CHAPTER THREE


In which Kevin learns that not all boys mature at the same time, and Mark teaches Kevin a new trick.


Chris

Once Colin’s mum dropped us off at home – and today Colin didn’t come in with us because he was going to be coming round for tea instead – I took Kev up to his room and told him to sit on the bed.

“So?” I asked. “Did you enjoy yourself? I’m talking about the football, not being in the changing room afterwards.”

“Well, yes,” he said. “I mean, it was a bit one-sided, and probably next week will be a better game, but it was fun watching. And there was some really good play, too, even if you were up against some pretty rubbish players. So I don’t mind coming to watch every week – in fact I’d want to even if you didn’t tell me I had to.”

“Good. Of course I might not let you in the changing room next week, or at least I might not let you wear your specs at all, because it’ll be embarrassing if you keep getting hard like you did today. So which one were you looking at – Grant or Charlie?”

“Charlie,” he said, which didn’t surprise me, because I suppose you’d say Charlie is sort of buff, if you were into boys. He has interesting green eyes, though I’ll bet it wasn’t his eyes that Kev was looking at this morning.

“Well, I suppose it’s okay for you to look, but you’re not supposed to get stiff. That’s going to be a bit of a give-away if anyone notices, isn’t it? Actually, that might well be a good way to help keep it under control: once you start running the line we’ll make you shower with us, and then if you get stiff everyone will see and guess why.”

“Come on, Chris – I thought you said you weren’t going to tell anyone?”

“I’m not, but if people see you with a stiffy and draw their own conclusions, that won’t be my fault, will it? Anyway, you’ll probably be safe enough because you won’t have your specs on in the shower, and so you won’t be able to see anything clearly enough for it to get you going.”

“I suppose so, but I’d sooner not take the risk, just in case.”

“Then you’ll just have to learn to control yourself, won’t you? And don’t forget that you have to be punished for going stiff this morning after I told you not to. Mark’s coming round straight after lunch, and once he gets here we’ll decide what to do with you. Maybe we’ll tell Colin you’re gay after all…”

“No, don’t, please!”

“Well, we’ll have to think of something. I’ll talk to Mark and we’ll find some suitable way of teaching you a lesson. Anyway, I’m off to get changed – I’ll see you at lunch.”

I went to my room and closed the door, making sure that I put a book in front of my desk-light before I took my clothes off: the last thing I wanted was to get caught by my own security camera. I still didn’t intend telling anyone about Kev being gay, though it was fun winding him up about it, and when Mark came round after lunch he said he agreed with me.

“It would be a bit bad,” he said. “Besides, if we do it too quickly we’ll lose all our leverage. But I’ve been thinking, and I reckon there would be a better member of the team than Colin to tell first.”

“Really? Who?”

“The Magic Microbe.”

“Huh? Why him, Mark? He’s only been in the team a few weeks!”

“Yes, but he’d be perfect, because he’s got a brother in Kev’s form. And if we tell the Microbe and he tells his brother – or if we tell his brother at the same time as we tell him – it’ll mean we’ll have someone to keep an eye on Kev while he’s at school. We won’t have to keep checking up on him ourselves.”

“Yes, but… I mean, I hardly know the Microbe… in fact I can’t even think of what his real name is…”

“Luke,” Mark supplied.

“Right. Anyway, I don’t know him very well, and I don’t know his brother at all, so what makes you think he’ll go along with it?”

“I know his brother. He goes to Computer Club at school, same as I do. And I reckon he’d be up for it. He’s a total geek, and he doesn’t seem to have a whole lot of friends – at least, every time I see him outside of the Club he seems to be on his own. I think he’d be quite keen, to be honest.”

“Well, do you want to sound him out tomorrow?” I asked. “We don’t have to tell Colin anything this afternoon, after all. If Microbe Senior isn’t interested, we can still tell Col instead, can’t we?”

“Okay, let’s do that,” he agreed. “After all, Kev did say he didn’t want us to tell Colin about him…”


Kevin

I was really scared Chris would tell Colin about me being gay, and that if he did Colin would never speak to me again. Okay, he didn’t speak to me very much now, but at least when he did it was always in a friendly way. To be completely fair, both Mark and Chris himself were still speaking to me in a friendly way, but somehow I was afraid that Colin would be different. In fact I thought that even if he found about Chris’s film of me wanking it would be enough to make him hate me.

