Dean and Hanson

T H E E X C H A N G E

by Dean Lidster =======================================================================

PART TWO

(Chapters eight to twelve)

DISCLAIMER ~~~~~~~~~~

This story contains sexual acts between boys. If this is not to your tastes, then why in God's name are you reading this in the first place, huh? If you're curious, then that's fine by me - just remember: an open mind and an open heart is the secret to a good and happy life. If you are UNDER the age of concent for state / geographical location / planet that you're in / on etc, please leave now (unless you want to be educated and have an open mind that is!)

I spose this story is copyrighted. By this, I mean that I wrote it and would not particularly want anyone to subtly alter it and pretend it is their own. However, you MAY post it to any newsgroups, archives etc, print it, give it to friends without my prior permission PROVIDED THAT I STAY ACCREDITED AS THE AUTHOR AND YOU DO NOT CHARGE FOR DOING SO. Easy :-)

The story is fiction, and whilst there are references to real live people in here, none of this took place outside of my hormone-driven mind...

If you like this story, mail me at dean@deans-domain.nu. If you don't like it, mail me anyway and tell me why!

The latest version of this saga may be found at my web site: http://www.deans-domain.nu/ourplace/stories

Cheers, Dean

Dedicated to Lee - I will love you forever.

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Come!" exclaimed Curruthers' voice as I knocked on the chemistry lab door. "Ahh... Lidster, Henson, good to see you!"

"It's 'Hanson', sir..." I corrected.

"Rubbish! Your name's Lidster, Lidster..."

"No... I mean Tay's name's 'Hanson'..."

"Ahh... I see..." said Curruthers, still not quite clicking. "Anyway, what can I do for you?"

"It's a tutorial first two this morning, sir..."

"Oh yes, so it is... I spose you'll be wanting your timetables, then?"

"Please..."

"Right, now let me think....." Curruthers scooted over to his computer desk on his wheely chair thing and booted the modified power "button" on the front of the mini-tower. Seeing as his back had been playing him up over the last few months, he found it difficult to lean over and press the recessed power button on the front of his PC, so he decided to do something about it. Rather than move the whole machine up onto the desk like any other sane person would have done, Curruthers went to the trouble of super-gluing a lump of wooden dowel to the front of the power button, so making it about an inch proud of the poor machine's fascia. To this he screwed a two-inch square section of steel plate and, for effect, painted a bullseye on it. Now all he had to do was push off from his teaching desk, spin round mid journey and by the time he was at his computer desk, was in exactly the right position to kick the bullseye, so provoking the machine into life...

After a few minutes of fruitless searching through tens of folders, he opened the one he'd opened first and fired up a spreadsheet containing our timetable.

His tired old laser printer spluttered into life and coughed out two pages of A4, both with a thick black line down one edge of the paper, caused by Curruthers' blatant refusal to change the toner cartridge...

I picked up the sheets from the tray and handed one of them to Tay.

"Tuesday... Cool! Games four and five..."

"What do we have after this?"

I explained the timings of the day to Tay, him correctly concluding we had the final part of what would've been a double maths lesson.

However, it wasn't even time for the first lesson to start yet and as the first two had been reserved for the tutorial, we were on free time.

"You wanna take a look round the estate?" I asked, not being able to come up with any better ideas of things to do.

"Heh - you gonna take me on a nature walk?" he asked, belittling the idea.

"Depends on the kind of nature you want to see," I replied, rather unsubtly. We thanked Curruthers for the timetables and left the lab, walking back through the quad and onto "Football Lane", the dirt track that led down to the games fields. About halfway down footy lane, there was a break in the hedge and a small, dilapidated style. I climbed over and motioned for Tay to follow. The morning was still cool and fresh, but the sun was gradually beginning to have an effect. As we walked slowly, hand in hand, along the little narrow path in the dingle I noticed, seemingly for the first time, how beautiful the surroundings were: The sight of a single beam of light breaking through the canopy and reflecting on the droplets of water suspended in a spider's web almost reducing me to tears.

We both spontaneously slowed and then stopped at this sight, both wondering why all our emotions had been amplified to such a great extent. I then felt the warmth of Tay's hand in mine, the reason becoming suddenly self-apparent. I turned to face him, our eyes meeting yet again. How could the mind create such a huge, unquantifiable feeling when two people were in close proximity? Right then, I knew what we felt for each other could transcend this life and this world knowing that something this fundamental could not be broken. Ever.

My mind swam as we drew closer together to kiss, thinking how generation after generation of man experienced this sensation; and then I realised why, even with our inherently destructive nature, we had managed to survive. Nothing in all of Creation could equal such an immeasurably strong force - we were experiencing the very core of our existence surging into and from each other, and I never wanted it to end.

I lifted my hand to Tay's hair and ran my fingers through his shiny locks, provoking a little moan from him. My whole body shivered as something that resembled an orgasm, but was definitely not one, shook me both mentally and physically.

For a brief instant, I was not me. I was next to me, observing as a third party: able to see the two adolescent forms in front of me entwined in an infinite embrace, surrounded by a vortex of colour and light.

Then I was someone else. I was Taylor. I was feeling his feelings, thinking his thoughts, knowing what he knew and, as our consciousness merged, diverged, then merged once more, felt myself become one with him.

Just as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. I felt the familiar thoughts of myself and the feelings of my body return, yet retained a large proportion of the things that were Taylor also.

I suddenly found that I had no strength with which to support my weight, and collapsed into an untidy heap on the woodland floor. A second later, Tay followed suit landing practically unconscious next to me.

Once the world stopped spinning, I was worried about two things: Tay, and the fact that I'd just shot my biggest load to date in my school trousers. "You all right, Tay?"

"H..... Holy sh..... Shit... What happened?"

PIP PIP

I looked at my watch. The green figures displayed 10:00. I looked at Tay and felt slightly afraid, yet elated at the same time.

"We... We've been here for over three quarters of an hour...."

"Say again?! We only just arrived!"

"Look at your watch...."

"But how...."

"I dunno..." I pulled myself into a cross-legged sitting position to try and help get my mind focused, as well as to get my nob away from the slimy damp patch in my underware that was threatening to cause my hard-on to reemerge with great success. Glancing over at Tay, I saw he had had the same problem.

"We'd better get back to school - don't want to be late for your first lesson!"

"Heh, yeah..." smiled Tay shyly. I stood up and extended my hand toward Tay, and pulled him up. We looked at each other as if to confirm not just one of us had experienced what happened. The look on our faces was obviously enough of a confirmation: we kissed briefly and headed back towards footy lane and school...

CHAPTER NINE

There was nobody more stereotypically Welsh than our maths teacher. Just the name, Ifor Llewellyn (pronounced Iver Lewellin for those of you not quite au fait with Welsh spelling) brought a cascade of dodgy impersonations and clich,d sheep jokes both in and out of the classroom. The only problem was he was so dozy that half of them went straight over his head. Even the ones about his wife Maaaaaaartha..... He made his brief introductions and began to describe his plan of action for the coming term, involving such delights as advanced linear manipulations, quadratic equations and basic differentiation. Oh boy....

Once that was done, he decided to give us a "welcome back" in the form of an impromptu "Multiple Guess" test, much to our delight. As we began the test, I glanced over at Tay, his eyes scanning quickly but methodically down the page. Once he'd read the entire questionnaire through, he scribbled his name at the top and began checking the check-boxes at near lightening speed. Now I wouldn't describe myself as a slouch at maths, but my problem is it takes me a while to get there... I can do most problems, but somehow the shortcuts we were taught in class never seemed to be very short for me. I just sighed and began scribbling notes and quick calculations down on the side of my page. No such defacing of the paper for Tay - every sum he did was executed, seemingly perfectly, in his mind without even a pause. Some people...

The bell rang and I surveyed my answer script. I guessed I'd answered about two thirds of the paper, whereas Tay had been sitting idly, playing with his clutch pencil for the last few minutes. He looked at me and grinned as if to say "Easy, wasn't it?". I just raised my eyebrows in response, making him giggle slightly.

"OK, thankyou people - you'll get your results in tomorrow's session," announced Mr. Llewellyn and with that our maths group stormed for the door.

The fifteen-minute morning break was about long enough to grab a drink and a biscuit in the dining hall before dashing off to your next lesson. When we arrived, Zac, Gareth and Jon were already in the dining hall, munching away and chatting amongst themselves. As was the custom (from where I don't know) everyone was sitting on the tables with their feet on the chairs, facing each other. As Tay and I grabbed our provisions and began to meander over to them, we could see Zac violently gesticulating, obviously in the middle of explaining something really important.

Suddenly, Gareth and Jon burst out laughing at whatever Zac had been telling them, Jon projecting his mouth full of biscuit at quite an astonishing speed straight into Zac's face. This caused Gareth to exhale strongly into his cup of hot coffee, sending a shower of the scalding liquid straight into his lap. Jon stood up, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and climbed onto the table next to Zac so he could clean off his face. As he did so, I saw them both freeze for a moment. Tay nudged me and pointed at them, noticing the same kind of effect between Jon and his little brother as there was between us.

"ATTENTION, ATTENTION: Would all members of the Fourth Form please report to the Old Gym at the beginning of Period Four. Thankyou." That tannoy was the bane of my life: before it's introduction members of staff relied on scribbled notices pinned to one of the many notice boards along the corridors of the school. When this was the case, if you wanted to skive a meeting or whatever you had a slightly valid argument that you simply hadn't seen the notice. The introduction of the tannoy had shot that one straight in the foot. Damn. And it was games next... BLOODY HELL!

"We're fourth form, right?" asked Tay seeing the rather peeved look on my face.

