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All's Well That Ends - In Bed
The first time Terry Forton saw Tim Parish he was immediately attracted to him. Tim was shown into Year 11 Form room at Kingsthorpe High by the School Secretary a few days after the term had begun. The Form master, Mr Hughes was obviously expecting him and he announced to the class:
"This is Tim Parish. He's just moved into the area so he's starting a bit late." He looked round the class for a vacant place and Terry saw a red flush flood the back of Tim's neck as the gaze of the whole class was centred on him. Not that there was anything for him to be ashamed of. Tim was well set up - Terry could see the broadness of his shoulders even under his new Kingsthorpe High School blazer. His hair was black and slightly long at the back and it curled under at his collar. He had a tanned skin and the clearest of clear grey eyes.
Mr Hughes pointed to a spare seat next to Janice West. "Just sit there for the time being, Tim," he said, "until you get yourself sorted out and make some friends."
Tim scuttled over to the seat and sat down obviously pleased to be out of the limelight as soon as possible. Terry who ten minutes before had asked Kevin Peters to sit with him cursed under his breath. Now he was saddled with Kevin's ungainly bulk and incipient acne when he could have had that angel sitting with him. He looked over and saw that Tim had already started a conversation with Janice who was looking very pleased with herself.
The Form period drew to a close and the bell went for the first period - Maths, and Terry caught up with Janice and Tim as they went out together through the door.
"Hi," said Terry. "I'm Terry Forton. Welcome to the Penal Colony. What Maths group are you in?"
Tim smiled at him and Terry melted inside but Janice wasn't letting go so easily. "It's alright, Terry," she said. "Mr Hughes asked me to look after him today. I'll show him to Mr Johnson's room."
"But that's my Maths group," objected Terry. "There's no point in your going out of your way. I'll see he's OK. I'm not going to kidnap him of anything. " I wish, he thought to himself.
Janice though was not giving up so easily and looked ready to make a stand. Tim, however, joined in.
"There really isn't much point," he said reasonably, "if Tim is in the same group." Terry's heart gave a great leap but then Tim added, "I'll catch you later," and it crashed into an undignified heap somewhere in the pit of his stomach.
Janice wandered off and Tim, waiting until she was out of earshot said, "Thanks for rescuing me from the Vampire" which was unkind though not particularly inappropriate. But it made Terry laugh (even though had he been honest with himself) she was doing no more than he himself was trying to do.
From that point on they were the best of friends finding out things they had in common and things they were individually interested in which, because it was the other's interest, soon became theirs as well.
Terry found out soon enough that Tim's family had moved into a house only a couple of roads away from his own home and soon he was as frequent a visitor at the Parish house as he could be without exciting comment.
That September was the end of a perfect summer with hot sunny days making school work a trial and the open air a necessity. Tim's parents were of the old-fashioned sort who thought that money should be earned and so Tim often had a whole list of jobs to do around the house if he wanted what they still referred to as 'pocket money' and what Tim and Terry knew as the wherewithal to buy the basic essentials of teenage life. Terry's parents had a rather more laissez-faire attitude, giving him money when he asked for it and so he would often help Tim with his jobs. He would of course have walked off the end of the world had Tim demanded it.
One weekend about three weeks after they had become friends, Tim told him he had to clear out the guttering at the top of the house of the leaves and moss which had accumulated there over the summer months and which, once autumn really came and it started raining, would block the water and probably cascade down the wall causing wet rot, dry rot, fungus and Death Watch Beetle - if not Foot and Mouth and Swine Vesicular Disease.
Terry immediately volunteered to help though he did admit that he wasn't very good at heights.
"No problem," said Tim. "All you have to do is hold the bottom of the ladder steady while I climb up and take all the glory."
It was another bright, warm end of summer's day and Tim, when Terry arrived, was wearing a grey T-shirt and some very short, though not particularly tight shorts. His long legs were athletic and tanned brown after the summer's sun. He wore no socks but trainers. Terry looked them up and down and wondered, with a sudden familiar spurt of lust, what it would be like to run his hands up them and on inside those blue denim shorts.
