Pauls Pants

PP/Ewans Story part 6: to sleep perchance to dream?

Here we go, another episode. Please be aware that this is a work of fiction, and it does contain explicit sexual description, although you may feel this instalment is a bit more educational than others. All the usual caveats apply; feel free to reproduce the story elsewhere, crediting the author of course, all rights remain mine. No animals were hurt as a consequence of the writing of this story. Comments/insults/requests to spasm2(at)mailandnews.com.

After all the excitement of the previous few days it was something of a relief the next day to know that Ewan and I were unlikely to have a sexual liaison. Don't get me wrong, I was having the best possible time, but even when you're in your early teens there are limits. Ewans enthusiasm and seemingly boundless sexual energy had tested those limits to their utmost, and though I think we'd surprised ourselves, for the immediate short term we were, quite frankly, knackered.

If Paul had been a more thoughtful kind of animal, I suspect he would have been rather baffled by my apparent indifference to the explicit offer he made me, however, once he'd felt my lips close round his cock; I don't think it mattered to him any more. I was sure that I didn't want to split myself between two lovers; even though Paul was adamant that ours was a purely sexual and thus by his way of it; `straight' relationship I knew that he would feel upset and betrayed if I were to abandon him for Ewan. He certainly wasn't getting any attention anywhere else, despite his best efforts

Ewan on the other hand was a different proposition, for starters I loved him, and I was sure that he felt the same way about me; he knew all about Paul, after all he had watched us having sex together and he had seen some of the many photographs that we had taken together. Not only that but Ewan was the most exciting and erotic model I had ever had any dealings with, admittedly he was only the second one, but when we were doing a photo session we seemed to be able communicate on another plane. Paul was flexible and pretty uninhibited, but it didn't really come naturally to him, whereas Ewan not only shared my predilection for the erotic possibilities of underwear, but had moved things on beyond even my fantasies.

So, even though we were lovers, and found it hard to keep our hands off each other, the simple fact that for the next day and a half we were in a situation where this wouldn't be possible was probably a good thing. I had every confidence that Ewan's fertile imagination would create something special for our planned evening of sex and photography, so much so that I hadn't questioned him when his instructions were limited to; `just turn up and bring plenty of film, you can raid my brother's clothes or the dressing up box, I'm all sorted.'

Ewans' dad had offered us tickets for an early evening lecture at the science museum, and after a bit of consultation, my mother was happy for me to go, providing that I got my homework out of the way first. I had seen Ewan in school briefly and we arranged for me to meet him at his house after I'd been home to do my homework and change. His house was close to a tube station and we were to get a lift back with his dad afterwards.

When I arrived at Ewan's place later that evening, the instant I rang the bell, the door crashed open and he hauled me inside, kissing me passionately. I just had time to check out his new tight black jeans and a close fitting white t-shirt; `I've been desperate for a snog all day,' he moaned.

Me too,' I replied, between kisses, love the clothes, and what pants are you treating us to today?'

He didn't speak, just undid the waist button and slipped his jeans down. He was wearing a pair of his new white tangas and very good they looked too, the crisp brightness of the white cotton contrasting with the pale honey colour of his skin. The cut of the briefs high on the hip accentuated his promising and familiar bulge too. He twisted round, to give me a look at his cute bottom; `what d'you think, will they do?'

I gulped, suddenly full of lust; `shall we skip the lecture?'

We could do,' he grinned naughtily, what else did you have in mind?'

Instead of speaking, I crushed his lithe, warm body to me, kissing his red lips and running my hand over the smooth globes of his butt.

Mmm,' he whispered, kissing me back, this is good.'

As we kissed, I allowed my hand to wander round to the front of his pants, he was already beginning to erect, and my gently probing fingers could feel the blood pumping into his expanding cock. We stood there, and I felt his hand carefully unzipping my flies before slipping inside and caressing my balls, I had chosen to wear the pale blue nylon pants that Paul and I had retrieved from lost property in the Lakes, as I knew that Ewan thought them sexy. I too was hard and getting harder, it was as if we had never been apart.

`I think I recognise the feel of these,' he said softly as he unbuttoned my waist band and uncovered me. He gently stroked the length of my cock as it distended the silky material and I returned the favour with interest. We clung together sensuously exploring each other's body, lost to the world, concentrating only on the sensation of the moment.

The mood was destroyed by the insistent ringing of the telephone, `leave it be,' I murmured.

I can't,' he said, it might be for my dad.' He still looked very cute as he shuffled awkwardly across the hallway, his jeans hobbling his ankles, the front of his tanga bulging out under the pressure of his developing erection. Hello,' he said, flopping down onto the stairs, knees apart, oh, hi dad, no, we were just coming; it only takes half an hour. Yeah, we'll meet you afterwards, on the Exhibition Road. Ok, we'll see you later.' He turned to me and grimaced, `I guess we'd better go, sorry.'

No, that's cool,' I said, we've got all tomorrow night after all, and I think you've given me an idea.'

The tube into town was crowded with people heading `Up West' for a night out, and we were forced to stand. Not a problem as far as I was concerned as the rattling and bumping was forcing us up against each other every now and again. We arrived in South Kensington in a state of simmering erotic tension, a pleasant and not uncommon feeling when I was with Ewan.

The lecture was great fun, lots of bangs and flashes; the lecturer had obviously embraced the concept of the mad scientist with enthusiasm and called on the considerable resources of the science museum to keep us entertained. Indeed it was sufficiently diverting to keep our minds off sex for the hour or so that we were in the lecture theatre. Once it was all over we made our way out into the warm late evening traffic on Exhibition Road, looking for Ewans dads' car as the hordes of excited kids flowed around us.

On the other side of the street a car horn sounded and headlights flashed; There he is,' said Ewan, come on.' He plunged fearlessly into the slow moving traffic, and I followed somewhat more cautiously along behind.

`How about we go and get something to eat, and then you boys can tell me all about it? There's a nice little Italian close by if you fancy it?'

We didn't take much persuading, and leaving the car where it was, we walked back in the direction of South Kensington station and the twinkling candlelight of the Italian restaurant.

We squeezed into the tiny and cramped restaurant, to my delight we were forced to sit together on a bench, thigh pressing against thigh, as we ate our meal. Once we'd eaten, we bundled into the back of the car, and Ewans dad drove us home, dropping me off at my place, tired but satisfied and definitely looking forward to the next evening. I crawled into my bed, and fell into a deep sleep, dreaming sweet dreams of Ewan prancing about in his white tanga briefs, filled with pleasurable anticipation of the night to come.

I don't remember much about that school day, I just got through it, my mind filled with erotic thoughts about that evening. I didn't see Ewan to speak to, just caught a fleeting glimpse of him rushing down a staircase. Eventually the day ended; Ewan had PE for the last two periods, which on this occasion was scheduled to be at the playing fields and so I wasn't to meet him after school. I just had to make my way across the common after half an hour or so, giving him time to get home. I decided to dive back to mine and have a shower, and then cycle over; the other option I had considered; to develop some of the films we'd already taken, would probably have absorbed too much time, and might have proved to be too unbearably stimulating.

