there
were four slim and tall wardrobes/cupboards on each side of the bunks
against the wall. All very functional, all very minimal. In no particular
order, I tapped the right number of heads for each rooms and pushed them
in. Who was going to sleep where was up to them, and I gave them all an
hour to sort it out before I wanted them in training gear outside.

It took me ten minutes to unpack and change, and then I went to seek out
Smithy. He was downstairs in his room, already at home. He was sat in a
large comfortable armchair, in front of open french windows that overlooked
a small lake at the bottom of the hill the school was built on.

"Comfy old man?" I asked.

"Ah, I hear the boys are settling in," he tilted his ear to the ceiling in
acknowlegement of the noise coming from above him, and then turned towards
me. In his hand he lifted a box of red wine. "Fancy one, you look like you
need it?"

I laughed. "I might have known!"

"Can't do anything without a glass of vino old-son!" He lifted his glass to
me.

"Yeah, sure. They'll be ages yet." I pulled a chair from under a desk and
joined him by the window. I really liked Smithy and we talked easily for
the best part of an hour. Some of the talk was serious about team
selections and tactics in the competition, but mostly we just chatted like
two old friends. His age almost didn't seem to matter, one look into his
eyes revealed a rare sparkle that he still had, and although he carried a
little extra weight now, he was still a handsome man. I remember seeing old
photos of him and film, and thinking "yes, that would be nice!"

Soon thirteen pairs of feet were storming down the stairs and I took them
outside. We did a gentle warm up and some catching practice before we went
over to the main school building for supper. After the meal we played
softball (my attempt to burn off some energy and hopefully have a quiet
night), and as the sun set and the air turned quickly very cool we returned
to the dorm building. It was about 9.30 and so I gave them an hour before
they had to be in bed. Some went to their dorms staright away, others
stayed and watched a bit of TV with me, and a few took themselves for a
shower (even though I had only made morning showers compulsory). Smithy
reappeared about 10.00 and he relaxed with the few boys still there and
began one of his story-telling sessions. The boys for their part sat
entranced by these tales of cricket's great and good.

Bedtime came, and the combination of a long day, the excitement, the
softball and Smithy's stories had worked to cast a sleepy spell on the boys
and most retired to their rooms and beds without much persuasion. There was
the inevitable giggling and whispering, but once the lights were off, about
11pm, the noise slowly abated and by 11.30 there was silence. In all three
rooms I had used a training-shoe to keep the doors slightly ajar so I could
hear any mischief in the making from my room, the door of which when
slightly open, allowed me a good view from my bed down the corridor. The
day and Smithy's red wine soon accounted for me too.

I woke up next morning in brilliant sunlight. I glanced to my travel alarm
and saw that it was 6.30am. There were times when I wish I could sleep in
late, but mostly I am glad that my natural alarm-clock works so well. I had
a slight headache, OK, hangover, and I was thirsty as hell. I didn't need
to be up for an hour yet but I got up to get a drink . I was only wearing
my boxers, and had my usual morning hard-on, but it was quiet, so I guessed
all the boys were still asleep, so I ventured into the corridor to go to
the bathroom for some water. As I passed each dorm I popped my head in to
check on my charges, and they were all fast asleep still. On my way back,
feeling much better for my drink, I did the same, but this time in the
middle dorm I noticed one of the boys. His name was Nick, he was a very
talented left-handed batsman and brilliant fielder. He was one of the
middle-boys, not a tiny-tot, but not a teenager yet either. Nick had medium
long blond hair and the cheekiest smile of the lot (and that's saying
something!). As I passed the second time I noticed him turn over in bed to
face the door, as he did the sheet on his bed stayed where it was and he
became exposed to the cool morning air. I saw him shiver slightly and begin
to curl into a tight ball, still in deepest sleep. Feeling sorry for him,
and knowing that he could sleep for another hour, I crept in and knelt by
his bed, very careful I tried to untangle the mess that was his
sheet. First I managed to cover his legs, which I noticed were very brown
as he was only wearing boxers too (like most the boys), he had a thin
covering of golden hairs on his shins, which seemed to stand up. With his
legs covered, I decided that there was nothing else I could do without
disturbing him, so tight was the ball he was in interwoven with this
sheet. As I moved my hands away, he straightened his legs into the warmth
and released more of the sheet, and then rolled onto his tummy, so I took
the spare sheet and pulled it up over the small of his back and
shoulders. He moaned slightly and buried his face deep into his pillow.

