Benedict's Bulging Briefs, Chapter 3
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.
This edition has been slightly revised. Enjoy!
Over the remains of the weekend Benedict applied himself to his schoolwork and pined a little for Simon. He wondered, in the obsession of first love, "What was he doing, who was he with?"
Ben also found himself reflecting on recent events. The experiences with Nick and then Chris had, he realised, enlarged his world. He wanted more, he couldn't stop thinking about sex, and the moments were seared in his memory. However, he also picked over what the two boys had said especially Chris, for the deep waters were no longer still in him.
"Was it not all too good to be true?" he thought to himself. He certainly knew he wasn't perfect. That others might fancy him was something of a revelation to him. Though he was beginning to realise that life had dealt him a fairly good hand so far. He sensed, though didn't quite grasp, that somehow, others perceived it too and in someway wanted a share in it, in him? When he went to school tomorrow would he be encountering people, who wanted him desired him, even perhaps, envied him? Or was this all down to plain old lust, thank god, on Nick's part and puppy love on Chris'? After all he'd had a crush on an older boy when he was younger hadn't he! Certainly, Benedict was unsettled; earlier he had tried reading a new Terry Prachett novel and got nowhere. This was almost unheard of for him. Usually he entered into the realm of Discworld without difficulty, today he couldn't.
"Stop moping about," his father had told him earlier.
Good advice thought Ben as he prepared for bed, feeling that school tomorrow would be like any other day. After all, the only thing that had changed, he reasoned, was the knowledge that boys fancied him too. Until last week, it had been only unsought girls who'd tried to `get off' with him. Now that, thought Benedict, can hardly be called a problem can it? What Benedict couldn't see, (for how could he?) was that his recent rite of passage had indeed transformed him. Ben was no longer a virgin. He was fulfilled, though he still ached for Simon. He had acquired more confidence, more poise. The body that he thought thin and awkward had become relaxed, fluid and supple. His smile was now positively radiant and the luminous blue eyes were one's that had seen the Promised Land. In short he exuded sex appeal and was giving off signals like a lighthouse across a darkened sea.
As he got into bed, wearing only the white nylon shorts he had purchased the previous day, he considered having a wank. However, he already brought himself off four times that day, replaying different scenes with Chris or Nick, and he decided to leave it until the morrow. As he started to doze off he realised that the day before, caught up in the heat of the moment, Chris could easily have fucked him. "Shouldn't I wait and offer that to Simon?" was his last conscious thought as sleep took possession of him.
School was indeed normal on the next day, though lunchtime saw him in the dinner queue next to Nick Travers.
"Ben!" said Nick, "how's things?"
"Good," replied Benedict, before dropping his voice and asking, "when are we gonna get together again?"
"Soon, soon" replied Nick, looking uneasy, "gotta lot of hassle at the mo, girlfriend trouble too!"
"Ah!" responded Ben, understanding, he hoped.
Nick was going out at the moment with Kim Bingham, reputedly the school `bike'.
Did this mean that Nick was no longer available, that he wasn't interested any more?
"Its just, oh, I dunno," said Nick, hurriedly, "its not what I thought, its too heavy for me, gimme sometime, okay?"
"Sure" Ben reassured him generously, as he chose a burger and chips at the counter, "its fine, lets not talk about it. Though I've got no regrets."
"That's the problem," sighed Nick, "neither have I."
With that, and leaving Ben somewhat startled, Nick flashed an engaging smile, winked and went off to join his mates. Ben holding his tray, buoyed by the parting remark, and with some understanding of what it had revealed, went over to the table that Simon was already sitting at. Simon's position, and who was with him - Richard Jenkins and Michael Robson - had of course been registered immediately upon entering the dinning room.
"Hi chaps" Ben greeted the boys, with a mock upper crust accent, "how's the morning been?"
The boys were soon discussing their respective weekends. Simon filled in more detail concerning the family trip to London (Ben had already heard most of it as the two had walked to school that morning). Ben offered that his weekend had been "dull", though of course it had been anything but, and Richard and Mike had it transpired, been to a rock concert. The two other boys soon left something to do with a physics experiment, leaving Simon and Ben alone at the table.
"Saw you talking to Nick Travers," said Simon, "never figured you as hanging around with losers. What's he after?"
More than you, unfortunately, Ben wanted to reply, instead he offered, "Oh, just girl trouble, s'all"
"Who is it? Kim Bingham?" he looked at Ben for confirmation, Ben nodded, "Jeez, hardly surprising then is it."
"No," Ben laughed, "I guess not."
"So you two becoming mates then?" asked Simon.
It was a seemingly casual statement, but underneath there seemed to be an edge to Simon's voice, something else was present too.
"Meaning?" Ben prompted, with feigned nonchalance, seeking more, needing more, more information for his suddenly alert senses to work on.
"Well, err," Simon licked his lips, he always did that when he was nervous Ben knew, "coming in the other day after the run, all laughing and joshing. Then you're talking girlfriends. I bet you've hardly spoken to him before. Now you're soulmates all of a sudden!"
"Jealousy will get you nowhere my boy," said Ben, mocking his friend gently.
"Fuck you, Johnson!" said Simon, laughing.
"Yeah," laughed Ben, "you and the rest, Jones, you and the rest."
The spell was broken, and the two boys turned their conversation to squash instead. They always played squash on Monday evenings at their local club and Simon declared that he was going to thrash Ben's ass. If only, thought Ben.
As Ben sat through his afternoon lessons his mind examined the recent conversation with his friend. Jealous, surely Simon had been jealous! It was the only thing that made sense, but why? How could Simon, the love of his life, be worried by Ben's friendship with Nick. What did it mean? Could it be? But no it couldn't be that. Simon had never given any sign, any indication, and God knows Ben had been looking for one. Just one sign would have been enough, he wouldn't have missed it, couldn't have! Hope soared through Ben's heart and he resolved to be even more vigilant of Simon. He'd had a great run recently, was it about to get even better, the best possible?
Feeling invigorated and full of life Ben excelled in his afternoon classes. An exceptionally bright boy, when it came to the matter of Simon, Ben couldn't see the wood for trees. Even his new found sense of self-assurance deserted him because regarding Simon he had to be sure, or all would be lost.
Ben headed home at the end of the day feeling quite good about things. As he and Simon had left the school gate he had noticed Chris Morgan, off to the left, walking with a group of other boys, presumably his mates. Chris smiled sheepishly at him, blushing slightly. Ben smiling, nodded discretely, and noticed that Luke Jones, Simon's younger brother, was amongst the group of boys. God, he thought, are they mates? Of course they were in the same year, so why shouldn't they be friends, he thought. However, he couldn't but hope that Chris kept quiet about last Saturday, a wrong word to Luke and it would surely soon reach Simon.
Ben after getting home was soon locked away in the bathroom, his brother's boxers in his mouth, spunking into the pair of pale green briefs that he had swapped with Chris. He'd only had them a couple of days and they were already rank with boycream. The sight of Chris in his school uniform allied to the knowledge of what lay underneath had Ben pumping away for all he was worth. Funny though, it wasn't Chris tonguing his ass that came into his mind but Chris eating out Luke Jones instead. His wank done with, Ben settled down to homework and, that completed, ate a meal with his family. He got ready for squash, the boys changed before leaving so as to save time, and he had just pulled his trackies up over his shorts when the door bell rang. He heard his mother inviting Simon in and telling him to go straight on up. Thundering up the stairs Simon came crashing into his bedroom.
