WARNING: This ADULT fiction contains sexual accounts between boys





by Graham Day

Story Title

File Name



"Dopey "



{This File}









"Dr. Prince"


Authors note:

  1. This story may contain descriptions of sexual acts between boys and/or men and boys so if this is not to your tastes, please leave now. If you are under age, or if it is illegal in your state or country to read or possess material like this then it is in your own interest to leave now.
  2. The author owns all copyright to this story. A copy has been placed in this archive for your enjoyment. Please do not distribute it to any news groups and/or other web sites without permission of the author. Authorisation for the free transmission of my unaltered writings can be requested from the author.
  3. This story is pure fiction. Any resemblance to any individuals, real or fictional, living or dead is purely coincidental.
  4. The author neither encourages nor condones any acts of illicit or underage sex, nor does he encourage any of the unsafe sexual practices described herein.
  5. This story is a parody of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs by the brothers Grimm, which is in the public domain, and is in now way associated with any property of the Disney Corporation.
  6. You can e-mail your constructive comments to at: g_day@hotmail.com



A term that has been used since the 80's meaning a Geek or a Nerd. A person who is very interested in the trivia and unimportant details of their hobby and does not like to be sociable. An 'anorak' is always male, usually unfashionable and possibly a train-spotter.




Revered Prim had a little ritual: every Sunday, at close of service, he would say the benediction before the closing hymn, then leave by the vestry door and be waiting under the church porch to shake the hand of departing parishioners. Those who needed a private word with the Vicar, would hover on the lawn if the weather were fine, or wait patiently under the broad ancient oak eaves of the porch for a chat with the agreeable old gentleman.

This Sunday was no different. The congregation had been small - maybe thirty in total -- but well humoured and the choir had been in unusually fine voice. The vicar shook the hand of the last departing family and smiled to see that only two groups needed his attention. Miss Hyacinth Snodgrass, a devout but very aggressive old maid, who was also the local probation officer, was waiting for him. This did not look good -- Miss Snodgrass was seldom the barer of good news.

The other group looked much more promising -- Snowy Whyte, resplendent in his new school uniform; his own nephew, as scruffy as ever, in his trusty anorak; and Peter, that young dim-witted fellow from the choir, in his red and white choir costume. A fantasy comes true, the vicar sighed - a schoolboy, a choirboy and a scruffy teen -- he felt this tired old cock was altogether rejuvenated.

This handsome threesome stood giggling and jostling each other playfully as they tried to catch the Vicar's eye. The Vicar wondered if little Peter was there to tell tales on the terrible twins, Jack and Billy, whom the Vicar had seen nipping off into the broom closet for a quick wank after service. The two older boys had developed this regular and delightful habit. The Vicar was always more than happy to cleanup the streams of creamy teen-sperm from the walls after their Sunday encounters and on more than one occasion he had added a load or two his own to the striped interior of the broom cupboard.

Leaving the tiresome Miss Snodgrass till last, the Vicar beckoned the three lads forward and he smiled benevolently as they jostled for the position -- each of them apparently coyer than the other to act as spokesman. Eventually, little Peter was unceremoniously pushed forward by Bashful who then stammered a request:

"P-p-p-please b-b-b-bend un-un-uncle s-s-s-so P-P-P-Peter can r-r-r-reach y-y-y-your t-t-t-top p-p-p-pocket." The old man complied and smiled to see the little boy tuck a very elegantly folded, if rather bulky, pocket-handkerchief into his breast pocket. His deft fingers arranged it neatly and then he grinned at the Vicar, showing the hard work of the National Health dental technical to maximum effect.

Peter's kindly act had a very confusing effect on the other two boys: - they fell about laughing. Tears of mirth ran down Osbert's cheeks -- a most odd response for a fellow who was normally so earnest. The two older boys embraced each other for support, as gales of laughter caused them to quiver like two jellies.

"Oh I say!" The Vicar exclaimed as he peered down his nose at the cause of all the mirth. It was not a handkerchief at all! For one thing, it was far too bulky and the texture of the cotton weave told him this was no fine linen but something much more absorbent. Then the Vicar beamed at the young scallywags and asked: "well what have we here?"

"Sniff it and see...." Snowy Whyte managed before disintegrating into spasms of laughter once more.

The Vicar did as requested by the prankster and drawing the collar if his coat to his nose, he sniffed longs and hard at the boys' gift.

"Oh... err!" he succeeded in sounding very much like his shy nephew.

There was no mistaking the odour. The Vicar would know it anywhere - the heavenly essence of boy! He felt his cock lurch into life in his trousers as he breathed the blissful fragrance in deeply.

"We're sorry Vicar if it is a bit stinky..." Peter apologised on their behalf, "it is a pair of Bashful's underpants."

"Hmmm" managed the Vicar "and a rather well used pair too, I think?"

"Oh rather, Vicar, they are also a very special pair -- tell him Bashful." Snowy nudged his older friend.

"W-w-w-well uncle, I-I-I-I-I had my f-f-f-first wet cum the other day and I w-w-w-wiped up m-m-my s-s-s-spunk with my un-un-un-underpants and now I-I-I'm afraid M-M-Mum will find `em and w-w-w-wash `em."

"And we all thought that would be such a pity `cause a boy's first o-o-o-organism is very precious don't you think?" Snowy went on, "so we thought someone nice and responsible would take good care of it."

"It is an orgasm, Snowy, not and organism," the Reverend Prim corrected, as he turned his thirteen-year-old nephew's white briefs over in his hand, examining them closely. A few golden spots of urine flecked the front; several silvery streaks - no doubt, the boy's first ejaculation - marked the back; a stray blond pubic hair or two remained where his growing cock and balls had once rested. Peering inside the white briefs, he noticed a very prominent three-inch long, golden-brown skid mark, which contributed considerably to the rich aroma of the gift. The old clergyman had an almost overwhelming desire to bury his face in the precious fabric and wank his throbbing cock - but that pleasure would have to keep till later, as he was not sure Miss Snodgrass would approve.

"We hope you don't think it was too nasty a trick, Reverend Prim - we all had a good sniff and they were not too disgusting. But perhaps we should give Bashful lessons in wiping his bottom clean." Snowy giggled gleefully.

"Oh... err!" Bashful blushed furiously.

"Why Master Whyte, they are perfect just as they are! Osbert my dear boy, if I were you, I'd set to work manufacturing these, I'm sure there is a market for them. They are so delicious, I believe you would make a fortune!"

"Oh... err!" Stammered Osbert very prettily, as he spotted his uncle rearranging his cock, which was caught uncomfortably in his underwear.

"I will treasure them as if they were a precious holy relic -- you can come and see them any time you wish, Osbert. How very kind of you three boys to think of an old man." So saying, he stuffed them in his pocket before the eagle eye of Miss Snodgrass caught sight of them.

"Oh I am sure he can make more of `em he spunks up so much, me brother Pat is ever so jealous." Dopey added to Osbert's embarrassment.

"Well, well! Osbert, my dear, it seems you have been cured of your shyness?" His uncle could not have been more pleased.

"Oh... err!" Osbert hesitated, then with his gaze averted, he confessed, "S-S-S-Snowy and D-D-D-Dopey have their w-w-w-ways and m-m-m-means...."

"I'm sure they do, God bless them..."

Miss Snodgrass was coughing theatrically on the front lawn, clearly of the opinion that the three youths had had more than enough of the Vicar's time. Sadly, the Vicar ruffled Snowy's hair, stroked Osbert's forearm and patted Dopey's bum, biding them farewell.

"Well now my dear Miss Snodgrass how may I help you?" The Vicar asked as he approached the formidable lady, who always reminded the Vicar of an ill-tempered school-matron with her boyish haircut and country-tweed suit.

"It is Damien Smyke, Reverend Prim...."

"Oh dear!" Lamented the Vicar, his heart sinking and his erection wilting instantly.

"I'm afraid so... yet another community service order and no one will take him." This was hardly surprising news, Damien Smyke, a fifteen-year-old thug with a police record, the envy of many a hardened adult criminal, was a constant thorn in the flesh of the Parish Council. This time it was car vandalism, but for every one of Smyke's convictions there were always ten more where sufficient evidence for a conviction could not be extracted from a terrified witness.

His last community service order had been served in the local old people's home. He caused two strokes on the first day; a death on the second, and on the third day the residents had barricaded the front door and called the army barracks for backup.

Before that, there was riot in the shopping mall, where he had been required to clean graffiti off the walls. Then of course there was THAT incident - nobody ever dared to speak about the incident at the toddler's day care centre! Those that knew would not; and those that could only guess, dared not, in case Smyke got to hear of it and decided to seek revenge on gossips. One had to constantly remind oneself that he was, after all, only fifteen years old.

"What are we going to do? It will take nothing less than the Angel Gabriel to get him back on the straight and narrow, I fear." Damien Smyke was the only thing on God's earth that could dampen the spirits of Hyacinth Snodgrass.

"You know, Miss Snodgrass, I think you may be onto something there..." The Vicar fingered the edge of his white dog-collar as an idea formed in his mind, "I believe your could be right, an Angel is just what Damien Smyke needs."

Now Hyacinth Snodgrass was very much part of the old school - a founder member of the Church of Hell and Damnation - and while she believed there might have been angels once upon a time, she was convinced the Vicar was displaying the first signs of senility.

"I beg your pardon, Vicar, did I hear you correctly?" She tried to humour the old man wondering if he might be dangerous.

"Yes, my dear Miss Snodgrass, why don't you join me for lunch at Columbine Cottage. Dr. and Mrs. Whyte always have open house on a Sunday, but I fear the food is not as good as it used to be when the late Mrs. Whyte was alive, but come along anyway, and together we can plan a miracle?"


There was really only one word you could use to describe the fifteen-year-old Damien Smyke, and that was "nasty".

He has nasty skin - pitted with blackheads and pimples - red from the unpleasant ravages of acute acne and an unhealthy habit of picking at the ruptures with dirty fingernails.

He had nasty red rat-like eyes - the left one bore an angry scare which snaked down his cheek, while the right exhibited the black-and-blue reminder of a shiner, recently earned during one of Damien's many punch-ups.

He had a nasty, mean, little body - only five-foot tall, but hardened but frequent physical violence. In anyone less aggressive, his lack of stature -- the product of genetics and malnutrition - might have given rise to teasing, but any one who knew him, knew not to mess with Damien!

Damien Smyke had his head shaved, which accentuated his broad forehead, receding chin and bull-like neck, all of which were stippled with day-old stubble. There was something about his nasty, small face, which, while not deformed, was not exactly normal. He had nasty thin lips, usually fixed in a sneer.

But nastiest of all was his short, violent temper.

"Bollocks!" Smyke shouted, as he stalked up the Peascod Street, the pedestrian shopping district, away from the council offices, in the direction of the Castle.

"Is she a fuckin' bitch or wot?" He mouthed and as so often happened, people scurried out of the path out this disagreeable looking individual, cursing out loud as if he were deranged.

"Bastards!" He barked, sending a group of Japanese tourists dashing into a bookshop for cover.

Reaching the busy High Street, that separated the Windsor town from the Castle precinct, Smyke made his way to the benches in front of the liquor off-licence. He needed a drink badly -- he'd have to find a sap to buy it for him, because the tosser that ran the place asked for ID --even after he had threatened to bust up the place - and Smyke had only just turned fifteen, after all.

He snarled at an elderly couple, which had dared to sit eating an ice cream, on his favourite bench, and then he stepped up onto the seat with his filthy trainers and planted his arse on the top of the backrest, in his usual antisocial manner.

Damien liked this part of the town!

It was a good spot for watching the stupid tourists or for selecting suitable suckers to pickpocket. He reached between his legs scratched his balls and belched loudly. Then he thought back to the meeting he had just had with Hyacinth-fucking-Snodgrass, his probation officer.

She had been in a foul mood to start with, something about indigestion after a bad meal, but the message had been clear and simple -- he either complied with her latest fucking daft scheme or he was off to a youth detention centre for a long, long spell.

He considered fucking off to London, as he had done several times before. The old bitch was wise to that lark and told him he would do double time if he tried it on, when they caught him -- and they ALWAYS caught him!

When first he was made to report to Miss Snodgrass she had tried threatening her with his switchblade, but she had done judo on him hadn't she! Now, in spite of himself he found he respected the old cow `cause he knew were he stood with her.

She took no shit from Damien Smyke.

Yes, all the fun had gone out of Smyke's life! Where were the good old days? Like them days with ol' Bolder, the old codger they had committed to a sanatorium, after the incident at the toddler's day care centre.

Now that had been living life with the fuck-you finger pointing straight up!