"There you go," I whispered. I raised my hand to slightly pat him on his
bottom before leaving, and as I did he rolled over onto his side again to
face me. I bit my lip in the hope I hadn't woken him, but his eyes were
still firmly shut. Relieved, I brought my hand down to pat, now, his hip. I
had to smile, for his rolling had sprung his hard little dick out of his
boxers and exposed it in a small gap between himself and the now raised
again sheet. In the showers and stuff before I had always glanced and then
looked away, but now, with no fear of being caught, I looked a while
longer. It was about three inches long, circumcised and an almost perfect
scale model of my own. His balls were tight to him and perfectly smooth,
but I could see a few wavy and fine pubic hairs poking out from the very
base of his dick.

"Better put that away," I whispered, and gently pulled the sheet to cover
him up, but another little stretch from Nick for the briefest second
brushed his hot cock head against my hand. I didn't exactly snatch my hand
away, but I didn't linger either, I just smiled and stood up. As I did, I
noticed that my own hardon was back and making a wigwam in my shorts, so I
turned quickly and left, just in case. Safetly back in the corridor, I
glanced back and noticed that Nick was now back in a ball, eyes shut, but a
cheeky little grin on his face that made me wonder just how asleep he had
been. I shook my head, "no, he was asleep" I thought, and I headed back to
my room.

Realising that the next fifty minutes would be the quiet before the storm,
I took the opportunity to take a shower and dress. I was pulling on my
trainers when I heard the first alarm-clock go off in one of the dorms. At
first there were just muffled voices and then eventually some laughter and
then movement and more laughter. I stood up and crossed the corridor to the
dorm opposite me. I pushed the door open.

"Wakey! Wakey!" I called. Two boys were still lying in bed, the other two
were sat up and talking to each other. One of those still under his sheet
was little Jason, I crossed to his bed and pulled the sheet off him.

"Gerroff!" he squeaked, vainly trying to catch the disappearing sheet.

"C'mon Jase, time to get up!" He opened his sleep-filled eyes and quickly
closed them again.

"Oh, Jimmy. Sorry," he mumbled. "Five more minutes....please!" He begged. I
looked as his curled form on the bed. He was wearing PJs, the legs had
ridden up to his knees, and the top was hanging half off him. I detected a
shiver.

"OK, only fve, but I'll be back after I wake the others," to emphasise the
point I prodded him gently in the ribs. "And as for you," I moved my
attention upwards to his bunkmate who was still under his sheets. This was
Tom, our other big fast bowler. He was 5'9", dark-haired and well built and
he was stretched with his arms folded behind his head, his head touched the
wall and his feet hung over the end at the foot of the bed. I noticed a few
dark hairs had already sprouted in his armpits. I carefully moved my hand
to his pits, took hold of a few hairs and tugged.

"Ouch! That hurt!" He pulled away from me quickly.

"Yeah, and now you are awake properly, so four minutes for you Tom, OK?" He
turned onto his side and raised himself onto his elbow.

"Yeah cool, sure," he smiled at me and then sat up. The bedsheet slipped
down off his smooth, flat chest and he stretched his arms above his
head. "Four minutes it is then."

"Showers for all of you don't forget!" With that I turned and
left. "Potential there," I said to myself thinking of Tom. I was snapped
back to reality as a body flew into me as I entered the corridor. "What
the...?!" I looked down to see one of the middle dorm boys go sprawling to
the floor. This was Alex - or Ali - a left-handed opening bat.He was one of
the middle-type boys, 5'5" and of very slight build. His short, raven-black
hair was sticking up untidily on his head and he had a towel wrapped around
his bony shoulders as he hit the floor hard.

