Date: Tue, 10 Mar 2009 03:28:23 -0700 (PDT) From: Ami Subject: Brief Encounters chapter 13 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: amias05@yahoo.com ***************************************************************************************************** Chapter 13 - Big boys don't cry Hurrying down the corridor on the way to the French class, Art was explaining to Nigel that he had forgotten his shorts and that Simon had helped him get some old ones from Tom and Alex in the lost property room. "And, even after helpin' you do that, d'you reckon he still might have nicked `yer pants then?" asked Nigel as they approached the class room. "I just don't know." replied Art wistfully, "But if it's me Mum that's done it, she will have seen and know everything I do. I bet she will have gone through all me stuff, shit... she might even have found those pictures you gave me! Oh bloody hell, I will just fucking die if she says anything!" "Guess so!" said Nigel thinking, "Shit, I wouldn't know what to do if my Mum found all my stuff, I mean all me secrets and that! Shit, I could never look at her again without being embarrassed like!" "Fuckin' right on!" said Art, "Well, I just don't know what to do, would you lend me some pants or something to wear tomorrow, I don't care what they are or even if you've worn `em, what I got on now is just awful! And stink!" "All right, I'll find you something. Now, don't worry, look we only got gym to go and then we are outta here." "Well, thank fuck I got them shorts or I would have killed meself. That Peterson is a right fuckin' bustard!" said Art with some feeling. "Lucky they fitted then." Nigel said as he started to sit down at the desk. "Ah, well I dunno! But I reckon they will, they might be a bit tight, but they'll be ok!" said Art looking hurriedly for his French text book. "I wonder," said Nigel giggling, "if that Mr Du Fuckin' Ponce had been a bit of a wanker once!" The gym lesson was due to start after the short afternoon break and there waiting, hands on hips by the doorway to the changing rooms Mr Peterson loomed large. He spelt dread to most of the boys. Absolutely. No question, he was feared and hated in equal amounts. Not ideal for a teacher and categorically not a situation designed to either get the best out of his charges, let alone them to do their utmost for the him. Fifteen was generally a boisterous age, but here the boys were always strangely quiet when they first entered the changing rooms. The fact that the ex-army instructor stood by the door flexing his muscles and goading them in did little to help. "Come on... let's get to it... don't waste any time I want you out in that gym in two minutes." "Yes.. Sir..." came a few unenthusiastic replies. It took a lot to mute a class of testosterone fuelled fourth-year boys, but Mr Peterson did it. All talk and wise cracking stopped dead. Nothing but the sound of rustling clothes and the occasional undoing of zip was virtually all that was heard. Raymond, a rather overweight boy who thought eating was far preferable to exercise, bent down to undo his shoes and unintentionally farted and with the resultant giggling the tension was considerably reduced. Art looked at Nigel, "All right mate?" he whispered as he pulled the tatty old shorts out of his bag. They looked a bit small even to him, but maybe not! Nigel nodded and looked furtively round before started to undo his trousers. So far the dreadful state of his clothes had gone unnoticed although some boys had started to sniff, not really sure if what they thought they were smelling was what they thought it was! As his trousers slipped down to his ankles the unmistakable aroma of stagnating cum was released and it wafted, almost like the gas used in the first world war, towards Ian who was changing on Nigel's other side. "Fuckin' hell Nige," said Ian turning in amazement "what's that smell?" "What, what smell?" said Nigel as innocently as he could! Art, knowing Mr Peterson's eye was on them, said, " Shut up Ian... shhh... please!" "You boy... yes... you!" Mr Peterson's quivering finger pointed directly at Art from the doorway. "Be quiet... or you will still be doing press-ups when everybody else has gone home!" Art trembled inside. How he really hated this man and his sadistic gym lessons, "Yes.. Sir..." he muttered weakly. "And," boomed Mr Peterson heading for the gym door, "you lot know the rules... nothing under your shorts, one of these days I will make a snap inspection!" "No Sir..." "The thought of my Mr Peterson asking them to pull their shorts down for an inspection was just too much to contemplate, especially as they were of the age when almost anything could and would trigger an erection! "All of you in this gym in one minute got it! I'm waiting" He strode through the open door. "Yes Sir." The braver ones muttered "Bastard!" or "Fuckin' pervert!" as soon as he was out of sight. Now for the tricky bit. Looking around Art he dropped his trousers and quickly tried to pull off his revolting briefs before anybody could see, or worse smell the disgusting state of them. However, in his haste he got one leg stuck and soon toppled over onto Nigel who was