Date: Wed, 06 Apr 2011 22:36:11 +0100
From: tom <amias09@fastmail.fm>
Subject: Brief Encounters Chap 72

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

*******************************************************************************

Chapter 72 --  Identical story, identical buses

"Thought you'd get here sooner or later." said Art sliding closer towards
the window making room for Simon to sit down. "Can't bloody resist it now
can you?"

"Yer. No, I mean no!"

Simon glanced furtively down towards Art's lap, for once the bag was on the
floor. What Simon assumed and hoped would be the inevitable lump in his
trousers must be concealed under the maroon blazer.

"You seem to have made an habit of sitting by me now. Wonder why?" Art
returned the compliment and pointedly looked at Simon's lap. "You never
used to, is that only now 'cause you've finally discovered wot wankin' is
and wot's in me pants?"

"Uumm.." Simon's face finally broke into a grin. "Yer, I `spose it is."

"So wot did mum say about the mess in yer pants, after the last time on the
bus then?" Art hoped it sounded a casual question, but had no reason to ask
other than to wind up Simon as an act of brotherly love!

"Wot... wot! Why? Has she said something then?" asked Simon anxiously and
sitting bolt upright in the seat.

"Well, I did see her looking through the laundry basket," replied Art,
pausing to casually pick at the next yellow pustule awaiting decapitation
amongst the bumfluff on his chin, "but I ain't sure, still she looked like
she was sniffing at yer dirty pants!"

"She wot..." Simon turned pale. White in fact. Possibly a whiter shade of
pale. Definitely whiter than Art's underpants had ever been.

"She said.." Art tried to look and sound as serious as he could. "She said
that.."

"She said wot? Wot?" interrupted Simon clutched nervously at his bag.

"She said.." Art paused, "said to make sure you wanked in yer pants again
today `cause she likes to lick 'em as well!"

With that Art burst into laughter and made a grab for Simon's shorts before
he realised that he had been set up.

"You.. you.. basta..." exclaimed Simon angrily trying to pull his hands
away.

"Quietly! Quietly!" said Art slowly releasing his grip. "Don't tell the
whole bloody bus!"

"You bloody.. fucker!" hissed Simon in his ear and poked him in the ribs.

"Oh shut up!" Art smiled, it was that look.  Simon was immediately
hooked. "Now, get yer hand under me blazer `cause I got a real treat for
you today."

There was no question of resisting the irresistible. Simon moved so close
he could feel the heat from Art's body on the bare top part of his
legs. Looking round to see who else was on board slipped his hand slowly
under the corner of the blazer.

"Hard innit?" Art grinned as Simon's hand pushed down on top of his
fly. "You'll getting hard as well then?"

Nodding and obviously thinking of little else Simon grinned inanely back
whilst his fingers started to knead Art's erection through the trousers,
just in fact as Art's nimble fingers were pulling on the zip in Simon's
shorts.

"Go on then, you unzip it, I just undone your's." whispered Art slowly
pushing his arm behind Simon's back aiming for the top of his shorts.

"Hey, wot you doing? Thought you was after me zip." said Simon still
groping for the zip on Art's trousers. "Why's yer trousers a bit damp!"

"Nah, they ain't. I `spect yer hands is sweaty with excitement." Art smiled
again. "And uummm... I thought I'd rub yer back instead of yer willy for a
change."

"Oh all right." replied Simon not really listening.

Being far more intrigued by the thought of what could possibly surprise him
once inside Art's trousers and oblivious to Art's sudden desire to explore
his crack Simon didn't think to question why he should be having a back rub
instead of a cock rub and continued to wrestle with the zip. Always a
harder thing to achieve when the owner with the incumbent erection was
sitting down!

"Bloody got it."

Simon quickly looked up to check it was all clear before starting to ease
it down. Art smiled as he felt the tension of the fly ease and waited
expectantly for Simon's hand to enter.

"Bloody hell, you've cum already!" exclaimed Simon immediately his hand
pushed through the fly to encounter the hot, fetid, sticky mess inside
Art's school trousers. Leaning over he excitedly whispered into Art's ear.

