T H E E X C H A N G E
by Dean Lidster =======================================================================
PART FOUR
(Chapters sixteen to nineteen)
DISCLAIMER ~~~~~~~~~~
This story contains sexual acts between boys. If this is not to your tastes, then why in God's name are you reading this in the first place, huh? If you're curious, then that's fine by me - just remember: an open mind and an open heart is the secret to a good and happy life. If you are UNDER the age of concent for state / geographical location / planet that you're in / on etc, please leave now (unless you want to be educated and have an open mind that is!)
I spose this story is copyrighted. By this, I mean that I wrote it and would not particularly want anyone to subtly alter it and pretend it is their own. However, you MAY post it to any newsgroups, archives etc, print it, give it to friends without my prior permission PROVIDED THAT I STAY ACCREDITED AS THE AUTHOR AND YOU DO NOT CHARGE FOR DOING SO. Easy :-)
The story is fiction, and whilst there are references to real live people in here, none of this took place outside of my hormone-driven mind...
If you like this story, mail me at dean@deans-domain.nu. If you don't like it, mail me anyway and tell me why!
The latest version of this saga may be found at my web site: http://www.deans-domain.nu/ourplace/stories
Cheers, Dean
Dedicated to Lee - I will love you forever.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"MOR-NIN'-ZAC!" yelled Gareth as he leapt up and down on Zac's bed.
Zac opened his sleep-filled eyes and smiled.
"'Koff," he grinned and dragged Gareth on top of him.
"HANSON! JONES! My classroom. Morning break." barked Russell.
"FUCK! Doesn't that guy ever l..."
"AND tomorrow," he yelled, stepping back into the doorway from his just-out-of-view position behind the doorframe. "And be late at your peril." With that curt remark, he strode off down the corridor.
Gareth reluctantly prized himself out of Zac's grip, allowing Zac to see the four-and-a-half inch bulge that was the result of a need to piss and the smell of Zac Hanson.
Gareth grinned, thrust his hips at Zac in an exaggerated manner, then grabbed his towell and joined the procession of lads heading for the bathroom.
Zac smiled an inane grin, arched his back and catapulted himself out of bed. He too grabbed his towell and ran down the corridor after Gareth, spinning it into a rope and whipping him on the arse when he caught up.
"ARRGH! You fuck!" He yelled as he turned round to assail Zac. Zac, however, simply jumped round to his blind side, pushed him backwards and legged it to the bathroom, shedding his boxers and T-shirt in the process so that he was completely naked by the time he got there. Showing no regard for the poor second former who was just about to step under the free shower jet, Zac barged in and walked straight into his place, but there was sod all he could do about it.
"Hey, Pete," whispered Gareth into the second former's ear. "You still got that SuperSoaker here?"
Little Pete's face grew into a smile that Satan himself would've been proud of, and he legged it back to his dorm.
Zac, meanwhile, was enjoying his piping hot shower, shampooing his hair with someone elses shampoo and just feeling thoroughly good about himself as he ran his foamy hands through his hair, over his shoulders to his chest, and finally down to squeeze and massage his not-completely-soft cock.
'This won't do' grinned Gareth to himself. 'I think my Mr. Hanson needs knocking down a couple of pegs!'
Glancing round the room, he spotted the red plastic waste paper bin. On closer investigation, he found it to have a liner containing a couple of used tissues. Excellent! He pulled the liner out and stuck the bin under the tap the cleaners used for flooding the floor to save having to use a mop bucket. Just then, little Pete reappeared brandishing his outrageously coloured SuperSoaker and proceeded to fill it in the sink. Once both parties were fully armed, Pete set the ball rolling (under Gareth's direction) by confronting Zac.
"Hi, er, Zac..."
"That's my name, don't wear it out..."
"Yeah, well, you nicked my shower..."
"Whatever, man - I'll be done in a minute..."
"I want my shower NOW!" yelled Pete, producing the SuperSoaker from behind his back.
"Bet you don't!" yelled Zac, cocky as ever.
"Bad bet," grinned Pete, squeezing the trigger. Zac leapt back deep into the protection afforded by the envelope of warm water created by "his" shower head. Mistake. Gareth closed the hot water stop-tap, sending nothing but freezing water over him.
A few seconds later, Zac leapt away from the now icy stream of water with a loud "FUCK!", much to everyone's amusement and as he did, Gareth chucked his bin full of cold water all over him.
Zac made repeated kinda swallowing / choking noises as the icy water knocked the wind out of him so, just to add insult to injury, Gareth grabbed his towel, ran the end of it under the cold tap and whipped his arse with it.
"That's for nicking me shower!" said Pete, giving Zac one final shot from the SuperSoaker before taking his rightful place under the now warm, freshly vacated shower head.
"Damn. Looks like we're gonna have to get you warmed up again," smiled Gareth at what to all intents and purpose like a drowned rat, albeit a rather cute one.
Zac, ever wanting the last word, smiled and shook his head violently from side to side, his drenched hair catching Gareth quite convincingly round his cheeks. Before he could retaliate, Zac grabbed him in a headlock and dragged him back down the coridor to their dorm, dripping cold water all over him.
==========
I gradually woke to the relaxing sound of a cacophany of birds singing for all their worth in the trees by the river. I was lieing on my left side, my right side limbs draped over Tay, semi-hard dick nestled neatly in his defined buttocks.
The thing that confused my mind, however, was the fact someone was doing the same to me, only difference being whoever's dick it was was a whole lot harder, and a lot closer to its target than I was with Tay!
Being ultra-careful not to disturb whoever it was, I gently turned my head to try and get a glimpse of my wanna-be lover. Fully expecting it to be either Jamie or Triv having accidentally turned over in their sleep, I was rather entertained to find that the throbbing lump of flesh between my arse cheeks belonged to no other than Spider! This could be good...
Slowly at first, I began to clench and release my buttocks, dragging his foreskin over the sensitive tip of his dick. He made a muffled grunting noise and began to hump against me. The muscular arm he had draped over me began to tense, pulling its owner hard against me. Accompanied by a determined grunt, he thrust one final time, spraying my back with copious amounts of his cum. Whether it was his own horniness, our display of raw passion or just the smell of sex that provoked this I wasn't sure, but he sure enjoyed it. So powerful was his orgasm, in fact, that it woke him right up. I pretended to be asleep.
Spider sighed hugged me again. Then he must've opened his eyes.
"Oh fuck," I heard him mouth as he oh-so-gently began to try and unravel himself from me without causing me to stir. "Shit. Shit shit shit!"
Quickly, he wiped his cum off my arse, and immediately got up and left the tent. All the cuffuffle caused Triv, Jamie and Tay to begin to wake up. I hugged tay close to me, him giving a slight moan of approval. I bent over him and kissed him on the cheek, revelling once more in the stunning texture of his pale skin.
He opened his sleep-laden eyes a fraction, allowing me a glimpse of those deep pools of consciousness that hypnotised me so. As he focused, a broad smile spread across his face. "Mornin', lover!" he almost giggled.
"What's so funny?"
"You!"
"You think I'm funny, do ya?"
"Kinda..." he said in a tone that made him sound sooo sexy.
We were both now grinning as wide as was possible without personal injury.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah."
"YEAH?"
"YEAH!!"