"Unfortunately... I wonder what the hell they want now?" We finished off our drink and biscuit, leaving the dining room with Jon straddling Zac's mid section, gently wiping the pink gunge off his face

"OK, is everyone here?" asked David Gill, our ninja-bastard Outdoor Education Head of Department. Gillie was a big bloke to say the least - not really the type you'd associate with orienteering, caving, potholing, abseiling, rap running and climbing. Never the less, he did it all, and the scary thing was he was very good at all he did...

Now for those who don't know, there are three prerequisites for being an OEd teacher. 1 - You have to outwardly show complete and utter disrespect for the kids in your care, and make them shit themselves whenever you tell them to do something, implying that there's no way they'll survive the experience. 2 - In reality, you have to love kids, be prepared to endanger your life to save one of them if something goes wrong, and be 110% capable in whatever activity you're doing, and 3 - when you're potholing, be able to yell down the cave that everyone's in "You're all going to DIE!" in a crazed, psychopathic manner. Of course, we all knew these specifications, but to us number two seemed to be distinctly lacking, which was the whole point, of course...

"Right - shut UP people, then we can get this over with and all go away and be happy. This meeting is due to some wonderful forward planning by 'Modom Frenchase' as regards the France field trip most of you are on in a month or so's time: She forgot to check when the silver DoE training weekend was and managed to book the flights and hostels right over that weekend... As it would cost too much to reschedule the trip, our Glorious Leader has decided to move the training days to tomorrow, Friday and Saturday morning. I know this is short notice, but I can't do anything about it. Blame her! There'll be a kit check this evening at half six for the lot of you - if you don't have everything together by then I'm afraid you'll have to skip this one and try and catch up somehow. Hanson - I want to see you down at the Bothy at half one to get you kitted out. Anyone needing to buy kit should see me at two - NO OTHER TIME!" And with that, he strode out of the room.

"Bothy? Sounds kinda kinky!"

"You wish! It's the equipment stores... They'll lend you all the camping kit you need. I'll come with you and show you where it is. You ready for a plastering?"

"Huh?"

"C'mon - we're missing our Rugby session!"

Tay and I headed towards the sports hall along with the rest of the fourth year, went to our lockers and hauled our games clothes out. Tay looked a little self-conscious as we entered the changing rooms, but as I looked around and then back at him, there was no reason at all why he should be, and I told him so. He just smiled that cute, innocent smile of his and began to pull off his sweater, me having to consciously think about not leaping on him there and then. I too began to strip off as his beautifully rounded arse became shielded only by his boxers, and almost gasped as he bent over, pulling them down and "winking" at me with his third eye.

For the umpteenth time I tried to sap myself out of it and continued undressing, then pulled my games shorts and rugby top on, followed by the maroon socks and studded boots. The shorts Tay had been given by the school seemed just a little too tight for him - not enough to be uncomfortable, but just so they showed off his worldly goods to a quite exquisite extent. Once we were both ready, I lead the way out of the hall and down to the games fields, us both looking at each other as we passed the spot where we'd had our earlier "experience". As we went onto the field at the end of footy lane, Mr. Knutt the Rugby master was ticking off each of the pupils to guard against skivers.

"Mr. Hanson, I presume," he said to Tay as we passed him.

"Yeah, I mean yes, sir..."

"Played rugby before?" he asked in a rather condescending "as if" tone that I wasn't quite at ease with.

"Uh no, sir..."

"That's OK - I'm sure Mr. Lidster here will show you the ropes. Dean - grab a ball and show Mr. Hanson how to play a proper game..." Knutt was an avid hater of America Football. "They're all fairies", he'd say whenever the subject was brought up. "Anyone who has to play Rugby wearing shoulder pads, arm pads and God knows what else pads shouldn't be playing in the first place! Pansies, the lot of 'em!" OK, sir - YOU go have an argument with 13 stone of pansy, I'll just sit here and laugh...

I nodded to him and picked a ball up from the pile behind him and ran off to a free part of the field, Tay in tow.

"OK, where to start... How about passing?"

"Sounds OK to me," said Tay, still slightly apprehensive.

"Right - in rugby, you can only pass backwards, OK? You pass forwards and it's a foul. If you need to get the ball forwards, you need to kick it, OK? If you wanna make ground up along the field by "dribbling" like in football - sorry, soccer - you have to run kinda side by side, overtaking each other as soon as you get the ball. Wanna try?"

"OK..."

I set off at a jog with Tay about ten feet to my left. Sure enough, he ran slightly behind be, and I chucked the ball at him. He caught it, albeit slightly awkwardly and then I dropped back so he was leading. He then chucked it back at me. We gradually increased the distance and speed and Tay soon proved to be a natural at this. He was damn quick, too!

"Can we try something else?" he asked, obviously encouraged that he was playing rugby and hadn't yet broken anything. We may have to change that...

"OK - you wanna try and tackle me?" He just grinned. "Knock it off! I mean try and get the ball of me!"

"I knew that - I can't imagine what you were thinking you thought I was thinking..."

"Just shuddup and tackle me, OK?" I grabbed the ball tightly under my arm and ran full pelt at Tay, head slightly ducked, shoulder ready to take the impact. As I came within about a yard of him, I dropped my head completely and braced myself for impact.

There was none, and this completely threw me off balance. I stumbled, tripped and somersaulted in the air, landing flat on my back, staring at the sky. Tay, who'd simply side-stepped my charge, walked over to me, picked the ball up from my side and walked off. Cheeky git! This situation had to be remedied! I picked myself up and ran after Tay who was nonchalantly walking towards the touchline. He heard be approaching and broke into a run, determined to ultimately prove his point. I gained on him then leapt, grabbing his legs to my chest, getting a thoroughly good whack from his right heel in the process. Tay yelled as we both crashed to the ground, sliding a good couple of yards in the mud. I scrambled to my feet, grabbed the ball and leapt over the touchline, slamming it home.

I picked the ball up and walked back over the collapsed pile of mud- coated Hanson (sound appealing? I think so!) and offered him my hand. He took it, but we were so covered in mud that there was no grip between us whatsoever and he fell straight back down again. Both laughing, we grabbed onto each other's tops and found a slightly better grip with the dirty fabric.

"That was, like, vicious, wasn't it?" said Tay, absentmindedly running his hand through his hair, then swearing as he felt a trickle of mud run down his neck.

"How else was I gonna stop you?"

"'Tay - I'm naked!' would've worked! C'mon - my turn to tackle!" He said, almost relishing his chance at 'revenge'.

"Sure - but remember to keep your head well away from my feet - I nearly got my jaw broken by doing that once..." and with that, I legged it.

Tay raced after me, and just as he was about to try and get me, I quickly changed direction, the studs in my boots somehow managing to find enough of a purchase in the quagmire-like games field to stop me doing a rather more painful version of the splits. Tay was, again, quick, and he stayed on my tail like glue. Seconds later, I felt a hand grab tightly onto my shirt as Tay attempted to slow me down slightly before going for my legs. This worked, but instead of shifting his grip lower like I expected him to, he kinda jumped and allowed his left foot to come into the path of my right, again causing me to hit the dirt in a rather acrobatic fashion. A moment later, I felt a much heavier weight than the rugby ball land on top of me. I opened my eyes (which for some reason I always screwed tightly shut whenever I was falling) to see that Tay had landed astride me, breathing heavily.

He stayed there for a moment, then suddenly flicked his hair over the top of his head and ringed the muddy water out onto my face. "Gotcha!" he laughed, picked the ball up and legged it down the field again. After we'd been arsing around on the field for a bit, tackling and getting even dirtier, Knutt managed to get us into some kind of order and we did some scrum practise in two groups of sixteen. It was times like these I always wondered why the hell I had my hair long - getting it continually trapped between other players' bodies and having it yanked on when someone was trying to find a purchase on me continually pissed me off, but there was absolutely no point in complaining: After all, I was the owner of my hair, and so I suppose I could only blame myself. Sod it - I liked my hair that way...

After a few less-than-successful attempts at a scrum that didn't turn into a huge pirouette that spiralled and zig-zagged uncontrollably down the playing field, the shorter-than-normal period was called to its close and we were told to go and "Wash all that crap off! If I spot any of you with even a spec of mud on you in the lunch queue I will NOT let you eat!"

Laughing and joking, we all began to head back up footy lane towards the sports hall, probably resembling the cast of that dodgy "Fanta" advert where they're mud-stacking... I tried to drag what I used to call hair out of my eyes with my hand, but my fingers only managed to penetrate about an inch. Time for slightly more drastic action. I jogged a little further infront of Tay who was happily chatting with Triv (each of them boasting about the most impressive scars they had on their bodies), stopped and violently shook my head from left to right. A rather impressive shower of muddy water radiated out from me, closely followed by my ponytail whiplashing back and forth, catching Tay squarely across the jaw.

"You ass-wipe!" Yelled Tay, trying to rub the mud off his face with the sleeve of his rugby top but simply smearing more on.

"Better run, Deano - he sounds kinda mad!" laughed Triv who'd managed to let Tay shield him from the brunt of the spray.

What the hell... I ran. Sure enough, Tay sprinted after me, shingle and pebbles being thrown up into the air by the muddy soles of our boots. As I rounded the corner into the sports hall car park, I remembered to ease off the running so as not to overstretch the limited amount of grip provided by the studs on the smooth tarmac surface. Tay didn't. Accompanied by that all to familiar 'plastic- being-dragged-over-concrete' sound, his feet slid from underneath him. I stopped running as safely as I could, ensuring I didn't meet the same fate, and walked back to him, offering my hand. He took it and pulled himself up, a muddy red blotch on his left knee.

"We'd better get you cleaned up," I commented as I stooped down infront of Tay, blissfully unaware of what he was doing until it was too late. In one fluid movement, he removed his rugby top and wrapped it round my head, my indications of displeasure muffled quite successfully by the sodden fabric. Half crawling, half walking, Tay dragged me into the changing rooms...

