Date: Sat, 10 Oct 2020 00:46:18 +0100
From: AP Webb <pjalexander1753@gmail.com>
Subject: D'n'M Part 3 Chapter 21

All the characters and events in this story are fictitious.  Any
resemblance to real people, either living or dead, is entirely
unintentional.

The story is copyrighted and may not be reproduced in any way without the
express permission of the author who can be contacted at:

pjalexander1753@gmail.com

PJ

D'n'M Part 3

From Chapter 20:

"Mi-lo!"  "Mi-lo!"  "Mi-lo!"  The whole team, in a circle around the
weeping father and the victorious son, chanting his name.  He looked up and
there they all were, and not just the team.  A smiling Coach Boyeda was
there (why wasn't she angry with him for the clandestine substitution?),
Tom was there (his record still unbroken), Mrs. and Mr. R were there (what
would he do without them?).  And D (such a cliché, but his rock) was
there.  Could life get any better than this?

Milo felt his dad's arms drop away and he heard him tell him to go with his
team-mates to celebrate his stunning victory and that the two of them,
father and son, would speak later.

**********

Chapter 21:

Later, much later, Milo and Dan were, once again, lying on Dan's bed,
staring up at the ceiling.  If Milo had been on cloud nine in those
incredible minutes after the race, by the time he and Dan had collapsed
onto the bed he'd been up to at least number twenty and was still hovering
somewhere in the mid- teens.  What an a-ma-zing day.

From poolside he had been dragged by Dods and a couple of other boys back
to the locker room.  More chanting of his name and more exhilarated
celebration followed.  At one point Dods pulled Milo to one side, slightly
away from the adrenalin-pumped melee, backed him against the wall and
placed one hand on the wall on either side of Milo's head.  The grin was
back, wider than ever.

"I told you I believed in you and now you'd better believe in yourself.
I'm gonna need a vice-captain next year and I'm looking at him."

"Vice-captain?" queried Milo.  "After that stunt we just pulled we'll be
lucky to still be on the team.  I bet Ms. Boyeda is out there now with a
sledgehammer, waiting to break our balls into pieces."

"Are you kidding me?  She's over the moon.  Stratospheric.  She thinks we
did a great job."

The look on Milo's face said more than a thousand words could to
communicate his confusion.

"Dude, she knew all about it, the swap."

"Huh?!"

"You really think I would have come up with a plan like that on my own and
without her say so?  I may be mad but I'm not suicidal.  Basically it was
her idea."

"Huh?"

"She thinks you're a fantastic swimmer, maybe as good as Tom Reed, but she
wanted to see how you'd handle the pressure.  When she hatched the plan she
assumed we'd be way ahead by the time Creon handed over and that I'd build
up a good lead to pass on to you.  Somehow the script got scrambled but you
still made sure there was a happy ending.  You're a legend, dude.  A
legend!"

She knew, knew all along?  Milo's shoulders tensed.  They both knew, had
cooked up the whole plan between them?  His teeth clamped together.  They
put him through all that anxiety and self-doubt just to see how he'd cope
under pressure?  His fists balled.  The bastards!  But then another thought
struck him (the sensible half of his brain to the rescue -- again), he
hadn't just coped, he'd won, and won against the odds.  He, Milo de Beer,
was a championship-winning swimmer and future vice-captain of the team.
His shoulders dropped back, his jaw unclamped and his balled fists relaxed.
A smile worthy of Dods himself spread across his face.

"And there's even more to come once some of the younger guys have cleared
out," declared Dods. "While we're waiting, why don't you go and speak to
your dad?  It looked like you've got some catching up to do."

Crap!  His dad.  He'd forgotten all about his dad.  And the Reeds.  He
needed to find them.  He grabbed a towel to drape round his shoulders and
left the locker room.  Back out on poolside he quickly spotted his father
sitting alone on a bench at the far end.  There was no sign of D or his
family.  Not quite running (a big no-no on poolside) Milo made his way to
where his dad was waiting for him.  As he approached, Gerry de Beer stood
up and, once again, folded his son into his arms.  For a minute or two
tears flowed from both father and son.  Gerry was first to regain control
as he guided them both onto the bench.

"I am so, so sorry, son," he began.  "I know I'll never be able to make up
for what I've left you to cope with over the past year or so but I promise
you I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying."

That was the prelude to a short but intense conversation, Milo trying to
explain just how bad it had been, all the while toning down some of his mum
and sister's worst excesses because he didn't want to make his dad feel any
worse than he clearly already did, and Gerry explaining that he and Grace
had had a very frank discussion earlier in the day (Milo learnt later that
it had been volcanically explosive), as a result of which both his mother
and sister had been booked into a local rehab clinic.  The fact that his
mum needed professional help came as no surprise, but Kate?  That was a
stunner.

