Date: Tue, 09 Oct 2012 23:08:12 +0100 From: tom Subject: Brief Encounters Chap 105 Brief Encounters - the ever continuing saga... eekkk! First the mandatory warnings and disclaimers - basically don't read this if the naughty sexual exploits of young teenage schoolboys do not appeal. The characters depicted are fictional and not intentionally based upon any one person... although, if you do suddenly find yourself in the middle of the story just think how lucky you are! This is ostensibly a work of fiction, albeit with a few memories from my own school days plus some of the many invariably unspoken fantasies which I and my "best friends" would only ever rarely admit or allude to when we were at that very special, trusting and certainly innocent age. Today, it's very hard to imagine what it was like without the internet to immediately help conjure up fantasies based on images, webcams, stories or chat. Our sex lives were entirely dependant upon a very fervent imagination and thus being able to create our own fantasies usually based on friends and what we saw happening beneath the desk or in the changing rooms! I make no excuses for the fact that underwear features prominently in this story, because quite frankly it did, it was a very visible and tangible connection between us and our ever developing fascination with sex! It's important to remember that other than the very rare sexual extrovert, we never dared mention the subject because we were just too embarrassed and nobody understood what was happening to us anyway! You might call it a story about the age of discovery - usually in bed - or if you shared a bedroom with a brother, then discovery would be in the bathroom! Do note, at the time of writing the story itself is not finished and for better or worse, it has now turned into a work of some length but I will regularly post updates and there are more than enough pages written to keep it going! Nifty require a text file so if the formatting or punctuation go slightly up the creek you now know why! And, also during the writing for various reason I have had to change character names, so I hope for continuity they are now correct! Finally, I hope you enjoy it and please, please do let me have any comments or suggestions and for some of you I it might even jog a memory or two, three if you are lucky... I would be intrigued to learn! Tom email: amias09@fastmail.fm ******************************************************************************* >>>>>>>>>>> Now your attention please faithful readers as it's time to put in word for our sponsor. Or, in plain English I wouldn't be getting my epic published and you wouldn't be reading it if it were not for the Nifty Archive, so if you enjoy what you read then please, please consider making a donation to Nifty. It's very easy and painless, you just follow the donations link on the main page - I'm sure even our oversexed and luckess hero Art from the story would do it if he could - come to that, he'd do it anywhere! #################################################################### Chapter 105 – Unimaginable consequences "She did sound like a right cow don't she?" whispered Tom making sure Mr Woods wasn't looking in their direction. "Who?" replied Charles ignoring the grammatical inconsistencies. Quite unlike maths, Tom found history quite absorbing. However, the downside of usually sitting next to Simon who wasn't quite that keen on the subject was that on occasion he would give the impression neither were that interested, something easily picked up on by Mr Woods. Today though and quite understandably so, for reasons not remotely connected with the subject, Charles wasn't taking too much of the history lesson in either. In fact he wasn't taking very much of anything in regardless. Totally consumed by the idea of having to undergo the rigours of the mystery ritual his thought were far away. "That Queen Elizabeth, chopping their heads off and that. They musta had a gert big axe," continued Tom enthusiastically, "Cor, there must have been lots of blood and bits of neck flying about having yer head hacked off with a gert chopper?" "I suppose so, I don't know." Charles sounded totally disinterested. That rather surprised Tom as he had thought that as Charles had appeared very swot like he might have at least shared his interest in the blood and gore of Elizabethan history if nothing else. "Oh, alright then." Tom shrugged his shoulders and returned to listen to Mr Woods. Finally Charles had to say something, unable contain his curiosity of the perils of the unknown ritual any longer he repeated the question. "What, what happens? Please." "About wot?" Tom could also sound disinterested as well if