CHAPTER FOUR


In which Kevin is afflicted with Microbes and learns what his lips are for.

Kevin

That night I thought a lot about what had happened at Mark’s house. I suppose if I’d been in any doubt about whether or not I really was gay, this would have settled it once and for all, because I’m pretty sure no straight boy would have been able to suck another boy like that. And he certainly wouldn’t have enjoyed it the way I did.

Okay, I know I’d told Mark I hadn’t really enjoyed it, but that was because I still wasn’t sure about admitting it to him. In reality I thought it was really interesting, and I was quite looking forward to doing it again, too, especially if he was going to rub me the way he had this evening. That had felt amazing. Of course, it was too much to hope that Colin would also want me to do that for him, but I could always dream…

Next day was more or less a normal Monday, though when I went to Chess Club after school I was surprised to see Chris and Mark there. As far as I knew Chris couldn’t even play chess, and Mark had never been to the club before, either. But when I asked what they were doing there they refused to tell me.

I didn’t play very well that evening, because I was distracted by my brother’s presence. Mark played three or four games against other members of the club, so obviously he knew how to play, and Chris sat next to him and watched. I thought perhaps they were there to keep an eye on me and to make sure I didn’t sneak off to the toilets to masturbate, and if that was the idea, it worked well enough. I didn’t think they’d want to come every week, though, so I wasn’t too worried about it.

But it was on the Tuesday that my situation got a bit worse. When I got home after school I found that we had guests: Chris had invited another member of the football team round. I didn’t know the kid’s name, but I was able to work out who he was fairly quickly because he had his older brother with him, and the older brother was in my form. His name was Jason Temple, and his kid brother turned out to be called Luke, except nobody called him that: everyone called him the Magic Microbe, or just the Microbe, because he was about three feet tall. Well, okay, I’m exaggerating: he was actually four feet four, but he was the smallest kid in the team, and he even made Mark look tall. Okay, taller. Jason was a shrimp, too: although he was my age he was actually an inch shorter than Chris.

“What are they doing here?” I asked, unhappily.

“Well, you know we have to tell someone else about you,” Chris said. “And you didn’t want us to tell Colin, so we thought we might as well start with the Microbe. And his brother’s here because they always go home from school together, and it seemed unfair to split them up…”

“It seems pretty unfair on me not to,” I pointed out. “You’re only supposed to tell one person if I mess up.”

“You seem to be forgetting about the sounds the microphone picked up last night.”

“Yes, but… that was only a little bit, and I stopped as soon as I realised…”

“You mean, you do it without even realising you’re doing it? Wow, Kev, you really have got a problem! See, what it is, guys, is my brother has a problem: he’s addicted to…”

“Hang on!” I interrupted. “I don’t want to hear this. Just wait until I’m out of the way.”

“No, I think you ought to stay – after all, if I don’t tell it right you’ll be able to correct me. I wouldn’t want to exaggerate, would I?”

“No, but…”

“Good, so that’s settled. See, Kevin just can’t stop playing with himself: whenever he’s left alone for five minutes he strips off and starts giving himself cheap thrills…”

The Temple brothers were staring at him, clearly unable to believe that they were hearing this. And then they both turned and stared at me instead, and I felt myself going bright red. And at that point they both burst out laughing.

“Why are you telling us, though?” asked Jason, when he finally got himself back under control. “Okay, it’s funny, but even so…”

“Well, Mark and I reckoned we should try to help him stop,” Chris explained. “See, we’ve got a film of him doing it – a couple of them, actually – and that means he has to do what we tell him if he doesn’t want the film to be sent round everyone at school, or even getting put online. So we’ve made some rules that will help him to stop doing it, only we’re going to need some help supervising him – we can’t have him sneaking off to the toilets when we’re not around. And we thought you’d be able to help us with that, Jason, because you’re in his form. And if there are three of us watching him at football, it’ll be much harder for him to sneak off there, too, especially if we’re not all on the pitch at the same time.”

“You mean, because I’m only ever a sub,” translated Luke.

