Benedicts Bulging Briefs

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.

Simon met up with Benedict at morning registration. The two boys were studying different subjects, and so, apart from General Studies, the only shared time they usually had at school together was at break-times or morning and afternoon registration. Ben seemed, outwardly at least; quite happy to Simon as he made his way over towards him. Smiling, Ben sat down besides Simon,

"Soz," he said, catching his breath as though he had been running, "got caught up with things at home. It was too late to call, hope you don't mind?"

"Nah, its okay," said Simon, relieved to see Ben, "was worried about you 's all. What with last night and everything."

Now that he could study Benedict up close Simon wasn't so sure that his friend was in fact all that happy. To be sure, he was smiling, but somehow the smile didn't touch the eyes and, if anything, Ben looked tired and strained.

"Sir!"

Shouted Ben in acknowledgement of his name being called, quickly followed by Simon, whose surname lay after his in the alphabetically organised school register.

"Sorry," said Ben, keeping his voice low, "where was I? Oh, yeah, no I'm fine now, thanks for last night, you're a real pal."

"If you say so," replied Simon, sounding somewhat dubious, while attempting to mask his own raging doubts and uncertainties.

When Simon had seen Ben come through the classroom door he hadn't been able to stop himself from admiring the way Ben looked in his school uniform. He'd seen the sight hundreds of times, but now all of a sudden, he couldn't help but regard his friend in a new and different light. It was like he was seeing Ben, as he really was, for the first time. Ben looked so… right, kind of really sexy and smart. The blond hair and blue eyes matched their school uniform perfectly. Hmm, wish I looked as good in it as he does, thought Simon. Simon had seen Ben's cock loads of times in the showers and the changing rooms, at sleepovers and on the beach. Now, he couldn't help but look at his friend's bulge, how Ben's cock was held and defined in those black school trousers, with a new sense of purpose and intent. Despite himself, Simon could feel his cock hardening and he leaned forward, putting his elbows on the desk, to mask his growing tumescence.

The image of Ben, naked, running into the shower after PE the other week, came suddenly back to haunt him. It was after that cross-country run, Simon remembered. Ben and he had been split up; Simon had been allocated that jerk Tim Robertson, while Ben had had to run with another jerk, Nick Travers. Simon had got back before Ben and was already in the shower when Ben had entered. There'd definitely been something funny about Ben that day, he'd looked really nervous, guilty almost, and he'd hardly got wet before he was out of the shower and back into the changing room. Although it had only been brief, Simon could have sworn Ben's pubes were all matted and wet before he got under the shower. If he didn't know better he'd have said it looked like pretty fresh cum, but how could it have been? Ben couldn't have had the time, the opportunity, surely? Unless, of course, he'd nipped off on his own and into the woods for a quick wank, amazing! Imagine doing that, what if he'd been caught! Simon was convinced that that was what Ben must have done. The only thing against that, were those marks on Ben's bum. He'd only seen them once, a few seconds at best, but you could have sworn they looked like finger marks, the tight smooth flesh still glowing where sharp nails had bitten really deep. Perhaps Ben played with his bum while wanking? Thought Simon, strangely attracted to the idea, or perhaps, more likely, Ben had sat down on some branches or twigs?

Whatever the cause, and he wasn't entirely convinced that he'd not imagined the whole thing anyway, the thought of Nick Travers never entered his head. Actually, this was not strictly true. Simon had already forgotten that later that night he'd had an explosive wet dream and had drenched the bed with his thick hot spunk. Half asleep, he'd woken sweating and soaked, his mind wiped clear of any images that had temporarily plagued him. He'd been frustrated, angry at his inability to recall what it was that had set him off. He hated those times, waking alone and wet in the middle of the night, his stomach and bedsheets clinging and clammy. His mind was always a blank, refusing to let him see who it was that had haunted and teased him. He had no idea that, in his dreams, he'd come across Ben and Nick in the woods, had watched them playing with each others cocks before he'd declared himself and forced them both to suck his own rigid and seething mantool.

Ben had been relieved that Simon had seemed okay about his not calling round to meet up for their usual stroll to school. Also, last night's events looked like they'd been accepted as well, at least for now, which was great. Certainly Simon seemed okay, though he was a little quieter than usual and he looked tired. All in all things hadn't gone too bad, he reflected, and he was hopeful that things were now sorted with Dom and delighted and amazed that Simon wasn't giving him any hassle about either last night or being late. It seemed as though Simon was being really helpful and caring. Although he didn't know what it was about, thank God, Simon had responded to Ben's evident distress. Ben briefly considered exaggerating his despondency, making Simon believe he was in real anguish and in need of 'extra' comfort. Soon his mind was racing with the fantasy, Simon coming to the rescue, Simon taking him into his arms, kissing him, soothing him with his love. Just like his friend, Ben suddenly felt the need to lean forward and hide his burgeoning erection.

The pair of teens sat there, momentarily much vexed, their cocks throbbing inside their trousers and briefs, so near to what they both desired. Neither boy was remotely aware of neither the plight of the other, nor the part that each had played in the other's temporary discomfort. However, struggling with an erection is nothing new to a teenaged boy. Both lads continued chatting, gradually becoming more at ease, and their strident staffs soon waned and collapsed.

"What you doing with your free study this afternoon?" enquired Simon, he, unlike Ben, had classes nearly all Tuesday afternoon.

"Err, thought I might go into town, get some stuff for Friday," said Ben, sticking as close to the truth as possible.

Certainly Ben would be heading into town, but to see Tom, not to go shopping. Although he did need to get some lube he reminded himself, just in case, and he certainly wasn't going to be buying that with Simon around! After all, he still had hopes for Friday.

"Aw," cried Simon, anguished, looking suddenly disappointed, " I was hoping we could go tomorrow after PE. I need some new kit for Friday as well. I thought we could do it together… you know. I always feel like, err… well, that you've got better dress sense than I have."

Indeed, the two lads did usually do their shopping together, buying clothes and computer games, videos and CD's, exchanging opinions, affirming or gently disagreeing with a particular choice.

"Okay, I'll wait. Tomorrow it is," said Ben, suddenly pleased that Simon still wanted to shop with him, to be with him, even more surprised that Simon regarded him as having good taste in clothes.

Benedict was really warmed by that. Simon had never said anything like that before; he was far too reticent for that. Usually, with his special friend, you had to look at how he acted in order to judge what he was thinking or feeling. With Simon you never got much of a look on the inside, God-knows, Ben had tried. Now it seemed that Simon envied Ben's choice of fashion and, even better, actually wanted his opinion. Ben's stomach started to fizz with excitement and joy and he was already looking forward to tomorrow. He hadn't been going to get much, perhaps a new shirt, tops. Now he was already making choices, his mind full of all the things he'd like to have and own. He wondered what Simon would be after and looked forward to finding out. Simon had taken to wearing combat trousers lately and Ben hated them, he didn't think they showed his friend off in a good light at all. Hmm, perhaps I'll get him to think about something different? For a moment Ben's mind was filled with the possibilities of helping Simon into a new pair of shorts or trackies, perhaps a la Chris! His cock began to stir at that and Ben reluctantly abandoned the idea as the registration period was now drawing to a close.

"Catch you later, Ben," said Simon, standing, picking up his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Yeah," said Ben, pushing back his chair, suddenly laughing, "don't get carried away in physics and blow us all up. You know you're supposed to observe an experiment, not ogle Pam Simpson's tits!"

Simon, for a micro second was nonplussed, girls it seemed had temporarily vanished from his thoughts, even though this particular one was a running joke between the two boys,

"As if!"

He declared, suddenly sounding indignant,

"She's hardly what I'd call pretty these days. Give me a break," he laughingly pleaded, "I was young. Nah, definitely soiled goods now."

"Well you ought to know," said Ben, just a little encouraged by the new tone of dismissal in Simon's voice, at the very least it just might signal the end of that particular threat he thought.

Pamela Simpson had, in the past, been one of Simon's girlfriends. She was an attractive blond girl, well regarded and long lusted over by many of the boys at school. Their 'relationship' had lasted about 4 months, an eternity to Ben, and had ended with Pam having the honour of bestowing upon Simon his first blowjob. The relationship had gradually cooled after that as Simon had somewhat unenthusiastically drooled and fondled his way around Pam without, it seemed, enabling her to feel a great deal of reciprocal pleasure. It was well known that Pam still harboured hopes of getting back together with Simon, that she felt she'd been too young and immature at the time. The received opinion among the 6th Formers was that the two would soon be back together again and it was just a question of who'd make the first move. Not surprisingly, Pam was not on Ben's Christmas card list, and while he joked about her with Simon - well you had to, that was the way of things - inside he regarded her as the enemy. She was a tough opponent too, full of charm and wit. Now it seemed her piece was no longer on the board, if he was reading Simon correctly he reminded himself, and Ben couldn't but help feel elated and joyful. Of course, all that likely meant was that someone else had appeared on the scene to make Pam suddenly seem pale and redundant, but who was she? Ben didn't know but he was sure as hell going to have to find out. His good mood evaporated somewhat and he feared tomorrow's shopping trip might now be merely an expedition to furnish Simon with new clothes in order to impress the new mystery girlfriend.

Heading off to his German class Ben shook his head, imagining the all too familiar and painful scene. Simon would spend hour's extolling the virtues of his new girl and seeking advice on how to play things from Ben. As if he fucking cared! Well he did, but not like that, and his heart was now rapidly sinking at the thought of Simon holding up a shirt tomorrow afternoon and asking "You think she'll like this?" They were always the worst moments, when everything in Simon's life suddenly became directed towards his new girlfriend. All the time Ben wanted to scream 'Forget her, look at me! Luck at fuckin me will you!"

The two boys met up at break and discussed their Friday trip; it seemed that Simon was on the lookout for a new wardrobe from the sounds of it. Ben's earlier excitement had vanished to be replaced with a sense of frustration. By now he was convinced that Simon had a new girlfriend in mind. He'd been so wrapped up in himself lately, what with Dom and Chris and all his other adventures, that he must have missed the signs. Ah well, he thought, at least I might be able to use the opportunity to get Simon kitted out in something that I like, even if it is meant for the approving gaze of another.

By lunchtime all that Ben lacked was a name and a face. He had managed to spend the morning working his way towards a near demented frenzy and what he'd actually learned in class had been painfully small. A quick glance through his 'notes' for the morning would have revealed a rather worn piece of paper with Simon's name written all over it, he'd even attempted to perfectly replicate the signature of his beloved. Consumed with jealousy for his faceless opponent he was already harbouring antagonistic thoughts towards her - X, the nameless adversary. Whoever she was she better watch out, Ben had seen them all come and had seen them all go and he was determined to be the only one left standing when the 'fight' was over.