All right, I know that’s sort of illogical – after all, I suppose almost all boys masturbate, and Colin probably wouldn’t be any different. But it’s still something you want to keep to yourself…

Mark came round after lunch, and he and Chris spent quite a while talking in Chris’s room. I was afraid they were plotting something nasty, but in fact when they came into my room afterwards I discovered that they’d decided to give me a reprieve.

“We’re not going to tell Colin about you this afternoon,” Chris told me. “We’re thinking about telling someone else on the team instead, because I know you don’t want Colin to find out what a pervert you are… But if we do agree to tell someone else there are going to be a couple of conditions.”

“Okay,” I said, before he could change his mind. “Um… what conditions?”

“First, you have to promise to go on doing what you’re told, and to accept whoever we decide to tell without arguing, whatever the consequences might be. And second, you have to go over to Mark’s house after supper and clean his boots.”

“And tidy my room, and do anything else I decide needs doing,” added Mark.

Well, that didn’t sound too bad. I was a bit more worried about the other part, though.

“What do you mean about consequences?” I asked.

“I don’t know yet,” said Chris. “But depending who we tell, there might be things that happen – like whoever it is might want their boots cleaned, too.”

I’ve said before that cleaning boots isn’t the way I’d choose to spend my spare time, but it was a whole lot better than having Colin see the film of me and wondering who in the photo I was thinking about. So…

“Okay, I agree,” I said.

“Good. Then you can clean my boots now, just to get you in the mood. I’ve left them down in the utility room, and I expect them to look brand new when you’ve finished. If not we’ll have to punish you – we’ve been thinking of ways to do that, too. We’ll draw up a proper list later, but it’ll include things like fining you part or all of your allowance, making you miss meals – especially when it’s lasagne, or something else that you like - putting you in detention – that’ll mean locking you in your cupboard, I expect – or beating you. Don’t worry, we won’t go overboard if we do that!”

I didn’t like the sound of that at all, but I supposed it was sort of logical, and I’d prefer any of those things to having Colin find out about me.

“And remember, if we catch you playing with yourself at any time we’ll tell someone else about you,” he reminded me. “So don’t think you can sneak off to the toilet when you’re supposed to be cleaning my boots, because if you do and we catch you…”

I went downstairs to the utility room and found Chris’s dirty boots standing on a sheet of newspaper next to the sink. There were a couple of brushes there, too, but I decided to start by getting the mud off under the tap. I was careful not to get water inside the boots, because somehow I thought Chris wouldn’t be very happy if I did that…

It took me about half an hour to get them clean and dry, and when I thought the job was done I went and found Chris – he and Mark were playing on his Xbox – and showed him.

“Not bad,” he said. “Next time you’ll have to take the laces out and wash them, though – there’s still mud on them, look. But as it’s your first time I’ll let you off for now.”

The rest of the afternoon wasn’t too bad at all: they let me join in with their games, and when Colin arrived all four of us played. And they never said anything to him about me, either, and so he went on treating me almost like a friend, which made me feel really good. Mark went home for tea, and I said I’d be round about half-past six, and then Chris, Colin and I ate our own meal and watched TV. And when Colin’s mum came to pick him up after tea he asked if I was going to come and watch the team play again next week.

“Yes, of course,” I said.

“Great! I reckon you bring me luck – I’ve never scored five in one match before!” he said.

“I don’t care how much luck he brings, I bet you don’t score at all next week,” said Chris.

“Bet I do!”

“Okay, you’re on. Fifty pence?”

“Make it a pound, cheapskate!”

“Agreed. Kev, you’re our witness, okay? When Fumblefeet here fails to score next week he owes me a quid.”

“And when I score a hat-trick, you don’t only owe me a quid, but I’ll expect you to kneel down in front of the whole team and apologise to me!”

Chris made a rude noise at him, and I got out of the way and watched them wrestling for a couple of minutes, which was fun. I had trouble restraining myself from joining in on Colin’s side.

Once he’d gone we tidied up and I washed up without being asked, and Chris came and did the drying, which sort of surprised me, though I wasn’t going to complain.