It turned out that a former boyfriend -- a well-known stoner - had got Kate
more and more involved in the smoking and supply of weed, to the point
where even the always-at-least-half-inebriated Grace had realised what was
going on.  When Kate was confronted she retaliated with the evidence of her
mother's drinking and the impact that was having on the household budget,
not to mention the family's reputation in the community.  Her dad, she
argued, wasn't going to stay in the dark for long.  The upshot of this
stand-off was that Grace agreed to turn a blind eye to Kate's weed-related
activities in exchange for a share of the proceeds along with Kate's
guarantee of silence.

So that, Milo suddenly realised, explained why the two of them had become
as thick as thieves, but it didn't explain why Kate had been so hateful
towards him. Maybe he'd never know.  At least now the two of them were
getting the help they needed, and perhaps there was a chance that sometime
in the future they could get to be a proper family again.  Perhaps.  For
now, though, Milo's surrogate family was nowhere to be seen.  Gerry
explained that the Reeds had gone off to celebrate Tom's visit and his
unbroken record but were expecting Milo to spend the night with them.  D,
in particular, had been keen to make that clear.

"But what about you?" asked Milo, "Aren't you expecting me to come home
with you?"  He asked the question but he wasn't at all sure what sort of
answer he was hoping for.

"I haven't been providing much of a home for you for a long time, Roger and
Helen have been doing that, and I can't tell you how grateful to them I am.
You all need to spend time together to celebrate what you've achieved here
today and you, my champion boy, need time to process what I've just told
you.  I'm booked into The Castle Hotel for the next couple of nights and
that will give me a chance to come up with some ideas for what happens
next."  Milo wasn't expecting that and his face must have shown it.  "Don't
worry, we're going to be spending a lot more time together and I'm
definitely not going to be making any big decisions without getting your
input first."  Once again he put his arms around his son.  "I am so proud
of you, son, and not just for that unbelievable swim.  Now go and enjoy
yourself with your friends.  You deserve it."  With that he kissed Milo on
the forehead and propelled him off the bench and back in the direction of
the locker room.

If Milo had thought his head was spinning before, now it seemed as if it
was performing double-back somersaults in the pike position.  This was all
so crazy.  When, how was he going to be able to take it all in?  Well, it
wouldn't be for a while, that much was clear as soon as he walked back into
the locker room.  The space was much emptier than when he'd left it, just a
group of about six of the older boys, including Creon and Dods.

"About time you turned up," exclaimed Dods, "Some of us are having trouble
keeping our boners boned!"

Milo looked from faces to crotches and, sure enough, he was greeted by the
sight of six Speedo-covered but clearly-visible teenage hard-ons.

"Creon, here, is fully-loaded and ready to fire.  He's not gonna last much
longer."

"Hey, not fair Dods, I'm not the only one," Creon protested, absently
stroking his rigid boyhood through the fabric of his swimsuit and
indicating an impressive line-up of rigidity on either side of him.  Milo
realised he was rapidly rising to the occasion himself.

"So," went on Dods, grinning as ever, "I've given you the big build-up and
now it's time to deliver the goods.  So get over here and show these guys
what you showed me."

Oh wow!  Fantasy cum true or what?  Milo didn't hesitate, he needed no
extra persuasion to join the line, standing between Dods and Creon, or to
reveal his now throbbing boner to the world (well, these six very expectant
guys).  As soon as he had the waist-band of his Speedo hooked under his
balls the other boys immediately followed suit.  (There's a pun in there
somewhere.  Work it out!)  He looked along the line and in both directions
he was rewarded with a gay boy's dream becum reality.  Perhaps he'd died
and gone to heaven.  There were long hard-ons, thick hard-ons, cut
hard-ons, straight hard-ons.  Some were totally hairless, some were
dripping pre-cum and one spectacular one looked big and fat enough to sink
a battleship.  And every one of them was attached to a long, lean
subtly-muscled picture of late boyhood beauty.  Yes, he really was in
heaven.

"Okay, so these are the rules," announced Dods, "Milo goes first and shows
us just what he can do with that joystick of his.  Once he's shot his load
the rest of us can rub one out and fire at will.  M will judge whether
anyone has cum close to matching him."

For the second time that afternoon Milo was facing an unprecedented
high-pressure situation.  The difference this time was that he was
guaranteed to enjoy it, win or lose.  He smiled.

"Everyone okay with that?" asked Dods, looking up and down the line.  The
other boys all absent-mindedly grunted their agreement, most of them
desperate not to cum too soon.  For some of them it would be touch and go.
(Another pun for you.)  "Over to you M.  Give it your best shot."  (And
another one!)

