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2. The author owns all copyright to this story. A copy has been placed in this archive for your enjoyment. Please do not distribute it to any news groups and/or other web sites without permission of the author. Authorisation for the free transmission of my unaltered writings can be requested from the author.
3. This story is pure fiction. Any resemblance to any individuals, real or fictional, living or dead is purely coincidental.
4. The author neither encourages nor condones any acts of illicit or underage sex, nor does he encourage any of the unsafe sexual practices described herein.
5. This story is a parody of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs by the brothers Grimm, which is in the public domain, and is in now way associated with any property of the Disney Corporation.
6. You can e-mail your constructive comments to at: g_day@hotmail.com

When summer days have passed their zenith and mornings are touched by autumn's chill, then the hearts and minds of the faithful turn to the new season and devotees pile into busses to make their pilgrimage from one hallowed ground to the next sacred site, there to worship at the sainted shrine of the "double-H", and the revered, if oddly shaped, leather ball.

Of course Geoff Chaucer, the coach, never liked this ritual - there was too much chance for an early injury for limbs and muscles lazy from the summer layoff, but the University was due to open in a few weeks and this outing was an opportunity for the lads to get pissed, lark about, and build up their motivation for the up-coming season.

University was a scratch rugby-team. They were top of the club championships and more than half of the lads played for their county, while a few were even tipped for a place on the national side, one of their number already was the most recent addition to the Lions Rugby side.

Goliath Churchill Guppy, the University champion loose forward, was that most esteemed player. Born on September 15, 1981, the man-mountain stood six foot four inches tall and weighed a mean 235 pounds and his twin pursuits of rugby and wrestling ensured that every ounce of it was solid muscle. He had five caps for his county before he turned nineteen, displaying the versatility that has been the hallmark of his rugger career. He played in the, loose forward position for University but the truth was he was a coach's delight as he had the bulk of a back, agility of a winger and could be put in on several positions.

Two buses had set off on Friday afternoon for the three-game friendly rugby tour. The first game against the Llanelli Louts took them to north Wales. From the road, north Wales had looked like a concentration camp-commanders' idea of a gigantic holiday location. The team saw endless rows of caravans, tents and "Shallys" - weather-beaten identical boxes, facing the Irish Sea. Then suddenly the caravan parks thinned out and the landscape around Colwyn Bay took on a beauty and grandeur that surprised them. Just before the town limits, they turned into the last and most dismal of these holiday parks. A sign announced:

The camp proved to be in a field not a valley and was anything but happy, but the welcome in the town was genuine enough.

Goliath Guppy liked being in Wales - it was sweetly endearing. As he and the lads found out that night, it was good to be a Rugby player in Wales, as rugger is their state religion and the Welsh treated visiting players as if they were foreign royalties.

One of the greatest achievements of Rugby Football was the creation of a feeling - shared by all players - that they are part of one big happy family. Regardless of the level played at, or the rivalry between one club and another, the bond of being a rugger player had always helped create a real sense of belonging. The beer, the singing, the banter and the humour were all essential elements of the rugby experience. It was also one of the reasons why Rugby was primarily a players' sport rather than a spectators' sport. If you've never played the game it's hard to be part of the family, but here in Wales it seemed everybody played the game of had a father of brother who had done so.

Guppy's best mate since their schooldays, Dylan Thomas Ffestiniog, the winger, was Welsh himself and he could still speak the lingo. He could share with them the invaluable information that the toilet was actually a "toiledeau" and that breakfast was in reality "brecwyst".

Dylan would punctuate his sentences with words you could understand: "Wlch ylch aargh ybsy cwm dirty weekend wlch ylch aargeh aargh argh, look you!"

Guppy laughed at Ffestiniog's Welsh intonation - it had a whining, lilting quality with soft lisping sounds and funny slushy, throat-clearing noises.

Ffestiniog played on the wing, which meant that while he needed to be well built, he lacked the physical bulk, which Guppy and some of the other players had. But a wing needed more speed and Dylan Ffestiniog's legs where two of his best attributes - all the running kept them lean. Guppy thought Ffestiniog had great fucking legs and often told him so.

It had pissed down all week in North Wales so by the Saturday, the rugby pitch was just mud as far as the eye could see. Not that that would ever bother a real rugby player, because rugby is a real-man's game and meant to be played outdoors in all sorts of weather and every conceivable circumstance.

The antiquated changing rooms of the Llanelli Louts clubhouse still had no showers just one of those old-fashioned sunken baths, about fifteen foot square. It also had only the one bath, so both teams had been forced to share the hot water experience after the match.

"Rub a dub, Rub a dub, thirty men in a tub!" Laughed Goliath when he shared this knowledge with his mate.

"Sounds unhygienic!" Said Ffestiniog, but Guppy knew that his mate Dylan would not be unhappy about this, because it meant that both their team and the opposition would need a really long bath afterwards and this would give Ffestiniog ample opportunity to ogle the Llanelli Louts. The Welshman's mind boggled at all the antics he could concoct with thirty beefy men in a bath together!

Except for Guppy, none of the rest of the team suspected Dylan Ffestiniog was gay. He had always been careful, after all, scrumming down with your teammates was one thing, but if they had suspected that someone in the scrum actually enjoyed being so close to sweaty crotches and smelly bums, a brutal murder may have followed. Rugby was not a game for a wooffah! Goliath doubted if the lads would have understood that even though Dylan Ffestiniog was gay, it didn't mean he wanted to fuck every one of them. Nevertheless when the whole team was roaring drunk in the clubhouse, there would always be hugging and plenty of bonding of the "you're me best fucking mate, you are" kind.

Guppy, of course, knew about Ffestiniog as throughout their high school years Dylan had helped relieve the man-mountain's sexual tension with a good blowjob, but no mater how close they were, it was never clear to Ffestiniog what Guppy's sexual orientation was.

And so the University team piled into the bath with Garrith Jones; Dyfed Jenkins; Dyfed Jones; Emrys Jenkins; Emrys Jones; Roland Jenkins; Llew Jones; Llew Jenkins; Huw Jones; Huw Jenkins; Jasper Jones; Ffestiniog Jenkins; Eluned Jones; Dai Jones; Dai Jenkins; and yet another Dai Jenkins (Presumably a reserve). Eluned Jenkins missed the bath as he had had his nose broken, and away he went to the hospital, but not before Snowdon Knight, the University linesman, got another ghoulish photo for the University website.

Thirty beefy men in a fifteen-foot square sunken bath proved to be a pretty tight fit. Hyped up with post match adrenaline and beer, they were wrestling for a place on the submerged benches, shoving and whirling around in the water, which soon took on a murky, brownish hue. Dylan Ffestiniog was one of the first to get in the bath, and was soaping his muddy body when Guppy entered bearing two pint-bottles of beer. Ffestiniog couldn't help noticing that how fucking gorgeous his mate Goliath was, especially covered in mud.

"Oh crumbs..." Guppy thought to himself as he took one look at the seething mass of manhood in the bath, shucked off all his muddy kit under the intense gaze of fifteen black-browed Welsh boyos. Then he waved his muddy dick at his teammates, then lowered himself into the foaming water next to Dylan.

"Wlch ylch aargeh aargh argh, look you!" Laughed Huw Jenkins. Guppy had noticed this particular Jenkins had long and lean legs and a powerful muscular arse. He had a broad chest, powerful arms, short black hair and angry brown eyes, that were staring oddly at his mate Ffestiniog.

"Ylch bury the leek aargh ybsy cwm ybsy cwm?" Dylan Ffestiniog suggested.

"Ee?" asked Eluned Jones looking at Dylan quizzically.

"Ffiog ylch ffiog cwm big fucking leek aargh ybsy cwm." Huw Jenkins explained. Totally perplexed by this exchange, Guppy drank his beer luxuriating in the heat of the bath.

Dylan drained his beer in one go and as he leaned over to put his bottle on the floor Huw Jenkins saw his opportunity. As he was off-guard Huw Jenkins grabbed Dylan's legs and pulled him towards himself. Ffestiniog's head went under the soapy water and he surfaced spitting and spluttering. Huw Jenkins raised himself from the bench, inadvertently giving Guppy a quick glimpse of his hard cock and knelt between Dylan's legs, while the University wing struggled to keep his head above water. The Welshman's dong was rigid under the camouflage of brown water and as Ffestiniog lay over him Huw Jenkins pulled his opponent towards him and, simultaneously, aimed his wet and soapy dick at the crack of Dylan's arse. Dylan felt Huw's knob connect with his puckered ring.