“Not really. I reckon when you’ve been in the team a bit longer you’ll get some starts. But, okay, for now you’ll be able to keep an eye on him when you’re not playing.”

“Do we get paid for, er, helping him out?” asked Jason.

“Possibly. Mark and I make him clean our boots, so obviously you could do that too, Microbe. And I’m sure Jason can think of something you could do to help him out…”

“My homework,” said Jason, grinning at me.

“That might not be a good idea,” I said. “You’re better than me at most subjects, aren’t you?”

“True. Oh, well, I expect I’ll think of something.”

“Good. Come upstairs, then, and we’ll show you how this works.”

I tried to sneak off towards the kitchen, but Mark grabbed me and frog-marched me up the stairs after Chris and the Temple brothers. First we went to my room, where Chris showed them the camera pointing at the bed.

“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Luke. “I thought you were making it up!”

“Nope. We’re deadly serious about it. After all, you wouldn’t like it if your brother was a pervert, would you?”

“My brother is a pervert,” said Luke, grinning, and giving rise to a short scuffle. Chris let them fight for a few seconds and then prised them apart.

“So the idea is that he’s supervised all the time,” he explained. “And if you two can help out we can make it almost impossible for him to play with himself.”

“Why can’t he just do it in the toilet?” asked Jason.

“Because there’s a camera in there, too – and he isn’t allowed to go without asking permission, so that one of us can go too to keep an eye on him. And he isn’t allowed to lock the door, either, so if I think he’s misbehaving it’s easy for me to check. If he does go without permission or locks the door, he gets punished.”

“Seriously? What sort of punishment?”

“Every time he plays with himself we tell someone else about it, and show them the film.”

“Film? You mean you really have got a film?”

“Come through to my room and I’ll show you,” said Chris.

“What! Oh, no, come on, Chris – you don’t need to do that!” I protested.

“I do so need to. You knew what would happen. And it wouldn’t be fair to let the Microbes miss out.”

“Hey, he’s the Microbe!” protested Jason. “I was calling him that for ages before he decided it was cool and started doing it himself. I’m no Microbe, though!”

“Well, you’re not exactly a giant, are you? I think we’ll call you the Major Microbe.”

“Microbus Maximus,” I suggested.

“That’s worse – it sounds like a people carrier!”

“Minibus maximus, then?”

“Shut up! You just wait, Stratford – I’ll tell your brother you went to the bogs and tossed yourself off every day, and then you’ll end up with everyone knowing about you!”

“Hey, you can’t tell lies!” I protested. “Tell him, Chris!”

“He’s right,” Chris confirmed. “That really wouldn’t be fair, Jason. If you’re going to join in, you have to do it properly.”

“So tell him to stop calling me names, then!”

“Hyper-geek!” I said. “Mega-dweeb! Tiny Temple!” I was hoping if I wound him up enough he’d lose his rag and then Chris would see that he couldn’t be trusted to supervise me fairly. But he wasn’t stupid, and the moment he realised what I was doing he just shut up and smiled at me.

“You’re right,” he said to Chris. “We should do this fairly. Now, let’s see this film.”

I think he still didn’t really believe it until now, but once the film started running he had no choice: his jaw dropped and he turned to stare at me.

“Oh, my God, Stratford!” he said. “You complete wanker!”

“So? I bet you do it, too,” I said.

“Not on bloody camera, I don’t! How the hell did your brother get this?”

I shrugged.

“That’s a secret!” Chris told him. “But it’s good, isn’t it?”

“Good? It’s fucking perfect!”

“So, you get the idea,” Chris said. “He does what we tell him, or this goes viral.”

“Great! Can I get a copy?”

“No!” I shouted. “He’ll tell everyone, and then… then you won’t have any way to make me do what you say, Chris!”

“Well, there would still be one way… but perhaps I won’t do that. So I think I’d better hold on to the film for now – but if he messes up you can definitely have a copy, Jason, okay?”

“Fair enough. But he has to do what I tell him, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, but only if you’re fair,” said Chris, who seemed to be thinking that maybe Jason might not be going to play the game after all.