"Morning Ali," I said, offering my hand to him.

"Hi Jimmy!" He gushed back. "Sorry, I wanted to get to the showers first."
He reached up and grabbed my hand and I pulled him back to his feet.

"You OK?" I enquired.

Yeah......" he rubbed his bum with his other hand, "a little sore though."

"Well you be careful then, and go on....." I began to guide him towards the
stairs, "get down to the showers."  Ali smiled at me, still a little
embarrassed and walked purposefully away. I could hear plenty of activity
in the middle dorm now so I had no worries there, so I went to the far dorm
where the five boys were. Through the ajar door I could see that things
were still darkened by the curtains, as I pushed the door wider I saw that
there were still five boys lying in the wreakage of what had been made beds
the night before.

"Hey! C'mon you lot! It's after 7.30!" I screamed. Heads and bodies began
to stir. "How could you sleep through the racket from next door?" No
replies. On the top two bunks in the middle were the captain, Gaz, and his
vice-captain, Johnny, then below them were Ahmed (who you already know) and
Ed, and finally on the bed was `Big' Jason. I moved quickly and ruthlessly
and grabbed the two top sheets...whoosh...they were gone, a slight
adjustment and ....whoosh...the bottom two sheets disappeared, and finally
the single sheet on Big Jason.

"Morning boys," in my most sarcastic tone, "time for a shower." I looked
around me for a response and couldn't help but notice three morning hardons
, the other two had quickly turned over, so I guessed they had the same
affliction. An affliction that began to visit me too, and I stayed as long
as I could before my excitement began to show. Luckily the boys fell out of
bed quickly and busied themselves collecting towels and toiletries, not
noticing that I had now noticed their tented boxers and PJs too. These
brief glimpses though also stirred my curiousity and whilst the boys were
showering I began to think forward to the next morning...I wanted to see
more, but I kept myself away from the showers for the time being.

After showers and a walk up to the school for breakfast, I took the boys
for a warm-up and a practice net. The first match wasn't due to start until
11am, so we could enjoy a long session. We had two nets running at the same
time which allowed the batsman to have twenty minutes practice each. One of
the first in was Nick, and as usual he looked impressive. However, he
mistimed one shot from Ahmed, and the inside-edge flew into his unprotected
inner thigh on his backleg. He yelped in pain and fell to the floor. Now
unless you have played cricket and been hit there it is difficult to
understand the pain involved (only surpassed by a direct blow to your
balls, and at least they are protected), but believe me it brings tears
even to the eyes of a grown man. Nick crumpled to the floor, but my first
thought was for the bowler. I knew the injury would be painful, but not
serious, but Ahmed could only see his friend on the floor and crying, so I
had to reassure him that he had done no permanent damage. That done, I
walked down to Nick, who was now on his knees, head bowed, sobbing
quietly. I placed one hand on his shoulder, and the other under his arm,
and gently pulled him up.

"Let's go sit down for a while, and then I can put some magic-spray on it,"
Nick just shrugged, but began to walk with me. I picked up his bat, and we
walked out to the back of the net. I sent the next batter in and opened up
my first-aid box. There is something about the magic-spray that reassures
boys of that age, it's almost as if it is a badge of bravery to have it
used on you, and then a magic cure-all. To you and me it's just
freeze-spray!

Nick had sat himself down on a bench on the balcony of the small pavillion
at the rear of the nets. I knelt in front of him and began to unfasten his
pads.

"Let's get these off first," I said. As I did this I noticed that his hands
were trembling slightly, so I knew that the pain was very real for
him. Once the pads were off, I took a tissue out and gently wiped the tears
away, and the obligatory snotty nose was tidied up too. "Shall I have a
look then?"