"Great, you ready?" said Simon. "Yes, ready to give you a beating," replied Ben.
The two lads ran downstairs and found Ben's dad ready to take them to the club. One parent usually took them and another picked them up after the game, so it would be Simon's dad who they'd see later.
The two teens were dropped off at the club and soon entered the changing rooms. Great thought Ben, Tom's here. Starting last year, two first year students from the local university had also begun playing squash at the club on a Monday evening. One, Matt, was okay, a dark well muscled six footer, but the other, Tom Davies was something else, at least to Ben's eyes. Tom was also about six feet tall, but he had dark red hair and dark green eyes, he was slim and boyish looking with a freckled face and shoulders. His body was hard and lean, there couldn't have been a spare ounce on him thought Ben, and his muscles were all taut and liquid, sort of there yet not there. Both lads were still 19 and they were now in there second year at university, both were reading anthropology.
Over time, before and after their separate games, the four teens had found common ground and easily swapped stories and jokes. Ben and Simon had arrived just as Tom and Matt were leaving. They had played earlier than normal, as it was a friend's twentieth birthday `do' later that evening. A serious pub-crawl and further drinking seemed to be on the menu. The students lingered a while talking to the two boys, who divested themselves of tops and trackies, and said there good-bye's. Just as they were leaving Tom brushed past Ben and dropped something into his open sports bag. He winked at Ben and left. Neither Simon nor Matt appeared to have noticed anything untoward, and Ben resisted the temptation to look into his bag. What was all this about and why do I have a funny feeling about this, he wondered. Why am I getting hard? It could be anything.
"Come on, Ben, lets go and whip your ass!" cried Simon running out of the changing room, breaking Ben's thoughts.
The two young teens were soon dashing eagerly around the squash court, although a part of Ben continued to consider what Tom had left in his bag. They were both highly competitive individuals and took the game seriously. Ben loved it, every week to be absorbed in a personal dual with Simon. Closed off from the world outside, each boy seeking dominance over the other. For Ben these games held an almost mythical quality about them. Ben was not so blinkered however, as to be unappreciative of the way that Simon's white-T shirt and shorts clung to him as the game worn on. The smell of sweat and exertion was a heady mixture he had discovered, and a potion whose brew usually required a good wank, upon arrival back home. The briefs that Simon wore, becoming increasingly visible through the damp shorts during the game, were particularly prized. Both for the way they clung to Simon in the changing room afterwards and, more important still, for what they offered in the way of taste and smell on Tuesday evening's when Ben borrowed them from his friend's laundry basket.
The two boys finished there match, Simon winning 3-2, and headed off to the changing room. The boys stripped quickly, Ben memorising the detail of Simon's white CK sport's briefs. These were a new pair this term, and had so far only appeared on Monday evenings. Ben loved they way they cupped his friend's package and gave definition to his wonderful ass, while leaving the smooth olive outer thighs almost untouched by material. Ben also had Monday evening underwear -- during the summer term he had bought a white Nike jockstrap, both in the hope that it might attract Simon's attention, and because he felt damn sexy in it. Like his friend he never wore it to school, well, at least not on the days when PE was on the timetable. Unfortunately, Simon had never drawn breath on the subject, though Ben had risked a small compliment about the CK's. He had been answered with a grunt.
The two boys nipped into the shower, a couple of older men were already in there, and Ben took the opportunity to surreptitiously glance at Simon's huge balls and thick meaty cock which, even when limp, possessed an air of haughty pride. He liked to dream about showering under the hot, steamy water, that flowing in rivulets over the washboard chest cascaded from the tip of Simon's knob. The two boys got dressed, each stuffing their shorts into their bags and changing their T-shirts too. As Simon pulled open his bag he noticed that what Tom had dropped in there earlier was a piece of paper. He decided to leave it there until he got home, lest Simon notice him with it and quiz him on the contents. Whatever it was, it was meant for Ben alone he guessed, and his cock, snug and asleep, in his jock, twitched involuntarily as he stared at the paper. Simon's dad was awaiting the boy's in his car and Ben, after exchanging thanks and goodnights, was soon back home. He threw his bag at the bottom of the stairs and popped into the sitting room to catch the end of the news and to chat with his family. Sarah, his sister was just in the process of being sent off to bed, and Dominic was reading a book. After talking with his mum and dad for a while and, occasionally with Dom too, Ben said good night and headed off to bed. He dropped his dirty clothes into the laundry basket and went into his bedroom. Ben sat down on the edge of the bed and opened Tom's note.
Wide eyed the boy read: "Ben, if you want the same as I do, and I'm betting on this that you do, ring 794883 tomorrow, after 6, and if I don't answer, ask for me. Tom."
It could mean anything of course, but the bulging jock pushing at his trackies, told him what he really thought. Ben was flustered, almost speechless, horny too. Tom, of all people, he thought. Who would have believed it? Why, to take such a risk; Tom could so easily have been wrong. But, he wasn't! Even as he had first read the message Ben knew that he would ring, that he did indeed want what Tom wanted. But when, how? Time, he suspected, would drag until tomorrow. Already at a high state of arousal, following his match with Simon, Ben knew what he needed to do next. He quickly got ready for bed and had just slipped under the covers, clad only in his bulging jock, when there was a knock at his door. "Fuck!" he whispered, desperate to start working on his prick.
Instead he called,
"Enter!" and was greeted by the sight of his brother Dominic.
Dom had obviously changed for bed and was wearing only an old red Man Utd shirt, he'll not get in that much longer thought Ben, and a pair of white shiny nylon shorts. God, he wondered, as he had before, how does he get in `em? The shorts were small and tight and left little to the imagination, his brother's tube and balls seemed to be moulded into one surprising large mass in their nylon prison. Ben had encountered those shorts orally a number of times in the bathroom. Certainly, seeing his brother poured into them, did not help the straining manhood locked in his jock.
"Sorry," said Dom, "I didn't mean to disturb you."
"No, its okay," replied Ben, "I haven't got round to turning the light off yet. So what can I do you for then?"
Dom stood there, in many ways a smaller mirror image of him Ben realised. The eyes were a lighter shade of blue, and the hair was blonder too, but both possessed the same creamy smooth complexion. Ben though stood 6'2", while Dom had so far only achieved 5'4" in height and while Ben looked hairless, he was after all only just getting round to thinking about shaving, the boyish Dom practically was. If Ben thought himself thin, then what did that make Dom he wondered, a wisp perhaps? Ben laughed at himself.
"Sorry?" said Dom.
"Its nothing," said Ben, "Come on," he said, moving over in the bed and making room, "come and sit down and tell me about it. Something's got to you"
"Thanks," said his brother and sounding relived and flashing an angelic smile, he sat down on the bed next to Benedict.
Ben propped himself on his elbow and turned onto his side, facing Dominic, though as he did so, he became aware of just how perilously close his bulging jock was to the boy's bum perched on his bed. "Don't move brother or you're in for a big surprise," thought Benedict to himself.
