tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42044570246100882972024-03-27T10:37:56.884+00:00mogg storiesmogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.comBlogger130125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-36784207020131624402024-02-06T17:39:00.000+00:002024-02-06T17:39:09.509+00:00Fun & Games at the Chateau - Part Two<div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-f8064f24-7fff-5574-b8b9-b324880c1e7e"><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">After Laurent described to me the events he had witnessed at the château </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">[<a href="https://moggstories.blogspot.com/2024/01/fun-games-at-chateau-part-one.html">Fun & Games at the Chateau - Part One</a>],</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> we were both intrigued to know more about why this particular boy had been singled out to be stripped naked in such a public place. It seemed clear by the way they behaved the other boys and girls in the group had seen it all before. As Laurent had explained, the boy appeared to be resigned to his fate, so it was easy to conclude there was more to this game of ‘mise à l’air’ than he saw that day. Of course we would never know the background, but that didn’t prevent us from discussing and speculating on the subject until the wee small hours.</span></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">After I returned home I resolved to write up the basic facts of what Laurent had told me (Part One), then after that had been achieved I would give my imagination fee reign to write a story (Part Two) which followed on from what had been observed by my friend. The following work of fiction is the result of that speculation. I gave the name ‘Étienne’</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">to the boy who was stripped naked as well as giving names to the other boys involved.</span></p><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Part Two: Laurent Journeys North</span></p><br /><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">A few days later Laurent came up with an idea of how he might be able to put his mind at rest and find out more about what he had witnessed. Since he saw Étienne being forcibly undressed and paraded naked in front of his classmates, both boys and girls, Laurent had not been able to dispel from his mind the memory of that event. He cursed the fact that the surveillance system was merely for monitoring and did not have the facility to record. But even if it did, how on earth would he have been able to obtain a copy of the fun and games he had seen played out in the attic of the château without questions being asked? Actually, in hindsight, it would have been absolute torture if Laurent had known there </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">had</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> been a video recording of the events on the surveillance system, but with no means of his making a copy! Something even worse had occurred to him, that he would have had a hard time explaining to his superiors why he hadn’t intervened to stop what he had seen unfolding in the attic.</span></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">What Laurent proposed to do was perfectly straightforward. He approached his manager with the idea of visiting one of the schools to interview some of its pupils who had recently been on a school trip to the château. He explained his idea:</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I know we get good feedback from the school authorities after their pupils have been on trips to our château, but I had the idea to reach out and ask some of the pupils themselves for their candid views on where we might improve their experience when visiting us… you know, what was interesting? What was boring? Get their ideas… that sort of thing.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent could see that his manager was interested in his scheme, so he continued:</span></p><br /><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“There was a school party on a visit from Normandy last week. I’ve an aunt who lives not far from where the school is located and I’ll be visiting her soon… perhaps I could make time to call in at the school and talk to some of the pupils who came on the visit… just to test my idea…”</span></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent’s manager was impressed by his zeal and agreed to the proposal saying they would email the school to see if they were willing to cooperate.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The reply that came back was better than Laurent had expected. The school would be delighted to have a visit from one of the château’s tour guides; they would put an empty classroom at his disposal and he was to ask to interview as many pupils who had been on the trip as he liked. The school authorities were thrilled to be asked and Laurent set a date for his visit.</span></p><br /><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Upon his arrival Laurent gazed up at the buildings in which the school was housed. To his trained eye he could see the architecture dated from the Belle Époque, built in the neo-Gothic style for the prestigious Catholic school. With a certain degree of apprehension, since he was not quite sure what to expect from his visit, Laurent entered through the portal of the main building. Here he was welcomed by one of the teachers who had escorted the pupils on their visit to the château, indeed it was the very same woman who had left the group alone in the attic.</span></div><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Mademoiselle Picard introduced herself and</span> they talked about school trips in general and the pupils’ visit to the château in particular. This gave Laurent the opportunity to mention that he’d heard the name of one of the boys in the school party. “He was called Étienne, I believe,” he informed her. </span></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Perhaps if I could interview him first…? See what he has to say and then ask some of his friends for their views…”</span></p><br /><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The teacher thought that would be a splendid idea and showed Laurent to an empty classroom. It was situated on the top floor of the main building, a high-ceilinged room with exposed wooden beams. It was strikingly similar to that of the château attic. ‘</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Most appropriate</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">’, Laurent thought to himself.</span></div><br /><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’ll fetch Étienne… he’s a very helpful, well-behaved boy and I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to answer all your questions… in fact he was in <i>my</i> group during our visit to your wonderful château. I’ve got another class to attend to shortly, so I’ll send Étienne along… take your time… the room is yours for as long as you need it…”</span></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent couldn’t believe his good fortune as he stood in the empty classroom and waited. It wasn’t long before there was a knock at the door and Étienne entered the room.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You wanted to see me, sir?” he asked politely.</span></p><br /><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Ah, so you’re Étienne…” Laurent saw that the boy was just as he remembered; obviously a little shy with features and manners that marked him out as a boy on the very cusp of puberty. Étienne also possessed that ineffable quality that marked him out as a boy who was born to be the object of pranks, such as the </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; white-space-collapse: preserve;">‘mise à l’air’ </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent had witnessed. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“...you were on a school trip to the château the other week… I heard your name and I thought it would be a good place to start…” Étienne immediately lowered eyes and look a little anxious. “Oh, don’t look so worried, Étienne… you’re not in any trouble, I just wanted to ask you if you enjoyed your trip…” Laurent paused and wondered whether the word ‘enjoyed’ was one that Étienne would choose to describe events in the attic… perhaps not, he thought.</span></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You see at the château we are always looking for ways to make school visits more memorable for pupils,” he continued, “For instance, were there parts of your visit that were more enjoyable than others? I know some boys like to explore the cellars and some find the attic more interesting,” Laurent added casually as if his words were of no importance. “We thought it would be a good idea to meet up and get some first-hand opinions… ask pupils who’d visited the château for their views and ideas…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne nodded, his face smooth and unblemished with just a slight rose-coloured blush to his cheeks that had deepened on hearing the word ‘attic’. His mousy-blond hair was very neatly trimmed, but with the usual floppy schoolboy fringe covering part of his forehead which he brushed to one side at odd intervals.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent looked down at the notepad he was carrying as if consulting it. “Let’s make a start shall we?” Étienne nodded his agreement. “First off I need to know how old you are, Étienne?” Laurent asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’m thirteen and a half, sir…” the redness of Étienne’s cheeks deepened a little more.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“And did you find the visit a rewarding experience?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh, yes, sir…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Did you find any parts of the château more interesting than others?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne thought for a moment before he replied and Laurent watched as the boy’s face puckered into a frown: “I think the armoury was the best part…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent smiled: “All those mediaeval weapons and suits of armour, I expect…” and he went on to tell Étienne about some of the different items preserved in that part of the château. Étienne was clearly enthralled to be given such an insight into the weapons by an expert.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Our teacher never told us about that!” Étienne exclaimed at one point and they talked for a few more minutes by which time Laurent saw Étienne had relaxed somewhat.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It was another few minutes before Laurent, again looking at his notepad, asked quite casually: “... and what about the attic… you saw the displays we have up there? Did you find that interesting?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne was nonplussed and suddenly became tongue-tied. Laurent carried on talking as if he hadn’t noticed Étienne’s discomfort at being reminded of that particular part of the building. He clearly didn’t know that Laurent had seen what had happened to him and tried to be brave by saying the attic was interesting, but a bit boring after seeing other parts of the château.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent looked up to face Étienne: “Oh… it surprises me to hear you say that you found the attic boring… sometimes boys get up to all sorts of tricks up there… you wouldn’t believe what I saw just the other week… in fact it was the very same day your school visited, Étienne…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne was horror-struck. Laurent could almost hear the boy’s mind whirring as Étienne tried to figure out if he knew anything about what had happened to him in the attic. He could tell the boy was struggling to think what to say. Laurent waited.</span></p><br /><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">After an agonising few moments Étienne spoke: “Um… er, w-what were the boys doing?”</span></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh, nothing much… just playing a silly game…” Laurent replied airily, “I expect it’s the sort of game you boys play at school all the time…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It became obvious that Étienne was thinking about little else other than the stripping game played in the attic, the game that had left him displayed totally naked in front of his classmates. He couldn’t bear to look at Laurent and he shyly turned his head away as he wondered whether this man from the château knew that he’d had all his clothes pulled off by some of the boys in the attic? Had he somehow seen everything? </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Seen him displayed totally naked</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne’s heart was pounding. The stress induced caused him to stutter slightly. Étienne wanted to know more and yet he was afraid of the answer he might get from Laurent.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent spoke kindly to the boy: “What’s up, Étienne? You seem nervous all of a sudden… was it something I said about the boys playing a silly game?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Poor Étienne was so tongue-tied he could barely speak.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You know we have cameras in every room in the château,” Laurent informed the boy just as if this was simply telling the boy about something that he would be interested in knowing about. It was perfectly clear from the tone of Laurent’s voice that he meant no connection was to be inferred between the game he’d seen and this new topic about the cameras. As Laurent continued to describe some of the technical details about the sophisticated security system, the sort of subject that any schoolboy would be fascinated to be told about, Étienne stood silently in front of him, watching and waiting, listening nervously as he tried to figure out where Laurent’s description was leading.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... yes, the cameras are very sophisticated. You can probably guess why they were installed, Étienne… you see there are many fragile and rare things of immense value and beauty to be seen in the château, so we have to be careful that no harm comes to them… I’m sure you understand why we have to keep a special look out when school groups visit the château… I’m am proud to say that French boys and girls are the best behaved of all the school parties we see, but even French boys can be naughty at times…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne couldn’t help himself and asked: “How… h-how d-d-d-do y-you m-m-m-mean?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I once saw a boy… he was about your age… it was very funny… actually this was outside in the grounds of the château as it happens… well this boy was with his parents and an older brother… they were by one of the big cedar of Lebanon trees in the park of the château… you probably remember seeing those trees on your visit.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne listened intently to what Laurent had to say.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent could see by the look on Étienne’s face that he had the boy’s undivided attention. He continued: “The younger boy… he even looked a bit like you, Étienne… well he was leaning against the tree with both hands at shoulder height pressed against the bark. He was wearing a pair of summer shorts… you know the type I mean, loose fitting with an elasticated waist… I expect you’ve got a pair just like them.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne gave a little gulp. He already had an idea what was coming.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... the boy’s older brother announced that he had to visit the toilets which were back near the château building in the direction that took him behind his sibling. The young boy leaning against the tree carried on talking to his parents who were sitting on the grass looking up at him. No doubt the boy was telling his parents about how interesting their visit was… he probably thought the armoury was his favourite, just like you, Étienne…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne nodded his head in agreement and brushed his floppy fringe of hair across his forehead once more.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Then what do you think happened?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">This time Étienne shook his head: “I-I don’t know…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You can’t guess? I’ve told you how boys can be very naughty at times… now what do you think the boy’s older brother would do? Do you think he was really going to the toilets, or do you think he might have decided to prank his little brother right there in front of his parents… and all the other visitors who were also resting in the park?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne looked wide-eyed at Laurent. He was transfixed. Étienne wanted to know more. He wanted to know what happened to the boy in the park who looked a lot like him, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Well?” Laurent said prompting Étienne for an answer.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne spoke in almost a whisper: “Did he prank him?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent nodded: “Yes… and what do you think his brother did?” Étienne shook his head again. “Do you want me to tell you what I saw that day, Étienne?” This time Étienne nodded.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Instead of heading off in the direction of the château, the older boy simply darted around the big tree out of sight of his young brother. A few seconds later he crept back out behind his brother, grabbed hold of the young boy’s loose-fitting summer shorts and pulled them </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">and his underpants</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> all the way down to his feet… right there in front of his parents and everyone else!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne’s jaw dropped.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, the boy’s older brother pantsed him right there in front of everyone. It was hilarious because the boy was so shocked and clearly didn’t know what had happened… <i>at first </i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">he didn’t even think to cover himself</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">… so we all got a good look at his boyhood… it was so funny… right there in the open-air and everyone who saw the boy with his shorts pulled right the way down to his ankles laughed… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">including his parents</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">. They must have thought it was very funny and clever of their older son to pants his little brother. It was just a bit of harmless family fun… and the parents, well they were laughing so much that it didn’t even occur to them to say anything to their older son…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne was quiet for a few moments before he asked: “Did he… did his brother let him pull his shorts back up?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It was Laurent’s turn to frown: “Why do you ask, Étienne? I thought you would find it even funnier if I told you that his brother grabbed his arms and held his little brother with his shorts still down in front of all the visitors…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne’s eyes popped out on stalks and Laurent guessed that Étienne would know exactly what that would have felt like.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... but, no… the boy’s brother simply tugged his shorts down and laughed along with everyone else… but you see the young boy was so shocked… he didn’t understand at first what had happened… he twisted around to see who his assailant was before he realised that he was totally bare from the waist down… so we all saw his bare bottom as well!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent smiled at Étienne’s reaction: “That was an interesting question you just asked me, Étienne. Most boys wouldn’t have been at all concerned to know whether or not the boy got to pull up his shorts… most boys would have loved to know that he was bared for as long as possible, so that many more visitors would have been able to see him with his shorts down…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Now Étienne looked worried. Had he said the wrong thing? It certainly felt like it and it made him nervous. Once more he wondered if Laurent knew about the escapade in the attic of the château during the school visit.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I am intrigued by your concern for the boy, Étienne… and your sympathy does you credit, but it makes me wonder if this means that </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">you’ve</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> been pantsed… so you know how embarrassed the boy must have felt to be exposed, bare from the waist down in front of everyone? Is that why you wanted to know how long it was before the boy could pull his shorts up again?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">There was silence as Étienne pursed his lips, unsure of what to say.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Come on, Étienne… you can tell me… you’ve been pantsed, haven’t you?” Laurent chuckled as if this was a perfectly acceptable thing to happen to a young boy… a bit of light-hearted horse-play, “Go on… I bet you have, haven’t you… I’m not a teacher and I won’t say anything to them if you don’t want me to,” Laurent put on a serious expression adding, “Scout’s honour… cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne finally summoned up the courage to ask: “Did you see?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Did I see </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">what</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">, Étienne?” Laurent asked innocently.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“In the attic…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“The attic? What happened in the attic, Étienne? Tell me…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne couldn’t look Laurent in the eye he was so embarrassed. He looked down at the floor of the classroom as memories of his humiliation came flooding back. It felt to him as if he was being made to relive the awful events; the removal of his clothes… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">all</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> his clothes in front of everyone; his display… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">everything</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">. It didn’t help that he and Laurent were in one of the classrooms at the top of one of the old school buildings. The oak beams above him reminded Étienne of the attic room in which he’d been stripped totally naked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent watched Étienne as the boy struggled to decide what to say: “C’mon Étienne… tell me what happened… I won’t be shocked… I know what boys can get up to when they think they can get away with it… like that boy in the park I just told you about… it’s nothing special, just a bit of fun, that’s all… so what happened? Were you pantsed?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Finally Étienne summoned up the courage to speak: “... er… in the attic… at the château… when… when our teacher had to leave us… Jean-Luc and his friends stripped me…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent was suitably shocked: “They did what?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“They took off all my clothes…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">All</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> your clothes, Étienne? Everything?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne looked up, his wide eyes pleading and a little damp. He sniffed and looked down again. Admitting to Laurent what had happened to him made him feel worse than ever… and he still didn’t know if he’d been seen. He nodded in reply to Laurent’s question. Once more Étienne pushed his cute floppy fringe of hair across his forehead.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You were stripped totally naked? </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Everything</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">? Gosh that must have been embarrassing, Étienne… to be stripped completely naked in the attic… did everyone in your class see you naked… the girls as well as the other boys?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Again Étienne nodded and managed to look up at Laurent questioningly. He wanted to ask him if he had seen what happened. He needed to know if Laurent had seen him stripped bare like all his classmates; if he’d seen him </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">displayed</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">. Did Laurent know what he looked like nude? Étienne’s mind raced. If he’d been seen naked by Laurent, that would be worse than ever! He was already blushing furiously, but the idea of his being seen, caught naked by Laurent caused his face to turn a deeper red than it had ever turned before. He wanted to know, but couldn’t bear the thought of hearing what the answer might be. His predicament was awful and Étienne was engulfed in waves of shame as he stood in front of Laurent.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent shook his head: “Gosh! Well I never… you mean you were completely naked right there in the attic… why, anyone could have walked in and seen you totally nude, Étienne… did you realise that? There were families and other visitors touring the rooms… I would have been frightened that someone would have seen me with on clothes on… weren’t you scared, Étienne?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne looked at the floor at his feet, but managed to speak: “Yes… I was afraid the teacher would come back…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Of course… I understand… you wouldn’t want to be told off by your teacher for having no clothes on… She might have told your parents and then you would have been in trouble…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne was anxious, so anxious that he didn’t notice that Laurent knew the teacher who was escorting them on their visit was a woman. How could he have known that unless he’d seen him? But the moment passed and Étienne was still no wiser.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Phew!” Laurent exhaled, “You boys do get up to some fun and tricks when your teacher’s back is turned,” he shook his head feigning disbelief. Laurent decided to ask Étienne for more details, even though he knew precisely what had happened. “How many boys were there? The boys who took off all your clothes… you mentioned a boy called Jean-Luc, he was the ring-leader… is that right?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne seemed resigned to his fate and no matter how embarrassing it was to tell Laurent what happened, he bravely answered the probing questions.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, Jean-Luc… he’s the one who gets the others to help… there’s four of his friends… they take turns to be the look-out…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent interrupted: “Take turns… that sounds to me like they’ve done this to you before…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It was hardly possible for Étienne face to get any redder, but it did as he realised what he’d just said. He nodded and barely whispered: “Yes…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent noted the response and paused to allow Étienne to recover from his mistake before continuing: “Tell me how they set about taking off your clothes in the attic… I suppose they must have jumped you and held you somehow…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Jean-Luc and Antoine grabbed me from behind, then André and Philippe…” Étienne stopped and took some deep breaths before carrying on, “... came in front of me and started to… um, you know…” Étienne paused, then added quickly as if trying to change the subject, “I think Marcel was on look-out…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes… but what did André and Philippe do?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“They started… started to undress me and take my clothes off…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... while Jean-Luc and Antoine held you… didn’t you struggle? I would have…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“They’re much stronger… besides, I was afraid that if we were too noisy someone might come and see us…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You mean you didn’t want to attract anyone’s attention in case you got Jean-Luc and his pals into trouble? So you let them take off all your clothes and strip you totally naked? Didn’t any of your classmates try to help you?”</span></p><br /><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">For the first time Étienne managed a weak smile as he shook his head and then laughed derisively: “They think it’s very funny…”</span></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes… I understand how you must feel when the boys and girls laugh as they watch you being stripped… pretty helpless, I’d imagine,” Laurent said sympathetically, “... no one wants to end up as the only one totally nude, especially in a place as public as the château,” he paused for a moment before resuming his questions. “Tell me… I’m curious, Étienne… you say that André and Philippe started to take all your clothes off, but I think it’s important I understand how that was done… you see, if I suspect this might happen again at the château I need to be prepared, to know what signs to look for… I mean boys often play little tricks on each other… play-fighting and so on, but it doesn’t necessarily mean they are going to be pulling off each other’s clothes, does it?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne agreed: “No… I suppose not…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“That’s why I need you to tell me </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">exactly</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> what happened when you were held and stripped naked in front of your classmates… it’s the only way I can be sure what boys are up to… it will be a great help for me to know, Étienne.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne was downcast once more, but he bravely looked up at Laurent who saw the pleading look in the boy’s eyes: “Please, sir… do I have to?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent frowned: “Your teacher told me that you were a most helpful and well-behaved boy, Étienne… please don’t give me reason to doubt what they said…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’m sorry, sir… it was… it was just that…” Étienne sighed. He clearly didn’t want to relive his experience, but the man from the château standing in front of him could so easily get him into trouble if he didn’t answer his questions truthfully.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">For the first time during his interview of the young boy, Laurent leaned forward, reached out and ruffled Étienne’s untidy little mop of hair: “Come on… it won’t hurt you to tell me what happened…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne managed a brave smile: “André went down on his knees and pulled off my sneakers and my socks…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Gosh… your socks as well… he was being thorough… go on.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... Philippe undid my belt and unzipped my jeans… he undid the button and then… then he pulled them open and started to pull them down…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Were you wearing underpants, Étienne?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne nodded: “Yes… Philippe pulled my jeans down a bit and then he reached up and… and… grabbed hold of my underpants… he pulled them down as well…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh dear… that must have been awful for you… I suppose everyone could see your penis…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne sucked in his lower lip and Laurent knew he was deeply embarrassed at the very mention of the word.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I suppose the boys and girls were shocked when they saw your penis… were they?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne shook his head and said again: “They think it’s very funny when my trousers are pulled down…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... because they’ve seen your penis before?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne nodded.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Tell me what happened then…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“After André had taken off my sneakers and socks, he lifted my legs so Philippe could pull my jeans right off…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent remembered how, when he saw this happening on the video monitor screen, he knew it was going to be a very special stripping. He recalled how Étienne’s jeans and underpants once off were thrown across the attic and how he watched in amazement as the boy’s penis jiggled from side to side as Jean-Luc and Antoine held him tightly. Laurent also saw that Étienne had only a few soft little wispy hairs at the base of his penis, a sight he thought he’d probably never see again.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“What did André and Philippe do with your sneakers, socks, jeans and underpants?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“They threw them into a corner behind me… I couldn’t really see where they landed because Jean-Luc and Antoine held me really tight facing the other way…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Ok, so you had no idea where your clothes were… I mean one of the others could have picked them up and hidden them, couldn’t they? You wouldn’t have known…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne’s blood ran cold. He’d had that trick played on him before. He knew just what it was like to have his clothes hidden after he’d been stripped naked; how he’d been teased and made to search for them one item at a time. Étienne was thankful that Jean-Luc would never have tried that trick at the château… anyway not when they were expecting the teacher to come back at any minute.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne continued and bravely carried on to describe how, while Jean-Luc and Antoine pulled his arms up, André and Philippe got to work pulling off Étienne’s polo shirt to leave him totally naked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“How long did it take for them to strip you naked, Étienne?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“They are very quick… I don’t know… less than a minute…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Lots of practice…” Laurent speculated to which Étienne nodded in reply.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I suppose they let you go once they’d taken off all your clothes,” Laurent said guessing, although of course he knew full well that Jean-Luc and his friends had other plans.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne shook his head: “No… they have to show me off…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“What do you mean, ‘show you off’?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“They make sure that everyone sees me naked… parade me in front of them… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">it’s</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">horrible…</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I bet it is…” Laurent paused to allow Étienne a little break. When Laurent spoke again Étienne almost fainted. “You know, I think I should like interview Jean-Luc and the boys… will you go and fetch them for me…?” Poor Étienne stared, transfixed by the very idea that after being made to live again his ordeal, he was now being told to bring his tormentors to the classroom… the very boys who had stripped him naked. When Étienne didn’t move Laurent clapped his hands sharply: “Get a move on, Étienne! I haven’t got all day… I need you to bring Jean-Luc, Antoine, André, Philippe and Marcel to this classroom… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">now</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">!”</span></p><br /><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne, shocked by the sudden order given so abruptly, moved quickly to the door and rushed off to fetch the other boys.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> Étienne’s ordeal was not over yet… </span></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">While Étienne was away rounding up Jean-Luc and his pals, Laurent couldn’t help but think what he had seen take place in the attic of the château in which he worked. He wondered whether Jean-Luc would be the dominant ring-leader as he had seen him, after all what boys got up to outside school might not be the way they behaved normally when more tightly controlled within the confines of their school surroundings. Would he be able to get these boys to admit what they had done to Étienne? Would they be willing to tell him more about their stripping games?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent did of course have an ace up his sleeve. Talking to Étienne had more or less convinced him the boys had no idea they were being watched. He hadn’t seen any of them even glance towards the discreetly hidden surveillance camera in the attic. In any case Laurent knew how difficult they were to spot and it often surprised visitors when they were cautioned after having been observed touching one of the precious artefacts on display in one of the rooms in the château. He smiled as he recalled one visitor who angrily denied having felt and stroked a tapestry until Laurent had shown him where the camera was through which the visitor’s actions had been seen. However, he could tell he had already planted the seeds of doubt in Étienne’s mind as to just how much he knew of what had happened in the attic. Laurent knew the boy was desperate to know if he, or anyone else had seen him stripped totally naked, but was afraid to ask.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">A few minutes went by before the door to the classroom opened again and Étienne gingerly stepped into the room.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’ve brought the others as you asked… they’re outside…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Well show them in and introduce your friends to me…” Laurent replied.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Philippe and Marcel came in first looking sheepish. They were followed by André, then Antoine and finally Jean-Luc was introduced to Laurent.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent walked up to Jean-Luc: “Ah… so you’re Jean-Luc…” he smiled, “Étienne’s been telling me all about you…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jean-Luc looked swiftly in Étienne’s direction, not sure if this was good news or bad. If it was bad, Étienne had better watch out…</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent saw the quick glance: “Don’t worry… you’re not in any trouble… none of you are… I would have hoped that Étienne might have made that quite clear…” Laurent paused, “Well, has he at least told you who I am and why I’m here?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Once more Jean-Luc looked in Étienne’s direction, but this time Laurent noticed a slight grin on the face of Jean-Luc. Étienne looked distinctly uncomfortable.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jean-Luc replied to Laurent’s question: “We know that you’re from the château fort we visited in the Val de Loire…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes… my manager and I thought it would benefit us to know what you boys thought of your visit… what you enjoyed and how we might help make school visits more memorable… for instance, maybe there are games you like to play… would it be useful for us to make space available… in the attic, say…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">There was a pause, then Jean-Luc threw his head back and laughed: “Has he told you? He has hasn’t he?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent nodded: “It took a little persuasion… but, yes, Étienne has told me how you boys took off all his clothes and stripped him totally naked... a </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; white-space-collapse: preserve;">‘mise à l’air’ </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> in the attic while your teacher was called away…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The room was filled with more laughter as André, Philippe, Marcel and Antoine joined in. Unsurprisingly Étienne remained silent as he eyed each boy in turn and wondered what laid in store.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jean-Luc looked from Laurent to Étienne and then back to Laurent, his face full of admiration: “You must have a special gift for getting information… Étienne knows the rules of our game… he shouldn’t have told you…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Well, he has… everything… in some considerable detail how you like to practise some </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">mise à l’air</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">… I know, for instance which of you took which of his clothes off, who was on lookout and who held him while he was stripped naked…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Philippe piped up: “ What did I do?” he asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Why, you had the best job of all… you got to undo and pull down Étienne’s denims </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">and</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> take down his underpants,” Laurent told him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Philippe smiled proudly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“What about me?” Marcel asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh, you were on lookout,” Laurent replied, “I guess you didn’t get to see much…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Marcel shook his head: “No… not at the château… not that day, but we take it in turns…”</span></p><br /><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">This was the confirmation Laurent had sought… an answer to the question that had been on his mind ever since he’d seen the stripping game played in the château attic; was this a one-off, or had Étienne been stripped naked on other occasions?</span></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You’ve played this game before?” he asked innocently even though Étienne had already admitted as much to him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Marcel nodded: “But of course… it’s great fun…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Now that the serial nature of the game had been established, Laurent couldn’t resist fanning the flames: “I bet it’s lots of fun and very exciting for you boys… I’m sure if I was your age I’d want to join in and help you with the stripping game, but the funny thing is that after talking to Étienne before you boys came in, I reckon he finds it exciting too… I mean he told me how he didn’t struggle or make a noise when you stripped off all his clothes in the attic, just in case someone came in and stopped you… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">isn’t that just the same as saying</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">didn’t want the game to stop until you’d got him totally naked in front of all your classmates</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne was dumbstruck at the very idea he was enjoying being stripped bare. What upset him even more was that far from being sympathetic, he could see how Laurent had now begun to encourage Jean-Luc and his acolytes. Étienne saw a big grin forming on Jean-Luc’s face and he felt more anxious than ever.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Hmmm... I see what you mean,” Jean-Luc said in reply to Laurent’s observation, “It would be typical of Étienne to get a thrill… I think you’ve got something there… if he enjoys it so much we’ll have to think how we can improve the game and make it even more memorable for him…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The other boys sniggered on hearing Jean-Luc’s words. It’s always good to have a reason to make things even worse for a boy like Étienne.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent looked across at Étienne. It was easy to see why Jean-Luc and his cronies had zeroed in on Étienne. He was a shy, cute boy, the sort of nice boy who was regularly accused of being a teacher’s favourite, whether they were or not. And boys like that are always legitimate targets in boarding schools… even more so in a Catholic one.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Sounds like a good idea, Jean-Luc… you’ll all have to put your thinking caps on,” Laurent said before adding, “... so tell me some more about the games you play with Étienne…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jean-Luc was in his element. He knew that whatever he he told Laurent, it was going to be deeply humiliating for Étienne to hear. This was an opportunity not to be missed. He was going to make the most of it. His instinct told him Laurent wanted… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">needed</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">, to be told all the details… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">everything</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">, but more than that, Jean-Luc could see that their visitor from the château was to be trusted implicitly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne stood to one side and was ignored as Laurent and the boys talked as if he wasn’t there. Jean-Luc eagerly explained how there were certain rules to their stripping game that had to be followed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent was impressed and enthralled with the boys’ ingenuity. He had taken part in stripping games when he was of a similar age to Jean-Luc and his friends. Laurent had been both stripper and stripped, so he knew how intensely humiliating it can be to lose all your clothes when everyone around you remains fully clothed. The mere thought of such a potentially public stripping that had taken place at the château, was enough to make him feel weak at the knees… if he’d been in Étienne’s place that is, but here he was, in the admirable position of being able to talk to the boys who had been responsible for carrying out such a daring game.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent fanned the flames a little more when it became clear the rules had been properly codified. He had an idea: “Why doesn’t Étienne recite the rules for me?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">More than ever Jean-Luc believed that Laurent was ‘one of us’: “Sure… that’s a great idea… Étienne!” he called over to Étienne who was trying his best to look inconspicuous behind one of the desks. “Étienne… come and stand over here in front of our guest… that’s it… now I want you to tell him the rules of our game… understand?” Étienne nodded. “... and if you make any mistakes…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Suddenly Étienne panicked: “Oh no! Please, Jean-Luc… please don’t!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... but you don’t know what I’m about to say…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The boys could barely suppress their laughter. They knew.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jean-Luc continued: “You must recite each rule exactly… if you make a mistake you will have one item of clothing removed…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne was beside himself: “Pleeease… please don’t, Jean-Luc… it’s not fair…” he looked up at Laurent and pleaded with him, “Please, sir… please don’t let them do it…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent shrugged: “It’s really nothing to do with me, Étienne… you must understand, I’m simply a neutral observer. If you and your friends want to play a game, I can’t stop you…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... but I don’t want to play!” Étienne pleaded, his voice moving up an octave.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jean-Luc shrugged his shoulders too: “You see how it is? You see how ungrateful Étienne is when we let him play with us?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Then Laurent saw the exasperated look on Étienne’s face. It was the same look that had puzzled him when he saw the events unfolding in the château. This had been followed, as it was now in front of him in the classroom, by a heartfelt sigh and a look of resignation… the same expression that had given Laurent the idea the game had been played more than once. His idea had turned out to be true.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Just out of interest, how many items of clothing are you wearing, Étienne?” Laurent asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne looked own at his feet, then at Jean-Luc: “Do my sneakers count as clothes?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“No… take them off…” Jean-Luc informed him and as Étienne obediently crouched down to pull of his sneakers, he added, “and your socks will count as one item,”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne stood up again, turned to Laurent and sucked in his lower lip before giving him the answer to his question: “Four items, sir… socks, jeans, shirt and… and my underpants…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Thank you, Étienne… that doesn’t give you much room for mistakes, does it?” Laurent observed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“No, sir…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Étienne… stand to attention and recite the first rule,” Jean-Luc prompted.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Deeply embarrassed Étienne nevertheless spoke standing up straight with his hands at his side: “Rule One… I must have my clothes taken off, otherwise it doesn’t count…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You loose your socks!” André interrupted and stepped forwards. He quickly knelt down and grabbed hold of one of Étienne’s ankles. Étienne leant back and gripped the desk he was standing next to so as to steady himself.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I didn’t mean that… please André… please don’t…” Étienne pleaded.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">But André already had the first sock removed and tossed to one side. He looked up as he lifted Étienne’s other foot: “That’s not what the rule says… is it? You got it wrong…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jean-Luc stepped in: “Repeat Rule One, Étienne and say it correctly this time or you’ll lose something else…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Now standing barefoot in the classroom, Étienne spoke again: “Rule one… I must have </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">all</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> my clothes taken off, otherwise it doesn’t count…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Better…” Jean-Luc said.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent turned to Jean-Luc: “What does it mean, </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">‘otherwise it doesn’t count’</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jean-Luc explained that in order for the game to be considered a success, Étienne had to be stripped totally naked… if they didn’t manage to take off all his clothes, for whatever reason, it would mean they would have to have another go at stripping him as soon as it was possible to do so.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent nodded, impressed by the boys’ thoroughness.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Rule Two, Étienne…” Jean-Luc prompted once more.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">This rule proved harder to recite, but the fear of losing another piece of clothing gave Étienne the willpower to speak: “Rule Two… I must be displayed to everyone who watched me being stripped naked, otherwise it does not count…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Wrong!” This time it was Philippe who called out.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne was a bag of nerves as he realised he’d again stupidly missed out an important word. He quickly tried to correct himself, “... I didn’t mean that… I meant I must be </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">fully</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> displayed…”, but it was too late and Philippe rushed forward eagerly. His hands went straight to the waist of Étienne’s denim jeans.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">This time it was necessary to restrain Étienne as he struggled to stop Philippe from pulling down the zip fly of his jeans. Just as Laurent had seen before in the attic, Jean-Luc didn’t say a word, but merely glanced and signalled with a nod of his head to Antoine. As one they stepped forward to take hold of Étienne’s arms, stretching them out sideways as they had done at the château.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“For that you lose your underpants as well!” Jean-Luc said firmly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Philippe, who was now kneeling and pulling down Étienne’s jeans, looked up with a big grin on his face. He stopped tugging on the jeans and instantly reached back up to the waistband of Étienne’s crisp white schoolboy underpants. He yanked them downwards exposing the almost hairless boyhood which wobbled about as Étienne tried, but failed, to pull his arms free from his captors.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Why don’t we just strip him now?” Marcel suggested.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes… let’s!” Antoine agreed, “What do you say, Jean-Luc?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jean-Luc thought for a moment before he reached his decision: “Ok… you can strip him,” he replied. He looked across to Laurent, “... then he can finish telling you the rules when he’s naked…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">This decision caused Étienne to struggle and shake himself as he pleaded with Jean-Luc to spare him any more embarrassment. Needless to say all Étienne’s efforts were in vain, for while Philippe tugged and pulled off his jeans and underpants, Marcel stepped up and reached for Étienne’s polo shirt. Just as he has also seen it done at the château, Laurent watched the boys as they swiftly and efficiently removed Étienne’s top. As his head disappeared within the confines of the polo shirt and with his arms raised up high, Laurent once again saw Étienne’s totally smooth body as it was unveiled before him. Blushing only a few feet away, Étienne was even cuter than he’d appeared on the security monitor.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Although it was obvious to him that Étienne was acutely embarrassed, Laurent noticed the expression of resignation appear again on the boy’s face as Jean-Luc told him to recite the third and fourth rules.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne twisted his head to look at Jean-Luc, then he turned to look at Antoine before giving his arms a final tug as if testing to see how securely held he was. Then he looked forlornly at his discarded clothes lying on the floor where they had been thrown. He looked back at Jean-Luc.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Then will you let me go?” he asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jean-Luc sighed as if he was dealing with a particularly slow-witted ten year old: “Étienne… you know better than to ask me a question like that… now recite Rule Three for our visitor.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne took a deep breath: “Rule Three…” he glanced up towards his captor as if making sure in his own mind that he was going to say the correct words, “... for the game to be awarded « </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">un grand cru</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> » I must be stripped naked in a public place or setting.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jean-Luc’s smile was one of immense satisfaction: “Well done, Étienne… you see, you do remember the rules when you put your mind to it…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent spoke: “Then when Étienne was stripped naked during your school outing to the château, that was an example of « </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">un grand cru</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> »?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes,” Jean-Luc replied, “It’s not often that we get an opportunity to strip Étienne in such beautiful surroundings as your château…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent bowed: “On behalf of our château may I say how flattered and honoured we are that you chose to practise your </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">mise à l’air</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> that left Étienne totally naked in the attic… I can assure you that although it was fairly early in the season, there were lots of families visiting that day, so there was a good chance of him being seen in the nude and so satisfy the requirements of Rule Three…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It was Jean-Luc’s turn to bow: “It is our pleasure… and we were all very proud to have achieved such a memorable </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">mise à l’air</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">… everyone in our group enjoyed the performance... we like to entertain them.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“That’s good to hear,” Laurent said, “...and what about Rule Four?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh, that’s a very simple rule that Étienne must obey,” Jean-Luc replied and then prompted the naked boy to recite the rule for Laurent.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne took a deep breath: “Rule Four… I must not tell anyone that I have been stripped naked… but I wouldn’t, Jean-Luc, I wouldn’t… you know I won’t tell…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent smiled as he heard Étienne and wondered how much embarrassment and humiliation the thirteen year old boy could be made to endure.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“There is a fifth rule,” Jean-Luc announced at which his acolytes sniggered, “... but Étienne has not been entirely cooperative… but we are working on his conduct and now we are starting to see some positive results… aren’t we, Étienne?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent saw the look on Étienne’s face change to one of panic as a fine film of perspiration appeared across the boy’s brow. He watched as Étienne started to struggle in earnest, twisting and pulling at his arms. Étienne pleaded with Jean-Luc: “Please don’t tell him… please Jean-Luc…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jean-Luc laughed. He and Antoine had no difficultly in holding Étienne while he struggled in vain and after a moment or two his look of resignation returned. Étienne stood still between the two boys who held his arms outstretched as they displayed his totally naked body.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent was all agog to hear about Rule Five.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jean-Luc began to explain the rule: “You see, it’s all very well to strip Étienne of his clothes… to practise </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">mise à l’air</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">… we can strip him naked in no time and we can do it anywhere we choose…” Jean-Luc laughed, “We even stripped him in front of a teacher once… the teacher thought our game was most amusing… there were girls watching us and Étienne was very embarrassed that time, weren’t you, Étienne?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">In reply Étienne hung his head and mumbled in the affirmative. The shame Étienne suffered at being reminded of this humiliation was obvious to Laurent and he was even more curious to find out why Étienne was so afraid of the fifth rule.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“But didn’t the teacher reprimand you for such behaviour?” Laurent asked Jean-Luc</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“No… not Monsieur Patterson… he wouldn’t do a thing like that,” Jean-Luc replied with a smile. He went on to tell Laurent how this teacher would often visit the boys in the changing-room after PE lessons.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Surely of course he would if he was a sports teacher?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jean-Luc laughed: “... ah, but he isn’t… he teaches us English…” He went on to explain for Laurent’s benefit how the boys were all well aware of the reason for Monsieur Patterson’s visits to their changing-room.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Monsieur Patterson was their English teacher, the teacher who attempted to guide his pupils through the highways, byeways and vagaries of the English language… not altogether without success as the boys, unlike most pupils ‘</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">en Angleterre</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">’, could at least make themselves understood in a language not their own. While there was never any compelling reason for Monsieur Patterson’s presence while the boys were in a state of undress before their obligatory post-PE showers, their English teacher always came up with some excuse, however lame. One such occasion might be to announce to the assembled boys, most of them quite nude, a change in their set texts, another might be a timetable alteration. But the boys knew Monsieur Patterson’s </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">real</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> reason; he liked to see naked boys.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It was Laurent’s turn to laugh: “Yes, I remember one of my teachers was like your Monsieur Patterson… he always turned up when we were undressed… he was supposed to teach us mathematics…” Laurent then reminded Jean-Luc that he was going to tell him about Rule Five.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It was stripping Étienne in front of that teacher that gave us the idea for the fifth rule,” Jean-Luc explained, “You see Monsieur Patterson ordered us to release Étienne and he made Étienne stand there right in front of him. Étienne was totally naked and he wasn’t allowed to cover himself… Monsieur Patterson made him put his hands on his head </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">while he told Étienne off</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">…” Jean-Luc sniggered, “Monsieur said nothing to us!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The other boys; Antoine, Marcel, André and Philippe were laughing and giggling at the memory as Jean-Luc continued: “Étienne couldn’t say anything because Rule Four doesn’t allow him to complain… so Monsieur Patterson thought it was all Étienne’s fault for making us strip him naked in front of a teacher… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">he thought it was all Étienne’s idea!!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">After the laughter had died down Jean-Luc continued: “So after that… watching Étienne standing submissively in front of the teacher, we got our heads together and came up with Rule Five which requires Étienne to show obedience. Étienne must, after being successfully stripped naked in accordance with the rules, complete a further task… he must do whatever he is told to do no matter what it is…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent felt a mixture of disbelief that Jean-Luc and his acolytes could make things so much more shaming for Étienne… coupled with a desire to see Rule Five in action. How could they possibly make Étienne’s stripping worse, he thought? He looked at the naked boy held between Jean-Luc and Antoine. It was fair to say that Étienne was a sight to behold, his slim smooth pubescent body without a trace of surplus fat to be seen; the tight little pale pink nipples and darker nubbins; the few strands of feathery pubic hair; Étienne’s slim penis with its cute over hanging foreskin… and his marbles still held up high in a thick-skinned scrotum, tight behind his penis. Every time Étienne moved, his penis would wobble almost as if it wanted to draw attention to itself.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent watched as Jean-Luc glanced at his friends as if to communicate by secret signal. The boys nodded in response and Jean-Luc spoke to Étienne: “We are going to release you, but you must stand still and put your hands on your head… will you do that, Étienne?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne pursed his lips and then then agreed to do as he was asked, presumably, Laurent thought, in order not to risk upsetting his classmates and maybe with the thought that if he did as he was told the sooner he would get his clothes back.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Antoine and Jean-Luc let go of Étienne’s arms and watched as the thirteen year old raised his arms up and placed his hands on his head. Laurent could now see Étienne’s perfectly smooth armpits, hairless and totally exposed. Étienne, red-faced, nude but demure looked as if he had just stepped out of a Renaissance painting.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jean-Luc and his acolytes moved off into a corner of the classroom and into a huddle whispering. Laurent couldn’t hear what was said, but it was obvious the boys were planning something. Étienne looked even more nervous than ever and was clearly extremely embarrassed to have to expose his naked body by keeping his hands on his head in front of Laurent.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent couldn’t resist once more fanning the flames of Étienne’s ignominious position: “This must be very embarrassing for you, Étienne… you’re the only one with no clothes on and you’ve got your hands on your head so that I can see your penis and everything… doesn’t that make you feel ashamed, Étienne? It must be awful to know that Jean-Luc and his pals can strip you completely naked whenever they feel like it… even in public as they did at the château… that must have been dreadful, fancy being totally naked knowing that at any moment visitors could have walked into the room and seen you without any clothes on…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent saw Étienne’s face pucker up as the boy fought to control his emotions. Étienne knew he had to be brave. Even though he was in the depths of utter humiliation, Étienne was loyal to his school and therefore was bound to show allegiance to his fellow pupils… in other words he couldn’t let the side down; to do so would mean disgrace. So Étienne stood naked as he displayed his bare body.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The boys finished their discussion and returned from the corner. Jean-Luc stepped forward and what he said next took Laurent by complete surprise. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You are our guest at our school today and, er we’ve decided… well, we want you to have something to remember us by… you see, it’s been a great honour to meet you and… well, we think you’ve enjoyed hearing about… and seeing our games, so we thought you might like to suggest something for Étienne to do that would demonstrate Rule Five… order him to do anything you want… it’s up to you,” Jean-Luc paused and for the first time looked a little embarrassed himself, perhaps wondering what Laurent’s response would be, “I mean if you want to, that is…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent certainly hadn’t expected Jean-Luc to invite him to become involved in their game. He was both surprised and delighted to be asked: “Jean-Luc… boys,” he said addressing Marcel, Antoine, André and Philippe, “I would be most honoured at accept your kind offer, but I feel singularly unqualified to suggest a task for Étienne to perform…” The boys looked a little disappointed, but then a bell was heard signifying a breaktime between classes. This was closely followed by the sound of desks being slammed shut and the noise of pupils on the move. An idea suddenly presented itself to Laurent. The heady atmosphere of the classroom made him think that all things were possible, “... but perhaps you can help me to decide… in secret,” he paused for effect, then added, “... although Étienne must leave the room while we do so…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">There was silence for a few seconds before the full implication of Laurent’s casually expressed words became apparent. Étienne’s jaw dropped. Jean-Luc’s face lit up with a huge smile. The boys all beamed their enthusiasm.