In this chapter Jeremy has some news for his friends, and later we'll catch up with another of the boys who is pining for the departed travellers. But first let's rejoin Sim and Uzzy in their private hideaway...
Sim and Uzzy had first started spending the odd break or lunchtime together in the old cricket pavilion during the spring term, and they’d found it so useful to have a private place of their own that they still spent quite a bit of their free time in the small changing-room at the top of the building. Now and again they’d see some of their other friends there – Colin and Graham used the pavilion sometimes, and occasionally so did Matt and Owen – but most of the time they had the place to themselves, as they did on this Monday lunchtime.
“So,” Uzzy asked him, as they closed the door to their little room, “how did you get on with Awais yesterday?”
“Not too well. I didn’t even get to the end of the third ver… verse.”
“Oh, come on, Sim, you know you can do better than that! Was it just that you were worried about it being Awais instead of me and Kam?”
“I don’t know. Maybe – but maybe I ju… just didn’t conthentrate properly. I know I can do better, Uzzy. I’m th… sorry.”
Sim had decided that he wasn’t going to be lazy any longer, and it wasn’t the pain caused by the pin that motivated him most but the look of disappointment on Uzzy’s face. They had a strange relationship: Sim was a few months older, and taller, and yet he loved being bossed around by his smaller, younger friend, to whom he was absolutely devoted. For his part Uzzy thoroughly enjoyed being able to do pretty much anything he wanted to Sim, but only because he knew that Sim enjoyed the things they did as much as he did.
“I’m going to do th… this, Uzzy: by the end of term I’m not going to get it wrong any more. I want you and Kam – and Awaith… Awais, even, to be proud of me, not ashamed.”
“I’m not ashamed of you, stupid. I just hate it when people make fun of you. Actually I bet Awais hopes you never stop lisping – I bet he really enjoyed sticking the pin in you, didn’t he?”
Sim nodded. “And he… he spanked me, too. Hard.”
“And did he squeeze your balls off, the way I taught him to?”
Sim nodded, and Uzzy laughed. “Get undressed, then, and let’s see if it’s left any marks on your bum.”
Sim threw his clothes off and bent over so that Uzzy could see his bottom.
“I can just about see where he stuck the pin in, but obviously he didn’t spank you hard enough, because I can’t see any bruises. I’d better tell him to whip you properly next time, using – oh, a piece of barbed wire, or something. I bet that would leave some marks.”
Sim was unworried by this, because he knew it would never happen: Uzzy enjoyed spanking him, but he knew he’d never really try to hurt him badly.
“Perhaps I should give you a spanking, just to make up for it,” Uzzy went on, and he took hold of Sim’s balls and already fully erect penis and pulled him across his lap, administering a spanking that didn’t really hurt at all, at least not when compared to Awais’s efforts the previous afternoon. Sim wriggled about, enjoying as he always did his feeling of being entirely at his friend’s mercy.
“Stand up,” ordered Uzzy, once he had finished, and Sim got to his feet. Uzzy moved close to him, putting his left arm around Sim’s waist while keeping hold of his erection with his right hand, and Sim put his arms around his friend’s shoulders and hugged him.
“We’re going to have to start thinking about what we’re going to do in the summer holidays,” said Uzzy, idly stroking his friend’s erection. “Are you going away with your family?”
“I’m not th… ssure yet. I think we will be, though.”
“Me, too. Let’s hope we’ll both be away at the same time, then we’ll have the rest of the summer to play together.”
“I hope sso, too,” said Sim, hugging him. “What’ll we do together?”
“Don’t know, but I bet we can think of loads of stuff. We can go out for long rides on our bikes, to start with – my mum doesn’t like me going off a long way on my own, but if I’ve got a friend with me she’ll let me. So we can find a good spot miles from anywhere, and then I can do loads of naughty stuff to you.”
“That’ll be brilliant.”
“And I expect the others will be around, too, so we’ll probably be able to play football quite a lot. And maybe I’ll let Awais come out with us so I can watch him strip you off and spank your bum.”
“I don’t know about that. It’th… it’s different when we’re on our own, but I don’t think I want him to be allowed to do things to me with you looking.”