I found it difficult to decide what to wear; my school uniform or normal clothes, in the end I settled for my favourite tight black cords and a short sleeved shirt, as for pants; I was wearing a skimpy black cotton slip, the most minimalist that I possessed, other of course, than my g-string, which was still at Ewans. I stuffed my uniform into a bag, as I would have to wear it for school the next day.

When I cycled across the common and turned into the quiet side street that Ewan lived in, I spotted his small and familiar figure trudging along in the sunshine ahead of me. He had taken his blazer off and tucked it through the shoulder strap of his school bag; there was some evidence that he had dressed in haste, as the back of his white school shirt was partially hanging out, and his thick blonde hair was more than usually tousled and still damp from the shower. I slowed down so I could admire his bum cheeks moving smoothly in his grey wool serge school trousers, the knowledge that I would soon be getting my hands on his sweet bottom made me feel very happy, and incredibly horny.

Watcha,' I said, cycling up behind him, if a teacher caught you half dressed like that you'd get the slipper, or worse.'

Oh, hi,' he replied, just couldn't stand hanging about the changing rooms any more, it always seems to be the same.'

Yeah, I know,' I agreed, it always ends up as a size contest. Still, you've got nothing to worry about, you're bigger than most of the boys in my year.'

`Maybe, but it doesn't stop me getting the piss ripped out of me because I'm not very tall.'

Oh, poor you, there's not much to be done about that until you grow a bit more I'm afraid, in the mean time take some comfort from the thought that we're all the same height lying down, just some bits stick up further than others.

He giggled, `yeah, I suppose they do.'

`and yours sticks up further than most,' I added

`You're not doing so badly either,' he smiled.

As we turned the corner into his street, Ewan suddenly froze, and seemed to shrink, `what's the matter?' I asked.

That car,' he said, pointing at a maroon Ford Escort parked close to the kerb on the opposite side of the road, I think it's Mr Symonds.'

Are you sure?' I asked, I thought we'd scared him off.'

I'll know for certain when we pass it, there's a scratch on the passenger door.' Sure enough, there was a deep scrape on the door, Ewan shivered, the bastard knows that this is the night my dad works late, what are we going to do?'

`Could he have parked here by accident?'

`Maybe, but it's not very likely, his place is just as close to the tube, and there aren't any shops near here.'

`Well I warned him didn't I? If he came anywhere near you again there'd be trouble.'

`Yeah, but I'd sooner you didn't call the cops in,' Ewan said miserably.

`Why on earth not?' I asked.

`Cause it would probably make our relationship very difficult, and that's more important to me now.'

I wanted to wrap my arms round him and kiss his sweet and slightly teary face, but in the closeted society that was Britain in the 1970s two teen boys kissing in public would not have been thought to be appropriate. `Ok, I have an idea, but we'd best get inside and check that he's not hanging around in the garden or something.'

Ugh,' Ewan shuddered, that's so creepy.'

I went first and unlocked the front door, there was nobody there, but on the doormat there was a handwritten envelope addressed to Ewans dad, that's his handwriting,' Ewan whispered, what shall we do?'

`Open it, of course.'

`Dad'll kill me if he finds out,' he said.

Your life is safe in my hands,' I answered, put the kettle on, he's hardly licked the flap, we can steam it open.' We took it into the kitchen, and looked for signs of intruders in the garden while the kettle was boiling. There was nothing to be seen, and we were summoned away from the windows by the whistling of the kettle; the flap succumbed easily to a very little steam, and I unfolded the brief note and scanned it quickly.

`What's he saying?' Ewan begged.

`Basically he's saying he's sorry he was so hasty about cancelling your lessons, and for the inconvenience that it must have caused you and your dad, and he's offering to give you an unforgettable day out by way of apology, oh, and he'd be happy to start the lessons up again, the bastard.'

Oh no,' Ewans face was ashen, my dad might just fall for that, and I don't want to go anywhere with him.' His face crumpled, and suddenly he looked about ten years old.

My heart melted and I hugged his warm body close to me, Well,' I said thoughtfully, trust me, you're not going anywhere with him, he's only got one thing on his mind for you.' Before Ewan could say anything I ripped up the letter, and threw the shreds into the kitchen bin. `If you don't want us to go to the feds, then I'll need you to provide me with a piece of paper, a potato, a six inch nail and a diversion.'

`Eh?' he grunted.

`I'll stick a note on his windscreen, but I'll need a diversion to use the potato and the nail properly.'

`I'll do whatever you say, but you may need to explain a bit more.'

`Ok, I'll pretend to leave, and cycle away, this will presumably encourage the bastard to come out of hiding. In fact, I'll creep back, and if you can put on a bit of a show to divert his attention, I'll do my stuff. I'll be just outside if he tries anything funny.'

`You won't let him get anywhere near me will you?'

`No, I bet he thinks he's just dealing with you and your dad and that his note will knock me out of the loop, that kind of arrogance can get you into trouble.'

`Ok, how should I attract his attention?'

`Just let him catch a few glimpses of you going about your business as if you have been left home alone, he's got all sorts of memories, so he'll be desperate to see you, just remember that less is more. We do need to flush him out though, so you need to try and tantalise him until he can't bear it any more.'

Ok, I'm game,' he said bravely, as long as you promise to come running if he tries anything.'

That's my lover,' I said, kissing him and giving him a bone crushing hug. Right, let's put operation pederast into action.' I went into the kitchen and selected a large potato, Ewan padded up and handed me a large and rusty nail and a piece of paper. I quickly scribbled; "You were given a fair warning, now stay away from this family, or the evidence of your perversion will be given to the police. You won't be given a third chance." That should make it plain enough,' I said. I went into the hall and tucking my chosen weapons into my pockets; opening the front door I wheeled my bike out. Ewan followed me, his expression apprehensive, Alright then,' I said cheerfully (and loudly), `I'll catch you in school tomorrow.' I winked at him, then, without looking back, I cycled off. As soon as I was out of sight round the corner, I stopped and chained my bike to a lamppost and doubled back round the block to approach Ewans house from the opposite direction.

From my vantage point, I had a clear view down both sides of the street, the front of Ewans dads' house was bathed in sunlight, and the angle of the light made it easy to see into the front room, and right through to the back kitchen, where tall glass sliding doors let you into the garden. After a couple of minutes of inactivity I saw Ewan walk into the front room, a glass of water in his hand, he stood framed in the bay window, dressed in his white shirt and school trousers. He stood still for a few minutes, gazing absently into the street, before his hand lifted to his shirt, and he began to undo the buttons, still gazing dreamily into the distance. Abruptly, as though he suddenly realised what he was doing, he put his glass of water down on the window sill, and retreated from view, pulling his shirt tails out as he disappeared. I have to confess I was entranced by this slow motion striptease, and was finding it very difficult to look for the elusive Mr Symonds.