The relief on Dom's face, evident when he'd been invited to come and sit down, seemed to dissipate.
"So," said Ben, "what's up?"
"Well, it sounds sort of funny, odd really, don't laugh" said Dom, appealing to Ben.
"Its alright, I won't. Go on," urged Ben, his cock twitched in his jock, it seemed to have a mind of its own and strained to feel Dom.
"Well, I was kinda thinking about switching my underwear," gulped Dom, breathless, he continued, "You know, from boxers to briefs. Kid's wear boxers and I've noticed during games that some of the guys in my class have gotten rid of `em."
"I see," laughed Ben, who found himself both relaxing a little
Ah, so that's what he's after ... he couldn't open that door, anyway, surely? ... I can't, he's my brother! – Yet he was getting hornier too – Dom in briefs ... Ben wanking with those briefs in the bathroom ... Briefs that had been filled, stretched, caressed by Dom's cock.
"So what are you wanting from me, approval?" asked Ben.
"Yes," said Dom, with surprising intensity, "I, err, mean, well, which one's should I go for? Just briefs or boxer briefs? I `m gonna ask mum to get me some on Saturday. Though I wanna choose them!" he finished defiantly.
"Well I prefer briefs myself," said Ben, wondering where all this was going, yet finding himself unable to stop, his jock filling with precum. "What are the others wearing? Andy for example?" asked Ben, suddenly excited about the thoughts of other lads in Dom's year, especially Dom's best friend Andy O'Hara.
"Err, bit of both. Andy's switched to briefs, and well, they look good on him," said Dom, blushing furiously, "that's what got me thinking about changing, that, and the fact that, err, you look good in yours."
As Dominic said this he looked away from his brother, down at the floor, his cheeks flushed, his forehead furrowed in a frown. Ben was trying to keep his eyes away from Dom's shiny, nylon bulge, not wishing to acknowledge his desire now that the possibility of fulfilment was so near. If he thought he needed to be sure about Simon then that was as nothing compared to his doubt now. This was his younger brother, get this wrong and...
Ben knew the logical consequences of his experiences with his brothers boxers; he was too honest with himself not too. He knew that part of him wanted to reach out and touch his brother, intimately, lovingly, and sexually. But he could live with the dream because that's all it had been, a dream. Until now, he thought.
Instinct, based upon his recent experiences, told him that his brother was here for more than a mere discussion concerning underwear fashion. But could Dom handle it? Could Ben? All these thoughts raced through his mind, but what probably decided it was the fact that the two boys were not alone, their parents could come in at any moment. Ben decided to wait and see though his body rebelled at this, and helplessly, he found his protuberant jock pressing against his brother's ass through the duvet.
"Err, look," answered Ben, "how about you borrow an old pair of mine, and try `em out. See if you like the feel and things."
"Wow, would you?" exclaimed Dom, looking up at his brother, his eyes betraying the fear of rejection, the hope of consummation, "that would be neat. I'd thought about that, but didn't dare ask."
In saying this Dom eased himself back a little onto the bed. Ben was about to lose control, his brother must know what was pressing into him, simply had too. Ben's cock seemed to be about to tear through his jock and burrow through the duvet!
"Grr, urr, its getting late," said Ben, clearing his throat, his mouth dry, "mum and dad will be up soon, look in my top drawer there, on the right."
"Thanks," said Dom rising from the bed.
The words "mum and dad" seemed to have an effect on Dom and Ben sensed a hole opening up in the room, removing all the pent-up tension and desire. As Dom turned and moved over to the drawer Ben could see that his brother's cock was definitely pushing at the front of his tight shiny shorts. Not fully erect, certainly, but not bad either thought Ben, as his mind remorselessly recorded the image for future playback. Ben couldn't but admire the blossoming ass as, the shorts clinging and stretching across the fruity cheeks; Dom burrowed deep into his top drawer. Ben had of course, conducted a quick mental inventory of the drawer's contents before inviting Dom to open it. The top drawer was safe.
"Look on the right at the bottom of the pile," commanded Ben.
"These!" exclaimed Dom, turning to Ben and holding up before him an old pair of white cotton M&S briefs.
Dom flourished the briefs in the air, like a warrior claiming the spoils of battle, smiling, his eyes seemed filled with awe at what he held.
"These, will do just fine," said Dom.
In truth, they were far too small for Benedict, who had long since outgrown them.
"Take `em then and let me get to sleep," said Ben, who was desperate to release his screaming cock.
"Aw, thanks Ben, you're the best!" said Dominic.
As he was turning to leave Ben could not stop himself from adding solemnly; "Of course, Dom, I do know what this is all about."
His brother stopped in his tracks suddenly looking pensive, like a small-frightened animal, trapped in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle.
"Sure I do," continued Ben, laughing, "if you're thinking about underwear then you've gotta be thinking about someone seeing you in `em. Who is she? You randy little bastard!"
At this Dom seemed to relax, he smiled,
"Ah, err, can't say, not now, Ben. Another time."
"Sure, another time, goodnight Dom," said Ben.
Was that a promise? Ben wondered.
"G'night and thanks again big brother!" said Dom.
Ben sighed torn within, yes, another time he thought... another time. One thing seemed certain, either he or Andy O'Hara would soon be discovering what lay under those briefs. Ben's inner turbulence was reflected in the fact that, while praying it was Andy, he couldn't help but hope it would be himself.
Tearing his cock from his jock, this was no time for finesse, Ben worked vigorously on his swollen member. Pumping his prick to thoughts of Dom, Simon and Tom, the three merging as one, he spewed forth his thick creamy prime. Splattering his chest and nipples, the high pressure cum pooled and cooled in the cavity of his slim abdomen, defining the ridges of the burgeoning muscles like snow capped mountains. Feeling drained and exhausted he was soon claimed by sleep, a smile lingering long at his lips.
Upon waking, Ben was tempted to regard last night as a dream. His feelings for his brother would probably have weighed heavy on him all day had he not soon remembered the note from Tom. With the single-mindedness of youth, Ben pushed thoughts of Dom away from the forefront of his mind and began to concentrate on something else, though the two were hardly very different.
The day passed slowly for Ben; Tuesday was a day light on classes and heavy on study periods. Time dragged, time to the lunch break, and time to go home, and time until 6.00pm. He'd read but hadn't absorbed, studied yet not learnt a thing, for how could he? His mind was absorbed with Tom and the call he was to make that evening.
The news on TV heralded that it was now six `o clock in the evening. Ben decided, Lord knows how, to wait until 6.30pm in case Tom were late getting home or whatever. Besides he didn't want to appear too eager! He had to play this cool, neutral, he could be getting this all wrong -- though the butterflies in his stomach betrayed his true feelings and the contents of the note played like a loop in his brain. "If you want the same--"
6.30pm arrived and Ben picked up the cordless phone from the hall and rushed upstairs. He had already memorised the number but he checked the dog-eared note all the same. Taking a deep breath his feverish fingers tapped out the number on the handset. The phone was ringing, he could still hang up, and perhaps it would be...
"Hello," said a voice, young and female, on the other end of the line.
