WARNING: This ADULT fiction contains sexual accounts between boys




by Graham Day

PART SEVEN - "Happy"- continued



In that special province, somewhere between dreams and wakefulness, the events of the previous day were replaying in Billy Bunion's brain.

He could hear himself begging Jack Jerker: "C'mon, you'll love it, mate don't be such a tosspot! It ain't like they are men! They just are just boys - little boys! Practically girls." It was always so difficult with Jack. He had this fucking impossible list of `things it is acceptable for a straight lad to do'.

He could hear Jack protesting: "You never fucked a six-year-old boy before, ya sick pervert!" But soon he was moaning appreciatively; presumably fucking little boy's bums had made its way onto the approved list. And then he was directing all the action: "Now me ol' son, push back like yer `ave to take a crap, okay?"

In his minds eye he, Billy Bunion, assisted by Jack Jerker, were once more preparing to rape Dopey Pratt the half-witted eight-year-old choirboy!

Then Billy could hear once more the disturbing and unwelcome banging at the door - the noise echoed around his brain.

Then that little fucker, Dopey, was calling out "Doc! Doc! They `ave us locked in `ere!" and Jack Jerker lunged resentfully at the eight-year-old boy, trying to silence him. Then the little squirt Pip Pratt started to cry and his brother screamed at the top of his voice: "'elp Doc! `elp!"

Then Billy Bunion heard once again the sound of a window being smashed. Dopey grasped Pip's hand and the brothers ran towards the sound of breaking glass leaving Jack and Billy to ponder the enormity of their attempted rape of two little boys.

Of course he and Jack Jerker could easily have taken on the nerdish Anorak on and pounded the shit out of him, but at the time running seemed easier.

They ran like hell from the infuriated Doc Yang, who stood swearing and shaking his fist at them thorough the window they had broken at the rear of the communal ablution block to make their escape.

Now drifting into fitful semi-wakefulness, Billy could hear their feet pounding heavily on the forest undergrowth as they ran up the eastern face of Hobbit Hill. Jack was fast but Billy kept up. That was until Jerker swerving off down into a gully on one of the winding switchbacks, then with a laugh Billy Bunion was close on his heels. In his dreams Billy could still taste the iron-like taste of the drops of sweat as they rolled into his mouth.

Inevitably the adrenaline of fright-and-flight soon wore off. Even in his dreams Billy winced from the pain. Both he and Jack had been injured during the last days, not least, of which by that fucking bitch and her Doberman dogs at the nudist camp. Jack had been bitten in the bum and Billy's swollen ankle hurt like fuck. Billy Bunion drifted into wakefulness. He must have broken into a sweat for his whole body was dripping.

The fourteen-year-old found himself where they had set their heads down the night before. Shunning the blue tent, where Doc was less likely to find them. The boathouse stood on the shore of the lake. The reassuring, weathered sign, still hung on the side of the ancient, grey-wood shack:

o Guided Fishing Trips o
Š Safe Swimming Š

They had placed their sleeping bags on the dusty floor behind the racks of ancient boats they had used a few days ago, well away from where Doc and the boys were billeted.

For the three or so days they'd been on this fucking St Giles camping trip. It was the Vicar's annual reward for choir membership: the idea was to get to know the other choir members and when they were younger they had quiet enjoyed it, but they were big lads now and had outgrown such childish things.

From the moment Billy and everyone else had chosen their seats on the bus it was obvious that there were predetermined cliques that were going to be sticking together. The clique would determine who you spend time with: the Anoraks with Anoraks; the perverts with the perverts; leaving Jack and Dick Flaunting-Flasher and him to form the straight boys group - the barbarians from the blue tent as the rest called them. Billy felt rather proud of being considered a barbarian.

Something hit Billy on the cheek and he sat bolt upright in his sleeping bag and looked around in alarm.

"Oy! Bunion!" Jack Jerker squawked. "Are yer planning ta get outta va fart-sack today or wot?" Jack Jerker stood next to the junk covered workbench throwing bits of food at his mate. Jack was gawking at Billy out of the corner of his eye-slits at him in an odd way and looking very nasty indeed. Jerker's eyes were just about swollen closed now. The two rather spectacular black eyes and his fat and podgy-looking nose had now blackened to the point that it looked like he was wearing a cartoon burglar mask. Dried blood still caked his nose and upper lip.

Slouched at the workbench, Jack was clearly trying to make something for them to eat from things they had raided from the kitchens.

"Alright Jerker?" Billy greeted his soul mate, " `ow was yer night?"

"Bloody boring mate, me todger woz twitching va whole night." Jack retorted, his face narrowed into an expression of taut aggression - that tight-lipped pissed-off look that fourteen-year-olds exchange that tells the other kid that, far from being belligerent, you are seriously interested but you are not gay!

And he, Jack Jerker wasn't gay, not a bit!

That was when Billy noticed the front of Jack's track pants was definitely tented by a boner. The boys looked at each other, blushed and looked away. The lad slid his hand casually down the front of his track pants, adjusted his todger but the tenting was all too obvious.

Jerker smiled. "See, I got me a piss `ard-on. It woz wot got me up!" He casually said, but there was an unmistakable tone of desire in there.

"Horny bastard!" Billy had to give him credit. "Yeah, me an' all, mate!" Billy confessed and so saying he threw back the covers of the sleeping bag revealing his own growing erection bulge, which he attempted to adjust.

Last night when they got back to the camp, there had been no time for a good matey wank together. They had been too exhausted to begin with and too nervous about a counter offensive from the Anoraks and so reluctantly, randy Jack and horny Billy feel asleep early.

"Boring as all fuck, this campin' game, ay mate?" Jack grumbled as he was feeling the growing stiffness down the front of his pants.

"Yeah too right, mate!" Billy groaned. "It's a fair load o' cobblers. We gotta get away 'ere before them other fuckers get back."

The night and darkness had given the time to reflect - attempted rape of a boy was an offence but they doubted the Chinese academic would do anything like contacting the police, as his own private life was not above reproach. But what would happen when Felix Jollybottom and, worse yet, Snowy Whyte got back from their hike? The shit would hit the fan big time and they planned to wake early and stay out of Doc's way and think about plans of how to get home on their own.

"Yeah an' all!" Jack said and he rubbed firmly at his crotch, "but first I gotta shoot off a load I got me a fair case o' blue-balls, I 'ave." Billy saw him tugging his track pants open. As he looked at Dick out of the corner of his eye the ugly lad slowly took his cock out.

Jack was very randy he saw Billy looking at his cock and he gave him a wink - not much of a wink as his eyes were so badly swollen - but it was the signal that a mutual wank would be acceptable in the Jerker book of rules. Jack's erect curved cock bobbed between his legs as he straightened up. His cock was of average length and girth for a fourteen-year-old. He had woolly hair on his legs and dark pubic hair. Jack's thick veined shaft bent off to the left, about twenty degrees from true perpendicular. A thick cum tube ran down the underside. Jerker flexed it a few times to make sure he had his mate's full attention.

"Yeah its been a bit of a fucker of a trip," said Billy and he stripped out of his jeans, "first we find all vat pussey next door but we can't get at it, then them bloody kids won't play nicely for uncle Jack and uncle Billy." The sweat from his restless night began to cool against his body and reaching up the leg of his under-shorts Billy began to push at his clammy balls.

"We got vat close to fuckin' them kids yesterday! Shagging little boys' bums was a grand idea, don't ya agree, mate?" said Jack Jerker who had not been all that enthusiastic for the enterprise at the outset, but now seemed to have come around and was almost claiming all the credit of it.

"Hey, them kids `ad bums, wot woz made to be fucked!" Reaching under his waistband Billy grabbed his damp almost fully erect shaft and pushed his shorts down expertly with his wrist exposing his pink uncut cock to the wild open air.

"Fuck yeah!" Jack exclaimed with a tone of voice that sounded like self-satisfaction. "God I could do wiv a fuck right now. Anyfing! Even Smyke's crappy arsehole would do for me, mate."

Billy lifted his hips and slid his moist shorts down below to his thighs, he had his soaking briefs just below his balls, he wasn't cut but the stiffness had pulled the foreskin flat against his shaft.

"Yeah..." Billy paused considering whether he should tell Jack about how he had sneaked off for a wank and caught Dick red handed. Bloody Jerker might move him rapidly from a 'good wanker buddy list' to the `fucking poof looser list' in a matter of seconds if he took this information up incorrectly. "Err... yer know wot 'appened to me va other day, mate?" Billy continued, thereby risking another argument about being a looser.

"Wot?" Jack asked as he moved closer to his buddy and sat next to him on the dusty floor of the rickety boathouse.

"Well I went to va bog for a piss, didn't I, an' there I catch Dick Flaunting-Flasher wanking vat big fucker of 'is." Billy commenced his confession as he continued his preparation for some mate-to-mate sex. "Well one fing leads to another, an' next fing 'e asks me to wank wiv 'im."

"Bloody oath mate!" Jerker barked at him, as he became very randy and starting to stroke his mate's left leg while he tossed himself off.

"But vat weren't all," Billy proceeded cautiously - he didn't want Jack to think he was queer, "'e bloody presses his slack bum on me todger, don't 'e!"

"Nah!" Jack protested his disbelief.

"He is like: ' just pretend it's a bird arse!'" Billy said by way of explanation. "'Do whatever you want to...' Then he bloody grabs me six-incher and shoves it to 'is arsehole then 'e fucking he pushed against it! Well I'm like: 'Flaunting-Flasher, wot are ya doing!' I could not bloody believe it! Dick was trying to get me cock up his arse! He shouts out: 'Nothing, just shut up, it's a girls arse, alright!'"

"No shit! So did yer like shag 'im? All va way, like?" Jack pressed for all the gory details. Leaning into his mate's crotch, Jerker inhaled the smell of Billy's sweat and arse that lingered from his crack. Much to Billy's surprise the straight lad took Billy's clammy shaft between his long fingers and Jack started wanking him.

"Do ya fink maybe Smyke and Prim 'ave turned him queer or somefing?" Jack asked evidently very excited by this information.

"I suppose so." Billy said slowly. In spite of all his qualms, Jack Jerker was not immune to the pleasure of good bum fuck! But this was an exciting development - he had always accepted Dick was as straight as the next man, but if the long slab of misery wanted to get fucked, he was as happy to oblige as his buddy had been.