"Right! Prepare to be tickled!" I announced, getting into a kneeling position. Tay immediately curled up hedgehog-style, trying to protect all his tickleish bits as fas as possible.
He succeeded for the most part except for his testicles which, due to their capacious size, could not be easily concieled in his present position. As an observation from our earlier experiences, the most sensual tracing of a finger over genetalia could be quickly and easily degenerated into the most astoundingly ticklish feeling simply by accompanying the action with the phrase "Ticky, ticky, ticky!". Just goes to prove how much brain power goes into interpreting feelings...
Using my index and forefingers as a pair of "legs", I began "walking" my fingers from his right knee towards his upper thigh:
"Round and round the garden"
"No, Dean, don't!"
"Like a teddy bear"
"DEAN!!" Tay's fingers were clenching hard at the material of the sleeping bag now.
"One step,"
"NO!"
"Two step,"
"Arrggggnnnnnnn..." Tay muffled his own groan by shoving the sleeping bag into his mouth and biting down hard.
"Aaaaaaaaaand...... TICKLEUNDERTHERE!!!" With light, fast finger movements I caressed the delicate bridge of skin between his bollocks and arsehole. Within a second, he'd burst out of the hedgehog position by straightening his legs at lightning speed, trapping my hand under his arse.
"Gotcha now, Hanson!" I grinned and dropped my head down onto his tummy, blowing the loudest, wettest, most violent raspberry I could muster, causing him to shriek out with pleasure, then collapse into complusive fits of laughter. "G... Gerroff me, you freak!" he spluttered. I looked him straight in the eye, took a deep breath and blew another one right over his left nipple. His limbs were now thrashing around all over the place in a desperate attempt to break out from underneath my mouth. No chance. His level of laughter continued to increase until he could barely make a sound - his body just convulsing as his jungs tried to expel air that simply wasn't available.
I eased off my assault, Tay just looking dazed and generally out of it as is laughing subsided, but still having one of those rediculously wide smiles only a damn good tickling can produce. I found myself wondering at his astonishingly good looks, the soft lines of his (now rosy) cheeks and slightly upturned nose accentuating somehow his dark, vaguely angular eyebrows, the whole symmetry of which was hinted at by the smallest of widow's peaks at his hairline. He was georgeous, he could be moody, he was beautiful: he was MINE...
And then he was on top of me, pinning my shoulders down with his slightly bronzed arms, taking advantage of my state of admiration of him to the full.
"How you can expect me" he said, hair half obscuring his face, "not to get you back for that..."
I smiled and ran my hands up and down his arms from the tips of his fingers to his pits and back again. The mock stern look on his face was once again replaced by that of pleasure: he lowered his hips on to mine so his entire weight was being supported by my shoulders and my dick. BOY did that feel good! He drew breath as he made contact with me, both of us closing our eyes as the pleasure surged forwards from our loins. I wrapped my arms round his back and higged him closer to me, Tay gently letting his arms bend as he allowed more of our naked bodies to come together.
I shivered as I felt his warm breath on my neck, closely followed by the wonderful sensation of his tongue lapping at my flesh, which was succeeded by the intense feeling of his teeth sinking into me as he hickeyed me good and proper. I moaned loudly and arched my back as the pain (which my brain was quite successfully interpreting as intense pleasure) shot through me, causing my already hard dick to spasm violently. Tay finished his bite with a slap of his lips and traced his tongue up onto my cheek, over my lips and down to my ear on my right.
He sucked the lobe into my mouth and bit on it gently. He simultaneously ran his hands down from my shoulders to the middle of my rib cage, then whispered into my ear:
"We'll just skip the 'round and round' bit, shall we?" and so saying, dug his fingers into my ribs. Once again, he'd taken me completely off guard.
"ARRGH! Tay! Stoppit!"
"No way!" he grinned. "I got you exactly where I want you!" and with that doubled up his efforts, causing ME to start thrashing around, laughing uncontrollably. I tried to roll over - not the best of ideas: He stopped me half way, one hand attaching my stomach, the other my back.
Then he suddenly leapt off me and dived for the tent flap, naked as the day he were born. I made an inspired grab for his ankle but only succeeded in touching it - no way near good enough to hinder his rapid exit. 'Here goes,' I thought, and dived into the freezing air after him.
I stood up and raced off after the beautiful naked form infront of me, hoping he was looking where he was going, as I was way too busy admiring his wonderfully tight backside to worry about minor details such as navigation and people-evasion. The sense of doing something completely stupid (such as running through a field with no clothes on in broad daylight) felt strangely good - if it was the sheer ludicrouness of it or just the feeling of liberation I'm not sure, but whatever it was it fealt great.
Tay was not looking where he was going. "Morning ma'am!" he yelled as he legged it past the field's owner who was feeding her chickens.
"Oooh I say! 'Ere, Glad! Look at this!" I heard her yell as I too raced past her, hot on the heels of the blond adonis that had just greeted her.
Tay's route took us on a long elliptical path, skirting round our corner of the field and into the wooded area by the stream. Shit he was a good runner! He nimbly evaded the trees, leaping from side to side, never once faultering or slowing. Then he stopped dead, and I ran headlong into the back of him.
"HA! Gotch..." I saw why he'd stopped. Spider was sat, knees against chest, gently rocking back and forth, sobbing his heart out.
"Hey Spider! Wossup, man?" asked Tay, kneeling down to his level.
Spider looked at Tay and myself and momentarily forgot his anguish as he realised we were completely naked. He then looked very awkward.
"Don't matter..."
"You wouldn't be sat way out here if it didn't matter," smiled Tay. "C'mon - you can tell us..."
"It's, uh, kinda sick..." he admitted, blushing deeply. Tay raised an eyebrow. And it involves you..."
"Huh?"
"I told you it were sick..."
"No - go on..."
"Well, I were havin' this SERIOUSLY cool dream about this girl at school, yeah? Melissa..."
Melissa Cooper was the school hooker. She was fifteen going on thirty, and had seemingly had every lad in school at least once. Every lad, that was, bar me. I annoyed her something rotten for the simple reason that no matter how hard she tried to get into my kegs, she was always turned down flat. And believe me, I LOVED doing that...
"Anyway, I were really goin' at her - she were moanin' an' all and I came real hard in her so she screamed with pleasure..." Spider was actually smiling as he relived his dream, infact to such an extent he had to rearrange himself. "Thing is, when I opened my eyes, it was you I was fucking, Tay... I were so shocked I woke up, then found it was actually Dean I'd been rubbing against..."
He looked at me. "I came all over your back, man... Sorry..."
Tay smiled. "Why thankyou, Spider! That's quite a compliment! Anyway, what happened next?"
"Uhh - that's it."
"Soooo, um, like.... What's your point?"
Spider looked in disbelief at Tay. "Don't you think that's sick?"
"What?"
"THAT!"
"Should I?"
"YES!" yelled Spider, now completely exhasperated. "I don't like boys! I'm not a fucking queer! Shit, sorry..."
"Probably not," I added. "You're just horny..."
"Yeah, but..."
"But nothing! Just forget it... Besides," I said, moving over to Tay and throwing my arm around him. "I don't blame you one little bit! I'd rather have Tay any time!!"
"Yeah, but you're gay, Dean..."
"Damn - forgot about that..."