At lunchtime the boys ended up engrossed in a game of footie. Simon was oblivious to Ben's totally unfounded woes. On the contrary, he was perfectly happy and content, and was really looking forward to going shopping with Ben. It seemed an age since they'd last done something like that together, outside the close combat of their regular squash matches that is, and they were had always been regarded as being somewhat different. Simon hadn't entirely forgotten his trials of the past evening, how he'd worried and fretted over his feelings for Ben. In the sunshine, playing footie, those troubling thoughts had left him for now and Simon was beginning to feel they might not come back. After all, perhaps a fun shop with Ben tomorrow would see things back to normal and he need never think those things again? He certainly hoped so, and he took as a sign that this was so when the perfect pass that Ben slid him enabled him to score the winning goal. He'd just had time to enjoy the congratulations of his mates, especially Ben, who was suddenly grinning from ear to ear, when the bell rang to signal the end of lunchtime and the return to class.

Ben and Simon filed into registration and when it was over wished each other a quick 'see you, catch yer later'. Simon headed off to his chemistry class and Ben set out to catch the bus for his meeting with Tom. On his way out of school, along one of the corridors, Ben bumped into Luke, Simon's younger brother, heading, presumably, to his next class. Luke saw Ben and gave him a warm welcoming smile.

"Ben!" said Luke, grinning, "how yer doing? I haven't seen you in ages."

"Yeah, like Saturday was years ago," said Ben, quickly looking around to see if anyone was near, "I still haven't managed a shit, seeing as you happened to scare all the crap out of me then!" He exaggerated.

"Cool," Luke laughed, "loved it all the same. Soz though for scaring you, I didn't mean too."

"I know, I know," said Ben, reassuring the youth, "still can't believe it actually."

"I bet! We're not all as stiff and as dead as my brother," said Luke, "anyway, great news! I've just asked Chris if he wanted to come over and stay on Friday night, it'll be easier with Mr. Mechanical out of the way, and he said 'yeah, sure, would love too'. 'Would love to' Ben, would fuckin love to!"

The boy was evidently on a high, his deep aquamarine blue eyes sparkled, and his face was lit up like a beacon. 'Mr. Mechanical' was Luke's nickname for his older brother, either that or 'The Android'. Luke regarded Simon as something less than human, more like a machine in his nature and his interests. He often joked with his older brother that he'd not find a girlfriend he liked until she had four wheels and could be parked in a garage. Needless, to say such provocation did not go unpunished and the two boys would soon be locked in a tussle and fight.

Ben almost winced at hearing Luke describe Simon as 'Mr. Mechanical' and, despite himself, couldn't help but smile. He didn't really like Luke's nickname for his beloved, it insulted him too in a way, but he couldn't deny the truth of it either. It wasn't fair really, Simon wasn't like that, it was just that… Certainly, there'd been times when he'd wanted to bang his head in frustration at Simon's reticence and rectitude, and he had to admit that 'Mr. Mechanical' summed Simon up nicely at times. However, the smile on his lips signalled something else as well, the pleasure of seeing Luke look so happy and the possibility too that his plan for Chris and Luke just might come to fruition. Images of the two lads, alone together in Luke's bedroom, briefly appeared and hovered to torment him. Wish I were a fly on the wall that night, he thought. Instead he said, enthusiastically,

"Great news, Luke. See I told you it might work, but go easy okay? Don't kill yourself on the first night," he laughed, "or Chris for that matter. Your chat-up technique is pretty deadly!"

"As if," said Luke, suddenly blushing and punching Ben's arm, "but thanks Ben, would never had had the courage until you suggested it. You're great! Thanks for getting the Android out of the way too, its bound to be better without him around."

"Aw, poor Simon," said Ben, "if only he knew what a pervy and devious brother he has."

"Yeah," agreed Luke, "if only he knew what a pervy and devious best friend he has."

"Ouch," said Ben, then he laughed, his eyes grinning wickedly, "touche'. See what I mean? Poor Chris doesn't stand a chance. Go easy on him Luke, he might not appreciate your deadly humour. No wonder you've not got any friends, except people you blackmail like me that is!

"Aaah," exclaimed Luke, still smiling, though he mimicked the recoil of one who'd just received a punch to the stomach, "you're hardly what I'd call harmless Ben. Pretty sharp in fact, my bum's still not recovered from your loving kindness, let me tell you."

"Who me?" Said Ben, feigning amazement and innocence, "What have I ever done? Go on, get off," he laughed, "and good luck for Friday."

"Thanks Ben," said Luke, readjusting his backpack on his shoulder and turning towards his class, "See you around no doubt, I still have something of yours don't forget." Luke, of course was referring to Ben's white CK's, the ones he'd 'borrowed' on Saturday.

"I haven't forgotten but go on, or I'll report you for corrupting your seniors," said Ben.

"Okay, okay, I'm off. Who'd be a bloody prefect anyway? They're all so fuckin dead!" Said Luke.

"Well this corpse has got to go," said Ben, suddenly aware he'd have to hurry if he were not to miss his bus, "See ya."

"Okay, bye," said Luke, setting off towards his English class before whispering to himself, "And good luck to you too Ben, you're gonna fuckin need it."

Ben turned and strode quickly down the corridor and out of the school.

Really, thought Luke, entering the classroom, when you thought about it, it was obvious wasn't it? Ben had the hots for his brother and Luke reckoned that Ben had gotten them bad. It had hit him after last Saturday, it was the way that Ben hadn't quite been able to look him in the eye when talking about Simon, the way that Ben's cheeks had burned and his body had tensed. Although Luke had known for some while that Ben had been stealing his and Simon's underwear he hadn't, until that moment with Ben, made any further connection. As far as Luke was concerned Ben was merely doing what he was doing, getting off on some tasty underwear. They simply added something to wanking, that's all, and somehow your own just didn't seem to work. It hadn't appeared unreasonable then to Luke that Ben was rifling through his and Simon's laundry. He presumed Ben wasn't so gross, so tacky as he was, and had left his own brother's briefs, or whatever, alone. Besides, he reckoned that Dominic's couldn't be upto much yet, weren't Simon's and the pair of Ben's CK's that he presently cherished, evidence of the fact that older was better? So Ben, who was obviously into doing the same thing as him, had turned not unnaturally to his best friend as his only source of supply. That was how Luke saw it anyway. The fact that Ben had even bothered with his had really flattered Luke. There was no doubt however, that Simon's undies were definitely the more favoured treat for Ben and it was only now that Luke understood why.

Luke shook his head, settled down at his desk and opened his English file. I bet Simon's not a fuckin clue, he thought. How Ben was ever going to get anywhere with his tight-arsed brother was beyond Luke's imagining's. Ben was bound to fail; besides his older brother was definitely interested in girls, daft fuck! Imagine running round after them when he could have Ben on a plate? Ben Johnson, Head Boy, super student and the ultimate school sex-god! Luke knew which he'd rather have, any day. Yeah, he thought, grinning broadly, I have too. Luke was really pleased with himself; he was totally chuffed that he'd copped off with his older brother's best friend. Right under Simon's nose, so to speak, and the Android, stupid sod, had never even noticed. Ben was special there was no doubt about that, but ultimately for Luke, Ben had merely been a stepping stone, a necessary triumph that heralded his entrance into the wider world beyond. He'd be eternally grateful to Ben, no doubt about it, and he wouldn't object to more of the same, but for now, he had other fish to fry. He was far more caught up with the elusive Chris Morgan and, remembering what Ben had taught him, he spent the whole of his English class imagining doing the same to Chris on Friday night.

Poor Jasmine Taylor! She sat next to Luke in English and had rather a crush on the dark handsome pretty boy sat on her right. Catching glimpses of Luke's erection, so obviously bulging in his tight black trousers, kept her flushed and distracted throughout the class. I really must try and ask him out she thought. Perhaps we could go to the movies on Friday?

At that moment Tom Davies, the 19 year old anthropology student in his second year at university, was sat in the middle of his bed with his legs crossed and his mind full of images of hot underwear sex with Ben. Tom was trying to keep calm though his cock was already hard and beginning to leak a little precum and it was taking a great effort not to dig his hand into his bulging basket and start working on his cock. He kept telling himself that it might not happen today and he'd better not get his hopes up too high. When he'd spoken to Benedict on Monday the boy was clearly agitated, not at all himself, and Tom recognised that Ben's needs had to come first, whatever they might happen to be. Tom must concentrate on listening to the boy, perhaps even to try and help him. He felt certain that Ben could do without him trying to get inside his pants and he resolved to keep his hands off the boy. It was just going to be so difficult, Tom was feeling really horny and the thought that Ben might not be up for it seemed to be irrelevant to his cock.

From the moment Tom had met Ben last year he'd known an intense sense of desire and lust. It had taken a while but he'd eventually realised that Ben was gay, well, he'd been pretty certain anyway. He had been wrong about Simon though, and how! You would have sworn the two sexy lads were lovers though, the way they acted and seemed to have eyes only for each other. Evidently it was not the case, though Tom still felt that Simon was gay, perhaps he just doesn't know it yet he thought. Finally screwing up his courage he'd dropped the note into Ben's bag and wow, lift off! When Tom had spoken to Ben on the phone he hadn't been able to resist the request that the boy bring his jockstrap. He'd worried after that, fearing that Ben might think him a pervert or worse. He needn't have worried; he'd been blessed with finally finding a lad who was as much into underwear as his self. Such a fuckin stud too, the golden Adonis was really beautiful. Tom was convinced that whatever your age or orientation you could never miss seeing Ben in a crowd. Benedict stood out, made everyone around him seem shadowy and pale; to have had sex with him would have been enough, but to be actually able to enjoy underwear with him was unbelievable good fortune. Tom felt so lucky, almost kind of privileged, all his life he'd wanted to do this and now it was possible, within his grasp. Unfortunately, today just might not be the day and he hoped he could handle it and not disgrace himself before Ben, it would be a real struggle to keep his hands off that hot bulge.

Tom had been introduced to the delights of gay sex at the age of 14. He'd always known he was gay and had fallen in love with an older boy called Peter Sweeney. Peter, who was 17 at the time, had in fact treated him like shit Tom had reluctantly come to realise. The older boy had never been particularly interested in Tom receiving any pleasure from the relationship; it had ended up being all give with very little received in return. It was pathetic really, though Tom at the time had considered it to be the finest love in the world. In fact, Peter had always denied he was gay or queer, not that it stopped him using Tom whenever the opportunity arose. Peter used to speak about the need for 'relief' and had called Tom all sorts of names as he'd fucked his mouth and his ass. Gradually the demands from Peter had lessened and finally dried up. Peter had taken a girlfriend but Tom knew he was still interested in boys; hope he ends up married and miserable - serves the bastard right, he thought.

After Peter, their had been a succession of experiences with other boys as Tom had grown older and more confident, more daring and assured. Unfortunately, there'd never been anyone particularly special and Tom was still waiting for Mr. Right, indeed, his first year at university had been scattered with casual relationships in search of this goal. He knew that in some ways he wouldn't object if that goal had turned out to be Benedict but had never really entertained the thought that it would. Ben was too young and evidently intent on looking elsewhere. No, Benedict was special, and definitely not to be ruined by Tom messing everything up by making a meal of things. Although Tom had managed to bring a few lads off in their kit most of them usually just pulled everything down and popped themselves into his mouth or arse. That was fine as far as it went, but Tom definitely wanted more. He'd managed to persuade one fellow student, last year, to blow him in his nylon briefs. Tom had been in heaven over that, but clearly the other lad hadn't felt the same and he'd never seen him again. Now he'd discovered the blessed Benedict who was clearly up to the mark and Tom had no intention of queering his pitch or losing such a fine catch just yet. It would be enough for the two lads to explore their common interest and anything else must surely be regarded as a bonus he thought.

