Date: Thu, 3 Aug 2017 17:07:57 +0100
From: Robert Thomson <alanussr@gmail.com>
Subject: STRANGER THAN FICTION PART 2

WARNING: this account includes explicit descriptions of sexual activity
between teenage males. Any reader resident in a jurisdiction where such
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Robert (Jamie) Thomson writes:

STRANGER THAN FICTION PART 2

In Part 1 of this I tried to put across how great it was when old
classmates Phil & me found that we were working so near to each other that
it was easy for us to meet up in a pub just for a few pints, and to have
long chats about our years together at school and all that had happened
since then.

I had got over the surprise, or more like the shock, when he told me in
great detail how his older brother Tommy hadn't just wanked him more than
once, an experience he had really enjoyed, but that his brother had fucked
him several times, the first time when Phil was about 14. Yet another angle
that had come as a surprise was when he explained how Tommy had tried to
apologise for having fucked him, but that Phil saw no need for him to
apologise. That had happened when his brother came home just after
finishing his training in the Royal Marines and the two of them were alone
in the garden.

Another time in the pub I asked Phil if he'd ever done it, meaning fucking,
with anyone else besides his brother. "No, Jamie, never even once. I never
wanted to do it with anyone else.  It was one thing with Tommy, and that
was fun at the time. Did you ever do it?" "Me? Never wanted to, and never
even tried."

Phil's memory was definitely better than mine was.  "Never?  What about
that time in the caravan?"  The caravan was my dad's. The two of us used to
go there, mostly on a Saturday afternoon, lock ourselves in, pull the
blinds down, strip naked, and then have a good wank together. The caravan
had a basin with cold running water. Quite often when we went there we took
along a big bottle of fizzy pop so that we could have a drink when we ended
up with dry mouths.  Once we'd cleaned ourselves up, and feeling tired in
that way that comes following a wank, we sometimes dozed for an hour or
two, just lying there naked under a blanket.

What I'd forgotten totally until Phil jogged my memory was the one & only
time in the caravan that we'd tried fucking. It was a failure. We were both
just 14, perfectly able to enjoy having messy wanks, but we had no clue
what we were doing.  All I could remember is talking about it when we were
lying there playing with each other, and then agreeing to give it a try.

We hadn't made any kind of preparation, and it was definitely some months
before Tommy first fucked Phil.  We were both in a state of excitement, our
cocks very hard from rubbing up against each other.  Phil got on top of me,
put a lot of spit on his cock, making many efforts to get it into me,
gasping & breathing hard, and gripping my shoulders. Trying to help him, I
had my legs wide apart and could feel the heat of his cock pushing in
between them.

It was no good.  After just a few minutes of that, Phil lost it. I now
remembered feeling the splashes of his spunk on my back, all the way to
just under the back of my neck, and him collapsing on top of me with his
cock still jerking against my backside. He was clinging on top of me,
gasping breathlessly.  I let him stay where he was until he'd got over
it. Then we were laughing about what had happened. I didn't move before he
found something, maybe lav paper to clean up the mess off my back. I helped
him wipe his cock. It was a bit red after all that wild rubbing.  I let him
give me a wank, like to make up for letting him try to fuck me. I liked him
wanking me and it was all over inside ten minutes.

Phil said something like, "So, you remember that now?  Do you remember our
classmate Jonathan, and all that fuss he caused? Wonder what became of him
after that?  He just seemed to vanish. There one day, gone the next. I
suppose he was sent away to another school."  When Phil mentioned the name,
something came back to my memory, but all pretty vague until he filled in
the details.

Jonathan was just another of our classmates, much the same as all of us,
joining in the daily chatter, mostly about nothing much else except
football & wanking. I couldn't remember much about him. He was the same age
as the rest of us, and he might have been a little smaller than some and he
didn't look much, but when he had his clothes off, he looked very wiry &
strong. Anyone who wrestled with him soon found that out, and he was a good
swimmer & agile in PE. He wore glasses with round frames, a bit like the
kind that Harry Potter wore in the films a lot later.  What started the
trouble seemed like nothing much.

We were all 13 or so at the time, no more than that.  One day at lunch
break, our conversation as per usual got round to wanking. Jonathan
suddenly came out with something along the lines of "I did it for real." We
looked at him.  Someone else said "OK. Was there a lot of it? Where did you
do it?"  He went "No, not wanking. I did it with a girl.  Only thing was,
no sooner had I got it right in there than it all just came bursting out of
me...couldn't stop myself."  We all thought he was only kidding and none of
us believed him for a moment, soon forgetting what he'd said.

