Benedicts Bulging Briefs

Benedict's Bulging Briefs, Chapter 7, (H/S) (t/t) (u'wear, uniform, sportskit)

Disclaimer: This story is entirely fictional and not intended for minors or those judged unable by law to read this material. Any resemblance to actual people is purely coincidental and unintended. All ages depicted are actually understated and the term's 'boy', 'youth', etc. do not in fact mean that the characters are less than 18 years of age.

Benedict awoke early on the Monday morning. Normally, Monday's were something to look forward to; after all, there was a game of squash to be played with Simon that evening. However, today was definitely a case of the 'Monday blues'. Still troubled by how he'd treated Adam; like a toy, a plaything, to be picked up, shaken, and tossed to one side again, Benedict struggled out of bed and shuffled along to the bathroom. His cock, hard and proud in all its morning glory, tented the white MUFC footie shorts he'd worn in bed. Entering the bathroom the youth pulled his shorts down and his cock slapped hard against his stomach as he tried to concentrate on the need for a piss. The teen often found he'd have to wait awhile before his prick would subside sufficiently. Indeed, he'd often end up depositing a creamy load down the ceramic bowl before his resentful cock would allow a stream of hot yellow liquid to pass through its portal.

Today was no different; his cock didn't seem to care about the rest of him, like a restless animal it pulsed and strained; seeking to satisfy its insatiable hunger, the only need it had and knew. Feeling pissed off - he laughed at his unfortunate choice of words - the tall teen nipped the flaring cockhead. His nails bit deep into the angry flesh, as though he was seeking to punish and chastise his feckless manhood. I can't just blame my cock he thought, as, beginning to soften at last, his warm hose sprinkled the porcelain with hot urine. Shaking himself he pulled up his shorts and went over to the sink. He washed his hands and decided he might as well shower now rather than later. The hot water, spraying over his lean smooth body eased him somewhat. Feeling a bit brighter, as though the steaming spray had washed away more than just grime and sleep, the boy towelled himself vigorously and slipped quietly out of the bathroom. Luckily he'd slipped the towel around his slim waist for he was greeted with the sight of Dom, who looked sleepy and still not fully awake. Dom, robed in an over-large blue dressing gown, stood there with his arms folded evidently waiting to use the bathroom.

"You're up early," said Dom, somewhat accusingly.

Ben's younger brother was a habitual early riser and he liked this quiet time at the beginning of the day to himself.

"Err, yeah," answered Ben, surprised at seeing his brother, "woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. Soz for keeping you waiting."

Ben was anxious to be away as, at that moment, his younger brother was looking particularly sexy. The 'just woken up' look on the cherubic young face, the dishevelled hair and sleep filled bleary eyes seemed to enhance Dom's charms not lessen them. Fearing the stirrings in his groin, the pitiful towel, clinging and damp, was hardly up to the task of masking any movement in his cock, Ben turned and made for his room.

"Catch you later," he said, somewhat flustered.

"Sure," said Dom, watching his retreating brother enter his room.

... Shaking his head, wondering what was up with his older brother, the young teen entered the bathroom. He didn't know what it was with Ben lately; the two had always gotten along well. Now, it seemed as though there was a rapidly opening chasm appearing between them. Ben seemed funny around him, not his usual self, like as though he didn't want to spend any time with him. His brother seemed to be avoiding him and Dom was worried he'd upset him somehow. Yet, whenever they met, his brother seemed to be staring at him, like he was trying to figure something out. All Dom knew was that things weren't right, and he desperately wanted everything back to normal again.

What really worried him of course was the fear that his brother knew -that when Ben stared; he was filled with disgust for his younger brother. Because things had changed, they'd changed inside of Dom.

It had all started; he realised, when he'd spoken to his brother about underwear. Why had he done that? At the time it had seemed like a good idea, indeed Ben had been all right, well, quite cool about it actually. Now, he wasn't so sure. He'd left the room then feeling hot and strange, clutching the pair of white cotton briefs his brother had given him. He'd hurried back to his room to try the briefs on. He had checked himself out in the mirror the white briefs having made a stark contrast to the rest of him in the dim light of his bedroom. He'd pulled and tugged at the tight clinging material, loving its softness and the way it held his young meat. He'd loved the way you could see, yet not see his cock too. How you could gaze along the shaft and, at either end, come across the protuberance of his budding head or the roundness of his balls. He'd found himself stroking and caressing his cock, developing the 'bestest' hardon he'd ever known. In the mirror he'd seen a spread of damp developing at his cockhead, beginning to spread over the straining mound. Amazed, he didn't feel as though he'd cum, had experienced none of the usual feelings or signs, he'd eased open the briefs to inspect his cock. His piss slit was emitting a trickle of clear watery liquid that felt warm and sticky to the touch. Instinctively, he spread some on his finger and had licked it, trying to decide what it was. It tasted like cum, he tried his own once and not liked it, though it was different somehow too. He'd been worried at first, then confused. Suddenly he'd remembered playground talk, other boy's bragging about their cocks, their cum and their lube. This must be it, precum! It was supposed to help you enter the vagina. He remembered it all now, sniggering with other boys and feeling slightly embarrassed during biology one day, when they'd tackled human reproduction.

Tugging down the pants further he had collapsed on his bed and furiously pumped his hard tingling meat. He'd revelled in the feel of the new sensation as the greasy liquid allowed his hand to fly up and down his tender young shaft. This was much nicer than before, it didn't hurt his cock as much. There'd be some days when he couldn't touch himself; he' d felt so raw from his frequent wanking. As he pulled on his pudding memories of being with Ben, of sitting talking to him on his bed, feeling the warmth and heat of his brother at his back flooded into his mind. It had felt so nice just sitting there, talking with his brother; Ben had been really good and kind. There'd been a funny atmosphere about the place, and the room had seemed hot and stuffy. He'd tried not to stare at his brothers nipples, they'd looked hard and red, so much bigger than his own tiny pebbles. For some reason he'd wanted to reach out and touch his brother's smooth chest, to feel its heart beating, to lay his head there and rest awhile, his brother holding him. Terrified, he'd been transfixed, hadn't know how to get out, he'd felt his cock beginning to stir and thicken in his tight white shorts. Then just before the end, when his brother, thankfully, had sent him over to the chest of drawers he'd thought he could feel his brother's prick under the duvet. Certainly there'd been something there, hard at his backside. Then Ben had mentioned mum and dad and the moment had passed as though it had never taken place. Dom had cum buckets then, brought out of his thoughts by the hot jism that had splattered his chest and stomach. He'd never been so stiff, never cum so much before; whatever was happening to him had felt pretty good at that moment.

Worn out, he'd fallen into a deep sleep not five minutes later. When he'd woken in the morning he'd felt a bit troubled about some of the things he'd done and thought. Denial seemed the easiest option and with that fecklessness common to all youth he'd pushed the matter to the back of his mind. It hadn't gone away however.