CHAPTER TEN

Lunch promised to be deeply uninspiring, and in that respect it certainly didn't disappoint: The choice we had consisted of a stringy-meat stew (which looked more like used sump oil), rock hard peas, overcooked carrots (half of which had boiled dry and were burnt to a crisp on one side) and chips. Yes, chips. Only our kitchens could come up with such an Mmm mmm good selection of culinary delights. I had a cheese sandwich.

Tay, still high from the rugby game and the joy of having hair that flowed freely when he moved again, decided to be adventurous and had the stew. A very nearly clean plate was scraped from the top of the pile and a ladle of stew carefully dumped onto it, closely followed by the peas, carrots and half a ton of greasy, super heated chips.

We walked into the dining room and surveyed the hoards, busily shoving "food" into their faces. As we walked down the rows of tables, assorted girls swooned at Tay's presence (funny - never actually seen any of our lot swoon before!), Tay just walking on as if nothing was happening. Ashish madly waved at us from a table in the corner, rather desperate to attract our attention as he had made the bold move of sitting at an empty table. This was usually a good indication of how popular you were - the more people that came to sit with you in the shortest time, the better.

We went over to him and sat down, Tay's leg pressed firmly against my own.

"How'd you enjoy Rugger?" asked Ash, expecting a less-than- enthusiastic response.

"Pretty cool," grinned Tay. "Managed to nail Dean a few times!"

"Not exactly hard, is it?" taunted Ash.

"Like hell! I could have you any time!" I grinned back

"Yeah - any time in your dreams!"

"And why would I be wasting my sleeping time on you, exactly? I got much better things to dream about," I said, rubbing Tay's leg about a third of the way down from his crotch. That shut Ash up, the look on his face indicating that I was quite right. Triv and Jamie joined us a moment later, Jamie slamming his tray down in his usual extravagant "I'm here, no need to get up..." kind of way, and in doing so, sent a shower of water from his glass into his mashed potatoes.

"Shit!"

"Serves you right," grinned Triv.

"What for?"

"Being such a ponse all the time! Look at you - hair all neat and tidy, strutting around the place..." Triv did have a point, but I'd have mentioned the trousers that were just a little too small for him... Man he had a nice arse!

"Shut the fuck up, commando-boy, and eat your food!"

"Just coz you ain't got no muscle worth shit..."

"Have too! I think your mum was injecting steroids into her tits when you were little..."

The banter carried on right the way through the meal (as usual), Jamie and Triv permanently sniping at each other, much to our amusement. Looking around, I could see Jon, Zac and Gareth over with a bunch of other third formers, and was glad to see he'd been accepted as one of the crowd in such a short space of time. I'd been slightly concerned that Zac would've been a bit too OTT for his own good, but the group of lads he was in with were anyway - so that was OK!

Ike, on the other hand, was looking slightly isolated. He was pawing over his plate of mash, sculpting it like the scene in "Close Encounters", then smashing it all down again. I picked up my tray and went over to his table.

"Hey Ike..."

"Oh, hi Dean..."

"You OK?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You just seemed a bit down..."

"Shows, huh?""Only a bit!"

"I guess I'm missing Andy. Zac and Tay seem to be enjoying everything sooo much - I guess I haven't had chance to meet anyone yet... 'Cept Jaykesie..."

"Jaykesie?!" Now I knew Mr. Jaykes was young, but surely Ike didn't... Nah - couldn't have...

"Yeah - he's been real friendly and I think... like... he's kinda good looking..."

BEEP BEEP<<

"Damn... Listen, Ike - I've gotta go sort Tay out with his camping shit, OK? I'll speak to ya later..."

"Sure, man..."

I HATED my watch with a vengeance. It ruled my life at school, but I reasoned better that than hard labour for being late...

"Tay - we gotta go..."

"Where?"

"You know we're going camping? You need some kit! C'mon!"

"Oh yeah - right..."

I led Tay out of the dining room and down into the caves. As I opened the door at the top of the stairwell, the strangely appealing smell of slightly musty canvas filled my nostrils, indicating that the bothy was indeed open. As we reached the bottom of the stairs, there was a fairly loud metallic 'klang', followed almost immediately by a "SHIT!!! Fuckin' hell!"

We rounded the corner and walked into the dingy room that was the bothy, and saw Mr. Gill standing there madly rubbing his forehead, one of the pipes above him still wobbling slightly.

"Learning French, Sir?" I enquired.

"Shut the fu... hell up, Lidster - I'm not in the mood..."

Tay looked around in awe at all the kit that was hanging from the walls, ceiling, pipes and covering any relatively flat surface - tents, sleeping bags, caving lamps, climbing harnesses, ropes, primus stoves, gas cylinders, flare guns, whistles, maps, compasses, a GPS, boots, a 200ft reel of bootlace, and an empty whisky bottle full of penny pieces.

"Were here to pick up Tay's kit, sir," I stated, trying to make my tone sound more sincere and sensible this time.

"I bloody know that... Just wait there till I can see right... OK - what do you need, Hanson?"

"Uh, the works, I guess," said Tay.

"Right... May as well give you everything now for your tent group, then..." He walked over to a pile of tents in the corner and began throwing them aside, progressively uncovering a rusting filing cabinet. He unhooked an ice-pick from one of the walls and slotted it into the gap between the draws of the cabinet and yanked the lower one open, then chucked the pick vaguely in the direction he got it from knocking a chunk of plaster off the wall.

"OooooK...You need: A two man tent..."

Lob...

"Tent poles"

Chuck...

"Tent pegs"

Lob...

This went on for quite a while until we were covered in everything from waterproof overtrousers to a pair of brillo-pads.

"And the icing on the cake - two one-hundred litre rucksacks..."

"We're going to get all this crap in THESE?" asked Tay, not believing that all our gear would fit.

"No probs... Oh, sir - you may want to give us some paraffin?"

"Damn..." Gillie rummaged around in a box and produced a pair of dented canisters. "There ya go..."

"Ta. OK Tay - time to pack! Oh, sir - who else is in our walking group?"

"Erm... Trivett, Mercer and Hendon..."

"Which group is Ash in?"

"He's not - he's not doing DoE, remember?"

"Oh yeah... Damn..."

==========

"Zcknikkkkk nikkkk nik nik nik!"

"Alien. Definitely alien."

"Aw, man - people always get that one!" said Zac, pretending to sulk.

The school, being multi-cultural, was always quite good for playing "Guess The Language". Zac, knowing only a smattering of Spanish had had to resort to Alien.

"So what classes do we have now then?""Lessons? On a WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON? No way! Half day today!"

"Really? Cool! So what we gonna do?"

"Dunno. You said you got an N64, right?"

"I did... Tay 'borrowed' it."

"Aw man..."

"You wanna go watch the rugby for a while?" asked Jon.

"Whatever," grinned Zac.

"Hey listen guys, I got a music lesson - could you look after Zac for me, Jon?"

Jon looked straight at Zac. "No problem... C'mon - let's get outa this shitty uniform..."

"Woah! These guys are, like, nuts!" exclaimed Zac as one of our props leapt for an opposition player, grabbing onto him and wrestling him to the ground.

"You wanna try it?" Asked Jon, grabbing a stray ball from beside the rickety bench they were sat on.

"Sure, I guess..."

Jon got up and walked round to the back of the cricket pavilion so they wouldn't disturb the First XV game, and chucked the ball at Zac. "Come at me!"

"Huh?"

"Try and get past me!"

Zac took a deep breath and ran, yelling, at Jon. Zac tried to dodge him at the last minute but he was too quick: Jon wrapped his arms round Zac's waste. They both tumbled to the ground, Jon winding up right on top of Zac, staring into his eyes again as he did at morning break.

"Zac, I th...Erm... I..."

Zac knew exactly what he was trying to say. He dropped the ball that he was still clutching tightly and wrapped his arms round Jon's neck, pulling him close. Zac felt the warmth of Jon's breath as their lips met, Zac's tongue darting out and moistening those of his friend. He let his arms slide down Jon's body, exploring every inch of him until his fingertips reached his jeans. After a short pause, he continued, tracing Jon's arse-crack with his fingertips through the tight denim.

He could feel Jon's impressive hardon pressing into his own, igniting that deep passion within him that yearned for maximum physical contact and stimulation. Zac spread his legs enough to let him hook his feet over Jon's, and then slowly pulled both his and Jon's legs as far apart as he could, maximising the pressure on their hot young members. As he did this, Zac allowed his fingers to continue their descent - over Jon's hole to the bulge his balls were making and rubbed them in time to the gentle thrusts they were making against each other. Suddenly, Jon got up.

"Wossamatter?" asked Zac, panting slightly, his tie-dyed T-shirt scrumpled half way up his smooth chest.

"Follow me," he said, taking his hand.

Jon led him over to the equipment shed where the gang mowers and tractors and stuff were kept, and tried the door. It was locked.

"Shit," whispered Zac.

Jon smiled a knowing smile and grabbed a paint can that was tipped over by the side of the building and set it on the ground just to the side of the door. He stood on it and ran his fingers along a ledge just under the roofline, displacing bits of dust and other crap that gathered there. In a moment, there was a metallic 'kling' as a spare key dropped from the ledge onto the concrete surround. He picked it up, put it into the lock and opened the door. Motioning Zac inside, Jon put the paint can back where it'd been and scrubbed the dust off the concrete with his foot, then followed Zac inside and closed the door, locking it after him. Zac looked round the eerily quiet shed, inhaling the air that had that strangely appealing smell of a mix of petrol and freshly cut grass.

"Isn't this going to be a bit uncomfortable? I mean, great for a spider, but..."

Jon smiled again and looked up, Zac following his gaze.

Above them, laid over the support beams, was a pile of mattresses covered in shrink-wrap plastic.