After about a month later, we saw two PCs, one man, one woman at the school
one morning.  We were in PE when Jonathan was told to get dressed and go to
the Head's office.  To our amazement it soon went round the whole school
that Jonathan had been telling us the truth when he said he'd done it with
a girl.  The girl was also just 13 and he'd got her pregnant. She was the
sister of a boy much further up the school than us and she was a pupil at
the all-girl school associated with our all-boys school.  A good few were
green with envy just at the very thought of innocent-looking Jonathan
having done that, when there was nothing they wanted more than to do the
same as him. I don't mean getting any girl pregnant, only the fucking bit.

Like Phil reminded me, poor Jonathan just disappeared from amongst us.  We
heard that the girl had to get rid of what he had left her with.  The only
other thing both of us remembered was the whole school being addresssed by
the Head at Morning Assembly soon after we saw the last of Jonathan. He
wasn't mentioned by name, but the Head said something about the importance
of boys 'realising the lasting damage they could do to girls not treated
responsibly and with due respect' and that applied to every boy old enough
to know what he meant.

At the age we were, all of us boys were just full of it and it got even
worse for another year or two after that. It was like our cocks had
developed lives of their own. No matter what we had on as underwear, we
could get a raging hard-on for no reason at all, and more often than not it
was at a most embarrassing time like when any of us had to stand up in
class.  We all knew what was going on and made a big joke of it. Some of
our teachers must have noticed boys standing up with a huge bulge down
there, or leaving the room holding books or something to keep it
hidden. None of them ever said anything.

For me & the rest, when a sudden stiffy happened in class, a favourite
method was to put one hand in a trouser pocket, sometimes with a big hole
there, allowing for a crafty wank. But there was always the risk of losing
control and feeling it coming, the warm spunk surging out, running down the
inside of your trouser leg and being right out of it until it was
over. That felt horrible. Another way was to ask to be excused for a pee,
and then have a really fast wank standing up in one of the cubicles to get
rid of the hard-on.  Even after that, just a few hours later, it would go
hard again, and with the hair growing in down below, all our balls were
forever just aching to be scratched.

Especially after that fuss about Jonathan & the girl, we all agreed that
the safest course of action was just to go on wanking. There was another
reason for doing it. That was because we mostly believed that regular
wanking was the only way to keep from having wet dreams. There was maybe
some truth in that.

I only ever had just the one wet dream, very messy and a bit of a shock,
waking up with that weird feeling and finding my spunk shooting out inside
what I had on in bed that time.  It was a pair of pyjama bottoms.  Lying
there in the dark, I meant to get up, switch on the bedside light and look
for some way to get cleaned up, not to mention taking my pyjama bottoms
off.

However, I must have gone back to sleep. When I woke up in the morning, it
was several minutes before I remembered what had happened. Turning the
bed-cover back, I could smell something. It was like nothing else, and when
I felt down on my belly, the pyjama bottoms were sticking to me.  Looking
in horror to see whether any of it had gone on the bedclothes, I couldn't
see even a spot. That was a relief.  Once off the bed, I found that my
pyjama bottoms were not just sticking to my belly, some spunk had run down
the inside of one leg just past my balls, and of course there was some more
of it dried under my foreskin.

Losing not a moment, I dashed quietly into the bathroom.  It was only 6.45
in the morning.  After having a pee and pulling my foreskin all the way
back when doing that, I got under the shower with the pyjama bottoms still
on. With the hot water, I was able to peel them off easily enough, leaving
them lying on the floor of the shower while I gave myself a very careful
wash, making sure that I removed every last trace of spunk.

I was just standing on the mat drying myself when my dad came into have a
shave.  He didn't say anything except asking me if I'd had a good shower.
I'd left the wet pyjama bottoms lying on the floor of the shower and shut
the glass door, so he didn't spot them. As soon as he had gone, I went to
get them. They still had the smell of spunk on them, and it had taken the
blue colour out of them in some places. After I'd wrung them out I found a
plastic bag for them. Getting ready for school that day, I managed to get
it into the bag with my books, and on the way there I dumped them in a
waste bin.  I was a week short of 16 when that happened.

(End)