What seemed like several minutes later, Ewan walked back into the room, staying back from the window, but partially silhouetted against the light coming from the back garden. His shirt was now completely unbuttoned, and hung loosely from his shoulders, exposing his chest, his rather low-slung trousers and the brilliant white waistband of his pants to view. He picked up a newspaper from the table and started to read it, turning his back to the window, after a few static moments one hand began absently to scratch at the waist of his grey school trousers. He spread the newspaper out on the table top and leaned over it, still rubbing at his butt. Eventually he slipped his hand down the back of his trousers, and scratched more vigorously, still ostensibly concentrating on the paper.

The moment passed, and he straightened up, disappearing from view once more. I scanned the street, there was still no sign of his persecutor, then my attention was grabbed once more by the performance at Ewans place. This time there was a flicker of movement at the rear of the room and Ewan walked across, he had taken off his school trousers, and was only wearing his unbuttoned white school shirt and his white tanga briefs. He flitted about, intentionally being hard to see; then suddenly he walked down to the window, picked up the glass of water and drank deeply, throwing his head back. He treated the street to a full frontal view of his package, leaving us with no doubt about his sexuality and sexual maturity, abruptly he put the water down and whisked away from the window once more, the fluttering shirt tails giving us a view of his bum as he moved.

Suddenly my attention was drawn by a movement in the street; from behind a van, a tall, balding but otherwise nondescript looking man had broken cover, moving closer to Ewans house and eventually taking up a position near to the gate, in the shadow of a Laburnum tree. Much as I wanted to watch the performance, this was my cue for action; using the rows of parked cars to conceal me; I made my way along to Mr Symonds car. My first task was to ram the potato firmly up the end of the exhaust pipe, this I achieved with relative ease, pushing it far enough up the pipe so that it couldn't easily be seen or removed. Next I crawled round to the side of the car, popping my head up to look through the windows and check that my quarry was still transfixed. I could see that Ewan had gone back to bending over the table and reading the paper while absently scratching his bum, he had spread his legs a little and even from where I was I could see the soft curves of his balls.

Shaking my head, I took the nail out, and started to engrave a letter on the door. My initial attempt was rather unsatisfactory, and startlingly loud. It was only when I timed my activities to coincide with the incoming flights to Heathrow Airport that I was able to get a better handle on it. I decided to abandon my original intention to engrave "pederast" on the door, in favour of the much snappier and simpler; "pervert". It felt very satisfying as the nail bit through the paint and primer, leaving the bright metal below; he'd never be able to remove it, and I made sure that my lettering went over two body panels, making my attack even more obvious and expensive.

Finally I reached round and slipped the note under the wiper blade, then silently back-tracked to my original observation post. Ewan was no longer in view, and Mr Symonds was still standing in the same spot, craning his neck to see into the room. Just as suddenly as he had vanished, Ewan walked back into the room, he had taken his school shirt off and was holding a t-shirt, he made a great pantomime of putting it on, walking towards the window, hands raised up as he pulled it over his head. He was even showing some signs of stiffening up.

I decided that this was a good point to make my final move and let Ewan know that things were under control. I went back to my bike; and grabbing a handy rock from a front garden, cycled swiftly round the corner, Mr Symonds caught sight of my approach and knelt down, as if he were tying a shoelace. I drew level with his car, and let fly with my stone, smashing a headlight, before accelerating away. I heard a muffled expletive as I shot past Ewans' tormentor, and he ran across the street, jumped into his car and chased after me. His exhaust must already have had a few holes in it, because he managed to chase me as far as the main road before his exhaust system disintegrated with a loud bang. A noise, I have to say, that couldn't compare to the sound his car made without it; it sounded like a Sherman tank and billowed black smoke, all around heads were turning, and he was unfortunate to attract the attention of a passing police car. Admitting defeat, he pulled over, and I raced away, before doubling back round to get to Ewans house again.

I figured that Mr Symonds might be answering some awkward questions by now, especially if he hadn't spotted the graffiti, and sincerely hoped that this might prove to be a sufficient warning to him. As I got to Ewans house, I rang my bicycle bell to give him notice that I was back; he flung the door open, still dressed only in his t-shirt and pants and threw his arms around me.

Wait a second,' I said, I'd better bring my bike in, just in case.'

`How did it go? I heard a bang, was that you?'

`No, that was his exhaust after I stuffed a spud up it. You were incredible; I could hardly take my eyes off you, how on earth did you manage a stiffy?'

`Thank you, I was thinking about being with you, not about that bastard.'

I gave him a long lingering kiss, running my hands over the smooth cotton covering his bum, and then copping a feel round the front, he was stiffening up again already. You really are the best boy,' I laughed, I can't imagine anyone else going along with my mad ideas.'

No-one else would have taken me seriously,' he said, and even if your responses are a bit unorthodox, they seem to get results.'

`Well, maybe he's finally worked out that there's someone looking out for you, and he won't try again.'

Oh, I do hope so,' Ewan shuddered, I really thought we'd put all that behind us.'

I believe we have,' I answered thoughtfully; this was probably just a last attempt. I almost feel sorry for him.'

`How can you?' Ewan asked.

`Well, look at it from his point of view, he's invested all this time in grooming you, and just when he thinks he's going to get what he wants, it's all been snatched away from him.'

`You have a point, but I'd sooner choose who gets to play with my body thanks very much, and that person is you. In fact, the more I think about it, the less I like the idea of that creep getting his jollies over the pictures he took of me.'

`Yeah, you're right of course, he deserves whatever's coming to him. In fact, I wonder...'

`What?' Ewan asked, pressing deliciously against me.

`Do you think we should have a go at recovering his pictures of you? Do you know where he keeps them?'

Do you really think we could?' He breathed, I really hate the idea of him keeping them, it really feels like he's stolen a bit of my life. I'm not sure where he stashes them, but he did build a darkroom in the old garage alongside his house. I'd look there in first.'

Right,' I said, no time like the present, get your bike and we'll have a recce.'

Are you sure?' he said, we could make love instead.'

As well, my sweet, as well,' I said, we'll just take a look, while Symonds is still arranging to have his car towed or answering awkward questions from the plods.'

Ok,' he said anxiously, just a quick look.'

`Put some clothes on, and we'll give it a go.' Ewan ran upstairs to his room, the round curves of his bottom looking ever so cute in the close fitting white cotton as he went. The temptation to stay was very strong; on the other hand we had planned to do a photo session, and somehow I felt that under the circumstances this might be inappropriate. We needed a resolution to this; Mr Symonds had raised the stakes, and I wanted my lover back. I also felt that there may be an opportunity for a little creative mayhem.