"Va full monty, mate. Cummed in his bum like a geyser!" after a pause he added "Ya don't fink its made me queer, do ya?" Jerker grabbed hold of Bunion 's firm cock and wanked a good deal faster.

"I suppose that ain't as queer as if ya let 'im fuck you an' all!" Dick said trying to reassure him. "You didn't, did you?"

"Fuck off! I don't do vat!" Bunion said, bristling in exaggerated offence. Rather alarmingly Jack reached over and began to grope and slide his fingers under Billy's arse. Lifting his lips and then raising his legs in the air he was able to peel his underpants right off his arse until Billy Bunion felt the cool air drying his sweaty crack as Jack's fingers kneaded and pushed at his upturned arse cheeks.

"So, woz he any good? Dick Flaunting-Flasher, I mean. Is `e a good bonk?"

Billy didn't know how to respond. He was a bit apprehensive about Jack's sudden interest in his bum. The shock of actually having his straight buddy playing with his bum was occupying too much of his attention for him to be objective.

"Oh fuck, yeah! Smyke an' Pratt are okay an' all. But, frankly mate, them teenage poufs they just too keen on it. Besides their bleedin' 'oles are all shagged out -- wide as the Blackwell Tunnel, they are. With Dick Flaunting-Flasher it was like fucking a real man!"

Suddenly a creaking sound from the far side of the boathouse interrupted their little tete-a-tete.

Lifting his head Billy saw shocked fear in Jack's face; the crack of ancient rotting floorboards in an instant told them they were not alone!

"Wot's vat?" Jack Jerker figuratively jumped out of his skin. Billy Bunion jumped up literally his cock way in front of him like an alien's antennae on high alert.

"A rat I 'ope." Said Billy hopefully. Glancing quickly Billy Bunion couldn't immediately trace the source of the noise. Jack's anger was up now and he rushed off to the other end of the boathouse his fists balled.

"It's a rat alright!" He called back to Billy. "An' a great big fucker at that!"

On a bale of rope they found to their surprise the missing member of their three-some, Sleepy Flaunting-Flasher. He was clad in his Army-surplus anorak and camouflage battle fatigues. Once more Dick was totally out of it: his eyes glazed-over; his face pale as death; his cheeks an unhealthy pallor - only his huge cock was showing signs off life. Dick was having a wank!

They looked disapprovingly at the gawky looking sixteen-year-old and took in his huge feet; army-surplus clothing; and rather sullen face.

"Its Sleeping bleeding Beauty!" Sleepy's eyes snapped open! Jack Jerker and Billy Bunion were watching him working at his abnormally big cock!

This was so humiliating! How could they know the demons that tormented his waking and sleeping moments? How could they know he was an SAS man on a secret mission to save a beautiful naked girl from a lesbian storm trooper's wicked tongue?

"'Aving fun, mate?" Billy asked breezily. The gangly nerd tried convulsively to push his massive cock away, and only just succeeded getting his scrotum and part of the twelve-inch cock back in his camouflage bottoms. He lay there looking mortified as his battle fatigues covered in his own pre-cum.

He had been well and truly caught for the second time. He was a disgrace to his military background and he needed to be punished. And looking at Billy and Jacks hard cocks he had a good idea of what punishment would fit the crime.

"What va fuck ya doing here?" Jack protested emotionally. "This is our place. I don't remember inviting ya - you deserted us, you did."

"I-I-I was awake until late. I saw you move in here and... and I-I-I-I thought it was a g-g-g-good idea.

"Yeah well don't go gate crashing one o' me parties next time!" He threatened.

"I... I thought we were all friends." Dick asserted even if it was a little unconvincing.

"Where were u when we woz being munched on by va fuckin' dogs?" Billy sulked.

"Billy 'ere tells me you was checkin' im' out yesterday." With a nod of his head Jack indicated his friend. "More van vat you woz getting 'im to shag ya up yer shitter!"

"Err... H-h-h-hello J-j-jack..." Dick stuttered an explanation, "Y-y-yes, we was chattin' about girls and Billy h-h-here... well, it doesn't take much ay Billy?" Billy Bunion laughed at some private joke.

"Yer tosser!" Bunion snorted derisively.

"You promised you wouldn't tell..."The teenager bleated.

"Yer bleeding forced me to fuck yer up va bum and then yer think yer can get away with asking me not to tell I caught ya wanking. What a fucked up anorak your are, Dick Flaunting-Fucking-Flasher."

"Anyways enough of va formalities..." Jack said and the ugly bloke began to jerk his cock into even harder erection.

"Yeah! Fuck that!" Snarled Billy. "C'mon mate, lets fuck him now!" The spotty lad peeled his black t-shirt up behind his head pulled down the front of his shorts and stood there with a steel hard erection, his black pubic hair shone in the early morning light as he looked down at his cock and the leered into Sleepy's face.

Jack Jerker looked at a pale skinned Anorak, "Go on Billy, ya saw his arse first, go for it, mate." Billy had stripped down to nothing but his trainers and now dropped between Dick's legs, pumping at his cock the uncut head's piss slit drooled in anticipation.

"Wet ya hole Flashman!" The fourteen year old told the gawky lad. Dutifully spitting onto his hand, Dick massaged his saliva-drenched fingers down into his arse crack. It obviously wasn't fast enough for the Jerker-Bunion duo.

"Jesus toss-pot, get on wid it, will ya!'" Billy yelled then he added to Jack Jerker, "Mate do this un' for me?" Sleepy was forced, doggy-style, onto all fours.

Roughly sliding his hands under each cheek of his slack-bottom -- the Anorak lacked all muscle tone, his arse was a soft as a baby's. Jack parted his white arse crack until it revealed the dark-brown, hairy trench and a tight, pink jumping-hole. Jerker swilled saliva around his mouth to work up sufficient spit the he then hocked up whatever he could get and shot it straight onto the hole of Dick's white arse.

Then Billy took over once more, pushing his cock hard against his ring, he bucked his hips hard into the Anorak.

At first Billy thought it wasn't going to yield, Dick pushed out to open his arse lips and with a sigh that filled the boathouse Billy Bunion sunk his cock up the awkward sixteen year old. Sleepy's ring burned with searing hot pain as the younger teen pushed himself harder against the nerd, and started very steadily bumming him.

With a muffled shout, Flaunting-Flasher took it all in. Dick, in spite of himself, wanted it! He needed it! Somewhere in his brain something had gone snap and he new he needed to be punished for his wicked, wicked thoughts! The knew he needed to be chastised for the sick perversion that he now knew he shared with his grandfather who went to prison for playing with little girls! He recognized he needed to be castigated for what he was planning to do today to his precious Petal, in the nudist camp next door!

"Take it, ya bitch!" Sleepy heard Billy Bunion say and then he angrily pushed forward and slammed his shaft into Dick's body. Dick gasped and panted into the ground so vigorously that little puffs of dirt and eddies of dust shot into the air.

However the rawness of this fuck was beginning to scare Sleepy. While he was a bad, bad boy and had even grown to like the feeling of fullness in his bum, Dick found this was too much too soon. Just as the fear began to peak in his body, Billy Bunion wrenched his shaft from Flaunting-Flasher's hole with an audible 'pop' and left him on all fours until the soft white arse stuck into the air like a dog.

Sleepy then felt the warm splash of Billy Bunion 's ribbons of cum as they splattered across his sweating back. Billy pumped a load a boiling white cum onto the naked back of his Anorak victim. On his knee's now the fourteen-year-old dropped his head to the ground and pumped the last drops onto the decades of dust on the boathouse floor.

Jack was up next - Jack Jerker gripped Dick with clammy hands and flipped the Anorak over on his back. Jack was on his knee's in the dust between Flaunting-Flasher's legs the he aimed his steel boner at the hairy hole.

Fortunately Jack Jerker's uncut cock was in proportion to his meagre body-size and was a reasonable six and a half inches, but that alarming curve it made to the left worried Flaunting-Flasher. Slapping the geek's back side hard enough to leave a red hand print, Jack now spat another saliva load deep between Dicks well-fucked arse cheeks, he. Prizing Dick's anal ring open with a thumb and forefinger, Jack, now horny and desperate worked it in him with stubby fingers -- the sharp fingernails hurting the Anorak's rectum.

The geek's knees had been scraped raw on splintered wooden floorboards but that pain disappeared as he felt first a pumping finger then the wider head of the cock lunged halfway up poor Sleepy's body.

Jerker leered into his face as he sunk his cock into him. The sensitive rawness shot through his body, when the pain in his hamstring muscles sent his head bucking back as he raised and pulled his legs too wide apart.

"Oy! You, open up!" Sleepy thought for a second it was Jack Jerker shouting at him, but it was Billy's face that he saw as he suddenly looked up to see the first rapist holding his cock in front of his face. Billy dropped down in front of the lad, having torn his shaft from Dick's chute. The faint smell of arse spun his brain "Suck it clean, ya pillock."

Pushing his dirty cock against his lips. Dick could breathe in his own arse stench! He parted his lips slightly to protest, but found his mouth as immediately shoved full of the todger what he'd just been fucked with! Billy Bunion pressed as much of his cock into Dick's mouth as he could and he screamed as he rammed the end of it down the Anorak's throat. The taste was surprisingly sweetly pungent. Dick began to suck despite himself on the shaft, which Billy humped into his face.

Billy soon was holding Dick by his ears and humping into his face, in a minute a soothing load of hot spunk from his cock soothed poor old Sleepy's tongue as the fourteen-year-old discharged his load. Simultaneously Dick felt Jack's bent cock climaxed somewhere deep in his intestines.

Then Dick could hear the others dress, he felt a couple of laddish slaps smart on his arse and even a grunted 'thanks' as the friends started to leave the boathouse.

"By the way," Dick Flaunting-Flasher called out to his retreating assailants, "I think you ought to know, we are no longer alone. At around eleven last night, a group arrived in a white van and erected a huge tent and two smaller ones, next to the River Dickens and then later on another small tent went up at the main building."

"What yer saying?" Pressed Jerker

"We are being invaded." Said Sleepy Flaunting-Flasher, staying on his knees and gasping and grunted into the ground, his raw and used arse holes still raised in the air. "We are no longer the kings of "The Woods" Jack and Billy, we are out numbered."

