Date: Wed, 11 Apr 2012 22:20:19 +0100 From: tom Subject: Brief Encouters Chap 93 Brief Encounters - the ever continuing saga... eekkk! First the mandatory warnings and disclaimers - basically don't read this if the naughty sexual exploits of young teenage schoolboys do not appeal. The characters depicted are fictional and not intentionally based upon any one person... although, if you do suddenly find yourself in the middle of the story just think how lucky you are! This is ostensibly a work of fiction, albeit with a few memories from my own school days plus some of the many invariably unspoken fantasies which I and my "best friends" would only ever rarely admit or allude to when we were at that very special, trusting and certainly innocent age. Today, it's very hard to imagine what it was like without the internet to immediately help conjure up fantasies based on images, webcams, stories or chat. Our sex lives were entirely dependant upon a very fervent imagination and thus being able to create our own fantasies usually based on friends and what we saw happening beneath the desk or in the changing rooms! I make no excuses for the fact that underwear features prominently in this story, because quite frankly it did, it was a very visible and tangible connection between us and our ever developing fascination with sex! It's important to remember that other than the very rare sexual extrovert, we never dared mention the subject because we were just too embarrassed and nobody understood what was happening to us anyway! You might call it a story about the age of discovery - usually in bed - or if you shared a bedroom with a brother, then discovery would be in the bathroom! Do note, at the time of writing the story itself is not finished and for better or worse, it has now turned into a work of some length but I will regularly post updates and there are more than enough pages written to keep it going! Nifty require a text file so if the formatting or punctuation go slightly up the creek you now know why! And, also during the writing for various reason I have had to change character names, so I hope for continuity they are now correct! Finally, I hope you enjoy it and please, please do let me have any comments or suggestions and for some of you I it might even jog a memory or two, three if you are lucky... I would be intrigued to learn! Tom email: amias09@fastmail.fm ******************************************************************************* >>>>>>>>>>> Now your attention please faithful readers as it's time to put in word for our sponsor. Or, in plain English I wouldn't be getting my epic published and you wouldn't be reading it if it were not for the Nifty Archive, so if you enjoy what you read then please, please consider making a donation to Nifty. It's very easy and painless, you just follow the donations link on the main page - I'm sure even our oversexed and luckess hero Art from the story would do it if he could - come to that, he'd do it anywhere! #################################################################### Chapter 93 – In the bag "Oh Nigel... hello, I thought it might be Simon forgetting his key again." "Uumm... we was wondering if Art was in?" Nigel smiled and hoped it didn't look too forced. Gripping the edge of the door Linda Weldon looked at Nigel and then to Ian trying to put a name to the face. She didn't appear to be exactly overjoyed to see them and in fact appeared to look right through them. "This is Ian." added Nigel quickly sensing the conversation had virtually died before it had even begun. "Hello Mrs Weldon." said Ian rather nervously, her reputation when angry as told by Art having preceded her. "We was only passing." "Hhmm.. yes, so I see." she sighed and looked at them again for a few seconds. The question running through in her mind was whether Nigel's appearance was opportune or not. Having always thought of Nigel as a relatively good influence she wondered if, as Art's best friend could he be conscripted into helping unravel some of Art's adolescent problems. Ian glanced at Nigel unsure what to do, the silence was most disconcerting. "The truth is Nigel," she said hesitantly, whilst still wondering if she should be honest with them, "the truth is, Art and I have been having, well.. what you might call a few words." "Wot, you mean like, like a bit of a row?" asked Nigel slowly. Did he want to get involved in this? No, he did not! "Sort of, I suppose. His father won't be back till later and he understands him much better than I will ever do." "A row? We'd better go then hadn't we?" said Ian sensing deep waters ahead. "It's obviously a bad time innit." "No! On the contrary I think if you could have a chat with him and maybe get him to at least agree to tell his father what it's all about." she smiled and sounded far less brittle. "Would you do that as a favour for me Nigel? You've known him since junior school and he listens to you, I know that." "Well uumm, I