Later, the next day, he'd gone into in the bathroom needing to pee. The boy, not long in from school, had just changed out of his school uniform. Lifting up the laundry basket lid, he was about to throw his dirty school shirt in, he'd spied his brother's jockstrap. Ben had only recently bought the jock, he'd mentioned it in passing, and Dom knew that he used it on Monday's when he played squash with Simon. It had obviously been worn the day before, right on schedule. For some reason, which he still didn't fully understand, he'd found his hand reaching out for the tangled jock. Dom had grabbed the jock, his fingers marvelling at the rough yet compliant cotton, and he drew it out of the basket to examine it more closely. If you looked really carefully you could picture where his brother's cock had lain and where the evidently meaty balls had rested. There were a few stains on the jock, not piss, not cum either he reckoned. Could this be more of the miraculous lube that had appeared so suddenly the other night? Even better he could see a single golden thread that was obviously from his brother's pubes. Shifting the jock in his fingers the hair seemed to glitter and sparkle. Dom had felt his cock beginning to stir in his patterned blue boxers.

Before stopping to think why, the boy had suddenly thrust the pliant pouch into his face. The smell of the jock, of his brother's sex, almost overpowered his young senses. The jock seemed to hold the history of every point of his brother's game with Simon. What was more it reeked of sex, of hot cock and bush and the jock was coated with a fine residue of his brother's oils and juices. Dom flicked out his tongue and his tastebuds had tingled at the savoury flavour; sort of smoked fish, yet somehow meaty too. If he thought his cock was stiff the other evening then that was as nothing compared to now. He couldn't believe how hard he felt, painfully so, and the young boy pulled down his boxers while all the time he licked and chewed, fawned and drooled over the tasty jock. Settling himself on the bathroom floor, Dom had gone to work on his swollen prick, that again wept precum and felt so hot and slick. His cock was not far off 5 inches, he'd been measuring its progress for the past 6 months and worried, like most boys, that he was too 'small' for his age, but surely now it must have reached 5 he thought. It must have! His cock had never felt so engorged, so stiff and unbending, it throbbed in his hand and Dom knew he was going to shoot soon.

His mind was filled with thoughts of sitting on the bed talking with his brother. This time however, Ben threw back the duvet, and invited him to suck his hard big man-prick. Dom was just leaning forward to do so, his tongue scouring the jock in his mouth, when he was brought back to reality by his own cum hitting his chin. His fuckin chin! Wow, he'd never managed that before, and still intensely aroused, he spewed his hot steaming load into the hollow of his belly. His navel, which stood proud and twisted from the ocean-bed of his flat stomach, was transformed into an island in a sea of milk.

Shattered, the young teen had lain their, sweating and panting, recovering his breath. All that he'd done and experienced had totally overawed him. Gradually though his feelings had slid towards horror and guilt. Since then he'd been stumbling around trying to come to terms with his new-found feelings. He knew he liked girls, he'd had an eye on Deborah Parker, a girl in his class, for a while, but he felt confused and disoriented by the strength of his feelings. The images of his brother, which arose in his mind like a thief in the night, could hardly be considered clean and proper. Even before Ben he'd begun to develop something of a crush for his best pal Andy O'Hara. He wanted to stroke his hair and cuddle him. Finding any excuse he loved to tumble and mess with his mate. Taking the opportunity in the heat of the 'fight' to grab his friends bum or brush against his cock. He couldn't forget either the occasion he sat in the theatre next to Ben, his brother had smelled really funny that evening, dead sexy somehow, and he seemed to playing with himself a lot, always adjusting himself. Dom had gotten quite hard, sitting next to him, scrunched up in the back seat of the car.

Then there'd been the new boy, Adam Pearson, who'd recently joined his scout group. He'd felt strange about him too. There was a chemistry between the two boy's that Dom didn't understand and couldn't identify either. He wanted to get to know Adam better and had planned to invite him over to stay for the night. He usually had more than one mate around to stay, but with Adam it was different. He wanted to have him around alone, by himself, the better to--to what? To have sex he'd realised after his encounter with Ben's jock and the images that had exploded in his brain. God, he hoped he wasn't gay! He didn't feel gay; not that he had any idea about how being 'gay' felt. Rather, he felt an overwhelming desire to experience sex.

Two months off his fifteenth birthday the boy worried that he'd been left behind. It seemed to him that everyone was doing 'it' and getting 'it', except him. Anxious not too miss the train, Dom wanted to make up for what he thought of as lost time. Fundamentally an honest straightforward boy, it didn't occur to him that many of the boys in his class were as inexperienced as he was. That they were not telling the whole truth, or that they exaggerated what they'd done, blowing it up out of all proportion. All he knew was that he was desperate for sex and, at this moment in time, his body didn't seem to care where it came from or how he got it.

The only sexual intimacy he knew was his brother's underwear and his own right hand. Both would have to do for now but he sure as hell wanted more than that. He didn't exactly feel comfortable chewing on his brother's underwear now did he? But he couldn't stop himself either and he found himself each evening laid in his bed waiting for Ben to retire for the night. When the coast was clear he'd slip quietly out of bed and creep into the bathroom. There he'd find his brother's briefs, still warm to the touch, and host to all sorts of odours, flavours and fun. By now he knew how his brother arranged his tackle, what his piss looked and smelled like, if he'd been horny and leaked precum or left traces of spunk in his briefs. For fuck's sake, he even knew if his brother had bothered to wipe his arse properly or not! Not that that particular experience excited him any.

Whatever else, it sure wasn't what he'd expected. You found a girl, you kissed her, fell in love with her and you became boyfriend and girlfriend, it was supposed to be as simple as that. His brother had been right about how his desire, to change his underwear, must be connected with his hoping for people to see him. Certainly when he'd gone over to Andy's on Saturday night and changed for bed he felt the other boys regarding him in a new and different light. Dom felt he looked okay in his crisp spanking new white briefs, and he was pleased to feel a certain acceptance and note a certain change in his relationship with his friends. He'd felt eyes appraising him in new light, caught hurried exchanged glances that seemed to say, "Hey check Dom out, he's becoming a real man, not a kid any longer." What he didn't know, was that two of the boys present, out of the group of five, had immediately sported stiffies at the sight and had become consumed with their own worries. Dom sensed, rather than knew, that his change to briefs signalled some sort of rite of passage. What he desperately wanted, more than anything in the world, was to reach his destination and complete the journey...