“Tough, because if I say he can, he can. I’d just like to watch you wriggling while he makes you squeak, that’s all. Of course, most of the time it would just be you and me…”
“That’s how I like it moth… most.”
“Hey, Sim, you’re trying really hard today,” said Uzzy, stepping back and looking up at him. “Normally you only really think about it when you’re reading poetry.”
“Not any more. >From now on I’m going to think about it all the time. Like I ssaid, I want you to be proud of me, Uzzy.”
“I’m already proud of you,” said Uzzy, hugging him. “Come on, get dressed – if you can get your shorts back on, that is - and we’ll go and see what the others are doing.”
That Thursday evening Jeremy had another row with Adolf. He’d tried really hard to bite his tongue, but Adolf had just come back from a NF meeting and kept going on about how much better the country would be if they sent all the immigrants “back to Bongo-Bongo Land”, and at that Jeremy’s tongue escaped and put him in the spare room for the night. It got him confined to the house for Saturday, too, but at least it left them with enough time to rearrange the weekend football for Sunday instead.
“I’ve had enough of it,” Jeremy told the assembled Collection on the Sunday afternoon. “I’ve decided to run away.”
“But… where will you go?” asked Bilal.
“I don’t know. I haven’t got enough money to buy a plane ticket, or I’d head out to California: I’m sure my dad would take me in. But I can’t afford that, so I’ll have to think of somewhere else to go. Anyone got any ideas?”
“London?” suggested Awais, tentatively. “Maybe you could find a job there, or something.”
“Don’t be stupid, he’s only eleven,” replied Bilal. “He probably couldn’t even get a job as a paper-boy – and where’s he going to live? Come on, Jeremy, be sensible – you’d end up sleeping in the street, and then anything could happen to you. Please don’t go to London.”
“I wasn’t really thinking of trying that,” said Jeremy. “I know that wouldn’t work. I was thinking more about disappearing for a week or two, just to show Adolf how much I hate living with him: maybe he’d take some notice of what I think if he had the police round trying to find out where I’d gone. The problem is, I’d need somewhere to go.”
“You could come and stay with me,” said Tony. “My parents wouldn’t mind.”
“Thanks, but I don’t think I can stay with any of you – your parents would be sure to want to speak to mine about it, and then Adolf would know where I was. No, I need to disappear completely for a bit, somewhere where there aren’t any grown-ups to call my mum and Adolf. Has anyone got a tent I could borrow?”
They all looked at each other, shaking their heads.
“Well, can you all please think about it and try to come up with some ideas? I’m really, really fed up with it, and I want to get away as soon as I can make some arrangements.
“Okay, now let’s play some football. We’ve got odd numbers again – who wants to start as ref?”
The afternoon went by happily, and Jeremy managed to forget his home situation for a couple of hours. But it started to rain at around four o’clock, and of course nobody was prepared to risk streaking in the rain, so the header and volley session was postponed. They played on in the rain for a few minutes but then decided to abandon the game before they got seriously drenched.
Neil, Sim and Uzzy went back to Kam’s house, but instead of Sim reading poetry or Kam and Neil renewing their physical relationship they all sat on the beds in the boys’ room and talked about Jeremy’s situation. They gave Neil a brief explanation – he didn’t know anything about Jeremy’s home life – and then tried to think of ways to help.
“Do you think Jeremy could try hiding in our pavilion?” Sim suggested.
“It’d be too risky,” said Uzzy. “Just because we don’t see much of the caretaker, it doesn’t mean he’s never there. He’s bound to go in now and again, and if Jeremy is living there he’d be sure to get caught. And there are still cricket matches every week, too. It’s a pity the travellers have moved on, because he might have been able to stay with them for a bit. They’d never grass him up to Adolf – the NF hates travellers. Do you know how far away they went, Sim?”
“No, but I reckon Owen might know. Or Timmy – they were friendth… friends with the travellers. We’ll have to a… ask on Monday.”
“Friends with travellers?” asked Neil. “How did that happen?”
“I’m not sure, really,” said Uzzy. “I just know that Timmy got his traveller friends to help us out last term. He never explained how he knew them in the first place.”