"Just forget it, Spider," concluded Tay. "Just one of those things. You still haven't caught me, Dean!" he grinned, and legged it back off to the tent.
"YOU FUCK! Comere!!" I yelled and raced after him...
Spider sighed and shook his head. He knew he wasn't gay. How could he be? He'd already had two girls and SEROIOUSLY enjoyed it. The image of Tay he'd dreamt flashed before his mind's eye and he winced, ashamed - almost betrayed - that his sub-conscious could do that to him. 'Just forget it,' he told himself. He stood up slowly and walked back towards the violently shaking tent as Tay and I mobbed Triv and Jamie with cold hands and feet...
==========
"Sugar in the gas tank of his car," suggested Zac as they sat in Chapel waiting for the staff to grace them with their presence.
"He'd kill us, man!" laughed Gareth. "That MG is his pride and joy!"
"Banana up the tailpipe then. Nick his distributor cap! Let the tyres down!"
"We CAN'T touch the car. He'd have us expelled... How come you know
so damn much about trashing cars, anyway?"
Zac grinned. "Ike has one!"
"Can you be quiet now, please?" yelled the bedraggeled Prefect on Duty from the doors of the chapel. The volume of the voices steadily decreased to a rumble, but didn't stop completely until the headmaster had taken his seat.
Seeing as it was Friday, hymn practise was the agenda for this morning's chapel. Gareth picked up his battered hymn book from under his chair and leafed through the vaguely attached pages. Zac grabbed the brittle from him and started doing exactly the same thing.
"Shit, I don't know any of these!" he whispered as the effeminate music teacher cleared "his" throat in the most pathetic way possible.
Now there was being gay, and there was being a complete wuss. Ben Moodie fell well and truely into wussland. Bizarre thing was, I'm fairly certain he ain't gay... Ho hum...
"I'd like to start this morning by playing you a piece of music..."
"Man, does this guy HAVE balls, or were they cut off when he was a kid?"
"Nathan? Could you start the music please?"
Silence.
"Nathan?" he enquired again - his easily-flustered personality shining through good and strong as a murmur started to travel round the chapel. Curruters half turned round in his seat, leant back and poked Nathan, who was heavily engrossed in a copy of 'Private Eye'. He jumped and slammed the play button on the CD player, a moment later the chapel being deafened by the hundred decibel onslaught as Vivaldi's 'Spring' screeched forth through the ancient, vastly over- driven speakers.
Nathan dived for the volume control and wrestled it to a lower level. After it had been allowed to play for a minute or so, Mr. Moodie waved at Nath for him to turn the CD off.
"Who can tell me the name of that passage?"
"BACK passage?" whispered Zac into Gareth's ear, causing him to splutter a stifled laugh.
A few hands went up around chapel, including Mr. Curruthers'.
"Yes, Martin?"
"Innit the music to the MFI ad on TV?"
As the assembly degenerated into fits of laughter (much to Russell's distain) Moodie cast his eyes heavenward in his pathetic "give me strength" way. "Mr. Currethers, perhaps you could enlighten us further?" he asked, hoping to get a co-operative response from his colleague. No chance. This is Eddie Curruthers we are dealing with here...
"Sorry, Ben - I thought it was the MFI music too..."
Moodie visibly cringed as all traces of decorum made a rapid exit from the Chapel. Why did this ALWAYS happen to him? He looked round the raucous crowds to see a single arm held aloft. THERE WAS STILL HOPE! He made a very sibilant "Shhhhhh" sound, the conversation tailing off for the third time.
"Yes um..." SHIT! He didn't know the kid's name! DAMN DAMN DAMN!
"Zac," grinned Zac.
Oh no - not Zac Hanson! He'd heard Russell ranting about him in the staff room, and although he usually took Russells descriptions of the atrocities any pupil under his care committed with a cellar of salt, somehow they suddenly appeared very real as this seemingly innocuous blonde lad sat before him, smiling sweetly.
"Yes, Zac?" He asked with trepidation.
"It's the Allegro from the 'Spring' movement of Vivaldi's 'The Four Seasons'."
Moodie's jaw dropped through the Chapel floor. A text-book perfect answer! From Zac Hanson! There was a god! He would have to speak with him later.
Russell simply glared at Zac. He had been looking for any excuse to slap another day of Hard Labour on him, but he had been denied that pleasure. And it made him angry...
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
"Holy shit! No fucking way!" protested Spider as he pulled his head from inside our two-man tent, grimacing at the putrid stench of runny, green sheep crap.
"Awww c'mon, Spidey - it was your sheep!"
"It's your sodding tent!"
"That ain't the point," I argued. "If you'd have slept in with Triv and Jamie like you were SUPPOSED to, you wouldn't have had this problem!"
Spidey desperately wanted to argue back, but couldn't think of a decent enough argument.
"Hey lads, whatcha want for breakffffuck me that stinks!" exclaimed Jamie, waving a vacuum-packed sachet of bacon in one hand and three packets of well-crushed Weetabix in the other in a futile attempt to aviod the stench. "Shit, Tony - if you're gonna have 'friends' round you really oughta make sure they're housebroken first..."
"Very funny, carrot top," Tony was coming out with some really top notch comments this morning...
"Hey, I ain't carrot! I'm an effervescent dark tangerine colour. Sides, carrot tops are green..."
That completely stumped Spider. I heard footsteps trudging through the field behind us and looked round to see our 'hostess' approaching.
"Morning, boys!" she smiled, revealing a slightly toothy grin that had obviously been well used over the years judging by the laugh- lines round her eyes and mouth.
"Morning again, ma'am!" smiled Tay, combletely unabashed by his earlier performance. I on the other hand could feel myself turning plum red.
"I believe these belong to one of you lot," she said, pulling out a chewed pair of jockey style underware from her apron pocket. One of our sheep were a-chewin' on 'em this mornin'..."
"They're, uh, mine..." admitted Spidey. "Bloody hell - they were me best BVDs an' all..."
We asked her if there was any way we could clean the tent out: We were directed towards the cattle sheds and one of those really cool pressure washer thingies. Spider, whose brain had obviously been killed off by the exhaust fumes of the Transit, stormed straight in with the nozzle and squeezed the trigger. The immensely powerful jet of icy cold water hit the liquified shit and sent it spraying quite convincingly over the canvas sides, extending our task by yet another half hour or so as we drained the slurrey out and began to wash through the canvas from the outside.
Eventually, we managed to get the colour back to orange and the smell of shit to nill, and proceeded to wrap the sopping wet tent and strap it to the top of Spidey's rucksack.
"Hey! No fair! I ain't carryin' that thing! It weighs a ton now!"
He was met by four very obstinate glares of sufficient sincerity to make him shut up. He took a deep breath and heaved it on to his back, and promptly fell over backwards.
We chickened out of cooking (washing and scraping greasy bacon remains from pans in a stream in the spring is NOT one of my favourite passtimes) and opted for the Weetabix for breakfast. What equated to about a biscuit each was lovingly hurled into our bowls by Jamie, much like the soup scene from "Oliver", closely followed by a tablespoon of powdered milk and some water Triv had thoughtfully kept in his Thermos over night, it now still being sufficiently warm to dissolve the shitty powdered milk: At least the crap taste of Weetabix was partially masked by the even more revolting taste of tepid, expired, skimmed, powdered milk...
