Date: Wed, 06 Mar 2024 09:35:08 +0000 From: olhap1758472649 Subject: THE MONKEY'S GRIN, CHAPTER 9 THE MONKEY'S GRIN by Oliver Hapland This continues the story of thirteen-year-old Martin who inherits a certain piece of intimate sports equipment with special powers. Martin has managed to use the cricket box to help seduce some of his teammates but the mysterious monkey that seems to be its animus has made him pay some uncomfortable penalties. But its lure is too strong to resist and Martin still has hopes of sex with his best friend, Peter, who, in the hot summer of 1976, has gone off on the hunt for girls with another pal. Thanks to everyone who has commented on the story so far. Do keep your comments and encouragement coming if you want more. I love to hear from readers and I always reply. Email me at: olhap1758472649@proton.me Warning: this story contains descriptions of sexual activity by boys. This story is fiction. It is an artistic exploration of its themes and does not condone them. Check out my other stories: https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bisexual/adult-youth/schoolboy-stats https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/the-lustful-little-mouse/ https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/historical/little-lord-barry https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bisexual/celebrity/gullivers-pageboy Please consider making a donation to Nifty to continue providing all these wonderful stories http://donate.nifty.org/ THE MONKEY'S GRIN CHAPTER 9 Miss Newman circulated, speaking to groups, hearing faltering role-play dialogues and correcting pronunciation. I was pleased to work with Brian -- the secret knowledge, which the box down my trousers had given me, that he was randy made him curiously attractive, for a fat boy. When the teacher came to Brian and me and was instructing us sternly on something or other, I was shocked to find that the monkey gave me a sudden glimpse into her mind. If I were being charitable, I would say that what I saw there was her unconscious, but I suspect it wasn't. She was imagining Brian with no clothes on, visualising him nude with all his podgy dimples and flabby tummy. The teacher's face was set hard and gave no corroboration of such an erotic image. Yet, there was her mind playing over the curves and crevices of Brian's plump pubescent form. I decided the box must be malfunctioning and pressed it covertly closer into my groin. It was hot and the image from Miss Newman grew stronger -- there could be no doubt it was real. She moved on to the next group and I was left feeling bemused and a little jealous of my classmate for the feelings he could engender in our sexy teacher. Now, I am not a subscriber to Freud's theories, but a Freudian might attribute what Miss Newman did next to some sort of sublimation of her feelings. I, however, put it down to a streak of sadism. "Stand up, Brian," she said, calling the class together. "We are going to role play for everyone, you and I. You are the charcuterer and I am coming to buy something in your shop. How do you greet me?" "Err, bonjour, madame. Puis-je vous aider?" Brian articulated in a hesitant monotone. "Bonjour, monsieur," replied Miss Newman brightly. "Avez-vous un saucisson?" The boy looked blank. Miss Newman looked round at the class. "What did I just ask Brian? Yes, Vicky?" "You asked him if he has a sausage, miss." There was some sniggering and Brian coloured and shifted uncomfortably. "Not a sausage exactly," Miss Newman said, quieting the noise. "I asked Brian if he has a 'saucisson', which is like a thick salami." Somebody made a snorting noise and received a stern look. Miss Newman turned her attention back to Brian. "Puis-je le voir? -- may I see it?" "Er ... oui. Il y a ici." He motioned with his hands at an imaginary object on the desk. "Ah, ca a l'air rouge et bon -- it looks red and tasty." I could see, somewhere near the centre of Miss Newman's consciousness, an image of a stumpy adolescent cock. There were more titters from some of the boys. "Be quiet!" she ordered. She picked on a girl who wasn't paying attention. "Linda, how would I say 'I want a slice of your delicious saucisson'?" "Don't know, miss." Janet's hand shot up. "Je veux une tranche de ton saucisson delicieux." "Good girl!" The teacher repeated Janet's answer for the class and then we all had to say it in unison. Then she turned back to poor Brian, who was starting to sweat. "Et tu le vend combien?" "Er ... un franc cinquante, madame," he stumbled. "Parfait! C'est exactement ce qu'il me faut -- perfect! It's exactly what I need!" At break time I was in a huddle by the tuck shop with some boys from the lesson, one of whom was Brian (he was a little subdued), and another was Daniel, the ginger, freckly boy from cricket -- the one with the little brother called Christopher. The box had gone quiet again, but