The Snodgrass bitch knew Damien was a football lad, and an energetic supporter of Windsor Wanderers, a fourth division team but, hey, they gonna be great someday! Damien Smyke would beat the shit out of anyone who challenged him on this point.

Damien had been playing soccer since he was ten, and if he weren't such a short arse and could control his vile temper, he could have been pretty good -- that's what they said down at the Windsor Wanderers clubhouse.

Anyways like, the bitch has come up with this scheme. He, Damien Smyke, has to spend time with this kid telling him all about football and shit, and he has to see the bugger three times a week, or he's for the bums-rush express, all the way to the bleeding detention centre.

It was un-fucking-believable! Then she tells him the kid is not some nice normal kid from an estate, with who he the can go smoking, drugging or thieving, like any normal lad would! No - it is some poncy, bloody ten-year-old, goodie-two-shoes, and son of a snobbish doctor that lives in some fucking house with a fucking name, yet!

What does this mean when you are fifteen and have street-credibility to protect? Didn't the bitch think about him when she came up with her shit ideas?

Well maybe he would go and see this fucking fancy-boy; maybe extort money from him; maybe he'd beat the shit out of him three times a week for fun; and maybe he'd threaten him with worse still, if he dared to rat on him.

"Fuckin' right!" Damien Smyke shouted out, slamming his hard-balled fist into the palm of his left hand, the elderly couple gawked in sheer terror at the clearly psychotic lad.

"Wot yer fink yer lookin' at, you mangy pillocks?" He yelled after them as they scuttled off.

Smyke had been fighting long before he took up footie. He was in extremely good shape -- his body a lean and lethal fighting machine. He had an extremely well defined and nicely shaped arse. His legs are also very well defined, with muscles that ripple from the Achilles' tendon to the upper thighs when he walked. But above the belt line, Damien's mean little body was hard but underdeveloped. He often thought it looked like the chest of a tough twelve-year-old, not a lad of fifteen. A gentle flow of milky white skin started at the belt and coursed to his collarbones. He had no fat. No rolls -- just smooth lines - smooth bulges were the six-pack of his belly should have been. This perfect smoothness of his torso was, however, marred by the ravages of acne that spread painfully over his shoulders, back and neck.

The worst thing about this stupid lark was that it played right to the secret life of Damien Smyke -- it was as if the stupid Snodgrass cow knew that he was also a closet anorak - a football-loving anorak! He could talk endlessly about football! He could spend hours pouring over old football scores; he could name the full teams for the past twenty-five FA cup finals; he could even quote chapter and verse on football hooligan violence over the past two years!
A football anorak -- yes it was the first of the two great secrets in the life of Damien Smyke!
He needed a drink right now -- he scoped the passing stream of tourists. A nice fat German or Japanese wallet first, then he would slip a few quid to that homeless git who sold the Big Issue outside the Castle gate - he'd get Damien a six pack of Strongbow. Then later, he would get that pansy little Whyte kid on his knees, begging him not to beat him to death!
Yeah - perhaps the day wasn't a total right off after all!


The boy stood in front of the full-length mirror and looked through his crooked glasses at his reflection.

He smiled. He smiled a good deal these days, and today he had good reason to smile -- in front of him stood Snowy Whyte. Bashful Prim rested his chin on the blond hair of the beautiful boy and hugged him close to his chest. Snowy, taking a lead from Bashful rested his chin on the head of the eight-year-old Dopey and hugged him tight.

Dopey giggled and gave his naked pee-pee a friendly squeeze -- after all his had not gone soft once during the last hour of fun here in Osbert's room! What a good idea of Osbert's it had been, stopping over on their way home from the Great Park Boys' Grammar School, for a quick wank. All three friends were naked and recovering from a good rub off! Snowy could still feel Osbert's thin watery cum, running over his legs where it leaked from the crack of his bum. It had been a wonderful rub off - Dopey and he rubbing willies, white Osbert rubbed Snowy from behind.

Osbert reached out his arms hugging the three bodies firmly -- as they formed a tasty boy sandwich.

"Oh my," Snowy confided, "I think Bashful rather likes this team hug, his thing is poking me in my back!"

More giggles followed, and then rather absently, Dopey stuck his thumb in his mouth and worked the tip of it with his delicate pink tongue before pushing the whole thing home, and rewarding it with a gentle suck.

"D-d-d-don't you e-e-ever give that p-p-p-poor thing a r-r-r-rest?" Bashful asked the littlest member of the terrible trio.

"Maybe he will suck my thumb for a change," Snowy offered with a high-pitched giggle as he offered the boy his thumb, in the playful spirit of the game Dopey withdrew his thumb and gobbled up the offered digit.

"Oh my goodness!" A thrilling new sensation spread from his thumb, all they way to Snowy's toes. He felt his cock throb into life once more, and he prodded it into Dopey's naked back.

"I have been thinking," said Dopey in his slow manner, as he briefly removed Snowy's thumb from his sucking mouth, "a pee-pee looks just like your thumb do you think people ever suck them?"

"Oh...err!" Said Bashful a little taken aback by the little boy's imagination.

"Well," said Snowy eruditely, "I have been reading one of my dad's textbooks and there is this thing in there called Oral Sex. I thought it meant just, you know, talking about sexy things but no - some people put willies in their mouths."

"Oh...err!" Repeated Bashful!

The three friends returned to the bed, lay down naked, and started to hug and caress each other. All three were hard once more, after all this nasty talk about putting pee-pees in mouths, and they reverted to some gentle grinding of dicks together.

Then Snowy went down on the older friend and started to masturbate Bashful hard and fast. The teen was so sexed that it took just a minute or so before he came for a second time. A blast of thin watery cum splattered out over Snowy's hand and Bashful's stomach. He was very fascinated by the teenagers cum, and felt it between his fingers before he licked on it.

"Oh Snowy that is so gross!" Dopey sniggered with mock distaste. Snowy made a playful grab at Dopey's Dick. He was still very fascinated by the tiny circumcised pee-pee of the littlest boy, and he played with it for some time gradually moving his face closer to the tiny thing to peer into the tiny slit at the tip of it into the warm pink channel.

Dopey too, lay on the bed some way down, so that he had Snowy's tool in front of his face. The boys were in serious danger of discovering the 69! A grunt from Bashful drew Snowy's attention back to the thirteen-year-old and he retuned to splashing around playfully in the puddle of cum in Bashful's bellybutton.

"My, it does smell nice, I wonder when I will make my own?" Snowy pondered.

Dopey stroked the hairless pubis of the blond boy. He was very impressed with Snowy's dick - it looked awesome. His very hard cock had such a lovely long foreskin that created a delicate fleshy tube that met, like a pair of miniature pink lips over the glans.

As Dopey lay there, touching him, feeling and caressing the cock, his sluggish little brain formed the thought that he was like holding a stick in his hand - like holding a stick of candyfloss or perhaps a lollypop. Then something in his slow thought processes ticked over and he felt like licking it like a lollypop.

"Snowy, would you mind me licking him?" he asked in his singsong little voice, as if this were this was normal, everyday request.

Snowy was too preoccupied with splashing around in the fragrant pool of clear cum on Bashful's belly, to really reply to the question -- which he would later have to admit he had only half heard.

And so that afternoon, eight-year-old Peter Pratt sucked his very first cock.

He carefully licked it, first on the head, then his pursed lips pressed to the lips of the blond boy's penis, like an affectionate peck on the lips between two lovers.

Dopey took the foreskin-covered tip into his mouth and closed his pretty lips around it. He was surprised; it did not taste of anything in particular -- no different, in fact, from sucking his own thumb. He let his little tongue glide round the head, which was soft on the outside but very hard on the inside and he started to suck on it, using the eight years of practice he had put in on his own thumb to good effect.

Snowy gasped with pleasure, but did not say anything.

This alerted Bashful to the fact that something was up, he opened his eyes dreamily behind his uneven glasses, and he focused his eyes through the pleasant haze of his own recent cum.

"Oh...err!" Bashful was both startled and amazed!

Dopey varied his sucking - as an inveterate thumb-sucker, he had, at last, found something that he knew how to do very, very well. Sometimes he would suck vigorously, taking it deep into his mouth, at other times gently, with only the head inside. He was skilled and careful enough to know how to avoid contact between the tender cock and the brace of steel that held his teeth in their embrace.

Snowy remained rigid all the time, gasping for breath. This made Dopey extremely horny himself and he took to humping the boy's naked white leg. He poked and shoved his dick clumsily into his leg, just like a frantic dog.

Dopey must have been sucking him for about ten minutes, when Snowy's body suddenly started to tremble all over. With a long wailing cry, he shoved the child's head down so that his willy was poking in the back of his little boy throat. He could feel it pulsing as he came - dry as always - in Dopey's mouth. At about the same time Dopey felt a gentle, strange and, yet unfamiliar, tingly sensation in his dick that spread like butterflies to his tummy

A short time after this Snowy removed the boy's head from his groin. His dick was half-hard, wet and glistening. Dopey sat up and smiled his slow-witted smile, looking down at the head - then kissed he planted a sloppy-wet kiss on the swollen, blue-red knob that had slip out from under the covers of its skin-coloured polo-neck sweater.

"That was fun!" He pronounced his verdict to his young friends.

"Oh...err!" Bashful blushed and stammered.


Pricilla caught Snowy on the landing. Well `caught' was perhaps the wrong word, more like mesmerised!

"You are not going through with this, surely?" she hissed through her clenched teeth.

Pricilla had just been bathing, washing her hair and applying a bright green facial mask to her podgy skin. She emerged, three hours later, in her bathrobe, a bath-towel turban and bright green face, looking like and overweight Amazon sent from Mars to destroy civilisation, as we know it.

"I made a deal with the Vicar and I always do what I promise, you know that." He said very reasonably.

"I can't believe you'd do this! Do you know what kind of boy this is?" She spoke slowly, fearful that moving her mouth might crack the mask and destroy any last remaining chance of beauty.

"He is here for forty minutes three times a week to tell me about football. Then, when the time is up, he takes the bus home. Where is the harm in that?"

"Well, dimwit, he is a convicted thief and hooligan and he could kill us all. Mama has taken to her bed with one of her heads and I dread to think what a boy like that might do with a girl like me..." she said drawing her bathrobe tightly to her fat bosom.

Snowy, being a polite boy, did not point out that only a group of blind sex-starved Viking-raiders might be interested in the green-faced harridan before him.

The doorbell rang out, Pricilla shrieked, ran to her room and locked the door behind her, as Snowy descended the stairs to admit his visitor.

Damien Smyke had polished off five pint-cans of extra strong cider by the time he boarded the bus to Columbine Dell. Having had neither lunch nor breakfast, it was a very drunken fifteen-year-old that swayed up to the front door of the house, yet years of alcohol and drug abuse had taught Damien to move carefully so as not to draw attention to his condition.

Damien Smyke was wearing what he always wore - a pair of black, Umbro shorts; the blue and white team-shirt of the Windsor Wanderers FC; and a foul pair of trainers. Summer and winter, he wore a filthy black anorak, on the back of which he had hand-painted `Wanderers Fucking Rule'. Damien only varied the outfit on cold days, when he drew a grungy tracksuit bottom over the shorts and covered his skinhead with an ancient woolly hat. No one in Windsor could remember ever seeing him in anything else.

"You Whyte, then?" Smyke asked, hardly slurring his words at all.

"Yes, you must be Damien wont you come in?" The older boy ignored the proffered hand. It surprised Snowy that he stood only five-foot tall.

Snowy watched the teenager slink into the entrance of the cottage, moving quietly, almost catlike, pausing to gauge that atmosphere. Snowy had no way of knowing that this was a habit, a then very little, Damien Smyke had developed and used to cope with an abusive parent.

"Won't you come up to my room please?" asked Snowy politely, as he lead the way up the stairs.

Sliding into the boy's bedroom Smyke paused, taking in his surroundings, like a cat looking around a strange house.

With out drawing attention to the action, Snowy opened the bedroom windows a little wider -- too polite to point out to the boy just how badly he smelled.

"So yous wanna know `bout footie?"

"Oh yes please! I have just started going to school and it is all the boys ever talk about..."

"It's kinda late for yer only to be startin' school now, ain't it?"

"Well," Snowy blushed very prettily "I used to have tutors here at home, so I'm not a complete starter..."

"Oh vats right bleedin' fancy, vat is." Smyke snarled. "So yer must knows somefin' `bout football?" He was greeted with blank stares from the pretty blue eyes, "and yer means yer knows nuffin'? Not a fing? Ain't you ever played with yer mates round here?"

"It is very isolated here. I have to cycle ten minutes to the nearest house and they are all pensioners!"

"Ain't you watched it on va telly?"