Ben being up and about so early in the morning had surprised Dom. What had really got his brain moving though, was the sight of his brother standing in the bathroom doorway looking sexy and damp. Just showered, not fully dried, his brother had looked unimaginably desirable, the white towel around his waist only added to the effect and it had clung to the bulge of his older brother's more mature manhood, defining and enhancing it. Entering the bathroom he knew he was going to have to wank. He could never get through a day at school carrying that around in his head. Instinctively, he threw open the lid of the laundry basket and saw a pair of white Man Utd footie shorts that he'd not seen before. They were obviously his brother's, and picking them up he was delighted to find that they were still warm. Plainly, they'd just been slept in and soon Dom was exploring the slinky warm nylon with his nose and tongue. They were a particularly rich pair, the tell tale stains, which overlapped, testified to their multiple use. His brother had left a great deal of evidence as to the contents of his dreams. The shorts were blotched with patches of old and dry cum and reeked of musk and sex. There were indeed traces of Chris Morgan in the shorts too, though Dom didn't know it. Smiling, telling his self that really he was doing his brother a favour, the boy obliterated all traces of past passion as he sucked the shorts dry. Shooting his cream onto the tiled bathroom floor the boy was soon under the hot shower and humming a song. Having dried himself, he tossed Ben's shorts back into the basket, checked that he'd wiped the floor properly and returned to his room.

Dominic had decided on a new policy over the weekend, what he called his 'fuck it' policy. Tried of all his doubts and anxieties over the last few days, he decided that he didn't know what the hell was going on inside of him. He certainly couldn't bloody understand it that's for sure. He'd decided 'fuck it, I'm only 14!' and reckoned that things would soon sort themselves out one way or the other. For the moment he was having a great series of wanks, the best he'd ever had, and well, if that's all he could get then so be it. He thought it extremely unlikely he'd ever get anything out of his brother anyway. Ben was sure to be horrified, hadn't he been avoiding him since the briefs thing? It sure seemed that way to Dom. Besides, his brother had had a number of girlfriends and Dom couldn't conceive of them not 'opening up' for his stud of a brother. Nah, Andy or Adam were a more likely bet, if then. Wasn't there supposed to be a thing about a 'phase?' Hadn't he read somewhere, his dad's newspaper maybe, about lots of boys his age developing a crush on another boy? Something to do with puberty he thought. Nothing usually came of it he remembered, or if it did, it usually didn't last. Oh yeah, and another thing, he resolved to screw up his courage and ask Deborah Parker out on a date. It was suddenly very important to find out if was screwed up on that side of things too!

Ben had left his brother and closed his bedroom door. He sank wearily onto his bed, just sitting there with his eyes closed, trying to control himself. The sight of his brother looking so cute and adorable was the last thing he'd needed. Suddenly he'd remembered been groped during yesterday's footie match. Who the hell was that he wondered? Had it been Dom? It certainly could have been, his brother had undoubtedly had the opportunity that's for sure. Ben had briefly considered asking Adam, but somehow he just didn't think that he was the guilty party. There'd been something so open and honest about the boy that Ben couldn't believe he'd misjudged him. Adam just didn't seem the type somehow. No it had to have been someone else, but who? Ben didn't know but was determined to find out. Hell, he thought, shaking his head, a wry smile at his lips, with my record I might as well sleep with 'em all and know for sure!

The thought lightened his mood somewhat and getting dressed for school the scholarly teen was soon at his desk taking notes from a learned tome. He found study came easily to him, and he resolved to do this more often, particularly with the need for revision fast approaching over the horizon. Besides being greeted in the morning by the sight of his own kid brother wasn't too shabby now was it? Grinning, despite himself, Ben returned to his study, though less bookish thoughts were never far from his consciousness, hovering there in the mist of his mind, rising and falling with the beat of his churning heart.

Soon the normal sounds of a school morning filled the house and Ben; looking at the time, realised he'd better grab some breakfast. As he made his way down the stairs he could hear his brother in the kitchen, telling his mother about Ben being up early. His mother laughed, obviously understanding her younger son better than he thought,

"You can't have the house to yourself Dominic, Ben must have needed to get on."

Ben entered the kitchen and was soon munching his way through a bowl of cereal. His brother, as so often seemed to be case recently, avoided his gaze and Ben worried that somehow Dom knew of his thoughts. Packing his school bag Ben was soon out of the door and on his way to call at Simon's. He hadn't seen Simon over the weekend, in itself an unusual occurrence, and he was suddenly anxious to see his beloved and to hear what he'd been up to. Hmm, loved one's; it was always a worry when you weren't around to keep an eye on them, to know who they'd been with, what they'd been upto. While they were never far from your thoughts, it might well be the case with them of 'out of sight and out of mind'.

In Simon's case he needn't have worried, his newly acquired driving licence had meant that the keen teen had spent every possible spare moment of his weekend in the car. In fact his only worry had been that his best friend hadn't been there to share it with him. He'd known Ben was busy with work and had a barbecue to go to, but he'd still wished that the two of them could have managed to get together. Besides, Benedict Johnson had been acting a bit funny lately, and Simon was hoping that by going to the concert together on Friday he might have a chance to straighten things out.

The two boys chatted amicably and easily. Ben listening to Simon, who was still enraptured by being able to legally drive. Simon looked so enthusiastic that to Ben he positively shone with radiance and boyish charm. I wish school uniform looked as good on me, he thought. Indeed, the uniform of black trousers, white shirt and 6th Form blue tie with red and white thin stripes, looked particularly good on his special friend. Simon's olive smooth skin and short tight curly black hair, which sparkled with gel, seemed to Ben, the ideal compliment to his school's attire. The dark and deep hazel eyes and the sharp jaw and cheekbones only added to the allure, and the navy blue school blazer helped matters too. Remembering Adam, Ben regarded his friend again, and took time to consider his beauty. Yes, Simon was beautiful, there could be no doubt about that, and he had floated into school exactly like the lovesick teenager he was.

The school day passed quickly and Ben was soon on his way home again. Waving goodbye to Simon, he hadn't called in as he often did, because he feared that he might not be able to control himself. There would be a weekend's worth of underwear in the Jones family laundry, and while for Ben this would normally have been an invitation not to be missed, he couldn't face going into the house and encountering Luke. Even worse was the thought that while he was there Luke would all the time be wondering if Ben wasn't in the bathroom licking and sniffing his and Simon's underwear. No he couldn't face that, not yet anyway, and the thought had brought on a cold silent shiver. Still feeling pretty fragile, the boy continued on his way, hoping that Tom would ring him back, soon. He was beginning to get worried about this evening's game of squash and desperately hoped that either Tom would ring or not turn up at all.

Back home, tugging off his blazer and tie, Ben grabbed a coke from the fridge and wandered into the sitting room. His brother was laid on the floor dressed like Ben in just a white shirt and coal black trousers. Flat on his stomach, the younger boy was watching television and munching a ragged looking sandwich. A half-drained glass of orange juice also stood on the floor, greasy fingerprints smearing the glass.

"Hi," said Dom, breaking off from the TV to greet his older brother.

"Good day?" enquired Ben, as he flopped onto the sofa directly behind his younger brother.

"Yeah, not bad thanks," said Dom turning back to the TV, "yours?"

"Err, yeah, all right I guess," said Ben suddenly distracted.