Not moving, nor making a sound Dick Flaunting-Flasher tugged at his own prick before blowing a load and dropping heavily into the semen soaked dust off the floor of the ancient boathouse.


In that special province, somewhere between dreams and wakefulness, the events of the previous day were replaying in Doc's brain. Lon Yang relived banging at the door. He remembered the panic as he desperately tried to liberate the boys trapped by Jerker and Bunion. The sound of the boy's desperate cries echoed around his brain.

He heard Dopey calling out "Doc! Doc! They `ave us locked in `ere!" and Pip Pratt started to cry and his brother screamed at the top of his voice: "'elp Doc! `elp!"

In his state of semi-continuousness, Dr. Lon Yang heard once again the sound of the window he had smashed. He saw Dopey grasp Pip's hand and the brothers running towards him, leaving Jack and Billy to ponder the enormity of their attempted rape of two little boys.

Then he felt again the relief and the physical warmth of reconciliation as he comforted the boys.

Doc opened his dark eyes and he stared at the ceiling of the only bungalow in 'the Woods', the camp at the foot of a hill bordering on the Peak Districts National Park. It was very quiet that Thursday morning. There had been some odd noises over night but they had all been too exhausted from the stress to pay any heed. The three of them had shared Doc's bed that night.

Ten of the lad's were still off on their overnight hiking trip; the three blue-tent barbarians, brooding and nursing bruised bodies and injured pride were nowhere to be seen. This left only the young Chinese man and the two youngest Pratt brothers at the St Giles choir's campsite.

Then he heard it! It was the sound that had roused him from his slumber. It took him a minute to identify the sound - Pip was crying.

The six-year-old was not bawling, but snivelling and making little mewling sounds. Doc raised himself up onto his elbows; he reached over to the night chest and retrieved his taped-together glasses. Once they were back on the bridge of his nose, he saw the child curled up in a foetal position, his back to toward him and a little way off.

"What's the matter mate?" Doc asked gently as he bent over the child and touched his tear-wet check.

Pip murmured incomprehensibly and buried his face in the pillow. Doc rubbed his shoulders then gripped one to turn the tiny boy over.

"Tell me Pip, what is the matter? Did you have a bad dream? Are you still frightened of nasty Jack and Billy?"

Glancing up at Doc from under his tear sodden eyelids, Pip Pratt searched the teenager's face for reassurance. "Ya... huk... gotta... huk...promise... huh... not to tell..." Pip managed to gasp out between his sobs.

"I promise." The Chinese boy's eyes smiled enigmatically behind his black-rimmed glasses. "I'm good at keeping secrets. You know that."

"I'm wet again..." The boy bawled.

"Oh sweetness, again?" The child turned his back turned on the academic once more.

"Sorry!" Dopey blubbered. The poor tot looked totally deflated. Doc now noticed the wetness beneath him. He could feel his own underwear was soaked and his T-shirt too.

Doc knew about the boy's episodes of wetting the bed and he had offered to help treat it but the child had resisted even talking about it until the day before. He slipped his hands further and felt a very warm puddle of urine between himself and the youngest Pratt son, who lay cured on his side.

"Jack Jerker said it is wicked to wee-wee in yer bed and me pee-pee will drop of if I do it." The child wailed inconsolably.

"Jack Jerker is a nasty boy! He tells lies and he tries to hurt little boys in any way that he can. I have told you not to pay him any heed." It angered him to have the fourteen-year-old attempted boy-rapist, feeding Pip these ideas and the tot believed him!

"But I have made everything wet," Pip sobbed, "even you..." his little voice trailed off into a wail.

"Well Pip, my boy, you see that it was a good thing that we put the plastic on our bed last night, now wasn't it?"

Doc bent over and kissed the boy - reassuring him. "Besides it is just a bit off little boy pee, my baby."

His hand brushed against the boy's tiny underpants and was surprised to feel the boy was erect, its shape prominent against the wetness of the cotton. Doc became aware of his rising erection in his own piss soaked underwear.

"There, there my darling boy, Doc will clean you up." Doc looked down at tiny Pip Pratt and thought how much he loved all of these Pratt lads.

Pip made a barely audible noise of contentment. Doc enjoyed the moment of closeness with the little boy he began stroking the child's hair, then his shoulders. Doc's finger trips found their way down the boy's thin back until his hand rested on his bottom.

The wetness from boy piss felt oddly good on him and the young Chinese man had that tickling, excited feeling down in his belly that warned him his cock was dangerously close to the `hard and throbbing' stage.

"My baby boy, you are soaked. Doc is going to take your underpants off now." Doc whispered and tiny Pip nodded. Pip watched as Doc stood drew down his under shorts. Pip slightly raised his hips to allow the Asian lad to slip the drenched Pokemon undies down his legs.

Perhaps it was horniness, but whatever the cause, Doc found himself raising the wet ball of Cotton to his nose and the ammonia smell of little boy piss filled his nostrils. Instead of the revulsion he half expected, it smelled surprisingly good. Very good! It was the essence of baby boy.

Then for some unaccountable reason, Doc rubbed the boys underwear over his face! He had this overwhelming desire to have it all over himself. He squeezed as if it were a sponge and closed his mouth over part of the wet wad and drank the urine his hand forced from the cotton!

"God, that is so good!" Doc murmured to himself. The taste was so warm and so salty. Then to little Pip Pratt he added in a reassuring tone: "You see, my darling boy, Doc doesn't think your pee is nasty. It is just something that your body produces and Doc loves everything about you."

There was some confusion in Pip's eyes as Doc pressed his wet underpants to the child's slightly parted lips.

"See Pip, it tastes nice doesn't it?" Said Doc with an encouraging smile. Somehow he blocked the thought that what he was doing was very, very wrong.

Pip made small licking motions with his tiny pink tongue, as he tasted his own pee. Unconsciously Pip had begun to rub his erect penis. It was so thin with a lovely little head a miniature replica of his older brother Dopey's cock.

From the other side of the bed, Dopey saw what Doc and Pip were doing -- and he liked it! He also liked the way Doc's underpants bulged, the head of his cock pushing its way above the elastic waistband, his erect penis oozing pre-cum, and his balls tight in his scrotum. Dopey reached around his lover and placed his hand over the man's crotch.

"Blimey! That is so `ot." Said Dopey by way of a good-morning greeting! "Yer being naughty again, Doc! Yer got a `ard willy, don't ya!"

"It means `h really like me. That's wot daddy says when `e gets a `ard one and sucks our pee-pee's." Pip said rather cheerily for a boy who had been crying only minutes before.

"You are right there, matey?" Doc's face had turned red.

"Sure!" Sighed breathlessly Pip.

Pip looked up at Dopey and smiled -- the older Pratt boy was massaging his dick through his underwear, then he hooked his thumb on the waistband and pulled his urine-soaked shorts down to expose his two-inch childish cock.

"Oh good!" Said Doc "You are also awake my love. "Well its time we all went off to the ablution block to shower and get Pip into nice clean dry clothing." Looking at Dopey's piss sodden undies he added: In fact we have all been blessed with a bit in tiny Pip's pee.

So saying, Doc stood up and took Dopey's hand in his left and Pip's in his right and he led them from the bungalow to the communal ablution block. Doc was more than a little apprehensive about going back to the scene of the attempted crime with the boys but it was something he knew he had to do.

The rain had finally let up but a dense early autumn mist covered "the Woods". All seemed quiet and deserted. There was no sign of the Barbarians from the Blue tent, but then neither was there a sign of the blue tent itself. In that thick a cloud that the entire British Police Force or any number of hoards of barbarians might have concealed itself in the gloom.

On the way Doc admired the way Pip's urine-saturated pyjamas clung his thin frame and slender legs, and snugly hugged his round, small buttocks. An idea had formed in the brilliant mind of the famous academic, and he was determined to try a novel approach to prevention of bed-wetting. If it worked he, Doc Yang, could once again astonish medical science.

Doc marched the boys into in the communal ablution facilities in the campgrounds. Six showerheads, attached to the ceiling-mounted chrome pipe, hung above a tiled area large enough to accommodate a group of six to eight men or boys at a time, but Doc did not, lead them directly to this part of the facilities. Instead they passed the smelly urinal and headed towards the door-less cubicles intended for shitting. Once there, Doc directed them to the furthest two cubicles, where some raucous campers had succeeded in demolishing the partitions leaving an area where two white porcelain thrones sat side by side. Doc Yang placed Pip down on one of the two toilets then he sat Dopey down on the toilet right next to him and patted both of them on their heads.

"That's my good boy." Said Doc cheerfully. "Now, I want you both to go on the potty."

"Oh... err..." Dopey moaned and he inadvertently stuck tiny thumb into his mouth rather childishly. This reminded Doc of that it was his thumb sucking that caused the child to have wired up teeth.

Pip hung his head. "I don't think I can go potty with someone watching, Doc," he said, blushing all the way down to his chest.

"Pip! That's silly. You like it when your brother watches us wank and suck each other, don't you?"

"Well, yeah, Doc. "

"And you like looking when I wank and suck with Dopey, don't you?"

"Yes, Doc."

"And you really liked it when you got to spy on your Daddy playing with Patrick, didn't you?

"Oh, yes, Doc. That woz real wicked!" Pip Pratt was much more excited by now.

"Well then. You shouldn't mind if we watch you piss or take a shit." Pip just blushed and hung his head again.

Dopey started stroking his short cock, moaning softly and muttering rude stuff about bodily functions. The Chinese teenager crooked a finger under Pip's chin and lifted his face.

"What does Doc want you to do Pip?" Pip blushed an even brighter red. Doc could see tears collecting in the six-year-old's eyes.

"There's no need to be ashamed Pip. Its just Dopey and me here, and we both love you. Now, what is it Doc want's you to do?"

"Go wee-wee?"

"That's right, sweetheart. Doc want's you to go wee-wee. But what do the big boys call going to wee-wee?"

"P..." Pip turned his face away from him and hung his head once more.

"That's al right my baby. Dopey, can you tell your brother what the big boys call, 'going to pee-pee'?"

"Yes, Doc. We big lads call it 'taking a piss'."