trying to do the self same thing! It had to end with both boys all but on the floor, their very raunchy briefs around their ankles displaying some very obvious huge and yellowing stains. Almost as bad, the briefs were now open to the atmosphere! Literally being surrounded by a room full of wankers it was soon going to be obvious to every boy what they had been up to. Ian, with a grandstand view was nearly in hysterics. "Hey Andy.." he nudged the boy next to him, "here, have look and a sniff at these two wankers! Fuckin' hell Nige! How many times you wanked in them pants?" Amazingly enough, in such circumstances it only takes seconds for bad news to travel. So naturally, just about every boy in the class was able to either see the yellow stains or smell poor Nigel and Art who were both still scrabbling to get on their feet with their pants twisted around of their ankles! To say they were utterly mortified was an understatement, both were absolutely scarlet with embarrassment as they continued to try to get changed. Nigel, who had been really worrying all through the previous lesson about being noticed was getting more and more embarrassed but managed to brazen it out. If he was honest, he would have admitted that he actually liked the rather strange feeling of knowing that some of the other boys were watching him when he got changed! Miraculously he even managed to pull his white shorts up without getting an erection. Art however, was really struggling to get his threadbare shorts up past his rather plump ass and even Nigel had to grin when he turned to watched him. Three or four other boys were also getting rather excited as they too surreptitiously watched poor Art try to get into the shorts. Maybe not all of them realised the risk, in that once started, there was very little hiding for an engorged member in nothing but thin cotton shorts! Being obviously far too small for him, the shorts were fast becoming stuck. In such a position that his cock, which appeared to be getting slighter larger each time he attempted to force it into them was now flopping over the waistband. Leaning over to Nigel he said quietly, "Help me pull these fuckin' shorts up can you?" "Course," said Nigel, "I'll pull the back and you pull the front and get yer fuckin' cock in!" "One... two... threeee... up!" With a heave and a further tug there was slight ripping sound as the shorts were hoisted up and cut into his ample stomach! The boys who had been watching were giggling in amusement unaware that their own shorts were starting to tent as well! Art's shorts on the other hand were just so incredibly tight that every wrinkle on his cock, the few pubic hairs and his balls were plainly visible to all through the threadbare material. Stitched in was the only description since nothing whatsoever was left to the imagination and dressed as he was it was far more erotic than if he were naked. By now the class had simmered down, they had had a really good laugh and wanted to get in the gym before Mr Peterson came back exploded again. Although it has to be said, some boys were still more than a little excited themselves as the opportunities to have a really good long look at other boy's cocks and some cum stained underpants were pretty far and few between. For many of the boys in the class, who invariably kept their sexual habits very quiet, there was bound to have been some relief to discover that other boys did very much the same sort of thing in secret. Doubtless there would be some comparative nightly activity to relive the scene. "Well." It was Mr Peterson again, "Class, in the gym right now, I am waiting!" Slowly they started to shamble in, looking about as enthusiastic as they were cowed. "Come on then, what's the matter with you all. Anybody would think you didn't like this lesson! Hurry, hurry up! I don't bite!" he roared. "You fuckin' well do!" said Ian under his breath as he followed Nigel out onto the polished floor of the gym. Ian smiled as he looked down at Nigel's ass and thought that he'd been able to have a really good look at both his and Art's cocks earlier. Being something of an addicted wanker himself, he wondered if Nigel wasn't adverse to a bit of a cock play with another boy, Art maybe? They were always together and it was strange they should both have such really spunky pants, what's more neither was surprised at seeing the other at all. His cock twitched and he tried unsuccessfully to will it from getting hard in his thin shorts. "Now gather round." shouted Mr Peterson, "Today we are going to do some good old army exercises followed by some vaulting over horse. You got it? Now get in three equal rows...now." "Yes... Sir." "If we do these fuckin' old army exercises once more I am gonna scream!" said Nigel to Ian as they walked aimlessly around to waste a few more precious seconds. "This bloke is a fuckin' twatt" replied Ian, "I hate him!" "Will you lot get in three lines. I said now." Another order, was he still in the army? Art sauntered up seemingly oblivious that his package was on full display. "He's losing it early today isn't he? Fuckin' twatt fancy fuckin' starting shouting at us this early in the lesson. Must