“Oh, I’ll definitely be fair!”


Jason

I simply couldn’t believe this: White-stick Stratford caught on film, by his kid brother, no less! Okay, I knew he had trouble seeing without those massive specs he has to wear, but he must have needed a guide dog not to have noticed a camera in his bedroom. What a complete pillock! And, thanks to the Microbe being in the same football team as Stratford’s brother, here I was with a chance to take advantage of the situation. And, boy, was I going to! I hadn’t worked out exactly how yet, but the important thing was to convince Stratford’s brother that I was going to play it straight. Which I would, just so long as anyone was watching. After that I was determined to have some fun.

“So what exactly do you want me to do?” I asked.

“Just keep an eye on him while we’re at school,” his brother said. “Make sure he doesn’t nip off to the toilet without telling you, and if he does have to go you should time him to make sure he isn’t having a sneaky wank instead.”

“Should I go with him, just to make sure? I mean, that would be a lot safer, wouldn’t it?” I offered.

“Well, yes, if you wouldn’t mind. At least then we’d be sure.”

“That wouldn’t be any trouble,” I assured him, enjoying the look on Stratford’s face. “What about after school? We usually get the same bus home, but not always, and I get off before he does… so what about if I take a note of which bus he’s on, and then you could make sure he comes straight indoors once he gets off the bus. After all, we wouldn’t want him sneaking off into the woods, would we?”

“That’s a good idea. Of course, most of the time I can arrange to catch the same bus as him, but it would be useful if you could act as back-up in case I can’t.”

“No problem. And maybe he could come home with me once a week, too – that’ll give him a chance to clean the Microbe’s boots, and help me with homework if it’s something I can’t do on my own. If both of us are there we can make sure he’s supervised all the time. How about every Thursday?”

“Yes, okay,” agreed the brother. Stratford looked as if he was going to explode.

“Great,” I said. “We can start tomorrow, then.”

So as soon as Stratford arrived at school next day I grabbed him and took him out into the yard so that we could talk quietly.

“Despite all that name-calling yesterday I’ve decided I’m going to play this game fairly,” I told him. “That means I won’t lie to your brother. But in return you have to do exactly what I say and not try to sneak off without telling me – and that means you have to stay where I can see you during break and at lunch-time, okay? And I think it would be a good idea if we sat together during lessons, too – that way you can’t disappear without me noticing.”

He didn’t look too happy, but he agreed to that. To be honest it didn’t make a lot of difference to either of us, because we’re both classified as ‘geeks’ – we’re both small... okay, I’m a lot shorter than he is, but he’s skinny as fuck; we both wear glasses; and neither of us is ever going to represent the school at anything more athletic than chess – though actually once we start playing cricket in the summer term I can bowl a bit: the problem is that I never get a chance, because I end up batting at number ten or eleven and fielding out in the deep somewhere. People take one look at me and decide I’m going to be crap at everything just because I’m not very tall, which is bloody unfair. Okay, I’m sort of used to it by now, but it still pisses me off…

Anyway, the point is that neither of us is anywhere near the top of the popularity league, and so we’re pretty much free to sit anywhere we like, as long as we stick to the geeky seats near the front of the class. And Stratford and I already sit next to each other in Chemistry because that teacher has us all in alphabetical order, basically because he hasn’t a clue who anyone is and it helps him to remember if we’re lined up A to Z. At least that way he doesn’t get me and Stratford mixed up with Alperton and Croxley. One day we should all deliberately sit in the wrong places – I bet he wouldn’t notice. Stupid pillock.

As it happened, sitting next to Stratford turned out okay, because he actually appreciated the muttered comments I make from time to time, though the first couple of times he nearly got into trouble through snorting with laughter. He managed to make out it was a cough or a sneeze or something… anyway, I appreciated someone actually reacting like that: most of the other dweebs in this form sort of look scandalised when I say something sarcastic, like I’d farted in church or something. Stratford seems to have a sense of humour, at least.