"That's right, baby. Us big guys call it "taking a piss". Can you give your brother a big kiss and tell him how to say that?"

"Sure, Doc!" Dopey stood up from the lavatory, took Pip's hand, turned his expressionless face towards his little brother and gave him a big kiss, right on the lips. The two brothers smiled at each other and the Dopey added: "Go ahead bruvver. You've said, "Piss" to me before. You can say it to Doc. It's all right, bruvver. He don't mind. He's not like our mom. He won't wash yer mouth out wiv soap."

Doc had all but forgotten Mrs Pratt, Percy's wife, who had left her horny husband and her precocious boys and was now with the girls somewhere in the Lake District.

"Oh, baby. Is that why you were afraid to say "Piss"?" Pip nodded his head wisely. He got down on his knees in front of Pip and hugged the small child to him. "Oh, Pip. Doc wouldn't do that. I wouldn't ask you to do something and then punish you for it. You don't think Doc's like that, do you?"

"No". Pip said quietly as he shook his head. The eighteen-year-old held Pip by the shoulders and solicited a response. "Now, what is it Doc wants you to do?"

"Take a p-p-pi..."He stammered, then gaining confidence, he said: "Uh, take a piss?" Then the tot squeaked triumphantly: "Take a piss!"

"That's my big boy!" Doc Yang beamed. "That's my good boy! That deserves a big kiss for Doc's Big Boy."

Doc was already sporting a semi-erection as he leaned forward and kissed Pip tenderly and passionately on the lips. The boy reacted promptly, and opened his mouth for the Chinese lad's invasion and the older lad stuck his tongue out and probed the soft mucous interior of the child's satin mouth. Their tongues met and writhed firmly and lovingly around each other.

Doc felt himself absorbed by the softness of the boy and felt his manhood grow to its full thickness and length. He slipped his right hand down between his legs to feel the growing bulge between Pip's legs and then he had started toying with his, by now, very hard little acorn. He rubbed the wee-sodden pyjamas and felt Pip moan quietly.

The eighteen-year-old Asian lad put his hand down between Pip's legs and lifted his bottom, slipping of the outer garments. Then he slurped Pip's stiff little tassel and ball sack into his mouth and gave his sex organs a big sloppy kiss.

"That tickles!" Pip cried out as he giggled and squirmed around on Doc's hand.

"Does that tickle, baby?" Pip laughed

"Yes! Vat tickles me Doc."

Doc's attention was totally centred on the child's extraordinary looking organ, a little pickle of pinkish flesh. He ran his thumb and two fingers up and down Pip's immature hard-on, along the one-inch shaft several times, toying with the cockhead, and caressing his little ball-sack. It was the perfect length, Doc thought - he could get the whole length in his mouth. Laughing, Doc dipped down and seized Pip's piddler and balls again and Dopey could see his tongue wiggling back and forth, all over them.

"Look!" Dopey commanded, lowering his shorts and underpants completely and shoving his erection towards his baby bother for his inspection. "I can't even piss me dick is that `ard," Dopey stated as Pip looked over at his brother's hard two and a half inch cock arching up over his tight little balls.

"Cor I'll bet our daddy would enjoy sucking it for you, bruvver!" Pip said laughing and squirming around, trying to escape from the tickling tongue. Doc reached up and started tickling Pip with his other hand. Pip was losing his mind.

"Now, big boy. What does Doc want you to do?" Pip was laughing too hard to answer. Doc swooped down and grabbed Pip's dangles with his mouth again and started tickling Pip with both hands and his tongue. Pip was hysterical, laughing and wiggling around all over the toilet seat.

"You better tell me, or I'm going to tickle you until you fall into the toilet!" Doc Yang challenged him and went back to tongue lashing Pip's penis.

"Help! Help!" Pip squealed joyously to his older brother "Get `old of him bruvver." Pip tried to say the required word, but he couldn't get it out.

"Gee, I suppose so, bruvver!" Pip said thoughtfully. Then he grinned mischievously and Peter Pratt hopped off the toilet and launched himself on Doc's back and started tickling him.

"I got him. Pip! But tell him quick, I can't `old him for long."

"PISS!" Pip yelled between giggles. "PISS!"

Laughing and trying to beat off Dopey's assault and tickle Pip at the same time, Doc Yang yelled: "PISS, what?"

"PISS! Ya wants me ta piss!" Pip Pratt finally managed to protest while laughing and pushing against Doc's head. "But I'm gonna piss in yer mouth!" He said with a deliciously naughty giggle.

"Yummy!" Doc Yang countered and went, gobbling at Pip's tiny hard willy. Dopey watched as his lover puts his lips over the head, then slide his whole length into his warm mouth. He began to lick up and down the six-year-old equipment.

"You're cheating Doc." The eight-year-old said, hitting his lover on the back with his little fists.

But Doc was oblivious to these protests: he could suck on one or another of the Pratt boy for hours, the familiar sensation of a circumcised glans sliding over his tongue, the smooth snake head in his throat - then letting it slip out from between his lips, using his tongue up the length of it and on the dinky crown.

"Pip said it. He said PISS! So ya can't tickle him no more!"

"Cheating? Cheating! I'll show you cheating, you little cheater!" Doc retorted and scooping him off his back, Lon Yang cradled the eight-year-old on the floor in his arms. Laughing, loudly now his slim ivory coloured fingers attacked him and he nibbled at him under his arms and across his tummy.

Now it was slow-witted Dopey's turn to be driven frantic by Lon Yang's wicked fingers and scratchy beard and tickling lips all over his slight body. The eighteen-year-old buried his face and nose into Pip's hair, and drew in his scents as he felt his organ throb excitedly.

Squealing and pushing back against Doc with his hands and feet, he tried to resist and break out. Then the six-year-old tot stood up on his toilet seat and leapt on Doc's back! Doc wrenched the lad off him and laid him on the tiled floor next to his brother and molested them both in the nicest possible manner.

But eventually the triumph was for the Pratt brothers. They finally managed to roll Doc over on his back and tickled him mercilessly.

"OK, I give in, you win!" In truth Doc had allowed them to beat him because it suited his strategy but he made the lads work hard to do it!

Panting heavily, Doc finally pulled them both down to his chest and patted their bottoms. Pip and Dopey extracted a kiss each from Doc as a penalty and demanded that he apologise to Pip for cheating.

"I apologise Pip. But what is it I wanted you to do?"

"Take a piss in the toilet!" Pip Pratt chimed in cheerily.

"That's my boy!" Doc said as stood up with the lad's still in his arms and he set them back on their respective toilets. Straightening Pip's hair with his fingers, Doc asked: "Can you take a piss now Pip?"

Pip, whom the Pratt family referred to as their resident fire-hose, strained, but nothing came out.

"No, Doc. Me pee-pee's too `ard. I can't make va piss come out, like."

"That's OK. What about you, Dopey? Maybe if you can piss the sound will get your brother started." Dopey strained too.

"No, Doc. Me pee-pee is too hard an' all!"

"Do you want me to `elp you lads?"

"Yes, Doc. Please help me take a piss." Said Dopey.

"OK. That's my good boy. Now scoot you little bum back a little and spread your legs apart." Dopey did as Doc requested but he had to place his hands on the toilet seat behind him, to prevent himself from falling in.

Doc stepped in front of Dopey's toilet and took his dangling hose in his hand. He pulled his foreskin back until his slit was exposed and a yellow stream of hot amber piss poured out of him.

Peter Pratt knew it was hot because it sprayed all over his belly and penis. The Chinese lad's pee splattered and ran down him and dripped off his small bum into the toilet. This surprised him, but it really did make him need to pee really badly.

"Doc! Doc! Stop it Doc! I'm going to pee on you!" Peter Pratt's penis was still hard and sticking up in the air and Dopey tried to warn Doc. But Doc didn't even slow down, his thick stream of piss was drumming against Dopey's tummy so hard he could feel it all the way inside.

"That's OK, mate. Go ahead. We can wash down the floor later." Doc said his voice rather shaky from lust. Unable to hold it back any more, a thin stream of boy-piss arched up and splattered all over Doc's ivory legs and the floor. Doc sank to his knees again and sucked his lovers willy into his mouth. Dopey squealed as he felt his warm pee filling up the nerdish lad's mouth.

Dopey's willy remained hard and feeling really lovely. This was a great new game that both participants were enjoying equally

Doc pulled back from the boys lap on the toilet seat and sat back on his haunches. He opened his mouth and the pisser, as sweet a todger as you could want, popped loose from his lips and pissing all over Doc's chest!

Pip was watching them in amazement, his mouth hanging open. Dopey was clearly showing off, making certain Pip could see the piss coming out of his slit as he pissed back and forth across Doc's chest before arching his stream back into the older guy's open mouth. He steadied himself by taking a firm grip on a tuft of Doc's hair.

Peter Pratt dribbled the last of his pee right onto Doc's six-incher. The Chinese lad's leaned forward and licked the last few drops off the end of his willy and then sucked it into his mouth to vacuum out the last possible dribble.

Here he was sucking piss out of the cock of a perfect eight-year-old boy! He had known he loved little boys for most of his life. This made him gay and a paedophile.

Doc gave Dopey a big kiss and then helped him back up on the toilet seat. Then he stood up and turned to Pip, who was sitting on his toilet with his finger still in his mouth and his eyes wide open in interest.

"Well, mate," Doc said to Pip, "did you like watching that?"

The six-year-old nodded vigorously. "Oh yes, Doc. That was really wicked. But why did you drink Dopey's pee-pee... I mean piss?"

"That's an easy question to answer, Pip. Some people like the taste of piss. And some people don't. I'm one of those people who really likes the juice from little boys willies."

Pip smiled up at Doc and then blushed a little bit. "Err... Doc?"

"Yes, mate. What is it?"

"Well... Uhh..."

"Pip. Ya know ya can ask Doc anyfing. You don't need to be embarrassed." Said Dopey helpfully.

"I know, Dopey. But sometimes it's ard." Pip said in his wonderful high-pitched voice.

"Pip Pratt," Doc Yang laughed, "your thing is ALWAYS hard!"

Pip and Peter Pratt laughed at Doc who reached over and pinched Pip's tiny stiffy.