Huw Jenkins grunted, then he shoved savagely and his foreskin pushed back as his knob entered Dylan Ffestiniog!

The look on his face was indescribable. Surprise - then a huge grin spread over his face. He could not believe this rugged Welshman was fucking him in the bath with all their teammates around them!

"Oh my God, aargh ybsy argh cwm argh cywll, Huw Jenkins!" Dylan whispered hoarsely. His bum stung like buggery. Huw Jenkins's shaft disappeared up Dylan's tunnel meeting only token resistance somewhere along the way.

Among the raucous laughter and horseplay in the overcrowded bath, all this went unnoticed by all except Goliath Guppy. Surprise was writ on his face as well, and then Guppy grinned knowingly. He waded across to the two Welshmen who appeared to be locked in some form of innocent game, plunged his hand under the foaming water and it found its way to where Huw Jenkins's hard nine incher was plugged into Dylan's arse.

Guppy don't know what Dylan had been doing to himself to make it so easy, because when he had experimented with one finger against his own anal ring, even with plenty of spit on it, Goliath found it very tight to enter his own rectum. Yet here was his mate Dylan getting royally fucked by Huw Jenkins, who seemed to have sunk a hole in one!

Goliath whispered in Huw's ear as he squeezed the big man's hairy bollocks: "Go on, fuck him, matey!"

Jenkins did! Guppy could feel Dylan's arse ring and inner muscles tighten around Huw's shaft. The Welshman must have been randy as hell to start with because he managed only about six thrusts before Jenkins's shot an enormous load somewhere deep inside Dylan's bowels.

Dylan's face was a picture. He more or less collapsed against Guppy but he was still joined to Huw Jenkins who seemed to be in a trance, his rigid dong still pressed into Dylan Ffestiniog.

Under cover of the dirty water, Guppy's hand moved to his mate's hard hairy belly and grabbed his shaft and wanked him very fiercely. After about ten or so strokes Dylan let out a groan and fired his wad into the brown water. White strands of cum floated to the surface of the dirty water and swirled around making strange patterns. Dylan put an arm round Goliath and hugged him tight, Huw's still hard prick remained inside him. While the three of them saw the warm spunk he'd shot swilling in the water between them.

"I've wanted you to do that for ages." Dylan whispered.

"Was it good, then, matey?"

Dylan Ffestiniog could only nod. "It was bloody marvellous, look you!"

"Why are you three all slanty-eyed, like?" Asked Roland Jenkins suspicious of why his cousin Huw had not landed a punch on a University player for the past ten minutes.

"Ffest yniog ylch, clly owy yalalch, look you!" Said Huw Jenkins, and then he stuck his tongue out at Cousin Roland. He withdrew his still quite firm cock, which was coated with the remains of Dylan's shit and his own cum, and washed it off in the muddy water.

Guppy helped Dylan wash his chest and then his dick and then Dylan washed cleansed his own well-fucked arse with bar of soap.

"Thank you very much then, gentlemen." Said Huw as he climbed out of the bath and leavening his unsuspecting teammates washing themselves in his sperm.

"Very polite are the Welsh." Said Goliath Guppy.

"Aye." Said Dylan Ffestiniog, "Wham-bam and kiss-me-quick, that's us Welshmen, but we always say thank you ma'am!"

******

Oh, yes, the score: luckily they won, University beat the Llanelli Louts 34-17. Summoner, the captain, scored a tremendous try early in the first half and Goliath converted it. The Llanelli Louts were pretty shit and they managed to score two more tries in the second half and Dylan kicked one over beautifully but missed the other one. They got a big team photo before it started to rain again, and the two teams gathered at the Clubhouse afterwards for a few pints of crème de menthe. They said their goodbyes to the Jones's and Jenkins's then left, for the next leg of their trip, to Great Shagging one of the many smaller villages that had been absorbed into Bradford, West Yorkshire.

The two buses that set off late that Saturday afternoon and arrived safely at the hotel in Great Shagging approximately four hours later. It had been a relatively boring journey with no floods, no crashes and no bags falling off the roof! After bagging a bunk, or in some cases a few chairs in the lounge put together to form a makeshift bed, it was off to the pub -- The Shagging Shepherd - to down a few after-hours beers before bed.

Goliath Guppy liked pubs that never shut. Well, to be honest, he liked all pubs but he was sure there was a special place in heaven for landlords that broke the antediluvian British licensing laws!

Dylan had never looked happier, but he didn't seem interest in sitting and Geoff Chaucer was worried his hamstring injury was playing up again.

They drank until their battered and bruised bodies stopped feeling the pain. Summoner taught them the words of three verses of four and twenty virgins came down from Inverness. Then the team managed to fire off a particularly fine rendition of the rugby variation of a song, sung to the tune of: When Johnny Comes Marching Home:

I met a whore in the park one day
ya ho, ya ho
I met a whore in the park one day
ya ho, ya ho
I met a whore in the park one day
She said hey rugger, you wanna lay

I put my hand upon her thigh
ya ho, ya ho
I put my hand upon her thigh
ya ho, ya ho
I put my hand upon her thigh,
she said hey rugger you're way to shy

I put my hand upon her tit
ya ho ya
I put my hand upon her tit
ya ho ya
I put my hand upon her tit
she said, "hey rugger, you're getting it"

I put my hand upon her twat
ya ho, ya ho
I put my hand upon her twat
ya ho, ya ho
I put my hand upon her twat,
she said hey rugger you hit the spot

I put my dick into her mouth
yo ho, yo ho,
I put my dick into her mouth
yo ho, yo ho,
I put my dick into her mouth,
She said mmm, mhmh, mhmhm...

******

Sunday morning the University Rugby Club was up as late as they could, with out missing the greasy fry-up that was served for breakfast. Then it was off for their next game against the Shagging Sluggers.

Our happy band of Pilgrims next game kicked off at 2.30 and it was a rough one. There were some quite hefty players on the Shagging Sluggers side and they were better organised. By half time Goliath doubted they could beat the Sluggers. Goliath Guppy had his own problem - his opposite number, Noah Miller -- a nasty looking bruiser in his thirties with blond hair and sinister scar under his right eye. This fucker had tackled him four times in the first half, bringing the six foot four inches tall man crashing to the ground. And the bastard seemed to hold on for longer than seemed necessary, pressing Guppy into the muddy pitch.

Goliath was covered in mud and he'd ripped his shorts along the back seam on the last tackle which meant his hairy arse was covered in mud too as Goliath only had a jockstrap on underneath.

The fifth tackle though, got him really pissed. Just after the second half kicked off in pouring rain, Miller came after him again when Goliath had the ball. Goliath was determined to get past the fucking pillock this time, but Miller was equally determined to bring the Lion's news cap down. He lunged at him but Goliath pushed him off, but the mud caused him to lose his footing and Miller lunged sideways to grab him again. The Slugger low tackled Guppy and sent 235 pounds of him sliding several yards face-first in prime Yorkshire mud and causing his legs to buckle in the mire, wrenching his knee. Then Goliath heard his shorts rip even further and tear away completely.

Half of Great Shagging had turned out for the match and they were treated to the sight of Goliath Guppy wearing only a rugby jersey, jockstrap and boots, hugging his knee in a fair amount of pain.

Then the ref. was yelling at Miller; Geoff Chaucer was yelling "see it told you so"; and University and Shagging Sluggers were squaring off against one another; while Noah Miller just knelt over Guppy, Miller wearing a very odd expression on his face, it which almost looked as if the burley shit was winking at Guppy with his scared right eye.

Goliath wasn't badly hurt but limped a bit as the first aider helped him hobble slowly back to the changing room to have an early shower. Guppy could feel the cold rain, especially on his now exposed bum. Guppy was slow to anger but by now he was ready mad! Behind him more shouting erupted but Guppy did not turn back to look.

When Goliath got in from the rain, he took off his jersey and sat down on one of the benches in his jockstrap and boots. His knee was throbbing and was about twice its normal size. Then he heard the click of studs on tiles as someone came into the changing room -- it was Noah Miller.

"What the fuck do you want, Miller?" Goliath asked, well pissed off by now.

"I told the ref. to foock awff, so he sent me awff." Said Miller in his strong local accent. He still seemed to be wearing that odd expression on his face that made Goliath slightly nervous. "Need soom help with those boots, Guppy?" he asked.

