Hit for Six

Hit for Six

Hit for Six

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

This story contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts between the characters in it. Although the characters are teenagers who may be below the age of consent in the country or state where this is read, nothing written here should be taken as approval of, or encouragement for, sexual liaisons between people where such liaisons are either illegal, or objectionable for moral reasons. Although this story does not include safe sex practices, it is everyone's own responsibility to themselves and to each other to engage only in PROTECTED SEX. It is a story. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Nothing represented here is based on any fact known to the author.

The story is copyright 1999 by "It's Only Me from Across the Sea". If you copy the story, please leave the credits, and my web address of http://www.iomfats.org present, and also the email address of [its_onlyme@hotmail.com](mailto:its_onlyme@hotmail.com?subject=Hit for Six). I'd love to receive feedback.

And If you want to have early notice of a new story being posted, send a completely blank email to mailto:iomfats-subscribe@listbot.com. This puts you on a mailing list. It is not the email address to use to write to me! Don't even put a subject - just send it blank! Don't worry, you'll get a chance to cancel or change your mind. And I don't send stories or anything "unusual" by email, just notifications, so no "surprising stuff" will arrive in your email from me!

----oooOOOooo----

I had been at Foxmount College for two terms, settling in, finding friends, being lonely, being popular, losing friends, studying for exams, taking tests. Foxmount is a minor public school, deep in the heart of the English countryside. We are an old fashioned school, mostly boarding, a couple of day houses, and some 40 or so girls in the sixth form. We join the school at 13 or 14 or so. This background stuff isn't strictly important, It just sets the scene a bit.

I'm not particularly academic or anything. My school reports have always said "Peter Godfrey may make a success of this subject with a little more application of work". I wasn't wonderful at rugby, or at hockey, but I adored cricket. So it was only in the summer term that I started to come alive. I was good enough to be tried out for the Colts side. Colts A.

And I got into the team. Which didn't surprise me at all, yet it surprised some of the boys who joined with me. They thought I was useless at everything! I really enjoyed that! And I also met a 'new' group to hang out with. Every day we weren't in a match we were in the nets, practising shots, practising bowling, or were at the slipcatch 'machine' practising fielding, all round it in a group, half at one end, and half at the other.

Schoolwork? Well, I found the time to do it, I think. My marks weren't anything special, but they seemed to be lifted by the cricket! Even my parents noticed in the reports my housemaster sent them every three weeks.

But my heart was on the cricket pitch. I was good enough to be selected for each match we had played so far. On Wednesday we were to go to play an away match against another local school, Danbury Manor. The trip was arranged, the minibuses booked, the whites freshly laundered, and we set off. I found I was sitting next to one of our spin bowlers, someone I hadn't really spoken to that much before. I knew him by his surname. We all knew each other by surnames. Miles. That was his name. And he knew me as Godfrey. When you think about it, that's two surnames that could well have been first names!

Anyway, we got chatting. He was in the year above me, had joined this term last year - a bit unusual to join in the Summer term, but he'd sat Common Entrance then, and joined the school just in time to be in the Colts team then as well. I guess he was a bit of a star at cricket, too!

"I can't keep calling you 'Miles'," I told him. "You must have a first name."

"It's Ted, short for Edmund," he smiled at me.

And as he smiled I think I must have had a moment. Our eyes met, and I saw them for the first time. Bright, light blue, looking at me, looking into my soul, holding my gaze just too long. And mine were locked on his, too. Odd feeling - almost a head-shaking feeling. "Er, Peter," I mumbled back to him. "Me, I mean!"

"I know you mean you." And those eyes were smiling again.

I had absolutely no warning, but I was sitting there, almost out of breath, beside the same guy I'd started the trip with, but feeling definitely weird. I hadn't changed. He hadn't changed, but there was something going on, and I had no idea what it was. What I did know was that I had to be with him, to find out. And I had the trip, the match, and school to try to work it out in.

Between the eyes he had freckles! A set of freckles over the bridge of his nose, and brown, light brown, tousled, wayward hair. I found myself wanting to tidy his hair for him. I don't know if you would call him good looking. But he had a really cheeky expression - almost a wicked smile. Heck, I was studying him!