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes… of course Étienne must leave the room while we confer…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">NO… NO… JEAN-LUC… PLEASE… NO…!!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">” Étienne was beside himself, but he kept his hands firmly on his head as if to demonstrate his obedience… that he </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">would</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> obey… “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">PLEASE… NO… anything, but don’t order me to do that!!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent smiled. He was impressed at the way Jean-Luc quickly and very firmly told Étienne to be quite. Jean-Luc’s natural leadership and dominant nature was all too apparent and even Laurent felt uncomfortable at the thought of being on the wrong side of this young boy. ‘</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">How could you </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">not</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> obey him</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">?’ Laurent wondered as Étienne fell silent.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Antoine was told to check the corridor. Whether this was to make sure there were no teachers around that might complain, or to check there were enough pupils to make Étienne’s appearance worthwhile, was unclear.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I am not </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">ordering</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> you to do anything, Étienne,” Jean-Luc explained calmly, “you are going to leave the room because you know that we have things to discuss in private that we do not wish you hear… it is what polite, obedient boys do… now ask our guest for permission to leave the room…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent was amazed at Jean-Luc’s ingenuity in ramping up Étienne’s humiliation by making the boy </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">ask his permission</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> to walk naked out into a corridor he knew was filled with his fellow pupils, boys and girls. Only this time, Laurent reflected, it wouldn’t just be pupils of his own age as they were in the château, Étienne would be seen naked in front of boys and girls, some younger and some older.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne, still with his hands on his head, hesitated. Laurent could see from the sheen of nervous sweat how nervous Étienne was, as any boy would before debasing himself in such a way.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Well…</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">” Jean-Luc prompted.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne turned to face Laurent: “Please, sir… please may I leave the room?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Of course you may, Étienne,” Laurent replied, then added with a mischievous smile, “Don’t go far… we shall call you back in when the boys and I have finished our discussion.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne glanced at Jean-Luc who silently imparted an instruction by the nod of his head.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">As Étienne walked towards the door, Jean-Luc gave him some more instructions: “You may lower your arms, Étienne… but hold your hands behind your back and don’t try to cover up.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne obeyed and as he approached the door he looked back over his shoulders, his eyes wide, hardly able to believe what he was about to do. Étienne looked back at the door. His hand trembled as he reached out and took hold of the doorknob, but before he could do so the door burst open as Antoine rushed in. Antoine turned and carefully closed the door again.</span></p><br /><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He looked back into the room to face Jean-Luc: “Mademoiselle Picard… I saw her at the end of the corridor… she’s coming back this way…”</span></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jean-Luc said nothing but merely glanced at Étienne, who looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights of an approaching car, and nodded. This was the signal for Étienne to grab his clothes and get dressed, just as Laurent had seen him do in the attic. Étienne ran behind the other boys and started to pull on his clothes as fast as he could. He was still bent down stuffing his feet into his sneakers as mademoiselle cautiously entered the classroom.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I hope I’m not interrupting anything…” she asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Not at all,” Laurent replied, “We’re just about finished here, I think…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“That’s good… it’s just that it’s almost time for the boys to…” then Mademoiselle Picard noticed Étienne scrabbling about. She looked at him pointedly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Étienne apologised: “There was something stuck in my trainer… sorry.” He said nothing else.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent continued: “Yes… it’s been very interesting talking to these boys. I’ve learnt a lot. It has been most useful…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh, I am so pleased… now if you’ll excuse me…” Mademoiselle Picard said and as she turned Jean-Luc pressed a piece of folded paper into Laurent’s hand.</span></p><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></div>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-11353264028808402232024-01-26T17:06:00.000+00:002024-01-26T17:06:22.382+00:00Fun & Games at the Chateau - Part One<div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-dc3523e0-7fff-d3ab-a31e-97b8621ef6ae"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The following story is in two parts, the first part is the true account of an event that took place in a large château fort in the Val de Loire. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Part One: At the Château</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">There are three hundred or so châteaux in the Loire Valley. Many welcome visitors and are also popular destinations for school trips. My friend Laurent is a tour guide in one such château. I was recently a guest at Laurent’s house and one evening he told me of something he had seen happen in the attic of the château in which he works.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent first explained the security arrangements that are in place at the château. Each room within the large building has had discrete high quality security cameras installed, an obvious precaution since there are countless irreplaceable and valuable artefacts, some of them very fragile, on display. Each camera has an associated microphone which can be switched on and off as required from the security suite within the château. The cameras have been placed carefully so as not to detract from the historic ambience of the rooms and are therefore unnoticed by visitors quite unaware their movements are being monitored.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">On the day in question there was a school party of one hundred and twenty pupils, both boys and girls, expected to arrive at the château. Laurent was due to undertake duties in the security suite, a task he found irksome as he would rather have been escorting visitors around the château regaling them with tales of the many historic events that had taken place within its walls. The staff were not expecting any trouble from the pupils as French schoolchildren are normally very well behaved. This particular group were from a Catholic boarding-school in northern France and were certain to be even better behaved than most, which made what Laurent witnessed all the more surprising.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It was decided to split the school party into three groups based on the ages of the pupils with each group under the supervision of one of their teachers. The separate parties, each of forty pupils, started to tour the château and its exterior. One group headed outside, another entered the cellars, while the third made its way towards the attic in the roof space of the building.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">As Laurent watched the monitors he saw the groups moving about as they entered different rooms. When the teacher stopped to talk to the pupils, Laurent saw the children obediently sit cross-legged on the floor while they politely listened to what was being said. He reflected on the good behaviour of the boys and girls, quite unlike the disgraceful conduct of some children he had seen over the years. Why, some parents and even teachers seemed unwilling to accept responsibility for the actions of their children and didn’t understand that you couldn’t simply let them run around as if the château was an adventure playground in a theme park.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Eventually two of the groups crossed paths going their separate ways, one heading to the upper stories of the building, the other descending towards the lower floors. So it was that a group of fifteen girls and twenty-five boys arrived in the attic of the château. These pupils were between thirteen and fourteen years old as far as Laurent could tell. Other visitors toured the building, some even stopping to listen to what teachers were telling their pupils. It was fairly early in the season and visitor number were lower than they would be later in the year, but nevertheless it is important to note, given what was about to happen, that there were still quite a few families wondering around the building.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent watched as the group entered the large attic space just as a couple with their three children were moving on to explore further this part of the building. He then saw the teacher in charge of the group take out her mobile phone and look at it frowning. She then addressed the group. Laurent flicked the switch to turn on the microphone so that he could listen to what she was saying. It transpired that the teacher had been sent a text asking her to meet with a colleague outside. Presumably something had come up that couldn’t be resolved over the phone and that it required her presence. Naturally, as she prepared to leave the room, she told the pupils to behave themselves while she was away.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">What happened next must have been planned and prepared in advance by the boys involved, Laurent concluded. Since the microphone in the room had been switched on, Laurent could hear the usual low murmur of voices as the boys and girls separated and formed themselves into small groups and started talking among themselves. He noticed there was group of boys, five in total, off to one side of the room. They said nothing but seemed to be signalling to each other using eye contact alone. Having done so and presumably reached some sort of tacit agreement, they nodded and smiled as they looked at a sweet looking young boy standing with his back to them innocently gazing up at the complex timbered vaulting of the roof above his head.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Seconds later Laurent saw one of the five boys break away and dash out of the room following the teacher. Given what happened next Laurent figured the boy who had rushed off was to be the lookout when he saw, within the space of another few seconds, the remaining four boys walk purposefully, still saying nothing, across the room to where the young boy they’d been looking at was standing. The boy clearly had no idea of what was about to happen until it was too late.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Two of the boys suddenly grabbed the young boy’s arms and held him tight as the other two quickly moved in front of him. Laurent’s heart skipped a beat and was as surprised as the rest of the boys and girls in the room when they saw and heard what was happening right in front of their eyes.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent explained: “... yes, they were surprised, but the way they behaved and their reaction when they saw the boy being seized, was as if they all knew what was happening… so the rest of them, the boys and girls, moved until they were standing in such a way as to shield the boys holding their victim so they couldn’t be seen by anyone else. They were all looking at what was happening… the girls too, some of them giggling and elbowing each other as they watched. They had formed a sort of protective three-quarter circle as the boys moved towards a corner of the room. I suppose they were all aware of what would transpire and they didn’t want to get themselves into trouble in case anyone should raise the alarm…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“So what did happen?” I asked eagerly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“The two boys who were in front of the victim… he was very cute… well one of them dropped to his knees and grabbed hold of one of his victim’s legs, while the other went for the belt of the boy’s denim’s… the boys were all wearing either denims or chinos, but all of them, boys and girls were wearing polo shirts printed with the school’s badge…. I thought, ‘</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">My God! They’re going to pants him… to take down his denims!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">’ But I didn’t understand why the boy kneeling down was obviously going to take off the boy’s sneakers… which is what he did, but not only the sneakers…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You mean… his socks as well?!” I asked, “What was the boy doing… did he struggle, did he fight to try and stop them?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“No, not really… obviously the boy reacted when he was grabbed from behind… you could see he was as surprised as anyone would be, but he didn’t put up much of a fight… he didn’t kick or yell out, just pulled his arms about, struggled a bit and tried to free himself from the two boys holding him, but they were too strong… that was all really… but what struck me then was that a sort of resigned look came over him as if it wasn’t the first time this had happened… like he knew what the boys were going to do… but he was totally helpless and couldn't do anything about it.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent then went on to tell me how the two boys in front of the victim got to work taking down the boy’s denims, “They’d obviously done it before… the boy who took off the socks and sneakers tossed them into the corner and then helped his friend to pull the denims right down and off… along with the boy’s underpants…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Wow! What was the reaction of the rest of the group?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“They were all watching and it struck me how none of them protested about what was happening… I mean no one tried to come to the aid of the boy. As I said, some of the the girls giggled and jostled each other for a better view… the boys were just as interested, but more restrained… maybe they didn’t want to appear too curious, or maybe the were just thankful it wasn’t them being pantsed…. Because I still thought that’s what was happening and that once they’d got the boy’s denims and underpants off, that would be the end of it…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I gasped: “It wasn’t…?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“No… I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the two boys who just stripped the victim from the waist down go for the boy’s polo shirt!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You mean?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes… right there in the open space of attic of the château, which don’t forget was busy with other visitors, they pulled off the boy’s polo shirt… stripped him totally naked!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“My God!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, they threw the boy’s clothes out of the way into the corner, but that still wasn’t the end of it…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“...there was more?!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... you see the boys had stripped their victim really quickly… a couple of minutes at most. I wasn’t keeping track of the time, but it didn’t take them long… that’s what made me think they’d done this before, it was all so cleverly choreographed… but from the surprised look on all the other boys and girls in the room, it must have been the first time they’d seen him stripped in such a public place… and certainly never before in a château!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Go on… what happened?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent kept me in suspense as he searched for the right words and then, after a moment, said simply: “They </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">displayed</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> him…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I must have looked perplexed, but it was only because I was simply stunned. What did Laurent mean </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">‘displayed’</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">, displayed how? The boy had been stripped naked in a public place. How could his classmates possibly make it any worse for him?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent calmly went on to describe how the boy, now totally naked, had his arms held stretched out wide by the two boys holding him. He was then pulled this way and that to give all the boys and girls a full view, front and back, of their nude victim. The boy was completely helpless and had no choice but to turn and twist in which ever direction his captors tugged him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I could see his penis waggling quite clearly as the boys pulled him about… he had a few little wispy hairs at the base… everyone got a good look.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“What was the reaction of the others during the display?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“They all looked at the naked boy, sure… they couldn’t really avoid doing so the way he was being pulled around. The thing that struck me again was that none of the others in the room tried to help the boy, they just let the perpetrators get on with their game, as if it was… well just that… a game and they didn’t want to interfere… besides they must have been aware that to make a fuss would have attracted attention from other visitors and then they’d all have been in trouble…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Did anyone come into the room while this was happening?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“A couple of kids looked kind of curious trying to figure out what was happening, but they didn’t stay… their parents must have noticed something was going on and called them back… I mean there were forty boys and girls in that room and it must have been obvious that </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">something</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> was happening, but rather than get involved they just moved on into another part of the attic… besides, no one could have seen from any distance what was happening since all the boys and girls who weren’t involved were standing around the corner of the attic space where the stripping was taking place… it was like they instinctively made a protective guard to stop any prying eyes from seeing what was going on…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Laurent paused then added, “... don’t forget, this all happened very quickly, in the space of a few minutes. It had to be done that way because their teacher wasn’t going to be away for very long… they all must have known that and that’s probably another reason for the others to just let the boys get on with stripping their victim… so although the others didn’t take an active part, they were to a degree complicit in that they protected the boys who were carrying out the disrobing…” Laurent stopped in thought for a few seconds, “Yes, I think it’s fair to say that… yes they definitely made sure no one else could see, but I think they were also protecting themselves…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I asked the obvious question: “What happened when the teacher came back?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“The moment the lookout came back and told them their teacher was on the way, the boy was released. He raced into the corner where his clothes had been thrown and started pulling them on as fast as he could. The boys who had stripped him laughed and high-fived each other, while the rest of the group surrounded the boy as he dressed…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... shielding him in case the teacher got back before he finished putting his clothes back on?” I speculated.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, definitely… and when the teacher did walk back into the room they were just talking among themselves as if nothing had happened.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“And the boy?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“He didn’t say anything… just finished lacing up his sneakers and stood around with the rest of the group waiting for the teacher to tell them a bit more of the château’s history…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“The teacher didn’t suspect anything?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“As far I could tell… not a thing.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... and the boys… do you think they realised there was a security camera in the room… that they might have been seen?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I doubt that very much… as I said, our cameras are very discreetly placed and besides they were having far too much fun to be bothered even if they had noticed…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I tried to imagine what it must have felt like for the boy who was stripped bare in front of his classmates, all thirty-nine of them, boys as well as girls and then paraded to make sure they all got to see every part of his naked body. Impossible I guess, unless you had ever been the target of a similar game. Laurent had told me how red-faced the boy was and with good reason, the humiliation he had endured must have been intense. Even if, as seemed likely, the boy had been stripped naked before, having his all his clothes pulled off in the attic space of a château on a school trip with the distinct possibility of being seen by other visitors, must have been unlike anything else he’d been subjected to before.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">But what had also intrigued me was the sheer daring of the boys who carried out the stripping. They must have known the likelihood of being caught was high, but that only seemed to confirm Laurent’s view that the boys were well practised and one could only conclude it was part of some greater game played out at school. I reminded myself of how I’d been told of the look of resignation on the boy’s face; the look of surprise rather than shock, or possibly even outrage, that one might have expected to see on the faces of the boys and girls watching. Laurent was convinced this was a sign that once they had seen the boy being grabbed by his arms, they all knew what was going to happen right in front of them, right there in the room. He judged their surprised reaction was due to the way it was to be carried out in such a public, and therefore more risky, place. Presumably this is why they swiftly moved to isolate the stripping to one corner of the attic away from prying eyes.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The more we thought about what Laurent had seen as he sat in the security suite, the more intrigued we both became to know more. We were convinced the boy’s stripping in the attic was not a one off; there were simply too many signs of it having happened before. The careful choreography, the look of resignation on the boy’s face, almost as if he was sighing to himself, ‘... <i>here we go again</i>’, the reaction of the rest of the group… they </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">knew</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> what the boys were up to when they saw the victim seized.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">A little later Laurent took me on a visit to the château. I admit to a frisson of excitement as we climbed the stairs up towards the attic, but I was totally unprepared for how I felt when I saw the immense size of the space in which the events he described took place. I had imagined a modest sized room, but as I entered the space I saw at once how wrong I’d been. The attic area was completely open and very big with information boards and models along one side. Visitors entered through a doorway from the staircase at one end and departed around a corner into a passage which led to another staircase down to other rooms within the building. It was astonishing to think how daring the boys had been… and how lucky they were to have Laurent on duty in the security suite to let them get on with their game uninterrupted.</span></p><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The second part of this story, a speculation of what might have happened next, is entirely fictional and will be posted separately.</span></p><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div></span></div>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-80985228251551871692023-11-21T19:49:00.000+00:002023-11-21T19:49:31.571+00:00Bathtime for Basil - Part Two<div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">As it turned out I was kept pretty busy for the next few days and it wasn’t until the following Saturday I had the opportunity to ring Mrs Ward and ask if it would be a good time for me to call round with my video equipment.</span></div><span id="docs-internal-guid-d68aefdb-7fff-59ad-9bd1-cae53fc28b17"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Busy as I was, I still found time to review the video I’d shot of Basil’s bathtime, to download it from my phone and tidy it up with my editing software suite. I’d added some lighthearted titles that I felt enhanced the playful mood of a boy’s bathtime and sent a copy of the result to Mrs Ward who was thrilled with the result.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’ve got all the equipment to hand,” I explained when I spoke to Mrs Ward on the phone, “...and there’s plenty of memory, just in case things take longer than we expect…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You couldn’t have called at a better time… I’ve just got to pop out with Basil to get him a couple of things from the boys’ outfitter, but we’ll be back by three at the latest. If you can come round just after three, that will give you plenty of time to arrange your things before we get Basil ready for his bathtime…” Mrs Ward paused before adding, “I just wanted to say how grateful I am that you’re taking such an interest in Basil and how much I’m looking forward to helping you make a lovely record of his teen years that I’ll always treasure.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I packed my kit and arrived at Mrs Ward’s shortly after she’d returned with Basil from the boys’ outfitter. Naturally I was curious to know what had been purchased for Basil, but there was a lot to get on with, so I said nothing about their shopping expedition. Basil, unsurprisingly, was wearing his full school uniform in spite of it being a Saturday and again I wondered if he had any boy’s casual clothes, although of course I rather hoped not as he looked so cute wearing his super-short school shorts and the rest of his smart school uniform. Once more Basil was relegated to sit on the floor while mummy and I discussed how I was to video Basil’s bathtime.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I thought we might start videoing down here in the family room,” I suggested, “before Basil is undressed… How does that sound? You see I want to make this really special, so you can look back and see Basil wearing his lovely, smart school uniform…” Mrs Ward thought this was a great idea, so I continued, “I’ve been watching the video I took on my phone and it struck me how you enhanced and made it special by your running commentary… telling me what you were doing at each stage of Basil’s bathtime, so I thought you might like to do something similar when we begin videoing here in the family room… we might also add in some extra dialogue later if there’s anything you think needs to be highlighted, say.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh, I see… you mean I could explain a bit more about Basil… how I caught him doing something very naughty, or how he sulks when mummy tells him to eat up his greens… that sort of thing?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, it’ll add so much more depth… you’ll really appreciate having recorded these things when you play the video in years to come… and if I know boys, Basil will want to sit down with you and see for himself how he looked and behaved when he was a young teen…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Ward had no difficulty in imagining a future day when she might be sat watching the video of her son at bathtime aged fourteen with Basil sat beside her: “... and when Basil is old enough to have a girlfriend, she can join us and sit with us while we all watch the video together…” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil, on the other hand, was having </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">great</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> difficulty concentrating on his comic as he listened to the two of us talking. He was no doubt worried that he might be in for an even more intensely humiliating experience. Frankly I was surprised he kept quiet… perhaps mummy had a word while they were out shopping.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I noticed that Basil’s hair was even shorter than when I’d seen him a few days ago and asked Mrs Ward whether he’d had it cut since.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, we popped into Mr Fenner’s this afternoon after you called. You were so complimentary about Basil’s haircut the other day, that I thought it would be nice for him to have an extra special trim in your honour, just for the occasion…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I am indeed honoured… there’s nothing smarter than a boy with a proper short schoolboy haircut.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... Oh, I agree… so many boys look so scruffy with their long hair… it’s so untidy and boys who are still at school should be encouraged to take pride in their school uniforms and you can’t expect boys to do that if their hair is a mess…” Mrs Ward had very traditional views about the upbringing of boys of which Basil was positive proof of the rewards gained by her care, love and attention.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">As we talked Mrs Ward made it perfectly clear how I was to have a free hand and not to be afraid of taking the initiative if I thought anything needed to be done differently: “I think it’s a lovely idea to start filming here in the family room…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It will certainly help to set the scene… perhaps you could introduce yourself and Basil can face the camera and tell us a bit about himself,” I suggested.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“That’s just the sort of thing I meant when I said you should take the initiative,” Mrs Ward looked down at her son, “and Basil, when you are asked to introduce yourself, you will answer truthfully and politely, understood?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, mummy…” Basil replied.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Good… I don’t want you to go into one of your sulky moods and spoil the video.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“No, mummy…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Promise?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, mummy… I promise…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I set up one of the cameras on a tripod and chose a lens that gave me a wide field of view that took in most of the room. I proposed to use a second camera, with its zoom lens, for hand-held shots. This second camera had an image stabilising function that produced pin-sharp video. It was about four o’clock and was testing both cameras to make sure everything was working correctly, when I heard the doorbell.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil looked up at his mother.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Go and see who that is, darling,” she told him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil got up from the floor and disappeared through the doorway into the hall. The doorbell was rung a second time.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Must be urgent…” I said.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Or impatient,” Mrs Ward replied.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">We heard Basil call from the hall: “It’s Mrs Docherty… and er, Declan…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Well bring them though, Basil…” Mrs Ward rolled her eyes up towards the ceiling, “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Boys…</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">” she sighed, “you have to tell them to do every little thing…” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">We could hear movement in the hall and then Mrs Docherty appeared. She stood in the doorway looking flustered. Declan stood at her side holding his mother’s hand. In her other hand Mrs Docherty held a large bag. Basil stood behind them.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Whatever is it, Joyce?” Mrs Ward asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It’s the boiler, Claire… the blasted boiler packed up just as I was about to give Declan his bath and we’ve no hot water…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">We all now looked at Declan. He was wearing what appeared to be an old and favourite T-shirt that hardly fitted him. The faded cartoon character emblazoned across Declan’s skinny chest was not one I recognised. The tight T-shirt didn’t quite reach his cute little innie belly-button. On his feet he wore a pair of bright yellow sneakers, but no socks. What did surprise me… and I noticed the envious look on Basil’s face, was that Declan was wearing a pair of boxer shorts. I hadn’t realised boxers were available to fit little boys like Declan and of course I knew the reason for the expression on Basil’s face… Basil was still dressed in regulation junior schoolboy underpants! The fact that Basil was wearing a pair at that very moment must have made him think it very unfair that an obviously much younger boy was wearing proper boxer shorts. I wonder whether Basil had figured out what else this meant… that Declan must also have long trousers to wear, since boxers could never be considered appropriate for a boy like Basil who was kept permanently dressed in extremely brief short trousers.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Docherty continued: “I’ve told Roger to get the boiler serviced I don’t know how many times… and now it’s packed up completely… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">husbands</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">,” she said as she finished letting off steam. It was then that she saw the camera on its tripod. “Oh, I’m not interrupting something am I? It’s just… it’s just that I was hoping… wondering… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">praying</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">… would it be </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">too</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> much to ask if I could give Declan his bath here… we’d be no trouble, Claire… I’ve brought towels and all Declan’s things…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Ward couldn’t have been more welcoming: “Of course you can, Joyce… in fact, you couldn’t have timed it better,” she told her neighbour. She paused and then realised an explanation was in order, “We were about to make a video of Basil… a keepsake, something for me to watch when Basil is all grown up… and we were about to get Basil ready for </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">his</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> bath… so you see you came at just the right time and if you like we can bath both boys together…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Do you mean you’re going to video Basil’s bathtime? Oh, that’s smashing… what a lovely idea! How sweet!” Joyce gushed and turned to me, “Can you video Declan for me as well?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Of course I can,” I replied, “but it would be up to Clare… I mean whether she wants Basil to be videoed with Declan,” I answered diplomatically, then added, “But then, if you’re going to bath the boys together, it will be difficult not to video them both!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Ward clapped her hands together: “Well that’s that settled, of course we’ll video Declan and Basil together… and I’ve just thought of the perfect title for the video ‘</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Rub-a-dub-dub, two boys in a tub</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">’! It’ll be great fun for them both…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">We three grown-ups laughed as we agreed it would be a great title, but I could see Basil casting furtive glances in Declan’s direction… and I could see what he was thinking. Declan was obviously a lot younger than fourteen year old Basil… why should he have to share his bath with him? That and the fact that Declan had been bought boxers shorts must have really upset Basil, because he looked in danger of having one of his sulks that he’d promised mummy faithfully he wouldn’t have.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“How old is Declan, by the way?” I asked purely to make conversation, since Mrs Ward had mentioned Declan’s age the other day.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Decan’s nine, aren’t you darling?” Mrs Docherty replied.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’ll be ten next birthday,” Declan piped up, speaking for the first time and then asked, “Can I have a look at the camera?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Unlike Basil, Declan was keen to know more about my video cameras and so I showed him some of the features.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Would you like me to take some test video of you Declan?” I asked and Declan’s face lit up. He was keen as mustard.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Cool</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">!!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Like a lot of boys his age Declan was totally uninhibited and struck a number of poses as I videoed him pretending to be his favourite superheroes. I looked round to see Basil was mightily embarrassed watching Declan’s display. Maybe because Basil hadn’t quite grown out of wanting to play pretend himself, but thinking he was too old for that sort of thing. For the mothers though, it was quite another matter. They both beamed their approval of Declan’s innocent behaviour.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You’ve got a real gift,” Joyce said to me, “Declan’s really taken to you… you wouldn’t believe how shy he is normally.” and she laughed as her son acted up for the camera once more, “I couldn’t get him to do that no matter how many times I asked him…”.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I chuckled: “Boys can be very fickle, but I’ll make sure to include some of Declan’s clowning about when I edit the video, so you’ll always have it to look at if he’s too shy to show off again.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Ward was the next to speak: “I think it’s about time we got these boys undressed and ready for their bath, don’t you think?” She turned to Mrs Docherty and explained, “ I normally get Basil undressed for bathtime down here… it saves me at bit of time when there’s clothes to wash…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Docherty was happy with this arrangement and told us how she had already got Declan undressed and ready for his bath, when she discovered there was no hot water: “I think Declan would have been more than happy to come round just as he was without any clothes on… in spite of his shyness!” she smiled at Declan who managed to look a little sheepish, “... but I insisted he at least put on his boxer shorts. Where he found that old T-shirt I’ve no idea… but it’s one of his favourites and even though he can hardly get into it, he won’t let me get rid of it…” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">To everyone’s surprise Basil suddenly blurted out: “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">MUMMY!! I’M OLDER THAN DECLAN!! I CAN’T BATH WITH HIM!! IT’S NOT FAIR!! I WON’T MUMMY!!!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It was quite an outburst and luckily I still had my cameras running to capture Basil’s tantrum as a clearly embarrassed Mrs Ward, shown up by her son in front of her friend, snapped: “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">That’s enough, Basil!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">” It was a warning shot and from the look on his face, one that made Basil realise he’d gone too far.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil hesitated for a second, the time it took for mummy to give him two resounding </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">smacks</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">! on the back of his upper right thigh just below the hem of Basil’s </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">very</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> short grey school trousers.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil registered his shock at receiving such a childish punishment in front of everyone, “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">OUCH</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">!!!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn’t take your trousers down right this minute and smack your naughty bare bottom for being so rude?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">NO, MUMMY! PLEASE, MUMMY… I’M SORRY, MUMMY… PLEASE DON’T SMACK ME, MUMMY… I WON’T DO IT AGAIN, I PROMISE…</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Alright, Basil, I accept your apology… but </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">if there are anymore outbursts like that you’ll find yourself over my knee</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> and you know what that means for your bottom… your </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">bare </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">bottom… do you understand?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">A very contrite Basil lowered his head until his chin was almost touching his chest: “Yes, mummy…” I noticed that Basil’s hands had moved and he was rubbing the seat of his short trousers. No, he most definitely did not want </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">to be taken over mummy’s knee</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Now, Basil, you are to apologise to Mrs Docherty and Declan and then ask Declan if he would like to share your bath…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil was red-faced with shame. He sucked in his lips and taking a deep breath turned to face Declan and Mrs Docherty: “I’m sorry for being rude, Mrs Docherty… I-I didn’t mean it… and… and… I’m sorry,” he repeated. Then Basil lowered his head to speak to Declan. He glanced sideways in the direction of his mother who, with pursed lips, nodded for him to continue, “Sorry, Declan..” Basil paused for a second. It was clearly a huge effort for him to say the next few words, but he managed to ask the little boy, “Please… er, please will you share my bath, Declan?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Declan must have realised… and relished seeing Basil, an older boy, taken down a peg or two, because his reply caused Basil’s face to lose its colour. He suddenly turned white as a sheet when Declan simply said: “I dunno… why should I?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">This response caused Basil to positively </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">beg </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Declan to share his bath. Declan thought this a big joke and carried on teasing Basil, much to everyone’s amusement until finally Mrs Docherty told her son that enough was enough and that he would join Basil for his bathtime whether he liked it or not. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I was pleased to capture this all this on video. It would make a delightful intro to explain why two boys of such differing ages were seen together being undressed and made ready for bathtime.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Declan looked up with a big grin on his face having had his fun at Basil’s expense. Joyce Docherty smiled: “Yes, Basil, I think Declan would love to share your bath with you… I’ve brought some of his toys and I’m sure Declan will let you play with them too…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil wisely thanked Mrs Docherty and I looked forward to shooting a scene in the video that featured the two adorable young boys playing together with their toys in the bath, watched over by their doting mothers.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Now it’s high time we got these boys ready,” Claire Ward announced as she faced the video camera and said, “Basil’s got a friend with him today…” she held out her arm and waved Declan to come to her side, “This is Declan… his mummy’s brought him over and he’s going to have a bath with Basil today… aren’t you darling?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Declan beamed proudly as he stood in front of the camera wearing nothing more than his tight little T-shirt, his boxer shorts and a pair of sneakers. He looked up at Mrs Ward: “You bet!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“My son Basil is nearly fifteen… how old are you Declan?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’m nine…” Declan announced proudly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Would you like to help me get Basil undressed and ready for his bathtime with you, Declan?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Declan’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as breathlessly he gasped: “Can I? Can I really, Mrs Ward?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">This was a totally unexpected turn of events and of course Basil was none too happy, but already with two red smack-marks on his legs, he wasn’t in a position to complain… unless he wanted to feel the heat of more spanks on other sensitive smack-spots.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Ward looked over in my direction and then signalled to Basil to come and join her in front of the camera with Declan. Basil did as he was told, but without any noticeable enthusiasm. As his mother looked straight at the camera she placed her hand on her son’s shoulder and spoke:</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“This boy, wearing his smart school uniform, is my son Basil. He’s fourteen years old and it’s his bathtime. The boy on my right,” she placed her other hand on Declan’s head as if the emphasise the different size of the boys, “... is Declan and, as he’s already told us, he’s nine years old. His mummy was about to give Declan a bath, but their boiler has broken down, so there’s no hot water at their house. Declan’s mummy had already undressed him ready for his bath, but before they came here she made Declan put on some boxer shorts and a favourite old T-shirt to wear while they walked over here…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... and now, in a moment Declan is going to help me get Basil ready for his bath, because I know these boys are looking forward to sharing a bath… aren’t you boys?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil’s face was a picture. He’d already had his legs slapped when he made a fuss about bathing with Declan, so he said what he knew his mummy wanted to hear: “Yes… yes, mummy…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I was not sure Basil’s response conveyed the right sense of eagerness and mummy clearly agreed as she asked me if I would mind pausing a second while she had a word with her son. I told her to take as long as she needed and since there was plenty of memory, I carried on videoing.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Declan had already let us… and the whole street… know how keen he was to have a bath with Basil by yelling his positive response at the top of his voice. Perhaps Basil’s lack of enthusiasm had something to do with Declan’s obvious eagerness. Be that as it may, Basil’s mummy was not pleased with her son’s behaviour and a couple more well placed smacks to the back of Basil’s legs, real stingers, coupled with an admonition for him to ‘buck his ideas up’.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Docherty stepped forward at that point: “I think I’ll get Declan undressed, Clare… then he can help you with Basil…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">So while Mrs Ward continued to scold her son, telling him how I’d gone to a great deal of trouble to bring my cameras so that I could make a really nice video of his bathtime and added: “... and I won’t have you sulking and spoiling everything…” Mrs Docherty sat with Declan standing between her legs as she pulled off his T-shirt. Next off were Declan’s sneakers and finally she tugged down his boxers shorts to leave the nine year old boy naked and ready for his bath with Basil.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“No one can sulk like a teenage boy,” Mrs Docherty observed as we waited for Mrs Ward to finish telling Basil to stop behaving like a spoilt little boy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">When Basil saw what was on show between Declan’s legs his mouth fell open for a second until he snapped it shut again when he realised what he was doing. The look on his face was priceless… shock at first, then envy, since Declan’s thin, immature penis was noticeably longer than his own.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Right, I think we’re now ready to resume… if Master Basil is happy for us to do so…” Mrs Ward announced, giving her son a stern look. I could tell this was going to be an interesting hour or two.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’ve an idea,” I said, “Why not have Basil stand on that footstool over there… it’ll will make it easier for you both and it will be easier for me to get some good shots of Declan helping you undress Basil.” I didn’t add that I would also make Basil feel even more exposed and vulnerable than ever.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“No sooner said than done… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">!” Mrs Ward pointed to the foot-stool and Basil stepped onto it and meekly turned to face the room. “Come on, Declan… I’ll undo Basil’s school shorts while you take off Basil’s sandals… socks as well if you can manage it…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Declan was thrilled to be given this to do: “You bet!” and set about his job with enthusiasm.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">As I videoed Declan at work on Basil’s sandals I tried to imagine what he must feel like to be helping to undress a boy five years older than he was… no wonder he was thrilled! Delcan’s small, nimble fingers soon had the buckles of both of Basil’s T-bar school sandals undone. Basil knew what he was expected to do and helped Declan by lifting each foot in turn so the younger boy could remove the sandals.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Declan looked up: “Shall I take off Basil’s socks now, or wait for you to take down Basil’s shorts, Mrs Ward?” he asked with a giggle.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Ward smiled: “What a wonderful little helper you are, Declan… no I’ll wait while you take Basil’s socks off and then you can help me with Basil’s school shorts.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Declan set to work and had Basil’s long school socks off in no time at all, no doubt eager to help with more of Basil’s undressing. All the while I continued to video proceedings getting some great close-ups of Basil’s face as he looked down anxiously at mummy and her little helper, Declan.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Declan seems to be enjoying himself,” I remarked to Mrs Docherty, “Is he always this helpful at home?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Docherty rolled her eyes upward: “If only… he can be a right little scamp if he wants…” she smiled, “but then I shouldn’t want him any other way.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Socks now removed and handed to Mrs Docherty, who was clearly to be in charge of Basil’s school uniform, Declan stood up next to Mrs Ward to await instructions.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Now Declan, I’ve left the zip for you to help me with… are you ready?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Declan nodded eagerly and was so excited his penis was waggling from side to side. Mrs Ward took Declan’s thin wrists and held them while he took hold of the zip.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“That’s it Declan… my what a helpful boy you are… now pull the zip down… that’s it, all the way down… good boy! There we are, now all we’ve got to do is give Basil’s short trousers a little tug and they’ll fall down all by themselves… go on, that’s it, give them a little tug… oh, well done!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Declan was delighted to see the school shorts fall down Basil’s smooth legs, all the way to his feet. On Mrs Ward’s instructions Declan quickly removed the short trousers and handed them to his mummy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I think we should unbutton some of Basil’s shirt buttons now, don’t you, Declan?” Mrs Ward suggested. I could tell that she was thoroughly enjoying having a little helper in Declan and she was determined to make sure I had lots to capture on video. She then told Basil to step down off the footstool so that Declan could help undo his shirt buttons.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil was clearly struggling to keep still as his mother showed Declan which of his shirt buttons to undo, but if Basil was struggling now, it was nothing compared with the look on his face as his mummy explained to Declan how they’d need the shirt out of the way, “so we can see Basil’s underpants properly… and then, if you want, you can help me take them off…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Right off!!” Declan exclaimed, clearly in seventh heaven.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Of course right off, darling… boys have to be completely undressed for bathtime, don’t they?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Declan beamed: “Yes, Mrs Ward!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil’s crisp white junior schoolboy underpants were quite visible even before Declan unbuttoned Basil’s short-sleeved grey school shirt and I saw Mrs Docherty glance at the obvious lack of boy-bulge in the regulation Y-fronts that Basil wore.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil’s face was screwed up. His humiliation palpable to his audience… well, apart from Declan who was so thrilled to be helping undress an older boy. Added to Basil’s intense shame was the simple fact that everyone in the room could see he still wore little boy’s junior white cotton school regulation underpants, whereas Declan, not even ten years old yet, was already allowed to wear proper boy’s boxer shorts.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Right then, Declan… let’s get Basil’s underpants off shall we?” Mrs Ward appeared quite oblivious to her son’s acute embarrassment. I’ve often noticed that mothers seem to have little regard for boys who become desperately shy as they enter their teens. I’ve known mums who think nothing of discussing, in their son’s presence, to a roomful of friends and relatives how they caught their boy masturbating; mothers who don’t hesitate to pull their son’s trousers and underpants, or their swimming trunks right down to show some small cut or bruise or sunburn on the boy’s neither regions. I’ve often wondered why these mums completely ignore the boy’s obvious embarrassment when discussing or exposing them in this way… something they would never countenance if it was a girl. But then they are only boys after all and nobody is in the least concerned about the boy’s feelings. After all, boys are supposed to be brave and unconcerned about finer feelings such as modesty… modesty is for girls!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Leaving the static camera to record the overall scene, I swiftly moved in closer to video the removal of Basil’s underpants. I particularly wanted to record the expression on Declan’s face when he saw Basil’s tiny tiddler. Of course I also needed to get close-ups of Basil’s face and, for good measure, that of Declan’s mummy, Mrs Docherty, who I felt sure would not be backwards in coming forwards when she saw Basil’s humiliating lack of pubertal development at the age of fourteen.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">As it was Basil’s underpants were pulled down and pulled back up three times in order for me to reposition my camera. As I explained to Mrs Ward, it was important for me to get reaction shots, to which she wholeheartedly agreed when I told her how I intended the video to be edited.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The only one to remark upon the small size of Basil’s penis was Declan who immediately exclaimed: “Cor!! It ain’t arf small!” when he first saw the hairless tiddler revealed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Declan was however taken to task by his mother: “There’s no need to shout, Declan… everyone can see how small Basil’s willy is…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I looked to see how Mrs Ward reacted to her friend’s observation just as Declan was announcing that his willy was longer than Basil’s willy. Mrs Ward smiled and ruffled Declan hair and told the nine year old boy: “Everyone can see how much longer your willy is, Declan… and I’m sure Basil is perfectly well aware that his willy is smaller than yours…” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I repositioned my camera each time Declan helped Mrs Ward to pull down Basil’s underpants and each time he giggled and laughed at the way Basil’d tiny penis was caught on the elastic waistband only to flick out into view like a miniature jack-in-the-box. The third time this happened Declan actually clapped his hands together, delighted to see Basil’s little tiddler popping into view once more: “Can we do it again? Please… can we do it again?!” he said enthusiastically.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“No… that’s enough, Declan,” his mother said, “If we keep taking down Basil’s underpants we won’t have any time left to get you boys into the bath.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Declan pushed out his lower lip and frowned until Mrs Ward reminded him she still needed Declan’s help to remove Basil’s grey school shirt and tie. Declan’s mood changed in an instant, but I noticed Basil wasn’t at all pleased as he stood bare from the waist down with his little tiddler on display. Indeed, there was a look on Basil’s face and by the way he was sucking in his lips that made it obvious he was struggling to keep himself under control. No doubt Basil didn’t want things to get any worse, but for all that, he was to be disappointed… as it turned out they soon would.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I decided a pre-bathtime group shot would be appropriate; Mrs Ward, Mrs Docherty and their two nude boys, Basil (14 nearly 15) and Declan (9 nearly 10). I told the boys to put one of their arms around each other’s waist whilst standing between their mothers. The boys’ other arms were held by their smiling mums standing at each side. It was a delightful family pose that highlighted the difference between the two boys; Declan, with his long thin penis dangling between his legs and Basil with his tiny willy sticking straight out towards my camera.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Well… is anyone else ready for a cuppa before we take the boys upstairs?” Mrs Ward asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Both Mrs Docherty and I welcomed the idea.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It’ll give the boys chance to get to know each other before bathtime,” Mrs Docherty said.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">An idea occurred to me: “You said you brought some of Declan’s toys with you… I’m sure Basil would like to see them and if it’s ok with you he can play with Declan while we have a cuppa.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil grimaced. Clearly the thought of playing with Declan didn’t appeal. What was worse, now that he was totally nude in company, I was pretty sure he just wanted to get his bath over and done with. Dragging out the proceedings by playing with Declan’s toys wasn’t at all want he wanted to do.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The two nude boys were told to sit on the carpet while Declan’s mummy sorted out some of her son’s toys. It wasn’t long before Basil made some disparaging remark about one of Declan’s Transformer toys that caused Declan to take offence. The younger boy launched himself onto Basil and soon all anyone could see of the bare boys were arms and legs whirling about. It wasn’t more than a few minutes before Declan had managed to pin down Basil by sitting across Basil’s chest. Declan was facing Basil’s head which meant long, slim penis was waggling right in Basil’s face and then, when Declan leant forward, his penis actually brushed Basil’s chin! It was hilarious watching the boys fighting. Basil tried to unseat Declan by jerking his hips up and down. Basil had spread his thighs to give himself extra thrust, but it meant that we could all see his little tiddler as it flicked up and down and from side to side. It was priceless and with my camera positioned between Basil’s legs, I made sure I recorded all the action for prosperity.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Get him off me!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">” Basil screamed, “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Get him off me!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">But Declan was having a great time. He even managed to pin Basil’s arms to the floor with his knees. In doing this Declan slid forward until his was seating astride Basil’s neck. Declan reached forwards to grab hold of Basil’s wrists, holding them above Basil’s head. Declan’s penis was now waggling right in front of Basil’s face and we watched as as struggled to keep Declan’s long thin penis from touching his face by twisting his head from side to side. But Declan stretched his arms right out as he gripped Basil’s wrists until he was almost lying on top of Basil’s head. In this position Declan’s penis slid across Basil’s face, brushing his nose and sliding over both cheeks and at one point it even slipped between Basil’s open lips as Basil took a deep breath during one of his attempts to unseat the younger boy. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil spluttered as he felt the bald willy in his mouth: “Argghh!!” All he could do was to dislodge the penis by blowing and hoping that would get it out of his mouth. Declan was thrilled with this new game and he decided to see how much more of his willy he could get into Basil’s mouth. Declan pushed forward, flattening himself over Basil’s face and pushing his willy all the way in.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Needless to say Basil got the blame.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“What on earth do you think you are doing, Basil?” Mrs Ward admonished her son, “Take Declan’s penis out of your mouth at once!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Declan was laughing fit to burst. Mrs Docherty was about to tick her son off, but found it difficult not to giggle at Declan’s behaviour.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Ward turned to her friend: “It’s not Declan’s fault… Basil’s older than Declan and should know better than to encourage him…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">As Basil struggled underneath the wriggling nine year old he finally managed to dislodge Declan’s penis from his mouth. He turned his head sideways: “It wasn’t…” but that was all he managed to say before Declan shifted himself forwards and silenced Basil by sitting, thighs spread wide either side of Basil’s ears, right on top of the fourteen year old’s face!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil’s whole body twisted as he flailed his legs about helplessly, unable to breath properly with Decaln’s bottom pressed firmly over his nose and mouth. Light as he was Declan managed to ride Basil’s bucking bronco until Mrs Docherty finally stepped forwards and grabbed her son’s arms to lift him off. Basil lay on the floor panting, gasping for breath after being squashed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Ward reprimanded her son: “Basil! How could you? That was very naughty of you…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“IT WASN’T MY FAULT!” Basil argued raising his voice rather unwisely, I thought, “IT WAS DECLAN… HE DID IT ON PURPOSE!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Get up!! Get up… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">now</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">!” Mummy was in no mood to put up with that sort of behaviour. “I don’t know what’s got into you, Basil… we’ll see if a smacked bottom will help you to buck your ideas up…” and with these words Mrs Ward took hold of Basil’s arm and pulled him towards a straight-backed chair. I’d noticed how the chair seemed curiously out of place when compared with other furnishings in the room, but thought no more about it. Basil knew the significance of this particular item of furniture though.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Please, mummy… no… not the spanking chair… please… I’m sorry, mummy… ever so sorry… please… I won’t do it again… I promise…</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">But Basil’s pleading fell on deaf ears as Mrs Ward sat down and stood her naked son to one side. There followed a scolding which left Basil’s ears burning. It was bad enough to be told off at any time, but to be told off in front of Mrs Docherty and her son, Declan… never mind that I was busy videoing the proceedings as well! Poor Basil was made to stand by mummy’s side while she continued:</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I just don’t know what’s got into you today, Basil,” she said again, “You’ve been behaving very oddly all day… and now, instead of playing nicely with Declan, you show up mummy in front of everyone… really, Basil I don’t think you realise how naughty you’ve been… mummy’s very upset with you… you know I dislike having to smack your naughty bottom, but you give me no choice…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">As she said these words, Mrs Ward eased Basil forwards and bent him over her knees, pulling him right over until she was satisfied Basil was in the correct position for a smacked bottom. Basil reached one hand out as he faced the carpeted floor, while Mrs Ward held his other hand and pressed it against the middle of Basil’s back to ensure he couldn’t interfere with his spanking. In this position Basil’s feet were barely touching the carpet as mummy started to stroke the smooth, rounded curves of his naughty bottom.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I want you to understand why I’m going to smack your bottom, Basil…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil knew what his response should be and dutifully replied: “Because I was naughty, mummy…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Even Declan was quiet while we all watched and listened as Basil’s humiliating punishment unfolded before us.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“That’s right, Basil… and because it’s for your own good that mummy has to take you over her knee for a smacked bottom… It was very naughty of you to put Declan’s penis in your mouth and I don’t ever want to hear of you doing that again…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The sense of injustice that Basil felt must have been intense. He was sure it wasn’t his fault. It was so unfair to be smacked on his bottom in front of everyone, but these thoughts were driven from his mind as mummy raised her hand to starts smacking Basil’s bottom.