“We’ve got a little surprise for you,” he told me, as I was getting ready to walk down the road to Mark’s house – he only lived about half a mile away. “Mark found these, and we thought you ought to wear them between our house and his. After all, we don’t want you to nip off into the woods to play with yourself, do we?”

‘These’ were a pair of handcuffs.

“Oh, come on!” I protested. “I swear I won’t do that! I’ll run all the way if you want, and I’ll get Mark to call as soon as I arrive. I can do it in about five minutes if I keep running – and obviously I won’t be able to stop on the way if I’ve only got five minutes…”

“Well, it’s a good offer, but I think the cuffs would be more fun,” he said. “Turn round.”

So I turned round and he cuffed my hands behind my back.

“Mark’s got the other key,” he told me. “Of course, if he loses it you’ll be in trouble… off you go, now!”

And he pushed me out of the door.


Mark

I suppose I should be upfront here and say that I actually quite like Kevin. I agree with Colin, in fact: I think as big brothers go he’s pretty good. There are a couple of boys in our class with older brothers further up the school, and as far as I can make out both brothers are total dicks. Kevin has never thrown his weight around (not that he’s got a lot of weight to throw – he’s probably no heavier than Colin or Chris) or tried to boss his brother about, and whenever I’ve been there in the past he’s always joined in stuff with us and generally treated me and Colin like we’re his equals, not his kid brother’s stupid little friends, or something.

On the other hand, having an older boy completely at our mercy was something I wasn’t going to waste. In a way I felt sorry for him – after all, I suppose all of us wank quite a lot – but letting your brother catch you in the act… well, that’s just careless, and it deserves punishing. And there was some stuff I wanted to try, and having an older boy who had to do whatever I told him was far too much of a chance to miss.

He arrived five minutes early, though he had some trouble ringing the doorbell because Chris had cuffed his hands behind his back and he had to go through all sorts of contortions to get his finger on the button. Fortunately for him I got to the door before my dad, so at least Kevin didn’t have to try to explain to him why his hands were cuffed.

I took him up to my room and closed the door, locking it to make sure we wouldn’t be interrupted. Since my older sister was out as usual there wasn’t any serious risk of that, because my parents always respected my privacy, but it pays to be careful.

Our house is nothing like as grand as theirs: we don’t have things like ‘utility rooms’ for a start. So I’d put some warm water in a bowl and put the bowl on top of some old newspapers next to my desk, with my boots next to them.

“Off you go, then,” I said, indicating them.

“Undo my hands!” he replied.

“Ah. Now, what did I do with that key?” I pretended I’d lost it, but I could tell he didn’t believe me, so, after a few seconds I produced it and undid the cuffs.

“Before you start,” I said, “I don’t suppose you want to get mud all over your jeans, or your shirt, so you’d better take them off.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me. Take off your jeans and your shirt… actually, no: take everything off. That’ll be a lot funnier.”

“Oh, come on, Mark – please don’t make me do that!”

“Don’t keep me waiting,” I said, implacably. “I want to see you naked inside sixty seconds, or I’ll have to punish you.”

I could see that he was thinking seriously about telling me to sod off and storming out, but he was chess-player enough to stop and assess the consequences if he did. And apparently he didn’t like the conclusion he came to, because he stood up and reluctantly started to strip. And I couldn’t help grinning, because I hadn’t been sure that Chris would have backed me up if Kevin had gone home and complained. I mean, I thought he would, but you never know.

So Kevin got undressed, and when he was naked he knelt down in front of the bowl and started working on my boots, first getting the excess mud off with an old paper-opener I used for the purpose, and then making a start at washing the rest off. And I sat on the bed and watched him, trying not to grin too widely, because I knew that once he’d taken this first step along the path of obedience, the next one would be that much easier…

I suppose Kevin isn’t exactly a typical fourteen-year-old: he’s skinny and not particularly tall – about a hundred and sixty to a hundred and sixty-five centimetres, or call it five feet four in old money. Of course, that’s way taller than me, but then I’m very short for my age – and at least I’m not the smallest in the team: Grant, Silvio and the Microbe are all smaller than me. Still, Kevin is probably nine inches taller than me, which is one reason I liked him kneeling down, like he was at the moment.