"They use this place to store the spare mattresses that they don't have room for in the houses," explained Jon.

"I had to move half of 'em here for a punishment last term - that's how I know about the key..."

Zac grinned and began to climb the makeshift ladder that had been fabricated out of old strips of metal screwed untidily to a pair of batons on the wall.

Jon followed closely, pressing his face hard into Zac's backside, his tongue pressing as hard as possible up against Zac's balls, causing him to giggle and waggle his bum around. Jon playfully shoved him up the ladder and into the roof space.

"Mind your he.."

WHACK

"head... Low beam..."

"Thankyou, Jon, I'll bare that in mind..."

Tentatively, Zac inched his way along a pair of parallel beams to the plywood "floor" where the mattresses were kept, and lay down on one on his back, legs spread and hair splayed out above him.

"Take me, big boy," he said in a gruff French accent, sending Jon into fits.

"Be careful what you ask for - you may get it!"

"That's what I was hoping."

Zac sat up and gently pulled his T-shirt off, fully exposing his little erect nipples and shivering slightly as his skin came into contact with the fresh spring air. Unperturbed, he undid the laces on his bright red trainers and shoved them off, complete with his socks. Leaning back again, he arched his back and pushed his yellow combats off, the elastic flowing smoothly over the bulge in his BVDs, those too soon following. Jon simply stood there, shaking slightly, as his idol sensually undressed before him. He blinked and surveyed Zac right from the dirty blond hair... The eyes, his cute ever-so- slightly-upturned nose, the tiny scar on his lip, his rapidly broadening shoulders, his smooth boyish chest, slender waist, and the not so boyish five incher dick and full, plump balls beneath them...

"You going to join me or am I just going to freeze to death?" Zac smiled, letting his fingertips play over his aroused genitals.

Jon undid his shirt buttons and let it slip from his shoulders, revealing a much better muscled chest than Zac's yet somehow still boyish. Now it was Zac's turn to watch with anticipation as Jon, one by one, undid the buttons on the flys of his Levis, revealing a monumental tent in his boxer shorts that sent his erection pulsing with anticipation. Jon kicked off his shoes, socks and jeans so he was clad only in a flimsy pair of boxer shorts. As he bent over to ease his left sock off, his erection slipped out of the fly in his boxers, Zac gasping as he viewed the curved seven slender inches of lust. Even Dean and Tay weren't that big! John stood up straight and pulled his boxers down, causing his hardon to be pulled down and then audibly slap up against his stomach as it cleared the elastic.

Zac lay back as Jon approached him, heart pounding in his chest. Jon straddled Zac on his knees as he'd done earlier again. "This is what I really wanted to do to that biscuit," said Jon, and began to gently lick all over Zac's face, the tips of their hard-ons touching each other for an instant from time to time, sending shocks through both boys.

After a few minutes of this, Jon began to kiss and lick his way down Zac's body, pausing only to gently bite and suck on his tender nipples. As he continued his epic journey, Jon's mind was in turmoil: could this really be happening to him? He'd always been afraid that if any of his fantasies were ever realised, he'd be in some way disappointed - the fantasy loosing its appeal because it was never really that good... Jon threw this notion to the wind as one of Zac's roving hands found his hardon and squeezed it tightly, Jon thrusting his hips forward to make as much use of the exquisite friction as he could. He continued to suck and lick over Zac's navel, and was finally head to "head" with his velevty smooth, steely-hard boydick. He inhaled deeply, the feintly musky smell of Zac sending his head reeling. Cautiously, Jon extended his tongue and tasted the hot flesh of his idol. He felt Zac tense under him as he made contact, his dick twitching and spasming with sensory overload. Elated by what was happening and almost high on the shere volume of hormones being pumped through his veins, Jon dived down over Zac's entire length, his cheeks bowing inwards due to the immense suction he was exerting.

To Zac, it felt almost as if his bollocks were being sucked through his dick: Never before had he been sucked with such tremendous power - and he loved every second of it! His limbs writhed and threashed around sending huge clouds of dust up into the still air from the mattress, all of which simply encouraged Jon to go harder and faster at him.

There was not a hope in hell's chance that Zac, the horny little bugger that he was, could even contemplate holding back the truely Titanical orgasm that he knew would hit any second now; so when Jon slid his middle finger into his mouth next to his cock and then began easing it up his backside, Zac just gave up thinking and let his body do the rest.

Jon felt Zac's dick become yet harder still and a second later a volley of cum, so powerful that your average dentist's plaque-blaster would be proud of it, erupted from Zac's piss slit. Although he was expecting a fairly powerful blast (the stains above his bunk were testiment to the fact that he himself had a fairly impressive range) he was not expecting it in such quantity: it felt as if he had a firehose in his mouth! The pearly-white liquid sprayed round his tonsils and splashed up into his nasal cavity, causing him to sneeze and cover Zac's lower abdomen in his own spunk. Jon drank directly from Zac, not wishing to loose a drop of the molten love he had been so graciously provided with.

As Zac's squirts subsided to throbs and then the throbs to twitches, Jon continually nursed and gently nibbled on Zac's gradually softening member. Gently, he withdrew his finger from Zac's arse so as not to leave him feeling suddenly empty, noticing that the digit had been squeezed so hard that it had list most of its colour. Fe felt Zac run his fingers through his short, dark hair, shuddering at the stimulation even that simple act provided him with. He felt the little superstar's fingers close and begin to pull him upwards again until he was face to face with the object of his most extreme desires. Zac looked deeply into his eyes... then burst out laughing.

"What? What's so funny?"

"Next time I think I ought to sit on ya face," grinned Zac.

"Huh? How d'you mean?"

"I think your nose has turned into a dick!" he exclaimed, rubbing a drop of his own cum from the tip of Jon's nose. Briefly he smelt it, then sensuously licked the droplet from his finger.

Just seeing Zac consume his own love potion again sent Jon's dick into overtime. As Jon was appreciably taller than Zac, the face-to- face position they were in dictated that Jon have his hips a few inches below his partner's, so allowing his knob end to nestle snuggly in the valley created by his backside and testicles. When his dick began jumping again, the feeling that the pre-cum lubricated dick slipping around down there made Zac want only one thing.

Wihout saying a word and continually gazing into Jon's mind through the windows that were his eyes, he raised his legs and gently wrapped them round Jon's lower back. Never once breaking the stare, Jon gently guided the tip of his dick towards the now accessible arsehole, Zac's legs urging him on. Jon felt himslef come into contacy with the slight depression of Zac's hole and took a deep breath. Holding it, he pushed gently but firmly forward whilst Zac pushed out to give Jon an easier time of entering him, resisting the urge to flex his sphincter. That'd be a treat for later.

With a slight jump, Jon felt the head of his dick fully surrounded by the hot, velvety interior of Zac's arse - and MAN did that feel good! After pausing for a moment , he continued to gently thrust into the boy beneath him, feeling the slight ripples of Zac's arse playing over his dickhead, almost sucking him in now. Zac was in a similar state of euphoria: Although Jon was slimmer than Gareth, his dick sure was longer, and was beginning to probe areas that he had never been aware of existing before. The steady inward push of Jon seemed to go on forever - as did the incredible feeling of being so deeply penetrated. All too soon, though, he felt Jon's generous balls press up against his smooth backside, and unless he wanted to try and get his balls in too (which Zac secretly hoped he'd try) he'd have to stop there. As Jon did stop, Zac squeezed down hard with every muscle he could find to squeeze, pulling every part of Jon that was in contact with him harder and closer together. Jon moaned a long, deep, almost gutteral moan as he became one with Zac, their eyes still locked together - now almost afraid to break contact. Encouraged by Zac, Jon gently withdrew about an inch, reveling in the unsurpassible pleasure Zac's immensely tight arse muscles were giving him. Again, he paused for a moment, then pushed back in again - not hard or fast, but certainly not as slowly as his initial penetration. Feeling Zac do nothing but help pull him in with his legs, Jon started to reciprocate his motions, gently pulling out then pushing back in. Gradually, his pace increased until he was in a steady rhythm, yet he still gazed at Zac, completely lost with emotions that surpassed everything he had ever experienced up until that point. Jon's dick pistoning in and out of his backside made Zac realise how much he wanted this, his own dick extending to its full length, stimulated by the intense rubbing of it between Jon's stomach and his own. As Jon would pull out, Zac clenched down as hard has he could with his arse and weould then help him thrust back in again by hugging him tightly with his legs.

After a few minutes, Zac felt Jon's thrusts becoming sharper and more urgent, and knew his new friend would soon be lubricating his arse from the inside out. Moving his hands up Jon's back, Zac pulled their lips together and forced his tongue into the other boy's mouth. That was all it took. With three final, hard thrusts, Jon screamed down Zac's throat as his dick swelled to gargantuan proportions and began to hose down his large intestine. The feeling of the warm cum being injected deep into him triggered his own orgasm so quickly it literally startled him, provoking a short yelp. His own dick now jerked and twitched, coating the cavity between them with a moderate portion of his boy glue, his spasming arsehole milking the last few drops of cum from Jon.

As their respective orgasms faded and reality began to seep its way back into their reality-proofed minds, Jon smiled at Zac for the first time during the whole thing, then lowered himself down ontop of him.

"Thankyou," he whispered into Zac's ear.

"What for?" he teased.

"You freakin' know what for!" giggled Jon and rolled over, pulling Zac on top of him. "That looks just like that scene from 'Alien'" he said pointing at the strings of cum still joining them, the giggle now escelating into a laugh.

