Date: Sat, 25 Jul 2020 00:07:17 +0100
From: AP Webb <pjalexander1753@gmail.com>
Subject: D'n'M Part 3 Chapter 3

Part 3 of the story of D'n'M, just like Parts 1 and 2, includes sex between
teenage boys, some of it non-consensual.  As before, it is the characters
themselves and how they react to events that are key to whatever success
the story achieves.

Welcome to new readers.  In order to properly understand why and how Dan
and Milo have got to where they are at the start of Part 3, I strongly
recommend you read Parts 1 and 2.

All the characters and events in the 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

This story of D'n'M, past, present and future, is dedicated to Clint and
his `Milo'.  They know who they are.

PJ

D'n'M Part 3

From Chapter 2:

"Welcome back to adolescence my friend.  Next thing you know you'll be
getting zits!  But hey, tell me more about the jerking-off.  I'm surprised
you can still remember how to do it."

"Well I can," and here the voice volume dropped again and became more
hesitant. "Sometime, maybe, you can fill me in on any new, er, techniques
you've learnt from all those hundreds of hours you spend watching on-line
porn?"  As he said this a quiet smile appeared on Dan's face.

In response, a huge smile spread across Milo's face.  "Any time, D, any
time.  The Master Masturbator will be only too happy to continue your
jerk-off education."

Suddenly the sky was all silver lining and the clouds had disappeared.

***********

Chapter 3:

Adeline Boyeda knew teenagers inside out.  She should do, after all, she'd
been teaching them in the classroom and coaching them in the pool for more
than twenty years.  She knew their potentials and their strengths; she also
knew their weaknesses and their failings.  And don't get her started on
their tricks and their foolishness.  She was good at her job and had
enjoyed many coaching successes over the years, at both regional and
national level.  Tom Reed, for example.  His combination of natural talent,
her expert coaching, his perfect basic physique and many hours of hard work
in the pool and gym had combined to produce a very fine high school
athlete.  And now, according to his occasional emails, he was knocking on
the door of the national squad.  She was, of course, delighted for him but
she also felt justified in taking a fair share of the credit for his
progress and success.  When it had come out that his kid brother had been
one of Dave Roberts' victims she could only guess at just how hard that
must have been for the whole family, especially Helen and Roger who she had
got to know well over the years.

Ms. Boyeda, aka Ballbreaker Boyeda (but only behind her back and well out
of her hearing), had initially been disbelieving when news of Roberts'
arrest had been made public.  She'd known and worked alongside the man for
years, there was no way he was capable of such awful crimes.  There must,
she convinced herself, be some sort of dreadful mistake.  But then, as more
and more current and former students came forward to confirm the
allegations, her disbelief turned to disgust.  The shocking revelation of
the existence of hundreds of pornographic photos of naked young boys added
new layers of horror.  She was appalled that a trusted colleague, a fellow
coach, could commit the foul and disgusting acts he had been accused of.
She was also only too aware of the very real danger that all the coaches at
the school would be tarred with the same brush or, at the very least,
suspected of covering up the horrific truth.  In her darker hours of
reflection she had seriously considered walking away from the school, her
job and the students.  But she wasn't a quitter, never had been and, luck
and good health permitting, she never would be.

If pressed, she would also readily admit that her resolve to stay in post
was strongly influenced by the make-up of her current squad of talented
swimmers.  The boys, she increasingly believed, had the potential to sweep
all competition before them and hand her the most successful season of her
long and distinguished career, and that was definitely something worth
sticking around for.

In her view, Milo de Beer was a particularly good example of the strength
in depth amongst `her boys' as she liked to think of them (not that she'd
ever admit to anything like affection for her team members - her reputation
as `hard but fair' had been painstakingly constructed).  He had all the
attributes needed for success in the pool being long-limbed, hard-working
and competitive.  He may not have the innate talent of someone like Tom
Reed but he more than compensated for that deficiency in work-rate and
drive.  When she'd found out that Milo was best friends with Dan Reed and
was devoting himself to supporting his friend through the horrors of the
abuse scandal she had admired his loyalty and the strength of their
friendship but feared the worst in terms of how this might impact on her
team and its potential for success.  And yes, there had been several months
when Milo had more or less disappeared from swimming and she, unusually
short-sighted coach that she turned out to be, had pretty much written him
off as a potential champion.  As she said at the time, he was never in the
pool or the school gym, made no effort to keep in contact with the rest of
the squad and showed zero interest in the sport.  But to be fair to the
boy, once Roberts had been sent away, basically for the rest of his life,
and everything began to return to something like normal for everyone
involved, Milo had set-to, knuckled-down and given 100%, with the aim of
winning back his place on the team.

