Coming Together

Coming Together 4

Usual warnings apply - this story is about teenboys getting messy.

For a minute Jimbo and Robbie just stared at each other. The rapport they had built up during their gladiatorial air-hockey contest seemed to evaporate; despite the mutual attraction that they had felt while competing (and that Fifi had observed so acutely) both were now uneasily aware that their relationship had no real foundation. A quicky wank in a public toilet was hardly anybody's idea of a relationship. When boys go to High School friendships change, sometimes quite fast. Old friendships wither, new friends are made; sometimes that takes a while as boys size each other up, see the strengths and weaknesses in each other, the likes and dislikes. Often, though, there is something immediate about it, something clicks into place. But then there is a hiatus as the mutually attracted probe deeper, dig and sieve like prospectors seeking for gold. And so for now the two eyed each other warily. "You want to go down the cafe for a coke?" Robbie nodded agreement. "Sounds good." They headed off out of the arcade, through the town square and across the river. The conversation was desultory as each desperately tried to find something akin to mutual territory. Jimbo talked about football and how he would normally be at the game on a Saturday. "You didn't go because you were meeting me?" It wasn't really a question, it was a registering of surprise and delight. But that was short lived for Robbie (despite the Man U shirt) wasn't really very interested in football. Instead he tried to talk rugby (union not league) but that got him nowhere and cricket was even less successful. They walked side by side each with his hands plunged into his pockets. A brief exchange about music also faltered as no common ground was to be found. Without meaning to they drifted apart – still walking together but no longer in a way that suggested intimacy or even friendship. Movies didn't help either; Jimbo was bumming his way into 18s but Robbie was lucky to get through the door for a 15. The silence hung between them as if some curtain had descended, like they were strangers who did not speak the same language. Robbie stared hard at the ground and scuffed his feet along the pavement in that way that made his mother sigh with exasperation before telling him to lift his feet. Jimbo stared straight ahead, feeling the way a boy does when he gets landed with entertaining a much younger cousin for the afternoon. He sighed. "You see Ender's Game, then?" he muttered, more to fill a deadening silence than out of any real interest. "Nah, I missed that. You got the DVD?" "Sorry, no. I didn't really like it. The movie." "Oh," Robbie mumbled. "Pity. It was such a great book." Jimbo stopped dead and turned to face Robbie. "You think so? Man, Harry hated it but I thought it was one of the best things ever. Guess that's why I hated the movie." "Yeah, it sucks when they try to do a book you really, really like and they fuck it up." "Like putting in parts for girls when there just aren't any parts. Like, OK, his sister is maybe important later on, like in the other books, but not in Ender's Game." "So you read the others?" "Yup, all of em. And the Earthfall ones." Robbie grinned. "Bet you're a Frodo Baggins man, and you think Cale is dead sexy." "You win!" exclaimed Jimbo and the pair high-fived. They continued on their way but now engaged in animated conversation as they shared their common interest in science-fantasy. Suddenly the unease that had grown between them was gone like a morning mist dispelled by a rising sun as they rhapsodised about Cale's early adventures and commiserated in agreement with each other that he hadn't really been able to make much sense of The Beating of His Wings. "My mum says it's a brilliant title though." "Piddles at school says he just wrote anything to finish off his contract. Authors do that, you know." "I don't think the Harry Potter woman did ..." offered Robbie doubtfully. "No, but then she probably believes Harry Potter is real." "Isn't he?" Jimbo stopped dead and turned to sneer at his young friend. Yes, they had come so far now in their friendship that sneering at one another was acceptable. Robbie looked up innocently into Jumbo's eyes and then grinned broadly. "Asshole!" exclaimed Jimbo as he took a swipe at Robbie's head. Robbie ducked and laughed. "Hey! We passed Starbucks!" "We are not going to Starbucks," said Jimbo with yet another sneer. "We're going to Togs." "Where?" "Along here. It is so