We forced the obnoxious paste down our throats and began the customary scout round for rubbish, chucking the fallout of the nights camping into a plastic rubbish sack which was dutifully deposited in the skip by the farmhouse. If there was one thing the school DID keep an eye on during these forrays it was our conduct as regards the state of the site...
The remaining tent was dismantled and everyone got strapped up, ready for the walk ahead. Thanks to the little tent-hosing escapade and said tent's apporpriate weight increase, not only were we late leaving the site, but would have to wait up for Spider (or whoever took the tent off him after a while) since there was no way you could walk at a decent pace with that kind of weight on your back.
Thankfully, our next camp site was only about six miles away, but the extra weight of the sopping wet tent was a very unwelcome addition.
==========
"Thankyou, Mr. Moodie... Staff announcements? Mr. Knutt..."
Zac practically burst out laughing as he saw the majority of the members of staff's hands fly into the air, hoping to attract the Head's attention.
"They have to do that?" giggled Zac into Gareth's ear.
"Yeah, why?"
"Just seems kinda childish..."
"Can you think of a better way?"
"Uh... No... Still funny though!"
Zac's attention was getting drawn more and more towards Curruthers who, true to form, was making a farce out of what should've been a nice, orderly set of announcements after the Hymn Practise. He was getting progressively more desperate as, time after time, the headmaster seemingly ignored him.
This would not do, as Curruthers' memory was selective at the best of times, and had severe difficulty in keeping a single agenda focused in his mind: The longer the head left it, the more chance there was of him spouting complete and utter shit, and ultimately the thought degredation was such that he had no idea what he was madly waving his hand for in the first place.
With a last ditch attempt, he leant forward in his seat, waved his hand, made little grunting noises and waggled his enormously bushy eyebrows.
The headmaster sighed. "Mr. Curruthers..."
"Could all the trip form fieldists meet me in the fourth chemistry for a front excercise today, please."
Silence.
Curruthers frowned and analysed the 'sentence' he'd just uttered. Among the staff, many pairs of eyes were cast heavenwards.
"Could all the fourth form chemists meet me in the front field for an excercise in field trips today, please."
Better. Not perfect, but comprehendable by the majority. He sat down before he could do any more damage. Zac was creasing himself.
"Thankyou, Mr. Curruthers... Mrs. Mack?"
"Could I see Zachary Hanson in the San after this meeting, please?"
The smile dropped from Zac's face. Now it was Gareth's turn to whisper.
"Don't worry - Mrs. M is the school nurse... She probably just wants to arrange a routine medical for you!"
Somehow, Zac had managed to avoid all previous medicals his parents had ever tried to book him in for, so he sure as hell wasn't going to start now! The thought of a middle aged, balding doctor playing with his love-spuds was strangely unappealing to him...
==========
"Stop friggin' whinging, will ya?" yelled Jamie.
"But my feet..." blubbed Spidey.
"You aren't even carrying YOUR rucksack! Tay's had it for the past mile!"
"And you can have it back any time ya want, man," grinned Tay.
We trudged on, the sun now starting to warm us through. My mind happily meandered into daydream state as my eyes focused on Tay's tight arse, swaying seductively infront of me as he walked. So focused were my thoughts I completely failed to notice that Tay had come to a full stop, and walked straight into the back of him.
"Mornin', Dean," he teased.
"Hey - not my fault you have such an attractive backside is it?"
"You like it so much why don't you kiss it?" he grinned.
"Don't tempt me!"
"Tony - SIT DOWN!"
This was the reason we'd stopped. Since Spidey's last whinging session, he'd been making little whimpering noises each time he took a step. He'd whimpered once too often."
"Wh... Why?"
"If you can't give us all some peace, then we're gonna have to solve the source of the problem. Who's got the med kit?"
"Uh, I do, I think," said Tay. "In my rucksack anyway..."
"Hand it over, Spidey."
Spider pulled Tay's rucksack off and passed it to Triv, who dug out the 6 inch cube first aid box. He peeled the top off and pulled out a pair of scissors, some Germolene, a strip of elastoplast and the small sterile needle. All colour drained from Spidey's face. He hated needles.
"OK - get yer boots off."
"Uh Triv, umm..."
"NOW!"
Cautiously, Tony sat down and pulled off his walking boots, wincing as the back of the heel scraped over the sizable blisters that had developed there.
Triv knelt down infront of him and inspected the pair of inch-wide, fluid-filled blisters.
"Didn't you walk your boots in?"
"I... Um..."
"You didn't, did you?"
"Well the guy at the shop said tha..."
"Did you or did you not walk your boots in before coming on this trip?"
"No."
Triv mumbled something incoherent and pulled the backing off the half inch needle.
"You aren't gonna..."
"I am, and I'm going to enjoy every second of it! And if you don't hold still, I'll puncture something a little more valuable than a blister, comprendez?"
Spidey shook his head yes and screwed his eyes tightly shut. Deftly, Triv made a minute pin-prick right at the very edge of the enormous blister, then gently squeezed the clear fluid out like he was trying to get toothpaste from a tube. After he'd done both, he placed the needle back in it's plastic package and wrapped it in a small length of the plaster so there was no chance of anyone puncturing themselves on it accidentally.
By this time, spide had cautiously opened an eye and was surprised to notice the absence of the needle.
"When are you going to use that needle, then?"
"Already have, you prat!"
"Oh... That didn't hurt," he said, more to himself than the rest of us.
"I'll get it out again if you want," Triv offered, smiling sadistically. He put a spot of germolene over each pinprick he'd made, and cut off a liberal amount of the elastoplast strip and practically mummified Spidey's heels with the stuff, explaining that it would act as a cushion as well as holding the dead skin still, so stopping any more blisters forming.
"Oh and Spidey?"
"Yeah"
"You know the hair that's on your feet?"
"Yeah..."
"You're gonna loose it when you take those plasters off!"
"You BASTARD!"
Triv smiled smugly and took Spidey's backpack from Tay...
==========
"Zac, you've got to go! It might be something important..."
Gareth decided that the word 'doctor' had a very similar effect on Zac as the word 'vet' did on his pet labrodor.
"...besides, I don't think she'd go wasting good British tax money on some scabby yank boy!"
"Listen, Mr. wor-a-boh-uw," retorted Zac, doing a surprisingly good characerature of Gareth's pronounciation of 'water bottle'.
"Just stop being a baby and go see her."
"Only if you come too," pouted Zac.
"I'd love to," he grinned, and took Zac's hand, dragging him off in the direction of the san.
"Hi Terri," grinned Gareth as he bounced into the san, dragging Zac after him.
"Hello, Gareth," Mrs. Mack replied, her voice possessing that placid, gentle, soothing lilt that somehow managed to conjure up images of buttercup-filled fields, complete with fluffy bunnies. "Ah, Zachary," she smiled. "I'm afraid I've got some bad news,"
Zac now felt even more perplexed - how could a medical be bad news? Not good news, admittedly, but he wouldn't have called it bad... He realised his mind was babbling and mentally told himself to shut up and listen.
"Isaac was involved in an accident last night,"
It took a moment for it to sink in. Isaac. HIS BROTHER! SHIT!
"What happened? Is he OK? Can I see him?"
