Date: Thu, 28 Feb 2008 20:29:26 +0000 From: pinkpanther2@hotmail.co.uk Subject: 'A Warm April Saturday' chapter 31 All the usual disclaimers apply. If for some reason, you shouldn't be reading this, then don't, okay? If you do, neither I nor Nifty will be responsible if the bogey men catch up with you! The story's almost over now; I hope you like the way it ends. I've been very grateful for all the feedback that I've had in recent weeks; it's been very encouraging. However, more is always welcome and I never fail to reply to it. So if you have not written before, or if you've not written for a while, please send your comments to pinkpanther2@hotmail.co.uk and I'll reply as soon as I can. CHAPTER THIRTY ONE It's Monday morning and I'm walking to school with Michael, just like we always did. There's a spring in my step this morning that hasn't been there for months, since before James left. Oh, I know I've done pretty well in the mean time, but it's been hard work, like I've had to keep proving myself all the time. Well, now I don't; I've found the best boyfriend I could ever have who's with me because he wants to be. Nothing could give me more confidence and self-belief than that does; right now I feel ready to meet any challenge that life throws at me. Over the weekend, in between getting our homework done and spending a couple of hours at the pool with the rest of the gang, me and Tom talked for hours; it was awesome, like we've got to know each other so much better. We've decided that we're not going to tell everyone that we're boyfriends; Tom's not ready for that and I'm not sure that I am either. We've told Michael and Gareth; that seemed only fair. I'm not sure that either of them really understands, but they're cool about it; they're not the sort of kids to go telling anyone else either, so that's okay. Over the next few weeks I guess I'll tell my various gay friends; just ask them not to say anything. Pretty soon I hope they'll be Tom's friends too, well, some of them anyway. But as far as everyone else is concerned, me and Tom are just mates like we've always been. I mean, it's nobody's business but ours, is it? It's not like we want to go round holding hands in public or anything. We know how we feel; we can save the lovey-dovey stuff till we've got some time together, just the two of us. I think I prefer it like that. It's morning break; I'm on my way to our maths classroom. Mr Sheridan wants to see me again; I've no idea what it's about this time. "Close the door and pull up a chair," he says brightly as I walk into the room. I sit down by his desk. "Let me say first off how impressed I am with your resilience," he says, smiling warmly. "You're made of tougher stuff than I gave you credit for. I was concerned that you might need counselling after what happened, but you've bounced back really well." "The other lads have been great," I tell him. "And you and Michael are back together again," he adds. "Yes, sir," I confirm; it's less than half the story but he doesn't need to know that. "Right, down to business," he says. "You may have noticed that Luther's back in school; Jerome and Andrew will be taking care of him, making sure he's not on his own, getting picked on or whatever. No decision has been made about Dalton as yet. You know about the drugs?" "Yeah, sort of," I tell him. "Courtney was selling stuff to some of the older kids." "Correct. Well, Dalton had some stuff on him as well, but only cannabis and not that much. The police have let him off with a warning. Even so, it's quite enough for the school governors to throw him out. I want to ask you what you think should happen to him." Well, I didn't know what he wanted to talk about, but I certainly didn't expect this. "What'll happen to him if he's thrown out of here?" I ask. "He'll be sent to another school, probably Broadstone," he says. Well, you don't need to be a master mind to know that's not going to do him much good. He'll get himself in with one of their `gangsta' types; from what I hear they've got enough of them. It'd be the only way he'd survive in a place like that. "And what about if he stays here?" I continue. "Well, Jerome and Andrew have said they'll look after him as well if he comes back." "Then I think he should stay here," I say firmly. "I want you to think very carefully about that," he says. "Luther was just a hanger-on; Dalton was Courtney's lieutenant, helping him, egging him on. Are you sure you can face having him back here?" "But he's never really had a chance, has he?" I counter, remembering what Anthony