cool." They continued down the road with the cathedral to their right until they arrived at a narrow but long fronted cafe. They were still chatting animatedly about their favourite superheroes, super-villains. They stepped inside... ...straight into the path of the retreat of a rather portly lady who was carrying aloft two wooden boards laden with freshly baked pizza. They bumped into her, sending her scurrying forward again, right into the path of the other youths who were trying to make a quick exit. Señorita Lucia (for it is she) threw her arms into the air as she lost her balance. She shrieked. The pizzas were launched aloft. Señora Toglieri glanced up from her tall stool behind the counter and frowned. Who gonna pay for them pizzas?' she thought. I take em outa de girl's wage I zink.' Robbie and Jimbo stared past the burly figure of Lucia. From the other perspective Harry and Morris stared at the newcomers emerging through the cafe's door. From further down the aisle came whoops of delight as the young party-goers saw pizza being tossed like pancakes on Mardi Gras. Robbie and Jimbo turned a bright and burning crimson at being discovered together. Morris and Harry turned a more scarlet shade at finding their escape blocked by the very last boys they wanted to see. Embarrassed as both were, both took precautions and thrust their hands in front of their flies, Harry to cover the wide damp patch that had spread across his pants, Morris to cover his gaping fly through which poked what remained of his excitable cock. "You pished yourself?!" said Jimbo to his friend. It was part question, part exclamation. "Your cock's poking out!!" said Robbie to his friend – but this was all exclamation.

"What you doing here?" Jimbo asked Harry. "Why ain't you at the game?" "Might ask you that same thing!" retorted Harry. "You did read my text!" Robbie spat the accusation at Morris. Morris shrugged. There wasn't much he could say. "I had ... stuff to do," said Jimbo lamely. "Stuff? You mean someone. As in some lad." "What you mean by that?" snarled Jimbo (although his anger revealed that he knew exactly what Harry meant). "You know. I was there, remember, that time he came onto us." Morris stopped looking abashed and his eyes widened with curiosity. "He came onto ...?" Morris let the question trail off. Robbie turned red. "Well ... like ... " Jimbo was stuttering as he sought a response. "I mean, you said you wasn't interested when you found his mobbie number ..." "So you fished it out the bucket, did you? Thought you'd play around, did you? Thought you'd dive in for another session, did you?" "You've done it with both of them?" Morris smiled broadly and his eyes sparkled. "Well ... no ... not like that ..." "Like what then? Like you and me?" Jimbo and Harry stopped quibbling with one another and turned to stare at Morris and then at Robbie. Their eyes moved in perfect unison. By now the heat radiating from Robbie's face had grown quite intense. The quartet fell silent as each absorbed the situation.

Meanwhile Gav Peterson stood staring down the length of the cafe. To be honest he had been apprehensive about this birthday party from the start but his wife had been quite clear when she told him ... ... "I have to be in the office, no way can I slope off. So man up, act the daddy and do it. Okay?" But this was well beyond his worst imaginings. He stared. The fleeing youngsters, the one who had pished himself and his mate who seemed to have bother keeping his penis in his pants, had come to an abrupt halt when confronted by the pizza-bearing waitress and the two newcomers standing in the doorway. Two looked at two and exchanged ... pleasantries was the word that came to mind but there seemed nothing pleasant about the way they looked at each other, or spoke to each other. Members of rival gangs, he wondered? Was warfare about to break out? Gav had read about these things in his daily newspaper, the one his wife objected to on the grounds that ... well, on several grounds actually ... that it was sensational and chauvinistic as well as obscene. To top that off (and topping off is very appropriate in the circumstances) the pizza waitress had gone down and the pizzas had gone up. Bits of tomato, bits of mushroom, shreds of melted cheese, chunks of ... what was it the boys had ordered? ...chorizo? ... yes, chunks of chorizo had gone flying. What goes up must come down (as the rent boy said to his disgruntled customer) with the result that the quartet was now bedecked with various products. The waitress was wailing. The