He’s not all that big where it counts, either. Of course, I’ve only really got the film to go on, but he didn’t look that huge when stiff, and he really hasn’t got a lot of hair for fourteen. Soft, it didn’t look special at all. But then I didn’t intend that it was going to stay soft…

Kevin

Having to strip like that was embarrassing, though of course knowing that Mark had seen the film of me made it a little bit easier to cope with. And to be fair to him he didn’t say anything or do anything to distract me while I was working on the boots: instead he just sat on his bed and watched, and after a bit I just sort of tuned his presence out and got on with the job. This time I remembered to remove the laces and wash them, and that also made it easier to get all the mud off the top of the boots. It still took quite a bit of work, though: I got the impression that this was the first time these boots had been thoroughly cleaned in ages.

Eventually I was satisfied with the result, so I told Mark I had finished, put the laces over the radiator to dry off and brought the boots to the bed for him to inspect.

“Not bad,” he said. “There’s still some mud here, though,” and he pointed out a place where the tongue joined the rest of the boot.

“I did try to get rid of that,” I said. “I think it’s too deeply ground in, though.”

“Hmmm. And there’s still some stuck to this stud, too.”

“Sorry.”

“Okay, I suppose they’ll do. Probably I ought to punish you for missing those two bits, but I suppose you tried to do a good job… we’ll see how you get on next week. Now – lie on the bed.”

“Can I get dressed?” I asked.

“Obviously not. Lie down.”

So I lay down, and I was shocked when he took hold of my penis and squeezed it.

“This isn’t very big, is it?” he commented.

“Well, it’s big enough,” I argued.

“It’s pretty poor for fourteen. And you’ve hardly got any hair. I’m way more mature than you.”

“No, you’re not!” I argued. “Don’t talk rubbish, Mark: you’re about four feet five…”

“I’m four-seven!” he interrupted.

“Okay, four-seven, then. And I’m more than two years older than you – so stop trying to wind me up by pretending I’m immature for my age.”

“I’m only telling the truth,” he said.

“No, you’re not! I’m perfectly normal… well… okay, I’m within normal limits, then. There’s no way I’m less mature than a twelve-year-old dwarf!”

“Oh, now you’re dissing me. Apologise!”

“Well, okay, I didn’t mean to be rude or anything, but you shouldn’t tell lies like that just to see if you can get me going!”

“I keep telling you, I’m not lying.”

“Okay, prove it! If you’re more mature than me, I’ll…”

“You’ll what?”

“I don’t know… apologise, I suppose.”

“That’s hardly good enough! Once I prove I’m more mature than you, you have to accept whatever punishment I suggest without arguing, okay?”

“Well… okay, but I think you’re bluffing,” I said. “So if you don’t prove you’re more mature than me, not only do I get let off cleaning your boots in future, but you have to try to talk Chris out of punishing me any more.”

“I can’t do that – it wouldn’t be fair on him. But if I’m going to let you off cleaning my boots every week, if you lose the bet you have to take a punishment from me every week, too.”

I thought about it. I was ninety percent certain he was bluffing: after all, I’d caught a few glimpses of his team-mates in the changing room, and not one of them seemed to be anything like as mature as me. And I remembered that when I’d been twelve I looked like Wingnut Grant, which I thought was normal for that age.

“Okay,” I said. “But you can’t give me a punishment that involves anyone else: this is strictly between us. And in return I won’t tell Chris, or anyone else, how immature you are.”

“That sounds fair.”

“Okay, so how do we measure this?” I asked. “Are we just talking about who has the biggest erection?”

“No – there’s a lot more to maturity than length. There’s how much hair you’ve got, and how quickly you can shoot, and what it looks like when you do – how thick is it, how much of it is there, that sort of thing. And I reckon I can beat you on all of those counts.”

“Crap!” I declared. “Come on, then: show yourself up!”

The problem was that I hadn’t met any Mediterranean kids before, and I wasn’t aware then of the fact that, for whatever reason, they often seem to reach puberty faster than northern Europeans like me. I had a feeling I was in trouble when Mark took his shirt off and I noticed small tufts of black hair in his armpits – I haven’t got any yet. And when he pulled his pants off and stood naked in front of me I discovered that he hadn’t been bluffing at all.