Ben was momentarily non-plussed by the girl's voice, but recovered quickly,
"Err, err, hello," he stammered, "can a speak to Tom Davies please?"
"Hang on," said the girl, evidently dropping the phone and going off in search of Tom.
A few moments later, they seemed like an eternity to Ben, that entrancing voice spoke,
"Hi, Tom here."
Ben, a northern lad, found the southern accent of some lads incredibly alluring, sort of sexy and sophisticated. Tom, he knew, came from London.
"Oh, hi Tom, its me, Ben," said the boy, nervously.
"Ben! Great, I've been wondering if you were going to ring. So you got my message then?"
"Yeah, sure," replied Ben.
"So, you up for it then?" asked Tom.
This wasn't quite how Ben had expected things to go he was being put on the spot when he wasn't sure what spot he was on.
"Err, depends," offered Ben, "on what you mean."
Tom laughed and said, "Bollocks! You wouldn't be ringing me unless you had a pretty good idea. Nice, respectable boys like you aren't supposed to mess with the likes of me."
Ben's cock was rapidly stiffening,
"Go on," he said.
"Look, I can't talk much now," said Tom, "but can you come and see me tomorrow night, around, oh, say eightish?"
"Well, I… I…" began Benedict.
"Preferably with a certain item of clothing," interrupted Tom, attempting to sway the hesitant boy, "that you've started wearing on Monday nights."
That did it, doubt was swept aside. Caught up by sheer lust, and almost before Ben realised it, he had agreed to meet Tom on the following evening at eight `o clock.
Putting down the phone, Ben lay back on his bed stroking his cock through his trackies. He knew the street where Tom lived; it wasn't far from the squash club. He'd tell his parents he was going there he decided, and ask to be collected outside. That way he could walk back from Tom’s be picked up, and no one need know, or ask him any awkward questions. Yes, this will work, he told himself. Getting up from the bed, stopping only to extract something from his bottom drawer, he ran downstairs and replaced the phone on its stand. Quickly, before it disappeared in the wash, he went to the bathroom to retrieve his jockstrap, the one that Tom had surely been referring to. He found it in the laundry basket, too caught up in his desires, his plans, to notice that it was not quite where he had put it that morning. Too distracted by the thoughts of what Tom might want with it, with him, to notice that it was moist, damper than it should have been.
Instead, Ben's trackies were soon down around his ankles. He held the pair of Simon Jones' white CK sports briefs to his face, worn only last night and collected on the way back from school this evening, and started to rub and tease his own cotton mound. Ben's nose and mouth explored Simon's exertions from the previous evening, all boymusk and raunch in the soft, snug pouch. With his other hand he removed his cock from his briefs and, milking furiously, soon deposited his steamy load on the bathroom floor.
If Tuesday had passed slowly the Wednesday was even worse. Simon seemed to sense that something was up and, in roundabout ways, quizzed Ben relentlessly as to how things were, was he okay, etc., etc. Ben fenced and parried, diverting Simon by asking about his driving test tomorrow. Simon, very technically minded, was mad on cars and crazy about passing his test first time. Ben wasn't so bothered, though he had begun lessons, and had often had to endure Simon's craze for all things motoring. Back home, time slowed even more and Ben decided to shower before meeting Tom. He wanted to be at his best and didn't consider the possibility that Tom might quite like to have encountered him unshowered; all hot and bothered after an interminable day. He went to the bathroom and found it locked,
"Hurry up," he shouted I need a shower. It had to be his brother or sister, his parents had their own bathroom off from their bedroom, and, if it was his sister he reflected gloomily, he could be here for hours. After a couple of minutes wait the door was opened by a sheepish looking Dom, who mumbled sorry and made a hasty retreat to his own bedroom. His brother had been a bit funny round him since Monday evening, quiet, sort of distant, yet somehow always lurking too. He hadn't reported back on the briefs yet Ben suddenly realised and, shrugging his shoulders, he decided he better not be the one to ask. Though he definitely wanted to know.
Ben showered and entered his bedroom. He slipped on his unwashed jock, not easy for his cock stood hard and proud. Now came the hard part, what to wear? Ben wanted to look just right and all day had cycled through his mind various combinations of the clothes he possessed. In the end, because of his cover story, he settled on a pair of black Puma trackie bottoms, white socks and trainers and a white Reebok T-shirt with navy piping at the collar and sleeves. He applied some gel to his hair, brushed his teeth and applied some CKOne to his unshaven cheeks. Smiling at himself in the mirror, looking more confident than he felt inside, he remembered to pick up his squash bag, in case anyone notice its absence, and left his room. His parents had already heard him make mention of Tom and so were not surprised when Ben had told them that he had been offered a game by the friendly uni student. In fact, they seemed pleased and, although neither could drop him off, his father had agreed to pick him up at 10.15pm. Ben wished it could be later but didn't want to arouse any suspicions.
Taking the bus Ben was soon on the edge of the city centre and deep in university territory. The large old houses that dominated the area had long been divided and transformed into bedsits to accommodate the growing student population. Finding the house, Ben paused, felt to see if his hair was okay, adjusted his clothes, his cock was behaving itself – probably paralysed with fear he thought, like I should be! Taking a deep breath, he rang the doorbell. There was a brief pause before Tom flung the door open and greeted him,
"Ben, you're here, great, come in, come in."
Tom, was dressed in a red England football shirt and white football shorts, his feet were bare. Ben was whisked upstairs to Tom's room. It emerged that Tom shared the house with 4 others, two boys and two girls, and that they had all gone out to a quiz night at a local pub frequented by many students. Tom usually, went too, but had `cried off' due to the need to do some study. Tom handed Ben a bottle of beer, the boy drank greedily, suddenly nervous now that he was here alone with Tom. Ben surveyed the room, wondering if his living space would be like this next year. The room, softly lit by lamps, had a high ceiling and held a small sofa, which Ben was sat on, an armchair, a small desk, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a bookcase. There was a bed too, and Tom was sat on it, grinning at Ben like he couldn't believe his luck. Ben noticed that the walls were surprisingly bare, although there was a great picture of Stephen Hughes, a young Arsenal football player, and that the room was clean and tidy. Had Tom tidied it for him, he wondered?
Ben sat smiling at Tom, feeling self-conscious, nervous, and light headed from the quickly gulped beer.
"Nice room," he offered, thinking it a dumb thing to say.
"Thanks," said Tom, "its nice to be out of halls, and we all get along well. So far, at least, though I think Judy, one of the girls I'm sharing with, has got the hots for me!"
"But, err, you don't feel the same way," said Ben, feeling emboldened, studying the fluffy red hairs disappearing up Tom's legs and into his shorts.
"You got that right. I'm far more interested in you!" said Tom, raising an eyebrow, staring at Ben eagerly.
There, it was out, spoken and in the open.
"Gee, err, thanks, I'm flattered," said Ben, and after a pause, added, "I'm interested too. In you, I mean."
"I know," said Tom, suddenly looking dishy, irresistible, "so why not slip that cute ass of yours over here and lets get to know each other better."
