This is a fictitious narrative. The characters and events are inventions. It predominantly includes depictions of sex between pubescent boys, although there are also sexual activities involving adult men with boys. If you are not permitted to read such material, or if it is likely to offend, then you should proceed no further.

The characters' speech merely suggests the dialect of north-west England. I apologise to those familiar with this accent for my weak attempts! Those unfamiliar with the dialect (think Liam Gallagher or, further in the past, George Formby) should hopefully manage to understand.

FUN WITH JAMIE AND FRIENDS

PART ONE

1969. The industrial town of Cumberley, located in the north-west of England, had once been a thriving hub of industry. Those days had long since gone, leaving behind a dismal, neglected town where unemployment was high and the future looked bleak. As in so many northern towns, one sport dominated all others; rugby league. The townspeople, resilient and proud, were fiercely loyal to their home side and followed their fortunes with a fanaticism that bordered on the religious.

Cumberley Rugby Club did their best to repay this devotion by supporting the sport at school and community level. In a time when female participation was anathema, there were several youth teams where coaching for boys of all ages could be found. With skill and determination, a boy might one day make his way into the Club's training squad and, who knows, one day the team itself. For many a Cumberley lad this was the ultimate dream.

* * * * * * * * *

It is something of a cliché to suggest that it always rains in the north-west. Nonetheless, our story begins on a miserably wet Friday evening in September. Under the feeble lighting, casting its yellowish glow onto the junior training pitch, the under-14 boys had been training hard. They were soaked to the skin, covered in mud and looking cold and exhausted. This place had none of the grandeur of Cumberley's club stadium. It stood on the edge of town surrounded on four sides by rows of terraced housing. This was a public recreation ground (commonly referred to as the 'rec' by all and sundry) a rare open space amongst the crowded buildings of the town.

Eddie Prickett, the 32-year-old coach of the under-14s was standing on the sideline. He would normally expect the boys to practice hard and push on for at least another twenty minutes but even he could see they had had enough for today. He blew his whistle and summoned the boys over. There were some twenty lads aged twelve and thirteen and they quickly gathered around him as the rain continued to fall.

“Well done, lads,” he told them. “But I think that'll do for today. Alan and Mark, you collect the poles, Mervin and Peter, fetch all the balls – there should be five of them – and take them to the store-shed. The rest of you, get through the showers. I ain't sending you home all cold and muddy so I expect all of you to shower properly. Off you go!”

The four selected boys scuttled off to do their chores while the rest of the gaggle headed towards the small building that served as changing room and showers.

“Oh, Jamie!” Eddie called out, “When you've showered can you come t'see me in my office before you disappear home.”

Jamie Glansford, a handsome youth of thirteen, turned his head back towards Eddie. “Right-o!” he nodded.

The changing rooms were in a gaunt, single-storey concrete building with a rusty corrugated iron roof. Its walls were daubed with fading graffiti and the paintwork was sadly neglected. Entrance was via a door facing the pitch. To the rear of the building were two smaller rooms, one used as a store and the other set aside for the coach as a kind of office.

The first thing you might notice on going into the changing rooms would be the smell. The stink of poorly-plumbed toilets mixed with the smell of damp clothing and the sweat of dozens of boys. Around the sides were primitive metal lockers where the boys could stash their day-to-day clothes, and in the middle there were two rows of wooden benches with a framework of pegs. On the far side were the showers. They were as neglected as the rest of the building with missing or cracked tiles that had once gleamed white but now were stained and dull. The shower area was arranged in a manner that resembled a large letter M. The boys were expected to enter on the left-hand side and snake around the winding corridor until they found a free shower head. Once showered, they left via the opposite side. Boys who remembered to do so would hang their towels near the exit or else they would have to return to the benches dripping wet and naked.

In his office, Eddie was watching the boys showering, as usual. He had meticulously crafted a spy-hole using an existing gap in the dividing wall that had once held redundant pipework. The thickness of the wall meant his view was restricted but it was just enough to watch one section of the shower area where there was one of the shower heads. Any boy standing under it was in full view.

As the boys had made their way into the changing rooms on one side of the building Eddie had followed his habitual routine of going to his office, locking the door and checking the blinds were closed. He then removed the calendar he'd hung up to conceal his covert viewing point and crouched down so he was at the right height to snoop. If he was quick, and he usually was, he would be in time to catch the first of the naked boys taking their showers.