“Bloody hell, Mark, that’s amazing!” I commented. “I don’t think there are any kids in my year with hair that thick – at least, not that I’ve noticed.”

“And we all know you’ve been looking,” he said, grinning.

As I stared at him he started to get an erection, and of course once that happened, so did I. And once it was fully up he grabbed a ruler from his desk and measured us both.

“Okay, yours is about half an inch longer,” he admitted. “But you have to admit I’ve got way more hair, haven’t I?”

“Shit, yes!” I breathed, unable to tear my eyes away from it.

“Then we don’t actually need to have a wanking contest – though it would be sort of fun, I suppose,” he went on. “After all, you admit I’m more grown-up than you, so you have to be punished. I tell you what… lie down again.”

I did that, and he sat down next to me, took hold of my erection and started to rub it steadily. And it felt amazing: obviously nobody had ever done it for me before, and so this was totally new… and I loved it. I didn’t care that this was my kid brother’s friend, or that he was younger than me, or even that he had far more pubic hair than me: instead I just closed my eyes and enjoyed the incredible sensation.

It didn’t seem to take very long: soon I could feel the pressure building up and I began to writhe about.

“Getting close?” he asked, and I nodded, not trusting my voice. I thought he’d probably stop, just to frustrate me, but instead he kept going steadily until I couldn’t hold it back any longer, and shot onto myself with a gasp. He pumped out three spurts and a dribble, which is rather more than I usually manage.

“Not bad,” he said, keeping hold and squeezing out the last drops. “That took you about a minute and a half, which is pretty quick, and you’ve got some proper spunk, too… okay, it’s a little bit watery, but it definitely qualifies as whitish. Did it feel good?”

“It was brilliant,” I said, getting my breath back. “Thanks, Mark. So I suppose you want me to do it to you now?”

“Not exactly. It would be good to find out how that feels, but there’s something else I want to try even more…”


Mark

I wasn’t sure if he’d actually do this, and if he’d really thrown a wobbly about it I would probably have let him off, provided he agreed to wank me instead. But this had to be tried, so I sat on the side of the bed and ordered him to kneel in front of me.

“Now you have to suck me off,” I told him.

He stared at me. “You’re joking,” he said. “Aren’t you?”

“Nope. Come on, Kevin, you’re gay – I bet you’ve done this for loads of boys.”

“I bloody well haven’t! I’ve never done anything with anyone until just now!”

“Bet you’ve wanted to, though.”

“Well, maybe I have wondered how it would be if I could touch someone’s thing when it’s hard, or if they were to touch mine – though I had no idea it would feel that good… but that’s not the point! Nobody knows I’m gay except you and Chris, and I wouldn’t risk anyone finding out by trying it on with anyone, either – so I don’t know anything about… you know, doing stuff with boys!”

“Well, now’s your chance to learn,” I told him.

“But I don’t know how!”

“Well, to be honest, nor do I – I mean, I’ve never done anything like this before, and I haven’t got a girlfriend to show me how, either. Okay, I’ve seen some porn online where women suck men off, but I don’t really know how it works. So now we’re going to find out together, and if it’s half as good as people say it is you can keep doing it for me until I get a girlfriend to take over from you. All you have to do is to put it in your mouth.”

This was the moment of truth: I thought if he once did this he’d be prepared to do anything else I could think of, too. And I was hoping that he’d want to explore this possibility as much as I did – after all, this is something that gay boys have to know how to do, surely? And apparently he agreed with that.

“You’re not going to tell Chris or Colin or anyone about this?” he asked.

“No. I promise, Kevin. Like we agreed, this is just between you and me.”

“Well… okay, then.”

And to my absolute delight he leaned forward and took my stiffy in his mouth, all four and a little bit inches of it. And it hurt, too.

“Ouch!” I exclaimed. “Keep your teeth out of the way, Kev!”

“Sorry!” he said, and slipped it back in a lot more carefully. And that felt really nice – it was sort of warm and wet, and I suppose that’s probably a bit like what it feels like when you put it inside a girl’s vagina. Not that there’s much chance of me finding out until I’ve grown a bit taller: for some reason girls seem to think short boys are a joke.