Zac scooped up as much of his cum as he could and smeared it over his hand. "Oh my GOD! IT'S A FACE HUGGER!" he yelled, his left hand desperately trying to hold back the tretcherous advances of the mutated right. Without warning, the mutant changed targets and dived directly for Jon's face, hitting it's target with quite astonishing accuracy. It squirmed around all over his face, leaving a sticky trail of "mucus", the middle finger probing for any available orifice. Jon grabbed it and prised the creature off his face, licking as much of the slime off it as he could...

===========

"Hoh-kay, you think it's gonna be wet or dry weather?"

"Huh?"

"C'mon - wet or dry?"

Tay looked up at the fluffy clouds that were lazily drifting over the Derbyshire / Staffordshire border as we stood on the school's front lawn, camping gear strewn around us. "Dry. why d'you wa..."

"Inner or flysheet?"

"What??"

"Inner or flysheet?!" I asked again, this time indicating the inside and outside bits of the old, faded orange Vango Force 9 tent that was going to be our home for the next two nights.

"Ohhh! You mean what do I want to carry?"

"Yep. Before you choose, remember my first question!"

"What's the weather godda do withwhat part of the tent I carry? Is it bad luck or something?"

"Heh - no, but it can make quite a weight difference... Look: The inner's got this dirty great tarpaulin thing attached to the bottom so it's quite heavy. To make the load even, the other guy carries the flysheet and poles. Problem is if it rains the guy carrying the flysheet ends up with twice the weight!"

"Ah, I gotcha. I'm sure it's gonna be dry."

"So you want the flysheet and poles?"

"Uh huh."

"OK, I get the inner..." I dragged the canvas / plastic monstrosity over to 'my' side of the lawn. "We'd better get this frame up to see if it fits."

"Why?"

"Gillie's favourite trick is giving you the poles for a three man tent and the flysheet and inner for a two man. It's IMPOSSIBLE to get a dry tent when that happens!"

"Shit! I'd never have checked that."

"Believe me, you learn from experience!" I said, remembering a particularly blustery camp in Dovedale the previous year.

We pushed the ancient aluminium tubes together to make a rather rickety tent frame, then draped the flysheet over the top to ensure a decent fit which was, for once, obtained - the canvas bracing the frame and making a viable tent.

"Weyhey! A fit! That's got to be a first!"

We continued to split up the gear according to weight and bulk, the smaller things usually weighing the most.

"I'll take the pans," offered Tay.

"Billies!"

"Who?"

"They're called 'Billies'. Pans are for when you're cooking on your nice ceramic instant-on halogen hob. Billies are for when you need something to heat stuff in!"

"I see... And there's a difference?"

"Of course there bloody is!"

"What?"

"After you've slaved over a primus for a couple of hours desperately trying to keep your chilli AND rice warm, it'll taste a whole lot better than if you cooked it in a kitchen, even if you hate chilli!"

After some of the required packing tricks had been explained (like not putting your matches in the Primus Stove's box - the paraffin and / or meths WILL leak out and drench them, and putting your heaviest kit at the top so that you're not continually being pulled backwards) we managed to comfortably fit the entire shebang into our ruksacks.

"So what's the whistle for? We intending to ref a soccer game?"

"No - to attract attention if you fall or hurt yourself or something."

"I do that anyway! Couldn't I just, like, moon at someone? I'm sure they'd notice!"

"I think you're right!"

We lay down side by side on the slightly damp grass, looking up at the clouds, the sharp spring air playing over our faces. I turned and looked at Tay lieing there, eyes closed. I reached over and ran my fingers through his hair.

"How come you look so damn handsome, Hanson?" I asked, smiling at the rhyme I'd said without realising it.

"Dunno. I guess I get my looks from my mom... My dad isn't really photogenic... A guy who interviewed us once said he looked like 'Walker for the Defense' - and he wasn't far out!"

"Do you get lonely at home? Shit - this is starting to sound like "sixty minutes"!"

"I guess so... I don't know what I'd do if I didn't get on with Ike and Zac so well. The homeschool thing can get kinda lonely - I got friends, but I get so jealous when I hear them on about 'what we did to the teacher in class today' or 'who we saw makin' out in the corridor'. Thanks, Dean..."

"For what?"

"Getting me in here for a bit. It sounds really weird coming from a kid but I think school's kinda cool!"

Then it hit me as to what he'd said.

"Homeschool? But... I mean... Who the hell was the headmaster talking to when he arranged the exchange?"

"Our school."

"But you just said..." Now it was my turn to get confused.

"We're kinda attached to a school - we don't actyally go there, but my folks get all the texts and shit from them."

"So what am I going to be doing when I'm over there with you?"

"Go to Hanson High of course!"

"So I'll get taught by your mum and dad?"

"Yeah - they're pretty good, you know."

This was just getting better all the time! Not only did I get to spend a fortnight in Tulsa, I got to spend most of it WITH TAY IN HIS OWN HOME! Wow!

"Cool!"

===============

"Zac - remember the..."

WHACK

"...beam! 'Thankyou, Jon, I'll bare that in mind'!"

"SHIT!"

Zac lowered himself onto the ladder and began climbing down after Jon, head now reeling for a slightly more physical reason! Jon pulled the key out of his picket and twisted it in the lock, the rusty bolt drawing back with a heavy clunk that shattered the relative quiet in the shed.

They walked out into the fresh air, squinting as the orange afternoon sun shone brightly in their eyes. Jon locked the shed door again and replaced the key in its rightful positionon on the lip beneath the roof, then lead Zac back up footly lane after the Rugby players, the game having just finished. They didn't notice Gareth leaning against one of the far rugby posts...

================

"Mr. Curuthers!"

No reply.

"SIR!"

Still no reply. Why did I spend most of my time yelling up at this guy's window?? This was not good - here we were: five lads laden with rucksacks locked out of our own boarding house. (Well, four - Tony Hendon was just here to keep all the kit together). Like hell was I gonna walk back up to school with all this shit, and I didn't particularly want to leave it under the porch for any opportunist Rocky (the nickname for the local inhabitants) to come and nick.

"WAKE UP YOU IDLE BASTARD!" Yelled Jamie, never one to mince words. After a while, Curruthers' window scraped open and he shoved his head out.

"WHAT?"

"Would you like to let us in, sir?" asked Triv.

"No."

"Will you please let us in?" I asked, rewording the request into a Curruthers-compatible version.

"Yes," he said, disappearing back inside. A moment later, a hand re- appeared and dropped a bunch of keys out of the window. We all watched in abject horror as they splash-landed into an old beer keg that Curruthers used as a water butt. However, seeing as there was no real water inlet to it, the water it contained was stagnant to say the least.

"Cheers, sir! Remind me to forget your Christmas card this year!" yelled Jamie after the window slammed shut.

"So, who's getting the keys?" Triv asked.

"I can tell you who isn't," grinned Tay.

We all looked at Spider. "Oooooh nooooo - not me! This ain't even my house! One of you lot should get 'em!"

(Tony "the Spider" Hendon got his name from his rock climbing antics - he could somehow clamber up or over almost any rock face, seemingly without foot or hand holds. The actual nick name came after seeing a dodgy "Frosties" advert with Tony the Tiger clambering up a mountain, and it kinda stuck!)

"Sod this for a game of cricket," I announced and dumped my rucksack on the ground, then removed my jumper and rolled up my shirt sleeve.

"You're not seriously going to put your HAND in there, are you?" asked Triv.

I walked over to the barrel and climbed onto the two-foot-high concrete block it was stood on and looked in. I nearly threw up.

After finding a dead cat removal impliment (a branch) to remove said dead cat, I took a deep breath and sunk my arm into the slimey gunge. After a moment, my fingers brushed across the oversize keyring. I made the mistake of breathing out with relief, meaning I had to breathe in again. I grabbed the ring and pulled it out, gasping for air. I jumped off the support and chucked the keys at triv, then went to the wall tap to wash my arm off...

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"Morning, campers!" yelled Curruthers in a quite depressingly jovial voice for the time of day. I opened my eyes to be presented with one of the most pleasurable sites and smells I could've possibly asked for: that of Tay's bulging jocky shorts. As consciousness machettied its way through the jungle of sleep in my mind, I remembered we'd stayed up until about one in the morning, going over the route that had been planned for us by sado-bastard Gillie. Overall it wasn't too bad - there were too hills worth thinking about, and a lot of the rest was easy going "dale-bashing" - walking along the bottom of a river valley.

Gently, I lifted my head from Tay's lap and surveyed the georgeous pillow I'd spent the night on. Why couldn't they make these standard school issue? He jooked so damn cute again as he lay, back against the bottom of the bed, his rats tail draped over his left shoulder.

I looked at my watch. 6:04am. I hated these training hikes - we always had to set out at some god-awful hour to avoid the traffic on the M6.

"Tay... Taylor..." I whispered, shaking him gently. I really hated disturbing him. No response.

I lowered my head into his lap again and nuzzled his balls, inhaling deeply, and was rewarded with that oh-so-wonderful pheromone-laden smell of a hot, young body. I continued my ministrations by gently nibbling at his jockey-covered dick and felt it start to lengthen, accompanied by a long "Hmmmmmmmmm"and wide smile from the owner.

"Morning, you sexy pop-star you,"

Tay smiled a sleepy smile and pulled my head up level with his, our lips joining, re-affirming our love for each other in a way that could not be surpassed.

"What time is it?"

"About five past."

"Your watch missin' a hand?"

"Six."

"In the MORNING? Man! I need at least another hour!"

"No such luck," came Triv's sleepy voice, head poking from under his douvet. "Please - don't let me stop you!" The sly grin said it all.

"I guess we'd better get goin' - Gillie will be here with the Transit in a bit..."

Gradually, everyone managed to pull themselves from their slumber positions in the general direction of the bathroom, Tay and myslef both admiring Spider's unbelievably well formed "bubble-butt" as he sauntered by us in just his BVDs. Spider was fairly tall at 6'2" and I guess you could say lanky, but on closer inspection you could see the quite extensive development of sinuey muscles all over his frame, allowing him to perform the quite breathtaking manoeuvers he executed whilst hanging from a shere rockface by the tips of two fingers...