Ben felt oddly detached from himself as his body rose from the chair and made its way over to the bed. Tom stood, and took Ben's hand, gently but firmly, pulling Ben into him, the two bodies melting as one. The two lads looked at each other and, with intense hunger and desire, kissed, while hands grabbed at buttocks and explored cheeks and spines under cotton and nylon. Ben could taste the beer in Tom's mouth and, for the first time, experienced the feel of light stubble on a young man's lip and cheek. It felt slightly ticklish, suggesting maturity, potency and fun! The bulge pressing against his own felt heavy and huge, full of a lad in his prime.
Tom eased his lips from Ben and, holding him still firm, staring deep into his soul, gently enquired,
"You done anything like this before, Ben?"
Lost in contemplation of the dark green eyes, so close he could see they were speckled with brown, Ben simply nodded, and said proudly,
"Yes, twice, just recently."
"Shit, shit, shit!" swore Tom.
"What's wrong?" said Ben confused, fearful.
Tom merely laughed, wistfully, and with an air of resignation and regret said "Fuck, I've had that note ready, in my pocket, since the beginning of term. I could've been ... well no matter, you're here now and I don't intend to miss my opportunity. I've wanted you since I first saw you and--"
"Me too," interrupted Ben.
"So hotstud," continued Tom, "have you been fucked yet?
"Err, no," answered Ben. Before he could say anymore, or offer his thoughts on waiting for Simon, Tom declared,
"You are now!" and plunged his tongue deep into Benedict's mouth.
Tom held his head with one hand and rubbed an appreciative hand up his crack with the other, pushing the nylon trackie deep between his cheeks. Ben transfixed with desire, responded to the invasion, and abandoned himself to the moment, his hands running over the tightly packed ass of his friend's shiny shorts.
Tom nibbled on Ben's cherried lips and, withdrawing from Ben's mouth, licked and anointed Ben's face in spittle and drool. Licking down along the chin, capturing the sweat that was pouring from the boy, Tom nuzzled his way to Ben's neck. Ben's nostrils were filled with the scent of Tom's scalp, the dark red hair cut short and gelled, tickled the nose, and his mouth licked hair, tasting almonds and honey. Releasing his grip, Tom tugged at Ben's white T and pulled it rapidly over the boy's head.
"Wow," moaned Tom, softly as he moved to lick Ben's shoulders and, lifting the boy's arms, delved deep into his armpits.
Ben had never felt such a feeling before, the thought of what Tom was doing should, he felt, have been gross, but it wasn't. Tom's mouth and teeth were soon at the small nipples, thrusting pert and proud from the boy's chest. Ben's hands abandoned Tom's ass and gently held Tom's head to him, hands running through the sweat sodden hair. He wanted this to go on, and on. Inhaling sharply and moaning with pleasure, defining them even more, Ben's rib's were searched and licked, his navel excavated, his blossoming 6-pack sprinkled by Tom's tongue.
Soon Tom's face was buried in Ben's black shiny trackies, eating cock through the nylon and the cotton jock that lay beneath, his trackies were soaked with saliva and the juices flowing freely from his cock. Tom's hands at his hips indicated for Ben to turn around. Ben did so, and soon he could feel the heat of Tom's mouth upon his ass before almost hitting the roof, as Tom slowly traced his tongue up along his spine to the nape of his neck. The feel of hot breath on his neck his shoulder blades being licked and sucked was incredibly erotic and Ben found his hand involuntarily massaging the front of his trackies.
"Be patient, Ben, I haven't forgotten it," whispered Tom suddenly in his ear, "that's for me".
"Yes, yes, for you Tom, for you," emerged words, strangulated, from deep inside Ben's throat.
Spurred on, perhaps sensing that Benedict would be better lightened of his load, Tom spun the boy around and pulled down his trackies. Seeing the stained jock, living and pulsing, bursting at the seams with Ben's cock was evidently too much for Tom. Kneeling before him, as if performing homage, Tom stared up at Ben, and whispered,
"Thank you, Ben, thank you," and enough said, crammed as much jockmeat as possible into his mouth.
Ben was delirious with pleasure, he'd always wanted a boy to suck him in his underwear, and he forced himself onto Tom, holding him tight so he couldn't get off the now dripping jock. The feel of Tom's nose, poking his basket, the teeth, chewing on cotton, the tongue tickling his cockhead, was fantastic. The heat was incredible too, and though bucking for release, and full extension, his cock was soon channelling the load provided by his churning balls. It was at this point that Tom inserted a finger, deep into his rectum, and Ben flooded his jock with hot, clotted boycream. Tom slurped and sucked at the jock `n cock, munching on the scented load. Finally, he popped his finger from the teen's constricting anus and withdrew from the dishevelled jock. Looking up at Ben, Tom slowly and deliberately licked the finger that had been up his hole and gently leaned forward to kiss the deflated jock. Standing up Tom kissed Ben again, though this time, Ben suddenly realised he could taste himself too, for Tom's lips and mouth were coated with Ben's orgasm. He tasted different on Tom, he thought, not the same as on his own fingers.
Pulling apart, the two boys beheld each other, beaming and satisfied, Well one, Ben realised was more satisfied than the other.
"So," said Ben, smiling roguishly, "having put beauty before age, shall we have a look at you?"
"Cheeky cunt!" said Tom, a sparkle in his eyes.
Ben felt Tom's torso through the clinging red footie shirt, and leaned forward to tease the nipples under the nylon with his teeth. He marvelled at the feel of Tom's muscular back, rippling under the shirt and, wishing to examine him more closely, he soon tugged off the shirt. Tom's chest was smooth and devoid of hair, the hard nipples were large, angry and red, from the attentions of
Ben's teeth and the fully defined 6-pack (soon to be discovered to be eight) cast small shadows into the valleys of the abdomen. Ben licked at the navel, and nuzzled the soft red hair that dropped down into the shorts. The white shorts were fully loaded, a thick slab of meat, shoved up and along to Tom's left thigh and Ben was soon down there, licking along the shaft, teasing the large mushroom head, and nibbling on the balls. The taste and smell of Tom through the velvety nylon were sheer bliss. All the time his hand played along the stretched material of the shiny ass. The smooth satin feel adding to the sensation of feeling the sheathed power of the cheeks.
Although engrossed in his activities a part of Ben's mind was trying to analyse something new, different. It came to him suddenly, the shorts were really moving! They slid and slipped, under the pressure of Ben's hands and mouth across Tom's body. Normally, there was some resistance as the nylon dragged over the rougher cotton, here there was none. This was something new Ben concluded. Still sucking on the entombed cock Ben moved his hands up and inside the back of Tom's shorts. His fingers found that the ass was covered in something slick and filmy and he explored the gusset and pinched at the material to determine what it was. His cock was soon hard again in his jock as he found stimulation in his new discovery.
"Yes," said Tom, suddenly, "there's a little surprise for you!"
Ben looked up at Tom and, smiling gratefully, he yanked down the shorts to reveal...
"Fuck!" exclaimed Ben, "their nylon aren't they?"
"Sure are," said Tom, "and fucking hot too!"
Indeed they were, the soaking, skimpy nylon briefs, were white in colour, almost gossamer, you could see everything, the large hairy balls pulled up in the pouch, the long thick shaft, the foreskin pulled back displaying the bulbous head oozing precum. Ben had never seen the like, and his cock was rock hard with awe and lust. Tom's prick must be at least an inch bigger than his and thicker too, Ben saw. The red pubes added fire to the sight burning his eyes. His hands feathered the briefs, feeling, stroking, and lingering, in exploration and wonder. He felt the weight of the basket and longed to taste its fruit.