As soon as he sat down Ben realised he'd made a mistake. It wasn't the cartoons on TV that caught his eye. Oh no, far from it. It was the twin black orbs that packed and stretched his brothers school trousers that had taken his fancy. The trousers were an old pair; shiny and worn, and through the thin material the ridge of his brother's briefs was clearly visible. The briefs cut high and deep across the cheeks only added to the lustre of the peachy package, helping to define and contain their blossoming ripe fruit. The sight soon had Ben's cock hard and he put his hand into his pocket to try and sort out his tangled tackle. His brother's bum seemed to be developing much faster than the rest of him. Rather like a pathfinder, his brother's ass led the way and pointed to what was to come, basking in its present elite status, and its dominance of the frail lean body. It seemed to be way too big and ... juicy? Yes, juicy, thought Ben, unable to stop himself from massaging the burning bulb in his pocket. His brother's ass seemed to be perched somehow on top of the thin lean legs. As though a potter had suddenly found too much clay left over and had sculpted an extra layer onto the boy's flanks.

"Where's Sarah?" asked Ben.

"Eh?" said Dom lost in the cartoon, "Oh, swimming I think, or maybe netball."

The boys' parents were both at work, so the two brothers were in the house on their own. Ben decided to head upstairs and have a wank. There would be a pair of his brother's briefs, fresh from yesterday, to consume. He'd promised himself to try and stop. However, what he was staring at, had aroused a painful erection that couldn't be denied. Already he could feel the telltale stickiness clogging his briefs, as his cock began to leak its lube and begin its relentless odyssey towards climax and fulfilment.

Dom had been laid on his stomach feeling reasonably happy with things. For once his older brother hadn't run out on him and, although he'd not said much, at least he was still there. He'd become absorbed in the cartoons after that, quite content to just be with his brother and know that he was happy to be in his presence.

Benedict adjusted himself in his briefs and put his left hand into his pocket so as to mask his hardon. Standing up he said,

"Right, better go and get some work done," and he turned to leave the room.

Dragging his eyes away from his brother's pubescent peaches wasn't easy however and, not looking where he was going, Ben's foot caught the TV remote control that Dom had earlier tossed onto the floor. The sound of high pitched squealing voices, emanating from the TV, ceased and the cartoon on the screen froze and died, disappearing inside a tiny white dot.

"Oi!" cried Dom, whirring around to face his brother, raising himself up on his elbows, his knees drawn up and his feet biting into the carpet, "Ben! I was watching that!"

"Soz," said Ben, defensively, knowing what had distracted him, even then recording the images of his brother's scrunched up basket, "wasn't looking."

Ben stooped down to pick up the remote. As he bent his head forward he suddenly found his brothers arms around his neck and he was pulled rapidly to the floor.

"Gonna make you pay, you streak of piss!" laughed Dom, attempting to hold his lean taller brother in an armlock.

"We'll see about that short-arse!" laughed Ben in return, gasping somewhat at the suddenness of the attack, his left hand trapped in his trouser pocket underneath his body.

The two brothers had often wrestled and fought in the past, hurling insults, each attempted to best the other, both in the quality of their grip and the sting of their taunts. The fights were never equal of course, and it was an unwritten rule that Ben would hold something back, while his brother snapped and harried the older boy like a small feisty terrier. The 'fights' were nearly always good-natured, usually a way of releasing the pressure and excess that seems to build up in teenaged boys. Their feral ancestry, inhabiting still forming bodies, occasionally broke through the veneer of sophistication and civilisation. Some of the fights had ended in tears, though not many, and in the last year or so they had grown fewer in number. Although they happened less often, they tended to be much more intense affairs now, as Dom flexed his developing muscles and Ben was required to use more of his strength to subdue his growing brother. They'd not wrestled in a while. Neither boy had recently dared to expose his turbulent emotions to the maelstrom of their fight. Now that this encounter was underway, each brother instinctively sensed that its outcome mattered in a way no other had. No easily forgotten, quickly forgiven, 'I submit' would determine the course of this particular grappling. There was an uncertainty about the whole affair that was tangible and for a moment the two boys froze, locked in an unwelcome, though much-desired embrace.

Having grabbed hold of his brother Dom suddenly didn't know what to do. It had been a reaction thing, nothing particularly special or different from hundreds of other times. Until now that is. Struck by the enormity of what he'd done the young boy temporarily froze. He could feel his young cock humming in his trousers and the smell and feel of his brother, exerting himself, trying to break free from his grasp, bewitched and becharmed the ensorcelled youth. Dom was on his knees, and had his older brother's head trapped and locked under his right arm. His body was pressed against Ben, who felt hot and wiry, and Dom, recovering quickly, found himself trying to pull his brother's head forward and down, to drag him off his knees.

Ben had been taken completely unawares at first. Like his younger brother he too had frozen, had wondered what the hell to do. He was very conscious of how stiff he was, and that the reason for his hardness now held him in its grasp. The left side of Ben's face was pressed against his brother's chest. He could feel the heart beating rapidly and the smooth tight skin, exuding heat beneath the cool cotton shirt. He could smell his brother too, an odour not unlike his own, though he didn't know it. His brother produced a rich incense of honeysuckle and sandalwood, filling his nostrils with its aromatic perfume. Looking down, he could see his brother's small tight mound, and he thought he could detect a hard edge to the bulge before it disappeared into the jet-black folds and ridges of his schoolboy trousers. Still off balance, Ben could feel his brother tugging him forward and down, and inexorably he slid to his fate, doomed to encounter whatever he was to befall.

Dom was pushing his brother now, forcing him onto the floor. Putting his knee into the small of Ben's back he forced his brother face down into the carpet and, in order to increase his purchase he straddled his brother and slipped onto his back. Seeking dominance Dom pushed down while Ben, beginning to recover attempted to force his self up onto all fours, in preparation for the moment when he could cast off his brother. As Ben began to rear up Dom instinctively grabbed onto the sides of his older brother. Like a bear back raider attempting to tame a wild stallion he clung to the older teen. Trying to keep his weight on top of Ben, not wanting to be vanquished, his stiff hard cock prodded his brother's firm taut buttocks.

Ben reacted like a scalded cat; he spun round under his brother, and suddenly lay there stunned, regarding his younger brother who still sat astride of him. If he thought the situation was bad before then it had suddenly become infinitely worse. Feeling his young brother's prick, so obviously hard and pressed against his ass had triggered an immediate and instant reaction in Ben. Instinctively, he'd spun around to face his assailant and in doing so confronted a truth that neither boy could anymore avoid or ignore. The brother's automatically glanced, they couldn't help it, and then they looked again, only this time it became a more considered and searching probe. Yes, they were right, both of them! And then they stared at each other, both feeling utterly helpless and speechless, holding their breath and not daring to move a muscle.