"He's doing well, Zac - he fell into the river last night and was knocked unconscious... Thankfully Mr. Jaykes was there and managed to revive him. He's just in Hospital for observation, and should be out in a day or so..."
"Holy crap! Can I see him?"
Terri looked slightly uncomfortable with Zac's choice of words (herself never resorting to such profanity), but would never want to condemn someone in a time of anguish. "Of course, dear - I've booked you a taxi to take you to the Hospital - it should be here in a few minutes."
"Is... Is it OK if Gareth came too?"
Zac was scared shitless - being told that your brother had been at death's door was bad enough, but a trip to a place you'd never been in a foreign country by yourself? Thanks, but no thanks!
"I wouldn't want you going alone..."
"Thanks, ma'am,"
"It's Terri."
"Terri."
"Don't worry, Zac - he'll be fine - he just needs to see a familiar face right now."
"You do realise we'll have to miss Mr. Russell's class?" interjected Gareth, realising that Russell would rather amputate his limbs one by one using nothing other than a dessert spoon than let any members of his class (especially such dissidants as Hanson and Jones) be excused.
"Don't you worry about him," smiled Terri. "You just go and excuse yourself. If he wants to argue, he can come and argue with me. You two are going to see Isaac and that's final."
This was a new experience for Gareth - for once he had a 100% Russell-proof reason for not being present during one of his classes - he was going to enjoy this.
"No, you may not. Sit down." Russell didn't even look at Zac as he asked to be excused.
"But sir..."
"I suggest you have your hearing checked, Mr. Hanson. Or perhaps it's your complete and utter lack of intelligence that prevents you from comprehending my painfully simple reply." He snapped his head up from the papers on his desk. "Sit down. You are already late. Any further discussion of this matter will cause repercussions that you will not enjoy." His icy stare was re-focused on the A-Level coursework infront of him, which he promptly marked 'F - This is a pathetic and feeble attempt at a subject that you have no right to be studying. Improve or fail.'
Zac gave up, about-faced and began walking towards the door. Lightning fast, Russell leapt from his seat and grabbed Zac's shoulder, spinning him round. The rest of Zac's class watched in silence, shocked and intregued at the same time: no-one had ever stood up to Russell like this before and lived to tell the tale.
"Get your freakin' hands off of me you freak!" yelled Zac, pushing Russell's bony limb from his shoulder.
"You may think you're important, Mr. Hanson, but believe you me it gives you no presedence in this classroom whatsoever. SIT DOWN!"
"And what gives you the right to be such a FUCKIN' ASSHOLE?!" yelled Zac, doing his best to match Russell's volume.
Never had Russell been confronted like this for many, many years. As such, he responded in exactly the same way he had done those many moons ago. He hit Zac hard across the cheek, sending him reeling backwards - more from shock than anything else.
"NOW SIT DOWN!" he yelled, a vein in his forehead looking as if it were about to rupture.
Zac, holding on to one of the desks for support, took a deep breath and walked calmly back um to Russell, fighting the urge to rub his burning cheek. "I really hope you don't like your 'career', coz by the time my lawyers have finished with you, there's no way you'll have one left to speak of. C'mon, Gareth," he said, grabbing his hand, and promptly marched out of the door, a very bemused Gareth in tow. Zac had to smile to himself as he heard the cheer go up...
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"Fish paste, anyone?" grinned Jamie, wafting the evil smelling substance under our noses, causing us all to grimace. How Jamie could even CONTEMPLATE eating that stuff was beyond me - just the thought of it made my flesh crawl...
A second later, Tay shuffled over to me and wrapped his arms round me. I smiled. "What's this for?"
"No reason," he beamed. He never just smiled - smile doesn't encompass the tidal wave of emotion induced in me by him... I LOVED THIS KID!!!
"Uh oh, we're loosin' him", grinned Triv...
It took a moment for the joke to sink in I was so emfatuated with the object of beauty infront of me... Hell it should be illegal to look that good!
"Hey Tay, where'd you get all those necklace things from?" asked Jamie, munching on his compressed bread, liberally covered with fish paste.
"Huh? Oh," he grinned. "I dunno... I kinda bought one a few years ago, and just kept buyin' them... Kinda dumb I spose..." he said, going suddenly shy.
"I think they're cool," smiled Triv
"And they actually have a use, too," I grined. Tay raised his eyebrows.
I looped a finger through the black cords and gently pulled Tay on top of me. His intregued look collapsed into a broad grin just as our lips met.
As our tongues danced together, I opened my eyes to see Tony quickly look away, and then glance back. I smiled inwardly and continued exploring Tay's mouth - the taste of him combined with his scent and the sense of security provided by his embracing arms acting like a drug - I was a TayAddict and well and truely hooked - GIMME ANOTHER HIT!
"Are you two going to have ANYTHING for lunch, or are you just gonna keep on chomping on each other?"
"I spose we'd better have something... What you got in there, Spidey?"
Tony was sat with his back to us now, stairing aimlessly into the cloudy sky.
"Tony?" Still no response. I got up and placed my hand on his shoulder. He jumped as I touched him and spun round, a slightly panicked look about him.
"Woah - easy, spider!" I grinned. He looked at me and smiled weakly at the admittedly rather poor pun. "Well? Whatcha got?"
He sighed and unclipped the top of the rucksack. "Umm - Jamie? You want any more fish paste?"
==========
Zac leapt out of the taxi and marched directly towards the Queen's hospital, Burton, dragging Gareth behind him. As he approached the door, a small group of Hansonites descended upon him, waving albums and tee-shirts in his face in a flawed attempt to get his autograph. Zac, unwaivering in his "mission", continued his path directly to the hospital's lobby. Then it twigged. How the fuck did they know he'd be here? HOW COULD THEY DO THAT WHEN HIS BROTHER WAS HALF DEAD?!
Zac stopped abruptly, and spun round. "Just fuck off, will ya? Jesus, don't you guys got ANY respect?" He then did another about face and continued his march, leaving a stunned group of fans standing in a huddle, silent except for the sound of a single one of them beginning to cry. They turned towards Gareth.
"Ohhhhh no - don't look at me!" he said, the prospect of dealing with just a handful of fans being slightly daunting to say the least.
He jogged for a moment to catch up with Zac, who had his teeth firmly gritted, the muscles flexing around his jaw. Gareth opened his mouth to ask if Zac was OK, but promptly shut it again. This was not a good time...
The speed of Zac's approach barely gave the automatic doors enough time to open wide enough to take Zac's not particularly wide form as he strode through them and up to the reception desk, which was one of those raised types that was supposed to make you feel inferior. Zac's chin barely cleared the top of it, but due to the mood he was in even if just the top of his head had been visible he was not going to take any amount of crap from the standard issue bimbo who was sat, stereotypically filing her nails.
"Where's Isaac Hanson?" asked Zac.
"Could I have your name please?"
"Zac Hanson. WHERE'S IKE?"
"He's on Ward 11, but I'm afraid he's not accepting visit...." The receptionists voice faded away as Zac legged it up the corridor towards the lifts, Gareth still in tow. He hammered the call button on both lifts and stood back, impatiently running his fingers through his hair. Many laborious seconds ticked by. No lift. Zac hammered the call buttons even harder, but to no avail. He exhaled in exhasperation and legged it towards the stairs, hearing the 'ding' of the lift as he was about half way up the first flight.