"I don't look at much television." At this point Damien was convinced he had had one cider too many and was hallucinating - this kid could not be for real. He started picking at the pimples on his face, something he always did when he was perplexed.

"Don't gimme vat..." Smyke started. But the blond child cut him off in mid sentence, as he grabbed his hand and dragged him across the landing into his bathroom.

Later - when Damien had time to think about it -- he thought it remarkable he did not punch the kid in the face, there and then and lay him out cold.

Later - when Damien had time to think about it - he would put it down to the alcohol, but right then, he was too stunned by the course of events that ensued, to say anything,

The blond boy ran a bowl full of warm water into the washbasin, to which he added soap and disinfectant. Pushing Damien's anorak sleeves up to his elbows, he plunged the boy's hands into the hot soapy water and taking a scrubbing brush in hand, he proceeded to scour the older boy's hands clean.

This done, he forced Damien into a sitting position on the closed lid of the loo, while he sat on the end of the bath opposite him and took each hand in turn into his own. Snowy set to work with instruments from a small leather case, digging the blackened filth from under the boy's fingernails.

Snowy noticed that the fuck-you finger of his right hand -- the one that Damien so often used to express his displeasure - had a nasty scar down it. He had no way of knowing that the old injury was yet another gift from Smyke's brutal father, who was doing time in prison.

Then he set about trimming and filing the nails - all ten off them. This was done in total silence.

Time seemed to stand still while the younger boy took care of the older boy's hands, manicuring them to perfection. Then looking up at Damien he smiled and said:

"There now, if you must scratch your face, at least you won't get it infected." Snowy said sounding more like a nanny than a ten-and-three-quarter-year-old!

Damien was dumbfounded!

"Oh look at the time! Our time is up, if you don't rush now, you will miss your bus!" So saying, Snowy rushed the boy down the stairs, out the front door, walked him up the lane and saw him safely onto the number-five bus, back to Windsor.

"Now don't forget, four o'clock on Wednesday." He shouted cheerfully as he waved at the stunned figure on the bus.

Damien Smyke started fixedly and his perfectly clean, perfectly manicured hands, all they way back to Windsor.


"Is that Mirror on the Wall Psychic Guidance?" Mrs Whyte asked imperiously, but the mystical music faded and the awful recorded set of instructions followed, that Mrs Whyte found increasingly frustrating - as if the sprits were deliberately trying to postpone or delay their contact with her, a woman who needed their council so badly. The thought that the premium billable telephone rate that was ticking away, adding considerably to her husband's phone bill, might have had something to do with the delays, did not enter her mind.

The irritable drumming of her fingers on the bureau stopped the moment she heard the dark tones of Madam Zelda on the line.

"Oh dear Madam Zelda, I am so concerned. I need guidance - you will not believe what the boy has done. He has taken up with some hoodlum.... Yes... A convicted football hooligan and he is not only mixing with him, but also bringing him into our home! What if this Smyke turned violent and had his way with my precious Pricilla?"

There was along pause on the other end of the line and Mrs Whyte assumed that the world famous spiritualist was in consultation with the other world.

"Smyke you said?" Confirming this Mrs Whyte held her breath once more and then the reply came: "You are not seeing the fish in the dark of the lake."

"Oh I see..." Mrs Whyte saw nothing whatever in this strange communication.

"Ah yes, madam! Chief Deerhunter was telling me this Smyke is a bad lot, but you must keep the boy in with this type of bad company. Do what you can to encourage it."

"You can't be serious Madam Zelda..." If there was on thing Mrs Whyte could not abide it was argumentative spirits.

"What does the boy's father think of this friendship?" Madam Zelda was patient with regular customers.

"Well the doctor disapproves of course...but..."

"And what do you think this disapproval will do to the boy's relationship with his father?"

"Oh!" Mrs Whyte's scheming little brain cells were overheating "I had not thought of that. Yes indeed! So you think that this behaviour might distance him from his father's affections, and make him think more of dear Pricilla? Oh dear Madam Zelda, how wise of you. Yes of course, I will encourage to go on mixing with these unsavoury types."


Snowy had proved to be something of a novel arrival at The Great Park Boys' Grammar School. Most boys' who were tutored and home went straight on to one of the big name public schools of which there were several in the area. As he had arrived shortly before the summer holidays, this further complicated matters. It was decided to put him in the top class of the Prep school to give him a chance to prove himself. If he proved to be as clever and mature, as it appeared from his admission test results, he could go move up with the eleven-pluses into the first form in the new school year. If he did not do, well then he could spend the year with people his own age in the top class of the Prep school and move up a year later.

It was nice to see Dopey every day. Often the three friends would break with tradition and Bashful, from the high school, and Dopey and Snowy, from the junior school, would get together for lunch or games.

Snowy soon found himself fitting easily into life at the school. He found out that there were great benefits attached to be a really good looking boy at an all boys' school, as you did not get picked on or bullied as often and boys with big ears, buckteeth or spots.

He took upon himself the job of guardian of little Dopey. Once the boys realised that he had someone protecting him, in a way his brother had never done, they left the slow-witted boy alone.

The other thing that required some adjustment was wearing a school uniform, something Snowy had never done before in his life. At first he thought that wearing a uniform caused all the boys to look the same and loose their uniqueness - but he soon changed his mind - the uniform did not distract from the boy at all. It made you look at, see the boy, and not see only the clothes he was wearing. Snowy has been developing quite an eye for boys and at Great Park Boys' Grammar he had his fill of boys to admire.

It was several weeks since that first ill-fated meeting with Peter Pratt and his brothers, that Snowy bumped into Patrick Pratt, Dopey's older brother, during the lunch period. Snowy had been leaving one of the quietest of the school bogs, down at the bike sheds, at the same time that Patrick had been entering it.

"Alright, Snowy? He greeted the younger boy, like a long lost friend, "'ow you getting on `ere then?"

"I am fine thank you, Patrick,"

"Hey, I'm gonna take a piss, why don'tcha come in wiv me and we can talk?" So they walked back into the deserted boys' lavatory and they began to talk about why Snowy had not previously been in a school and how he liked things at this school.

The older boy stood at the urinal, drew out his circumcised penis and balls and started pissing. Snowy found it very pleasant looking at the boy's penis once more, even if it was soft and discharging pale-lemon urine. He still regretted having missed out on the opportunity of playing with Patrick's fine developing cock and so he leaned in a little closer, to take a good look.

It struck Snowy once again what an animal-like attractiveness the twelve-year-old Patrick Pratt had. Patrick was all boy -- slightly chubby, boisterous and the junior school football ace. A fine moustache of sweat had formed on his upper lip from his roughhousing in the playgrounds and he licked this off with one sweep of his tongue. He particularly liked looking at the boys fat little testicles, and he remembered reading in his medical book that on average, the testicles grow most dramatically between a male's 12th and 13th birthdays -- this would make Patrick and about on target.

"Pity told tales an' spoiled our fun va other day. Hey, didn't Dopey say vat you was uncircumcised, lad?" Snowy admitted he was. "I've never played wiv an uncut cock. - I'd kill for that!" He choked. "I've never even seen an uncircumcised lad wank `imself before. Could you do vat for me, so as I can see `ow you do it?" As Patrick was saying this he began excitedly stroking the front of Snowy's grey flannel short-trousers.

Snowy was somewhat embarrassed, but even more aroused.

"So, does that mean you're going to try to seduce me now?" He baited Patrick as he giggled.

They both laughed, but the older lad said, "You better bleedin' believe I am." His rubbing of the front of Snowy's school shorts was getting Snowy extremely roused. "Get it out," he said, his voice thick with lust.

Snowy had not given him any verbal consent, but Patrick knew he would not resist if he went after what he wanted. He quickly unzipped the fly and tugged the blond lad's school shorts down each side of his hips to reveal the concealed prize. He gently pinched the boy's foreskin right through the fabric of his underpants, when he heard no protests.

Pulling his underpants aside, Snowy extracted his penis. Patrick obviously loved his first look at the hard uncircumcised-cock, it excited him so much and his own cock sprang to full erection. Snowy too felt sexually provoked by showing him. For the first time Snowy felt proud to still have his foreskin.

"We better just watch each other! That way, if someone comes in, we can cover up again real quick, like." Patrick was clearly experienced in these matters. "Now show me how good you can wank."

Snowy began to slide his foreskin gently up and down over the entire length of his glans, as he usually did, when he masturbated alone. Patrick just stood at the urinal and watched his every move intently without saying a word -- his own hand working rapidly at his fatter dick.

Snowy's three-inch cock was rock hard. He fondled his foreskin nipple and began gently stroking it methodically up and down over the entire length of his glans. As he kept rolling his foreskin over his wet glans, every once in a while allowing the pink tip to peek out at its Patrick's cock.

"I like looking at yours Patrick it's a nice fat one." Patrick started fisting it harder to show his appreciation of the compliment, his left hand cupped his nuts firmly and his legs pumped in a circular rhythm.

"Wow, and I can you see why the skin makes you `ave good cums. Your foreskin is so snug and tight; it hugs your knob like it is fucking your pee-pee. I bet it feels good."

Snowy nodded wildly, and yelled, "Yes, it does!"

"You gotta come over again sometime me lil' bruver an' me would love a go wiv vat thing o' yours, mate."

Snowy found this suggestion more than a little thrilling and soon started trembling and the tingling feeling rose in his belly.

Patrick groaned as he dry-climaxed too and he said, "Wow... that was cool, mate!"


On the day of his second visit Snowy had handed Damien Smyke a small bottle and an eyedropper, which he had obtained from his father.

His father had at first disapproved of the friendship but after discussing the boy, his rather strange friendship with the older lad, and how Snowy felt he needed to help this boy who had fallen on bad times, his father warmed to the plan and said he would do what he could. Secretly, he was a very proud man and was now certain his son would follow him into the caring profession of medicine.

Three visits later, the crusty infection had cleared up, and Snowy could for the fist time see the colour of the teenager's eyes. He noticed that Damien had very unusual eyes -- a smooth liquid grey, like the ocean -- very restful eyes for such a restless individual.

"You really have very nice eyes, Damien." He said, smiling.

"What is me eyes to you?" He barked in his usual brusque way, and then when the defensive anger passed, suspicion clouded his face. "You fuckin' 'aving me on, ain't yer?"

"Not at all, you have really nice grey eyes." There was no way of understanding this kid, no matter how rude he was, no matter how much he tried to order the boy around, Snowy just treated it as a joke and carried on being perfectly nice to the older boy.

Damien had grudgingly explained the basic rules of the game of football to Snowy and on fine days, like today, they had kicked a football around on the lawn next to the cottage. The boy was hopeless at the game - he lacked ball control, was unfit and the teenager ran rings around him. These games did, however, save him from having to speak to the kid who disturbed him.

"'e is so bleedin' nice -- it ain't bleedin' normal." He would say to himself repeatedly.

It had turned into a surprisingly hot day and both boys were soon exhausted.

"Shall we rest under the trees?" Asked Snow.

"I'm sweating me nuts off, I am." Damien protested wiping the sweat of his brow and falling on the lawn, his legs splayed. That was when he caught the kid looking at him again in that strange way. Damien knew he had nice legs and a killer arse, but surely the kid was too young to be looking at him in this way. Snowy started blushing, as he realised he had been caught peeking at Damien's lovely muscular legs, and to be honest, even a bit further up the leg of his dirty shorts - it was very clear Damien Smyke never wore underpants.

"Somefin' fuckin' weird about yer, kid was yer tryin' to look up me shorts at me bollocks?"

"Well you do have awfully nice legs Damien and I think you aren't wearing underpants because I thought I saw something hairy. I'm sorry for peeking!" he looked so infuriatingly shy and apologetic at the same time.

"Well it ain't anyfin' fancy up there or nuffin'." He grumbled but it was so hard to get angry with this kid he was so damned nice.

"Oh goodness! I nearly forgot something. Damien, why don't you go up to my room for a few minutes, I just have to get something from my dad in the surgery."

Now, if one were to draw up an inventory of Damien Smyke's personality defects, one you would not find on the list was missing an opportunity!

The kid was unbelievable!

The kid was actually asking him to go and have a look around his room. Anyone that stupid deserved to have his stuff stolen.

He left Snowy, moved swiftly up the stairs, and commenced his quest.

Was there a nice Sega game player that he could fence? -- No!

Was there a computer or CD player that would fetch a good price? -- No!

Was there a leather coat or expensive Nike trainers? -- No!

Was there even loose change in his top drawer? --No! There was nothing worth stealing!

"Nuffin' - absolutely fuckin' nuffin'." He grumbled. There were lots of books and a video of Bambi. Bambi! What kind of boy watched Bambi?