I was still getting a bit of indistinct connection with the minds around me, like radio static. "How d'you know that answer in maths, then?" Daniel demanded, reminding me of the first lesson of the day. "You're crap at maths!" It was true, but I bristled at his saying so all the same. "Don't know ... just did," I grumbled, through a mouthful of Cadbury's Curly Wurly. "I bet you was cheating," said a dark-haired boy, Keith. "It was too weird otherwise. And Watson thought so, too. D'you see the stare he give you?" Keith was an advanced boy for his age with lots of hair and a big dick, which I could see the bulk of in his trousers even now. It was quite common for him to spend ages drying himself after rugby showers so he could flaunt it -- much to everyone's annoyance. "Maybe Martin's actually been doing his homework," said Pincher, who was the other boy with us. "I always do my homework," I said defensively. Then, feeling that I was in danger of losing some street credentials, added hastily, "When I get time, that is." Pincher was a wiry sort of boy with high cheek bones and sticking-out ears, which became translucent with the light behind them. I secretly found him quite attractive, although he wasn't very nice to me. "Homework is so boring," said Daniel. "I wish there was a way of getting out of doing it." "Wouldn't it be good," said Brian, coming out of his reverie, "... wouldn't it be good if you could read a teacher's mind. Then you'd always get the answers right." I caught my breath and choked on my Curly Wurly. I spluttered and heaved as Keith bashed me on the back. When I could breathe again, I peered at Brian suspiciously. Had he guessed -- amazingly, impossibly -- about what I was able to do? But no, his expression showed only the usual innocent and slightly spacey Brian; this was just another example of the sort of wacky thing that he would always come out with. "That would be ace!" the others agreed. Keith turned up his face, musing. "If I could read people's minds, I'd read the girls' ... to see which ones fancied me." Brian crumpled up his second packet of Monster Munch and replied, "You wouldn't know what to do with them even if they did fancy you." "More than what you would," Keith rejoined. "All you ever do is wank in the bogs." And he made an imbecilic grimace and flapped a coiled hand up and down against the front of his trousers. "Uh, uh, uh!" "Oi-oi, tits ahoy!" Pincher interrupted, before the two of them could get into a fight, and five pairs of eyes -- including mine -- snapped round to where Deborah Rainsborough had just appeared from the mass of school uniforms by the notice board. Immediately, the mental "radio frequency" that I had been tuned to began to sizzle excitedly all around me. The mention of tits and the sight of Deborah's amply filled school jumper had made quite a number of cocks twitch. I wonder whether Deborah was aware of the type of trauma she caused boys. She didn't behave in a flirtatious manner, but she was obviously conscious of the voluptuous parcel that she carried in front and she never made any attempt to hide it. All of we boys were looking at it. Pincher was busily storing up images in his head to be used later; and Keith was wondering how good a come would feel with his dick clasped between those cushioning breasts; Brian was more interested in the long, pale legs of Deborah's best friend, Yvette, beside her: he was imagining parting their tight muscular flanks -- although exactly what delights they might conceal seemed to be a blank to him, as it was to me also back then. Pincher spoke for everyone when he sighed, "I wish we had gym with the girls today..." His dreamy voice made me wonder whether he had even meant to say it out load -- it was more like a private thought that had escaped. Keith took advantage of it. "Oi, Debbie! Pinch says he wants to have you in the gym." Deborah looked mildly amused at hearing this. Pincher took a swipe at Keith. "I never said that, Deb. I never!" She seemed disappointed. "I would of though," Keith called out, expertly dodging Pincher's fist. "I'd have you right now. Come over here, darling." Deborah screwed up her face and held a middle finger up at him. "I wouldn't have you if you were the last boy in the whole school -- I'd rather have Martin!" She said this last in a way that didn't sound as if it were meant as a compliment to me. "I wouldn't have you if I WAS the last boy," I retorted. Her comment reminded me, dispiritingly, that I wasn't the sort of boy whom girls went for. Throughout all of this, ginger Daniel had been rather quiet, but he became the sudden focus of my attention as I caught the edge of a thought he had been having. He was looking with interest at the girls, the same as the others, but their sexy legs were reminding him of something else -- not of girls at all, but rather of his little brother. This was not the first time