As Ben had spun around and attempted to shake Dom off him, the younger boy had slid a short distance down his brother's legs. Now, as they faced each other, both of their bulging baskets were open to inspection by the other. As soon as he'd faced his brother, Ben's eyes had locked onto their target like a heat-seeking missile. It had happened instantly, complete and pure reflex, he'd quickly glanced and then looked away. It was too late, snared by the charm, as though hypnotised by a snake, his eyes had been dragged back to Dom's shiny-black groin. His brother was hard, no doubt about it, his young prick was clearly visible through the taut tight material; a thick pencil of engorged tissue, straining to be released from its prison. The head reached up to his brother's waistband and Ben felt sure that it was only the black leather belt, that clung to the slender boy's tightly bound waist, that had stopped it from escaping.

As Ben had tried to throw him and slip from under him, Dom had hung on to his older brother with the intensity of a drowning man clinging to a lifeboat. Clamping his legs once again around the nearly escaped limbs Dom's eyes had momentarily gazed upon his brother's swollen booty. He'd almost burst into tears. He hadn't meant to look, he didn't mean any harm. His brother's treasure chest was packed to overflowing. The black school trousers, dishevelled and pulled by the fight, had become stretched and clinging. They revealed, what looked like to Dom, a huge slab of thick pulsing meat. He'd never seen an erection on anyone else before. A picture of the giant Gulliver, snared and pegged out by the Lilliputian's suddenly flashed into his mind. That's how his brother's cock seemed to him. It was bloody enormous, really thick too, you had no difficulty in making out the helmet. Its inverted 'v' was clearly visible through the material; you could run your finger across the ridge and you'd have to use your hand to grab hold of the corpulent shaft. Even better, his brother's white shirt had become tugged loose, and golden hair and creamy smooth flesh taunted him through the rupture in the material.

Both boys just stared at one another; their eyes locked in seemingly an eternal embrace. They exchanged hopes and fears, lust and longing. Each searched the other, suddenly exchanging places and exploring the world through another's eyes. Both still hoped that their own individual secrets still lay safe and sound under lock and key. Neither had drawn breath, their bodies were rigid, yet each sensed the trembling at their core.

"Dom," gasped Ben, his throat suddenly terribly constricted, his tongue bone dry and rough as sandpaper.

"bbbBen," stammered his younger brother, the word strangled, dying in his throat.

Ben reached up to his brother, and pulled him towards him. With unimaginable tenderness he drew his brother to his breast and clutched him there, like a mother sheltering her brood. Dom snuggled upto the pillow of his brother's white cotton shirt. The hot flesh, radiating heat from beneath and the steady pulsing rhythm of the heartbeat soothed and calmed his fevered brow. This was where he had wanted to be; this was where he was, at rest on his brother's chest. All he knew at that moment was contentment and peace, calm and fulfilment.

Ben held his smaller brother; indeed, fierce and tight was his grip, yet something of softness and gentleness was present too. Raising his head he beheld his brother's luxuriant crown. Stretching slightly, he grazed his nose over the boy's field of ripe golden corn, the soft blond hair reminding him of fresh cut grass, damp after a short shower. Emboldened, he kissed the golden locks, before his head fell back to earth and he wondered and waited.

His brother's arms, until now lifeless and forlorn, their fingers clutching the thick pile of the carpet suddenly began to slowly stir. Tentatively, the boy's tenuous fingers reached for Ben's head. Stumbling like a blind man; Dominic's eyes were scrunched shut and he still adhered to his brother's bosom, the fingers traced their faltering path over Benedict's face before coming to rest in the undergrowth of his kingly mane. To Dominic his brother's hair felt soft and pliant, warm and alive, the little gel that his brother habitually applied gave it an adhesive quality as well. It were as though the thin tendrils of golden thread were weaving their way around his fingers, ensnaring and cocooning them in a gossamer web. The scalp felt hot, slightly sticky, and the skull underneath hard and unyielding.

As the younger boy's hands had reached up to his brother's head his body had eased slightly, finally moving. The action of stretching had drawn the young teen's rigid cock over his brother's straining mound. Both boy's had shuddered and they became locked in a writhing and agonising embrace. Pleasure ran through their lean slender forms, lust rippled and coursed through every joint and sinew. Slowly, with increasing speed and rhythm the two hard youthful bodies bucked and thrust. Their whole spirit and essence seemed to have concentrated and pooled in their pleasure giving bulges. The boy's clothes became drenched with sweat and labour. The atmosphere in the room had changed; the temperature had surely risen and the air was thick with boymusk and sex, which seemed to rise invisibly from the melted and moulded forms.

Dominic's fingers gripped Ben's head tightly as he strained to release his burdensome load. Like scratching an itch, he returned again and again to the spot that burnt and tingled. His cock skidded and slued over his brother's engorged protuberance. His tight hugging briefs were slick with lube and juices as his straining cock bucked and mashed against the larger pole. Feeling his brother's hands, suddenly at his young tight buttocks, only increased his fervour. The fingers bit deep, as they ranged and played over his marbled ass, and they paused occasionally to stroke and pleasure. Dom had never known such a feeling and his tight young balls began to simmer and shake in their compressed cotton cup.

Benedict was equally lost in the frenzy of his passion. His hands were full of his brother's wonderful arse; the firm meaty cheeks brimmed with fruit and promise. The shiny tight material of the black school trousers only added to the whole. They hugged his brother like a second skin, warm and soft they, and the briefs beneath, slid across the glacis of the smooth spotless cheeks that were oiled with sweat and lust. Ben's own cock was like steel, though it was molten at its core, as it burned and toiled in his briefs. Ben had chosen Tom's white nylon briefs to wear to school today. He'd be handing them back soon and knew that Tom wanted them worn and full of his juices. He sure wasn't going to be disappointed! His cock, throbbing and pulsing under the weight of his brother, repeatedly battered and bruised by the youth's raging assault, waxed and waned as it slipped inside the slinky briefs. The more abrasive cotton of his trousers added extra grip, and sent ripples of voluptuousness coursing through his straining cock. Even better was the relentless poking his mushroom received from his brother's sharp spear; it poked its barb into his mound as though it sought to burrow into his bulge.

Although the two pricks snapped and nipped at each other like true fighting cocks or, indeed, angry muzzled dogs, this was no mere fight for dominance and victory. This was pleasure unalloyed, shared and enjoyed, brother to brother, sharing their common heritage and life giving essence. The tensing of his brother's buttocks, the way they clenched and tightened, told Benedict that his younger brother was close to orgasm. Instinctively, wanting to join his brother, to share the moment, he thrust his pelvis into his brother's sex crazed swelling.

In the grip of the most primal and powerful experience of his young life Dominic suddenly began to shudder and shake, as his loins were seared with heat and fire. His thrusting became ragged and wild as he spewed his hot creamy load inside his new pair of yellow cotton briefs. The feeling of this new lubricant, thick and cloying around his cock, seemingly melting the cotton onto his flesh sent further spasms rippling through his slight frame. Knowing the uncontrolled bucking and grinding for what it was Benedict too suddenly found himself swept away in the torrent of his climax. The thin nylon briefs, already soaked with sweat and his copious lube, suddenly filled with his hot rich cream as he strove to empty himself into the velvety heaven. The rich cum rapidly filled the briefs, and it boiled and bubbled along the shaft and balls and seeped through the black thin cotton of his trousers.