But Damien Smyke was not one to be easily defeated! He knew the ways of boys! If there were something good, something precious, then the kid would have it hidden. He scouted the room for likely hiding places, no false bottoms to the cabinets; no loose floorboards under the carpet!

Then it struck him! Under the mattress! All boys had this as the failsafe hiding-place. He lifted the bed covers - nothing except some blue ski-style pyjamas. Lifting the mattress he found a red leather-bound book!

He was certain he had stuck gold! A False book might have a secret compartment holding something he could sell -- money; coins; medals?

He laid the book onto the desk the book fell open at chapter 17 as if it had very frequently been opened there. He could not believe it - it was JUST A BOOK!

He read the title of the chapter "Eroticism of children and adolescents". It was a flippin' dirty book. A sex book! What would a kid like this be doing with a sex book? He paged further, there were photographs of some girls' genitals but Damien was not interested in them, he paged on then he read the following:

"For males, masturbation is the act of manually stimulating the penis to produce pleasure. For adults and older teens, masturbation usually ends with ejaculation, in which the liquid that contains sperm cells, semen, is ejected from the penis. Ejaculation is usually accompanied by orgasm a whole-body feeling that (for most people) is so powerful and pleasurable it cannot be compared to any other feeling the human body can experience."

Damien struggled over most of the words, having missed most of his schooling, his reading age was that of a child half his age.

He then reached a section titled: "Individual differences in the shape of penis among boys".

What followed was a series of colour and monochrome photographic plates showing the stages of regular genital development, comparisons of circumcised to uncircumcised penises, then followed a collection of rather unusual penises: some of these were quite strange, some looking like an hourglass, a pencil or a club.

Then he found the three yellow stick-it markers inserted at three very different photographs of penises.

The first showed a very tiny one, something like a pencil. The hand-written pencil note read: "Looks like Dopey."

"Looks like Bashful" read the childlike handwriting on the note marking a very attractive five-incher, with a very sparse crop of light coloured hairs. He wondered who Dopey and Bashful were.

Then Damien Smyke turned to the final page marker. The illustration showed a very delicate, hairless penis with an extremely long foreskin. Damien read the yellow note: "Looks like mine."

Feeling weak-kneed and a little faint, Smyke closed the book. With trembling hands he returned it to the secret hiding place, then he lay on the bed and closed his eyes.

How he regretted having found that book!

How it terrified him that, just when he was trying to have bit of fun - a bit of easy thieving - that the second terrible secret that haunted Damien Smyke should come back to haunt him. He hoped that the blackness would banish that sight. But there it was! Replaying over and over again in his memory - that awesome, hairless, three-inch cock with the tender little balls and long foreskin! It seemed to have burned itself onto his mind's eye!

Damien Smyke was a virgin.

It was as simple as that! Damien Smyke the fifteen-year-old terror of Windsor, the convicted felon and football hooligan, was a virgin!

It was not that he was a virgin from lack of desire. He wanted, frantically, to have sex - but to his shame, it was not the body of a girl or woman he craved, but the body of a boy.

It had started as fantasies about one or another of his football hero. Even before he was ten he would dream of walking into the changing room of the Windsor Wanderers and seeing those Apollo-like figures naked with the magnificent legs, lean young bodies and grown-men's cocks. He would masturbate while drooling over photographs of footballers in action of the field of glory.

Later his attention wondered to younger and younger boys. Damien was in desperate need of sex with another boy. He was too afraid to approach his mates or boys of his own age, for fear of being classification a queer. He lusted after boys a year or two younger than he, but he was also afraid that they would tell on him, and wreck his life.

After Damien had decided that it was to risky to approach boys his age for sex, he started concocting fantastic plots in his imagination to have sex with younger boys...little boys.

He reckoned that he would have no trouble getting them to do what he wanted, not only was he bigger than they were, but he was Damien Smyke and as such, he knew that he could also intimidate them into secrecy.

Damien's days and nights were filled with fantasies of snatching gullible little boys, stripping their clothes off, then making them suck his cock until he came in their mouths. He fantasised about snarling at them and making them swallow his cum.

Later on his daydreams took off in new directions - he became obsessed with the thought of boys bottoms. He wanted to feel his dick inside of a little boy's bum hole. Every time that he thought about that, he ended up with an erection, and headed to the nearest lavatory to masturbate.

Short of his masturbation and these fantasies, Damien had never had sex.

He was that scary, ugly, short-ass - his cheeks were ravaged and pockmarked by adolescent pimples and every one was afraid of him. Who would want to have sex with him?

"I'm sorry I was so long," the boy said as he walked into the room, he found Damien stretched upon his bed looking very pale under the red, acne-war-zone on his face. "Are you alright, Damien?" he asked, concerned.

"I was in `ere an' the next fing I knows, I just come over all funny like. Hey, what ya got there?"

The truth was the words that the boy had written on the yellow sticker were what made Damien weak-kneed! The thought that consumed him was did this little boy have a perfect penis in his pants just like that one in the picture?

"Ointment for acne. I told dad about it and you must use this soap twice a day."

"You sayin' vat I don't wash me face?"

"It is not that Damien, this is medicated soap."

"Then you must rub this stuff on your face and wherever else you have acne twice a day and it will make it better." Snowy said with disarming conviction. "I can rub in on for you now, if you like, we still have about five minutes before you need to get the bus."

"Well I `ave it on me back and shoulders too an' I can't reach there, would ya gimme a `and?"

"'Course I will ... I'll give you a proper massage, if you like, Damien. Do you feel like that?" Snowy had already noted with some satisfaction that his black, Umbro shorts were showing signs of arousal - Damien was as stiff as he already was. Snowy had an erection since he had glimpsed the Damien's furry bush when the teen lay sprawled on the lawn.

"Now get your trainers off and you'd better take your shirt off!"

"Ok ... then lay on me belly?"

"That'd be best!"

"Ok!" He removed his foul pair of trainers, then sitting up; he pulled the blue and white team-shirt of the Windsor Wanderers FC off over his head. Damien puffed out his chest as he showed off his body to the younger boy. "You gonna gimme a massage then, Snowy?"


As a response the tiny fingers set to rubbing over the ravaging pimples and scars that covered his back, neck and shoulders. Once or twice Damien winced with pain as the fingers touch one of the many nasty, inflamed blemishes that marred his milky white skin.

Some strange unfamiliar thoughts were forming in Damien's mind.

Could it be that the boy liked him?

Could it be that he did not need to rely on fear alone to establish a relationship with another boy?

"Do you like rubbin' me shoulders?"

"'Course ...I do, Damien, you're my friend."


An easier relationship had settled in between Damien Smyke and Snowy. To call them friends would be stretching credulity, but the strain had gone. Damien no longer felt the need to get drunk or stoned before his visits, and Snowy started to look forward to the ugly, unhappy boy's visits.

Damien also had the feeling, now that he knew that the boy at least shared one interest with him, that he need feel less defensive when he was in the boy's company. Snowy was unfortunately one of those boys you could not keep your eyes off, with those classic features: high cheekbones, blond hair, and clear, unblemished skin. Damien liked looking at him more each time he came around to the cottage.

The two boys were sitting on the carpeted floor of Snowy's room, watching one of Damien's football boring videotapes during his sixth visit. It was a grey wet day and so a video had seemed the best solution. Damien really loved football! He was always talking about Windsor Wanderers as if they were the best club in the world.

Snowy did not have the heart to tell the older lad that actually he found football only marginally better than orienteering and stamp collecting as a hobby. If he did, he knew the boy would stop seeing him and he also understood that would get the boy into trouble and so he felt it his duty to keep up the pretence of enjoying these stupid matches.

"Do you know what part I like the best?" asked Snowy.

"Go on..."

"Well, when they score a goal."

"Scoring is the whole bleedin' point of va game, mate!"

"No, no I mean the bit where they chase each other around the pitch and hug and kiss each other."

"Are you serious?" Damien asked pointedly. Snowy suspected he had made a bad mistake, but he shyly confessed he did mean what he said.

"Vats fuckin' brilliant, mate `cause I love vat too in fact I got a whole video of vat kinna shit `ere. You wanna watch vat video tape?"

"Err..." he began tentatively, "I suppose that's fine, if you don't mind?"

"Oh, I can't see why not," Damien, replied pretending to be indifferent, but his hands trembled in excitement as he changed videotapes.

The onscreen action consisted of a series of scenes from a football matches - one scene was separated from the next by a zigzagged pattern of black and white. It was clear that the boy himself had amateurishly spliced it together from the telly.

Damien seemed so animated and excited. "Now watch this one then, it's bleedin' marvellous!"

On the screen a blond Manchester United player scored, he rushed on screaming and then fell to his knees and slid forward on the wet grass, his arms held out in triumph. One of his team-mates rushed into his arms and they hugged, fell on top of each other and rolled around like lovers.

"Oh my!" Said Snowy, finding it rather exciting seeing two good-looking lads hugging as if they were in a passionate embrace. "It looks like they going to snog each other!"

"In the next one they fucking' do, mate!"

The black and white zigzag gave way to another scene with the same striker heading the ball home into the net, then running around in tight circles into the waiting arms of a handsome tall team mate, who cupped his face in his hands and kissed him full on the mouth.

"Ain't that fuckin' great! Full on `is mouth."

"They are very nice looking, don't you think?" Said Snowy,

Damien found himself saying something before he could stop himself: "No mate, it is you wot is very nice lookin'... quite a good body for a stupid kid your age really!"

"Oh, you silly thing...." Snowy said in an uncharacteristically provocative manner. He giggled then fell back onto the carpet then rolled onto his belly, wiggling his bum sexily. Damien slapped his bottom playfully.

"Now watch this Arsenal-Liverpool match where va one lad rubs va other lads bum."

The football ace jumped up in the arms of his team-mates and rapped his arms and legs tightly around the tall dark-haired team-mate. Then he cupped his hands around the melon-shaped buttock and with smooth massaging movements rubbed his team-mate's bum while the two of them cheered ecstatically.

"Ain't vat great?" Damien was clearly very aroused by this and his hand was idly stroking his crotch as he watched the screen intently, unaware that the boy was examining his hand with far more interest than he was watching the screen.

"Say do you wanna try any of these moves mate?"

"You mean you and me..." Snowy blushed, "now?"

"Don't see why va fuck not?" smirked Damien Smyke.

"Oh well, ok then." Damien rolled Snowy onto his back and grasped him in the same way as the footballers had on film. For the next few minutes they experimented with all sorts of holds and moves. Every time a throw was involved Damien would throw Snowy on the soft carpeted floor - he was, surprisingly, very gentle with him at all times. After a while Snowy giggled as he noticed that he too was beginning to get a little hard-on, as he briefly felt the hardness of Damien's crotch press into his belly.

Snowy gazed at him and tried to imagine the older boy masturbating himself, in his mind he was huddled up under his covers, his shorts pulled just low enough for his grown boy's hand to hold his erection, stroking it in guilt, embarrassment and yet exquisite pleasure. He looked so ugly yet Snowy was so horny he could not resist reaching out and stroking stubbly shaved head. He flinched when Snowy touched him, but smiled slowly. Taking the smile as consent, Snowy slowly caressed his hand down his neck and felt his shoulder, the firm mound feeling so hard through his Windsor Wanderers shirt. Damien was breathing faster, his body growing so tense Snowy thought he would bolt out the door.

But Damien Smyke took courage. He realized this was what he had been waiting for -- his opportunity - the boy was willing and wanting it as much as he did. He placed his trembling hand on his back, Snowy shivering at that contact, but then relaxed totally. The boy's body was warm and wonderful to caress. Too excited to say anything, for fear of breaking the spell, Damien caressed every part of his torso - but somehow, he managed to restrain himself and did not try to move onto his bottom, though his hands moved repeatedly down as far as the hem of Snowy's shorts. Damien was as stiff as he could be and he guessed Snowy probably was as well: most boys would be in this situation.

"Anyways it this next one they all gets bunched up together, like if vey was packed in like some sort of fuckin' sardine tin." Damien said in part to relieve some of the tension. Snowy turned onto his belly to watch the telly once more.

Liverpool was triumphant this time, and they celebrated by tumbling into a writhing heap of young hard bodies.

"I think it looks like they are rubbing their boners against each others." Said Snowy without thinking, "Oh my goodness! I said something rude. I'm sorry Damien."

"Nah no sweat, mate. I finks va same, an' bugger me if vay don't look all hot and horny when vay does vat." But Snowy was paying more attention to the by now prominent bulge in Damien's shorts.

"Do you think they get stiff when they doing that?" asked Snowy in a mater-of-fact way. "If I was rubbing my thing against another player like that, I'd be hard in seconds," he confessed. Then he turned his head and commented on the ongoing massage, "This is really great ... you're making me feel ... you know ... all lovely!"