told me. "Well, I'm not sure where you're getting your information," he says, giving me a wry grin, "but you're pretty much spot on there." "It's like Anthony," I say, my new found confidence starting to take over. "People diss him for being a rent-boy and that; with all the stuff he's had to deal with he's never had a chance to be anything else." He nods. "So let me ask you this," he says. "There's been a problem between you and Dalton for months; having you just sitting on the sidelines is not going to work, if Dalton does come back we need you to be actively involved. Now Dalton's a poor reader. I'm suggesting that a couple of times a week, during our afternoon tutor period, you take him into the maths office next door and listen to him read. D'you think you could do that? Bear in mind that Dalton's pretty difficult to handle. He's very aggressive; there's a lot of anger in there from the way he's been treated over the years. You'll have to be very patient with him; it's not going to be easy." I swallow hard; he's really put me on the spot now! What was that I was saying about facing any challenge? The easy option would be to say I'm not sure. Well, I'm not going to do that; that's the coward's way out. So I ought to just say I can't do it; I've got quite enough else to think about, haven't I? But that'd mean tipping Dalton onto the scrapheap at a shit-hole like Broadstone at the age of twelve years and a couple of months. I know a lot of people would say he deserves it, but I can't do that. Mr. Sheridan wants to give him a chance to get his life sorted out. Jerome and Andrew have offered to help but they need me to be involved too; I can understand why. I know it sounds mad, but I'm going to take it on. If this works, and that a very big if, it'll be the best thing I've ever done; I just can't say no. "I want to do it," I tell him, "but suppose Dalton says he doesn't want to work with me?" "He won't be given a choice; if he comes back here, he's going to have to," he says, looking me right in the eye. "That could make it even more difficult, of course." "Well, I still want to give it a go," I say. We sit in silence for a few seconds. "I wouldn't have thought any less of you if you'd said no," he says finally, "but I'm delighted you've agreed to take it on." "When I grow up, sir," I say quietly. "I want to be a teacher like you." "Well, I'm pleased to hear that as well," he says, smiling again. "Just one other thing you need to know. Andrew's dad is involved in a project on Anscombe Leys to find mentors for black kids like Dalton and Luther who don't have any male role models and are in serious danger of going off the rails, older guys from the black community who can point them in the right direction. Dalton's at the top of the list, so that should help." I leave the classroom knowing that I can't talk to anyone but Mr. Sheridan about this; mum would get worried and the other boys would think I'd gone mad. It doesn't matter. I've said I'll do it; I'm just going to give it my best shot. 0 o 0 o 0 o 0 The summer term is nearly over. I've been working with Dalton for a month. It was hard at first; he seemed sure I was going to pick on him as soon as Mr. Sheridan couldn't see what I was doing. He's a bit more relaxed now that he knows I won't. Even so, there have been a couple of outbursts, just frustration at not being able to do stuff really; they soon passed and we carried on. I'm not sure if his reading's improved that much, but I guess it's early days. Right now we're on our way across London for the Sherman Cup, the last and most important athletics match of the season. There are four schools involved, White Cliffe from Harrow, St. Edmund's from Barnet, Lansdowne Park from somewhere in Essex, and us; all large all-boys' schools with a strong tradition in the sport. The matches are always really close and exciting, that's what Mr. Maynard told us; last year we won by just six points. That is close! It's held each year at Barnet Copthall Stadium, where me and Tom had our first race for the club. I'm wondering if the boy who beat us then will be running today; St. Edmund's School is not far from the track so I guess he could be. Unlike the Young Athletes' League, the fifteen hundred metre races are near the end so we have quite a long time to wait. Mum's changed her day off so she can come and watch; that's pretty special. Mark's here too, supporting the team and trying to see if there is any more talent he can recruit. Mum and Mark travelled over together, which is well cool. Still, it makes