“I can’t imagine things being so bad at home that you’d have to run away,” said Neil. “I can’t imagine my parents ever being that nasty to me.”
“Adolf’s only his step-dad,” Kam pointed out. “I suppose it’s different when it’s not your real parents.”
“Yeah, but it’s still his real mum, isn’t it?” said Uzzy. “I wonder why she doesn’t do something about it.”
“Perhaps she doesn’t know how upset Jeremy is,” suggested Kam. “Maybe he’s hoping that if he runs away she might realise.”
They sat in silence for a while thinking about it. Then Sim looked out of the window.
“The rain looks like it’th… it’s stopping,” he said. “I’m going to go home. I hope you don’t mind, but I don’t really feel like doing the poetry thi… this week.”
“No, that’s okay,” said Uzzy. “I know you’ve been trying really hard this week, anyway. You can read to us next week instead. And I think I’ll go home, too.”
Awais looked disappointed, but he didn’t say anything, so Sim and Uzzy got up and left. Kam looked at Awais, and the younger boy got the message and said he’d go and watch television for a bit.
Once he had gone Kam and Neil got undressed and, on Kam’s suggestion, got into bed together, where they just lay with their arms round each other.
“Do you think you could ever run away from home?” asked Neil.
Kam shook his head. “I wouldn’t know where to go or what to do – but I’d never have to: I get on really well with my parents.”
“Me, too. I’d never even thought about it until now. Look, Kam, I don’t really know Jeremy at all, but it’s obvious you lot all really like him, so if I can help somehow, I will.”
“Thanks, though I’m not sure what any of us can do at the moment. Maybe we should all start trying to save our pocket money for a bit: if he does end up living away from home he’ll need to be able to buy food and stuff.”
“Okay. I don’t get a lot, but I’ll try not to spend any for a couple of weeks.”
They lay quietly for a while: Kam was too worried about Jeremy to think about sex, and Neil respected his mood and just lay with his arm round Kam’s shoulders. After about fifteen minutes he rolled out of bed and started to get dressed.
“I ought to go, Kam,” he said. “I’ll see you at school.”
“Okay. Sorry, Neil, I’m just not really in the mood for… you know, today.”
“That’s okay. We don’t have to do that every time, anyway: I like just being with you even when we don’t do anything. I reckon that’s what being friends is supposed to be about.”
Kam rolled out of bed and hugged him. “That’s true,” he said. “It’s nice just having someone you can relax and think about stuff with. But… next time we’ll do the other stuff, too, ‘cos that’s good fun.”
He quickly got dressed and escorted Neil downstairs, and then he went and joined his brother in front of the television, though he spent more of the next hour trying to think of ways to help Jeremy than watching the programmes…
Owen Gwyn-Thomas had a problem.
Owen was in the same form as Sim and Uzzy, and the previous term he had been through the same experience as they had, first being bullied and then getting a chance to get his own back on the bully, thanks to the senior boy Timmy Collier and a couple of traveller boys he had met. In the course of the business Owen had discovered that he liked oral sex – not, as was the case with his friends, being on the receiving end, but actually doing the sucking. First he’d done it for his closest friend, Matt Williams, and indeed he still did it for him now and again. But Matt was seriously overweight and had a very small organ, and this made it difficult for Owen to be able to do a good job (though in fact Matt had never complained about his performance). Wanting to try something larger, Owen had first approached Timmy, who was a couple of years older than he was, only to discover that Timmy was even less well-endowed than Matt.
But Timmy had made an arrangement with one of his traveller friends, a boy called Danny Kelly, who was almost exactly the same age as Owen but considerably better equipped than either Matt or Timmy, and for a while Owen had gladly sucked Danny off on a regular basis. Danny made it into a sort of game, whereby he bossed Owen around and pretended he was a slave, threatening to beat him if he misbehaved, and indeed he had spanked Owen a few times. Owen hadn’t minded that too much: it just made the game a little more exciting.
But then the travellers had moved on, leaving Owen with nothing to suck except Matt’s minuscule organ. He wanted to find a replacement for Danny, and so after a while he had started to take what he thought were discreet soundings among the other boys in his form. But of course they were nothing like discreet enough, and quickly the word went around, with the result that he was now the butt of quite a lot of name-calling.