“That’s nice, Kevin,” I said. “Now you have to sort of slide it into and out of your mouth.”

Instead he took it out again. “Have you got any of those porn films on your computer at the moment?” he asked. “Only if I could see one…”

“Sorry,” I said. “I don’t keep them. It’s easy enough overriding my ‘rents’ Parental Control program – at least, it is if you can guess the password, and they really haven’t got a clue – but I still don’t actually store porn on the machine’s hard drive, just in case.”

I didn’t tell him that I had a USB flash drive for that sort of thing, but that was because there were some things on that stick that I didn’t want anyone to know about, not even Chris. See, the idea of having a girlfriend appeals to me a lot, but I’ve downloaded some gay stuff, too. I don’t really know why, because I don’t think I’m gay, but it is sort of interesting watching guys doing stuff. Anyway, I’m not risking anyone else seeing my stash of porn.

“So you’ll just have to imagine it,” I went on. “Just try sliding it in and out, like I said.”

He put it back in his mouth and tried doing that.

“Squeeze with your lips,” I said.

He did that, too.

“And keep sliding, obviously!”

And now it was feeing pretty good.

“Could you try licking it at the same time?”

He could, and now it felt even better.

“A bit faster… yes, now you’ve got it! Keep going, Kevin!”

Instead he stopped again. “You will warn me when it’s going to shoot out, won’t you?” he said.

“I thought I wasn’t mature enough to do that?” I said, grinning at him. “But yes, of course I will. Except you have to keep it in your mouth until I’ve finished, or it’ll ruin the feeling. Anyway, I think my stuff tastes good. Now get on with it!”

He started again, and now he definitely had the technique right, because it felt great, ten times better than when I wanked myself off. Here there was a feeling of not being in control of things, and somehow that made it way more exciting than just rubbing it myself. Soon I could feel the moment building and building, and although I tried my best to hold it back I never had a hope.

“It’s coming, Kev,” I warned him, holding his head in case he decided to back off. But he didn’t, and even when my first spurt erupted into his mouth he kept his lips squeezed tight and his tongue pressing against the sensitive bit underneath the tip. I think I must have spurted five or six times, and I know my stuff is thicker and whiter than Kevin’s, so I reckon he did really well not to back away. Finally it stopped and I was able to relax a bit.

“That’s it, Kev,” I said. “You can take it out now.”

He did that, shuffled across the carpet on his knees and spat onto the newspaper next to the bowl of dirty water.

“That was absolutely fucking incredible,” I told him. “Tell you what, Kev, if you can find a boy who wants to go out with you he’s going to fall head over heels in love the first time you do that for him. I think you’re really supposed to swallow it, though, not spit it out.”

“I just wanted to see what it looked like,” he said. “I can’t really tell, though – I suppose it got diluted by my saliva. But there was loads of it.”

“Of course – I’m more mature than you, remember? Anyway, next time you can swallow it.”

“Okay.”

Oh, what a giveaway! Not a word of argument, no protest, no “If you think I’m doing that again you have to be joking” – no, just “Okay”.

“Did you like doing that?” I asked.

“Well… not really, but I suppose that’s just because it’s the first time I’ve ever done something like that, and it felt weird. It didn’t hurt or anything, though, and in a way it was sort of exciting, getting you all worked up. As long as you’re not going to tell anyone about it I suppose I don’t mind too much.”

“I won’t. I think if they knew I’d got a boy to suck me they might call me names, too. Okay, it’s much more gay to suck than to be sucked, but still… So we can practice that a few times, and then by the time I get a girlfriend I’ll be able to tell her how to do it, and by the time you get a boyfriend you’ll be expert at it.”

“Okay,” he said again. Yup, he was clearly okay with this – and that meant that he and I were definitely going to be spending a fair bit of time together from now on…


Kevin

Can I ask you something?” I asked, as he began to get dressed. “Me being gay… does it bother you?”

“Not really. I suppose it means what you mean by ‘bother’, though.

“Well, we’ve always got on okay, haven’t we? I mean it’s not going to make you hate me or anything.”