"Pip. Ya can ask Doc anyfing. He never gets mad or upset when I ask him questions, no matter wot it is vat I ask or how stupid va question I ask." Dopey continued in his unhurried tone of voice.

"I know. Doc? Will ya `elp me take a piss like you `elped Dopey?" Doc leaned down and kissed Pip. The eight-year-old brother saw his tongue go into Pip's mouth and wiggle around. Pip closed his eyes and moaned as he kissed Doc back.

"Your mouth tastes funny." Pip said as the Chinese lad stood back up.

"That's Dopey's piss taste still in my mouth. Did you like it?"

The six-year-old smacked his lips. "Yeah. Me bruvver Dopey always tastes nice. I suppose his piss does too."

Doc decided he wanted to reward the tyke a little for his brave decision; he smiled and stroked Pip's head as he moved over in front of Pip's toilet. Pip scooted back and put his hands behind him on the toilet seat just as Dopey had done. Doc tugged his cock downwards and then pulled the back his foreskin. His yellow stream sprayed down on little Pip's tummy, cock and balls. Pip watched for a few seconds and then rearranged his seating so that one arm bore all his weight. Reaching up he stuck a playful finger into the stream, making it spray in different directions. Soon, he was running all five of his fingers back and forth through Doc's piss stream.

Then Pip really surprised him. He licked Doc's piss off of one of his fingers and smacked his lips.

"Vat's tastes stronger van Dopey's, Doc. I likes it!" And so saying Pip took hold of Doc's piss spout and aimed the stream into his open mouth.

"Ummm". Some pee splattered against Pip's chest, and a little foamed up in his mouth. The happy tot swallowed some of it.

Then Dopey got off his toilet and moved over next to Pip and opened his mouth. Smiling at his brother, the six-year-old playfully pointed Doc's piss at him just long enough to squirt a little in his mouth. Peter Pratt tasted it thoughtfully.

"You're right bruvver. Vat's fucking good!" Dopey replied cheerfully, the rough language in stark contract to his lilting boyish voice.

Pip re-directed the eighteen-year-old academic's cock back at himself and filled his mouth up this time. Pip Pratt swallowed.

Then, laughing and squealing with pleasure, their eyes closed to stop the uric acid stinging, Pip and Dopey sprayed Doc's urine all over them, the childish mischievousness of lads playing in the shower of a burst water main, the lads had it in their mouths, in their hair and all over their bodies.

Doc was running out of piss and this was the signal for Dopey to start licking the man's succulent cock head like a lollipop. Experience had taught Doc that even though the eight-year-old had all his teeth wired-up, he was very careful then sucking a man or boy off.

Then Pip started peeing. The respected academic quickly got down on his knees and started lap up the pee from Pip's penis. Pip was delighted but wasn't very accurate, as he stood on the toilet seat, peeing down into Doc's mouth. The eight-year-old Dopey snuggled up to his lover so that Pip could piss his boy urine into both their mouths. The threesome carried on in this manner for a few minutes that felt like an eternity of pleasure for Doc, whose arousal was steadily building up. The only real problem though was that Pip didn't have much pee and was soon done.

Doc got up and smacking his lips: "That's my boys!" Doc said, smiling happily as he saw the last drops seeping out of Pip's piss slit. Dopey was nuzzling Pip's softening cock under his nose as if it were a pet, then licking some of the cooling piss from the tyke's crotch and inner thighs.

"Now Pip my boy, if we play these little games, these watersports, very night be fore you go to bed I am sure you wont be wetting you bed any more." Said the famous academic. It was as simple as that: the Yang Watersports Cure for Bedwetting was invented.

In his beautiful mind Doc was already formulating the words he would build into his article on bedwetting "...by encouraging the sufferer to view urination as a source of fun during his waking hours and by successfully implanting the idea the a fuller bladder equals more fun, the patient will view nocturnal incontinence as a lost opportunity..."

The Lancet was assured on another remarkable and erudite article from Dr Lon Yang.


The Horatio Alger Jr. Troop - Scoutmaster's Diary

Ulysses Rumpcoitus - Scoutmaster

  Expedition #609-E-11

Baden-Powell's experience as a regimental officer led him to conclude that his men responded well to training and to action in small groups led by trained non-commissioned officers. As Baden-Powell wrote there, "The secret of getting successful work out of your trained men lies in one nutshell - in the clearness of the instructions they receive." I have therefore been very clear in what is expected of all participants in this, the last camping trip before the beginning of the new school year.

It has been a short night with only a few hours sleep. The fifteen members of Expedition #609-E-11 set out from our HQ in Solihull, Birmingham at night fall on Wednesday night. The remaining six of us arrived in the pre-dawn darkness at "the Woods," the church-owned camping-ground in the Peak District, which we sometimes use for such events. Our thanks are recorded to the Reverend Cuckoo Christensen for organizing our billeting. We have been warned that we will be sharing with a choir group from Windsor. I hope the Christians will not be averse to a bit of fun with my lads.

We off loaded three of the scouts (Bahir Baksheesh, Buck Bookmaker and Benjamin Butcher) at the edge of the National Park with limited supplies and a compass. They have until nightfall today to join us here at the Campgrounds. It is a challenge, but they are well prepared and after all the whole principle of the Scout Movement is Backwoodsmanship, with life-saving as an important adjunct.

As an added reward for over-achieving on their merit badges, five of the cubs Patrol have been allowed to do an overnight hike over Hobbit Hill to the campground. The five lucky lads are Hathi, Kim, Ko, Onaway and young Mowgli -- of course I use the lads' scouting names, as befits cub scouts. They are under the command of Badger Banker the sixteen-year-old I have handpicked as Akela or Cubmaster.

We at the "The Horatio Alger Jr. Troop" are a small company divided into twenty boy scouts (ages 11 to 16) and fifteen cub scouts (ages 8 to 11). What we lack in numbers we more than make up for in the quality of the lads and their enthusiasm. We are proud of our multi-ethnic character and the boys are drawn from all races and religions you might expect to find in a part of a great city like Birmingham. It is a pity so few of the boys have been able to join this trip as I suspect it will be a very special one.

I see Scouting as being important for the following reasons:

1. It helps in character training.

2. It is important for self-improvement for making a career.

3. It promotes boys' physical health and development.

4. It encourages service for others as a basis of religion.

5. It trains boy in methods that are of national importance.

6. It promotes good citizenship.

Baden-Powell gave us Scoutmasters practical instruction as to how a camp should be run -- I have tried to follow those instructions as well as I can. As far as possible the boys should run the camp -- in rotation they take responsibility to be camp commandant for the day, but I have a permanent quartermaster Bill Bailey, an energetic fifteen year old. I had two lads assigned to assisting him -- his younger brother Tall Pine, a lanky eleven year old who is due to be prompted to full scout this weekend, and Biff Beaver.

These three lads were charged with setting up camp in the dark. In order to learn Patrol discipline and to live up to the letter of Baden-Powell's instructions, I have always been inclined to pitch the camp as it should be done for a Scout camp - Patrol tent on its own ground in a wide circle round the central (Scoutmaster's) tent. When the job was done all of us were dog tired, even the teenagers.  So everyone swiftly fell asleep. 

Only two of the cubs arrived with us last night - eight-year-old Suggeema, the youngest of the lads, and Jeebi the chubby little fellow who is too fat for such exertions and will need to lose some weight before he can earn such exciting privileges as overnight hikes.

Our plan was to wake up at 6:15 a.m., eat breakfast and do our official check-up, but it is now around seven and there are no signs of life from any of the other tents.  There are zero miles to go but I feel there are adventures ahead of us.

End day --1.

Beginning day -- 2.


"What are we doing here?" Asked Dudley Duckpond-Waddle in his usual monotone.

"You know what we are doing here, Dudley." Duffer's son was silent for a long while in the early morning light.

"I know we are together is some stupid tent..." Dudley protested, "but what are we doing here?"

It was always like this with him. Dudley was so damned literal. But then again Philodendron, his wife, always said he, Duffer, had the same problem: "The problem with Duffer is he can't take a hint. If I want him to do something I have to tell him exactly what, when and how. If I ask him to put the kettle on, he will boil some water but it won't dawn on him to make and serve a cup of tea!"

The family therapist at the Codswollop Clinic had classed Duffer as emotionally detached. When he did respond emotionally, it was as if he had figured out the most appropriate response by a process of elimination. Dudley took after him.

Duffer Duckpond-Waddle was a software engineer with passionate interests in computer games, Star Trek, Deep Space Nine and Babylon Five videos. At thirty-seven years of age, he played computer games for hours at a time. He has been in the same job for fifteen years. He hadn't changed his job because he didn't like to change an established routine. Duffer himself had never sought a diagnosis for his problems and believed that it was the people around him who had problems. He simply couldn't understand what motivated his more lively colleagues.

Father and son lay in silence for a time, side-by-side in the small tent. They wore matching olive-green anoraks with moth-eaten fake fur collars. His dad had handed-down Dudley's anorak to him. Both wore a knitted bobble-hat.

"So, what are we doing here?" Asked Dudley again - after all, if there was a question, there had to be an emotionally detached answer. His father knew that Dudley would carry on asking the same question for hours - a typical autistic trait - until his father gave him an analytical answer.

"Duds my boy..."

"Dudley!" The fifteen year old corrected him -- he hated abbreviations.

"Sorry, Dudley, they say it would be good for us to get away together and... well... break the routine..." Duffer could not believe he was saying this. He loved routine his son did too - what was wrong with it? The boy was responding in exactly the way he would have reacted. They both liked the same routine; they both resented being here; neither of them understood it -- except that Duffer had been TOLD to bring his boy here and he would always and unquestioningly do what ever was best for his Dudley.

"Its that time. It is 06h50. We could be at Heathrow now, watching the North Korean Airline, KKR097, landing." Dudley said wistfully. Plane spotting was one of the few things father and son did together. They would be out in all sorts of weathers - in their olive-green anoraks and bobble hats - with thermos flask of coffee, binoculars and airline timetables.

"Well Dr Prince said a spot of bird watching might be just the thing..." There, Duffer had said it! The `D' word -- `D' as in "doctor". -- This was the first admission that there was something wrong.