Ewan bundled down the stairs, an old pair of blue jeans and some baseball boots completing his dress. We grabbed our bikes and I picked up my back pack, tipping my school clothes out onto the hall table. I chose a route that passed close by where Symonds' car had died, as I suspected, he was still there, sitting morosely behind the wheel, a row of police cones placed to protect him from oncoming traffic.

I reckon we've got about an hour before a tow truck comes,' I shouted, let's go.' We pedalled off, and soon arrived at the quiet crescent where Mr Symonds house was. I noted that his front window had been replaced, the putty still fresh and unpainted, and off to the right; partially concealed from the road by the high privet hedge was a sort of ramshackle Tyrolean shed.

`That's where he has his darkroom,' Ewan whispered.

Ok,' I said, let's stash the bikes somewhere in case we need to make a quick getaway, and go take a look.' As we approached I could see that the door was protected by a rusty padlock; blimey,' I gasped, he's not worried about security then.'

`How d'you mean?' Ewan said, looking puzzled.

I think my grandmother could open this,' I said, and rootled in my bag for the appropriate tool; a piece of stiff wire with the end bent over at a right angle. I inserted the pick in the lock and gave it an experimental wiggle, as I suspected the levers had rusted together, and after a quick and practised application of pressure I felt the hasp rather reluctantly creak open. There we are,' I said triumphantly, let's get inside before someone sees us.' Inside the shed was the usual selection of garden implements and dusty tools, and a cluttered workbench with a single gas ring, fed from a cylinder. At the back a partition had been made across the whole width of the building. Oh-oh,' I said.

`What?' Ewan asked, pressing close to me.

Another lock, a combination this time, and not rusted up like the other one; this might present more of a challenge.' I took a closer look; it was a six digit lock, which would give an impossible number of possible combinations. Let's just try this,' I muttered; without changing the positions of any of the wheels, I clicked all six round together, one number at a time. Sometimes if a person is lazy and complacent they just spin the lock without jumbling the numbers up, it's always worth a try first,' I said. In this case, Symonds seems to have been a bit more thorough, oh well, there's always plan B.'

`What if that doesn't work?' He asked, starting to look worried.

Nil desperandum, there's always the rest of the alphabet.' I turned round and gave him a kiss and a swift pat on the bottom by way of consolation. So,' I said softly, Plan B. Pass my bag would you?' I took out a screwdriver, and swiftly unscrewed the hasp from the doorframe, idiot really doesn't know much about security does he?' I grinned as I opened the door.

`Just out of curiosity, what was Plan C?' Ewan asked, hugging me and laughing.

`See that bloody great hammer on the workbench?'

`Yup, what of it?' Ewan looked puzzled.

`One big smack with that, and the padlock would be history, of course it would be pretty bleeding obvious that someone had been in then.'

`I prefer B, I think.'

Me too,' I agreed, altogether more elegant.' I pushed the door of the darkroom open, and clicked on the light. The darkroom was a small, cosy wood panelled space, one side dominated by a workbench with a sink, there was also a small chair, and a table with a reading light on. All the usual darkroom apparatus was there; an enlarger, developing trays and so forth. A small steel cupboard looked promising at first, but when I opened its unlocked door, proved to contain nothing but chemicals and boxes of printing paper, otherwise, it was quite tidy, but bereft of any sign of his stolen images. `Hmm,' I pondered.

`D'you think that he keeps them in the house?' Ewan looked very disappointed.

Not sure,' I answered, I think not, all the signs would suggest that he keeps them out here.'

`How do you mean?'

`There's a comfy chair, a side table and he's left an empty glass, I think he comes out here and has a wank over the pictures.'

`Ugh, gives me the creeps to think of it,' Ewan shuddered.

`Right, we need to look around for a loose board; the floor is out, as it's just a single sheet of plywood, although we should check under the cupboard.' Once we had identified the problem, it didn't take very long to find his carefully crafted hiding place; in the darkest corner of the room, two of the planks were hinged wall to ceiling, and opened up to reveal a narrow cupboard. This was Symonds pornographic treasure trove, there were piles of magazines; ranging from the commonplace girlie mags we were all familiar with to some smaller publications displaying images of naked boys on their covers.

Wow,' Ewan breathed, snatching a mag off the pile, look at these, they're fantastic.'

Take a look at the top shelf,' I said. There was a stack of half a dozen print boxes, and reaching up, I hauled one down. I opened it up, it was full to the top with prints, Bingo,' I said, the pictures were of a younger Ewan, sitting in an armchair dressed only in a pair of Speedos. I shuffled through, and the images were all more or less the same, only the costumes were different. I have to confess that I was getting very turned on; Ewan too was engrossed in the magazine, one hand absently rubbing the front of his jeans to relieve his burgeoning erection. I took down all the boxes, and opened them up, one by one. They all seemed to contain pictures of Ewan, several hundred of them, and the story that he had told me was borne out by the images. It wasn't until I got to the last two boxes that there was any change; these images weren't of Ewan.

`Look here,' I said, plucking the magazine out of Ewans hand and throwing it onto the chair.

`What?' he said crossly.

`You're not the only one that bastard has been having a go at.'

`What!' he repeated unoriginally.

I dumped the box of prints onto the counter, the boy pictured was younger than Ewan, and didn't look at all happy. Indeed in the first few pictures he had obviously been crying, and there were bruises visible on his upper arms. As the series progressed it became clear that Mr Symonds had taken things much further with this kid than he had gone with Ewan. `I don't think I like this,' Ewan said softly.

Nor me,' I agreed, he's taken something that should be fun and destroyed all the pleasure in it for that poor boy.'

`What shall we do?' Ewan asked.

`I think we should finish this,' I said.

I agree,' he said, but how?'

`First off we need to find all the pics, and make sure that they get destroyed, that's unless you want to keep them of course.'

`No way,' he almost shouted.

The last box was full of rolls of negs, and I slipped them into my back pack just in case. Ok,' I said, we're in luck here, not only is our Mr Symonds rather careless about his security, but he has also chosen to ignore all the advice he's been given about the safe storage of flammable materials. With a bit of science we can dispose of all of this and make it look like an accident. He'll probably realise that it isn't, of course, but I doubt he'll be in any position to say anything.'

I propped the secret door open, and moved all the boxes of Ewans prints onto the worktop next to the doorway (the other ones I replaced in the cupboard). Switching the light off, I closed the door and screwed the hasp back into place.

`What about fingerprints?' Ewan asked.

`Shouldn't be an issue, all the surfaces are rough, there's no sign of a forced entry, any way, if all goes according to plan there won't be enough left to take a print off. If it doesn't, I think the contents of the darkroom will prove to be of much greater interest.'

