Date: Mon, 27 Apr 2009 13:32:03 -0700 (PDT) From: Ami Subject: Chapter 21 Brief Encounters 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 21 -- Mid afternoon "I'll see you two later then. I'll about an hour or so, it doesn't take more than ten minutes to walk round to mums. Bye." "Bye Sue, see you later." "Bye Mum." Within two seconds of her leaving the house Frank's beaming smile had changed into a scowl. Staring at Martin he demanded, "What's that I heard about you breaking the zip on your school trousers?" Martin was scared. He knew that voice, he shivered. It had been a few weeks since he last heard that aggressive tone and then Frank had deliberately found fault with him. Evidently in Frank's view the time was now ripe for further discipline, he was using the broken zip as the flimsiest of excuses. and was going to pick an argument regardless. Knowing this was going to be the catalyst irrespective of what he said, Martin gamely decided to try and brazen it out. "It just stuck, I don't know what happened." "It costs a lot on money to keep you in clothes young man. You should be looking after them not deliberately ruining them." "But I didn't." Martin replied indignantly, "The zip just stuck. It's not my fault." "Yes, just like the strap you broke off your school bag, we had to buy a new one of those didn't we? Money is just wasted on you." He could almost feel Frank's eyes boring right though him. "That's unfair, the strap was faulty." Martin tried to edge nearer the door avoiding all possible eye contact. He could see Frank was flexing his hands and knew from bitter experience that any second he was going to make a grab for him. Sadly, he had been here before and knew the routine. "Don't you answer me back. I'm your father now." "No, you're not." said Martin firmly, "My dad was a nice man, not like you!" "What, you cheeky little bastard!" shouted Frank and lunged at him. Martin tried to sidestep but instead banged into the coffee table knocking a table lamp to the ground with a crash. He then tripped over the cable and fell on the floor himself. Trapped. Driven by his vile temper, Frank towered over him and prodded him in the stomach with his shoe. "You little bastard! You did that on purpose.. you broke it. More money wasted! Time you had another lesson... boy." With nothing to lose and now obviously captive Martin bravely replied, "You're not my dad and I'm not your boy. You're just a bully and a fucking pervert!" "A fucking pervert Am I?" repeated Frank. He was rapidly losing it, Martin had never answered back before. "I hate you. That spanking shit you used to do to me, that was `cause you're just a fucking perv..." He never finished the sentence, Frank kicked him hard in the stomach. "Well now, I'll give you the fucking spanking of you life! One that you'll never forget!" Winded, clutching his stomach and close to tears Martin replied, "Fucking pervert! I'm telling mum this time!" "Oh no you fucking won't. Anyway who's she going to believe, you or me?" Frank turned and started to remove his leather belt, "You little shit, you just wait!" Martin cowered, scared stiff. Desperately looking around there seemed to be no avenue of escape. Frank was now holding the belt, doubled over and slapping viciously it on the arm of the sofa as he grinned down at him. "Come on then, big boy, I'll teach you to answer back. Let's bare your little fucking ass!" "You fucking pervert!" screamed Martin clutching at his trousers around his waist. Frank was a strong man and without too much of a struggle he pulled the protesting Martin up by the back of his shirt. Still winded by the kick to his stomach and not being particularly strong Martin was being pulled around like a rag doll. After lifting him to some eighteen inches from the floor Frank suddenly threw him violently back onto the carpet, winding him yet again. Martin's head narrowly missing the fireplace. Virtually spitting out the words, "I'll show you who your father is now!" he landed another vicious kick in the small of Martin's back which again doubled him up with pain. Frank was laughing now, he started to pull the breathless boy up again. "So, this bloody father of your's, was he a total fucking wimp like you then?" Martin saw red. Whatever happened to himself now he couldn't care less, who was Frank to insult his natural father. The only option was right before him on the hearth, through his tears he grabbed the heavy brass poker from the fireplace and swung it with all his strength to land a blow on the only target he could see. The back of Frank's knees. His legs collapsed instantly and he fell heavily on top of Martin writhing in agony and swearing at Martin. Driven by anger over the insult to his dead father and ignoring the pain in his back Martin somehow found the strength to pull himself from under Frank and his flaying limbs. Still holding the poker he scrabbled shakily to his feet, it was now his turn to stand over Frank who was clutching his legs