The Embarrassment of Riches

The Embarrassment of Riches Chapter Six: The Long Halloween

The people, places and events of this story exist only in my (and now your) imagination; therefore, any resembelences to real people, real places or real events would be really cool.

The glowing red L.E.D. on the wall of the lounge provided an inordinate amount of light in the otherwise dark room. The display read the time and date: 01:53 – SAT 29 OCT 2016.

Tom sat alone on a sofa in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt, with his feet tucked under him, and staring into space. He was thinking about nothing in particular and not-thinking about something very in particular. This time of year that was like a thunderstorm – the days mounting in pressure until the eventual storm broke.

Like coming out, revealing details about his past did not come easily to Tom. Tom was `the quiet one', he was a watcher who preferred to observe rather than participate. When Calvin, Johnnie, Daniel and Victor had befriended him, they had eased him out of his shell. But he still had the shell; he galvanised himself with character armour.

Coming out had been easy in comparison; he'd known these friends for over a year now but still couldn't tell any of them about the storm that came every Halloween. Tom feared what they would think or say – most likely pity. He feared the fear and felt weakened by it; as evidenced by annual insomnia, general neuroses and chronic anxiety. Tom sighed and looked at the clock again – 01:57. He laid his head down on the arm of the sofa and continued to not think about what happened two years ago.

Johnnie woke with his arms around some guy – Phillip, maybe, he wasn't sure; but once Johnnie had seen Calvin with another guy last night and knew there would be no companionship there. Philip was a big gay lad who, promiscuous but always wrapped up and wasn't bothered whether he was on top or bottom.

"Ugh!" Johnnie moaned to the room he wished was empty; regretting the meaningless tryst and thinking about Calvin instead.

He had been thinking about Calvin when he'd fucked Phillip and now, as the both lay naked, with Johnnie spooning against Phillip's bare back, Johnnie was still thinking about Cal. Johnnie breathed in a lung-full of musky air; sweat and passion still hovered, but only mildly, in the air. The difference between them was that Johnnie was awake and Phillip was snoring.

The open window behind him brought in freezin' October air. Carefully, Johnnie slide away from Philip and sat up on the edge of his bed. With his legs slung over the edge of the bed, Johnnie's bare feet touched the floor; the fresh air hardened his nipples and rose the Goosebumps on his arms. Johnnie rose and crossed to the window – he didn't even bother covering up as he gave the world outside a full-frontal view. He looked outside and saw no-one which was hardly a surprise since it was nearly 2AM and he wouldn't have cared if anyone saw his cock anyway. Johnnie pulled the window closed then donned a pair of boxer-briefs and a dressing gown.

Johnnie slipped out the room without disturbing sleeping beauty. Johnnie padded down the hallway to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water. His legs were still a little jelly-like from too much booze. He and Philip had called it quits in the club at midnight in order to come back and have sex. 2AM probably meant Calvin and everyone else in the Halls were still out revelling or were in bed having not gone out in the first place.

He went downstairs anyway to see if anyone was up and about; if someone had brought back chips he would finagle a few, that would be good. A barely audible sound from the lounge drew him there – it was the quiet of it that was so unusual as the boys in this place were never light footed. Anyone who came back pissed at one, two, three or seven AM was like Nelly the elephant – the only people who wouldn't hear you were probably comatose from drink themselves.

It was hard to see in the gloom, but Johnnie could just make out a head on the edge of the couch. Not wanting to startle whoever it was he rapped gently on the open door. The figure was awake and turned at the sound – it was Tom.

Tom hadn't joined the gang when they headed out last night, seeming more introspective than even his normal. Johnnie like Tom, he was quiet and sweet but troubled and didn't give much of himself – funny lad, though and clever too.

"I would ask a stupid question like: can't you sleep?" said Johnnie. "But I won't."

Tom smiled and sat up. "Can't you sleep?" Tom asked ironically.

Johnnie smiled and stepped into the dark room to take a seat beside Tom.

"Beds aren't just made for sleepin', pal," Johnnie joked.

Tom laughed quietly and Johnnie got the impression he had interrupted something. The room was silent for a minute, so Johnnie playfully knocked his knee against Tom's in the hope of eliciting a more forthcoming response.

The question was implicit but he asked anyway: "What's wrong?"

Tom had always had something he was reticent to talk about, it was an elephant in the room and Johnnie, Cal, Victor and Daniel had all asked "what's wrong" without success. Tom sighed as he decided if it was finally time to open up or not.

"Y'know how I told you took a year out before starting at King James?" Tom asked, Johnnie nodded silently so Tom continued; "Well I actually started university in Glasgow two years ago." Tom said eventually.

Johnnie was surprised but did not fill the silence, rather he gave Tom the time to order his thoughts.

"It was just after two in the morning," Tom continued, giving an involuntary glance at the clock. "I got separated from my friends and didn't want to stay in Polo alone so I decided to head home early."

Tom paused and rubbed his head as if it hurt. It did hurt. It hurt that he'd been such a fool that night.

"I was probably safe in the club but I wasn't safe walking home. A group of four guys jumped me."

Johnnie felt himself bristle at the thought of poor, sweet Tom being helpless at the hands of drunken thugs. He also felt his heart sink with foreboding – the incident obviously would not end well.

"I remember them punching me... and kicking me. I remember it hurt... and I was scared. I remember the glass bottle in one of their hands." Tom's tone had become dispassionate, almost robotic – perhaps the only way Tom could tell the story without cracking. "I remember thinking I was going to die." And at this Tom's voice did break.

Johnnie still remained quiet, not trusting himself to say the right thing. What would be the right thing to say to a story like this? Instead Johnnie put his arm around Tom's shoulders and shifted closer.

"The bottle made them laugh," Tom said, talking quietly now so that Johnnie could barely hear him; "...as they stuck it in, tellin' me how much I must love it being a..."

"Sorry. So sorry," Johnnie whispered – As he said it he knew how inadequate it was but appropriate and Tom appreciated the gesture.

"Once they pulled the bottle out my ass, I heard it smash then felt it stab my back; then beat my head until I was unconscious."

"Scars?"

"Scar tissue, it fades," replied Tom; "It all fades."

It was true, the few scars that were left even Tom had to look carefully for now.

"Why did you tell me all this? Or, why now?" Johnnie asked.

Tom turned his head to face Johnnie for the first time, their faces were intimately close but although Tom had a major crush on Johnnie and indeed Johnnie was rather fond of Tom, there was no sexual tension.

"You asked," Tom dead panned and Johnnie smiled. Tom reluctantly added; "I was in a coma for a week; in hospital for... longer. And it all happened two years ago."

The silence that filled the room was not the calm hush that had been there when Johnnie entered – now it was prickly and cold.

"What happened to them?" Johnnie asked – hoping it was a positive answer.

"They were caught, went to trial then they went to prison." Tom replied, but gave no more detail and Johnnie knew not to ask. Tom had already been more informative in this ten minute conversation that he had been in the last year of their friendship.

"You recovered though? Are you ok?" Johnnie asked.

"No permanent brain damage but it took a long time to walk again," Tom offered. "And I was afraid all the time. That's why I left the city to start my degree from the beginning again. All things considered I'm remarkably well adjusted."

Johnnie smiled at that. He suddenly felt like he had let Tom down by underestimating how strong he was.

"Yea," agreed Johnnie. "You're remarkable and well adjusted."

"Flattery will get you..." Tom started to say, but thought better of finishing such a flirtatious overture. "...Never mind."

Johnnie squeezed Tom closer and his companion relaxed; resting his head on Johnnie's shoulder. Theirs wasn't a friendship with benefits. There was a time, and not that long ago, that Tom looked hopeless with desire at Johnnie but that was gone now. Perhaps Tom was looking at someone else?

"Y'know, that's been eating me up all week. I wish I'd told you sooner. It doesn't seem such a big deal anymore," said Tom. "I should tell the others. I feel better now it's out."