"I guess so," Nick replied in a whisper. He stood up and unfastened his
white trousers. He reached inside and pulled out his box (it can be
uncomfortable to sit in) and then plopped back down on the bench after
removing his thighpad. This done he slowly pulled his trousers to his
knees. I placed one hand on his left knee and pulled it gently to open his
legs so I could see the impact mark. About an inch below where his leg
joined his torso was the wound. It was about four inches round and an angry
red, but white in the middle with a perfect seam mark running top to
bottom.

"Ouch," I said, "looks a good one." I gently stroked it with my free hand
and it felt red hot. At that point I noticed how smooth his thighs were
compared to the little golden hairs I had seen on his shins. He had a
tanline on his thighs from wearing shorts, and I could just make out the
outline of his balls and dick in his tight jockstrap. "Lemme try the
spray." I reached for the can and shook it vigorously, "you ready?" Nick
nodded. As I began to spray I heard a quick intake of breath, but then
nothing. "Better?"

"Cold," replied Nick, "very cold!" At last some sparkle was coming back to
him. "Maybe I should use the middle of my bat next time coach?"

"That would be a good starting point," I sat myself down next to him, but
kept my hand resting on his knee. "You OK now?"

"Yeah, thanks Jimmy," Nick leaned towards me and rested his head on my arm,
"sorry for blubbing like a girl."

"Don't worry about it, you should see me when I stub my toe in the
morning," I tried to alleviate his embarrassment.

"I bet you swear some too?" He asked.

"Maybe a little, but not that you should," I finished.

"Bloody hurts though!" and he gently head-butted my shoulder.

"Yeah, bloody hurts," I squeezed his knee. "You wanna go back for five
minutes?"

"OK," Nick jumped up and collected his box from the bench. Without
hesitation he pulled down his jockstrap and I got an eye-level view of his
dick and sparse pubic hairs. He didn't hurry, and took his time to push the
box deep under his balls before pulling his balls and dick up to sit neatly
inside. Almost reluctantly he closed the window to me. "Oooh, that's cold
too now!" He lifted his shirt up and held it in his teeth whilst he
fastened his thigh pad on. For the first time I noticed that he had the
beginnings of a six-pack under his tight stomache skin. Not an ounce of fat
was evident. Rekitted now, he strode away back to the nets and I followed.

Luckily, the rest of the practice concluded successfully and injury-free,
and we fielded our strongest team for the first match, even though it was
against one of the weaker counties. Smithy thought that it was important to
get a convincing win under our belts, which we duly did. The boys were
therefore in high-spirits during the evening and I left them pretty much to
themselves until 8pm. At that time I brought them inside and some watched
TV, whilst others talked in the dorms. Smithy and I drank a few glasses of
red wine, happy and content with our days work.

The boys were no trouble and went to bed without prompting. About 10.30 I
went upstairs to check, first changing into my boxers and a t-shirt.  I
went into each dorm and without protest they all hit the sack. As I was
leaving the middle dorm I heard Nick.

"Jimmy?"

"Yeah," I replied.

"You got any more of the magic spray? My legs throbbing a bit," Nick sat up
and pulled his boxers up a little to show the bruise.

"Sure, come with me a minute." Nick's bare feet slapped on the wooden floor
as he leapt out of bed to follow me to my room. He launched himself onto my
bed as I dug out the magic spray from my bag. It wasn't until I turned
around with the can in my hand, that I noticed Nick was sat, legs spread
wide, wearing only his boxers. There were tiny little folds of skin just
above the waistband of his shorts, which were patterned and very loose
fitting so that I could easily see his soft dick and balls which were
nestled against his thigh, and yes, it was that thigh. I knelt in front of
him again, and got an even better view up the two inch gap between his
shorts and leg. He had a tiny little pink cockhead at the end of a thin
stalk, and his balls were tight and but well-rounded.

"I think you'd better cover up," I pointed to the gap with a finger from
the hand now resting on his thigh. "You don't want to have any of this up
there......that bloody hurts too." Nick just giggled, and placed a hand
through the fly of his shorts and used it to form a protective cover for
his genitals.