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Within seconds Basil’s legs were scissoring as mummy’s hand smacked all over his bottom. She spanked all over each cheeks and when they were a nice shade of red, mummy landed some smacks on the back of Basil’s thighs. These smacks had Basil yelling his head off, presumably quite unconcerned that his punishment was being watched and videoed now that his bottom was on fire. Basil’s pleading soon became incoherent as the tears flowed and splashed onto the carpet. Only when mummy was completely satisfied was Basil allowed to get up again.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">What happened next was priceless as Basil instantly commenced to jump about, hopping from one foot to the other as his hands rubbed his very sore bottom. Like all boys who have just had their bare bottoms warmed up, Basil was so totally unaware of the spectacle he was making of himself and so focused on trying to relieve the stinging that I doubt that he was even aware how his little willy was bouncing about and jiggling from side to side.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Of course Basil’s spanking dance was captured in all its detail on video and was sure to be yet another highlight of the finished film.</span></p><br /><br /></span>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-89394499125012068162023-10-31T20:10:00.000+00:002023-10-31T20:10:42.163+00:00Bathtime for Basil - Part One<div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I was sat chatting to Mrs Ward in what she called her ‘family room’. Between us, sitting on the floor, was her son Basil. Basil was dressed in his school uniform. I knew Basil to be fourteen, almost fifteen years old, but he had the appearance of a younger, much younger, boy since he was wearing traditional, extremely brief, grey short trousers along with somewhat juvenile looking light-brown leather, T-bar school sandals. Although he wore long grey socks complete with Basil’s school colours of red and gold incorporated into the turnover tops, there was more than enough smooth, unblemished thigh to question whether or not Basil had yet to reach puberty. Simply looking at Basil’s smooth, boyish, rosy-cheeked face would be enough for some to conclude that he couldn’t possibly be as old as he claimed and when Basil stood up they would have little doubt they were correct in their assumption since Basil was not very tall for his age. On the sideboard was a school photograph in which he could be seen standing next to his classmates, some of them noticeably taller than Basil. Indeed it looked for all the world that Basil had wandered in from the junior school across the road dressed, as he was, in very short, thigh-baring short school trousers. But what would have puzzled the observer who thought him to be a junior boy, was that Basil, in spite of his lack of height, was nevertheless clearly a young teen.</span></div><span id="docs-internal-guid-21bfa28a-7fff-b76f-a4e5-4639d45b2fc7"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I realise this must be confusing. To say that a boy looked as if he was in the wrong class, but at the same time appeared to be in the right one is not an image that is easy to describe. Perhaps it was in the way that Basil behaved. His mannerisms were clearly that of a boy of nearly fifteen, it’s just that nothing else about his physical presence appeared to confirm this.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil sat on the floor between his mother and myself. He was reading a comic having, it was to be hoped, finished his homework. He was wearing his sleeveless school pullover, trimmed like his socks with his school’s colours, the same colours naturally of Basil’s school tie, still neatly knotted at his neck. A short-sleeved grey school shirt completed Basil’s school uniform which I was to find out he wore for visiting and trips out as well as when he was taken shopping with his mother. I noticed a pair of boy’s traditional blue-striped winceyette pyjamas warming by the fire and of course I assumed these to be Basil’s. I looked from the pyjamas to Basil engrossed in his comic and I paused to take note of his delightfully short haircut. It was, I concluded, the haircut of a junior boy; a model short-back-and-sides complete with floppy fringe, very unfashionable for a fourteen year old, I thought. Nevertheless it suited Basil and was in keeping with his junior schoolboy look.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">There was a pause in my conversation with Mrs Ward during which she suddenly declared: “Dear me… just look at the time!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She turned to look down at her son and spoke to him with the following words:</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Basil… put your comic away, it’s well past your bathtime… take off your sandals and come over here and let’s get you ready for your bath…” she trilled.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil sighed, “Yes, mummy…” and pulled his feet towards himself so that he could unbuckle his T-bar school sandals. In doing so I had a perfect view of the inside of his smooth thighs as his short trousers rucked up baring his legs even further.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I naturally assumed this meant Mrs Ward would take Basil up to the bathroom, although it seemed a little odd to me that this would imply her presence in the room as Basil bathed. Still I was merely a guest in Mrs Ward’s house and whatever was the customary procedure in her home was really none of my business. But imagine my shock when she started to undress Basil right there in the middle of the family room! Mrs Ward was clearly quite unconcerned with my being there… unlike Basil, who I could see was unhappy to be made ready for his bathtime in full view of mummy’s visitor.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Can’t we go upstairs now, mummy?” he pleaded, which confirmed to me mummy that would indeed be in charge throughout the whole of Basil’s bathtime.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Don’t be silly, darling… you know how your school uniform gets all rumpled if we leave it in your bedroom…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... but I do try and look after it, mummy…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I know you do, darling, but mummy has to make sure her little boy is nice and smart when he sets off to school in the morning and for that your school trousers have to be properly pressed…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">As she was saying these words, mummy’s fingers were busy at work on Basil’s short trousers. With a deftness born of much experience, she had the little metal clasp and the zip quickly undone and in the blink of an eye Basil’s school shorts were opened to reveal a pair of crisp white schoolboy underpants. Mummy soon had the shorts tugged down to Basil’s feet and to his credit he helped mummy by stepping out of them. I could see that Mrs Ward liked to keep Basil’s school uniform nice and neat as she took great care to fold and smooth the little grey school shorts before placing them in her lap. Next mummy pulled down Basil’s long grey school socks. Basil lifted each leg in turn so that mummy could pull the socks right off before folding them and placing them on top of the school shorts on her lap. Basil’s smooth legs were now completely bared all the way up to his neat little white underpants.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> Basil looked on nervously as mummy patted her hands on the folded socks and I noticed him suck in and chew on his lower lip which made him look like a boy of ten rather than one of almost fifteen. Basil obviously knew the order of his undressing and by the way he glanced in my direction I too could guess what item of Basil’s school uniform mummy would remove next.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Ward leant forwards and reached out, placing her hands on Basil’s waist. The short-sleeved grey school shirt was square cut where longer shirt-tails would normally be expected to be seen. This style of tailoring always puzzled me since there was never enough shirt-tail for boys to tuck into their trousers and the reason so many boys ended the school day looking scruffy with their shirts hanging out of their trousers. It must have driven some teachers to distraction having to tell boys to tuck their shirts in properly. I watched, not quite believing what I was about to see, as mummy’s fingers were wriggled into the waistband of what I now recognised as a pair of regulation white cotton junior schoolboy underpants. Mummy started to pull the little underpants down, first over Basil’s bottom before bringing her fingers round to the front and tucking them further into the underpants so she could pull them forward. Stretching the elastic waistband towards her, Basil’s mummy at last eased the front of the underpants over Basil’s boy-bits, a manoeuvre of which she clearly had lots of experience.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It was my turn to suck in my lips as I tried to stop myself from chuckling. Basil, fourteen, nearly fifteen years old, was not only completely bald ‘down there’, but he had the dinkiest little tiddler of a willy that I’d ever seen on a boy of any age! If you’d just seen Basil for the first time, you’d have thought he was nearer nine than fourteen. True, Basil’s marbles were just visible still held high in their tight little scrotum and I wondered if he was able to squirt when he played with himself, or whether he was still a dry cummer, or even if he had started masturbating at all.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Now he was bare from the waist down it was time for mummy to take off Basil’s sleeveless school pullover, trimmed in the school colours of red and gold. Of course Basil grey school shirt was also pulled upwards as his head disappeared into the woollen pullover, but mummy turned and asked me to help her. Would I mind just holding onto Basil’s shirt for a moment while she took off his pullover?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Why of course,” I replied as I crossed the room to assist in Basil’s disrobing. As I gripped the bottom of the grey school shirt to hold it in place, it gave me the opportunity to see the label on Basil’s schoolboy underpants as they lay on mummy’s lap. I suppressed a smile when I saw the words: “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Suitable for Boys aged 10 - 11 years</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">” printed clearly on the small tag secured to the waistband. So Basil was sent to school every morning wearing underpants normally only ever worn by little boys. But, as I had seen, they fitted him flawlessly and since the underpants were intended to be worn by junior boys it meant they were a perfect fit for Basil’s exquisitely short grey school trousers.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil’s head popped out of his pullover, his face redder than ever. As I held his grey school shirt in place my fingers were pressed against the soft skin of his hips. Mummy folded the pullover and added it to the growing pile of Basil’s clothes in her lap. I let go of Basil’s shirt and gave his bare bottom a playful smack when mummy reached up to undo his shirt buttons. Naturally Basil jerked forwards as my hand made contact with his pert bottom cheeks and I saw his little tiddler waggle between his legs as mummy told him to keep still, ignoring the cause of his sudden movement.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Do try and behave, Basil… how do you expect me to undress you if you keep jumping about all over the place?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil gave me a quick glance before he apologised to his mother who was busy unbuttoning his grey sleeveless school shirt.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Shall I undo Basil’s school tie?” I offered.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Ward was pleased to have my assistance and spoke to Basil: “There now, Basil… say ‘thank you for helping mummy to get me ready for my bathtime’.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Now Basil’s face got even redder than ever as he looked up at me with his big brown eyes. I had to tell myself again that Basil was nearly fifteen years old. That a boy his age would be so compliant beggared belief, yet he repeated the words his mother had told him to say without question. It seemed only right and proper that I should reward Basil by a friendly pat on the head.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I smiled: “Don’t mention it…” I loosened the knot of Basil’s school tie and pulled it apart before sliding the tie from the shirt collar.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mummy soon had all the shirt buttons undone working up from the bottom. Without more ado she pulled open the shirt. It being summer term at school, Basil was not allowed to wear a school vest, so his chest and tummy were now fully bared exposing his cute little pale-pink boy-nipples. Once more I volunteered my assistance and, as I was already on my feet, I offered to remove Basil’s shirt to save mummy from getting up from her chair.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I moved behind Basil and, resting my hands on his shoulders, I took hold of his grey school shirt and pulled it back: “Arms up!” I ordered. Basil obeyed straightaway and I lifted the short-sleeved shirt upwards slipping it from his hands, but not before I’d glimpsed his smooth boyish armpits which of course were quite free of any trace of hair.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I handed the shirt to Mrs Ward, She carefully folded it before placing it on top of the other clothes and Basil was left completely nude as he stood red-faced in the family room. Mrs Ward then picked up Basil’s school uniform from her lap, got up and took it into the hall.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil stood rather shyly, obviously very embarrassed to be seen in the nude by one of mummy’s visitors and his hands hovered nervously over his little boy-bits… not touching, but clearly ashamed, wanting to hide them from view. But when mummy came back into the room and saw what he was doing, she took one look at Basil, tutted, “... there’s no need for that…” before taking a firm hold of her son’s wrists and, lifting them right up, she put his hands smartly on his head. Of course once Basil had his hands on his head there was nothing he could do to prevent anyone from seeing everything. Mummy merely shook her head and tutted once more before sitting down again which surprised me as I was under the impression that as Basil was now ready for his bathtime he would be taken upstairs to the bathroom. But mummy appeared to be in no rush.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Ward asked me something, I forget what, but we started chatting again leaving Basil on full display standing naked in the middle of the room. Her earlier observation about the time seemed to have been forgotten. Either way it didn’t appear to concern her anymore, although it did occur to me that it might be part of Basil’s bathtime ritual that he to be undressed in plenty of time for his bath, but of course this was none of my business. For whatever reason Mrs Ward was clearly in no rush to get Basil upstairs to the bathroom and it was another quarter of an hour before she finally got up and took Basil’s hands from his head. She held onto one of his hands and turned to me.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Why don’t you come upstairs with us and we can talk some more?” She said as she led Basil towards the door of the room like a little boy, which I suppose he was. I had to keep reminding myself that Basil was fourteen years old, a teenager, which was rather difficult when you saw his tiny, thin little boy penis jiggling about as he was led by mummy’s hand into the hallway.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I need hardly add that I took Mrs Ward up on her kind offer. My afternoon thus far had been most entertaining and the prospect of possibly seeing Basil further humiliated intrigued me to say the least.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Upstairs we entered the bathroom and mummy once more took Basil by his wrists to put his hands firmly back on his head, once more displaying his perfectly smooth, hairless armpits.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Now stay there while I run your bath for you,” she told him… as if Basil was likely to wander off. He was completely naked… where would he go without any clothes on?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I sat down on a bathroom chair and fished into a side pocket of the jacket I was wearing. Mrs Ward was facing me to operate the bath taps and I caught her eye as I pulled out my mobile phone. I waved it in the direction of Basil and gave her a quizzical look. She understood me completely.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Why, yes, of course… that’s a lovely idea!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">M-U-M</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">!!!” Basil was shocked when he saw what I was holding in my hand. His reaction was certainly that of a fourteen year old boy, since I hardly think a boy of nine would have been at all bothered about seeing my mobile phone with its inbuilt camera. Yes, Basil’s reaction showed his true age, that of a teen boy horrified when he saw that he was about to have a video of him taken as he was bathed by his mummy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">While I was adjusting the settings of my phone to record video, Mrs Ward opened one of the bathroom cupboards and took out an apron to wear while she bathed Basil. I looked up when I heard the distinctive </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">crinkle-crackle</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> as she pulled the white polythene apron over her head and secured the ties around her waist. Having given me her permission to use the video recording facility on my phone in the bathroom, she simply let me video whatever, and as much, as I liked. Needless to say this did not go down at all well with Basil and he whinged in that tiresome way boys do when something doesn’t go their way, until he was told to behave himself. Mummy then told Basil to thank me for taking an interest in him. I could tell Basil didn’t want to risk upsetting his mother with a silly tantrum, so he did as he was told and thanked me. However his struggle to come to terms with a camera phone held in his direction was made all too apparent by the expression on his face, which was of course recorded for posterity.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Come along, Basil… bathtime,” his mother said, calling him over to the bath. To steady him she held Basil with her hands each side of his waist as he climbed over the edge of the bath. He gingerly placed a couple of toes in the water and as he did so his thighs were stretched wide. I couldn’t resist zooming in for a few seconds on his pointy-out, little-boy willy and wondered if there would be an opportunity, or an excuse, to measure Basil’s tiny tiddler properly. I reckoned that it couldn’t be much more than an inch, or an inch and a half at most as it waggled about in front of my camera phone.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Can’t I have it a bit hotter, mummy?” Basil said as he pulled his foot back up and rested it on the edge of the bath to give me another opportunity to video what was between his widely parted thighs.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I decided to speak and draw Basil’s attention, as if any was needed, that I was in the bathroom with them and videoing the proceedings: “Now, Basil, I’m sure mummy knows what the correct temperature of bathwater should be for junior boys…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Ward smiled in my direction, clearly enjoying my input to the proceedings. Basil looked at me rather sulkily before saying the words I hoped he would say: “I’m </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">not </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">a junior boy… I’m fourteen… nearly fifteen… aren’t I, mummy?” It was difficult for me not to chuckle, since Basil obviously didn’t understand how he had multiplied his humiliation a hundredfold by admitting that he was a teenage boy by announcing his age, and having it recorded on video.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">With that, and as if to prove a point, Basil stepped into the bath and slowly eased himself into the lukewarm water. I moved over, still videoing, and stood by the side of Mrs Ward to record in more detail Basil’s bathtime.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“How do you go about bathing a fourteen year old boy like Basil?” I asked. I couldn’t resist referring to Basil’s age since he had so graciously announced it just a few seconds ago.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mum smiled, clearly understanding my lighthearted teasing of her son: “Much the same as I’ve always bathed him since he was a little boy…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“So it’s no different now that he’s a teenager?” I replied playfully.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil looked up at us clearly impatient to get his bathtime over and done with and no wonder, as he could see that I was going to be videoing every aspect of his bathtime with mummy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“No, not all all,” mum said in answer to my question, “First I wash Basil’s hair…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I must just interrupt you there and say that it’s worth noting how you keep Basil’s hair trimmed nice and short… as it should be kept on a boy his age. So many other fourteen year old schoolboys these days are allowed to grow their hair to shoulder-length, or even longer until it becomes untidy and makes the boy look scruffy… that’s why it’s so important to keep boy’s hair neat and tidy, just like Basil’s smart haircut. Do you take Basil to a traditional barber?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Ward was clearly enjoying the ‘interview’ style that I was adopting to record Basil’s bathtime as she leant down to examine Basil’s ears: “Oh yes… I take Basil once a fortnight to Mr Fenner. He’s a very old fashioned boy’s barber… he knows just what type of haircut Basil needs. There’s usually one or two other mothers there so I can catch up on the latest gossip while our boys have their haircuts…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... and what ages are these other boys?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh, they’re generally a lot younger than Basil… little Declan, for instance… he lives two doors away, he’s only nine… as you say, it’s a shame, but so few boys of Basil’s age go to Mr Fenner’s these days.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Well, don’t let me hold you up… but perhaps you would explain what you’re doing at each stage of Basil’s bathtime? Just so that anyone who sees the video will understand Basil’s bathtime procedure…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil looked directly at me. This was another shock for him as it was obvious he hadn’t considered who would see his bathtime video. Basil opened his mouth to speak, but his mother spoke before he could get a word out.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Why of course… I’d be delighted, for instance I’m just having a look at Basil’s ears… you know some days I swear you could grow potatoes in there, Basil’s ears that mucky… I don’t know what he gets up to.” Basil’s face puckered up as mummy twisted his head sideways and pulled his ear closer to my phone. “Just look at that,” she exclaimed as she pointed to a tiny speck just inside his ear.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Ward was a natural.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She picked up a flannel and wetted it before wiping Basil’s ear to get rid of the offending particle of dirt: “... and the back of his neck always seems to get missed when he washes himself in the morning… so that often needs a good scrub with the flannel… just look…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I moved in closer and zoomed in to see a small fleck of grime on the nape of Basil’s neck. It became obvious that Mrs Ward demanded exceptionally high standards of cleanliness from her son.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Now I’m going to wash Basil’s hair…” she held up a bottle, “... as you can see I use a ‘no tears’ shampoo because Basil often doesn’t close his eyes properly… so first off we wet Basil’s hair…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mummy used the shower hose and by the way Basil shook his shoulders the water wasn’t that much warmer than that in his bath.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I always like to work up a good, thick lather when I’m washing Basil’s hair…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The washing and rinsing of Basil’s hair took a little over five minutes and I assumed that mummy would leave Basil sitting in the bath to have his top half washed. I was wrong.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Stand up, Basil…” Mrs Ward turned to face the camera like a real pro, “I always like to have Basil standing up, it’s so much easier to see what I’m doing…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">So a thoroughly wet, thoroughly nude Basil was made to stand up for mummy… and the camera.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil’s mummy picked up and put on her hand a bath mitt in the shape of a bright yellow duck. It was the sort of hand mitt a mother might have used when bathing a toddler, but Mrs Ward obviously found it useful when she was giving fourteen year old Basil his bath. She lathered up the mitt and started rub the resulting suds all over Basil’s upper body, turning him his way and that, pulling his arms up and out, to make sure he was nice and clean. Basil giggled, squirmed and twisted away from the soapy children’s hand mitt as mummy scrubbed his tickle spots. Basil, for a few brief moments, wriggled about and behaved as if he’d forgotten I was there videoing his bathtime.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Ward turned to face me and the camera phone once more: “Basil’s very ticklish… as you can see, so it’s important to keep a firm grip on him at bathtime to make sure he doesn’t slip in the bath…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I could tell this was rapidly turning into an instructional video for bathing boys like Basil… not that I had any objection. Having Mrs Ward’s complete cooperation was certainly more than I’d expected.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil’s humiliation was intense. Mummy was treating him like a nine year old… perhaps she always did at bathtime, but the big difference today was that Basil not only had an audience, but his bathtime was being videoed with mummy’s full agreement and consent. What must have appalled Basil even more was that mummy was so obviously enjoying herself! How unfair was that?!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Turn around Basil and push your bottom out for mummy…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">When I heard these words I quickly got into position beside Mrs Ward so that I was ready to video the next stage of Basil’s bathtime.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“That’s it, darling, you know what to do… put your hands on the edge of the opposite side of the bath… bend down… that’s right, now just move your legs apart so mummy can wash you properly… push out your bottom, darling… that’s it… good boy.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">As Basil bent down with his bottom pushed out with cheeks spread before us Mrs Ward turned to me and spoke:</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’m so grateful you’re taking the time to do this… I do hope you can send me a copy of your video. You see there will come a time when Basil grows up and… well, what more could any mother wish for than to be reminded of their little boy enjoying his bathtime?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It was so very touching to be allowed to preserve this special occasion for Basil’s mummy that I started to think how I could further assist her. Of course I knew that lots of mums kept special family albums, photographs of their boys growing up. But it wasn’t until recently, with the advent of digital technology, that private moments could be so faithfully recorded.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Years ago mums had to make do with their hand-held Super 8 cameras when filming their preteen or teenage sons at play on the beach. From time to time one might glimpse a younger teen whose mummy had decided there was no reason for him to wear any swim trunks. As the naked boy played and built sandcastles, mummy would have had picked up her cine camera and made the most of her opportunity to capture this special moment on film.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Of course,” I replied, “I fully intended this to be for you. I know how important memories are… and when boys grow up so quickly it needs someone to capture these special moments so they can be shared with friends and relatives… and, well anyone you choose to…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil was twisting his neck to look back at us and listening: “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">M-U-M-M-Y</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">!! </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">You can’t show me all bare… pleease say you won’t</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">…” He did look funny peering over his shoulder while bent over displaying his bottom.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Don’t be silly, darling…” mummy warned him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">But, mummy</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“That’s enough, Basil… mummy will show the video to whoever she likes and whenever she likes… and that’s final.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil had the good sense to acquiesce: “Yes, mummy…” but he wasn’t at all happy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’m sure the video that I’m capturing on my phone will be ok for sharing, but we could do a lot better if I used some proper video cameras…” I said noncommittally.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Ward’s ears pricked up: “What do you mean?” she asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’m sure this video will be fine if you’re not too bothered about the limitations of the camera phone… but I have a couple of really good quality video cameras that will do the job much better…” I tried not to sound as enthusiastic as I felt. It’s not often that a great subject for a video like Basil’s bathtime comes along and I was keen to make the most of the opportunity. “I mean, if you’re planning to show the video on a big screen TV for instance, you’ll want a much higher quality video than you’ll get from a mobile phone camera…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil, still bent over legs apart, was positively apoplectic: “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">M-U-M-M-Y Y-O-U C-A-N’-T</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">!!!” Basil’s voice, sounding for all the world like a preteen on the verge of a tantrum, echoed around the bathroom and I thought for a moment he was going to jump up, but he must have thought better of any desire to rebel with two grown-ups in the bathroom with him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mummy put Basil in his place: “You are fourteen years old, Basil… I’ve just told you that if mummy wants to show her friends a lovely nice video of her little boy at bathtime, that’s her affair, </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">not yours</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">… is that clear?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil said the only words he knew his mother wanted to hear: “Yes, mummy…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I shouldn’t need to remind you, Basil, that you’re not even old enough to do lots of things without mummy’s permission… and you also know not to argue with what mummy says…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, mummy… sorry, mummy…” Basil was suitably chastened.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">While Mrs Ward explained things to her son I took the opportunity to get some great video of Basil bent forward and gripping the far side of the bath. I found that by lowering the angle of my phone I could get Basil’s marbles in their tight little sac, his tiny willy (just!) and his shamefully exposed pink pucker all in the frame at the same time.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Ward turned to me: “If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble… I mean I’d love to have you video Basil properly…” she blushed when she realised she might have caused offence, “... it’s not that I’m ungrateful… I mean, what you’re doing now… it’s very kind of you…” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Not at all… I’m sure we can make a wonderful video that you will treasure and want to show to all your friends…” I replied.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">And with that settled Mrs Ward resumed giving Basil his bath while I continued to record it with my phone’s camera. I even managed to capture on video Basil squirming as he felt mummy’s finger probe his sphincter until she was sure it was, as she announced, “squeaky clean”.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I don’t think I’ve ever seen a boy blush so much when I noticed that when he stood up straight again his little tiddler was stiff, pointing straight up. I think Basil’s little man was gamely struggling to reach two inches in length and his tiny marbles had all but disappeared under the strain. Of course I couldn’t resist drawing attention this by remarking casually.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Does Basil’s penis often become fully erect at bathtime?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh dear… is he doing it again?” Mrs Ward wagged her index finger in Basil’s face just as if she was telling off an eight year old. “Basil, it’s very naughty of you to embarrass me like this… I’ve told you before that it’s not clever…” She turned towards me, almost as if to check that I capturing Basil’s naughtiness on video. “Honestly what mummy has to put up with… little boys can be so naughty at bathtime… showing off like this and thinking it’s clever… it’s best just to ignore it… drawing attention to willy-winky will only encourage him…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The look of intense shame on Basil’s face as he stood in the bath displaying his tiny bald erection was to be a highlight of the video. As mummy tutted and got on with soaping his upper thighs, Basil squirmed with embarrassment. It was clearly a struggle for him to keep his hands away from his penis. The mantra that there was no place for modesty in the lives of little boys was obviously one that Basil had been taught to follow. However much he wanted to cover up, Basil didn’t want to risk further admonishment being recorded on my camera phone.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Ward was certainly very thorough, making sure every part of Basil’s smooth, unblemished body received the attentions of her yellow duck hand mitt.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Finally Basil was told to sit down in the bath and lift up one leg at a time so mummy could wash his feet and lower legs. It was quite amusing to see mummy hoisting up one of Basil’s feet so she could wash between his toes properly. Needless to say Basil was as ticklish as ever and started to splash about as mummy rubbed the soles of his feet.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It occurred to me to ask whether Basil had any toys to play with at bathtime.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh, yes… there’s lots of toys in the cupboard under the hand-basin,” Mrs Ward informed me, “Ever since Basil was little he loved playing with his toys in the bath… he still does, don’t you, darling?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I wasn’t sure that Basil could get more embarrassed than he already was, but his face managed to get noticeably redder when the subject of bathtime toys came up. Basil mumbled a reply which I took to mean that he did indeed still like to play with his toys in the bath.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... there’s a special tug-boat that’s Basil’s favourite and he’s got a submarine that dives and comes backup to the surface… he plays with that for ages… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">it was one of last year’s Christmas presents... </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">actually Basil asked for it when he wrote his annual letter to Santa to tell him what a good boy he</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">’</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">d been during the year, didn</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">’</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">t you, darling?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil’s face got even redder still as he admitted that, yes, he’d asked Santa for a submarine to play with in the bath… and his wish had been granted, bless him!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“But Basil can only play with his toys in the bath if there’s time…” Mrs Ward explained and then added, almost as an afterthought, “Perhaps next time…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I took this as confirmation that there definitely would be a next time and that Basil would have plenty of time to play with some of his toys in the bath while I captured his innocent, childish fun with my video camera, as mummy supervised another bathtime.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">With Basil’s current bathtime almost over I sat down again to watch as mummy helped her fourteen year old son out of the bath. Basil stood on the bath-mat and I aimed my camera phone in his direction for one last time.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Here… grab a towel,” mummy said to me as she took a couple of fresh towels out of a cupboard. “... quicker if two of us do it…” She tossed a small towel in my direction.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I caught the towel and unfolded it and saw it wasn’t much larger than a hand towel.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“The bath towels are in the laundry… we’ll have to make do with these,” Mrs Ward added by way of explanation. And so we set about drying a very red-faced Basil.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Arms up!” mummy barked, “Right up, darling!” Then she added for my benefit, “We need to get my little boy nice and dry before we take him back downstairs…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">We took an arm each. I couldn't resist the temptation to tickle one of Basil’s perfectly smooth armpits and as he squirmed I saw his thin little willy bouncing from side to side. Mummy tackled Basil’s head, roughly towelling his hair before wiping his face and neck. In the meantime I set about drying off Basil’s chest and tummy. Mummy, having finished towelling Basil’s head, moved behind her son to dry his neck and back. This left me in a bit of a quandary, whether to tackle Basil’s not-so-private boy-parts, which had softened while we talked about his bathtime toys, or to skip over them and start drying his legs.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I thought it best if I left the drying of Basil’s little tiddler to his mother and knelt on the bathroom floor so I could more easily attend to Basil’s legs and feet. In the end it was left to me to deal with Basil’s boy-bits after all.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">As Mrs Ward dried her son’s bottom she looked down at me: “Don’t forget willy-winky,” she said brightly, “Make sure he’s nice and dry…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I did as I was told and rubbed Basil’s cute little penis with the towel. Then, with the towel in my cupped hand, I dried Basil’s tight nut-sac moving his little marbles around as I did so. I dropped the towel and with my hand bare, felt Basil’s boy-bits to make absolutely sure I had dried them properly. I pulled his super-smooth willy this way and that and even gave the overhang of his foreskin a little tug before I jiggled Basil’s marbles, lifting them up as far as I could so that I could feel along Basil’s perineum. I made sure Basil was properly dry between his legs as Mrs Ward had asked. When I was finished I was amused to see Basil’s little man had stiffened once more.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Ward took both towels and hung them over a rail to let them dry off. When she spotted what had happened, she sighed: “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Oh, Basil</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">…” she sounded exasperated as she looked at Basil’s modest little erection, “What </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">am </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I to do with you?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I could almost feel the heat of Basil’s shame as he stood nude showing off his little boner in front of mummy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I smiled in sympathy: “Teens like Basil never seem to have much control of their little winkies,” I said in mitigation as I looked at Basil’s cute little penis pointing straight up. It was so stiff his little marbles had completely disappeared this time, drawn up by the thick skin of his immature little-boy scrotum.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It wouldn’t be quite so bad, but he does do it at the most inopportune moments… why just the other day willy-winky decided to show off right in front of Mrs Mowberry and her daughter, April… it was Basil’s pyjama-time and I’d just finished getting him undressed… I turned my back for a second to ask April to pass me Basil’s pyjamas… well, I was so embarrassed when I looked back and saw willy-winky pointing upwards, just like it is now… thankfully Mrs Mowberry wasn’t offended and April, bless her, took it all in her stride, well girls are much more mature than boys and she’s a year younger than Basil as well,” Mrs Ward paused and sighed, “... and Basil used to be </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">such</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> a well-behaved boy…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Basil’s pyjamas were downstairs and obviously Basil was still in the nude after his bathtime, so I offered to go and collect them.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">But mum was having none of it: “Oh, there’s really no need to bother, it’s a little early for bedtime… Basil can come back downstairs as he is and be put into his pyjamas when I’ve made us both a cup of tea… I expect you’re ready for one now…”</span></p><br /></span>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-29191603285745527912023-10-12T15:47:00.000+01:002023-10-12T15:47:26.044+01:00A Birthday Party Story<p><i>This story is largely inspired by the writings of HumbledBareBoy. Any similarity between his stories and the following is intentional.</i></p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-0acb73a9-7fff-ca80-0e65-83588509340f"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Carol and I had been dating for just over six months. Maybe it was because her family thought we were getting serious that her sister invited us both to attend her son’s birthday party to be held the following week. I should explain that Carol was the youngest of four sisters and the only one as yet unmarried. Carol and I had a chaste relationship, something that she insisted on observing right from the outset. I found celibacy difficult to cope with at first, but I remained loyal to Carol’s wishes and this strengthened our relationship.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Carol and I were both in our mid-twenties and I wondered why we were being invited to the birthday party of a thirteen year old boy, her nephew, Joshua.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... I mean, are you sure we have to go, Carol… won’t it just be a load of kids playing silly games and stuffing themselves with birthday cake and fizzy pop?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">You might have gathered, I wasn’t at all keen to go to Joshua’s party. I really didn’t see the point of us going. I just knew I’d feel completely out of place in what Carol breezily said would be a fun family gathering.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“There’s never any fun at the family gatherings I’ve been to…” I muttered.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh, don’t be such a stick in the mud. Ann will be upset if you don’t come along… It’s a really special birthday for Joshua… he’ll be a teen. The family take these things seriously and they’ll wonder what’s happened if you don’t go…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Ann was Joshua’s mum and as for the family wondering what’ll have happened if I didn’t go… hmmm, sounded suspiciously as if Carol was questioning the strength of my commitment to our relationship.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Okay, okay… we’ll both go to Joshua’s birthday party, but the minute someone suggests I join in a game of Blind Man’s Buff or Hide-and-Seek I’m off…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You don’t know what our family birthday parties are like,” Carol said with a smirk and I wondered what that meant. Carol refused to elaborate, but I just assumed she meant that the kids were given licence to run amok around the house hyped up on sugary drinks and getting their sticky fingers over everything.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The next few days I was kept busy. I didn’t get the chance to meet Carol and had just about forgotten the forthcoming birthday party until she rang to remind me it was the following day, Saturday, when all the family would be there to help Joshua celebrate his thirteenth birthday.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I sighed. I’d rather have spent Saturday watching some cricket or getting a bit of culture at a gallery, but no, I had to go to a kid’s stupid birthday party and make polite conversation with Carol’s relatives while watching their children playing silly games. Something else struck me and I shuddered at thought of being made to sit and watch a magician or, god forbid a clown, as they entertained the children.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Well, Carol and I met up and she drove us out to the house where Ann and Don lived with their family. We were greeted by one of Carol’s sisters, Miranda, who opened the front door to us. I was surprised not to be introduced to Josh’s parents, but when I asked, Miranda simply told me they were, “getting Josh ready for his birthday party.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I didn’t really understand, but didn’t say anything. Why would </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">both </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Joshua’s parents be needed to ‘get him ready’ for his birthday party. Why would Joshua’s mum and dad be needed at all? It didn’t make sense to me.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Carol introduced me to other family members and I soon forgot all about it. Everyone was having such a good time and keen to find out all they could about me and Carol, asking when we were getting married and so forth, all in a nice, friendly way, I should add. I noticed that quite a few family members had video cameras as well as serious looking still cameras. Carol explained how her relatives loved to record these family occasions and Ted, an uncle I’d met briefly before a couple of times, explained how they even had a family website so they could upload their recordings of family events. I think he was about to tell me the URL, but Carol butted in and Ted was distracted by something else. I thought no more about it and anyway I was sure that Carol would bore me to tears by showing me the family website and telling me all about the pictures of her family holidays and gatherings. I shuddered at the thought. The very idea of spending a cosy night in looking at family photos and videos was frightful. It was all too reminiscent of evenings I’d spent as a child trying to keep still while a neighbour screened his excruciatingly boring silent Super 8 films of his family’s holidays. Actually ‘boring’ didn’t sufficiently do justice to the torture of having to sit through one of our neighbour’s film shows. Worse still, these evenings meant I lost valuable time which, in my opinion at the time, would have far better spent with my Airfix models. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Then all of a sudden a hush fell on the gathering and I saw that everyone was looking as the main door into the family room, in which we were all assembled, opened. I’ve no idea what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t what I beheld a few feet in front of me… and about twenty family members. There was Ann and Don alright, so far so good, but between them, with his hands clasped firmly behind his neck and with his eyes wide open, peering through the thick lenses of his black-rimmed spectacles at the assembled guests, was their thirteen year old son Joshua wearing nothing more than his glasses and a conical party hat! I mean, the boy was stark naked!!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I glanced at Carol expecting her to be as shocked as I was, but she was smiling, looking straight at her nude nephew and about to join in the rousing singing of </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Happy Birthday to you</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">…</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Both Ann and Don looked as pleased as Punch as they stood by their totally nude son. Joshua blushed furiously as everyone joined in the singing. I noticed that Ted and a couple of other relatives were recording the event. One boy, who turned out to be an older cousin, actually moved close to take photos of Joshua which caused the birthday boy’s face to redden even more.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Joshua was led further into the room by his parents and I turned to Carol.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Is this a… a… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">normal </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">birthday party… I mean Joshua’s completely </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">nude</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes… he’s wearing his </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">birthday </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">suit… what else would you expect a boy to wear on his birthday?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... but…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It’s a family tradition,” Carol said, as if that explained everything.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I was dazed and somewhat confused: “A family tradition…” I muttered, still unable to reconcile the sight of a completely nude boy standing and displaying himself in the middle of an otherwise ordinary family gathering, “... you mean this happens at all your family birthday parties?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“For boys on their eleventh birthday up until their sixteenth birthday… yes, boys all get to wear their birthday suits for the family,” Carol informed me, “It’s one of our family traditions…” she repeated.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I was utterly gobsmacked. Family tradition or not, I just couldn’t believe that in this day and age parents would willingly parade their son totally nude in front of the boy’s relatives.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Then Carol told me something else: “... and you’re the honoured guest, Todd.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’m flattered,” I replied in a way that I hoped would sound as sarcastic as I intended. I still couldn’t get over the fact that Carol’s close family could indulge in the sort of behaviour that saw boys appearing nude, the centre of attention at large family gatherings. It was all so bizarre. And they were taking photos and videos! Mums and dads, boys and girls, some older, some clearly younger and all in a joyful, happy and playful mood and today, centre-stage, was a totally nude boy celebrating his thirteenth birthday.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh, don’t say it like that,” Carol said, “... and besides there’s another tradition that requires honoured guests to take part in an important ritual…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I groaned: “Please, Carol… whatever it is, can’t you get me out of it? I’m really not sure about this… this family thing of yours… it’s making me feel really uncomfortable…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Don’t be silly, Todd… It’s a special day for Joshua… he’s expecting you to take part… don’t spoil it for him…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Take part</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">…! What? Take </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">what</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> part with a nude boy? You must be out of your mind…” I was flabbergasted. I couldn’t believe that Carol was expecting me to actually have anything to do with her family so-called ‘traditions’. To ‘take part’ would mean I was condoning behaviour which I thought wholly inappropriate, centred, as it was, around, I repeat, a nude thirteen year old boy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It was obvious that Carol was, to say the least, not pleased with me and I could foresee a rocky road ahead for our relationship, assuming it survived this birthday celebration. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Looking back with the benefit of hindsight, I can see that I was already beginning to have ambivalent feelings toward the events unfolding before me. Maybe that’s why I didn’t want anything more to do with young Joshua’s birthday celebrations… I was afraid I might actually enjoy taking part!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Carol didn’t have chance to admonish me, or to say anything more, as Uncle Ted had stepped forward to announce that, as a guest of the family, I would have the honour of undertaking one of the important traditional rituals of a boy’s birthday. I could see by the look in her eyes that Carol must have known I would have this honour bestowed upon me and she pressed me forward as she led the applause that greeted Ted’s words.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“As you all know, Todd has been stepping out with Carol for some time now,” Ted continued with his announcement accompanied by chuckles from various family members, “Of course we all hope to see a lot more of Todd in the future at this and other family events. I won’t embarrass them by asking when they’ll be tying the knot… oh, but I guess I just did! I have met Todd a few times and you can take it from me he’s a real stand-up guy… and I do hope to see him as a member of our family one day… one day soon!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">There was a huge round of applause along with a few cheers which as well as being embarrassing also put me in a rather awkward position. As I’ve already said I was appalled at the thought of having anything at all to do with Joshua’s birthday ‘celebrations’ and certainly anything that involved me directly, but what could I do? The last thing I wanted to do was to upset anyone… least of all, Carol. As far as I was concerned Carol was ‘the one’, the person I wanted to spend my life with… even, I was coming to realise it, even as part of this eccentric family. I look around at all the smiling faces. How could I possibly let them down?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">There was no question of whether I would mind doing this that or the other, I was simply expected to do as I was told. Guided by Uncle Ted, who had finished his little speech, as he took my arm: “Come and say hello to Joshua properly and then I’ll explain what you’ll be doing…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I stood in front of Joshua and I don’t know which one of us was more embarrassed. Certainly I could feel myself blushing until I was nearly as red as the red-hot cheeks of Joshua’s face.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Ted explained that I was to look closely at Joshua’s nude body for any signs of ‘boy-hair’, “It’s one of the most easily recognisable signs that a boy is entering puberty… when he begins to become a big boy,” he explained as he handed me a lens.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I smiled anxiously: “Yes… I think I can remember that bit.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Take a look through the lens at Josh’s armpits… don’t worry, Josh has been thoroughly scrubbed down by his mum,” he laughed, “...then use your fingertips to feel for any little boy-hairs… sometimes they’re so light and thin you miss them. It’s all recorded in Josh’s official birthday book, so it’s very important you get it right…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“No pressure then,” I joked nervously. But as I looked at Joshua’s obviously smooth, hairless armpits I couldn’t help but feel very tense. Don’t forget I was being watched by Joshua’s entire family and of course Carol. Then it suddenly dawned on me how much she had set her heart upon me being a part of her family; that she loved me enough to share with me their rituals and traditions. I realised why I had been chosen to take such an active part in the proceedings and now I didn’t want to let Carol down even though I was still struggling to come to terms with seeing just how uniquely her family celebrated boys’ birthdays.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I couldn’t deny the fact that Joshua was a beautiful boy, standing there peering at me through his glasses, but as an ordinary heterosexual male I found it profoundly unsettling to be closely examining the nude thirteen year old… and it got worse when I realised that I’d be expected to look for pubic hair.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Carol must have seen how nervous I was when she told me not to worry and that it was a special honour to be asked to carry out this important inspection on a very special birthday, the day when Joshua became a teenager!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Like most boys of his age, Joshua was extremely ticklish and it took me a while before I could say for sure there were no little hairs in Joshua’s armpits. Every time I touched this sensitive part of his nude body, Joshua would flinch and jerk his arm away from my fingers. I can’t begin to describe how embarrassed I felt to be inspecting Joshua in front of his family and relatives. It was only with the support and encouragement of my girlfriend Carol and knowing how much it meant to her, that I felt able to carry on.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Next I had to examine Joshua’s nipples. Uncle Ted, as I began to think of him, explained that boys often started to grow tiny, almost imperceptible fine light hairs around their nipples. I should therefore take my time and examine each of Joshua’s tiny pink nipples in turn.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It was then that I remembered something from my own boyhood. Boy-nipples are </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">extremely </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">sensitive, so it was with the utmost care that I brushed my fingertips around the pale pink areola. Joshua shuddered and the darker pink nubbin was stiff within seconds. I carefully and very gently pinched the erect nub between my thumb and index finger. Joshua sucked in his lips in an effort to be brave as cautiously pulled at the hard little nub so that I could check for any signs of soft nipple-hair. There was none, but I still had to carry out the same procedure on Joshua’s other nipple and by the time I finished both nubbins were dark pink where I’d needed to pinch them.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I looked up: “Sorry, Joshua…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“No need to apologise… Joshua knows what to expect,” Uncle Ted told me.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I couldn’t see any signs of hair on either of Joshua’s nipples,” I said.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I knew which part of Joshua’s anatomy was next to be examined, so nervously and rather slowly I got down on my knees in front of the birthday boy, my head little more than a few inches away from him. Joshua’s immature penis looked for all the world like a little pink cocktail sausage pointing straight at me. I remembered seeing boys at school in a similar stage of prepubescence, their little willies not yet substantial enough to hang down, so they stuck out in front like miniature signposts pointing the way forward as they dashed towards the obligatory communal school showers after PE. If boys at school reached Joshua’s age with willies like the one just inches away from me now, they would inevitably become subject to ribald joshing. We boys knew that boys with little tiddlers couldn’t help it, but that didn’t stop us from ragging them and having fun at their expense. In hindsight it was rotten of us to laugh at their sad little-boy willies, but we were boys and boys can be ever so cruel. The embarrassment this caused and the humiliation suffered by the targets of our gibes must have been immense. Looking up at Joshua’s bright red face, I was transported back to my schooldays and I could sympathise and understand the intense humiliation Joshua must have been experiencing on his birthday, nude in front of all his relatives, displaying his little-boy willy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Of course it was easy to see there could be no possible hope of finding any boy-hair round Joshua’s little penis. His tiny testicles were almost hidden in their tight scrotal sac.</span></p><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><i>\ to be continued…</i></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><i>At this point I was distracted as another aspect of Joshua's birthday party demanded my attention - mogg</i></span></p><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">A little later on in the celebrations it was suddenly announced that it was time for Joshua’s birthday cake. It had crossed my mind that I’d not seen any sign of a birthday cake, something that would normally have pride of place on a table during the birthday party, but then I was forgetting how Carol’s family did things differently…</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Three boys jumped up. They were cousins of Joshua; two of them thirteen and one twelve. All three were wearing brightly coloured play-clothes in contrast to the other boys and girls who were wearing their best party clothes. I had noticed the boys before and wondered why they were dressed differently and now I was to find out.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Ann, Joshua’s mother, had disappeared into the kitchen and I assumed the birthday cake must be in there, but when Ann reappeared she was pushing a trolley. I couldn’t see what was on it, but I was pretty sure there was no cake, birthday or otherwise.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Who’s going to help me make Joshua’s birthday cake?” Ann asked and once more I was puzzled. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Make</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> the birthday cake? I was utterly confused.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The three boys rushed forward: “We are, Aunty Ann!!” they all shouted eagerly, “We are!!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“That’s good… I hope you boys are careful with the ingredients, because we’ve got a lot to do…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The smiles on the boys faces were in direct contrast with the look of dread on Joshua’s. I wondered what was going to happen. Even when Ann told the boys to strip off their play-clothes… which revealed three nude boys far more developed than Joshua, although none showing any signs of pubic hair (a subject that I now felt myself sufficiently qualified to pronounce upon), I was still in the dark. The boys were each given a transparent plastic crinkly apron to put on and their clothes were taken to another part of the room. A ‘Twister’ mat was laid on the floor and Joshua was led over to it to stand with his feet apart in two of the coloured circles.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Ann now lifted a cover from the trolley to reveal a truly bizarre selection of cake ingredients. Eggs, of course, but why so many? There must have been at least three dozen. Flour, but again why so much? I mean, I’m no expert in cake-making, but surely you don’t need six bags of super-sifted self-raising to make one cake. Then there were squeezy bottles of jam (various flavours), tetra-packs of custard, soups (why soups?!), tubs of golden syrup, sprinkles… and so the list went on. Mum put her own apron on over her frock and the boys lined up in front of the trolley waiting to be giving the first ingredient.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I was still wondering what was going to happen as I looked at the three bare bottoms of the boys at the trolley.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Ann announced: “You can’t make a birthday cake without breaking some eggs…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">All three boys were up on tiptoes in their excitement, their bottoms clenching and relaxing as they were given eggs by Joshua’s mum.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Let’s get Joshua’s birthday cake underway…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Ann had barely finished speaking before the first eggs were smashed over Joshua’s head. I was astonished! It was the last thing I expected. I’d thought that a big bowl would be brought in and Joshua would help make his own birthday cake… well, Joshua was helping, but certainly not in the way I had imagined!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">There was a big cheer from Joshua’s relatives who obviously knew what was going on… another of their rituals and traditions. Egg yoke ran down the sides of Joshua’s head as the boys smashed a few more eggs over their cousin’s head.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Don’t make the cake too rich with all those eggs!” someone shouted amid the general cheering and applause.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, you’re quite right… time to add some flour, boys,” Ann said calling the boys back to the trolley, “... now boys, take one bag, but I only want you to mix in half a bag, because you need to add some fresh cream to the mixture… here David, you take this pot of thick cream and make sure it’s mixed in properly…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The boys returned to a forlorn looking Joshua. I sensed he knew that his cousins hadn’t even started and that his mother was going to make sure that all the ingredients were used properly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Flour was tipped over Joshua’s head and while David poured on a little cream one of his buddies, Stephen I think it was, mixed the all the ingredients into a thick gloop in Joshua’s hair. Some of the slime ran down Joshua’s face and over his glasses, but to his credit he just stood still while the boys helped make his birthday cake. All Joshua’s aunts and uncles… and Carol I couldn’t help noticing, were urging on the cake-makers while taking souvenir photos and videos.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">More ingredients were about to be added when someone called for the ‘spinner’. I wasn’t sure what they meant until I remembered that Joshua was standing on the ‘Twister’ mat. As guest of honour I was to be the ‘Referee’ and it fell to me to spin the spinner. I felt quite nervous, but with Carol by my side to show me how it was done.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Joshua looked at me as best he could through the gloop running down his face. I spun the spinner.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Right hand… yellow!” I called and Joshua bent forward to place his hand on the appropriate coloured circle. I spun the spinner again, “Right foot… green!” I called and Joshua moved his right foot back to a green circle. A third spin moved his right hand again and a final fourth spin saw Joshua’s left hand stretched out to a red circle.