in great pain and obviously quite unable to stand up. "You've smashed my fucking knee!" screamed Frank in agony. Totally out of character Martin now sought to extract his revenge for all the accumulated beatings he had suffered from the man. It was going to be an eye for an eye. "Fuck your legs! And fuck you too!" More concerned with his knees than anything else Frank didn't see Martin raise the poker. He certainly felt it when the heavy, bulbous brass handle scythed through the air and buried itself a sickening thud buried deep in Franks groin. For Martin that was it. The room, his home was a shambles, Martin didn't care as he knew that Frank would never again bother him. Standing for a few seconds he looked down without a shred of pity at the man, now huddled up in ball, white with pain and screaming in agony as he clawed his groin. This was the man who had made the probably best part of his boyhood sheer hell for the last few years. As a final gesture of defiance he kicked Frank hard in the back and with tears starting to stream down his face he ran out the house and down the street not really knowing where or what he was going to do. Saturday, late afternoon. With a subtle hint from Ted, Art had been left to his own devices by his mother who was genuinely pleased that he might actually be getting himself together. True to his word Art had been busy in his room for the greater part of the afternoon! Bravely he had tackled the huge pile of smelly, dirty clothes even to the extent of putting them on to wash without parental assistance. Well, even if that was only to save himself any further embarrassment. He had not yet solved the riddle of his missing underpants but had rather reconciled himself to the fact it must have been his mother who had taken them. The next problem was whether to broach the subject with her, or to let her raise then subject with him. Whatever, he couldn't cope with everything that afternoon and he just wanted to sort out his fetid bedding before getting his mother in to see the progress. He had just reached the stage where the cum stained sheets were heaped on the floor and had removed the under blanket from the mattress only to reveal a large stain from when he used to regularly hump the bed at fourteen! It was at this juncture that his father reappeared to see how progress was going. "Looking good, Art." he said looking around, "And it'll smell a lot better without all those filthy clothes about won't it?" "Yer." Art nodded. He was really very pleased with himself. "So, what's next then?" Ted looked around, "Oh, the bed is it?" "Yer, I was ummm... just doing the bed..." replied Art cautiously, hoping the enormous stain wouldn't be noticed. He tried to move in front of it to hide it. His father was already grinning. "What is it dad?" Art said as innocently as he could. It was too late and he knew it. "Have I missed a joke or something?" "No, be very difficult to miss that.." Ted nodded towards the mattress. "Maybe best if mummy doesn't see it, what d'you think?" "Dad!" Yet again he hid his red face in his hands and then started giggling. Ted went over and looked. The stain really was enormous and obviously the product of many a happy hump! "Art! You really are a dirty little bugger!" he said in mock shock. To late, Art despite his blushes was now giggling uncontrollably and was soon joined by his father. "Art, I can't believe you can produce all this... quick, give me a hand let's turn the damn thing over before mummy comes in" They moved to the side of the bed and were about to lift the offending mattress when Simon burst in having heard all the laughter in his room next door. "Wot you all laughing about then?" he asked. Then looked around in surprise at the almost tidy room. "Nothing!" replied Art still giggling. "Well wot you doing then, why you laughing?" Simon was grinning now, the laughter was infectious, "Go on, wot is it?" "It's really nothing Simon, just something that came over Art," Ted couldn't resist it! That did it, Art dissolved into laughter. Ted trying not to laugh said, "Well, we were... just going to turn the mattress over." By now Art was laughing so much that had to sit on mattress which served to draw Simon's attention even more. "Hey, I know!" said Simon noticing and pointing at the stain, "Your laughing `cause look, he's wet the bed hasn't he!" "Uummmm.. no!" said the bright red Art. "Oh no! It's..." The penny dropped from a great height. Simon went bright red and rushed out of the room! Ted was now laughing as well, he turned to Art and asked quietly, "Hey, do you know... is he ummmm.. well, is he... ummm...at it as well?" "Not quite or the place would be flooded!" replied Art who then collapsed on the bed in laughter. The ridiculous situation was not lost on Ted! Finally they turned the mattress and Ted said "Y'know Art, this was going to be my quiet day! Now I'd better go in and have a word with Simon! Listen, you make the bed and finish up for today and then