"OK, second-in-command," said Tim. "Let's get this ladder up." They hoisted the aluminium ladder up the side of the wall and leant it against the guttering at the top. "Now just keep your foot on the bottom rung," he continued, "to stop it slipping." He climbed quickly up and Terry obediently put his foot on the bottom rung. Tim was already nearly at the top and Terry looking up found that he could see further up those gorgeous legs. He could almost swear that Tim was not wearing underpants and that he could see what could possibly be the shape of a pair of balls lying against the inside of his left leg. They were in shadow though and Terry, feeling slightly faint, was not sure if it was not his own fevered imagination which was providing him with such intense stimulation for stimulated he certainly was and he knew that he was getting an erection inside his jeans.
Tim kept moving from leg to leg as he dug out the contents of the gutter with one hand and dropped the leaves onto the ground beneath him at the base of the wall. Terry kept trying to adjust his vision as he peered first up one leg and then the other to see whether he could make out anything more clearly - but Tim was some eighteen feet above him and the sun was shining brightly almost into his eyes and Terry was getting more and more frustrated.
Suddenly Tim called down. "This isn't getting anything done with only one hand. Do you think you can come up and hold my legs so that I can work with both hands."
Terry's fear of heights was quite severe but his lust was even more so. All the same he didn't want Tim to thing him too eager. "I'll try," he said.
"Just don't look down," said Tim encouragingly. "Keep looking up" - advice which Terry had no need of. Slowly he approached those legs, keeping his gaze glued to the gap between them and the shorts. He was certain of it now. Tim wasn't wearing underpants. He could see the bulge of his arse and, as Tim turned to look down at him and took the weight off his right leg, he could look right up and caught sight of his cock, hanging down and nestling in some dark fuzz of pubic hair.
Terry swallowed. It felt as if his throat had suddenly seized up and he was sure that the intense excitement he felt must surely show on his upturned face. But Tim did not seem to notice.
"Well done," he said. "You're doing fine." Terry reached a stage just a few rungs down from Tim. His face was level with Tim's calf and had he dared to, he could have laid his cheek against its well-muscled silkiness.
"OK," said Tim. "Now grab hold of my leg." Terry grasped Tim's ankle but that wasn't good enough. "No," said Tim. "You'll have to hold me higher than that. Down there won't stop me if I over-balance."
Terry climbed another two rungs and, greatly daring, put his hand on Tim's left thigh, just below the bulge of his arse and in fact just inside the leg of his shorts. Tim gave a momentary start but then relaxed as if this wasn't quite what he had meant but perhaps decided it would be stupid to quibble over a few inches. He turned back to the guttering and with both hands stretched began to gather armfuls of litter. He moved his weight from leg to leg and Terry felt something soft graze the back of his hand. It could only be Tim's balls or cock. He lifted his fingers slightly and gently moved them against whatever it was. He wasn't sure but thought that the bulge at the front of the shorts had developed somewhat. As Tim put his weight back on his left leg, Terry moved his hand up an inch and now it was almost in the crack of Tim's arse, while his fingers round the front were certainly resting against a pair of warm, slightly sweaty balls.
All too soon though, Tim had cleared out the guttering and now grasped the ladder with his own hands.
"OK, mate," he said. "You can let go now unless you're holding on to stop yourself falling. Let's get down out of this sun." Terry could see droplets of sweat on his forehead and there were dark patches under his arms. He looked hot and rather flustered though whether it was only from the sun or from Terry's activities, he couldn't be sure.
Mrs Parish was in the front room with some books spread out in front of her when they went in. She was doing an Open University Course on Sociology or something dead boring according to Tim who called out to her. "We've finished the gutter, Mum. We're going upstairs now."
"Thank you Tim. There's some Coke in the fridge if you want a drink. By the way could you clear up your room just a bit."
They took some cans and went upstairs. Once in Tim's bedroom, Terry looked around. He hadn't been there before. The bed was made but there were clothes lying around on the floor and books and CDs were scattered over any available surfaces. Terry put the cans on the bedside table. From the ceiling hung model planes, beautifully finished and painted. Some were from the Second World War and Tim recognised a Spitfire.
"I didn't know you made models," said Terry.
"Don't any more," said Tim. "Just haven't taken them down."
"You're a bit of a slut," commented Terry, looking at the mess around him.