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Carol yelled something right in my ear and then explained that anyone calling ‘custard!’ between spins gave them the right to choose the next ingredient for Joshua’s birthday cake… the ingredient chosen was often as not custard!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Have you got any custard, Ann?” Carol asked, a picture of innocence.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’ve plenty of custard of Joshua’s birthday cake, Carol… would you like some?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">While this exchange was going on Joshua was stretched out with his right foot behind him, his right hand holding himself up in front, one knee bent and his left hand stretched across the the other side of the mat. He craned his neck so that he could keep his head fairly straight.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes please… I’d like some custard,” then Carol dropped a bombshell, “... and I nominate Todd to mix the custard into Joshua’s birthday cake…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">As a big cheer went up I hissed my displeasure to Carol: “Please… please, Carol… don’t make me do it… it’s humiliating… please, darling, the boys are doing fine without me…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Don’t show me up, Todd… it’s Joshua’s thirteenth birthday… so help make it a special day for him, Todd…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I knew there was no way out of this and I felt awful as I picked up from the trolley a large tetra-pack of ready made custard. Ann had already opened it for me, all I had to do was pour it over Joshua. It was like a walk to the scaffold for me as I crossed the room to the ‘Twister’ mat on which Joshua was stretched, waiting for me to add to his birthday humiliation. One of the boys offered me the use of his apron, “Just in case you get splashed, sir…” Gosh, but this boy was polite. When I thanked him it was obvious I didn’t know his name, he helped me, “... it’s David, sir…” I handed David the custard after he’d peeled off his apron to leave himself completely nude before me. I took the apron and carefully slipped it over my head as it already had splashes of egg, cream and flour on its front. I took back the custard and looked down at Joshua.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The other two boys watched me from the other side of the ‘Twister’ mat while beside me stood my naked helper. Joshua, his back almost horizontal with his leg stretched back looked most uncomfortable, but he managed to smile up at me.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Pour it all down his back, sir… that’s what I’d expect if I was in that position…” David suggested. I looked at David and realised these boys were experienced cake makers. That titbit of information turned the tables for me and, as I grinned back at Joshua, I began to dribble the custard down the nape of his neck, which caused him to flex his shoulders up in a reaction to the cold custard, down along his spine until I reached his bottom. I still had half a carton of custard left when I suddenly realised how much I was enjoying myself!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Oh, it was great fun as I emptied the custard all over Joshua’s back, making him wriggle as he felt the cold viscous fluid running down his sides and between his bottom cheeks. I made sure I still had some left for one final custard gloop… all over his face!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Head up, Joshua!” I ordered, thoroughly enjoying every second. Joshua’s face was already a mess from the other ingredients the boys had added and as far as I could tell Joshua’s glasses were completely covered in so much goo that I was sure he wouldn’t be able to see anything through them. It was then I realised the boy cake-makers now had the whole of Joshua’s nude body on which to add his mum’s birthday cake ingredients.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Joshua had a sort of resigned expression on his face… that is until I covered it with custard!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I was cheered for my efforts as I handed back David his apron, but I couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty for enjoying adding to Joshua’s messy birthday celebrations as I walked back to join Carol at the spinner.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Darling! That was wonderful! I’m so proud! You’ll be sure to receive invitations to every birthday the boys have from now on!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Those few encouraging words banished any guilty thoughts I was harbouring. I quickly spun the spinner and this time Joshua was forced to spread his legs wide apart in order to get his left foot onto the colour the spinner wheel had chosen for him. With his arms stretched just as wide as his legs Joshua looked like something that was about to crawl out of the swamp on his hands and feet with his head and face covered in gooey slime that very slowly dripped onto the ‘Twister’ mat.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The shouts coming from Joshua’s uncles, aunts and cousins was getting more and more frantic as they called for various ingredients to be added to Joshua’s birthday cake. It didn’t take long for the boy cousin cake-makers to get Joshua’s lower legs, thighs and bottom covered in strawberry jam (a favourite of Joshua’s apparently) and some more eggs and cream. I saw David rub some of this mixture deep between Joshua’s bottom cheeks.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Did you see what David just did, Carol?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Carol laughed: “The boys like to get the mixture properly kneaded…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It was my turn to laugh: “You can say that again…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Joshua was made to adopt a number of what looked to me to be very uncomfortable positions, all due to the way the ‘Twister’ spinner directed him. It wasn’t long before Joshua ended up in what I believe is called the ‘abdominal bridge’ position. This resulted in his front receiving more than its fair share of attention from the cake mix boys since the target area included Joshua’s boy-bits. The usual mix of eggs, cream, flour, jam and some more custard were liberally spread over the birthday boy’s chest, nipples, tummy and between his legs which resulted in a boner no doubt due to the ministration of the cake chefs who all seemed anxious to ensure all the ingredients were well mixed between Joshua’s widely spread legs.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It was at this juncture that one of Joshua’s aunts called out: “This birthday cake needs some unpasteurised full cream milk… and I nominate Kevin!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Another voice cried out: “Oh, mum… please, no!” I took this to be Kevin objecting, but needless to say I hadn’t a clue what this latest development was all about. Everyone in the room… including Carol of course, started chanting “MILK MAN!!” “MILK MAN!!” and eventually a blushing Kevin stood up to uproarious applause. Joshua, I noticed, took the opportunity to rest his bottom on the ‘Twister’ mat, but made no attempt to wipe off any of the slimy mixture… he looked a complete mess.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Kevin, dressed as he was in faded ‘Hulk’ T-shirt, skimpy play-shorts and sneakers, looked to me to be about twelve if that, although I found out later he was a few weeks away from his sixteenth birthday. He was clearly hugely embarrassed to be put forward by his mother for whatever task being the ‘milkman’ involved. And no wonder, as Keven was then undressed by his mother! Accompanied by clapping and being egged on by his extended family, Kevin was stripped nude in front of us all (although, for the record, Kevin kept his brightly coloured sneakers on which, to my eyes at least, seemed to make him appear more nude than if he’d taken them off). Kevin looked like a reasonably well developed young teen, mainly due to the healthy looking tuft of boy-hair atop his exposed penis, which confounded my initial impression of Kevin’s age. The excitement, accompanied by his obvious shame of being stripped nude in front of everyone, soon had an effect on his penis. As we all watched, Kevin’s penis jerked into life. The higher it got the deeper red his face. There was a lot of good-natured encouragement that accompanied each involuntary jerk upwards of Kevin’s teen dick. When it finally reached its maximum height, pointing straight upwards, flat against his tummy, Kevin’s penis must have been at least five inches in length. I was astonished to witness this latest turn of events, but I was still wondering what this was all about. I turned to Carol for an explanation.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She simply grinned at me: “Wait and see… Kevin is only fifteen so he’s still got one more special family birthday party to come…” and she giggled at something she’d said.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It appeared that Kevin knew what to do, even if I was still in the dark. He walked over to the ‘Twister’ mat and very carefully stepped on it to avoid getting any gunk on his sneakers. Kevin took hold of his penis and pointed it in the direction of his thirteen year old cousin Joshua. Suddenly the penny dropped and I realised what sort of full cream milk was about to be added to Joshua’s birthday cake mixture… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">boy-milk</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">!!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Carol saw my stunned expression and laughed: “It’s just a bit of fun for Joshua’s birthday… don’t look so surprised, I’m sure you used to play silly games when you were Joshua’s age…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Carol was quite right, I did used to get up to all sorts of fun when I was thirteen not long after discovering the joys of boyhood masturbation along with my mates, but we didn’t get up to our tricks in front of a roomful of our relatives armed with video cameras. Looking back I could see the logic of keeping masturbation ‘out in the open’ as it were. Nevertheless it took me a long time before I felt able to accept what I’d seen at Joshua’s birthday party as being nothing more than a spot of harmless fun. Quite frankly when I was Joshua’s age, or Kevin’s age come to that, I was terrified of being caught masturbating and this was the same for all the boys I knew.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">As everyone watched, Kevin started to masturbate and as he manipulated his foreskin pre-cum started to ooze from his penis and formed a long string of clear goo that swung from side to side as he masturbated. The three nude but aproned boys stood by the ‘Twister’ mat and watched their older boy cousin and through their transparent aprons I saw all three were sporting boners.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I watched Kevin as he masturbated and saw one of his relatives, an aunt I think, move closer to video him as his fist whipped up and down his tumescent penis. No one that I could see was at all bothered about this incursion and it was simply accepted that she had a right to video what to me was a very personal act… admittedly one being carried out in the family room in front of the whole extended family. But for me it took everything onto a completely new level and I seriously wondered whether I could ever come to accept Carol’s family and all their ‘traditions’.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It wasn’t long before Keven shouted that he was going to cum. He didn’t need to tell us since even I could tell from the way his face, indeed his whole body, was contorted, he was about to ejaculate. After a few more seconds during which his masturbation became frantic and his voice unintelligible, Kevin went up on tiptoes as cum shot out of his penis in thick creamy ropes that splattered upon landing on Joshua. There must have been at least eight strong pulses of boy-cum which suggested that Master Kevin had been deliberately ‘primed’ for his birthday party performance.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The poor boy looked exhausted after he finished masturbating in front of his family. He also looked relieved to have to have had the opportunity to get rid his load of boy-cum at last. Kevin’s public performance made me wonder if boys in this family were subject to some sort of masturbation control.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I need hardly add that there were plenty of cheers and general applause both during and after Kevin’s performance and when he’d finally got his breath back I was surprised to see him heading in our direction. Kevin was still totally nude (apart form his sneakers of course). I hadn’t noticed his mother putting Kevin’s clothes into a very convenient bag that she just happened to have. Carol patted the sofa between us and Kevin sat down next to me. I felt dreadfully embarrassed and uncomfortable to be sat right next to a nude teenage boy whom I had just watched masturbating. Carol had no such concerns and leant over to kiss her cousin on his cheek as she ruffled his hair and patted his upper thigh.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“That was awesome, Kevin… well done!” Carol said as she congratulated him, before looking over his shoulder to tell me, “Kevin won ‘Masturbator of the Month’ five times this year… didn’t you?” Carol added, to which Kevin blushed and nodded, “... that’s a record you know,” she told me. I must have looked even more puzzled than ever. I was having difficulty keeping up with Carol’s revelations about the goings-on in her eccentric family… ‘Masturbator of the Month’ what was that all about? Carol explained.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It’s quite simple… Uncle Ted sets up a live stream event each month and some of the boys line up and masturbate in front of the cameras. Voting on each boy’s performance is in real-time and so by the end of the live stream we all know who the winner is… actually Uncle Ted had a podium made and the boys get medals… it’s all a bit of fun really and it keeps the family together, as well as all the thousands who watch the feed…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Kevin twisted his head sharply in Carol’s direction and exclaimed: “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Thousands</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">!! Uncle Ted said it was only for our family… and… and some relatives who’d moved away…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... Uncle Ted’s right, but there’s bound to be a few viewers who’ve seen the family channel…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Kevin gasped again: “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Thousands… Jeez, Aunty Carol</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">… I thought it was only, like maybe a dozen or so watching us wanking…” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Carol put her arms around Kevin and hugged him to her: “Didn’t you ever think to ask how many votes you got?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Kevin shook his head: “I dunno, aunty… didn’t see the point…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">After Kevin’s performance there was a natural break in the proceedings during which something else happened that I least expected. Carol told Kevin to stand up, which he did facing her without showing any sign of embarrassment… well, he knew Carol and I had watched him masturbate and ejaculate over Joshua, so simply standing nude in front of us was a piece of cake, wasn’t it? Well, like everything else in this family, it wasn’t as straightforward as that.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Hands up, Kevin…” Carol told him, “Yes, just as I thought… when are you last groomed?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Kevin’s face screwed up, but he’d put his hands on his head: “Please… please, don’t, Aunty Carol… not at the birthday party…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I asked you when you were last groomed, Kevin… it’s an easy question to answer,” Carol’s demeanour towards her nephew changed. There was no doubt in my mind she was serious, strict even, and expected an answer from Kevin. What was going on now, I asked myself?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Kevin gulped and answered the question: “I don’t know… a few months ago, Aunty Carol… please don’t groom me… can’t you leave it it bit longer? Just for once, Aunty Carol.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You know I can’t do that, Kevin… you are beginning to look untidy now and boys need to look smart… I think we need to have you properly groomed, Kevin… and I think that’s what you want, isn’t it?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I had no idea what Carol was talking about, but Kevin clearly did as his eyes nearly popped out of his head: “Oh, no! Not that… please, Aunty Carol… don’t do that…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss, Kevin. Honestly I don’t. You know boys have to be properly groomed to keep them neat and tidy… don’t you want to be nice and smart for mummy? Mummy will love to see you all nice and smart again, won’t she?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Kevin nodded his head.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“How will mummy like to see you, Kevin?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Mummy… mummy likes to see me nice and smart, Aunty Carol…” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">All this talk and the use of words like ‘aunty’ and ‘mummy’ was making Kevin look even more like a twelve year old than ever. It was becoming ever more difficult for me to think of him as being as old as fifteen… even with that little bush of pubic hair.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Carol turned to me: “Darling, would you pop out to the car and bring me my bag off the back seat?” she turned back and looked up at Kevin, who still stood nude with his hands on his head, “We’ll soon have you properly groomed and you’ll be able to go and play in the garden… you’d like to play in the garden, wouldn’t you Kevin?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Kevin sucked in his lower lip and I thought he was going to cry, but to my amazement he said: “Yes, Aunty Carol… thank you, Aunty Carol…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I rushed off to get the bag Carol wanted. It felt heavier then it looked when I picked it up. Much as I wanted to peek inside, I thought it better not to and to wait and see. I didn’t to wait very long at all. It was obvious Kevin knew what the bag contained… the expression on his face said it all… fearful resignation as Carol pulled out a neat little electric razor and some wet-wipes.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Would you hold Kevin’s penis for me, darling?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I was so dumbfounded by Carol’s request that I simply didn’t know what to do or say. Take hold of a fifteen year old boy’s penis? What for?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Come along, darling…” Carol clicked the switch and the little razor buzzed into life.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I reached up and gingerly took hold of Kevin’s penis. It was silky smooth, the foreskin completely covering the glans and I watched, as if mesmerised, as Carol started to remove Kevin’s pubic hair. There wasn’t much and Carol was soon asking me to pull Kevin’s penis this way and that so she could make sure there were no hairs left. The scrotal sac was still naturally completely hairless.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">There were some light, feathery hairs under Kevin’s armpits and these were quickly dealt with. With his pubic hair removed, Kevin looked less like twelve year old, more like a little boy of ten. I have to say the ‘little boy’ look suited him. There was no way anyone could possibly have taken him to be a fifteen year old now.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">As Carol packed her razor she spoke to me: “Would you take Kevin out into the garden. I’ve told him he can go and play with the boys out there… but he can be a bit shy sometimes…” Carol pointed towards the big glass doors that gave access to the play area and the jungle gym on which two young boys dressed in play-shorts were hanging upside down.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I got up: “Come on, Kevin… let’s go and see what those boys outside are up to… you’d like to play with them, wouldn’t you?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I don’t think Kevin was at all sure. Going outside nude and newly bald where it mattered to a teenage boy was bad enough. Playing on the jungle gym with two little boys at least five years younger than he was, but who were both wearing play-shorts, was something else entirely.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I put a hand round Kevin’s neck and gently pressed him forward: “It’ll be fun… it’s getting a bit stuffy in here in any case… some fresh air and some playtime will do you the world of good… agreed?” I added the last word as if I expected a response. Carol was looking up at me smiling as I talked to her nephew.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Finally Kevin spoke: “Are you sure it will be ok to play with those boys?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Of course it will, Kevin… you’ll have lots of fun and I’ll keep an eye on you, so you’ll be quite safe…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Kevin raised an objection: “But they’re wearing shorts…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“What’s wrong with that?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“But I’m all bare…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“There’s nothing wrong with that, Kevin… in fact it’s much healthier for boys your age to be fully nude when they play…” Out of the corner of my eye I saw Carol’s eyes light up and she signalled her approval.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I have to confess that I was a little surprised that Kevin, who less than half and hour ago had masturbated to full ejaculation in front of his entire family, was now so unsure of himself that he was nervous about going outside to play. I pressed my hand against Kevin’s neck once more and this did the trick. We walked forward and I took Kevin’s hand to lead him past his family. When we reached his mother I saw no sign at all of the clothes he’s been wearing.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’m just taking Kevin outside to play,” I explained as we paused in front of his mother.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Well make sure he behaves himself,” she replied, “... and you can thank Carol for grooming Kevin, it was well overdue… it should have been done ages ago…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’ll keep an eye on him… and I’ll make sure to tell Carol what you said…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Kevin and I walked to the big glass doors leading out to the garden. As we did so I overheard Kevin’s mother saying what a nice young man I was and how fortunate Carol was to have found him. I’m not sure whether I blushed or not as I was now faced with dealing with Kevin, who had come to a halt.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He turned and looked at me, clearly in some distress: “I-I can’t go out there… please don’t make me, sir…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">He called me ‘sir’!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Where my response came from I’ve no idea, but without hesitation I spoke firmly: “Kevin, I simply will not tolerate this behaviour. If you don’t step out into the garden this minute, I’ll spank your bare bottom in front of your family…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Y-you wouldn’t…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Try me…” I answered.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“But it’s Joshua’s birthday party…</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“And what’s that got to do with anything?” I actually patted Kevin’s bare bottom. I hadn’t planned to, it just seemed to be the right thing to do and it got the result I was after as Kevin took the hint and stepped out into the open air.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I could see Kevin looking in all directions and I suddenly understood why. The garden, large as it was, was overlooked on three sides and it was easy to see how any of the neighbours would have little or no difficulty in seeing boys playing on the jungle gym.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Go and ask the boys if you can play with them, Kevin…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Kevin turned his head towards me: “Please don’t make me, sir,” he said repeating himself, “Please, sir… I haven’t got any clothes on, sir…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I can see that, Kevin, but that doesn’t alter anything… you’ve been sat around for most of Joshua’s party and I think it’s time for some fresh air and playtime outside…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I was suddenly aware of Don standing at my side with his video camera: “Everything ok?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, Kevin needs some fresh air and so he’s going to play on the jungle gym for a bit…. aren’t you, Kevin?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">That did the trick: “Yes, sir…” he said and he walked over to the base of the frame…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Looks younger than Josh without his boy-hairs,” Don said.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Much younger,” I replied, “If I didn’t know any different, I’d say Kevin was…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... about ten?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, about ten,” I confirmed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Surprising the difference removing a few pubic hairs makes… one minute he’s a horny teen masturbating and squirting cum… the next he’s a shy little boy who needs his Uncle Todd to help get him outside to play…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Uncle Todd?” I queried.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Don smiled: “You’re one of the family now…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Kevin looked back and called out to me. He’d climbed up two rungs of the frame and waved.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Good boy!” I called back, “Now be careful… I think you’d be better on the Moon Crater Climber…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“But this is way cooler… the Moon Climber is for kids…” Kevin yelled.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I could see what was happening. Kevin was attempting to challenge my authority… making out that he wasn’t a little boy. It would be the thin edge of a very long wedge if I let him get away with this. I paused and took stock of what had happened to me since Carol had brought me to Joshua’s birthday party. It had been quite a shock to find myself so involved in the celebrations, but it was in my handling of Kevin in these past few minutes that I found myself feeling proud of the way I was behaving. I felt good about things in such a way that I’d not felt for a long time. Maybe it was a renewed sense of purpose; a sense of responsibility. All this was totally unexpected and I found myself acting instinctively as I took a deep breath and spoke sharply to the nude boy as he climbed another rung higher on the jungle gym.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Kevin</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">!! Off the jungle gym!! </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Now</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">!!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Kevin paused and looked at me nervously, clearly wondering what I might do. Don was by my side videoing events. I could also see one or two neighbours looking over to see what all the commotion was about.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Kevin… just a minute ago you didn’t want to come outside because you were completely naked… now you’d rather stay up there, high up on the jungle gym where all Uncle Don’s neighbours can see you playing in the nude… I don’t understand you at all, Kevin…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Kevin looked around and saw that I wasn’t joking. A few more heads had appeared and a couple of dads had their kids on their shoulders so they could see what was happening as well.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Kevin, don’t make me have to come over there…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Kevin repeated his plea: “... but the Moon Climber is for kids…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“But you’re a kid… a little boy, Kevin… anyone can see that…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’m not a little boy… I’m…” Kevin blushed a deeper red than ever as he realised his mistake.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“If you’re not a little boy, Kevin… then how old are you? Frankly, I don’t think anyone’s going to believe what you say, because it’s so obvious you’re still very much a little boy… in all respects…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I could see Kevin’s dilemma, if he admitted being a little boy he was going to give me </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">carte blanche</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> to treat him like a little boy, but if he told everyone his real age, his humiliation would be intense. Although any humiliation would come from those neighbours who were looking over the various garden fences, since the birthday party guests had all seen Kevin masturbate to full ejaculation earlier. But clearly Kevin couldn’t bear the humiliation of yelling out his true age halfway up the jungle gym and completely nude in front of the neighbours.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Kevin hung his head: “I’m a little boy, uncle… a little boy.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“There, that wasn’t so difficult to say, was it, Kevin… now, climb down off the frame and we’ll see what else there is for you to play on out here…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">There were some boys playing on the Moon Climber and I told Kevin to ask the boys nicely if he could play with them. The boys, all in shorts and T-shirts, agreed. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Don came up to me: “You handled that really well. Why don’t you have a break and I’ll take over looking after our naked little boy…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I blushed, thanked him and went back inside. Carol appeared to know exactly what had happened.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’m so proud of you, Todd… you were brilliant.” She leant forward and kissed me.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">A few moments later Kevin’s mum came over.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Could I have a word… well, actually it’s Todd I want to speak to if that’s ok.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Of course I immediately thought I done something wrong, but she went on praise me.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“The way you kept your cool was a lesson to us all. I’m afraid Kevin can be fractious at times… he really does need to be taken down a peg or two and you demonstrated such a natural ability to do just that… but looking at the two of you… you, Todd and Kevin I mean… I can tell he’s taken a shine to you and he wants to be treated as you’ve treated him today. He behaves so much better when he’s been told he’s a little boy…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">She let all this sink in before she added: “... and I wanted to ask a favour,” she turned to Carol, “Could I borrow Todd tomorrow morning to look after Kevin for a couple of hours?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Carol beamed. She was clearly thrilled that Kevin’s mum wanted my help. After she saw me nod my acceptance she turned to her: “Of course Todd will help… he’s really making his mark on our family and I wouldn’t have it any other way… everybody’s been so kind.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Just one thing,” Kevin’s mother added, “I want you to treat him just as you have been doing… as I say, Kevin responds so much better when he’s firmly treated as a little boy…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I found it hard to believe that a teenager like Kevin actually wanted to be treated like a little boy… maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t. He was certainly reluctant to go outside to play in the nude, but his sulks were certainly of a little boy. Never mind, I told myself, it’s certainly something different to do and it might be fun looking after a fifteen year old ‘little boy’.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Joshua’s birthday party continued and I must confess that my whole outlook towards the celebrations had changed after I’d been given responsibility for Kevin. I found myself cheering and egging the boys on during the various party games played in front of the family, many of whom continued to video and take photos, as more and more of the boys ended up stripped of their clothes. As messy as the boys inevitably got, none were as messy as the birthday boy himself. There were ‘dare’ games in which boys closed their eyes, put their hands into a jar and pulled out a slip of paper on which was written a dare. It seemed like eighty percent of the dares involved the boys being spanked or paddled and any boy who wasn’t already nude ended up losing whatever clothes they had been left with after earlier games.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Once the dare was finished the slip of paper was put on a pile with other completed dares. However I noticed there was one dare for which the paper was returned to the jar. This dare simply dared the boy to ask Carol to borrow her electric razor, take it to the boy’s mum and ask her to remove his pubic hair. Of course, like Joshua, quite a few of the boys were still baldies with no pubic hair, so if they drew this slip it was put back into the jar and the boy missed a go. You can probably see where this was leading and I’m sure it must have occurred to one or two of the boys with pubic hair, the odds on them drawing the pubic hair removal dare were rapidly shortening.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">In the meantime there was plenty of work for the family’s spankers. Each slip would specify how the boy was to spanked… hand, paddle, bat, etc, how many times, who by… man, woman, boy, girl, inside or outside… front of the house, or back, in view of the neighbours, etc, how positioned… over the knee, wheelbarrow, over a chair, standing, etc. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I’m not sure when my name was added to some of the slips, but none was more surprised as me when a cute twelve year old nude boy called Mason approached me holding a wicked looking single tailed leather strap between his outstretched hands: “Please, sir… will you spank me with Mr Strappy, sir… it’s for my dare,” he added in case I didn’t quite understand why a nude boy would ask to be strapped. Along with strappy, Mason was holding the slip of paper containing the dare instructions. He handed me the paper, but still held the leather strap out in his outstretched hands. Mason’s arms must have been aching as I read the details of the dare.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Dare #25: Mr Strappy 6 inside… position: Spanker’s choice</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> Mr Strappy 6 outside, front of house… position: wheelbarrow</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Are you sure, Mason?” I asked, “... because your bottom is going to be ever so sore when Mr Streppy has finished with you.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I could see Carol smiling and was pleased to think she approved of how I was handling this new development in my introduction to her family’s traditions.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh yes, sir!” Mason replied without any hesitation, “I know my bottom is going to string and be very hot after Mr Strappy’s visit… but it’s a dare and it doesn’t matter how hot my bottom gets as long as I complete the dare…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“That’s very brave of you Mason and by the time I take you out to the front of the house…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mason blanched: “Oh… I forgot about that… will there be lots of people watching do you think?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I should imagine so, Mason… it can get very busy outside, so everyone passing by will see you completely bare and being given a sound strapping… are you sure you still want to go ahead?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh yes, sir… I have to complete the dare no matter how embarrassing it is… but by the time Mr Strappy gets to work on my bottom I’m sure I won’t be at all interested how many people are watching because I’ll be too busy crying…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Well, Mason you are a very brave little boy indeed… but before we go outside Mr Strappy wants to see your bare bottom over my lap…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">And with that Mason almost leapt over my lap. Carol helps me get the nude twelve year old position. It was one I instantly knew I’d remember. Carol twisted Mason round so that his head was tucked under my left arm. She drew his arms back so that I could easily hold his thin wrists, but I declined saying that Mason could wrap his arms around me and hold on that way.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“But if you don’t hold on to me, or try and reach back, Mason, I will hold your wrists… and give you a penalty spank for my trouble… understand?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mason understood. He also knew what else was required as he spread his legs so they hung on either side of my thighs. Mason’s own thighs were thus spread wide, as was of course his bottom cheeks, fully displaying is tight little pucker. I could see his cute little boy-bits dangling between my legs as Carol showed me how spreading my own thighs meant that Mason’s thighs were spread even wider apart than ever!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I gasped as I saw Mason’s pale bottom positioned before me waiting for Mr Strappy. Carol explained about the target areas thus exposed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“The inner thigh is where it stings the most, so try one on each side… that still leaves you four for this part of the dare…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Ok… what about Mason’t bottom,” I asked as I brushed my open hand over the beautiful smooth curves.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Obviously you’ve got to be careful, but if you feel you’ve got control, try bringing the strap so that it lands about here…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Carol pointed to a part of Mason’s utterly exposed button.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Wow!!!” My mouth fell open in complete astonishment. “Are you sure?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mason wriggled underneath my, clearly he wanted to know what Carol and I were talking about.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, it’s perfectly allowable under the terms of the dare. As if to confirm this she looked over to the relative who was running the dare game. They nodded their approval without a word spoken. I guess they wanted it to be a surprise when Mason felt the strap sting his bottom crack and snap right across his pucker.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I picked up the short leather strap. It was flexible and obviously well used. I dangled the tip, grazing Mason’s bottom before giving the first of the allotted spanks to Mason’s right buttock. He jerked and gasped at the same time as I watched the red imprint develop on Mason’s tender flesh. I brought the strap down on Mason’s left buttock and again I felt Mason jerk, but more violently this time. His gasp was louder too. I paused to observe the effect of Mr Strappy on Mason’s cheeks. They were no longer pale.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Carol leant over: “You’re a natural, Todd!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It felt good to be praised by my girlfriend. I sensed that I was being tested, but in a good way as it occurred to me Carol needed to be sure that I would be a good father should our marriage be blest with boys and I fully understood this, if indeed was correct in my assumption.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mason wriggled on my lap, but held me tight as I stroked his back and prepared to test Mr Strappy on Mason’s inner thighs. I put my left arm around Mason’s waist and raised Mr Strappy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The beauty of Mr Strappy was that it didn’t take a great deal of effort to produce the most stunning effect. As Strappy made contact with Mason’s inner thigh it was as if a bolt of electricity had shot through the boy. His whole body jerked and I was glad that I was holding his waist tightly enough to stop him from launching himself across the room. For a split second his arms loosened their grip around my waist, but Mason instantly hugged me tightly as he let rip with a loud squeal.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I could feel Mason gulping and panting as he fought to control himself. I waited and stroked his back again to help calm him down. Aware this was not a punishment I asked Mason if he wanted to continue.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mason gulped: “Yes please, sir…” I knew he was struggling to get the words out, but at last he told, “Please finish my dare, sir… all the strokes, sir…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Brave boy, Mason… ready?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, sir… ready…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I moved my hand around Mason’s waist once more and held him tight as I felt his arms squeezing my waist in readiness for the next stroke.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Carol watched as I raised Mr Strappy and I noticed a few of the boys had moved to watch. As always, boys are fascinated to look at another boy being strapped, paddled or spanked. As long as it’s not their bottom of course. Boys do have the benefit of experience. They know when a boy on the receiving end of a spanking is crying genuine tears and they can pass judgement on the spanking being given. I was pleased to be rewarded with a ‘thumbs-up’ from a couple of grinning boys clearly impressed by my technique.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mr Strappy snapped the smooth tender flesh of Mason’s right thigh. This produced a stronger response as I put slightly more force behind the stroke. Not much more, but enough to leave Mason struggling to control himself. Mason’s legs were waving about as his feet tried to pedal away the heat and sting of the smack.</span></p><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div></span></div>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-87263260455555924952023-08-17T18:09:00.000+01:002023-08-17T18:09:22.794+01:00Let's Talk About... Part 8<div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-c0576c9d-7fff-5d3d-6ac3-9e1330ca4474"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Sylvia Plant looked at the tiny key she was holding in the palm of her hand and looked up at her son: “It looks just like the key in that funny little box in your bedroom, Matthew…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Matt’s mum looked at her son with a steely eye: “Is it the same as this one?” she asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I don’t see how it can be, Sylvia,” Adrian’s mum interrupted before Matt could reply, “This is the only key I was given, although it’s reminded me that it would be useful to have a spare… I must get around to sending off for one… I’m told these keys are very difficult to obtain otherwise.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... if you’re sure,” Sylvia Plant said.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Peter whispered to Matt: “I told you to hide the box…” he hissed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“What was that, Peter?” Matt’s mum asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Er, nothing, Mrs Plant,” Peter replied guiltily.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It’s the key to a treasure box,” Matt announced before his mum had time to notice the worried look on his friend’s face, “... but we can’t open it until we’ve figured out how to get the key out of the box… it’s got some sort of trick-lock, but we haven’t been able to work out what to do yet…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“That’s right…” Peter agreed, relieved that Matt had managed to take the heat off him, “It’s a fiendish problem…” he added in his best Sexton Blake voice.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Matt’s mother was utterly nonplussed: “Where on earth did you get it from?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Quick thinking was required, however both Matt and Peter fumbled for an explanation, so it was left up to Adrian to save the day. He didn’t want the real use of the key in Matt’s room to be discovered any more than his friends. The use of the key was the only way Adrian could be relieved of the frustration he was feeling at his increasingly intense need to masturbate, something he’d been unable to do since his penis had been locked into a chastity trainer device by his mum.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Jack’s brother sent it…” Adrian explained with surprising confidence, “It’s one of those puzzle box things… the first one to open it gets the key to a prize </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">or something</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">…” The last two words were clearly meant to be understood, not by the mums, but by his friends.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Matt and Peter were amazed at Adrian’s quick thinking… even more so when they realised how it gave more credibility to Jack joining in the fun… wait ‘til they told him!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Well I never! So that’s what you boys have been up to,” Sylvia Plant said finally and turned to her friend Connie, “I wondered why the boys were spending so much time together in Matthew’s bedroom…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Can I have my swim-trunks now, please?” Adrian asked politely.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Peter and Matt looked at each other furtively. They clearly had a plan.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Just a sec. Adrian,” Peter said, “There’s something I want you see… won’t take a jiff…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Before Adrian realised what was happening Peter had managed to hustle his friend, </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">sans</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> swim-trunks, into the hall.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian was more interested in getting his little boy swim-trunks back than what Peter might want. “What is it, Peter? Can’t it wait?” Then he had a thought, “It’s not about the key, is it?” he whispered.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Sort of…” Peter answered, clearly playing for time.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Meanwhile, back in the living room Matt moved forward towards his mum: “Adrian’s forgotten his trunks… I’ll take them for him shall I, mum?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, you’d better, dear…” Sylvia Plant replied and handed Adrian’s swim-trunks to her son, “Look after them for him and Adrian can put them on when he’s ready…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Thanks, mum, I will… we thought we’d go over to Jack’s… see you later,” Matt said as he skipped out of the room in possession of Adrian’s tiny trunks, carefully taking note of his mum’s exact words.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian was confused. Peter was telling him that they were going to take the lock-box with them over to Jack’s.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“What for? I thought we were going to keep it at Matt’s house,” Adrian was more puzzled than ever.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Come on, let’s go upstairs and get it,” Peter urged.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“What about my trunks?” an increasingly alarmed Adrian asked. It was his only allowed item of clothing under the terms of his challenge and he wanted it back. The boys had promised him he wouldn’t have to wear the tiny loincloth that day.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Don’t worry, Matt will get them…” Peter said as he and a still nude Adrian climbed up the stairs to Matt’s bedroom.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian was by now so confused as to these new developments that he didn’t stop to ask why it would take both of them to retrieve the lock-box. But then he was in for a shock.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Why’s it still locked</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">? </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Shouldn’t it be open</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">?” he gasped and sought an explanation from his friend, “Peter?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh it’s one of the new rules,” Peter said blithely, “If you don’t open the box and take the key out </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">and use it</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> within five minutes when the box unlocks, then it has to be locked up again for another throw of the dice…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian was gobsmacked at hearing this: “But I wasn’t here when the timer…” then it dawned on him, “... you mean, I’ve got to be near the box when it unlocks itself?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes,” Peter replied as if this was a perfectly obvious and reasonable explanation, “... but as you weren’t here last night, we threw the dice for you… see? Look, Adrian I don’t know what you’re worrying about, there’s only another fifty minutes to go before it unlocks again…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian immediately saw the drawback: “But what if we’re down the rec. or somewhere… then that means I’ll have to throw the dice when I’m back at Jack’s, or Matt’s… wherever the box has been left…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Unless we take the box with us…” Peter observed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes… but no… wait a minute! What if we are at the rec. and the timer unlocks? You mean my only chance is to… I can’t wank there! In the middle of the playground?!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You can always hide under the Moon Climber and do it there… I wanked off under there for dare once, don’t you remember?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yeah, but that was when everyone had gone home…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Meantime Matt was waiting downstairs holding Adrian’s little swim-trunks. He grinned as he thought of the next trick he and Peter were about to play on the unsuspecting Adrian, after all his mum had definitely said to look after the trunks for him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Matt was still standing in the hall as Peter, followed by Adrian carrying the lock-box, descended the stairs. Matt had been careful to close the living-room door on the two mums, leaving them to chat away to their hearts' content. Matt and Peter needed a bit of privacy before the boys set off for Jack’s house. To be absolutely sure, Matt opened the front door and stepped into the porch.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Hey!” Adrian called out to him, “What about my trunks?!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Peter once more hustled Adrian along, this time into the porch with Matt.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“C’ mon, Matt give me my trunks… you said I wouldn’t have to wear the loincloth today…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Peter was the next to speak and Adrian twisted his head round to face his friend: “All Matt said yesterday before you stormed off in a huff was that you could pick up your trunks this morning… he didn’t say anything about you wearing them…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian couldn’t believe what he just heard. His mouth fell open and he stared at Peter. Adrian’s mum had the loincloth and Matt was holding his trunks, the only two items the challenge allowed him to wear, so unless there was a change in the rules, Adrian was left, apart from his sneakers and the stupid nub trainer on his nob, totally bare nude!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You can’t mean that, guys… </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">please</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">,” Adrian managed to blurt, “I’m stark naked!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Dur… yes, we can see that…” Peter replied.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Matt spoke and Adrian twisted back round in the small porch to face him once more: “Besides mum said I was to look after them for you… maybe she thinks you’re due for some nudie time,” he giggled at his suggestion.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">There was silence in the porch for a few moments as Adrian tried to get his head round the fact that he’d been tricked again.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Tell you what, Adrian,” Peter said at last, “Fairs fair… we walk round to Jack’s… you carry the lock-box as you are… Matt will bring your swim-trunks along and we’ll count this as a forfeit… ok?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian let this proposal sink in, but then he thought of something: “But I’ll have to carry the box in both hands…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The boys knew exactly what that meant… no chance for Adrian to cover up.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Peter and Matt waited in silence. They both knew Adrian would have to do what Peter said if he was to have any chance of his nub trainer being unlocked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Eventually Adrian sighed: “Ok… I’ll do it…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Through the front bay window Matt’s mum caught sight of the three boys as they set off for Jack’s house.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Adrian doesn’t appear to have put his swim-trunks on,” she remarked and leant forward to pick up her tea cup. No sense in worrying, she thought… the boys are quite capable of looking after one another.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I sometimes wonder what goes on in Adrian’s mind some days,” was all that Connie said to her friend on the subject. </span></p><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The boys reached the end of the road before anything was said. Adrian was leading the way, though much against his better judgement never mind his will, but Matt and Peter had insisted it was all part of the forfeit.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">As the boys turned the corner Peter stepped forward to walk next to Adrian. He put his arm around Adrian’s bare shoulder: “No hard feelings, eh?” he asked, “Matt didn’t mean what he said yesterday… he doesn’t remember to engage his brain before he opens his mouth sometimes…” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... but he was right though, wasn’t he… about my Birthday Suit,” Adrian reminded him, “I mean, I’m wearing it now, aren’t I?” he added with a friendly smirk. Adrian knew it was no use holding a grudge.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“That’s the spirit,” Peter said and gave his pal a friendly hug. He paused for a moment then added, “You were brilliant in there earlier, Adrian… wasn’t he Matt?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yeah,” Matt agreed, “I’m sorry about… y’know, yesterday…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian, in spite of having to wear his Birthday Suit in public, was chuffed after what Peter said. It </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">had</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> been brilliant of him to get them out of their scrape and he was magnanimous: “That’s ok… I know you didn’t mean it… we’re all, y’know… pals, aren’t we?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Matt put his arm over Adrian’s shoulders as well: “... you’re right… pals for ever!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">There was a warm feeling among all three boys as they walked along, Matt and Peter with their arms over Adrian’s shoulders as he carefully carried the lock-box. It was an incongruous sight. Adrian, wearing nothing more than his nub trainer and sneakers, being escorted by two boys dressed in casual shorts and T-shirts. They attracted more than a few stares, but the three of them were in good spirits. Adrian even managed to ignore the odd wolf-whistle as they walked towards Jack’s. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Peter spoke up next: “I know Adrian has to do a penalty for spunking up yesterday, but what say we give him a special reward for helping us out? Say halve it so he only has to do a day before he gets another chance to get his trainer unlocked?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian’s eyes lit up: “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Really</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">?!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Only if Jack agrees… he was the one to think up penalties… otherwise I’m ok with that. Adrian deserves a break,” Matt told them.</span></p><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">When all was explained to him, Jack did agree and like Matt and Peter was impressed by Adrian’s willingness to cover for them, he was also keen to explain to Adrian the new game he’d thought up.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’ve sort of refined it a bit,” he explained to Matt and Peter and then he turned to Adrian, “I thought we could use the lock-box as part of a dice game…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian didn’t look too happy at the prospect and Jack picked up on this: “... don’t look like that… the game will give you the chance to wank off… I’d thought that instead of doing your daily forfeits, you might want to trade them for a turn with the new game…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian furrowed his brow: “You mean play the new game instead of doing forfeits?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes,” Jack explained, “It’s up to you… but you might have to do forfeits depending on what penalties you get with my new game…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“So how does the new game work?” Adrian was beginning to see that if the game was reasonable it might have its advantages and be a whole lot better than doing one of Jack’s forfeits… it took him ages to get rid of the taste of Jack’s cum from his mouth yesterday… and coupled with that, Adrian had no idea what forfeits his friends would think up next for him to perform, particularly after completing the walk round to Jack’s in his Birthday Suit. Could be better to risk the game… maybe, Adrian thought.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jack was excited and was so keen for Adrian to start playing his new dice game that he suggested yesterday’s penalty for Adrian spunking up without permission should be rescinded.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Don’t forget we’ve already halved Adrian’s penalty, Jack,” Peter reminded him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I know but…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It was clear to the others how much Jack wanted to test out his new game. Understandably Adrian wanted to know exactly what was involved; in other words, what he was in for.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian, being in the minority, was outvoted and it was decided that Adrian would have to play the new dice game as invented by Jack who proceeded to explain the details of what it was about.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“First off the lock-box has to be open… how long left on the timer?” he asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Another eleven minutes and twenty seconds,” Matt told him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Plenty of time to go through the rules,” Jack said, “Right… Adrian rolls the dice and what happens next depends on what number he throws… yeah, pretty obvious that. So what I’ve decided so far… and we can fine tune it if you want, is that if Adrian throws a one, a three, or a five, he has has to throw the dice again before we tie his hands behind his back…” Jack paused, almost breathless with excitement, “Then we unlock the trainer, tease Adrian’s nob ‘til he gets a boner…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You won’t have to wait very long for that to happen,” Peter said interrupting.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... and then we take it in turns to edge him for however many times Adrian threw on the second roll of the dice…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">What</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">! </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Each of us</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">?” Matt exclaimed, “So if Adrian threw a four on the second go, we’d each of us edge him four times! Crikey… that’s a total of twelve times, Jack!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Precisely… go to the top of the class, Matt,” Jack had an evil grin on his face that all the boys recognised and they knew he had something else up his sleeve, “If any of us let’s Adrian cum when we’re edging him…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jack turned and got something from under his bed. Peter and Matt gasped in astonishment when they saw what was in Jack’s hand.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">W-where did you get that from</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">?!” Matt asked, looking horror-struck. It didn’t take a genius to see what Jack had in mind.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Peter guessed straightaway: “You got it from Scoot, didn’t you?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Where else would I get a cage like this one?” Jack said as he held up the device, “... see, it’s even got space for your balls… it’s called a ‘Full Coverage Chastity Cage’... I tried it on last night for a couple of hours… I couldn’t believe what it felt like…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">You put it on!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Holy crap!!</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">” Peter exclaimed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yeah… lucky I’ve got the key,” Jack chuckled, “... wouldn’t like to be locked up in that for any length of time…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian was caught between feelings of outrage that his friends were treating Jack’s latest acquisition as a game and disbelief that someone could invent a device so fiendish that it encased your balls as well as your nob. Adrian couldn’t take his eyes off it: it was so awful to behold. He thought his own nub trainer was the pits, but to be locked up in a full coverage cage must be dreadful.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Whad’ya think Adrian?” Jack asked, “... you’re the expert…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian shook his head: “It’s horrid… what are you going to do with it?” For once Adrian felt safe. He’d got his own chastity device, thankyou. There was no way they were going to get that thing on him… and besides his mum would notice and wonder what was going on.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Like I was saying… if anyone let’s you cum when they’re edging you, they get their nobs </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">and</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> balls put in this,” Jack waggled the device in front of them all, “... and they have to throw the dice… whatever number is rolled is the number of </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">days</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> it has to be worn…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Jack… you’re not serious,” Peter exclaimed, “... you could be locked in that thing for nearly a week!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“How do think I feel,” Adrian interrupted, “I think it’s a brilliant idea… then you’ll know what it’s been like for me… not to be able have a wank whenever you want…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">There was silence in Jack’s bedroom as he, Matt and Peter tried to digest the implications of the proposal. Finally, after a couple of minutes, Matt suggested a vote. There was a definite, almost palpable nervousness among the boys… all except Adrian. He of course had made his own feelings on the issue clear. Adrian wanted his pals to experience what masturbation denial was like; to be permanently frustrated and desperate for a wank.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jack, whose idea this was, took the chair: “Ok… we all agree there should be a penalty for anyone letting Adrian cum when he rolls a number that means we have to edge him?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Matt and Peter agreed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Now, as Matt pointed out, we might have to edge Adrian up to eighteen times… if he throws a six on the second throw, that is. I don’t need to tell you how difficult it’s going to be after Adrian’s been edged a few times to control him so that he doesn’t shoot… so I just wanted to make sure we understand that it’s not going to be a walk in the park… the danger of you triggering Adrian into a massive cum is very real… understand what I’m saying?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Again Matt and Peter nodded.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“So what’s it to be? Are we going to risk being locked into this little number?” again Jack waggled the Full Coverage Chastity Cage, “... or are we cowardly custards?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">No boy wants to be called a cowardly custard, so Matt and Peter bravely put up their hands in support of Jack’s proposal. There was a frisson of nervous excitement in the room as the boys slowly realised what they’d committed themselves to… but for boys of their age, it was a thrill not to be missed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian had his own proposal to make: “... and I’ll be the keyholder this time…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yeah, I was going to ask about that,” Matt said, “I think Adrian’s right. I mean he’s not going mess about and risk losing the chance to have his own trainer unlocked…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It was agreed that henceforth Adrian would be the official keyholder for the full coverage trainer.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian was chuffed that at last he had a hand in what seemed to him to be some payback for all the he’d endured since his mum ‘persuaded’ him to wear the nub trainer. He felt positively buoyed up to the extent that he asked eagerly: “What about the other numbers on the dice? Y’know, two, four and six…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Peter and Matt were still digesting their thoughts on the potential probability of finding themselves locked in the new training cage and hadn’t given much thought to the other numbers Adrian could throw. Jack, however had come up with another fiendish plan.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“A two or a four and we tie Adrian’s hands behind his back like before but, instead of edging, this time we give him a ruined orgasm…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... a </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">what</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">?” Matt asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yeah, what’s a ruined orgasm when it’s at home?” Peter added.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Haven’t you ever tried stopping just when you’re just about to shoot spunk?” Jack asked, looking at his pals as if they were daft.