There had been a fair bit of that before, of course: Owen was short and dark and had a Welsh accent you could dig a coal mine with, and he also suffered from a nasty squint that meant that he had to wear a patch over one eye for much of the time. He’d learned to handle that, but when the ‘homo’ taunts started it was a lot more difficult to deal with.
In one way he was lucky: he had friends. The episode with the bully had drawn all six of his victims together, and in the process they had become friends. They were all small or nerdy or, in Matt’s case, badly overweight, but because they stuck together people were reluctant to touch them. And they had friends higher up the school, too: Timmy was physically no stronger than they were, but they could also call on the friendship of Stephen Wood, a tall and athletic boy in his final year. And the erstwhile bully, Graham Truscott, had somehow ended up as a good friend to the nerdy crew’s leader, Colin Carlington, which meant that they had another senior boy ready to pitch in for them if necessary.
But verbal abuse was hard to deal with, especially when it was mostly whispered and muttered and hard to tie down to any particular source, and Owen just had to put up with it and try to ignore it as best he could. He thought that if it had been the football season he’d have heard a lot more about it: he could imagine the class jokers pretending to be scared of getting undressed anywhere near him, and making a big production of keeping their shorts on in the shower. But it was the cricket season, and – exactly like in Miguel’s school – hardly anyone got fully undressed or took a shower after cricket.
As is usual in this sort of situation, the other boys in the form divided into three groups: the small number of loud extroverts who did most of the teasing and name-calling; a larger number who just gave him the odd funny look or laughed at the first group’s comments but who didn’t actually say anything themselves; and the small group of Owen’s friends who ignored it completely and tried to encourage him to do the same.
Owen usually tried to spend the breaks with some of his friends, as this tended to put the name-callers off, especially if Graham Truscott was in the vicinity, which he often was: he and Colin spent a lot of their time together. But this particular break none of the others was about: Sim and Uzzy had disappeared again, Colin and Graham were also nowhere to be seen, and Matt and Luke were helping their teacher clear out the book cupboard. Owen had slipped off to a quiet corner of the playing field, hoping to remain inconspicuous, and so he was disappointed to see one of his class-mates approaching.
Paul McAllen was the form captain, popular with the other boys because, although he was brainy – he regularly finished top of the class, or second to Colin – he was also very good at sport. He was also very good-looking, with dark blond hair and pale blue eyes, perfect teeth and lips that were a little redder than usual – though maybe they just looked that way because his skin was so pale. So far he hadn’t contributed to the Owen-baiting, and Owen felt unhappy that this was apparently about to change: if McAllen joined in the Mickey-taking, so would a lot of other boys.
But when McAllen spoke, it was not in his usual confident voice. In little more than a whisper, he said, “Gwyn-Thomas… is it true, what they’re saying about you?”
“I don’t know,” said Owen. “What are they saying about me?”
“You know – that you… well… that you…” His voice dropped even lower. “That you like to… to suck on boys’… on their cocks.”
”You wouldn’t believe me if I said no, so why bother asking?”
“Well…” McAllen looked around nervously. “See, the thing is… if it’s true…”
“Yes?”
“Well… I was wondering… would you do it for me? Only I’ve heard about it, and I’d really like to know what it feels like,” he hurried on, now that he’d finally got to the point. “I mean, you don’t have to or anything, but I wouldn’t tell anyone if you did, and…”
“You’re just trying to get me to admit it so you can go and tell the rest of the class that it’s true, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not, I promise. I won’t tell anyone, whatever you tell me. I’d just… well, you know… like to know what it’s…”
He tailed off, and this was so unlike the usual confident and outgoing form captain that Owen had to believe him.
“Suppose it was true,” he said. “And suppose I said yes. What should we do about it?”
McAllen’s face lit up, and that was all the confirmation Owen needed to be sure that he meant what he said.
“That’d be brilliant, Gwyn-Thomas! Thanks! I never thought you’d… Wow! Great!”
“I haven’t done it yet,” Owen pointed out. “You might not like it.”