The trip ended, us still chatting away, him unconcerned, me still wondering what on earth was going on. Well, I did have a clue. An unmissable clue under the tightness of the cricket kit! But I didn't pay it any heed. I mean, I could get hard at the drop of a hat anyway, why should this be different? And anyway, Ted was a boy. And boys don't get hard when they look at boys.

We were fielding first. I'm not going to go into the arcane bits of cricket. Just that fielding is the team who is not batting making an attempt to minimise the score made by the team which is batting.

Fielding is an odd part of the match. You can drift into dreams of your own while paying complete attention to all that is going on. Sometimes the whole match can take place in slow motion, yet you are aware of everything. And I was deep in thought when I reached automatically into the air and caught their fourth batsman clean out from one of Ted's deliveries.

Truth to tell, I had been watching his run up, and his bowling. He came up to the wicket like a thing possessed, and a whirl of his arms, and the ball shot down the pitch and bounced viciously at the batsman, daring him to hit it up into the air. Which this one had done. And the effort had Ted's shirt all untucked, hanging over his whites, making him look, er, cute!

I was enjoying looking at him.

I was enjoying looking at Ted. It made me catch my breath to look at him. I found I couldn't take my eyes away from him, except, I suppose, I must have been concentrating more than I thought on the game. Otherwise I couldn't have taken that catch! I wasn't thinking too much about the feelings - too busy moving around every time the over was up, concentrating on the bowling, the batsman's shots. And looking at Ted whenever I could.

We got them all out for 97. Not an easy score to beat in a limited overs match, but not too hard either.

As a bowler, Ted batted at 8, low enough down the order to get a rest, and early enough to make a difference if he was called on. My job after the openers was to go in fourth, and to stay there, partnering the middle order batsmen, making sure that our big hitters were always in a position to face the bowling. I'm not a big hitter, not a huge run scorer, but I can defend my wicket and give a really solid base for the attacking batsmen to play from.

The openers took the pitch, and I wandered over to Ted, to where he was sitting, under a great beech tree, with his back against the trunk, and sat down by him.

"Will we beat them, do you think?"

"Not sure yet," he said. "It's only been a couple of overs."

"True." And I sat down next to him. I only had to get padded up when the second wicket fell, and I hoped I had a while. The longer the first partnership lasted, the better our chances of winning.

I was happy, just sitting, back to the tree, comfortable with a new friend, not talking about anything much, warm in the dappled shade, in that wonderful light that always comes through beech leaves. It was a dreamy afternoon. Every so often I looked towards him, and once, just once, those eyes caught hold of mine. Just briefly, and again just too long. And again I had that feeling that something extraordinary had just happened, though no words had been exchanged.

And I still didn't know what it was.

"Howzat?" A yell from the field, appealing our number two batsman. And the umpire agreed, and sent him to the pavilion.

"I suppose I'd better go to think about padding up," I said to him.

"Might as well. You can never tell how quickly the second wicket will fall. You reckon you'll be still slogging away when I get in?"

"Not sure. I'll try!"

So I left him there, under the tree, and padded up in the pavilion. I was in a short while later. Frankly I played my innings on autopilot. And it was probably the best innings I ever played. Not a huge number of runs. Not my job. A sprinkling of fours from poor bowling, and some good calls on byes, and the inevitable overthrows, and I was told later some fine tactical play to keep their bowlers pinned down. I know I must have concentrated on what I was doing, but I found I was playing to impress Ted, somehow.

It happened that he didn't need to bat. We reached the required total with four wickets to spare, and won the game. At tea he came up and put a hand on my shoulder. "Impressive innings." And he smiled at me.

"It wasn't, surely?"

"Well, everything seemed right about it to me." And yet again those eyes met mine.

The main effect it had on me was to make me blush beetroot red. It was the oddest day in my life. I was bright red, and breathless, and wondering just what it was I was feeling. "Thanks. I enjoyed it, I think."