he wanted, purposely he didn't reply further. "The ritual!" hissed Charles. "Please tell me." "Oh that, well uumm.." Tom scratched his head, why wouldn't Charles shut up just as Mr Woods was getting to the more interesting gory parts and the horrors of being imprisoned in the Tower of London. "Please Tom, what is the ritual?" pleaded Charles in desperation seconds later. "Please tell me." "Uumm.." it seemed to Tom that Charles had now at last found some manners and was rapidly working himself up into quite a panic. Maybe it couldn't be better! "Please..." "Just a sec, hold on wait for Sir, we don't wanna get told off do us?" "We." "Wot?" "It's we, not us." "Does it fuckin' matter?" "No, I suppose not." Charles shuffled nervously on his chair now resigned to waiting for Tom. Mr Woods now appeared to be sketching out some form of family tree on the blackboard. Tom looked at Charles. "Right, but keep yer voice down." "I will." squeaked Charles in a whispered falsetto. "Fuckin' hell!" said Tom under his breath, he looked carefully at Charles. Every item of clothing was immaculately presented, sadly the clothes were all but empty. Tom concluded that even his dirty underpants had more charisma than Charles would probably ever be likely to have. "Please.." In reality Tom was playing for time and racking his brain to come up with some plausible reason for a actually having ritual of which he knew nothing. The only sure thing he could decide upon was that if there were to be ritual it had to be as big a turn on as possible. Primarily it must offer the opportunity to get Charles prancing about in his underwear and naturally the finale would be to discover if he were able to ejaculate or indeed if he even had a penis! "Well see," whispered Tom whilst keeping a watchful eye on Mr woods, "it's all to do with the big boys, sixth formers, the prefects and that lot." "Prefects!" Charles looked scared to death at the very mention of the word. Prefects! "Prefects, yeah that's right," Tom smiled, seeing it was already having the desired effect, he had obviously struck the right chord, "see them prefects and sixth formers well they, they uumm, they likes a bit of entertaining now and again." "What?" gasped Charles. "How? Entertaining? I don't understand." "See, it all happens in the prefects room, that's where we ain't allowed to go," Tom paused unsure if he could continue without collapsing in laugher, "and course we never knows wot they do in there.." "What? What do they do? What happens?" Charles' mouth remained open. "The prefects room?" "Well we wouldn't know would we? Not if nobody `cept prefects is allowed in." he lowered his voice to sub-whisper level. "Somebody once said they takes first or second year boys in every so often, but nobody knows wot they do to 'em! So kids say they seen 'em walking funny after being in there!" "In the prefects room?" Charles was ashen, his eyes now huge behind his round glasses. "What, you mean first or second year boys... walk funny?" "Yeah, that's wot I just said innit?" Tom pulled scary face. "Frightening innit?" "Yes... yes.." stuttered Charles. He swallowed hard. "But... the ritual.." "Ah, that ritual." Tom took a deep breath and looked again at Mr Woods. "See we never knows when, but them prefects will suddenly send a message saying it's time for their entertainment and that they want's the boy who's come newest to the school to do it for 'em. They always seems to know when there's a new boy. Strange that innit?" "I, I don't understand. To do what?" mumbled Charles nervously. The history lesson was now absolutely irrelevant, he listened gripped as Tom slowly continued, milking the situation for all it was worth. "I've heard older kids who've survived say some of them prefects is a bit funny, d'you know wot I mean?" not giving Charles time to answer he continued to whisper. "They likes a nice little boy to uumm... to.. umm.. to dance for 'em!" "Survived?" Charles' eyeballs now appeared to be even bigger than the round glasses he was wearing. His hands started twitching uncontrollably. Unable to resist Tom put his hand on the bare top part of Charles leg, making him nearly jump in the air, banging into the desk and attracting Mr woods' attention. "Thomas!" Mr Woods warning finger flashed through in the air. "Sorry, Sir.. I dropped something." "Yes and I could drop you in detention! Charles, are you alright with him? "Yes... yess... fine.. Sir..." stuttered Charles doing his best to look considerably happier than he actually was. "Told you old Woody was alright didn't I?" whispered Tom. With extreme difficulty Charles waited nearly a minute, then when he was quite sure Mr Woods was again occupied he gently nudged