Five corridors and three sets of stairs later, the two blonde lads burst through the doors to Ward 11, trainers squeaking on the sterile lino floor as the "brakes" were applied, quite startling the duty nurse, who happened to be a youngish guy. Zac, fully expecting to whinge at a female nurse, was caught off guard by this and so asked in a civilised manner. The nurse smiled and pointed Zac through into the ward itself and to a bed right at the far end.
As Zac and Gareth walked down towards the bed, Ike sat up and waved enthusiastically at them, the clear plastic tube that was feeding his intravenus drip leaping around skipping-rope style. The look of concern that had clouded Zac's mischevous face all day melted into a broad grin as he ran up to his older brother, the two hugging tightly.
Gareth sidled up behind them, and was surprised when Ike motioned him to give him a hug too. Gareth too was relieved that Ike was looking in such good spirits - it would have been painful to see the usually exhuberant Zac so troubled.
As Ike and Gareth broke the hug, Zac jumped up on to Ike's bed, swinging his legs. "Sooo, what happened to you?"
"I died."
"Yeah, right..."
"No shit, man! Mr. Jaykes said he couldn't feel a pulse when he pulled me out the river! I was really dead!"
"Woah... So what's it like to be... you know... dead?"
"It's kinda cool... Like you're you, but you're not you at the same time... Bit like being drunk but waaaay better! Very lonely, though."
"Did you see God?"
"No... But I saw Grandma."
"Really? COOL!"
"She told me to go home! Said it wasn't my time or something, and that I had to go back and look after my dumbass little brother before he went and fucked himself to death..."
"Ya know, if you weren't an invalid I'd have you for that..."
"You'd have trouble picking a fight with a daisy..." Grinned Ike, enjoying the "protection" his hospitalised state afforded him.
"So how's the old NHS treating you, Ike?" asked Gareth, seeing that Zac was going to get them kicked out if this carried on for much longer.
"Weeeel," said Ike, putting on his thick southener accent, "they dun give a dang fine bed, they have!" He picked up the control from his bedside table and began doing a Homer Simpson style "bed goes up, bed goes down" demonstration, much to their amusement.
==========
"Pillow humping has to be the best," argued Jamie.
"Hell no! In your bedroom, starkers, legs spread, on your back. Can't beat it!" Grinned Triv. During our walk, the conversation had naturally degenerated to the lowest common denominator of the group: Sex - specifically masturbatory techniques.
"I bet Taylor pillow-humps! All INTELLIGENT people pillow-hump."
"Bollocks! Pillow-humping is for people who can't co-ordinate the stroaking of their meat with the caressing of the rest of their bodies! It's the looser's way out!"
"Only one way to settle this," smiled Jamie. "Tay - do you wank or hump?"
"Well," smiled Tay, looking all embarassed again, "I used to jer... ummm, 'wank'..."
"HA! See? Screw you, you ginger tosser!"
"BUT," yelled Tay over the flurry of meaningless insults being shuttled back and forth between Jamie and Triv. They fell into an anticpatory silence.
"That was a loooong time ago... I found pillow-humping feels so much better, especially when you've already cum once in your jockeys and the head can, like, slip around easier..."
Just the thought of Tay shooting a load into his tight whites sent my dick skywards, the loose jogger-bottoms I was wearing doing little (if anything at all) to conceal it.
Jamie grinned broadly. "I ain't going to say a word, Mr. Trivett. I really don't take pleasure in seeing my lover being proved a complete and total fool... Aww fuck it - who am I tryin' to kid? NAH NA NAH NA NAAAAAAH NAH! Told you so!" And with that, he took off his rucksack and chucked it at Triv, then legged it off down the footpath.
"Come here, you little fuckwit!" Yelled triv, shedding his ownbackpack and legging it after him. Tay and I grinned at each other, happy to see another pair of lads well on the way towards what seemed like a truely deep relationship like our own.
"I guess we may as well have a rest while those two run it off," I suggested, relaxing my aching shoulders to allow the pack to fall to the ground. Tay did the same, and once again reveled in the near weightless feeling you get.
"Feels like you're on the moon!" he grinned, doing his slow motion jump he'd had to practise for the MMMBop video...
"Do you wanna hear one of the worst jokes I've ever heard in my life?"
"I get the feeling I'm gonna hear it anyway," he grinned.
"What d'you do when you see a spaceman?"
"Ummmm... Call NASA?"
"You park your car, man..."
For the first time that day, Tony truely laughed. Seeing as his dad was of Manx origin, the pun on the accent immediately struck home. Tay just looked confused. Now as any good comedian will know, all comedy is lost the minute that it is explained, but the poor guy didn't have a hope in hell's chance of fathoming one of the country's slightly more bizarre dialects...
After this, Tony seemed much more at ease with us than it seemed he had been that morning: He'd been either an appreciable distance infront or behind us, but never really walking with the group.
Tay dug three cartons of apple juice out of his rucksack and passed one to both me and Tony, Tay sitting between my legs, resting his head on my upper chest. This was not the best of arrangements as the slight breeze was quite successful in blowing strands of his whispy blonde hair into my mouth along with the straw for the apple juice...
The conversation lulled and Tay began to rest more heavily on my chest, his eyelids gradually becoming heavier as I ran my fingers through his hair.
"Can I ask you guys something?"
"No - absolutely not!" I grinned.
"How did you know you were gay?"
This was rather unexpected - Tony seemed rather skittish about this whole sexuality thing, so for him to initiate a conversation about it caught our attention quite successfully.
"I just knew. Not really the kinda answer you want, I know, but I just knew."
"Oh... When did you know?"
"Heh - seems like forever... I spose I were around five - I can always remember wanting to see the other boys' willies in the changing rooms..."
"Tay?"
"This feels like 'Sixty Minutes'! I guess I was like Dean... You have to remember that I've been homeschooled all my life - hell I wish I'd been put somewhere like this... I don't know really - I think Dean's 'I just knew' sums it up quite well..."
Tay opened his eyes and looked at Spider. "Why ask?"
"Uh... Don't laugh, will ya?"
"'Course not..."
"I dunno how I feel about girls and lads... I mean I like girls a LOT, but without realising it I seem to think about lads a whole lot too... Come to think about it I reckon I think about them more on the spur of the moment than I do girls... I check guys out more, ya know?"
"So?"
Tony was starting to get frustrated with what he thought was our flippant, blazee attitude.
"How can you just say 'So?' like that?? It may not be a big fuckin' deal to you but it friggin' well is to me! I mean I ain't got anythin' against you guys, but you just seem so comfortable with it!"
"So what makes you UNcomfortable about thinking that you may like guys as well as girls?" I asked, determined to get to the root of Tony's dilemma.
"It ain't right! I mean, if God wanted gays, he'd have made Adam and Alan!!"
"Hey Dean, how about you be Adam and I'll be the apple - BITE ME!"
I desperately tried not to smile at Tay as I answered Tony.
"Look, if I'm gonna roast in hell and damnation for eternity simply because I like lads rather than girls, I'm afraid I'm gonna fry!"
"Could I have a side order of salad with that?"