"It's you what's lovely, mate!" Damien told him, continuing his gentle massage of Snowy's back.

"No I'm not!" He retorted with a giggle. Damien became aware that his was slowly working his hips against the carpeted floor, obviously aroused. Damien noticed this and plucking up all his nerve he spoke:

"Do you rub your fing on stuff, then?" Damien looked into the blue eyes of his young friend; his cock gave another throb in his short pants. Then he recalled the book under the boy's mattress and this gave him guts to press on.

"Sometimes," said Snowy blushing deeply.

"On what, then?" his voice was a little breathless with anticipation could it be the boy was thinking the same as he was.

"My pillow and ..."

"Go on!"

"Some of my friends and I rub our willies together." Snowy's cheeks were scarlet.

"Vat sounds fuckin' hot mate. Wot's it feel like?"

"Very nice, actually. But haven't you done that?" Snowy smiled at the fifteen-year-old who was openly plucking at his crotch agitatedly. The older boy just looked embarrassed and shook his head forlornly. Snowy said sadly: "I'm sorry if I am being rude, but I have read in a book the 90 % of boys have a wank or rub off with their friends and I thought you might have done a bit of rubbing off."

"I `ave never found someone wot wants ta do vat wiv me. Me being so bleedin' ugly and all."

"I don't think you are so ugly, really and your skin is clearing up nicely."

"Well still I don't want people saying Damien Smyke is a queer and stuff... So I just, like, never done it, okay? Your mates are lucky vat a good-lookin' lad like you, wants to rub `is willy on theirs."

"I'm not all that nice, silly Billy!" Then turning more serious the little lad continued very softly, "Have you got a stiff one now Damien?" In reply the older boy squeezed the tent in his pants and showed the hardness beneath.

"Very nice." Snowy complemented the teen.

"No, it is you wot is nice"

"No I am not!" He wiggled in denial on the floor next to his friend

"Yes you are, don't bloody argue ... that's why I wanna snog you so bad."

"Ok!" Snowy gave him permission but even so, Damien was unsure of himself to make the move.

Damien Smyke was now trapped in an ebb and flow of emotions over which he had as little control as he would over an incoming tide. He had known years of fear from an abusive father, but that fear was nothing in comparison to his anxiety of rushing into sex with the younger boy. Although he was in no doubt he could roll him over, pull his things down and give him a wank, he was afraid of taking the step and satisfied his lust. What would happen if the boy told? What would happen is he enjoyed it too much and could not stop? His emotions flowed back and forth between fear and lust but eventually years of denial and the hardness of his cock were winning the battle and defeating the fear! He timidly slid his hands onto Snowy's bottom and started to fondle him through his clothes.

"Would yer let me stroke yer bum, proper like?" Damien croaked out a suggestion. Without waiting for a reply, he clutched the waistband of his shorts and pulled it down and out of the way. Then his white underpants were pulled down sufficiently so that his bottom was exposed.

Snowy, looking adorable, wriggled a superb boy-bum. Damien started to stroke those white cheeks using just his fingertips - smooth as marble; warm; yielding.

Unable to resist the temptation, Damien gently eased his cheeks apart so that he could inspect his anus properly. It looked so utterly sweet - he wanted to slide his erection into that little hole, but he knew that that really was not be feasible. Just to examine him there was thrilling enough, however. Snowy loved having his bum stroked - he squirmed about blissfully.

Snowy was by now so stirred up from all this, perhaps even getting close to an orgasm, something he didn't want - just yet! He tenderly pressed the older boy's hands away, clutched his things and pulled them up over his bum.

"Do you really want to kiss me? I'll bet you're really good at that, Damien."

"Yer a bleedin' little tease. Okay, then, let's see how good you are at snogging today!" he lightly patted his bum.

"Ok!" He giggled, as he rolled onto his back, the small bulge in his trousers revealed his hard state. Damien carefully ignored this new temptation as his lips drew near to the blond boy's full lips.

Damien had never been much for kissing, but Snowy looked so cute, that Damien couldn't help leaning his face and his body forward, until the slender boy's beautiful chest came into hard contact with his own, their bellies touching each other. Damien was almost breathing too hard to kiss him, but soon he felt the warm softness of Snowy's lips pressing against his own. It was pure bliss, exhilarating, thrilling.

Their hearts were pounding against their boyish chests, as their awkward lips chafed against each other. It was plain that Damien had never kissed before, but kissing is an instinctive art and the teenager had the right natural urges. Snowy could hear Damien making soft noises. Snowy slid his hand up his body, felt his fingers slipping into the dry, warm pit beneath the teen boy's thin arm. Snowy could just barely feel the silky strands that had sprouted there. Damien felt the boys small hand moving from his arm pit to his head, stroking and caressing the bristles on his shaven head and caressing the red acne scars on the back of his neck as lovingly as one would console a wounded soldier returning from a war. They were both still learning what to do but Snowy's skill at kissing was quite beyond anything he had ever expected!

"Let me lie next ta yer, Snowy." Said Damien, as he withdrew his tongue from his mouth and slid his left arm under the slim body, as he settled into a much more comfortable position.

Damien Smyke for the first time in his life understood the meaning of love and affection.

"Vat's much better! Kiss me again!" as they resumed kissing, Damien worked his tongue even more actively in Snowy's mouth, he placed his right hand on the boy's tummy. Snowy slid his tongue into the older boy's mouth as he imitated his actions.

"Oh, Damien," Snowy moaned again, slipping his arm around his hard, slender shoulders and pulling him close, his soft boyish face rubbing back and forth across the hardness of his shoulder, amazed at how beautiful he was under his ugly clothing. Damien was holding him in an equivalent manner and Snowy could feel the teenager pressing his crotch against his own. It felt so good. Snowy could feel the rock hard bulge as it pressed against his shorts.

Damien had to fight to pull away from him. He could not stand the thought of the boy's penis having an orgasm still in the confines of his pants; without any real thought, he ran his hand down his body. Reaching the waistband of his shorts, he simply edged his fingers under it, halting briefly for him to respond. The boy too was looking down at his bulge, wanting, no willing, Damien to remove the last of his clothing. He simply slid his fingers under the much tighter elastic of his underpants and felt for his waiting cock. A little manipulation and he was able to hold his very firm young erection -- three wonderful inches. Damien let out a little cry and his body flinched as his breathing grew more frantic -- a life's dream was coming true.

"Oh me God... vat's better!" he told him as he managed to disengaging his mouth from Snowy's, "Does that feel nice?"

"Oh yes, Damien, of course it is!" He was so gorgeous, so very, very beautiful.

"Are you going to toss me off?" Snowy asked boldly, as he lay back.

"If vat's what yer wants!" For a while, Damien Smyke simply hugged him then gently rubbed his young cock, sliding the soft foreskin to and fro over his sensitive glans.

"Do you like wanking me Damien?"

"Course I do ... don't it feel great, mate?"

"Yes ... really sexy!" Snowy purred in reply.

"Well, that's why I likes doing it to yer, mate!" he continued rubbing his foreskin up and down slowly and dexterously, in no hurry to bring him off. Snowy could enjoy the hot feeling in his beating penis and was further thrilled by the notion that Damien would soon see his most lovely possession. The tight white elastic band to his underpants pressed against his soft, hairless belly, and the boy squirmed slightly as he felt his penis pushing out at the cotton, yearning to be naked. Snowy moaned once more as Damien's fingers took hold of the top of his underwear, drew them open, allowing the warmth to rush out as the stunned teenager got his first sight of the boy's fine-looking pre-pubescent erection.

"Oh me friggin' `eart!" Damien exclaimed grasping at his chest in only a part-joking fashion for his heart felt ready to spring free from his chest at that second.

On the, by now almost forgotten television screen, Snowy noticed a group of footballers in the communal showers roughhousing around after a football win. He noticed several bare bottoms and few flashes of naked furry penises and this gave him and idea.

"Why don't we take all your clothes off? It's much more fun being sexy if you're naked!" Snowy asked. Keen as mustard, he removed his polo shirt and faced Damien, then to he added, "You going to undress as well?" The beauty of the small chest that appeared from Snowy's yellow shirt was beyond words. He could now see the slight ridge where his chest tapered into his abdomen, could only sigh with wonder at the soft, smoothness of his body, the bright, almost translucent, whiteness of his boyish skin. Damien was captivated -- in awe - as he gazed fully at his small chest. He was not very muscular at all, Snowy was a very slender boy. His chest puffed up only slightly - on each small mound was a small, perfect nipple, little, and erect, a pale brown colour against his pale skin. His ribcage was just visible through his boy flesh, soft gentle ripples, thin and boyish. Damien could just make out the gentle bulges of his collarbones -- the small indentation at the bottom of a smooth neck that showed no sign of an Adam's apple. It was like heaven and Damien was in utter bliss. Slowly his hands ran over the small boy's body, felt the smooth skin under his palms, the firmness of his ribcage, the warmth of his belly, the small indentation of his belly button.

"Great idea, mate!" Smyke gasped with nervous excitement, scarcely able to contain his love for Snowy, then he added hopefully: "You gonna wank me off as well?"

"Can I?" Snowy was not certain that that was exactly what he wanted!

"Yeah!" Damien Smyke was in love with the sweet boy.

"We need to take our shoes off," Snowy managed as he turned and started to untie shoelaces. His back rippled with small boyish muscle as he moved, the ridges of the shoulder blades moving seductively beneath the softness of his snow-white skin and Smyke could see the small bulges of his backbone running down the length of his slim body to his lower back

Despite his inadequate stature, Damien wore size ten shoes and he was only five foot. As Smyke pulled off his trainers, he threw one of the vile shoes at Snowy playfully. His feet looked big for his small body and he wiggled them nervously.

Curious as ever, Snowy had a closer sniff inside Damien's left Nike and the odour was quite seductive, he had to admit. Not only the stale pong you would expect, but a tantalising combination of rubber and fresh boy-sweat. He took another deep breath from the shoe, then laid the pair on the floor and went back to undressing. Snowy finished taking off his own shoes and socks and was soon lying down with his head on the carpet.

Damien squirmed and freed his underpants from his round bottom. They were tight, but slid easily down the smooth, hairless perfection of his slender thighs. His legs looked thin, but well proportioned for his body. They also looked every bit as soft and smooth as his small chest. Snowy could not help but glance up at his underwear, cried in love as Snowy saw the bulge.

"Hurry up!" Snowy called as he watched Damien with keen blue eyes. Smyke was now wearing only his white shorts, his hard chest looking beautiful above the white beltline - below was the throbbing bulge of his penis. He imagined how hard and warm that bulge must be.

Uncharacteristically, Snowy demanded: "Take your pants off and show me!" He sat up slightly; keen, to see for the first time an almost adult erection. Watching him, he lay back and with a sexy grin got hold of for his cock and gave it a leisurely and lascivious wank, not just showing off, but doing it for the basic satisfaction at all boys get from the best of all acts. It was fun to watch the fifteen-year-old as he pulled off his things:

"Hang on, me ol' china!" He moved closer and knelt, his white Umbro pants showing all too clearly just how aroused he was, as he stood looking down at Snowy. "Well? Do you want to see it, then?"

"Yes ... show me!" Snowy insisted, then his head was almost level with the teenager's loins, with the back of his hand, he patted the bulge a few times, both amused and fascinated. "Wow! That's wicked! "

"Go on ... pull me flippin' pants down then!" As he spoke, Snowy reached out, grasped his pants either side of his waist and with one quick tug, jerked them down.

His dick was almost painfully pulled down with them, but then it was free to stand up for the blond child's inspection. Smyke was quite painfully aware that he was less equipped than the average boy his age, and he held his breath anxiously to see how the boy would react.

Did the young boy's intake of breath and his eyes opening wider tell Damien all he wanted to know or was is just the usual response of a boy seeing a teenager's erection for the first time?

Damien Smyke was not particularly well endowed, his cock when fully erect, was only four inches long, a good deal smaller than even thirteen-year-old Bashful. It looked lager than it actually was from where Snowy lay, but much of that was because it is seemed so thick. All Snowy could really see was the swollen head, the pretty thing shining a bright pink, the poor boy's slit gaping open with hardness. Down around the base, Snowy saw the exciting, wiry bush of pubic hairs.

Snowy knew instinctively that every boy needs approval and admiration for this most private of assets so he said:

"Oh wow! That is really wicked!" He looked up at him, giggled, but then looked back to his dick, "It's massively thick and goody, it isn't too long..." What Damien's cock lacked in length it more than made up for in thickness. It was a very fat short cock with a fat bulbous head, peaking out from under a short but thick foreskin, fat balls in a tight furry sack and the whole was surmounted by a wiry ginger bush of pubic hair. Another giggle, "and all hairy!"