"That the surprise then? That you've cum? When... hey, it must have been in
class!"

"I know, good innit! End of the last lesson!" said Art proudly, holding
onto Simon's wrist preventing him from withdrawing. "It's all warm and
slippery innit? Wank me off again. Now, please, I wanna cum again!"

"But you only just cum!" Simon took a deep breath and looked behind yet
again.

Art nodded and leaned over to whisper. "You do it now and I'll do something
nice to you while you do it. Deal?"

It took Simon all of a second to decide that he couldn't possibly resist
and almost immediately he grasped the waiting shaft. Very little effort was
required and friction wasn't a problem as the inside of the Art's
underpants were thoroughly infused with a generous squirtation of warm,
thick, slippery spunk.

Despite not going to the shed as planned, Art was delighted the way the
afternoon had unfolded particularly with the Simon's very enthusiastic
response. Once again they were both aboard the sexual rollercoaster with
destination unknown and Art in the driving seat. He had only got as far as
planning the first stop which was to get his hand down the back of his
younger brothers school shorts, from then on it was going to be a mystery
tour but hopefully involving the negotiation of some anal tunnels.

"Wot you doing with me shorts?" asked Simon partially turning, being more
than preoccupied with the task in hand.

"Just checking!" replied Art struggling to pull the tail of Simon's white
shirt from his shorts. "You getting fat or something?"

"No, daft you bugger." replied Simon without even bothering to look
up. "It's me old shorts innit, you broke the fuckin' zip on me others
didn't you?"

"Oh, `spose I did." grunted Art now pausing to see the white elastic of
Simon's briefs standing proud above the grey of the shorts. Feeling Simon's
smooth skin under his hand he started to push his hand down, sandwiching it
between the shorts and the briefs.

"You ought to wear a little white vest." cooed Art.

"No, I fucking don't, them's for little kids. Anyway wot you doing, it's
going all tight round me middle?" Simon stopped rubbing and managed without
releasing Art's cock to finally turn to try to see what was happening.

"Nothing. You can't see behind yer own back can you? Now get fuckin'
rubbing!" replied Art having managed to get the most of his hand inside
below the waistband.

"Bollocks!" Simon grinned.

Turning back he glanced under the corner of the blazer to see the state of
Art's grey trousers, now in a very sorry condition with dark wet patches
where the spunk had been absorbed from the wet briefs beneath. Being honest
with himself, Simon could see that Art was going to be faced with yet
another disastrous altercation with their mother unless he stopped. In view
of his own recent experience, the dilemma was now very real for Simon and
he had to decide whether to warn Art or to continue and enjoy himself.

"Art, I don't think this is such a good idea." said Simon stopping rubbing
and looking behind them, "Hey, the bus is empty, they all got off."

"Wot? Why?" Art turned to see for himself and resumed peering down the back
of Simon's shorts. "Great! Now wot's mean, to stop wot? Wanking? Fuckin'
get on with it, I ain't far off cumming!"

"I knows that, it's been leaking all over me hand!"

"Well fuckin' hurry up then!"

"Art, just fuckin' listen. Mum's gonna murder you when she sees the state
of yer trousers," Simon nudged him, "just fuckin' look at 'em they's all
covered in cum already. You do it again in 'em and it's gonna be fuckin'
everywhere!"

Art peered round from behind Simon's back and looked down. Simon still had
his hand inside, but was quite right. The front of the trousers were
beginning to show stains of both fresh and dried semen, the larger stains
and had a reflective quality.

"Fuck! I `spose yer right." Art said rather unhappily. "Well let me just
finish you then, just hold me cock. Don't rub it!"

"I'll finish it later in yer bedroom if you wants." whispered Simon
hopefully. Strangely his nerve for mutual masturbation on the bus beginning
to fail him, however he felt very pleased with himself, knowing he had done
the right thing and probably avoided Art's immediate execution or at least
any further internecine strife.

"Yer all right and I knows yer right. Now just hold on." Art grinned and
without any warning rammed his hand down the back of Simon's shorts with
all his strength.

"Fuck, these shorts is tight!"