proprietrix was frowning. However all this was as nothing to Gav Peterson. For milling around him, to his left, to his right and (damn it) between his legs was a gaggle of overexcited boys greatly taken with this unexpected cabaret. They were at that vulnerable age – it's called adolescence and implies the onset of maturity. Maturity is a relative concept for a boy when his balls begin to sag and his cock begins to flesh up and he discovers it's not just pee that comes out. They had observed one teenboy with an unmissable damp patch all around his crotch. This had been closely followed by their observation of a second (slightly younger) teenboy whose fly was open and whose excitement was evident. Naturally their eyes followed the pair only to be treated to the extravaganza in the doorway. They whooped. They shrieked. They exchanged looks. Giggling turned quickly to laughter, loud, raucous laughter. And then began the running commentary, the jokes. And with that the volume rose as each tried to be heard above the others. The restraint of Gav's presence was no more. His manly adult presence had kept things well mannered while they had their session at the bowling – the occasional snigger at the query about whose turn it was to finger a ball, the odd roving hand when they thought he wasn't looking were as nothing. Now he had a gaggle of rampant teenboys whose dander was well and truly up. Gav shuddered to think what else might be up. You see Gav had had a somewhat sheltered boyhood. The month he hit puberty his dad had got a promotion. A few weeks later, in fact the day after he and his best mate Jason had shared a changing cubicle at the local pool and had ... well, had had a look that promised to develop beyond looking pretty soon, the family had moved two hundred miles away. Suddenly Gav was the new boy, the unknown quantity, the boy everybody was polite to but nobody wanted to get up close and personal with, just in case. Gav was painfully aware (as any savvy and observant twelve year old will be) that there was stuff going on but he was never included. A gang would retire round behind the old PE block dragging the birthday boy with them. Ten minutes later they re-emerged with broad grins while the birthday boy hobbled slightly and struggled to do up his fly. Not only was Gav never invited to join in these sessions but come his birthday there were polite congratulatory noises and a few boys gave him thirteen bumps (gently) on his back. Gav never dared suggest he join in the other stuff for fear of appearing too keen. By the time Gav came to be included as `one of the lads' the lads had grown up and moved on, no more sessions behind the old PE block; Gav could see that younger boys were now making use of the same area for the same purposes but there was no way a fifteen year old could get involved with kids. The result was that Gav spent the rest of his life feeling that he had missed out, that these wonderful years when puberty bursts on a boy with a first showering of spunk had been lost to him. It all tended to make him nervous around boys of that age. He had tried to have the fatherly chat with his son but he had ended up more embarrassed than the boy, so much so that his son had patted him on the back and said "no sweat, dad, I knew all that stuff even before we did it in sex ed. in school." Gav stood there, frozen, staring. Around him milled the excited, excitable rabble of youth. He knew he should be masterful; he knew he should speak with authority, usher them back onto the benches, shush them, engage their interest elsewhere while they awaited the new batch of pizzas. Instead he just stood. The four boys at the door had had a quick exchange of charge and counter-charge; what it all meant Gav couldn't make out but he got the strong impression that they were not pleased to see each other. Now they had grown silent and were staring sullenly at one another. Señorita Lucia had by this time risen slowly to her feet and, arms akimbo, glared down the length of the cafe. Then, abandoning the pizza remains, she turned to head back behind the counter. "Wow! It's better than a movie ..." muttered on of Gav's charges. Suddenly realising that they had been putting on a floor-show the four youths turned in the direction of the voice. Ah. "He's got mushrooms in his hair!" "And a big dod of chorizo on his chin!" "Like he's been sticking his snout where he shouldn't" "Like in that other one's crotch!" "He's like you, Jakey, can't keep it to himself." "Aye, that'll be right. Can't keep you off it, you mean."