dunno, wot d'you think... shall we?" Nigel looked rather awkward and turned to Ian for moral support, who with some reluctance nodded there being no other option. "I `spose." "He's upstairs, in his room now. And Nigel," she caught his eye and smiled weakly, "Nigel, he's not very happy. I'm sorry but, but I got a bit mad with him, I've known you a long time and so I can say that. But you know what he's like, he must drive you mad sometimes as well!" "Yeah, I do know." Nigel tried to smile, he knew only too well what Art was like. "Don't worry, he'll be alright. But wot was it about?" "Well," She paused, "best let him tell you." "But, but Mrs Weldon," said Ian plucking up the courage to find out exactly what they were getting involved in, "but please, it would really help to know wot it was about?" "To be honest I'd rather he told you." "But.. Mrs Weldon, we can't just go up and say wot's yer problem Art can we?" said Nigel looking very uncomfortable. "Please, can't you give us a clue? Please?" "Well no, I suppose you can't. So, if you must know, it was about," she paused and took a deep breath before uttering the dreaded word, "about him and his constant masturbation!" "Wot?" stuttered Ian looking at Nigel. "Masturbbb....." echoed Nigel quietly, his heart sank, his face already bright red. Ian couldn't believe what he had heard or how long it took before he too felt his face burning. They looked at each other in horror. The M word but, directed at them by Art's mother! "I'm sorry Nigel. But, I knew you'd understand why it's so difficult for me and easier if he told you." she blushed and ushered them in. "I'm sorry to have, to embarrassed you.. but, you're big boys now and you... you'd.. well I thought you'd know all about it!" "Upstairs you said?" croaked Nigel heading for the stairs his red cheeks lighting the way. "Yes. I'm so grateful, I really didn't know whether to ask you not just now or not," she smiled although still obviously finding it far from easy to talk about, "he listens to you, he does. Please, because you understand, just get him to talk to father, I don't want to know anything about it." "We'll try." Nigel looked at Ian's glowing face. "I'll keep Simon down here out the way while you talk." Appearing to be in a rather fragile state Art was sat on the edge of his bed with Nigel on his left and Ian on his right. Having never been in his room before he was slowly looking around and taking in as much detail as he could, so this was where Art masturbated morning, noon and night! It was typically untidy with very grubby white shirts draped around and one corner seeming filled with crumpled grey trousers, dirty socks and black, scuffed school shoes. There was a distinct adolescent boy type smell that seemed to emanate from the unmade bed they were sat on. Casually glancing behind he saw some very familiar stains on the bottom white sheet, turning quickly to look in the other direction he knew his cock had already started to become erect. Seeing the stained sheets was some consolation for the lack of any of Art's infamously stained underwear which he had hoped to have seen. His erection grew firmer. Nigel carefully avoided mentioning the mornings threesome episode involving Davey with Ian being present, feeling there ought to be some degree of secrecy particularly as it was his younger brother who had been unwittingly conscripted by the older boys. Having finally got Art talking about the build up to his mother's latest explosive confrontation they were really both surprised to hear of the intensity of Art's desires towards Tom and Alex. For Art though, the embarrassment of owning up to that was then to be crowned by having to admit that cumming in his jeans whilst lusting after them was the cause of his problems. No comments were passed that could humiliate Art further, their the astonished expressions said it all and it was generally accepted that for Art to cum in his clothes like that it he must have been really excited. Despite being very aroused Ian was still having some difficulty in grasping exactly what it was that drove Art's insatiable desire to masturbate and to look at other boys underpants, something which did little to help his hard cock. Maybe if he could understand art he could begin to understand himself. "And wot then?" asked Nigel after a few seconds silence. "Well, so that's I comes up to change into them fuckin' shorts while Simon keeps mum occupied. Then I goes to play fuckin' horrible football! I fuckin' had to didn't I?" "And," said Nigel, "Art, but wot is it that's upset yer mum so much, `cause that's why we're here. You ain't said that yet." "I'm getting to it." he replied rather grumpily. "Alright." Nigel raised his eyebrows and caught Ian's eye, he shrugged his shoulders and glanced at the stains on the sheets behind him again. "Well see, she'd come in here just before I'd come back from the park after playing fuckin' football," he looked at the floor for moral