"Geez, we wait for you to open up for over a year – we'll never shut you up now, huh?" Jonnie teased. More seriously he asked: "You still wanna come tonight? People would understand if you didn't feel up to it."

"No," Tom replied. "I think the storm has passed."

As Tom said it he thought about someone who had been on his mind for weeks. A lad that asked Daniel to pass his number along; he went by his last name of Connor – the boy from the pool, as sexy in his Speedo as he was out of them. What had interested Tom more than anything was curiosity – what the hell was the guy's first name?

A short time later, the Halls were disturbed by the brood of boys returning to seek a few hours sleep. Johnnie and Tom also made their way to bed; they had shopping to do for Halloween costumes and Johnnie had heard of a great place called the Pothos Emporium.

Martin was embarrassed at work.

It was a feeling he should be used to by now. It had all started with an extra shift on Friday after he'd finished up school early – bless the timetable for the free periods he enjoyed each Friday afternoon. Martin soon discovered Graham had a great idea to promote the shop's Halloween costume range. To that end Martin was now wearing a `wilderness man' outfit.

This outfit consisted of faux-fur underwear a little bigger than his usual briefs and that is all.

It fit snugly around his genitals, keeping them slightly warmer than he was comfortable with, and they hugged his bum too. The blonde hair on his legs and thighs were almost invisible against his creamy skin.

Martin had to admit however, his attire had been well received and sales of all their Halloween costumes had been very respectable – though there was still plenty of wilderness man pants.

It was now Saturday morning and he was back in the Pothos Emporium and back wearing his Halloween costume. Well, not HIS costume – E.J. had invited him to a party at the Symposium Athletic Club and he intended to go but not wearing furry pants.

He was tired this morning; last night, after returning from work, his mother had started a conversation with "I think we should talk about something." For a brief moment he thought she was going to have the sex talk which would have been awful.

"You've been very patient and understanding," she had said, "letting your dad and I wait until we thought you were ready... to talk about your birth mother."

He was taken aback at first, surprised most of all that she had initiated the conversation.

"She came to the house the first week you started secondary school," she said carefully.

"You didn't let her see me?" he asked, not sure how he would feel is she said yes.

"It's not that simple," she replied; "But I don't want us to talk about that just now."

"Are you still not letting her see me?" he asked. Angry was the emotion of choice apparently.

"No," she responded with a shake of the head. "Martin, she gave me a letter to give you. Several letters. She wanted you to understand why she did what she did and she didn't know how to say it. She didn't know how to tell an eleven year old why she gave him up."

"I'm not eleven anymore..." Martin started to say.

"Read the letter, love," she interrupted. "Then you'll understand."

He had read the letter several times. It had kept him awake and now he could remember only snatches from it. He remembered the substance of it but he felt like the words should be embedded in his memory. He wanted to go back and read it again.

"Excuse me," said a voice – he felt a warm hand on his smooth bare back – "I wonder if you can help me?" Martin turned to see a very attractive man in his twenties. His black hair was short and neat; piercing blue eyes caught Martin's attention. "Can you show me where to find that outfit you're wearing?"

The image of such a hot man in those furry underpants caught Martin's imagination: "Sure," he replied.

"I'm Roger by the way," the man announced as Martin led the way.

Roger stayed close to Martin's side, their arms touching. Roger had big arms and a strong chest and was tall too, which was quite something for Martin to notice considering he was close to two metres tall. Roger had a solid build all over, with meaty thighs straining inside slim-style jeans.

"I'm Martin," he replied.

A gap that should have been filled with banter appeared as Martin realised this hot man was interested in him – a bit of a quandary for Martin who was used to no-one being interested in him. Now he was dating E.J. and had several men in the Pothos Emporium flirting and teasing him.

"I've seen you around here," Roger said. "It's hard not to notice you... very hard," dropping his voice at the last two words.

Martin spluttered a little and covered it by reaching for a pair of the wilderness man pants and handing the over.

"There you go, it there anything else I can help you with?" Martin asked.

Roger smiled, "there sure is. I'd like to try these on. Maybe you could help me? Advise me how they look?"

"I don't really know anything about that," Martin said, unsure how else to reply.

"I reckon you do. You have eyes, right?" Roger asked, good naturedly. "Tell me if I look good in them. Besides, I saw your tailoring session, I'm sure you've learned a lot about how clothes fit."

The last comment was said in jest, but was cutting and Martin felt it, never the less he showed the way to the fitting room for Roger to try them on.

It wasn't even ten in the morning yet, so the shop was still quiet and no-one noticed Martin and Roger slip out of the main shop and head into the fitting room. Roger pulled the curtain closed and Martin waited patiently for him to change. Martin felt a little awkward – standing bare chested and barefoot, knowing an attractive man was undressing behind the thick curtain just a metre away. The wilderness man outfit came with a pair of furry slip-on's that covered shoes or trainers but Graham had insisted Martin get into the spirit of things and go barefoot.

"A wilderness man wouldn't were Nike trainers would he? No, he would go boldly across the under-floor heated ground and restock the accessories stand." Graham Cauldwell had laughed at his own joke and Martin politely joined in.

The curtain opened and Martin came face to face with Roger in his own wilderness man pants.

The man was stunning – tall, dark haired with black hair across his chest narrowing as it descended to his navel. Down the inside of his thighs was dense muscle, the skin there was also fuzzy with black hair, as was the rest of his legs.

Martin could not help but notice the waistline sagging a little, revealing an explosion of bushy pubes.

"I think they're a little loose," Roger said, putting his hands on his hips.

Martin couldn't find any words to say.

"Come here a minute would you?" Roger asked.

Martin mutely approached.

"Going by the speechlessness, I'm guessing they look ok?" Roger asked.

"Yea, they-they look great," Martin sputtered. "But you're right, the waist is a bit..."

Martin glanced at the packet; in his efforts to deal with him quickly, he hadn't looked at the size he had chosen: large. Now, Roger was a big tall man, but he was no large. Roger put his hands on Martin's naked shoulders and steered him into the fitting cubicle with him, then pulled the curtain closed.

"I think maybe the waist is a bit big," Roger finished for Martin.

"A little, yea."

"What size have you got on?"

"Medium. I can go get you a medium to try on, I'll be right..."

"No need."

With that Roger pushed the wilderness man pants down his ankles, his feet were clad in trainers with the furry covers over them, and stepped out of them. Martin could barely take in the sight of the thick cock dangling between Roger's legs and Roger could barely believe he wasn't hard as he checked out Martin's smooth, slim physique.

"I can try on yours," Roger said.

Now that Roger was already naked, Martin felt unable to extricate himself from the curtained cubicle.

"C'mon, take them off and I'll see if medium is more my size," Roger said in a reasonable tone of voice.

Martin suppressed a sigh as he pushed the wilderness man underpants down and his own cock came into view. It was not as thick as Roger's but it dangled longer. Martin slipped his bare feet out the pants; the two men were now naked and just inches from one another. Roger was struck by how smooth and silky and young Martin was.

"Can you hand yours to me, please?" Roger asked.

As Martin bent down to pick them up Roger inched forward, his thick cock swinging into Martin's face. Martin could smell it – clean but musky, smelling of sex rather than sweat. Martin straightened up and handed them over. Roger thanked him and lifted his feet one by one to try them on.

"Oh yea, these fit great," Roger said.

Martin mumbled agreement.

"Absolutely great," Roger repeated. "I'd like to buy this very pair."

With that Roger closed the gap and wrapped his arms around Martin, squeezing the boy's bum cheeks with his big hands and then kissing him. The kiss was surprisingly gentle and supple.

"I'd like to get changed again, if you don't mind?" Roger said.

Martin felt their chests part and the distance between them swim open again.

"Eh... well, yes. That would be... fine," Martin replied.

"You can wear these," Roger suggested as he handed over the size that had been too big for him.