"There speaks the class feel." "Hey boys! That lad hasn't pished himself. He's cummed." "Just like Jakey!" "I told you guys. It was bru. I knocked over the bottle of bru." There was general, disbelieving laughter at Jakey's protest. "So who gonna clear up diz mess?" Señora Toglieri, still seated on her high stool behind the counter, looked and sounded authoritative. The four boys at the doorway turned towards her. The herd at Gav's feet fell silent and gazed with fascination. "Well? Not gonna clear up itsell, it not!" And there was Señorita Lucia standing now at the end of the counter with a mop in a pail and a brush and a shovel. Again everything slowed; a silence fell. The four boys stood looking at each other and grew very aware that all eyes were on them. The silence intensified. They did not feel particularly responsible for the farce that had descended upon Toglieri's Cafe but at the same time they could tell that everyone else did. "Sorry about it. Bit of an accident, that. Come on, can we give you a hand?" Robbie stepped forward with an endearing (and almost apologetic) smile. He held out his hand. Señorita Lucia handed over the equipment and then turned abruptly away, shouting down the cafe's passageway as she did so. "I get more pizza going. Small delay." Robbie turned to his friends with a questioning look and the other three came through and hurried to help him.

Having cleared away the mess as best they could, the four boys retired with bottles of coke and their tails between their legs. An uneasy truce had developed between them as together they shovelled and dust-panned, brushing away the pizza droppings. The old lady on her high seat behind the counter had lost all interest in the proceedings and the young (well, younger) Lucia had moderated now that she was no longer the subject of a stern maternal gaze. In fact she had warmed towards the boys as they had set to with such gusto to clear away the pizza debris. A consensus crept over the cafe that the whole thing was an unfortunate accident rather than an act of outright vandalism. The replacement pizzas had arrived for birthday boys and although there was much hilarity about what Jakey might do with the toppings mouths were soon too stuffed for there to be much distraction. While it cannot be denied that young teen-boys have an absorbing interest in cock, the one thing that will distract them is food. Pizza serves particularly well for this purpose. Thus the quartet were able to slip by unobserved to a booth at the farthest end of the cafe. Robbie and Jimbo slid in along one side of the booth, Harry and Morris along the other. There the four sat staring glumly across at each other. It was time for cards on the table. Pleasantries of the didn't expect to see you here' and the so do you come here often' sort soon passed into silence and the uneasy truce began to founder. "Creep. Just knew you'd read my texts." "I paid well enough for that if you remember." "Aye. Like you didn't enjoy lapping it up." "I've had better." "Well, fair enough. You've had plenty according to the lads at school." Jimbo laid a hand on Robbie's arm, squeezed gently, spoke softly. "Maybe lighten up on him ...?" Harry meanwhile looked at Morry with increasing interest and when he laid his hand on Morry's arm its purpose was entirely different. Silence fell once more. Jimbo looked across the table. "So why you not at the game, Mr Number One Fan?" "Cause I wondered why Mr Number Two Fan wasn't going." "So you snuck around like some ... some stalker." "Stalker? Minder more like. Everybody knows you need looking after." "Nah! Mates don't spy on one another." "Aye, too right. Just like mates don't sneak off and don't say what they're up to." Jimbo turned red and spluttered. Robbie placed a hand on Jimbo's thigh, squeezed gently, spoke softly. "Maybe we should cool it." Harry also reddened and placed a hand on Morry's thigh, somewhat higher up the thigh if truth be told. At this point there was a disturbance at the cafe door; perhaps less of a disturbance, more of someone making a grand entrance, rather in the manner of the entrance of a Wagnerian heroine. Our quartet edged along to peer round. The birthday boys, pizzas almost done, also crushed