"OK, shoot away!" I moved closer whilst shaking the can, and as I did, I
pressed my hardening dick against the soft side of the mattress between
Nick's legs. Carefully I took aim and sprayed. "Ooh, cold again! But nice!"
Once I had put the can down, Nick removed the hand that had been cupping
his balls and dick, and let them fall again into the gap, but this time I
noticed that the head was just a little redder and a little bigger. My
attention was fixed on his inner thigh, and I noticed a droplet of the
spray liquid begin to run down towards the bed, without thinking, I used my
finger to reach down and prevent it from soaking into the sheet. As I
touched his thigh, and ran my finger back up to the bruised area Nick's
cock made a slow and deliberate movement upwards as it began to lengthen
before me.

"Erm,can't have that staining the sheet," I stuttered before I snatched my
hand away.

"Could give you a nasty shock in the night," offered Nick, giggling
again. I tore my eyes away from his swelling dick.

"Yes, it could," I smiled at him. "Time for bed now, I think." Nick turned
out his bottom lip.

"Do I have to?" he pleaded. "Can I stay and chat a while?" His eyes begged
with me. "Please.....?"

"OK, five minutes, then straight to bed, OK?" I relented far too easily,
but I liked Nick, he was a good kid, and a terrible tease I decided.

"OK, five minutes, I promise!" He bounced on the bed and brought his legs
up to sit cross-legged. At least that hid his dick from my immediate
view. Slowly, and very carefully I got up and sat myself on the bed about
two feet away from him. Luckily I was able to hide my hard-on by some
clever use of my hands and arms.

"Why did you quit cricket Jimmy?" The question came out of the blue.

"I had a bad injury to my back," I didn't mind talking about it now.

"How did you do it?" I couldn't resist, and I began to tell the long story
to him.

"I'm sorry," Nick said when I had finished.

"No need, atleast I am still involved and I love coaching you guys," best
to be honest I thought.

"Good, cos we love having you as our coach. You are cool," he then leaned
forward and placed his head in my lap, right on top of my now soft dick. I
placed a hand on his head and stroked his hair. For a brief few seconds I
felt as at peace with the world as I had done for many years, but then the
heat of his body next to mine and the sight of his smooth body soon made my
dick begin to swell, right under his right cheek. I held my breath and
tried to will the blood to go elsewhere. To no avail as Nick stretched
forward and placed his hand on my thigh. His touch was like an electric
shock and the current ran up my leg straight to my dick and balls. As much
as I tried to prevent it, my dick twitched and Nick's head raised up with
the force of it. I closed my eyes and with resignation savoured the
moment. Instinctively, my other hand moved to rest on Nick's hip, half on
his soft skin, and half on the waistband of his shorts. We stayed like this
for five minutes or more, me too tense to move a muscle.

Nick murmured, and twisted his body slightly so that my hand slipped from
his hip onto his stomache. As my hand came to rest on his flat abdomen, he
moved his hand higher up my leg and my cock twitched again. Slowly I opened
my eyes and looked down at him. His arms were wrapped around my legs, one
under and one over the top, his body was twisted so that his stomache was
now facing up, and his fully swollen cockhead was peeking out of the fly of
his shorts. I moved my hand along the waistband towards his bellybutton and
his dick twitched in response so that it was now standing proud outside of
his shorts.

Another murmur, and Nick began to turn around to face me. Once his head
moved my cock sat upright (and more comfortably I must add). He rotated a
full 180 dgrees, so that now he was facing straight at my hard-on, slowly
he raised his right hand and placed it alongside the bulge in my shorts,
his thumb slowly extended and came to rest on top of my cock. That done,
his head moved further so that the tip of his thumb rested on his bottom
lip, and his nose lay half-way up my erection. His other arm somehow
managed to scrunch-up in the small gap between my legs, which were pushed
wider to accomodate him. All the while his eyes remained firmly closed.