Eddie was passionate about boys. Not the younger ones, perhaps, but any whose age went into double digits. This was his main motive for getting involved with boys' sport. His favourite boys were pubescent and early adolescent and his appointment as coach for the under-14s had seemed heaven sent.

From his vantage point, Eddie could easily watch as a succession of nude twelve- and thirteen-year-olds showered together. The sight of them made him instantly hard and he would soon find himself masturbating as he watched their naked antics. On this occasion, however, he held back. He knew he had to talk with Jamie soon and he was determined to not to have already shot his wad before then.

After many spying sessions it was fair to say that Eddie knew intimate details about each and every boy. He knew which boys were circumcised (there were just four) and which boys had pubes (there were eight). He knew every one of their cocks; the long or stubby ones, the finger-thin or thicker ones.

What was trickier to discern was which of his boys were able to making spunk. The appearance of pubes was an obvious guide but such was Eddie's obsession he went to some lengths to discover the truth one way or another. Tonight, he was intent on finding out if young Jamie was already a spunker.

The boys were finishing their showers so Eddie quickly replaced the calendar on its hook, concealing his secret spy-hole until the next time. He was just in time, too, as a knock on the door signalled Jamie's arrival. He unlocked the door and let the boy in. Jamie was a little puzzled that the coach had locked himself inside the office, but he didn't dwell upon it and it was soon forgotten.

“Hi, Jamie, come in,” smiled Eddie, pointing to a rather tatty wooden chair. “Make yourself at home.”

“You asked to see me,” said Jamie, sitting down.

“Yes, it won't take long,” explained Eddie, casually resting himself on the edge of the desk. “We need a quick chat about something, if that's okay?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Now, this is gonna sound a bit weird, I know, but do you know what a jockstrap is?”

Jamie blushed a little and stammered, “J..j..jockstrap?”

“Well?”

“Course I do,” said Jamie, “Men wear them when their doing sport.”

“Not just men, Jamie. Some of the boys wear them too.”

“Yeah, I know but...”

“I'm thinking that now you're a bit older then you're probably a bit bigger down there,” said Eddie, pointing at Jamie's groin. Of course, through his many observations of Jamie in the showers he knew the boy's cock very well. It was only two inches soft and there was a scattering of dark pubes that had recently emerged at the base.

“Well, I'm a growin' lad, ain't I!” Jamie grinned.

“I'm sure you are, Jamie. And folk with bigger tackle have more to protect, I reckon!”

“S'pose so,” Jamie agreed.

“So what do yer say to this? I have a few jockstraps here and I think we should try to find a suitable one that'll fit nice.”

“Ya mean now? Me mam'll have me fish 'n' chips ready!”

“Yeah, no time like t' present. It won't take long so I'm sure yer chips won't go cold.”

There was a bit of Jamie that was feeling rather smug. He was more than a little proud to hear his coach imply that he wasn't a little boy any more, that he was growing into adult. This conceit shut out any awkwardness he might have felt from taking his clothes off in front of Eddie. He stood up, shucked off his trainers and dropped his dirty tracksuit bottoms down to his ankles. Then he stepped out of them and stood in front of Eddie in his white briefs.

Eddie meanwhile was rifling through a drawer, fishing out a selection of jockstraps. He looked up at Jamie, noting the little piss stain in the boy's briefs, “C'mon, lad, you can't be wearing your pants for this!”

Jamie stepped out of his briefs and kicked them across the floor to where his other clothes lay. He looked almost comical standing there. He was still wearing his zipped up parka jacket but from the waist down was now naked save for his grey school socks. Eddie smiled, looking at the boy's little dickie. He had seen it plenty of time's before when Jamie was showering but never this close up. It was perhaps two inches with the foreskin tapering to a delightful point. A nice pair of balls hung beneath. They weren't very large but they dangled sexily in their hairless bag. A smattering of wispies framed the boy's charming genitals.

Eddie held up a jockstrap. “Let's try this one for size,” he said, crouching down right in front of the boy. “Step into here,” he continued, threading one of Jamie's feet between the tapes. His face was so close to the boy's groin that he could smell the soapy scent. “Now, this bit,” he said, helping Jamie to step into the other side. He then pulled the scanty garment up over Jamie's athletic legs, noting the comparison between the delicate hairs below the knee and the complete smoothness of the thighs.