I took a can of paraffin from the muddle of tools on the floor, and carefully poured some onto some sacking next to the darkroom door, before tipping the can onto its side, the cap slightly loosened to allow a slow dribble. I moved the half-full petrol can up against the door to the darkroom and also loosened its top. I had spotted a box with dusty old candles in, and grabbed one, sticking it firmly into an old tin full of nails, and carefully placing it on top of the lawnmower. This positioned the candle about three feet above the floor, and I lit it.

`How's that going to work?' Ewan asked in a puzzled tone.

Watch and learn,' I said, this is a practical application of science, also known as the partial mixture of gases.' I ushered Ewan out of the shed, first checking for onlookers, I ducked back inside, and lifted up the gas cylinder to check it was full, then I opened up the tap on the gas ring. I figured a gentle flow of gas would be ideal, so I turned the tap down until there was only a quiet hiss, and backing slowly out, I carefully closed the door. Peeking in through the window, I checked to see if the candle was still alight, as it was, I replaced the rusty padlock, clicking it home. Let's go,' I said, we've got half an hour to an hour, I guess.'

We jumped on our bikes and raced away. When we got back to Ewans house, he turned to me and said; `I hope you are going to explain.'

Naturally,' I said, lets go inside, and all will be revealed.' Propping our bikes up in the hall as usual, we clattered up to his bedroom. `Blimey, this is tidy,' I said.

`Well, we were going to do some photos, remember?' he said defensively.

`Oh, yeah, until we were overtaken by events.' I sat down on the bed, and a moment later a small projectile leaped onto me, knocking the breath out of me and pushing me onto my side.

You're not getting up til you tell me what you were doing,' he giggled.

I'm quite happy to lie here,' I replied, once I'd recovered my breath, but give us a kiss and I'll explain.' Ewan kissed me impatiently, then sat back on his heels waiting for me to speak. `Ok, it's dead simple; you need the right mixture of gas and air to make an explosion, around half and half is ideal. Propane (the gas that was in the cylinder), is heavier than air, so what should be happening, is that the gas flows down to the floor and gradually fills up the shed, when the level reaches the candle, there should be about the right proportion of gas and air to make the explosion, and then, hopefully; Kaboom! If not, there will be a bloody big fire, still worse if someone should happen to open the door and mix it all up.'

`Do you think we'll be able to hear it from here?'

`Oh yes, I should think so, shall we have a cuddle and wait for the show?'

`Yeah, that sounds good, we can have a look at these while we're waiting.' With a cheeky grin, he produced a small bundle of boy mags that he had nicked from the shed and tossed them onto the bed.

I sat up and kicked my shoes and socks off, Ewan climbed onto the bed in front of me, and I put my arms round his warm body. He spread the stolen porn out on the bed in front of us, and we started to look through them. The thing that struck me was, extreme though many of the images were, the boys posing for these pictures all looked pretty happy, they might have had to be persuaded to express themselves in this way, but they seemed quite content to be doing it. `What d'you think?' I asked Ewan, nuzzling his ear.

`They're very sexy, but I think they get naked too quickly, there's nothing turns me on quite like a stiff cock pushing at a pair of pants.'

I reached down with my free hand, his cock was firm and hard in his jeans, just, as his exploratory hand confirmed, was mine. Without saying anything, I undid the button on his jeans, and slipped the zipper down. Without losing concentration, Ewan wiggled out of his jeans, kicking them off the end of the bed and then pulled his t-shirt over his head. He reached back and struggled to undo my zip, but the angle of our bodies made it very difficult, so I quickly threw off my cords and my shirt before settling back into our comfortable huddle, my stiff cock rubbing up against his back. Now, as he flipped through the pages, I was able to press my palm along the hot length of his erection, as it stretched the smooth white cotton of his pants. He shivered and wiggled his bottom, giving me a delightful frisson as my hardness settled into the cleft of his buttocks.

I've missed this,' I said softly, I know it's only been a couple of days, but it has felt so much longer.'

`Yeah, I know what you mean, yesterday was a bit of a torment, so close but hardly even a cuddle.'

I ran my fingers down along the seductive curve of his hip and slipped them under the tight fabric to savour the softness of his blonde pubes before investigating the taut globes of his balls. He stretched with pleasure, pushing his bottom harder against my erection. Finally I moved on to grasp his cock and subtly stimulated the glans with my forefinger. Ewan sighed happily, and pressed back against me again. We maintained this comfortable position for a few minutes; I was slowly grinding my cock against his crack and playing with his rigid manhood, at the same time we were savouring the images in the stolen porn.

Eventually, I felt it was time to move on, and carefully tugged the cotton fabric to one side, releasing his rampant cock and balls from their imprisonment. I gently took hold of his dick and began to stroke my fist up and down, watching as his foreskin slid smoothly back over the reddening glans. Ewan abandoned his perusal of a magazine to twist round and kiss me fiercely, and then turned round completely to face me. `I think you have a pressing problem,' he whispered, running a hand down over my ribs, over the waistband of my pants and settling on my bulging cock.

The fine fabric of my black cotton pants was already quite damp from pre-cum, and the familiar, yet electric touch of Ewans fingers on my penis prompted it to another spurt. He hooked a finger under the waistband, hoiked the front of my pants down past my balls, and took a firm handhold on my cock. We lay still, side by side, slowly masturbating together, the magazines crushed and forgotten under our bodies. I was feeling very happy; you would have thought that the events of the last hour or so would have cast a damper on our relationship, but Ewan was showing his astonishing resilience again, and we seemed to be back to normal.

I could feel that I wasn't far off coming, Ewan's eyes were closed, and beads of sweat were showing on his forehead, so I guessed that he was more or less at the same point as I was. There's always a moment when you can slow things down a bit, or speed it up and flip over the precipice. We chose the latter option without pausing to consult. I could feel the pressure building up in my balls, and see that Ewans ears were bright scarlet too. Suddenly the release came; our spunk squirting in jets from our cocks and up our bellies, we crushed together to try and stop our come from spraying all over the bedspread, and just as the last few dribbles pulsed from our cocks; away in the distance I heard a dull "boom".

Story of his life,' I muttered sarcastically, always the last one to come.'

Ewan started to giggle, and we clung stickily together, listening to the distant sound of fire sirens. He scooped up a sticky handful of jizz off our sweaty bodies, and we gravely shared our fragrant boy come.

`What shall we do now?' Ewan asked.

`What d'you want to do?'

`I know what I'd like to do,' he said.

`What's that?' I asked, although I could guess what he was going to say.

`I want to go and make sure that everything has been destroyed.'

`That's cool, we'd best get cleaned up though.'

Ewan stood up, there were gobbets and dribbles of our come all over him, and his semi- tumescent cock was still hanging out of the side of his pants, red and a little spunk spattered. I gently pulled his pants down, and used them to clean him off, before he pulled me up off the bed and performed the same task for me. Discarding our sodden pants, we made our way naked to the shower. Tenderly we washed each other clean, for once there was little horse play, we were on a bit of a mission; it didn't stop us from taking a deal of pleasure in the feel of our naked bodies together, but there would always be time for some more later.