together to get a better view. "Oh my!" exclaimed the new arrival. "I am fair frazzled. I need a good draw. Lucia, be a sweetie, double espresso, squirt of the caramel. I'll be in the usual." Lucia hastened to oblige and Fifi (for it is he) minced down the aisle of the cafe towards the rear. As he did so he became aware of the audience, the craning necks, the goggling eyes and what had started as a performance became a tour de force. Gavin tried to shoo his brood back into their seats. Fifi advanced and then stopped dead. "Gavin! Well, fuck my arse if it isn't Gavin McCrone!" Gavin, already flustered, went into overdrive. There was the language, and in front of children too. There was the invitation (for such it seemed) and in front of innocent children too. And to top it off like the most delicious ice-cream sundae, there was the sudden, blood freezing recognition. "Mmmmm...." smoothed Fifi. "And a whole little brood of cuties too." The stillness that fell over the cafe was now palpable. "Mm ...er .. hum ... aye, well ... it's George ... George Dodds .... no?" Fifi grinned broadly. "Fifi to you, Gav, sweetie. It's been a long time! My! How you've changed!" "I ... aye ... and ... well ..." "Pussy got your tongue, Gav? C'mon down and chat. I'm gasping for one. You still ...?" And with that Fifi drew his fngers across his lips. The not so innocent infants' eyes widened to an unnatural degree. Jakey's tongue lolled out of his wide-grinning mouth. "She's offering your dad a ..." Even Jakey could not quite bring himself to articulate the thought. Gavin turned the colour of the sauce Lucia put on her best mccallums. Fifi bustled past and headed on down the cafe. All eyes followed. He passed the booth where the quartet sat and turned in behind it. There was a bang and a blast of cool air swept through the place followed shortly after by powerful wafts of gauloise blown in on the breeze. The four lads turned to stare at each other. Their eyes met; their lips tightened; their heads leaned together as they attempted to stifle their laughter. A few booths down an eerie silence had developed. But the party boys were not staring at each other, all their attention was focussed on their host's father. Gavin stood in the middle of the aisle. He was fair dumbfoonered by it all. But Gavin was not a man to be left at a loss for long. Turning towards Lucia he called out, "Ice cream ... ahem ... sundaes all round, I think." His hesitation was whether or not to use the word knickerbocker. She nodded as she hustled past bearing a steaming cup of espresso. "I'll take that if you like? Where is he?" Lucia hesitated before handing over the cup. "She ... she out the back. Mama let her go out the fire door so she can smoke." Lucia bustled back to start on the sundaes. Gavin headed off towards the fire door at the rear end of the cafe. The birthday boys shuffled along to crowd at the end of the bench to watch Gavin go. As he passed them our quartet did exactly the same. For his part Gavin was that curious mix men get when they are the centre of attention – embarrassment combines with pride. "You reckon he's gonna give her one?" piped Jakey in an awed tone. "She's a he." "Don't be disgusting." "Well she is!" "I was talking about Jakey!" "How? He got a bone on?" "No, he's talking horseshit." "Somebody say Jakey's boned up?" "Not again?" And with that Jakey was dragged back along the bench into the booth where the assembled boys took turns to stick their hands between his legs to ascertain the truth of the matter. Jakey, who for his part had not in fact boned up, soon proceeded to do so under the groping attention of his mates. "Nice one, Jakey boy!" "Get him up against the wall, lads." "Keep a look out, boys." "Why? You gonna get it out?" "Too right!" "The lad needs wanked." Meantime the four boys further down the cafe had relaxed. Recriminations were forgotten in the excitement and they grinned at each other. In a more sophisticated way their exchanges were similar to those taking place several booths away. And exactly like not so little Jakey all four were responding to the imagined scene at the cafe's fire door. Gavin, for his part, was indeed giving Fifi one. A doppio with caramel syrup to be more exact.

