Date: Thu, 12 Jan 2006 19:16:53 +0000 From: Pink Panther Subject: 'The Running Boy' chapter 10 The story below is a work of erotic fiction. If reading erotic material is illegal where you live, please leave this page now. If you are under age to be reading this type of material, please leave this page now. This story contains scenes of sexual interaction involving under-age boys. If this is not what you wish to read, please leave this page now. Feedback is more than welcome and I always respond to it. It's great to know that people are actually reading what I've written! The story has now reached the halfway point. I would be most interested to hear what you think of the story so far. Please e-mail thoughts, observations and constructive criticisms to pinkpanther2@hotmail.co.uk I will reply as soon as I can. CHAPTER TEN "Martin, why did you use a condom?" I ask him. He looks at me like I'm an idiot. "You've done it before; you told me. I don't know the guys you did stuff with. I don't know who else they'd been with either. Suppose one of them was carrying something, you know, some disease or other; they could have passed it onto you. I always use condoms; it's just too risky not to." "Oh, right!" I respond. I feel like an idiot now. I could ask him how he knows about all this stuff, but it's not important. It all makes sense; that is important. "If you go with anyone else," he says quietly, sounding very serious, "particularly any of the senior boys, for Christ's sake don't let them fuck you without a condom. You've no idea who they've been with before. It's not worth the risk. Trust me!" "Thanks!" I say absently. He's set me thinking. I've never really thought about doing anything with one of the senior boys. I just assumed they wouldn't be interested in kids our age. But hell! Some of them are super fit! They all have their own rooms too. We'd have to be careful, of course, but it must be possible. "So d'you think some of the seniors would be up for that?" I ask. "Are you serious?" Martin replies. He's grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "Fucking hell! Half the sixth form would jump at the chance of going with kids like you and Jocelyn, Jocelyn especially; well, not half maybe, but a good few of them would." "Oh, right!" "Go for it if that's what you want," he says casually. "Go and watch some senior soccer or rugby matches; they'll soon notice you. Just remember what I said." "Yeah, thanks." My mind's somewhere else. How does he know all this stuff? It's like he knows things he shouldn't. I'd love to ask, but I'm not going to. It doesn't matter. I've got something else to think about. Sex with Martin was okay, but that's all it was, sex. We're not boyfriends; we're not going to be boyfriends. He just wants to fuck me, that's all there is to it. I've never even thought about having an older boyfriend. Right now I'm finding it hard to think about anything else. 0 o 0 o 0 o 0 It's our first race of the season. It's under fifteens so we've got to run with the year ten boys. It's three miles too; I've only raced that far a few times, like at the English Schools. The good thing is that it's on our own course so I know it pretty well. Before the race there's an atmosphere, like Alex and Philip don't want us there. I try to ignore them; just prepare myself like I always do. When the gun goes Phil and Alex set off at a ferocious pace. Deon goes with them. I'm almost drawn into it too. Then I have a common sense attack. It's much too fast. Maybe they're much stronger than they've shown in training. If they are they'll beat me anyway. If not, they're going to struggle later in the race. I ease back and let them go. By halfway Alex and Deon are a hundred yards ahead of me, with Philip starting to drop back. Three boys from other schools are between me and them. This is where I've got to start working. Over the next half mile I pick off the three boys in front of me. Philip's still thirty yards ahead but coming back to me with every stride. The other three boys will catch him as well the way he's going. Barely a minute later I'm on his shoulder. I glance across as I run past him. He is in bits! Alex and Deon are still over thirty yards ahead with no more than a kilometre left to run. Little by little I close them down. The gap's down to twenty yards when Deon breaks away. I'm past Alex in a flash. He looks pretty bad too. Funny, I wouldn't mind if Deon won this. My racing instincts tell me different. I catch him with a quarter of a mile left. I actually could run past and go away from him if I wanted to. I don't; it's not the way I race. I run on his shoulder and wait. We're about sixty yards from the finish. I press the accelerator and sprint for the line. It's no contest. Alex finishes fourth, Philip