Tom. "Please, tell me what, well what happens. The dance? I don't dance!" "Charlie it's alright, there's no need to panic, `cause you gets to do a rehearsal." Tom's hand was warm and Charles' leg felt strangely cold. Slowly the fingers began to massage in a small circle which edged neared the bottom of the immaculately ironed shorts. "And, and... what.. a rehearsal?" croaked Charles sounding quite desperate, "Dance? Dance what do you mean?" Tom's fingers crept nearer the opening of Charles's shorts, he had a full blown erection and had pushed his fingers through the hole in his own pocket. "See... it's OK `cause like I said before you get to rehearse the dance for all them prefects and that," he paused again knowing it was enough to keep Charles well and truly hooked, "the tradition is you do the rehearsal for dance for just a few of us second years first. Then we all knows you's doing it right." "I still don't understand." stuttered Charles looking wildly at Tom for help. "Dance?" "See, it won't be no good sending you into that prefects room if they's is expecting you to know what yer doing and you don't, now will it? That's why you gotta rehearse first, makes sense don't it `cause we can tell if wot you's doing it wrong." "Uumm.." it made no sense whatsoever to Charles, but by now he was so agitated he would agree to do anything. "So, it'll be best to get the rehearsal out the way quick wunnit?" Tom smiled innocently, "Now didn't Brian say we'd do it dinner time. See `cause then you'll be all ready for when they wants you to perform won't you? Could be tomorrow or that see, they just sends out word they want's the newest boy like I said." "Yes, I suppose." agreed Charles very shakily. "So, so when would I dance for the prefects then? "Wot in the prefects only room?" rubbing the head of his very hard cock inside his shorts Tom pretended to think. "Like I just said could be anytime now they've heard there's a new boy. See that's why it's so important to be ready innit?" "Do you think they've heard there's a new boy, already?" Charles swallowed hard. "Oh, I'm sure they will." Tom looked at the desk barely able to contain his laughter. "Now, they will ask one question and it may sound silly, but you must answer it." "Oh... what... what?" "Do you wear a vest?" Tom's fingers were now very carefully beginning to just enter the leg of Charles shorts. "Why? What? A vest, yes of course." Charles was now totally confused, he looked at Tom, "What is this dance thing? A waltz? My vest? Please? I don't dance!" "Vest, oh fantastic! They'll love you." replied Tom wishing he could pull bis cock out and masturbate right then and there. "Tom, the dance please, please tell me what is it all about?" by now Charles neither sounded not looked like the aloof boy who had arrived only an hour earlier. "Where's the rehearsal, you didn't say?" "The rehearsal.. oh yes.. that's usually in the bog in the science block." "In the bog?" he looked very puzzled. "What's a bog?" From the frightened look on Charles' face it seemed very unfair to keep him in suspense much longer, he might even burst into tears. Tom smiled reassuringly and gently pushed his hand another inch up the leg of the shorts to which Charles didn't seem to react adversely to at all. That was if he even noticed! "The bog?" Tom barely stifled his laughter "I, I.. think we'll show you that later." "Never mind what the bog is," whispered Charles, wringing his hands in desperation, "What's the dance... what is it? Do I have to wear a costume or something?" "Don't worry about a costume," spluttered Tom trying to hold onto his composure, "as for the dance certainly ain't no costume, I think they calls it a striptease!" "Sykes, what are you doing now? Are you really with us today?" Mr Weaver sighed. Again. Why were the forth form ever timetabled for the first lesson, it was wearying in the extreme. First, second and even third year classes would pay attention, fifth and six forms knew they had to study with exams imminent, but not the fourth form. A classroom full of fifteen year boys, notoriously inattentive, invariably testosterone driven and far more interested in what was happening in their trousers beneath the desk than on top. "Oh sorry... Sir yes! What was the question?" Martin suddenly sat bolt upright, withdrew his hand from his pocket and snapped out of his camping daydream. "The question was, were you really with us today?" "Sir?" It was the traditional implied rhetorical answer to the question, meaning Martin didn't have a clue what was going on. "What topic are we currently dealing with? I say we, but that's means also assuming the rest of the class who have been paying attention." Martin