Once we were clean, we wrapped ourselves in our towels and went back into the bedroom to get dressed.`What pants do you want?' Ewan asked me, rootling in my bag.

You choose,' I said, and then I'll choose some for you.'

He pondered for a moment, then flung me a pair of white nylon mesh pants, `I know what Paul looks like in these, but I'd prefer to see you in them,' he smiled.

I pulled them on, and gave him a little twirl; `What do you think?'

`Nice, very sexy, what shall I put on?'

I'd had time to think, `How about those black see-through French pants we bought at Bentleys?'

`Oh yes, I like wearing the g-string so much that I'd almost forgotten about them,' he retrieved them from his pants drawer and put them on, treating me to an impromptu fashion show.

Those are really nice,' I said, approvingly. We hugged briefly, our groins rubbing together, but before we got too carried away, Ewan pulled away and leaned over the end of the bed to find his t-shirt. That would make a good picture,' I said, `even better if you were a little stiffer of course.'

I'll remember that,' he answered, but in the meantime, we'd better get dressed.'

We hauled on the rest of our clothes, and wheeling our bikes out of the hall, and into the street we cycled off in the general direction of Mr Symonds house. `We should be a bit careful, just in case they're looking out for us, we can take a look from the corner before trying to get any closer,' I said. I needn't have been so cautious, in those paranoid times any explosion was treated as though it might have been another terrorist outrage, and when we got to the corner, the whole street had been cordoned off. An excited looking constable was patrolling the tape line that was all that had been provided to hold back the small crowd of interested onlookers. Two boys wheeling their bicycles were almost invisible in the melee of fire engines, police cars, and a nondescript white van labelled "bomb squad".

All I could see was a small and dirty plume of smoke and steam, the rest of Symonds house was obscured by a fire engine. I asked a woman who was craning her neck to see round the corner, `what's happened?'

Don't know love,' she answered absently, some sort of explosion, whole place went up like a bomb.'

`What, the house?'

`No, I live opposite, it was the garage. I don't really know the gentleman who lived there, he kept himself pretty much to himself, but I do know he's not Irish.'

`Was anybody hurt?'

`No, I don't think so, I gather he'd only just come home when it went up, poor man doesn't have much of a garage left now though, it had burned right down to the ground before the firemen got here. I do hope he's insured, it can be heartbreaking to lose your treasures.'

I don't suppose that he had much of value in there,' I said, if it's anything like my mums' garage, then it'd just be full of junk.'

Seemed to be a lot of paper,' she answered, he's some kind of a teacher I believe, so that would make sense, but it's all gone, what wasn't destroyed in the fire has been ruined by the water.'

Ewan had listened to our conversation, and was about to join in, when we were interrupted by the policeman; `come on you lads, there's nothing to see here, hop it.'

Yeah, let's go,' I said, shall we head back to your place?'

Ok,' Ewan said, and we wheeled our bikes away from the barrier. Can we stop and get an ice cream?' he asked, before we mounted up.

Why not,' I answered, it's a lovely evening.' We bought our ice creams at the corner shop, and sat down on a bench to eat them. Ewan shivered suddenly, `are you alright?' I asked.

`Yeah, just can't believe what we've just done, there's nothing left.'

Good isn't it,' I grinned, and the best part is, that once they've stopped looking for bombs they'll have to decide it was an accident caused by carelessly stored fuel.'

`What about the pictures?' he asked.

I'm not sure,' I said, I made sure that all the ones that he'd taken were left where they would get torched, his porn stash was never going to burn completely, and I imagine he might get asked some awkward questions if they haven't trampled it all into the mud.

(Gentle reader, at this point I should perhaps point out that in Britain in the 1970's pretty much all porn was socially and legally unacceptable; on the other hand, there wasn't the same level of paranoia about explicit images of boys and girls. However, anywhere that sold explicit `hard-core' porn would also be likely to stock the sort of magazines that Ewan had stolen from Mr Symonds. It was a curious and slightly hypocritical decade.).

Oh well,' said Ewan, that'll have to do; I can't believe that he will be up to much for now, and I hope that's the last we hear from him.' He crunched the last remnants of his cone and stood up, `Shall we go?' he asked.

Yeah, let's.' We got on our bikes and cycled back to Ewans house. Once we were inside, I addressed Ewan; We'd better do some of your reading exercises.'

`Oh, must we?' he pouted.

`Yeah, we must, don't forget it's funding our experiments in photography, and since we've been trusted to get on with it unsupervised, I think we should.'

Slave driver,' he said, moving close and looking up at me seductively, are you sure there's nothing I can do to change your mind?' He undid the button on his jeans, his flies were already at half mast, and I could see the top of his semi-transparent French pants.

I'm not sure,' I said, what were you thinking of?'

Instead of speaking, he took my wrist and shoved my hand down the front of his jeans. I enjoyed the sensation of his warm body, and the feel of his slowly engorging prick for a moment, then I swiftly pulled my hand free, and with both hands grabbed his waistband and pulled his jeans right down to the floor. Before he had time to react, I bent down and threw him over my shoulder in a firemans lift and raced up the stairs to his bedroom, Ewan drumming ineffectually on my shoulders with his fists. I dumped him onto the chair next to the work table, and stood there silently looking down at him (and it has to be said, admiring him too).

You sod,' he said ruefully, I suppose this means we'll really have to do some work.'

Fraid so,' I said, you've no idea how much grief I'll get from my mum if we don't cover the territory.'

I know,' he answered, but I don't have to pretend that I'm enjoying it.'

`Come on then, we can do half an hour.' Actually, once we'd got started, the exercises weren't too bad, and we managed to get as far as we were supposed to in the allotted time. While Ewan was finishing off the last page, I took my camera out, and took a few preliminary shots of him at work. He hadn't bothered to pull his jeans back up, so he looked rather sweet, frowning in concentration over the work book, every inch the innocent student, and yet, under the table, the see through pants and his splendid package told a different story. I was aware that these images owed something to the unlamented Mr Symonds, but Ewans unselfconscious display somehow made these pictures subtly different.

Ewan smiled at me and twisted round on the chair so that he was facing the camera, legs apart. I moved in for a closer shot as one of his hands slipped below the table and with his finger tips began softly to explore his manhood. I watched fascinated through the viewfinder as his cock began to erect, each pulse of blood making it visibly longer and stiffer. The fine black fabric of his pants stretched as he grew, but the designers were equal to the challenge and they simply expanded with him. Once he was fully erect, he stood up and shuffled over to me, his ankles hobbled by his jeans.