"That reminds me," said Tay as soon as Spider was out of earshot, hugging me to him. "We have yet to... You know..."

"Fuck each other's brains out?"

"Something like that!"

"Don't you worry about it - there'll be PLENTY of time for that over the next couple of days!"

There was no chance you could ever be hit by the OEd transit. Ever. The white monstrosity was so unbelievably loud even if you were deaf you could've felt the vibrations it produced through your whole body. Mr. Gill, doing his best "Dick Dasterdly" impression behind the steering wheel, gracefully half-mounted the Trannie van on the curb outside Mill House, the sidewalls of the near-side tyres gaining another set of those oh-so-attractive swirly marks.

"Seven,"

"Five,"

"Four-and-a-half,"

"Six,"

"Seven? What you on, Jamie? That was never worth a seven!"

Marking how bad a member of staff was at parking a Transit was another favourite time-waster of ours - zero being depressingly and uninterestingly good, a ten being an expleetive inducing, paint- scrawping, bollard bashing, insurance-claiming cock-up from hell. Damage to public property, other peoples property and to the Transit in question were always held in high regard as they usually involved a slanging match between the Trannie driver and a third party / multiple third parties, us lot not helping matters by calling out such helpful phrases as "I told you you couldn't make that gap, sir!" or "What do you mean 'It's a woman driver - she won't notice'?"...

"You lot ready then?"

"No."

"Get in, Mercer!"

We all piled in and got ourselves settled on the threadbare, duck- tape-repaired seats. Tay and I both simultaneously leapt for the double seat right at the back, Jamie and Triv taking their usual window seat, and Spider his "I'm tall - I need the legroom" position by the door.

Gillie clambered into the driving seat and turned the key. Nothing. He looked down and shoved the gear shift into "P" and tried again, this time the engine turning over, but little else. He furiously pumped the accelerator as the already knackered battery saw all life slipping from its clutches and just before it completely died, the engine fired, sending huge clouds of oily blue smoke into the air behind us.

Gill looked visibly relieved as hey yanked the transmission into "Drive" and floored the accelerator. The engine revved, but there was no forward motion. He revved it again and at the peak speed of the engine, the kanckered torque converter decided to convert torque, engaging with a bone-jaring thud, the vehicle lurching forward almost into the path of the milk float steadily trolling down the other side of the street. Gillie wrestled with the power-impeded steering and eventually managed to get the vehicle (a) moving forwards under its own steam, (b) going in the correct direction, and (c) on the correct side of the road. Now that all basic transportation criteria had been matched, he breathed a sigh of relief as we charged noisily through the still-sleeping village, the sickening smell of an oil burning, over-rich mixtured engine assaulting our nostrils. Tay put his arm around me and rested his head on my shouler and gradually fell to sleep, lulled in a strange way by the irregular up/downshifting of the knackered Transit.

===========

Ike was woken by a roar from outside. "Boy racers," he thought to himself, smiling vaguely as he remembered the first drive of his "new" V8 pickup his parents had bought him after he passed his test. He lay in his bed, staring at the cracked plaster above him. He was depressed. For once in his brief life, he'd been happy when he was with Andy - he could be who he really was, say what he really felt. Now he was alone. Alone in ENGLAND! Andy's home country, yet he was alone. The lyrics of a song he'd heard bounced around aimlessly in his mind: "You seem so close yet it feels like you're so far...". He reached over to his bedside cabinet and picked up his cell phone, pressing the power button. The keypad lit up, washing his face with a calming iridescent green glow. He paused, then switched the phone off again, the darkness of his dorm engulfing him once more. He couldn't just call him at this time in the morning, that'd be dumb...

He sighed a heavy sigh and turned over, his douvet sliding onto the floor. The cold air pinched at his bare legs and arms making him shiver, underlining how he felt with a physical sensation. He leant over and dragged it back on top of himself, the material itself now having lost all warmth in that short space of time. That's how he felt - he'd lost all true warmth in his life in a very short space of time. How had he let that happen? WHY had he let that happen? He turned over again, wrapping himself in the douvet.

Taylor had been right when he'd written the lyrics to 'Weird'. At the time, he didn't quit know how right he was...

Issac began to cry.

================

I opened my eyes to see the gloomy spring morning transformed into a fresh, bright, misty one with the promise of clear skies in the not too distant future. Tay was stirring too, so I kissed his forehead. He smiled his happy, content smile and snuggled up to me again, pressing as much of his body as he could against me. Looking round, everyone else was fast asleep including, it seemed, Gillie.

I ran my fingers through Tay's hair, then down the front of his sweatshirt, them finally coming to rest on the bulge in his trousers. He quietly moaned his approval, pushing his hips into the palm of my hand. I felt his dick gradually fill with blood and begin to extend as I ran my fingers up and down the now very prominent outline of it. Tay didn't complain as I slipped my hand up and into his briefs, first feeling his slightly coarse pubic hairs, and then the pulsing heat of the steely-hard shaft. I closed my fingers round him, gently pulling the foreskin back and forth over his sensitive cockhead. As I did this, I leant forward slightly, licking Tay's lips, his tongue snaking out to meet mine. I began to kiss him more forcefully, our tongues each desperate to fight their way into the other's mouth. I could feel Tay's breathing accelerating in both pace and depth, the exhaled air directed forcefully at my cheek sending shivers down my spine.

I picked up the pace of my stroking, allowing my other hand to fondle his full bollocks through the soft material of his joggers. His dickhead and the palm of my hand were now slick with his small but steady stream of precum, allowing me to actually brush the palm of my hand over his decloaked head, sending jolts of pleasure through his frame. He suddenly threw an arm round me and pulled my mouth tighter against his as I felt his balls tighten up against the bottom of his dick, and a moment later I felt an incredibly powerful spurt of teen cum spray against my hand, followed by another, then another. I continued stroking and milking him until he stopped shivering and convulsing under me. Gently, I pulled my cum-covered hand from his kegs and brought it to my nose, the smell of his essence almost sending me into my own orgasm, my entire being wanting to make love to this handsome, hormone-driven love machine beside me. Looking straight into his deep eyes, I began to methodically lick his copious load from my hand, relishing the sweet taste of his seed. Once the majority had been cleaned off, we brought our lips together once again, passing the product of our love back and forth between one another, each sharing in its unique properties.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting to do that,"

"Or have it done," grinned Tay, taking my hand and sucking the very last of his cum off my fingers.

As we settled back down again, I noticed that I could no longer see the whisp of Jamie's bright red hair that had been present throughout the entire journey so far. Come to think of it, I couldn't see Triv's head either! Hrmm...

I unsnapped the poor excuse for a seatbelt from round my waist and leap-frogged from seat to seat until I was sat immediately behind Triv and Jamie. I poked hy head over the edge of the seat: Triv was kinda half-lying on the seat, head propped against the side of the Transit. Jamie had his head resting on Triv's chest, his legs quite successfully blocking the aisle. This would have been innocent enough had it not brrn for the position of thir hands: Triv's left was tucked neatly inside Jamie's shirt, whilst both their right hands were joined, the slight smile on each of their faces as they slept confirming what I'd suspected ever since the Cup Final bet.

I returned to my seat next to Tay, him simply raising his eyebrows. I nodded in response to his unworded question, and we both smiled that kind of "Awwwww" smile at each other. I turner round so that I could shuffle over Tay and get back in his seat, but he had other ideas: sliding along the seat level with me so that when I tried to sit down, I ended up sitting squarely in his lap.

"Gotcha!" he whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around me. Once again, just the feeling of his warm breath playing over my ear send my dick into overdrive, thr front of by combats bulging noticably. "I thought we were setting up the tents this evening!"

"So did I! You'd better get this pole sorted out in the mean time!"

I had to hold my breath to stop myself from moaning as Tay's hands slid over my hard-on, having nearly forgotton how good it felt to have someone else getting you off. My dick shuddered and lurched as Tay simply groped me, just squeezing my dick and balls through the black fabric.

"Woah! Someone really is horny at the moment, isn't he?"

I could do nothing but nod my head in agreement as Tay slid his hands into my boxers, the touch of his soft skin on my naked boner nearly sending me over the edge. Tay sensed this and stopped his stroking until he felt me breathe again, then gently began running the tips of his fingers over the entire length of my shaft, his left hand going down further to to cup and squeeze my hairless balls, resulting in little squirts of precum spitting from the end of my dick.

I'd lost the capacity for coherent thought, and could only respond with a very descriptive "Mmmmmm - Taylor...". Tay continued his almost non-existant stroking for a few minutes, making me get hotter and hotter, harder and harder, without yet reaching orgasm.

Suddenly and without warning, Tay wrapped his fist round my shaft and squeezing, it felt, with all his strength. He started to literally beat me off, his fist flying up and down with no remorse whatsoever whilst squeezing my balls to an almost painful extent - IT FELT SO DAMN GOOD! There was absolutely no way I was even going to consider holding out through this one, and even before I'd decided that, I felt my cum being ejected from the end of my dick and splattered round the insides of my boxers due to Tay's rapid hand movements.

As the gieser settled back down, Tay whispered into my ear. "I want to borrow those boxers off you as soon as we get chance,"

Just then, the strained thrumming sound of the engine that had been bombarding our ears for the last couple of hours started to change pitch. Actually looking out of the fromt window (as opposed to indifferently staring through it) I saw the blue countdown markers indicating there was a slip-road coming up. Just minutes later, we were negotiating the winding, steep roads of the Lake District, the scenery becoming proportionately more impressive with huge, sweeping curves everywhere, the only falt bits being the narrow paths in the river valleys.