support, "I don't know wot she's come to do, but anyway she's in yer when I comes back and says something about drawing the curtains back or some fuckin' thing.. I don't fuckin' know.. do I?" "And?" "Well, she must have kicked me school bag as she moved to the window to draw 'em back." "So?" "Don't you see?" Art looked at Nigel. "No! I bloody don't!" Nigel smiled. " `cause you ain't fuckin' told us yet!" "Well them pants I'd been wearing when I'd.." he paused at having to say it, "when, I'd.. you know, cum.. in the garden with... well I had to change didn't I or me fuckin' shorts would got wet? And so I just pushed 'em in, well to hide `em... and.." "Yer, in where?" asked Ian excitedly. "Well in me fuckin' school bag of course!" "Art we ain't fuckin' mind readers," said Nigel, "we don't know that do us?" "No, I `spose not." "And." said Ian impatiently waiting to hear what happened and feeling himself through his pocket. "Well they fell out on the floor.. in front of her didn't they?" he looked around. "Then she kicks `em." "Oh I see." said Ian having finally joined up the fragmented story. "I think!" "Ah.. oh shit! Oh no.. so.." Nigel tried hard not to grin, he could just envisage the scene and could almost guess what happened next. "So wot she'd say then?" asked Ian. Something about this sorry tale was making his erection get harder and more obvious in his old shorts. "Yer well, she said sorry and `cause she didn't know wot it was she bends down to pickup wot had fell out the bag," Art took a breath, "she didn't know wot it was did she?" "Oh no." "Oh yes!" said Nigel to himself. "So she's picked `em up and for some fuckin' reason asks wot was I'm doing with a wet cloth in me school bag," he looked around, "she asked all very nicely mind!" "She wot?" spluttered Ian desperately trying not to giggle. "Yer, then she said, looks like a wet fuckin' dishcloth!" Art now so wrapped up in telling of his disaster that he didn't realise his audience were finding it difficult to control their laughter, "then she looked at wot it was.. and.." "Oh fuck!" said Nigel. "And saw it was a pair of pants and wot they was covered in was now getting all over her hands," Art paused, he looked worn out, "and they smelt didn't they?" "Probably!" Ian tried to contain his mirth. "Then she went fuckin' mental! She started shouting and threw `em at me!" "Threw wot, yer pants?" asked Ian not sure if he was hearing it all correctly in the jumbled explanation. "Yer, wot else! Well `cause they were soaked cum weren't they!" he looked at Nigel hoping for some help. "Knowing you, I `spect so!" the reply wasn't very helpful, but quite truthful! "Then she screamed where did I get them Wolsey pants from? She'd never bought 'em for me! And why do I do it in 'em anyway... and... and wot was I doing wanking with other boys clothes!" he paused for breath and looked at Nigel. "Oh." The tone of his voice changed, it was almost cracking "Nige, she said I was disgusting.. and, and I'm gonna turn into a dirty old man!" "Oh, shit!" Nigel could see the last comment had really hurt. "No you ain't, for fucks sake you know wot she's like, she loses her rag then calms down a bit later." "Fuckin' hell! Did you say Wolsey! Then they're my fuckin' pants ain't they?" exclaimed Ian having just realised what had been said. "The ones we swopped the other day?" "Yeah, they is. Was! I ain't taken 'em off since I got 'em, had I!" Art looked at the floor having had to make yet another suitably embarrassing admission. "Well she's fuckin' got 'em now and she's gonna wash 'em so I can give 'em back." "Does she know they're mine?" Ian looked at him in panic, imagining her downstairs inspecting them and knowing he was the owner of the offending cum stained underwear. "No, don't be fuckin' stupid and I wouldn't tell if she asked." "She probably knew better not to ask!" Nigel smiled. "Now come on then you daft fuckin' cunt, so wot you gonna do now?" "Dunno, I'm really worried, " he spoke to the floor again, "see I've already had one chat with dad this morning about that fuckin' school note.." "Note, wot note?" Ian's ears pricked up. "Just don't fuckin' ask." said Nigel. "Not now, please." "Oh, alright." Ian sounded quite disappointed. "Well you'd better fuckin' talk to him again, `cause that's exactly wot yer mum wants," said Nigel firmly, "she just said that to us and it's why we've been sent up here." "D'you think he'll go mad?" Art looked up. "Dunno, but after all you've only been wanking in a pair of old pants." Nigel sounded quite reassuring. "No big thing is it?" "Hhmm.. barely five inches!" Art grinned and finally appeared to brighten up, "no `spose not, it ain't so bad is it?" "Five inches!" Ian grinned." You idiot!" "I mean, if she'd been a boy she'd know that we can't stop wanking and getting it over our clothes and all that. It ain't unusual is it?" said Nigel. "Don't every boy have a wank?" "Some more than others!" added Ian. "True," Art pondered for a few