I'm sorry I was so grumpy,' he said softly, giving me a swift kiss, I guess I didn't react too well to being reminded. Thanks so much for caring, and knowing what to do.'

That's ok,' I said, a little embarrassed, I think I can sense a little bit of how you feel, and if you don't feel like posing for any pictures or making love, then I quite understand.'

`Does this look like I don't feel sexy?' he asked, taking my hand and pressing it against his rock hard penis.

No,' I admitted, I'd say you were feeling very sexy indeed.'

Those mags have given me some ideas,' he continued, could you set up both the cameras, so I can take some pictures too?'

Of course,' I said, what did you have in mind?'

`I thought we could do a set called "the pornographer and his model", usual sort of thing, you are photographing me, and eventually it all gets too much and you tear off your clothes and jump in.'

`Sounds good,' I said.

There's a twist,' he added, as a part of it I want you to tie me to the bed and then fuck me.'

`Blimey, are you sure?' I blurted.

`Yeah, it's all about trust, and I completely trust you, I just found having my ankles tangled up in my jeans to be an incredible turn-on, that's why I haven't bothered pulling them up.'

Well I'm game if you are,' I said, you don't want me to spank you or anything?'

`No, not this time, although I loved the feeling when you put me over your knee and pretended to smack me in that photo shoot where I dressed up as a girl.'

Yeah, I enjoyed that shoot too, even though spanking does nothing for me. Having a hot boy dressed in girls knickers sprawled across my knees, on the other hand, does quite a lot!' I reluctantly let go of his cock, Ok, shall we start this session with you being fully dressed and a bit turned on, and then take it from there.'

`Yeah, that sounds like a plan,' Ewan agreed, pulling his jeans up, the stiff column of his cock still plainly visible through the tight, faded denim. We both kicked off our shoes and socks, and I mounted the automatic camera on the tripod, positioning it alongside the bed.

`What am I going to tie you up with?' I asked.

`I think the dressing up box can help out,' he grinned, and indeed a little search produced two silk scarves, a dressing gown cord and a couple of school ties.

I put the improvised bonds down on the bedside chair for convenience and picked up my camera; `let's do it.'

Ewan had decided that this was to be a bed based series and stretched out full length on the bed cover. He'd picked up one of the porno mags, one I now noticed, that featured a trussed and bound scout on the front cover, and was idly scanning the pages, his other hand resting lightly on his groin and emphasising the firm ridge of his hard cock. I took pictures from all angles as he slowly stroked his erection, an occasional flash confirming that he had control of the other camera. I was very hard too, and could feel the sensitive tip of my cock rubbing almost painfully against the nylon mesh of my pants as I moved about to get the shots I wanted.

The beauty of working with Ewan was that I rarely had to give him any instruction, and this occasion was no exception. Before I could ask him, he began to move things along a little and pulling his t-shirt up and out of the way, he unbuttoned his waist band and unzipped his flies. I moved in for a close up as he slipped his fingers into his jeans, caressing the shaft of his cock through the fine material of his pants. After a moment or two of this partial revelation, he folded back his jeans, showing off his fine cock; straining at the semi-transparent black nylon.

I knelt on the end of the bed, rubbing at my own hardness, conscious of the flash of the second camera as I did so. Ewan arched his back, giving me a wonderful shot of his manhood as he slid his jeans off. I stood up to help him clear them off the bed, and at the same time I impatiently pulled my cords down and stepped out of them. The feeling of relief as my cock was partially released from its confinement was fantastic, and the little camera flashed repeatedly as I returned to my task with added vigour.

Ewan had abandoned his porn by now, and was watching me as I stood over him, his fingers still caressing the length of his cock through his pants, as I leaned over him; he slipped his hand under the fine waist band and began to masturbate directly. Opening his legs up, he rolled onto his side, giving me a shot of his angelic bottom, the tension created by his hand stretching the fabric tightly over his cheeks. Finally, he rolled over onto his knees, and pushing his legs apart, he continued to work on his cock, staring pink-faced back at the camera.

I figured that this might be a good moment to become a slightly more active participant, and moving a little closer in, I ran my hand over his nylon clad butt cheeks, as if suggesting a better pose for the camera. My fingers may have lingered a little longer than was absolutely necessary around his sweet little pucker, but hey, that was just me getting into my role.

Abruptly, Ewan spun over onto his back again, and sitting up, he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it away. He then leaned forwards and unbuttoned my shirt as I was standing next to him, and I shrugged myself out of it. We then took a set of pics with me bending over him, one leg up on the bed and my butt towards the camera as he continued to masturbate in his pants. Finally, he swapped hands with the cable release and his free hand slipped up my leg and stroked my erect cock as it tented out the white nylon mesh of my pants. Obligingly I turned towards the camera, and Ewan took some pictures as he caressed me. At this moment the film ran out in the smaller camera, and I quickly finished off the roll in mine and reloaded them both.

Right,' I said, I suppose it's time I tied you up.' Ewan obligingly stretched out in a star shape on the bed; first I bound his wrists with the silk scarves and tied them to the pine head board of the bed. I think I ought to gag you, to make it look authentic,' I said, is that ok?' (you can probably guess that I was new to all this).

`Yeah, just do it,' Ewan gasped.

I took one of the school ties and used it to gag him, being careful not to over tighten it, finally, I tied his ankles loosely to the bed legs and put the cable release into his hand. I'm going to take a few shots of you like this,' I said, feel free to join in and struggle a bit.' I also repositioned the camera and tripod, so that Ewans camera had a more advantageous view of proceedings.

Ewan did just as I suggested, and tested the strength of my bonds by struggling against them, arching his back and wriggling. It all made for some pretty sexy images as I snapped away. Finally I put my camera down, and climbed onto the bed with him. Before I did anything else, I gave him a pretty thorough and intimate physical examination, slowly running my fingertips all over his recumbent body. I loved the feel of his warm smooth skin, the sweet scent of his body, and the fine golden hairs that sprinkled his arms and legs, and I really loved the smoothness silkiness of his French pants as they covered his taut buttocks. Ewan moaned with pleasure as I stimulated the sensitive skin on his lower back, behind his knees and most sensitive of all, the nape of his neck. I couldn't resist kissing and blowing him there, and sliding a hand under his recumbent body to stimulate a nipple. My intention was to get him thoroughly blissed out before I went any further, and I think I was succeeding, judging by the moans issuing from the head end of my victim.

Finally I slipped my hand up the leg of his pants and stroked the globes of his butt directly; as his legs were already splayed apart, it was easy to slowly run a finger round his anus, tickling its rosette of soft blond hairs to his obvious delight. I leaned forward over his body, my cock in its white nylon mesh pressing urgently against the cleft in his butt, and rubbing roughly against his pucker. My actual intention was to grab the jar of Vaseline from his bedside table, but I was happy to indulge in a little blameless frottage along the way.