Señorita Lucia stepped carefully down the aisle of the cafe balancing eight ice cream sundaes on a tray. Lattes and pizzas and cappuccinos and smoothies were all it ever seemed to be these days but the Toglieri family business had originally been exclusively an ice cream business and Lucia took great pleasure in creating sundaes; she thought of her father as she did so, fondly recalling how he would prepare little treats for her when she was a child. The same care was now lavished on her own creations. Señora Toglieri on the other hand had always been the hard head of the business; as she watched Lucia's creations being borne off she was less concerned with Lucia's imagination and more concerned with adding the eight sundaes to Gavin's bill. Arriving at the table Lucia laid down the tray with great care. Then she started back in surprise. "Oh. How that? I spill cream. O mama mia, I spill cream." She hastened off to get a cloth. "You better get that put away Jakey before she clocks what you done." "Yeah get the boy rod back in the pants, Jakey my man." "Any of you guys want my spunk shot on top of your ice cream?" There was a chorus of `oh yuck' from the assembled boys as Jakey, grinning, pushed his now deflating cock back into his pants. The boy didn't mind when his pals abused him as long as they were careful with his nuts. Truth is that Jakey enjoyed it. He liked the feel of different hands closing round his dick. It's also true that his pals enjoyed it for Jakey was a well equipped lad for his age. The boys were already tucking into their ice creams when Lucia returned with her cloth to clean up.

"This is unbelieveable," giggled Robbie. "Some coffee shop, this. Total sex shop." "Too right," Jimbo agreed. "Step in the door and you run face to face with a guy with his cock hanging out his pants." Morris frowned in a theatrical way. "Two seconds later a tranny strolls in ..." "...and hauls this old geezer out the back door for a head job," continued Harry. "To top it all some kid gets gang wanked right there in the booth." The four of them laughed. "Heck, it makes us look normal," nodded Morris. "Meaning it never happened to you, Morry?" asked Robbie with a smile. "What you mean?" challenged Morris but he smiled all the same. Jimbo and Harry both turned to stare at Morris with a leering expression. "Come on guys!" protested the boy. Turning to Robbie for confirmation, Harry asked what he meant. "Don't ask that pervo," interrupted Morris. "So what if the lads dragged me over to the woods for a bit of fun?" "Dragged? You were leading the way." Harry turned to Morris with a broad grin. "Who's a naughty boy likes to get handled?" And so saying, Harry stuck his hand between Morris's legs. Instead of defending himself Morris reciprocated. "Aye? And guess who was watching me? Wishing he could join in?" Robbie reddened slightly but then his face crumpled into a smile. What Morris had said was quite true, he had always watched from afar with a longing that he could be part of it. "OK, you win. Truce?" he offered. Offer accepted the two schoolboys high-fived. Harry looked enquiringly at his friend. "How about it?" asked Harry. "Are we cool?" "We're cool," nodded Jimbo and they too high-fived. With that Jimbo reached under the table and grasped Robbie's hand to squeeze it.

"You want one of these?" grunted Fifi, offering his packet of Disque Bleu. ""Nah," chortled Gavin, as he handed over the coffee. "Had my first and last one years ago. In fact, it was that time under the art rooms. Remember." "You coughed. Pretended you were so cool. Then you coughed." "It was hard, George ..." "Fifi. Please. It's important. To me." Fifi smiled nervously. "Okay. Fifi, then. It was hard fitting in. New guy, new school, whole new area. You get so desperate to fit in that you get it all wrong. End up teaming up with the wrong people. You know?" "Like me, you mean?" "No, not you. God, I didn't mean that. In a way you kept me sane. Because ..." Gavin hesitated. "Because I didn't fit in either?" Fifi finished it for him. "Well, yeah. Everybody knew you were different. So you frightened them and they kept clear. In case. You know?" "Oh too well I do! In case I infected them." "Well, that's an exaggeration but guys are wary of different when they're that age. I guess it's why they were dead cautious around me. Not sure if I'd join in. So I didn't get invited. Didn't get included. Ended up swanning around with Provo and ..." "Me." "Yeah, now wasn't that weird. Provo was the worst with you. God, he was such a prize twat. Okay, the other guys avoided you but Provo, he went out of his way to needle you. The names, the comments, the sly innuendo of it all. Think, George ... sorry, Fifi, to think I got matey with him! He was the only one had any time for me. Later I knew why. The other lads wanted nothing to do with him. And I get hooked in with him. Huh! Got tarred by the same brush? Is that what they say?" "Same time, Gavin, you were the only guy who tried to understand me. Which was seriously weird as far as I could see. What, with you being Provo's mate." "God! Isn't life weird when you're fourteen? As if all the changes to your body weren't enough to cope with, all this other shit comes shovelling in!" "You know, see