"I'm sorry - I didn't mean to make you blush. I just wanted to say 'well done' to you."

"It's OK. Not used to compliments, I guess." And I was wanting to tell him how much a compliment from him meant. "It, er, just felt really good to hear it, you know? From you, I mean....." I added lamely.

I got that smile again. Those open, bright, blue eyes, looking into my soul. And a hint, just a hint, of something. "That's OK."

As usual, after the match, we had match tea. A longish table for each team, and benches to sit on. A motley collection of sandwiches, plus the ubiquitous orange squash. What I wouldn't have given for a beer! Yeah, I may be 14, but my parents are wise enough to let me drink beer.

Ted pushed in beside me. There wasn't really room, but then there wasn't really room anywhere.

"Glad you saved me a place!"

"Hmm. Sarcastic now!" My turn to smile at him, and this time I saw the briefest colour rise to his cheeks. "Aww, siddown!" And he did. His body pressed against mine, his thigh, his left thigh, pressed against mine. Hot, dewy, clad in those pale cream trousers we call 'whites' when we play cricket. Experimentally I eased my leg away, and his followed. I eased my leg back towards him, and his maintained a gentle, yet firm pressure against mine.

I felt my heart beating a little faster, and started to get, well not scared exactly, but almost nervous. I'd heard about boys experimenting with other boys. Heck, I'd a group of friends who'd invited me to join them at my last school when we were all about 12, and I'd said 'no', meaning 'yes'. But this didn't seem the same at all. Not, er, dirty, somehow. Potentially wonderful. If I could only get my thoughts into order.

"Ted?" I found I'd turned to him and opened my mouth without my brain being in gear.

"Yes?"

I chickened out. "Can you pass some more drink, please?"

"Sure."

We kind of progressed that way through tea. I think, looking back, that he was almost daring to talk to me, too. But it wasn't the right time, not the right place. A table with eleven players, twelfth man, and scorer was not the place to explore personal feelings, if that was what we were exploring.

It was what I was exploring, though. Sitting, gently simmering, very hot right thigh, and quite a damp collar through breaking out into a gentle sweat. Hot I may have been, but I didn't want to take my leg away. Was I imagining it? How could I find out? I didn't dare ask him. Can you imagine?

No conclusion, but tea broke up. We thanked our hosts. Well Carter thanked them - he's the captain, it was his job to do it - and we made our way to the minibus.

And we sat together again. The other side of the aisle, but together. I took as much of the bull by the horns as I could manage. Well I tried to. "Ted?"

"Umm?"

"Er, can we have a chat after?"

"Now, if you like - we have at least 15 minutes." Damn, he was smiling at me again with those eyes searching my soul.

"Later would be better."

"Bit of a problem - I have to get straight back to the house when we get back."

"I'll walk over with you then."

Ted lived in Tanners, about a ten minute walk from the main buildings

"It's a bit unusual, a Bolters man walking over that way. Er, I guess we can work something out."

Bolters is smack in the middle of the main block of houses. And it isn't usual to have inter-house friendships. It's sort of frowned on. Some sort of unwritten rule. No-one from one house is a welcome guest in another house.

I was so nervous for the rest of the trip. And I didn't know what to say when we got out of the bus.

The journey finished at last(!), and we got out. The rest of the school was eating supper, and the grounds were all but deserted. So we set out for Tanners, but by an odd route, around the maths block, and down past the new pavilion instead of the direct route. Ted stopped walking.

"Er, Peter?"

"Yeah?" Those eyes again, and that smile, but a bit hesitant suddenly.

"What did you.... er, want to, er...."

I was facing him, looking back at him. "I guess I learnt something today."

"Oh", and his eyes clouded, looking down for the first time.

"I'm not too sure what it was, though. I think I liked it..."

He was still looking at the ground. I was hurting. I mean I had no idea what I was about to do. No idea at all. So I reached forward and took hold of his left hand with my right. Then his right with my left. "Ted. I, er, oh damn! I kind of felt, feel something weird when I'm with you." Then I did it. I leant in, and touched his lips with mine.