Easing up, though slowly, like two deep-sea divers fearing the bends, the depth and richness of the experience not easily abandoned, the two boy's lay there, still silent, panting and gasping. Ben mussed his brother's hair and gently stroked and teased it, running it through his finger's, trying to surely convince himself that this had really happened. Dom just lay there, still nestled against his older brother, utterly overcome and exhausted. It was funny, he felt diminished yet enlarged, in losing himself, in giving, he had somehow received and found something greater.

Finally Ben summoned up the energy to speak,

"Dom," his voice creaked, cracked and strained.

Slowly his brother turned up to look at him. It was the first time they'd exchanged sight since the beginning.

Not knowing what he was about to say, not yet at peace with what he felt, Ben stumbled for words, suddenly tongue-tied, lacking the vocabulary to express what he wanted.

"I--I--" he began, stumbling and faltering.

No clue existed upon his younger brother's knotted brow; no guide existed in those deep blue eyes to help guide him along his way.

"Dom, I--I--"

Brrrp, Brrrp, cheeped the phone, suddenly ringing, breaking the cathedral like silence, and shattering the spell that held the two boys.

As though it signalled his chance to escape, his younger brother suddenly slipped off the older boy and dashed out of the room. Hearing the footsteps thunder up the stairs, Ben was momentarily stunned. Shit!

"Dom!" he called, torn between answering the insistent ring of the phone and the needs of his younger brother, "Dom!"

"Fuck! Shit, shit shit!"

Somehow, knowing the moment was gone; he picked himself up and made his way wearily over to the phone. He felt old beyond his years, and his movement was lifeless and heavy. Picking up the phone, he enquired,

"Hello?"

His voice, emotionless and flat, lifeless and spent.

"Err, hello, Ben?" enquired Tom, sounding cautious, not sure that it was indeed Ben he was speaking too.

"Oh, err, hi, Tom, thanks for calling back," said Ben, biting his lower lip, attempting to concentrate and failing.

His cock felt all hot and mushy in his briefs, while his cum as it cooled, felt gammy and sticky, and the slick nylon now clung to his shrivelled member like old wrinkled skin. His mind's-eye could still picture his brother, how he'd rapidly fled from the scene of the crime. Already guilt was beginning to gnaw away at him, the euphoria, dissipated by the sudden exit of Dom, had been replaced with even more doubts and uncertainties than he'd had before. Shit, shit and fucking shit he cursed. Trying to control himself, trying to catch Tom's words through the haze.

"I'm sorry?" said Ben, "what was that?"

Tom laughed, oblivious to the boy's plight,

"Cloth-ears! I was just saying I won't be seeing you tonight. I can't make it. Can't do Wednesday I'm afraid either," he mumbled somewhat apologetically.

"Oh," said Ben, relieved that at least for tonight he wouldn't have to be worrying about Simon meeting Tom, he could do without that just now.

The boy however, was disappointed too; he suddenly needed to see Tom and to talk to him. His young shoulders were carrying a load he could no longer bear; he was desperate for help. He felt crushed under the load and his chest suddenly felt tight and constricted.

"Can I see you at all? Soon, real soon," Ben pleaded.

Tom, catching the note of urgency, knew something was not right with the boy, this was not the Ben he knew, certainly not the dreamy sex-mad teen from the other night.

"What's wrong Ben?" he enquired, his voice suddenly gentle and compassionate.

Ben sighed,

"I can't go into it now, its too, oh, I don't know, its too fuckin complex that's for sure."

"Okay, okay," said Tom, indicating understanding, though of what he didn't know.

"You have free periods don't you? How you fixed tomorrow afternoon? I'm free and the house will be empty."

"Erm, yeah, sure," replied Ben, trying desperately to remember his timetable, finding concentration and focus difficult, "err Tuesday's are good for me too. I could come from school. Say, half-two?"

"Great," said Tom, "I'll put the kettle on. You're obviously in need of some tea and sympathy. Hope I can help."

"Hope so too," said Ben wearily, "though you might not have much sympathy."

"Hey Ben, I'm here, okay? Whatever you've got to say I'll be sure to listen. Will keep my hands off you to if that'll help!"

Tom had emphasised the last part, hoping to cheer up the boy who sounded so gloomy and glum. In a way, he was trying to encourage him too, letting him know that someone still cared and wanted to be with him.

"Its me keeping my hands off that's the problem," said Ben.

"Ah, right," said Tom, glimpsing the truth, beginning to understand something of the boy's predicament.

Screwing up his courage, remembering the tears of the other night, he gently enquired,

"Is it Simon?"

"No, not Simon," Ben sighed, "look I better leave it 'til tomorrow. We'll talk then."

"Sure, no probs," said Tom, backing off, knowing that he'd have to wait and see. Whatever it was he just hoped he could help.

His own life hadn't been too hot when it came down to relationships and he was hoping that Ben might be able to learn from his experience. Perhaps profit from them too? Who knows, he thought? I'll just have to do my best.

"Okay Ben, will be thinking of you, take care now, see you tomorrow."

"Thanks Tom, see you at half-two," replied Ben.

"Bye Ben," said Tom.

"Bye," answered Ben.

Ben put down the phone and sank into the armchair at its side. Cupping his hands in his face, he rubbed his eyes and then ran his fingers through his still damp hair. He breathed deeply, calming himself, attempting to steady the rocking rolling ship. He thought of his brother upstairs, considered going up too see him and talk - about what? He wasn't sure what words he could use, was uncertain if it would do any good. He just wanted to hold his brother. Yeah, like that would do them any good for fucksake! Look what had just happened you idiot!

The older boy just wanted to tell his brother that he'd done nothing wrong, it wasn't dirty. Dom wasn't to blame. It was his fault. He should have known better, reacted differently should have seen things coming. Whatever he might want to tell his brother, to absolve him, take the weight off his shoulders, Ben felt that he had done wrong, and soiled something good and beautiful. He was the older brother his was the responsibility. His parents trusted him for God's sake to look after his brother and sister whenever they were out. He wasn't supposed to pervert his own brother! Feeling a mess, suddenly wanting to get out of his clothes, the cold sticky nylon now a silent reproach, he made his way slowly upstairs. He paused at the top of the landing, glanced at his brother's closed bedroom door, and briefly considered knocking. The door suddenly looked forbidding and uninviting. Shrugging his shoulders, knowing he should have done better, feeling an intense sense of failure and loss, he entered his room and quietly closed the door.

He quickly stripped out of his clothes, the damp material clinging to his body, and he used the sleazy nylon briefs to wipe down his cum laden cock. Examining his school trousers he found a spot where his spunk had oozed through the material. It was already starting to dry and crust, and Ben, slipping on his dressing gown, popped into the bathroom to sponge it down. He was just about to throw his shirt into the basket of dirty laundry when he caught a glimpse of something bright and canary yellow. Reaching down into the basket he pulled out a small pair of yellow cotton briefs. They were warm; Dom had obviously been here before him. That they'd just been subject to the two brothers encounter was confirmed by a pool of thick spunk now congealing on the inside of the briefs. The pouch was sodden with cum and lube and was rank with the sex of his brother.