that time you sat with me? That time under the art rooms?" "Oh yeah? You meaning that time you offered me a fag? You gonna admit you were after my body?" "Well, you were ... still are ... a good looking guy. I'd have jumped at it. But no. Sorry to disappoint. I was after your friendship. It was enough. After what happened ..." Gavin stared past Fifi, into the yard where the waste bins were lined against the wall. He remembered. It had been in the Common Room. Lunch break. George ... Fifi as he now was ... had been heading towards the door. Suddenly Provo had leaped up, grabbed George in a headlock and stuck his hand firmly between George's legs. "Just checking if the fucking fairy's got balls." He had groped George hard before releasing him and kicking him in the ass. Taken by surprise George had stumbled, then turned, fists clenched. It was then the other boys had started up their chorus. "Provo, you are disgusting!" "Georgie turn you on, Provo?" "Provo wants the Georgie-boy's ass!" Provo had sneered at his classmates. "Fuck, no. Every homo down the public lavvies has been up there." There was general laughter. It wasn't particularly cruel but George had turned and left. Gavin had watched the whole incident with a churning of emotions. His immediate thought had been `let it be him, do it to him, don't pick on me'. Almost immediately afterwards a guilt had swept through him. He had a vague memory of a history lesson, about the Danish king threatening to wear the star of David. It was then that he decided to follow George out. "You just appeared round the corner of the art block and sat down on the grass beside me," Fifi went on. "You didn't say anything. I offered you a smoke and you took it. Huh! I knew right away you didn't smoke, what with how clumsy you were trying to light it." "Waste of a fag, you thought?" "Oh hell no. That was the clincher. I knew then that you were letting me know you were on my side. Meant a lot." Gavin smiled but said nothing. As far as he could remember he'd taken the fag because he wanted to appear ... well, manly. How ridiculous, he thought. And how ridiculous that George ... Fifi ... had read it so differently. "It was then, you know, that I decided. Decided to be me, not try to pretend to be something else. Not to spend my life wearing some mask. I am what I am." "I think it took me a long time to get to that point, Fifi." Fifi threw down the fag end and ground it with his foot. Bending, he then picked it up, checked it was extinguished before taking it over to the bins. "You better get back to the kids. I take it some of them are yours? Me, I gotta get back to work." As Fifi made his way out the older boys and then the younger boys followed him with their eyes. Aware that eyes followed him wherever he went Fifi played to the gallery, almost turning to bow to each booth as he passed. Gavin said, "See you." Fifi paused. He looked into the booth where the four boys sat staring back. "So I was right! Now I hope you boys are behaving yourselves! Be good and if you can't be good get some lube." With that Fifi made his way out.

There was a silence. "A guy I used to know at school. And no cheek from you lot. Just get them sundaes eaten up," snarled Gavin. He watched the youngsters eat. They were at that age when sex was just experimentation. Experimentation they carried out on each other, with each other. Tugging on another boy's cock meant nothing more than saving him the bother of wanking. They'd grow up and it would all become more complicated. Gavin rounded the boys up after he had settled with the mistress at the till. The deal was that he now would take them back home to watch a DVD. Plank them in front of the telly, he thought, and then retreat to the kitchen for a stiff one. A whisky. Gavin's son, the young Gav, was also thinking stiff ones as the boys trooped out of the cafe. Dad would put on the X-men DVD, make some popcorn and put a couple of giant coke bottles on a tray. But then, as young Gavin well knew, dad would escape to the kitchen. The boys would watch for a while and do some further guzzling but soon they would get round to giving Gav his birthday bumps. When the boys had been younger that had consisted of thumping out your age on your back with a fist. One ... two ... three! But as lads on the verge of teendom this had been spiced up; with the sound turned up on the DVD and someone keeping `edgy' at the door the lads would take turns to tug on young Gavin's cock. Eight boys having twelve tugs each – wow, young Gav wondered if he could hold off cumming for that long? As the birthday gang headed out young Jakey hung back. He was an intuitive boy and he back-stepped to have a look at what the messy quartet were up to. They sat two on one side, two on the other, just chatting. The only hopeful sign was that their hands were under the table. Jakey tried to get a look without being too obvious. "Hey!" "Aye, you kiddo! What you at?" "Eff off out of it!" "Hey, lads. Reckon that's the kid just got ganged!" Jakey nodded, glad of the distraction from his voyeurism. "Good on you, boyo," the four chorused. As Jakey turned to go to rejoin his friends Morris noted a rather inviting bulge in the front of his pants and a very neat ass indeed in the rear.