"Don't you even try and be mates with me you stupid bastard, you nearly broke my fucking knee." Goliath was really mad then stood and took a swing for the northerner's chin, but his knee couldn't take it and gave under him. As he fell, he had the satisfaction of bringing Noah Miller down as well, as his boot studs skidded out on the tiled floor. All 235 pounds of Guppy ended up half on top of Noah Miller.

In the silence that ensued Guppy was aware of the smell of mud, rain and sweat mingling. Goliath felt the thud of blood into his cock and the shaft started to swell.

"Now you're getting the picture, mate" Noah Miller said as his hand reached over and slid under the waistband of his jockstrap and grabbed Guppy's thickening cock.

"You don't waste time do you?" You had to admire the bruiser's courage -- Guppy could just as easily have taken exception to being fondled and knocked Miller's teeth down his throat.

"I knew I wanted thee as soon as I saw thee. That's why I've tackled you so mooch. It were a right bonus seeing thy arse in thy jockstrap."

"Well you could have just asked, instead of nearly putting me in A&E, you sad poxy bastard." Goliath answered, angrily. "Besides what makes you think I'm into this Queer shite?"

"Ha!" Miller snorted derisively. "I'm a married man meself, sired four blooody soons I have, and no mistake! But that don't stop me needing soom cock now and again."

Goliath didn't argue as Miller helped him hobble back to the bench,

"Oh you have, have you?" Suddenly Guppy wanted to see the man's baby-making cock, very badly. His hands slipped down the back of the bruiser's shorts, eager to squeeze those tight arse cheeks. "H-h-how old are y-your so-sons, matey?" He stammered breathless with unaccountable excitement.

"Oldest lad has just turned thirteen and young `un is just four, mate!" Miller removed his boots and jockstrap. Goliath Guppy was covered in black fur - his arms, chest, back and legs.

"Fuck now ain't that a sight for sore eyes!" Said Noah Miller as he groped the bulging front of his own shorts and he stared appreciatively at Goliath Guppy's crotch he had - thick glossy black pubes surrounding a small but thick cock and big hairy balls. Guppy's comparatively small cock looked oddly out of place, and even smaller than it actually did was, on a man that massive.

It was throbbing at its full six inches and was beginning to dribble. What he might have lacked in the cock department, he more than made up for in his balls. Guppy's balls were his pride and joy in the way he held and displayed them. They were large and swung low below his dick with the left hanging some way below the right. Miller wanted him badly and the rugger player's question had given him a clue as to what turned the hunk on.

"Hot little fucker, is our John, me eldest lad! Caught him wanking, just the oother day, like." Miller stripped himself. Noah Miller was very blond, his hard muscular upper body had virtually no body hair except under his arms but he had the hairiest legs imaginable. Thick golden curls spread all over his thighs and spread down his shins. What surprised Goliath most was that he was genuine blond - many blondes had quite dark bushes above their cocks but the mean looking thirty something a thick bush of blond pubic hair. His uncircumcised cock seemed to be about eight inches long and stood up rigidly from his body.

"W-w-what was your lad's c-c-cock l-like, matey?" He asked half-expecting to get thumped by the father for daring to ask so indelicate a question. Goliath was practically breathless with excitement as he ran his hands up and down Miller's hairy legs.

"Exactly like his dad's boot it were like five inches and hard as a foockin' rock it were." The proud father shoved his crotch into the Lion's player's view. He knew this exchange of illicit sexual details was turning the players on like mad. Every so often, Guppy's hands were around his arse until they gently rubbed his hole. Then Miller went for broke. "What do thy say to a blowjob?" He asked.

"Hello blowjob!" Said Guppy with a laugh.

Miller's mouth slipped over his knob-head and that was the only sensation Goliath could register. The older man's hands were under his arse drawing him toward him. His mouth bobbed up and down Goliath's hard shaft, his tongue licked his balls every now and then. The naughty daddy was clearly in no mood for a lengthy session as he was now wanking himself off vigorously.

"D-d-did you d-d-do anything with your son, matey?" He asked uncertainly, knowing full well that he had strayed onto dangerous and forbidden ground.

"Fuck yes! Did just what I'm doing to thee now! Loovely it were!" Said Miller smacking his lips at the recollection of his sons boyish cum. "Licked his cheesy knob clean, like and then his da sucked him till he cum in me mouth."

This drove Goliath over the edge. He was so turned on at the thought of being sucked off in the changing rooms by a man who had been sucking his son off, that Goliath couldn't hold out for long. Within a few minutes, Goliath was filling his mouth with a huge load, as if Goliath hadn't cum in weeks. Miller gulped down the whole load greedily then settled back on his haunches to finish himself off.

Miller used an overhand method on his own cock with his thumb rubbing along the under ridge of his shaft with three fingers on top, but when he was working up to his climax to changed to the full-hand technique. He gave an open-throated cry as he pulled down hard on his engorged cock. Five substantial streams of cream flew from his knob-end, coating Guppy's furry legs with his baby-making spunk.

Goliath patted him on the back, as if he had just won some sort of contest. Miller was grinning from ear to ear then he spoke: "I might not get to play for England," he said "but I do get to suck for me coontry!"

A clatter of boot studs in heralded the arrival of the teams coming back from the match. Guppy and Miller moved quickly under the showers, allowing their cocks to subside.

The remainder of the match had been hell. The rest of the team all came off the pitch bruised and battered. It was a casualty- strewn draw, both the teams had been bad-tempered following the Guppy/Miller incident, and even Dylan had lost his temper. He had a cut eyebrow to show for it but said he'd whacked his opposing number in the scrum a couple of times.

The University lads and the Shagging Sluggers all froze on entering the dressing room. They had half expected to find Miller and Guppy ready for hospitalisation after setting their difference with their fists in the usual fashion. The sight of Noah Miller soaping Guppy's injured leg was not what they had expected. The former adversaries were sharing a shower!

"Kissed and made up have you, you sad bastards!" Said poor Paul Nuns-Priest one of Guppy's team, which was not easy for him as he had got a couple of loose teeth after one tackle and maul. Both teams laughed and started to strip to join the two naked men under the shower.

Dylan Ffestiniog was very quiet. This could have been because he had the most horrendous bruise on his cheek and another on his thigh. He watched his naked mate did and his nice big pair of balls, which swung very convincingly, as Goliath moved under the shower spray. He watched with interest as Noah Miller poked him in the back and asked if Goliath would soap his back. Goliath did and then he returned the favour. Dylan glanced down surreptitiously and noted that this soaping action had the same effect on both of them - their dicks were thickening slightly. But, they were soon out of the shower and drying off.

Then Miller was rubbing embrocation into Goliath's knee, which he'd twisted in that tackle, and then Noah Miller, had the gall to suggest that Guppy come and meet his wife and kids! Dylan snorted in disgust -- what a nerve the poxy fucker had!

******

Among the greatest glories of Bradford are the Curry Houses. After a numerous pints of Tetley's at the The Shagging Shepherd both teams repaired to The Punjab Lancer, to feast at long Formica tables, scooping up food with hunks of Nan bread and getting very messy fingers in the process. Bengali movie posters adorned the walls and helpful waiters seemed poised at their elbows helping them to evermore Kingfisher beer. Both teams got totally drunk that night, to no one's surprise.

"I'm foocking sorry about thy knee." Miller said sounding a bit sheepish.

"I still think you're a stupid fart, but you've made up for it, matey." Goliath smiled. But there was nothing that could not be resolved for a Yorkshire man by a pint of Tetley's Best Bitter!

"Yea seem to like them young." Whispered Miller into Guppy's ear as he caught Guppy staring a bit too hard and one of the pretty Bangladeshi waiters as they were staggering out of the restaurant. They were all very drunk by now and it was time for private game of truth.

"I don't know what I like." Said Guppy very honestly, but the Millers' tale had excited him beyond all reason. "Do you like sucking your eldest son off?"

"Be happy to get you together with me lads, if thy wants..." Miller offered. Goliath Guppy felt very weak in his good knee Miller had to hold the Man-Mountain erect.

"Fuck they were cute as hell!" Said Goliath, drunk as a skunk and feeling Miller grasping crotch.

"Well," said Dylan Ffestiniog to the hugging duo of Miller and Guppy, "you two got to be best fucking mates very quickly." He was unmistakably jealous as all hell.

******

Goliath Guppy opened his bloodshot eyes and surveyed Dylan Ffestiniog next morning when his mate finally rolled out of his bed in the small twin bedded room they were sharing. It wasn't only his face and thigh which were colourful but Dylan had also bruised his ribs and had a purple patch on his left buttock where some foul fucker had booted him when he was on the ground during the second half.