Ping!

The hooked part of the clasp attached to a couple of cotton threads of flew
past them to bounce off the back of the seat in front to land somewhere
amongst the discarded tickets and cigarette butts on the floor. Having
relieved the stress on the waistband Art's hand immediately plunged into
the depths of the shorts pulling at the white briefs as it did so.

"Fff...uck!" uttered Simon. "Wot you done?"

"Ssshhhuut...uupp!" replied Art, the rollercoaster dangerously running out
of control.

"Uumm.." there was no time for Simon to reply.

Still feeling as though he might cum Art had already started to vigorously
poke at Simon's bumhole even though his hand was separated from it by the
thickness of the briefs. Once having found his goal he started to
energetically push his finger up resulting in startling Simon so much that
he momentarily lifted himself right off the seat in surprise. Unfortunately
for Art, he had forgotten that Simon was be still holding onto his cock,
meaning that as he jumped up in the seat he tried to take it with him! It
being gripped so tightly only to be then pulled firmly through Simon's
slippery fingers was all it took for Art to start cumming.

For Simon enjoying the sensations with his eyes closed it seemed the events
were being driven by a sexual momentum all of their own and failed to
recognise the familiar signs that Art's rollercoaster ride was headed
inextricably towards the buffers. His hand, forceably pulled out from Art's
fly had left a glistening trail of spunk over both their uniforms and that
on leaping up from the seat his shorts had quickly dropped down to his
knees. Added to that, since Art had rearranged his underpants with his
finger Simon was unaware that his erect cock was now poking out from the
elastic on the left hand side. If the discovery of all that on a public bus
wasn't bad enough, it was to be crowned by the realisation that in the
sweaty excitement Art's roving finger had pushed itself right though the
cotton briefs and was firmly embedded in his bumhole right up to the
knuckle!

"Aaawwwh..." grunted Art as his body began to shake uncontrollably in the
build up to his second dramatic climax of the hour. Occasionally appearing
to fire a blank his much abused cock managed to jerk and splatter it's
second load of cum inside his briefs. Inevitably the natural reaction was
to wiggle his finger even deeper inside Simon whilst pressing down on the
heaving lump in his trousers with his other hand. This was schoolboy
heaven, of a sort!

"Bleeding hell Art! D'you always do this on the bus with the little boys?
I'll fuckin' well have him after you!"

Art in the dying throes of his orgasm let the words simply float over him
thinking it was all part of his latest fantasy.

For Simon who had been kept from the realms of total fantasy by the
violent, but nevertheless very enjoyable proddings of his brothers finger
the words just didn't seem real. Desperately hoping he had just imagined
the voice he very cautiously opened his eyes and squinted into the
sunlight, still unwilling to believe what he imagined he had just heard. He
hadn't imagined anything, he really had heard the voice. Through partly
closed eyelids he could see there was somebody standing there, silhouetted
by the sunlight streaming in through the dirty windows. Inwardly he began
to quake. It was a dreadful feeling, just as Nigel had discovered within
the very same few minutes on the other bus. Both boys had so wrongly
concluded that being caught wasn't even an option, it just couldn't
happen. But it just had. No, no he kept telling himself, he couldn't be
caught. But again, just like Nigel he had.

Simon closed his eyes as tightly as he could. And what would happen now
they had been caught? And by whom? Would their parents find out? Would the
school find out? What about the police! Would the police be called! Suppose
the conductor came up. Suppose it was the conductor!

Frozen, unable to do anything other than slowly breathe, Simon sat there
with his shorts around his ankles, his white briefs and shirt contrasting
with the maroon of his blazer. He could sense whoever it was, was standing
directly in the aisle to his right side. Feeling as though his stomach were
in orbit he honestly didn't know whether he was going to crap himself or be
sick. Initially he did neither, only to be abruptly overwhelmed by the very
same physical release as had had so embarrassed Tom only days earlier.
Utterly refusing to open his eyes he felt himself begin to urinate, a hot
stream of pale urine sprouted from his semi-erect cock and arced gracefully
in the air to fall more or less into Art's open fly.