Once the jockstrap was nearly in place, Jamie took over and eased his young genitals inside the small pouch. “Where does this bit go?” he asked, puzzled by the tape at the rear.

Eddie laughed. “That goes in yer bum crack! Just pull it on.”

Jamie wriggled until he was comfortable.

“What d'you reckon?” asked Eddie.

“Feels okay,” Jamie replied, trying to look at his own rear to assess the new apparel. “But me arse is cold!”

“That's not what you should worry about, lad,” said Eddie. “It's whether it fits here that's important.” Saying this, Eddie reached out a palm and cupped the boy's bulge. “How's the fit? Is it tight here?” said Eddie, a finger running along just inside the hem of the pouch. “And here?” he said, feeling underneath to where the boy's balls were situated.

“Fuck!” Jamie said to himself, feeling his cock twitch and begin to swell.

Eddie ran his hands around the boy's sides until they reached the boy's firm buttocks. “Yes, I reckon this one'll do fine!” he said, matter-of-factly.

“Shit!” Jamie thought, his cock now pushing forward in the cloth pouch.

“Looks like someone's gone and got the'selves excited!” chuckled Eddie.

“Sorry, it just kinda happened!” groaned Jamie.

“Quite natural, especially for a growing boy like you. Jockstraps often have that effect.”

“It's so bloody embarrassing,” said Jamie, attempting to hide his now obvious erection with his hands.

“Whoa! No need for that, Jamie. We all get hard-ons!” said Eddie, his hands pushing Jamie's aside and then moving upon the stiffness poking forward. “And I'd say you have something to be proud of there!”

“What d'ya mean?”

“Well, it's a biggun for a lad your age,” said Eddie, his finger stimulating the boy's sensitive bulge. In truth it wasn't particularly large, maybe four inches now it was stiff, but Eddie wanted to coax the boy onwards with his praise.

“Not especially,” said Jamie.

“Really? Does that mean you've compared it with other boys then?”

“Err...” Jamie stuttered, realising he'd got himself into a bit of a pickle.

“Do you wank it, then?” said Eddie, rubbing a finger along the underside of Jamie's young shaft.

“Umm...”

“I take it that means yes!” said Eddie, tweaking the head.

For a moment, Jamie just stood there in silence, watching as Eddie's fingers explored him.

“Do you like that?” asked Eddie, fondling the boy.

“S'pose,” muttered Jamie.

“We can't leave it sticking up like that! How about I wank it properly?”

“Yeah, okay, if you want to,” said Jamie uncertainly.

Eddie pulled the front of the jockstrap down and freed Jamie's iron-hard erection at last. The stiff boycock bounced upwards like a coiled spring. It was one of those boy's penises that curve slightly so that the head points directly upwards. Eddie spread his fingers around its hot hardness, gripping it tightly and making the boy moan quietly. He traced a fingertip along the thin line that ran beneath the shaft making it twitch, then, with two fingers, he gently eased back the foreskin until the darker coloured glans was fully revealed.

“Ohh, that feels so good,” Jamie mumbled, looking upwards and closing his eyes.

Eddie crouched in front of Jamie, wanking the boy with his fingers, slowly at first and then with more vigour. He used his other hand to free the boy's balls from the jockstrap so they swung like small ripe cherries upon a tree. He toyed with them, feeling the hairless wrinkled skin and the delicate balls within.

“Fuck! I'm gonna jizz...” muttered the boy through closed teeth.

Eddie quickened his pace until he knew Jamie was at the point of ejaculating and positioned his open mouth at the tip. Jamie looked down and could see what Eddie was about to do but he was so far gone now that he let the man have his way. He squirted a thin, watery jet onto Eddie's eager tongue, almost crying out as the sensation overwhelmed him. Eddie wrapped his lips around the boy's pumping cock and devoured the last of the pearly droplets and licking the boy clean.

“Looks like you enjoyed that!” said Eddie, swallowing the sweet tasting boy-cum and looking at Jamie.

“Yeah,” said Jamie, once he'd got his breath back, “It was shit hot!”

Eddie returned to his desk and watched as Jamie got dressed again. “You won't be late for your tea after all,” he said, “I told you we would be quick!”