By now Milo's dick was oozing pre-cum which he busily mopped up with his
hand and smeared over the exposed head.  Then, starting deliberately
slowly, he began the age-old masturbatory ritual, grasping the shaft of his
dick and using his natural lubrication to ease the up and down movement.
Soon he was lost in the sensory body-wash that moved through him from
dick-head up to big head and down to his toes.  He neither knew nor cared
whether the other boys were watching (yes and no), nor did he give any
thought to whether or not he'd be able to live up to the star billing
awarded to him by Dods.  All he cared about was making the most of those
feelings and bringing himself to a cumtastic climax.  With adrenalin still
pumping through his system and his hand working its customary magic, that
climax was not long in arriving.  His knees began to shake, his breathing
quickened, his eyes closed and his hand became a piston.

"I'm cumming.  Yes!  Yes!  Yes!  I'm cu ...."  He came, he came big time.
Five blasts of grade A jizz jetted from his dick, the second eruption
travelling a good couple of metres beyond where it started.  When he opened
his eyes even he was impressed.

"Fuck, man," Dods, who else?  "That was monumental."  He looked up and down
the line.  "What did I tell you? -- the boy's a stallion."  There was a
chorus of hugely impressed agreement.  Only one or two of the boys in the
line thought they had a realistic chance of living up to Milo's spectacular
performance but they all, sure as fuck, were gonna try.

"Okay guys, your turn to try to live up to that.  M, you need to make sure
no-one cheats, like by moving forward."  Milo nodded, he needed no second
invitation.  Crap, he'd been given permission to watch a bunch of crazy hot
guys jerking-off and he was going to make the most of it.

"When you're ready guys, in your own time."

Every boy in the line was quickly involved in his own personal on-going
love affair with his dick but each one demonstrated that love in subtly
different ways.  Grips ranged from the standard whole-palm handful to the
more delicate thumb on top and two fingers underneath.  Some put most
emphasis on the shaft while others concentrated on the head.  A couple of
the boys cupped their ball-sacks and two others played with their nipples.
For Milo this was like the best Christmas ever multiplied by a thousand,
his eyes scanned up and down the line scrutinising every move and
desperately trying to commit all this jerk-off action to memory.  He
couldn't begin to imagine what his own future sessions would be like but he
was definitely looking forward to finding out.

Then, with no warning at all, it started raining cum.  The first
out-pouring -- it was from Ben, one of the backstrokers -- seemed to be a
sort of trigger for the others because one cum quickly became two, then
three, then four.  Only two boys were still stroking, Dods (of course) and
a butterfly specialist named Jake.  It was already clear that three of the
boys presented no competition to Milo at all, they were all dribblers
(including Creon), so any threat to Milo was going to come from Ben the
backstroker, Dods and Jake.  Seconds later Dods yelped to a climax and, to
Milo's surprise, produced three globs of cum that splattered inches from
his feet.  No threat there then.  Just Jake left to perform.  His shaft was
completely wrapped in a hand which had become a blur of desperate rubbing.
With a final thrust of his hips he took the hand away and every boy in the
room had a front row view of five, maybe six, blasts of jizz which flew in
a perfect arc out of his dick and, yes, clearly further than Milo's two
metres.  There was a roar of approval from all the others as Milo walked
over to the cum champion and raised the boy's hand -- not the one he used
to jerk-off - in a victory salute.

The congratulations were loud but short-lived.  In a testosterone-spent
stampede they all made their way into the showers, rapidly rinsed off and
got themselves dry, dressed and ready to go.  As the last of the group
shouldered his back-pack Dods called them all together for one last cry of,
"CB's forever."  Oh wow!  What an amazing way to finish an incredible day,
and it wasn't over yet, not until he'd spoken to D.

*****

"You've had an incredible day, M, incredible.  You must be feeling
amazing."

"I should, shouldn't I?  And I do, don't get me wrong, today's been beyond
cool.  The competition, the race, the circle-jerk, especially the
circle-jerk when no-one looked at me oddly or called me out for being a
... you know what."

Dan nodded.

"Even though I was so obviously checking them out as they stroked their
dicks and shot their loads, even then not one of them so much as glared at
me.  A-ma-zing."

"So why," asked Dan, puzzled, "Do you sound like you've lost a ten and
found a five?  I don't get it."  He, himself, had been beside himself with
excitement watching M swim the last leg of the relay.  He had thought Dods'
race, when he only just failed to break Tom's record, had been
edge-of-the-seat stuff (he'd actually been standing but you know what I
mean) but M's swim had had his heart in his mouth right from the moment
he'd seen Dods enter the water to swim third, knowing that that left M to
bring the whole competition to a climax.  And what a climax, so far behind
when he dived in and only hundredths of a second ahead at the end.
Unbelievable.