The increased engine noise combined with the rough lateral movements of the vehicle as Gillie threw it into the corners woke the other three occupants, Jamie and Triv looking a little self-conscious as spider stretched and looked over at them. They in turn looked round and saw Tay and myself in a far more suggestive position, which made them feel as if they were off the hook a bit.

All too soon, Gillie slammed on the brakes.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please ensure that all hand baggage is stowed and your seat backs and tray tables are in their locked and upright position." Grinned Jamis

Gillie leapt out of the front, opened the door and chucked us out onto the side of the road. "See you in a couple of days," he grinned as he leapt back into the Transit, leaving us in a large cloud of blue smoke.

"So where are we?" asked Tay.

"Pass!"

"No problem," said triv, pulling out a compass and surveying the surroundings. "We've got to be somewhere around here," he said, tracing a vague, kilometer-diameter circle with his finger. "There's a hill overthere with a depression on the side, and that old farmhouse looks like it could be this one here..."

This bit always sounded like one of those dodgy text based RPGs that I used to play on my Acorn Electron when I was about nine...

I took out my copy of the map and walked over to the petrol station on the opposite side of the road. I grabbed a couple of packets of skittles and paid at the counter. "Where exactly are we, by the way?" I asked, plonking the map on the counter much to the amusement of the attendant.

"Right here," she said, pointing at a little building on the side of a road about 5 kilometers away from where Triv thought we were. Judging by the bemused look on her face, we weren't the only fools to me dumped outside her pertol station. I was just about to thank her when Tay poked his head round the door.

"Dean - we're leaving!"

"Just coming, Tay... Thanks"

"Hey, isn't that..."

"Yep... See ya!" And with that I jogged after my love interest back to the others.

"We are here," announced Triv, obviously pleased pleased with himself that he'd been the only one capable of deducing our position using just the map, a compass and his eyes. "I reckon that if we head over that way," he said, motioning in the general direction of what could only be described as a fuck-off hill, "we should reach this footpath here in a mile or so."

"No we won't."

"And just how do you come to that conclusion, loverboy?"

"ME loverboy? You seemed to be giving quite a good challenge for that title in the Transit!"

Triv smiled at Jamie. "I have absolutely no idea what you could possibly be implying, and anyway how d'you mean 'No we won't'? See for yourself - the footpath's just over that hill!"

"You're quite right, Triv,"

"HA! Told you. You're such a div sometimes, Lidster..."

"It would be just over that hill, providing that that hill IS that hill."

Tay Jamie and Spider looked as if they'd given up trying to understand at 'would'.

"How d'you mean?"

"That hill," I said, waving at the few million tonnes of granite behind us "is actually THAT hill," indicating a much denser set of contours situated just behind the little white square of the petrol station. "All you'll find up there is an OS triangulation point and a rather nice view of THIS valley!"

"And how, prey, did you deduce that wonderful pearl of wisdom?"

"I asked the woman in the petrol station."

"Oh," replied Triv, obviously deeply dejected and hurt due to his mistake.

"Don't matter, Triv - we got a shorter walk, now!" grinned Spider, ever the optimist.

"Lead on, MacDuff," said Jamie, grabbing Triv by the shoulders and shaking him from side to side.

We did a final check to make sure that all our kit was securely tied and strapped to our rucksacks, did the customary strap adjustments on each other, then set off on our ten mile walk to our first camp site.

CHAPTER TWELVE

"MOR-NING-GAR-ETH!" yelled Zac as he bounced up and down on Gareth's bed, making the rickety timber frame complain noisily.

"'Koff."

"Oooooooh, who's in a mood this mornin'?" giggled Zac as he tossed his head to get rid of the long strands of blonde hair his energetic bouncing had dislodged into his field of vision.

"I said 'FUCK OFF'!"

The grin on Zac's face litterally dropped from it, the shere implication of those two re-affirmed syllables hitting him straight between the eyes. Cautiously, he climbed off Gareth's bed and stood, almost shaking, at his bedside.

"What part of the sentence don't you fuckin' understand?" yelled Gareth, Zac still being within a hundred miles of him.

"W... Why?"

Gareth tore his douvet off and stood right infront of Zac, putting his slight height advantage to full effect. It had the desired effect on Zac: He was scared.

"How can you ask me 'Why' in that shitty southern accent of yours? Even you could work that one out!"

He couldn't. Zac truely couldn't comprehend why Gareth was so pissed at him. What had he done?

The look of complete bafflement on his face just fueled Gareth's anger, now seething because he could see that Zac thought what he had done wasn't wrong.

"I'll give you a hint: That Jon fucking Peitzmann... Or rather, FUCKING that Jon Peitzmann..."

"Ohhh..." The realisation of the source of Gareth's anger suddenly became abundantly clear to Zac. "Gareth I... I didn't mean... Shit! I didn't think th..."

"Ain't that a fact - you didn't fuckin' think!"

"XXXX! Hanson! - get out of this house immediately! I will NOT tolerate such behaviour under this roof. You will report to me in my classroom every moment of free time you have until the end of this week. Do I make myself clear?" Russell's sharp tone interjected the boys' dialogue.

Gareth looked angrily over at Zac, the negative emotion in his eyes tearing at Zac's heart. "Sir." he answered.

"Hanson?"

"Yessir..."

"Now get dressed and get out." Russell spun round on his heals and stalked back down the corridor, looking for some other poor unfortunate to inflict pain upon. The two boys dressed in silence, the only communication being the occasional death-stare from Gareth.

============

"I tell you, we're friggin' well lost!" exclaimed Triv, exhasperated by the fact that he lets Spider navigate for a mile and in that short distance, have absolutely no idea where we are. Tay, Jamie and myself took the opportunity to take a rest sitting on top of one of the many dry stone walls.

"We're not lost,"

Triv raised his eyebrows.

"We just took an alternative route."

"Tony, there's a difference between an 'alternative' and a 'completely wrong' route, ya know! We should be in a VALLEY now, not standing on a road half way up the side of one!"

"OK, OK, I'm sorry!"

"Give us the map,"

Spider surrendered his position of navigator reluctantly to Triv, who shook his head and tried to orientate the map according to our surroundings. I felt Tay shiver next to me as the sharp wind whistled down the sides of the valley. I heard my watch beep and looked at it. 12:00.

"Hey Triv, how about we stop for lunch here?"

"'Spose we could," he replied, still intently staring at the map. No- one had officially elected Triv as the group leader (in fact there shouldn't really have been one) but it made him happy, and he was actually damn good at it, so we just let it slide. "I'd sit down on the other side of this wall, though - it'll give us some shield from this wind."

I pulled my rucksak off, delighting in the feeling of near-zero gravity that moving without it provided and, judging by the look on Tay's face, he was experiencing the same.

I undid the snaps on the top cover, letting the flysheet drop to the ground with a muffled thud. Underneath was revealed a now highly compressed standard issue school packed lunch which usually comprised of a small carton of juice, a bread roll (usually cheese filled), a packet of crisps, an apple, orange or pear and a small slab of flap- jack. I looked over at Tay who was busily unpacking nearly the entire contents of his backpack. He saw me looking on and smiled sheepishly.

"I forgot we had to eat at lunck, OK?" he explained and with that, dived back into the canvas, re-emerging a moment later with his lunch bag.

I moved over to him and brushed the hair out of his eyes. "For a talented guy you can be really thick sometimes!"

"Thick? THI... Mmmmm..." I didn't give him chance to finish the sentence as I planted my lips on to his own. I felt all the stress start to fall from Tay's body, and took advantage of the fact. In one swift movement, I sent my hand diving into his lunch bag and grabbed whatever was closest.

I pulled away quickly, Taylor looking somewhat shocked.

"Got yer roll!" I laughed, running a few feet away.

"YOU FREAK! I can't believe I fell for that. I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson, Mr. Lidster!"

"That a threat or a promise?"

==========

"Wossup, me duck?" asked Heather as Ike leaned heavily against the counter in the dining room, aimlessly looking at the choice of food infront of him.

"Huh? Oh, hi Heather... Nothing, really,"

"Now don't you give me non o' that crap, Mr. 'anson," she scolded. "You may be famous an' all, but you be human too! Nancy? Take over for a moment, will ya luv?"

Heather passed command of the Starship Crappyslop to one of the other kitchen staff and waddled to the bar-style opening counter, opening it for Ike and ushering him through. She led him into their staff room that looked like a textbook example of kitch fifties styling, complete with formica tabletop and greeny-beige upholstery, and sat him down in their "best" sofa-chair, the weakly sprung cushon almost trying to absorb him as he lowered himself into it.

"Now," said Heather, unwrapping the plastic from a new packet of Silk Cut and shoving a fag into her mouth. "Tell me: Wossup?"

"Uhh, Heather, I'm not sure if I can..."

"Course you bloody can!" she chuckled, the cigarette bobbing wildly up and down between her chubby lips. "I won't tell another living soul. Unless you want me to..."

Ike smiled weakly, smothered by Heather's exuberant character. Somehow, he simply knew he could tell Heather anything and, as she said, it would go no further.

"Have you ever loved someone - ya know: REALLY loved them - then you kinda like lost contact with them, and you're not quite sure why?"

Heather vigorously flicked the thumb wheel on her Bic lighter, the feeble little spark it produced not having a hope in hell's chance of lighting the few atoms of gas it contaned. She sighed, pulled the cigarette from her mouth and chucked them both in the bin.

"I were meanin' to quit anyhow... Yes, Isaac luv, I have - an' it were the biggest mistake I ever'd made. It were cos of me bein' so bloody stupid - I knew I loved him but I never actually felt like I told the lad - I thinh 'e felt the same so we's gradually growed apart. Never really loved another 'un since."

"How old were you, if you don't mind me asking?"