Tom was interrupted from his meandering thoughts by the doorbell. Hell, is that the time, he thought? His pulse quickened and he jumped up from the bed and dashed downstairs to fling open the front door.

"Ben!" he greeted the boy, "Fuckin hell, you never told me you still wore school uniform."

"Err, yeah," said Benedict, momentarily phased by Tom's evident surprise at his being in school uniform.

Ben feared that the school uniform had driven Tom off, had reminded the older lad of Ben's relative youth and inexperience. Shit! I should have brought a change of clothes, he thought.

At the moment of opening the door Tom was still set on trying to 'behave' himself and to respect Ben's feelings. The sight of the blond beauty in school uniform changed that. Tom's resolve and self-control went out of the window, and he was determined to try something he'd always wanted but had never had the chance to enjoy. Oh the uniform was perfect, just perfect for Ben. It really did display the lad's charm and innocence, his youth and his beauty. Beguiled, Tom's cock was already stirring, well it hadn't exactly 'died' even as he'd rushed for the door, and the older teen knew that he just had to stroke and feel that tight sexy bum and kiss and worship the fecund protuberance that bulged in the tight black trousers.

Still standing there, the two boy's thoughts only taking a moment, though it seemed like more, Ben stammered,

"Its good to see you Tom. You don't mind me coming in uniform, do you? Its just I haven't had chance to change, and well…"

Benedict's words trailed off, the boy was suddenly a little apprehensive and nervous.

"Mind?" exploded Tom, laughing, "Fuck no! It really suits you Ben, you look great, a real hottie."

"Its just that," Tom continued, his emerald eyes sparkling and alive, his pearly white teeth flashing a cheeky smile, "well, I've always had a bit of a thing for a boy in school uniform, don't know why, just do, you understand?"

"Yes," said Ben, nodding, his face creasing into a smile, his body finally relaxing, "I like some lads in uniform too, especially at school, they look real sort of… sexy."

"Too fuckin right," laughed Tom in agreement, indicating with his head for Ben to follow him,

"Come on let's go upstairs, no one's home."

As Ben followed Tom up the darkened staircase, he couldn't help but feel happy and content. It was great being with Tom; you could really relax and be yourself. The older boy truly seemed to understand him, like that thing about school uniform, and so far Tom was the only person who knew about his love for Simon, though he thought Luke suspected it too.

"Tom," said Benedict still somewhat doubtful, faithfully climbing the stairs behind the older boy, "do you really think I look hot in my school uniform?"

Tom paused and turned round, with Benedict almost running into him.

"Fuck yes, Ben! Like I said the other day, I can't believe you've been wandering around like that and nobody's tried to cop off with you before now. Hell, if I'd been at your school I would've ruined my bed-sheets by now!"

Benedict blushed, other boys looked sexy in uniform, but not himself, surely? Take Simon or Chris for instance.

"Cool, err, I think," said Ben, "never thought about it like that before. About me I mean."

Tom smiled and reached out to tousle the younger boy's hair, desperate instead to just kiss and hold this beautiful boy. He really has no idea, thought Tom, not a fucking clue.

"God Ben, where did they dig you up?"

"What do you mean?" sought Ben, genuinely puzzled, he was confused by Tom's hand in his hair and the smile on his lips, yet at the same time, a little stung by Tom's words that seemed somehow to be a reproach.

"What I mean, you beautiful idiot," said Tom, "is that you're stunning, gorgeous, really sexy. But what's even more important is how beautiful you are inside; you're really nice Ben, so genuine. For God's sake don't change or you'll end up a cynical old bastard like me."

"You're not old!" blurted Ben, even more confused now.

Sure, Tom had said some really nice things about him, but he doesn't really know me Ben thought. Doesn't understand how selfish I am or the things I've done. One thing is certain I'm not beautiful that's for sure, not like Simon or Adam. He obviously likes me though, which is great as I think he's really sexy too. Standing on the stairs, looking up into Tom's deep jade-green eyes Ben was reminded of his tumble with Chris. He almost reached out to touch Tom, to feel his cock in the sexy shorts he was wearing. Tom was dressed in a black Polo T-shirt, white Reebok footie shorts and white sports socks. Heading up the stairs Ben hadn't been able to detect anything underneath the shorts. That intrigued him, standing at the door Tom hadn't looked as though he was swinging loose, in fact if anything Ben hadn't been able to get any sort of 'read' at all. This was surprising, considering he knew what was in there. I wonder if he's got something new for me to try? If Tom hadn't laughed at Ben's words and, shaking his head, continued on up the stairs, then very likely Ben would have found out. He'd been that close to reaching out and looking, his other worries suddenly pushed to the back of his mind by the thought of some hot undies on Tom.

The two lads entered Tom's room and as previously Ben sat in the easy chair and Tom arranged a drink.

"Fancy a beer?" asked Tom.

Ben shook his head,

"Better not, don't usually go home from school smelling of beer, coke would be good, anything as long as its cool."

Tom handed Ben a can of coke and opened a can of Stella for his self, the languid graceful teen finally flopping onto his bed. Propping himself up on his elbow, Tom regarded Ben, the boy was definitely different from the other night - much more tense, nowhere near as relaxed as he was then.

"So," said Tom gently, "where do you want to begin?"

"Phuh," muttered Ben, expelling air with a sigh, "from the beginning I guess, but go easy on me please," he pleaded, "I'm not very good at this and I'm not sure what to say. Also, you may not like me as much when I've finished but…"

"Take it easy, Ben, don't be so hard on yourself" said Tom, "besides I'll decide if I don't like you, okay? Not that I see that happening."

"Yes… err thanks," nodded Ben.

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, Ben began. Halting, faltering at first, the teen reviewed his recent past, the explosion that had taken place in his life, how everything was consumed and tainted by his desires, especially his relationship with Simon and his own younger brother, Dominic. There'd been a few tears, especially when he'd reached Dominic, but Ben had occasionally glanced at the gentle and sympathetic Tom and had found the courage to go on. Tom had proved to be a good listener, instinctively knowing when to encourage Ben or seek clarification on a point he hadn't quite understood or followed. He'd passed no judgements, had merely listened and occasionally nodded understanding. Gradually, the tortured teen's tale wound to a close and the two boys paused, the silence pregnant with expectation.

Ben had been totally honest, had stripped himself bare before Tom, he hadn't held anything back or sought to shift the blame onto anyone else. He had unloaded his burden and was waiting now to see what would happen. His secret treasure was laid bare, open to plunder, to ridicule or rejection. He felt very miserable then but the first rays of hope were somehow beginning to break. Already he was feeling a bit better, relieved that he wasn't entirely alone, someone had listened, heard his tale. But would he receive absolution? His eyes were red and raw, and his nose felt runny as he sniffled and coughed.

Tom got up from the bed, plucked some tissues from his bedside cabinet and silently made his way over to Ben. Dropping down in front of the boy, he gently wiped Ben's tears and told the boy to blow his nose. Clucking and fussing like a mother hen Tom wiped Ben's face and patted down the hair that had been ravaged and tugged by Ben during his tale. Finished cleaning the youth up Tom returned to his bed. This time however, he sat on the side of the bed, facing Ben, his feet on the floor. Finally, he forced himself to speak, slowly, solemnly,

"Thank you Ben, thank you. That took a lot of courage. If I liked you before, well… now I find I respect you enormously. Certainly, despite how you obviously feel, I don't think ill of you, if anything I think more."

"bbbBut how? Why? You can't understand," cried Ben.

Surely Tom couldn't mean those words? How could he after all that he'd heard? How Ben had abused Adam, violated the love of his own brother? What about Luke too, Simon's younger brother! Shouldn't Tom be angry, or despise him? How can he still like me?

Tom was silent, his eyes closed, he was concentrating furiously, trying to find the right words, desperate to make Ben understand and feel accepted. In a flash it came to him, the utter genuineness of the boy, his open and truthful nature. He must fight fire with fire. Benedict had been totally honest, so therefore must he…

"Can I be honest with you Ben?"

"Sssure," said Ben, dreading it; here it comes he thought.

Cradling his head in his hands, Tom declared,

"When you were telling me all that, do you know what I was thinking?" He asked rhetorically.

"Well," he continued, "let me tell you Ben. Part of me was totally with you, don't doubt that please, I really feel for you and I do understand. However, we'll get to that in a moment. No, what's at issue here is another part of me. Now, that part of me, even when you were crying, when you were really upset, was thinking about things differently. I was picturing these other lads and you, thinking about you doing it with them, and I was hard. Do you hear me Ben? I was fuckin hard!"

Ben almost winced at that, the vehemence and self-reproach apparent in Tom's voice.

Tom continued,

"I'm not proud of it Ben. I was getting off on it and if you walk out of the door now, not that I'd blame you, I'll be down on this bed wanking off to thoughts of you grabbing what's-his-name, err Adam, Adam's basket, or you rubbing yourself off with your brother. Now, can you understand that? Even, perhaps, forgive me?"

"But of course!" cried out Ben, continuing in a rush,

"That's what I'm trying to say. That's how it felt when I was making things up with Dom. Even then, when he was being so cool and kind, part of me wanted to do it with him, right there and then!"

"Exactly, my point," said Tom, "so if you can understand that, and really, please forgive me, then why can't I understand and forgive you? Not that you need my forgiveness that is."

"God," said Ben, understanding dawning, his body suddenly feeling light and airy, "yeah."

Ben lapsed into speechlessness, quite stunned by the older boy's logic, even more paralysed by his kindness and understanding. The fact that Tom had felt horny listening to Ben didn't bother him in the least. He understood that, it happened to him all the time.

"So now we've got that out of the way," said Tom, "let's try and look at what you're really saying, okay?"

"Sure," said Ben, more confident now, feeling better than he had done in days, "can I have another drink? A Stella perhaps?"

"Right," said Tom, getting up from the bed and grabbing two cans, one for Ben and one for himself.

He handed a can over to Ben and, after the hiss of the drinks being opened, he settled back down on the bed again.

"Fuck Ben, you don't do things by half do you. What is it they say? A rising cock has no conscience?" He laughed.

Ben laughed a little too, though he suddenly felt terribly embarrassed and he stared intently at the floor, his eye tracing the pattern in the dark blue carpet.

"Let's start with Nick shall we?" quizzed Tom, checking with Ben that it was okay to continue.

Ben nodded for him to go, keen to hear what Tom had to say; yet wishing to avoid it too.

"Well Nick the dick is pretty straightforward it seems to me. He'd obviously wanted to do it with it you, took a chance and it paid off! It was your first time, he wasn't to know that, and from what you say it was fun, you enjoyed it and its not giving you any hassle, right?"