struggles in eighth. He looks like somebody hit him on the head with a shovel. After we've got showered and changed, Mike asks Alex and Philip to stay behind. I figure it's going to be a bollocking for running like a couple of idiots. I'm impressed. He could have bawled them out in front of the whole team, but he didn't. He's talking to them on their own, quietly, privately, so there's no embarrassment. That's special. I don't think many teachers or coaches would do that. 0 o 0 o 0 o 0 So, I go to watch a rugby match and a soccer match. The rugby match is okay, and there are some fit guys on the team, but at least half the team wouldn't be my style at all; too big and heavy. Suppose it's one of the really big guys that wants to go with me? That could be difficult. I leave before the match finishes. The soccer match is a different matter. Our team is awesome; we win 5 - 1. I'm not much of a soccer player but I really enjoy watching the game. Better than that, they're all fit-looking guys, every one of them. Some of them are super fit; I get a hard-on just looking at them. After the match I follow them back to the changing rooms, trying to get as close as possible without making it too obvious. Wow! These guys are so fit! They disappear inside. So now what? I can't go into the actual changing room, or the showers. I get another idea. I stroll past the changing rooms and into the boys' room. I go to the urinal, unzip my trousers and take my cock out. It's rock hard and throbbing. A couple of minutes later a couple of the soccer players come in dressed only in their shorts. They are awesome! I don't want to risk blowing it though; these guys have come in for a piss; they may not be interested in me at all. I put my cock away and zip up. I give them a little smile as I make my way out. I need to give this one more tweak. It'll be at least ten minutes before they come out of the changing rooms. I've got the book we're reading in our English class in my blazer pocket; I can't remember why I put it there, but right now it's going to be very useful. It's a warm Saturday afternoon and I've got nothing better to do. I sit down on the grass where I've got a good view of the changing room door, get the book out and start reading. The visiting team leave first. A couple of minutes later our guys start to drift out. I can't take my eyes of them! Then it happens; one of them walks over to where I'm sitting. Fuck! He's just about the fittest of all of them! Shit! My mouth goes dry and my heart's thumping like nothing else. I think I'm going to faint. "Hi," he says, giving me a beautiful smile. "Thanks for coming to watch. We always like to have supporters!" "Thanks!" I stammer. Fuck! It's a good job I'm sitting on the grass like this; at least the bulge in my trousers isn't too obvious. "Are you a soccer player?" he asks, still smiling down at me. Beneath the badge on his blazer are school soccer colours and a flash with the word `Captain' on it. Wow! "No, I run on the cross-country team." I tell him, barely able to get the words out. "Excellent!" he says warmly. "And your name is?" "Ryan ., er, Ryan Crossley." "Hi! I'm Jake Lawrence. I hope we'll see you again!" He hurries off to join his team mates. Fuck! I am so excited I don't know where to put myself! There's only one thing for it. I put my book away, go back into the boys' room and lock myself in one of the stalls. I drop my pants and have the best wank in history. I cum all over the place just thinking about him. 0 o 0 o 0 o 0 It's our last training session before Oaklands. Mike comes into the changing room to announce the teams. I'm as nervous as fuck. "Okay," he says quietly. "`A' team: Philip will run first, Deon second, Alex third and Ryan last." Philip puts his hand up. "Sir, shouldn't Alex be on last? Is it because we ran badly last week?" Mike smiles. "It's because I think that's the order that will give us the best chance of winning." "Sir," Philip responds quietly. "Who have we got to beat, sir? Is it St. John's?" "We've got to beat every team that's there. St. John's are sure to have a strong team; they always do." "Will they have Marchant on last leg, sir?" "I don't know; they may do. Don't forget they've got Richardson as well. The other two are fairly ordinary but that's still a strong side." At least I know who they're talking about. Tim Marchant finished third in the English Schools; Matt Richardson was sixteenth and won the fifteen hundred at the Track and Field Championships in the summer. He ran 4:09. That's eighteen seconds faster than I've run. Fuck! I hope they don't put him on last! Mike announces the rest of the teams. Martin and Greg are on the `B' team with a couple of year ten boys. Adrian is on the `C' team. "Apologies to those of you that