looked at the blackboard which had just been wiped clean. Having been daydreaming about sharing his semen infested sleeping bag with Ian for most of the lesson his mind was as blank as the blackboard. "Rivers." hissed Ian under cover of his hand. "Rivers.. Sir.." he looked hopefully at Mr Woods. "And... what about them..." Martin looked vacuous, the only think he knew was his erection was rapidly subsiding despite Ian's encouraging hand rubbing on the inside of his leg. "They're wet Sir?" That brought a round of laughter. "Factual I suppose. Try again." "Gert big erosion and that." came a helpful whisper from behind. "Umm.. was it a big erection... oh sorry.. Sir.. I mean.. erosion Sir.. oh shh..!" Too late the entire class erupted in laughter. Martin having inadvertently said what was on his mind looked very embarrassed and blushed. "Was that a statement or a question?" a smile crossed Mr Woods face, he shook his head and glanced at his watch, thankfully there were only a couple of minutes left till the bell. "A statement.. Sir." "Who's? Your's or Blake's'?" Behind, Nigel pretended his surname wasn't Blake and looked studiously at the desk. "Has it ever occurred to you lot," he looked around the class, "that teachers know that generally when a pupil has his hand in front his mouth in class it's a sure sign that he's whispering to somebody?" "No Sir." stuttered Martin. The rest of the class groaned having never realised the simple truth either. "Did you get that Blake?" "Yes Sir." Nigel nodded. "Well, I expect that's something you might actually retain." Mr Woods glanced again at his watch. "Go on, start packing up the bells going any second." It wasn't every day that one of her offspring was in hospital so with her routine being totally thrown Linda had become very flustered and occupied herself by taking Art to task in readiness for his impending doctors appointment. Normally she would have accompanied him, but having to collect Simon later in the morning she had with some reluctance decided to send him there alone and trust to luck. However as Ted had quickly noticed and taken suitable avoiding action, her trusting to luck was never going to be quite enough even if it only entailed Art simply displaying his offending foot! Linda was absolutely determined the family name would not be besmirched by Art's typically shambolic appearance. Having been forced to have bath the previous evening he was lucky to get away with her not joining him in the bathroom to check on his washing habits! Then followed a lecture, much to Ted's amusement on the importance of wearing clean clothes, should the doctor wish to examine him further or heaven forbid he have the proverbial accident en route. Heaping embarrassment on embarrassment Linda ranted on with specific reference to his underwear, all but spelling out she knew he was a prolific masturbator as the crustaceous evidence was everywhere! Finally, if it was made crystal clear if he dared attend the surgery with even a tiniest blemish on his clean clothes he would undoubtedly face certain death. Under no circumstances would a child of the Weldon household ever be called dirty in any shape or form. That Monday morning there was definitely a the rush in getting him ready for his appointment with Linda endlessly flapped about ensuring he was clean enough to be let loose on the unsuspecting medical profession. Whatever she had said the previous evening really had carried some weight since Arthur Edward Weldon had for the very first time ever managed not to ejaculate between Sunday bathtime and school on the Monday morning. That was not say that didn't want to as his almost permanent erection bore witness, even the delightful prospect of a wet dream was narrowly averted at four in the morning, when nursing his aching member he went for a pee and had such difficulty aiming wetted the floor! Every stitch of clothing including trousers and blazer had been tracked down and washed and ironed to Linda's high standards before he was finally packed off to the surgery. Looking almost as smart as the first time he went to the school it was a transformation, although from that very first day onwards it had been a steady downward spiral. Feeling rather proud with himself he set off down the road, one hand already deep in his trouser pocket comforting his aching cock though his clean, bright red briefs. Maybe there was something to be said about not looking a total wreck after all. Maybe not! Amazingly, the surgery was running a little ahead of time and with only needing a few minutes in with the doctor meant he didn't have to rush. With the surgery visit over there was an advantage to being able to get an earlier