On Wednesday at break he needed a pee, and since I did too I went to the bogs with him. I sent him up to the far end of the row of urinals – I didn’t want him looking at me while I was having a piss, because that would just be weird. And on Thursday he needed to go twice, once at break and once at lunchtime, and this time I just hovered outside and waited for him – though I thought afterwards that it would have been funny to go and stand next to him and then stare, because I bet that would have made him feel bad. Maybe next time.

And on Thursday evening he came home from school with me and the Microbe. I’d picked Thursday deliberately because that’s when we get French homework, and French is one subject where Stratford is definitely better than me. Stupid bloody language…

Anyway, we went up to my room – I should say ‘our’ room really, because our house is too damned small, which means Luke and I have to share a room, which is a complete pain in the arse. Okay, most of the time I get on well enough with the Microbe, but there are times I wish I had a bit more privacy – I mean, Stratford was right when he said that most kids of our age wank. I certainly do, but it’s bloody difficult when you have to share a room with your kid brother. I can’t just lie in bed on a Saturday morning and have a nice leisurely toss, not with him in the room: instead I have to go and lock myself in the toilet, which is a lot less enjoyable. My dad has been talking about converting the loft into a bedroom for one of us for ages, and to be fair he has actually started, though it’ll probably be ages before it’s ready.

So – Stratford and I sat at my desk and did our homework. And, yes, he did give me most of the answers to the French, but because I’m not a complete moron I made sure I made some mistakes in it – I’m not going to get pulled up for copying. And then we wrote up that day’s chemistry experiment, and as we’re both not too bad at chemistry we didn’t actually need to cheat there. And finally we had to copy a diagram of a bee into our biology work-books and label everything, and I’m a bit better at biology than he is, so I was able to help him out a bit.

The Microbe doesn’t get as much homework as we do, so he was finished and already playing some soccer game or other on his Playstation before we even started the biology, but he used his headphones so as not to distract us. So once we were finished we crept up on him and dug him in the ribs, just to see how far he would jump.

When he’d finished swearing he took Stratford downstairs and out into the garden so that he could clean his boots for him – we have to use the garden tap for stuff like that so as not to get mud all over the kitchen. Stratford wasn’t too happy that the boots hadn’t been cleaned since Sunday, because it made it harder for him to clean them, but the Microbe said he always left it until Thursday, and only did it then because he needed them for practice on Friday after school. So Stratford got on with it, and the Microbe and I went back upstairs and played on the Playstation until he came back. He showed the Microbe the boots, and the Microbe was not impressed.

“All this bit round the studs is still muddy,” he pointed out. “And it’s ground into the bit where the sole joins the sides, too. Didn’t you try scrubbing?”

“Yes, but it’s impossible to shift. I bet you’ve never cleaned the underneath, have you?”

“Of course I have! You’re just lazy! You’d better do a better job next week, or you’re really going to be in trouble! In fact, Chris said I could punish you if I wasn’t happy with you, so I think I will. Let’s see, what should I do to you…?”

“Make him strip!” I suggested. I thought that would be pretty funny, to be honest, and the fact that Stratford didn’t like the idea at all just made it seem even better. He begged a bit, but the Microbe obviously realised that he was actually going to do it, and so he dug his heels in. And Stratford started to undress, and soon he was standing naked with his hands on his head.

He really is skinny – you can see every rib. But of course it wasn’t his ribs we were looking at… and I have to admit that seeing what he had almost made me jealous, because my body still haven’t started to change yet – in fact I’ve hardly grown at all in that area since I left primary school. The Microbe, of course, is even smaller than me – one thing about sharing a room is that you generally get to see each other undressed now and again – and he was staring at it in interest. I’d guess that there are plenty of boys in our year with bigger ones, but seeing one with proper hair and large soft balls still made me feel sort of inferior…


Kevin

This was really humiliating. It hadn't been half so bad with Mark because at least he and I know each other, but I'd hardly spoken to Jason until this week and I didn't know Luke at all, and to have two total strangers staring at my balls was horribly embarrassing.

“He's got a big one, hasn't he?” Luke commented. “Is he really only the same age as you, Jase?”

“He's a few months older, I think,” said Jason. “When's your birthday, Stratford?”