"Yeah," said Ben, now more responsive, "exactly! It was wonderful, a real surprise at the time, I'd never have guessed it about him. To have finally broken my duck was… well; you know what I mean. As for Nick, you're right no complaints there, he was, sorry is, cool about it. In fact, I think he might be interested in more but… I could do without that at the moment."

"You know, you can say no Ben," laughed Tom.

"Err, yes, I know its just…" blushed Ben, furiously.

"Its just after that," interrupted Tom.

"Ka-boom!" exclaimed Benedict, mimicking an explosion with his hands.

"Right!" laughed Tom, "Ka-boom it is. Nick pulled the trigger and, forgive the pun, you proceeded to shoot your load everywhere."

Despite himself, Ben grinned and nodded in bashful agreement.

"So let's turn to the hot young Chris. God Ben, you ever get bored with this lad let me know, he sounds awesome."

"He is," said Ben, grinning from ear to ear, "he's totally hot and wild."

Ben couldn't help but feel a little pride about Chris. The fact that Chris was so eager to have sex with him was really the icing on the cake. Ben felt sure that once others realised what they were missing he'd not get a look in.

"Indeed," agreed Tom, "he's probably a bit young for me now though, but in his case I feel I could make an exception."

"Old lecher!" said Ben.

"I know," beamed Tom, "great isn't it? Anyway, back to Chris. Well, if what you tell me is right, then again, I've got no probs with that. It seems Chris gave you the green light and you decided to pass 'go'. Can't say I blame you either. You're 17, gay, and had just had your first time with another guy. All that crap stored up inside you, desperate to get out, you know what I mean."

Ben agreed, oh yes, he knew what Tom meant, the agonies and doubts, the fear of being different. Wondering if you'd ever find anyone just like you. Searching through your friends, all the time encountering no one. Only hearing all that awful stuff about puffs, gays and queers, yet always desperate to find someone to have sex with and to know, at last, for sure. Yeah, Ben knew all right, no doubt about that.

"So there you are, primed and loaded, ready for more," continued Tom, "and along comes Chris, and its wham-bam-thank-you-mam. It was bound to happen sometime, its just that you seemed to have gone at it all in a rush you horny bugger."

Ben laughed, though he felt slightly embarrassed, so far however, Tom was as good as his word. The older boy really did seem to understand and know what Ben felt and where he was coming from. Still, choppier waters ahead he reminded himself.

"So, all in all, up to that point, perfectly natural I'd say," summarised Tom, "Then I enter the picture, I make a move and you respond. Again fine, I hope. You had no problems with that I presume? You are still here after all."

"No, no problems," agreed Ben, suddenly becoming shy and alluring, "though I can't help wondering what's under those shorts."

"Ha," laughed Tom, grinning, "fuck me Ben! You have got it bad. You'll just have to wait and see. Besides, don't think I'm so easily distracted from what lies ahead. Well, okay I am actually, and I'm desperate to see what's under those trousers of yours but let's hold off on that at the mo."

Tom was feeling really rather laid-back now. He'd heard what Ben had had to say and understood where the boy was coming from. It seemed that once they'd dealt with that then Benedict wasn't about to leave him empty handed. His stomach had unwound a few notches and he was suddenly aware of just how intense his feelings for Ben were. However, knowing that the boy could do without any further complications in his life Tom resolved to try and keep things simple between them. If I don't lose my heart in the process, he cautioned himself, sensing already the heady spell of Ben's bewitching charms.

"Then things start to get complicated," said Ben.

"Boy you can say that again Ben," replied Tom, "its Luke next, right?"

"Yes," confirmed Ben.

"The horny little devil must have scared the shit out of you at first?"

"He did, I didn't know what to say. I just wanted to die or curl up into a ball and deny it had ever happened."

"Mmm, not surprised," said Tom, "I would've been the same. From what you say I think you were handling it quite well actually. Certainly better than I would've. You really are endearingly honest you know."

"Thanks," said Ben, momentarily thrown off balance by at this unsought compliment, "but then things sort of got outta hand, I fucked the arse off him!"

"Well, in hand I think Ben," smiled Tom, "but seriously what were you supposed to do? The little bugger did have you over a barrel somewhat. He speared you to be sure, but you only did him in return because he wanted you to."

"I could have said no," anguished Ben, "should have. He's Simon's younger brother for fucksake!"

"I know, I know, and that's the problem isn't it? But let's leave that to one side, we'll get to that in a moment. For now Ben remember this. He started it, he wanted it and it wasn't your fault. Well, except for getting caught with the underwear of course and I don't think you'll forget that particular lesson in a hurry. Agreed?"

"I guess," said Ben, who of course had not touched either of the Jones boy's underwear since.

"You've had no signs of any negative feedback from Luke am I correct?"

"Err, no, none," said Ben.

"For what its worth I don't think you'll have any either but, I agree, I wouldn't be resting easy either. Its understandable, in the circumstances, but somehow I just don't see Luke coming back for more."

"Why?" sought Ben, "What makes you so sure?" Not entirely pleased with that thought somehow, even though he knew he should be. He could do without that problem surely?

"Sure? No, I'm not sure," said Tom. "But if I had to take a bet I'd guess not. If I'm reading Luke correctly, based on what you've given me, then I'd have to say he's already accomplished his mission even if he doesn't realise it."

"Mission?" said Ben, more puzzled than ever.

"Meaning," continued Tom, "he's done his brother's best mate. Had him, lock stock and fuckin barrel. I imagine he's pretty pleased with himself about that. Not in a nasty way you understand; no, more a sense of triumph I suspect. Its like he's entered the world of adults and has managed to get away without being caught. Even better, its his older brother who he's beat. You're the eldest Ben; I'm the youngest in my family. Believe me, part of me understands where Luke is coming from, I think."

"If you say so," said Ben still not convinced that it was that simple.

"Hey, I'm not offering any guarantees Ben, just trying to help. I could easily be wrong, I admit that, its just… that I don't think I am. Look at you and your brother. Try seeing it from his point of view."

Argh, thought Ben, here it was, crunch time. What the hell did Tom think of him for that?

"Now Ben, I know that this is difficult and you've already said enough for me to know that you don't feel happy with yourself over it. Yes, you are the older brother and you must take the lion's share of the responsibility. However, I think in this case I need to tell you to go easy on yourself. Don't punish yourself forever. From the sounds of it no one got hurt or forced into anything they didn't want to do, that's important."

"Also," continued Tom, keeping a close eye on Benedict, "I remember last year the people in psychology and sociology, I think it was, talking about all this stuff. They were covering it in lectures and I seem to remember them saying that loads of it, and I do mean loads of it, goes on. Most times its experimentation, it doesn't last long and is usually pretty harmless. Sometimes though its forced, abusive and really serious. I just can't see that in you Ben and I know it didn't happen like that."

"So… so," stammered Ben, "you're still talking to me, even after what I did with Dom?"

"Of course I am," said Tom gently, "I can't say I entirely approve but I do understand, I think. Worse things have happened Ben, believe you me. I never had those feelings so I'm not entirely certain you understand, but I do feel, all in all, that no major harm's been done."

"I hope so," said Ben, feeling a lot brighter, "I'd never want to hurt Dom."

"I'm sure you haven't," affirmed Tom, "but you have probably left him confused, though no more than you perhaps. However, he's younger and just because he took a roll with you it doesn't mean he's on the same path, okay?"

"I know," agreed Ben, "I've thought about that."

"I'm sure you have. Perhaps best to leave it for now and try and move on. Just let him know that he can always come and talk to you, that he has nothing to fear. After all, you're living in the same house and that always makes these things difficult."

"Okay, that sounds cool," said Ben, the experience still very fresh and vivid in his mind.

The mere fact of Tom's acceptance helped to soothe Ben's doubts and calm his fears. Certainly, he hadn't jumped to the conclusion that his brother was gay. Far from it, he'd been more worried about 'turning' Dom into something he wasn't. Perhaps Tom was right; Dom hadn't seemed too badly harmed this morning he thought. If anything, Ben was the more reluctant of the two and he realised that he'd have to be a bit more careful around Dom for a while yet. It would be so easy to fall into that trap again and he'd have to try and watch for the signs.

"So where's all this get us?" Said Tom, moving things along,

"There's two major things at work here I reckon. One of them is down to you Ben, though I don't think you know it, and the other is at the heart of the problem. Sorry… err, I mean situation; problem's the wrong word."

"Okay," said Ben, more assured now by Tom's words, his analysis of the situation.

Where's Tom get all this from? Ben couldn't help but wonder. At times you could just catch a glimpse of something in Tom's eyes when he spoke. Was it pain? It sure seemed like it to Ben. Does this mean Tom understands because he's suffered too? Is this how we really learn what things are all about? Benedict shivered a little at the thought of that, though he couldn't help but wonder why he wasn't wise as well. After all, he reckoned he'd suffered enough already. Does that mean there's more crap to come?

"Let's start with you. After all its why you're here," stated Tom.

"In what way?" sought Ben.

"Well, you're here because of last week, because of my note. That's my fault, okay? But what made me take the risk? You Ben, you made me take the risk."

"But…!" cried Ben.

"Hang on!" interrupted Tom, "let me finish. I'm not blaming you, far from it in fact, its me I blame, if anybody that is. No, what I mean is; that I'd been looking at you for a while, you know thinking about things, wishing what could be, while always knowing that they couldn't. Okay, no harm in that I guess, we all do that. So why did I drop the note? Because things had suddenly changed Ben, they'd changed in you. That night at the squash club, you were so obviously ready, you were sending off signals like nobody's business. I just somehow knew you'd go for it, it was as simple as that."

Ben just looked at Tom, stunned, awed. Am I responsible he thought? Is this why these things are happening to me?

As if reading the younger boy's mind Tom declared,

"Its not your fault Ben, you obviously don't even realise you're doing it. What's obviously happened is that getting together with Nick has somehow… oh, I don't know, opened the door or switched on your 'light'. I can't explain it, I just wish you could see it. Its as real to me as the nose on my face, and I reckon some of the other lads have seen the same thing too. Its like you're a magnet all of a sudden, and the rest of us are just like poor flies round shit. Not that we think you're shit, far from it let me assure you."

"But how do you… how do they, know?" said Ben, still far from understanding, feeling somewhat frustrated.

"Oh, err, how do I," sought Tom, flailing away in the search to find the right words, "got it!" He suddenly cried.

"Adam! Think of Adam, Ben. Remember how you felt when you were looking at him, what you were thinking before you made your move."

"I was thinking with my dick," said Ben, "and look where it got me."

"Exactly!" said Tom, "Nice turn of phrase by the way Ben. You were thinking with your dick. Now, what does that mean? Well, surely, despite how you feel about how things went with Adam, isn't one of the things you're actually saying is; that you knew?"

"Knew what?" Quizzed Ben.

"That you knew you were right to take the risk," continued Tom. "You knew what Adam wanted, that he wasn't going to say no. You read his signs, his signals, whatever you wanna call 'em, correct. I don't think for one minute you would actually have forced yourself on him if he'd been unwilling."