seconds, "trouble is she ain't a boy! And she don't understand, so to her it's all disgusting like. That's wot's dunnit innit?" "Yer right." agreed Nigel reluctantly, having hoped to have raised Art's spirits but not really succeeded. "And, then they pants weren't your's, so she wonders wot you been doing to get 'em in the first place and... and then she gets herself covered in cum! You can't blame her for losing it really can you?" said Ian after some thought. "I think, we gotta tell her you's gonna have a chat with yer dad when he get's back." "He's right, `cause if you don't she'll get mad again won't she?" now it was time for Nigel to put his arm around him. "We all know's she'll go pop again! Anyway if my dad were like your's I really wouldn't mind telling him." "Really? My dad?" Art sniffed then looked up and smiled. "He's fuckin' great isn't he?" "Yeah, he is the way he puts up with you. You don't know how fuckin' lucky you is." Nigel looked at Ian. "I bet he'll say so wot! He knows you wanks non-stop anyway don't he?" "True. Sometimes we laughs about it." "Wot! Does he know you wank a lot?" Ian looked in astonishment, what sort of father was this? One who understood the adolescent urges and could openly talk to his son about wanking! "Yeah, we laughed at all the stuff on me sheets once!" Art blushed, "We talks about it, he.. he sorta understands me.." "Fuckin' hell, you lucky sod," Ian sighed, "cor, wish my dad was like him." "Join the fuckin' club." added Nigel. "Well that ain't gonna change is it? So we'll tell yer mum on the way out that you is gonna talk to him. Right?" "OK, I `spose put like that it ain't nothing really is it?" "No, but it's a fuckin' gert thing to yer mum innit, that's the whole bloody point of why she got so mad innit?" said Ian. "Right, got it. Means fuck all to us and maybe even to dad, but to her, yeah I can see it. Right." with that now logically sorted Art suddenly appeared to come to life and started to get up off the bed. "Good, you gotta keep her happy. You understand?" said Nigel as firmly as he could. "And listen, she's as good as said to us that she's sorry for going over the top at you." "Really, she is?" Art looked very relieved. "Phew.. she's always been like that, blows up and then forgets all about it by tomorrow." "Yeah, well she is. So say sorry to her and get it sorted with yer dad and then you'll be alright." With no warning Art suddenly threw his arms around Nigel and openly kissed him on the neck. "Bloody hell!" said Ian rather taken aback at the show of affection. "Oh bugger off!" said Nigel blushing and peeling the arms off him, blinking he turned away. "I love you!" said Art with tears in his eyes. "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!" Nigel as ever found himself incapable of expressing his emotions, unable to resist he turned back to face Art and held him tightly for a few moments. Ian watched in silence wishing he wasn't there or at least had Martin close at hand. "Come here." still clinging onto Art, Nigel reached out and dragged Ian over to pull them all together. "I know you got Mart," whispered Nigel sounding rather choked, "but we loves you as well." "Fuck.." murmured Ian as tears rolled down his face, teenage emotions were a powerful thing and at present he felt particularly vulnerable. Welcoming Nigel's strong arms Art said nothing and barely avoided crying outright. Crying was something he knew he had been doing a lot of lately, everything he seemed to get involved in ended emotionally in disarray one way or the other. It took nearly five minutes to compose themselves during which Art was delighted to learn from the still tearful Ian of the blossoming relationship with Martin. Eventually they stood up ready to leave when Art held onto Nigel's arm. "Nige hang on, you gotta take these when you go." "Take wot?" asked Ian. He watched in amazement through red rimmed eyes as Art suddenly dived under the bed. "These.." came the dusty reply. "Bloody hell you've recovered, you was all set to be executed by yer mum a minute ago!" Nigel grinned as Art surfaced covered in dust from beneath the bed clutching a large thick paper carrier bag with sting handles that looked as though it was about to burst. "Wot the hell!" said Ian looking extremely puzzled. "Oh shit... is that wot I think it is?" asked Nigel. "How we gonna get that out past yer mum?" Art nodded, "We said we'd do it didn't we?" "So is you gonna be alright for tomorrow afternoon? Really? Yer dad won't make you stay in or nothing?" Nigel looked at him. "See I gotta give Simon the key later on, he'd be really upset if he didn't get it. Are we on then? You sure?" "Yeah. I know, he asked me yesterday if it was gonna be alright." Art looked at Ian who was still mystified by what was in the bag, "Nah, I'll be there. Promise, it'll be alright." "So, you want me and Ian to finish it off this afternoon without you? Wot's the time?" he looked towards Ian. Ian stared at his