"Go on then," he grasped Snowy's hand and pulled it to his cock, "show me `ow good you are at wanking!"

Snowy understood and gave a timid squeeze, then, changing his grip he slid his hand down and started to masturbate him. Damien started to whimper as Snowy's hand cupped his stubby cock, felt its solidity, the fleshy scrotum that held his balls.

"Do you like this?"

"That's it ... you're ace at wankin', mate!"

Snowy grinned, "Not as good as you though!"

"Well yer va best I bleedin' `ad, mate," he joked. Snowy glanced down at his own boner for only a second, much preferring Smyke's furry pubescence - his own little, three inch, pink penis throbbing frantically, hard and hairless, childish and incredibly excited.

Snowy wrinkled his nose very prettily, "I say, it smells a bit funny!"

"Hang on a moment!" Damien was, for once, a bit embarrassed by his own lack of personal hygiene. He rather shyly retracted the short foreskin, revealing the fat plumb shaped glans. Snowy moved a bit closer even though his eyes were stinging a bit from the ripe man smell emanating from the boy's sex organs. Snowy was amazed to see a thick white deposit of a crumbly substance coating the teenagers cock head. It had a texture not unlike that flaky white cheese that they used in the Italian Restaurant in the town, but its stink was very different!

"Sorry mate, just I ain't cleaned out me ol' cheese factory for a while," Damien grabbed the first item to hand - a pair of Snowy's white y-fronts - and he used them to wipe his cock head clean of the smelly cheese. Then he dropped the underpants on the floor.

His cock cleaned, Damien pushed Snowy back onto the carpeted floor. Quickly as he could, he pushed his pants down then off, swung round so that he could stretch out by him and they slipped into each other's arms again, their chests rubbing together as their lips met in another awkward kiss. Another protracted snog!

He pulled Snowy on top of him. They had baited their young hormones more than was reasonable. Snowy wriggled about on top of him, really enjoying all that we were doing, his tongue urgently moving about in his mouth as he kissed him with equal passion. They were both grunting in passion as their bare legs rubbed against each other, Damien slipped one leg firmly between Snowy own where he held it firmly as he humped away. Their throbbing crotches pressing against each other rigid and hot - they were humping against each other, Damien could not help himself nor could the pubescent boy in his arms.

"This is fun! And your dick feels nice!" Snowy lifted his head and smiled at him as their mouths parted.

"So does yours, mate ... I've never done this before, but it's fun being sexy wiv you, Snowy."

"It's nice when you are cuddling me like this and stroking me all over... especially the way you're stroking my bum!"

"That's why I do it!" he pointed out, "I ought to kiss your bum as well ... and your dick and your lovely little balls!"

"Why?" Snowy was quite perplexed by the idea!

"Cause it's nice for yer ... especially if I kiss yer dick!" he smiled, "That's what I want to do ... can I, mate?"

"If you want!" He was intrigued by the idea: obviously by now he knew about fellatio, but surely it was only Dopey that did silly things like that? Why would a teenager want to kiss his little willie?

Giggling playfully, he added, "Kiss my bum first though!" He was quite certain Damien would never do so!

He was wrong. The fifteen-year-old complied.

"Ok!" Gently, he eased out from under Snowy and rolled him over onto his belly. His bottom looked so very desirable and he sought to do more than just kiss it! But, he felt the blond child was not ready for that so he simply slid down the plush carpet and held his head above his white buttocks.

"Go on ... kiss my bum!" Snowy considered the idea rather silly but was intelligent enough to realise that he was very much in charge and could get Damien to do anything he wanted!

So, Damien started to kiss his little bum -- make another flight of the imagination a reality. As he did so, Snowy started to wriggle about, playfully at first, but then as he realised that Damien's tongue felt sexier than his fingers had when stroking him there, his movements became more noticeably erotic - rubbing his penis against the plush floor as he moaned vaguely. He was enjoying it as well -- Damien thought his bum tasted utterly remarkable! Cautiously, he even prodded his tongue between his cheeks, but not too much though! Before he had the chance to think of that as a possibility, he lifted his head and ordered:

"Roll over then! Time to kiss yer bollocks, mate!"

Laughing, he said, "Go on then ... kiss them!" He giggled, but watched as he dropped his head - he felt that it was silly for him to kiss his balls, but he guessed that it might be fun after all!

So, Damien stuck out his tongue and gently played it over Snowy's tightly held balls. He slipped his tongue behind his balls sac and moved it around. This drove Snowy nuts. He was wiggling and squirming all over the floor. Smyke took both of his beautiful balls into his mouth and rolled them around with his tongue. Then he gently sucked them. As they moved about in his soft scrotum, he wriggled about blissfully, discovering that Damien was doing was not silly after all, but rather thrilling -- almost as good in fact as Dopey sucking him!

Damien held Snowy closer, his cock now pressing warmly against his face as he continued to explore his really quite small balls. The smell of clean little boy was intoxicating. He then turned his attention to his little prick. His tongued then toyed with the base of the boy's cock, slowly moving round it up towards his glans. Snowy was wheezing in delight, his movements a little more insistent. Snowy could already feel himself swaying in orgasm, could already feel his senses reeling, his thoughts drifting. Damien lick him lasciviously, reaching his glans and slowly taking his tip of his little cock between his lips, causing Snowy to cry out loudly as his hips pushed upwards and he finally took all of him in his mouth and they were both in ecstasy.

"Suck on in please, Damien." Snowy moaned and pressed the head of his dick onto the mouth-pallet of the older boy.

He tasted phenomenal. As Smyke moved his mouth up and down his gorgeous boyhood, Snowy was moaning loudly. He sucked hungrily, Snowy's hips pushed his cock urgently up into his mouth, but the pleasure was short-lived, for very quickly, he was there. As Snowy sucked in his breath, he could feel his cock throbbing - several strong jerks, followed by a few weaker ones, rapidly dying away. It was an utterly delightful orgasm. For as along as he felt he could, Damien kept his dick in his mouth, just sucking gently as his tongue worked all round. But he could tell that his pleasure was passing and as he would now be very sensitive to continued sucking, he slowly lifted his head and let go.

Damien looked up at Snowy, his face flushed, his head lolling to one side as he stared, lost in his fading pleasure. Smyke sat there and watched his beautiful young partner, delighting in his nakedness - and the continued stiffness of his young cock.

"Ya really loved having yer cock sucked didn't ya?"

"Yes! It was mind-boggling!" He struggled to express his feelings.

"Course it's sexy," he pulled him closer and kissed the tip of the boys button nose, "being sucked off is wicked-sexy. Vat's why I done it!"

"Thanks!" he sighed vaguely, unable to say any more as Damien had pushed his tongue into Snowy's mouth for what turned into another frenzied kiss. Damien, finally disentangled himself, grasped Snowy's hand and pulled it to his erection, and said:

"Yer turn, mate! Show me `ow good you are at wanking."

"Ok!" He tittered, " I think this will be fun!" Taking a better grasp, his slim fingers started tentatively sliding Damien's foreskin about and was soon wanking him slowly and sexily in a most remarkably sensuous manner. Snowy was face to face with Damien's thick young cock, his eyes gazing at the sparse little hairs around the base, the big hairless contours of his testicles in his smooth scrotum. The boy's penis was only about four inches long but it had the thickness of a man's, the pale shaft leading to the knobbly head swollen a bright pink with his erection. The little slit still yawned open as if eager to squirt the teen boy's sperm. Snowy could feel Damien's breath against his neck and felt his fingers caressing his hairless balls; his efforts were very arousing.

"Fuckin' perfect! Just keep on and don't stop when I come!" His slim fingers working round his cock felt stunningly good.

Damien Smyke had little use for personal hygiene and Snowy had noticed a strong, stale smell of unwashed boy when they had first met, but now as he was so sexually aroused this aroma had been overtaken by a much strong odour - the excretions of teenage rampant sexuality and Snowy found it was a very exciting smell indeed. The combination of the smell of teenage musk and the though of Damien shooting a wad of big boy sperm was very thrilling indeed!

"When you spunk up? Wow!" Snowy mouthed the words in awe this was followed by another snigger, "Does a big boy shoot much? I have never seen really thick white sperm before, as Bashful still shoots clear stuff."

"Just do it faster, mate and you'll see!" he lay back and let Snowy's work bring him inexorably closer to orgasm. "So tell me, mate who are these mates you are sexy with?"

"Well," began Snowy seriously, "a gentleman should never ever tell tales, but I have two friends who I play with, one is thirteen and his a nice long thin thingy with a few hairs and he can shoots clear stuff...

"Oh my fuck I'd kill to see clear sperm again..."

"I'm sure he'd like to show you id you show him your stuff..."

"Hell, yer shittin' me, mate?"

"My other school friend is only eight..." Snowy continued, but Damien interrupted him again.

"Fuckin' hell... only eight! Vat is so `ot, mate." Damien was thrilled by the thought of a boy that young being sexy and he thrust his loins into Snowy's hands to prove it.

"Yes, and his willie is small but he is very sweet and sexy, really." Snowy added.

Damien gazed down at Snowy handiwork, thinking back to the illustrations of the cocks of the other lads he had seen in Snowy's medical textbook. He wondered if Snowy might be persuaded to set it up for him to play with the other lads as well.

Then he braced himself for his orgasm. Smyke could hold back no more and his body started to writhe about as his penis grew even harder in Snowy's fingers: as he shouted out his name, his cock started to throb and thick spurts of his sperm shot from the tip.

As Smyke thrashed about on the floor, Snowy milked all that he had, not letting up, not even when the surprise at what happened next struck him, as some younger boys might do. He continuing to wank him, somehow knowing that he should slow down yet carry on until it was all over! And it was all over! All over his chest and belly -- all over Snowy's hand -- all over the carpet - his skilful wanking had produced a lot more than Damien ordinarily shot!

"Wow! Wicked!" He called out, quite awe-struck! "What a spunker!"

"Dirty sod!" he simply whimpered as he gradually calmed down, "You really make me feel all sexy an' good Snowy ... vat were fuckin' fantastic!"

Snowy bent his cock down and brushed the tip over the pools of sperm on Damien's body. It is a simple childish gesture, but it finally extinguished the customary suspicious glint in Smyke's rat-like eyes.

"Oh Snowy, Snowy!" he gasped. For a few moments, Damien let him play with him but then, he pushed his hand away and before Snowy could stop him, he had pulled him into his arms for a very damp cuddle. Giggling, he initially tried to resist, but almost instantly relaxed into his embrace, quick to slide his tongue into Damien's mouth as they started another passionate kiss.

It was easy for Damien to roll fully onto his back with the small boy on top of him, his hands playing up and down his body came to rest on his bottom, which he grasped firmly, so that he could move Snowy about on top of him. It felt great to have their dicks pressing against the others, their bodies almost stuck together by his slowly cooling sperm. Most significant though, was the fact that he was kissing the boy who had just given him a wonderful wank -- his first sexual experience was turning out to be brilliant.

Eventually, Snowy eased himself away from him and lying on his back. He lifted his shoulders slightly so that he could gaze down at his now very wet body.

"That's horrible!" he giggled in mock disgust, "You've made me all wet with your spunk!"

"Jealous!" Smyke teased back, kissing him on the tip of his little snub nose.

"I suppose a little..." Then he smirked. "But one day, I'm gonna spunk up all over you! How will you like that, then?"

"I'd flippin' love it mate, ... even more when ya spit down me throat with this lovely thing!" he reached down and grasped his cock that was as hard as when he had sucked it.

"Would you?" He was puzzled.

"Course ... one day when them bollocks start to work!" he touched Snowy's balls, aware though that he would almost certainly not be spunking for at least another year or two. Smyke clearly had plans for a longer-term friendship.

The boy reached down for the discarded pair of underpants that Damien had used to wipe up his cock clean of the smelly cheesy stuff, and he used this to wipe up the rapidly cooling sperm that coated his friend's and his own belly and sexual organs.

Smyke was quickly recovered. As the flush of excitement drained from his sharp-featured face, he opened his grey eyes and beamed an almost tender smile: "You made me dick feel friggin' sexy, mate!"

"Yes! That was wonderful, Damien, thank you," he said politely. The beauty of his body was more than Damien could bear.

"That's 'cos it's a great dick to wank and a great sexy boy like you to enjoy it as well!" Damien would have liked to tell him he loved him but he was not quite ready for that - Damien found it difficult enough to accept Snowy's friendship, let alone admit love.