Martin balked at the idea because Roger was more muscled and bigger than Martin but Martin's own muscled abdomen was narrower than Roger's so he knew what would happen if he put on the larger pair instead of the medium. But there was no room for debate, Roger wanted the cubicle back to get dressed in private.

"I'm sure you understand. I don't want to take up any more of your time anyway," Roger graciously offered.

Martin pulled on the bigger wilderness man pants and Roger opened the curtain, shooing him out. The curtain snapped shut and Martin looked down, the waist of the wilderness man pants sagged around Martin's hips, his pubes rushed out the top and his arse peeked out at the back. Martin intended to go change into another medium pair but Graham caught him and listened to Martin's edited explanation.

"No, I don't think so," Graham said to Martin's request for a smaller size. "I'm trying to sell these things Martin. To customers, not staff. Customers who are relying on us to service their Halloween indulgence. You look fine anyway," Graham added.

It brooked no complaint – Martin was stuck with pants that had a saggy bottom and threatened to expose the root of his cock. He just hoped they didn't fall off.

The whole gang planned to meet up after breakfast. But first, Johnnie had persuaded Calvin to go for a run to burn off Cal's hangover; meanwhile Tom sequestered himself with Daniel and Victor, telling his sad story again to lift the weight from his shoulders. By late morning, Cal also knew Tom a bit better.

of the gang were bereft of whimsical attire for the Halloween party at the Symposium Athletics Club that night so they agreed to a walk from the Halls and on into town to get their costumes though they feared that there would be few costumes left. Most

"Have you settled on a costume yet?" Calvin asked Johnnie as they started walking.

Johnnie looked thoughtfully before replying: "I'm not wearing the gimp mask no matter how many times you ask."

Cal choked on his laughter waited until the coughing fit subsided.

"Maybe next year?" he eventually replied.

Johnnie shook his head.

"I hated Halloween when I was wee," Tom said, all too aware the group now knew why hated Halloween as an adult.

"I think Halloween is a killer holiday," Victor replied.

"I kinda agree with Tom on this one," Said Calvin. "I spent last Halloween smearing myself with creams and lotions." Cal received several queer looks so, by way of explanation, he added: "Poison Ivy."

"That's what he tells all the boys," said Johnnie, "I got tested just in case."

Tom and Victor laughed and even Calvin smiled reluctantly even if the joke was at his expense.

"I had a really bad costume one year. My friends never let me forget it," Tom shared.

"Really? How bad could it be?" Calvin asked with genuine curiosity.

"Undercover policeman." Tom said.

The others burst out laughing and Tom grinned – it was actually a true story.

"Don't blame me, I was only little," Tom said.

"You're still little," Victor the friendly giant said affectionately.

"I dressed up as a womble when I was a kid," Johnnie said, sharing his own sad costume history.

"Aww. That's so cute. Do you still have the costume?" Calvin asked with a hint of innuendo.

"You wanna have sex with a womble?" Tom asked with genuine concern, "...weird."

Victor was keen to chip in before Cal or Johnnie could continue the womble sex story.

"I went out with the Chinese guy who dressed up in a Penguin costume," He said. "Even on Halloween, once or twice," Victor added jokingly.

"You guys broke up?" Tom asked, though he knew Victor had a reputation as a man-eater so it wasn't surprising Victor had used the past tense.

"He was kind of Two-faced," Victor replied. "And a Mad hatter too, obviously."

"You think you've gone out with crazy guys?" said Johnnie, chuckling. "I dated a bloke who voted Tory."

Victor laughed: "Yea, ok, you win."

The group were soon swapping more stories, with Johnnie and Tom eventually falling into step beside each other.

"You sure you're alright?" Johnnie asked, becoming aware he had asked several times now since breakfast.

"Quite alright," Tom replied unfazed.

"You know... I had a bit of trauma in a few years back too," Johnnie said; "Nothing like your experience but something that scared the crap out of an eleven year old me."

"What happened?" Tom asked.

"I kind of had a brain aneurysm," Johnnie said. "You know how people say `you should have your head examined,' well I actually did."

"When was this?" Tom asked.

"About seven years ago," Johnnie told him; "Cal knows about it. But he knows just about everything about me."

"That's because he loves you," Tom replied and Johnnie looked aghast at the simplicity of the statement. "As a friend," Tom added after a long pause.

Tom smiled knowingly.

"I liked it when you were quiet."

"So what happened?" Tom asked.

"I was lucky I suppose. Not much damage; got an endo-vascular coil put in... good as new," Johnnie seemed happily self satisfied at saying the jargon right.

Johnnie redacted the part of the story where he spent months recovering. Johnnie wouldn't say he was lucky that it happened just before the school summer holidays but it did let him keep up at school when it started and he didn't have to repeat a year. The fear of being held back meant it was the hardest Johnnie ever invested himself at school. In truth, since the first few years of secondary school have no exams, the effort was for himself more than a demand of the school. By comparison his efforts in the first years at James VI University have been lackadaisical and the truth was Johnnie was running out of steam for university – he wasn't sure he wanted to continue.

"Must have been a shock for your family... and your friends," Tom said.

"Cal was there for me," Johnnie admitted. Johnnie noticed Daniel slowing up to join them; "...he always has been," Johnnie added before the conversation changed.

They arrived at the shopping centre and took the escalator to the very top, avoiding all temptations for further delay. For example, Calvin had suggested stopping at Millie's Cookies to which Johnnie replied: "The cheque is bloody enormous, c'mon chubs we've got places to go." As a result, Cal vetoed Johnnie's desire to stop for coffee: "Yo, caffeine addict, get your arse on the stairs before all the fuckin' costumes are gone."

They reached the fifth floor; with Victor, Daniel and Tom whispering in conversation about Cal and Johnnie's bitchy banter. Calvin and Johnnie themselves were chatting amiably and laughing at the most absurd suggestions for costumes that they could come up with. By the time Calvin and Johnnie followed Daniel, Victor and Tom into the shop, their three companions were already lost in the crowd.

"This place is mental!" Cal said, raising his voice above the din.

"Fuck, look at him!" replied Johnnie.

Calvin started to make a noise that sounded like "hmmm?" when he also spotted what Johnnie had seen.

"Fuck, look at him!"

"That's what I said."

Martin was across the shop floor still wearing only his wilderness man pants and the unsupportive waist still threatening disaster. The heat in the room was great with so many people in it so a gentle sheen of sweat covered his back and chest.

Johnnie and Cal were not the only ones to notice Martin – everyone noticed him.

"Do you think I'm a puppy?" Tom asked, sneaking up behind them.

"Why do you ask?" asked Johnnie.

Tom held up a puppy costume which caused Cal to laugh and Tom to put as he dropped it.

"Sorry," Cal assured him; "It's very cute."

"Why don't you go as a pussy instead?" Johnnie suggested mildly.

"Why don't you get fucked," Tom suggested equally mildly.

The three laughed as the moved on to continue searching.

"I found a Captain America outfit that should fit," Daniel said when he caught up with Johnnie, Cal and Tom.

"I've been put off being a puppy," Tom said, feigning looking crestfallen; "can you believe that, Daniel?"

"Nope," replied Daniel. "But I got you covered. You wanna be a policeman? A sexy policeman."

Tom caught the amendment; "What's the difference between a normal police uniform and a sexy one?"

"You're wearing it," Daniel answered smoothly.

Tom blushed from the compliment and took the uniform; the last small police uniform in the shop.

"Has Victor found anything yet?" Cal wondered out loud.

"He got something ages ago. He' a pirate," Tom chuckled.

"Like Jack Sparrow?"

"Captain, Captain Jack Sparrow." Connor corrected.

Johnnie and Cal were browsing a large table stacked with miscellaneous costumes.

"Actually he said, and I quote... more like Black Jack, also I look smokin' hot..." Tom responded, doing only a passable impression of Victor.

"Johnnie!" Cal shouted, startling the group and drawing looks from other shoppers. "You have to wear this!"