"Sod this!" Dylan said, still rather jealous that he had been cheated out of his share of whatever it had been that Guppy had been sharing with Miller. "I love the fucking game, Goliath, but playing those Shagging Sluggers were a bit rough." Dylan started wanking off in front of the mirror.

"What are you doing, matey, you sad fuck?" Goliath asked. Even the sockets of his eyes hurt.

"Well my lovely woolly bear, you won't fuck me so I am just trying to see if any part of me is still functional." Dylan said. He liked watching himself tossing off and Guppy had to admit it was a pretty good display with plenty of pearly come squirting out when Dylan finally climaxed.

******

Now going into an English pub and asking for directions would have to rank among the world's most foolish activities. But there was no doubt about it, they were well and truly lost and desperate times called for appropriate measures!

With their next game only on Thursday in Shallow Bowels against the Bowels Rugger Buggers, the University team had decide to spend a bit of time in the Peak District doing a bit of walking and Shallow Bowels lay at the very edge of the National Park.

"Well now, Shallow Bowels from here... that is a tall order." Said a man in an extra large woolly cardigan in the Red Cock Inn.

The University fifteen, two reserves and Coach Chaucer had ordered pints of Old Toejam all round and they stood watching the man puffing out his cheeks.

"Well now," he began again, "if you go back to lay-by outside Warbrokkel-on-Water, with mobile snack-bar, then you take first right and that will put thee on A3635. But thee don't want that do you?" He said to his drinking mates. They all nodded encouragingly. Chaucer moaned -- this was exactly why one did not ask for directions in and English pub.

"No I would go right through Grotsbollock, then go halfway round mini roundabout at end of High Street, go past big willow tree and take little lane that goes under railway bridge. That will put thee on B6927. Now about a quarter of a mile further you will see sign to Devil's Dyke. Don't take that..." Said a man in a bottle-green sweater.

"Thee could go via Snarsford then cut through Tumby Drove and take a left at sign that says: Christ died for the ungodly." Said another man in red woolly jumper.

"I think I'll try asking at the service station." Said Geoff Chaucer who had been ill tempered since Guppy's injury had made it impossible for him to play in the final game on this trip.

"Oh these sootherners are so forward." Grumbled the extra large woolly cardigan to the red woolly jumper, when they thought the lads were not listening.

"Aren't they?" Agreed the red woolly jumper. "You have only to chat to someone of five minutes and the mistake you for friends?"

"I think we should all try the a pint of Old Scotsman's Sporran, matey." Said Guppy and everyone agreed a pint of Red Cock Inn `Brew of the Month' was the best suggestion of the day.

Eventually after endless searching they made it to their digs at Peggotty's Hotel in Shallow Bowels, a small village on the edge of the Peak District National Park.

******

The entire team was upstairs at before eleven o'clock. This was mainly because Paul Nuns-Priest, Knight and Merchant had persuaded three local tarts - Iris, Zinnia and Marigold Scrubber - to let the whole team fuck them! The singing had stopped and the none-to-genteel bang-bang-bang of wooden headboard hitting hotel wall was to be heard along the corridors of Peggotty's Hotel.

Dylan Ffestiniog and Goliath noticed that Edgar Summoner the Captain was much slower than they had expected to get undressed to join the queue outside Knight's and Merchant's room to get his share of local slag's cunt. There was no way that either Dylan or Guppy was up of a cheap fuck but Summoner? That was a surprise - the twenty-five-year-old captain was a huge brick-shit-house of a man about five-foot-nine, square -- and a straight as the proverbial arrow!

Then Dylan Ffestiniog and the Captain had another bout of drunken arm wrestling until Summoner decided he needed more embrocation rubbed into his injured back. Goliath thought he would try it on his knee as well so offered to anoint Summoner's back muscles if he would rub some into his leg muscles. The deal agreed, they retired to Edgar Summoner's attic room to rub themselves liberally with Sloane's Liniment.

Dylan joined in and three pissed, almost nude, lads were liberally rubbing in liniment and massaging each other's real or imaginary sore muscles. The place soon stank of wintergreen.

The general injunction was not to let the stuff near your cock, or even more importantly, your' own or anyone else's balls. Goliath was a bit puzzled about this until Dylan, accidentally, or so he said, caressed his left bollock with an embrocation-doused hand.

"Christ, that is hot!" Yelped Guppy nearly hit the frigging ceiling. The other two laughed and said it would act as a warning. Edgar said he'd had suffered this treatment in school when he'd made enemies with a nasty piece of work. The villain and two of his mates had held him down while they applied the liquid to his balls. He said they swelled up and ached for several days after that.

"But I got the better of the fucker who instigated the assault. I bashed him in the balls, accidentally of course, ha-ha, when tackling him in a house match." Summoner said. "He had to retire hurt." Summoner was in the back line and a huge fucker it seemed impossible to imagine anyone foolish enough to take him on in this way.

"What is known in Rugby circles as a groin injury," added Dylan Ffestiniog sagely.

"Ouch!" Said Goliath Guppy.

Somehow the issues surrounding wanking or sexual intercourse on the night before a match was discussed. None of the lads felt that a wank had ever had any effect on their stamina.

"In fact," Dylan Ffestiniog said, "I generally feel like a good wank the night before as I'm usually a bit tensed up." Guppy didn't like the way Ffestiniog was looking at Summoner

"So speaks the voice of experience." Summoner added he was very gently caressing the bulge in his underwear.

"Look at that, Goliath," Dylan announced drunkenly, "Mr. Summoner has got his usual stiffy!"

Alarm bells were ringing in Guppy's head he had more than enough confusing sexual experiences for one week.

"What shall we do with the little beastie?" asked Dylan.

"Not so little that beastie!" Summoner slurred his word but could not conceal his pride, "do you want to see it see it fully grown?"

"Good God!" The Welsh boyo said admiring the bulge in the captain's underpants "Bugger's got a dong like a young donkey!"

Goliath wondered if he should join the queue to get a bit of whatever it was the three Scrubber sisters had to offer. Perhaps a good fuck would help him rid himself of all these crazy longings.

"Well I am going fuck off, now so I can get some sleep." Said Goliath Guppy putting an end to Dylan's plans for a three-way tryst but leaving his two drunk team mates to get on with whatever it was they had been planning.

******

On Tuesday they went out for a short walk on the moors. The weather was pretty good and it was nice to see the sun once more.

One tosser, Sam Reeve, forgot to bring any lunch but ended up consuming more food throughout the day than the rest of the party, due to merciful handouts. Goliath Guppy made a mental note to remember that trick next time - forget to pack his lunch and have everyone take pity on him and give University's poor starving star-loose forward half of theirs!

Goliath Churchill Guppy needed a lot of food! A lot more than he could normally carry and this food lark would come in handy. Forwards were the athletes in the front unit, their main objective was to win possession of the ball, something Guppy was a master at!

In the evening - once everyone had recovered from the communal shower experience (don't ask!) - it was off to the pub - The Buggared Ploughman - again for a night of drunken tomfoolery!

"God! Was I drunk last night of what?" said to Edgar Summoner when Dylan approached him with that look in his eye. " I don't remember a bleeding thing I did!" The Captain blustered, his face very red.

"Yeah... right!" snorted Dylan disdainfully.

They opened the proceedings with an old favourite:

Why was he born so beautiful?

Sung to the tune of some hymn.

Why was he born so beautiful
Why was he born at all
He's no fucking use to anyone
He's no fucking use at all

He should be publicly pissed on,
He should be publicly shot (bang, bang),
He should be tied to a urinal,
And left there to fester and rot.

So, DRINK chug-a-lug
Drink chug-a-lug
Drink chug-a-lug
DRINK!

Goliath Guppy, in particular, was somewhat the worse for wear: "Why do you drink so much, Guppy?" Asked Geoff Chaucer.

"I drink to forget," Said Guppy, "but if forget what it was I needed to forget."

Throughout the course of the evening the University Rugby Club all managed between them to break about ten glasses, knock over several tables and break two chairs. Luckily, the barkeeper of The Buggared Ploughman didn't seem to mind - after all the students were giving him lots of their money!

To say that Smyke and Osbert Prim had achieved reconciliation would be the understatement of the century!

Smyke's action in coming to Osbert's rescue, against the forces of darkness from the blue tent, proved just how much the couple meant to each other and they now felt the need to physically demonstrate it -- all the bloody time!