"Time to make tracks?" Harry tried to sound as casual as possible but his voice broke slightly as he spoke. It was the dual effect. Not only did he have his hand wrapped round young Morris's very responsive dick but Morris had returned the compliment and was kneading Harry's spunk gun like it was ready to fire. Which it was. Morris squeezed harder to signal affirmative. Then he spoke. "Yeah, sure." "Should be time. If we get a move on we'll get the scores before they start the highlights." "Okay, let's move it." Harry and Morris shuffled along the bench having adjusted their cocks as discretely as they could. "You guys coming?" "I don't think us cumming is what he has in mind," muttered Robbie. Jimbo snorted in hsi attempt to stifle his laugh. "No, don't think so. We were gonna go up to CEX to check out the DVDs." "Okay then. So, see you around?" "See you." Morris followed Harry out into the aisle. "Oh, here. Sorry." Harry laid a few coins on the table. "You settle up, Jimbo?" "Sure. No prob." As the pair scuttled out of the cafe Robbie looked after them. "You think they really are off to watch footie highlights?" "Don't be fucking stupid, Robs. Don't pretend you didn't notice what they was sporting down there." Robbie chuckled. "Well, Morris usually sports one most times." Jimbo pondered this for a moment. "No sweat but ... do you and Morris ... like ... do it?" "I wish! Hey, don't get me wrong, Jimbo. Not that I lust after him. But I just never have had much ... you know ... like any ... messing with the guys." "But ... well, don't get ME wrong but that time .. at the station ... you were ... well ..." "That was so not like me! Man, first time I had ever gone boy on boy with anyone!" "You seemed to know what you were about! So? Out of character was it?" " 'Fraid so. When I saw you at the station you got me so fired up my bollocks took over and ... well, you know the rest." "Aw," simpered Jimbo. "Love at first sight, was it?" "Come off it. Lust at first sight as you well know. You were there. Love? Comes in a later lesson. Don't you think?" Robbie stared hard at Jimbo who looked away slightly embarrassed. He shrugged. "Can't think why I fetched your mobbie number out of the bin." The pair stared into each other's eyes. Then they smiled softly. "Jimbo ... okay for me to ask? You and Harry? Did you?" "Sure. We been messing about since we were kids. We go way back." Jimbo threw his head back and laughed. "Helping hands, mate! Nothing more." "So you're not ...?" "Let's not go there. But no, he's a mate. That's it. End of. Finito." Robbie considered this for a moment. "You think ... you think we're ... you know? Gay?" Jimbo shrugged. "Never thought about it when Harry and me ... did stuff. But now ... Don't know." "See that time at the station? Did you and Harry think I was a wee poof?" Jimbo laughed. "Nah. Just a sex-crazy wee teen poof." Robbie grinned and squeezed Jimbo's hand. "Chuck the questions, Robs. Who cares? I like you. And not just that way. And know what? I know you like me. So let's just go with it and see how it pans out. Okay?" "Yeah, sure. Sign me up for the ... trip. Heck, I nearly said ride!" With that they both rose and moved off towards the dame at the counter to settle the bill.

Well, that's it. Donations to NIFTY. Not nifty's fault you didn't like my story.