“November 18th,” I told him.

“So you're already fourteen... and that makes you about seven months older than me, because my birthday's June 13th,” he said.

“Yes, but it's way bigger than yours, isn't it?” said Luke, and I had to fight not to laugh, especially when Jason said, “Yes, okay, you don't need to go on about it!” because that pretty much proved the point.

“All right, Stratford,” said Luke, “lie down on your front on my bed.”

So I did that, wondering what was coming next, and then Luke picked up the ruler from his desk and began flicking it against my buttocks. It was surprising how hard that ruler felt… okay, I suppose it shouldn’t have been, but it was only made of plastic – and, besides, nobody had ever hit me like that before. So I yelped, which they both found funny, and when he kept doing it I kept yelping: that ruler wasn’t getting any softer. But the really bad thing about it was that I started to get an erection – I suppose it was because I was wriggling about and so rubbing it against the bed.

“Next time you’d better clean my boots properly, or maybe I’ll have to find something heavier to beat you with,” said Luke, finally tossing the ruler back onto his desk. “Okay, you can stand up now.”

I really didn’t want to, but he insisted, and when he saw why I’d been reluctant to move he started laughing again.

“Stratford likes being spanked!” he commented. “Bloody hell, that really is big now…”

Before I could stop him he reached out and pushed it down, laughing as it sprang up again. He did it again, and it seemed to get even harder.

“Come and see how hard it is!” he invited his brother, and Jason came and joined in, slapping it about and generally making it bounce for several seconds until I protested. And then, reluctantly, they left it alone, but not before tugging on my pubes and squeezing my balls.

“Nice, Stratford,” said Jason. “I reckon the girls would appreciate that. Pity your face means no girl will ever get to find out what she’s missing.”

“Well, at least a girl could do it with me without needing to lend me a ladder,” I retorted.

“Harsh,” he said. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood, or I might have to do something nasty to you. Anyway, I suppose we can let you get dressed…”

“Not yet,” said Luke. “Let’s make him toss himself off first!”

“Well, that would be sort of fun… but he’s not supposed to do that now, and I’m not sure his brother would want him to.”

“Sod Chris!” said the Microbe. “I want to see his spunk come out!”

“Again, that would be good… no, we’d better not. But we can ask Chris tomorrow if it’ll be okay to make him do that next week, okay? So get dressed, Stratford, before I change my mind.”

I didn’t need telling twice: having to masturbate in front of these two would have been appalling. As soon as I was dressed again I felt a whole lot better, though when they said I could go home I didn’t argue.

Next day at school Jason said he’d quite enjoyed the previous evening.

“I don’t have people round too often,” he said. “After all, sharing a bedroom makes it hard to do a lot, and in any case I don’t like most of the kids in our form – they’re either the sports players, who take the piss out of my height, or complete dweebs that have to run home to Mummy as soon as the final bell goes. All right, I wouldn’t normally have asked you round either, but as it turned out I thought it was a laugh. And it’s useful having someone to help do my French. So you can definitely come again next week.”

I wasn’t sure that I was quite as enthusiastic about it as he was, but I suppose it was nice to be appreciated.

After school I went straight to football training with Chris, getting a lift from Colin’s mum, and while the team worked on their fitness Mr Clifford tested me on the laws of the game, which I had done my best to learn. And apparently I hadn’t done too bad a job, either.

“You’d probably better not take the line this week, not against the Royals,” he said, “but we’ll give you a run next week. And at half-term I’d like you to do a First Aid course, too, if you’re not going to be too busy.”

If it was going to lead to me administering First Aid to Colin – or, indeed, some of the other members of the team – I decided that I would definitely not be too busy. And Chris couldn’t object if I was going to be busy on team business, either. So I said I’d definitely like to do it.

“Good,” he said. “Now, if you’re going to run the line you probably ought to do a little fitness training, so perhaps next week you could bring some kit so that you can do some running with the team.”

I wasn’t quite so keen on that: I’m not a huge fan of physical exercise. Still, I supposed it wouldn’t do me any real harm to keep fit.