“I think I will. See, my brother told me his girl-friend did it for him, and he said it was the best feeling ever – and… well, obviously I haven’t got a girl-friend yet, but I heard that you might… and I thought, it probably feels about the same whoever’s doing it… so I thought I’d ask… great, Gwyn-Thomas, thanks… So, can you come home with me after school?”
“Not tonight. I have to go straight home, unless I’ve arranged in advance with my mum to be late for some reason. But I can ask if I can come to see you tomorrow.”
“No, my brother will be home tomorrow evening, and I don’t want him to know about it, because he’d tease me to death for doing it with a boy instead of a girl. Oh, damn… could I come to your house, then?”
“I expect so. But my sister sometimes comes into my room without knocking, so I don’t think we ought to risk it.”
“Oh, hell! What about the weekend, then? My brother usually goes out on Saturdays.”
“Yes, I don’t think I’m doing anything on Saturday. But… we don’t have to wait until then – we might be able to do it at lunchtime if you want.”
“What? Where? I’m not risking it in the toilets – that would be really dangerous.”
“No, I know somewhere much better. I just need to make sure there isn’t going to be anyone else there.”
“You’re not going to tell anyone about me, are you?”
“No, of course not – though I don’t think any of my friends would make fun of you even if I did. But I won’t mention you at all if you don’t want. Anyway, I’ll tell you if we can at the end of break.”
“Okay – thanks, Gwyn-Thomas…”
“Call me Owen – it’s a lot shorter.”
“Right. Thanks, Owen.” And McAllen walked away.
At the end of break Owen found Uzzy and asked if he and Sim were intending using the pavilion at lunch time.
“Not today, no,” Uzzy told him. “Why?”
“Oh, I just need to talk to someone somewhere quiet, that’s all.”
“Who?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just someone.”
Owen subsequently checked with Colin and found that he didn’t intend using the pavilion at lunchtime, either, and so as soon as they had finished eating he collected McAllen and led him off towards the pavilion. But Uzzy had been intrigued to find out who Owen was meeting, and so he and Sim ran and hid in the rhododendron bushes the moment they got out of the dining hall. They saw Owen and McAllen coming to collect the key from its hiding-place in the bush next to theirs and stared at each other.
“Surely they’re not going to… well, do anything they shouldn’t?” said Uzzy, trying not to laugh. “I mean, McAllen?”
“Well, Owen did th… ssay he wanted to talk to s.. someone,” Sim pointed out. “Maybe he really only meant ‘talk’.”
“Yes, but in that case why not just find an empty classroom? Do you think we should sneak in and find out?”
Sim shook his head firmly. “Owen’th our friend,” he said. “Thuppo..pose it was you and me – we wouldn’t want anyone thpy… spying on us, would we?”
“No, you’re right,” agreed Uzzy, looking at the now closed door to the pavilion. “And we haven’t got a knife, anyway, so we probably couldn’t get inside. Still, I hope he tells us if…” and he dissolved into giggles, thinking about the staid, well-behaved, athletic and obviously ‘normal’ McAllen doing naughty things with Owen.
Inside the pavilion, in one of the small rooms at the top of the building, McAllen was looking at Owen nervously.
“So – what do we… I mean, how do we… you know, do it?” he asked.
“That depends. If you just want me to do it for you, you could just pull your shorts and pants down. But if you want to do it like the game I used to play with my traveller friend, you should boss me about and make me do what you want, like I was your slave.”
“That sounds like it could be fun. What exactly do I have to do, then?”
“Whatever you want, really. Danny used to strip me naked and tease me, and if he thought I was being stroppy he’d spank me a bit, and then he’d undress himself and order me to suck on it for him. And if I didn’t do it properly he’d punish me.”
“Flipping heck – didn’t you mind?”
Owen shrugged. “It was sort of fun, to be honest. He never really hurt me – well, not much, anyway. I think he wanted to do other stuff to me, too, but he moved away before he got a chance. Actually, it was quite exciting: he was sort of wild, and a bit unpredictable, and sometimes it was a little scary – but a good sort of scary, somehow. It’s hard to explain, but I enjoyed playing that game with him.”
“It’s a pity he’s left,” said McAllen. “I’d have liked to talk to him.”