"I guess part of me did sort of feel it was okay to try," conceded Ben, somewhat hesitantly, "though I was shit scared too."

"You think I wasn't shitting myself when I popped that note into your bag?" retorted Tom, he continued,

"These aren't racing certainties Ben, its more of a hunch, a gut feeling. Something inside you says, try it, he looks kinda interested, you know what I mean? Its like somehow they're communicating with you."

"I felt like that with Chris too," said Ben, comprehension slowly beginning to dawn, "I can't describe it, I just knew that he wanted what I wanted."

"And that's how I felt about you," said Tom, "that's what I reckon has happened to the others as well. I'd worked out you were gay a while ago, the same reason I guess. But until the other night I'd never had the sense you were interested or active. Suddenly, that had changed and I knew you were curious about me and definitely interested."

Benedict however, still felt that what Tom was saying didn't really apply to him. Well, about him, that is. He wasn't really like that; Ben just couldn't picture himself as some kind of 'magnet' no matter how hard he tried. Obviously, he was giving off some sort of signals or these things wouldn't be happening. I must be more careful in future, he thought, though I'm still not sure what it is that I'm doing or saying.

"Was I that obvious? Can anybody tell?" said Ben, suddenly appalled at his self, did he appear to be some leering perve?

The fact that Tom had said that he'd known Ben was gay passed him by. He'd somehow accepted that for the truth it was. Ben was far more worried, about how other people were suddenly looking at him. Did they all know? His parents, Simon even?

"No," laughed Tom, instinctively understanding the frown on Ben's forehead, "you weren't that obvious and, no, not everybody can tell. Just those that are interested and even then, I bet not all of them can tell. Its just a special sort of moment type thing. With you it seems; everything has come tumbling out at once. You've had sex and suddenly want more. A lot more in your case Ben, you really do dig it don't you?"

"Yeah," nodded Ben, feeling embarrassed again.

"Its okay," laughed Tom, "its not a crime. I for one ain't complaining."

"So," said Ben, suddenly feeling fear and pain, his mind racing to the logical conclusion, revolving as it always did around his love for Simon, "if what you say is true, and others have noticed it as well, then doesn't that mean that Simon isn't interested?"

"Oh Ben, Ben, Ben," sighed Tom, gently shaking his head from side to side, "poor you. Can't you ever give yourself a break? Okay, Simon it is, Mr. Heart-of-the-Matter."

Ben's stomach was now knotted and tight, his breathing somewhat rapid and ragged. His throat suddenly seemed dry and he took a deep gulp from his can, the amber liquid tasting sour and bitter in his mouth.

"You said he was interested!" said Ben, accusingly.

"I know, I know," acknowledged Tom; "perhaps I should've kept my big mouth shut. I could easily be wrong, okay. Its just that, oh I don't know, there's definitely something. Its like… like he's looking at you but he doesn't maybe know it."

"But how? He's nearly 18!"

Ben couldn't understand that. He'd known since his first stirrings where his interests lay, how could Simon not possibly be aware? If Tom's right that is, he thought, which I'm seriously beginning to doubt in this particular case.

"Oh Ben," said Tom, gently admonishing the younger boy, yet a little stung by his own idiocy in blurting out what could well be a red herring, knowing how important this was to Benedict and how foolish he'd been in letting his mouth run away from him.

"Its not that simple," Tom continued, "not everyone knows right away, and even when they do understand, some people run away from it. Have you never heard of latent homosexuals? People, who don't realise for years that they're actually gay?"

"I've heard of 'em," said Ben, still somewhat sceptical.

"Well believe you me, I know; they exist," said Tom bitterly, remembering Peter Sweeney.

"So… so you believe Simon's one of them?" Enquired Ben, hesitant. Still grappling with the concept.

"Aw fuck, I don't know Ben, honest," said Tom, opening his palms to Ben and shrugging his shoulders, "I'd tell you to forget I ever said it 'cept I know you can't. I'd be the same," he laughed, "anyway forget Simon for a moment, if you can, and look at yourself. That's where the real problem is."

"But I know I'm gay!" Blurted out Ben, very much confused now.

"No, I don't mean that way," said Tom, "I mean the problem is your feelings for Simon. You've got yourself screwed up so tight, so focused only on Simon that you're overwhelmed. You can't seem to be able to tell him or to do anything about it. So what do you do? Well, at the moment your lid's blown off, you're boiling over and you're running around doing all these things when really you want to just be with him. I don't think you're gonna slow down either, until you tell him Ben. For your benefit, and indeed, for his, I think you're gonna have to screw up your courage, put your life in his hands, and just simply tell him the truth."

"The truth?" stammered Ben, weakly.

"Yes, the truth," said Tom, he was gentle but firm and insistent too, "not everything, not about his brother for fucksake, not all at once anyway."

Tom suddenly laughed and continued,

"Mind you, you're so crazy, you might just go right ahead and do that. The thing is, knowing your luck, everything would probably turn out fine!"

"bbbBut how? Why?" said Ben, he couldn't, he just couldn't, he'd probably lose everything, Simon might never speak to him again and how could he live with that?

"How?" said Tom, "well that part's up to you, you know him best and you'll just have to work that one out for yourself. Really Ben, like I said before, you're a genuine type of guy, I can't see you doing it badly somehow. Just pick your moment and go for it."

Ben just sat there, listening, taking it all in, while at the same time trying to conjure up the image of him confronting Simon. It wouldn't come; he just couldn't see it. All he could see was the giant leap and the dark gaping hole beneath, the risk, and all he had to loose that stood on the other side.

"But Tom," began Benedict, marshalling his objections.

"Don't say it Ben," pleaded Tom, "hear me out, that's why you came here, remember? I know what you're gonna say, all the reasons why you can't possibly tell him. You could probably go on for hours, I'd be the same, but at the end of the day it'd all be bullshit, pure bullshit Ben."

Ben's cheeks burned, he felt like he'd been struck, and his mind reeled. Why was Tom saying these things? Didn't he know he was in pain? That he really loved Simon and didn't want to hurt him?

Tom, was a bit worried for the moment, perhaps he'd said too much, been too harsh?

Ben looked pretty punch drunk. Tom really felt for the boy, he was obviously totally besotted, lovesick even. He was convinced, however, that all Ben really needed was a nudge in the right direction and, in the long run, he knew it would be for the best, however things went. Certainly, Benedict's ability to handle the truth, his caring and generous nature, would see him right, Tom felt. Although, just at this moment, he didn't doubt that the younger lad couldn't see that, caught up as he was in the intensity of young love, where it was very much a case of all or nothing. Tom reviewed his own broken past and wished someone had done the same for him. It was that crippling sense of regret, of loss, that he was trying to save Ben from, he suddenly realised. That awful feeling of what-might-have-been, if only things had happened differently and you'd dared to take a risk. Still very much haunted by his own mistakes and misjudgements Tom was eager to release Ben from his trials. If only the younger boy would trust him, would heed what he had to say, then Tom felt all would be well. The older youth was convinced that Simon was waiting for a word or a sign, was trapped inside a labyrinth he couldn't understand or escape. But only Ben held the key to unlocking that particular door and Tom couldn't really blame him if Ben was too afraid to try. After all, hadn't his own courage failed him in the past?

Tom took a quick swig from his can and continued, holding Ben's eyes with the intensity of his gaze,

"So why? Why tell him? Well, if I was to ask you to list all Simon's virtues, his good points, what it is about him you love, how long you reckon that would take Ben? All day?" asked Tom, smiling.

"Yeah," smiled Ben in return, a shy smile on his lips, "probably, if not even longer."

"Okay," said Tom, "so aren't you been rather unfair to this beautiful, kind, sensitive, caring creature with whom you're supposedly so much in love? Don't you trust him?"

"Of course!" declared Ben, almost springing to his feet, "but…"

"But what Ben?" asked Tom, "It doesn't look as though you trust him to me. Doesn't he have the right to know? Even if he can't respond, can't return your love as you wish, doesn't he get the chance to know what its like to be loved? To know that someone cares for him, appreciates him, wants the best for him?"

"Well, err yes, I guess put like that…" said Ben, his mouth suddenly unable to move.

Why hadn't he ever thought of that before? How could he have been so selfish? Ben chided himself, stunned by the revelation of Tom's words. For the first time, he genuinely tried to see things through Simon's eyes, rather than look through lenses tainted with his more hopeful dreams and terrible fears. Still, Tom, who'd been so good upto now, had suddenly surely failed him?

"You just don't understand," cried Ben, suddenly.

"You're right Ben, I don't," said Tom, slowly shaking his head, "I don't understand why a lad like you, who's bright, charming and polite, who really tries to care about people and who's so honest its fuckin painful, can't tell the boy he loves that he loves him. I think its eating you up Ben. I think its what's making you do the things you're doing. You're not being honest with yourself and with Simon. I don't think you can go on like that, not for much longer anyway, something's gonna have to give."

"Hell," continued Tom, ploughing on remorselessly, "look at you and me, and all the others, we both know you wouldn't be here now if you were honest with Simon, especially if he loved you in return. Flipping heck Ben, I sure don't think you'll be able to keep all these balls in the air for much longer, something's gonna fall that's for sure."

Ben merely nodded and sighed, wringing his hands with a sense of surrender. Yes, Tom was right Simon was at the heart of it all, he understood that clearly now. He hated not telling him, hated the lies, the evasions, the untruths. Being with Simon was wonderful, it was the finest most exhilarating experience he'd ever known, and he felt alive in a way that he couldn't possibly communicate. However, it was terrible too, because all the time he was not being entirely himself, he always had to hide his feelings and experience that awful gnawing pain and yearning. Yes, there was no doubt about it, what Tom had said was true, he could no longer avoid it, Simon must be told. He resolved then to tell Simon the truth, while he tried to calm his fears. He didn't know how, didn't know where or when, all he knew was that he must try. The thought of it not working, of Simon disowning him, was suddenly too awful to contemplate though and he recoiled from the abyss in his mind.

Seeing the younger boy struggling, sensing the inner turmoil, indeed it was almost as if Tom could hear the cogs whirring in Benedict's mind, Tom said, kindly, sympathetically,

"I know you'll do it Ben, go easy on yourself, it takes time to get used to the idea. Once you understand, once you realise, that you'll never know, never have the chance or the opportunity to discover if he loves you, without first taking the risk of losing him, then, then I know you'll tell him."

"And if he doesn't love me?" sought Ben, his voice quiet as a whisper, anguished and pained.

"Then there's no quick cure I'm afraid," said Tom, "except to hope that you both remain good, perhaps even better friends. It’s the big boy's playground Ben, just because you love him it doesn't mean he must love you. But," he emphasised, "Like I say, you'll never know what you're missing until you try. Certainly, I'm glad I tried with you, look what I'd have missed, all those tears and teen angst, my afternoon's will never be the same."

Tom grinned at Benedict, and Ben, suddenly brighter, laughed and threw a cushion at Tom.

"The only thing that made you try with me," said Ben, still laughing, the tension in the room having suddenly evaporated, "is wrapped up in my pants, you old perv."