At least it was pretty clear that nobody had told the rest of the team about me, because a lot of the boys greeted me in a friendly way at the end of the training, though the Microbe did whisper a comment about certain aspects of my anatomy, warning me that they would be in danger if his boots weren’t spotless next week. But the fact that it was whispered demonstrated that he was going to keep things secret from the rest of the team, for which I was very grateful…


Chris

Of course, part of what Mark and I were doing with Kev was giving him enough rope to hang himself – after all, we wanted more and more of the team to join in with punishing him. So on Saturday morning I told him I was going round to Mark’s house for half an hour, and that he should behave himself while I was gone. I know my brother pretty well, and I thought there was every chance he would take the opportunity to play with himself. I assumed he’d have the sense not to do it in his room, but I had the other most likely places covered by cameras that Kevin didn’t know about. And, sure enough, when I checked the recordings out after lunch I found that the cheeky bastard had used my bed, and that he’d also done it while looking at the team photo once more.

But this time I didn’t say anything – well, not straight away, anyway. I filed the evidence away in the hidden folder on my PC and said nothing about it, and it was clear watching him that he thought he’d got away with it.

“I hope you behaved yourself this morning,” I asked, just to see if I could get him to look guilty.

“Of course I did,” he said, virtuously. “Check the camera if you don’t believe me!”

“I already have, and it does look as if you stayed out of your room,” I said. “It would be nice to think that you’re learning. Maybe we won’t have to tell Colin about you after all. Of course, I might decide there are other members of the team who need to know about you – or even maybe someone who isn’t in the team…”

He wanted to know what I meant by that, but I refused to tell him. At the moment there was still one event a week where he wasn’t being supervised, and I wanted that loophole closed before I started opening things up to the rest of the team.

The rest of Saturday passed quietly enough, and on Sunday morning Colin’s mum came and picked us up to take us to the game, which this week was being played at our home ground. Once again Kev handed the cards out before the game, and it was obvious that he was trying hard to learn everyone’s name – he was keeping a little notebook with everyone’s name and shirt number in, too, so that if we had another goal-feast like the one we’d had against Ravensbourne he’d be able to tell us straight away who had scored.

This week was nothing like that, though: the Royals were a hell of a lot better than Ravensbourne, and it didn’t help that Colin’s strike partner Jack Parsons was away this weekend. But it made the Microbe happy, because he got a start for once, and to be fair he played pretty well, too. In the end we managed a two-all draw, which even Mr Clifford thought wasn’t a bad result.

Colin scored one of the goals, so of course he was in my face about what I’d said the previous week, but because he hadn’t scored the hat-trick he’d promised us I didn’t see that an apology was called for. He said he’d come round after lunch and change my mind for me, and I said he’d be welcome to try.

After the game I allowed Kev to keep his glasses on while he was in the changing room – once again he came in to collect the dirty kit, and he stayed while everyone had a shower… well, not everyone actually does take a shower: a couple of the boys just head for home and have a shower or a bath there, I suppose. But most of us do. I made good and sure that I kept my back to my brother while I was getting changed, though as soon as I had my boxers on I started watching him to see if he was staring at anyone in particular.

This week he had Grant in front of him again, though I was pretty sure it wasn’t him that Kev fancied: he’d told me that the previous week, and I believed him. He did keep shooting little sideways glances at Lee, who was getting changed next to him, but he was obviously aware that I was watching him, so he spent as much time watching everyone else. And when I asked him after we got home if he was into redheads he said no.

“So why were you looking at Lee today, then?” I asked.

“I wasn’t! Well… not especially, anyway.”

“I saw you.”

“Yes, but I just wanted to see… well…”

“What?”

“I wanted to see if his pubes are the same colour, okay?”

“Ah. And are they?”

“He hasn’t got any – at least, not that I could see.”

“Right. So who else were you looking at?”

“Nobody in particular.”

“Yeah, right. I’m going to find out, Kev, so you might just as well tell me now.”

“Get lost!”

“Suit yourself. I’ll find out in the end, and then, boy, are you going to be in trouble!”