Unable to stop himself, it being a long-standing practice of his to wank his way out of any misery, Ben drew the pouch up to his mouth and licked his brother's young astringent cream. His other hand was already pumping his cock and as he sucked the savoury briefs and inhaled their musk Ben found himself shooting a few dribbles of spunk onto his fist and the floor. The anaesthetic of the moment passed, Ben returned to misery again. In fact he felt worse, filled with self-loathing and disgust, he shoved the briefs and his shirt guiltily into the basket and fled the bathroom. Back in his room, he slipped into an old red T-shirt and black trackies and he flopped onto his bed. His mind blank, numbed, soon took refuge in sleep and the boy dozed fitfully.

In the other bedroom, across the way, his younger brother Dominic lay also on the bed considering his fate. Curled up like a foetus, clutching a pillow, the boy stared blankly at the wall. The long lashes were dark and damp and the deep blue eyes were misty with silent tears. Dom felt awful. No, that wasn't quite right, because he felt great too. Hadn't he just had his first sex? Well sort of anyway. He'd just undergone an incredible experience, none better, and he was already desperate for more, but, with his brother? That was the problem, there in a nutshell, his own fuckin brother. He felt terribly guilty, like he'd led his brother astray, why should Ben have to suffer too? Just coz I'm screwed up it doesn't mean I have to fuck Ben up as well. The fact that his brother had sported a massive hardon and had so obviously cum meant nothing to Dom. He was stiff all the time wasn't he? It didn't mean anything. It wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't looked. Could have been laughed off, if he hadn't then proceeded to rub himself off against his brother. What was Ben supposed to do? If anything he'd been really kind while Dom had suddenly fucked off and abandoned him. It was just that Dom didn't know what to say, 'cept sorry, and he was sure his brother didn't want to hear him at the moment. Surely for Ben, cumming had been an accident? He couldn't believe his brother would actually want to do that with him. Poor Ben! He must have gotten off on all Dom's rubbing. He was probably really mad, hadn't he shouted after him when he'd fled? That was the difference, Dom had wanted it, he was sure Ben hadn't even dreamed of it, and it must never be allowed to happen again. Hope he's still talking to me, he thought, worrying if Ben might mention it to his parents.

Ben awoke to the sound of the front door being closed. Checking the time he realised it must be his mother. He got up off the bed and switched on his computer and attempted to lose himself in some mindless game. He knew that soon enough he'd have to go downstairs and eat, his parents were very particular about shared meals, and he wondered what he was going to do. Sure enough it didn't seem 5 minutes, though it was in fact longer, before his mother was calling him and Dominic down to eat. So, his brother was still upstairs too? Taking a deep breath, he opened his door only to be greeted by the sight of his brother Dom, passing on his way downstairs.

The younger boy looked startled, and Ben felt momentarily nonplussed. Before he got chance to do or say anything Dom had disappeared, taking the steps 3 at a time.

"Dom!" shouted his mother, knowing whom it was making the noise.

"Sorry," Ben heard him reply.

Shrugging his shoulders, praying that the whole thing wasn't about to come out over dinner, Ben gingerly descended the stairs.

The meal passed, it wasn't great, but at least they'd got through it okay. There was definitely an atmosphere though. Neither of the brothers dared look at the other, least not openly anyway, and they spent the meal stealing surreptitious glances when they thought the other off guard. Both boy's had suddenly felt their stomachs churn when there mother had asked, "Have you two had a fight?" Both boys had blushed and mumbled no.

Marie Johnson knew that something had gone on between her two son's though she wasn't sure what. However, she had enough sense not to probe any further and, in truth, had great faith in the ability of her two boys to sort things out between themselves. She was intensely proud of her children, and while Ben was doing so well, she was enjoying her middle child in particular at the moment. Watching Dominic becoming a fine young man was, for her, a beautiful moment, even though it signalled to both her and her husband, Peter, their age, and the fact that the coop would soon be empty. Only a few more years and, like as not, they'd all be gone and this house would suddenly seem empty and sad.

Ben had helped stash the dishwater and then disappeared upstairs to do a little homework. He had a few notes he had to get done and, as he'd soon be out to play squash, then he knew he'd better get them done. Dom had stayed downstairs, watching TV, and Ben couldn't help wonder, periodically breaking off from his studies, if he was going to say anything to their parents. He was half-expecting his father's voice, calling, outraged and demanding his presence. The call never came however, and soon it was time to get ready for squash.

Ben changed quickly, not even bothering with his jockstrap, he decided to keep to his white CK's instead. It was almost as if he was punishing himself, was fed up with his errant cock and his deviant desires. He'd just finished changing when he heard Simon call, it was Simon's dad's turn to take the boys and as usual Simon was dead on time. Ben, who was a little bit more relaxed about these things, could picture Mr. Jones being badgered and hectored by Simon so as 'not to be late'. He could sympathise; Simon was always hassling him too, but it didn't bother him, like all things Simon, he rather liked it actually, enjoyed surrendering control, placing himself in the hands of his beloved. Grabbing his bag and racquet he ran downstairs and greeted Simon.

Soon the two boys were in the car and, 10 minutes later, were stood outside the squash club.

Waving his father off, Simon turned towards Ben,

"You okay? You look like shit?"

"What?" answered Ben, surprised the boy had noticed, "Oh, err, yeah, I'm fine, just tired s'all."

"Okay," said Simon, somewhat doubtfully, sensing that he wasn't going to get any further, wondering what it was with his friend lately.

Ben tried to shrug off his feelings but he played poorly and lost easily. Indeed, the match was over far quicker than usual, and after showering and dressing the boy's had time to have a drink before Ben's dad would arrive to pick them up.

Sipping his coke in the bar, the staff here knew the boys were not yet 18, Simon tried again.

"Sup Ben? There's gotta be something, you've not played so shite for ages. I know I'm good," his face had broken into a smile at that, "but I'm not that good. So what is it? You've been acting funny lately, definitely not yourself. I'm a bit worried about you. I hardly see you these days."

There, he'd said it, what more could he do?

Ben was still feeling miserable, he knew he'd been lousy company, hadn't really given Simon a game either. These nights were special, now it seemed he'd infected them. Something he had sought to keep separate had somehow seeped through, crossed over, into his relationship with Simon. Now he was in danger of ruining even that. Simon might not bother with him soon and who could blame him? Who'd want to be friends, never mind lovers, he sighed, with a boy who messed with his own younger brother? And, what was even worse in this case, a friend, your best friend at that, who fucked your own younger brother? Ben doubted he could be so magnanimous, even though he knew it wasn't quite like it sounded, hadn't really happened as though he'd planned it.