Tim, instead of replying, took off his T-shirt and, before Terry knew what he was doing, wrapped the sweaty garment round his friend's head. Tim smelled the fresh young sweat but, instead of being repulsed, was immediately turned on. He took a deep breath but then caution told him that this was hardly a normal reaction so he pretended to struggle out of the enveloping shirt. But Tim had it firmly around his head and wouldn't let go.
"Apologise," he ordered. "Say 'Tim, you're normally very tidy but things just got out of hand'."
Terry could tell where Tim was from his voice even though he couldn't see him and he suddenly lunged in his direction and grabbed hold of his body, feeling the naked flesh of his chest and back. Tim was taken aback and dropped the shirt and for a moment the two boys wrestled together. Then Tim who was the stronger flung Terry onto the bed and leapt on top of him. He sat on his chest and held Tim's arms flat on the bed over his head. His groin was just inches away from Tim's face. Tim would have been content to stay like that for ever but again he knew that that was hardly the acceptable attitude. He did a token struggle but his eyes were on that provoking bulge which was so near - and yet so far.
"Go on say it," said Tim.
Terry wasn't going to give in so easily. If he did there was nothing to stop Tim getting off and Terry was enjoying himself too much.
He tried to bounce him off, jerking his body up and Tim lost his balance and fell forward so that he lay across his face and Tim could smell the healthy, sweaty smell of the other boy and feel the shape of his prick through the material of his shorts. He put out his hand and grabbed hold of one of the ice-cold cans of Coke from the side table and brought it down gently but sadistically in the middle of Tim's over-heated back.
"Aaaaahhh!" shouted Tim and his groin drove itself into Terry's face as Tim's body tried to get away from the ice-cold can. Terry could feel the prick against his mouth and he opened it and gently nuzzled the shape with his teeth .
For one glorious, marvellous moment Tim lay there - an extended moment which for Terry might well have lasted a thousand years - and then he quickly pushed himself off and muttered about hurrying up with the cleaning up as his mother would soon be up to check.
That night Terry had a shower and, while drying his hair, looked at himself in the near full-length mirror which, much to his father's secret concern, he had installed in his bedroom. He saw a slim, boy with a thin face and a cap of straight blond hair. He was wearing only a pair of white jockey shorts and a denim shirt. His body was still unformed and angular but at least his stomach was flat, and he did not have Kevin's spots. He wondered whether anyone could ever think he was attractive. If only he was a girl, he thought but then he shuddered. He would not want to be a girl. Those floppy breasts and fat hips! And no prick! He put his hand down inside his briefs and felt himself. He would not want to lose that. If only Tim had felt like he did, he thought. They could have done the most exciting things together.
Thinking about what had happened - or at least nearly happened this afternoon, Terry felt his own prick harden and he took it in his hands and satisfied his frustration in the only way he knew.
The following day was Saturday and Tim and Terry had arranged to go up Buckfast hill, taking some sandwiches and making a whole day's expedition of it. The sun came out rapidly burning off the morning dew from the grass and skylarks sang as the two boys climbed the steep slope that led through Silva's Wood and up to Gunner's Tump, the neolithic tumulus that marked the crest of the hill.
The two boys were happy in each other's company and their arms and shoulders brushed as they climbed together chatting about the important events of their own lives and sometimes remaining silent but quite content not to have to talk when it wasn't necessary.
There were very few other people around, just the odd walker with dog and soon they were feeling hot. Tim took off his shirt and tied it round his waist and Terry admired the definition of his friend's body, nothing excessive produced by working out at a gym, but the natural good figure of a healthy fifteen year old adolescent. Terry kept his T-shirt on.
They reached the top of the hill where the wind blew. Tim put his shirt back on and they sat down on the grassy tumulus to eat their sandwiches. Fluffy white cumulus clouds drifted across the bright blue sky. It was like being on top of the world. Terry sat with his back against a standing stone which had odd markings on it. He wondered how many thousands of years it had stood there and who had originally put it up. Tim lay on his back next to him and gazed at the sky.
They didn't speak and each kept his own thoughts to himself but as the sun warmed him through his jeans, Terry felt the warmth lapping his body, sensuously feeling through his clothes, playing intimately with his skin. He spat out the grass stalk and cupped his hands behind his head, spreading his legs so that he lay, open and vulnerable, a sacrifice to the sun. Feeling himself constricted he moved his legs and covered his loins, bulging now, with his hands, one on top of each other, protecting, hiding, the under hand gently squeezing, easing himself so that his prick extended unimpeded along his leg.