Colin came round after lunch and we spent most of the afternoon mucking about in my room, playing video games, wrestling and stuff like that. Kev joined in part of the time, though he also had to clean my boots, and Mark’s – Mark had left his boots with Kev after the game and ordered him to clean them and take them round to Mark’s house after supper. And so after we had eaten I once again cuffed Kev’s hands behind his back and sent him to Mark’s place, carrying the boots in a bag on his back…


Kevin

I’d managed not to make a fool of myself while Colin was there that afternoon – I’d even managed to join in wrestling with them without getting an erection, which I thought was pretty amazing. And it was obvious that Chris still didn’t suspect, or he wouldn’t have gone through all that stuff where he accused me of fancying Lee.

I’ll admit that I was actually looking forward to going to Mark’s place: what we’d done the previous week had been pretty exciting, and now I was sure he wasn’t going to tell Chris, or anyone else, about it I was a lot less worried than I had been the previous week.

Anyway, I got to Mark’s house while it was still just about light enough to see where I was going, managed (after a few contortions) to ring the doorbell again, and followed him up to his room.

“Let’s see the boots, then,” he said, taking the handcuffs off for me.

I opened my bag and handed them over.

“Not bad,” he said. “Better than last week, anyway. Maybe I won’t have to beat you up this week.”

“Yeah, like you could beat me up!” I said. “Everyone knows dwarfs can’t wrestle!”

“Oh, now you’re in trouble. Strip down to your boxers and we’ll find out who can wrestle and who can’t!

I like play-wrestling. Okay, I’m not much good at it, and both Chris and Colin beat me regularly, but Mark is a lot smaller than them and I reckoned I had every chance of winning for once. So I stripped down to my underwear, put my glasses on the desk and waited while he took off everything except his shorts. Of course I’m at a bit of a disadvantage to start with because I can’t see properly, but once we’re grappling the bad eyes don’t matter too much. So he closed in and grabbed me, and I tried to twist as we fell so that I would end up on top, except I didn’t manage to…

We rolled around inconclusively for a couple of minutes. He was actually a lot stronger than I had expected, but because he’s small he didn’t have a lot of weight, and the first couple of times he got on top of me I was able to dislodge him again. But the third time he got me flat on the carpet underneath him, and by digging his thumbs into my biceps he was able to make me stop struggling.

“So,” he said, “who can’t wrestle?”

I tried not to answer that, but a thumb rammed into your biceps hurts, and after a few seconds I had to give in.

“Me!” I gasped. “Come on, Mark, that hurts!”

“Submit?”

“Yes! Shit, Mark…”

He relaxed his grip but didn’t actually get off me. Instead he lay flat out on top of me, so that we were chest to chest, though he paused long enough to remove my boxers first.

“Getting hard again, I see,” he commented. “Maybe you’re starting to think I’m sexy after all.”

“No, I don’t! I mean…”

“What?”

“Well… actually you are nice-looking. But I don’t fancy you, or anything!”

“Really? So why are you getting hard, then?”

“I can’t help it – you’re lying on top of it and sort of squashing it. I bet yours would get hard if it was being squashed like that!”

“Perhaps you’re right. Shall we find out?”

He slipped his boxers off and chucked them onto the bed with his other clothes and then lay down on top of me again, so that our genitals were pressed together. And that certainly didn’t persuade mine to subside: on the contrary, it got harder and harder. And I suppose the way mine was twitching set him off, too, because I could feel him starting to stiffen up.

“You were right,” he said. “And it certainly isn’t because I fancy you… although you shouldn’t run yourself down too much, Kev: once you lose the specs you look okay. I reckon I wouldn’t mind going out with you if I was into boys.”

“Really?”

“Seriously. Take a photo of yourself in a mirror when you’re not wearing your glasses, then put them on and have a look at it. Then you’ll see what I’m looking at now, and maybe you’ll realise that there’s nothing wrong with the way you look. And you’ve got nice eyes… it might be sort of fun to pretend we fancy each other for a bit – we could practise for when I get a girlfriend and you get a boyfriend.”