He didn't move a muscle. Not a flinch, not a quiver. Nothing.

Then I blushed. You have no idea what I felt like. I had kissed, well almost kissed another boy. I thought I had been getting signals from him, so much so that they switched on feelings I had never had before. Not for a girl, not for a boy. And the boy who had given me these signals? Or the one I thought had given them? Standing frozen to the spot.

"I'm sorry, Ted. I misunderstood. I'm sorry." I was looking at him. No reaction. "Ted?" Nothing. "I think I'd better go, now." And I turned away, feeling like I wanted the ground to swallow me up. My brain was whirling. If Ted told anyone, I was finished. I mean finished. Expelled from school, ridiculed, probably sent to therapy by my parents, gated, disgraced. And if he didn't tell, I could never face him again anyway. I'd killed cricket for myself sure as eggs are eggs.

And I walked slowly back to Tanners, not even looking backwards at where he stood. I could picture him, though, in my mind's eye. Muddy knees on cricket whites. Slim, and, I had just realised, drop-dead gorgeous. And I couldn't get that image out of my mind. As well as the fear I felt about what I'd done.

All I could do was to try not to think about it. It's impossible. It's like my Mum. "Don't think of an elephant in a party hat" she'd say. And all you could think of was a damned elephant. In a party hat.

Somehow I got through that night.

Thursday dawned. I found I'd been asleep. Mind you, I thought I'd been awake all night. Alone in a dormitory of seven other boys, and so lonely. I'd even thought about killing myself. Pretty seriously. But I was even more scared of that than of the disgrace. I certainly wasn't well rested.

Breakfast. Chapel. Three lessons before break.

And at break I went to the tuck shop. As I left it, wondering why I'd bought the chocolate bar, I bumped into Ted, coming in. "Peter!"

Shit. I blushed again. Crimson. "Ted."

"Peter I have to talk to you."

"I don't know what there is to talk about," I replied, miserably.

"Listen, this isn't the place. Not the time, either. But we do have to talk."

"I'm not sure...."

"Look, I'm gonna call my folks, it's an exeat this weekend. What are you doing?"

"Going home I guess."

"If I invited you for the weekend?"

I looked up for the first time. Those eyes again. Blue, bright blue. And smiling, yet a worried face behind the smiling eyes. "Peter, please come for the weekend? Please?"

"Well, I'll ask my parents. I'll email them, but I'm not sure I..."

"Just come, Peter. Please."

And he left me standing there, this time.

Half of me wanted to go with him. Half of me wanted to go home and just die in peace and quiet. And a third half ["Peter must try harder at maths"] wanted to throw my arms around him and kiss him properly, there in the entrance to the tuck shop, with everyone watching.

I went to the IT room, and logged on to my email account. I spent ages wondering whether to go to Ted's, and then just wrote to say that I was going, unless they minded very much. Somehow I knew they wouldn't mind. Boarding school hadn't been my decision. Then I sent an email to Ted's account. "OK" it said. That was all. Just "OK".

I didn't spot him again all Thursday. We ate in different dining halls, and we were in different years, so I wasn't likely to bump into him unless I tried. Something kind of stopped me from trying. You know that 'I don't really want to know, I don't think' feeling? I had it in spades.

After prep I checked my email again. One from Dad. "If it's OK with Ted's parents, it's OK with us. Send their phone number for emergencies, please, and don't forget to thank them. Mum and I are going to visit Uncle Ed and Aunt Jean, probably stay overnight in a hotel. Is the cricket going well? Love Dad." Good. I had permission to go.

One from Ted. "Pack just enough for overnight. Meet in the quad after morning school. Lunch on the way home."

It seemed really stupid emailing when we might meet during Friday, yet we didn't meet all that day, nor on Saturday morning. We didn't meet until just after the last lesson of the morning, just before 1pm. I had a supermarket carrier bag with some overnight stuff in it. I still wasn't sure.

"Hi Peter. I, er, wasn't sure you meant it when you said you'd come" And he tuned those eyes towards me, and I felt all funny inside again. Blue, bright blue.

"I wondered myself. Ted, I've been.."