very unfaithful Timex, "It says about quarter to three.. that could be right!" "And it could be fuckin' wrong, it was quarter to fuckin' three when we was outside!" Nigel shook his head. "Ian wot sort of bleeding watch is that?" "Fucked?" he giggled. "Bleeding hell Art, the things we wot we does you for you!" Nigel looked apprehensively at the bag wondering if they could possibly get it out without being seen. "Shit, we're gonna be busy doing this ain't we?" "It's gotta be this weekend or not innit really? It'll be alright." Art looked between them. It was one of those looks, they couldn't resist even if they wanted to. "I can't help, not with mum like this can I?" "No I `spose not." Nigel wagged a finger, "Now, you fuckin' promise you'll go down and see her after we've gone?" "Yeah, got to ain't I?" he pulled a face. "If you don't yer stuffed ain't you, you'll just make it fuckin' worse." said Nigel. "And you'll see yer dad when he comes back as well?" "Shit, you keep on worse than wot she does!" "Ah, well I know wot yer like." he smiled. "Promise?" "Yeah, I fuckin' promise." "Good, now go and wash yer face first. Shit, Ian we'd better get a bloody move on then, especially if I gotta see Simon to give him the key at five." Nigel turned to see Ian peering inside the bag. "Bloody hell!" Ian's head was deep in the bag drawing in the smell. "Ian, bloody stop it and listen! You follow me down in a few seconds after I got her talking in the kitchen or something." Watching Ian delving into the bag Art started to giggle when he saw what he was holding which had caught his attention. "Hey, they're from a second year, dunno which one!" Nigel on hearing Art turned again to see that Ian was turning inside-out a small pair of filthy white briefs with a huge skidmark! "Ian, fuckin' well leave that lot alone! Ian you listening?" he poked him in the ribs. "Follow me downstairs with that lot and get out the bloody house while I talks to his mum. Got it?" As Nigel headed for the stairs Ian grinned at the thought of what was to come, he squeezed the front of his shorts and winked at Art. Meanwhile Simon had decided to play safe and give it a good half hour before going home, so by the time he had returned Nigel and Ian had escaped intact and were scurrying on their way to the allotment. Art having finally plucked up courage to creep downstairs found his mother in the kitchen having just made in inevitable pot of tea and standing staring out of the window. "Mum..." "Oh, thought it was Simon." she looked up and put her cup noisily down in the saucer. "Now sit down here." Making a great effort not to scrape the chair across the floor and annoy her further he sat down and tried to look everywhere except at her. "I.. I.." "Have you been crying?" it was a something of a rhetorical question, the red eyes had already confirmed it. "Uumm.." blinking he willed himself not to cry in front of her, with his resistance already low he knew he wouldn't last very long. Leaving the tea she slowly walked round and stood behind him, he looked up unsure what her reaction was going to be. "Art, I'm sorry." Stooping over and putting her arms around his neck she held him saying nothing else. Releasing him a full minute later, taking a deep breath and pulling another chair over she sat by his side and reached out to take his hand. "Mum, but.." "Ssshhhh, quiet.. it was partly my fault. You know I fly off the handle, I shouldn't have called you.." she blinked, "called you, disgusting or said you'd be a dirty old man. I'm really sorry." "Course, I knows you didn't mean it." tears rolled down his cheeks, delighted to hear that she hadn't although the comment had really hurt initially. "You always loses yer rag and shouts a bit, we all knows it." "Oh no, really!" she looked a bit shocked. "Is that what you think?" "Mum, we all knows. Dad and Simon, we don't worry, well it's `cause it's you innit?" "Oh my god!" she looked ashen as the revelation sunk in, her entire family knew at times she could be comparable with the proverbial screaming fishwife! "Don't worry, we loves you." it was something Art very rarely said, squeezing her hand he fixed her with that very special look. That was the final straw which succeeded in reducing first her, then Art to tears and became the catalyst to something of a long overdue bonding moment. Struggling to conclude the very embarrassing conversation they made a pact that she would try to accept Art's chronic onanism if he would not make it so obvious and promise to talk again with his father about it when he came home. Luckily it was on the very tail end of the conversation when Simon returned home and burst into the kitchen only to be promptly told to go forth and multiply! At least he went out smiling having seen they were holding hands which implied to him that hopefully their differences were being resolved, or at least addressed. ########################################################## Chap 94 to follow