think he's still in the fuckin' army!" Ian looked down at art's shorts and responded a little too quickly with what was really just a passing thought he never intended to be actually uttered. "Yeah and I wish you'd loose those fuckin' silly little shorts Art!" and then realising what he had said added, "Oh...fuck! Art...I was.. just... joking..!" "You dirty bastard!!" said Nigel, "You fuckin' meant it... you want to see his cock!" "No, no I was joking..." said Ian going slightly pink. "Well, I'll tell you wot mate." said Art grinning. Never one to lose an opportunity he looked down at Ian's little tent, "Ah, I see! Now I'll show you mine... if you'll show me yours!" Ian was now bright red, hoist by his own petard as the old expression went. What an offer! It would really be the first time he had ever purposely seen, let alone touched another boys prick, something he had fantasised over many times whilst having his nightly wank. But did he have the courage. The balls even? Blatantly, Art pinched the very bulbous head of his now obviously hardening three inch monster between his thumb and forefinger! Ian's shorts twitched and his embarrassment level went up several degrees as turned he puce! "Don't be shy," said Art, pinching it again, it looked a little fatter, "I know you want to... and I wouldn't mind you if you did... and, you know you want to! Poor fucking Nigel here will do anything for a look at a bit of cock!" Ian looked down, his own cock was now visibly growing, just as Art's was, Nigel very openly just squeezed his own half hard cock. Never had Ian thought that Art or anybody would be so up front. Was it a bluff? "All right Art," he replied trying to sound very matter of fact, despite still being bright red with embarrassment, "uuummhh... where... when?" "Well, here, where else!" said Art boldly. "Yeah, what about down behind the old vaulting box, when they all start lining up to do the do the jump thing?" said Nigel excitedly, "Be dead easy in yer shorts to get yer willies out of the legs, wouldn't it?" "Fine with me." said Art, his shorts now really showing the strain, the three inches was now nearly four and growing! Ian had no choice. He had hoped to put off the bluff and mull it over during his wank that night. Too late now! "Yer, ok." he muttered putting his hand down to cover his rather small protrusion. He was quite small anyway and was worried that his modest four and a bit inches could not compete with what Art had to offer. One thing was sure, neither boy had any chance to compete with Nigel's now very obvious five very thick inches which were bobbing around inside his shorts. Nigel sniggered and Mr Peterson bawled at the top of his voice "Will you lot get in line... or you are all on detention.. DO IT NOW!!!" "Yes ...Sir." Three very untidy row of boys eventually stood before Mr Paterson. As in the time honoured army tradition he stood out at the front of the class and they imitated his actions. "Right, press ups... ten to start with..." In fairness though, he could and would still do it all with the boys! Amid the fictitious groans the boys got down did their very best imitation of press-ups with lots of stifled giggles at how ridiculous it all was, after all they were not in the army! Ten healthy press-ups later Mr Peterson bounced back on his feet and ordered the class to stand. Next it was time to get ready for some good old fashioned toe-touching, ten times on each toe with right hand to left toe and vice versa. It was a pretty mind numbing experience and all that made it worth while was the fact those behind could watch the ass of those in front! Shorts tightened and slackened as rear seams got pulled further into the ass cracks, Nigel rather fancied the look of Richard's tight young ass and was just dreaming of slipping a hand up his shorts when he was distracted by a sort of faint farting sound to his right. It was Art, looking more than a little unhappy. "What's up? Something you eaten?" whispered Nigel trying not to giggle. Ian on Nigel's left side overheard and turned to see what it was. "It's me fucking shorts!" said Art in an alarmed voice. "I reckon they might ripped a bit!" "They look all right." said Nigel. "Can't see anything." added Ian. "Now..." Mr Paterson shouted, "Now swap sides, it's left hand to right toe..." "He's a right fuckin' toe-rag if you ask me." said Art grinning, "Hold on, I'll check." he reached round with his free right hand and felt up the rear seam of the shorts. "Oh fuck me!" he said looking in horror, "The bloody things have split a little bit!" "What can I see yer ass?" chimed in Ian excitedly. "Yeah, if I can see yours!" retorted Art grinning. "Fuckin' wanker!" Ian rolled his eyes, "You wish..." "Bloody right I do... and I fuckin' will in a minute! You wait till we get behind that box thing, I'll have your fuckin' shorts right off!" "Mmmm... and I like a bit bum too!" added Nigel, purposely adding to Ian's distress! What had Ian said now! If only his cock was as big as his mouth! He was a nice enough boy but knew he had a small cock and now somebody wanted to see his ass. Well only his mother had ever seen that and that was when he was much