I realised I was holding my breath again during this last manouvre, and
slowly I began to breathe again. My hand had remained on Nick's stomache
depite all the twisting, and the fact that his hip was raised now, and I
moved it to rest on his hip again. I traced a path along the edge of his
shorts, slipping two fingers under the waistband as I did. I looked down
and saw his boy-dick respond, that of course provoked my erection to stand
fuller to attention, and as it did, Nick wrapped his thumb closer around it
and pulled it, hot millimetre by millimetre, closer to him, so that the
whole length was eventually in contact with his face from his chin, along
his nose, to his forehead. This done, his first finger raised slightly and
came to rest along the hard ridge on the back of my erection. I sighed
deeply and felt a tender squeeze in response.

My hand had stopped, cupping his hip-bone. with my first two fingers a
knuckle deep inside his shorts. I stroked the soft concave skin that joined
his hip-bone to his abdomen. I could clearly see his waist tanline above
his shorts, it was about two inches below his belly-button, and I ran my
thumb along it as far as I could. Another murmur and Nick pulled his legs
and hips up closer to me, guiding my fingers as deep as they could go into
his shorts, and forcing the waistband a little lower. I lifted the fingers
still outside his shorts and they joined those inside. The waistband now
lay across my wrist, and the tips of my fingers were stroking the top of
the inside of his right thigh. This was greeted with more murmuring and a
rhythmic squeezing of my hard-on. Another slight movement from Nick and I
felt my little finger rest against the side of his ballsack, whilst the
side of my hand touched his dick. The heat of his cock contrasted with the
coolness of his balls and I had to feel more. I lifted my hand and slid it
over so that I brought it down to cup both his balls and I pressed his dick
with my palm. Nick now sighed loudly and I felt him wrap his remaining
fingers around my shaft through the material of my shorts. The feelings
were so intense that I was only seconds away from cumming.

"Nick?" I whispered, pulling my hand slowly along his dick and out of his
shorts.

"Mmmmmm?" he responded.

"I think those five minutes are up now," I put my right arm under his
shoulder and lifted him up slightly. His grip on me was broken, and my
embarrassment saved.

"Oh, sorry, I must've fallen asleep," he lifted his arm and wrapped it
around my waist.

"No problem, but I think you'd better get to bed," I pulled him a little
closer and his head rested on my stomache. I leant down and kissed his
hair. He looked up to me and smiled with bleary eyes.

"Can we talk again tomorrow?" he asked.

"Of course we can," I replied, "if you really want to."

"I will," Nick sat up between my legs and put his other arm around me. He
pulled himself close to me and my hardon pressed firmly against his chest.

"C'mon then, let's get you to bed," I picked Nick up and moved to the edge
of the bed. His feet fell to the floor and he stood up so that now he was a
few inches taller than me now. I had a hand on each of his shoulders and I
pulled him to me this time so that his boy hard-on pressed against me, one
arm slipped down to hold him by the waist. It went all the way around his
slim body and Nick offered no resistance to my embrace. His equlibrium
changed and his weight fell on my chest and I lost mine. We both fell
sideways onto the bed, Nick landing ontop of me. His dick landed in my
belly-button and mine was pushing up between his thighs. Our noses stopped
an inch apart, and we looked deeply into each others eyes. His eyes were
blue, not just blue, but the brightest blue you could imagine, and he had
the finest eyebrows. I shut my eyes as I saw his face move closer. Our
noses touched, and his soft lips touched mine. It was the lightest of
kisses.

"Goodnight, Jimmy," he whispered as he withdrew his lips from mine. My
hands both moved to take hold of a bum cheek each, and I filled my hands
with his soft flesh.

"Goodnight, Nick," I lifted my head and kissed him again, a little longer
this time. I rolled to my side and Nick fell off me. I held on to him as he
slowly stood up. I swung my legs onto the floor tto. I had forgotten about
my hard-on and as I stood up the head poked out of my shorts, immediately
catching Nick's attention. This was the first time he had seen me. "I'd
better put that away," I said.

"Yeah, if you want me to go to bed," replied Nick with a giggle. He looked
down and saw his own pricklet sticking out, " and me too!" With that, he
flashed me another killer-smile , moved to open the door and disappeared.

Part Two to follow soon...........