They would walk around together holding hand; they would stop and stare into each other's eyes and sigh; they would whisper sweet endearments into each other's ears. The besotted lovers did it so often that it was getting in the way of normal life.

Patrick Pratt summed up the general view: "Enough to turn a normal lad's stomach, ain't it?"

Historically, many routes through this area were officially 'out of bounds' and could only be explored with the permission of gamekeepers, but more recently the area was run in co-operation with the Peak National Park. Nonetheless the hike needed planning and so they needed Osbert Prim.

All this billing and cooing was standing in the way of the plans for the hike and an unusually taciturn Felix Jollybottom needed Bashful's ordinance survey map, compass, and his skills as in orienteering unless they were to get totally lost on the way. Nibbling Smyke's ear would have to wait.

The River Dickens, the largest river in the Peak District and a tributary of the River Story, which it joined south of Derby, arose on Dorrit Tor and flowed through Dickens Valley. The River was approximately fifty miles long and it drained a large proportion of the county of Derbyshire. The map showed that to the north of Hobbit Hill, the boundary to the property known as `The Woods' was marked by this very same River Dickens,

North of Hobbit Hill the River Dickens widened and there was a point where the river was crossed by an old packhorse track. It was a lonely, lovely spot known as `Slippery-Stones' - doubtless a spot where many a packhorse had come to grief over the centuries, and below Slippery-Stones the river flowed into the Reservoir, which adjoined `The Woods'.

This part of the valley was spectacular - steep-sided, winding and wooded, with high, majestic gritstone-cliffs, such as Dorrit Tor, towered above it. The area around the River Dickens in the valley consisted of Gritstone moorland and some forested areas.

In recent years forestry had become an important factor here and much of the sides of the River Dickens valley have been clothed in conifers. Fortunately the Forestry Commission was a benevolent landowner, who allowed access and provided amenities for visitors, because this is a popular area for walking, cycling and fishing.

The weather that Wednesday appeared to be warmish, but wet, as it was drizzling and it was expected to become cool that night, perhaps with thundershowers.

"ATTCHOO! ATTCHOO!" The wet had started Cedric sneezing once more. But then again, even he had to admit that if you were to wait for good weather in England before you do anything, you could spend your entire life waiting.

At the head of the trail at `Slippery Stones', the group led by of Felix Jollybottom paused to make the final alterations to redistributing the load between the campers, before they entered the National Park, on the trail Osbert Prim had selected for their overnight backpacking hike.

The trusty old boat-shed had yielded one four-man tent and three two-man tents that did not appear to be too ancient or leaky. They also managed to scrounge up blankets, cooking utensils. All of the lads, other than Snowy, had their own sleeping bag and each had to bare their share of the burden on the way. In the picnic chests were canned foods supplied by the ladies of St Giles committee, and what seemed to be a year's supply of pies.

"Hey, beer!" whooped Patrick Pratt when he saw Doc open one of the boxes containing Felix's "special rations." The Chinese academic grinned and neatly packed the cans of beer in his rucksack.

"Can I have one?" asked Dumm Tweedle, giggling.

The Felix looked at the pretty ten-year-old, who grinned back. "It is bleeding eight a.m. in the morning lad!"

Dee punched Dumm's shoulder and called him a prize `wally'!

"Tonight we can each have one before supper, and one later on." Felix announced.

The Twins were still bickering quietly about which of the them was a `wally' when a small scuffle broke out. Dee snapped at Dumm, who snapped back, and the battle was on.

Totally indifferent, the other choirboys and Anoraks watched as the Twins rolled about, snapping and growling, threatening each other with an untimely death. They rolled very close to the edge of the River Dickens.

Smyke sauntered over to separate the combatants. This proved to be easier said than done. The twins, arms and legs flapping around, twisted and shoved closer and closer to the water's edge! Then Dumm stepped on to one of the stepping stones. When next Felix looked up it was clear to see why the stones where known as `Slippery-Stones'

The twins and Smyke sat cursing in waist high water, their teeth chattering, while the other campers jeered at them.

"How's the water?" Felix shouted back.

"Cock-shrinking cold, mate." Yelled Smyke with a huge grin.

Their impromptu swim over, Dee and Dumm were much more subdued, but the mood among the hiker could not have been better.

"Osbert let us check the time on our watches, mate," Suggested Felix with what he hoped was a suitably military air of authority.

"Wish we could," said Osbert a little irritably, "I can't find my watch anywhere! Grumpy and I have been looking for it for hours."

"That is odd, mon," said Fred Marley, "my watch has disappeared as well. I thought da strap mighta broken in da fight last night."

Felix took the largest of the tents on his own already heavy backpack, yet he could still lift it up, as if it were empty and swung it onto his back.

Sneezy was bubbling over with excitement. He looked his red-haired friend Felix over. The man was a solid block of lean muscles. Cedric got a good look at the man's hard right bicep and the cubby lad ran his finger over the raised muscle - it was the coolest, most manly thing he had ever seen; it made other lads' arms look like wimps.

"Well lads," said Felix, rolling up his sleeves and the legs of his jeans, just in case, "no slipping now!"

"Let's go, mates." He said as he started walking down the trail. Felix had never hiked these areas before, but Bashful said he knew some good places that weren't on any conventional trail map.

******

On Wednesday morning, those who felt up to it were off walking, while the rest of the University Rugby Club attempted to sleep off the night before. Foolishly, Goliath Guppy, damaged knee and all, found himself in the former group. He was sure this was because he had damaged his brain the night before and followed the eight-or-so walkers like a lost six-foot-four-inch sheep. It could not possibly have been an actual matter of choice!

Visibility was fucking non-existent! A gentle penetrating rain made things unpleasant and uncomfortable. But the walk was not quite as uneventful and boring as it may sound though as the team's Eighthman, and the Hooker managed to sink in the mud, losing boots in the process!

They could see absolutely nothing from the top of Trollope Scout. There they where, up to the eyeballs in cloud and mist! They had to put their trust in their walk leaders, who led the group of students, round by compass bearings. Somehow by lunchtime they managed to find their way to the rest area that had been their objective without a hitch, so a big pat on the back was awarded to them all!

They were not alone on the trail today -- a long way in front of them was a party of about ten figures. Guppy could just make out that a small fat boy, who waddled, huffing and puffing and trying to keep up with the rest of the party, was bringing up the tale end. Judging by their size and shape in the gloom, they were all probably younger than the students were, and possibly they were scouts.

Scouts! Goliath Guppy limped along and tried to put the very thought out of his mind. Scouts brought back all sorts of painful memories, too uncomfortable to think of with a headache. Two of Miller's sons had been dressed in their scout uniforms, as they stood with their stern-looking mother on the sideline of the rugger-field eagerly accepting a handshake and autograph from the youngest member of the Lion's squad.

By the time they reached the rest huts and public lavatories at the top of the Copperfield Plateau, overlooking the Dickens River valley, Goliath Guppy, was no longer a prime example of a healthy star rugby-player. He collapsed on a bench, in the rest area that the Nation Parks had thoughtfully created for tired and footsore walkers, just around the comer from the rest rooms. This particular recollection made all sorts of parts of his body ache!

The others broke out their lunch but Goliath Guppy had forgotten to bring any, and he did not have the energy to try the food trick that Sam Reeve had pulled off the day before. Besides, he was too sick to think of food.

Worse yet, Goliath was a troubled twenty-year-old. It was as if some malevolent spectre had been sent to plague him today with all of his most unspeakable lusts and desires. He sat disconsolately watching the other party of lads who seemed to range in age from about ten to twenty years old.

Furtively his eyes followed the boys around and watched every boisterous move. Their t-shirts proclaimed them to be members of the St. Giles' Choir and Dylan had a few improper comments about the legend on the back of the t-shirts: " Choir boys do it with their mouth's wide open!"

He watched twin boys crooning about, flashing their pearly smiles and batting long lashes over sleepy boyish eyes. He watched one lad scratch his crotch when he thought no one else was looking. He watched a skinhead lad bully and joke with his mates. He watched one little lad, ignoring the public convenience that was right there next to him, whip out his penis to take and overdue piss against a conifer, then shake his half-erect cock about. He watched yet another blond lad rest on a bench, smooth legs stretched wide, eyes closed, face upturned drenching it the drizzle, the bulge in Guppy's shorts twitching under the penetrating rain.