Calvin produced a Peter Pan outfit. It was a one-piece that resembled a wrestling singlet – tight around the crotch and descending to mid-thigh; the top ascended from the waist in a band from the left hip to the right shoulder, leaving the left shoulder and nipple exposed. It was green and adorned with fake leaves to complete the ensemble.

"I don't have to," Johnnie replied. "But I will."

"Watch this, there's a catch," Tom stage whispered to Daniel.

"If..." Johnnie began to add.

"I knew he was gonna say that. Did anyone else know he was gonna say that?" Tom asked.

"Stop taking the piss," Johnnie admonished.

"Yes boss."

"If..." Johnnie started again – pointing at Martin in his wilderness man costume, "You wear those furry pants."

Tom and Daniel grinned in stunned silence.

Calvin thought for a long time before answering, "Those specific furry pants?"

"If you like," Johnnie laughed. "Maybe you should go ask if they have any new ones in stock before you start stealing the nice man's clothes though."

"Gotcha," Cal agreed and stalked up to Martin.

Johnnie shook his head in dismay at Calvin's hyperbolic swagger.

"Hi, excuse me?" Cal said, now standing at Martin's side.

Cal was close enough to smell the lad and was tempted to lick the bead of sweat off his collar bone, but he resisted; licking people you don't know is crazy apparently.

"Can I help you?" Martin replied.

"Hi, eh," Cal looked down for longer than was necessary at the name badge Martin had pinned to his outfit – he had nowhere else to pin it after all. "Martin. That's a nice name. You work here?"

"Yes, sir, can I help you find anything?" Martin answered.

Martin noticed that the guy in front of him was a few years older. He was not as tall as Martin and his hair, though fair, was tinted towards brown. He was a good looking lad who's gaze seemed to undress Martin, which, let's face it, wouldn't take long.

"Yea, that awesome outfit you're almost wearing..." Calvin started to ask.

Martin looked down to see the dark explosion of his pubes was again sprouting from his outfit. He hitched the waist up again and blushed.

"I'm not complaining, it looks great; d'you have any more?"

"Yes, sure let me show you," Martin replied and walked to the next table, brushing boys who were trawling through the pile of costumes. There were so many costumes on offer, Martin wondered how the Pothos Emporium had ever had space to stock anything else and he was hopeful he wouldn't be working when it all had to be packed away and the tables and rails restocked with their regular items.

Calvin took the chance to check out Martin's long slim legs. His skin was the colour of clotted cream fudge – golden-pale and smooth. Yet Calvin could see youth beneath the skin that betrayed Martin's appearance. To look at, Martin was a comparable age to Calvin and his brood but he wasn't and Cal wondered how much younger the sexy boy was. He didn't ask though, it might put him off adding Martin to his wank bank.

"Looks like we only have small and extra large left. I'd recommend the small; with your waist size it should be a neat but comfortable fit." Martin said, sounding like he knew what he was talking about.

"What do you think my waist size is?" Cal asked out of curiosity.

"At a guess, thirty inches."

"Spot on."

"Thanks," Martin replied. Then he added, "Oh fuck!"

Calvin's eyebrows shot up as he watched a look of fear materialise on Martin's face followed by a hasty exit. Calvin turned to search for the cause of Martin's hasty exit but all he could see was boys, men and lads as far as the eye could see. Then he spotted a group of boys he recognised and smiled as he met Johnnie and the others as they made to rendezvous with the other group.

"Fuck, fuckety, fuck-it," Martin said to himself desperately, stopping only once he reached the relative safety of the fitting rooms.

He peeked round the corner and saw Connor, Sean, Matthew and Kazuo chatting to the lad who'd wanted the wilderness man costume. His own class mates were here. Boys from his school – what if they saw him? Saw him like this, in glorified underpants – almost naked; bare legs and bare feet, bare chest... he would die of embarrassment. And it occurred to Martin then that he ought to be embarrassed already to have been seen by any shopper like this.

He could hear the laughter from here, all the way across the store and above the clamour of dozens of people. His class mates were amused by the wilderness man costume and the costumes proffered by the customers friends.

"Is there something wrong?" Graham asked, causing Martin to jump.

Martin felt like he had been sneaked up on, "Err..."

He didn't know how to find the right words.

"You look unwell, are you ok?" Graham asked; there was genuine concern in his voice.

Graham could not afford to have Martin be unwell, he was a valuable commodity – something that set his store apart from others. Quite apart from the 25% increase in sales Graham had enjoyed since Martin started working in the Pothos Emporium, he genuinely cared about Martin. He was a good lad.

"I just saw... look, those boys over there," Martin said, pointing across the shop.

Martin was aware of his whole body, the way the right side of his abdomen and torso stretched as his arm raised and the way his arm pit was exposed and the way his nipples grew taught under the cool air conditioned breeze.

"What about them, fancy them do you?" Graham ventured; he certainly saw the attraction and could imagine Martin with any one or all of them.

"They're my class mates and.." Martin was close to tears at the thought, "Please don't let them see me."

Graham turned to look at Martin's pleading face and took pity.

"Of course," he replied; "Go take a break, they should be gone in a half hour or so, don't you think? Take a break and don't worry. They won't see you."

Martin hurried to the staff only door and pushed through unnoticed by his peers.

"For now," Graham said to himself, feeling rather Machiavellian for talking to himself; "They won't see you this time..."

"You're all going as characters from the Wizard of Oz?" asked Johnnie.

"Yup," said Connor. He cast a look at Tom for the fifth time in as many minutes, unable to help himself.

Tom had noticed too – he was a student of psychology, the so called `science of behaviour' and Connor was showing so many non-verbal cues of sexual attraction that one would have to be blind not to see it.

Indeed, everyone had noticed. Calvin wondered how he had not seen it the first time they all met at the pool in the Symposium. He supposed that since he, and shortly thereafter Connor, had been stark naked in public view, there had been less opportunity to notice. Daniel and Johnnie certainly noticed, each remembering the conversation they had had about it: Connor had asked for Tom's number. Now, Johnnie wondered if the message had ever been communicated.

"Who's going as who?" Tom asked, knowing his voice sounded a tad brittle as it was directed to the teens but especially to Connor, who would inevitably answer.

"I'm Scarecrow and Kaz is Tin-man," Connor replied, deliberately broaching his gaze to the whole group.

"I'm Cowardly lion and Sean is Toto," added Matt, one of the twins.

Johnnie, Calvin, Daniel and Tom laughed at that.

"You twins are going as the animals? What, neither of you wanted to be Dorothy?" asked Calvin.

"Exactly," replied Sean; "More power to you if dressing as a girl is your thing. But it's not our thing."

"I think you'd look cute in a dress," Johnnie said automatically – as a flirt machine he couldn't help it.

Victor finally materialised behind his friends; "Who'd look cute in a dress?" he asked in his deep tones.

"One of the twins," Daniel offered unhelpfully.

"Yea, the cute one," Calvin said.

"They're identical," Victor said – Mr states-the-obvious.

"Golly, we hadn't noticed," Tom said, aiming for sarcasm but realising his error.

"Golly?" asked Connor, beating everyone to the question, his mouth twitched with amusement.

"Does he often to say golly?" asked Kazuo, the Asian boy with a Scottish accent.

"No, no I don't," Tom blushed.

"He's been under a lot of stress," Johnnie said supportively, putting an arm around Tom and giving him a charitable hug.

"So you're all coming to the Halloween party tonight?" Daniel asked to change the subject; "At the Symposium, I mean?"

"Oh yea, wouldn't miss it. I'm guessing we'll see all of you there too?" Connor replied.

"We'll keep our eyes open for you," Daniel gave by way of implicit answer.

"Saves us walking into things anyway," Tom muttered.

Connor smiled at the sotto-voice humour.

Victor was new to the dynamic between the two groups. He'd heard all about it a few days after the swimming pool fiasco – the word he had used was jail-bait but he hadn't meant it. They were young and sexy boys – boys, yes and young, yes – but of legal age. Victor had had enough sexual partners to recognise others who'd had plenty of practice. These boys were not doe-eyed corruptible youths – they were most likely the corruptors.