He stole a look at his friend lying quietly beside him but Tim's eyes were closed, perhaps he was even asleep. His shirt was rucked up showing his flat stomach and his legs were spread. He looked sprawled and defenceless and Terry knew a moment of complete happiness.
What could be better than this peace and contentment? Well, of course he knew what could be better, if only Tim could see to the matter now needing pressing attention in his jeans. Or if he could reach out his hand to that perennially exciting bulge in Tim's shorts and know that he would be welcomed and the action reciprocated. If only! He gave a quiet sigh, apparently not quiet enough because Tim sat up.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
For a moment Terry thought of telling him what exactly the problem was but he knew he couldn't.
"It's nothing. If only we didn't have to go back," he said. "If we could stay here forever."
"You'd soon get hungry," said Tim. "You're a gannet, young Terry Forton. As soon as your stomach started rumbling, you'd be off like a shot down the hill to Mummy asking for a pizza." He jumped to his feet and stood in front of Terry.
"I've not seen you refusing food," retorted Terry. "In fact you had more than your share of the sarnies we brought. And who ate the extra piece of apple pie, Mum packed?"
"It was only to stop you getting fat," said Tim and added in mock governess tones. "It was all for your own good."
"Me - fat!" said Terry standing up and advancing on him threateningly.
In mock terror Tim turned and ran down the hill, hotly pursued by Terry.
Tim was the athlete and would have escaped easily had he not tripped over an exposed root half way down. He yelled, fell and rolled over a couple of times and then lay still on his back, his eyes closed.
Terry arrived a second later and flung himself down beside him.
"Are you alright, Tim?" he said but Tim did not answer.
"Tim," he repeated and put his hand on his chest, He could feel his heart beating. Then he saw that Tim's eyes were open and he was smiling.
"You bugger," said Terry and flung himself astride the other boy's body. Tim struggled, trying to throw him off, then suddenly he lay still.
Tim looked up at him, his eyes wide. "Yesterday - in my bedroom -"
Terry inched back down Tim's body so that he was sitting on his groin. He could feel a shape there which was rapidly growing hard. He felt his own erection build and knew it was pushing out the front of his jeans. Greatly daring he lifted himself and put his hand underneath to feel the other boy's swelling tool. All the time his eyes never left Tim's face. Then Tim shut his eyes, though he did not say anything.
Terry quickly got off and turned round so that he was facing the other way round. He sat astride Tim's chest and lowered his face so that it was with inches of the other boy's groin. His hand still groped at the now fully extended cock under the concealing denim. Almost trembling, he felt for the zip and slowly drew it open. Today Tim was wearing a pair of soft white underpants which still hid what he was looking for. He found the opening, dived into the warmth and drew out that prick that he had always dreamed of. It stood up, proud and erect, the head already exuding a transparent drop of excitement.
Slowly, and with great care, he extended his tongue and licked away the drop and then enclosed the cock with his own warm, moist mouth. Behind him he heard a sigh.
It was just eight o'clock when Terry arrived at Tim's house the following evening. Tim answered the door and seemed glad to see him but once they were sitting round the kitchen table drinking a cup of instant coffee, he looked rather ill at ease.
There was a silence.
"Where have your parents gone?" asked Terry making conversation.
"Er - just to the pictures," said Tim.
"When will they be back?"
"Oh, elevenish. . . . Look, Terry about yesterday . . ."
Here it comes, thought Terry but Tim looked at the table in front of him and said nothing.
"We ought to talk about it," said Terry. "After all it happened."
"It shouldn't have done," said Tim.
"You enjoyed it," said Terry.
There was no answer.
"Didn't you?" he persisted.
"It was wrong."
"I don't think anything that doesn't do any harm to anyone else can be all that wrong."
Again Tim said nothing.
"Did you like what I did to you?"
There was a long pause - then, "Yes . . . and . . ."
"And?"
"And I wanted to do it to you."
It was Terry's turn to say nothing.
"Terry."
"Yes."
"You know I said my parents were at the pictures? Well they're not. They've gone away for the weekend. Left me on my own. I said I was old enough to look after myself."