Having been thrown off very unceremoniously the bus, Nigel and Martin were
sitting on a low wall feeling very sorry for themselves and pondering their
best course of action. For Nigel, the threat of parents, school and police
had completely floored him, never had he been more worried.

"Come Nige, we can't stay here." Martin looked at his watch and hesitantly
put a hand on Nigel's knee.

"Wot? Where we fuckin' going then?" Nigel's voice was almost cracking. This
wasn't the strong, unphased Nigel that Martin knew. "I can't fuckin' go
home like this. She'll fuckin' kill me! Why did I fuckin' do it, I can't
stop fuckin' doing it."

"Nige, come on.. you can't stay on this bloody wall either can you!" Martin
looked at his watch again. "Today me mum's not back from work till half
five, we got time for you to come back and get cleaned up a bit."

"Where the fuck are we anyway?" asked Nigel looking around but not
recognising the road.

"Hey, ain't that part of the song about the wherethefuckarewe tribe?"
Martin nudged him gently.

"Wot, the one with the winkywanky bird?" Nigel managed a very weak
grin. "Yer right, we gotta get cleaned up."

"We're about ten minutes walk from me house, come on." Martin stood up. "Is
your mum gonna worry that you ain't back on time?"

"No." Nigel stood slowly up, afraid to see himself and knowing that the
state of his trousers was to be something to behold. "Well, not less I'm
over an hour late, `cause she knows I often go see somebody or miss the bus
or something."

"We'd better make a start then, come on." Martin nodded towards his cum
stained trousers. "You'd better hold that bag in front as well."

"I `spose."

Martin turned and bent over to pick up his own school bag. The sight of a
boy bending over was something Nigel just couldn't resist looking at no
matter what the circumstances. This being no exception he was rewarded by
the sight of Martin's grey trousers tightening around his buttocks to
perfectly highlight the outline of his underpants. All too soon Martin
straightened up and the maroon blazer blocked the view, but not before
Nigel felt yet another stirring in his cum soaked trousers.

Martin led the way and they walked slowly along the pavement. Despite what
Nigel had just been through he could feel his cock hardening again behind
the bag, glancing at Martin's taut trousers he knew why. Deep in though
they carried on until Nigel ground to a halt a hundred yards down the road
and leant against the wall.

"Mart, how am I gonna get out of this with me mum? I can't go home like
this." he looked dejectedly down at this uniform. "I'm a fuckin' mess, we
both knows it."

"Yer fuckin' right there!" Martin who had been quietly wrestling with his
own problem tried to smile, walked back the couple of paces to stand beside
him. "Wot we gonna do then?"

"Dunno."

"Nige.. I wanna.."

"Wot?" interrupted Nigel expectantly.

"I really wanted you.. to.. you know.."

"Oh fuck!" closing his eyes Nigel took a deep breath. "Wot you as well?"

"Yeah, badly." Martin looked at the ground, the fact his hand was deep in
his pocket didn't go unnoticed. "Been thinking about it all night and all
day!"

"You dirty little fucker, so've I!" Nigel dropped his bag to expose the wet
cum stains on his trousers and a very prominent bulge. "D'you see wot I
mean?"

"Wow!" Martin blinked and swallowed hard. "You mean that.. that is because
of me?"

"Thinking about you, watching yer ass walking! Yeah to fuckin' true it
is. But anyway," Nigel paused and tried to smile, "we'd probably stick
together if we tried anything right now!"

"But Nige, be honest we can't think of much till we've found a way out of
this fuckin' mess." Martin took a deep breath. "Oh shit, please don't tempt
me!"

"No, yer right. Besides me pants have stuck to me!" Very slowly Nigel was
returning to his old self. He smiled. "My turn, so fuckin' come on clever
clogs which way now?"

"Down here, follow me."

They continued in their dreams for another couple of hundred yards down the
road, this time it was Martin who stopped and turned.

"Hey, I think I've gotta an idea, you got any money?"

"Wot!" Nigel appeared to immediately brighten up, he stopped. "Money why?
Wot's the plan then?"

"Have you got any fuckin' money?"