get mum to have a look. Right?" Still giggling Art nodded as Ted went out and knocked on Simon's bedroom door. "You OK, Simon?" "Yer, dad... fine. You can come in, it's all right...I'm not uummm... doin' anything.. you know!" "Oh thank God for that!" said Ted still grinning. "I'm sorry... it's been one of those days!" At that point Simon realised that he had innocently said the wrong thing. Ted was now grinning and Simon looked a little flushed. "Come here a minute," said Ted sitting on the edge of the bed, he beckoned with his finger and patted the bed, Simon came over and sat next to him. "Wot dad? Have I done something wrong?" "Not that I know of! Why you going to admit to something!" "No! Would I?" he grinned back, "Wot is it then dad?" "You see," began Ted, "I seem to have my free afternoon used up by these two boys who have been having some very obvious growing pains... and well maybe now and again they both need a little bit of advice." "Wot?" asked Simon cautiously, this sounded ominous, "Wot's growing pains, wot they? Wot d'you mean?" Ted grinned, he put his arm around Simon's shoulders, "I think we have just both seen the results of your brothers growing pains haven't we!" If took a few seconds before Simon realised what Ted was referring to and then he blushed. "Oh, you mean... oh, no the..." he drew a breath and purposely looked down at the floor, "the... mattress!" Pink was now turning to red. "Yes. So we both know what I'm talking about then?" said Ted making a point of looking him in the face. Simon nodded slowly. He quickly looked back at the floor but was getting visibly more embarrassed as the seconds ticked by. "Now this may amaze you Simon, but once upon a time even I was your age so," Ted purposely bent round and caught his eye, "and I had those ummmm growing pains as well." "Wot? Wot, you mean... oh... not you!" Simon was confused, was his very own father trying to tell him he had been little wanker as well! "Yes, you know what I mean, don't you?" "Yer, I think! You... ummm " Simon grinned but was now very red. He couldn't believe this, what other dad would ever admit to something like this to is son. Ted grinned back. "So all I really wanted to say was that if you ever need any advice or anything connected with these funny growing pains you must never, ever be afraid to ask me. I would never laugh at you or say anything to anybody, would you promise me that?" "Yer, dad." he nodded. "it's ummm.. tricky isn't it?" Ted nodded, then hugged him. "Yes it is. It's about growing up you see. Now Simon, am I right in guessing that your growing pains are not quite as... ummm.. advanced as Art's and you are still ummm.. shall I say, practicing!" Simon looked mortified, he couldn't admit to this or anything like it! His jaw nearly dropped. "What I'm trying to say Simon, is do I need explain the mechanics of these growing pains to you? Is there anything you want to know?" That did it. Simon was rapidly now going from red crimson, short of saying he could only manage dry orgasms, he shook his head vigorously. "No. No. Dad, no I'm alright, uuummm I, know a bit about it.." "Really, are you able to talk to your mates at school? Simon, I know this is a bit embarrassing for both of us, but it's part of growing up. I'd rather you knew about these things properly and I'll tell you anything you want to know.." Embarrassed wasn't the word but Simon managed to look him in the eye and mumbled. "Dad, thanks. I know wot you mean and I do... I do ummm and I do.. have a couple of school mates who.. ummm you know... can...uumm do..." "You don't have to say any more." Ted kissed him on the top of his head, got up and winked as he went out the room. "That's fine, all I want to know." Still very red in the face Simon smiled back. "Dad... thanks for... trying... ummm you know!" Simon desperately hoped that maybe practice would soon be over. At about that very same time Martin was still wandering aimlessly around. He had ended up in the high street to be near other people. As yet he had not, nor could not bring himself to even consider what to do next. mentally and physically exhausted he eventually sat on a bench and just stared blankly for several minutes at the shoppers milling around. "Got you!" A strong hand squeezed his shoulder, Martin immediately spun round with his fists clenched ready to ward off any attacker. "Fuckin' hell mate, don't hit me! It's only me!" "Oh shit! sorry." It was Nigel, he quickly realised that all was not well. He walked around and sat down by him. "Martin, you look fuckin' awful! You alright, what's wrong?" "No! I'm fuckin' not!" Somehow, it just seemed the expected reply. At which point Martin firmly grabbed hold of Nigel's arm and then burst into tears without letting go. Not being particularly emotional himself Nigel was rather unsure what to do and wisely let matters take their course. Despite a few strange looks from passers by, within a few minutes Martin had calmed down sufficiently to