have missed out this time; sorry, but three teams is all we can take. Keep working at it; your chance will come." I'm so in awe of this guy, the way he always finds the right words to encourage people like that. "Right lads! A nice steady three miles with eight one-fifty metre strides to follow. I want you all nice and fresh for Saturday. Let's go!" The run is steady too; Mike makes sure of that. Since that business at our first race things have changed a lot. Philip and Alex have been really friendly; I'm even starting to like them. At the pace we're running there's lots of chat, lots of good natured banter. This is how it should be; Mike's worked his magic again! Pretty soon we're back at school. We start our strides. I'm the best of everybody at this. I don't even have to try hard; it's just the way I run. As we set off on our fifth one, I realise that the senior soccer team has just finished playing a practice match. They're strolling back towards the changing room right past where we're running. Out of the corner of my eye I see Jake, dawdling along watching us. Wow! When I reach the finish I have to wait a few seconds for everyone else. We jog back to the start. We pass Jake again. I glance across and smile. He smiles back. Double wow! We complete our next stride; I turn round and look up. Jake's disappeared into the changing rooms. Five minutes later we've finished. We make our way back to the changing rooms. We're not in the same room as the soccer players, but behind the four changing rooms is just the one set of showers and the drying area. We haven't been running that hard so I don't really need a shower, but it's too good a chance to miss. I strip off quickly, grab my towel and trot through. I might have missed him, of course. He could have been in and out by now; he might not even bother having a shower. I hang up my towel and go into the showers. He's here! Naked he looks even fitter. He's much smoother than most of the senior boys; some short fair hair on his calves but his thighs, chest and tummy are still totally smooth. His cock's a bit longer than Luke's but about the same thickness; it's the most beautiful one I've ever seen. He's got big balls and his pubes are really thick. He is gorgeous! I look across at him and smile. He smiles right back. We can't do anything now; there are other kids about and anyway I've got to go to prep. But it will happen soon; I'm sure that Jake knows that too. 0 o 0 o 0 o 0 The journey to Oaklands takes well over an hour. We arrive about half an hour before the under thirteens race. Conditions are perfect. The temperature's in the low sixties, ideal for distance running, with watery autumn sunshine and no more than a very gentle breeze. I trot over to the start and finish area to find Mr. Jones. He greets me like a long lost son. "So what leg are you running?" he asks. "Last," I tell him. He raises an eyebrow. "That could be tough!" he says. "Yes, sir. I know." I rejoin my team mates; we walk round the course. Everyone's pretty quiet. We all know how hard this is going to be. We return to the pavilion where all the results are done. There's a large board with the team declarations on it. We check out the St. John's team: Ellis, Richardson, Smith, Marchant. I remember Smith. He's the kid I ran against last year. I beat him by twenty five seconds. Alex ought to slaughter him. I hope so; I'm going to need every second he can get if I'm going to hold off Tim Marchant. We check the program. The course record is thirty one minutes fifty two seconds and was set six years ago. The lap record is seven minutes twenty six; that's stood for nine years. Those are tough targets. Mike takes me to one side. "If things go to plan, when you take over, we should have a pretty decent lead. Don't hang about, but don't go mad. Run just within yourself. When Marchant catches you, which he probably will, he'll run straight past. I'd hope that will be somewhere in the last half mile. You have to have enough left to get on his shoulder and stay there. Remember he'll have had to work very hard to catch you. He'll be very tired; he may crack if you keep the pressure on him. You may be able to out sprint him in any case." I nod. "Sir." It's all I need to say. I know what I need to do; I've just got to make sure I get it right. It's not going to be easy; I'm not used to running on my own out in front like that. It's time to go. The first leg goes pretty much as we expected. Philip has a solid run and brings us in second, a couple of seconds behind Farnwell College, with St. John's about fifteen seconds further back. Now it's Deon's turn. He goes straight into the lead as Farnwell fade out of contention. About halfway round Richardson starts to close him down. I look at Smith as he trots across