"So have you guys heard about the new boy?" Victor asked the assembled group.

They were taking up space in the shop and people tutted, huffed and pushed past but they remained discourteous unmoved.

"What new boy?" asked Matt or Sean.

"New young man working here called Martin," Victor said.

The name did not leap out at Connor and his companions – Martin was not an uncommon name and they would have had no reason to think it was their class mate. They would discover it in due course of course.

Victor continued to share what he had learned; "Apparently he's been showing off around the shop. He wears skimpy clothes and..."

"Oh that new boy," Johnnie said, nudging Calvin who had had a close encounter not long ago.

"He was wearing a pair of these when we came in," Cal waved his wilderness pants at them. "Nice lad, I had a chat to him. He seems kind of quiet. More like he's being shown off, by the management I assume, rather than showing off of his own free will." Calvin seemed satisfied with his assessment once he was through.

"Whatever the case, I want to see him," Connor said; "Where is he?"

"He ran off a wee while ago," Calvin said.

"That not what I meant by `heard about the new guy' by the way," Victor said.

"What did you mean?" asked Tom.

"I mean apparently he was totally, balls out, hard cock naked a week or so ago."

"Wow," said Tom, caught up in the image of it.

He wasn't the only one: Calvin, Johnnie and Daniel all enjoyed the mental image of the barely dressed lad they'd just seen – imagined him naked and...

"Sorry we missed him," Connor said and then to his peers; "We need to come back here some time."

Shortly thereafter, the two groups separated; Cal and Johnnie et al to make their purchases and Connor and his brood to invest in the coffee shop opposite the Pothos Emporium.

Connor, Matt, Sean and Kazuo were almost at the door when they were stopped by Graham. Graham wanted these boys attention; as peers of Martin there was something exciting about the idea he had forming in his head. He wouldn't spoil the surprise for them though, just tease them enough to evoke their interest.

"Excuse me, lads," Graham said. "I'd like to talk to you about a demonstration we'll be conducting in the store in a few weeks. Perhaps you would be interested in watching..."

Martin had got home, showered and shaved; he wasn't ready to get dressed up yet so he pulled on a pair of briefs and wrapped himself up in his dressing gown. His mum had insisted he eat before heading out and it was still early so he sat while she served up a baked potato with a selection of fillings and pasta salad; none of which were things he usually ate but variety is the spice of life.

"Carbs and fatty food provide a buffer to absorbing alcohol," his dad said, nodding knowingly.

"I dunno what you mean," Martin said carefully, unsure if they would approve of him drinking.

"Son, if you don't get half-cut, you've probably not done it right... but don't tell your mother."

"Thanks, dad," Martin replied.

"Starchy food will absorb all that `fruit juice' you plan to drink tonight," his mum said sarcastically.

"Thanks mum," Martin replied – equally sarcastically.

"Did you read the letter?" she asked him.

It came out in a rush, like she had been saving it up and couldn't hold it in anymore. Martin just nodded.

"Are you ok?" she asked nervously, "You understand why I'd ask, don't you?"

Martin nodded, caught his dad's eye and realised he'd need to give a little more.

"I read it. I'm fine. I just need to think about it for a bit."

"We're here to talk any time you need to," his mum rushed in.

"I don't want to talk an hour before I go out to a party," he said gently.

"Of course you don't. Why don't you go get changed and let us see what you're dressing up as?" His dad said, giving Martin an out that he was immensely grateful for.

"Ok. Dinner was great, thanks," he said as he left the table and took the stairs up to his room.

Martin sat on his bed and rubbed his knees and thought about the letter from his birth mother. `Birth mother,' it sounded like such a strange phrase and foreign idea in his mind. He picked up the letter again, he had enough time to read it once more before getting dressed.

Hello, Martin.

I asked your mum, your real mum (because she's more real than I'll ever be),

what she called you. I was going to name you James after your dad (sort of) or

Andrew (also after your dad, sort of). I'll tell you more about him another time.

I suppose I wanted to write this in case I never get the chance to meet you.

I have accepted I might not and probably don't deserve to either.

I'm writing this for me as much as for you, which is selfish but the truth and

you deserve to know it. Talking about this face to face would be impossible

right now – you're only eleven and... there are so many things.

If we were talking you could ask all the questions you have – but I can guess.

I know what I would ask. Why did you give me up? You might not believe me

but I loved you – that had nothing to do with why I chose not to keep you.

I loved you but I just wasn't ready for you. I had just turned 16 when you came

Along. I was 15 when... you know.

Why didn't I come sooner, why am I not talking to you face to face? Well, your

eleven years old as I write this. I didn't think it would be fair to burden you with

the truth, even after I spoke to your mother and found out you already

know you're adopted.

But all that's not all I was afraid of sharing. I was afraid if the first time we met

was face to face you would ask what was wrong with me...

Martin, I am very sick. In less than a year, I am going to die.

I don't know if I could face you. I don't know if I could do that to you. I hope,

for your sake, you never know what it is to feel shame. I'm ashamed I got pregnant

so young and ashamed I gave you up – for not being ready. I have a husband now

and two young children, your half brothers I suppose.

Your mum let me have a photo of you (I'll send her one of me soon).

You look just like your father.

I'll write again soon.

I love you.

Laura (Mum, sort of.) x

P.S. I do like your name, Martin. X

So much yet so little said. Martin's head had spun with questions he didn't know he had; and the answers to the questions he did have were...

Martin sighed, as unsure how to feel about it all as he had last night when he first read the letter.

"Martin?" his dad's voice came from the doorway; "Are you ok?"

Martin looked up and felt a tear on his cheek, which he wiped away though he knew his dad had already seen it. His had crossed the room and glanced at the letter but no more than that. Martin guessed he had read it so knew everything that was in it.

His had put a hand on Martin's knee and squeezed gently, affectionately; "Get ready, Martin."

"Ok," Martin replied.

His dad up and left and Martin took of his dressing gown. He caught the image of his tall, almost naked frame in the full length mirror. It was only since he started at the Pothos Emporium that Martin could see himself as sexually attractive. He had never thought about it before. Now, as he looked in the mirror; he saw a tall, blonde, long-legged, sculpted-chested... Martin felt his cock engorge inside his briefs. He hadn't had a wank for a few days because of school and work and his mood had been compromised by the letter.

He thought about E.J. as he gave is dick a pull through his briefs. He wished he had been more cognisant when E.J. had stroked him off during their date and wished moreover that they had had an opportunity for more to happen in the time since then.

Martin reached into the cupboard and took down the costume he had ordered online. It wasn't the best costume in the world but he was a big tennis fan so it had seemed appropriate. He pulled on the white polo shirt that fit nicely; the buttons undone at the neck began to reveal his strong, smooth chest. The shorts were another matter.

He should really have tried them on sooner because they were a little short. They ought to have sat just above the knee but obviously were not made for someone as long Martin was. They were about fifteen centimetres too short, thus exposing half his thigh.

They felt good though so he pulled on white socks and trainers and headed downstairs.

"Well, don't you look precious," his mum said though he sensed she had initially thought something else when she saw the length of the shorts. "Tony," she shouted.

Her husband came out of the kitchen, drying one of the dinner plates that was still warm from the dish washer.

"Oh," he said as he considered what else to say; "Those shorts make you look kinda..."

Miriam McGuigan thumped him before he said anything. He was about to say "gay," Martin knew. Which would have been fine; they had never talked about it but his parents knew.

"...Handsome. They make you look kinda handsome," his dad covered.

"I am handsome," Martin replied, emphasising the last word and using it a euphemistically as his dad had; "Really, really handsome."

"We know, honey," his mum said and kissed his cheek; "You want me to run you over to your party?" She must have sensed his hesitation because she added; "I'll drop you down the road from it so you don't need t be seen with your old mum."