When Dudley was born he seemed normal until a little over a year old when his development appeared to halt. His eyes didn't track people and he didn't react. The diagnosis was deafness. Philodendron, his mother, noticed other developmental abnormalities as Dudley grew -- he had obsessions, there was no social interaction, and he made repetitive rocking movements. She insisted that he was not deaf, but just ignored things. A Codswollop Clinic speech therapist tried, and failed, to stimulate his speech. Dudley simply ignored her.

Finally a doctor was unable to diagnose Dudley's condition - it was established that Dudley suffered from Asperger Syndrome, a mild form of autism. This made Duffer resentful of his wife's meddling. Philodendron's attempts to get to the bottom of the problem against the wishes of her emotionally indifferent husband, made her severely depressed. The couple drifted further and further apart.

"Birds! Do they have identification numbers on them? Can you look the numbers up in a book?" Dudley snorted at this preposterous idea. "I don't think so!"

The similarities between father and son went much deeper than clothing, both Duffer and Dudley often forgot to get their haircut; Duffer forgot to shave for several days in a row; at school, Dudley would squeezes his pimples and eats the puss - his dad would do the same during meeting at work. They would both wear the same shirt for several days in a row until the underarms were stained yellow and Philodendron would intervene in the interests of family hygiene. Duffer wore a shapeless pair of tan nylon trousers and Dudley seemed to always be in the same pair of filthy jeans. Their only concession to fashion was that they would each put on a Star Trek T-shirt for special occasions.

"Well... Dudley..." Duffer began a half-hearted defence, "the Vicar said this was the place for us to come..." Duffer was a little desperate by now. He would have preferred to be holding this discussion in jargon, RPG, Cobol or straight hexadecimal, because there where no words for the concepts in his head.

"The Vicar! You hate that Church stuff. If Philodendron had never spoken to him we would have been on runway two at Heathrow now doing something constructive." Dudley addressed his mother and father by their first names -- after all he was at least their equal. "Now, what are we doing here?"

Duffer sniggered.

"What are we doing here?"

Duffer often sniggered, it irritated his colleagues to hell and back, but he sniggered because he knows he couldn't make others understand concepts he found so simple.

"What are we doing here?" Dudley was not letting up.

People often assumed the Duckpond-Waddles were dim because both father and son didn't communicate, but they both had the sort of brilliance that was off the normal scale. So much of the Duckpond-Waddle brain was needed for this brilliance that none of the social skills program had been installed. They both lack social graces and both walk oddly.

The Duckpond-Waddles along with net-surfers, chess champions and sad blokes who lurk in the corners of laboratories, would always be misunderstood.

"Oh... err..."Duffer tried again: "Well Dudley my own dad a PhD in computer science and mathematics and a genius at gadget accumulation. I am proud to say that he trained me well, and almost twenty years after I got my first TRS-80 computer from Radio Shack I am still playing with computers. Being the son of a computer boffin had its advantages. Every time dad acquired new equipment at work, the old equipment came home for him and I to play with! We had fun for hours trying to resolve IRQ conflicts with hardware switches." There was something approaching enthusiasm in Duffer's voice.

"Anyway, the day came when dad brought the first 386 processors home. Excitement reigned as we proceeded to open the case and start to install. But it did not take too long before we were out of our league. The old processor would not come out of the socket. It was at this point that my father decided that we could wedge a flathead screwdriver under the old processor and twist it until it came free; after all, it did not matter if we destroyed the old processor--we had a new one and it was going in. Anyway, the processor came flying out and the screwdriver gouged a huge scrape across about 6 inches of the motherboard, cutting connections and basically wreaking the whole thing, leaving us without a working machine." This was possibly the longest conversation Duffer had ever had with his son, if not with anyone, ever.

"So, the moral of this story is: no matter how much you know about some things, you don't know about everything, and unless you are willing to replace things don't experiment with screwdrivers on your computer innards."

A long and palpable silence followed in the confines of their small tent.

Dudley picked at a nasty looking red pimple then he squeezed it to a messy eruption and ate the yellow ooze. Duffer picked his nose and rubbed the slime on the sleeve of his anorak.

"What are we doing here?" Dudley asked.

This question was the doorway to hell! There was no torment you could put a Duckpond-Waddle through that was worse than not knowing how to react.

Duffer was like a computer going on tilt -- does not compute
-- does not compute
-- does not compute
-- does not compute.

"Dudley, I don't know!" Duffer sniggered to conceal his embarrassment, "they say there is some one here you need to meet..." It sounded so pathetic to Dudley that it had to be true.


According to the plan "The Horatio Alger Jr. Troop" had set off from the Scout Hall in Solihull, Birmingham on Wednesday night. They were going camping at "the Woods" many miles outside of Birmingham. It was the last nice weekend before the falling temperatures turned things into autumn and the last weekend before school reopened for the new school year.

Tall Pine and Bill were members of the same Boy Scout troop, Bill was a full scout and his eleven-year-old brother would, if all went according to plan, be promoted from cub to full scout that weekend. The brothers had been eagerly packing for the trip for the entire previous week. But that did not prevent a last minute scurry for stuff.

"Bill," Tall Pine had asked for the so-manyeth time, "what should Ahr pack?" Bill Bailey was a veteran, having gone to exactly three of these Peak District camps and ten other camping weekends in his life.

"Uh, Ah'm not sure" Bill stammered in his broad Brummie accent, "Two pairs of socks, unders, trazis, shirts, tuffbrush and all that kind of malarkey, a flashlight, compass, boots..." Bill had tried to think of what he might have forgotten. "That's all Ahr can think of by the minute..." he shrugged.

"Wotchya think about a bag of suck?" Tall Pine asked meaning sweets or candy. Of course `Tall Pine' was not his real name. No, his given name was Basil, but who wanted to be called Basil, even Da concluded it has been a mistake and so they now all called him by his cub scout name - the name reserved for the tallest Cub in the troop.

"Shit! Ahr almost forgot!" Bill had lunging into his dresser for a his treasured copy of `Hot Tits & Slits' "Ahr nearly forgot where Ahr had the wank mag hidden, loike." The brothers finished packing their backpacks and grabbed pillows and sleeping bags and a warm jacket.

"Yerra damn yampy, Bill Bailey!" Tall Pine protested. "That could mess up the whole plan, loike."

"Or roit, Bill? Tall Pine?" they had heard their Da yell from the downstairs hallway. "Yow guys ready to go? Me motta is runnin' and the sharrabang won't wait for yaz all night." Da helped them pack their things in the car and they were on their way to the scout hall, Da chattering all the way about his own happy scouting days and how they should enjoy these carefree times.

Tall Pine and Bill were both excited to see eight or nine cars parked in the lot and the other lads were piling out and getting their gear in bus, which they all referred to as a sharrabang in Brummie.

"Or rait Biff, mate!" Tall Pine yelled and ran off to where his best friend was climbing out of his mother's ancient Volkswagen.

Da watched the youngest of his handsome blond boys with a strange look in his eye. He was tall for his age -- very tall for an eleven, Bill was over six foot, as was Da, but Tall Pine had recently been affected by a spurt of puberty induced hormones than had given him large hands and feet, and long, long skinny legs. The lanky blond boy was taller than his thirteen-year-old friend who was rather plain looking in comparison the spectacular good-looks of the Bailey boys.

"Wozapnin, our Da?" Asked Bill in genuine concern. "Yergot a face like a trod on chip"

"Take care of aar Tall Pine" Da offered and then gave Bill a very embarrassing hug.

"Da!" Bill whined and looked around to see if any of the other lad's had seen his Da give him a hug, after all Bill was Quartermaster on this trip a very important job! "Ahr told yow not to do that!"

"Sorry Bill" he apologized "Ahr guess yowr Da is still learning the rules."

"Gather your stuff now and lets get going!" Ulysses Rumpcoitus, the scoutmaster yelled and the troop started to come together.

"The gaffer is calling youw, aar kid." Said Da as he wandered over to where Tall Pine and thirteen-year-old Biff Beaver were standing and hugged his younger son too. Bill could see Tall Pine flinch, and roll his eyes up. Biff laughed. Tall Pine put his hands around his own neck as if he was strangling and fell to the ground playing dead. The little guy had managed to save some face that way as everybody broke out laughing.

Da took that as his cue. "Tarabit!" Da had called out a cheery farewell, waved and left.

But that was all hours ago. Bill lay in his sleeping bag in the early morning quite, listening to the birds and trying to detect any signs of life in the sleeping bag next to him. Tall Pine, Biff Beaver and Bill Bailey shared a two-man tent -- this was all part of the plan - but Biff was not even aware there was a plan.

Then he heard it! The boys sharing the sleeping bag next to him where talking in low tones and that must have been what woke him.

"Biff Beaver," Tall Pine whispered, "this is great huh?"

"Yaz, its great to be out here afore we goes back to skooill." Biff replied.

Bill lay there in the dark for almost five minutes thinking about plain-looking Biff Badger and how desperately his beautiful brother wanted sex with this rather ordinary bloke. Biff Beaver was one of the plainest kids Bill had ever seen. Dull eyes of an uncertain colour, plain soft features, dirty blond hair with blond highlights, an earring, and a less-than-perfect body. But Tall Pine had been hard for this kid for the last two years. He thought the thirteen year old was drop dead gorgeous in a scout uniform and fucking awesome out of it and it was all he ever talked about while he and his older brother had sex. The brothers had plotted how to make it happen and if all went according to plan Tall Pines wish would soon become reality.

"Ahr have a secret to tell yow." Tall Pine whispered.

"Yeah, wozap?" Biff asked. Tall Pine thought for a minute and then trusted his instincts and followed through with the plan he and Bill had been working on for a week.

"Aar Bill sucked me off yesterday!" he whispered looking for any sign from Biff Beaver that he was shocked.

"No shyt!" Biff exclaimed. "That's fantastic!"

Tall Pine was both relieved and confused. "Yow're not freaked out by that?" He asked.

"Ya barmy! Hey, its cool." Biff smiled, "Ahr have a secret too," he giggled and tried to keep his voice down so that Bill could not hear, "moy cousin gave me a suck-off for moy berthday.

"Gerraway!" Tall Pine gasped.

"Gospel!" The Beaver countered.

Tall Pine looked at the Beaver, and offered: "Anyroad, maybe oy will gerim to suck us both this weekend, loik..."