younger. The hole he had dug for himself was getting much deeper! The class, with much huffing and puffing eventually completed the exercise, but there was no respite since Mr Peterson was ready for the next round of torture. "Easy one now, boys...hands on hips and knees bend.. twenty times, lets go... now!" "I'm fucked!" said Nigel. "Twenty times he's fuckin' mental!" "You think you're fucked! Look at poor Raymond!" said Art nodding towards him and forgetting momentarily all about his shorts. Poor Raymond indeed. The boy was so overweight that he was now having great trouble keeping up with the class and resembled a pile quivering of sweaty jelly. The gyroscopic movement of the roll of fat overhanging the waistband of his shorts being particularly impressive. "Fuck!" said Ian. "He's fuckin' gross!" "That's number ten," shouted Mr Paterson, "come on keep up.. halfway now.. ten to go. Hurry up." "Halfway! Thank fuck for that!" said Nigel. A distinct farting noise rang through the gym and everybody giggled and turned to look at Raymond, who true to form looked around in all innocence. "Wasn't me!" he said puffing much to everybody's surprise. A few boys sniffed the air but with that unique school gym smell of sweat, pubescent boys, dirty shorts and fetid plimsolls they weren't sure what it, or who it was. Art knew, his ass suddenly felt very cold and the pressure on his balls had been suddenly released. He looked down afraid of what he might see, but it didn't look very different at all. The shorts looked the same but strangely they seemed to have lost all the tension in the front and his pink tip of cock was now just peeping out beneath the leg of shorts. Very nervously, so Mr Peterson would not see, he put one hand behind his back and started to explore. All he could feel was his own sweaty ass crack! Panic. He reached up and found the waistband still intact with the material of the rear seam still attached at the top but totally ripped apart! Was it that bad? Yes, his heart almost skipped a beat. With a trembling finger he traced his exposed crack down, past his winking bumhole, all the way down, between his legs and around to his wrinkled scrotum. ""Nige.. Nige..." He hissed in panic, "please, please, help me!" "What is mate?" Nigel could sense something was badly wrong, Art looked ashen. Ian looked over as well. Naive, but he meant well, "Can I help too?" Twenty tortuous knee bends later Mr Peterson relented, "Right you in the front row get the mats out in front of the horse and the rest of you move over in the corner and just be quiet" The boys shuffled over towards the wall. Art was sweating and walked backwards to stood with his back to the bricks, "Nige.. please have a look at me shorts... the back..." "Oh fuck me!!" was Nigel's immediate reaction. Ian looked over at Art, "Can I see?" he asked. "You might as well, `cause every other fucker is going to soon enough!" said Art despondently. "Hey," said Nigel, "I reckon if we get Ian here to help us we can keep you pretty well shielded, `cause the front looks fine! So if no bugger sees yer ass and can keep out of the jumping you'll be alright." "You reckon? How the hell am I gonna do that?" said Art, not at all sure it would work. "I can't not fuckin' jump can I?" "Ian what do you think?" "I like your ass! And, and I will show you mine!" he said giggling, "Yeah, course I'll help. But how do we do this then Nige?" "Ian, be fuckin' serious or you can fuck off, 'cause this ain't funny!" said Nigel thinking hard, "What if we sort of keep very close behind him so nobody can see his ass." "I'm sorry, only joking." said Ian a little deflated. "It's all right Ian, he didn't mean it." said Art, "Well anyway I can't think of anything else, can you? So lets have a go, what we got to lose? Only my ass!" "Sorry Ian, this bastard Peterson mustn't find out." said Nigel, "Well come on then lets try it when you gotta move. There ain't nothing to loose is there?" "No, I `spose not." said Art. He thought for a minute. "Look I don't mind me mates in class seeing me ass, so you can tell `em if it will help but, I don't want that fucking bastard Peterson to see it. He'd fuckin' enjoy making me feel like shit." He blinked several times and continued, "D'you know I ain't never forgotten how me made me play football in just me pants last year in front of everybody `cause somebody had stolen me kit. It wasn't my fault. He made me feel a total fucking twatt and everybody laughed and fuckin' laughed for weeks. I hate him, he's a fuckin' bastard!" "It's all right Art, calm down." said Nigel, "I know you hate him, we all do. He's a fuckin' bully and I said at the time you should have bloody told yer Mum about that." "I couldn't." "Right!!! Boys here now!!!" Mr Peterson was shouting again. He looked round the gym as the class gathered in front of him like frightened sheep. "Eight volunteers. Yes! You, you, you, you and you and the four behind them, yes you lot! Come on over here and carry the horse over to the mats by the wall. Now!" Even with two boys to each leg they still struggled to get the heavy vaulting horse over to mats. "Right, form a queue, back here on the yellow line. The