Then Goliath spotted one lad in particular - he was good-looking but loutish - exactly what Goliath liked best - a tough-looking lad, dark dirty hair plastered to his forehead, wet-through T-shirt, blue jeans, dirty white Nikes. He was standing with another older lad, punching his arm and mouthing off. Goliath's heartbeat quickened, and his eyes glazed over from staring - as if he was too afraid to blink for fear of having the boy disappear in the split second his eyelids were shut.

The boy looked to be about twelve, definitely no more than thirteen. Guppy was forced to face it - he was beautiful - a vision sent by the malign deity to torment his imagination!

"Well lads," Goliath Guppy called out, to his mate, Dylan who was trying his best to chat up the captain of the Rugby club, "I'm off to the bog for a puke and a crap if I'm not out by tea-time send for the emergency services."

Yeah, right! Forget about the puke and crap, Goliath Guppy needed a wank -- he needed a wank badly!

As Goliath Guppy got up to hobble to the bog, the boy spotted him. Their eyes locked and the young tough-lad smiled this crooked little half-smile!

Guppy had died and gone to heaven, but evidently the angry spectre wasn't finished with him yet, before he could re-group his thoughts, he saw the boy was also heading off towards the public toilet!

He looked to Goliath to be the rough and tough, bully type of lad. Goliath wondered if he could be one for those special boys who sometimes could be persuaded to do things for money. He had read about them on the Internet, but had never been able to pluck up the courage to try to find such a boy for his secret purpose.

Trying to calm the pounding heart in his chest, Goliath Guppy got up and casually followed him.

There was no one on duty at the entrance, to forestall any indecent acts - presumably people did not go in for that sort of thing this far from town! Goliath pushed past a few lads who were leaving and stood looking at the six enclosed stalls that extended from ceiling to floor with a foot gap at the lower extremity. There was one little boy at the urinal finishing pissing, shaking, whipping his pee-pee out of sight, the flying out the door before Guppy got there. Looking back to the stalls, Goliath noticed that three of the six were occupied. He could see the shadows of people's feet. Squatting down to tie his laced shoe, he saw two pairs of muddy hiking boots. Separated from the boots by two empty booths, was a pair of dirty white Nikes!

Goliath heard the owner of first pair of muddy boots flush as he approached the booth occupied by the trainers. Taking a quick glance around and noticing no one in view, Guppy opened the large wooden door and stared briefly down at the boy. His blue jeans were down around his knees and the lad quickly jerked them up to cover his erection.

When he saw it was the huge man from outside, he eased one of his hands away from his crotch, allowing the pink tip of his circumcised erection to smile up at Goliath Guppy.

"Sorry matey," Goliath said, forcing fake embarrassment, "I didn't know this one was taken."

"No probs, mate. It's cool," He smirked knowingly up at Guppy. They heard someone else walked in to the rest room and the magic was broken. He covered his erection again with both hands. "The next one's empty, I fink, mate." The boy added, nodding to his left.

"Thanks," Goliath whispered. The boy reached up and pulled the door closed and latched it. Guppy wondered briefly why he hadn't latch it to begin with.

Goliath squeezed his bulky frame into the next stall, locked it, and settled on the porcelain without bothering to lower his jeans. His huge shoulders touched the sides of the tiny cubical. He looked around his enclosure. It didn't take him long to realise it was the worst stall that he had been in for cruising. Holes were nowhere in sight. If he stood on top of the porcelain bowl, he couldn't peek-over, as the stall was solid to the ceiling. Goliath had to bend his back to near breaking to be able to see the lower inch of a Nike between partition and floor. Hell! There wasn't even any graffiti to stimulate him during his planned wank.

Cruising was something that Guppy had done few times in the past when his frustration reached boiling point. Now that he had joined the Lion's squad all off that had become too risky -- he could just image the stink if a journalist followed him into a loo and caught him having sex with a man or a boy!

All he could do now was get down on his hands and knees on the piss-covered floor and see if he could peer further up, beyond the smooth ankle. So, with difficulty he bent his six foot four inch frame over, and squatted down and he peered under the partition into the stall next to him.

"Ya lookin' for someone?" The lad asked with a husky, boyish voice.

Guppy's mind went blank. He hit his head on the toilet paper holder as he bolted upright in shock! The lad had caught him out! He, Goliath Churchill Guppy, the star loose forward for University, Guppy the lad who had only just recently played his first game for England, had been caught peaking at a young boy in a dirty lavatory!

The enormity of his mistake struck him harder than a flying tackle on the field. The entire rugby club was outside to witness his humiliation. His career would be ruined! He knew what the press would make of this! He could see the headlines in the Sun:

He charged out of the stall. Guppy was about to dash out of the door when he heard a voice boy calling out after him: "I fought it woz just dirty old geezers down in the park bogs and pervs like Felix an' 'is mates, wot like to sneak a peak!"

Guppy froze on the spot! There was something about the boy's tone of voice that made him stop and turn! He saw to his relief that the lavatory was now entirely deserted except for himself and the boy. And the boy had left his cubical and was standing there, his jeans around his ankles and he was gently wanking his cock, giving Guppy a good show.

"You look like you're lookin' for someone, mate?" He repeated.

"Well, uh... I was actually looking for a mate of mine ..." Goliath stammered.

"If I see a good-looking lad wot looks like me, I'll let `im know yer woz lookin' for him - okay." He wrinkled his nose with a cocky, insidious smile and retreated into his cubical.

Goliath realised he had to snap out of his stupor. He had just had the narrowest of escapes but here was his opportunity! He wasn't about to risk losing him by acting like a wimp. He walked back to the cubical that the lad occupied and stood before the closed door.

"So... err..." The rugger hero could just not get the words out.

"Five quid?" A whispered boy's voice came from behind the door.

"Err... did you say something, matey?" Asked Goliath finding his voice at last.

"Well mate, `ere I am wiff me dick makin' like it is a soddin' flag-pole, and I woz finking wot if yer gives me five quid and I'll let yer play wiv it." Guppy shook his head in disbelief. He could not be hearing right! "That's wot yer wanted, right?" The boy was unlatching the door once more and opening it!

The boy was one of those lads. He was prepared to do it with Goliath for a few pound. But why, oh why, did he have to meet one today here with the whole fucking rugger team outside? While five quid was a lot for a poor student, even the recollection of the rough lad in the stall, trying unsuccessfully to hide his hard-on, would have made the five quid, the best investment of Goliath's life!

"So wha' did yer wanna do then? I could use the five quid. I'm almost out of ciggies and none o' me mates smoke. They says it ain't `ealthy." He sat there in his blue underpants and soaking wet T-shirt and his crooked grin melted the huge student's heart.

"What is your name, matey?" The giant asked and he smiled into the lad's rain-splattered face.

"Patrick, Patrick Pratt. Everyone calls me Pat, though. And who are ya, then?"

"Goliath."

"Well I am not daft, mate I can fucking see that." He joked. "Nice to meet ya, mate." He said, giving the giant a manly handshake.

Guppy let his eyes slowly trail down. The boy's T-shirt was so rain sodden that it clung to his chest making his hard nipples and his the indented navel button clearly visible. The elastic rim of his blue underpants was wet and darkened from the rain rolling down from his tummy. An inch below the waistband began the bulge of a very hard four-inch erection pushing for release. From the shape of it, it seemed his rather thick splendid cock was circumcised.

With a trembling hand, Goliath reached forward and started to finger the sweaty ridge. "Is this okay, matey?" He whispered hardly believing his luck.

"'Course it bleedin' is! When I saw ya lookin' at me when you woz sittin' on vat bench, I woz thinking ya would like coppin' a feel o' me dick!" Patrick said softly as Goliath gently squeezed his erection. "I was `oping you'd follow me into va bog. Did ya see me `ard-on?"

"Couldn't miss it, matey!" said Guppy his voice trembling from sexual excitement, "I'd best come in there with you, matey. Your chums might come in here... or mine!" His heart sank a little at the thought of discovery once more.

"Don't worry about me mates, they fucking cock addicts va bleeding lot o' `em!" Guppy did not even take this information in properly. "Want me ta get me kecks down, then?"

In less than three seconds, Patrick Pratt was naked from his chest to just above his knees and his erection was twitching straight out at Guppy. Goliath studied every inch of it, from the smooth, pink tip oozing a tiny drop of pre-cum, on down the thicker shaft to the soft, small patch of dark pubic down sprouting from each side of where its root disappeared into his crotch. His scrotum was totally hairless and his two marble-sized balls hung limply in the humid musk-air in the lavatory. Guppy went into the cubical, latched the door. Goliath dropped to his knees on the piss sodden floor and eased himself down between his out-stretched legs.