sense, I guess. We sit together in the stands watching the other boys perform. It's very close, very tense and very exciting, just like Mr. Maynard said it would be, and the standard is awesome. The conditions are almost perfect; pleasantly warm with hardly a breath of wind; our guys are producing personal bests in almost every event. I've not been in a match like this before; even when we compete for the club we've won quite easily. Well, that's not going to happen today; in this match every point's going to count. Finally it's time to warm up; we both know the drill by now so we just get on with it. Mark's been talking to Tom about not running at the front the whole time; he wants him to sit in the pack for a couple of laps then if he's feeling good to hit the front and pick the pace up. Tom's so used to running at the front I'm not sure if he'll be able to do it, but I've got to be ready for it if he does. I spot the kid as we take our training pants off. He's wearing a different vest, of course, but it's unmistakeably him. So we've got a race on our hands; I'm just hoping we can make a better fist of it than we did last time. Training's been going really well; I'm sure we can both run a lot better than we did that day. As we get ready to line up, the announcer reads out the team scores. Lansdowne Park are leading with 281 points, we're on 279 and St. Edmund's 274; it couldn't get much closer than that. A minute later the gun goes and we're off. The first lap is a respectable seventy seven seconds, with Tom sitting in the pack just like Mark told him to. On the second lap we slow down quite noticeably. I'm half expecting Tom to go straight to the front, but for the moment he stays where he is. He's not going to hang around there for long though; as soon as we've done two laps he'll be off, and I'll be right behind him. We complete eight hundred metres in a modest two minutes thirty eight. As we enter the back straight Tom goes to the front, increasing the tempo quite sharply; I follow immediately, running right on his shoulder. By the time we reach the top bend we're away and clear; the St. Edmund's boy has been left in the pack! As we approach the start of the final lap he comes up behind us, but now he's got a problem, or to be more exact, two problems. The first one is that he's had to run very hard to get back to us; I can tell from the way he's breathing. The second is that he's running next to the kerb. Now that is the shortest route, but as long as I stay where I am, if he wants to get past he'll have to go the long way round. That's going to take a lot of doing. Tom leads us through the bell in three minutes thirty six, which is way quicker than we've ever done it before. The pace is relentless; there's no let up at all. This is where the training we've done really starts to show; a month ago there's no way I'd have been able to live with this. We round the final bend, the three of us still locked together. I thought the noise when we raced here before was pretty amazing, but that was nothing compared to today; as we enter the home straight it's deafening! This is it; Tom's never beaten me in a sprint finish, he's not going to do it today. Slowly and painfully I inch my way past, barely knowing how I'm keeping my legs moving. I'm sort of expecting the St. Edmund's boy to come past the pair of us, but he's even more tired than we are. I just keep driving for the line like nothing else matters, but Tom won't give it up, hanging on every inch of the way. I cross the line knowing I've won and pretty certain that Tom got second, but that's about it; I'm in bits! After a few minutes to get some air back in our lungs we wander across to collect out kit. The St. Edmund's boy comes over to us. "Well done," he says, extending a hand, "you ran a great race. My coach says I took two seconds off my P.B, but I'm gutted; I expected to win." "Did you recognise us from the Young Athletes League?" I ask, accepting his handshake. "I recognised Spiky here," he says, grinning and jerking his head towards Tom. "You can't really miss him, can you?" "I'm Chris, this it Tom" I tell him. "I'm Craig," he says, shaking Tom's hand as well. "I'll see you around, at the Young Athletes' League Final if we make it." We go back to join our teams. I like him, he's okay; rivalries like that are what sport's about. Finally the announcer reads out the times. I won is four minutes fifty two point six with Tom second in four minutes fifty two point eight. Craig was third in four minutes fifty three point four. It's a massive improvement for both of us. Mark's over the moon like he just won the lottery; I think he's even more pleased with the result than we are. Even better, it's given us maximum points and taken us into the lead with only a few events left. The tension is almost unbearable. We could blow it all in the relays by dropping the baton or something, but somehow we hang on, winning by eight points, with St.Edmund's and Lansdowne Park tying for second place. We've done it; we're taking the trophy back home with us. What a match! 