Ben edged closer to the briefs, and for an instant, he could have sworn that the cock pushed forward to meet him, as he lowered his lips to devour the meaty pole. The entranced boy rubbed his face and cheeks in the weighty pile, feeling the foreskin draw back by the pressure of his face, his cheek glistening with precum seeping through the soft slinky briefs. The tangy taste of nylon sheathed cock was incredible, the taste of Tom's cock `n lube were strong and sharp. They oozed through the material and ran down Ben's throat. The smell of pubes and briefs sent shudders tingling through his spine. His hands caressed the nylon-clad ass and gradually he worked his hands up and under the briefs, revelling in the feel of the taut material on the back of his hand and the warm hard buns beneath his fingers. As he had done before, with Nick, Ben manipulated the front of the briefs and soon had the cock a couple of inches in his mouth, still snared in nylon.
"Fuck, yes!" screamed Tom.
The heat of his oral passion seemed to melt the nylon onto flesh and Ben found himself aware of a sudden tightening of Tom's body as his mouth became rapidly overloaded with jism. Tom was holding Ben steady and thrusting his cock with violence and force. Ben swallowed greedily, pumping and sucking, sieving the thick honeyed milk through the briefs. Spittle and cum dripped from his mouth, into Tom's briefs, and down along Ben's chin, to there linger briefly, before falling into his jock. Gradually the climax ceased and the torrent of spunk slowed until Ben reluctantly concluded there was no more left. Ben remained attached to the briefs, lingering there, wanting to rest in the pillow of Tom's manhood. Tom however, pulled himself away and, taking Benedict's hand pulled him up from the floor. Silently, Tom lay on the bed and motioned for Ben to come and lay beside him. Exhausted, the two boys were soon wrapped together in a deep and contented hug, Ben resting his head on Tom's chest, while Tom gently stroked his hair.
"Thanks, Ben," said Tom, thanks for being so good, thanks for coming in your jock."
"Hmm, literally," said Ben, looking up into those emerald eyes.
Again the two boys kissed and Ben soon found himself positioned under Tom, feeling the weight of the stud on him, the cum splattered nylon briefs sliding around on his soaking jock, his hands playing with the nylon ass. Ben was still hard and Tom soon followed him. The two teens grunted and groaned as they pleasured each other's cloth clothed mounds, grinding their cocks together, before pressure caused them to slide apart. Forcing them to start the erotic cycle again. Eventually, Tom got up and asked Ben to turn over. He pushed the boy's legs apart, and lowered himself to pleasure the ass that lay opened before him, framed by the straps of the young teen's jock. First Tom licked the cheeks and gradually worked his way from the outside of the boy's bum to his tight, virgin hole.
Feeling Tom's breath at his pucker sent Ben wild in expectation, memories of Chris flooding through him. Soon he began to squirm and writhe as Tom prised open his hole and licked out his ass. Ben's cock, still bunched in his jock, ground into the bed, seeking pleasure and release, while his nose inhaled the smell of Tom from the pillow. Sweat ran off Ben who pulled up his legs and pushed out his ass to enable Tom to probe deeper. His hand's felt behind him and, reaching Tom's head urged him ever on, deep into his dark citadel. The exhalation from Tom's nose, burrowed in his crack, sent spasms racing through Ben. Suddenly, the tongue was withdrawn and first, one, then two, and finally three fingers worked their way into his ass, opening him up, preparing him, Ben knew, for what was to come. The fingers were removed and Ben sensed Tom reaching for something, under the bed? There was a squirting sound and then the rubbing of hands and a new sound as Tom obviously unleashed his cock from his briefs. The fingers were again at his hole, only this time slippery and slick, slightly cooler, some kind of lubricant then, Benedict knew.
"This will hurt at first," said Tom, "no point denying it, but if you relax and don't fight me, then I guarantee, you'll have a wonderful time." "Of course, so will I," added the teen as an afterthought.
Ben felt the fingers slide away and soon a new sensation probed at his gaping hole. Hungry to be filled, the boy relaxed as best he could as...
"Shit!" he exclaimed... "Oh fuck!"...
"Slow, slow!"...
"Yes, okay, okay"
... "A bit more"...
"Wait"...
"Okay."
The feel of Tom's pubes and balls at his ass, and, he noticed, the feel of nylon below them too, indicted that Tom's seven and-a-half inches of thick, uncut cock, were all in.
"You're doing great Ben, better than I managed first time," said Tom, as if through clenched teeth, "let's build up some rhythm."
Ben felt the cock slowly being withdrawn though its head did not leave him, and gradually it came back in again. Still attempting to assimilate the experience, Ben was simultaneously trying to push his cock into the bed to bring him off and reach up with his ass to assist Tom. Soon Tom had built up a head of speed, his balls rhythmically slapping against the once virgin ass. His thrusts were soon becoming shorter in intervals, deeper in penetration, altogether more violent and primal. The stimulation of the prostate, unused to such a battering, meant that Ben found his cock ejaculating without warning. As Ben, thrashing and moaning wildly, pumped into his jock, his cock spewing forth its hot heavy load, his ass was filled with an explosion.
Ben's immediate reaction was to think that somehow he had vent his bowels, before quickly realising that his ass was filling and Tom was screaming. His ass felt hot and fluid, raw and tender, slick and sticky, as Tom collapsed on top of him, kissing and nibbling his neck and shoulder. The panting, sweaty body slipped off him, the withdrawing prick sounding a little `pop' as it left him, and tenderly settled down beside him.
Ben looked at Tom and pecked him on the cheek,
"Thanks," he said.
"No way! Thank you," said Tom, placing his head on Ben's still heaving chest, lying perfectly still.
Ben played with Tom's hair and thought about what had happened.
"There goes Simon's chance," he thought. It had been painful at first, jeez and how, but it had soon become pleasurable, intense. A side of him liked the idea of offering oneself to another, he wasn't selfish after all, it had caused him excitement too, and the stickiness in his jock proved that. However, it wasn't as good as being licked he decided and part of him couldn't help but wonder what Chris might have made of it. If his prick was anything like that tongue! Whatever else we've got to do that again! He was no longer a virgin, that much was certain, and if Simon did want to fuck him then maybe he'd done a good thing, he knew what to expect. Feeling guilty, at this thought, as if he had somehow used Tom, he hugged the older boy tight and genuinely thanked him again.
"No way, thank you, really," said Tom, "I mean your first is unique, rarely the best, I should tell you, but still, never to be repeated. It was my honour and privilege," he added gallantly without a hint of mockery.
"Hey," he continued, with some bitterness, "when I was 14 I was fucked by an older boy, it hurt like hell, and he didn't even wait to see me cum! Stupid thing was, I loved him and went back for more."
Tom shook his head a little as if to chastise himself for his actions. Ben held him, saying nothing, thinking of Chris, did he feel abused? And Dom, could he fuck his brother?
"Least 'ways," said Tom, laughing "there's no doubting that you came. Think of your poor mother!"