When he returned to training it quickly became clear that she had
underestimated the boy and that he hadn't been completely inactive during
his months away, in fact he had kept himself in pretty good shape.  He had
definitely gained muscle and maintained good tone and definition, and he
had experienced a significant growth spurt and gained some height, a couple
of inches at least.  He had also become a victim of one of the inevitable,
and, in her opinion, always annoying, side-effects of puberty -- body hair!
Admittedly it wasn't much, just a light dusting on his lower legs, some
growth under the arms and a few soft wisps down from his tummy button.
Standard teenage stuff.  She knew, of course, that the appearance of hair
on the body was a significant and important marker on the journey from
child to adult and that, for many boys, it was something to be proud of and
a useful weapon in the adolescent one-upmanship stakes -- an `I've got more
hair than you have so I'm more of a man' sort of thing.  It was something
that bestowed important bragging rights and provided a clear indicator of
where each boy stood in the pecking order.

However, as every swimming coach knew, anything that interfered with the
body's aquadynamic performance could add hundredths of seconds to a
swimmer's time and, in swimming, hundredths of seconds could mean the
difference between a podium finish and not placing at all.  Which was why,
at the end of the second training session of the day and with only a week
to go before the regional tri-sport tournament, she had made it crystal
clear to all her swimmers that, pretty much on pain of death (or, at the
very least, temporary suspension from the squad) no-one was to turn up to
tomorrow's session with any visible hair except on their head, and not much
of that either.  She hoped and expected that that was clearly understood by
everyone.  No exceptions.  None.

And that was why, at the precise moment that Ms. Boyeda was sitting in her
office trying to give some shape to her final team selection for the
forthcoming tournament, Milo de Beer and Duncan O'Dowd (known to his
friends and team-mates as Dods, ever since the day he had realised, as a
sexually-awakening eleven year old, that his usual diminutive of Dunc
rhymed, disastrously, with spunk) were in Duncan's bedroom, modestly turned
away from each other, self-consciously stripping down to their still damp
Speedos.

"This is stupid, M," Dods exclaimed, turning to look over his shoulder.
"We see each other virtually every day getting undressed in the locker room
and naked in the shower, why are we being so shy now?"

"Search me," replied Milo (who didn't stop to think just how little effort
that would take under the current circumstances), who had been thinking
much the same thing.  "Maybe it's because we've never been alone together
in your bedroom taking our clothes off before."

"True that.  And you've never before been about to let me get up close and
personal to you armed with a razor.  But trust me, I've done this with
other guys on the team loads of times.  Your baby soft skin is safe in my
hands."  Dods grinned.

Milo wasn't sure how convinced he should be by this reassurance.  On the
upside it was good that, being a senior member of the team, Dods had done
this shaving thing before.  But that also had the potential to be a major
downer -- what if he didn't compare well with all the other guys the older
boy had, in his own words, been up close and personal with?  Getting shaved
for the first time was a big deal and he didn't want to show himself up or
make a fool of himself.  He smiled back but his was nowhere near as
convincing as Dods'.

"Don't sweat it man.  It really is a piece of piss.  All you have to do is
stand completely still while I scrape a length of sharpened metal scarily
close to your teenage pride and joy.  What could possibly be wrong with
that?"  Dods' grin became ever more maniacal.  He was having fun and
enjoying this gentle teasing.  "Follow me into the bathroom big boy."