0 o 0 o 0 o 0 Mum's invited mark to come over for dinner. Mum's a great cook; we always eat well, but this is one of her specials. That has to mean she likes him. It suddenly hits me that since James left mum's not been out at all; I haven't had a baby-sitter once. She used to go out all the time; when she finished with one boyfriend a few weeks later she'd have another one. Not this time though. After dinner I go round to Michael's house; it's so cool that we're mates again. We spend our time just chatting and stuff, much the same as we always have. He's still completely obsessed with Rachel, but I'd have been surprised if he wasn't; she's a nice kid and so pretty. Rachel and her friends know I'm gay and think it's really cool. Anyway, me and Michael have a laugh and a joke; it's back to old times in the best way possible. I go home just before nine o'clock. Mum and Mark are snuggled up on the sofa watching a film. I go up to my room and mess about on the computer for an hour. I'm sort of wondering if Mark's going to stop over. I don't think he will; it's like a bit early for that. He leaves just after ten, calling `Goodnight' to me before he goes. I go downstairs to say goodnight to mum. She looks so happy! I don't want to get ahead of myself, but I'm really hoping this works out; Marks' great. "You know when I used to go out meeting people," she says quietly, "I always used to avoid guys like him; I thought they were too boring, but he's not boring at all once you get to know him. It just goes to show how wrong I get things sometimes." I give her a hug and a peck on the cheek and head up to bed. 0 o 0 o 0 o 0 I'm on my way to Tom's house for our first sleep-over. We've taken our time before doing this. We both wanted our mums to see that they got it right by letting us be together; it was one of the things we talked about. Well, now I'm pretty sure they have. We've been working hard and doing better than ever; somehow everything seems easier knowing that Tom's there supporting me, and I think he feels the same way. More than that, I've been helpful around the house and so much happier generally. Mum's not stupid; she can see the difference it's made. So when I asked her two days ago, it wasn't an issue; there was no lecture, no stern warnings, nothing. We spend the evening watching the film `Ray', the film about the life of Ray Charles. We sit on the sofa quietly holding hands. Yeah, I know Tom's mum's there watching it with us, but that's cool; we don't make a big show of it. It's a wicked film; Tom's completely spellbound even though it's the seventh time he's seen it. I'm no musician but I'm sort of starting to understand. By the time the film ends it's almost bedtime. This is exciting; I've never actually slept with anyone before, not even with James. Well, tonight's the night. It's not quite that simple though; in a few minutes we're going to say goodnight to Tom's mum then go upstairs and have sex in his bed while she's asleep in the next room knowing we're doing it. That is embarrassing! I don't want it to seem like I'm rushing it, but I don't want to hang on until she sends us to bed either. Looking at Tom, I'd say he's as uneasy as I am. To my amazement, she comes to our rescue. "Right boys, I'm off to bed," she announces. "Don't stay up too late, now!" She gives us both a hug; Tom gives her a peck on the cheek then she's gone. We flop down on the sofa, grinning at each other. That was well cool! Half an hour later he leads me upstairs. Safe in the privacy of his bedroom, we stand in front of each other, our lips meeting in another of those magical, sensuous kisses that he does so beautifully. I love everything about him, his taste, his smell, the touch of his fingers sliding up inside my tee-shirt and gently massaging my back. I run my hands down over his bum, so wonderfully firm; he's everything I could want. Slowly and carefully we undress each other. I drop to my knees, looking up at him. Fuck! He is beautiful! Eagerly I lick all over his cock and his balls, working my