horse won't hurt you!" That was his only joke, he said it every time. The boys groaned inwardly. He thought for a second, "And... yes, I need two., yes two volunteers to stand by the horse in case anybody falls." He looked again round the room knowing that the sensible thing was to pick two boys who had little chance or interest in actually jumping over the thing in the first place. Had he any feelings he would have realised that applied to the just about whole of his class. In fact all of his classes! It was something not helped by his bullying attitude nor the fact that he never ever bothered to learn any of the boys names. They were all called "boy". "You boy... there..." he said, pointing his stubby finger at Raymond who appeared to be still recovering from his previous exertions, "and.... you....boy, yes.... you at the back by the wall." "Me?" asked Art shocked a being picked, this was becoming too much, this man seemed to single him out for everything. "Yes, are you deaf? Come on the pair of you get over here. Now!," He looked with disgust at Raymond as he wobbled into view and pointed at him. "You, the fat boy come over to this side by me and you.. the other boy, you go over the other side and stand by the wall. Don't I know you from last year?" "Don't think so... Sir." stuttered Art now absolutely scared stiff of being recognised or being called out to the front. As the horse was parallel with the wall he managed to sidle up to it and keep most of his bare bottom facing the wall well away from Mr Peterson's line of sight. "Oh well, maybe not." he turned to the class and shouted, "Well don't hang about come on and form a queue so you can go one at a time...run down by the wall and over the horse.. land on the mats ... then back up for another go... got it?" Whilst he was bawling away Nigel and Ian worked a diplomatic miracle and whispered to the other boys what had happened to Art's shorts, they pleaded with them not to say anything or laugh in the hope that Art could escape the lesson unscathed. To be fair the boys all had a pretty good idea of what it could be like to be bullied by Mr Peterson and were only too pleased to help Art, who was generally well liked by his classmates. Not least since several of the boys knew he was a total wankaholic! Feeling a little less apprehensive as the minutes ticked by Art watched the boys jump over the horse, in fact he soon started to forget his own predicament when he discovered he was in an ideal position to look up the legs of their shorts as they jumped! Looking up shorts had long been one of his favourite pastimes and now having been able to have good look up several pairs! The blood supply to his cock started to work it's singular magic as he drank in the sight of cocks, small, medium and large. Some circumcised, some with long droopy foreskins and even the odd bum hole winked at him. It was a delightful education! Glancing over to Raymond he wondered if there was anything at all under his ample shorts, from what he had observed fat boys always seemed to have tiny cocks! Luckily Mr Peterson had now moved to the end of the mats to watch the boys landing and his view of Art was now very restricted. Art relaxed further and thought there couldn't be much time left before the end of the lesson. Other than the fact his entire bottom was open to the elements and rude comments, things were looking pretty good as far as any further incidents went before the end of the lesson. The boys who had already vaulted were walking along down by the wall to get in the queue to run again and consequently they all had to pass behind Art to get there. Most just whispered something about having a nice bum and had a crafty peep before going off giggling as they returned to the back of the queue. Most that is, except Nigel who's totally oversexed and very fertile mind was as usual in overdrive. Particularly in the gym where boys in shorts with tents and nicely rounded bums were to be seen! He had been thinking about Art's bum, whilst the two of them were happy to look at each others cocks, bum inspections were still a bit taboo and Nigel saw this as an opportunity to move things on a bit! It never took much to get him going and these thoughts now had own shorts were tenting ominously. His ample, meaty five inches was on the verge of popping out from the leg of this shorts. Standing behind Art he whispered, "Oi.. Art!" Art glanced round and started giggling, "Fuck off before Peterson gets us, we done all right so far!" "But I'm so fuckin' horny mate, I want to stick your ass!" said Nigel gripping his ever hardening cock through his shorts. "Fuck off! Nige fuck off! " Art said again, still giggling "Later, later, not now! Fuck off!" "That a promise?" said Nigel blowing in his ear, still giggling. "Yes!! If we get out of this lesson alive, then yes.. now just fuck off!" said Art. He half turned and caught sight of Nigel's bulging shorts. "For fucks sake Nige.. you're mad! Put it away! Get it down... you're overacting!" "I can't mate, I am so fuckin' horny for your ass...." Nigel said through giggles, "I'm even gonna have to wank on the bus going home! It's all these boys in