"I think I got a couple of bob, it's me bus money till the end of the
week. Why?"

"I reckon that's enough so with wot I got I think we're all right. Wot we
gotta do now is buy a bottle of Tizer!" Martin grinned.

"Fuckin' Tizer? That red shit! Wot the fuck d'you want fuckin' Tizer for?
It's fuckin' horrible stuff!" exclaimed Nigel looking at Martin as though
he were mad.

"Well hang on, first I gotta look at yer trousers." replied Martin grinning
and gently pushing Nigel's bag to one side to expose the tenting fly.

"Yeah it's still fuckin' up if that's wot you really wanna know," Nigel
smiled, "it's waiting for you! First wot's all this shit about Tizer?"

"Just think," said Martin barely able to keep his hands off it, "if say,
some daft fucker shook up a bottle of Tizer and sprayed it over these
spunky trousers by accident like, then would you still see all this mess?"

"No! You clever little fucker!" Nigel grinned from ear to ear. "So all I
gotta tell me mum is some fuckin' twot was messing about on the bus with a
bottle of fuckin' Tizer and I got caught!"

"Right. Then get yer clothes in soak before she see's `em properly and go
have a quickie in the bath!"

"Fuck! Yer brilliant!"

Nigel glanced around, without warning any warning grabbing Martin and
pulling him into his chest forcing his sticky trousers onto the equally
obvious bulge in Martin's trousers.

"Oh fuck! I'm sorry Mart.. I didn't mean to.. to.. but.."

"You fuckin' did anyway!" Martin grinned. "I hope your still coming home?
If we're quick we can get the Tizer on the way and I can spray it over
you."

"And you'd spray the Tizer after then?"


"Bleeding hell! Wot the fuck's happening!"

Never having awoke before to discover he was being used a urinal, Art sat
bolt upright. His trousers already saturated had turned a darker shade of
grey, traces of steam were rising from the open fly and the folds in the
material where the hot urine had pooled. The wet trail ran across the green
bus seat and finished where it had began, inside Simon's white briefs now
gently tinged a pale yellow.

"You little filthy cunt! Wot the fuck you doing!"

Understandably Art's immediate reaction was to turn on Simon. Never
violent, for the first time he had raised his fist and looked as though he
was going to punch him.

"Art, no stop! No, no, no! It's not his fault."

"It fuckin' is, he's fuckin' pissed all over me!" snapped Art angrily. "But
who the fuck..."

Squinting into the sunlight he failed to see who was behind the silhouette,
but the voice was familiar, it must be another boy. Who was it? At least it
appeared they were not going to be reported.

"Who the fuck are you anyway?" Art lowered his arm.

The silence was broken by the sound of Simon sniffing, tears were running
down his cheeks.

"It's me Ian."

"Ian? Wot! Well at least you ain't the fuckin' conductor!" exclaimed Art,
who for all his anger sounded considerably relieved. He turned back to look
at Simon whilst continuing to fire questions at Ian.

"Hey, so wot's up? You never get this fuckin' bus. Why you creeping up on
us, wot the fuck's going on?"

"I gotta meet me mum at her sisters house it's near the end of this
route. I thought I saw you when I was downstairs so I just come up to see."

"Oh no! Oh my god, is there anybody else here?" muttered Art in panic,
suddenly swivelling round to look behind. He breathed a sigh on relief on
seeing they were no other passengers.

"It's all right they all got off the last stop, that's when I came up."
said Ian calmly. "Wot you gonna do then, yer all covered in piss and cum?"

"Dunno. Fuck knows!"

Obviously relieved Art appearing to quieten down, he looked at his
uniform. There was no disguising the fact that the trousers were a wet,
cummy mess and even with his cunning there was going to be no way he could
bamboozle his mother this time. Resigned to his fate, he just knew this
time he was going to get the telling off of his life.

"So, you came up to see us and caught him wanking," Art nodded towards the
frozen Simon, "that put the shit's right up him and he pissed himself? Is
that about it?"

"I think so, I didn't mean to it just happened. You two were so busy you
didn't see me arrive."