tongue all over them. Tom gently strokes my hair; his touch is perfect. I lick my way up his shaft and over the shiny purple head. Finally I open my mouth and suck it in, pushing slowly down until I've got it all, the head just touching the back of my throat. Very slowly my lips slide back up his shaft, my tongue rubbing against the underside. I push back down; he lets go a little gasp. Yeah! He's well into this! I keep this up for a couple of minutes, but even with me doing it pretty slow he's starting to get close. That's not what I want, certainly not tonight. I let him go and we snuggle up on the bed. "I love you, Tom," I whisper. "I love you too," he responds, licking my ear. Lying here, our arms wrapped round each other, I feel so secure, so loved, so wanted; it's hard to describe. We've had sex more than a dozen times now and every one has been a magical experience; nobody else has ever made me feel the way that he does. But in case you haven't guessed, we still haven't taken the final step; to be honest we haven't even talked about it. I want to, of course, but I haven't wanted to rush it. I guess I should have known Tom wouldn't push the boat out; he's just too shy, so I guess I'll have to do it. Well, this is our special night, out first sleepover; I'm really hoping it's going to happen. We move into a sixty nine. He does this as beautifully as he does everything else; the sensations are unbelievable. I cock my right leg up, resting my knee on his shoulder. I take his hand, placing it between my thighs so his middle finger's right by my boy-hole. He starts to work it round. Fuck! This is so good! I take the tube of KY from my shorts pocket and pass it to him. He's no dummy; he knows exactly what to do with it. A few seconds later his greasy finger is circling my hole. Slowly and a little nervously he pushes it inside, just a short distance at first, then deeper as I relax to accommodate him. "Oh, yeah!" I moan. "Oh, Tom! That's wicked, man!" He starts to finger-fuck me; his long middle finger touching my prostate every time. "Use two fingers," I tell him. He does as I say, getting his index finger in there as well. This is heaven! I pull off his cock, turning myself round so I'm looking right into his eyes. "D'you want to fuck me?" I ask. "D'you want me to?" he responds. "Yeah!" "Cool!" he says, smiling and licking my nose. "Play with my cock while you're doing it, yeah?" "Yeah," he acknowledges, "no problem!" I grab the towel from my bag, spread it on the bed and get on all fours. Tom smears KY over his cock and moves in behind me, guiding it onto my bum-hole. It's been weeks since I've been fucked; this could be a bit painful, not that I'm worried, I want this more than I've ever wanted anything. "Do it, Tom," I whisper. He pushes hard; I relax and push back. There's a sharp pain as the first couple of inches spear into me. I take a couple of deep breaths, the pain quickly subsiding as I get used to him being there. "You can put it all in now," I tell him. He holds me round the tops of my legs, pulling me back, driving his cock-head over my prostate until his firm, flat tummy is pressed tight against my bum. My dick twitches like he just stuffed it in the power socket. "Oh, Tom," I gasp. "That's awesome! Come on, Tom! Fuck me!" He reaches down and takes hold of my cock then sets to work. He fucks just like he runs, very hard with no let up at all, pounding my arse like the world's about to end. This is the best fuck ever! It's not the biggest, maybe not even the hardest, but it's the best `cause it's him, Tom, the boy I love more than anyone in the world, with his cock buried deep inside me giving me everything he's got. The sheer intensity of it beats everything else by miles. All too soon everything goes mental. I'm gasping for breath, my body bucking violently, my bum tightening around his cock. A moment later my dick jerks and throbs between his fingers, my spunk squirting all over the towel. He reacts as I expected, fucking me even harder. Within a matter of seconds his breathing turns harsh and raspy. He slams right into me, his cock swelling and pulsing inside me, his spunk spurting powerfully into my bum. He collapses over my back, his hot breath flooding my nostrils. That was it, the ultimate, better than anything. He gently pulls out. "That was awesome, man," he breathes. "It was for me too," I say quietly. "I love you, Tom." I pull on a pair of shorts and sneak out to the bathroom. When I get back, Tom's in bed with the covers over him. I slip in next to him. A minute later