"Thanks."

Calvin, Johnnie, Tom and Daniel were nearly ready to go, the needed only to finalise certain arrangements. Tom and Daniel were fine, their outfits were more conventional and had pockets in which they could carry wallets with their money; Calvin and Johnnie on the other hand were wearing tight and slight wilderness man and Peter Pan outfits, which had no obvious places for storing funds. They agreed Tom and Daniel would each carry one of Cal and Johnnie's wallets and crossed their fingers they could set up a tab at the bar.

The taxi ride over was bereft of the usual cabbie banter – probably because Calvin was only wearing pants and Johnnie was in a skin tight outfit that showed more skin than it covered. They arrived at the Symposium at a quarter to nine and the music could be heard from the car park.

The Stirling Symposium Athletic Club comprised indoor and outdoor facilities and a function room, rooms actually, for big events. Weddings, funerals, engagements, birthdays, Halloween parties – the space provided was plenty big enough and set aside from the main gym facilities. A good thing too, the last thing their management needed was a drunkard stumbling into the pool and drowning.

Tom paid the taxi driver who muttered under his breath about his fare's costumes. At least it wasn't a rant about them being a party of raging gay boys, so that was something.

Inside, Daniel and Tom went to get the first round of drinks – beer for Cal and Johnnie, vodka and diet coke for themselves.

"And can we have two Jack Daniels and diet cokes while we wait please?" Tom added.

Tom had expected to have to show ID, looking so petite, young and cute – even in the police uniform he was wearing for tonight, but no-one did. Tom hoped if Connor and his entourage turned up they would be treated with equal assumption of being old enough.

"Can we set up a tab for Peter Pan and the caveman over there?" Daniel asked.

The barman looked over and hitched his eyebrows; "Aye, sure. You can put money behind the bar for them – they can pay out of that every time they come up if you like?"

Tom and Daniel took thirty pounds from the relevant wallets and handed it over to the bar man as he served their drinks. Tom and Daniel swallowed their Jack Daniels while the beer was pulled.

"So that nice boy Connor was eyeing you up earlier," Daniel said.

"Maybe he had something in his eye," Tom replied.

"Maybe he had something on his mind, like you and him and twenty units of alcohol?"

"Twenty units," Tom repeated; "...Is that a lot?"

"Depends on if I mean each or between you."

"Shut up."

The drinks were served and Tom and Daniel rejoined their companions.

E.J. was watching the arrivals and doing his best to welcome as many as he could. He was only expected to play host in this capacity for another fifteen minutes; come nine o'clock he was free to start drinking himself when his own boss, Mr Slade, took over.

Martin had arrived half an hour ago, looking so sweet in his tennis costume.

"Any particular tennis player?" E.J. had asked.

"Andy Murray. I am so happy to be here," Martin replied in a monotone drone – a passable impression of the miserable Scottish sportsman.

"Are you any particular emperor?" Martin asked once E.J. stopped laughing.

"Marcus Aurelius, the last of the good five," E.J. replied.

E.J. was dressed in a toga-like affair, with only a pair of boxers underneath. His bare feet were nestled inside a pair of sandals but remained visible and his long, thin legs were slightly bronzed, as was his whole body, as if to imitate the Roman complexion.

"Waste no more time arguing what a good man should be, be one."

"I think you're a good man," Martin said earnestly.

"Oh yea?"

"Well, you're alright," he clarified humorously.

E.J. had felt bad leaving Martin to go into the party alone, but he was sure the man could mingle for a while by himself. E.J. was now watching a troupe of Wizard of Oz characters approach and soon recognised the leader of the pack as Connor, a boy from the Earl of Lennox Boys School. One of the security they had posted at the doors was about to question them when E.J. took pity and threw caution to the wind – he had seen Cal and Johnnie chatting to them a few weeks ago and remembered what it was like trying to get into parties at seventeen.

"It's fine Mike, just let them in," he called over.

"Are you sure, sir?" Mike the bouncer asked.

"Sure I'm sure," E.J. replied; "How about a little fire, scarecrow?"

"If I only had a brain," Connor replied; "I'd be at home reading a book instead of here."

E.J. nodded knowingly. He could smell the vodka on his breath and by association Kazuo, Matthew and Sean must also be merry already too. They were a handsome bunch. The twins were cute as buttons in similar costumes that resembled a lion (golden fur and big ears and padded paws) and a little dog (short dark fur and ears flapping over the side of a hood that covered his head). Toto's furry legs were Sean's own – the short trousers cut off below the knee. Kazuo's Asian skin tone was hidden beneath silver paint and his calves were also on show owing to the silver shorts that stopped at the knees. Connor's scarecrow was even more revealing; holes and tears all over the trousers and shirt had been made – some straw poked through but also bare alabaster skin and one of this areola's was a little brown button on the right of his chest.

"Thanks for letting us in," Kazuo said; "We'd have hated to need to sneak in."

"Yea, we'll buy you a drink later if you like," Matt said – unlike if Connor had said it there was no sexual implication behind it.

"You can buy me a drink right now," Connor said, adding a cheeky wink.

Martin had felt a little awkward entering the party without company but loosened up after a couple of drinks. The bar seemed content to serve anyone who had been permitted access, as long as they could pay of course. It helped that Martin looked older than his seventeen years.

He and E.J. had kissed when he arrived, it was nice and Martin had felt a pang of guilt about his lie – claiming to be twenty-one – and it was getting harder to self-justify not coming clean about it.

"You're overdressed, I hardly recognised you."

Martin's reverie was interrupted by Calvin. Martin took several moments to place him, looking him up and down; from his handsome face to his naked chest and those goddamn wilderness man pants and down his lovely legs. They had met at the Pothos Emporium that afternoon.

"Calvin," he said in response to Martin's nonsense sounds; "Don't think I introduced myself when we met earlier."

"Eh, no, I guess not. I'm Martin."

"Very nice to meet you. You've changed your outfit?"

"Yea, well it's a good thing. It would have been embarrassing if we both turned up wearing the same thing," Martin jested.

Cal smiled approvingly, "Are you with company? You can join us if you like."

"I'm waiting for someone," Martin said a little too quickly. He wasn't used to being hit on by attractive men and that's what it felt like was happening. "E.J. he's..."

"Oh I know who he is. Are you guys dating?" Calvin asked curiously.

"Sort of. I think so."

Calvin smiled knowingly at Martin's uncertainty, "Yea, been there."

Cal then took a second look at Martin and thought about what Victor had said earlier about how "the new boy" Martin had had his cock out in the shop. It wasn't that Martin's attractiveness suddenly struck him, it was his age. There was something...

"You mind if I ask how old you are?" Calvin asked.

Martin was reticent, "Twenty-one," he said convincingly.

Calvin was not fooled though, "Sorry what I meant was; how old are you, really?"

Martin smiled shyly, unable to escape the question.

"Seventeen."

"Fuck."

"Please don't tell E.J."

"You are fucking hot for seventeen," Cal said. Then he thought for a moment and added; "Do you know how old E.J. is?"

Martin wondered if this was a trick question and took too long to not answer.

Cal hesitated to say more because it really wasn't his business, yet still he added; "You two should probably have a conversation about that."

As Calvin wandered off he was tempted to go back and ask if Connor et al were his class mates but he bumped into Victor who proved to be a mountainous distraction.

"Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum," Victor announced.

"Just a bottle, Vic?" Calvin asked, "You look hammered already."

Back with the rest of the gang, they encountered Connor, Matt, Sean and Kazuo. Connor was talking about a boy he'd sucked off on the bus.

"Anyway, to cut a long story short his cum tasted like candy floss."

They all joined in laughing while Connor reiterated it hadn't been someone from his own school and he intended to conduct "research" to find out if each school in the area had specific flavours of cum or if candy floss was just an outlier.

"Maybe you could sample the university population too? I'm sure someone would like to be a subject," Johnnie said, `helpfully' nudging Tom in Connor's direction.