into the changeover zone. He looks the part, but he's still pretty small. I hope Alex can get me a big enough lead. Deon battles all the way; he's still in the lead as they head towards the change over. Then Richardson turns on the power and sprints past him. I can't understand why he's not on my leg. Alex doesn't disappoint. He takes the lead within the first hundred yards and just goes further and further away. As he approaches the changeover the gap has grown to well over half a minute. He's run a blinder! I've got to do this now; I really have. Tim Marchant's a class runner and he's a year older than me, but I can't give away a lead like that. The temptation is to go off like frightened rabbit. I remember what Mike told me. Run just within yourself. After the first hundred yards I'm into my running and feeling good. If I hate running through the mud, days like today make up for it; conditions couldn't be better. Tim Marchant will have to run well just to catch me. Onto the bottom of the course; I can't remember ever feeling as good as this. Mike and Philip run across towards me. "Great running, Ryan!" Mike shouts. "You've still got over twenty seconds! Keep it going up the hill; make him work hard to catch you!" I make the turn at the bottom of the slope. As I start the climb I ease back just a touch. I remember what a killer this hill is; it just goes on and on. If Marchant catches me, he catches me. From twenty seconds down we'll be near the top of the hill at least before he gets to me. The important thing is to have enough left to respond when he goes past. We're about five hundred yards from the finish when I hear him behind me. A few seconds later he runs straight past, just like Mike said he would. I fasten onto him like a limpet. This is it now; him and me, only now he's the hunted and I'm the hunter. He's doing everything to shake me off; I'm having none of it. We make the final turn. He tries again; I stay right with him. I thought last year was intense but this blows it away. The noise from people shouting us on is defeaning. Fuck! It doesn't get better than this! I leave it as late as I dare, barely sixty yards from the line. I hit the turbo-boost and leave him for dead. It's my best sprint finish ever. Tim Marchant crosses the line and collapses in a heap. We've won by two or three seconds. I know I've run well. He must have run one hell of a time. All sorts of people are congratulating us, including Jonesey who's lost his voice shouting me on. This is awesome. It's exactly what I came to Langstone for. In the excitement I almost forget about our other teams until I see Greg crossing the finish line. We've won the `B' team prize too. Mike is shaking hands with the St. John's coach. They give each other a hug. Moments later it's our turn to shake hands with the St. John's kids. The only one who looks pissed off is Matt Richardson. I guess it's because he knows they screwed up. After about half an hour all the times are set out on the same large board the team declarations were on. Langstone: 31: 37 (Walters 7:57; McInnes 7:55; Paxton 7:49; Crossley 7:56) St. Johns: 31:40 (Ellis 8:11; Richardson 7:39: Smith 8:27; Marchant 7:23) Both teams have broken the old course record and Tim has broken the lap record. We're the first team ever to have all four runners under eight minutes. Wow! I know the conditions were just about perfect, but those are still amazing times. There's still a great buzz going on when the presentation starts. The guy that runs the event says it's the best race they've ever had and one of the most exciting races he's seen anywhere. We collect our medals and the team trophy and stroll back to the minibus in an atmosphere of total euphoria. Mike ruffles my hair. "You did that perfectly," he tells me. "You knew you'd got him; you just waited and waited. Then you killed him off. It was almost arrogant. in the right way, of course!" We set off on the journey back to school. "Sir, do you know their coach then?" Philip asks. "Oh yeah! Ted Bayliss and I have been racing each other since we were kids. He's another stalwart of club athletics. You've got to respect guys like him; without them club athletics wouldn't exist. He cocked it up today though; they should have won." "Why, sir?" Philip asks. "Tell him, Ryan," Mike says. "They should have run Richardson last." "Yeah, man!" Deon chimes in. "He went past me like I was running backwards!" "What else?" Mike enquires. "Smith second, Marchant third," I suggest. "Just about spot on," Mike agrees. "If they do that; I can't see us beating them." He's brought us back down to Earth. Sure, we all ran really well today and it was a great win, but it could easily have gone the other way. He just wants us to know we've got to keep working at it.