"Gerraway! That would be cool." Biff Beaver smiled. And with that Bill knew they were back in the game.

"Aar Bill grabbed a magazine afore we left wum. Wanna see moi old mucker?" Tall Pine proposed.

"Ooroyt!" Biff agreed enthusiastically and Tall Pine got out of the bag crawled over towards Bills rucksack.

"Fuck" Tall Pine said "Int freezing cold?" and he wasn't far from wrong. the temperature had dropped overnight plus the morning dampness made everything seem to be much . scrounged around until he found it and then climbed back in and covered their heads but edged close so they could whisper.

"Coppa look at this!" The youngster said and shined the flashlight on the cover of `Hot Tits & Slits' a porn magazine that was his older brother's prize possession.

"Gerroff!" Biff Beaver whispered as he tried to slide in closer to get a better look. Tall Pine turned the pages as they all gazed at men getting sucked by women with immense tits, women being fucked doggie-style, and some taking it up the arse. "Ahr'm getting hard!" The Beaver said and rolled onto his back and clearly was grabbing his young teen cock.

"God," Tall Pine moaned, "me too, mate," Tall Pine wiggled around with his hand in his jockeys.

Bill had waited long enough his own six-inch cock was desperate for relief. "Well, oil go to the top o' our stairs! Likkle horny are we, lads?" Bill asked suddenly in the early morning gloom, almost startling Biff Beaver out of his horniness. He looked long and hard at the pair -- they were adorable in the morning despite the puffy sleepiness of their faces.

"We waz just larkin around, Bill!" Biff protested the innocence of that they were up to. The thirteen-year-old boy was obviously confused; he had no way of knowing that he was caught in a trap that had been carefully plotted for weeks.

"Dayn't be afraid, Biff," Tall Pine's high-pitched voice whispered, his hand moving up to hold his mate's shoulder.

"Yow're so cute, Badger." This last Bill Bailey scarcely breathed and didn't really mean to say, but he felt the boy relax a little bit.

"Aar Bill," Tall Pine was having none of this. He rolled over to look at this handsome fifteen year old brother, "we both boned up. Wozabout youw put our cocks in youw'r cake-hole and suck Biff and me off?" He propositioned.

"Roit bosta!" Bill exclaimed the Brummie term of approval for all good ideas. Sucking a couple of young'uns sounded sweet. "Ooroyt lads, its still a bit parky outside, loik, so let's unzip these and make a bed and get bare-bum!"

The three lads spread out one of the two sleeping bags on the bottom and used the second to cover them like a blanket, and then they all crawled in.

Tall Pine's feet looked big for his long slender body and he wiggled them nervously as he pulled the last sock off his feet and crawled up beside his mate. Tall Pine wore size ten shoes and he was nearly five foot ten - this was very odd for an eleven year old.

He watched Biff with his blue eyes never leaving him until the thirteen-year-old was lying down next to him, their warm young bodies turning to face each other. The two youngest scouts lay beside each other, panting so hard it was amazing they hadn't grabbed each other and started humping.

Biff and Tall Pine rolled toward each other on their sides and Bill crawled between them with his head at cock level. Both guys were wearing tight little briefs. Biff was keen to crawl back down beside his mate, to fondle that hard bulge in his underwear, but he was trapped by the older brother's manly sexuality.

From his new vantage point, Bill Bailey could now see the slight ridge where his chest tapered into his abdomen; he touched the soft, smoothness of his body, the light brown tan of Biff's boyish skin. Tall Pine copied Bill's motions and Biff felt his mate's hand lying on his side trembling.

Tall Pine glanced down at his own erection for only a second, much preferring Biff's furry pubescence. His own thin, five inch, pink penis throbbing frantically, looking hard and hairless, childish and incredibly excited he sensed, rather than saw, Biff was staring at it.

Then young Biff looked at Bill; his dull eyes looking pained and frightened, but filled with the acceptance that it was about to happen. He'd been bragging about getting blown for his birthday but Bill was now suspected this had all been just boyish bravado.

Bill Bailey wasn't much for kissing -- especially not boys - but Biff looked so timid and cute that he couldn't help leaning his face forward, his body moving with it until the slender boy's chest came into hard contact with his own, a thirteen-year-old's belly rubbing against the fifteen-year-old's. Biff was almost breathing too hard to be kissed - but soon he felt the warm pliability of Bill's lips pressing against his own. It was exciting, thrilling. Their hearts were both pounding against their boyish chests as awkward teenaged lips chafed together. It was plain that Biff had never kissed before, but kissing is an instinctive art and the boy certainly had the right instincts.

Scarcely thinking, Bill slid his hand up Biff's body, and he felt his fingers slipping into the dry, warm pit beneath the boy's thin arm. Bill could just barely feel the silver little peach fuzz that had sprouted there; Bill could only imagine how pretty it looked on his soft skin. He was starting to see what it was his brother saw in the young scout.

The Badger looked almost sad as Bill Bailey broke the kiss and moved his face away. Tall Pine's beautiful blue eyes were watching Biff's as if asking if they were doing it right but all Biff could do was lay there on his side and gasp.

"Warrn't youw tell us yer such a great kisser?" Bill asked gently. Biff watched the senior scout filled with concern, unable to say anything or to keep from gazing at the handsome blond lad's manly chest with it clearly define pectorals, prominent nipples and his hard six pack lower down.

Biff nervously readied his hand and then pressed his warm palms against the mounds of Bill's muscles and slowly caress down his well-proportioned body. He grew more excited and less afraid as he caressed the teenager, his eyes watching what his hands were doing in near bewilderment. The sensitive, young fingertips petted Bill's hard brown nipples and ran down his ribs and belly and the softness of Biff's gentle touch sent shivers of pleasure through the young lad and made his little penis feel even stiffer in his underwear.

Tall Pine was wearing the same kind of underwear Biff was and his long slim bulge, though much less fat than his, looked every bit as hard.

The bright, white elastic band to Biff's underpants stood out against his soft, hairless belly, and the boy squirmed slightly as he felt his penis pushing out at the cotton underwear yearning to be naked. Bill Bailey spotted this and grinned.

"Here goes" Bill warned and Biff felt the teenager's fingers touch this underwear then they reached his bulge, touching his throbbing mound of boy pleasure. Biff started to moan as Bill's hand cupped his small cock, felt its thick hardness, the fleshy scrotum that held his balls.

Before he knew what was happening to him, the Badger saw that Tall Pine was trying to slide his jockeys down to his knees. Tall Pines long slender fingers took hold of the top of his underwear, pulled them open, allowing the warmth inside to rush out. Biff rose up a little to help his mate slid them down and he moaned appreciatively.

"Oh God" Biff closed his eyes, moaned and hugged Bill Bailey. "Yowr brother has moy jockeys down!" Biff exclaimed revelling in the pleasure of his exposed boyhood.

"Now ain'y that a sight for sore oyes?" Bill said to Tall Pine as they both got their first sight of his beautiful pubescent erection.

It looked to be rather big from where Bill lay, but much of that was because it was so thick. All he could really see was the swollen head, the pretty thing shining a bright pink, the poor boy's slit gaping open with hardness. As he drew away he could see Biff's entire three-inch uncut prick was as fat as it was long. But at three inches, it presented no danger of making Bill, or Tall Pine for that matter, gag from having too full a mouth.

"Sweet in't?" Tall Pine giggled. Down around the base, the younger brother could just make out the shadow of the boy's sparse little pubic hairs. This made him a little jealous.

"Yeah, bosta dick, mate!" Bill exclaimed. He put an arm around Biff and looked him in the eyes briefly before he hid under the blanket and played with his nuts, his stiff penis, and his baby soft rear.

As the boys snuggled closer Bill's head was between them licking one and then the other.

He wanted to please Tall Pine so much, but this time - their first time with another boy - Bill knew it was their duty to make the new boy feel wanted; to help him feel what it was like to have his penis sucked on.

Tall Pine's was long and slender; Biff's a little smaller but fuller. Bill Bailey loved both cocks. The kids were going nuts and loving the attention Bill was giving their little cocks.

Bill could feel Biff was copying Tall Pine's last action and was trying to pull the front of Bill's and his younger brother's underwear down. The thirteen-year-old boy was clumsy and awkward about it and the three Brummie lads quickly became a fumbling mass of writhing young hands as they struggled to pull each other's underwear off.

The two younger scouts managed to do it at about the same time, the soft boy's shoulder pressing against Bill's stiff six-inch cock as he leaned over to strip the older teen. Bill thought he was going to climax just at the feel of him. When they lay back down, they were all stark naked, gasping, terrified of the passion within them.

Biff struggled for breath and almost looked away -- the smooth hairless beauty of Tall Pine's tummy, the softness of the skin surrounding his little belly button positively amazed him.

Tall Pine's ribcage was just visible through his boy flesh, soft gentle ripples, thin and boyish. Likewise, Biff could just make out the gentle bulges of his collarbones, the small indentation at the bottom of a smooth neck with no trace yet of an Adam's apple.

Biff Badger almost moaned in wonder at how pretty his mate's little chest was and his hands slowly lay forward, the palms cupping each of the small mounds of his muscles, gasping as he felt the warm softness of his skin, felt the rapid beating of his heart, felt his small chest swell as he breathed. It was like heaven and he was in utter bliss. Slowly his hands rubbed down the younger boy's body, felt the smooth skin pass against his palms, the firm ridges of his ribcage, the fleshy warmth that covered his belly, the small hollow of his hairless belly button.

Meanwhile, Bill Bailey was so excited now he couldn't help himself and frantically grabbed Biff's young body, pulled the lad into his arms, holding him tightly as he struggled to shove his big penis against the scout.

Bloody hell, the pleasure within Biff was incredible, feeling that warm hard lad squeezing him in his strong arms, feeling the incredible hardness of his big penis as the frantic boy eagerly drove it rhythmically against his stiff little erection. It felt big, hot and incredibly hard.

Bill Bailey frantically turned their young friend on his bum, causing his red penis to stick out in angry demand for release. In seconds Bill was face to face with Biff's thick young cock, his eyes gazing at the sparse little hairs around the base and the big hairless contours of his testicles in his smooth scrotum.

The boy's penis was only about three 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 child's boy sperm.