"Participant," Tom corrected; "Subject is an outdated term now."

Tom often sounded a little tart when annoyed, so Johnnie backed off on the setting up duties.

"I could tell you some amazing stories about when me and Johnnie were at the Earl of Lennox, maybe not right now though, who's going to buy me another drink?" Cal asked – the whole sentence and question coming out in one rushed clause.

Several hours later and Martin was feeling very tipsy. Not quite pissed, but certainly drunk – more so than when he had been at E.J.'s house but this time he had been drinking over many more hours. He and E.J. had now spent many hours drinking and talking; each skirting around certain details from their lives. Martin's head echoed with what Calvin had said: "Do you know who how old E.J. is?" but he was innately and naively trusting so the implication was lost – the alcohol didn't help to demystify the insinuation either.

The hour was nearly upon them for last orders so E.J. departed to get one last drink for them both. Martin was glad of it. It had been nearly ten PM before he noticed Connor and the other peers from his school and it almost gave him a heart attack. Not only did he not want them to see him, he did not want them to see him with E.J. in case they told him they went to school together. Martin was not ready for that.

At the bar E.J. was waiting to be served when Johnnie sidled up beside him.

"Long time, no see," Johnnie said with an unmistakable lilt in his voice, his eyes slightly skewed by too many shots – whoever invented the jager bomb should be shot.

"Hello Johnnie," E.J. replied; "Love the costume."

Johnnie looked down at his own costume as if to remind himself what he was wearing.

It had been a great night, the costumes acting as an icebreaker. Comic characters like Batman, the Joker, Riddler, even a skinny guy in a Catwoman outfit; there was an Iron Man, a Spider-Man (Spider-Boy more like), a Daredevil. There was a zombie and his partner as sheriff (ala the Walking Dead); there was a Doctor (of the medical variety and several of the timelord variety); there was also an astronaut, ghostbusters, a Star Trek red-shirt, a Star Wars stormtrooper, a Marty McFly, an army officer, an army soldier and (unsettlingly) a Santa. To name but a few of the apparels appearing tonight – most adding a sexy spin on the costume.

Johnnie, Calvin, Victor, Daniel and Tom had mingled with many other party-goers – all equally costumed. Connor, Matt and Sean and Kazou had remained a frequent addition to their group – Johnnie and Cal especially enjoyed sharing stories since they had attended the same school that the younger teens still attended.

Johnnie had never credited himself with powers of observation but he had noticed the way Tom and Connor had cuddled up together as they sat sharing anecdotes and he also noticed Connor had a wandering eye for other pretty boys and hot men who passed by. Connor seemed genuinely interested in Tom and his affections but his interest in exclusivity seemed minimal; it worried Johnnie that Tom's soft heart could feel spurned if Connor's attention waned or was divided between Tom and the passing Superman.

"Thanks. And what emperor are you?" Johnnie eventually answered.

"Marcus Aurelius," E.J. replied.

It meant nothing to Johnnie who replied; "Oh, yea. He was best pals with Nero and Julius Creaser, right?"

E.J. laughed.

"Is it like a kilt?" Johnnie asked, "No underwear underneath?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I sure would," Johnnie replied, unconsciously casting his eye towards the table where Calvin was sat with his leg touching Kazuo's. He felt a pang of jealousy – it had been his leg touching Cal's before he'd been volunteered to go get the last round.

Johnnie wasn't sure when that pang of jealousy had come from but he reflected on it; since they were kids, Johnnie and Cal had been intimate but only in recent weeks had Calvin started talking about getting a boyfriend. This was evidenced by Johnnie being let to go home with a different casual partner last night. Was he looking for a boyfriend too? Was Johnnie looking at Calvin...

When Johnnie looked back, E.J. was smiling knowingly. Johnnie returned the smile and looked towards the secluded nook where E.J. and Martin had been sitting all night.

"He seems nice," Johnnie said innocently.

Cal had not had the opportunity to tell Johnnie that E.J. was keeping company with Martin – the improbably attired boy from the Pothos Emporium. Therefore Johnnie did not know that young Martin was just seventeen.

"He is very nice," E.J. replied; "Which is why I feel so bad about..."

Johnnie waited for the rest of the sentence which was lost in an embarrassed fugue.

"About what?" Johnnie prompted.

"I told him I was younger than I am." E.J. admitted.

"Is that all? I lie about my age all the time – I'm nineteen soon but some dirty bastards like to think I'm younger. Some boys like to think I'm older. Like twenty, maybe," Johnnie said as if twenty years old were ancient. "Hey, whatever turns them on."

E.J. went quiet and sighed, then replied: "I'm old, Peter. Ever so much more than twenty."

Johnnie, dressed in his Peter Pan outfit, hitched an eyebrow in incomprehension.

"Never mind," E.J. said. "I'm thirty one in just over a month. That nice guy over there thinks I'm twenty six. Most people don't like being lied to... I'm worried it'll bite me on the ass."

"Mmm biting," Johnnie said salaciously with a chuckle that even E.J. shared.

Any further discussion was cut short by Calvin materialising at Johnnie's side. Cal kissed Johnnie's bare shoulder, exposed by the cut of the costume, and then kissed his cheek.

Calvin whispered in Johnnie's ear: "Come and sit down next to me."

Johnnie turned and kissed Cal back.

"Are you bringing drinks or what?" Calvin slurred, trying to sound serious now.

"I am," Johnnie replied.

"They're on me," E.J. said – he nodded to the bar man who replied in kind.

An array of drinks sat on the bar top; E.J. picked up his own, leaving Cal and Johnnie to decide how they would carry back around a dozen drinks back to their own space.

Tom and Connor were locked in a passionate kiss when the drinks started to arrive. At least, it seemed passionate but it was as noisy and messy as most drunken fumbles are. Connor passed his hand up Tom's leg and swept his index finger across Tom's scrotum. Tom was aware of others around him and despite the disinheriting effect of alcohol, felt himself resist the implicit proposition.

"You wanna get some fresh air?" Tom asked – when drunk his Glasgow brogue was strongest.

"Yes."

Tom and Connor got to their feet and took the path, frequented mostly by smokers, to the door leading back outside. It was cold now and Connor could feel the chill hit the skin exposed by the rips in his scarecrow costume.

They resumed kissing and Tom felt more comfortable without an audience. He had thought it would be hard to take interest in a man, or a boy, after many years of celibacy (save for the one-handed company he kept) but was easy enough with Connor.

"Your friends are worried about you," Connor said.

"Me, what d'you mean?" Tom asked.

"I mean they worry about you. All my stories tonight make me sound like an ass-whore and... You're not." Connor replied without shame. "You're friends watch me looking at other guys in there and think I'm not nice enough for you. You're a really nice guy and I seem like the kind of boy you'd want to get tested before doing anything with."

Tom laughed at the joke and Connor joined in, perhaps not meaning to be funny but succeeding.

"Yea, well, my friends think I'm precious," Tom replied. "We're just kissing. Maybe next time the mood will be right for something more than that," evidently the mood was not right tonight.

Connor was all too aware he was the one who had passed his number along to Tom's friends – virtually inviting their scrutiny into his interest in Tom.

"I'm going to hold you to that," Connor said in response to Tom's implied intimacy for next time.

"When I was seventeen, I was interested in every man with a penis," Tom added, this time causing Connor to start the mirth. "I'm only twenty, I'm still interested in most men who have a penis."

"Cool, yea," Connor said thoughtfully. "Men with penises are the best kind, huh?" Connor asked rhetorically.

"Exactly," Tom agreed. "I'd be worried if you weren't looking at other men. If we decide to go out sometime or we start to get serious, then we can have a conversation about exclusivity but until then life's too short to worry about my friends worrying about me... or thinking you're a slapper."

"Oh, yea, thanks very much," Connor responded to the defamation.

Tom smiled and kissed Connor by way of recompense and then put his hand on Connor's crotch and gently rubbed it up to semi-hardness.