"I've pissed meself once, so I knows wot it's like and I don't blame him."
said Art looking again at Simon. Slowly almost as though he were recalling
something he didn't want too he concluded. "D'you remember that cunt
Peterson the gym teacher, I pissed in me shorts one lesson when he had a go
at me."

"I didn't know." Ian was surprised at the honesty, wetting oneself wasn't
something that many boys would have admitted too. "Thank fuck he's gone,
you weren't the only one he picked on either."

"Wot a cunt." Art bit his lip obviously still affected by the incident.

"Anyway, who's yer little mate then? Does he do a turn as well?" asked Ian
smiling and trying brighten the conversation a little. Stroking the bulge
that had been rather steadily growing in his trousers adding. "He could
toss me off right now!"

"No! No! He fuckin' won't!" snapped Art.

Surprised, Ian almost took a step backwards at the angry response. With
that Art put a protective arm around Simon who having now heard enough to
know it was safe opened his eyes very, very slowly.

"He's me little brother you fuckin' pillock!"

"Oh fuck! Art, I'm sorry... sorry." Ian looked genuinely contrite, "I
didn't recognise him, well not like this."

"Oh fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" cried Art.

"Wot the fuck is it now?" asked Ian, now reduced to the use of Art's
singularly universal vocabulary.

"Look out the fuckin' window!" ranted Art peering out through the dirty
Triplex glass. "Simon we only got two stops before we gets off! Get yer
fuckin' shorts up and get ready. We gotta fuckin' move!"

The contents of Ian's trousers became firmer still as he watched Simon
stand up to push his very flaccid two inches back in the damp briefs and
pull his shorts up over the top. Art's display was even more explicit. No
longer caring who might see him, he stood up and dropped his trousers to
reveal his black briefs with his semi-erect cock poking out of the side.
Still very aroused from the sights of last lesson it wouldn't have taken
much effort on Ian's part to have cum on the spot once he saw Art
attempting to realign the stretched, wet and very cummy black briefs so
they at least contained his now growing cock.

His hands sticky with a mixture of cum and piss Art finally managed to get
his equally revolting trousers back up and tuck the grubby pee stained
shirt back in.

"You gonna be all right?" asked Ian with an air of disbelief. "How the hell
you gonna get past yer mum looking like that?"

"I don't know. Well, I' ain't am I?" replied Art managing a grin. "I know
she's gonna fuckin' kill me, I've made me mind up. I'll tell you there's
gonna be tears before bedtime! You'll probably hear 'em!"

"I won't let her." said Simon firmly pulling at Art's arm, wiping his eyes
with the sleeve of the blazer. "I won't. I won't."

"She might kid." Art smiled at him. It was one of those smiles, Simon sat
down and wiped the fresh tears from his eyes again.

Never before had Ian realised how incredibly strong the bond between
brothers could be and had to turn to look away. Why didn't he have brother?

Feeling the strain building Art turned to Ian. "I didn't mean anything
earlier, I'm a bit sorta fuckin' wound up with it all."

"It's all right, I can see that." blinking, Ian smiled and nodded towards
Simon. "Hey, just tell me, did this lot start in history, the last
lesson.. when you sat next to..."

"Oh yes." Art grinned and put a hand in his pocket, there was now no doubt
the bulge was getting bigger. "You know me, I can't fuckin' leave it alone
can I?"

"It certainly got me going... still going!" Ian blatantly squeezed the
front of his trousers. "You lucky sods were sat together."

"Your time will come... probably at the weekend!" Art winked and looked out
the window again before turning to Simon and nudging him. "Oi, get off yer
fat ass it's our stop in a couple of minutes."

Obediently Simon started down the aisle between the seats. Art turned to
follow but was stopped by Ian who put his hand on his shoulder and
whispered.

"I guess my time will be on Saturday when we checks the shed out."

"Definitely." Art grinned, "Well, if I'm still alive!"

"Fucking hell Art, I just got the answer," said Ian excitedly, "it might
just work and I think we've got time.."

Art's face lit up, "Well?"

*****************************************************************************

Chap 73 to follow