Jamie laughed. “That was the best wank ever!” he said, with a twinkle in his eye.

“Yeah, but best keep it to ourselves, eh?”

“Of course. It'll be our secret.”

Jamie headed for the door to leave. “Will you be at the match tomorrow, Eddie?”

“Of course! Never miss a game, me.”

“Might see yer there then.”

“Oh, and Jamie...” said Eddie as an afterthought, “I'm not sure the jockstrap fitted as well as it should so we might have to try some other sizes, if you like.”

“Sure! Anytime...see ya,” smiled Jamie, heading back into the dreary September rain.

* * * * * * * * *

Saturday afternoon was when the faithful were called to gather as one at the Cumberley Rugby Club stadium. Yesterday's rain had thankfully departed but the skies were still grey and there was an autumnal chill in the air. It was half-time, which meant another northern tradition had to be upheld. Jamie was standing in the queue for meat pies along with his friend, Danny Bumbery. Although both thirteen, they differed in stature. Whereas Jamie was taller and more sturdily built, Danny was slight and trim. Their physiques were ideal; Jamie's thicker strength made him an obvious forward in the team whereas Danny was lithe and fleet of foot, a nimble back.

As the queue shuffled forward they chatted about the first half which had seen Cumberley edge ahead in the score. They had grown up together, attending the same schools and living in adjacent streets, and were the closest of friends. Jamie hadn't spotted Eddie yet and was not sure if he wanted to. He was feeling a tang of remorse over what had happened the previous evening and seeing Eddie would only make things worse.

“Hey, where did you get to last night?” asked Danny, as if on cue.

“Oh, nowhere,” Jamie replied, “I had to have a chat with Eddie, that's all.”

“Yeah? What was so important that I ended up having to walk home on my own?”

“It weren't important.”

“Ha! I geddit! It was the old jockstrap routine, wasn't it!”

“The what?”

“It's one of Eddie's tried and tested ways of getting in a boy's pants! Everyone knows about it.”

“Everyone?” Jamie gulped.

“You remember Dave Hardstaff from last year?” asked Danny, referring to a boy who had been in their squad but had now moved on the the under-16s. “He told me about it once.”

“Told you what?”

“He said that Eddie gets a lad in his office and tells him he needs to wear a jockstrap and then he makes the lad try one on.”

“So?”

“Well, it's a trick, ain't it! It's just excuse to get his hands on the boy's bits!”

“Keep yer voice down,” Jamie growled, pulling Danny aside from the crowd and forgetting the meat pies.

“It's true though, ain't it? Eddie felt you up didn't he?”

“I couldn't help it,” said Jamie. “The jockstrap made me feel kinda...I dunno. So I get a hard-on, don't I, and before I know what's happening he's wanking me off!”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“What sorta question is that?! Course I did! Who wouldn't wanna be wanked off?”

Danny laughed. “I guess so. After all, we've wanked one another off hundreds of times!”

“Exactly,” said Jamie. “So I let Eddie do it for me, that's all.”

“Fair enough.”

“Well, actually, that ain't all.”

“What d'you mean?”
“This is between you and me, so top secret, okay?”

“Promise.”

“Well, Eddie only went and sucked it!”

“He what?!”

“Just as I was jizzin' he put it in his mouth! Drank every drop!”

“Fuckin' hell, the dirty bugger!”

“It's true!

“Did you like it, then?”

“Of course I did, it were amazing!” Jamie grinned.

“If you think I'm gonna bloody suck yer dick, you can think again!” laughed Danny. “Mind you, I'd love to see for myself what it was like.”

“You mean you would let Eddie suck you off?” asked Jamie.

“D'you reckon he might, then?” replied Danny.

“Doubt it. He wouldn't be interested in your little dick, would he!” teased Jamie.

“Fuck off, it ain't that small” Danny protested.

The two teams were running back onto the pitch by this time, so the two boys hurried back to the terraces and squeezed their way to the front, forgetting about their conversation for now to concentrate on watching the second half of the match.

* * * * * * * * *

Hopefully you've made it this far and enjoyed the first part of my story! There will be more to come and I welcome feedback, comments and suggestions for future scenes. I'm also up for a chat. You can reach me here: drf333@ tutanota.com