He got up, helped me to my feet, swept his clothes onto the floor, lay down on the bed and pulled me down on top of him, putting his arms round me and holding me, and I have to admit it felt really nice. Okay, he wasn’t Colin, and in fact he looked nothing like Colin; but having a warm body pressed against mine felt great.

“You can kiss me if you want,” he said quietly. “I’d like to know what that feels like.”

I stared at him. “Are you sure?” I said.

“Yes, why not? I’ve never had a chance to kiss a girl, and maybe if I get a bit of practice with you it’ll help me to make a good impression when I do get the chance. And I reckon I can trust you not to tell anyone about it…. Unless you think I’m too gross to kiss, of course? Maybe kissing dwarfs is against your religion?”

“You’re certainly not gross – in fact you’re way better-looking than me. And it doesn’t really matter how tall you are when we’re lying down, does it?”

“I suppose not. Okay, then, show me how you do it.”

“I’ve never actually kissed anyone before… but I suppose we can learn together if you like.” And I lowered my head and gently touched my lips to his.

It’s hard to describe what it felt like, but I liked it a lot, especially when he put a hand on the back of my head to stop me withdrawing. We started out with our lips closed, and then he opened his mouth a little, and I did the same, and one thing led to another… like I say, I liked it a lot. And so, apparently, did he.

“Bloody hell, Kev!” he said, “Are you sure you’ve never done that before?”

“Never, I swear!”

“Well, you’re bloody good at it, then. Let’s swap places and then we can do it again.”

So I went underneath and he lay on top of me and we did it again, and it felt just as good this way up. After a couple of minutes he rolled off me and stared at me.

“Fuck, Kevin,” he breathed. “That was… well, amazing, to be honest. And if it feels like that with you, it has to be unbelievable with a girl.”

“Sure you’re not turning gay?” I asked, grinning, but he looked as if he was actually thinking about it.

“I don’t think so,” he said, finally. “I think it’s just that we’re friends, and so it feels good because I know I can trust you, and that you like me. But perhaps I should try something else, just to be sure.” And to my astonishment he wriggled down and put my erection in his mouth.

He’d obviously learned from instructing me how to do this the previous week, because he very quickly got into a nice, steady rhythm, and I hardly had to give him any instructions: he got the pressure and speed right almost at once. And in less than a minute I had to warn him that I was about to shoot.

I’d expected him to stop at that point, but he didn’t: he just kept going until I lost control and spurted into his mouth. And that did give him some trouble: I suppose it shot against the back of his throat, because he coughed and spluttered and took it out of his mouth before I’d finished, though he kept hold of it, which meant that I went on enjoying it until I finally dried up.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

He nodded. “Sorry,” he said, once he could speak again. “I wasn’t expecting that. I guess you’re supposed to make sure it’s pointing off to one side, or something. But other than the end I didn’t really mind that, so perhaps I am turning queer… I hope not, though: I’d much rather be normal.”

“So would I,” I told him, “but you don’t get to choose, I’m afraid. And I’m glad you didn’t mind doing that, because I hope that means you won’t mind doing it again. Not until you and Chris have stopped punishing me, obviously, but maybe after that we could… well, practise a bit. And when you’ve grown a bit you’ll be able to get a girlfriend, and then you’ll get a chance to find out what feels best.”

“I don’t think I’d mind keeping doing this sort of stuff on Sundays, to be honest,” he said. “As long as nobody else finds out, of course – and as long as you remember that I’m in charge. So I reckon it’s your turn now, isn’t it?”

So we switched places again and I sucked him, and as far as I could tell he loved every second of it. And when he finally finished spurting – and it seemed to go on for a very long time – I swallowed it, because I thought that’s what gay boys are supposed to do, and I found that it tasted okay. Quite nice, actually.

And after that we got dressed and sat and talked about football until it was time for me to go home. And I thought that if this was going to happen every Sunday I wouldn’t mind too much what happened to me during the rest of the week…

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


On paper Kevin is still in trouble here, but somehow he doesn't seem to be suffering too badly...

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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