"If you really like me, Damien, you can kiss me again!" Smyke wasted no time and soon had his mouth fastened to Snowy's, his slippery wet tongue as active as ever. Smyke was just happy to have the naked lad in his arms and in sheer joy he rubbed the boy's stiff penis with his hand. For the very first time, perhaps, he was content with life.

Snowy cuddled up closer, and was soon reacting to what he was doing. Incapable of being still, his body was shoving about as his hips started to thrust his cock into Damien's slowly wanking hand. He really needed to be done rapidly, but he knew that if he just kept on at this pace his orgasm would be so much more thrilling. Snowy clearly appreciated it and there was one more thing he'd grown to like almost as much -- he rolled on his side, took charge of the fifteen-year-old hand and guided it into position, so that Damien could fondle his bum once more.

The teen was delight to have his hands returned to the boy's bottom. His little buttocks were really were quite fabulous, smooth as marble, soft and yielding to his gentle caresses. He stroked the oval globes and found his way to the crack - he now had little hesitation in spreading his hand over his cheeks so that his middle finger could push them apart and then touch his little hole. Snowy pulled his mouth away briefly, sucked in a deep breath, gave him a naughty smile and then resume his ardent kiss.

That smile provided the go-ahead and Damien's finger was soon doing more than just tickling his tight little ring - a little pressure and Smyke gradually eased it into him! Snowy knew almost instinctively that he needed to slacken his sphincter for him. It became easier and as Snowy squirmed about, his finger slid home. He felt just fantastic! Damien was secretly wishing the little boy might suggest he try fucking him - despite his recent breathtaking orgasm, he thought he would be up for that! In the interim though, he just took pleasure in the warmth of the young body and the marvellous kiss Snowy was giving him.

Damien was so wound up he could no longer control himself. With one finger firmly up the boy's wonderful anus and the other gripping his hard cock - he frantically grappled with arms, legs and elbows and, as best he could, he drew Snowy's skinny body tight against his own. God, the joy within him was barely credible, feeling that warm soft boy, feeling the incredible hardness of his own penis against the smooth leg! The frantic teenager rhythmically hammered at the stiff little erection, as firmly as he would usually wank his own hot cock.

"Do it more slowly, please!" Snowy begged, his red penis sticking out in angry demand for release. The older boy responded by tossing him more gently, a little more seriously perhaps but not as hard.

Then, eventually, he was there. As he hugged the teenager to himself, he suddenly sucked in his breath, he yelped as his hips lifted from the floor. In Damien's fingers, his dick throbbed very strongly: his wank had done just what he wanted for his young friend. At each jerk in his penis, Snowy gasped, wiggling about by his side - quite out of control.

Damien did not know how many timeless moments passed. Snowy was soon still and he pushed his hand from his cock, now far too sensitive for him to play with any longer. It stood up stiffly, still gently throbbing but coming to rest as his heart rate slowed down.

Turning his head Snowy managed to smile - a smile that said it all!

"Thank you Damien, that was great!" Then Snowy frowned as he asked: "Why've you stuck your finger up my bum?"

"Don't you like it?" he was moving it around steadily, finger-fucking him in the hopeful expectation of substituting it with something else.

"I'm not sure. I suppose you will want to bum me next?" Snowy asked serious, perhaps even a little sadly, but not entirely hostile to the idea.

"Course I do ... but only when ya wants me to do it ... one day perhaps." He tried to appear indifferent to the idea. His finger pushed harder into him, however, was telling Snowy just how much he wanted it! "But remember, me dick's much bigger van me finger ... don't it feel nice?"

"Kind of! I'm not sure. Anyway, I am not sure I'd let you or anybody else stick a willie up there!"

He reached round and pulled Damien's hand away from his bottom before rolling flat on his back, lying by his side. Eventually Snowy lifted his head and smiled sweetly: "This is really nice Damien ... why are you so good to me?"

Damien looked at him with his liquid grey eyes looking peaceful. Damien was unable to keep from gazing at the small, boyish chest, unable to keep from worshipping his childlike loveliness - his little nipples, the soft, hairless boy-skin that covered a body as lovely as an angel's. Snowy had let him go all the way with him -- allowed him to live out his some of his most secret and outrageous fantasies. He felt almost, but not quite, sad in the afterglow of a lovely cum, his lips trembled as he spoke:

"Because I likes ya Snowy, me ol' mate ... I likes ya a lot and I want to make ya feel nice, nice an' sexy!"


There was no doubt about it; the boy was making a very sloppy job of it! Bubbly spittle ran down the length of the boy's cock and collected in silvery pools in the sparse bush at the base of the thirteen-year-old cock

It was about then that Bashful Prim realized what was happening as he felt a slippery warmth slide along his penis. From where he sat watching his friends, Snowy heard the older boy crying with pleasure as the, seemingly innocent, eight-year-old boy set to work with a very sloppy tongue.

The thirteen-year-old was visibly confused, but Dopey was not about to let that hard, hot penis go for anything. He held the shaft of Bashful's hard cock in his hand as his lips lovingly sucked all over his smooth penis head.

Bashful's brain registered how wonderful it felt as Dopey licked his testicles and thighs, then all along the five-inch length of his stiff erection. He let out a long moan of pleasure, barely controlling his passionate cries. Realizing that the teen would not be able to hold out much longer, Dopey allowed his penis to press its way between his lips, felt his mouth opening wider to admit the hard penis head as it slid in along his tongue. There, with all the love he could manage, Dopey sucked on it, the most tender of boyhoods, licking it, sliding it in and out his lips, cajoling it to release the thin sperm he knew the older boy carried in those nice testicles.

"M-m-m-mind y-y-y-your t-t-t-teeth..." He stammered, but he had nothing to fear from even the wires the held the little boy's teeth in check, for he was in expert hands. Dopey Pratt's tongue licked out and pressed against his wide slit, letting it know that he was ready and waiting for his sperm any time it was ready to give it to him.

Then it responded! Bashful cried out as felt his cock squirt a healthy load of thin pre-cum out against Dopey's lips. Dopey moaned loudly as he tasted the boy, tasted the teenager's juice and whimpered. It was so good; so sweet.

Bashful's humping thighs clamped down around Dopey's ears and his beautiful body cramped up anxiously. He was just about screaming as he fought the sucking mouth around his pubescent penis, his abdomen rippled like a washboard, his body looking as if it was racked by unbelievable pain as every muscle fibber flexed and grew rock hard. Then, suddenly, the slender boy started to buck like a racehorse, his abdomen and legs frantically forcing that pretty penis into the eight-year-old's mouth.

Snowy, who was recovering from two earlier dry-orgasms, one of which had been in the same little-boy's mouth, thought it was almost pitiful to see his friend, Osbert, had lost control over his body, as if it was all set to tear itself asunder, in one great orgasmic outburst of delight. He was so enjoying the show that he could not resist the temptation of a good toss off and was soon in the throws of very enjoyable - albeit self-administered - wank.

Dopey fought to ride the roughest of the boy's frantic bucking and was only just able to keep his penis head on his tongue as the rock-hard thing throbbed rhythmically. Then he climaxed! Thin young boy juice squirted like crazy from his penis. It squirted with such force you would have thought the boy had never had an ejaculation. Such yummy sperm coated his pink tongue that Dopey moaned contentedly, tasting it, feeling it so warm, savouring the little sperms swimming along his little tongue.

It was wonderful. It had been a few days since the boy had played with himself and his balls had been full of semen, which his penis now squirted energetically into the littlest boy's mouth. The boy ejaculated so much that Dopey had to open his lips to allow some to trickle out, the sweet juice rolling down the boy's thigh and down along the hairless crack of his buttocks.

Feeling happy for the boy, Snowy watched Bashful's weakened, orgasm-ravaged body begin to relax, finally stopping its crazy bucking; the taught muscles at last able to ease themselves back to normality. Snowy let the thought of Bashful's hot young sperm, splattered in Dopey's mouth, rush him off into his third orgasm! He soon felt own skinny body screwing up, felt his mind drift far away, swamped with a satisfaction that seemed to go on and on. His little penis made him feel so lovely! Snowy hovered in outer space looking at it, pale-pink and pretty, so stiff and hairless.

Bashful's penis was softening very slowly though, and Dopey could still taste the last of his sperm oozing from the head, as his little body lay against the other boy. He was still sucking his penis, now rubbery and small enough for him to suck it all in his mouth. Bashful's immature little pubic hairs tickled his upper lip like an itchy pubescent moustache. The youngest of the friends seemed content to keep sucking Bashful's penis, which even Snowy, from some way off, could tell was completely limp. The young teenager could feel the little lips tugging on it, like a little baby sucking on its mother's nipple. It was an exquisite moment.

Dopey swallowed the last taste of him and the soggy, young cock slipped from his lips, then he felt Bashful's smooth thighs gently pillowing his head between them. Neither boy wanted it to ever end.

Dopey's lips were glistening from saliva and Bashful's sperm, after having sucked both his friends' penises all afternoon.

Snowy sat on his bottom with his legs curled up beneath him, picking at the bedspread. He could now see all three of their penises lying exposed and naked, a bit chilly with their slimy coatings. His own and Dopey's hairless little things, lying between their legs, looking tiny and coated in spit and Bashful's soggy young dong glistening with the remnants of a good cum!

"Did you like it, Bashful?" Dopey asked in his soft, slow voice after a few moments.

"G-g-g-g-goodness, n-n-n-n-no," The boy looked so concerned and embarrassed that Bashful had to laugh, "I-I-I l-l-l-l-loved it!"

Snowy high-pitched voice joined in the chorus of laughter -- it was a bit mean of Bashful playing a joke like that on their slow-witted friend, but it was very funny seeing the little boy's face first fall in disappointment, then light up in happiness! Snowy felt he had to hug both of them and they were soon laying on his bed kissing again, their three slimy penises rubbing against each other.

"S-s-s-so are you g-g-g-g-going t-t-to t-t-t-tell us a-a-a-about it?" Asked Bashful.

"About what?" Snowy teased his friends a little.

"Y-y-y-you know... a-a-a-a-about D-D-Damien S-S-S-Smyke, silly!"

"Oh that..."Snowy said dismissively, knowing that his friends were consumed with curiosity.

"It's not fair, Snowy I sucked you both off like you asked and you promised to tell us about his pee-pee. Is it big?" Dopey asked a little petulantly.

"Well its smaller than Osbert's, here," said Snowy taking the thirteen-year-old in hand, "but it is thicker and when he shoots, it comes out all thick and white and a bit like double-thick cream."

"Sounds yummy," said Dopey, licking his lips. "Did you taste it?"

"No I did not..." Snowy confessed a little regretfully.

"B-b-b-b-but wasn't he v-v-v-violent and stuff?" asked Bashful concerned about their blond friend's safety.

"Not at all and what is more, he sucks almost as well as you do, Dopey."

"Oh... Err!" Said Bashful, getting an immediate boner once more!

"Do you think I suck better?" Asked Dopey almost squirming with delight at this compliment.

"Oh Dopey, you know we all think you the best sucker in the whole world!" Out of gratitude Dopey felt the need to prove he was not only a gifted sucker, but also a born kisser - his lips moving tenderly against Snowy's as his tiny hands gently held and caressed the blond boy's skinny body. His small chest felt warm and soft against Snowy's as their smooth legs rubbed together.

"D-d-d-do y-y-y-you suppose he will p-p-p-play with us if y-y-you ask h-h-h-h-him?" Bashful asked. He blushed very prettily as very naughty thoughts flashed through his mind!

"Will you get to do that stuff with him again?" Dopey asked before Snowy had an opportunity to answer Bashful's question. Snowy saw the smallest boy was stroking his excited little cock once more.

Snowy doubted that their exhausted penises could have handled another round, so he answered both their questions:

"Definitely!" He said. Then he out lined his plans for they meet Smyke on Sunday at church and how he had some wonderful ideas for the four of them in the future.


Reverend Prim was confronted by a very unexpected sight as he entered the church for the Sunday morning service - in the front pew, sandwiched between Snowy Whyte and his nephew Osbert, sat Damien Smyke!

Now the Vicar was not a superstitious man, but he crossed himself anyway. Damien had never before darkened St Giles's, Church door before this and while he believed the worst of sinners deserved redemption, he was apprehensive. He was also rather glad that Hyacinth Snodgrass had missed the service -- if anything went wrong, at least she would not gloat after all it was his idea to introduce him to Snowy Whyte and Snowy had clearly brought him along to church.

It was soon clear that Damien was having difficulty distinguishing between a church service and a football match. At the end of the choirs opening anthem he stomped his feet, cheered and clapped. The rest of the congregation coughed nervously.

But the Vicar knew he was in deep trouble when, at then young Dopey ended a charming solo performance of `For the beauty of the earth,' he saw Damien leap to his feet and started chanting:

"Oh - h l -- a -- y!