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Why would you want to do that?” Matt asked, “... it’s the best bit.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, I know it is, but Craig did it to me…” Jack started to explain, “... he was wanking me and just as I was about to cum he whipped his hands away and grabbed mine to stop me from doing anything… my nob jerked about and I shot spunk, but as the best bit is when you’re squeezing and rubbing your cock when you squirt, like you said…. but I couldn’t… it was awful, believe me… you need to have it done to you to know what it’s like… it’s unbelievable…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian didn’t like the sound of this one bit and Jack went on: “You get to feel like you’re going to have the best cum ever… and then, just as you’re about to… nothing… you just shoot and squirt all over the place…” Adrian knew this had to be even worse than being edged!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I still don’t know why anyone would want to do that,” Matt said, “I mean… what’s the point?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Peter got the idea: “Oh, come on, Matt… think about it… it must be a total disappointment… can you imagine how frustrated you’d feel… awesome!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... and how…” Jack added.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian wasn’t sure this dice game of Jack’s meant he was any better off than he was doing forfeits: “Ok… what happens if I roll a six?” he asked with a shrug of resignation.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jack’s eyes lit up and he simply said: “You get to wank.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian couldn’t believe what he just heard: “Really… you’ll really let me wank?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Peter and Matt knew there must be a catch somewhere and so there was.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yeah,” Jack answered Adrian, “... sure… you deserve it, but,” he paused. Adrian’s heart sank. He knew it wouldn’t be straightforward. Jack’s games never were.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... before you can wank, you have to throw the dice again…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">and</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">?” Adrian was on tenterhooks.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... and the number you roll is the number of minutes you’re allowed to wank for…” Jack explained as he concluded his description of the dice game.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">There was silence in the room as this new fiendish rule of the game sank in. Matt and Peter grinned at the simplicity of Jack’s proposal. Less worried now by the thought of the penalty for letting Adrian lose it while edging him, they both wondered if Adrian would manage to wank himself off in six minutes or less… say he only had a minute to do it in… was it possible to wank and spunk up in sixty seconds?! Matt and Peter looked at each other and grinned knowing exactly what the other was thinking… yes, they would experiment at their earliest opportunity to see if it could be done.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Ok… here’s the deal,” Jack said, “Each day Adrian gets to choose whether to play the game and roll the dice, or he can choose to do forfeits…” he turned to Adrian, “but don’t forget you’ve got to do a forfeit for each of us, so the choice is three forfeits against rolling the dice with the chance of having a wank or at least being wanked before the key goes back in the box…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... and don’t forget the new lock-box rule which means that you’ve got to be ready for it when it opens… no matter where you happen to be…” Peter reminded Adrian.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian thought for a bit. On the face of it he didn’t have much choice but to agree with Jack’s proposal and accept the inclusion of the dice game, but he couldn’t help thinking how complicated his life was becoming what with all the new rules and everything. Still there was some compensation in that if, when he was being edged, one of them accidentally made him cum, Adrian would at least get to see them get their nobs caged and locked… with him holding the key! But all he really wanted was to have the opportunity to have a good wank…</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“So… what’s it to be?” Jack asked Adrian, “Are you ready to play the dice game?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian put his hand between his legs and felt the nub trainer that secured his penis and prevented him from wanking. Whatever happened… whatever way the dice rolled, he would at least have his nob unlocked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian nodded: “Yes… I’ll play…”</span></p><br /><br /><br /></span></div>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-56727656262040515382023-07-28T19:55:00.000+01:002023-07-28T19:55:36.831+01:00Let's Talk About... Part 7<div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“What on earth are you wearing now?” Adrian’s mum asked with a questioning smile when her son walked into the kitchen, “Don’t tell me… have you and the boys been discussing your challenge?”</span></div><span id="docs-internal-guid-abdf57a4-7fff-4bd9-c064-027b25592c37"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Oh, crumbs, thought Adrian, she thinks it’s to do with this challenge thing she’s on about.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Er, no mum… nothing to do with the challenge… it’s just that I… I sort of spilled something on my trunks and Mrs Plant offered to clean them for me,” Adrian answered.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Then why aren’t you wearing them?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“We were going to the rec., but we didn’t have time to wait for my trunks to be washed, so Matt found this for me to wear,” Adrian explained. He was standing facing his mum shielding his bare bottom from view.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“But what exactly is it?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian blushed. There was no easy way to explain what the skimpy piece of material was that was hanging over his crotch. He tried to think of all the new rules Matt and Peter had decided on in an effort to think up something that would be convincing to his mum.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Well it’s sort of to do with the challenge,” Adrian said squirming as he back-pedalled on what he’s just said to his mum, “You see we’ve been thinking up some rules like you said we should… y’know you wanted me to talk to Peter and Matt about it…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, I remember, darling… so have you boys come up with some ideas then?” mum said eager to find out what they had decided, “You know I’m really pleased you’ve taken up this challenge, Adrian… I’m so proud of you.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian blushed and squirmed even more as he began to tell his mum about some of the rules that Peter and Matt had come up with, like not being able to wear any other clothes but his little swimming trunks. What Adrian was wearing was not considered to be proper clothes under the rules they’d devised. He pretended he was involved in the decision-making process and felt a little ashamed at having to put such a positive spin on his humiliation.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It’s like this, mum,” Adrian said as he started to tell her what had happened, “... when I spilt the tadpole… I mean, tapioca pudding on my trunks…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“What tapioca pudding?” mum asked completely confused.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“The tapioca pudding I was eating…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... but you don’t like tapioca pudding… you won’t eat my tapioca pudding…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian had to think fast: “Matt said there was some left over and Peter told me it would help with the challenge… er, get my strength up or something…” Adrian extemporised, “...he said he would’ve eaten it, but said I could because I needed it…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“That was very generous of Peter considering… I must remember to make you some in future,” a slightly bewildered mum replied, but she knew how fickle boys can be when it came to food.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You don’t have to, mum… not specially,” Adrian said, worried that tapioca pudding would become a regular feature of mealtimes.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“So tell me about these rules you and the boys have thought up…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Mrs Plant… Matt’s mum…” Adrian started to say.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes… I know who Sylvia Plant is…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Well, Matt’s mum said I couldn’t go out with my trunks all messy, so she said she would clean them for me and, er, well… then she offered to lend me a pair of Matt’s play shorts so I could go to the rec. with Peter and Matt… but…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian’s mum stifled a yawn.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... I’m not allowed to wear shorts, because the rules are that I can’t wear any clothes other than my speedo trunks for the challenge… like I said, but Peter and Matt decided that I could wear one of our old Red Indian loincloths, because they don’t count as proper boys’ clothes… ‘cos they’re play outfits…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I see,” mum said before she realised something, “</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">What</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">… the loincloths you used to wear when you played Cowboys and Indians… you were only a little boy… seven or eight, when you played in those… where on earth did you find it?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Matt found it for me…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Something else occurred to Adrian’s mum: “Turn round, Adrian…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“But, mum… please…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Turn round… I want to see if my memory’s playing tricks on me, or… </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">yes</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">, I thought so… your bottom is completely bare… you’ve not been running about with a bare bottom all day have you, Adrian?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mum suppressed a chuckle and looked seriously at her son, as if she was about to admonish him, until she saw his lips quivering. It had been a tough day for Adrian and he was a bundle of nerves standing in the kitchen dressed in nothing more than the ridiculously small, backless loincloth, and having to think up plausible reasons for his costume (such as it was!).</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian’s mum, realising her son needed cheering up, laughed: “Oh, darling! I think you’re being ever so brave! Fancy… I never knew you could be such a little daredevil… wearing that old loincloth while your swim-trunks were being cleaned…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian hung his head: “It was Matt’s idea,” he confessed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Well, whoever it was you’re the one who wore it… I’m so proud of you!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mum put her hand out and ruffled Adrian’s hair: “No gel today I see… you know I really didn’t think that little device would have such an effect… you are being so much more self-confident… gosh, when I think of the times I’ve had to push you out of that kitchen door to get you out of the house for some fresh air…” she leant down and kissed Adrian’s forehead, “Now what can I do to make your challenge a bit more exciting?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian was shocked to hear what his mum said. More exciting! he thought, how could it possibly made more exciting? It was bad enough as it was… bloody awful, in fact, but he couldn’t tell his mum the real reason for accepting his humiliations under the pretence of a ‘challenge’. His mouth fell open, but then he quickly cried: “</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">MUM</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">!!” he was distraught at the very idea.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mum laughed again: “I was only pulling your leg, dear and it sounds as if you’ve already had quite an exciting day today… but I’m sure you’re having lots of fun with your friends thinking up ways to make the challenge more interesting…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“They already have,” muttered Adrian to himself.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... and what </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">have</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> you done to your bottom?” his mum asked interrupting Adrian’s thoughts, “It’s as red as a beetroot…” she added.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It was at the playground… on slide, mum…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“How many goes did you have on the slide?” mum asked. She could see Adrian’s bottom was still very red.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh, two or three times… my bottom was dead sore…” Adrian answered.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Hmm…” mum looked again at Adrian’s red bottom, “It looks to me as if it was more than a couple of goes on the slide to get your bottom looking like that…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It was, mum… honest,” Adrian replied. He had no idea quite how red his bottom was and he didn’t like the way this was going.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It looks to me as if this bottom of yours has been spanked… did Peter and Matt spank you?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“No, mum… no they didn’t…” Adrian was beginning to get very nervous about what to tell his mum.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“But your bottom </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">has</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> been spanked hasn’t it, Adrian?” mum clearly wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian hung his head in shame and after realising he’d have to tell his mum what happened he nodded: “Yes, mum…” he whispered.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“So tell me, darling… who spanked you?” mum asked tenderly, “Were you naughty?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“No, mum… I wasn’t naughty… not like you mean…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">His mum looked puzzled: “No? So, tell me what happened…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian sighed… where to begin, he thought and after a few seconds of silence looked up at his mum: “I had to do a forfeit… you see Peter and Matt made it part of the challenge that had to do forfeits if I… if I make a mistake, or don’t do something right… it’s all part of the rules of the challenge, mum,” Adrian told her.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I see… you boys are taking this all very seriously…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian could see that his mum was pleased with his explanation, “Yes, mum…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... but you still haven’t told me who spanked your bottom…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian took a deep breath: “There were some mums… ladies… and they’d seen me playing on the roundabout and slide and things… anyway Matt was talking to them and telling them about my challenge…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“What was Peter doing? Was he playing with you?” mum asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Er, he was… he was watching me play hopscotch…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mum laughed. She didn’t mean to, but the thought of her son hopping and skipping on the hopscotch grid wearing nothing but the little loincloth was too much for her: “But you’ve got two left feet, darling! Did you finish the game? Was that what got you your spanking?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Oh, </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">mum</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">… I haven’t got two left feet!” Adrian said indignantly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“So what </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">did</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> happen?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian didn’t want to go into details, but unless he told his mum what happened, he realised his spanking wouldn’t make much sense.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Going to the rec. and playing on the swings and stuff like the slide was… well part of my challenge,” Adrian explained, “Peter and Matt are really good at coming up with ideas for things for me to do…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You must be really pleased your friends are helping out… they seem very keen…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian kept his thoughts to himself and carried on telling his mum what happened: “Then Peter challenged me to play hopscotch… only I had to go all the way round without making any mistakes otherwise I’d lose and have to pay a forfeit…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian’s mum chuckled once more at the thought of her son playing hopscotch wearing nothing but the tiny loincloth: “Go on, dear… don’t mind me… I’m all ears…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian protested: “It’s not funny, mum…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’m sorry darling… do carry on…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Peter gave me three lives and I was doing really well and then…” Adrian paused, not sure of how to explain what happened to make him lose the game.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Go on, darling…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I think Matt had been talking to the mums who were watching me and… and they’d seen my trainer thing…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I imagine they did… playing hopscotch it would have been difficult for them not to…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian blushed: “... and one of the ladies must have told Matt what it was for… to stop me… </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">y’know…</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Once again Adrian hung his head, but mum was clearly impressed by his honesty.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Matt ran over to where Peter was… he was refereeing… and… and… </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I was on the last round, mum</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">… and when Matt told Peter what the lady had said, I heard him and forgot what I was doing and missed the square… I was nearly back to the base… it was Matt’s fault I lost…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian couldn’t very well tell his mum what transpired between him and Matt, but he said that Matt apologised and they made it up.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Peter said I still had to do a forfeit…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... because you lost the game of hopscotch,” mum said having cottoned on to some of the new rules of the challenge, “... even though you were distracted by Matt?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian nodded: “Peter and Matt asked the ladies to choose a forfeit for me… and I had to do a spanking one…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“So the ladies spanked your naughty bottom?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian nodded again: “I wasn’t naughty, mum… I just lost at hopscotch…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Hmm… and how many spanks did they give you,” mum said good-naturedly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Six smacks… each,” Adrian replied, “They really stung…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I think you did very well to tell me all that… I’m pleased,” mum said, as she ruffled Adrian’s hair once more, “... and I think it would be a good idea if you told me all about what you, Peter and Matt get up to during this challenge…”</span></p><br /><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian might not have agreed, but he said nothing.</span></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Are your swimming trunks still at Matthew’s house?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, mum… I said I’d pick them up in the morning…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“So you’ll have to wear that loincloth again tomorrow if you’re going to stick by the rules.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian pursed his lips. He’d forgotten the consequences of leaving his chums standing when he walked off in a huff: “I suppose so…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Come on… let’s get you up to the bathroom, Adrian,” mum announced, “It looks like you could do with a good wash after playing at the rec. today… and, here, let’s have that loincloth and I’ll give it a quick rinse… we don’t want you going out looking scruffy, do we?” she added with a smile.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“No, mum…” Adrian replied as he wondered whether he’d need the ice-pack tonight after what happened at Jack’s.</span></p><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Later on in the bathroom Adrian’s mum was about to unlock the nub trainer when she told him: “I haven’t seen Matt’s mum for a while, so I thought I might pop over tomorrow… perhaps we can go over there together…” She turned the little key and the lock sprang open, “Oh! Not so excited to be unlocked tonight,” mum said as she eased the chastity cage from Adrian’s penis, “... it’s all that exercise you’ve had to day at rec. I expect…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian silently sighed in relief: “Yes, mum… it was fun though…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It was only when mum washed Adrian’s penis and had retracted his foreskin that she noticed the </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">glans</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> was a little redder than usual. There was a slight slipperiness too, although this didn’t cause her undue concern. She reminded herself that Adrian was growing up and the constant constriction of the nub trainer might have rubbed his penis during his games at the rec. playground.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Would you like me to put some cream on your willy? It looks a little sore…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The indignity he felt at having his penis called a willy rankled and before he could stop himself he blurted out: “</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It’s not a willy, mum</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">… only little boys have willies…” he reminded her.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’m sorry, darling, but it is a bit red… as if it’s being chaffed by the trainer…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian blushed: “It’s alright, mum… it doesn’t feel sore or anything…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The very thought of what might happen if mum started to rub cream on his nob appalled Adrian and he was relieved when his mum acquiesced to his wish.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... but we’d better keep an eye on it,” she added, “I wouldn’t like to think that wearing your trainer is hurting you, however much it’s helping you to be my good little boy…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">What was Adrian to say? If he said it was too small and it hurt, he was pretty sure mum would just get another size… with another lock, which meant a different key. Anyway although he hated to admit it, he’d got used to the trainer and most of the time hardy knew it was there. It was when he felt horny and his nob was constricted by the little device that he really felt the frustration of not being able to masturbate. Adrian knew his only chance of a good wank rested in the duplicate key Peter had managed to get hold of and therein lay the answer to give his mum.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It’s ok really, mum…” and with his hands held firmly behind his head, he crossed his fingers and said, “I don’t mind it… honest I don’t…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian’s mum beamed. She knew she’d done the right thing. Those leaflets she’d picked up were quite correct, boys didn’t need to masturbate… they were far better behaved when they weren’t fiddling with their willies all the time.</span></p><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The next morning Adrian and his mum set off for Matt’s house together. As they walked along Adrian once more was wearing his loincloth, which was nice and clean after his mum had washed and ironed it for him. Of course, apart from his sneakers, that’s all Adrian was wearing. He felt even more self-conscious of his near-nudity walking by his mum’s side and couldn’t wait to get into the comparative safety of Mrs Plant’s house.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">When they arrived Adrian and his mum were shown into the front room by Matt’s mother.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“It is nice to see you, Connie… come on through… I’ll make a cuppa and we can sit and have a chat,” Matt’s mum said in greeting, “Peter’s already here, Adrian… he’s upstairs with Matt… I’ve got your swimming trunks, all washed and ready for you… if you wait here with your mum for minute I’ll bring them and you can change into them… I expect you’ll like put them back on after wearing that tiny loincloth…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian thanked Matt’s mother and wondered what his friends were up to, but knowing them he reckoned they were either wanking or figuring out his day’s new forfeits… or both.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’m so glad you called round, Connie,” Mrs Plant said as she brought through the tea, “The boys have told me all about this challenge Adrian's doing…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, Matt and Peter have been very helpful… haven’t they, Adrian?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, mum…” Adrian was itching to get upstairs to find out what was going on, but realised he wasn’t going to get permission to leave the room just yet.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Has Mrs. Plant seen your little trainer?” Adrian’s mum asked him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian shook his head. He didn’t like where the mums’ ‘chat’ was going.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Come over here and let’s show her shall we?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian knew this wasn’t a question for which he had the option of answering ‘no’. When there were two mums together facing you, Adrian knew it was a good policy not to show up one in front of the other. He walked the few paces towards his mum and Mrs Plant.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Yesterday Adrian had managed to conceal his nub trainer from Matt’s mum. She had laughed good-naturedly at his modesty as he peeled down his tiny speedo trunks that needed washing after spilling the tapioca pudding over himself. Adrian stood nervously as his mum went into a few more embarrassing details about how the trainer device was helping him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Helping him in what way what exactly,” Matt’s mum asked, although it wasn’t difficult for her to guess.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Instead of answering her friend straightaway Connie told her about the leaflet she’d picked up while Adrian was having his verruca attended to at the clinic: “It was very useful… very informative… it explained about how boys can start playing with themselves… masturbating…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian, forced to stand listening to his mum, blushed until he felt his ears burning.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... the experts writing in the leaflet are all agreed that excessive masturbation can seriously affect boys’ physical abilities… you ought to pick up a leaflet the next time you take Matthew to the Clinic… but Adrian told me that he hardly ever played with himself… didn’t you, darling?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian felt like such an idiot as he agreed: “Yes, mum…” He was sure Mrs Plant must know all about boys masturbating… his mum didn’t need to embarrass him like this talking to Matt’s mum… but then mums were like that…</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Contrary to how Adrian viewed his situation standing in the front room, his mother carried on; “You see, Adrian wasn’t even bothered when we had a little talk about masturbation, were you, dear?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“No, mum…” Adrian replied dutifully, wondering when his ordeal would end.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> “… in fact, Sylvia, he told me he wouldn’t miss masturbating if he stopped altogether… so together we agreed… didn’t we, darling?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, mum…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... we agreed that Adrian would wear a little trainer device to help him keep the promise he made to me… Adrian says that he hardly even notices he’s wearing it, isn’t that so?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian managed to croak out the word ‘yes’, but would have been happier if the floor underneath his feet would have obliged him by suddenly giving way so that he could escape the inevitable next few seconds…</span></p><br /><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">His mum leant forwards and took hold of the lower hem of Adrian’s loincloth. Adrian was a boy and they were two mums together. What could be more perfectly natural that Connie, Adrian’s mum, should lift up the flimsy loincloth to show Matt’s mum how his bald penis was securely caged in the nub trainer chastity device by a tiny padlock.</span></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“See how simple it is?” Connie said, “I unlock it at Adrian’s bathtime so that I can clean it… and him!” she added with a chuckle, “... while he keeps his hands out of the way of course…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“What a cute little lock as well!” Sylvia said as she peered at the device more closely, “I’m not sure how Matt would take to it… being bathed again after so long and everything… but you must keep me posted and tell me how you get on with Adrian… and if there’s anything I can do, you only have to ask…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It sounded to Adrian very much as if he was going to be the only boy wearing a nub trainer in the foreseeable future. Not that he would wish it on anyone else; he wasn’t that sort of boy. But it </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">was</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> unfair, he thought.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Now, what’s all this about the challenge you’ve set for Adrian this summer?” Sylvia Plant asked Connie.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">This was the first time Adrian had heard the world ‘summer’ mentioned with regard to his challenge and his mouth fell open. Did this mean he would have to wear his stupid little-boy swim-trunks for the rest of the holidays? </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">And</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> the nub trainer?! To say Adrian was shocked and horrified was an understatement… he was flabbergasted and waited… no, </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">prayed</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> to hear his mum say it would only be for a few days… a week at most.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You know, I hadn’t given it much thought to be honest, but Adrian’s been so enthusiastic and with his friends helping him with his challenge… it’s been such a surprise to see how he’s been enjoying himself so much… yesterday they they took him to the rec. to play… and while you very kindly washed his swim-trunks, Adrian was even happy to wear that little loincloth instead…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, Matt told me all about it… and apparently Jack’s become involved as well… such a nice, helpful young boy I’ve always thought…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You didn’t tell me about Jack…” Adrian’s mum remarked to her son.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... forgot…” was the best Adrian could come up with as he stood still waiting in vain for the floor which, to his annoyance, still didn’t want to open up and swallow him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Well, that really </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">is</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> encouraging,” his mum said enthusiastically as, without a word spoken, she took off his loincloth. Adrian could see his swimming trunks lying beside Mrs Plant on the sofa. “Shall I hang onto this,” Adrian’s mum said holding the little loincloth, “You never know, the boys might want Adrian to play in it again…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... by all means,” Sylvia Plant replied, “I’d really no idea I’d kept those old loincloths until Matthew found that one… I must have tucked them away in the cupboard under the stairs and forgot about them… You know I made them for the boys when they were little… Matthew pestered me to make them one year when they all wanted to play at being Red Indians.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian’s mum smiled: “You never know when these things might come in useful… it’s like Adrian’s old swimming trunks… I completely forgotten about them… didn’t know he still had them, but he came home wearing them and that’s when I found out.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Found out what, Connie?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Adrian tried to tell me that he was doing a dare… didn’t you darling?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian knew it was pointless to argue. Things had got so far out of hand, it was easier simply to agree.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“D’you remember, I rung you up and asked whether Matthew knew anything about this so-called ‘dare’... of course he didn’t, neither did Peter as it turned out. That was when I realised what the real reason was…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“The ‘challenge’...” Sylvia Plant chipped in.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, that’s right… the boys had challenged Adrian to wear his speedo trunks and Adrian tried to get me to believe it was a sort of one off thing, but I told him that wasn’t much of a challenge and to ask the boys to help him make it a </span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">real</span><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> challenge… one that would really test him… and do you know, Sylvia, Adrian’s really enjoying himself… the boys help make up all sorts of rules for Adrian to follow and forfeits to pay… yesterday, down at the rec., paying a forfeit, Adrian even had his bottom smacked by some mums!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian was furious at the way his mum had dismissively described his very painful forfeit at the hands, literally, of the ladies as a ‘smacking’. As any boy knows, there is a world of difference between a casual smack and a sustained spanking. Wisely Adrian kept his own counsel.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“What? As a forfeit?” Sylvia Plant asked, “Gosh, I had no idea these boys took their games so seriously…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Challenges, Sylvia,” Adrian’s mum corrected.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“So how long do you think this will last? The challenge, I mean,” Sylvia asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“That’s up to the boys… isn’t it? They’re in charge,” Connie said as she looked up at her son.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Yes, mum,” Adrian replied with a sinking feeling that unless Peter got busy with the key to his nub trainer, he’d end up being easily the most frustrated, desperately-in-need-of-a-wank, fourteen year old boy that had ever lived…</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“... but Matt and Peter are only in charge in so far as Adrian is willing to agree to everything…” Connie added, “I’m sure if there was anything Adrian didn’t want to do, he’d come and tell his mum…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">But Adrian knew telling tales on his friends would be the last thing any self-respecting boy his age would do.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“You know Jack’s older brother has signed on as a merchant seaman…” Sylvia Plant informed her friend, changing the subject slightly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Really… I expect that when he returns he’ll have lots of stories he’ll want to tell the boys…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The two of them chatted away and caught up with their gossip. Adrian might not have been there as he stood wearing nothing but his nub trainer and his sneakers. Eventually the noise of two rambunctious boys was heard as they clattered downstairs. Matt and Peter almost tumbled into the room in the midst of some sort of friendly play-fight, each boy eager to be the first through the doorway. They came to an abrupt halt when they saw Adrian standing bare bottomed… and bare everything, in front of the mums.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Cor! Aren’t you dressed yet, Adrian?” Matt asked as the boys giggled, “C’mon… we’ve got lots to talk about… loads of new rules and after you left us yesterday Jack had an idea for a new game to play…” he added confidently in front of the two mums.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Adrian lowered his head and scowled as glanced at Matt. Adrian knew the sort of game that Jack would have had an idea for.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Mrs Plant picked up Adrian’s tiny little-boy swim-trunks: “Here you are… better put these on before you boys start playing…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“Just a minute, Sylvia,” Adrian’s mum interjected, “I wanted to show you this…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">In her hand Connie held the key to Adrian’s nub trainer: “It’s the key to that tiny little padlock… here, have a look… isn’t it sweet?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Times, serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Sylvia Plant took the tiny key and held it in the palm of her hand: “Oh, it is… yes, but… that’s… that’s very odd,” she glanced up at Matt, “It looks just like the key in that funny little box in your bedroom…”</span></p><br /><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></p><br /></span>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-48855362251974751302023-07-12T19:11:00.000+01:002023-07-12T19:11:58.291+01:00Let's Talk About... Part 6<div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-64473c86-7fff-fa90-a12d-ccbe2c52d482"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter, Matt and Jack escorted Adrian from the playground as they made their way to Jack’s house. Adrian was made to walk ahead of his friends so they could watch the reactions of passersby who might be surprised to see a boy dressed so briefly. ‘Dressed’ is hardly the right word to describe Adrian’s apparel, since all he was wearing was a tiny, thin loincloth that consisted of a small flap of material that hung at his front. There was no rear flap as the loincloths had been made by Matt’s mum when the boys were seven years old and no one was at all bothered by the display of boys’ bare bottoms, if anything the sight was considered ‘cute’; something to be treasured. Adrian was now fourteen and more embarrassed than he’d ever been in his whole life before as he walked along in public wearing the tiny loincloth that covered so little. Adrian’s bare bottom was still sore from plunging down the slide in the playground and its subsequent ‘warming up’, the result of a spanking forfeit administered by a group of mums who’s been in the playground looking after their youngsters.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Even though Peter had had a quick wank in the toilets, he was nevertheless looking forward to going to Jack’s house. Jack was the custodian of what the boys considered to be a world class stash of wanking material. To be invited to masturbate at Jack’s was an honour indeed, such honour, under the circumstances, was lost on Adrian as he was prevented in joining in any naughty games by the fact that his penis had been locked by his mother into a nub trainer chastity device.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian could hear the boys behind him talking and chuckling as they continued to chat amiably about his enforced chastity, the ‘challenge’ he’d been set by his mother and way they’d been entrusted to administer it. Peter and Matt also told Jack a few more details about how they’d obtained a duplicate key to Adrian’s nub trainer and the rules they’d formulated to administer its use. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian couldn’t make out exactly what was said but one word that he did hear uttered more than once was ‘penalty’, an idea that Jack seemed keen to promote. It didn’t auger well for the almost nude boy as they walked along the road leading to Jack’s.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Penalty for what? Adrian thought. I’m already doing forfeits and mum’s silly challenge, which reminded him of his speedos left at Matt’s house. The thought of pulling up his little boy swimming trunks made Adrian feel better. Admittedly the trunks didn’t fit him very well since they were bought for him when he was ten and last worn before the present turn of events when he was eleven. But next to the thin little square of fabric that he was currently forced to wear, the swim-trunks would at least make Adrian feel like he was wearing something… however brief that something was.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The boys reached Jack’s house and raced straight up to his bedroom, the bedroom Jack used to share with his older brother, Greg, before Greg went off to sea . The room was plenty large enough for the brothers and Greg’s bed was left made up in case Jack had a friend for a sleepover. The stash of wanking material was kept under a loose floorboard which itself was hidden underneath a rug.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Greg says he’ll bring some more mags back if he finds some good ones wherever he goes,” Jack said as he pulled the rug back and retrieved the magazines from the hiding place.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter’s eyes lit up, closely followed by Matt’s, when they saw what Jack laid in front of them. All three boys dropped their shorts and within seconds the boys were all fully erect. Only Jack had a light dusting of pale pubic hair at the base of his thick, well-developed penis, but the few feathery hairs were completely hidden by his rampant shaft. Adrian’s penis, however, was feeling distinctly uncomfortable trapped as it was in the nub trainer. Adrian was transfixed by what he saw on the pages of the magazine that Jack was showing them. He knew it was madness to look, but Adrian couldn’t take his eyes off the pictures Jack held up in front of the horny boys. What was the point of looking when Adrian’s penis was locked so securely into the chastity device? But Adrian couldn’t help himself. Even knowing there was absolutely no chance of a wank, the key to the device being held in a lock-box at Matt’s house half a mile away, Adrian still looked at the magazine as he hoped and prayed that Peter would find a way to unlock the infernal device controlling his penis so that he could have a long overdue wank.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Have you decided on Adrian’s forfeit yet?” Matt asked Jack.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The boys weren’t masturbating properly, but nevertheless they played with their stiff nobs as they waited for Jack to say something. Adrian sensed trouble ahead.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It took a few moments for Adrian to realise what Matt was doing: “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">STOP IT</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">!! </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You can’t do that</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">! You promised… you’re wanking! That’s not fair!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“No I’m not… in any case, who says I can’t wank?!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But you promised… Scout’s honour!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Matt began to argue. Peter realised that if he didn’t do something quickly Matt and Adrian would start fighting and the whole thing would get out of hand. He moved to stand between the two protagonists while Jack, not really understanding what all the fuss was about, took hold of Matt’s arms. Jack was more concerned for the safety of ‘The Collection’ than anything else, but was naturally intrigued to know why Adrian had told Matt that he (Matt) had promised not to masturbate.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter looked straight at Adrian: “Look, Matt </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">did</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> make a promise not to wank…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian strained forward: “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">TOLD YOU</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">!! </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I TOLD YOU</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">!!” he shouted at Matt and poked his tongue out in a gesture of defiance.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jack told Adrian to shut up and listen. He was keener than ever to know what was going on.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Thanks, Jack…” Peter said before he explained the finer points of Matt’s promise to Adrian.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... in his </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">bedroom</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">… in his bedroom?” Adrian gasped when he was told, “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Matt promised not to wank in his bedroom</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">…” Adrian was gobsmacked. That meant Matt could still masturbate anywhere he liked… just not in his bedroom. As far as Adrian could tell the only concession he’d managed to gain from Matt, after Matt had ruined his chances of completing the hopscotch forfeit successfully, was that Matt wouldn’t have his usual morning wank. Small recompense for Adrian’s subsequent spanking forfeit from the experienced smacking hands of the mums in the playground.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tricked! That’s what had happened. Adrian had been tricked and there was nothing he could do but meekly accept that he hadn’t at the time spotted the loophole in Matt’s promise. A swizz, but that’s all it was and it would mean losing face to make a fuss about it now. Adrian vowed to himself to be more careful in future when promises were made.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jack couldn’t believe how sneaky his pals had been to put that one over on Adrian. Their skillful manipulations of the hapless Adrian held out the prospect of lots of fun to be had whilst the boys had the duplicate key to the tiny padlock of Adrian’s nub trainer.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well… have you decided on Adrian’s forfeit?” Peter reminded Jack about the forfeit to which he was now entitled after joining him and Matt as Adrian’s ‘minders’.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I have… yes, I’ve thought of something,” Jack said after a few moments during which he selected one of his older brother’s racer magazines. As he flicked through it he added, “... but first I propose we give Adrian a test to see if he can keep himself under control…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“How d’ya mean?” Peter asked even though he was pretty sure what Jack driving at.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Here’s the deal… if Adrian starts leaking spunk from that trainer thing of his, then it’s agreed that he has to pay a penalty for cumming without permission…” Jack explained.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian looked wide-eyed from Jack to Matt to Peter and back to Jack again.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I can’t cum with this on… how </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">can</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> I cum? That’s the whole point… don’t be stupid…” Adrian protested, displaying the nub trainer as proof.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I see what you’re getting at, Jack,” Peter said ignoring Adrian’s objection, “If Adrian leaks spunk, that counts as a cum… which counts as a wank…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian was positively apoplectic: “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m telling you I can’t spunk up with this thing locked on my nob</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">you know I need you to unlock it so I can have a proper wank</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">…” He really couldn’t understand what his friends were on about.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... but if we see spunk coming out of your trainer device, how are we to know you haven’t had a cum?” Jack argued, “So that’s why I think you should pay a penalty…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What sort of penalty, Jack?” Matt asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“The key stays in the lock-box for the next two days…” Jack said bluntly, “... unless I can think of something else…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">WHAT</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">!!” Adrian cried, “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">That’s not fair… I’ve got this thing on my nob and I haven’t had a wank for ages… each time Peter’s about to unlock it, something happens or I don’t finish a forfeit… and now there’s the lock-box, so no one can get at the key… then you say I’ve got to do a two day penalty if my nob dribbles ‘cos it’s the same as if I’d had a wank</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I vote we add that to the rules,” Peter suggested, “All in favour raise your nobs…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter, Matt and Jack pushed their hips up and waggled their erects nobs in front of Adrian.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Carried!” Peter confirmed and then, before Adrian could say anything, quickly asked Jack, “What about your forfeit for Adrian?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh, that’s easy,” Jack replied, “I want Adrian to do for me what he did for you when he…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If Adrian had been apoplectic a few moments ago, now he was positively incandescent: “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">THAT’S NOT FAIR</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">!!! I CAN’T!!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Why not? You did it for Peter the other day…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yeah, but…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yeah, but </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">what</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">?” Jack grinned as he pressed Adrian for a reason.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian looked sheepishly at the floor: “Your nob’s a lot bigger…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was Matt’s turn to interject: “Look Adrian, if you don’t suck off Jack that means you’ll have failed to complete a forfeit, which automatically means you won’t get unlocked today… but if you do the forfeit and we get back to my house in time and the lock-box is open…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... I’ll use the key to unlock your trainer,” Peter added.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... and you can wank as much as you like…” Matt said temptingly, “... I won’t be able to join in of course… I’ll just have to sit and watch ‘cos I promised not to wank in my bedroom… remember?” he teased.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Can’t say fairer than that,” Jack said.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian knew when he was beaten and besides what Matt said made sense. All he had to do was take Jack’s big, thick, five and a half inch long monster nob into his mouth and suck on it until Jack orgasmed and filled his mouth with hot sticky boy-cum.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian looked up at Jack, his eyes glancing over the stiff rod he’d have to somehow squeeze past his lips and asked the same question he’d asked Peter: “Spunk an’ all?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jack smiled: “Yes, </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">all</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> the spunk…” He licked his lips in anticipation and winked at Peter and Matt. If what Peter had told him was only half true, then being sucked off by Adrian was going to be one hell of an experience.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian knelt down in front of Jack. Close up and right in front of his face, Jack’s nob looked enormous. Even though Jack was only a few months older it was astonishing how much more developed his wedding tackle was. Even Jack’s balls were bigger, plumper than any of the other boys gathered in the room and Adrian began to worry about something other than how he was going to get Jack’s rod into his mouth. What about when Jack spunked up? Since it was generally accepted among boys that bigger balls meant more spunk, Adrian was alarmed that he might not be able to cope with what was likely to be a big load erupting in his mouth. Should he try and swallow it? Would he even be able to swallow it all? Or would he choke on Jack’s spunk?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian heard Peter whisper in his ear: “Lick it… it’ll make it easier to suck… go on…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian glanced up at Peter who nodded encouragingly. Adrian understood. He’d sucked off Peter and had found that spit had helped lubricate his friend’s penis as it worked its way between his lips. Adrian leant forward and took hold of Jack’s monster nob, pulling it towards his mouth, but instead of bringing it to his lips, he poked his tongue out and gingerly touched the penis with the tip of his tongue. The skin of Jack’s nob was soft and smooth, although as stiff as Adrian could remember it ever being. Jack was so excited his foreskin had begun to retract of its own accord and at the same time he began to leak pre-cum. Adrian was horrified to see the clear liquid dribbling down the shaft towards his tongue. To back out now would mean Adrian’s chance of a wank postponed for another day and the torments he’d already endured during the day would have all been for nought. So Adrian lifted his head to lick further up the long shaft of Jack’s penis until he felt the glistening pre-cum on his nose.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter and Matt couldn’t believe the things they’d managed to persuade Adrian to do, but watching him holding Jack’s big nob and licking it like a popsicle had to be the best yet. The two boys paced their wanks, sensing there was more fun to be had at Adrian’s expense.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian’s tongue had reached Jack’s nob-end, the shiny smooth, bulbous </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">glans</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. The texture was different and more pre-cum dribbled from the <i>meatus</i>. Adrian took a deep breath and moved into position.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Go on…” Matt said encouragingly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter too urged Adrian to take Jack’s nob into his mouth.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian knew what it meant… a chance to have his trainer device unlocked… but he was still nervous, “I… I’m not sure… it’s much bigger than yours, Peter…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian could sense how aroused Jack was by the way Jack’s penis twitched in his hand, never mind the sight of pre-cum now oozing freely down the hard shaft.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian whispered to himself: “C’mon… suck it, Adrian… you can do it…” He opened his mouth wide and leant forward. Adrian’s lips, slick with Jack’s pre-cum, as he started to suck in the big swollen </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">glans</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. It was much more difficult to get Jack’s nob-end in his mouth than it had been with Peter’s, but Adrian wasn’t going to be defeated. He wasn’t going to lose the forfeit and ruin his chances of having his trainer unlocked for a long overdue wank.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jack was in seventh heaven as he felt his nob slide into Adrian’s tight mouth. Peter and Matt both gaped, astonished to see Jack’s penis stretching Adrian’s lips wide apart. They could see that Adrian was really struggling with the big penis and that made it even more exciting to watch. Drool and pre-cum dangled from Adrian’s chin as he fought to get more of Jack’s nob into his mouth. It was difficult for him to breathe through his nose as the big penis was forced in ever deeper. Adrian gagged when he felt Jack’s nob push even further, reaching his throat. Adrian’s gag reflex gave Jack an unexpected jolt. Adrian had recalled what Peter had told him about remembering to use his tongue when he’d sucked him off the day before, so he’d been busy constantly stimulating the pleasure points of Jack’s engorged nob. This, and the jerk when Adrian gagged, sent Jack over the edge and as he yelled out that he was going to cum, he grabbed the back of Adrian’s head to ram his nob hard into Adrian’s mouth. Adrian choked and tried to push away as a sudden pulse of boy-cum exploded filling his mouth, but Jack’s hands held Adrian’s head tight. Three more pulses of hot cum went straight down Adrian’s throat. He had little choice but to swallow it all.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter and Matt could see Adrian struggling to get free, but the sight of their friend with Jack’s penis stuffed into his mouth was just too exciting for words.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Quick! There’s a bowl on the shelf over there,” Matt said to Peter, “I’ve got an idea… just don’t cum yet… hold on…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter pulled his shorts up from his ankles and raced across the room to get the bowl from the shelf. Adrian was almost unconscious when Peter yanked down his play shorts again.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What’d you want me to do with this?” Peter asked, “Jeez… hasn’t Jack finished cumming yet?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As if in answer Jack finally let go of Adrian’s head. Adrian flopped away, still in one piece, but looking a bit groggy. From the side of his mouth dibbled some of Jack’s spunk.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Quick!” Matt grabbed the bowl and placed it under Adrian’s chin in time to catch Jack’s cum which had bubbled out of Adrian’s mouth… the cum that Adrian hadn’t managed to swallow. There was still a lot of it. Strings of fresh spunk dangled between Adrian’s chin and the bowl. Matt looked pretty pleased with himself as he grinned at Peter. Peter returned the grin. He didn’t need to be told what Matt had got planned.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jack collapsed back onto his bed, completely knackered. Adrian sat back on the floor equally exhausted, his face a mess, plastered with Jack’s boy-cum, drool and snot. In front of him he saw the bowl containing what remained of Jack’s cum. Adrian thought he’d swallowed most of it and he was shocked to see how much of it there was that he hadn’t.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">No one said anything, but Peter and Matt started to masturbate in earnest. Excited by what they’d seen, it didn’t take them very long before they were ready to cum. Matt asked for the bowl first and as he bent over for the last few frantic rubs of his wank, squirted his spunk into the bowl as Peter positioned himself to squirt his load into the viscous gloop too. When the boys had finished there was a substantial amount of sticky boy-goo slopping about in the bowl… all ready for another game.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As Adrian sat getting his breath back after sucking off Jack, he wondered whether he’d ever get rid of the taste of cum. Every time he moved his tongue, whether it was to lick his lips or clean his teeth, he tasted Jack’s spunk. It was horrible and Adrian couldn’t wait to rinse his mouth with some fresh water. He stood up and moved towards the door.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Where are you going?” Peter asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“To the bathroom to get cleaned up and rinse my mouth out if you must know,” Adrian replied rather shirtily. His jaw ached and the taste of sticky cum in his mouth was not helping matters.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But you haven’t finished yet,” Matt told him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Cum dribbled off Adrian’s chin as he looked back at Peter and Matt and the bowl of fresh spunk that was on the floor between them.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Whad’ya mean?” he asked</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Jack’s forfeit was for you to swallow </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">all</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> the cum… don’t you remember?” Peter explained.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But he meant I had to swallow all of </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">his</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> cum,” Adrian argued. He couldn’t believe he’d ever be debating whose spunk he was meant to swallow. Until yesterday at Peter’s house he hadn’t swallowed any cum at all… not even his own!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Don’t argue… you spat out Jack’s cum into the bowl…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But you’ve wanked into the bowl… so’s Matt, I just saw you… and besides I swallowed most of Jack’s cum… you can’t expect me to…” the thought of what he was going to have to do hit home, “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Oh please… come on… I can’t… not all that… there’s loads</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You should of swallowed Jack’s cum when you had his nob in your mouth,” Peter argued.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Matt picked up the bowl and rolled the viscous goo sound in front of Adrian: “Come on… there’s not much spunk to drink… it’s full of goodness…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then you drink it</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">!” Adrian snapped, “My tummy’s full of Jack’s cum… I don’t want any more, thank you…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Matt put the bowl down: “Fair enough… then you’ve failed to complete Jack’s forfeit, so the key stays in the lock-box until you finish your forfeits tomorrow…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jack’s bedroom fell silent. Adrian fumed at the unfairness of it all, as he realised he’d fallen for one of his friends’ tricks again. Twice in one day. That must be some sort of record… if he was counting. But Adrian had other things on his mind. Why had he got himself into this mess? He told himself that it was his own fault for listening to his mum’s ‘little chat’ and not somehow putting a stop before it went any further… before that blasted nub trainer was dropped into the conversation at a point from which it was impossible for him to back out. It was a jolly good job Scoot had a key that would unlock the trainer, but Adrian would have been happier if Scoot had given him the key so he could unlock the trainer himself whenever he wanted a wank. Adrian understood why Scoot had given the key to Peter to look after… and it wasn’t Peter’s fault that so far the nub trainer had remained locked, apart from when Adrian’s mum unlocked it at bathtime (and that was becoming more and more of a torment as Adrian’s nob sprang free only for him to suffer heretofore unimaginable frustration as he struggled to keep his hands out of the way, held tight behind his head while mum attended to cleaning his boy-bits).</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian looked again at the bowl of boy-cum. Jack </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">had</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> said ‘</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">all the spunk</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">’. How was he to know that Matt and Peter would spunk up into the bowl as well? There could be no question that Jack’s cum formed part what he saw in front of him and Adrian was forced to concede that Jack’s forfeit couldn’t be considered complete until he’d swallowed the full contents of the bowl.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian’s thoughts were accompanied by the rustling of magazine pages as the other boys feasted their eyes on the contents therein.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Cor! Get a load of this… Whad’ya think, Adrian?” Matt said as he waved a magazine page in his direction.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jack leaned up and looked over from his bed: “Don’t wind him up, Matt… Adrian’s got all that delicious spunk to finish off… let him swallow that lot first… if he can…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Matt laughed: “Ok… better give him chance to complete doing your forfeit,” he turned to Adrian, “Come on… what are you waiting for? You don’t want to let it go cold or it will be like that tadpole pudding…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The room was quiet again as Jack, Matt and Peter watched as Adrian slowly, obediently and very carefully lifted the bowl of fresh boy-cum up towards his mouth. Adrian didn’t want to risk spilling any of the viscous goo, not because he was so keen to drink it all down, but because he didn’t want to give his pals any excuse for saying he hadn’t completed the forfeit he’d been set by Jack.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As he moved the bowl closer to his lips, Adrian could smell the spunk as it rolled towards him in the bowl. Adrian’s stomach, already full of the cum Jack had squirted straight down his throat, grumbled in protest and he could feel the bile rising in his gullet. He steadied himself for this one last ordeal before they all went back to Matt’s house. Once there Adrian would at last have his nub trainer boy-chastity device unlocked by Peter. With this thought in mind Adrian put the bowl to his lips, carefully tilted it to taste the spunk. He hated it. It was far worse than having cum squirted directly in his mouth when he had little choice in the matter, but to raise the bowl himself, to tilt the stuff into his own open mouth, was something else entirely and Adrian seriously wondered whether he could go through with it.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian paused and glanced sideways towards his friends. He knew he couldn’t let them down, but the slimy boy-spunk in the bowl was awful and the longer he delayed the worse it became.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The three boys watching Adrian were all playing with their nobs. Jack was almost fully boned up again. His older brother, Craig was not going to believe it when he told him about the afternoon’s events… maybe leave out about letting the boys look at ‘The Collection’ though, as he had promised Craig he wouldn’t let them. As he stroked himself Jack wondered about his brother’s next shore leave… what if? The thought of getting Craig involved made Jack’s nob twitch.