"Got me in one, its old peeping tom" laughed Tom, cradling the cushion that had hit him in the face, "can you blame me?"

"For being a dirty old man? But of course," said Ben, suddenly rising from his chair and moving towards Tom, "but for having something equally tasty in your shorts? Nah, can't say I blame you for that," said Benedict, his hand stretching out to reach for the older boy's bulge.

Tom's cock rapidly stiffened, and it took all his force of will, to grab Ben's hand and hold it there, restrained and gripped tight, but a few inches from his hot hungry mound.

"You don't have to do this Ben," said Tom, looking the younger teen straight in the eye, trying to determine if the boy was really all right, that he wanted to do this, rather than out of some daft idea of an obligation or duty.

"No, I know Tom, its okay, really," said Ben, "I want to do this. Right now, more than anything else, I want you and I want you bad."

Tom released Ben's hand and felt the hot sexy young stud push him onto the bed and throw himself on top of him. Ben's left hand eagerly grabbed a terrible handful of his painful cock and slippery white shorts, while the boy's right hand gripped and pulled at his hair, holding his head firmly in place, allowing Ben to savagely and hungrily kiss him. Kiss him? More like bloody eat him, thought Tom. So passionate and reckless was Ben's lust that he bit Tom's lower lip and tasted his blood. Tom was overwhelmed by the ferocity of Ben's assault. This was a side of Ben he'd only glimpsed the other evening. Ben was suddenly a real life wildboy, totally animal and primal. Tom's lower lip trembled and stung and his eyes watered as Ben squeezed his swollen shaft so hard that he thought it was going to snap and break. The older teen's life force mixed with drool and saliva as the two fevered tongues probed and lashed each other. The coppery taste and scent of blood only seemed to drive both boy's on. Sucking on each other's lips, the boys locked tongues, entwining them as one, while Ben's hand abandoned Tom's cock and compressed his ballooning balls.

Although a side of Ben had naturally wanted to give his friend something in return, a reward if you like, for being so kind and understanding, he knew that something else was at work deep inside of him. How else could he explain his actions? The feelings coursing through his body, this uncontrollable desire and terrible hunger? It was like taking a bath; he seemed to want to shed himself of all that had been spoken of. Ben needed to cleanse and purify himself and soothe his troubles with the balm and ointment of hot sweaty sex and steamy lust. Besides, if he were honest, there was another reason too. Even if Simon did love him then he still might not want what Ben wanted. Something that he knew Tom would give him, a shared passion, no a need even, for passionate abandoned undie sex. Ben had enough sense to know that he might never get another chance and he was determined to not risk missing this particular boat.

Tom finally managed to detach Ben's hands from his hair and balls. Oblivious, Ben continued to roam and harvest Tom's body, intent on extracting all life and essence from its form. His lips sucked on Tom's nose and chin, and his tongue licked the older boy's shaven stubble, tasting soap and sweat as it scoured the fresh warm face. He thrust his burning mound into the torrid heat of Tom's nylon bulge, feeling his own cock rasp and rub inside his briefs and trousers. Tom struggled to get the boy's navy blazer off him, finally succeeding in tugging it free from the resentful arms, that seemed to ache and strain to be about his body. Throwing the blazer to the floor, the compact but powerful Tom, asserted his self, the beast unleashed in him now too, and he rolled over onto his side taking Ben with him. Pushing his way up on top of the younger boy, he hugged his knees tight against Ben's body and looked into those deep blue eyes.

"Right, you horny little bastard," said Tom, raising himself up from Ben, bestriding the boy like a colossus, "You wanted to see what's inside my shorts, so here you are."

Ben lay beneath him, totally dishevelled, the animal that stalked inside him temporarily stilled. The teen's eyes blazed an incandescent blue, and a smear of blood ran down his chin. The blond golden hair was in disarray, rather like the white school shirt, which was also in a mess. The top two buttons had become undone and the dark blue tie looked like an overgrown noose. Most of the shirt had been pulled free of the trousers and Tom could see sweat glistening on Ben's stomach and the light golden down that wound its trail into the dark cavern of the coal black trousers. The schoolboy trousers looked to be unable to cope with their manly load, and they bulged and strained, the hot throbbing cock obviously desperate to be free. Like Dominic before him, Tom could easily discern the inverted 'V' of the helmet through the thin pulsing fabric.

Tom tugged down his shorts and, briefly sitting on Ben, eased the shorts down over his powerful yet slim, thighs and legs. Then Tom thrust himself up again, still straddling the younger lad; he ran his hands through his thick red hair and then dropped them to his hips, thrusting his groin forward in a lewd and provocative gesture.

"Oh fuck, they're fuckin beautiful," said Ben, his voice filled with awe and wonder.

His cock twitched in its own sweaty prison and his hand reached forward to grasp the wondrous pouch that his eyes beheld.

"Not yet," said Tom, "knocking Ben's hand away, "first we're gonna have some fun, you'll be fucking begging me for it before I'm finished."

"I'm begging now," said Ben, still drinking in the sight of Tom's new and wondrous briefs.

Tom stood about six feet tall; he had dark red hair and dark green eyes, he was slim and very boyish looking, with a freckled face and shoulders. Honed by squash and karate, the hard lean body, the muscles rifled and rigid, looked awesome set in the black Polo T-shirt and the dark red nylon pouch he was wearing. Ben wasn't sure if it was a G-string or thong. He correctly concluded that it was a thong. The material was nylon but it looked shiny and wet, though whether that was due to the amount of juice that Tom was pumping into them, Ben couldn't tell. There seemed to be just enough material to cover Tom's cock, certainly there couldn't be much give left in them as the material was taut and tight, stretched as it was over Tom's ample bulge. Ben knew there was over 7 inches of thick hot meat in those skimpy briefs and he marvelled at the flimsy looking material's ability to hold it all in place, never mind the nice fat juicy balls that were crammed in there as well.

Tom, like Adam the other day, had obviously opted to 'control' his cock by ramming his cockhead deep down into the bottom of the pile. The ridge was just detectable at the bottom of the bulge where the material was already darkened by the moisture of precum. Tom's shaft though had ballooned, pushing out the briefs so that they appeared swollen and ripe. Very much like a banana, Ben thought, and he imagined trying to ease his fingers into that hot dark space, between the quivering shaft and the flat lower stomach, red fiery pubes crinkling under his touch. Indeed, the wispy material soon fell rapidly away from the bulging basket, tapering upto those lean powerful thighs. It didn't look as though there'd be much material behind, thought Ben, if any. What it did mean was that Tom's dark red bush seemed to spew out of the tight sack and they flared up towards his navel and down to the insides of his thighs.

Tom enjoyed his moment of power, revelling in the look of unbridled lust and longing in Benedict's eyes. Swatting the prying hand away, he'd lifted his T-shirt and flexed his muscles, had teased the boy with his rippling 8-pack and obscenely gyrated his groaning groin. Suddenly, Tom leaned forward and put his hands on the floor, to either side of Benedict's head. Transferring his weight onto his hands, he lifted a leg, up from the floor, and burrowed his way in between Ben's legs. Understanding, Ben splayed open his legs and allowed Tom to settle there. Transferring his weight between his hands and his toes, Tom hovered over Ben, as though at the full extension of a sit-up. Gently, he lowered his bulging nylon basket until it just grazed Ben's own throbbing black coated pile. Ever so slowly, almost imperceptible at first, Tom circled Ben's trouser covered cock. Gradually he dropped his bulge lower, while maintaining the same steady rhythm. Soon both boys were moaning and writhing as Tom gently feathered their straining pouches. Tom's concentration in the pursuit of pleasure never wavered, and each time Benedict thrust up his groin, desperately seeking to enlarge on the area of pleasure, Tom drew back, teasing him and pausing before resuming his torturous dance.

Tom was in his seventh heaven. He'd always wanted to this, had spent years at school tortured by his desire to rub up against all those wonderful hot mounds and bulges that had so teased and distracted him throughout his school days. Now at last his time had come, and he was determined to extract every possible moment of pleasure from the experience, it were almost as though he were taking revenge upon Ben for all that he'd suffered and yearned for. His cock enclosed in the sheer tight material gently rubbed Ben's cock. Even through the sticky nylon and the thicker cotton of Ben's trousers Tom could feel almost every detail as it transmitted its way through his own shuddering shaft. As he slowly circled the boy's hot mound, which lay to the left, Tom could feel himself sliding over the ridge of Ben's helmet, slipping down along the strident shaft and briefly nestling in the bubbling balls. As he moved over Benedict he smeared the boy's mound with his sticky syrup and soon the black trousers sparkled in the light, an ice capped mountain rising through the clouds.

It wasn't only Tom of course who was smearing the boy's trousers. Benedict too was adding his own molten lube to the river that flowed and trickled upon his trousers. His cock inside his briefs, was dripping wet, and the young hot precum had soon eaten its way through his trousers to break through and bubble on the surface above. Benedict was like Tom, transfixed with pleasure and ecstasy. He'd briefly tried to grab Tom's ass and it was then that he'd discovered he'd been right, there was no material at the back of the thong, just a piece of string that bit deep into Tom's torrid crack. The string felt slimy and hot as it lay baking, burrowed between Tom's hot sweaty cheeks and Ben wondered what it looked like in there. Ben however, had tried to pull Tom down wanting to mash and smash their two cocks together, instead Tom had resisted, and Ben had marvelled at how hard Tom's ass was at it had resisted his efforts. Ben had given up eventually and had taken to running his hands gently up and down Tom's back and buttock's, revelling in their sheer manly potency and power, enjoying the feel of Tom's polo shirt above and beneath his hand.

Still all on all fours Tom gradually moved his way up from Ben's basket. He ground his mound into the boy's flat stomach, pushing the shirt away with his bulge, like a hound sniffing for a truffle. The exertion finally demanded a pause and Tom drew his knees up and sat himself on Ben's stomach. Picking up the boy's school tie, still hanging around Ben's neck, Tom smeared the flared bottom of the tie over his own throbbing prick. Rubbing the tie into his nylon bulge the navy blue fabric soon absorbed the mixture of Tom and Ben's precum that lay there. The slinky tie felt hot and sexy as he rubbed it across his bulge and his cock wept even more.

Ben was amazed at what Tom was doing with his school tie, it was so sexy, and when Tom suddenly pushed the tie to his lips he licked and sucked at the material, tasting Tom and himself. Tom smeared the tie around Ben's face a little more before dropping down to chew on the boy's pert nipples clearly defined under the now damp and clinging white school shirt. Taking the small but perfect right nipple into his mouth, Tom chewed and nibbled on the pearl held in its shell of white cotton. Spasms of pleasure bolted through Benedict and soon the experience was repeated as Tom devoured his left nipple.