"What d'ya mean?" asked Ben.
"Look," said Tom, still laughing, lifting himself off Ben, and allowing the boy a view of his groin.
Ben's jock still bulged, but his shrunken penis did not cause this, rather it was the two loads of boycream he had emptied into it. Thick creamy spunk oozed out of the pores of the material, and seeped around the waist and inner thighs.
"Its gonna take some powder to remove that my boy!" continued Tom, laughing.
Ben laughed too and kissed Tom again.
"Look at the time," said Tom eventually, "we better get you cleaned up and presentable. After all, I want you to come again."
"Me too," replied Ben enthusiastically.
Offering him soap and a towel Tom pushed Ben into the bathroom at the end of the hall.
"Be quick," said Tom, "or I might not be able to resist coming in and giving you a hand."
Ben was almost tempted to say yes, but in truth he felt fatigued, wasted, and there was every prospect of more fun with Tom who, he suspected, could teach him a lot. Ben re-entered Tom's room to find that the lad had popped on a pair of old blue sweatpants and his red England shirt. Tom handed Ben a beer and took a swig from an already half-drained bottle. As Ben began dressing, he didn't bother putting on the jock, it was pointless, the cum would soon have been eating through his trackies, he paused to ask Tom a favour.
"Tom," said Ben hesitantly.
"Yes, Ben,"
"Could I ask a favour?" sought Ben,
"Sure," replied Tom, "ask away."
"Well seeing as you were my first and all that, could you, I err, err, mean would you, consider giving me your briefs. For the memory, you understand?" finished Ben rapidly, looking at Tom pleadingly, cheeks flushing.
Tom laughed gently,
"Sure no probs, and Ben, I understand, we're alike. We're both into underwear, no one could do what you did and not be, just like no one could wear what I do and not be. The only thing is can I lend them to you?" and holding up his hand so that Ben wouldn't interrupt him, he continued,
"They really are my fave pair. I have two, so I would give you the other pair to keep, what d`yer say?"
"Yes," answered Ben, "let me see the others."
Tom crossed to his wardrobe and removed something blue from the bottom drawer. He held up a tiny pair of powder blue, gossamer thin, nylon briefs and threw them at Ben. Ben caught them and revelled in the feel, his cock beginning to twitch, as it swung free in his trackies. Tom then crossed over to the laundry basket and picked up the white briefs he had been wearing earlier. He passed them to Ben and said,
"Enjoy them, wear em, but don't wash em. You can bring them back next week." Ben blushed, yes Tom did understand, and he thanked the boy profusely.
"Its cool," said Tom, "so how about me and your jock?" Ben was taken aback, he had never considered anyone to be interested in his underwear, not like that anyway!
Even when Chris had asked for his briefs he hadn’t really thought about it- had presumed it was just a momento, a young lad’s passion for collecting things. With Tom it was different somehow, it was quite clear why his jock was wanted and to what use it would be put.
"You mean you really want to?" he asked Tom, awed.
"Fuck! The state there in now, I'd probably be a millionaire if I put them on the market!" exaggerated Tom.
"Here," said Ben, handing the sodden pile over to Tom, his face flushed with pride.
Ben was really chuffed, "someone wants my jock!" He wanted to ask Tom more, where had the nylon briefs come from? He had never seen any. What exactly would he do with his jock? Though, he thought he knew the answer to that one. Most of all, he wanted to talk about underwear with another person, a boy! How they looked on boys, what type was best, etc, etc. Hundreds of questions filled his mind. Now, regretfully was not the time, he had to go and finishing dressing and gulping his beer he picked up his bag and prepared to leave.
"Same time next week?" sought Tom.
"Fuck! Yes" said Ben, "Try and stop me!"
"I'll walk with you," said Tom, slipping his bare feet into a battered pair of trainers and throwing on a Black Reebok tracksuit top.
A part of Ben wanted to stop and tell people that he had just been fucked, for the first time, by the handsome stud that walked at his shoulder. Tom interrupted his thoughts.
"What I can't understand," he said, "is the fact that until recently you were still a virgin. I mean, jeez, I'm amazed no one made a move on you before. You're obviously fucking dying for it!"
"Am I?" said Ben, somewhat shocked, was it that easy to tell he was gay?
"Don't get me wrong Ben, I mean, you're fucking gorgeous, any lad worth his salt and whose interested is gonna try. Look at me!"
Certainly, in the light of recent experiences, Tom would seem to be correct thought Ben. What happened to me? Did I change this term all of a sudden or what?
"Perhaps in the future, once you're comfortable, we could introduce that hunk Simon and have a hot three-way," suggested Tom.
What the fuck? thought Ben, suddenly reddening, his mind whirling.
"Simon?" he gasped weakly.
"Sure, Simon," continued Tom, unconcerned, "he's gotta be one of your play pals right?"
"No!" shouted Ben, vehemently, lowering his voice, almost pleading, "No, not Simon, not yet."
Tom, suddenly realising what was happening, put an arm around Ben. Hot tears splashed Ben's cheeks, his eyes watering, he suddenly couldn't see clearly and he stopped.
"Me and my big mouth," whispered Tom, contrite, "I just assumed, I didn't know. Here's me being jealous of him, thinking, I mean, the way you two are with each other. So easy, so relaxed. I'm so sorry, really I am. You must love him very much?"
Ben could only nod, sniffling. It was the first time that he had ever acknowledged his love.
"Oh, it hurts, Tom, it hurts," spluttered Ben, the words tumbling from his lips, "So very much. Why can't he see? Why can't he speak? I do love him you know: I want him, need him. He's always with me, inside of me – part of me. I feel cut in two, incomplete. The pain, the fucking pain!"
"I know Ben, I know," said Tom gently, "I've been there, don't give up, not yet, you'll see." He continued,
"Be patient, Ben, these things are never easy, think of it from his point of view. If he has feelings for you, he could be terrified. The one person he could normally talk too is you, but not about this. You're unavailable, off-limits."
Ben's tears had ceased, and he wiped his nose.
"I'm sorry for being a fool, I didn't want to ruin your evening," apologised Ben, "Its just when you said that, I, err, err, lost it. I didn't know what to think. I thought you'd maybe written him a note and…"
"Hey, like I said, I'm sorry, really. I know my thoughts would have been the same too. But believe me there's been no note, no meeting. Okay?" said Tom looking Ben straight in the eye.
"Yes," said Ben reassured, searching the eyes for mendacity and finding only truth.
"That's my dad's car," said Ben, "I'm gonna have to go. Thanks Tom, forget about this, see you next week."
"I shouldn't tell you this," said Tom,
Ben was suddenly alert,
"but Simon is definitely interested, you should see the way he looks at you, checks you out when you're not looking. I wouldn't normally say this, but in the circumstances... Believe me I'm not often wrong."
Before Ben could reply and ask more questions his father's car had pulled up by the side of the pavement. A quick introduction was made - Tom leaning through the window and shaking Ben's father's hand. Ben's dad thanked Tom and suggested he call round some time. Tom thanked him but said he was very busy at the moment, some time in the future perhaps? The car was soon pulling away.