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter was about to tell Adrian to get a move on when he saw Adrian tilt the bowl over his wide open mouth. To stunned silence the boys watched as the gloop disappeared, trickling past Adrian’s glistening lips. Adrian was careful and took his time to swallow all the spunk. Three times he stopped to get his breath and to steel himself to drink some more of the horrid boy-milk. But he managed without losing a drop and was greeted with rousing cheers from his friends.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian blushed in response as he put the bowl down and licked his lips. It had been a very unpleasant ordeal, one that he had no wish to repeat, but Adrian felt proud of himself nonetheless. He’d saved face and that’s what mattered. Now Adrian could look forward to a good wank once Peter had retrieved the key from the lock-box and freed his nob from the trainer.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Matt was rummaging about in the stash of wanking material when he suddenly spotted something underneath some ancient, well thumbed copies of ‘</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Parade</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">’ magazine: “... wot’s this ‘ere?” he exclaimed on discovering one of Craig’s more recherché offerings, “... </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">CFNB</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">?” Matt opened the magazine, “Blimey!! Your brother don’t ‘arf go in for some weird stuff…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter’s curiosity was piqued: “What’s is it?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Matt held the magazine up for Peter’s inspection. The tagline at the bottom of the cover read: ‘</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For Connoisseurs Of Those Embarrassing Years</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">’. The cover picture of a red-faced boy wearing nothing more than a bright green, shiny conical party hat and a bow-tie surrounded by girls, all fully dressed in their best party clothes, invited us to join Henry for his fourteenth birthday party. Henry didn’t look at all like celebrating, unlike the girls who all seemed to be having a whale of a time. In the background it was just possible to see Henry’s smiling parents, arm in arm as they proudly watched their birthday boy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Clothed Females, Nude Boys,” Jack explained, “It’s like those nudist mags… only, er more so I guess… and it ain’t ‘weird’. You get horny looking at those boys at the nudist camps…” Jack continued as he defended his brother’s taste in wanking magazines, “... well CFNB is about boys nude in some dead embarrassing situations… you should really get off on it, Matt…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Matt wasn’t the only boy in the room ‘getting off on it’. Adrian was transfixed by the picture. There was a boy in an even worse pickle than he was and for some strange reason Adrian found this a highly exciting prospect. He groaned. If it wasn’t for his blasted nub trainer locked on his nob… Adrian felt his penis pressing against its cage, desperate to free itself, itching to be wanked. It was </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">very</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> uncomfortable and Adrian sought to relieve the pressure by pushing his hand against the locked cage. It only made matters worse and Adrian gasped as he felt moisture oozing from the device. He was leaking cum!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Matt opened ‘</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">CFNB Magazine</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">’ again and flicked through the pages.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Crikey!” he exclaimed when he saw some more pictures of ‘</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Cover Boy Henry</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">’, “Here, Adrian… what do you make of this?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Matt held up the double page spread of ‘</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Henry in his Birthday Suit - Getting Ready for His Birthday Party</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">’ for Adrian to see. On one page were two photos, side by side, each taken of Henry. In the left hand picture Henry was shown proudly sporting a neat tuft of curly pubic hair at the base of his flaccid penis. In the right hand picture his penis was totally bald. Henry’s pubic hair had been removed and he’d obviously been shaved smooth by the two girls who stood either side of him. These were Henry’s sisters, the older (holding a razor) and younger (holding a can of shaving foam). Both sisters were smiling and his older sister was leaning on her birthday boy brother’s shoulder as she held out the razor, still with traces of pubic hair and foam, in front of the camera.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In other photos Henry, his pubic hair newly removed, was pictured being ‘dressed’ for his birthday party. As his older sister straightened Henry’s bow-tie, his younger sister was seen placing the conical party hat on Henry’s head. Henry was almost ready to meet his party guests, but before this could be done his smiling sisters tied a blindfold around their brother’s head.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Matt turned the page in front of Adrian who sat with his hands between his thighs praying no one had seen the cum-leakage.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Whoa!!” he cried as the photo-set continued showing the blindfolded Henry being led into a room filled with friends and relatives, all clearly cheering and singing… and all, unlike Henry, fully dressed, throwing streamers over the birthday boy. “Cripes!! Imagine what that’d be like! Taken into a room full of people like that… totally nude, but blindfolded… Whad’ya say, Adrian?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That’d be totally embarrassing…” Adrian said as calmly as he could, trying not to sound as interested as he was in Henry’s ordeal.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jack chipped in. He’d clearly looked through the CFNB mags before: “I wonder what it’d be like to stand nude in a room like that…” he speculated to his friends, “... blindfolded, hearing all these people, knowing they can see you totally bare naked, but not knowing who they are… that must be some sort of huge, </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">mega</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> embarrassment…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... worried he might throw a boner in front of everyone, I should think…” Peter added.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">All this talk and seeing those pictures was having an unwelcome effect on Adrian. Suddenly he dropped his head down and looked at his hands cupping his nub trainer: “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Shit… Shit… Shit… NO</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">!!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Matt, being closest, saw it first: “He’s cumming!! Adrian’s cumming!!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter and Jack shot across the room to look at Adrian’s knuckles and fingers all covered in the spunk that was bubbling out between them.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Let’s have a look!” Jack demanded.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian raised his head completely distressed and on the verge of tears.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Move your hands away… I want to see,” Peter said eagerly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian knew what this meant and began to plead: “Please, guys… I…” he stopped, looked down at himself again and muttered, “You don’t know what it’s like…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When Adrian kept his hands clutched over the nub trainer, Matt put down the magazine and leant forward. He took hold of Adrian by the wrists, pulled Adrian’s hands away and turned them over. There in front of everyone was clear evidence that Adrian must now pay a penalty. The nub trainer chastity cage glistened with cum and in the palms of each of Adrian’s hands was a pool of spunk.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It’s not fair!” Adrian snivelled looking back up to face his friends, “It’s not like I could help it… I didn’t get the feeling, or anything,” he bowed his head again, “It wasn’t like a proper wank…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was Peter’s turn to remind everyone of the rules they’d all agreed. He looked down at his distraught chum: “I’m sorry, Adrian, but your spunking up like that means an automatic suspension of wanking rights… the key has to stay in the lock-box for two days…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... but </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">please</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, Peter…” Adrian gulped as he fought back the tears.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I can’t help it, Adrian… you know the rules…” Peter replied with sympathy, “Cheer up… you’ll get over it, besides getting shot of all that spunk must have made you feel better…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian looked down at his cum covered hands and shook his head. Spunking up hadn’t made him feel better, it had made him feel worse as well as reminding him of how much he missed wanking… as if he needed any help with that particular thought!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“C’mon guys… let’s get cleared up,” Jack said briskly, “You too…” he added looking at Adrian.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Another session tomorrow?” Matt enquired.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Dunno… maybe… see how it goes,” was the noncommittal answer from Jack, “Hurry up, Adrian… my mum will be back soon.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It spoke volumes for Adrian’s state of mind that he didn’t think twice and simply raised his cupped hands to his mouth, one after the other, to slurp up the spunk… this time at least it was his own.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jack flung Adrian one of his own hand towels that he kept for the sole purpose of cleaning himself up after a wank. Adrian caught the towel. It wasn’t too disgusting and he managed to find enough virgin towel to wipe his face, hands and nub trainer before handing it back to Jack.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The boys trooped outside.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Not much point in going back to my house now,” Matt said, “now Adrian’s got a penalty…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Guess not,” Peter agreed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes there is,” Adrian interrupted, “… my trunks… my swimming trunks…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Pick them up tomorrow…” Matt suggested.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian’s mouth fell open. He couldn’t believe how unfeeling Matt was being: “How would you like to wear this stupid loincloth all day… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">in public</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">?! I want my swimming trunks back, Matt…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Matt teased Adrian: “But they’re only your tiny old speedos… not much different than wearing your loincloth, I’d have thought.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian gasped: “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You’ve no idea</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter chipped in: “Let him have his old speedos, Matt… after all he’s not got anything else to wear…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... apart from his loincloth,” Jack added.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... and his Birthday Suit,” Matt couldn’t resist saying.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian puffed out his cheeks ready to explode: “You think this is all a big joke… sometimes I think you’re just winding me up… having fun while I’ve got this stupid trainer thing locked on my nob… how would you like it if your nob was locked in one? You wouldn’t think it was funny then, would you?” Adrian turned his back on the boys and started to walk in the direction of his house. His day had been a disaster and now he was two whole days away from the prospect of a wank… and to judge by recent events it would be a slim prospect at that.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As they watched Adrian walk away Peter turned to Matt: “You shouldn’t have said that about his Birthday Suit…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jack chuckled: “It’s a thought though…”</span></p><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span></div>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-3152868632440673502023-06-22T15:42:00.004+01:002023-07-07T16:37:23.443+01:00Let's Talk About... Part 5<div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-885a1102-7fff-8546-67a0-9815657e87e9"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">I’ve substantially re-written a part of this chapter, altering and adding more to the game of hopscotch Adrian plays. I’m grateful to one of my long term correspondents who was the inspiration for the changes. </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Merci beaucoup</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">.</span></p><div><br /></div></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">ooOoo</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian’s balls were still aching as he set off once more on a second attempt to complete his forfeit in the time allotted. Running around the recreation ground play area in five minutes wasn’t as easy as it might have appeared. Adrian had only just missed the target time by a few seconds, but that was enough to thwart his chance of a longed for wank before close of play.</span></div><span id="docs-internal-guid-bfc0f24a-7fff-571f-6d29-d38a7676a304"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This timed attempt was looking good until Adrian suddenly stopped. He refused to go anywhere near the seesaw when he saw the boy who’d caused him so much pain still sat on one end with a big malicious grin on his face. Adrian pleaded with Peter and Matt, begging them to come up with another forfeit for him to do instead.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter and Matt conferred for a few moments.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Okay,” Peter said after the discussion, “... we’ll give you a choice… instead of the seesaw, the slide, the swings and so on, you can do a round of hopscotch…”</span></p><div><span><br /></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“... but it has to be a full round,” Matt added, “... one to ten…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“Yes,” Peter explained, “... and if you fall out of a square, or miss a square, or you don’t throw the marker into the right square, then you lose a life… we’ll give you three lives… if you lose your three lives you automatically lose the forfeit… understood?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Adrian nodded. He understood alright. It was going to be a tough forfeit, but what choice did he have?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“Take your time” Matt added generously, “... but we don’t want to be here all day…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“Thanks, guys… I can do it…” Adrian said, more in hope than anything else. He desperately need that wank.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“... if you lose this forfeit you lose the chance of a J Arthur…” Peter added helpfully.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“He can always try another forfeit, Peter,” Matt suggested to his chum.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Hopscotch wasn’t Adrian’s favourite game by any means, but anything was better than sitting on one end of the seesaw and having his balls repeatedly crushed by the boy on the other end who he knew wouldn’t stop bouncing the seesaw up and down until Adrian was screaming in agony. However Adrian soon found out that hopping, skipping and jumping wearing nothing more than a flimsy loincloth had distinct disadvantages in the busy playground. First of all Adrian’s bottom was completely bare and second, the little loincloth flapped about all over the place as Adrian struggled to meet the requirements of the game laid down by Peter and Matt. This of course meant that Adrian’s nub trainer was more often than not on full view to anyone who happened to be looking at the almost nude boy prancing about playing a lone game of hopscotch. It was very off-putting for Adrian and as he jumped up to do the twist and turn at the far end of the hopscotch court he heard one of the mums speaking to her neighbour sitting next to her.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“It is, isn’t it? It’s one of those things…” she exclaimed turning to her friend, “I thought so… Angela Evans bought one for her boy… she was telling me all about it… you won’t believe what her son used to get up to, but he soon bucked his ideas up once she had him under control with one of those things… yes, it’s just like that one,” she said pointing towards Adrian’s nub trainer, “… very effective it is too… I expect that’s why this boy has got one on, though why he’s only wearing that silly little flap of cloth is anybody’s guess…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">The other mum spoke: “You know what boys are…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Another mum who had been listening added: “Yes… boys like to show off… think they’re being clever…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Matt poked Peter in the ribs with his elbow and nodded towards the small group of mums: “Whad’ya think? Should we introduce Adrian to them… tell them about his mum’s challenge?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“Hang on a tick… just got to deal with Adrian…” Peter replied jovially, “... looks like he could be in trouble… time for the ref to step in…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Adrian needed to throw the marker into the number six square. It was a close call. The marker had landed on the line; half in and half out of the square and Adrian had to wait for an adjudication. Peter, refereeing the game, called Matt over. Peter wanted to call it ‘out’ and for Adrian to lose one of his lives, but Matt argued that since the marker was technically ‘in’, Adrian should be allowed to continue without being penalised.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">It was a worrying few minutes for Adrian as he knew it was going to get more and more difficult to throw the marker into the correct square the further away the numbers were from the base line.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Finally Peter looked up: “Ok, we</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">’</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">ll give you that one since the marker was half in… but watch out in future, Adrian, I might not be so generous…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“So I’ve still got three lives?” Adrian was relieved, “Thanks, Peter…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Adrian hopped and skipped his way up and down the hopscotch grid, picking up the marker on the way. Throws seven and eight were spot on, but throw nine missed the square completely. Adrian stood stunned. He’d totally misjudged his throw and the marker had landed in square ten.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Adrian bit his lower lip as Peter announced the loss of his first life: “You tossed that one way too hard,” and giggled, “... that’s what happens when you toss it off like that… shoots a long way… you’ve got to learn to control your wrist action, Adrian…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Adrian blushed. He knew Peter was teasing him, but this was serious. On the outcome of this game rested Adrian’s chance of wank and to lose a life at this stage was stupid of him. Adrian knew he had to concentrate and be more careful.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Peter marched over to the marker, picked it up and plonked it down in square nine. At least he didn’t make me throw it again, Adrian thought as he set off to complete the pick-up and return ready for throw ten.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Adrian stood as close as he dared to the base line. He practised swinging his marker arm, leaning as far forward as he could, giving everyone an enhanced view of his bare bottom as he did so. At the same time he rested his left hand on his knee to give some stability to his stance. This was going to be the toughest throw of the game. Lose a life here and the chances of losing his forfeit would be much greater.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Adrian swung his arm out and released the marker into the air and it fell with a satisfying thud slap, bang in the centre of square ten! Adrian leapt into the air with his arms raised high, seemingly unconcerned about his audience of mums who gave him a polite round of applause.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Even Peter and Matt were impressed by Adrian’s throwing skill and wondered if they might actually witness Adrian masturbating later on after Peter had unlocked the nub trainer.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">With two lives in hand and the hardest throw completed Adrian felt as if he was really in with a chance, so much so that he became aware of a distinct discomforting movement within the confines of his trainer device. All he had to do was to keep a level head and since the throws would get shorter as the targets got nearer to the number one square again, it followed that the game would become easier for Adrian.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">To everyone’s amazement Adrian’s accuracy got better and better for the next few throws, the marker landing square in the middle of the target.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Adrian’s aim on square five was perfect and he jumped up with his hands in the air once more. Turning to Peter and Matt he yelled: “</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Easy peasy lemon squeezy</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">There was another polite round of applause from the audience of mums.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">It was at this point, while Adrian was hop-skipping his way up and down the hopscotch court, that Matt casually walked over to where the mums were sitting. He could see how much interest they were taking in Adrian’s solo hopscotch game and realised it would be easy enough to ingratiate himself with them. When he had a mind to Matt could turn on the charm. As he sidled up to the mums he ramped up his charmometer to eleven and he took no time at all in explaining to the incredulous mums that Adrian was in fact undertaking a challenge for his mum.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“But what’s that about…?” One of the mums asked, referring to the nub trainer which was visible once more as Adrian turned and started hop-skipping back to the start.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">With a completely straight face Matt explained that it was Adrian’s idea, “He wanted to show his mum how serious he was about doing her challenge… show her he was prepared to take it to the next level…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">None of the mums knew what this ‘next level’ was, or indeed what Matt was talking about. But he was such a nice boy they didn’t like to interrupt, or ask too many questions.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“... then he begged Peter and me to help make it a challenge his mum would be proud of,” Matt continued, “Normally Adrian would be wearing a pair of his old speedo swimming trunks… that was his mum’s idea… Adrian hasn’t worn them in ages,” he laughed, “... they’re really tiny, believe me…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“Yes, boys these days seem to prefer to wear those baggy swim-shorts,” one of the other mums noted, “I don’t know why… they look much nicer in proper swimming trunks…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">The mums all nodded in agreement.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Matt soon got into his stride and the mums sat open mouthed listening: “Yes… Adrian came and pleaded with us… he said he wanted to wear something even smaller than his old trunks… Peter and me didn’t want to help him at first, but Adrian was desperate to prove himself up to the challenge… he insisted and kept on at us to find him something to wear… something more embarrassing than tiny speedos, so I dug out that old loincloth… my mum made them for us to play Cowboys and Indians when we were about seven or eight, that’s why they haven’t got anything at the back… just a small flap at the front…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">One of the mums nodded: “Oh yes… I remember you boys all running about playing in those little loincloths,” she turned to the woman next to her, “They looked so cute wearing their adorable little loincloths…” she turned back to Matt, “It’s no wonder your friend is having difficulty keeping himself decently covered…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“That doesn’t bother Adrian,” Matt said, unable to resist the chance to continue, “In fact that’s why he asked his mum to get him one of those trainer things to keep his… er, y’know </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">thingy</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"> covered…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Whether or not the mums believed Matt’s explanation was neither here nor there. Matt was such a nice young boy to come over and tell them all about his friend. There weren’t many boys who would be so forthcoming and so eager to explain what his friend was doing running about with hardly any clothes on at all.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“Did your friend know what these, er ‘trainer things’ are made for,” asked one of the mums.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Matt decided it would be fun to feign ignorance: “No, I don’t know… it’s got a lock though… but I don’t know why you’d want to lock it on your… er, thingy.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“You don’t know?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Matt shook his head. He could only just manage to keep a straight face as he asked: “Does it have to be locked on so it doesn’t fall off?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">It was the mums’ turn to try and contain their laughter at Matt’s seeming naivety. Little did they know that he was far from the callow youth he pretended to be.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“It’s to stop you boys from playing with your little willies…” one of the mums told Matt bluntly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Matt was dutifully horror struck by the very idea of a boy playing with his penis.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“You don’t think that’s why Adrian got his mum to buy one of those things?” he speculated, “‘Cos he couldn’t stop playing with his thingy… cor!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">The mums nodded their heads. There was no doubt in their minds that Adrian had been a very naughty little boy and it was more likely that his mum had caught him masturbating. She, not Adrian, had decided that enough was enough and that he would have his little willy locked into a cage to prevent any more silly boyish behaviour. Matt, bless his little cotton socks, so they thought, was obviously so innocent that he didn’t even understand what these devices were used for… the only possible explanation of his charming innocence.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">By this time Adrian was ready to throw the marker into the fourth square. He missed. Hubris 1 Adrian nil. Adrian was stunned by own mistake.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Peter walked to where the marker lay two feet to the right of square four: “Oh, dear,” he sighed, “... and you were doing so well… never mind you’ve still got one life left…” He picked up the marker and placed it where it should have landed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Now Adrian was </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">really</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"> nervous. He </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">had</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"> been doing so well, as Peter told him in much the same way, Adrian noticed, as a grown-up would have done. That slight patronising edge to Peter’s voice had riled Adrian and made him more determined than ever to finish the game without losing his last life. He would show them he could complete the forfeit.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Adrian took a deep breath and set off once more to hop and skip up and down the court. Back at the base line and with the marker held tight in his hand, Adrian concentrated on making sure his aim was true. It worked and Adrian was soon making his final circuit of the hopscotch court.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Peter was keeping a close eye on Adrian’s footwork when Matt rushed over. Adrian had just completed the jump turn when Matt exclaimed breathlessly, “Peter, you’ll never guess… that thing Adrian’s wearing… d’ya know what it’s for?” Matt winked theatrically at his friend, but out of sight of the mums.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Peter wasn’t slow on the uptake. He knew Matt was having a bit more fun at Adrian’s expense: “I dunno… what’s it for?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“It’s to stop Adrian from playing with his willy!” Matt explained breathlessly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Adrian, concentrating like mad and covered with beads of sweat from his exertions, heard this and was completely taken off-guard. Shocked on hearing what Matt said, he couldn’t remember whether he’d just hopped or skipped and ended up with both feet outside the hopscotch court.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">There was a collective gasp from the mums who could see that Adrian was upset. The boys themselves were silent until Adrian started to shout at Matt that he’d put him off; that it wasn’t fair; that he’d nearly finished and he was never going to play with them ever again!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">It was time for Matt to ramp up his charm again. He tried to put his arm round Adrian’s shoulders but was rebuffed: “You know how important it was!” Adrian snapped.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“I’m sorry… honest, Adrian… I didn’t mean to… I know it was my fault,” Matt said.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“... what good’s that? I still lost the forfeit,” Adrian said, but a little more quietly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Peter whispered something to Matt. Matt nodded and leant forward to whisper in Adrian’s ear, “I really want to make it up to you somehow…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Adrian didn’t appear to be too convinced: “How?” he asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“... I was going to have a special wank tonight… really looking forward to it… edging an’all…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“Yeah… so?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“So what if I promise not to have that wank?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“One wank? I’ve not had a wank for ages… and how am I supposed to know whether you’ve kept your promise or not?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Peter, who’d been listening the exchanges, stepped in: “Matt, how about you give Adrian a promise, Scout’s honour, not to wank in your bedroom until tomorrow? </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">And</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">, we give Adrian another chance with an extra forfeit?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Adrian chipped in: “You promise not to have a morning wank either…” he smirked, feeling happier and knowing how much Matt would miss his first wank of the day.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Peter looked at Matt: “Agreed?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Matt nodded and gave his best Boy Scout salute: “I solemnly promise not to wank in my bedroom until tomorrow…” Matt sighed, “... and I promise Adrian that I won’t have my usual morning wank either…” Matt stepped forward and shook hands with Adrian, thus sealing the promise.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">As Adrian had guessed the second part of Matt’s promise clearly hit home. He felt pleased with himself, not realising that Peter might have taken special care with the wording of Matt’s promise. Of doing yet another forfeit, Adrian was not so pleased.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">The mums who’d been watching, but unable to hear what the boys were saying, were completely baffled by the whispering and as for Matt’s salute, simply didn’t know what to make of it at all.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Standing to the side of Peter and already feeling very embarrassed in front of all the mums, Adrian turned a shade of red not dissimilar to that of a pillar-box when he heard Matt explain how he had to complete forfeits. Adrian stood glued to the spot, as rigid as a ship’s bollard when one of the mums told him to stand closer.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Peter leaned over and whispered something in Adrian’s ear.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Adrian’s face screwed up in displeasure as he pushed out his lower lip like a little boy: “Do I have to..? Do I have to do another one..?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“You do if you want to… y’know,” Peter replied </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">sotto voce</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“What was that?” one of the mums asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Peter explained: “I was telling Adrian that he’d have to do a forfeit…” And as Adrian stood bewildered next to him Peter continued, “You see his mum asked Matt and me to keep an eye on him… to make sure he’s doing the challenge properly…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Matt interrupted: “We can give Adrian forfeits if we see him doing something wrong…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“... like not playing hopscotch properly…” Peter added.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Adrian fumed. He was very nearly nude, bathed in sweat, his bottom was sore from the slide and his balls still ached from the seesaw… what more would Peter and Matt make him do before they unlocked his nub trainer?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“... and have you decided what Adrian’s forfeit is to be?” the mum asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Adrian piped up: “But I’ve just finished a forfeit… I mean I would have if Matt hadn’t… and then I could’ve…” He stopped short when he realised what he was about to say.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Peter stepped into the breech once more: “We decided you could have another chance by doing an extra forfeit… didn’t we Matt?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">The mums didn’t understand this at all. What was this about an ‘another chance’. An another chance to do what pray? They could tell Adrian was hiding something as well. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">But Matt came up with a plausible enough explanation for them: “What Adrian means is that because he didn’t manage to complete his forfeit properly he can’t have his swimming trunks back when we get home… but he can have another chance to get them if he does a special extra forfeit because one of the rules of his challenge is…” Matt looked pointedly at Adrian, “... that he has to do what he’s told, otherwise the penalty is another forfeit.” Matt would have loved to added, ‘and another roll of the dice’, but there was no way he was prepared to explain that to the assembled mums.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Peter spoke: “Why don’t you ask these ladies what your forfeit should be, Adrian?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Matt thought this was a genius suggestion.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Adrian, baffled by these latest developments, but nonetheless keen to do whatever it took to get back to Matt’s house where the key to his nub trainer was due to be released from the lock-box, stepped forward to face the mums: “Er, please will you give me a forfeit to do…” He prayed it wouldn’t be a difficult one… something like turning cartwheels, or doing jumping-jacks in front of them for five minutes would be a doddle after what he’d already been through.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">After some general chatter, one mum’s voice rose above the others: “I think he deserves a spanking… I mean his bottom is already bare… I’d have thought a good old fashioned, over the knee spanking was an obvious choice for his forfeit…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Adrian’s face fell and his hands went instinctively to his already sore bottom. Peter and Matt thought a spanking forfeit was an admirable suggestion.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Matt spoke up: “Peter and me think that’s an acceptable forfeit for Adrian to pay to get his swimming trunks back…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Adrian started to protest but Peter whispered something in his ear. Adrian’s protest got no further.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“... how do you think this forfeit should be carried out?” Matt asked the mums, “I mean who do you think Adrian should ask to smack his bottom for his forfeit? Peter and me wouldn’t want Adrian to do anything you didn’t think was needed… so maybe one of you might…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">One or two of the mums smiled at the cheeky boy standing in front of them who appeared to be suggesting one of them might like to take Adrian over their knees and attend to the smacking of his bare bottom.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">“Are you sure your mother has given these two boys permission to think up forfeits for you to do?” Adrian was asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Adrian knew exactly what to say if he was to stand any chance of Peter unlocking his trainer for a wank: “Oh yes!” It was an effort to sound enthusiastic and Adrian did his best under the circumstances, “I have to do any forfeits Matt and Peter tell me to… and that includes… that includes…” Adrian looked nervously at Peter and then Matt, “that includes a spanking… if that’s what they decide I need…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">It was so utterly, unbearably humiliating for Adrian to stand, almost nude, in front of all the mums and to say the words he knew his buddies wanted him to say. The heat of his blushing was burning Adrian’s face as he looked around to see how lots of kids in the playground had been taking an interest.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">In case there was any doubt among the mums Adrian added: “My mum said Peter and Matt can choose any forfeit for me to do…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">Adrian prayed things wouldn’t get any worse. Doing forfeits for Peter and Matt in private was bad enough, but here in the public park, in front of all the mums… and not only in front of, but </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">involving</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"> the mums was pure purgatory. And they didn’t know the reason behind the forfeits… why he was so compliant, why he allowed himself to be humiliated in front of them and why he was going to let them spank his already sore bare bottom.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">A public spanking at the rec. was not unknown. At one time it was an almost daily occurrence to see a boy having his shorts and underpants (if he was wearing any) pulled right down in preparation for a bare bottom spanking over his mum’s knees, although some mums preferred to leave her son standing as she smacked his bottom and legs much to the amusement of spectators. But of late open air chastisement had become rarer, perhaps boys had become better behaved, or maybe it was just that they’d become more adept at not being found out, so when the assembled mums had once again the opportunity to flex their spanking arms and exercise their smacking muscles, they were not about to decline the offer. Adrian’s final statement that he was obligated to endure any forfeit prescribed, sealed his fate as any lingering doubts the mums may have entertained quickly evaporated.</span></p></span></div><div style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What do you think, Lucy? Six smacks a piece?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Six on each cheek?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian was horrified as he listened to the debate among the mums. He knew they would all be experienced in the fine art of hand spanking young boys and quite able to make every smack count. He reached back and rubbed his bottom anxiously.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Hmm, I think six smacks from each of us should give him a forfeit to remember… what do you think boys?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was hard for Peter and Matt not to show how thrilled they were at the suggestion put forward, but they both managed to look serious as they turned to each other: “Seems fair,” Matt noted, to which Peter nodded.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian was called forward towards the first mum.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Don’t forget to ask for your forfeit,” Peter reminded Adrian.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian sucked in his lips. These forfeits were getting harder and harder, but he told himself it would be worth it in the end when Peter unlocked his nub trainer and he could have a really good wank. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian stood and took a deep breath: “Please would you spank my… my bottom?” he asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Now why would I want to do that?” the mum replied.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Matt and Peter were beside themselves as they desperately tried not to laugh. It was beyond their wildest dreams that the mums would so readily join in the fun they were having at Adrian’s expense.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“So that I can complete the forfeit I’ve been set…” Adrian replied as he got more and more desperate to get his forfeit over and done with as quickly as possible so there was time to get back to Matt’s, retrieve the key from the lock-box, get his nub trainer unlocked and finally… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">finally</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> have the best wank he could possibly imagine himself having... ever!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian was determined to do whatever it took. He knew he could count on Peter and Matt, his best friends, to honour their side of the bargain… that’s what friends were for… wasn’t it?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Ok then,” the mum said, “I want you to understand that I’m only agreeing to spank your bottom so that you can complete your forfeit… now come over here… that’s it, over my lap… right over so your hands are on the floor… now, how many spanks do you want?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">From his upturned position Adrian managed to croak: “Six, please…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Then six spanks it is… not a spank more, not a spank less…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And with that Adrian felt his bottom, already sore from the slide, being gently rubbed by the hand of his first spanker. Then the hand was drawn away. Adrian bit his lower lip in anticipation just seconds before he felt the stinging </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">slap</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> of the mum’s hand as it delivered the first smack to his right bottom cheek. There followed two more spanks in quick succession expertly placed on the same spot of Adrian’s right cheek which caused him to wriggle slightly. After a very brief pause during which Adrian tensed, expecting to receive the next three spanks to his left bottom cheek, but he was startled when three spanks rained down on his right-hand ‘sit spots’. Adrian’s head craned upwards as he stretched his neck, barely able to believe how the first six spanks had stung his sensitive bare bottom.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Clambering up he remembered to thank the mum for helping him to complete his forfeit and with legs shaking a little he moved to stand in front of the next mum while sneaking a quick rub of his hot bottom cheek.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian was admonished by the mum: “No rubbing your bottom until you’ve done your full forfeit… now come and sit on my lap… that’s the way, facing your friends, now lean forward… right the way down with your hands on the floor…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Both Peter and Matt were already thrilled and very excited to watch Adrian being taken over the mums’ laps, but this new and unexpected position with Adrian straddling the mum’s lap meant that his thighs were spread wide apart giving the mum a larger target area for her spanks. In bending forwards, Adrian’s bare bottom was utterly exposed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It seems a shame to give him just six spanks now that you’ve got him so nicely positioned,” one of the other mums remarked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well why don’t you give him your spanks while I hold him?” the mum over whose lap Adrian was being held replied.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This was considered to be such a good idea that Adrian received the rest of his forfeit spanks in this rather uncomfortable and supremely exposed position. Adrian’s neck craned upwards to see that Matt and Peter were totally transfixed by what was happening to their buddy and not only that, Adrian could clearly see the flagrant bulges of their nobs pressing against the front of their shorts, a sight that only added to his misery. Between spanks that were making him squirm and buck, Adrian heard Peter announce that he had to go for a piss. Adrian knew that his friend wasn’t going to relieve himself, not like that anyway, he was going to have a wank in the public toilets at the side of the playground.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Don’t be long,” Matt whispered to Peter, “I’m going to need one too… this is making me </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">so</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> horny I’ll cum in my pants if I don’t have a wank soon…”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“What about your promise, Matt?” Peter asked.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">“You know that only counts for </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;">bedroom</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"> wanks…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter chuckled as he ran off to the toilets. He didn’t want to miss any of Adrian’s spanking forfeit, but like Matt he was in serious danger of ejaculating in his shorts. He could already feel the tell-tale sign of fresh pre-cum as it dribbled from his stiff nob and he rushed into the 'Gents'. Peter didn’t even bother to go into the cubicle and just got his nob out and wanked off into the urinal… just in time. His thin jet of boy-cum splashed onto the porcelain as Peter emitted a groan of pleasure.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A voice from the doorway behind him startled Peter.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Sounds like you needed that…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter twisted his head around: “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jeez</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">… you gave me a shock… you shouldn’t creep up on someone like that when he’s having a wank… might get you a black eye…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter finished off rubbing the last strings of cum from his softening nob and as he sorted himself out asked Jack what brought him to the playground.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jack, who was a few months older than Peter, told him how he’d been chatting to Scoot who’d let it slip, “that you were up to something… but he wouldn’t tell me what.” Now Jack was interested to find out what was going on.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... then I heard you were down here with Matt and that you were making Adrian do forfeits… public forfeits.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter shrugged as he pushed his nob back into his shorts: “... so?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... so, when I got down here I was curious to see Adrian was wearing one of those loincloths Matt’s mum made for us when we were little… I thought he was stark-bollock-naked at first… Com’n, Pete, what’s it all about and why don’t you ask me to join in the fun?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter smiled. There had always been a friendly rivalry between the two boys and Peter loved nothing better than knowing something that Jack didn’t.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Gotta be worth something, Jack… I mean if I tell you what Adrian’s gone and done, then you’ll know as much as me and Matt…” Peter said as he pushed his hand back into his shorts to reposition his penis, “... and that’s hardly fair, is it? Not without something from you in return…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter being so cagey made Jack even more curious to know what was happening and how Peter and Matt had made Adrian come to the rec. wearing nothing but a flimsy little loincloth that had last been worn when the boys were seven or eight years old.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“These forfeits Adrian’s been doing…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Not saying anything, Jack, until you offer me something in return…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jack knew that whatever it was that had got Adrian to put on a loincloth and do forfeits just had to be worth getting involved with. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Give you a feel of my nob…” Jack suggested.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Of course Peter knew how impressive Jack’s penis was. Indeed, it was the longest, thickest nob of any boy their age in the neighbourhood. Jack could also generate copious amounts of cum and was renowned for being able to shoot it further than anyone else as well.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter dismissed this opening bid: “I can feel your nob anytime…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’ll let you wank me off…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter was just as dismissive: “Come off it, Jack… I wanked you off the other week when we were playing strip Scrabble… how about ‘The Collection’?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jack sucked in his lips and looked concerned: “‘The Collection’?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Sure… why not?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I dunno…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... me and Matt first dibs…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... but…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“First dibs or nothing… c’mon… you won’t believe me when I tell you what Adrian’s done…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What about Adrian won’t he want dibs as well?” Jack asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter laughed: “Not when I tell you, he won’t…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jack couldn’t bear the suspense any longer: “Ok… first dibs on ‘The Collection’... but I’m not lending… agreed?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Deal.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The two boys shook hands. Peter explained to an increasingly incredulous Jack the events that had led to Adrian’s humiliating performance in the rec. playground dressed in nothing more than a flimsy loincloth.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Have you let him have a wank yet?” Jack asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“No… something always seems to happen to prevent me from unlocking the trainer… Adrian’s getting really frustrated…”</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Jeez, I bet he is!” Jack was astonished to be told how Peter had complete control over Adrian’s ability to masturbate.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“He’s desperate for a wank… he’ll do almost anything…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“He must be to let you two bring him down here…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... and to end up getting spanked,” Peter finished the sentence.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As Peter and Jack left the ‘Gents’ Jack slipped his arm over Peter’s shoulders: “What say we give Adrian dibs on ‘The Collection’ as well?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“With his nub locked on?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jack nodded: “We don’t want him to get into trouble with his mum, do we?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter laughed again: “Oh… that’s going to hurt!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">‘The Collection’ as it was known by friends of Jack, was a painstakingly gathered box of wanking material that Jack had inherited from his older brother when said brother had joined the Merchant Navy. The material consisted in the main of nudie magazines which would be considered quite tame by today’s standards. Among this lovingly curated treasure trove here was an almost complete set of a naturist magazine entitled ‘Fresh-Air, Fitness and Fun’ which never ceased to fascinate the enthusiastic boy wankers with its photos of families that included obviously deeply embarrassed boys of similar age to their own facing the camera totally nude standing next to smiling parents and siblings, who in some pictures and for unexplained reasons, remained fully clothed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh god… that has got to be so embarrassing… Look at him… Jeez, imagine what it must be like… stripped totally nude like that in front of everyone…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... and made to join in games of volleyball!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Look at the todger on this boy… it’s huge!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“He don’t ‘arf look worried…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... afraid he’ll get a boner…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... right in front of everyone…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... cor, he’s the only one in the nude… that must be totally humiliating!”</span></p><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span>... <i>awesome</i>...<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16px; white-space: pre-wrap;">”</span></div><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And the search would continue for more photographs of embarrassed naked boys being made to pose as if nothing mattered when clearly they were hating every second of their very public nude ordeal.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The thought of being forced to join their families for a nudist holiday drove some of the young masturbators over the edge and Jack had to be alert to the danger of his mates’ spunk landing on the pages of the magazines he’d sworn to to his brother that he’d keep to himself and not show to anyone.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter and Jack walked over to where the mums had finished administering Adrian’s spanking forfeit. Adrian was rubbing his sore bottom as he did a sort of stationary dance, hopping from one foot to the other to ease the effects of the expertly placed hand-smacks.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Matt thanked the mums for their assistance. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Any time!” was the enthusiastic response, “We’re down here most days…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When Adrian saw Jack he groaned to himself. He knew exactly what was coming.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Good news… Jack’s offered to help us with Adrian, Matt,” Peter said eagerly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Peter’s told me all about the challenge you’re doing for your mum,” Jack said addressing Adrian, “and about the, er, other thing…” he added with a wink.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian was not at all keen on more boys getting involved in what had become his humiliating forfeits, never mind his mum’s challenge, something Adrian was still puzzled about.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Peter tells me he’s got a special key Scoot gave him,” Jack continued, “… something about… oh, I see what it’s for… how did you end up with that on your nob?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian was forced to tell Jack how he’d been more or less tricked into the device when he told his mum that he hardly ever masturbated, at which point Jack, Matt and Peter burst out laughing. This made Adrian more embarrassed than ever.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What a silly little boy to let that happen,” Jack said, “It’s just as well you’ve got your friends to help,” Jack turned to Peter: “How many times have you unlocked Adrian’s nob trainer?… I expect you do it every day and let him have a wank don’t you? I know I can’t go for very long without a wank…</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well actually, Jack, we haven’t even managed to unlock Adrian’s nob once yet…” Peter said.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Matt explained: “You see Peter and me decided that Adrian would have to complete forfeits before he was unlocked and up to now he’s not been very successful…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian stopped rubbing his bottom: “That’s not fair… I did… I wanked you off and walked all the way to Peter’s house with your cum in my hair as proof I’d done it…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... wearing those tiny old speedos…” Peter added.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yeah… they made me wear an old pair of speedos that hardly fit me anymore…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Then what happened?” Jack asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian flushed deep red: “I, er, sucked off Peter…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... and swallowed the lot,” Peter added, “Cos my mum called up to say Adrian had to go home straightaway… so I didn’t have time to unlock Adrian’s nob for a wank…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jack chuckled: “All this talk is making me horny… anyone fancy coming back to my place for a bit of fun?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Needless to say both Peter and Matt were keen. Adrian mumbled something about the lock-box and the key.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Plenty of time for that… it won’t be open for five hours anyway…” Matt told him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But we’ve been down here for ages…” Adrian pleaded, “Can’t we go and get the lock-box, so if it opens when we’re at Jack’s… and the key…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“NO… the lock-box has to stay at Matt’s.” Peter snapped and turned to Jack, “D’you see how ungrateful he is… Scoot warned me about this… told me only to use the key when it was ‘absolutely necessary’... Scoot’s words… we try to help and all he does is whinge…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But it </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> necessary!” Adrian pleaded, on the verge of tears, “I haven’t had a wank for days… ages… it’s not fair… it’s alright for you, you can nip off to the bogs anytime you like… yeah, I saw you go for a wank, Peter…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Matt stepped forward: “Ok, Adrian… tell you what, we’ll go round to Jack’s and you can do a forfeit for him ‘cos he knows all about your nob being locked up for you mum…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... but I’ve already done forfeits for you…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, for us… but you’ve got to do one for Jack now he’s joined us… don’t you see?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adrian’s heart sank.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yeah, I guess so… but when I’ve done Jack’s forfeit, can we go and see if the lock-box is open?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Sure…” Matt assured Adrian, “sure we can, we’ll go back to my place just as soon as you’ve done a forfeit for Jack…”</span></p><div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-41592816540703321822023-05-20T19:57:00.001+01:002023-06-27T17:40:22.416+01:00Let's Talk About... Part 4<p> </p><p>“Fifteen minutes…ok?” Matt reminded Adrian who was still looking in shock at the big bowl of horrid milk pudding in front of him. He looked up.</p><p>“<i>Wha</i>?” he managed to say.</p><p>“Fifteen minutes to empty the bowl and lick it clean…” Matt explained.</p><p>“Set the timer and we’ll give Adrian a countdown,” Peter said to Matt.</p><p>“Brilliant! Great idea, Peter… Adrian, I’m setting the timer… you’ve got ten seconds to get ready… when we say ‘go’ you tuck in and finish off the tadpole pudding…”</p><p>“... and if you finish it in fifteen minutes, I’ll unlock your nob so you can have a wank…” Peter added encouragingly.</p><p>“But I’ll never eat all that in fifteen minutes…” Then Adrian saw the teaspoon, picked it up and pleaded with his friends, “Oh, <i>please</i>… give me a bigger spoon… I’ll never finish it with this…”</p><p>“You never know until you try,” Matt told him, using one of his mum’s favourite dictums.</p><p>Matt moved behind Adrian’s chair so that he could stick the magnetic timer to the fridge door. Adrian would not be able to see how much time he had left.</p><p>“TEN! NINE! EIGHT!” Adrian, realising had had no choice, picked up the teaspoon.</p><p>“SEVEN! SIX! FIVE!” Adrian leant forwards over the bowl, teaspoon poised.</p><p>“FOUR! THREE!” As Adrian smelt the pudding he felt himself gag.</p><p>“TWO! ONE! LIFT OFF!!!” Matt pressed the timer button to start the count as Adrian plunged his teaspoon into the milk pudding.</p><p>It didn’t talk long for everyone to see that Adrian was never going to finish the pudding unless he worked more quickly with the spoon. Adrian shovelled up the milk pudding for all he was worth. The slimy mixture coated his mouth as he gagged trying to swallow this, his most hated pudding. Inevitably some of the pudding bubbled out of his mouth, running down his chin and dripping onto the bib covering his upper chest.</p><p>Matt and Peter cheered Adrian on and Mrs Plant, Matt’s mum, must have wondered what the boys were so excited about, but she just smiled and got on with her sewing. She never did understand why boys had to make so much noise when they were having fun.</p><p>The teaspoon became a blur when Matt announced that five minutes had elapsed. Peter looked down at the bowl, the contents of which didn’t seem to have gone down much since Adrian had started. Peter caught Matt’s eye and shook his head. Matt nodded. There didn’t seem to be any way Adrian could finish the bowl, never mind lick it clean.</p><p>At the ten minute mark Adrian could see that unless drastic action was taken, he’d never get his nub trainer unlocked for a wank. He put down the spoon and with both hands picked up the bowl still nearly half full of tadpole pudding. Without thinking of the consequences Adrian lifted the bowl to his lips.</p><p>Even before disaster struck Matt and Peter were laughing at the mess Adrian had got himself into, but before their disbelieving eyes they watch transfixed as Adrian, mouth wide open, tilted the bowl towards himself.</p><p>What Adrian hadn’t allowed for was that the pudding at the bottom of the bowl had almost set. Indeed it had congealed into a thick viscous gloop and as Adrian tilted the bowl into an ever steeper angle to his face, the remaining contents of the bowl suddenly and without warning, cascaded onto his face.</p><p>“One minute to go!” Matt managed to announce when he stopped laughing long enough to say anything.</p><p>Adrian was frantically stuffing handfuls of cold pudding into his mouth, but it was effort wasted. Most of the thick stuff that had tipped out of the bowl had slithered down to his lap where it lay on his super tiny speedos.</p><p>“Thirty seconds!” Matt announced.</p><p>Panic-stricken, Adrian started to lick the bowl, thinking the mess that was now in his lap and the slimy mixture that covered his head, neck, chest and tummy, somehow didn’t count. What was important, he thought, was to get the bowl clean. If he could get the bowl clean he’d have done the forfeit… surely?</p><p>“Ten seconds… nine seconds… eight… seven…”</p><p>Matt and Peter were puzzled as they watched Adrian desperately licking the inside of the bowl. They could see Adrian’s pink tongue was white with the creamy mixture as it worked the sides of the bowl.</p><p>“... six… five… four…”</p><p>Both Matt and Peter were thinking the same thing. Adrian hadn’t completed the forfeit… by a very long way. He hadn’t eaten all the tadpole pudding. Licking the bowl clean was only part of the forfeit.</p><p>“... three… two… ONE!!”</p><p>Adrian looked up at his mates. He held the bowl up for them to inspect.</p><p>“See! I’ve licked it clean…” He gagged and burped, “I did it…” Adrian could see by the expressions on both Matt’s and Peter’s faces that he was about to be disappointed.</p><p>“Come on… I did the forfeit…” Adrian pleaded, but he could feel the cold pudding seeping between his legs as if any reminder was needed that he hadn’t actually completed the forfeit and eaten all the glutenous tadpole pudding.</p><p>Peter broke the news to Adrian: “Sorry, buddy… it wouldn’t be fair… you know the rules… forfeits have to be completed in the time set… I know how desperate you are for a wank, but it wouldn’t be fair to unlock you when you didn’t finish the forfeit…”</p><p>“... otherwise there would be any point in having forfeits, would there?” Matt added.</p><p>Adrian, downcast, had to agree: “I guess you’re right… but I really, really, really need a wank…” he sighed, “... please... will you let me do another forfeit then… please, guys?”</p><p>Matt and Peter looked at each other as if to say, <i>another forfeit? He wants to do another forfeit</i>!</p><p>Peter suppressed a chuckle before saying: “Sure… sure, Adrian, we’ll think of something…”</p><p>“You’d better get yourself cleaned up first,” Matt told Adrian, “... you look a right mess.”</p><p>Adrian looked down at himself and at the gloop still nestling in his lap, then at Matt.</p><p>“Best eat it up, eh,” Matt said.</p><p>“But… but… I’ve eaten loads already…” Adrian was ignored.</p><p>Peter added: “Then we’ll get you cleaned up… and maybe go down the rec., eh, Matt?”</p><p>Adrian set about licking up the last of the tadpole pudding while Matt went outside and fixed up the garden hose, then went back to the understairs cupboard to rootle about until he found what he was looking for.</p><p>Meanwhile back in the kitchen Peter supervised Adrian as he attempted to eat up what was left of the tadpole pudding that had slipped into his lap. More than once Adrian gagged on the vile mixture, but Peter just told him how nourishing the milk pudding was and to “get on with it… we want to get down to the rec.”</p><p>Adrian looked up: “I can’t go to the rec. like this… my trunks are covered in the stuff…”</p><p>As if on cue the door to the kitchen opened and Matt’s mum stepped in. She took one look at Adrian and burst out laughing: “Good heavens! You <i>have</i> made a mess of yourself… how on earth did you manage to get your swimming trunks covered in pudding? I thought you said you liked tapioca pudding, but it looks as though you prefer to use it as a skin conditioner…” Once more she chuckled at the state Adrian had got himself into, little realising the reason.