I'm asleep in his arms. 0 o 0 o 0 o 0 When I wake up I'm still there. Tom's sleeping peacefully. The soft, early-morning sunlight is streaming through a gap in the curtains. He looks so beautiful. I disentangle myself and head to the bathroom for a piss. Once safely back in his room I slip my shorts off and return to bed. "What's the time?" he asks sleepily. "Twenty past six," I tell him, checking my watch. "That's early, man!" he says, yawning and stretching. "So are we going to have some more fun?" I ask, rubbing noses with him. "I need the bathroom first," he says. He gets out of bed and disappears. A couple of minutes later he's back and we're snuggled up under the covers again. "Sleep okay?" he asks. "Like a log," I tell him. "Me too," he says. "So are you going to fuck me again?" I whisper, licking the tip of his nose. "Uh, huh," he says, shaking his head and grinning. "I want you to fuck me." I really hadn't expected that; I haven't even finger-fucked him yet. "Are you sure?" I ask, looking at him apprehensively. "You know it's going to hurt when it goes in." "It'll be cool," he says quietly. "Please, Chris." I pick up the KY from off the bedside cabinet. I lube up my fingers and slip my hand between his legs, cocking his one leg over mine so I can get to him better. I quickly locate his boy-hole. He's tight, but not as tight as Daryl was; maybe he's been practising. "Relax and push out, like you're having a shit," I tell him. "It's easier like that." Very slowly I push my fuck-finger right into him; he takes it with barely a grimace. I gently finger-fuck him for a minute or so; it's time to move things on a little. "I'm going to put a second finger in," I whisper. "Tell me if it hurts too much and I'll stop." I push in my index finger. He lets out a slight gasp then relaxes again. Pretty soon I've got both fingers sliding smoothly in and out; just one more step and he'll be ready. I slowly twist my fingers round; there's another gasp as I stretch the ring of muscle, but within a few seconds he's smiling again. "Are you ready?" I ask. "Yeah!" he confirms. I get between his knees and lift his legs, spreading them wide apart; Daryl couldn't do it like this but Tom has no problem, pulling his legs right back so his knees are on either side of his shoulders. I lube up my dick and move in close, making sure he's at exactly the right height. "Relax and let me push it in," I say quietly. I hold my cock in position and push as hard as I can. He holds out for a second then the head goes right into him. He gasps quite audibly. "Are you okay?" I ask. "Yeah," he responds, taking several deep breaths, "Ready for some more?" "I think so." I hold the backs of his thighs and push. Another couple of inches disappear inside him. The head hits his prostate; it makes his cock twitch just like mine does. I pause to let him get used to me being there. "How's that?" I ask. "Good, man," he says, grinning up at me. One final thrust and he's got it all, my balls scrunched up against his bum. I pause again, waiting for him to give me the signal. "Go for it, Chris," he says. I ease back a few inches, his virgin bum gripping me like a vice. I settle myself then push in again. Gradually, I get into a rhythm. This is so good; I can hardly believe I'm doing it. I push my body between his legs, leaning forwards to kiss him full on the lips. He responds immediately, wrapping his legs around my waist. This is unbelievable! I'm covered in perspiration, kissing and fucking and kissing and fucking like it's the only thing that matters. Right now it might as well be. Suddenly his body jerks wildly, almost throwing me off-balance, his cum spurting all over us. I'm totally going for it, fucking him as hard as I can go. In just a few seconds I'm there too, my spunk shooting over and over into his bum. That was beyond awesome; it was out of this world. We slowly untangle ourselves. Tom heads to the bathroom, I make do with a quick towel-down; I'll have a shower later. He's soon back though, and we resume our position under the covers. "Are you okay?" I ask, wrapping my arms round him. "Yeah," he says, smiling. "A bit sore, but I guess I was bound to be the first time. That was awesome, man! I never thought I'd cum without us even touching it, you know, fuckin' unreal! Then feeling you cumming inside me; wow, that was well good!" I must be the luckiest kid on this entire planet. I'd pretty much guessed Tom would be up for fucking me; never in my wildest dreams did I imagine he'd want me to fuck him, but we've done it. How cool is that?