Sated, for the time being, Tom eased himself back onto his hands and toes and proceeded to move up Ben's body before finally settling his groin above Benedict's face. He briefly held himself just out of the reach of Benedict and the younger boy strained sinew and tissue, his tongue stretched out of his mouth, trying to lick the weeping sodden nylon pouch all glazed with Tom's honey. Gently Tom lowered his hips and Benedict's mouth greedily grabbed hold of Tom's meaty shaft, desperate to start drinking from the cup proffered at his lips. Tom had other ideas though and he ground his dripping mound into Ben's face smearing the lad's cheeks and forehead with gluey sticky lube. He teased Ben's nostrils, which were filled with Tom's musk, the hot rich odour of Tom's sex wafting through the thin lightweight material. Stretching forward Tom drove his bulge into Ben's soft golden hair; it tickled his cock and his balls and sent waves of pleasure crashing through his body. Finally, he settled again at the furnace of Ben's mouth, allowing the boy to suck and lick greedily on his dark red lollipop, the bulbous head leaking lube through the gammy nylon sheath. Ben drank hurriedly from the fountain, not knowing how long Tom was going to give him, sensing that the older boy still had much in mind before he'd release Ben from this heavenly torture.

"Okay," said Tom, finally breaking away from Ben's tongue bath, and getting up from the boy, "let's turn you around and start on part two."

Ben was mesmerised by the sight of Tom's swamped bulge. If anything it seemed to have grown and the thong drooped under the load of Tom's ample meat and rich clear sauce that dripped onto the bed and lay smeared across the dark red pouch now saturated and wringing wet.

Smiling at Tom, Ben eagerly rolled over onto his stomach, free at last to grind his own now screaming mound into Tom's mattress.

"On no you don't," said Tom, seeing Ben flexing his tight ass muscles through the black figure hugging trousers.

""Come on, move down," said Tom, "knees on the floor and cock away from the bed, I don't want you ruining everything now, specially as we've just got started."

A tiny part of Ben felt resentful; he was after all, desperate to shoot his load, but he couldn't deny Tom. Not after all that Tom was giving him, taking him to places he'd never dreamed of finding, discovering such hitherto unknown rapture and abandonment, such sheer fuckin pleasure. So Ben moved down the bed and dropped his knees to the floor while keeping his stomach flat on the bed. Tom moved down between Ben's legs, kneeling there, he pulled the lad away from the bed a bit more. Can't have him getting himself off now, can we, he thought? Satisfied Tom inspected the scene, drinking in the schoolboy's bum, all fruity and firm, the thin black material, slightly worn, struggling to hold the ripe peachy buttocks. Tom reached out with his hands to cup the buttocks and gently traced the hem of the briefs that were clearly cutting into the cheeks under the tight black cotton. Benedict groaned and shuddered.

Tom had always wanted to do this, to grind his mound into a hot schoolboy's tight trousered bum. He'd come close once, just once mind you but he could still remember every detail. There'd been 5 of them, all walking home and classmates in Year 10; their route took them past another school. A 4-foot wall bound the school, and thick hedges had been planted behind the wall. At one point there was a gap in the hedges, 3-feet at most, and you could see directly onto the school tennis courts. There'd been a group of girls there playing netball after school, and the 5 boys had all crammed into the tight small gap straining to see, leaning over the wall. Being one of the tallest Tom and another boy had been at the back while the three shorter boys leaned directly against the wall. In front of Tom had been John Oakman, a cute blond haired boy with a terrifically sexy bum. Tom, hadn't been able to stop himself, he suddenly ground his erect prick into the boy's sweetcheeks. None of the other lads seemed to notice; they were far to intent on watching the girls running around, their tits wobbling in the air. John had gone very still and quiet and Tom had seen the back of the boy's neck flare bright red. But he'd pushed back, he'd definitely pushed back, and Tom had almost cum in his pants at that moment. Although the boy wore a blazer Tom had still been able to feel the boy's heat and the cleft of his soft round buttocks through the material. They'd stood there for what seemed an age, though it was probably only a minute or two, and then the group had broken up and had carried on its way. Tom was desperate to get home after that, and, when he'd made it, all the time conscious of his staff sticking up into his trouser pocket, he'd dashed upstairs to the bathroom and cum buckets. John had never said a word about that day, and no opportunity had ever arisen to see if the two might do more. Now, Tom could take his time and have what he wanted, and his hands stroked and grabbed at Ben's bum, leaving no part untouched and unloved.

Moving his hands up under Ben's shirt Tom ran his nails down Ben's back and drove his face into the boy's heavenly bum. He kneaded Ben's spine and flesh and drooled his way across the black cotton ass. He could feel the heat pouring out of Ben, could smell him too, all sexy and hot. Lovingly he traced the rim of the teen's cheeks with his tongue, nibbled on the cusp of the briefs underneath and rubbed his nose energetically deep up and down the boy's fevered crack, inhaling his sweet tangy essence. At last, tenderly, almost gingerly in fact, he straightened himself up and pushed his saturated mound against the boy's tightly stretched ass. Again he circled the younger lad's cheeks before finally resorting to rubbing his distended shaft up and down the clearly drawn crack. The rough cotton fabric played upon his now inebriated cockhead, the sensitive ridge burning with friction and heat and Tom almost came at that point. He pulled away hurriedly, having felt almost hypnotised as he rubbed himself up and down Ben's arse and he pinched the base of his cock tight and hard. Gradually the tingling in his balls, that had heralded the oncoming torrent, subsided and eased. Feeling in control again he took a deep breath and spoke, his cockney voice all husky and rich,

"Nearly lost it there Ben, soz. Come on, back up on the bed and on your back, time to have a look inside I think."

Tom patted the bed and, like an eager puppy, Ben sprang onto the bed and settled down on his back. Tom leaned forward and kissed the boy, it was a long and lingering kiss, and this time he drew blood, nibbling on the lower boy's lip, nipping it between his front teeth.

"Oi," laughed Ben, his finger automatically exploring his lip, which briefly flared and smarted with pain, his mouth tasting blood again, only this time it was his own.

"All's fair in love and war," said Tom, laughing at the charming naive young teen, he hadn't really think he was going to get away with that, had he?

"Does that mean we're blood brothers then?" asked Ben, still laughing.

"Mmm, suppose," said Tom, "though I prefer to think of us as spunk brothers!"

At that he moved his head down towards Ben's boiling bulge, settling his head on Ben's stomach he used his index finger to run up and down Ben's shaft and then grabbed a handful of hot teenmeat. As Ben had done to him, so he returned the favour, and he gripped as much of the shaft as he could between the now sticky black fabric and squeezed the tube until Ben shrieked and begged for release.

Benedict had rather enjoyed Tom's soothing ministrations upon his bum; it had felt really hot as Tom had made love to his ass and Ben had remembered how he'd done the same to Chris on the stairs. Knowing what pleasure Tom must be receiving had pleased Ben and it had allowed his own cock to get some much-needed relief. It hadn't felt quite so tormented while Tom had rubbed his hot bulge into his bum but now things had changed and he was definitely back to square one again. Tom's hand, squeezing his prick with vice-like intensity, seemed to be producing both pain and pleasure, with pleasure just winning the day. It was a strange experience and he wondered why he'd done the same to Tom. He didn't know, it had been instinct he supposed, whatever, it obviously worked, for as Tom released his grip Ben could feel the blood flowing rapidly back into his cock, it seemingly becoming more engorged than ever. Tom's hands seemed to be everywhere, rubbing and cupping his balls, agitating his shaft, pinching and teasing his haemorrhaging mushroom. Then Tom's head slid forward, the soft red hair tickling his stomach before Ben gasped as his meaty helmet was suddenly bathed in heat and fire.

If only every school lunchbox had been so good thought Tom, as he tucked into his tasty treat. Starting at the head he licked his way down the shaft, savouring the boy's supercharged tumescence, while all the time licking and sucking the sweet tasting precum that had seeped and soaked into the fabric. He nuzzled and licked the lad's balls through the dark material and rubbed his face and cheeks into the molten mound. Finally, doubting that Ben could stand much more, the boy's body thrashing and bucking beneath him, Tom reached for the belt buckle and gently unhooked the belt. Undoing the top button and slowly unzipping the trousers, (surely, one of the best sounds in the world, he thought?) he peeled back the trousers to expose Ben's cock rearing up in his briefs, pushing the material clean away from the body, so strong and hard was the teen's erection.

It was Tom's turn to be momentarily stunned as his eyes feasted on the sight of Ben's proud young manhood.

"Oh Ben," said Tom, his voice hushed and grateful, "Ben, Ben, Ben. You are the best, no doubt about it."

"Well, what was it you said?" replied Ben, basking in the moment, revelling in the pleasure he'd just given Tom, "Enjoy them, wear em, but don't wash em. You can bring them back next week."

"Oh, but I never dreamed like this Ben, this is too much," and saying that Tom leaned forward to gently kiss Ben's swollen steely helmet.

Ben was wearing Tom's white nylon briefs, the pair he'd cadged only last week, since then they be worn and cum in a number of times, most recently only yesterday during his tumble with Dominic. The briefs were damp and clinging, rank and aromatic with layers of boycream and sex. Indeed, so transparent were they that Ben's dark purple mushroom was clearly visible, the smooth golden foreskin drawn back three-quarters of the way over the burning head. Lube trickled from the boy's piss-slit and soaked through his briefs while another tributary ran down the shaft and moistened the balls, making the material cling and hug their sweet young load. Tom had nearly fainted with pleasure. Although he wore nylon briefs nobody else that he'd known did. This was his first time of actually seeing them on a real live other person and the effect was electric.

Tom hurriedly pulled Ben's trousers down the slim honeyed thighs and soon the trousers joined Tom's shorts and Ben's navy blue blazer on the bedsit floor. Laying down on the bed next to Ben the older teen slapped his stomach.

"Come on Ben, on here," invited Tom, "lets have some fun."

Immediately understanding what Tom sought Ben eagerly rolled over and onto the older boy. With an air of almost solemn reverence Ben lowered his nylon bulge down into Tom's own seething sex soaked mound. Sinking onto Tom's smooth firm chest, his head beside Tom's sunk into the soft deep mattress; Ben rested there a while. Both boys luxuriated in this special moment, as their cocks lay side by side, one on top of the other, throbbing and pulsing, yearning and desiring, in their slick filmy nylon homes. Tom suddenly licked Ben's ear and turning to face each other the two youths kissed. Tom's hands reached for Ben's silky sleek buttocks and he cupped the firm young orbs, ravishing them through the warm slippery material. Ben grabbed handfuls of Tom's marbled ass and soon the boy's were grinding and pulverising their hot pleasure mounds. The hot sopping wet nylon was slippery and slick and only the boy's gooey precum afforded any purchase or grip, as the two straining bulges ground into each other like millstones. Slipping and sliding off each other's greasy shafts, endlessly circling and hovering like a helicopter looking for a safe place to land, the two teens shuddered and thrashed with intense sexual pleasure and immense sensual gratification. The over stimulated cocks discharged even more juices as the two lads sought to delay the onset of orgasm. Sensing Ben was close, knowing that he couldn't last much longer himself, Tom patted Ben on the head.

Ben looked at Tom, as though he was trying to remember who he was; his eyes were glazed with lust and abandon.