As Milo did as he was instructed he was relieved to see that Dods had an
over-bath shower.  That meant, with any luck, that both boys wouldn't have
to crowd together into a very small space like they might have had to do in
a cubicle shower.  Milo really didn't trust his dick to stay well behaved
throughout his first ever mutual shaving encounter, and being able to have
some distance, however small, between himself and Dods had to be a good
thing.  The bottom line was, he was young, perpetually horny, gay and in
the closet so it was hard enough (no pun intended) to stay limp when
surrounded by dozens of toned, fit and naked guys in the relative anonymity
of the locker room, how much harder (maybe more intentional this time) was
it gonna be when it was just him, Dods and permission to touch?

Dods interrupted his thoughts with a very surprising question.  "So you're
a virgin?"

"Huh?"  The startled look on Milo's face spoke volumes of shock, disbelief
and confusion.

"A shaving virgin!"  Dods' laugh echoed around the tiled bathroom.

"What?  Oh, yeah.  Well, it's never been an issue up to now.  Ms. Boyeda
hasn't expected it before and, to be honest, it's only recently I've had
enough hair for it to be on the agenda.  And even now I haven't got much."

"Yeah, it sucks.  No sooner do you get enough of the stuff to go up a few
levels in the macho stakes, being able to show it off and all, than you're
ordered to shave it off.  Same thing happened to me a couple of years back.
I was gutted cos I was late getting any - even round my dick.  But you get
used to it and it sorta becomes automatic."

This was much more personal information than Milo could ever have expected
from a senior member of the team, but then, Dods was known to be a pretty
open and friendly sort of guy so maybe he shouldn't have been so surprised.
And thinking about it, ever since Milo broke into the team, Dods had always
seemed genuine and approachable.  In fact, and why had this never occurred
to him before, the whole squad was pretty relaxed and friendly.  It got him
thinking.

"So, how do you wanna do this?" Dods asked, continuing on before Milo had
time to reply.  "As it's your first time I think I ought to do you first so
you get to see how it's done.  That okay with you?"

Milo nodded as Dods turned on the shower.

"Okay.  The first rule is, never do it dry.  The hair gets caught on the
blade and it can be really uncomfortable and," he paused to emphasised the
point, "it leaves your skin red and sore.  Not a good look.  So, once the
water is warm enough, you get into the tub and get yourself wet while I
fetch the razor and stuff."

Milo put his hand into the water stream and decided it was warm enough to
step into.  No sooner was he under the flow than Dods was back with the
shaving gel and razor.

"That's good.  Now put one foot up on the edge of the tub so I can see what
we're dealing with."

Milo did as he was told and, over the next ten minutes, he watched
carefully as Dods proceeded to expertly remove the short but clearly
visible light brown hairs on Milo's lower legs, all the while maintaining a
running commentary, explaining exactly what he was doing.  Milo suspected
that the talking was to reassure him and put him at ease which, in many
ways, was exactly what it did.  But for Milo the novelty of having another
guy repeatedly stroking parts of his body (even if it was only his legs)
was a deeply sensual experience and one that another part of his body
responded to in an embarrassingly predictable way.  Milo's hands
instinctively moved to cover his chubbing dick.  The movement caught Dods'
eye.  He raised his head and was confronted by the cause of Milo's
discomfort.  A wide grin spread across his face.

"Sorry M, my bad.  I forgot to mention -- everyone bones up.  It's just
what happens.  It doesn't bother me.  I've seen it dozens of times before.
Don't sweat it."  Milo reluctantly moved his hands back to his sides.

"Right, that's your legs done.  What's next?  Pits and then treasure
trail?"

"Erm, yes.  Okay.  You're the expert."

Treasure trail?  He knew exactly what the term meant, he'd seen it on Nifty
often enough, but he'd never come across it anywhere else or heard anyone
else use it.  He wondered if it was a common term, known to everybody, or
could it be that Dods, too, had learnt it from Nifty?  And if he had, could
that mean that he was ...?  This intriguing line of thought was interrupted
by the order to put his hands on his head, immediately followed by Dods'
assault on his underarms with a squirt of the cold shaving gel.  Milo
flinched.