Heather chuckled, casting her mind back. "I were a young, buxom twenty-somethin' with me 'ole life ahead o' me. I met this lad when I were workin in the kitchens of a real posh 'otel in Birminum. 'E were a waiter and as soon as I set me minces on 'im, I were besotted!" She smiled her toothy smile as memory after memory replayed themselves infront of her mind's eye. "My, 'e were a looker! And what's best is that 'e came to talk to ME, never minds them other floozies that would strut about the place thinkin' that bein' a waitress were the be-all an' end-all of it... Anyway, enuf of me own borin' life. What's yer story?"

Ike looked slightly uncomfortable, but the look of affection in Heather's eyes created an unspoken affinity between the two. He told her all...

==========

Zac looked over Russell's dingy classroom to Gareth, and was immediately met with an icy stare that cut straight to the bone, making him physically shiver.

'Man, how do I get myself into these things?' Zac asked himself. He looked back at the page of lines Russell had set him, then back at Gareth who was now concentrating his anger onto the page, his biro nib practically tearing the paper apart with each letter. Zac's eyes played over Gareth's body for the umpteenth time, taking in the blonde boy's lines and curves, wishing he hadn't upset him so. He shook his head and read down the page of near identical lines. "I will not behave like an animal in my boarding house."

As he began to write again, images of Jon flew through his mind. Man that guy was cute - and it'd felt soooo good too. He wanted them both, but judging by Gareth's reaction to him and Jon, that was not an option. Zac threw his pen down in desperation. "Fuck!" he exclaimed, shattering the totalitarian silence within the room with his expletive. Russell's head snapped up from his marking, an equally icy stare being produced.

"Sorry, sir," Zac whimpered, knowing that the already cavenous hole he'd dug for himself was now just about rivaling that of the Marianas Trench.

Russell's frighteningly well controlled voice rang clear in Zac's ears. "Mr. Hanson - I do believe that you need to learn to control your emotions somewhat better than you can at present. Continue writing."

All of this was pushing Zac just a little too far: it was taking all of his effort to hold back the tears of dispair he wanted to shed, but his pride would not let him give Russell that pleasure. He gritted his teeth, blinked a couple of times to get rid of some of the water from his eyes and carried on writing his eighth page of lines.

==========

We turned into the gate of our home for the night (a sheep-turd littered field) at about half three in the afternoon, Triv having decided that although Spider had put us a fair way off course if we didn't mind about half a mile of hill climb, we should be able to make fairly good time. We had - we were at our camp site a full forty minutes before our route sheet time, thus allowing us to pitch our tents in proper daylight as opposed to dusk - another challenge Gill liked to set camping "newbies".

The owner of the field (a really nice old lady who sub-let it to one of the local farmers) greeted us with a warm smile and pointed out a section that had been fenced off to allow us to camp without the sheep getting too nosy. A pleasant surprise was that she suggested we light a camp fire - usually land owners get very tetchy about you building anything vaguely resembling a camp fire, in one instance to the extent that they wouldn't let a group use their primus stove in the field!

"There are some logs over there you can use as seats," she pointed out, "and plenty of drift wood down by the river. Have a good night, boys - if you have any problems, all you have to do is knock..." and with that, she retired back to her house.

"I think we've fallen on our feet here, lads," smiled Spider. "You lot get the tents set up, I'll go get some wood."

"Yeff FIR!" yelled Jamie, doing a retarded salute, slapping himself audibly on his forehead with the back of his hand.

"What kinda wood you getting, Spidey?" I asked slyly. Tay cottoned immediately.

"Yeah - you'd better not be, like, rubbin' it down while you're gone!" he grinned.

"You're perverts, the lot of ya!" he laughed.

We just all looked at each other and choroused: "Yes!"

I headed over towards our sheep-free zone, and was promptly rugby- tackled by Tay, the weight of the ruksack on my back not helping matters. He reached round and undid the snaps that supported the majority of its weight on your hips (hence avoiding back pains) and pulled it off me, then rolled me over so I was facing him.

"I'm gonna have to nick your lunch more often," I smiled, feeling him pressing his hips into me.

"What, and get totaled by me every night?"

"Oh yeah," I groaned as he now started thrusting against me playfully.

"Would you two settle down? We've got to get these tents up before it gets too dark," said Triv.

"I think they've already got their tents up!" laughed Jamie, ever the one for a cheap joke and / or thrill.

Triv seemed to pause and think for a moment, then shook his head and shrugged the rucksack from his shoulders. Tay rolled off the top of me and nonschoulantly re-arranged his stiffie into a slightly more comfortable position and began dragging assorted bits of tent pole out out of his rucksack.

A half-hour or so later, two orange monstrosities adorned the corner of the field and a large pile of brushwood and other combustibles marked the camp fire. As the rich glow of the sun set behind the trees, the temperature began to nose-dive quite impressively causing assorted embarassing sweaters, thread-bare gloves and ludicrously coloured wooly hats to be produced - this being one of the (very) few times it was acceptible to wear such things. I was now wearing a large, creme-coloured, grandma-knitted, five-sizes-too-big woolly with a picture of Garfield the Cat on the front with a what can only be described as an "Afro" coloured woolly hat. But I was warm, so that was good enough for me!

Triv salvaged a box of matches from the bottom of his rucksack and knelt down by the fire. To manoeuvre his arm into the optimum fire- lighting position, he ended up with one shoulder onthe ground and his arse sticking up in the air. Just aimlessly glancing round, I suddenly noticed Jamie: He was staring at Triv's tight backside, the slightly glazed look in his eyes allowing me to draw only one conclusion - he was well and truely in lust.

As Tay and I sat together on one of the logs that we'd dragged to form a circle round the fire, I suddenly realised something about our relationship that simply hadn't occured to me before. When we'd first met and spent that day-and-a-bit at Alton Towers, on retrospect I saw that our relationship had been initially based on the sex. Don't get me wrong - the sex was good (no - that's too mild - it was FUCKING EXCELLENT!) but now we shared something deeper, something more fundamental and less shallow than the physical alone. We well and truely loved each other, and it was a feeling like none other I'd ever experienced.

I looked at Tay, him looking back at me at almost the same instant. For the umpteenth time I became lost in his eyes - even now I can not quantify the mystical quality they have - as if I were looking directly upon his soul, and he on mine. I put my arm around him and kissed him gently on the lips, a shiver running through both of us - the final physical contact seemingly completing the circuit of love we were generating.

Then Spider quite successfully pulled the breaker.

"Oi! Dean! What we 'avin' for supper then?"

"You ain't havin' NONE of my food, Hendon! You aren't even in my tent group!"

Spider tried to look dejected, but he was a shit actor, so he just looked stupid.

Jamie snapped himself away from the oh-so-appealing sight of Triv's taught buttocks as the flames from the kindling under the wood licked round the more substantial material above it. Triv just kept steadily blowing on the flames, encouraging them to grow to a more respectible size.

It was quite depressing how easily Jamie could be read at times, this being no exception. He noisily dumped the billies and Primus infront of himself, and began Triv-watching again, the look on his face so obviously saying "Why don't you blow me instead..."

He sighed and turned his attention to the battered primus stove, prising open the top of the red steel box and screwing the burner onto the top of the paraffin tank.

"Hey, Triv - you got the paraffin?"

"Nope. Gave it to Spider."

"Spider?"

"Ummm..." Spider looked slightly panicked as he rummaged through the quintessential items he'd brought with him for camping: walkman, razor, THREE torches, gameboy, lightboy (we wouldn't want to waste the batteries in one of our many torches now, would we!) and a pair of amplified speakers for said walkman. But no paraffin bottle.

"I haven't got it."

"You forgot the paraffin?"

"Looks like it," he said, grinning a 'please don't kill me' grin.

"Well that's fucking great! OK Spider - go back to that little village we saw and see if the Kwik Save is still open and get us something that DOESN'T need cooking!"

"You're jokin', right?"

Triv and Jamie stared blankly back at him.

"Awww fuck..."

"Don't bother, Spider," chipped in Tay.

"Whaddya mean, 'Don't bother'? The fool forgot the paraffin for the stove! I'm bloody hungry!"

Tay didn't say another word: he simply unclipped his ever-present phone from his belt and punched a few keys.

"Er, hi, um... Do you deliver? You do? Cool! Listen, I'd like a large pepperoni pizza," Tay looked at me and raised his eyebrows. "Make that two pepperoni," he looked over at Triv and Jamie.

"Woah! Er, ham and mushroom, please!"

"Sausage, sweetcorn and chicken..."

"A large ham and mushroom, a large sausage, sweetcorn and chicken, and..."

"Ermmm, er.... What've they got?" stuttered Spider.

Tay shook his head. "And a pineapple and sweetcorn please. Yeah. Address? Ermmm - do you deliver to camp sites? Great! It's a... Well, it's a field! A grid reference? Yeah - just a moment..."

Triv leapt from his seat beside Jamie, diving head-first into the tent to retrieve the map. A moment later, he re-appeared, brandishing the map and his torch.

"Two-four-three, one-four-eight," declaired Triv as his fingers diverged from our present position to the figures on the side of the map. Tay relayed the all-important location to the pizza place.

"About twenty minutes? Cool. Thanks man," and with that, he hung up and switched the phone off again.

"OK, smartypants, where'd you get that number from? Not that I'm complaining!" asked Jamie.

"We passed it this morning! I thought it might come in useful, so I shoved it in my phone!" grinned Tay.

"I hope you realise I ain't got no money on me," said Triv, looking slightly worried.

"My treat! I guess I owe you guys for treating me as a person - a lot of people kinda forget to do that!"

"I spose, but you ain't no god either! You're not gonna catch me kissin' that arse of yours,"

"I'd hope not!" grinned Tay. "That's Dean's job!"

END OF PART TWO