"Not now." He interrupted me. "I want to talk properly, in peace and quiet. After we get home. I'm glad you decided to come."

His dad was waiting outside the gate from the quad to the street. Turns out that Ted only lived about ten miles from Foxmount. Neat housing estate. One of those new towns full of roundabouts. Lunch was a couple of sandwiches and a bottle cider. I didn't really notice it. But we were in his back garden, on those squodgy cushions on metal framed chairs, and the sun was warm, and it felt so good, just being there with him.

I mean with him. His parents ate inside, and left us alone in the garden.

"Ted."

"Yeah, I, er, I know. I'm sorry."

"Sorry?"

"Well I don't know, understand. Wednesday was, er weird. Yes weird."

"I made a fool of myself," I mumbled.

"I think I made a fool of you. I don't think you made one of yourself."

"But, Ted, I kissed..."

"Yeah, you did." He was looking right through me. "You startled me. But..."

"I don't know what you thought of me. Ted, I couldn't help it. I'm sorry. I came home with you to apologise to you, to say I'm sorry, to say it won't happen again, to ask you to forgive me, to forget all about it, never to talk about it again."

"But I liked it."

"Because I've been so stupid, and I've never kissed anyone before, and I like you and I've spoiled our friendship.."

"I liked it Peter. I like you Peter."

"And you'll think I'm gay and you'll tell everyone and I don't know what to do." I finished, finally hearing what Ted had said. "Er?"

"Peter, shut up and listen."

"You liked it?" I finally raised my eyes to meet his again

"I liked it, Peter. I was surprised, shocked even, but I felt something weird happen and I liked it."

"You aren't angry?"

"Damn I wish my parents would go out. I want to show you how 'not angry' I am by kissing you back."

"I don't know what happened, Ted, but there was something all that afternoon. I, er, found I was looking at you, hoping to impress you, hoping to see your eyes smile at me."

"Oh, my eyes." He laughed. "Loads of people talk about my eyes. I think I hold their gaze too long. I like eyes. I like your eyes, Peter. Deep blue, and your hair, sun-blond, and I like being with you."

"Do you mean you didn't feel this until after I kissed you?"

"I didn't notice feeling like it until then, but I thought back over the afternoon. Tea, all pressed against each other. I felt all shivery then. Thought it was just the sweat and the cool of the pavilion for tea."

"And you hadn't been, er, no I guess you hadn't?"

A call from the house, "There's ice cream in the freezer. See you boys at supper time, we're off out for a bit."

"K, Mum," Ted called back. "Don't hurry, we'll be fine."

I don't know what Ted was feeling. I know what I was feeling. Awe-struck. Relieved, surprised, fearful.

"Peter, It's just you, you know. I've never felt this for anyone. Not 'anyone else', but anyone, ever. I feel incomplete without you around. Please say it's OK?"

"Ted, on Wednesday morning, I was just another guy. On Wednesday I learnt about love, I think. Ted, I love you."

"Oh. Wow! I think that must be what I'm feeling, too. It's scary."

"I just want to look at you for ever. Not even touch you. Just be with you, and look at you."

"I think I might feel like a little more than that!" Ted was giggling at me. "I am certainly going to return that kiss. Just as soon as I hear the car leave."

All this time we'd been sitting, side by side, on two garden chairs, not close enough to touch, yet close enough to hold the low volume conversation we'd been having. "Let's go and see if they've gone?" I was suddenly eager to hold him in my arms, properly.

I had no idea what I was going to do, what we were going to do. I mean I had some idea about sex and stuff, but that was with a girl. I still wanted to feel him in my arms, feel his lips against mine, and to learn what to do. As we went in through the French windows, the front door slammed, and the car doors slammed. And we watched Ted's parents drive off.

"Peter?"

"Ted?"

"Will you stand in front of me again, holding my hands?"

And I did. And looked into his eyes, so blue. And this time, when my lips brushed his, he softened, and moved imperceptibly towards me. And then surprised me with his tongue, forcing its way into my mouth, prising my lips apart, touching the tip of my own tongue, searching my mouth with his tongue, drawing me into his soul, into his being, pulling me against his body, grinding my crotch against his, and letting us both feel how aroused we were.