start to explain what had happened and the history that had led up to it. Very concerned but quite out of his depth, Nigel concluded after hearing most of Martin's rather garbled story that he really ought to take him home and let his mother decide what to do. An adult was good at times like this. He didn't live very far from the high street and within some ten minutes they arrived at his house. Luckily his annoying little brother Davey was out at a friends house and his mother was in a very receptive mood. Martin was made to slowly, albeit tearfully and painfully repeat all he had told Nigel earlier, this time it made a lot more sense to Nigel. His mother then suggested that maybe it might be best if she were to telephone Martin's home and speak only to his mother, assuming that she was there as they presumed she would very worried about what had happened to Martin. Indeed she was. Having returned from visiting her own mother's to find the house a mess and Frank barely hobbling about and constantly shouting expletives as to what he would do if he ever caught Martin again she was understandably quite distressed. That was further compounded when she realised that Martin was now missing. He had now either run, or been driven away from his own home. However, it was Frank's phrase `caught Martin again' that was resonating around her head. Caught again? That implied there really were previous occasions? Why ever hadn't she believed her own son, the feeling of guilt made worse knowing that he had even warned her less than two hours earlier. Thus fueled by her concern for Martin it wasn't long before she became embroiled in a bitter row with Frank and demanding to know why he had `been caught' in the first place. Martin's complaints about Frank's violence came flooding back to her, which she in turn put forcefully to Frank. Once he was accused it didn't take long for his anger to violently erupt and inevitably the truth that he had been abusing the boy became blatantly clear. It revealed a side of the man she never dreamt existed. With tempers and voices rising by now both he and the neighbours were under no illusion as to what he had done and that he was under threat of being reported to the police. The vilifications and accusations continued until Susan, virtually incandescent with anger quite literally threw him unceremoniously out of the house, telling him never to return and slamming the front door behind him. Much to the consternation of the immediate neighbours who were safely watching from behind the inevitable net curtains he dragged himself slowly into the car. Barely able to bend his left knee and suffering excruciating stabs of pain from his crushed testicles he pulled himself into the driving seat. With considerable effort he eventually managed to drive, albeit very unsteadily away, intent on getting to the local hospital whilst he was still just about able. Slowly the net curtains dropped back, no doubt the tongues would soon be wagging after such dreadfully graphic happenings in the depths of suburbia! Realising what Martin's mother must be going through over her missing son it didn't take Mary, who was Nigel's mother, very long to telephone. She was relieved that it was Susan that answered the telephone and after briefly explaining what Martin had been through and that he was quite all right she offered to drive him over. Nigel came for the ride and the two boys sat in the back, Nigel put his hand on top of Martin's knee, he looked at him. "Be all right mate. You've done it, the worst is over." Martin nodded, desperately wanting his mother. This was one day he would never forget and in particular the genuine and supportive friendship shown by Nigel. He didn't know what to say and although managing a smile he was still very close to tears. A couple of minutes later Nigel leaned over and grinning whispered in his ear. "Hey, you know the other day in the bog?" Martin nodded, he started to grin. He had to, Nigel was incorrigible. "Well, I'm `sposed to go round to see Art tomorrow afternoon, then we might go down to our little shed! D'you wanna come?" "Wot, d'you mean?" answered Martin very quietly, "Wot me? Come as well?" "If you want, might cheer you up after all this!" This was surreal. There they were in the middle of this dreadful affair, his family split up and yet here was Nigel totally preoccupied as ever with sex and inviting him to meet in some garden shed! Martin smiled, in fact he nearly laughed. "Is it that funny then?" asked Nigel. "It's funny but, it's also.." he blinked, "it's also, very, so very nice. I'd love to come." "God, you are so well spoken!" said Nigel laughing. "Fuck off!" mouthed Martin "Hey." Nigel lent over and whispered, "Good. Then come round to my house about three o'clock tomorrow." Martin nodded, tears were very much in evidence. "But, I might not uummmm, do anything after today, but, but I'd still love to come." "Understood!" said Nigel, he winked then said laughing, "Hey, mum, hurry