</p><p>Peter explained: “He lifted the bowl up and…”</p><p>Mrs Plant gave a deep sigh: “Honestly! You boys… didn’t you think what would happen, Adrian? I think you’d better get those trunks off… and the bib…”</p><p>“But… but, Mrs Plant…”</p><p>“Better do what she says, Adrian,” Peter warned his friend while teasing him by discreetly showing him the key which he cleverly kept out of sight of Matt’s mum.</p><p>Adrian saw the key Peter was holding and untied the string that held up his tiny speedos while Mrs Plant untied the bib. Reluctantly Adrian pulled down the sticky swimming trunks. He was terrified that Matt’s mum would see the nub trainer locked onto his penis and so clapped his hands between his legs once he’d managed to hand over his speedo trunks without turning to face Matt’s mum.</p><p>Mrs Plant laughed at Adrian’s modesty, not knowing that it was the nub trainer he didn’t want her to see: “You don’t have to be so shy, Adrian… I see Matthew’s little willy often enough to know what boys look like…”</p><p>This made Adrian blush more than ever and not for the first time it seemed to him that mums knew just how to make embarrassing situations worse. </p><p>“I’ll put your trunks in the sink to soak while the boys help you get cleaned up outside…” she paused before adding, “Matthew will be able to lend you a pair of his play shorts… it’s going to take a while to get your trunks properly clean…”</p><p>Peter spoke up to remind Matt’s mum of the rules: “That’s very kind of you to offer Adrian a pair of Matt’s play shorts to wear, but…” he turned to Adrian, it would sound better coming from him, “... what are the rules of the challenge, Adrian… the rules about what you agreed to wear?”</p><p>Adrian, his hand still firmly clamped between his legs, said what he knew Peter wanted him to say no matter how stupid it sounded: “Doing the challenge means I have to wear my speedo swim trunks. I can’t wear shorts…”</p><p>“... or a T-shirt…” Peter prompted.</p><p>“... or a T-shirt, otherwise I’d loose the challenge…” Adrian added, hoping he’s said the right thing, but Peter wasn’t quite satisfied.</p><p>“Tell Mrs Plant what happens if you break any of the challenge rules,” he said in such a way as to give Matt’s mum the impression the boys enjoyed doing challenges. “Go on… tell her,” he urged.</p><p>Adrian looked sideways at Peter and then back to face Matt’s mum: “I’d have to do another challenge… only it would have to be a worse one…” he said guessing it was what Peter wanted him to say.</p><p>“Well… that <i>is</i> interesting,” she said, “... although I can’t think what could possibly be worse than wearing nothing but swimming trunks all the time… but I’m sure you boys will think of something…”</p><p>Peter grinned: “We’ll try our best to come up with something, Mrs Plant.” He turned to Adrian, “Come on, Adrian… let’s get get you cleaned up so we can go to the rec…”</p><p>The two boys left the kitchen by the back door. Leaving the comparative safety of the house made Adrian feel very vulnerable, since, bar his nub trainer, he was totally nude. “Whad’ya mean ‘go to the rec.’ I can’t go to the rec. like this…”</p><p>“Don’t worry,” shouted Matt as he came out of the house a couple of seconds later. He had heard Adrian’s complaint, “I’ve got something you can put on…”</p><p>Peter looked at him questioningly.</p><p>“It won’t break the rules,” he assured Peter, “Adrian’s right… we can’t take him to the rec. like that…”</p><p>Peter was a stickler for following the rules… even the ones they made up on the hoof: “If you’re sure, Matt… but no shorts or T-shirts… agreed?”</p><p>“Of course, Peter… it’s nothing like that,” Matt assured him, “Let’s get Adrian cleaned up first, then I’ll show you… but don’t forget we’ve got to put the key in the lock-box before we go to the rec.”</p><p>“No, I hadn’t forgotten… so’s this trip to the rec. going to count as a forfeit for Adrian not finishing the tadpole pudding in time?” Peter asked.</p><p>“No… not quite,” Matt replied, “Adrian failed to complete the forfeit by not finishing the tadpole pudding in the set time… for failing we’re putting the key to his nub trainer into the lock box and Adrian gets to throw the dice… he can just throw one dice for the number of hours this time, so the most the key is going to be locked up for is six hours… that’s fair isn’t it?”</p><p>Peter agreed. Adrian thought he could just about manage to wait another six hours for a wank… of course it could be less, he reckoned and so grudgingly he too agreed with Matt.</p><p>Matt had hit his stride as far as the rules went: “In my view we should treat the trip to the rec. as part of the challenge Adrian’s doing… so nothing to do with the forfeits, ok?” Peter nodded and Matt turned to Adrian: “You said you wanted to do another forfeit, didn’t you?”</p><p>“Yeah… but I can’t go to the rec. without my trunks…” Adrian replied anxiously, “Please, guys… be fair…”</p><p>Matt continued: “We are being fair… so far we’ve given you every opportunity to do forfeits to give you a chance with the key… your mum’s set you a challenge and Peter and me have got to come up with the rules… so we’re doing our bit… I think that’s fair, don’t you Peter?”</p><p>Adrian felt out of his depth. All he wanted was a wank… well that and to get cleaned up… and maybe find out what Matt had in mind when he said he’d found something for him to put on to go to the rec. with them.</p><p>“So…” Adrian asked, “If we go to the rec. and I do another forfeit… complete it, I mean and when we get back and if the lock-box is open… will you unlock my trainer so’s I can have a wank?”</p><p>“Sure thing, buddy… of course,” Peter assured him, “I know you must be desperate for a wank… I don’t know how you manage… me, I’ve got to have at least four really good wanks every day… what about you Matt?”</p><p>“Jeez, I’d go bonkers without wanking four, or maybe five times a day…”</p><p>“...Yeah, and there’s nothing like a really long edging session, eh Matt?”</p><p>Adrian was not amused.</p><p>Matt picked up the hose and Peter turned on the outside tap. The water was freezing cold. The second it hit Adrian he jumped out of the way screaming, but Matt, laughing, carried on spraying the cold water onto Adrian’s bare body. Adrian ran up and down the garden but Matt was easily able to catch him with the powerful jet of water. After a few minutes Adrian was covered in goose-pimples, but he was at least clean and Peter turned off the water. Adrian run towards the house in the expectation of finding a towel with which to dry himself off. The only towels in the kitchen were small and intended only for wiping hands. Adrian didn’t care, he was freezing cold after being hosed down and just wanted to dry himself as best he could with what was available.</p><p>Outside Matt showed Peter what he’d found for Adrian to put on so he could go to the rec. with them.</p><p>“Oh, yes,” Peter said smiling, “Yes, that’s very good… doesn’t break any of the rules either… perfect.”</p><p>They went onto the kitchen where Adrian was bent over finishing off drying his legs. He looked up.</p><p>“<i>OH, NO!! NOT THAT!!</i>” Adrian recognised what Matt held in his hands. He pleaded with him, “Please Matt… I can’t put that on…”</p><p>“It’s this or nothing…” Matt told him.</p><p>“... and no chance to do another forfeit,” Peter added.</p><p>Adrian knew his chances of a wank depended on him successfully completing another forfeit.</p><p>“There must be something else… <i>please</i>,” Adrian looked at the flimsy material in Matt’s hand, “We haven’t worn those since we were little kids… Jeepers, it’s tiny…”</p><p>“It’s only got to cover that nub trainer thing of yours…” Peter pointed out.</p><p>“It’ll get you to the rec.” Matt added, “Come on… I’ll help you with it…”</p><p>Matt held up the square of fabric that was no bigger than a small handkerchief. Sewn into the hem was a string, the ends of which were tied together around a boy’s waist. Matt’s mum had made loincloths for the boys when they were aged about seven or eight when the three of them played at being Red Indians.</p><p>Adrian tried once more to convince his pals to wait until his swimming trunks were clean enough to wear, but Peter and Matt wouldn’t hear of it.</p><p>“You heard mum,” Matt said, “She said it would be ages before they were really clean… look, if you don’t wear the loincloth they’ll be a penalty to pay…” he paused for effect, “... two throws of the dice added together for the total hours the key stays in the lock-box…”</p><p>“... and if you faff around any longer, I make you add another throw for days…” Peter added.</p><p>Once more Adrian realised he had little choice but to comply with the demands of his friends. He let Matt and Peter tie the loincloth so that it hung on his hips and just covered the nub trainer. There was no rear flap so Adrian’s bottom remained bare.</p><p>“C’mon… up to my room,” Matt urged.</p><p>The boys rushed upstairs and Matt pressed a dice into Adrian’s hand: “Roll the dice… Peter, put the key in the lock-box.”</p><p>Adrian watched as the key to his nub trainer, the key that would unlock his pent up frustrations, was placed into the transparent container. He rolled the dice on the floor of Matt’s bedroom…</p><p>While Adrian crouched on the floor, Matt and Peter peered over his shoulder and watched the dice come to rest.</p><p>“<i>FIVE</i>!!” Matt and Peter yelled simultaneously.</p><p>Adrian looked up gloomily: “Best of three?” he asked.</p><p>“Not unless you want to add some more hours,” Matt replied, “C’mon… it’s not so bad… we’re going to be at the rec. for at least three hours… then by the time we’ve got back…”</p><p>“Yeah… five hours isn’t that long, Adrian,” Peter added.</p><p>“It is if you’re dying for a wank…” Adrian told him.</p><p>“You’d better set the timer, Adrian,” Matt said as he held the lock-box in front of Adrian.</p><p>It was as if a prisoner was being told to lock himself in his own cell as Adrian dialled in five hours on the digital lock.</p><p>“... that’s it, now press the knob…” Matt instructed.</p><p>The boys watched the five second countdown before the lock was activated with a serious sounding ‘<i>click</i>’.</p><p>Matt put the box back on a shelf: “That’s it… all done… let’s get down to the rec.”</p><p>The boys trooped back downstairs to be met by Matt’s mother.</p><p>“Well I never!” she gasped on seeing what Adrian was wearing, “Where on earth did you find that, Matthew?”</p><p>“In the cupboard under the stairs,” Matt replied, “I found it when I was looking for that bib for Adrian…”</p><p>“I’d quite forgotten I made those loincloths for you when you boys were playing Red Indians… gosh, I even helped you make a wigwam in the garden…” Then Mrs Plant remembered something else, “... but you know those loincloths haven’t got anything behind… it’s just the front that’s covered… <i>Adrian</i>, you’re never going to the rec. with nothing covering your bottom?”</p><p>Peter rushed to provide an explanation: “It’s the rules of Adrian’s challenge, Mrs Plant… he can’t wear any clothes other than his swim trunks, but Matt and I reckon that loincloths don’t count as they’re not proper clothes… and Adrian agrees.” Peter looked meaningfully at Adrian.</p><p>“Yes, Mrs Plant… Peter’s right,” Adrian looked sheepishly at Matt’s mother, “I want to go to the rec., but I don’t want to risk losing the challenge…”</p><p>“That’s right, mum…” Matt confirmed.</p><p>Mrs Plant sighed. Sometimes it was impossible to understand the behaviour of young boys. Why on earth would Adrian want to wear that flimsy old loincloth she made six or so years ago when they were little kids, she had no idea. All he had to do was to wait twenty minutes and she’d have his swimming trunks clean and ready to wear… but, no they want to rush off with Adrian’s bottom completely bare.</p><p>“Well, just make sure you don’t frighten the horses…” she said.</p><p>Matt laughed: “We won’t, mum… honest.”</p><p><br /></p><p>It wasn’t far to the rec. It normally took maybe a little over ten minutes for the boys to walk there, but for Adrian it felt like a lifetime. It wasn’t helped by Matt and Peter affecting an amble which was guaranteed to infuriate Adrian… not that Adrian was in any great hurry to get to the rec., he just didn’t want to hang about on the street where passersby, cyclists and car passengers could see his bare bottom and ludicrously small loincloth.</p><p>Peter and Matt, out of earshot of Adrian, were also using the time to discuss their ideas for Adrian’s upcoming forfeit.</p><p>“... an obstacle race?” Peter suggested.</p><p>“How d’you mean?”</p><p>“Well, he has to go round all the equipment at the rec… we set him a time and…”</p><p>“... he has to take off the loincloth…”</p><p>“... don’t think that’ll be necessary… it won’t cover much once he’s running around…”</p><p>“... the other kids are bound to get in his way…”</p><p>“... but he still has to get round in the set time…”</p><p>“How are we going to know what time to set?”</p><p>“Simple, we set a course… and it has to be done exactly, or it doesn’t count… you and I time ourselves…”</p><p>“... then we knock off a minute or so to find the set time Adrian has to do the course in…”</p><p>They both laughed, but Peter was magnanimous: “Nah, maybe not… he’ll never do it whatever time we set, so let’s be generous… it’ll be more fun…”</p><p>“... for us you mean… and I bet he doesn’t get the course right…”</p><p>“... so we’ll give him some extra goes…”</p><p>“... extra goes… extra exposure!”</p><p>By the time the boys got to the rec. Adrian was as nervous as he’d ever been. He’d seen Matt and Peter talking, but couldn’t make out what they were saying, although he was pretty sure they were planning his forthcoming forfeit. It would be the first time Adrian had done a forfeit in such a public place. Walking to Peter’s with his hair soaked with Matt’s cum had been pretty bad, but from the way his friends were looking at him, Adrian knew things were about to get worse.</p><p>Walking about in his tiny speedo swimming trunks had made Adrian hugely embarrassed; wearing the flimsy little loincloth simply made him feel as if he was wearing nothing at all. And what was worrying Adrian even more was how he could hide his nub trainer. Someone was bound to catch a glimpse of it, he reasoned. Would they know what it was? What would he say if anyone asked about it?</p><p>As Adrian waited outside the gate into the rec., he felt behind himself and touched his bare bottom. Would Matt and Peter make him go on the slide? Adrian wondered how it would feel, that bright shiny steel, as he slid down on his bare bottom. Not for the first time Adrian wondered why Mrs Plant hadn’t made loincloths with a back as well as a front.</p><p>The boys went through the gate. Peter and Matt surveyed the scene. It wasn’t that busy. Mainly younger kids along with a number of mums; some gossiping, others watching their offspring. There were a couple of boys who looked to be about their age mucking about on the seesaw, and a queue of kids climbing up the steps for the slide. The roundabout wasn’t that busy, neither were the swings.</p><p>Peter and Matt formulated a forfeit for Adrian. In the end they decided just to give Adrian five minutes to go round and use all the playground equipment, but the order in which the equipment was to be used meant that Adrian would have to run from one side of the playground to the other to complete the forfeit properly.</p><p>“Oh, come on, guys…” Adrian whinged when he was told what he had to do and that he had five minutes to get round.</p><p>“Ok,” Matt said, “... tell you what… just to show you it can be done, Peter will do the course…”</p><p>“Sure… I’ll do it… bet I can do it in less than five minutes,” Peter boasted.</p><p>“... and when he does… you’ll have to match his time…” Matt said, “So you either accept the five minute trial, or wait and see if you can match Peter’s time…”</p><p>“Ok… ok… I’ll try and do it in five minutes,” Adrian agreed.</p><p>“We’ll give you two extra goes… if you don’t manage it the first time,” Peter added.</p><p>Matt, who had brought the kitchen timer with him, set it to count down from five minutes. He pressed the button: “<i>GO</i>!!” he yelled, which turned heads to watch the almost nude boy racing off towards the swings.</p><p>Peter turned to his friend: “There’s no way I’d have got round in under five minutes, Matt…”</p><p>“Yeah… I know… but Adrian didn’t,” he laughed as he watched Adrian climb onto the wooden seat of a free swing. “Oh, look! Someone’s giving Adrian a push… that’ll slow him down straightaway!”</p><p>“<i>Priceless</i>…” Peter agreed, “This is the best forfeit yet… look! His loincloth is flapping about all over the place!”</p><p>“... you can see the nub trainer… wow! This is even better than I expected… let’s go and see what happens on the slide…”</p><p>Peter yelled for Adrian to get a move on.</p><p>“They won’t stop pushing the swing!” Adrian called back.</p><p>“Jump off!” Peter called back, “You’re running out of time already!”</p><p>Adrian leapt off the swing and tumbled to a halt on the soft grass. He jumped up, but his loincloth was twisted to one side. He straightened it as he ran towards the slide, but everyone who saw him also saw the nub trainer. But Adrian was too concerned with completing his forfeit to worry too much about that, he needed that wank and any amount of public exposure had to be worth the chance to have his nob unlocked.</p><p>Peter and Matt cheered Adrian on as he begged the little kids on the steps to the slide to let him get past. Adrian had to suffer slaps and prods when the girls and boys saw he was only wearing a little loincloth. A bare boy’s bottom was just too enticing target to let go to waste and by the time Adrian reached the top of the slide his bottom was noticeably red from all the pinches and slaps he’d received on the way up. Adrian grabbed the handrail each side at the top of the slide and swung his legs forward. The polished steel of the slide stung Adrian’s bottom as he sat ready for the slide down. He let go. It was not a pleasant experience and Adrian couldn’t stop himself from crying out. His little loincloth flap blew back onto his tummy, giving everyone another chance to see his nub trainer. At the end of the slide he leapt off rubbing his glowing red bare bottom.</p><p>Peter turned to Matt: “How’s he doing?” he asked.</p><p>“It’s taken him nearly two minutes and he’d still got the roundabout, the seesaw and the climbing frame…”</p><p>“He’ll never do it…” Peter said.</p><p>“Not a chance…” Matt concurred.</p><p>Beads of sweat covered Adrian’s body as he raced over to the roundabout. He grabbed one of the rails and pushed it before jumping on once he’d got it up to speed.</p><p>“Go round four times!” Peter called.</p><p>“Two and a half minutes…” Matt whispered to Peter. Peter and Matt grinned.</p><p>Two boys who’d been playing on the seesaw climbed off and went to the roundabout. They started to make it go faster, pushing the rails until it was spinning too fast to safely get off. It was guaranteed to cause amusement… if you weren’t unfortunate to be the one trapped on the roundabout. Adrian was now less concerned for the way his loincloth was flapping about than he was about how he was going to get off the spinning roundabout. He was already feeling dizzy and he’d been round a dozen or more times.</p><p>Help came in the form of one of the mothers: “That’s enough, Shane… leave the boy alone… it looks like he’s been in enough trouble already…”</p><p>Shane gave the roundabout one more push and left it to slow down long enough for Adrian to jump off. He quickly straightened up his tiny loincloth, but he knew from what Shane’s mother had said that she understood what the nub trainer was and what it prevented boys from doing.</p><p>Adrian was too embarrassed to explain about his trainer and that it wasn’t what she thought. He wanted to say that he hadn’t been in trouble, but by then Shane’s mum had walked back to sit with the other mums. From the way they all looked at him, Adrian could tell what the topic of discussion was.</p><p>“<i>ONE AND A HALF MINUTES LEFT</i>!!” Matt called out to Adrian.</p><p>Adrian raced over to the seesaw. Two other boys had climbed on after Shane and his pal. Adrian begged one of the boys playing on it to let him have a turn, quickly explaining how he was in a race. The boy, who was sat in the lower seat, obliged and they carefully swapped.</p><p>“You can get back on in a sec. I won’t be long,” Adrian explained as he mounted the seesaw.</p><p>Adrian kicked off sending himself up in the air with his bare legs dangling either side of his end of the seesaw. He clung onto the handle in front of him. As he slid towards the upright which formed part of the handle, he became aware of how vulnerable he was as he sat with his legs wide apart on the seesaw. Just how vulnerable became painfully apparent when the boy at the other end hit he ground with his end of the seesaw. The whole long bar of the seesaw shuddered and sent Adrian sliding, legs apart, slap-bang onto the handle. The boy gleefully bounced the seesaw as Adrian, in mid-air, screamed in pain. It was an old trick made more effective through Adrian’s lack of clothes.</p><p>With less than a minute to go, Adrian managed to dismount the seesaw and hobble over to the climbing frame clutching his tender testicles. Matt and Peter were laughing like drains as the watched Adrian bravely struggle over the frame. Up one side and down the other had been the instruction which insured everyone below got an eyeful of Adrian’s nub trainer, his sore balls and his red bottom.</p><p>Adrian raced over to the starting line. He was covered in beads of sweat from his exertion, but he could tell from the look on Matt’s face that he hadn’t completed the forfeit in the allotted time.</p><p>“How’d he do?” Peter asked, although he already knew.</p><p>“<i>So close</i>!” Matt said dramatically, “<i>So close</i>… only a few seconds in it…”</p><p>“... but what was my time?” Adrian asked panting.</p><p>“Oh, did you want to know? Sorry, I just reset the timer…” Matt said showing the zeroed timer to Adrian.</p><p>“It was five twenty, wasn’t it,” Peter suggested.</p><p>“Nearer five fifteen… want another go?” Matt said, “You were so close…”</p><p>Adrian looked thrilled to be given another opportunity to try and complete the forfeit in the agreed time. A few seconds could mean the difference between having a wank and spending yet another day in unrelieved frustration.</p><p>“Can I? You’ll let me try and do it again?” Adrian was by now pathetically eager to please. The thought of having to endure for any longer the chastity imposed by the locked trainer device on his nob was clouding his judgement. Adrian knew Peter could unlock it with the key he was given by Scoot… at least once the lock-box was open again. Adrian needed Peter to unlock the trainer. Adrian needed at least one chance to masturbate again and if it meant playing his friends’ games, then that’s what he’d do.</p><p>Matt laughed at Adrian’s eagerness: “If your balls are up to it…”</p><p>“Yeah… that kid was a bit mean,” Peter added.</p><p>“I’m not going anywhere near that seesaw if he’s still on it… my balls still hurt where he caught me…” Adrian said.</p><p>“It’s probably all that spunk that’s built up in them that’s made it worse…” Peter giggled, “You ought to empty them more often…”</p><p>Adrian wasn’t amused: “Ha-bloody-ha.”</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-22777139875154267092023-04-23T16:26:00.000+01:002023-04-29T14:59:42.068+01:00Let's Talk About… Even More<p>“I’ve spoken to Peter’s mother <i>and</i> Matthew’s mother… Peter and Matthew are your best friends aren’t they? They’re the boys you’ve been playing with, aren’t they?” Adrian nodded, not really understanding what this was about, or where it was going, but his mum continued: “But they say the boys don’t know anything about your doing a dare…”</p><p>“But it <i>was</i> a dare, mum… honest…” Adrian was puzzled. He didn’t understand why Peter and Matt would say they didn’t know anything about a dare.</p><p>Adrian’s mum smiled, ignoring his protest, “... but <i>we</i> know what it’s about, don’t we darling… it’s like those postmen who wear shorts all winter long, from autumn into spring…”</p><p>Adrian was even more puzzled now. What had postmen got to do with anything? Finally Adrian’s brain kicked in and he figured out why Peter and Matt had denied knowing anything about his ‘dare’. Adrian had told his mum it was a dare to explain the forfeit his friends had extracted from him, a forfeit that had him wearing a microscopically small pair of bikini-style speedo swimming trunks that he’d last worn when he was two years younger… and physically two years smaller. Adrian could barely get into the trunks and he was glad that particular forfeit was now over and done with.</p><p>“What d’you mean, mum?” Adrian asked, “What postmen?”</p><p>His mum smiled: “Do you think I can’t guess… do you think I don’t know what you boys are up to?”</p><p>Adrian knees nearly gave way, but he managed to gasp: “I-I don’t know, mum… er, what d’you mean?”</p><p>Mum reached out to ruffle his hair, but suddenly jerked her hand away: “What on earth have you done to your hair? Have you been rubbing in gel… I’ve told you not to gel your hair… it makes you look so…” mum paused before she said anything she’d regret, “...it just doesn’t look nice,” she concluded.</p><p>“Me and Peter were mucking about…”</p><p>“Hmmm, that’s as maybe… now what was I saying… oh, yes, those old swimming trunks… yes, I know what you boys are up to… it’s a challenge, isn’t it, like those postmen?” Mum paused waiting for Adrian to say something.</p><p>Saying it was a challenge seemed as good a way to Adrian to explain why he’d worn his old speedos: “Yes, mum… a challenge,” Adrian thought it safer to go along with his mum’s interpretation of events, “Matt and Peter challenged me to wear them…”</p><p>“So it wasn’t a dare after all, but a challenge?”</p><p>“A challenge… yes, mum…” Adrian didn’t understand what his mum was driving at. What was the difference? It didn’t matter what you called it, a challenge or a dare, it amounted to the same thing surely?”</p><p>Mum folded her arms looking straight at Adrian as he stood in front of her wearing nothing but his old, extremely small, speedo swimming trunks that hardly covered anything: “So, Adrian… how long is this challenge to last? I mean you’ll be wearing them… for how long?”</p><p>Adrian suddenly began to feel anxious: “I, er… we didn’t… just this once, I guess…”</p><p>“Well that’s not much of a challenge… what will that prove? I’m sure you must have agreed you could wear them for much longer than just the once…”</p><p>Adrian stuttered: “I, er don’t think so…” Then his jaw dropped as what his mum had just said sunk in, “Umm… what do you mean, mum?” he asked tentatively.</p><p>“I think today was just a trial… to prove to your friends you could do a <i>real</i> challenge. And you showed Peter and Matthew you were up to it!” mum said proudly, “I was really surprised when I saw how you weren’t at all bothered about wearing those old swimming trunks of yours… which, by the way I was astonished you’d still kept…”</p><p>Adrian tried his best to interrupt: “... but, but… mum…”</p><p>“If you’ll just hear me out, darling,” she said firmly, “I can’t tell you how much it lifted my spirits to see you practising for this challenge, happily swanning about in tiny trunks to visit your friends… and in not very nice weather, I should add… and you know, Adrian it’s all down to that little trainer device… you would never have taken up a challenge like this before… it’s done wonders for your self-confidence… I’m so pleased you wanted to wear it…”</p><p>Adrian’s heart at this point was pounding. Peter’s words came back to him, ‘...<i>you’re going to have to get used to wearing speedos… ‘cos you’re going to be wearing them a lot more…</i>’ and he wondered whether Peter was behind all this.</p><p>“Now what was it you were going to say, darling?”</p><p>“Nothing, mum… nothing at all…”</p><p>“Well, I want you to tell me what you and your friends decide the challenge is going to be… because mummy wants to help you to complete the challenge. Do you promise to tell be what’s decided between you boys?”</p><p>Adrian replied with a sinking heart: “Yes, mum… I promise.”</p><p>“Good, now take those trunks off… I’ll give them a rinse while you get upstairs to the bathroom and wash whatever it is out of your hair… I’ll be up shortly…”</p><p>There was no point in Adrian being shy in front of his mother and he wriggled out of the tight-fitting speedos. As he handed them over his mum smiled and looked down at the nub trainer: “Will I need to bring up an ice-pack?”</p><p>Adrian nodded. He was still too embarrassed to speak about what happened when his penis was freed from the constraints of the nub trainer.</p><p>“Just in case then?” mum said with a friendly smile.</p><p>Upstairs Adrian made his way to the bathroom and bent over the bath to wash Matt’s by now congealed spunk out of his hair. Then it came to Adrian to wonder why his mum should want to wash his old swim trunks straightaway. Oh, god! he thought… she thinks I’m going to want to wear them some more! Now he had to think of a way to persuade Peter and Matt that this challenge business didn’t involve wearing those blasted bikini-style speedos. Adrian ran his bath.</p><p>“I’ve put your trunks over the clothes-horse to dry… it should take long… have you finished washing your hair? Good… now where’s that key?”</p><p>Adrian was not amused by the light-hearted manner in which his mum referred to the key to his nub trainer. Maybe mums thought there was something humorous about anti-masturbation devices, but their sons certainly didn’t think so. Boys knew how serious the subject was… deadly serious.</p><p>“Hands behind your head, Adrian… I’m going to unlock your trainer…”</p><p>Mum carefully took hold of the device and inserted the key into the lock. She gently eased the tiny cage off Adrian’s penis which immediately expanded to its uncaged length. Mum put the nub trainer into the sink and gave it a good wash. Leaving it to dry, she turned and saw Adrian sucking in his lips as he tried ever so hard to behave himself. His penis was now pointing out horizontally in an obvious state of excitement. This happened every time mum unlocked Adrian’s nub trainer at bathtime now, so she wasn’t at all bothered by it, in fact it made her job of washing her son’s penis that much easier. If mum had thought about it in any detail she would have realised Adrian’s erection was proof, if it was needed, that her son was staying true to his word and had not been indulging in any kind of masturbatory practices… although how that could be achieved with the nub trainer locked in place was a moot point.</p><p>Mum liked to get Adrian’s penis washed first. With his hands always held out of the way and nowhere near his boy-bits, she set about washing the rest of his body. For Adrian, with his penis free of the trainer device, it was agony. The temptation to touch himself was unbearable. At first just the idea of masturbating in front of his mum was enough to keep his impulse in check, but of late he was giving serious consideration to asking his mum to somehow restrain him during his bathtime... even if Adrian himself thought this idea to be crazy. Could he seriously expect himself to ask such a thing of his own mother? But he could just about keep the temptation caused by his intense frustration at bay by the thought of the key Peter was keeping safe.</p><p>Wisely mum never left Adrian alone while the trainer was unlocked and removed. She realised it wouldn’t have been fair, not with her son’s soldier standing smartly at attention.</p><p>Bathtime over, it was time to put the nub trainer back on and mum reached for the freezer bag. Adrian shivered and this was usually enough to cause a softening of his penis even before the cold bag touched him.</p><p>A few minutes later and after a bit of a struggle, Adrian’s penis was locked up safe and sound and he was left to ponder on what his mum had said earlier. What was he going to say to Peter and Matt? Could he somehow ‘lose’ his old speedos? What was he going to say to his mum? How was he going to tell her there wasn’t a challenge? All these questions and more caused Adrian to have a restless night. The only bright spot on his horizon was the thought that he’d completed his forfeit, so that tomorrow Peter would be unlocking the nub trainer meaning he could at least look forward to a good wank.</p><p><br /></p><p>Bleary-eyed, the next morning Adrian stumbled into the kitchen for his breakfast.</p><p>“I’ve washed and dried your swim-trunks, darling…”</p><p>Adrian was wearing one of his shortie pyjama-tops. They were dead embarrassing to wear, but wear them he had to, as they were part of his mum’s effort to keep him a healthy well behaved boy. How wearing a tight shortie top featuring cute bunnies was supposed to help, Adrian had no idea, but since the arrival of the nub trainer a shortie pyjama-top was what he wore for bedtime. Nothing else was worn as mum said nothing else was needed.</p><p>A small towel had been placed on Adrian’s stool and as he sat down he asked, apropos his swimming trunks: “What for, mum?”</p><p>“You got to wear something…”</p><p>“But I’ve got my shorts… my play shorts, mum… I’m not going swimming today…”</p><p>“I didn’t say anything about swimming, but you’ll be wanting to wear your trunks when you meet up with Peter and Matt… you are meeting them today, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Yes, mum… but I’ll wear my play shorts… we’re going the rec… there’s a new jungle gym…”</p><p>“Swimming trunks will be fine then… now eat your breakfast and let’s hear no more arguments…”</p><p>“But I’m not arguing…” Adrian whined as he squirmed on the towel.</p><p>“... <i>eat</i>…”</p><p>“Yes, mum… but why my swimming trunks?”</p><p>“... just eat your breakfast, Adrian,” and with that mum left Adrian to his breakfast.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>“She’s only gone and locked all my clothes away!” Adrian told Peter and Matt when they met up later at Matt’s house. Peter had called Adrian after breakfast to tell him where they were to meet. Adrian was none too pleased to be made to walk all the way over to Matt’s place again wearing nothing but his tiny little-boy speedo trunks and sneakers, but after the performance at bathtime in getting his nob back into the trainer, Adrian was prepared to do almost anything if it meant the chance of a wank.</p><p>Peter and Matt laughed as Adrian explained that his mum was convinced the ludicrously small bikini-style swimming trunks that he’d worn the day before were the result of some stupid challenge he was supposed to be undertaking.</p><p>“I tried to tell her it was a dare, but when she spoke to your mums, they said you didn’t know anything about a dare…”</p><p>“That was true… it wasn’t a dare,” Peter said, “Matt just told you to dig out those old trunks you used to wear a couple of years ago for a laugh… <i>we</i> didn’t say anything about a dare…”</p><p>“Yeah,” Matt agreed, “It’s your own fault for saying it was dare when it wasn’t…”</p><p>“But I couldn’t tell her that I had to wear them as a forfeit I had to do before Peter would unlock the nub trainer…” Adrian pleaded, “I couldn’t tell her that could I… that would have got us all into trouble…”</p><p>“... and Scoot wouldn’t have been best pleased either,” Peter noted.</p><p>“That’s a given,” Matt added, “So, Adrian, what’s all this challenge stuff about then?” he asked.</p><p>Adrian sighed: “She thinks it’s like what the postmen do…”</p><p>“... what’ve postmen got to do with anything?” Peter asked.</p><p>“Y’know… when they wear shorts all the time,” Adrian explained.</p><p>Peter and Matt looked at Adrian blankly. They sort of got the idea, but didn’t want to jump the gun. They wanted to hear it from Adrian.</p><p>Adrian was anxious as he didn’t want to land himself in any more embarrassing situations… yesterday’s traipsing to Matt’s house and then to Peter’s with his hair matted, most appropriately, with Matt’s cum, was quite enough humiliation as far as he was concerned.</p><p>Nothing was said until finally Adrian blurted: “Postmen's challenge… y’know… you must have seen them…”</p><p>“Oh, that…” Matt said as both he and Peter looked questioningly at Adrian, “but what’s the connection? You’re talking about postmen's shorts… what’s that got to do with your old speedo trunks?”</p><p>Desperate for his nub trainer to be unlocked so he could have a wank, Adrian, against his better judgement, had no choice but to tell Matt and Peter what his mum had said yesterday evening.</p><p>“She… er, she wants us to decide what the challenge… my challenge, is going to be…”</p><p>Peter and Matt looked stunned and as this news sank in they could both see endless opportunities for fun.</p><p>“... and I have to tell her what is decided, so she can help me complete the challenge…”</p><p>“That’s going to take some thought… isn’t it Matt?” Peter said turning to his buddy.</p><p>“No it’s not,” Adrian snapped, “I’ll just tell her we decided that I should wear these stupid trunks for a few days… and that’s it!”</p><p>“Woah! That’s not much of a challenge,” Matt interrupted, “A challenge has to be, well <i>challenging</i>… doesn’t it Peter?”</p><p>Peter agreed: “Yeah, it goes something like ‘forfeit’, ‘dare’, ‘challenge’... what you did yesterday was just a forfeit… nothing special. You claimed it was a dare, but you mum saw through that, she knew there was more to it, but you couldn’t tell her the reason… very wisely, I might add and not only for your sake. So the problem you’ve made for yourself is that you’re going to have to perform a convincing challenge for your mum…”</p><p>Matt was impressed: “Cor! Are you going to be a lawyer when you grow up, Peter?”</p><p>“Nah… it’s just common sense really… c’mon, let’s put our thinking caps on and come up with some ideas for Adrian’s challenge…”</p><p>“She’s already got him wearing those tiny speedos,” Matt said.</p><p>“... and locked away the rest of my clothes,” Adrian reminded them, “I’d have thought that would be enough…”</p><p>“Oh, don’t be a wimp,” Peter chided his friend, “It’s got to be far more convincing than just swanning about in a pair of swimming trunks for a week or two…”</p><p>“<i>A WEEK OR TWO</i>!!” Adrian was poleaxed, “You can’t mean that, Peter… please… I don’t want to wear them for that long…”</p><p>“Ok,” Peter said casually, “Perhaps we can think of something else then…”</p><p>Adrian was relieved and the boys became silent in their thoughts.</p><p>A few minutes passed by before anyone spoke. It was Adrian.</p><p>“Peter… Peter, have you got the key?”</p><p>“What key’s that?”</p><p>“You know… the key, the key to my trainer…”</p><p>“Yeah, course I’ve got it…”</p><p>“Well unlock it then… it’s my turn for a wank,” Adrian didn’t think it was funny, “C’mon, Peter… please, I really need a wank.” Then foolishly he told his friends how his penis had sprung to attention when his mum unlocked his nub trainer at bathtime the night before and how she’d had to apply a chill bag from the freezer to his penis in order to get it flaccid enough to squash it back into the trainer. Peter and Matt thought this was hilarious. Adrian did not.</p><p>“Please, Peter… you were supposed to unlock it yesterday…”</p><p>“I can’t help it if your mum phoned when my nob was still in your mouth… tell Matt what else was in your mouth…”</p><p>Adrian’s face went deep red: “Your spunk, Peter…”</p><p>“Yeah, my spunk… my mum called up to tell Adrian his mum had phoned and wanted him home straightaway… so he had to swallow all my spunk so’s he could tell my mum he’d heard her…”</p><p>Matt thought this was even funnier: “So you didn’t get to use the key then?”</p><p>“No…”</p><p>“No wonder he got a boner in front of his mum,” Matt observed before sighing, “Well, new day, new forfeit…”</p><p>Adrian was wild-eyed: “<i>I did a forfeit</i>… What d’ya mean, new day?”</p><p>“Oh, didn’t we tell you… Peter and me decided you can’t carry over completed forfeits from one day to the next… It’s not our fault that Peter didn’t have time to unlock your nob yesterday… so even though you did a forfeit, it doesn’t count, you have to complete another forfeit today before you can be unlocked…”</p><p>“... and this isn’t anything to do with whatever we decide about the challenge,” Peter clarified, “It’s just forfeits between friends, ok?”</p><p>Adrian hung his head, defeated: “Yeah, ok, whatever…”</p><p>“Mum made a big bowl of tadpole pudding yesterday…” Matt said cheerfully.</p><p>“NO! NO! Absolutely NOT!” Adrian screamed… he knew what was coming, “I’m not doing it… it’s disgusting!”</p><p>“Don’t be like that… you’ve got to do a forfeit and as there’s loads left in the fridge…” Matt continued.</p><p>“Cause no one ate it, I suppose… it’s horrid stuff… you’re not going make me eat that… please,” Adrian pleaded.</p><p>“... but you wouldn’t want it going to waste,” Peter added, “It’s really good for you… stands to reason...”</p><p>“So why doesn’t anybody like it?” Adrian asked, “Doesn’t make sense… and I’m not going to eat it anyway…”</p><p>Peter sighed and took the key to Adrian’s nub trainer out of his pocket. He waved it in front of himself: “That’s a shame… a real shame, isn’t it Matt?</p><p>Adrian looked from one boy to the other and watched as Matt reached up for what looked like an ordinary storage box on a shelf… only it wasn’t.</p><p>“I bought this ‘cos I thought it might come in handy y'know, just in case… it’s called a ‘timed lock-box’," Matt explained and went on to show a shocked Adrian how the box worked. “You see this dial… when you put something in the box… <i>a key for instance</i>… and close the lid, you just turn the dial until the display shows you how long it will be before the lid is unlocked… could be minutes… could be hours… or it could be days…”</p><p>“Thing is,” Peter added, just to make sure Adrian fully understood what they were saying, “No one can open the box until the timer reaches zero…”</p><p>Matt continued: “Now supposing we need to put your key in the box for whatever reason... Peter and me thought, to make it fair, <i>you</i> could throw dice to set the timer… y’know like throw twice for minutes… 5 and 8 say and we set the lock for 58 minutes… but then you throw again for hours… just once, unless we decide otherwise… and then finally another throw for days…”</p><p>“DAYS!!”</p><p>“But you’ve had the trainer on for ages already… so what’s a few more days without a wank to you? Besides we could make you roll the dice twice to set the days… think two sixes and the key would be locked away for sixty-six days…” Peter teased.</p><p>“Oh, guys… please, you can’t do this…”</p><p>“Eat up your delicious tadpole pudding and we won’t have to use the lock-box…” Peter reminded him</p><p>“... unless you were to refuse another forfeit…” Matt reminded his friend.</p><p>Adrian realised he’d lost the argument once again. He stood up and his friends escorted him downstairs.</p><p><br /></p><p>“<i>MUM</i>!!” Matt called out as the boys walked into the kitchen.</p><p>“WHAT IS IT?!” his mum shouted back, “I’m in the living room.”</p><p>Matt, Peter and Adrian trooped through to the living room where Matt's mum was doing some sewing.</p><p>She looked up and immediately asked: “Why on earth are you wearing your swimming trunks, Adrian?”</p><p>Not giving Adrian a chance to say anything, Matt answered: “It’s a challenge, mum,” as if that told her everything she needed to know, “But Adrian wants to ask you something… don’t you, Adrian?”</p><p>“Er, yes, er, Mrs Plant… I, er… that is Matt said there was some… some tadpole pudding left over that you made…” Adrian struggled to get the words out, “I, er…”</p><p>Matt prompted: “You like it… like it a lot, don’t you… when we were upstairs and I told you mum had made tadpole pudding… you said it was your favourite, didn’t you?”</p><p>Adrian was forced to agree, even though he could feel his stomach grumbling at the very thought of swallowing the loathsome pudding: “Yes please, Mrs Plant… I’d really like to eat some if I may…”</p><p>“You can finish the whole bowl as far as I’m concerned… Matt refuses to eat any… I really don’t know why I bother making it… are you sure you’re all right just wearing those swimming trunks… it’s not very warm outside and those trunks of yours don’t cover very much at all…”</p><p>“Mum knows I’ve got them on, Mrs Plant,” Adrian assured Matt’s mum.</p><p>“Oh, well… Matthew knows where the pudding is… he’ll show you… better put one of Matthew's old T-shirts on in case you splash yourself…”</p><p>“Can’t do that, mum,” Matt interrupted, “Adrian’s not allowed… part of the challenge…”</p><p>“Well, he could always wear an old bib, I suppose… that won’t break any rules, will it… there are some I keep in the cupboard under the stairs… very handy for dusting… see what you think, they are clean, Adrian…”</p><p>Matt nudged Adrian: “Thank you, Mrs Plant… thank you… I really like tadpole pudding, it’s my favourite…”</p><p>“Yes,” Mrs Plant replied and, clearly disinterested with anything else the boys had to say, got on with her sewing.</p><p>Both Matt and Peter were grinning from ear-to-ear when they got back to the kitchen.</p><p>“Get the pudding out of the fridge and I’ll sort out a bib for Adrian,” Matt said as he dived off to rummage in the cupboard under the stairs.</p><p>To Adrian’s horror the big bowl was almost full to the brim with the yukky, frogspawn-like, tadpole pudding. No wonder it was universally hated by boys despite them being told how nutritious it was. The pudding was of course very cold having been in the fridge since yesterday evening.</p><p>There were tears in Adrian’s eyes before he even sat down. Matt waltzed in with what he considered to be the best of his mum’s bib selection, one that he must have worn as a baby, although it looked large enough to have seen use for at least the first few years of his life… certainly big enough to tie around Adrian’s neck. The towelling bib had been embroidered with the words ‘<b><i>MUMMY’S BABY BOY</i></b>’ stitched in pale blue.</p><p>Peter placed the bowl in front of Adrian: “Pity we haven’t got a high-chair to go with that bib… did you really have to wear that?” he asked Matt.</p><p>“Can’t remember… d’you like it?”</p><p>“Yeah, sweet… let’s keep it, might come in handy…”</p><p>Adrian was hardy listening. He was transfixed by the contents of the bowl. He looked up and asked: “... and you’ll unlock…” his voice sank to a whisper in case Matt’s mum heard, “... my nob…”</p><p>“When you’ve finished it all…”</p><p>“... and licked the bowl clean…”</p><p>“... in fifteen minutes…”</p><p>Adrian looked up sharply to register disbelief. He hardly even noticed the teaspoon that Matt put down next to the bowl of cold tapioca pudding for Adrian to use.</p><p>“Otherwise, it’s into the box the key goes…”</p><p>Matt reached for his mum’s kitchen timer to set it for the agreed time.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-32811344074848327152023-04-12T20:45:00.002+01:002023-04-12T20:45:23.873+01:00Let's Talk… Some More<p> </p><p>“I can’t… I can’t, Peter… please, don’t… Matt, <i>please</i>… tell him… don’t make me…” Adrian was frantically struggling between his two best friends as they pulled him towards the small booth outside the supermarket.</p><p>“Don’t be such a wuss… you want us to help, don’t you?” Peter said cheerfully.</p><p>“Yeah… you want to get that thing off your nob, don’t you?” Matt added.</p><p>“Yeah, but not here… not in front of all these people… can’t we come back some other time?” Adrian pleaded and not for the first time regretting telling his mates about the nub trainer his mum had locked onto his penis to stop him from masturbating.</p><p>“It’ll be ok… don’t worry, nobody’s going to be bothered and all they’ll see is your bum if anything,” Peter assured Adrian, “... and besides Scoot only works here to cover for the bloke who runs the booth when he’s away…”</p><p>Adrian tried to get a word in: “... yeah, but…”</p><p>“Yeah, but… nothing,” Peter continued, “Scoot’s ok… he’s a mate of my Uncle Derrick and anyone who’s a mate of Uncle Derrick will do a favour for him…”</p><p>“You told your Uncle Derrick!” Adrian exploded, “You told him about… about the <i>thing</i>… the thing on my nob…”</p><p>“Not in so many words…” Peter answered demurely.</p><p>“How many words?!” Adrian insisted.</p><p>“I just told him that you were mucking about and managed to lock something on your nob and lost the key… that’s all…”</p><p>“... and you don’t think he might not suspect my mum locked up my nob?”</p><p>“Why should he suspect anything? Uncle Derrick’s ok… so’s Scoot… he’s done time for safe-breaking, so getting that thing off your nob should be a doddle…”</p><p>Matt couldn’t resist adding: “He’s probably got some gelignite left over from his last caper he can use to blow it off your nob…”</p><p>“Blow his balls off as well…” Peter added mischievously.</p><p>As the boys argued Adrian was being dragged closer and closer to the booth where the experienced locksmith and reformed peterman, Scoop was cutting a key for a customer.</p><p>“Just a sec, boys… be with you in a jiffy,” Scoot said and greeted them with a conspiratorial wink.</p><p>Scoot was of indeterminate age. A gifted crackman who’s good fortune had run out after one too many ill chosen blags. Not that Scoot was entirely to blame, but he was unfortunate enough to be found in the wrong place at the wrong time and so ended up doing the porridge, despite claiming he was fitted up by the rozzers.</p><p>The customer satisfied with their freshly cut key, paid Scoot and left the booth as Peter and Matt pulled a very reluctant Adrian to stand next to them just inside the small cubicle.</p><p>Scoot chuckled: “Fearsome looking lock that key’s for… the one I’ve just cut,” he chuckled again, “... I could blow on one of those locks and have it open with a feather… still it helps them think they’re all nice and secure… and the insurance companies… anyway, what can I do for you boys… your uncle said something to me, Pete… what have you gone and done?”</p><p>“I haven’t done nothing, Scoot… it’s Adrian here…” Peter turned to Adrian, “Show Scoot…”</p><p>Adrian wasn’t having it and wriggled about between his two friends.</p><p>Matt piped up: “It’s on his nob… if we hold him, d’you think…”</p><p>Scoot chuckled some more as he leant forward and yanked Adrian’s shorts down… then he whistled.</p><p>“I haven’t seen one of those in a while… and for sure not on a boy your age,” Scoot sucked in his breath, “Was it your mum?”</p><p>Adrian nodded. He wasn’t sure what was worse, having to reveal to Scoot the reason for the nub trainer being locked onto his nob, or the not insignificant number of shoppers passing by who could see his bare bottom.</p><p>“Hmm… that might pose a problem…”</p><p>“But, Scoot, you can get that off easy… surely?” Peter argued.</p><p>“Sure… yeah, getting it off is no problem… that’s not what I mean… but there’s something else you’ve got to consider…”</p><p>“Consider what?”</p><p>“Well, I can’t just spring the lock… for a start you’ll need to lock it back on at some point… if you don’t his mum’s going to go ballistic if she sees it’s missing… and you’re going to need the right key…”</p><p>Adrian didn’t like the way Scoot was ignoring him and talking to Peter as if he was in charge. It was as if he was being deliberately sidelined. Finally Adrian managed to squeeze in a few words: “Can’t you give me the key and I’ll put it back on for when mum checks?”</p><p>Scoot got as near to laughing as makes no odds: “Nice try, sunshine… you know why that’s not going to happen, don’t you?”</p><p>Adrian shook his head.</p><p>“Look, if I gave you the key to your little device there… c'mon, let’s face it at your age you’d be at it morning, noon and night… which is probably the reason your mum got one of those things for you in the first place…”</p><p>Adrian’s face flushed redder than ever: “That’s not true… she didn’t… I-I…” Adrian stuttered to a halt as he realised what he was about to say, that he’d promised his mum he wouldn’t masturbate and she’d locked his penis in the nub trainer to help him resist any temptation to play with himself. But Adrian had to admit Scoot was right, if he could get his penis free from the nub he'd be wanking himself silly at every opportunity.</p><p>Scoot wasn’t without sympathy for Adrian. In stir he’d have gone ape if it wasn’t for the relief of a good wank. The shinny bog-paper wasn’t much use for cleaning up after a J Arthur, but he didn’t mind that much. He didn’t even mind the screws having a peek as he beat this meat. That was nothing compared with the attentions of the nonces Scoot had attracted when he was not much older than Adrian.</p><p>“I’ll tell you what… I’ve got a key that’ll do the trick,” Scoot told the boys, “but like I said, I can’t give it to you, Adrian… but I can see you need to have a bit of fun, so I’ll give the key to one of your mates, see…”</p><p>Adrian was disappointed but it was better than nothing. He tried pleading with Scoot, but soon realised he was wasting his breath.</p><p>“<i>Bagsy it’s me</i>…” Peter shouted, getting his claim in before Matt had a chance.</p><p>“Ok, Peter, you look after the key… and keep it safe, mind and remember, it’s only to be used when absolutely necessary otherwise Adrian’s mum will get suspicious and we don’t want her thinking something’s up… so be careful.”</p><p>“Sure thing, Scoot…” Peter assured him, “I’ll take extra special care…”</p><p>“You’d better do that… I don’t want any of this coming back to me, see… <i>or else</i>. Now pull your shorts up, Adrian before you attract even more attention…”</p><p>Adrian did as he was told, but not before he saw how many people were openly staring his bare bottom. He thanked his lucky stars they’d not seen the humiliating nub trainer.</p><p>After getting the key the boys headed off to their secret hideout where Adrian was sure he’d get the chance to have a good wank with his buddies.</p><p>It didn’t take the boys long to get to the hideout, a pillbox left over from the war which was so overgrown with ivy as to be all but invisible to the casual passerby. The entrance involved a scramble through the dense foliage, easy for young boys like Peter, Adrian and Matt; not so easy for anyone bigger and this made the hideout the perfect place for boys who liked to get up to fun and tricks unobserved.</p><p>Matt glanced sideways at Peter. The two boys had had a quick conspiratorial word as they walked behind Adrian who was so desperate to get to the hideout for a wank, that he forged ahead of his friends.</p><p>Adrian was the first to pull off his play shorts: “Give me the key, Peter… c’mon, what are you waiting for? I need a wank…”</p><p>Peter stood in front of Adrian: “The thing is me and Matt have decided…”</p><p>“Decided <i>what</i>?” Adrian spat, “There’s nothing to decide… just unlock my nob so I can have a wank…”</p><p>Matt stepped up to remind Adrian: “Scoot said we were only to unlock your nob unless we thought it was necessary…”</p><p>“<i>But it is necessary… bloody necessary</i>!!” Adrian cried out using the single swearword in his vocabulary to express the depth of his feeling. “I haven’t had a wank since my mum put this thing on my nob… you’ve got the key… just take the thing off…” Adrian looked from Matt to Peter, “<i>Please</i>… please take it off…”</p><p>Adrian watched as the other boys exchanged glances. Peter and Matt had also pushed their hands down into their shorts and were clearly feeling themselves up in readiness for their own wanks.</p><p>“The thing is…” Peter repeated himself, “we’ve decided you have to do a forfeit…”</p><p>“A forfeit… what sort of forfeit?” Adrian asked. He knew that Peter’s forfeits were never easy and often totally embarrassing.</p><p>Peter and Matt got their nobs, now stiff, out from their shorts: “You’ve got to wank us off…”</p><p>Adrian was shocked that his mates could be so cruel as to impose forfeits. He knew it was largely his own fault that he got his nob locked into the nub trainer, but wanking off Peter and Matt just wasn’t right somehow. Why should he have to pay a price to do something his mates could do anytime they liked. </p><p>“That’s not fair… why should I wank you off?” Adrian asked.</p><p>“Because I’ve got the key…” Peter said as he started to wank in front of Adrian, “If I cum before you agree to wank me, your nob stays locked up…”</p><p>Adrian gulped. He knew Peter was the fastest cummer of the three of them. On numerous occasions the boys had wanking games and Peter always won the ‘quick draw’ competition. Surprisingly for a thirteen year old boy, Adrian had no experience of mutual masturbation and so was extremely hesitant about wanking off Peter never mind having to wank Matt as well. But as it was Adrian vacillated for just a few seconds too long and watched as Peter gasped and squirted a jet of thin boy-cum across the enclosed space of the pillbox. A couple of seconds later, Matt too grunted before he shot a slim rope of almost clear spunk that landed on the floor in front of them.</p><p>Adrian looked at his friends wide-eyed. He looked down at Matt’s penis, still hard, but with a long string of glistening cum dangling from the tip. Adrian glanced at Peter’s nob. It too had a string of boy-goo swinging from the nob-end.</p><p>Adrian sucked in his lower lip: “Okay… I’ll do it…”</p><p>“Too late,” Peter said abruptly as he pulled up his shorts.</p><p>“... but…”</p><p>“Maybe next time… maybe later, eh?”</p><p>Matt chipped in as he too pulled up his shorts: “Yeah, later… I usually have a quick wank before mum calls me for tea. Pop round about four and we can do it in my bedroom… It’ll be ok, mum never comes in… you can wank me off no trouble…”</p><p>“But what about you?” Adrian asked Peter, “Will you be there as well? I mean, I’ve still got to wank you, haven’t I? And you’ve got the key, haven’t you?”</p><p>Peter and Matt could tell by Adrian’s nervous questions that they had their friend pretty much under their control, but they were canny enough not to overplay their hand.</p><p>“Sure… Scoot gave me the key to your do-hicky thing to look after,” Peter replied, “But I can’t get to Matt’s until later… mum wants me to do a couple of chores first…” Peter thought for a moment. Yes, this was going to be fun… why not, he thought? “No, hang on… I tell you what, why don’t you come over to my place by half four and you can wank me off… don’t leave it any later ‘cos I might still have some chores to finish before tea…”</p><p>Matt instinctively picked up on a flaw in the scheme; “But how will you know if Adrian’s wanked me off, Peter?”</p><p>“Cos I’ll tell him…” Adrian interjected.</p><p>“Yeah, but you could <i>say</i> you wanked me, but where’s the proof?” Matt pointed out.</p><p>“Good point,” said Peter and thought for a moment, although he’d already figured out a solution, “I know… tell you what, bring some of Matt’s spunk with you, that way I’ll know…”</p><p>“Are you out of your mind… you’re crazy if you think I’ll do that,” Adrian replied indignantly.</p><p>Peter shrugged his shoulders: “Up to you of course, but no spunk, no key… gotta see Matt’s spunk… then after you’ve wanked me off, I’ll unlock your... that thing on your nob… easy.”</p><p>Adrian was furious. He felt really let down by his friends. Jeez, Peter and Matt were his best mates by miles. They’d known each other since they were nippers and they’d done everything together ever since. Now they seemed to be enjoying themselves at Adrian’s expense… it wasn’t fair. Boys should stick together.</p><p>Peter sighed: “Look, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have got a key to that <i>thing</i>…”</p><p>“... but I haven’t got the key… you have,” Adrian pointed out.</p><p>“Yes, but that’s so you don’t get into trouble with your mum if she catches you not wearing it… I’m doing you a favour really,” Peter added magnanimously, “Anyhow, I’m only doing what Scoot asked me to do…”</p><p>“... in order to protect you,” Matt chipped in.</p><p>“Yeah… to protect you,” Peter agreed, “Otherwise you’d unlock that thing and wank yourself silly all day…”</p><p>“... but you wank yourself silly all the time… it’s not fair that I can’t,” Adrian said.</p><p>“But that’s the point,” Matt argued, “If you start wanking all the time, your mum’s bound to catch you at it… and if she finds that thing unlocked she’s going to want to know where you got the key… I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes if she finds out that you got it from Scoot…”</p><p>“I wouldn’t tell her,” Adrian said defiantly.</p><p>“Yeah, says he who told his mum in the first place that he wanked… ha, and when Scoot finds out you’ve snitched on him…”</p><p>Matt didn’t need to say anymore.</p><p>Adrian knew he had to do what he was told: “Ok… how am I going to bring Matt’s spunk over to your place?”</p><p>Peter grinned: “Well, it’s up to you… you could put it in a cup, but I wouldn’t want to walk all the way round to my house with it like that in case somebody stopped me and asked what it was… any ideas, Matt?”</p><p>“If it’s only a sample of my spunk you need, Peter, why don’t I squirt some in Adrian’s hair? No one’s going to…”</p><p>“<i>You’re mad</i>!! Both of you… stark, staring mad!” Adrian exclaimed, “... and what happens if someone asks why my hair is wet?”</p><p>“I think it’s great idea,” Peter said, “... and besides, no spunk, no key, no wank,” he repeated. He had a flash of inspiration, “Tell you what, nip home and put your speedos on… just your speedos and sneakers… tell whoever asks that you’re going swimming, or you’ve been swimming, that way if anyone asks why your hair looks wet on the way over to my place, you’ll have an explanation…”</p><p>Adrian’s jaw dropped. “You’re crazy! No one wears swimming trunks walking down the street… the swimming pool is miles away…”</p><p>“Ok… then just tell anyone who asks that you’re wearing trunks for a dare…”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s the sort of thing people expect boys to do,” Matt added.</p><p>“... and besides,” Peter said, “You’re going to have to get used to wearing speedos… ‘cos you might be wearing them some more…”</p><p>“What do you mean?” Adrian asked.</p><p>“I mean that if you want me to unlock your nob-trainer thing, you’re going to have to do all the forfeits Matt and me tell you to do… no questions… ok?” Peter said with a mischievous twinkle.</p><p>“You’re not serious… surely? Please say you’re kidding, right?” Adrian was horrified, but the more he protested, the weaker he looked and the more Peter and Matt realised they had their buddy under their complete control. Now they could look forward to a very entertaining summer holiday… at Adrian’s expense of course.</p><p>“Of course I’m serious… and I’m not kidding,” Peter said, “I’ve told you, I’m doing you a favour… you should be grateful to do whatever it takes to get that thing unlocked… imagine what it will be like to get that thing off and have a really good wank… feeling your nob… rubbing it… slipping your skin back… and then… wow… that feeling when you squirt spunk…” Peter rolled his eyes, “Think what it’ll be like… don’t you miss it?”</p><p>Adrian was almost salivating on hearing Peter’s tempting words: “Yes… of course I miss wanking… of course I do… you’d be the same if your mum had locked a trainer on your nob…”</p><p>“But she hasn’t… and that’s why you’ve got to do what me and Matt tell you…”</p><p>Adrian sucked in his lower lip again. He hated to show how he felt in front of his friends and above all hated to think what they would think of him if he didn’t rise to their challenges. Boys were supposed to do dares no matter how humiliating they might be… that was the whole point of dares.</p><p>Adrian nodded. He accepted the dare. He would go home, strip and put on his speedos.</p><p>“... not those baggy things you’ve been wearing either,” Matt chipped in, “Put on those old speedos you used to wear when we went swimming ages ago… I know you’ve still got them ‘cos you showed them me… y’know, the ones we had a laugh about ‘cos of how small they are…”</p><p>“But I was eleven when I wore those… I’ll never get into them…” Adrian protested.</p><p>“You will,” Matt assured him, “You will if you want Peter to unlock your nob…”</p><p>Adrian sighed. It was pointless trying to argue. He knew that if the situation was reversed, that if it was Matt or Peter locked in the nub trainer, he’d take just as much delight in imposing dares and forfeits on them as they were on him now.</p><p>The boys left their hideout and went their separate ways, Peter and Matt giggling to themselves as they thought of the fun they were going to have. Adrian, on the other hand, was more than ever resigned to his fate at the hands of his two best friends. Today it was the enforced wearing of his tiniest swimming trunks and having hair slicked with spunk… what next, Adrian wondered, but he was so frustrated and so desperate for a wank, he almost didn’t care.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>“What on earth are you wearing those for?” mum asked when she saw Adrian on his way out of the house wearing nothing more than a tiny pair of speedos he’d outgrown ages ago that now looked more like he was wearing the bottom half of a bikini. On his feet he wore his favourite pair of bright yellow sneakers.</p><p>Adrian blushed as well he might with his hands hovering around the trunks that hardly concealed his nub trainer encased boyhood. Indeed, so small and low cut were the speedos on him that it was perfectly clear Adrian had yet to grow any pubic hair: “It’s, er… a dare, mum… Matt and Peter dared me… they bet I couldn’t get into my old trunks, but I told them I could, so they dared me to wear them round to meet them… I’m going to Matt’s first…” he paused, “It’s a dare, mum… I’ve got to do a dare…”</p><p>Adrian’s mum looked him up and down and tut-tutted: “Honestly, you boys,” she sighed, “I don’t know where you get your silly ideas from… well, if you’re sure you know what you’re doing,” mum shook her head in disbelief when Adrian assured her that he did, “Well then, you’d better get off to Matthew’s… don’t be late home…”</p><p>Mum watched as Adrian left the house and walked hesitantly through the gate and along the pavement. He glanced around to give a half-hearted wave to his mum when he saw her standing on the doorstep watching him. She waved back and blew Adrian a kiss.</p><p>“<i>HOLY… Shhhheee</i>!! He did it!!” Matt whooped when he saw Adrian walking up the path to his house wearing nothing more than a pair of tiny speedos and sneakers. It immediately crossed Matt’s mind that if Adrian was prepared to walk around in public dressed in his old swimming trunks, then he and Peter could make him do almost anything! <i>Wow</i>! The thought made him feel hornier than ever… and his nob, already rock hard, started to ooze pre-cum in anticipation of being wanked off by Adrian and squirting spunk into his hair.</p><p>Matt couldn’t contain his glee when he ushered Adrian into his bedroom.</p><p>“Jeez, they’re small!” Matt said looking at Adrian’s speedos as he yanked down his shorts…</p><p>“You sure your mum won’t come in?”</p><p>“Course she won’t…” Matt’s nob sprung out and slapped against his bald pubis. He twisted his hips causing his stiff nob to wobble from side-to-side. “Com’n, if you’re going to wank me… better get a move on then…”</p><p>Adrian put his hand out to touch Matt’s nob. It felt really strange to feel another boy’s fully erect penis, its skin soft and as smooth as his own. Adrian immediately drew his hand away. The reminder of how his own nob felt before his mum locked it in the nub trainer was dreadful. He loved wanking and now he didn’t have the freedom to do it whenever he liked; now he had to convince Peter and Matt to unlock the trainer by doing forfeits. For the thousandth time Adrian thought how unfair it all was.</p><p>“Com’n… what’s up?” Matt said as he urged Adrian to masturbate him. “Haven’t forgotten how, have you?”</p><p>“Oh, ha-bloody-ha!” Adrian sneered, “I hope your mum locks your nob up… then you’ll see how it feels…”</p><p>“I know how I feel… and right now you need to wank me off and get my spunk in your hair, so kneel down… yes, now grab my nob… ouch! Don’t pull it down like that… it hurts… that’s it, wank me… ooh, that’s nice… I’ll tell you when I’m ready… just bow your head down and I’ll squirt it over your head so you can take it to show Peter…”</p><p>Adrian had only been masturbating Matt for a few minutes before Matt let him know that he was about to ejaculate.</p><p>“You’re good… you know that… ooh, so <i>gooood</i>… we should have done this <i>ages… a… goooo</i>!!”</p><p>Adrian felt the splatter of Matt’s boy-cum as it squirted into his hair. Some overshot and Adrian felt it trickling down the back of his neck. As if without thinking, Matt took hold of his penis and wiped it on Adrian’s hair.</p><p>“Aww… did you have to do that?” Adrian protested.</p><p>“Just making sure… you’d better rub my spunk in a bit… looks pretty obvious what you’ve got on your head…”</p><p>Adrian gingerly felt the sticky goo that was now plastered across his hair. He scooped up Matt’s cum that had dribbled down the back of his neck. Adrian looked at the spunk glistening on his fingers.</p><p>“Rub in all in…” Matt urged him, “There’s nothing here to wipe it off on…” This was true as Matt had taken the precaution of making sure his secret stash of a cum-stained face cloth, an old spunk encrusted t-shirt and tissues were well hidden.</p><p>Reluctantly Adrian did as he was told. Anything to make sure that Peter would unlock his nub trainer so that he could have a good wank. Adrian’s hair looked as though he’d been overdoing the gel. Spikes of cum covered hair stuck up all around his ears and he could already feel the skin on the nape of his neck tightening where traces of Matt’s spunk had begun to dry.</p><p>“What does it look like?” Adrian asked Matt.</p><p>Matt smiled: “Pretty wild… but no one’s going to guess…”</p><p>“Can’t I comb it?”