bus to school which equated to having more time in the school toilet to provide the very necessary hand relief before the morning break. The bus journey was only fifteen minutes at the most and climbing the steep stairs to the upper deck he was surprised to find it empty. Heading for the right hand front seat which was traditionally out of the view of the conductors large convex mirror, he dropped his bag, sat down and reached in his blazer pocket. Pulling out a crumpled doctors prescription from his pocket he read it several times smiling to himself as he did so. If proof were needed this was it, a prescription for a magic ointment designed especially for Grade A, Class One, Terminal, schoolboy type athletes foot. Better still, stapled to it was note to his mother advising her to inform the school he should be exempt all gym and games for the next month until the infection cleared up or he was to make another appointment. Absolutely elated at being able to escape forced physical activity he carefully folded it back and put it back in his blazer thinking how jealous would Nigel be of that! As ever his mind had just the one track and it was soon back on it. Looking around there were still no signs of the conductor so closing his eyes he slipped a hand down the front of his trousers and held the end of his erection through his briefs. What a snug fit they were and how comfortable they felt. None of the circulation inhibiting thin elastic of the dreaded Y-fronts or the drooping look of the elephants ass! "Ticket son, where you going?" "Oh!" surprised Art opened his eyes and rapidly pulled his hand out from his trousers and looked up, blinking in the sunlight. "Wake up, you should have done before you left home!" the conductor grinned, pushed his hat back and scratched his head. "Where you going, Stovall Street for the grammar school?" "Uumm.. ffu... yes.." Art went bright red, "Stovall Street, yes." "Sorry, didn't mean to embarrass you." he smiled. "Got boys of me own about your age, so well.. you'll know what I mean." "Yes.." interrupted Art fumbling around in the side pocket of his bag for some money. As much as he would to loved to hear about the masturbation habits of conductor's boys it was sadly neither appropriate, the time nor the place. "You're a bit late for school ain't you?" "I been to the doctor." replied Art trying not to make eye contact as he handed over a collection of assorted coppers. "Why d'you kids always have pockets full of pennies," the handle spun round and the ticket spewed out of the machine, "they weighs the earth at the end of a shift." "Cor, I never thought of that." Art finally looked up and smiled. "Sorry, it's all I got, that and enough to get home." "Ah well, there we go," he turned to leave, "oh I nearly forgot, just so you know we might have to wait a few minutes at Parsons Green. It's a timetabling thing and I know your stops only another five minutes on, but that's the bus company for you!" "Thanks." Art slumped back in the seat as the footsteps receded down the bus. Slumping in the seat was all very well, but one thing that wasn't slumping was his cock! Now, determined to keep his wits about him he slid his hand back down his trousers for a second time, didn't close his eyes and listened out for sounds of footsteps. Discounting any possible delays at the Parsons Green stop he calculated there should be about ten more minutes worth of journey left before he got to school where he should have just enough time to complete his plan and attend to matters before the morning break. Gazing idly out the dirty window as the bus ground slowly on it's journey there was little to do except occasionally look at his smart uniform and keep gently stroking the front of his briefs. Arriving at Parson Green, no passengers got on or off and at first it seemed the bus was going to start off again, when with a shudder the huge diesel engine stopped. "Shit." Art knew that the extra stop meant it was going to be at least five minutes less masturbation time at school. Mathematics might not have been his top subject, but when it came to working out a tight schedule for masturbation he was unbeatable! That five minutes worth of masturbation time might be worth hours in any other situation, but at that moment with sex foremost in his mind and a drooling erection there was little else to hold his attention. Peering down from the front window he could see the driver and conductor leaning on the engine cowling and had just lit a cigarette. Pulling his hand from his trousers he stood up and looked in the big mirror, there were no signs of life anywhere near the stairs and it seemed so quiet he could well be the only passenger. There