shorts... and your ass mmmm!" Uncontrollably giggling Art now followed Nigel's lead as the front of what passed for his shorts was slowly moving outwards. "Shit! Nige, you got me with a boner started now... just fuck off a minute!" Nigel winked at him, "All right mate, but just have a length of this, see I'm ready for you!" With that he started firmly pushing the front of his shorts into Art's exposed ass crack! Intending only to do it a couple of times for the laugh he suddenly found his cock had escaped from the leg of his shorts and was now doing it for real ! Before he could stop himself he found his throbbing cock had slid up and down Art's hot ass crack at least a couple of times. With his foreskin was pushed right back the sensitive head was passing over Art's inviting little puckered hole and now leaving smears of precum. The fact that he had cum so profusely earlier made no difference to Nigel. Whatever the circumstances he was always able to cum with a full load, something he had proved to himself at barely fourteen when one night he had wanked five times in an hour! "Holy fuck!" said Art through gritted teeth. "Stop it!" This was very much a new and incredibly sensual feeling, a leaky cock running up and down his crack was indeed an exquisite sensation, He was so stimulated that his own cock instantly burst free from the leg of the tattered shorts and was now jerking in front of him. Grabbing it quickly he tried rather unsuccessfully to hide it from view back in the shorts. It was too late for Nigel. In those few fleeting seconds of lust he had floated way up past cloud nine, losing all self control on the way. His sticky purple cock head was now in control of both his body and his mind. The result inevitable as Nigel's much abused cock jerked uncontrollably for the third time that day. It blasted another heavy load of fresh, hot, sticky, sweet boy cum this time into Art's ass crack. To Art, it was good. Really good! Even something he had dreamed about. Nothing compared to it. Nigel's hot cum mingled with his best friends sweat, his cock glided up and down in the ultimate lubricant whilst it continued to spew out the last of it's precious liquid. Globules were already forming and starting to slither down Art's bum, all to eventually find their way down the back of his legs or hang in long strings down to the floor below. Art was utterly speechless and Nigel had not even been inside! Whatever would that be like! This beat stuffing a skipping rope handle up his ass hands down! Nigel knew what he done a second after the event and was horrified. Grappling to get his dripping cock back inside his shorts all he started to whisper into Art's ear. "Oh fuck...Art.. I am so sorry... oh fuck, what have I done.. ! I... I.. Oh fuck..." Art didn't know whether to laugh or cry, this was one situation he had never imagined. "Nige... I don't fuckin' care ...just fucking wipe it off! Use yer fucking hands... anything fuckin' thing ....just so long as fuckin' Peterson does not find me like this!" Luckily for Nigel the queue of boys going back and forth to the horse had slowed considerably since the boys were all tired out and were just stringing things out till the end of the lesson. Looking down, he saw blobs of his cum were everywhere and with nothing else to use he started to try and collect the gooey stuff with his hands. Sadly for Art, the effect of being stroked by a pair of cummy hands did little to keep his erection down as it now started to rise again! Nigel's own cock had taken the same idea on board and was even now showing it's sticky end from beneath his shorts! "Where you putting the cum?" hissed Art, "It's fuckin' Peterson that frightens me, this washes off in the shower. He fuckin' don't!" "You'll fuckin' need one!" replied Nigel, very relieved that Art did not seen too badly upset with him, "It's all right, I'm wiping me hands on me shorts... they look like yer pants now!" "Cheeky fucker! All right, you dirty sod, just get fuckin' wipe it all off." said Art, sounding a little more like his normal self. Nigel was delighted, he wouldn't know what to do without Art and didn't mind that for the second time that day he now looked and smelt a cum rag. Friendship was the bond and for that he could cope with wet cum patches on his shorts and the red end of his prick on public display as it poked out the leg of his shorts. "Fuck me!!!" Nigel whispered, "It's fucking Peterson, I'm going back in the line." Art stiffened in fear, whereas his cock shrivelled, Mr Peterson had at last done something useful. "Right, back in line you lot." he shouted menacingly. Raymond wobbled his way over to the wall and Art shuffled back over keeping his bare ass hidden by the wall. The cum stains he could live with, it was being singled out again by Mr Peterson for no apparent reason that really had him scared him. Why was it always him that he picked on and why did he always have to shout? The gym wasn't that big and nobody was deaf! The other boys had really done their best to help hide him so for a few giggles and the occasionally bum pinch it was a price worth paying. Sadly though that protection was soon to be removed as Mr