“If it means I get sucked like that every week it’s not going to bother me at all – in fact I’m entirely happy about it. But I expect I’ll still join in when Chris decides to punish you – that’ll be fun. But I’ll make sure you only get punished if you actually break the rules – after all, if you get too mad at me you might just bite it off!”

I grinned at him. “I could, at that,” I said. “I don’t think I will, though… can I get dressed now, please?”

“Yes, I suppose so. I’ll go and get rid of the bowl while you’re at it.”

So I got dressed again and he took the bowl out and presumably chucked the water down the sink or something, and then he came back and led me downstairs and out of the front door. I thought that was it, but it wasn’t, not quite: he made me put my hands behind my back and put the handcuffs back on.

“Oh, come on, Mark,” I protested. “Obviously I’m not going to stop and play with myself on the way home, not just after…” (I lowered my voice) “…you know, after you made me shoot.”

“I know,” he said. “But Chris doesn’t know I wanked you, and I’m not going to tell him, either, so he’ll expect you to have the cuffs on. Besides, I like the idea of you having to walk home like that. It’s funny. See you tomorrow,” and he went back inside and closed the door.

I wasn’t sure that ‘funny’ was the word I would have chosen: ‘scary’ would have been better. The road between Mark’s house and ours is a country lane, with no street lights once you get past half-way, and by now it was dark. Okay, I was glad Mark had shown himself ready to keep secrets from my brother, but stumbling along a country lane in the dark and with my hands shackled behind my back was definitely a bit frightening. And to make things worse I needed a pee: I normally need to pee after I’ve masturbated, but tonight I hadn’t had a chance to do so. And of course I couldn’t get anywhere near my zip with my hands behind my back, which meant that I had to get home quickly before I had an embarrassing accident.

At one point I fell over - I lost track of where the road was and tripped onto the grass verge instead. It was a soft landing onto the grass, but the grass was a bit wet and it took me a while to get to my feet again. But I kept going, and I managed to get home before my bladder betrayed me… only to find a new problem: my house key was in my pocket, and I couldn’t reach it, and nor could I reach the bell. I had to kick the door in order to try to attract Chris’s attention, and by the time he finally heard me over the noise of the TV I was on the verge of wetting myself.

“Where’s your key?” he asked.

“In my pocket,” I said, half turning so that he could see the cuffs. “Come on, Chris, get these off – I need a pee.”

“Really?” He smiled nastily. “How badly?”

“Badly,” I said. “Come on, Chris, please?”

He pulled the handcuff key from his pocket and twirled it round his finger in front of my eyes.

“Come and get it,” he said, retreating into the house.

I followed him in, kicking the door closed behind me, and followed him up the stairs the way a donkey follows a carrot on a stick. But instead of taking me to my room, or his, he led me into the bathroom and pushed me into the shower.

“Go on, then, pee,” he said, turning me to face the camera and standing out of its line of sight.

“No way!” I cried.

“Go on,” he said, turning on the basin tap to add the sound of running water to my problems. “You know you want to!”

“No!” I wriggled and danced and tried to turn my back, but he wouldn’t let me.

“Do it,” he insisted. “Do it, and I’ll let you have a free wank later this week, without the camera running and without me watching, too. Go on, Kev, it’ll be a laugh.”

Pissing my jeans in front of my kid brother wasn’t what I would have described as ‘a laugh’.

“Two free ones,” I negotiated, hideously aware that I was going to lose control in the next few seconds.

“All right, agreed,” he said.

And so I gave him what he wanted, and as soon as I’d finished he undid the cuffs and told me to get undressed and have a shower, which I did, enthusiastically. And afterwards we went to his room and he showed me the playback, and I have to admit that the way my jeans slowly turned dark, and the look on my face, were pretty funny, as long as you weren’t the person it was happening to. But at least it put Chris into a really good mood, and since Mark was obviously happy with me too I thought that maybe things could have been a lot worse…

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


So Kevin's starting to learn a new and very useful skill – it's good to be able to clean a pair of boots properly...

The address is still gothmog@nyms.net and I still like getting mail.

Copyright 2013: all rights reserved. Please do not reprint, repost or otherwise reproduce this or any part of it anywhere without my written permission.

David Clarke