The only light on the horizon was that Simon was still here and was actually concerned, worried. Even better, Simon had missed him! Unfortunately, at the best of times Ben found his self a bit tongue-tied around Simon, well, about certain things anyway. Now, it was infinitely worse and much more difficult.

"Oh, I don't know what it is," said Ben, "gimme time, it'll sort itself out."

"I see," said Simon, looking pained and a little anguished, "but whatever 'it' is, you can't tell me, right?"

"I'm sorry," was all Ben could bring himself to say, his sense of affliction undiminished, in fact, even growing.

"Sorry eh?"

Said Simon shaking his head,

"What happened Ben? We used to be mates, best friends, now I'm beginning to feel I hardly know you. There's something wrong with you and you're telling me I can't help. You know how that makes me feel? This big!" said Simon, creating a half circle between finger and thumb, leaving a gap between the two of about half-an-inch.

Ben sat there stunned, weathering the storm as best he could, he could feel his friend's passion and intensity, his confusion over what he couldn't see and wasn't allowed to understand. Still Ben said nothing, feeling somehow that he deserved all of it and more.

"Whatever it is Ben," Simon continued, "get it sorted, please?"

"If its home or a girl or--or fuck knows what, just deal with it, okay? Or let me know you're at least underway, trying to sort whatever it is, out, 'kay? We're going to the concert on Friday. I was looking forward to it. Don't make me regret asking you Ben. Jeeze, I never thought I'd say that Ben," said Simon hurriedly, suddenly terribly contrite.

Shaking his head, as if surprised by his own words and the force of his feelings, he continued, the words tumbling out of him,

"I'm sorry I said that, I apologise. You know I didn't mean it. I just got carried away for a moment, sorry. Its none of my business, forget I asked. I suppose I'd just hoped--" he trailed off lamely.

"Still friends?"

A single tear trickled down Ben's cheek, and he nodded, hardly able to bring himself to talk.

Seeing his friend suffering, feeling awkward and embarrassed, as though somehow responsible, Simon reached out and self-consciously patted Ben's hand on the table. The lean delicate fingers, (surgeon's hands perhaps or possibly pianist's fingers?), felt clammy and hot and Simon could feel Ben trembling. He could feel a number of pairs of eyes suddenly looking at the two of them. He thought, fuck 'em! He's my friend. He turned to stare down a middle-aged woman who was looking over at them disapproving.

Clenching Ben's wrist, gripping it tightly, He leaned forward and whispered,

"I'll always be your friend Ben, always. If I can help, then let me, but please, don't cut me out all together."

Relinquishing his grip, he got up and walked out of the bar. His dad would soon be here anyway and, more important, he suddenly needed some air. He'd been surprised by how much hurt he felt, amazed at the pain of not knowing what was wrong with Ben. What was worse, was why wouldn't Ben talk to him? What had he done, or said, or missed? Simon didn't know. If anything, he felt a little sick, and he wondered if his evening meal hadn't agreed with him, or pondered if perhaps he'd eaten too late, and that the game had shaken it all up inside of him.

What really scared him though was what had happened at the end and that was why he'd suddenly fled out here, safe and no longer under any threat. He'd taken Ben's hand to comfort his friend, wanted to show him he cared. It was no big deal, he was sure Ben would have done the same for him. Instead of comforting his friend however, Simon had found himself considering his own fears and anxieties. He'd known for a while that Ben was special to him, different somehow from all his other friends. What he didn't know was that at night when he dreamed, he was often in Ben's arms, kissing, exploring, and making love. When he woke up in the middle of the night, glossy and sweaty, his body and bedclothes covered in thick sticky spunk he could never remember what had brought him to that point. His conscious mind blotted it out, denied it ever had happened. It seemed to say, Ben, Ben who? No, I don't know any Ben, believe me you don't want to know either. Look at Susan Jackson she's nice, or perhaps Tara O'Connor.

Instead of just patting his friend's hand Simon had wanted to explore some more. He'd wanted to wipe away the tear that had formed on the soft downy cheek with his tongue, and mesmerised by the luscious red lips, had wanted to lean forward and kiss Ben. He'd become lost for a moment in the soft blue eyes, could have stayed there for ever actually, and his fingers had wanted to stroke his friend's soft smooth skin that had somehow burned him as he touched. Indeed, his fingers still tingled with the memory of the moment. Simon shook his hand and banished the thoughts. Whatever Ben was going through at the moment he needed a friend, not this, not some daft puff slobbering all over him. Puff? Nah, thought Simon, must be the food, can't be. I'm nearly 18, I'd have known by now, surely? But he was beginning to doubt, and the young scientist in him hated doubt. Wasn't his life about rationality and order? Didn't he like to know the answer, to prove something true or false, demonstrate the fact, to explore? Yes, to explore! He needed time to explore his feelings and hoped that in doing so he wouldn't distract Ben from sorting out whatever was troubling him. Whatever happens he thought, I must be there for him. I can't let this get in the way. Ben, emerging from the club suddenly interrupted his thoughts and Simon turned and tentatively smiled, looking at his friend in a new and different light.

Ben had remained sitting in the bar when Simon had upped and left. He'd almost died when his hand had been grabbed, felt he didn't deserve such a beautiful friend. Stinging from the lash of Simon's rebuke, he'd wallowed in self-pity before finally realising that whatever happened on Friday he was soon going to have to confront his friend with the truth. Simon deserved it, it wasn't fair on him and it sure wasn't his fault! It might not work out, okay, probably wouldn't, but he was getting to the point of being beyond caring. Ben felt as though he'd turned a corner, had come to a decision. The feel of Simon's hand had warmed him and for a moment he'd luxuriated in the afterglow of heat, the residual compassion he'd felt, it seemed to seep through his body and helped brighten his mood. Stumbling outside, he was confronted by Simon who was grinning at him, silently asking him if he was okay.

"Thanks Simon," said Ben, "sorry for messing up your evening, I'll do better on Friday, believe me. You've helped me a lot and, well, I guess I'll get back to you soon, we'll talk it over. Okay?"

"Fine, no rush Ben," said Simon, nodding agreement, yet wondering exactly where the door he'd just peeped through might personally lead him.

Mr Jones, well trained as ever, arrived spot on time and soon the boy's were exchanging goodbyes and settling into their own homes. In opening his front door, Ben suddenly remembered that he'd have to confront some other 'hometruths' too and he resolved to treat Dom as best he could. Had Dom taken the opportunity to tell his parents? Waited until he was out and got his side of the story in first?

Dom in fact was in bed, 'Haven't seen him all evening, are you sure he's alright?' his mother had said. Ben had mumbled that he was sure Dom was okay and, feeling relieved, he was too tired to have to deal with that now, he made his way up to bed. He was soon asleep, and in his dreams Simon's hand moved up his arm and grabbing his head pulled him forward. The boy's lips had lingered in a passionate exchange of love and they'd fallen to the floor to...

To be continued? If you have any thoughts or comments then please let me know. Feedback is always helpful and much appreciated. Many thanks.