Biff could feel Bill Bailey 's breath against his penis and felt his fingers caressing his hairless balls. Bill could feel all of it, he felt the large testicles beneath and he fingered the silky smooth sack. The fifteen-year-old kissed his navel and licked at his pubes as Biff thrust his willy at him hoping to get into his mouth. Bill teased him and just kissed some place else.

"Suck on it, Bill!" Biff moaned and instantly pressed his hips against that big boy's head. Biff's hand automatically moved to young friend's slender body and held on to his slim waist. Bloody hell, how soft and warm Tall Pine's skin was, how beautiful the smooth boy-flesh looked beneath his hand.

With Bill busy with Biff's cock, the two scouts baited their young hormones even more by slipping into each other's arms again, their small chests rubbing together as their lips met in an clumsy boyish kiss.

The two younger scouts were both crying in passion as their bare legs now rubbed against each other. Biff slipped his right leg between Tall Pine's thighs, where the younger boy held it firmly, his throbbing crotch pressing against his friend's leg. The two scouts were humping against each other -- leg to cock. It felt so good, so wonderful.

"Bloody hell, Biff" Tall Pine groaned "that is so great! Oy'm up an' down loike a merry man's backside!"

Even with a mouth full of boy cock Bill had to laugh at this Brummie idiom being used out of context. But Bill Bailey wasn't about to let that hard, hot boy-penis go for anything. Bill held the thick shaft of his three inch cock in his hand as his lips lovingly sucked all over his uncut penis head.

Biff's immature little pubic hairs tickled his upper lip like a pubescent moustache, the hairs soft and scratchy. The teen'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.

Realizing that Biff wouldn't be able to hold out any longer than he could, Bill finally 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, Bill sucked on it - the tenderest of boyhoods, licking it, sliding it in and out his lips, cajoling it to release the sperm he knew the boy carried in his large testicles.

"Err... Tall Pine, mate, gerron my face and stick yowr willy in my gob!" Said Biff as lust and desire took over from the Brummie sense of decency. Biff slid his hand down and grabbed Tall Pine's legs and pulled them toward him laying one next to each of his ears. Biff Badger opened wide and let him in and the younger lad shoved his slender circumcised prick into his mouth.

"Biff, finger moy bum, wilya?" Tall Pine whispered and he snuggled closer to give Biff room to work.

Even with a mouth full of boy cock, Biff was crying like a baby and Bill heard his soprano voice cracking and Bill knew the orgasm coming his way would be wonderful. Bill was already losing touch with reality and could focus only on the penis in his mouth and Biff's cute face buried between his brother's thighs crying pathetically with his own orgasm.

Bill fought to ride the roughest of the boy's frantic bucking and was able to keep his penis head on his tongue as the rock hard thing pulsed rhythmically.

Thin young boy juice started squirting madly from his penis. It squirted with such force you'd have thought the boy had never had an ejaculation. Such delicious sperm coated Bill's tongue that Bill moaned happily, tasting it - so warm and boyish on his tongue. It was wonderful.

The boy ejaculated so much that Bill had to open his lips and allow some to trickle out, the sweet juice rolling down the boy's thigh and down along the hairless crack of his bum.

At that very moment Tall Pine cried as his small body started a series of stiff, short, boyish jerks as he reached his boyish dry orgasm.

Wanking himself like a demon now, Bill sighed as he felt his penis starting to squirt his sperm, sweet fifteen-year-old semen spattering all over Biff's naked torso.

"Jesus" Biff Beaver exclaimed as he looked at Bill wide eyed.

"Oh Shit!" Bill Bailey grunted again and then his cock spurted like a fountain. Bill Bailey moaned and jerked two or three times adding yet more of his sperm to that on the lad. His hand was a fucking mess.

"Annit fucking hot?" Tall Pine whispered as he watched his brother's cum pour over his best mate's hard todger.

When his balls were empty Bill looked at the lads and smiled: "Did yow like it, Biff?" he asked softly after a moment. Feeling happy for the boy, he felt his poor orgasm ravaged body begin to relax, finally stopping its mad bucking; the taught muscles finally able to come to rest.

"Did Ahr squirt in yowr mouth?" Biff asked blushing.

"Ahr loved it!" Bill said truthfully.

"Hey aar kid" Bill whispered to Tall Pine. "Missed yow," Bill smiled and kissed his forehead.

"Ahr missed yow too aar kin!" He smiled and snuggled in closer and kissed his brother's neck. They rubbed their softening willies together, and softly kissed on the lips.

"Umm," Tall Pine whimpered, "tennarf nice! Boy scouting sure brings brothers closer together, loik."

"Very close, loik!" The Badger smiled. "Now are youw gonna adopt me or do oy have to shoot your Da and make you orphans?" Biff giggled.


In any normal family, the son would make his way around the holiday location on the first day- exploring and satisfying his youthful curiosity, leaving the parent to rest.

It was exactly the opposite with the Duckpond-Waddle's. Duffer was out walking, while Dudley lay in the tent sulking.

Duffer Duckpond-Waddle was young when his son was born, only twenty-one at the time. Now, at only thirty-seven he looked more like Dudley's geek older brother than his father.

Philodendron Duckpond-Waddle a creative and sensitive person, surrounded by two sterile Anoraks soon descended into a deep depression. Her despair had killed her desire for sex. This of course left Duffer in need of release. Like his boy, Duffer masturbated quite frequently for a man of his age. He had always loved touching his own cock and didn't feel that he lacked anything by not having a woman's love in his life.

Duffer knew from his own adolescence that a bookish Anorak, or an Asperger Syndrome individual like Dudley would suffer during the teenage years, because social and language functioning are all-important at that age.

He fully expected Dudley to become frustrated or aggressive, particularly if he did not get any sexual relief. These teenagers have all the hormonal urges and needs of any other adolescent, but lack the social skills to control and channel those needs. Duffer knew when he was younger he would masturbate excessively, sometimes in socially inappropriate situations -- on the back of the bus; in class rooms; while in the elevator, travelling to visit his dad at work; in the cinema; on the back of the bus - and he never seemed to care who saw him at it.

Watching his own son enter puberty and start to mature into manhood had somehow started to make Duffer feel as if he was going through puberty once again himself. The knowledge that his boy was developing: his cock growing; pubic hair sprouting; sexual energy awakening; made him proud and also unaccountability excited.

He knew Dudley masturbated regularly. He had seen the stained sheets and underpants. He had wanted to talk to his boy about masturbating and explain that it was normal and natural and nothing to be ashamed of but, of course, this was not within his capability. He wanted Dudley to enjoy his cock the way he enjoyed his own and was glad to see that this seemed to be the case if the verdict of spunky underpants and several well-used cum rags was to be believed.

Duffer found himself thinking more and more about his son sexual organ. He as disappointed to note that Dudley did not take after his old habit of masturbating openly and at inappropriate times and in fact he had not seen his son's cock since his baby years and the child seemed to be obsessed about not showing his cock at any time. Why he even went into the closet to urinate and never stood at the urinal next to his old dad.

Duffer was deep in thought while exploring their new surroundings in the heavy morning mist. He could hear yelps of joy from very young boys from the ablution block as he made his way to the dining facility.

Duck-taped to the wall of the dinning facility was a large plastic bag. A hand-written sign was then taped above the plastic bag. The sign simply drew attention of the Christian group's humanitarian obligations, it proclaimed:

Gift 4 the Vicar

Stick your dirty underpants in here!

Remember the dirtier the better!

By order Grumpy

Duffer Duckpond-Waddle's cock stood immediately to attention. That nice old Vicar from St Giles was clearly a man after his own heart. He peered into the bag and saw several exciting-grubby pairs of underpants.

Duffer frequently sucked on Dudley's dirty underwear when he wanked off, and he longed to taste Dudley's young cream right from his boyish cock. He would suck the dried cum and piss stains and lick the slight brown tinge on the back of his dirty underpants.

He desperately wanted to touch his young body and teach him the wonderful ways that a man could pleasure himself. He would have been happy just to see the land naked and hard -- he had become obsessed with Dudley's dick.

"Well" said Duffer Duckpond-Waddle, "it looks as if these Christians are more fun than I ever suspected!"

He knew that Dudley was a difficult troubled youngster adrift in a world where social skills were of utmost importance, and he had none. This meant that kids need release and Duffer was worried that his lad was not getting the relief that he had enjoyed. Was all well in the waterworks department?

That had provoked the current trouble.

He and Philodendron had persuaded the lad to go with them to the Codswollop Clinic, on Lower Codswollop Lane for a check up.

The news from the good-looking Dr. Adonis Prince was bad: Dudley was suffering from Peyronie's disease. The Doctor explained that Peyronie's disease caused an observable bend in the penis during erection. In Peyronie's disease a fibrous tissue or a lump, develops within the shaft, obstructing the vascular pathway that runs the length of the penis. When the penis becomes erect, it inflated unevenly and tended to bend around the plaque, causing the characteristic deformed appearance of Peyronie's disease.

Dr. Adonis Prince had gently, almost lovingly, explained to the beet-red boy that some men were barely troubled by it, while others report a tendency for the penis to buckle around the lump during sex and a few found sexual intercourse physically impossible.

He went on to say that many men with Peyronie's disease did not require or desire treatment, and could enjoy very satisfactory sex with their rather unusually shaped penis. Others may pursue more controversial treatments such as drugs or surgery.

His advice to Dudley was simple:

"I can attempt surgery only after you have checked out how well your todger works my lad," the good-looking Doctor had said, "get out there and have a god wank with your mates, get a blow job or two and try a bit of penetrative sex. Then when the disease has stabilised and become inactive I can correct the penile deformity surgically."

This was all well and good! But Dudley had no mates; had no social contacts; had never been on a date and was desperately shy about showing off his dick to even his own father.

It had been the Vicar of St Giles who, on hearing the sad tale from Philodendron Duckpond-Waddle, had said: "Tell the father to take the boy immediately to our camping grounds in The Peak District. I have a group there from St Giles. Dudley needs the help of an angel and that is where the angel will find him."

Duffer Duckpond-Waddle did not believe in Angels! He did not believe in anything. But for Dudley he was willing to give anything a try.

They had set out immediately and arrived late the Wednesday night.

End of file: SNOWY-WHYTE-7.9 The story in continues: SNOWY-WHYTE-7.10

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