Ben waved goodbye to Tom, and while attempting to listen to the one-sided conversation of his father – "He seems a pleasant young man" – was thrown into inner turmoil, the still waters long since whipped into a storm.
Ben entered his home feeling bewildered, disorientated; the beer hadn't helped him any either. He decided to head straight off to bed.
"I'm tired mum, I think I'll make for bed," said Ben to his mother who happened to be in the hallway.
"Okay, Ben, goodnight. Now don't overdo it will you dear?" said his mother, pecking him on the cheek.
Ben was halfway up the stairs when his mother suddenly called out,
"Benedict! I'm sorry I almost forgot. Simon phoned, he asked if you could ring him when you came in?"
"What? Oh, sure," said Ben, still distracted, "could you pass me the phone please, I'll talk while getting undressed."
His mother passed him the handset and Ben went up to his room. He threw his bag on the floor and sat down on his bed, taking a deep breath before hitting the speed dial for Simon's number.
"Hello?" said a young male voice.
"Oh hi, Luke, its" said Ben, before being interrupted,
"Sure, I'll get him for you," said Luke.
The phone was put down and soon picked up again this time with a different voice, him.
"Ben, glad you could find the time!" said Simon, somewhat sarcastically.
"Sure, err, I mean, always for you, Simon, you know that," answered Ben, somewhat taken aback by the tone of his friend's voice.
"Well, you certainly seem to be keen on making new friends. I phoned earlier and your mum told me you were out with Tom.
"There was definitely an edge to the voice, could Tom be right?
"Well I need some extra practice to keep up with you, you're still number one!" said Ben, his mind still reeling.
"I hope so," said Simon, "someone's gotta look out for you. If anyone's gonna whip your ass at squash it should be me!"
Look out for me? Hmm, thought Ben, I like the sound of that.
"Anyway," continued Simon, somewhat anguished, "I just wanted to chat about my driving test, and, I suppose, I expected you to be in. I was surprised you were out, with Tom of all people. You never said anything!"
He added accusingly,
"When did all this start?"
"Oh, I bumped into him yesterday and it kind of flowed from there," said Ben, evasively, not really wishing to lie, not expecting Simon to have known, "but tell me how you feeling about the test? I'm pretty confident you'll manage it Simon, you should be too."
"Oh, yeah, I suppose I am, but then, there's no telling, is there?" said Simon.
"How about I go over the Highway Code with you tomorrow, at lunchtime?" offered Ben, hopefully, placating the boy, diverting him.
"Would you? That `ad be great!" enthused Simon, all tension having left the voice.
"That's a deal then. See you tomorrow morning, goodnight big balls!" said Ben, referring to one of Simon's nicknames.
"Thanks, and goodnight to you too, sweetcheeks!" laughed Simon.
The phone line was dead, though Ben still held it close to his ear. Had he heard correctly? Simon had never called him that before! Does he think I am, or is he just getting me back for calling him big balls, he wondered? Ben's mood, oscillating between high and low, was now at a high again.
Ben returned the phone downstairs and went back up to his bedroom. He was soon ready for bed, and though twenty minutes ago he wouldn't have bothered; now he was preparing for a wank. The powder blue nylon briefs, now his, were slipped over the slim legs and thighs. Ben eased his hard cock into them, revelling in the feel. Checking himself in the mirror he gasped, and groped himself. Turning sideways to the mirror he noticed that the skimpy material didn’t quite cover his bum. The sight of a little asscheek and the beginning of his crack was quite sexy he judged. Luxuriating in the sight of his swollen basket, his cock and balls clearly visible, the close hugging briefs feeling like a second skin. Ben was soon on his bed, wanking himself through the briefs, his hand slipping easily across his tender cock. Tasting and smelling Tom's soaked white nylon briefs that he held to his face, the boy was soon at the point of orgasm - licking the cum stained briefs, tasting Tom and himself, a whiff of his own ass? Ben stared down at his crotch to watch the blue see-through briefs fill with his cum. It was an incredible sight to see ropes of hot milk flow from his cock into the briefs, running down the shaft, pooling in the balls. Although it was the third time he had cum within the same number of hours, Ben was quite proud to see how much he had managed to shoot. Ah, well he thought that's what comes of being a hot stud, and a sweetcheeked one at that. Ben laughed to himself, wishing it were true. Soon the boy fell asleep, drained and spent.
School was good on Thursday. It contained many of Ben's favourite lessons and had been a really good day he reflected. Simon had been introspective, concentrating on his driving test. It should be underway now, thought Ben, looking at his watch, breaking off from his homework. Simon had already passed his written test for his driver's license and he had answered all the refresher questions Ben threw at him, during the lunch break, first time - all had been correct. The two boys had been their usual selves and neither had made mention of Tom. Indeed, Simon seemed quite frisky thought Ben, though no mention of sweetcheeks or anything else so alluring passed his lips. Ben had also managed to speak to Chris Morgan in the afternoon break. Unfortunately, Chris couldn't make their rendezvous on Saturday ("Though I really, really want to be with you, Ben"), due to his parents taking him to visit his sister. Ben had sympathised and assured Chris that he too, definitely, wanted to get together again. They had exchanged phone numbers and Ben told him he would ring Sunday.
Breaking off from his study of Gladstone's mid-Lothian campaign, Ben checked his watch. Simon should be home now he realised. He picked up the phone that he had brought up with him earlier and punched in the number.
"Ben?" answered Simon, hopefully.
"Yeah, how did it go?" said Ben.
"Passed, no probs, though at one point I thought I'd blown it!" answered Simon.
His voice was full of joy and excitement, it had meant a lot to him, and Ben was filled with happiness and a little pride too, for his beloved.
"Never doubted you would," said Ben, "that's great, just great!"
"I've got some even better news," said Simon hurriedly.
"Mum and dad have given me a surprise, and you're invited too!" said the breathless boy.
"Tell me more," said Ben, intrigued, thinking, perhaps that the family would be going out for a meal or something to celebrate.
"Well, they've got us two tickets for the Blur concert, in Birmingham, a week tomorrow, can you come?" asked Simon, hopefully.
"God! Yeah, of course I can. Thanks for asking. It will be great!" said Ben, feeling warm and content.
He wants to share his joy with me. With me!
"Hang on, " said Simon, "it gets better, mum says I can take her car and we can stay overnight. Dad knows a motel not too far away, he says we can catch a bus to the concert. He's stayed there before, through work, and has provisionally booked us a room. What `d you say?"
A room! A room overnight with Simon! A room in which to...
"Yes, you stupid bastard, yes, yes, yes!" laughed Ben, elated, feeling light headed, "It'll be great. Aw, thanks Simon, I never knew you cared" he added mockingly.
"Ah, but I do, I do," laughed Simon in return, "That's settled then," he added.
The two boys chatted for a few more minutes, mostly concerning the driving test and how generous Simon's parents were. They agreed to meet up later and go into town to celebrate.
Putting down the phone, Ben went to his bottom drawer and headed off to the bathroom to celebrate now. He had to wait, impatiently, for a couple of minutes until Dominic, in the remains of school uniform, emerged from the locked room. "Jeez, Dom," said Ben, not aware of any irony, "you seem to be living in here at the mo." Dom smiled, nervously, and headed off to his room.