Paterson gave the order to stand in line. Art had no escape. The torn shorts had put everything on display at the rear but still looked fairly authentic at a distance from the front. Provided he could keep his cock under control he might get away with it. He cast a glance up the line and saw Nigel looking rather pensive, Nigel smiled nervously back as he was still unsure if he had upset him. Art half smiled and raised his eyebrows. all was well. Nigel was so relieved, it seemed as though Art was still going to be his friend, he desperately hoped so. To lighten matters Nigel indicated with a slight nod of his head to look down at the tent which was still very obvious in the front of his own cummy shorts! Art saw it grinned widely and winked. "Just what is so funny then boy?" shouted Mr Peterson, "You can tell us all the joke... boy. I'm talking to you... what is it, boy?" Art didn't respond. For once he didn't think it was him that was being shouted at. "You boy!!!!!!!! Yes.... I'm talking to you!" Mr Peterson strode over as only an ex-army PE instructor can do. He was now standing only a few feet directly in front of Art. Art felt cold and alone. It was the hand of fear. Mr Peterson looked him up and down "Yes... you boy... with those dreadful shorts on!!" "Me... me...? " stammered Art who had now turned virtually white with fear. His bowels churning. "Where are your proper shorts boy? It's an insult wearing those to my class! They look as though you found them in the ragbag." "Ummmm...." replied Art, pretty well dumbstruck. He couldn't very tell the truth! "Don't Ummmm at me boy! Now what's you name?" With great difficulty Art tried to speak. Opening his mouth but nothing came out. His legs were trembling and he desperately tried to keep them squeezed tightly together in an effort to retain control over his bowels. This man was just a bully and should never have been allowed to become a teacher. "What? I didn't hear you boy?" Mr Peterson was rapidly losing control. Not an ideal trait for a gym teacher. Any teacher come to that. "I said, boy...what's your name... boy?" Mr Peterson shouted at him, right in his face, "Don't you even know your own name... boy?" The class were cowed. Shocked. They all knew Mr Peterson was an obnoxious character but to continually pick on the same poor boy and bully him into submission in front of them was beneath contempt. Soon those boys with a milder disposition were also beginning to shake with fear wondering if they would be next. Some even proved that Art wasn't alone in having to exercise control over his bowels. They looked at Art by now visibly trembling and knowing full well it could have been any one of them that had been picked on. "What's you name boy? You do have one?" Mr Peterson's patience was running out. Bravely, Art struggled to hold back the tears, his mouth was dry and he all but whispered, "It's Art... Sir..." "Speak up boy! Art???" said Mr Peterson sounding confused, "This is a gym class.. not an art class... don't you dare be funny with me boy or...I'll..." "Art... Arthur... Sir... Arthur" croaked Art desperate to be heard, barely audible but as loud as his voice would allow. "What you mean Art... you mean Arthur??" said Peterson, "Arthur, but Arthur what? who are you boy? King Arthur? Your name... boy, your surname name?" He was going to cry any second he knew it. Either that or shit himself with nerves. Maybe or probably both. Tears welled in the corner of his eyes. "It's... it's Arthur... Weldon ...Sir... Weldon...." "Well.... Arthur Weldon..." said Peterson, revelling in his power, "You boy, you are in detention tonight for insubordination." This was bullying on a grotesque scale. Insubordination !!!! Art was lost, it was too much. Mr Peterson stared at him as though he were dirt. Speechless and with tears beginning to roll down his cheeks he managed to hold himself together for another few seconds having no idea what he would do next. Squeezing his buttocks together as hard as he could he managed to retain control over his bowels which felt as though they were going to explode. "You hear me boy?" Art wasn't sure what he was hearing any more. His legs were wobbling and it was all he could do to control his sphincter. Something warm and wet was dribbling down his legs. The tension was broken by a firm, but very, very nervous sounding voice, which called out, "Innsuubboordd ... what... Sir.. what's that...Sir ?" It took a lot of courage but Nigel owed Art. He had just witnessed his best friend wet himself with fear and he just couldn't watch him be subjected to any further degradation, even if it meant deflecting the mans grotesque temper onto himself. "What??? " barked Peterson, "Who's the hell's that?" "Me... Sir... Innsuboordd ... Sir... what is it Sir?" repeated Nigel bravely. Art looked over and barely managed a weak smile through his tears. His left plimsole was now full of pee, he didn't dare look. Nigel, what a mate. "Isn't that what they do in the army Sir... please Sir isn't that right?" This time it was Ian who called out, others immediately grasped the idea and the flow of inane questions soon picked up. "Is that right... it's what they do in