up he's crying again!" The sharp poke in the ribs shut him up" Nigel turned to Martin, "See you're getting better now!" "Nigel, now stop it. Don't upset him!" it was Nigel's mother in a very firm voice. "Yes mum." said Nigel, "But look I got him smiling again!" "That's not difficult with you about! Is it?" She said looking in the mirror at them. Martin was indeed smiling, "I'm all right Mrs Blake, don't worry, I'm used to him!" "So am I!" she said, "Now, Martin, we're nearly there, now think, d'you want me to come in the house with you?" He didn't have to think very long, it was the moment of truth and his house was in the distance. His smile had deserted him again and his voice was faltering. "Please. Yes please, please, Mrs Blake." "Fine, be there in a minute. Now don't worry, your mum can't wait to see you." "Nige, will you come in as well... please? I not sure what's gonna happen." Gingerly he put his hand on Nigel's leg. Nigel smiled and nodded. He wasn't sure either, this was all unknown territory to him. Before the car had even come to a complete stop outside the house Martin's mother had rushed out and pulled the rear door open. Martin hesitated, then got out the car unsure what to expect or even really knowing what had happened since he had left. He had nothing to worry about as his mother did nothing except clasp him to her and burst into tears, within seconds he was also crying and they moved slowly down the pathway into the house. The house was tidy again, the broken lamp being the only real casualty. Martin flinched when looked around and saw the poker back in the hearth, he didn't say anything to his mother although doubtless he would have to recount it all again when they were alone. The two women seemed to hit it right off, soon drifting off to the kitchen to prepare the inevitable pot tea and try to make sense of it all. Susan eventually admitted to Mary that she had been unhappy for some time and that not long after the marriage she had sensed that Frank was not the same man she had first met. It had come out in their argument that Frank had been equally abused by his father, had she known earlier she might have tried to understand his actions but it was too late now and he appeared to have become an overbearing bully. However, what really saddened her was the fact that he had been abusing Martin for so long and she had believed him and not her own son. Nigel was unsure of quite what to do, he could see Martin was a little edgy and probably wanted to be with his mother, so to pass a few minutes he suggested that it might be good to see Martin's room. Unlike his or most other boys bedrooms, which were based on Art's total chaos theorem, Martin's room was typically Martin in that it was the epitome of neat and tidy. "Cor, bloody hell!" Nigel was amazed, "D'you keep it like this all the time?" Martin grinned, "Yeah, I like it tidy." "Shit, my rooms a mess!" He looked around, even the books were lined up on the shelf in the order of height. "You little bugger!" Martin laughed, "You are funny!" "Yer, but I'll bet you that..." said Nigel with a certain glint in his eye. "Wot?" said Martin intrigued. Before Martin could say anything else Nigel had dived down on the floor and gone under the bed only to emerge tens seconds later clutching his prize! "This...!" Nigel waving what looked like an old vest at Martin, "Shit and it's still damp... you dirty little fucker!" Well this had certainly taken Martin's mind off his stepfather. At first he turned away with embarrassment and then dissolved into a fit of the giggles and tried to grab it back. Too late, with Nigel giggling as well he was carefully inspecting it! "Bloody hell, Mart how many loads you put in here!" he sniffed it, "Cor that's nice! I could almost add one me self, right now!" "Any other time, do! But maybe not right now?" said Martin. "Sorry Mart, I forgot. It was just a laugh, bet you'd never guess but I keeps one like this under my bed as well!" He handed it back to Martin, he grinned and threw it back under his bed. "I'd never have guessed!" "Tell you what, but don't tell him I told you, but Art used to have a few pairs of pants under his bed and he'd use 'em all in turn!" Martin looked amazed, "So I'm not such a dirty sod then?" "Gawd no. I reckon every boy keeps something somewhere don't they?" Nigel thought, "Otherwise just think of all them stiff pyjamas and sheets and that, yer mum would soon guess wouldn't she! Mine did!" Martin laughed. Nigel moved over and put his hand on his shoulder, "Hey, it'll be alright... I mean... you know, yer mum and that... I reckon it'll be a bit odd for a bit, but you'll soon be back to normal." That did it, yet again. Martin's eyes filled up again. He sniffed, "Nige, y'know I couldn't have got through this if I hadn't met you at the shops." And now, at last it was Nigel's turn to look away. He rubbed his eyes. "Yer, right!" ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chap 22 to follow