There was an even longer pause while Terry assimilated this information. Then he said, "Don't you think we should make ourselves comfortable.
They went up to Tim's bedroom which was chilly in the evening and he switched on both bars of his electric fire. Soon it was warm. They sat on Tim's bed, side by side, close so that their thighs touched.
Terry put his hand on Tim's thigh and slowly move it upwards. Tim lay back and Terry grasped hold of his groin and softly squeezed him through the material of his jeans. Tim reached up and grabbed Terry's arms, pulling him down on top of him. Their faces were close and Terry's mouth fastened on to Tim's. There was a moment's resistance and then Tim responded, opening his mouth and letting his tongue join with Terry's. At the same time they pushed their bodies together, pressing pelvis against pelvis so that they seemed almost to be trying to get inside each other.
Tim came up for air. "Let's take our clothes off," he said.
Swiftly they took off trainers and socks, sweaters, shirts and jeans and underpants until they stood, completely naked facing each other. They both shivered with the chill and the excitement and they climbed into bed, holding each other, their tongues and hands exploring each others' bodies.
Terry, on top, slowly inched down Tim's body, kissing and licking. He paused and sucked at the nipples, then went down and put his tongue in Tim's navel. Tim giggled and wriggled so Terry went even lower so that he could feel the fuzz of pubic hair around that sprouting cock.
"Turn round," said Tim's voice, high with arousal, "so I can do the same to you. Terry needed no second urging and soon both boys' faces were buried in each other's groins. Terry ran his tongue up and down the erect shaft and then licked the firm young balls, taking each one into his mouth and gently mouthing them one at a time. Then he moved back and enclosed the prick as far as he could into his mouth. He could feel his own erection being taken into Tim's warm mouth and knew ecstasy.
He put one arm over Tim's legs and gently explored his arse. He found the puckered hole and inserted his finger. He heard Tim gasp and then felt him doing the same. He pushed harder, at the same time sucking and wanking with his free hand.
Tim gasped, "I'm coming," and then clamped his mouth down again.
There was a warm, salty spurt into Terry's mouth but all he felt was his whole being centred in his own groin as a source of pleasure, exploding and pulsing again and again.
Afterwards they lay there, sticky and satisfied, just happy to be together, occasionally stroking each other, finding out slowly and carefully, each other's secret parts.
At last Terry said, "I'm hungry." He realised that he had not eaten since midday and it was now getting on for nine at night.
"So am I," said Tim. "Ravenous."
They got up and made their way downstairs. On the way Tim said, "Do you have to go home tonight? You could stay here - if you wanted to."
Tim did want. While Tim was making some cheese on toast, he rang home hoping that his father would not answer, but it was alright, he heard his mother at the other end.
"It's a bit late," he said. "Is it alright if I stay over at Tim's? Mrs Parish doesn't mind and I can go straight off to school tomorrow from here." Well, he said to himself, if she doesn't know, she can't mind.
With official sanction to the stay received, they thought, over their supper, about what they would do.
"I'd like a shower," said Tim.
"Let's have one together," suggested Terry.
They jostled into the cubicle, laughing and pushing. Tim turned on the water so that it was hot and they soaped each other. As they got to each other's groins, they got excited, the lather slithering over erect cocks and balls.
"Turn round," said Tim.
Terry did so and felt soapy hands rubbing the cleft of his arse. He relaxed his muscles and a finger was inserted, then two. He bent over to allow even further access.
Suddenly Tim said, "Shall I put my cock in?"
Terry wanted him to, wanted to feel Tim inside him, becoming part of him.
"Yes," he said and then he felt the tip of Tim's penis nuzzling the hole, then pushing. He tried to relax but gasped when it actually pierced the sphincter. But then it was inside. He could feel it in him and the thought that it was Tim made him excited again. Added to that, Tim's hands came round and held his cock, rubbing it with the lather so that they slipped deliciously up and down. He pressed back to get Tim even further in and he started pushing in and out, getting quicker and quicker as he approached his climax.
Then Tim muttered in his ear, "Oh Terry, I love it, I love it," and Terry felt the spurt inside him and at the same time came himself so that he jetted onto the floor.
Afterwards they sat and watched the late-night movie on the TV curled up together on the sofa in front of the gasfire. Later they shared the same bed and spent their first night together.
-- Michael Gouda
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