the army... Sir? Is it?? " shouted Ben. "Who said that??" Peterson said sternly. "It was me!" shouted Ben again quickly. "But isn't it, Sir?" joined in Raymond gamely. Art was openly crying, but no longer with fear. It was relief. "Please Sir tell us... what is subdoororobby what is it Sir?" shouted Timmy from the corner. "What's the fuckin' army... Sir?" added Richard "Who said that?" "Who said what Sir?" said Harry "Are they all cunts in the fuckin army like you Sir?" shouted Richard with considerable venom. He too had been a victim the previous year. "What!!! Who said that?" "What was it Sir.... I missed that..." shouted Tony. "Go fuck yerself Sir!" "Yeah, fuck off you bullying bastard!" "Who said that!!!" roared Mr Peterson staring wildly around the gym. The barrage of comments and silly questions rapidly grew to a crescendo until just about every boy had joined in with a fair proportion of very choice expletives! It was their release, a chance to vent their anger after all the humiliation. Out the front Peterson tried his usual shouting tactics but this time to no avail. The boy's shouting continued, he couldn't be heard and even if he could the boys now saw him for what he was. A total bully who had lost all respect and control. His authority had been effectively neutered by his own sadistic temper, the boys knew it and worse, now he knew it. The final lesson bell rang, school was over. Mr Peterson's reign of terror was also over. News of his final lesson would spread like wildfire throughout the school. The class did not wait to be dismissed, leaving Mr Peterson still ranting they just went of their own accord back to get changed. Art was sheltered in their midst and treated him like a hero, Nigel had his arm around his shoulder and they were now both crying as they entered the changing room. The tears were more of an emotional release than anything although the afternoon was undoubtedly something of a bonding for both boys. And, one thing the boys now knew was that Mr Peterson would no longer frighten them, he had finally been crushed and now had to be got rid of. The entire class agreed to get their parents to write letters of complaint to the Headmaster about the way he had acted. It was a rather subdued and very tired Art that went home that afternoon on the bus, Simon came and sat next to him. It was quite plain see that he had been crying. Art felt and looked awful, after the early mornings events and the telling off his mother had given him, through to the fiasco with Nigel in the toilet at lunchtime, followed by the absolutely dreadful afternoon in the gym he just wanted to be left in peace to think it all through. Simon quite naturally wanted all the gory details, however Art gave him a very sanitized version of what had happened in the gym with Mr Peterson. Understandably leaving out the more juicy references about Nigel cumming in his bum crack and merely said that the shorts had split only a little and were since binned! He got home that afternoon looking exhausted both mentally and physically. He was delighted that his mother had relented and she even said that she had been a bit over top that morning, but he still had to get himself together. Hugging him she obviously wanted to know the full details of what Simon was excitedly gabbling on about. Art told her much the same as he had told Simon of the episode in the gym and Mr Peterson's bullying. She was fuming and it was all his father could when he returned from work to get her to agree not to drive in and confront Mr Peterson in person the following day. They would most certainly be writing to the Headmaster! Faced with this sort of real trauma to contend with, Art's mother had mellowed somewhat in her hard-line approach to getting her number one son sorted out. He now felt a lot easier about it, though he still knew he had to get himself up together or she would be back on the warpath at a moments notice. So it was a very tired Arthur Weldon that went to bed early at nine o'clock that night. In fact so tired he even resisted having a bedtime wank. That bad! And, with no bedtime wank that meant his sole pair of briefs would remain dry, if not just as uninviting and revolting to wear the next day. Praying that Nigel would remember to bring him some clean pants he quickly drifted off to sleep. As usual his cock in his hand this time accompanied some naughty thoughts about slippery bum cracks. Maybe he should have had that bedtime wank after all! Certainly his little brother Simon was at it, he had been trying to hide his hard cock all night in front the television and for once he seemed only too keen to go up to bed when it was suggested. Once safely in bed, with his cock sticking out of his pyjamas he managed two dry orgasms before falling asleep. Art would have been proud of him! Tomorrow would be another day, Simon would be sure to hear more of what happened in the gym and also what the two spies Joe and David had to report. Plus of course there were the plans to make with Tom and Alex as to finally ensnaring the long suffering Art and Nigel to teach them not to steal other boys underwear! -------------------- Chapter 14 to follow