“Oh, they haven’t gone that far – they’re at a place just north of Poundford. I was thinking of going to see him some time, just to see how he’s getting on. Maybe you could come with me.”
“Yes, please – if I’m going to play this game; I ought to try to do it properly. So… I suppose you’d better get undressed, then.”
So Owen got undressed, barely hesitating when he got down to his pants, and when he pulled them off he had an erection, as he usually had when playing with Danny. Danny used to use this as an excuse to punish him, saying that only dirty boys got stiff in front of their masters, but of course McAllen didn’t know that – yet – and Owen saw no reason to tell him. Instead he stood up and let McAllen look at him.
“You look funny with it all hard,” said McAllen, trying to suppress a fit of the giggles.
“What do you think of it?” asked Owen.
“Well, it’s not very big. I mean, it’s longer than some, but it’s really thin. And your balls are pretty tiny, too. I bet you feel embarrassed, having me looking at you all bare.”
“Sort of. I got used to it with Danny, and he used to make fun of it, too, so it’s not like this is the first time.”
“Well, obviously if I’m going to play Danny’s game I ought to do the same things, so I’m going to have to make fun of you, too. Not that it’s difficult to make fun of something like that – it looks like a twig. Maybe I should call you Twiggy from now on.”
“I bet yours isn’t any better.”
“Yeah? How much do you bet?”
Owen hesitated – he wasn’t exactly awash with cash.
“See?” jeered McAllen, when Owen didn’t answer. “You know when you’re outclassed. Okay, I’ll show you.” And he undid his shorts and pushed them and his pants down to his knees, and when he straightened up and lifted his shirt out of the way Owen could see that he had an erection, too.
It was both longer and thicker than Owen’s, and McAllen had bigger balls, too. And the penis was different from his because there was no skin over the end: the tip was uncovered, and there was a scar a little below the knob that showed where the skin had been removed. Owen had seen one like it before: Timmy Collier didn’t have any skin on the end of his, either, but Timmy’s was about a quarter the size of this one.
“Gosh, McAllen, yours is big,” said Owen, staring at it. “It’s bigger than Danny’s, too. Can I measure it?”
“Okay,” said McAllen at once, so Owen went to his blazer and retrieved his ruler, holding it against McAllen’s organ.
“Four point three inches,” he reported. “Wow, McAllen, that’s big!”
“Now let’s see how big yours is,” demanded McAllen.
Owen measured himself. “About three and a quarter,” he said.
“So that makes me an inch longer, and about twice as thick. OK, then – show me how you… you know.”
McAllen hadn’t quite got into the role of master yet, and he seemed nervous, now that the moment of truth had arrived. Owen told him to sit on the bench and spread his legs, and (once he had removed his shorts and pants completely) McAllen complied. Then Owen knelt on the floor in front of him, opened his mouth and slid it in.
McAllen gave a gasp of surprise as the warm mouth closed around him, and then another one when Owen started to lick it the way he had been taught by Danny. And when Owen started to rock back and forwards, still licking and squeezing, he made an even louder noise.
Owen ignored him and got on with his job. This was definitely a bit bigger than Danny’s, and the lack of skin meant it felt different, too. Owen quickly decided that he liked it: he explored the whole length with his tongue, running it over the uneven surface of the circumcision scar and trying to lick round the base of the knob, and everything he tried made McAllen gasp and groan.
After a bit, and realising that the lunch break wouldn’t go on for ever, Owen set to work properly, sliding it steadily into and out of his mouth, and soon he became aware that McAllen was getting excited. At this point Danny used to swear a lot, but McAllen came from a rather different environment, and so he just gasped and groaned and begged Owen not to stop without once resorting to rude words. At the end he arched his body right off the bench, crying ‘yes!’ at the vital moment and holding Owen’s head in case he tried to pull back. Of course, Owen had been properly trained and knew to stay in position until he was told to stop, but this time something was a little different: there was a strange taste in his mouth. It wasn’t particularly unpleasant, but it had never happened when he had done it with Danny, or with Matt. He wondered if it was something to do with the lack of skin: could it be some sort of sweat, he wondered…but then he decided that it probably wasn’t important. He never considered for an instant that it would do him any harm, so he swallowed it down and waited for McAllen to tell him to let it out of his mouth.