I had caught a hint from Daniel that he and little Christopher might be "doing things" together. I was just about to zero in on his mind for a closer look when the bell rang for next lesson. At the sound, tumescent cocks deflated all around me and the mass of dark uniforms began to move in all directions as our group peeled off reluctantly to make its way up the corridor to the art block. I found myself walking with Brian. After going along in an awkward silence for a moment, I asked, with the easy matter-of-factness of boyhood, "Do you really wank in the bogs?" "No!" The denial was a little too forceful. "Do you?" "No," I said, lying, of course. I crossed my arms and hugged them to me as I walked along. "I feel like it sometimes, though -- with all these girls around, I mean." I wasn't sure where I was going with this subterfuge, but it was exciting. "Yeah," said Brian relaxing, "sometimes I think what it would be like to have X-ray vision, like Superman, so you could see through their clothes." "And see their tits and fannies and things," I chimed in. Unfortunately, we didn't get a chance to carry this line of conversation further because we had arrived at the classroom and I didn't sit with Brian in Art. I did get a sense, however, that the conversation had blown on an ember that had been smoldering within him all day, for every time I looked at him, hunched over his daubed painting of a pot plant, I picked up a faint emanating pulse of erotic energy. I wasn't so interested in the others now, only in him. After the lesson it was lunchtime but when Brian funnelled through the classroom door in front of me I saw him hoist his bag across his back and, with head down and shoulders hunched, break away from the throng that was heading towards the refectory. He sidled off through a set of double doors that led down to the science corridor. It was a funny way to be going since there weren't any clubs that day; I thought I had an idea of where he might be heading. I hung around the doors for a moment pretending to peruse the sports noticeboard and then pushed though the doors after him as soon as I thought he must be far enough ahead not to notice me following him. Sure enough, I was just in time to see him going into the toilet next to the lab technician's cupboard. Unlike most other toilets in the school, this one was not divided into cubicles; it was just a single WC with a wash basin in its own little room, whose door communicated directly with the corridor. I don't know what I expected to achieve by following Brian down there -- perhaps I had a vague notion that I might be able to hear what he was doing inside (very unlikely) or perhaps hide and observe his appearance when he came out, to see whether he looked dishevelled or hot and flushed. The corridor was deserted. I could hear the teachers in the science staffroom laughing and chatting in that uninhibited way that teachers always did without kids around. As I crept up to the toilet door, I could feel the unmistakable vibration of sex radiating from behind it. I say unmistakable although I had had no idea up till then that sex had any such detectable quality, but I certainly recognised it now. The door seemed to hum in some subsonic way that I sensed with my body rather than with my ears. The monkey glowed between my legs, stimulating and arousing me. On the other side of that door Brian must be sitting with his trousers down ... or perhaps he was standing up over the toilet bowl -- no, I felt sure he was sitting down. I had enough experience with the box by this point to know that I had good connection with Brian's mind, and I knew with all certainty that he was at that moment tossing himself off. *** Do email me with comments and suggestions, and tell me what made you excited and what you would like more of. If you like, tell me how old you are and where you are from. Also, I'm always glad to share boyhood memories. Drop me a line! olhap1758472649@proton.me Check out all my stories: Schoolboy Stats -Joseph gets a shock when some girls reveal his most shameful habit to the class. But he's not alone! https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bisexual/adult-youth/schoolboy-stats The Monkey's Grin -13-year-old Martin inherits some intimate sports equipment with strange powers. https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/the-monkeys-grin The Lustful Little Mouse -the budding young son of a Russian diplomat discovers sex in Victorian London. https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/the-lustful-little-mouse/ Little Lord Barry -the tale of a wicked rich boy in the time of King George. https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/historical/little-lord-barry Gulliver's Pageboy - a comedy about the traveller's sexual adventures with a larger-than-life adolescent. https://www.nifty.org/nifty/bisexual/celebrity/gullivers-pageboy