I clamped my hand tightly over Tay's mouth and continued. "If you're a God type bloke like me, then you may as well look at it this way: the guy granted me the gift of life, and with it he gave me membership to a very exclusive club that only 10% of the population are in... He knows I'm gay: in fact it was probably him that made me like this! I spose I should be thanking him more for allowing me to have such a handsome boyfriend..." Tay promptly licked the palm of the hand that was clamped over his mouth, making me jump.
"Yeah, I spose so..."
"Who do you fear more - God or your dad? Quickly - without thinking!" burst out Tay.
Tony stuttered for a moment, then answered "My dad..."
"Was the 'Adam and Alan' line one of his?"
"Yeah..."
"In that case I'm willing to wager that the main reason you don't like the feelings you're having is because you think your dad'll beat the crap outta you if he found out."
Initially, Tony looked outraged by the very concept, but all too soon as he thought it through, he realised Tay was right. He sighed. "I reckon he'd disown me. Kick me out the house. Never speak to me again..."
"Hang on a second... What exactly do you feel? I mean is it fear of your dad, or fear more that YOU've let him down?" I was struggling to word the subtle differences between the two. "I mean - do you feel guilty about it? You know - thinking about lads..."
"It's just... Just... Well it feels so friggin' weird..."
"I seem to recall someone writing a song about that," I grinned. Tony visibly paused as he tried to recall the lyrics, suddenly linking them with Tay's sexuality and how he must really feel. It was if a light had been switched on, laying what were dark, indistinguishable emotions bare and tangable.
"Shit, you're right, man! Damnit I'd never realised that's what you were on about! Cool! Jesus I'm thick..."
"I ain't gonna say a word..."
"DIE, LIDSTER!!" he yelled, racing headlong for me and Tay with an inane grin on his face. We could do nothing but brace for the impact as Spider sent us flying back onto the grass in one huge, giggling heap - his inhibitions about us suddenly vapourising along with his moody, withdrawn attitude.
Chapter Nineteen
"What? No camp fires?" asked Jamie, outraged.
"Nah, but look at it this way - they got nice HOT showers here..."
The camp site for our final night was, for once, a proper camp site - fresh running water, toilets that had LOO PAPER in them (not just the space for some), a communal kitchen of sorts and even a small but very welcome shop that was open to some rediculous hour at night.
We did the customary troll round the site to try and pick a half decent pitch and eventually settled in a corner diagonally oposite the amenities block - out of the way, but not so much so that it was a pain to go and get water etc.
The tents were put up again and, after a dozen bent pegs and copious amounts of expleetives due to the insanely stoney, peg-unfriendly ground, thoughts were turned towards the now hallowed commodity of food.
The contents of our rucksacks were 'carefully' ejected onto the surrounding grass, Jamie finding the most amusing method by far of emptying his: He grabbed straps that ran under the bottom of the sack and began to spin on the spot. The pre-loosened top straps soon relinquished their grip causing the top to fly open, allowing tea towels, the majority of a primus stove, a couple of packs of dried chilli mix and a humbug to go flying.
We piled the assorted goodies into a heap, and decided that chilli blancmange sandwiches seemed the most appitising way to go. However Jamie's centrifuge had refused to shift the rice from the corner it'd tucked itself into, and on this monumentous discovery the menu was changed to a slightly more appetising Chilli con carne with rice, bread and butter and strawberry blancmange.
We dumped the pots and pans in a heap next to the pile of "food" and tried to mentally prepare ourselves for the long, arduous task of preparing the meal.
"We could always call for pizza again," suggested Tay, looking suspiciously at the shit-brown powdery stuff that claimed to be dried chilli.
"No - absolutely not!" announced Jamie. "Once The Master has been at this, never again will you want for some dodgy Italian excuse for food from Pizza-u-like... Can someone go get us some water?"
Not wanting to put the brakes on Jamie's self-proclaimed cullinary prowess, I volunteered and rescued the well squashed water bottle from under the pile of pans.
"I'll go check us into the site to make sure Gillie's paid our way... Remember what happened last year?"
The previous group doing the training exercise had fallen foul to Gillie's exceptional planning talents - he'd prepared their route, but completely omitted the part where he called the campsite, booked them in and paid for them: When they were approached by the site's owner, only then did they realise that the site had NOT been pre-paid and they did not have the wherewithall to cover it themselves. A phone call ensued to the school and, after a lot of pleading, sweet- talking and a 20% excess, they were allowed to stay...
"Hey, hold on a second, Dean! I need a leak..." yelled Tay as I meandered off towards the ameanities block. This was immediately taken the wrong way by the other three, chorousing "THAT'S GROSS!", making Tay blush with embarassment...
We walked over to the loos hand in hand, be deciding that relieving myself also was a good idea. We stood infront of the urinals and pushed our tracksuit trousers down enough to allow our dicks to flop out in the general direction of the two porcelain bowls. Not satisfied with the amount of freedom just pulling the front of his tracksuit down, he pushed them, along with his boxers, right down to his knees affording me a wonderful profile view of his tackle: golden pubes, tight, full bollocks and a soft, velvety dick that was simply begging to have a tongue run across it's flawless surface.
I looked up at tay, and found him to be staring straight back at me suggestively. I took the hint and pushed my trousers and kegs down to my knees, my dick starting to swell.
He smiled approvingly and took his cock in his hand, a powerful stream of piss leaping from the tip and arching gracefully into the urinal, twinkling as it caught the harsh white light provided by the flourescent tube above. How someone pissing could enchant one so is still beyond me, but it did!
I dragged my eyes away from him, allowing my own bladder to be emptied. Once my aim was "safe", my eyes immediately refocused to Tay's dick, and then to his face - he was doing the exact same thing as me...
All too soon, the pressure behind the golden stream deyayed and finally stopped, Tay wringing the last few drops out by rubbing his foreskin back and forth over the head, much the same as I did - only this time he simply continued rubbing, the velvety shaft rapidly increasing in length, width and attitue until it was paointing near- vertical, the engorged purple head poking teasingly from its sheath.
"Damn - don't ya just HATE it when that happens?" grinned Tay. "I mean there you are, taking a leak next to the most sexy guy in the world and for some unknown reason, all the blood rushes from your brain to your dick. Bummer, huh?"
"Fancy a shower?" I enquired, my dick having responded in kind. "Come to think of it, this kinda rings a bell... Deja Vu..."
Tay kicked his tracksuit and boxers from round his feet and bent down to release the straps on his hiking boots and in doing so, "accidentally" ran his tongue along my shaft from the very tip to the base of my balls causing my shaft to jerk and me to moan involuntarily. Tay smiled and proceeded to unlace his boots, then stood up again, wrapping his tongue around the underside of my balls and licking upwards, causing them to be pushed in opposite directions in my sack, his tongue ending it's journey by pushing gently into my piss slit.
Tay then pulled his jumper and T-shirt over his head, leaving him completely as God intended, save for the customary chokers around his neck, which to me formed an arrow that poited directly towards the organ that gave us both so much intense pleasure.
I bent down, reaching towards my boots as he had done earlier, but disappointed him by completely omitting the dick-licking bit. I undid my boots, prised them off my feet, then dived towards him, slaming him up against the wall. I dived onto his dick and took it as far into me as I could, squeezing his balls hard but carefully with my right hand and sucked as hard as I possibly could.