"Right Ben, let's finish this properly and get into some 69," said Tom with evident relish, trying desperately to hold onto his unbearable load.

Ben needed no further encouragement however and soon he was laid on his side staring at Tom's monstrous erection that looked ready to tear its way through the thong. Wanting to get to the head he delved into the jammy glutinous pouch and gently eased Tom's cock out, trying to keep a firm grip on the oily snake that bucked and wriggled in his fingers. Tom was holding his breath; not daring to move a muscle, the feel of the boy's touch, the soft gentle fingers at his meat, had nearly seen him spew out his jism. He knew what Ben was trying to do and waited patiently, even though Ben's own prodigious bulge lay but centimetres from his thirsty lips, the boy's 6-and-a-half-inch cock literally pushing at the briefs, desperate to get into Tom's mouth. Holding the nylon thong back Ben had managed to ease Tom's 7-and-a-half-inch cock out into the light. It felt immensely hot and stiff to Ben, much harder than the other evening surely, even when it had been up his bum. Tugging on the wet nylon Ben tried to cram the thick pulsing pillar back into the pouch, positioning the head upwards and out, ready to be sucked and emptied. Tom gasped as Ben pulled on the thong, the string at the rear cutting deep into his crack. Finally, Ben succeeded in covering the crown and prepared to lock onto his target. As one, both boys buried themselves into their friend's hot heaving bulge.

Ben found his mouth engulfed by Tom's squishy yet steely meat as the older youth thrust his slimy nylon clad cockhead deep into the boy's hot hungry orifice. Ben buckled as Tom wrapped his lips around Ben's own slick glossy pole. So hard was the younger lad, so stretched the thin wispy briefs that Tom easily accommodated a good 3 inches of Ben's shaft along with the porous bulbous mushroom. Indeed, Tom's top lip was able to play along the boy's shaft inside the briefs, such was the opening forced by the pressure of Ben's hot-blooded erection. In the circumstances both lads had done well to hold on for as long as they had. Suddenly, Ben's mouth was overflowing with Tom's thick manly spunk, which erupted from his cock like high-pressure steam. The dripping wet thong, tongued and drooled over by Ben, issued forth a tremendous volley of hot stinking cum that filled Ben's mouth and throat. Swallowing greedily, the youth lapped up the delicious spicy milk, while torrents escaped, running down his chin into the swampy thong below.

The feel of Tom's mouth sucking dementedly on his own nylon sheath, like a man desperate to lick an iced-lolly before it melted, proved to be too much for Ben. Grunting, producing a gurgling sound due to the presence of Tom's thick cum in his throat, Ben fucked the older boy's mouth and spewed out his heavy load. The teen's cloying cream, all appetising and hot, poured through his rancid nylon briefs. Tom drank eagerly, sucking and licking for all he was worth, determined that not one precious pearl-white drop be wasted.

Gradually the frenzied drinking ceased, and bodies cooled and calmed as both boys lay resting, snuggled against the warm wet pouch at their faces.

"That was awesome Tom," croaked Ben eventually.

"I must admit," said Tom, expelling a lungful of hot air that played on the boy's now shrunken cock and balls, "I don't think I could have stood much more of that. Fuck! My balls were really aching, Ben."

"Hmm," nodded Ben, his cheek smeared by Tom's greasy thong, "know what you mean Tom, that was just so…wild, so… "

"Yeah," agreed Tom, already feeling maudlin, a certain nostalgia playing in his mind, knowing that this could be his last time with Ben, well, like this anyway.

It all depends on how things go with the delectable Simon thought Tom. A part of him hoped for the best as far as Ben was concerned and he understood that Ben was really, deep down very much a one-man kind of boy. Despite the younger lad's recent activities, Tom knew that if Ben and Simon got together then very likely he could kiss this particular part of his relationship with Ben goodbye. What fuckin rotten luck he thought, now, of all times, just when I've finally found someone who understands and wants what I want. If I could maybe, just maybe, persuade them to try a little three-way, thought Tom, then I still might get some more. He rested there a while; his head laid back on Ben's thigh, pursuing the thought a smile languid on his lips.

Ben too, was wrapped up in his own world. His thoughts were also on Simon, though they were less straightforward than Tom's. Ben also knew that if things got serious with Simon then his fun with Tom would have to stop. He couldn't but feel regret, however. Perhaps he ought to try and make Simon understand, square it with him, allow Simon to see that Tom filled a very particular need. Oh yeah, though Ben, his internal voice heavy with sarcasm, he'll love that for sure. Imagine it, you're way ahead of yourself Ben, you haven't even decided if or how you're gonna tell him about Tom, never mind Luke! Ben suddenly shivered at that thought, the open smiling face and lustrous black lycra bulge of Luke suddenly filling his mind.

"You okay?" sought Tom, feeling the boy momentarily shudder.

"What? Oh, err yeah, I'm fine," said Ben, "what time is it?"

"Half four," said Tom, looking over at his bedside clock.

"Oh fuck!" exclaimed Ben "Can I use your phone?"

"Sure," said Tom, getting up from the bed and handing Ben his dressing gown, "we better get moving anyway, some of the others are bound to be home soon."

Ben thrust his arms into the dressing gown, and headed off with Tom to use the phone downstairs. The boy's mind was moving fast. Tom showed Ben the phone and soon Benedict was speaking to his mother.

"Oh hi mum," said Ben, sorry I'm late. I came into town to do some work at the library. Must have got carried away, I didn't realise the time."

"That's alright," said his mother, "have you much to do? Your father won't be leaving the office tonight until about six. Would you like me to ring him and ask him to pick you up outside the library?"

"That'ed be great," said Ben, feeling relieved, the central library was only a 10 minute walk away from Tom's, "I'll be outside just before six."

"Okay love, see you about half six, its pizza tonight," said Mrs. Johnson.

"Great," enthused Ben, suddenly starving, "see you then mum and say thanks to dad."

"Bye Ben, go easy now won't you?" said his mum.

"Of course, don't worry mum, see ya," said Ben, putting down the phone.

Go easy! Ha, if she only knew, he thought. Ben followed Tom back upstairs, as they re-entered Tom's room, Ben suddenly asked,

"Do your parents know?"

"What? Oh, I see, you mean do they know that I'm gay? Yes, they know," said Tom.

"Cool," said Ben, "how did they react?"

"Err, well," said Tom, clearing his throat, "not very well at first, they caught me at it so to speak. I had a mate around and thought they'd be gone for ages, only of course they weren't and well…" Tom shrugged his shoulders and gestured with hands open and flat, palms facing upwards.

"Fuckin hell," said Ben, somewhat taken aback, trying to picture the scene, "how old were you? What were you doing?"

""Well, it was only last year, so I was 18," said Tom, blushing somewhat, "and as for what we doing? Well, I was deep-throating the wonderful Lee on the sitting room floor. Hung like a bloody horse he is," Tom shook his head, though he couldn't help but smile at the memory.

"I bet your parents went ape!" said Ben, "God, I'm sure mine would."

"Well, they weren't exactly overjoyed that's for sure," said Tom, remembering the look on his parent's faces, "the daft thing is, I was going to tell them anyway. It would have been better if I had, it’s a pretty shitty way to find out that your son likes cock" he concluded regretfully.

"Yeah, I bet," sympathised Ben, "I keep wondering about mine, whether I should tell 'em or not that is."

"Mmm, I understand," said Tom, "its not easy is it?"

"No," agreed Ben, "though I'm thinking of leaving it until I go to university."

"Probably a good idea," nodded Tom, suddenly grinning "but whatever you do, don't do it my way, it scared the lovely Lee off permanently I'm afraid. Pity, he was a wonderful shag," he added wistfully.

"As good as me?" enquired Ben, now also grinning.

"Well," said Tom, pretending to hesitate and weigh up the two lads merits, "not a patch I'm afraid Ben."

Ben suddenly looked a little crestfallen.

"I mean," said Tom, suddenly laughing, "he might have been hung but he wore boxers for fucksake!"

"Yuk!" said Ben, now laughing again, feeling warm and at one with Tom.

"Yuk it is," agreed Tom, laughing, "come on let's get you cleaned up, you've got less than an hour before you have to meet your dad."

"Can I take a shower?" asked Ben.

"Well, the others 'il be home soon, but…" said Tom, hesitating briefly, "what the heck, they all know I'm gay, even if Jane's still hoping to turn me to the dark side. So sure, why not, fuck 'em! Hell, I should be proud to be seen with you Ben, and I can't imagine any of them bumping into your friends, besides they don't have to know we've been copping off together."

"Great!" said Ben feeling clammy and dirty, reeking of sex, he was very much in need of wash.

"Oh almost forgot," said Tom, hurrying off to his wardrobe, "when you're done you might want to try these."

Tom handed the younger teen a brand new white Nike jockstrap, still in its packaging.

"Its exactly the same as yours," said Tom, blushing slightly, "I was kind of hoping you might accept it as a replacement. I've, err umm, grown rather attached to yours and was wondering if you'd let me keep it."

"Hmmm," paused Ben, pretending to ponder, but actually quite flattered and attracted by the thought, "Of course, I'd be honoured Tom," he added gallantly.

"Though, if you've any spare thong's just lying around…" Ben suddenly concluded.

"Yes," thought you might say that," said Tom grinning, beaming from ear to ear, "so I took the liberty of acquiring these for you," he said.

Tom reached into the wardrobe to take out a small grey box with a picture of a man on the front, bulging in a white skimpy thong.

"Was shopping for the jock the other day," said Tom, "saw these and thought of you. They're only Tanga, not bad, but not as good as mine. However, you have to order these, so if you want to wait…"

"Err no, no, these will do fine," said Ben grabbing the box and opening it.

He inspected the white thong, which was in some kind of mercerised cotton and lycra mix. It wasn't as hot as Tom's, nowhere near as smooth and slinky, but it would do, for now. It was the right size too, he noticed, waist 26 inches.

"Perhaps I can get you a proper one for Christmas," said Tom, "it'll certainly give new meaning to your Christmas stocking," he laughed.

"Yeah," laughed Ben, "that'ed be great. Thanks Tom, thanks a million, I don't know what to say."

"Aw just enjoy 'em Ben," said Tom, "maybe I'll be lucky and get to see you in them some time. Anyway, enough of this, let's get you into the shower."

Ben opened the dressing gown and took hold of his cum sodden nylon briefs, hooking his thumbs under the waistband preparing to pull them down his legs.

"Hey! What you doing?" said Tom.

"Err, getting ready for the shower," said Ben.

"Leave 'em on," commanded Tom, "I'm joining you, I'm sure you missed a bit on your back last time," he laughed.

"Hmm, I think you're right," said Ben, his cock beginning to fill and push at his briefs, "perhaps I do need a helping hand.

Grabbing a large white towel Tom swatted Ben's bum,

"Off we go, we haven't much time my lad," he said.

And soon the boy's were locked together in the hot steamy shower, their nylon bulges brimming and wet. Soaked through beyond the point of transparency, the sopping wet briefs displayed the princely sceptres in all their youthful vigour and splendour.