"Keep those hands on your head and don't be such a wuss."  Once again Dods
was grinning so Milo knew the older boy wasn't really annoyed with him.  As
Dods began to drag the razor across the delicate skin of his under arms,
Milo felt a wave of regret, almost of sadness, sweep through him.  He
hadn't been the proud owner of a nest of armpit hair, however sparse, for
very long, and here he was, metaphorically speaking, waving it goodbye.
Another sacrifice for the team.  It made him even more determined to make
sure he wasn't stuck on the bench throughout the upcoming tournament.

"Okay, legs and pits done.  I hope you're paying attention so you'll
remember what to do when it's your turn to do me.  I don't want to be
chopped to shreds, you know."

Milo was getting used to Dods' teasing sense of humour and he simply
grinned back and nodded his head.  Meanwhile half his mind (you know which
half) was thoroughly enjoying itself, picturing the scene to come as Milo
set about the task of shaving Dods, and inventing a whole range of exciting
scenarios which all climaxed with, yes, you've guessed it, a double climax!
Again, Milo's train of thought was broken by a sudden and unexpected
sensation, not cold shaving gel on his underarms this time but a warm hand
stroking up and down his tummy.

"Hmm.  Not much there, but we'd better get rid of it.  When The Ballbreaker
says everything off, she means everything off!"

Surprise, surprise -- the combination of his daydream about double climaxes
and the sensation of Dods' gentle stroking had transformed his dick from
moderately chubbed to full on boner, and thanks to the tight Speedos it had
nowhere to go but diagonally up towards his hip.  Yes, it was
uncomfortable, but more importantly it was totally off the embarrassment
scale.  What would Dods think of him now?

"Oh man, you really have boned up.  I told you it happens, every time,
without fail."

Milo turned scarlet.  He had never felt so self-conscious.  Had he been
alone at home, he would immediately have released his rock-hard dick from
its confinement.  That, of course, was not an option now.  Crap!

"When it happens the best cure I know for UBS is ..."

"UBS?"

"Unwanted Boner Syndrome is ..."  And with that, Dods reached across to the
shower controls and adjusted the temperature dial.  Milo was instantly
deluged by a blast of very cold water.  Within seconds he was shivering,
goose-bumped and, thank crap, limp.  Hooray for finger-tip temperature
control.

Dods glanced at Milo's Speedos as he turned off the flow of water.  "Sorry
about that, dude, but I knew that'd get things back under control.  Let's
get that treasure trail shaved off before your dick wakes up again.  Okay?"

Milo could only shiver and nod his assent.  He couldn't wait for this whole
cringe-making process to be over.  He'd be surprised if Dods ever spoke to
him again after today.

Dods squirted more of the shaving gel onto his hand and then began to apply
it to Milo's mid-section.  His touch was very gentle as he spread the gel
over and around, from tummy button to the waist band of Milo's Speedos.

"Great abs, dude.  You'll have a proper six pack before you know it.  You
must spend a lot of time in the gym."  Before Milo could respond Dods' next
move was definitely a surprise -- he adjusted the front of Milo's Speedo
downwards.  Milo's first, horrified, thought was that he was intending to
pull the swim suit off completely.  His face must have registered the
mixture of shock and panic he was feeling.

"Don't worry, dude.  I need to get right down to where your pubes start.
But I won't go any further, I promise.  Unless you want me to of course."
There was that teasing tone of voice again, accompanied by the inevitable
grin.

"It's cool," muttered Milo, looking away and over Dods' head, although in
reality, he felt it was anything but cool.

The feel of the razor being scraped across his lower torso was one of the
most sensual experiences of Milo's fifteen years.  It was like being
repeatedly stroked by a set of manicured finger nails.  Needless to say one
half of his mind immediately set off into teenage boy fantasy heaven and
the first thing to join it on its journey was Milo's dick.  Within seconds
it was rock hard again and desperately straining inside the even more
limited space available for expansion, the waist band of the swimsuit
having been pulled down.  The other half of his mind hurriedly went into
`cool it and calm down' mode, desperately trying to take the heat out of
the situation.  But it was hopeless, Milo's boner was not open to
persuasion.  Relief, when it put in an appearance, came from a completely
unexpected direction.

Dods said, "M, my friend, we need to do something about that boner!"

 **********

As an author, it's REALLY encouraging to know that there are people out
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