“Okay, you can stop now,” said McAllen eventually, letting go of Owen’s head. “That was bloody amazing, Gwy… Owen. My brother was right… okay, you’d better get dressed, I suppose.”
He stood up and put his pants and shorts back on and then watched while Owen put his own clothes on. When he had finished McAllen looked at him and grinned.
“Now you’ve done that for me, I suppose I must be your new master,” he said. “Does that mean you have to do whatever I tell you?”
“Well, yes – as long as we are on our own,” said Owen, having a nasty vision of McAllen ordering him to suck him in the middle of their form room.
“So if I ordered you to strip again, you’d have to?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“Okay, then strip. Completely naked. Now.”
Owen glanced at his watch, but they still had plenty of time, so without any protest he took all his clothes off once more. This time he didn’t have an erection, at least not at first; but when McAllen pointed at it and started teasing him about how tiny it was it began to stick up once more, and that made McAllen laugh even more.
“You look so funny like that,” he said. “I’m definitely going to call you ‘Twiggy’ from now on. Okay, you’d better get dressed.”
Owen got dressed again, and moved towards the door. McAllen paused and mused, “I could make you strip again if I wanted… I could make you keep doing it all through every break, too. You’d get really fed up with it, and you’d look so funny… no, that would be cruel. Come on, let’s go – Twiggy.”
They went downstairs and Owen locked up and hid the key in the bush as usual.
“Of course, I could walk into our form room and shout, ‘Hey, everyone, guess what: Gwyn-Thomas just sucked my cock!’” McAllen suggested.
“I don’t think you’d do that,” said Owen, a little nervously.
“Wait and see.”
McAllen marched straight back to their form room with Owen trailing along behind. Most of the boys in their form were there, getting their books ready for the first lesson of the afternoon, but they stopped what they were doing when McAllen strode to the front of the room and announced, “Hey, everyone, guess what? It’s about Gwyn-Thomas…”
Owen felt sick: he knew he’d never, ever hear the last of this…
“I’ve been talking to him, and… well, I reckon we should lay off him,” McAllen went on. “Obviously he’s not really a homo – he’d just heard about… well, stuff, and wanted to find someone who knows about sex and stuff. The same way I suppose most of you do, because I don’t think many of you know the first thing about it.”
“Speak for yourself!” called out Jones, one of the louder boys in the form.
“You might know about it, but you’ve got nothing to do anything with,” retorted McAllen. “I’ve seen you in the shower, remember.”
Laughter broke out.
“Bet it’s ‘cos you fancy him,” Jones retaliated.
“What, One-Eyed Taffy? I’d sooner go to bed with a camel – like you do,” said McAllen, who was quite good at repartee. Jones couldn’t think of a come-back to that and fell silent.
“Seriously, let’s give Gwyn-Thomas a break. It’s hard enough for him being blind and Welsh without us all thinking he’s a homo, too. Maybe we could all laugh at Jonesy for sleeping with a camel instead.”
“It’s not a camel, it’s your sister,” said Jones, having had a moment to think.
“If I had a sister, she’d be far too good-looking to go out with you, Jonesy,” said McAllen. “In fact, I’m surprised even a camel couldn’t do better than you...”
Owen went back to his desk, leaving them to it. He’d gone from feeling sick and cold to feeling relaxed and grateful in about five seconds, and if a popular boy like Paul McAllen was going to be fighting for him from now on, things were likely to get a lot better for him.
Well, it seems things are looking up for Owen, though it might be wiser not to let McAllen talk to Danny, whose views on slave management are a little more extreme than Owen might like. In the next chapter we'll see how Jeremy's escape plans are progressing, and we'll find out if Miguel and Andy are getting anywhere with their project to strip their fellow pupils.
No change to the mail address, which is still gothmog@nyms.net – and I've still got a yawning inbox that needs filling somehow or other. Any ideas?
Copyright 2008 – all rights reserved. Please do not copy, reprint or repost this or any part thereof anywhere without my written permission.
David Clarke