"Maybe next time..." Tom said as he took back his hand.

Connor nodded and they headed back inside to finish their last drinks.

The function room had a corridor that led back into the main Symposium Club. It was secreted away from general access but E.J. led the way and used it to sneak himself and Martin into the main building and along corridors to his office.

No sooner had they stumbled in than E.J. turned and grabbed Martin around the waist and pulled him in. The kiss that followed was long and passionate if a little messy. When they stopped for air, E.J. led Martin over to the window on the long wall of his office. The window behind his desk looked out into the night that was illuminated by the yellow light of the lampposts outside. The window that the couple, holding hands, now looked out of had quite a different view: the swimming pool.

"I love this window," E.J. admitted – he wouldn't normally say that if he was sober for fear of sounding like a voyeur and pervert but he was inebriated and inhibitions were lowered.

For himself, Martin wondered if E.J. had ever unknowingly looked out at him in his tiny school trunks and perved over him. At a distance, would E.J. have noticed the almost naked school boy or recognised him once the Halloween tennis costume was on?

Martin turned and kissed E.J. to distract his thinking caused by remorse over his lie. Martin slid one hand over E.J.'s abdomen and the other over the small of E.J.'s back. This was a man Martin believed to be five years his senior and it seemed like a big number only because he had not been honest from the start.

E.J. had concerns of his own, Martin was a young man to whom he had lied about his age. He knew he should come clean before things went any further but then Martin's hand dared to go lower, though E.J. sensed nervousness as it did, and rested just above his cock which was very receptive to even the subtlest touch.

How would either of them react to the truth: nearly fourteen years separated them. But neither suspected this; Martin looking older than his years and E.J. looking younger. Tall, blonde green-eyed specimens who were again kissing with tangoing tongues.

"Did I mention how cute you look in that tennis outfit?" E.J. asked, he knew he had mentioned it already.

"Yes. Twice," Martin answered.

"Well make it three, you look adorable," E.J. smiled.

As he smiled, E.J.'s hands found the hem of Martin's top and pulled it up. The t-shirt landed on the floor and E.J. felt his cock grow to just short of full-mast at the sight of the Adonis chest before him. E.J.'s mouth found a nipple and licked it as his hands ran up Martin's sides and teased their way into his armpits.

Martin's hands found themselves on E.J.'s shoulders and into the discrete pins on either side that held the costume together. The wreath that had haloed E.J.'s head at the beginning of the night was long gone and, as Martin undid the ties that bound the toga costume, it too fell away.

The toga pooled at E.J.'s feet leaving him wearing only his sandals and a pair of boxer briefs that were not in keeping with Roman period underwear. To Martin, E.J. looked incredible – his body was as fit and tight and nimble and athletic and almost as sculpted as his own. E.J.'s underwear was filled by a nearly hard cock and Martin felt trepidation as his hands felt it and gave it an exploratory squeeze. It was the first cock other than his own that he had felt.

It was strange how similar yet how different it felt to feel a penis that was not his own. When one feels themselves up the hand and the penis send back sensory information; but feeling E.J.'s the only information his brain got was from his hand and it was magnificent. E.J. felt a momentary pang of guilt – had he hoped after the last tipsy fumble that next time (i.e. this time) they would be sober and in control of their faculties; the best laid plans of mice and men.

E.J. pushed his boxer briefs down to release his cock and Martin finally gazed at the organ of another man: eight inches long, it was not quite as big as the younger man's but nearly. The seventeen year old was realising what he had been missing; over the years at the Earl of Lennox Boys School he had been aware of boys exploring sexuality and groups like Connor and his brood made no secret of being gay and enjoying their company in the very physical sense. Martin was starting to wish he had made more effort now to see and touch cocks before now. He also hoped his inexperience would not show through – he was supposed to be twenty-one and Martin feared E.J. would know something was amiss if he was crap.

Martin's hand wrapped around the bare flesh of E.J.s dick and slid slowly up and down the shaft. It felt amazing. The whole feel of E.J.'s cock was indescribable – big, thick, meaty, the `bump' as Martin's hand slid over the head of E.J.'s penis; amazing.

"Fuck, Martin," E.J. said – not meaning tit as a suggested plan, rather an expression of pleasure.

Martin was bolstered by this, encouraged to go farther.

How hard could a blow job be?

Martin didn't get the chance to drop to his knees. First E.J. had his hands on Martin's shorts, pushing at the elasticised waistband until it slipped off of Martin's hips and fell to the floor and pooling around his ankles. E.J. pulled Martin close, colliding their bodies in pleasurable frottage. Martin reached down to release his own cock from its trapping; their bare bodies mashing together. Smooth skin on smooth skin, bare and hot – their penis's rubbing dangerously as they were pressed closely together. The kissing continued too – deep and wet.

Eventually Martin tore himself from the activity that threatened to explode his balls. A little cumbersomely, as his shorts and underwear were still around his ankles, Martin dropped to his knees and looked E.J.'s cock in the eye.

Martin wasn't sure what he was doing but he'd seen porn, looked at pictures, watched gifs, read stories. He kissed it first then slopped his tongue with saliva and licked the head. E.J.'s reaction was profound, his hands touching Martin's head lovingly but resisting pushing Martin's face onto his cock. Martin's mouth opened wide as his tongue slipped under E.J.'s dick and along the length of the underside of the shaft. He could feel the weight of E.J.'s dick on his tongue.

Martin moved back, swirling his tongue around and around the pulsing head of E.J's penis. Martin's lips next slipped over the glans, tasting the sticky stuff leaking out of it. His mouth moved back and forth – hooving as it did so.

E.J. nearly collapsed at this: the suction on his cock caused him to cry out with delight. Martin took this noise encouragingly and only once or twice did he feel his teeth touch E.J.'s cock as he sucked, licked and kissed it.

E.J. looked down at Martin – topless with his shorts and underwear around his ankles and lips around his achingly hard member. Martin looked magnificent; a health sallow complexion of flawless skin and the patch of hair above his own hard cock.

"You should... you should give yourself a tug," E.J. breathed out heavily.

Martin agreed, his previously idle hands gripping his big cock and stroking it with fervour.

"Also... I'm really really close," E.J. managed, biting his lip as he said it.

Martin was really really close too; he had only been stroking himself for a minute but he had gotten hard just putting E.J. cock in his mouth.

"Martin if you don't want me to cum in your mouth, now it the time to stop."

Martin didn't want to stop.

E.J.'s hands held Martin's head as he approached climax and Martin took great satisfaction in the relinquishing control to someone else – giving E.J. the power to hold him in place.

Martin's grip on his own cock increased and he felt his orgasm build and shoot up his body in a series of gravity-defying launches that reached his chin, chest and belly. Moments later E.J.'s orgasm came too – his cum came in a viscous spurt followed by a series of thinner fast-moving ropes that hit the back of Martin's throat.

Martin could not help but boak and gag, it was his first time sucking cock and his first time swallowing. Some dribbled out his mouth, joining Martin's own cum that dripped down his chest. E.J. was still recovering, breathing heavily and squeezing his long penis as Martin scrambled back. Martin stood on wobbly legs and pulled up his shorts and underwear. E.J.'s eyes opened as Martin pulled on his t-shirt, ignoring the blobs of cum that the top now stuck to.

"What?" E.J. asked, looking around for his own clothes; "What's up?.

"Eh... eh..." Martin said, finding no words.

Martin's brain was filled with shock and guilt – shock at what he had done and enjoyed; and guilt at...

"Martin, what's wrong?" E.J. asked, "You're acting like it's the first time you've ever done that."

Martin feet like every bit the scared teen he really was and E.J.'s innocent comment landed a heavy blow. Martin didn't understand why, not really; E.J. didn't understand what had gone wrong either.

Martin felt bundled up in guilt: for not telling E.J. that he is really seventeen and for being a sad teenage virgin and for wanting to run away.

"I have to go," Martin said.

And then he ran away.

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