Instantly, I was rewarded with a copious jet of his nectar-like, near-clear precum. He grabbed onto my hair and began to face fuck me, his dick bashing against the back of my throat. I changed my position slightly and that was all it took to allow him to enter me fully, his pubic hairs tickling my nostrils. Whether it was his sheer hornyness, the excitement of being sucked off in what was effectively a public toilet or a combination of the two I'm not sure, but within moments he screamed and his balls tightened under my grip, a moment later what seemed like gallons of his sweet, warm cum being injected into my mouth. I pulled back immediately and began jabbing at his slit with my tongue as he came, desperate to appreciate all that he had to give me.
Tay bucked, jerked and moaned as wave upon wave of an extremely intense orgasm rebounded off of every muscle in his body, his knees turning to jelly as the pleasure began to gradually cool off, him slumping into my arms.
We both jumped as a pair of hands clapped slowly behind us. "VERY good!" commented Triv, just having watched the entire performance, a grin that the Cheshire Vat himself would have been proud of on his face. Tay and I both turned cherry red.
"Now that you've had a drink, Dean, any chance of US getting one?"
A tricle of Tay's cum slid down my throat 'the wrong way' causing me to cough and emit a spray of Hansoncum through my nose. Triv just burst out laughing and chucked the forgotton water bottle at me and walked off, shaking his head.
==========
"Sir, could I use the toaster, please?"
"No."
"But Si..."
"THAT'S FINAL!"
Russell was on house duty. This was NEVER good, but the mood he was in made life even worse for the members of the Junior Boys' house. No TV. No toast. Thirty second showers (as opposed to the Russell standard issue two minute ones) and, whenever Russell was within earshot, very little talking.
The whole house was miserable. Everyone, that is, bar a certain Mr. Hanson...
"Sir?" Zac enquired, bracing his ears for the inevitable yell.
"WHAT?"
"Awww Sir, be nice!" he grinned. "I'm gonna use the toaster if that's alright with you..."
"You will NOT use that toaster!"
"Listen, David - it's OK to call you David, isn't it?" continued Zac, throwing his arm around Russell, his spindley frame visibly tensing. "I'm GOING to use the toaster. And you can't stop me."
Russell looked as if he was going to sprout horns and gouge out Zac's insides with a dead haddock - never in his entire career had ANYONE had the audacity to treat him this way!
"Ha.... Ha..." He was so angry he couldn't even speak. "Ha..." This time, Zac interrupted.
"Oh yeah - if you do stop me, I'm afraid that someone important may have to find out about what a really miserable, unkind, pig-ugly, foul-smelling, bad tempered and generally disagreeable member of staff did to me earlier today... Now I'm going to use the toaster, along with the rest of the house, OK?"
Russell had no choice but to swallow the mind full of abuse and belittlement he was about to hurl at Zac. He grudgingly shook his head, trying to give Zac one of his death-stares, but they were fuelled by his reputation, and as of this morning, his reputation was worth jack shit. He turned and began to walk back towards the door to his flat, still not quite believing the magnitude of the damoclean blackmail he was under. ANd to top it all, the blackmailer was a TWELVE YEAR OLD!! Zac called after him:
"Oh, while you're in there, be a pal and get us some butter and the antenna cable for the TV..."
"You'll get no such..."
Zac raised his eyebrows, causing Russell to back down mid-denial and simply go and do what Zac had asked.
"Thankyou, sir..." grinned Zac in an oh-so-false way, practically courtseying as he said it. The moment his door closed, Zac turned round to the rest of his dorm. The look of complete astonishment, wonderment and, above all, smugness was priceless.
"Soooo..." Zac enquired. "Who wants a pillow fight?"
==========
"I hate to say it," said Tay between mouthfulls of Chilli Con Carne "but this actually tastes kinda good!"
"What do you mean, you 'hate to say it'? There ain't 'owt up with me cooking!"
"That's quite a compliment from him," smiled Spider. "Remember, rich- boy here's used to nothing but the best!"
"WHAT? I think you're gettin' just a little too big for your boots there, mister! Another wise-crack like that and I'm gonna have to whip your ass!"
"That a threat or a promise?"
"I dunno - does it sound promising?"
"Uh, kinda..."
One of those 'oh shit - everyone is listening to me' kind of silences fell over the group, Tony suddenly going very red. Triv, Jamie and myself just looked at each other.
"Anyone want a drink?" Asked Tay after a few moments, trying to relieve Spidey of some of the embarassment. As far as Tay was concerned, he knew he didn't have anything to be embarassed about, but Spider wasn't quite to that stage yet.
"Yeah, go for it, Tay! I think I've got some hot chocolate in me rucksack somewhere..." I volunteered.
"How much paraffin do we got left?"
Jamie picked up the primus and swirled it round Ace Ventura style next to his ear. "'Nuff for five cups of hot water I'd say... Tay - you gonna do the honours?"
"Sure thing!"
"You DO know how to use one of these relics?" asked Triv.
"Hey, you're lookin' at Mr. Outdoors, here!"
"Uh huh...."
"You are!"
"Yeah. Sure Tay..."
"Fine - I'll prove it." Tay picked up the box of matches, knealt down by the primus and struck one.
"Uhh, Tay? Just humour me and take that thing AWAY from the tents just a tad, will ya?"
"Geez... OK, Triv - you're tha man..."
Tay picked up the primus and walked a good thirty feet with it. He turned around, placed it on the ground and looked up for approval. Triv grinned and gave him the thumbs up.
Cautiously, tay felt the temperature of the burner assembly on top of the paraffin tank, and jerked his hand away quickly due to the slightly-more-than-bearable feel. He struck a match and held it under the burner to pre-het it a bit more, pumped the handle a few times, then struck a second match to actually light the contraption. To his relief, it lit with a clean blue flame.
"HA - see?"
He smugged too soon - the warm paraffin liquid from the lower half of the burner soon emerged at the nozzels, causing it to splutter and the flame to turn a sooty yellow/white colour. Tay was just about to open the pressure relief valve when the burning liquid began to drop down past the lip on the burner and on to the body of the fuel tank, right over the relief valve.
Tay once again leaped back in surprise, much to our amusement. "Put it out, then!" Yelled Jamie.
"How?"
"How the hell do I know? I've never had a flare-up!"
"Uhh Tay - I'd gat away from that if I were you," I yelled, the primus now nothing more than a quite impressive fireball. Tay followed my advice and walked hurridly back to us.
Triv held his nose and said in a crackly radio-style voice "Huston, we have achieved critical mass and are awaiting meltdown!"
The flaming paraffin dripped down onto the fuel tank, spreading into a pool of white/yellow flame.
"It's gonna go!" yelled Jamie, getting all wound up and bouncing behind Triv's muscular torso, peering over his shoulder.
We all continued to back off as the flames grew higher and higher, the heating of the fuel tank sending the pressure into the red zone, the heat from the puddle of paraffin surrounding it gradually melting the solder seam that held the base on. Suddenly, the bottom gave, sending the cooker a good fifteen feet into the air like a firework, it's exhaust a shower of burning paraffin.
We stood in stunned silence as the top half of the stove clanged back down to the ground, a smouldering pile of twisted metal.
"Cool..." breathed Spider.
END OF PART FOUR