"Cor this is sort of nice, in a pervy sort of way." He sniggered "Me with a big man like yer in va bleedin' crapper!" Patrick grinned, grabbing his rod and shaking it at the giant. Guppy caught his scent - a touch of musk, barely adolescent and intoxicating.

"You're beautiful," Goliath whispered.

"I know, an' there is bugger all I can do abou' it, " he snickered. "That's wot all me girlfriends tell me."

"How old are you, matey?"

"Twelve, going on thirteen, mate." Perfect, thought Guppy. "I may be only twelve, mate, but I am a bleedin' stud I am!" Guppy licked his lips and studied the beauty spread out and waiting before him. In the few sexual contacts he had had previously - some with a woman and several with men - he had never really felt the level of sexual thrill that now threatened to overwhelm him.

"You gonna suck it, or am I gonna `ave to use me `and?" Patrick Pratt asked.

Without a word, or further hesitation, Guppy let nature take over - he started licking at the pearly drop oozing from the red tip of his boyhood. Goliath gently wrapped his lips around the warm salty tip. He licked his way down the front of his cock to its base he could hear a kind of blurred gurgling coming from the back of Pratt boy's throat. Continuing his journey, Guppy pushed his legs even farther apart and sucked in his hairless scrotum, balls and all.

He wanted to give him the best blow-job ever - but he lacked the skills as it was something he had never done before in his life! Goliath wanted to give him an experience so good that he would keep coming back, asking him to do him again, and again, and again!

"Blimey mate, yer fuckin' good wiff 'er mouf, if yer know what I means. Me dick feels like its twice va size wot it were last time I wanked meself off!" Grateful for this complement for his first-timer effort, Guppy continued to try his best. He felt Patrick's hands wrap around the back of his thick bull-neck and push so his lips slid down the length of his erection, farther and farther, until his rising hips and his descending mouth grounded his nose into the soft pubic down at the base of his shaft.

"Watch out, 'ere it comes, mate!" Patrick grunted from deep in his throat. "I'm gonna shoot! Fuckin' Yesss!" Goliath felt the first blast hitting the back of his tongue. The second was more at the tip of his tongue as his bucking hips and writhing pelvis accidentally pulled back the spewing hose. Patrick's legs squeezed into him, his hips bucked, his cock drove in and out, in and out, faster and faster, trying for new depth in Guppy's sucking mouth.

That was the first time Goliath Guppy's tongue was `baptised' by sweet boy-honey. For a twelve-year-old, the little guy could certainly pump it out! ' It splattered on his lips and nose, it hit dribbled down his cheek and oozed down his chin and the underside of Patrick's pulsating cock.

In the ensuing silence, the pair of them tried to catch their breath, Guppy swallowed the sperm remaining on his tongue, and Patrick clutched his cock squeezing out yet more of his thin boyish cum.

"Shit, I'd never cum like vat before. It woz spurtin' all over va place, like some sort a 'ose-pipe." The boy said proudly.

"Glad I could help you out, matey!"

"Fuck, man," Patrick barely whispered, "vat woz awesome! I'll been sweating me nuts off, trying ta build up vat much spunk again."

"Your girl will be ever so pissed if it takes that long, matey!" Guppy teased, licking his lips.

"Fuck `er! She is a stupid tart anyway." Patrick grunted an insult for his imaginary girlfriend. "You're a great suck. Yer `ad me all over the shop, mate!" Patrick was suddenly quiet and he averted his eyes from the man, as he stood and pulled up his jeans.

"It's all right, Patrick, I am sorry, about my joke about your girl, matey. Any girl that get to that cock of yours is really lucky." The gentle giant said conscious that this young straight lad had blessed him with a great gift and the least he could do was reaffirm his heterosexuality. "Well I best be settling me debts..." said Guppy fishing in his wallet for a five pound note.

Patrick stood and eyed up the huge man: his vast shoulders, his height, his thick black curls, his broken nose, his immensely thick neck.

"Give over, mate! Vat were all bollocks about va five quid. I just said vat ta see if ya would go for it. I ain't on va game, ya know!"

Then abruptly Goliath plucked him up off the ground, like a feather and crushed Patrick to his huge chest and planted a kiss on the cheek.

Dangling in mid air, Patrick pulled away quickly and crinkled his nose at him with a frown. "None o' vat kissin' shit, mate! I'm not a limp-wrist queer." He blurted defensively.

"I know. Don't worry, matey."

"If ya wants vat shit yer better off wiv me brovvers, or Snowy Whyte and his Seven Anoraks." Guppy opened his eyes wide. What could the boy be talking about? Patrick continued: "Come ta think o' it, I wonder wot me little brovvers would make o' ya mate? I mean, they might be only little sprats, an' all! Ain't really old enuf ta be shaggin', but they both go at it like va clappers!"

Just then they both heard the door to the public toilet open! Guppy gasped.

"Pratt? Are ya still there, mate?" A very young pre-teen boy's voice called out rudely. "Don't tell me! I'll bet yer been flushed away wiv va other shit?"

"Oh God!" Goliath barely whispered and he gently put Patrick down gain.

"Relax mate! I told ya I'm wiv a bunch a proper perverts!" Patrick grinned gleefully enjoying the man's shock almost as much as he had liked his blowjob. "I'm in `ere ya fat little queer!" Patrick joked and pressed the palm of his open hand to the man's bulging crotch. He was suddenly a bit sad that he had not even seen what the man had in his pants.

"I can't help it for what I am," Cedric said defensively.

"Keep yer knickers outta a bloody twist, Sneezy," Patrick scolded playfully.

"Hurry it up, mate," Cedric panted. "Felix want's ta get going!"

"Why don't yer come out and meet up wiv me mates!" Suggested Patrick Pratt unlocking the door and smiling at the disconcerted looking giant. "They all proper pervs too!"

"Alright, Sneezy?" Patrick stepped out of the cubical first and greeted Cedric.

"Blimey wot's all vat white stuff spurted all over ya jeans?"

"Well I'll tell ya the truth, Cedric, I was just wiff this giant wot woz givin' me dick a serious workout, an' next minute I am watchin' va slimy spunk shootin' out o' me dick like I'm a bleedin' jet fountain. Fuck knows where, it all come from!"

"A giant?" Cedric snorted contemptuously, "I ain't daft or nuffin'."

Then Goliath Churchill Guppy squeezed his way out of the cubbyhole-sized closet and confronted a small chubby boy in an anorak.

"Fuckin' `ell!" Was all little Cedric managed to say!

"We better take Goliath here to meet the boss..." said Patrick.

"Well Felix is right outside, waiting for ya mate!"

"Not Felix! The Boss -- Snowy, mate! Snowy Whyte!"

The odd thing was, there was something about the way he said it, that made Goliath think that when the Rugby club bundled themselves and their bags back onto the minibuses at about 4 o'clock for the journey to the final match, that he would not be going with them!

******

When the famous phrase is uttered in a Hollywood movie: "Take me to your leader" - you know that you are in for a surprise. But no kind of the apes; hairy troll; scaly monsters or creature from outer space - could have surprised Goliath Guppy more that the eleven-year-old boy to whom he was lead. He was small had delicate features and wore his white hair long, in a sort of page boy cut.

"So... so w-w-where are you a-a-a-all f-f-from?" Asked Guppy, nervously trying to make conversation with the lad.

"Windsor!" Came the chorus of reply from the entire groups who were all trying to listen into the conversation between Snowy Whyte and Goliath Guppy.

"Oh? Oh I k-know W-w-windsor!" Guppy said slowly. " I was once sent there to a sort of sports research laboratory. A place in the woods it was. I don't suppose you would know it."

Snowy Whyte turned and grinned at Patrick Pratt triumphantly: "Gotcha!" he said, "I told you I recognised him!"

"Coulda been any place mate! Didn't `ave to be Doc's lab!" Patrick argued.

"Did you have to give a sperm sample and donate a pair of underpants?" Asked Snowy sweetly.

"Well yeah..." said Guppy blushing and looking rather nervous. " But how did you know?"

"It was our home for a while..." said Patrick acknowledging defeat, " Snowy, `ere and me bothers and me all lived wiv Doc when our Dad were in trouble wiv va law."

"Well Mr. Guppy now you will have to come with us!" Said Snowy. "Doc will want to see you he is waiting for us back at the main camp and the Vicar is coming up to help collect us on Saturday and he owes you ah huge big thank you..."