had always been something exciting about masturbating whilst wearing underwear and he had discovered the experience could be really heightened if there were an element of being caught, typically by doing it in class. That morning something triggered the exhibitionist in him and he slowly lowered his trousers to parade up and down the aisle in his bulging briefs safe in the knowledge he would be bound to hear anybody coming up the stairs. Under the circumstances his actions did little other than to exacerbate his strong desires and he soon found himself openly rubbing his erection with his briefs pulled down beneath his balls. Under the delusion he was totally in control and could stop himself at any moment he sat on the edge of the seat and pulled his briefs back up, leaving his trousers around his knees. Earlier over breakfast he had carefully worked out that he was at least three ejaculations down over what should have been, so being fully primed it was no wonder precum production had started after the surgery whilst waiting at the bus stop. The confirmation of his calculations being that the inside of his underpants were now well lubricated, which when wrapped around his shaft the exquisite tingly feeling would send him well on the way towards ejaculation. Obviously the more excited he became, the more precum he produced and the faster he rubbed. It was a very vicious circle and promised to be a typically full on performance for once he'd started the process there was to be no stopping. Excitement increased when his other hand was pushed hard between his legs to do it's best to force the material of his briefs into his bumhole. Unfortunately, in his excitement the one thing he had forgotten was that split second timing was vital in pulling his briefs down before the absolute torrent of spunk were to erupt from his cock. To say this was a climax to remember was indeed something of an understatement. The rumble of the diesel engine springing back into life was followed immediately by the conductor ringing the bell which snapped him out of his erotic reverie. Sitting bolt upright a cold sweat immediately descended as the words of warning from his mother began ringing in his ears. Dreading the worst and still trembling from the power of the orgasm he was afraid to look down. It had to be a mess and it was. Hot semen had been forced through the cotton and clung to the surface in large globules decorating the red with pearly white sheen, inside it almost felt as though his briefs had been filled with something hot and slippery. In truth they had been filled with something hot and slippery, so much so that the excess was dribbling out from under the elastic and sliding dangerously down between his legs towards his clean trousers. With the clock already ticking he knew he had to look. Blind panic ensued. Hiding a pair of cum impregnated underpants was almost a daily event and relatively easily dealt with, but that wasn't the problem. It was the thought of accidentally getting spunk over any of his other school clothes and the prospect of his mothers wrath which had him frightened. Something was needed to help wipe away the evidence and he began desperately searching every pocket of his blazer for the yellowing remains of a disgusting snotty handkerchief which also doubled as an emergency cum rag. And, if ever there was an emergency this was it. His face fell with every second as the bus neared the school and the realisation that the handkerchief must have disappeared when his blazer was washed. Staring at the gooey palm of his hand something obviously had to be done. Wiping it on the underside of the seat only to then recognise that it was the very same hand that had just been handling his blazer didn't help! He didn't dare look, being distracted by the bus changed down a gear as it slowed and rumbled to the penultimate stop against the kerb. The penultimate stop! In horror he peered out the window, as the bell rang to signal the driver to move off the next stop which was only a couple of minutes down the road was as he knew well the school! Such a turn of events could only happen to Art. Sadly, they had and that was even before reaching school. From the impeccable to the incredible, within barely an hour things had dramatically changed for the worst. His underpants squelchy with spunk, a stained shirt, blazer and trousers it couldn't get much worse, well that was until he got home. Where, to greet him would be his mother's threat of unspeakably dire consequences after all the trouble she had taken to smarten him up. It just didn't bear thinking about. ################################################################ Chap 017 to follow