"I can't stop thinking about mum and dad," admitted Milo, his voice barely
more than a whisper.  "What a mess.  Mum and Kate in re-hab -- I definitely
didn't see that coming -- and dad booking into a hotel just in case, to
make doubly sure he wouldn't have to spend a night at home with her.  It's
bad D, and I don't know how to make it better."

On hearing that Dan turned on his side and looked across the few inches
that separated them.  Gently he cupped his hand under Milo's chin and
turned his friend's face towards him.

"Listen to me, Milo de Beer, you did nothing, nothing at all, to make
things bad and it's not your responsibility to make them better."  Dan held
Milo's gaze and spoke with an unusual intensity.  "It's down to your mum
and dad, they're the adults here, they made the mess and it's up to them to
sort it out.  Yeah, it's a bummer how things have turned out but your mum's
getting help and it sounds as if your dad knows how bad things had got for
you, so he's got at least one good reason to get things back on track."

"Whoa.  When did you get so wise?  I'm impressed."

"Dunno.  Maybe it's all down to this new me that Please Call Me reckons I'm
becoming.  But probably I'm just growing up."

"Please Call Me?"  Milo hadn't heard Dan use that name before.

"Mrs. Margelles, my counsellor.  She's really big on the whole `new me'
idea.  Anyway, don't try changing the subject, we were talking about you."
Dan wasn't keen on letting M turn the spotlight round.  He'd been thinking
a lot about Please Call Me's idea but he didn't think he was ready to
discuss it with anyone, not even with M.  He deftly turned the spotlight
back.  "So, Kate.  What's that all about?  Dealing weed?"

"That's the easy part," replied Milo.  "With mum drinking and Kate dealing
it's obvious they made the perfect cover for each other.  They've been
tight for months.  What I don't understand is why she was such a bitch to
me.  We've never been exactly close but we always used to get along okay.
It makes no sense."

"Well, if, like she said, she'd worked out that you're gay, maybe she
couldn't stand the idea of having a queer-boy in the family and decided to
make your life as miserable as possible."

"Well she certainly hit that jackpot.  And that's another thing, being gay.
I haven't talked to my dad about that yet.  Mum and Kate will have told him
all about the Zephan stuff and you can bet it wasn't pretty.  What's he
gonna think? Is he gonna hate me?  I couldn't bear that."  Milo sounded
like a lost little boy, but Dan had the perfect response to this particular
worry.

"When you spoke to him after the race, you know, when it was just the two
of you, he'd spoken to your mum and Kate by then, yes?"

Milo nodded.

"So," Dan continued, "He knew then about you being gay, at least, he'd been
told you are by your mum and Kate."

Milo nodded again.  He could tell where this was going but he wanted to
hear D say it.

"Did it feel as if he hated you?"

Milo shook his head.

"Did it seem as if you being gay was a problem?"

Milo continued shaking.

"Did he say how sorry he was and that he was gonna sort it out?"

Back to nodding.

"So?"

"So you think he's okay with it?"  Milo really, really wanted to think that
this was the case but he needed to hear Dan confirm it.

"Of course he is, you duffus.  But I reckon he'd want to hear it from you."

"Yeah, I know."  This was said in a very small, anxious voice.  Then, "D,
I'm scared."

"Yeah, I know."

"Do you think ...?"

"I could be with you when you tell him?"

No words from Milo, just a very small nod of the head.

"I could if you want, but I think it'd be more special and mean more to
your dad if it was just the two of you.  You could do it here and I would
be right outside the door so you'd know you had back-up if you needed it,"
suggested Dan.  "Not that I think you would need it," he quickly added.

"Yeah, that could work."  Milo sounded both relieved and reassured.
"Back-up."

"It would be just like it's always been, always will be, D'n'M together."

"D'n'M together," echoed Milo.  "That sounds nice."

End of Part 3.

**********

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That is been the final chapter of Part 3 of the story of Dan and Milo.  If
you've been following them from the beginning, congratulations and Thank
You.

I am currently writing Part 4 -- which will be the final part, bringing the
boys' story to a conclusion -- and I hope to have it ready to publish
before the end of the year.  As with Parts 1, 2 and 3, I won't send any of
it to Nifty until the whole thing is written, that is your guarantee that
you won't be left hanging and frustrated by a story that doesn't get
finished.

I really appreciate and enjoy the messages I get from my readers and I'll
be very happy to hear from all or any of you between now and whenever Part
4 appears -- it would be great motivation to get on with it!

Thanks for reading.

PJ