And I felt his hands separate themselves from mine, and grip my back, and the back of my head, and felt a fierce urgency in his breathing as he pulled me tighter and tighter towards him, almost crushing me against him. And I felt his hands go down to my bum, and grab the cheeks, and I was doing the same as him, and my breathing was getting shorter, with steam almost coming out of my ears.

I broke. "Ted?"

"I want you, Peter."

"I do, too. How? What? Where?"

"I don't know, but I don't want any clothes on any more."

"Undress me, then." And I felt him take my tee shirt and ease it up over my head, and he kissed my chest, licked each nipple as he passed downwards to the waistband of my shorts, which he lowered, taking of my flip-flops with them, then he knelt in front of me, and reached for the waist of my briefs, unhooking the front from my cock, which was straining skywards, and eased them down. And I felt his lips just touch the tip of my cock. Electric. But weird.

"You kissed my cock?"

"It needed kissing. It just feels right. Trust me, Peter, I'll stop if you say so."

"It seems, well, odd, is all. Electric, but odd. But if you want to do that to me, then I'm going to do it for you, too. And at the same time." Somehow his clothing vanished. I don't think we ripped anything too badly! And we were upstairs, on top of Ted's bed, naked, and I was face to face with a cock for the first time ever. And it was a thing of beauty. I looked at the shaft, the skin darker than his belly, and the tracery of veins, at the darker strip, almost a zip fastener running from the tip to his hairless ballsack, and the way his foreskin was drawn parchment tight over the head, which was just peeping out, almost shyly.

And I took hold of the shaft, feeling it steel hard, yet velvet, and withdrew the skin, letting the grey-pink tip see daylight, releasing the most wonderful, most musky scent I had ever smelt, and saw it, young, polished, proud in all its glory, beckoning my lips. I pursed them, and kissed just the tip, where it was weeping clear precum, and tasted that special flavour for the first time. Then I licked the ridge with my tongue, feeling every part of him, and squealing as he did the same for me, and as he held my bum with his hands, gripping me firmly, I mirrored exactly what he was doing, and yet was also different.

I had no idea what I was going to do, and yet I engulfed his cock with my mouth, pressing against it with my tongue, and started to move my head, plus the shaft skin up and down, fucking my mouth with his cock, feeling the same thing happening to me, feeling his hands pulling me towards him, I did the same. Not too far in case I choked on him, yet far enough to nuzzle the light covering of hair at the base of his cock, and to smell that special boy-smell, all clean and sweaty at the same time. And I felt my hips tighten and my back begin to arch and I began to lose rhythm, and as I was losing mine, Ted was losing his, and I felt his cock swell, and felt him drive against me, and my mouth filled suddenly with his cum, shocking me, yet driving my own orgasm and I came so hard, deep into his mouth, as he was filling mine with his seed.

And we lay there. Two sweaty boys, new tastes, new sensations, new emotions. As his cock lost some of its stiffness, I turned round, and kissed him again. And our flavours mixed, and I found I was crying. Sobbing, holding him tightly and sobbing my heart out. And feeling so good!

"Peter, what's the matter?"

"I love you, Ted. Nothing's the matter. I love you," I sobbed to him. "I'm crying because I'm happy"

"I love you, too. I just didn't know it before." And he wiped my tears away, kissing my eyes. "You are beautiful, Peter. And I love you."

"Did someone mention ice cream earlier?"

"Yeah, come on."

So we at least got shorts on, and grabbed some ice cream.

"After this weekend, Ted, How will we, er I mean at school can we..."

And that is a story I may tell you, if I have time.

"Hit for Six"? In Cricket, when you hit the ball and it flies over the boundary without bouncing, that is a six. Six runs. The maximum possible struck score from a single ball. It's also an expression meaning something like a combination of "knocked sideways", "knocked out" and "completely changed" It's why I chose it for this story. Drop by my website for more stories of teenage gay romance. The address is at the top of this page.