Seizing my role as sadistic rapist, I grabbed Ewan by the hips and lifting his bum off the bed, I hauled one side of his pants down, exposing a cheek and his crack, at that same moment I pulled my pants to one side, releasing my cock from its confinement. I was concentrating on the story we were telling, but I was conscious that the flash had been going off on the camera as we progressed. I stuck my fingers into the jar of Vaseline, and pulled out a gobbet, first off I grabbed my cock and gave it a slippery coating with one practised hand movement, then I leaned forward and anointed the entrance to Ewans pleasure zone, unable, in the heat of the moment and general slipperiness to resist the temptation to slip my finger in and out a couple of times.

Although the images may have appeared a bit brutal, I was very gentle when I entered Ewan, conscious that the last time I had made him a little sore, this was, after all, intended to be the pursuit of pleasure. He moaned gently as the tip of my cock slipped easily into him, confident now that I wasn't hurting him, I slowly eased the rest of my length into him. I wasn't intending to come just yet, although the sensation of being inside him and slowly fucking him wasn't going to make that an easy option. In my dedicated role as pornographer, I'd had an idea for a sort of "ultra-porno" shot with the two of us and I also quite fancied the idea of us coming together.

After a few moments of quiet lovemaking, I realised that if I didn't pull out soon, then I wouldn't be able to stop myself, my balls were brimming with sperm and I was aching to come.

Ewan struggled and protested through his gag as I carefully withdrew; It's ok,' I said, I just want to try something else.' I got off the bed, untied his bonds, and released him from the gag. Ewan sat up, and threw his arms round me, hugging and kissing me fiercely. His cock was still very hard, and distending the fine nylon of his by now rather soggy and bedraggled French pants.

`That felt great,' he smiled, 'what did you want to try?'

This,' I said, and grabbed him by his ankles, upending him and pulling his pants right off. I thought we might try me fucking you and you sucking yourself at the same time. I don't think I can hold the pose for very long, but it'd make a great photo.'

`Oh yes,' he breathed, spreading his legs wide.

I pulled my pants off too and shuffled into position behind him, this was definitely a time when Ewans short stature and flexible back was an advantage; with the ease of long practise he engulfed his cock into his mouth, and after slapping on a bit more lubrication, I was able to penetrate him once more. I buried my cock to its full length in him, before pulling back to show some cock to the camera. It was very hard to maintain my balance on the springy mattress with the full weight of Ewans body leaning against me, and I only managed a couple more thrusts into him before we lost control, and fell over sideways, laughing with pleasure.

I hope those came out ok,' I said, I'm not doing that again for a while.'

That's a shame.' Ewan said, I rather liked that one, but I've had an idea too.'

`What's that?'

`How about you and I both suck my cock?'

We can give it a try,' I said dubiously, I'm not sure how much the camera will see.'

Ewan stretched out along the bed, before flipping onto his back once more and raising his bottom over his head, If I twist to one side,' he grunted, you should be able to squeeze your head in, then it'll be just like having a kiss, with my cock in it for good measure.'

I did as he suggested, and we were just about able to share a mouthful of his cock, the pleasure to be gained by playing with our tongues around the glans of his cock was probably wasted on the camera, but I certainly enjoyed it and so did he.

`D'you think we ought to finish this?' I asked.

Probably,' he agreed, as we untangled our naked bodies, I'm busting to come.'

Me too,' I said, I could have come a few times by now, I think we need to go for the big finish since we're doing porno.'

Ok,' he grinned, let's do it.'

I propped myself against the wall, knees spread apart, Ewan lay on his back between my thighs, his knees hooked over my hips, permitting my cock to project between his legs and up alongside his own erection. We clasped hands and grasped them round our cocks, masturbating them together. It didn't take much effort before I could feel the pressure building up and suddenly the spunk jetted forth from both our dicks in a simultaneous orgasm of great violence. In proper porno style, our mingled spunk sprayed up Ewans heaving chest and into his smiling face. Messy dribbles of our come were even tangled in his hair, tenderly I scooped up as much of this fragrant mixture as I could, and we sucked it from my fingers, whilst staring into the camera lens.

We disentangled our naked bodies yet again, I gathered Ewan into my arms and we just cuddled up together for quite a while, until the chill of our drying sweat forced us to move. Yet again I was a little dumbstruck by the power of the emotional feelings that this boy had aroused in me, we were having the best sex of my short life, and we loved each other, honestly and without question.

`Come on,' Ewan said, pulling me by the hand, 'time we had another shower.'

I went along without protest, and we climbed into the shower again, this time the ritual of washing was more tender and less sexual, we were, after all, completely familiar with every inch of each others body, and we had just come in bucket loads. I don't know about you,' I said, but maybe we should have something to eat and then go to bed.'

`I could eat a small horse,' he grinned.

Let's settle for whatever your dad left for us,' I said, horses are a bit thin on the ground at the moment.'

We towelled each other dry and scampered back into the bedroom, there's still a couple of shots left in the little camera,' Ewan observed, standing naked next to the tripod, want to pose with me?'

`What did you have in mind?' I asked, groaning slightly at the thought of more sex.

`I was thinking of a shot of us together, wearing matching pants, nothing porno.'

`Why not, what pants did you have in mind?'

`I think it'll have to be the white tangas, I haven't any pairs of anything else out of the wash basket at the moment.' Ewan padded over to his pants drawer and produced the underwear; ceremonially we offered a pair to each other and stepped in, each one pulling up the others pants and making the customary adjustments for a comfortable fit. Once we were sorted, we posed together for the camera, arms round each others waist, our hips slightly thrust forward to enhance the look of our packages. Ewan pulled my face round to his, and we kissed, a lovers kiss for the camera. For the final picture on that roll of film, we kept on kissing, but we were each caressing the others crotch affectionately.

Once we had rewound the last films and packed away the cameras, Ewan raced away downstairs to heat up the stew that his dad had left for us, there didn't seem to be much point in dressing, and anyway, I liked the sense of freedom that wandering about semi-naked gave me. If England hadn't been such a cold place sometimes, I might have been a nudist, even though I've never liked volleyball.

We gulped down our stew, it was very nice, but we were knackered, and we needed to sleep, not only that, but we had the added excitement of sleeping together for the first time. We washed our dishes and propped a note for Ewans dad against the teapot, then made our way upstairs again.

We brushed our teeth, jostling together in front of the bathroom mirror, and once done, we jumped into Ewans bed, snuggling into a comfortable spoon shape together. Just before I slipped into unconsciousness, I heard Ewan give a little sigh of contentment, and whisper; `this feels so good, thanks for everything you've done for me today.'

I kissed him tenderly on the shoulder, and replied, `think nothing of it, you're very welcome.' There was no reply, just the soft even sound of his sleeping breath. A moment later, and I joined him in the innocent and dreamless sleep of the truly sated.

To be continued...