"Oh -- lay, oh -- lay,

"Oh - h l -- a -- y!

"Dope-y rules,

"Oh k -- a - y!"

This destroyed what little was left of the Vicar's composure.

When he rose for his sermon he opened:

"And our text for this morning is `Suffer little children to come all over me'... Oh err.... That should be `to come unto me' I think." The Vicar stumbled, causing a chorus to giggles and gales of laughter from the choir.

Caught out by his naughty thoughts, the poor old man blushed furiously through the rest of the service, convinced matters could get no worse.

But the disaster was complete when Damien felt compelled to start a Mexican Wave during `Onward Christian Soldier'. To the poor Vicar's amazement the entire congregation joined in!

It was with a heavy heart Reverend Prim made his way to the front entrance to receive the wrathful comments of his flock.

His second surprise for the day was that there was none! On the contrary, everyone congratulated the old Vicar on his enterprising idea of inviting that young man from the Pentecostal movement along to breath some life into his Sunday sermon.

Reverend Prim was bemused -- he had heard Damien Smyke called dreadful things before but never a Pentecostal!

Eventually the three friends emerged accompanied by Dopey -- it appeared that Damien insisted on popping into the vestry to see what the choirboys wore under their "dresses" as he referred to their red and white costumes.

"Well young Mr. Smyke and to what do I owe this singular honour?"

"It were Snowy's idea, Rev! Vat service were pretty nice and them choir lads look blinking marvellous."

"You should consider joining them, Mr Smyke you have fine tenor from what I could hear and the congregation seemed to like your ... enthusiasm." The boy blushed. In spite of his tough exterior Damien Smyke still had a hard time with self-confidence, because of things in his past.

"OH, Reverend Prim, we were hoping you could take care of another nasty pair of underpants for us. My stepmother would be ever so cross if she found these," Snowy said as he handed a pair of his own white y-fronts to the Vicar. "Damien and I used them to wipe up his boy-cream and that cheesy stuff he has under his foreskin. Do you think you can take care of them?"

"Oh.. err..." said Bashful with just a hint of jealousy in his voice.

"Of course, my dear child," the Vicar said with a wistful sigh. "My, my, it quiet takes me back to the good old days when I had quiet a considerable collection of such precious things." But that, dear reader, is another story.

The Vicar stuffed the fragrant scrap of cotton into his pocket and asked the boys about their plans for the rest of the day. Dopey had invited Snowy to his home for lunch Snowy said his stepmother was making her infamous snail and broccoli pie, one of the reasons he was so happy not to be lunching at home. Bashful stuttered out an invitation to Damien to join him at his mother's place and Damien was happy to accept -- they was certainly something developing between his nephew and the older teen the Vicar suspected. This left the poor Vicar to face the Whyte women and the snail and broccoli pie alone.

He smiled at the four young boys and then an amusing thought struck him.

"Well let me see now, if you are Snowy Whyte and you are Dopey and Bashful, what are we going to call you Mr. Smyke?" Pondered the Vicar. Damien started to protest, the last thing he needed in life was a nickname, but Snowy help up his hand and the objection stopped immediately. What authority the blond boy had over others, the Vicar marvelled.

The boys all looked at each other, searching for an answer. Then a glimmer of mirth sparkled in Snowy's eyes and he whispered something to Bashful, who sniggered and whispered it to Dopey who spluttered and giggled into his hand, and then they called out in chorus:


And this was just what the friends called Damien Smyke from that day forward.


After the service, clad in their trusty anoraks, Bashful and Grumpy walked down towards the River Thames. It was a lovely early summer day and Windsor was a buzz with visitors even at this hour on a Sunday morning.

Bashful, could be expected to be solemn, given his normal reticence, but it was normally impossible to get Smyke to be silent for very long - but today, he two was very withdrawn. Both were a bit shy, feeling as though their mate Snowy, who seemed determined to make them friends, had stitched them up.

The two teenagers would cast admiring sideways glances at each other and every once in a while one caught the other doing it and the two smiled at each other coyly to hide their embarrassment. It was too early for lunch and the Seth-Prim household was just on the opposite side of the river in Eton, so Osbert stuttered a suggestion that they sit in the park on the river bank for a while.

They two recently acquainted boys watched a group of three Japanese tourists all young boys playing and roughhousing on the lawn a few yards from them. Damien watched Osbert watching the boys for a long while.

"Very flat, ain't they?" Commented Grumpy at length.

"W-w-w-what do you m-m-m-m-mean?" Asked Bashful rather defensively.

"Them Jap boys, they got real flat bums." Damien Smyke was taking a gamble but he felt sure he was on reasonably safe ground. "They practically got no bums at all. Nuffin'."

"W-w-well they d-d-d-don't stick out like y-y-y-yours..."

"Yeah I got me a killer bum." Said Damien rather proudly. "I like to look at it in va mirror. Do you ever do that?" Slowly Osbert turned to look at the older teen, wondering if it was a trap. He peered through his crooked glasses at the rough boy and watched, astonished, as he slipped his hand into the leg of his dirty white Umbro shorts, grabbed his cock and rearranged it into a more comfortable position. There was no doubt Grumpy had done this for Bashful's benefit.

"I d-d-d-do!" He confessed breathlessly as he stared in appreciation at the older boys muscular legs and the rude things his hand were doing up the leg of his Umbro shorts.

"Sometimes I stroke me bum and rub it while I'm wanking." Grumpy was now openly working his cock very gently with the hand up the leg of his shorts.

"I d-d-d-do that t-t-t-too so-so-so-sometimes."

"Ain't a bum va best fing in va whole bloody world?"

"Y-y-y-y-yes," Osbert hissed his own cock now very painfully hard.

"Imagine getting 'em Jap kids to drop those tight lil' shorts and lookin' at their bums." Grumpy said with passion. "Cor, it makes me wanna wank just thinking bout it."

"Oh...err..." Bashful blushed as Grumpy pushed his fantasy further and further.

"Imagine parting 'em cheeks an' lookin' at va lil' pink `ole?" Osbert was forced to grip his own cock as he rearranged it more comfortably and he caught the older boy grinning at him. "Maybe its even better and `e `as a brown smelly `ole. I wouldn't mind pushing me finger inside `then taking a good sniff o' his little bum hole on me finger..." In His mind Damien still could see the sweet pinkness of Snowy's anus, but right now he was hot with desire for this younger teen boy who was so much like him in so many ways.

This was too much for Osbert, a big splodge of pre-cum leaked out and left a big wet stain in the crotch of his trousers.

"Cor! Yer makes a blinking lot of vat stuff, me ol' china."

"D-d-d-do you e-e-ever sniff your o-o-o-own b-b-b-bottom?" Osbert could hardly believe he has met someone as perverted as himself.

"Only five times a day..."Grumpy grinned happily at his friend, "and six times on a Sunday! 'ere tells yer what, zip up yer anorak and we can `ave some fun 'ere in va park."

In total astonishment Osbert heard Grumpy explain how he had slit a hole in his anorak pocket and how he used the shelter his bulky anorak afforded, to finger his arsehole or even to wank off until he came in public and no one was any the wiser.

"Besides if they say anyfing, I'll just beat va crap outta `em like."

He produced his trusty stiletto blade and offered to help Osbert out. Any rational Windsor teenager who saw Damien Smyke with a knife, offering to help him out, would not stop running before he reached the mountains in Wales. Somehow Osbert knew he was in safe hands besides he found Damien strangely exhilarating. He helped the younger teen to slit a hole on the inner lining of his anorak, then showed him how to push his hand through the hole and how, under the cover of his big coat, he could enjoy a clandestine wank.

Soon the passing public might observe two boys sat side by side; their hand deep in their anorak pockets. They both looked like anoraks, on blond and scruffy with crooked metal-framed glasses, the other a rough looking lad with and ugly face. The observant might notice that they were sitting just a little too close together, their legs pressed thigh to thigh; and some times their right elbows could be seen to be pumping up and down rhythmically.

Wanking off in public, without the public being aware of it was a new experience for Osbert Prim. There was something dangerous and very exciting about doing this.

"W-w-w-what do I-I-I-I d-d-d-do when I c-c-c-cum?" Asked feeling he was not far from wanking his five-incher to a climax.

"You blasts yer nuts all over va inside of yer anorak, mate. I been doin' vat for years vats why mine is like all stiff an' smelly inside, like. It's wicked! Some times I just rubs me dick on va inside of me anorak or somethin' soft, say a towel, yer sheets in bed, or yer pyjamas, anything to soak up va cum, and when you blow it's a friggin' damn side betta van a normal wank."

"O-o-o-oh m-m-m-my, that is s-s-s-so h-h-h-h-hot!" Osbert stammered as his fisting-motion picked up speed, under his anorak.

Grumpy Smyke slipped his index finger up the crack of his own bum and he found the hole. His finger slipped in up to the knuckle, then he withdrew it, removed the hand from the pocket of his anorak and pressed the finger under his nostrils.

"Hmmm, bloody marvellous pong. You wanna wiff `o this, mate"

"P-p-p-p-please..." His horniness overcoming his shyness. Osbert started at the brown, smelly finger as it passed under his nose. The smell was very nasty, so nasty he could not hold it any longer! He shuddered and groaned as floods of thirteen-year-old spunk splattered the inside of his anorak and his Sunday-best shirt and tie.

Snowy had been right! Grumpy was a nasty pervert and Osbert Prim loved it!


In twenty-five years of social work, ten of them toiling with hardened criminals, Miss Hyacinth Snodgrass believed she had seen and experienced every thing one could possibly imagine from that most peculiar of all things - human kind. But nothing in the field of abnormal psychology, no formal training in behavioural change-management, or anything she had read or heard of, could have prepared her for what confronted her today!

Opposite her, in a neat school uniform and crisp white shirt, sat a polite young man. This in itself was unusual - for the dregs of Berkshire's youth that usually washed up on the shores of her office, were normally anything but clean, neat and polite. No, the true shock was that the young man was none other than Damien Smyke!

It had been four weeks since she had last seen him in person -- normally she would have seen a difficult case like Smyke at least weekly, but a clash between local West Indian gangs had kept her hands full.

Curiously, Damien had called in regularly, twice a week. Her calls to the young man, to whom Smyke was giving football lessons, proved that Damien, for possibly the first time in his life, had been sticking to a deal. The only intimation she had had that things were changing had been when she learned from one of his calls that Smyke was moving into the home of Janet Seth-Prim, the sister of the Vicar, "to get way from his mother." The Vicar had confirmed the validity of this assertion.

None the less, the physical transformation was simply staggering.

"Well, well, Mr Smyke you are looking well. Have you been receiving treatment for your skin?"

"Yeah, and me eye's. Doc Whyte gives good shit... err... sorry... good medicine." It was a relief that there was at least something of the old Smyke left.

"Yes, I can actually see your eyes for the first time, I believe. And you have moved away from home?"

"Yeah I got sick o' mum and `er latest bloke is dealing crack and me and Osbert we real tight Chinas like, an' `e asked me to like more in wiv `im an' `is Mum cause its like real close to school."

"Damien this is I, Hyacinth, please don't try the school stories you haven't seen the inside of a classroom in over a year..."

"Yeah vat's right so I got me some catch-up to do like... Osbert, an' Snowy and Dopey all goes there, an' they got special classes for lads wot needs help, like. Anywise, it's a f... sorry... a damned side better school van the Comp... where I woz!"

"And football... and fights?" She asked hopefully.

"No bleedin' time for vat malarkey, I'm vat busy wiv the choir an' all, I don't see me ol' mates! They tried to gimme shit `bout it but I like reminded `em I could still lay em out cold, an' put `em in Accident and Emergency in no time flat, no problem! " Damien reflected for a while then added a little wistfully, "Course it might be a bit tough when football seasons starts... But, I got me some good mates now."

"The choir?" She asked incredulously.

"Yeah va Vicar says I `as a real `andy tenor on me and va lads are dead nice too. It were Snowy's idea really, he says like I gotta keep me eye on lil' Dopey - he's dead cute you knows?"

"Snowy and Dopey?" She asked expecting -- no wishing -to hear, they were some new cocaine-pushing friends of Damien's.

"Yeah you knows `im, Snowy, Doc Whyte's boy, va lil' lad looks like an angel... I suppose its all down to Snowy really - a real luv, `e is!"

Hyacinth Snodgrass felt a sudden and urgent need for a large gin and tonic. Perhaps the Vicar was not showing the early signs of dementia; perhaps Snowy Whyte was an angel after all. Then she wondered if he might be prevailed upon, to take on a West Indian gang or two.

End of file: SNOWY-WHYTE-3. The story in continues: SNOWY-WHYTE-4

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