"I don't understand..." said Guppy genuinely confused.

"Why, you left behind a Jockstrap of yours didn't you." Said the blond child.

"Yes I did..."

"Well the Vicar got it form Doc and he gave it to the Bishop of Blackball for his birthday and the old boy had never been happier!"

"Ol' Geezer said it were ve best bleeding present `e ver `ad in `is life!" Said the small fat boy!

"Oh my God!" Said Goliath Guppy who sounded as though he had just been winded by a low-tackle in the 78^th minute of a cup final match.

******

It is ironic that the Peak District is memorable for its lack of peaks! In fact the Peak District gets its name from its early settlers rather than its geological features. The Dark Peak in the north is mostly a heather-covered peat bog moor with imposing gritstone outcrop, while the White Peak is the name given to the limestone outcrop which forms the central core of the Peak National Park. This is the bare-bones of the Peak District, a lofty plateau of limestone formed from the fossilised remains of sea creatures which existed in a warm, tropical sea some 330,000,000 years ago.

Although it is the highest region of the Peak District, Trollope Scout has not actually a summit and it is often referred to as Trollope Plateau. It is an area of some four square miles of bleak windswept peat bog. The plateau itself, whilst beautiful in its own way, is no place for the inexperienced. Once away from the edge on to the plateau you cannot see any landmarks to find your way, so a compass, map and knowledge of how to use them are essential.

This is made harder as the rivers and streams on the plateau carve deep trenches into the bogs that mean walking up and down the peat hillocks, in and out of the beds. In summer the bogs don't dry out and the landscape can look like something out of a science fiction movie. The fog and mist can descend rapidly, even on nice days.

It was around four in the afternoon when Osbert Prim discovered his compass was missing. The orienteering Anorak was experience enough to know that if one came ill prepared and you could end up a statistic!

And now this -- no compass! The weather was taking a turn for the worse. Osbert knew that out here you always needed to know where you are.

"Tell ya wot, mate, let's pitch camp..." said Felix; "an' try to get outta `ere in the morning."

******

Jock Pringle had found a place in the woods, under an odd cluster of boulders where he could comfortably lie down out of the worst of the rain, not far from the place he and his friends would be camping that night.

"ATTCHOO!" He heard Cedric not far off. If he raised his head and peered through the tasselled tops of the long grass hiding him, he could just make out some of his fellow St Giles choirboys setting up the tenets; trying in vain to get a fire going in the rain, and generally horsing around. They appeared to be the closest company he had.

It wasn't, he told himself, that he was a real wank-addict. He didn't masturbate half as much as some of the other guys. Twice a week was about average, but his will did have a mind of its own and perhaps if he did it more, he might have less trouble with nocturnal ejaculations.

Choosing a suitable spot where he wouldn't be interrupted was important to him. He also liked to have a suitable fantasy worked out beforehand. But most of all Jock didn't want to be rushed: he needed to feel he could take the time to enjoy the warm aftermath of a really good cum.

The voyeur, who was observing Jock, unseen, from behind one of the conifers beside him, saw a conventionally handsome thirteen-year-old lad, with ginger-coloured hair, which the rain had plastered to his head, light green eyes and rather thin eyebrows, high cheekbones, snow-white teeth and a generous mouth. A closer inspection of Jock's face revealed a myriad of freckles, which at places practically joined up.

Unfortunately for the infiltrator he was not close enough to detect the distinctive musky-sweet odour of an adolescent boy who had recently started to discharge male pheromones. The fragrance was one, which would disturb the tranquillity of susceptible humans - female and male. It was a heady compounded of healthy boy breath, wet-but-unwashed boy-skin, boy hair and partially evaporated boy-sweat.

In preparation for his pleasure, Jock had pulled up his T-shirt above his navel and shoved his Levi's and Jockey shorts part way down his thighs. Now the fingers of his rough, rather red right hand began to move on a sturdy erection, slowly pulling its sheaf of loose skin up and down over the hardened core. From time to time he broke this rhythm, brought his hand to his mouth, generously moistened his fingers, transferred the spittle to the important surfaces of his penis and then started rubbing it again.

What were the fantasies, the visions that accompanied his lazy masturbatory stroke? Well, Jock Pringle was thinking about Goliath Guppy!

Jock tried to fight it but no matter how much he tried to substitute women he kept coming back.

"It's no right," he kept on insisting to himself. Jock had a habit of talking to himself while he had a wank, which the poor voyeur found both troubling and well as informative. But all of Jocks objections the a fantasy about a man did not help. Kylie Minogue was clearly no match for the strapping six-foot-four-inch, twenty-year-old, rugger international.

Jock had always thought himself a football man -- he was a Glasgow Ranger's fan, after all, but then Patrick Pratt had under mysterious circumstances brought Goliath Guppy -- hero of the sports pages in the papers - to meet them. Now he was joining them for the rest of the hike! It was unbelievably exciting - far too exciting for a straight lad to consider normal!

Guppy had said farewell to his team-mates and just before the St Giles group had set off on their walk they -- Jock and Goliath - had exchanged a look. It had been a hell of an experience - a sport international had deigned to look at him - to recognise something in him. For a moment there Jock's young heart had somersaulted in his chest and he had stopped breathing. Worst of all he had seen that inside Goliath Guppy's rain-soaked white rugger shorts, he had a very hard erection that was embarrassingly evident, right up to the increasingly wet, pink spot at its tip. Worst of all Jock knew that it was for him - the huge man-mountain found him hot and attractive!

Jock was not gay! He didn't want to be queer! He wanted a lassie and babies. He had rejected the approaches of Felix Jollybottom, and Patrick Pratt and now all he could think of was Guppy. What the fuck was wrong with him? Was he sick? Had he caught the queer sickness when Felix had been sucking him off?

"NAW!" He shouted out trying to escape his own feelings," laddies canna fall in love wi other laddies," he exclaimed but nevertheless, Jock had been aroused: now he gave up trying to think only of women. He tried to force the image of Goliath Guppy to make love to a woman! Yes! He would make him the world's greatest male lover -- fucking a woman!

In his minds-eye Jock saw, Guppy together with a woman - their lips locking, tongues searching, a passion driving them to unite.

Goliath Guppy took charge, now, lowering himself, wetting his tool, sliding it around a bit, then entering the woman slowly, letting the penetration proceed at a natural pace, once fully inside her he paused, until the blond woman begged him to proceed! Goliath Guppy refused until he was good and ready; then he began almost imperceptibly to fuck, building a little, tapering off, restarting again, until the woman was frantic with suspended passion and yelling: "Fuck me Guppy! Fuck my hot cunt." At last decide to go for it: slamming, thrashing, forcing his way to orgasm, and firing bullets of sperm deep into her cunt.

But Jock didn't let himself come, not yet. It was too soon, and he had the luxury of a whole hour in front of him. Goliath Guppy was a good springboard for more fantasy.

It wasn't, he tried to tell himself, that he was attracted to Goliath Guppy, not like a queer would be. No! It was just that Goliath Guppy was such a fantastically successful person, every guy's ideal of the potent lover.

Now Jock imagined Goliath Guppy wanking off. Jock conjured up Goliath Guppy naked in a tent, every muscle and sinew of his fine body glistening in the half-light, while his hands caressed a huge, fat, uncircumcised tool. Goliath Guppy lay with his head thrown back, mouth slightly open, penis and knuckles wet and shimmering, as he pumped away. Jock could almost hear the slurp-squeak-slurp of tiny bubbles of pre-cum and spit bursting against the fat cockhead.

At last the sap rose in Goliath Guppy's loins: and Jock Pringle didn't choose to put off his own climax any longer either. "NAW!" he shouted.

Pausing one last time to anoint his cock, he wrapped his hand carefully around it, started pumping, wanking harder, until his body spasm with exquisite spasms. A fountain of thick, white spunk spewed out of the imaginary Guppy's cock, executing a brilliant trajectory through the air, then fell onto that fucking marvellous chest of his.

"Oh fuck!" Jock Pringle yelled out, "Cum all over ma cock an' balls, willya, Guppy?"

This time Jock did come and, even if his ejaculation couldn't be compared to the imagined fountain he had attributed to Guppy, it had been a fucking grand wank.

He closed his eyes, hand still clutching his sticky-wet cock, and stopped himself slipping gently off to sleep.

"Ye'd better go an clean yersel up. Ye've made a right mess o' yersel," he said to himself.

The voyeur left Jock under the trees - he had seen and heard all he needed to know.

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