</p><p>“Nah… better to leave it as it is, otherwise Peter won’t be able to tell you’ve wanked me off… you look cool… honest…”</p><p>Adrian stood up. His tiny bikini-sized speedos cut into him, they were so tight. He didn’t like the way Matt had said he thought they suited him. How can they possibly suit me? Adrian thought. He felt really nervous and very exposed wearing his old swimming trunks in public. It was humiliating making him wear them as the price for having a wank and even more humiliating making him walk all the way to Peter’s house with his hair all matted and sticky with spunk. But Adrian desperately needed to have a wank. He needed to masturbate so badly that he’d do anything to have Peter unlock the nub trainer.</p><p>And what made matters worse, as if that was at all possible, was that it wasn’t even a warm, sunny day. Adrian couldn’t even use the excuse of the weather being so fine as the reason for his wearing his absurdly brief swimming trunks. As he walked along the street Adrian couldn’t help but notice how people were looking at him; the grown-ups quizzical, the older teens sighing as if to make Adrian aware of how pathetic he looked to them. The younger kids weren’t backwards in coming forwards and pestered Adrian to tell them why he was wearing trunks.</p><p>“It’s a dare… I’m doing it for a dare… now buzz off!”</p><p>“What sort of dare?” one persistent eight year old asked.</p><p>Adrian wasn’t prepared to tell the boy the real reason, so that he could have a wank, even if the boy knew what a wank was, so he said the first thing that came into his head: “It’s an initiation… alright? I’ve got to do it… it’s part of my initiation…”</p><p>The boy was more puzzled than ever and Adrian was aware that he was attracting more and more attention from friends of the boy who now had Adrian surrounded: “Please… just let me get on… I’ll tell you about it later…”</p><p>Adrian didn’t think he could feel any more vulnerable than he already was, but he certainly did as he stood encircled by the boy and his friends, all of them fully dressed in contrast with Adrian’s single item of clothing, his skimpy little swimming trunks. There was something else that was worrying him and that was the time. He knew he had to be at Peter’s house by half four at the latest. Although he had no idea of the time, he knew these kids were holding him up.</p><p>“Please… look, I’ve got to go,” Adrian felt like a complete wimp for having to plead with boys nearly half his age and cursed Peter and Matt once more for making him wear a pair of ludicrously small speedos. If it wasn’t for them the boys wouldn’t have stopped him and held him up asking questions and now Adrian was pretty sure he’d be cutting it fine to get to Peter’s for half past four.</p><p>Adrian pushed his way past two of the smaller boys, but was alarmed when he felt their little fingers tugging at his swimming trunks.</p><p>“<i>Let go</i>!!” he cried as he slapped the hand of the boy who was pulling on his trunks.</p><p>Adrian herd a voice behind him. A woman’s voice: “Just what do you think you’re doing hitting that little boy?!”</p><p>The boy let go, putting his hands behind his back as if nothing had happened.</p><p>“He was pulling at my trunks…”</p><p>“That’s no reason for hitting him,” the woman remonstrated.</p><p>“But I’m late… I’m meeting someone… a friend… I said I’d meet him at half four…” Adrian was getting more and more anxious. He didn’t want to be late and again he cursed his friends for making him wear the tiny speedos.</p><p>“You should be setting an example to these young boys… and what in heaven’s name possessed you to wear your swimming trunks? It’s not even very sunny…”</p><p>“He’s wearing them for a dare…” one boy piped up.</p><p>“No… he said it was for a nishiation, or something,” another boy corrected him.</p><p>“Showing off, I call it,” was the woman’s verdict, “Nothing more than attention seeking… you should be ashamed of yourself… what sort of example do you think it is for these little boys?” then she peered at the top of Adrian’s head, “...and what on earth have you done to your hair? What have you put on it?” she asked.</p><p>“It’s… it’s, gel…” Adrian answered, saying the first thing that came to him.</p><p>“Doesn’t look much like gel to me,” the woman answered, “Are you sure it’s gel?”</p><p>Adrian was beside himself with worry and pleaded with the woman, telling her he’d be late.</p><p>“What do you mean ‘be late’, you already are, it’s nearly twenty to five now…” the woman told him.</p><p>“Oh no! I’m sorry… sorry for… I’ve got to go… sorry…” Adrian apologised his way out of further delay and ran the rest of the way to Peter’s house.</p><p>The woman hurrumpted: “Boys… I can’t think what he’s been up to, but that certainly wasn’t any sort of gel that I’ve seen…” She turned to the group of little boys still hanging about and told them to get along home as their mothers would be wondering where they were.</p><p><br /></p><p>“You’re late!” Peter snapped as he ushered Adrian upstairs to his bedroom. This immediately put Adrian on the defensive.</p><p>“Sorry, Peter… I got held up… these kids and then this woman… she asked what I’d got in my hair… it was dead embarrassing…”</p><p>Peter smiled. He thought it was funny: “Next time anyone asks, you tell them the truth… tell them it’s spunk…”</p><p>Adrian’s eyes popped out: “<i>What</i>? You’re not serious…” He seemed to overlook that Peter’s instruction implied that Adrian was to have more spunk rubbed into his hair in future.</p><p>“Why not?” Peter replied flippantly and then became serious, “You were late. You were supposed to be here at half four… so you’re going to have to do another forfeit…”</p><p>“But it wasn’t my fault I got held up… Peter, please… please don’t make me do any more forfeits…”</p><p>“But I have to… it’s the rules…”</p><p>“What d’you mean rules? What rules?” Now Adrian was confused as well as anxious and humiliated, “Nobody said anything about rules…”</p><p>“Don’t be daft… there’s got to be rules,” Peter explained, “Like me keeping the key…”</p><p>“But… but…” Adrian tried to think of an argument, but he was so desperate for Peter to unlock the nub trainer that he couldn’t think of anything else. Adrian bowed his head, then looked at Peter, sighed and said: “Ok… what do you want me to do?”</p><p>“First of all I need to make sure you wanked off Matt,” and as he spoke Peter ran his fingers across Adrian’s hair. He scraped up a glob of viscous boy-goo and held it up to his nose. He sniffed, “Hmm… smells like spunk…” Then Peter stuck out his tongue and with its tip carefully tasted a tiny bit of the goo coating his fingers.</p><p>“Tastes like spunk…”</p><p>“Of course it’s spunk… what do you think it is? Matt shot his spunk right into my hair just like he told you he would… some of it went down the back of my neck…”</p><p>“Here… you try some… see what you think…”</p><p>“I don’t need to try it… I know what it is…”</p><p>“Go on… I had some… lick some off my fingers, then I’ll know it’s Matt’s spunk…”</p><p>The logic of Peter’s argument escaped Adrian, but he wasn’t about to lose face to the person who held the key to his nub trainer. Adrian leant forward. He could smell the spunk coating Peter’s fingers. Gingerly he poked out his tongue. Adrian’s lips were barely parted, but they were open enough for Peter to push his cum covered fingers into Adrian’s mouth.</p><p>There was a strangled gasp from Adrian as he tried to move backwards. Peter laughed as Adrian stumbled back against his bed.</p><p>“<i>Got you</i>! <i>Got you</i>!” Peter cried.</p><p>Adrian spluttered: “You… you… yuck… that was a rotten trick…”</p><p>Peter yanked down his shorts. His penis sprang up, fully erect and smacked against his pubis.</p><p>“Well it sort of gets you in the mood for your forfeit…”</p><p>“What d’you mean?”</p><p>“We just agreed you have to do a forfeit…”</p><p>Adrian was getting tired. He’d agree to anything to have Peter unlock the nub trainer.</p><p>“Yeah… I guess so… what d’you want me to do?”</p><p>Peter waggled his stiff, bald four inch nob in front of Adrian.</p><p>“Can’t you guess?”</p><p>“Wank you off?”</p><p>“Nah… you’ve got to do a proper forfeit for being late… go on, have another guess…” Peter waggled his penis again.</p><p>Adrian realised what Peter meant: “Crikey!” he gulped, “You’ve got to be joking!”</p><p>Peter grinned. He’d never been sucked off before. It was supposed to be even better than wanking. He couldn’t wait.</p><p>“I can’t, Peter… I can’t… please don’t make me…”</p><p>Peter was still grinning: “Go on… you might like it…”</p><p>“I WON’T!! And I won’t let you stick your nob in my mouth…”</p><p>Peter sighed: “Fair enough… I’ll take the key back to Scoot in the morning and your nob’ll have to stay locked up until your mum unlocks for you… Do you think she’ll stand by and watch while you have a wank? Nah, I don’t think so… C’mon, what’s it to be?”</p><p>Defeated, Adrian knelt down in front of his friend. Peter moved forward until his penis was right in front of Adrian’s face. Adrian’s arms were at his side as he asked: “Spunk an’all?”</p><p>Peter could barely contain his excitement as he pushed his stiff nob down until its tip was lined up with Adrian’s lips. “Spunk an’ all…” he confirmed.</p><p>“Want me to wank you first?” Adrian asked, staring cross-eyed at Peter’s nob.</p><p>Adrian looked up for Peter’s answer. But Peter shook his head and, just like a magic trick, Adrian saw the key to the nub trainer held in Peter’s hand. Adrian parted his lips and let Peter ease his stiff nob into his mouth.</p><p>“Holy Shiiii… Ohhhh… Wow…”</p><p>Adrian looked up again to see Peter still holding the key. He rubbed the front of his tiny speedos, feeling his balls and the blasted nub trainer. Adrian, his mouth now stuffed full with Peter’s nob, fingered the trainer, telling himself it would soon be unlocked and that he’d have the best wank ever. Adrian felt Peter pushing his nob in further. It was rubbing the roof of his mouth and Adrian could taste Peter’s pre-cum before it trickled down his throat.</p><p>“Jeez… this is a-mazzing!!” Peter gasped as he felt his penis being sucked inside Adrian’s wet mouth. “Oh, yes buddy… yes… I’m so close!!”</p><p>“<i>PETER</i>!!” his mum’s voice called upstairs, “<i>PETER</i>!! Your tea’s ready… finish whatever you’re doing, wash your hands… tea’s on the table…”</p><p>“<i>YES, MUM… NEARLY FINISHED</i>!!” Peter gasped just as he squirted his boy-cum straight into Adrian’s mouth.</p><p>Peter’s mum called up again: “<i>ADRIAN</i>! Your mother phoned! She wants you back home straightaway…” There was a pause while she waited for a reply from Adrian.</p><p>“<i>ADRIAN</i>!! Did you hear me?!”</p><p>Adrian still had his mouth full. Peter slid his penis, slick with boy-cum, back out of Adrian’s mouth. Adrian still couldn’t speak as he now had a mouth full of Peter’s spunk. There was only one thing to do. He gulped and swallowed and gasped: “Yes, Mrs Brook” he called “… down in a sec…”</p><p>The last few words were delivered with deep resignation as Adrian realised there would be no chance of his nub trainer being unlocked for some fun in Peter’s bedroom. Peter saw the look of disappointment on Adrian’s face.</p><p>“Sorry… but there isn’t enough time,” Peter commiserated, “... but you were great… <i>fan-bloody-tastic</i>!”</p><p>Adrian looked at his mate with a wan smile. He ran a hand across his hair, still sticky with Matt’s boy-cum. In his mouth was the taste of Peter’s spunk.</p><p>Adrian wiped the back of his other hand across his lips. His day had been very disappointing, very disappointing indeed.</p><p><br /></p>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-47103207004065404422023-03-13T21:28:00.000+00:002023-03-13T21:28:49.385+00:00Let's Talk About...<p> Adrian looked up nervously from his homework. His mother had just come into his room and playfully tousled his short fair hair before putting her arm around his shoulder.</p><p>“It’s time you and I had a little talk, darling…” she said smiling with an air of forced jollity.</p><p>Adrian felt a tight knot in the pit of his stomach. His mum was only ever like this when he was in for one of her embarrassing ‘chats’. He had a feeling this was going to be one of the worst.</p><p>He’d seen his mum looking at a poster in the doctor’s surgery a couple of days ago when they were waiting for the practice nurse to examine his verruca. By the time he’d been called in to see the nurse, Adrian had noticed his mum putting a couple of leaflets in her handbag. The leaflets and the poster were clearly part of the same campaign.</p><p>Adrian had a bad feeling about it all. The poster featured a smiling mother with her arm around a boy who looked less than enthusiastic about his rôle in the picture. Indeed, the expression on the boy’s face looked like Adrian felt… anxious and worried. Above what was intended to be a homely picture of mother and young teenage son were the ominous words in large bold letters “<i><b>Let’s Talk About… Puberty for Boys!</b></i>” In the mother’s free hand could be seen the leaflets that Adrian’s own mother had picked up. It wasn’t possible from the picture to see precisely what the other leaflet was about, but Adrian could tell from the typeface and what little of the layout he could see, that it was going to be something equally as embarrassing. </p><p>Adrian’s mum sat down on his single divan bed. She patted the bedspread beside her: “Come and sit next to me, darling and we can have a nice little talk…”</p><p>The last thing it would be was a ‘nice’ little talk, Adrian thought as he twisted round in his chair to look at his mother: “Do we have to, mum? I’ve got loads to do…”</p><p>“But you don’t know what it is we have to talk about yet… Now whatever it is you want to do can wait. Come and sit next to me.”</p><p>Adrian decided to bite the bullet: “Is it that poster you saw?”</p><p>“What poster is that, darling?”</p><p>“You know…”</p><p>“No, I don’t know… you tell me.”</p><p>Adrian felt himself blushing. He hated it when he blushed. Getting red in the face made him feel so childish. He was thirteen for heaven’s sake, a teenager, yet every time something like this happened his face would light up making sure that anyone who saw it knew that he was nervous and embarrassed.</p><p>“What is it, darling?” his mother asked, “Come and sit down and tell me what’s up.”</p><p>“Nothing’s up, mum…”</p><p>“But you’re blushing… something must be making you blush.”</p><p>“It’s nothing…”</p><p>“Well then tell me about this poster you say I was looking at…”</p><p>Adrian felt his face getting hotter than ever, but managed to blurt out: “In the doctor’s… a poster… a poster about… about… puberty…”</p><p>“Oh, <i>that</i> poster… why didn’t you say so in the first place… now come and sit down,” mum said as she patted the bed again, “It’s time we had a little talk…”</p><p>“But, mum… I know all about… y’know puberty and stuff… I don’t need to talk about it…”</p><p>Adrian was getting more and more anxious. He’d be even more anxious if he knew that the other leaflet mum had picked up was called “<b><i>Let’s Talk About… Masturbation!</i> - A practical guide for mums of teen and pre-teen boys</b>”</p><p>“I’m sure you do, Adrian, but mummy’s got to be certain, so come and sit down with me and we’ll just have a little friendly chat… and you can explain everything you know to your mum.”</p><p>Adrian realised there wasn’t going to be any escape. He knew mum wouldn’t leave his room until she was ready. Adrian was already feeling more embarrassed than he could ever remember being in his whole life, but he sat down next to his mum in the hope of getting the ‘puberty talk’ over with. He’d laughed along with his mates when they’d made fun of their own experiences with ‘the talk’. Adrian didn’t feel quite so lighthearted about it now as his mum leant over to tousle his hair once more.</p><p>She smiled: “You’re going to be a big boy soon, Adrian…”</p><p>Adrian didn’t say anything. He was already a big boy having popped a boner, he was so nervous. He was feeling very uncomfortable and his stiff rod didn’t help matters. Mum thought her son was being a fidget, whereas Adrian was desperately trying to reposition his unwanted stiffy without mum guessing what he was up to.</p><p>Mum placed her hand on Adrian’s brow: “Nothing wrong is there, darling? Your forehead’s a bit hot and you are glowing… it’s not because of our little talk, is it? You shouldn’t be upset, darling… there’s nothing to worry about… mummy just wants to make sure her little boy understands what’s happening as he grows up…”</p><p>This was making Adrian feel worse than ever and the more he tried to tell his mum that he knew all he needed to know, the more intense his embarrassment became.</p><p>“Please, mum… just give me the leaflet if you want… I’ll read it, but I don’t want to talk about it…”</p><p>This was a red rag to mum: “Is there something… something you’re afraid to tell mummy? Something you don’t want her to know? Darling, you shouldn’t hide anything from mummy… come on, now what is it? I won’t be upset… is it about your little willy? Is that what it’s about, darling?”</p><p>Adrian didn’t think he could possibly get more embarrassed than he already was, but he felt his face getting hotter and hotter and hotter. His ears were tingling and his throat was suddenly dry as a desert. He stared across his bedroom and focussed his gaze on an Airfix model he’d been working on, unable to look at his mother who was smiling sweetly, waiting for Adrian’s reply.</p><p>When no answer was forthcoming mum patted Adrian on the knee: “You know lots of boys think their willies aren’t very big at your age, darling, but you shouldn’t worry… I’m sure you see lots of willies at school…”</p><p>“It’s not that…” Adrian almost snapped at his mum. She’d not seen him nude for over a year. How would she know what his penis looked like? And he was offended that she would think it was still the same little tiddler it was when she last set her eyes on it. A lot had happened in the last twelve months… far more than he was prepared to confide in with anyone other than his best mates.</p><p>Mum sensed Adrian’s disquiet when she mentioned his penis, but what she said next didn’t help.</p><p>“I’m sure your penis is much bigger now, darling… I bet yours is even bigger than lots of boys you see at school…”</p><p>What is a boy supposed to say when his mum says something like that? Deny it and it implies he’s only got a little boy willy; agree and this boast is very likely to come back somehow to haunt him.</p><p>Adrian chose to stay silent, but this didn’t help.</p><p>“Oh, darling… is it still as small as it was when I last saw it a year ago?” she put her arm around Adrian’s shoulders and pulled him close, “My poor boy… don’t be upset, lots of boys are late bloomers like you… there, there, try not to worry…”</p><p>“<i>Please</i>, mum… it’s not that… <i>please</i>, do we have to talk about this?”</p><p>But mum carried on. She wasn’t going to neglect her maternal duty. Boys had to understand that their mums could be relied upon. Boys could confide in their mums; ask any questions and be sure of sympathetic advice.</p><p>“Is it something else, darling? Perhaps something you’re not sure about?”</p><p>Adrian groaned inwardly, she was going to talk about wanking, he thought.</p><p>“... because when little boys become big boys…”</p><p>“<i>PLEEEASE</i>, mum…”</p><p>“Darling, there’s nothing to be frightened of…”</p><p>“I’m NOT frightened, mum… I just don’t see the point… I didn’t ask you to…”</p><p>Mum was warned by the helpful leaflet that boys can be ever so shy and unhelpful when they are encouraged to talk about how their bodies change during puberty.</p><p>Mum patted her son’s knee: “I know it’s difficult for you, darling, but mummy wants to make sure you understand what’s happening to your body when you start puberty… It can be very frightening for a boy if he doesn’t know about certain things… and that’s why our little talk is so important…”</p><p>Adrian felt his face getting hotter and hotter as his embarrassment grew more intense.</p><p>Mum smiled sweetly again: “... and there’s something else, darling,” She ran her fingers through Adrian’s hair as she spoke, “I wonder if you know about it already… hmm? You might have heard other boys talking...”</p><p>Adrian’s embarrassment shot off the scale and left the planet. How could this possibly get worse? For a nanosecond he was tempted to tell his mum that he knew she meant masturbation, but thought it better to keep quiet. For of course Adrian knew about masturbation, he was thirteen for heaven’s sake. What boy of thirteen <i>didn’t</i> know about masturbation… and from practical experience at that?</p><p>“... boys talking about playing with themselves,” mum continued, quite unabashed and blissfully unaware of her son’s embarrassment, “When boys have erections… that’s when your penis gets stiff, darling, they… well they use their fingers and hands to rub… to stimulate their penis… and if they’re old enough… developed enough, I should say… they can ejaculate… so that a special fluid comes out of their penis…”</p><p>Adrian’s throat was drier than ever, but he managed to croak out a response, enough to acknowledge that he was listening, but no more. But that wasn’t enough.</p><p>“If you want to ask me, or tell me anything, darling… mummy will understand.”</p><p>There was an awful silence in the bedroom. The more Adrian tried to think of something to say… something that wouldn’t incriminate him, the more difficult it became to say anything at all.</p><p>The silence continued. It could have only lasted a minute, but it felt like an eternity for Adrian. Yet he couldn’t think of a way out, a way to put an end to his misery. He couldn’t understand why his mum had suddenly taken it into her head that he needed this ‘talk’ in the first place.</p><p>Mum stroked Adrian’s hair. He found this intensely irritating, knowing it was the precursor to every boy’s worst nightmare.</p><p>“Have you done it, darling?”</p><p>There was another agonising pause.</p><p>“I spoke to one of the nurses while you were having your verruca seen to. She told me that lots of boys play with themselves at your age… it’s a phase boys go through, darling… the nurse gave me a leaflet that explains all about how boys grow out of it as they get older...”</p><p>Adrian still couldn’t bring himself to say anything and stared fixedly at the wall opposite. Mum stroked his hair some more and Adrian understood that he wasn’t going to be able to appease his mum with anything but the truth. He nodded and immediately felt as if his special secret had been wrenched away and taken from him. Now mum knew he masturbated and knowing what mums were like, it wouldn’t be long before this fact would become available to a wider conclave.</p><p>Adrian was forced to speak, if only to plead: “You… you won’t tell anyone, will you?”</p><p>“The leaflet said you would be secretive, but darling you really shouldn’t be… I’m sure that when you’re a bit older you’ll wonder why you made such a fuss… there’s no need to fret about such a silly thing…”</p><p>There was another long pause, which to Adrian felt like an age, before mum spoke again. Adrian had a feeling mum wouldn’t be satisfied with just knowing he masturbated, he knew she’d want more.</p><p>And so it was.</p><p>“When did you start playing with your willy, darling? Have you been doing it for a while?”</p><p>It was bad enough to know that mum now knew he masturbated and Adrian wasn’t keen that she should know any more details.</p><p>“Come on, darling… tell mummy… it’s important that I know what you’ve been doing. You haven’t even told me if you’re making semen… that special fluid, yet,” Adrian didn’t answer, he was too busy praying for the floor to open up and allow him to escape his overwhelming embarrassment. “Well, have you? I haven’t seen any stains on your sheets, so I know you’ve not had any wet dreams, but according to the leaflet that doesn’t mean you’re not producing semen, because when you masturbate…”</p><p>This was all getting far too much and Adrian interrupted his mother as forcefully as he dared: “<i>Pleease</i>, mum… it’s not fair making me… asking me… all these questions…”</p><p>“I’m only trying to help, darling… mummy only wants to do what’s best for her little boy…”</p><p>Mum paused and stroked Adrian’s forehead, pushing his fringe back. Mum’s other hand patted Adrian’s thigh. Adrian knew the talk wasn’t over.</p><p>“Come on, darling… tell mummy… I don’t want us to have any secrets… The leaflet says that boys sometimes masturbate once, or even twice every day. That seems an awful lot…” Adrian cringed, he knew what his mum’s next question would be. After a short pause she asked: “How often do you masturbate, darling?”</p><p>Adrian didn’t think once or twice a day was excessive, far from it. His ‘personal best’ was seven times in a day during one unforgettable sleepover when he and three friends wanked themselves dry in an effort to see which of them could cum the most. Adrian was judged second after the boys carefully measured each other’s cum, having ejaculated into glass tumblers during their group <i>wank-a-thon</i>.</p><p>Unsurprisingly Adrian was more than a little economical with the truth and told his mum he only masturbated once or twice a week. He was blushing so much by this point that any extra redness of his face caused by this fib could not be detected.</p><p>Mum thought that while her son’s self restraint was admirable, exemplary even, she thought it best to follow the advice given in the leaflet and encourage Adrian to completely abstain from masturbation.</p><p>“These experts,” she said looking at the leaflet, “say that when boys masturbate it ‘negatively affects their athletic abilities when they do physical exercises like swimming and sports’” mum continued and read out some more, “‘experts recommend boys stop masturbating altogether to enhance their performance’… that seems pretty clear to me, darling… they’re the experts, so they should know what they’re talking about.”</p><p>Mum tousled Adrian’s hair again: “It’s a simple enough thing to do, isn’t it? You said you only masturbated a couple of times a week, so why not stop doing it completely? That should be easy enough and I know how much you enjoy PE lessons, darling and your swimming classes at school… these experts say you will be fitter and much better at sport if you didn’t masturbate all the time…”</p><p>“But I don’t do it all the time, mum…” To Adrian the thought of giving up his favourite hobby was appalling. He didn’t think wanking had any affect on his ability to play sport… if it did he’d be just as bad as those losers who never get picked for a team until last, ‘cos nobody wants them on their side. Maybe they wank too much, Adrian thought. I’ll remember to tell them to keep their hands out of their shorts in future if they want to be picked.</p><p>“Well, if you don’t masturbate very often, you won’t miss it… will you?”</p><p>It was beginning to dawn on Adrian that he was headed down a blind ally. Mum had all the arguments against masturbating worked out and it could result in only one outcome whatever he said. Adrian’s adolescent mind worked feverishly in a desperate attempt think of a way to avoid the inevitable. Like any normal, healthy teen boy he <i>needed</i> to masturbate. It was the way boys got to relax and enjoy themselves. Was there any better way for a boy to have fun than to take part in a masturbation contest with his buddies? If there was Adrian hadn’t heard of it. There was no way he was ever going to stop wanking and certainly not because of some half-baked ideas that his mum got from some so-called ‘experts’ who’d written a leaflet she’d picked up while he was having his verruca treated. Adrian, discreetly as he was able to, crossed his fingers.</p><p>“No, mum, I suppose I wouldn’t…”</p><p>“So you’ll stop doing it then… stop masturbating?”</p><p>Adrian nodded, his fingers crossed so hard they hurt, “Yes, mum…” he managed to croak before he was engulfed in a big hug.</p><p>“Oh, darling I’m so proud of you… the leaflet said it would be really difficult to persuade you to stop masturbating… but you’ve shown how grown up you really are…”</p><p>Adrian, perhaps unwisely, thought to add a few words: “It’s ok, mum… I don’t do it much anyway… only little boys do it…”</p><p>“That’s right, darling and just think of how much healthier you’ll be… with mummy’s help you won’t ever be tempted ever again…”</p><p>Adrian's mind raced. He didn’t like the sound of that. What sort of ‘help’ did she mean?</p><p>Mum hugged her son. She was so proud of him, but the nurse she spoke to at the clinic while Adrian was having his verruca treated had warned her that what boys promised and whether boys kept to those promises were quite often two different things entirely.</p><p>“W-what do you mean, mum?” Adrian asked nervously. He had a bad feeling. Something wasn’t right.</p><p>“Oh, it’s just something the nurse mentioned… nothing to worry about,” mum pulled back and ruffled Adrian’s hair again, “I’m so proud of you, darling,” she repeated, “So very proud… you really promise me you won’t masturbate?”</p><p>Adrian’s fingers were still crossed as he answered his mum: “Of course not, mum… I only did it when I was bored… it’s no big deal, honest.”</p><p>“Oh, you’re such a good boy…” Mum paused which made Adrian anxious. He sensed there was something else… something he hadn’t foreseen.</p><p>“The nurse told me about these… they help boys to keep their promises,” She produced a small, thimble-like device from her pocket and held it up. Adrian had no idea what it was. “I know you’ll be a good boy, Adrian… I know you’ll keep your promise, but this will help if you’re ever tempted to play with yourself and masturbate…”</p><p>Adrian was still puzzled as to the exact nature of the thing mum was holding between her fingers and thumb. He could see there was also a teeny, miniature padlock, but Adrian still couldn’t figure out the connection between the little device and not him wanking.</p><p>Mum started to explain: “It’s called ‘<i>The Nub Trainer</i>’ and it fits over your penis…”</p><p>“<i>What</i>!!!” Adrian exploded, “<i>That thing</i>?! But, mum… <i>it’s tiny</i>!! You can’t be serious!”</p><p>“The nurse did say that…”</p><p>“I can’t, mum… I can’t…” Adrian was on the verge of tears now he realised what the nub trainer was designed for… what it was capable of doing. Adrian was horrified.</p><p>“It’s only to help you to keep your promise, darling. You told me that big boys don’t masturbate… you’re a big boy now, aren’t you, darling?” Adrian nodded in agreement. “You’re not a little boy who plays with himself, are you?” Mum asked and Adrian shook his head. “Then where’s the problem about wearing the trainer on your penis?”</p><p>“I… I, it’s just that… I don’t need it, mum… I’ll be a good boy… honest I will… you’ll see… I don’t need you to put that thing on my…”</p><p>Mum smiled. This was just the reaction the nurse had predicted. Boys were funny about chastity trainers, the nurse had said. It was silly really when you thought about it, why boys got so upset about wearing a little gizmo to help them stop wasting their time was anybody’s guess.</p><p>“I believe you, darling, but what if you’re tempted? You don’t want to disappoint mummy do you? But wearing the trainer will mean you’ll never be even tempted to masturbate… won’t it?”</p><p>Adrian had to agree, but even he could figure out that temptation and desire were going to be tough to distinguish apart when he discovered how frustrated he’d feel when denied an orgasm. If only he hadn’t gone and said masturbation was no big deal. It was his own fault. What was he going to say to his mates?! Jeez, when they saw his nob in that thing…</p><p>“It’s so simple, darling and the nurse said you’ll soon get used to wearing it… but of course I’ll be taking it off at bathtime so I can wash you properly…”</p><p>“But, mum… I’m thirteen! You haven’t given me a bath in ages… why can’t I take it off at bathtime myself?”</p><p>“Oh, darling… the nub is locked on to keep you safe… it needs a key to unlock the little padlock and only mummy has the special key…”</p><p>This was getting worse by the second, Adrian thought. Not only was he going to be locked in the nub trainer, but he was no longer to be allowed the privacy of his own bathtime. How was he going to explain all of this to his friends? How was he going to join in their wanking games if his nob was stuck in the trainer? Adrian wondered if his mates could figure out a way to take the thing off his penis. It seemed unlikely.</p><p>“Shall we put it on, darling?” Mum said cheerily, “Stand up and I’ll help you off with your shorts…”</p><p>“Mum… do I have to? Please, I won’t masturbate, honest I won’t… you don’t need to put that thing on me, mum… please don’t…”</p><p>“Now don’t be silly, darling… it won’t hurt and you’ll feel much more confident about keeping your promise once the nub is on… come on, up you get…”</p><p>Adrian got up slowly. Crossing his fingers had been a complete waste of time. He stood in front of his mum and, head down, watched as she tugged his play shorts right down to his ankles. Adrian always changed into his favourite pair of play shorts when he came home from school. He was glad to get out of his school uniform and into something less formal. Even though his mum had bought this particular pair of play shorts when Adrian was eleven and they were now rather thin and frayed, they were still comfortable, just what a boy needed change into after a day at school. Adrian never wore underpants with his play shorts, preferring the feeling of freedom… just in case he fancied a quick wank before tea.</p><p>“Oh, Adrian, how cute… you’re still my nice smooth boy,” Mum said when she saw her son’s pubis was still quite bald, “Now let’s see about putting this nub thing on, shall we? Being so smooth and hairless should make it a lot easier…”</p><p>Adrian couldn’t stop himself from continuing to plead… well, what boy about to have his penis locked into a chastity device wouldn’t? “Please, mum… please don’t put that thing on me… I won’t do it ever again, only don’t… please, mum…”</p><p>Mum looked up. She was just trying to figure out the instructions for fitting the nub trainer: “Oh, darling, don’t you see, if you’re not going to masturbate like you say, it’s not going make the slightest difference whether or not I put the trainer on your penis, is it? But I want you to feel safe from temptation. I really don’t see why you’re making such a fuss… and now you’ve promised me you’re not going to masturbate you shouldn’t be in the least concerned about wearing the trainer, should you?”</p><p>Adrian couldn’t think what to say in reply and his mum took this to signal his acceptance of the situation. Meanwhile she pressed on with trying to figure out how the nub trainer was to be fitted. It all looked so simple when she saw one being fitted to a boy in the shop where she’d bought the device. The boy was perhaps slightly younger than Adrian but his penis was, if anything, slightly larger than her son’s, so, as she looked at Adrian’s penis in front of her, she thought she shouldn’t have any difficulty with getting the nub trainer fitted properly, although mum had to admit the trainer was rather small. But never one to be defeated by a challenge, mum took hold of Adrian’s scrotum and gently eased her son’s testicles through the circular part of the trainer. Next she pulled Adrian’s penis through and then squeezed it into the little cage which was then attached to the ring and secured by the tiny padlock. Adrian’s penis was now constrained by the nub trainer.</p><p>Mum looked up at Adrian: “There, that was much simpler than I thought… how does it feel, darling? Is it nice and comfy?”</p><p>Adrian was shocked at how easy it had been for his mum to put him into chastity, although ‘chastity’ was probably not a word he recognised, but he certainly understood that he was never going to be able to have a wank whenever he felt like it… not with that thing on his nob.</p><p>“It feels odd, mum… are you sure it’s ok for me to wear it? I mean… y’know… is it safe?”</p><p>“They were very helpful in the shop and they assured me that the nub was perfectly safe for boys of all ages… in fact there was a boy being fitted while I was in the shop and he was younger than you, so I don’t think you need to worry about it…”</p><p>And so Adrian found his penis locked into the nub trainer. With all hopes gone of ever again being able to masturbate he was cruelly reminded of his fate when a nascent erection was painfully pinched by the tiny trainer cage.</p><p>Adrian’s heart sank even further when he remembered he would be meeting up with his best friends Matt and Peter for a sleepover at Mrs Vosper’s house in a week’s time. Mrs Vosper was Matt’s mum and she had a thing about boys wearing shortie pyjama-tops for bed when they came to stay. Matt was of course used to wearing these, but his friends never got used to them. Adrian and Peter were shocked when they first found out what they were to wear for bedtime. It wasn’t so bad wearing them upstairs in Matt’s bedroom, that was fun! But it was dead embarrassing as Mrs Vosper always insisted that when the boys were all washed and dressed for bed in their shortie pyjama-tops, they came back downstairs for a glass of milk and a snack before bedtime. Wearing nothing but their little pyjama-tops it was embarrassing enough for Adrian and Peter to be seen by Mrs Vosper, but simply awful if there was anyone else who happened to be visiting.</p><p>And on top of this for Adrian there would be the added humiliation of explaining his nub trainer to his friends. However the response from the boys when they met up a couple of days before the sleepover party, wasn’t what Adrian had expected… well, the fact of the matter was that Adrian didn’t know <i>what</i> the response of his best buddies would be, but when he refused to get his nob out for a wanking game in Peter’s bedroom, Adrian was set upon and had his play shorts tugged down from behind by Peter who saw a look of bewildered shock on Matt’s face. Matt, standing in front of Adrian, was staring, gobsmacked, at the nub trainer.</p><p>Matt pointed to between Adrian’s thighs: “What’s happened to your nob?! What is that thing?”</p><p>Peter quickly twisted round to look. He whistled and then exclaimed: “<i>WOW</i>! What’s <i>that</i>?!”</p><p>Adrian was forced to explain about the nub trainer: “Mum’s got the key to the padlock… I can’t take it off…” Then he told Peter and Matt how his mum had wheedled out of him how he masturbated, “... but I told her I only did it once or twice a week…” The boys fell about laughing before Adrian told them how his mum had led him into a trap by getting him to admit that in that case he wouldn’t miss masturbating if he only did occasionally.</p><p>“But you still want to wank?” Peter asked incredulously.</p><p>“Course I do,” Adrian replied somewhat indignantly, “Do you think I’m stupid… I really want to wank with you… you can’t imagine how much I want a wank… it’s been four days since mum locked up my nob… <i>four days without a wank</i>...”</p><p>“Wow!” Peter repeated, “That’s just so cool… I mean you must be like horny the whole time!”</p><p>Peter was stating the obvious of course. Both he and Matt could see the frustration etched on Adrian’s face.</p><p>“<i>Of course I am</i>!” Adrian spat out his reply with considerable feeling.</p><p>Matt spoke up: “Isn’t there something we can do? I mean there must be a way of getting that thing off Adrian’s nob… I mean he’s never going to be able to wank with that on…”</p><p>Peter frowned: “Never… unless…” he grinned as an idea occurred to him.</p><p>“Unless… what?” Adrian asked, “Not one of your stupid ideas, I hope, ‘cos if it is you can forget it…”</p><p>“I was just thinking,” Peter explained, “If we could get hold of the key for the padlock and make a copy…”</p><p>“How are you going to do that?” Matt asked.</p><p>“Yeah… difficult,” Peter conceded, “... or we could find a friendly locksmith…”</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-66346262401027760842023-01-28T22:54:00.001+00:002023-02-02T11:53:13.101+00:00Mrs Connelly's Red Indian Summer Camp for Boys Part 2<p><br /></p><p>Art had been puzzled by the photo of the previous year’s boy counsellors in the brochure sent by Mrs Connelly, the same brochure he and Leo had looked at before they came to the summer camp. Art couldn’t quite put his finger on the reason his predecessors looked so uncomfortable in the picture, but it was worrying him. When Mrs Connelly casually mentioned the ‘Health and Welfare Classes’, classes Art had seen referred to in the brochure, Art began to sense there was another function of the boys’ summer camp that he and Leo had not been made aware of.</p><p>“Maybe if they’d told us what it was all about we wouldn’t have signed up for it,” he thought to himself the first night as he lay in his bunk listening to Leo groaning as he masturbated in the bunk below.</p><p>“There’s something fishy about the whole set-up,” he told himself, “Why did Mrs Connelly want the girls to leave me with some pubic hair? And what’s all this about wearing loincloths? And the girl counsellors… what’s all that about? And these ‘Health and Welfare Classes’...?”</p><p>There was a loud grunt from below as Leo sprayed cum all over his chest.</p><p>Art was too occupied trying to figure out what was going on at the summer camp to masturbate properly. Instead he drifted off to sleep holding his softening penis.</p><p>As it turned out Art was correct in deducing that there was more to the boys’ summer camp than met the eye. Mrs Connelly had a well deserved reputation for helping boys come to terms with the transitional period of puberty. She knew that most mothers of young boys found the long summer holidays burdensome, particularly if they were working mums. It was generally accepted among mothers that boys, particularly during puberty, couldn’t be left unsupervised. There was also the tricky subject of masturbation which needed to be properly addressed, something that not all mothers were able to manage successfully.</p><p>Mrs Connelly’s summer camps offered the ideal place in which boys could be organised and controlled while they were trained to resist the urge to constantly play with themselves. In order to minimise clothing, as well as the advantages to be gained from the health benefits of lots of sun and fresh air, Mrs Connelly came up with the idea of a Red Indian themed summer camp at which all boys would be required to wear the traditional clothing of the redskin native (well, Mrs Connelly’s interpretation of course). She knew that pretty well all healthy young boys within the age group of her ‘happy campers’ would relish the opportunity to play Red Indian themed games. Running themselves ragged during a full day of supervised activities would also help keep the problem of boyish nocturnal ‘games’ under control.</p><p>Word soon got round the mothers’ grapevine about Mrs Connelly’s summer camp and it wasn’t long before each season saw her Red Indian Camp fully booked. For the younger boys it was as close to a paradise on earth as they were ever likely to see. The only flies in the ointment were the girls who acted as counsellors. If these younger boys had their way they’d carry on playing, hiking and swimming until they dropped, exhausted to the ground. It was the girls’ job to make sure these boys had plenty of time for rest as well as play. They also were under strict instructions to make sure the boys were scrubbed clean and presentable for mealtimes. Tin baths were hanging up on an outside wall of the bunkhouse for this very purpose.</p><p>For older boys things were a little different. Boys over thirteen were often sent to the Red Indian summer camp for reasons, other than that of getting plenty of fresh air and exercise. Mrs Connelly long ago realised that during the long summer months spent at camp boys would have certain natural urges that would need to be dealt with on a regular basis. It shouldn’t be too much of a surprise for you to be told the summer camp was a place in which boys’ ‘playfulness’ was the subject of no-nonsense supervision, indeed control of these, some would say ‘natural’ urges, was the very reason mums sent their little treasures to Mrs Connelly in the first place. Word had definitely got round that masturbation was kept very firmly under control at Mrs Connelly’s Red Indian summer camps.</p><p>During the evening before the first arrivals at the summer camp Mrs Connelly called together the girl and boy counsellors for a talk to explain their duties. Mrs Connelly was never one to beat about the bush when explaining her requirements, so Art and Leo were both shocked and horrified when she began to tell them how they were expected to behave.</p><p>In front of the girls Mrs Connelly calmly told the boys: “The reason a lot of boys are sent to my summer camp is because they have been caught masturbating… some of them masturbating excessively, while others have even become chronic masturbators. Your primary duty as my boy counsellors is to ensure the boys in your charge behave themselves. You will not allow them to indulge in self-abuse. Furthermore you will set these boys an example by desisting from masturbation yourselves… I suggest that you explain to them how masturbation was ruining your athletic performance - perfectly true for both of you - and for that reason you stopped masturbating…”</p><p>“The boys that come to the summer camp are at an age at which they will look up to and emulate you older boys. I fully expect you both of you to abide by the requirement to desist from masturbating for the entire duration of your stay here. That shouldn’t be too difficult if you stop to consider the repercussions should you fall short of my expectations… Your mother would be most upset to hear that I have had to let you go, Leo… don’t look so surprised, the letter from your mother’s friend was most informative as to your situation. I know that Art will sensible enough to help you curb your inclinations, as I’m sure that he is keen not to have certain aspects of your youthful relationship made known…”</p><p>These words were accompanied by much whispering among the girls and stunned, red-faced, open-mouthed silence from the boys.</p><p>It was of course plain, bare-faced blackmail and the reason no sensible older boys volunteered to work as counsellors. Mrs Connelly always managed to get some embarrassing information about the boys that helped her to ‘persuade’ them to fall in line with her methods of masturbation control.</p><p>The mouths of both Art and Leo fell open. Art knew they were stuffed. There was no denying Mrs Connelly had the upper hand. But Art knew that Leo would scuffle about trying to find a way out of their plight. It would be up to Art to make sure Leo didn’t do anything stupid. ‘Fat chance,’ he thought, but he had to try.</p><p>But there was another bombshell from Mrs Connelly: “Now I don’t expect you boys to last the entire summer without… how shall I put it, relieving the inevitable build-up of certain bodily fluids…”</p><p>Leo was puzzled, but Art had an inkling of what Mrs Connelly was going to say.</p><p>“... during the Health and Welfare Classes for the older boys, in which category you are both included, the girl counsellors will demonstrate clinical milking procedures…”</p><p>Art could help but gulp red-faced: “You mean…?”</p><p>“Yes, I will be training the girls… it will be very much ‘<i>hands-on</i>’.” Mrs Connelly rarely joked about anything as serious as boyhood masturbation, but this was one joke even she found difficult to resist.</p><p>Leo grinned. The penny had finally dropped: “<i>Wicked</i>!” he blurted out. As far as Leo was concerned it was simply going to save him from developing enormous wrist and forearm muscles.</p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">oooOooo</p><p><br /></p><p>When Mrs Harper found out about Mrs Connelly’s Red Indian Summer Camp for Boys it was the answer to her prayers. She had been looking after Christopher, a neighbour’s fourteen year old son who had managed to lock himself out of his parent’s house after they had left for urgent business reasons. Locking himself out might not have been too serious if it was not for the fact that Christopher had no clothes on. He was in fact left totally nude after playing a silly game. Janet Harper had been more than happy to look after Christopher while his parents were away. Admittedly it had been short notice, but what are neighbourhood friends for if not to help out when needed? Christopher had at least been able to don a Red Indian play outfit to participate in games of Cowboys and Indians organised by Mrs Harper’s ten year old son, Terry, although the loincloth never seemed to stay on for very long after Christopher was captured by the cowboys. Christopher also soon found that wearing a flimsy buckskin loincloth was not at all like wearing the proper play-clothes that he’d been used to, since a boy had to be very careful to stop the flaps from flying about and revealing rather more than a boy would like to see revealed.</p><p>Christopher’s parents had been due to arrive back any day soon, but for reasons Mrs Harper couldn’t quite fathom their return had had to be postponed. Could she look after Christopher for a little longer? Well frankly, no she should could not. Obviously she would if she’d been able to, but family commitments prevented her from so doing. So now Mrs Harper needed someone else to take care of Christopher. Fortuitously she heard about Mrs Connelly’s summer camp and got Christopher’s parents to agree he could be sent there. In passing she happened to mention this to Mrs Park, Francis’ mother, that Christopher was going to Mrs Connelly’s camp.</p><p>“What a splendid idea!” Mrs Parks enthused, “Francis can go along too. Those two boys have been getting famously and I’m sure they’ll be glad of each other’s company…”</p><p>Everything seemed to fall into place when Wendy, Francis’ very understanding girlfriend, offered to drive the boys to the camp. Wendy and Mrs Parks had got on like a house on fire ever since the day Wendy had called at her boyfriend’s house and found him dressed in a ridiculously small Red Indian play costume. Francis was nearly seventeen. Instead of being annoyed at his infantile behaviour, Wendy was charmed and thought Francis looked so cute, particularly when she saw that his young friend, Christopher was wearing a similar outfit. The two boys standing side by side looked adorable she thought, but when she discovered there was a significant difference between the boys’ costumes, her delight knew no bounds.</p><p>Wendy gasped when she found out the boys had swapped outfits and that Francis was wearing a tenderfoot loincloth… well, she actually gasped when it was explained to her how the tenderfoot loincloth had no rear flap. But let’s be honest, the rear flap on these play costumes hardly covered anything anyway. The strip of buckskin was thinner and shorter than the one at the front and of course the natural curves of a boy’s bottom meant that it what little of it there was simply dangled in mid-air.</p><p>Later that same afternoon Wendy had made another fascinating discovery, this time in the garden of Mrs Park’s house, more particularly among the overgrown patch of bamboo at the bottom of the garden. There she saw her gorgeous, loincloth clad boyfriend hiding in the shrubbery masturbating. She could see Christopher move and say something to Francis who was in the very act of ejaculating. Wendy watched amused as the gooey mess splattered over Christopher’s tummy and legs, before she stepped forward to let her now horrified boyfriend know how she had seen everything. It seemed to Wendy that Francis was more concerned about his mother finding out what he’d been up to than the undoubted humiliation of being caught masturbating by his girlfriend. Understanding how Francis was caught, excuse the expression, between a rock and a hard place, Wendy assured the nervous boy she would say nothing to his mother.</p><p>What girl wouldn’t use this state of affairs to her her advantage? As it happens Wendy’s needs were modest. She was perfectly happy to put her own interpretation on how Francis came to be playing games of Cowboys and Indians with boys a lot younger than himself. Wendy decided to ‘indulge’ her boyfriend and treat it as though he <i>wanted</i> to play dressed in a Red Indian costume which included an eye-wateringly small loincloth. She understood that Francis would have to have a reason for indulging his ‘passion’ for dressing up as a Red Indian. That reason was obvious, Wendy realised. Francis, the noblest of teenagers, wanted to help Christopher, who was himself already a little too old to be see playing little boy games. Wendy began to construct a narrative that would see Francis wearing his little Red Indian outfit at every opportunity.</p><p>Christopher, as we have seen, had very little choice but to wear a Red Indian costume, since the alternative was total nudity. Wendy’s view saw that Francis was behaving in a generous and considerate manner in befriending the younger boy, Christopher. Her ‘interpretation’ was that her boyfriend was dressing up in the ridiculous play outfit to make Christopher feel better about his situation, although she was well aware of the truth, that Francis had been made to wear the Red Indian outfit by his younger sisters encouraged by his mother. At every opportunity Wendy, having decided Francis was wearing this absurdly revealing costume of his own free will, would praise him and the fact that a boy of sixteen was prepared to run about almost naked for the sake of friendship. This was an act of kindness that Wendy was determined to support. The fact that Wendy found Francis’ continuing humiliation a source of delight was of course neither here nor there.</p><p>Much to Francis’ embarrassment Wendy, with a straight face, had told Mrs Parks all about the fancy dress party she, Francis and Christopher had attended. Once more Wendy had put her own particular spin on events, giving the impression that Francis actually wanted to go to the party once he realised that it would help Christopher to enjoy himself. Mrs Parks didn’t believe a word of this. She knew how self-centred Francis was, but she enjoyed Wendy’s light-hearted deception and so was happy to go along with what was said.</p><p>“It was quite by accident,” Wendy explained, “It was only because the boys were wearing their Red Indian outfits that Jill, the girl at the petrol station, mentioned how she’d only just that minute seen some other boys dressed up in lederhosen and then this nice lady, Mildred Lake, had pulled up with her two children who told me about the fancy dress party they were going to… Mrs Lake was so impressed by the boys’ outfits that… well, she thought they were also going to the party, but when I told that Francis and Christopher just liked to dress up and play games she said we must come to the party and offered to speak to the hosts to make sure we got in…”</p><p>“... and what happened at the party?” Mrs Parks asked, “I hope Francis behaved himself…”</p><p>“To begin with… yes, although he needed a bit of encouragement to walk into the room where the party was being held,” Wendy paused as if not sure how Francis’ mum would react, “You see Christopher was all for it, but Francis just froze in the doorway, so I… well I slapped him on the bottom a couple of times and pushed him into the middle of the party… he wasn’t pleased… but I told him he had to join in for Christopher.” Mrs Parks wondered how on earth Wendy was able to get Francis to join in a children’s party and realised Wendy must have some sort of hold on him. She didn’t inquire any further.</p><p>Wendy continued: “There were lots of younger boys and girls at the party and their mums… Francis was definitely the oldest in fancy dress. Some of the boys were wearing some… some very, what you might call <i>skimpy</i> outfits. The boys in lederhosen that Jill had seen… well, their little leather shorts were <i>tiny</i> and those shoulder strap harness things had clearly been pulled up really tight, so those little shorts were almost cutting the boys in half. They looked dreadfully uncomfortable, but so adorable…”</p><p>“... you know it was almost as if there was a competition going on to see which boy could be made to wear the most revealing costume…”</p><p>Mrs Parks laughed: “I should think Francis beat them hands down then…”</p><p>Wendy smiled: “Not quite… but there was a competition for the best fancy dress.”</p><p>“What?! I can’t believe there was anyone wearing anything that came close to the Red Indian costumes Francis and Christopher were wearing…”</p><p>“Do you remember the story of the Emperor’s New Clothes?” Wendy asked.</p><p>“Oh, you’re kidding…”</p><p>“Not at all… this poor boy was completely nude, if you discount his bright yellow sneakers and a crown of laurels on his head, oh, and his glasses, but that wasn’t the worst of it… he was disqualified from the fancy dress competition because one little girl pointed out that he wasn’t wearing any clothes… which sort of missed the point, but no one wanted to upset the little girl.”</p><p>“Oh, the poor thing… the boy I mean, he must have been so upset having had such a great idea…”</p><p>“I’m not sure if it was his idea… he didn’t look too happy when he walked into the room… still he wasn’t the only boy to end up nude… there was a boy dressed to look like an ancient Roman only he got his toga caught somehow…” Wendy laughed, “What I’m I saying… it was one of the girls who stepped on a lose bit of the boy’s toga and it unravelled in front of everyone. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath his toga, just like a real Roman… it was very funny to watch him trying to figure out how to put the toga back on… someone must have helped him put it on, because he hadn’t a clue… it all ended up bunched around his neck, so he was left bare from his chest down to his leather sandals…”</p><p>“What about the girls?” Mrs Parks asked, “What did they come as?”</p><p>“That’s the thing. The girls were all dressed very modestly… unlike the boys. All the girls were either wearing long skirts… there was a cowgirl in buckskin trousers and at least two bo-peeps…”</p><p>“Curious…”</p><p>“Then there were the party games…” Wendy continued, “I couldn’t believe how competitive Francis was. The oldest boys at the party were about Christopher’s age, fourteen, but most were younger. You should have seen Francis running about when they played musical chairs… his loincloth was flapping about all over the place as he raced to sit in a chair when the music stopped… it was like Francis had suddenly regressed to when he was a ten year old…”</p><p>“Yes, that sounds like Francis,” his mother observed.“... Francis actually ended up sat on Christopher’s lap during one round, but when the mother of the boy whose party it was told him his was ‘out’ you should have seen the look on Francis’ face…”</p><p>“Was he upset?”</p><p>“And how… he pushed his lower lip out just like a little boy, but he looked so cute,” Wendy replied, “but then someone suggested a game of ‘Blind Man’s Buff’ and they chose Francis, being the oldest, to be the first boy to be blindfolded… He was thrilled! I couldn’t believe that a sixteen year old boy could be so… so… <i>childish</i>… running around while everyone laughed at his tiny costume… some of the girls were startled when they saw what was barely hidden by Francis’ loincloth and a few of the younger boys were quite envious to judge by the way their jaws dropped… and Francis had no idea what a show he was putting on as he was blindfolded for ages before he caught another partygoer…”</p><p>Mrs Parks laughed: “You’ve got a lot to learn, Wendy… some boys never grow up…”</p><p>Wendy laughed along with Mrs Parks and added: “... and there were prizes for the best fancy dress costumes… there was even a podium for the prize winners to stand on and medals for the winners… one of the Bo-Peeps won the girl’s prize…”</p><p>Mrs Parks interrupted Wendy: “Never mind about the girls… what about the boys? Did Francis win anything?”</p><p>Wendy grinned: “What did you expect after his enthusiastic participation in all the party games? Of course Francis won first prize! A think Christopher was a bit miffed at not getting a prize as his costume was just as good as Francis’... in fact I seem to remember Francis was wearing Christoper’s outfit… but they couldn’t have two Red Indians on the podium…”</p><p>“... the boy we met at the garage, Peter, wearing the tiniest speedo I’ve ever seen, who was dressed as a diver with the enormous, comical flippers, came second and one of the lederhosen boys was third. They had to pose for photos to be taken and I asked the photographer to be sure and send me copies,” Wendy paused briefly before adding the observation, “It made me wonder what all Francis’s protests about wearing a Red Indian outfit were about… I mean at that boy’s fancy dress party, among all the other boys, Francis didn’t seem at all bothered about what he was wearing… once I’d pushed him into the room, even though there were plenty of young girls there as well…”</p><p>“Francis will have plenty of time to enjoy his Red Indian costume at Mrs Connelly’s summer camp,” Mrs Parks paused and hesitated before continuing, “There’s something I have to tell you, Wendy… It’s about Francis… I think you should know…”</p><p>But Wendy already knew what it was about, after all she’d caught Francis masturbating at the bottom of the Parks’ garden: “... but you told me about Francis’ naughty habit when we met… it was my on first date with him…”</p><p>“Yes, I told you and we had that nice little chat and the girls told you all about the games of Cowboys and Indians… but it wasn’t about that, it’s about Mrs Connelly’s summer camp… you see there’s something else about the camp you ought to know…”</p><p>Wendy’s eyebrows drew together as she frowned quizzically: “What’s that?”</p><p>“The camp teaches little boys to control themselves…”</p><p>“You mean…”</p><p>“Yes, dear… as I told you, Francis was spending far too much time alone in his bedroom. Mrs Connelly is, I gather, experienced in making sure boys like Francis are properly supervised to deny them the opportunity to play their little games…”</p><p>Wendy could hardly believe it. She was going to take Francis and Christopher to a summer camp, Mrs Connelly’s summer camp, where boys wore nothing more than flimsy loincloths and were somehow prevented from masturbating! For one extremely brief second she thought of the frustration Francis would feel and that perhaps she should warn he what to expect, but then with a mischievous laugh, she thought of the look on Francis’ face when he realised what he faced. Wendy wouldn’t miss that for the world.</p><p>“You’re not going to tell him before he goes are you?” Wendy asked.</p><p>“Good lord no!” Mrs Parks replied, “We wouldn’t be able to get him into the car if we did. Better just to keep quiet…”</p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">oooOooo</p><p><br /></p><p>“Ohhh…mum… do I have to go?”</p><p>It was Francis whinging again.</p><p>“Look, I’ve explained this all before… Mrs Harper has booked Christopher into Mrs Connelly’s summer camp and I’ve agreed that you will go to the camp as well so that Christopher has someone he knows with him…”</p><p>“... but, mum…”</p><p>“Be quiet for a minute, Francis… Christopher has had a very difficult time… his parents had to go away at short notice, then he managed to lock himself out of his house with no clothes on… all he’s had to wear… when he’s not completely nude, is his Red Indian costume… or rather your costume since you wanted to swap… so I think it’s the least you can do to go along to the camp as Christopher’s friend… You’ll enjoy it, Francis. There’s lots to do and according to the brochure, boys spend all their time dressed as Indian Braves, so you’ll feel right at home…”</p><p>Francis tried again: “...oh, mum… please… I’d rather stay here…” </p><p>“Don’t be so selfish, Francis… do something self<i>less</i> for once… if you stay here you’ll just end up spending all your time in your room again and I won’t have it… it’s not healthy… I hope I don’t have to spell it out, Francis… I’m sure Wendy will agree with me…”</p><p>Francis blanched: “Yes, mum…”</p><p>Wendy spoke up: “I’m really proud of you Francis… I know how much Christopher looks up to you… he’ll need your company more than ever when you’re at the camp… don’t let him down.”</p><p>Put like that Francis realised he didn’t have any choice. He blushed to hear himself praised by his girlfriend and stammered his thanks.</p><p>There was a knock on the door. Sarah went to answer it and found Mrs Harper and a nude Christopher in the porch. Blushing, Christopher was holding a Red Indian outfit… Francis’ outfit, he one Christopher had been wearing since the boys swapped.</p><p>“I didn’t realise the boys had swapped costumes,” Janet Harper explained, “I thought that as they’re going to a Red Indian summer camp it would be best if they wore their own outfits rather than each other’s… I take it that Francis will be wearing his outfit for the journey?”</p><p>“You know I hadn’t given that much thought,” Mrs Parks said, “But that’s a splendid idea… isn’t it Francis? You boys go and put your costumes on and…”</p><p>“<i>M-U-M</i>!!!” Francis wailed.</p><p>“Francis… I’m not going to tell you again. Sarah, go and fetch the Red Indian outfit that Francis has been wearing… and you’d better stop by the kitchen and bring the discipline strap… no, better still, the paddle, yes bring the paddle with you as well,” Mrs Parks turned and looked Francis in the eye, “Just in case Francis needs some encouragement to put on his outfit before he goes away to camp…”</p><p>Wendy shook her head. Francis got the message. </p><p>“C’mon, Christopher…” he said.</p><p>“And just where do you think you are going?” Mrs Parks asked.</p><p>“To change…”</p><p>“Have you got cloth ears? Didn’t hear me just ask your sister to fetch the costume… and the paddle…”</p><p>“But…”</p><p>“Francis you’re in danger of setting off for summer camp with a sore red bottom if you don’t buck your ideas up… now get those clothes off!”</p><p>Francis had stripped off his clothes by the time Sarah returned carrying the Red Indian outfit and the paddle that had been hanging up in the kitchen. She gave the outfit to her now nude brother.</p><p>Mrs Parks spoke to the two bare boys: “Now swap outfits…”</p><p>Mrs Harper smiled as she watched Christopher and Francis move to stand in front of each other. Christopher handed back Francis’ Red Indian outfit and Francis returned Christopher’s tenderfoot outfit. All very formal, she thought a bit like in those films when the ransom money is handed over to the blackmailer in return for the incriminating documents. </p><p>Mrs Parks spoke: “Ok, boys, get your costumes on…”</p><p>Francis looked at the pile of clothes… his clothes that he’d just been made to take off in front of everyone: “I’d better take some clothes with me, hadn’t I, mum?”</p><p>“Whatever for? This is a summer camp… you won’t be needing much to wear… your loincloth will be plenty…”</p><p>Wendy watched as Francis went into a sulk. She still couldn’t believe how cute he looked. Just like a little boy… adorable.</p><p>The two boys stepped out of the house with nothing more than their buckskin loincloths, moccasins, headbands, feathers, arm and ankle-bands. Wendy had already thoughtfully packed the little boys’ bow and arrow sets and the rubber tomahawks, although she was sure there would be plenty of things to play with at the camp. Wendy let the boys go to the car ahead of her as she’d noticed a signal from Mrs Harper that she wanted a quick word out of earshot of the boys.</p><p>“It was just to say that I’ve spoken to Mrs Connelly,” Mrs Harper told Wendy, “...and she says you’re more than welcome to stay as her guest for as long as you like… you did pack a few things of your own to take, didn’t you?” Wendy nodded. “Francis is a bit older than most of the boys coming to the camp this year… it won’t do any harm to have you there to help out… just in case…”</p><p>Once again Wendy nodded her understanding of Mrs Harper’s message. It was going to be an exciting few days… or few weeks, if she decided to stay on and keep a close eye on Francis.</p><p>“What was that all about?” Francis asked Wendy as they settled in the car. Christopher Jumped in the back seat, while Francis carefully eased himself into the front passenger seat next to Wendy making sure his loincloth was covering as much as it could… although it didn’t seem to cover as much as he remembered and Francis swore the front flap was larger when he’d swapped it for Christopher’s tenderfoot outfit.</p><p>“Nothing that concerns you,” Wendy replied as she started the car, “Don’t forget to wave goodbye, boys…”</p><p>A smiling Christopher waved from the car as they set off. He nudged Francis’ shoulder and told him to wave.</p><p>“You’re the tenderfoot now, squirt,” Francis pointed out, “... don’t tell me what to do…” But he turned and waved to his mum, sisters and Mrs Harper.</p><p>As Mrs Parks waved she spoke to Mrs Harper: “I do hope the boys will be alright at the summer camp…”</p><p>Mrs Harper turned to look at her friend. They both burst out laughing.</p><p>“Can you imagine,” Mrs Parks said, “... my poor boy, nothing to wear but that tiny loincloth for weeks on end, surrounded by little boys dragging him off to play Cowboys and Indians morning, noon and night… he’ll soon get tired of it and want to come home… I’ll give him a week… two weeks tops… he’ll be begging Wendy to take him home…”</p><p>“She won’t will she?” Mrs Harper asked.</p><p>“Good lord, I hope not!” Mrs Parks roared with laughter again, “The girls and I are going to have so much fun without Francis moping about and getting in the way… Oh and by the way I couldn’t help noticing, but did you shorten Francis’ loincloth when Christopher had it to wear?”</p><p>“You noticed…” Mrs Harper smiled mischievously, “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself…”</p><p>“No need to apologise… if there’s one thing I’ve learnt, Janet, by keeping Francis in a tiny loincloth I can be sure he’s not going to get up to too much mischief… and I’m sure Wendy finds it helps to keep him under control too…”</p><p>“Yes, Wendy seems to be a very level-headed young girl… I hope she decides to stay on at Mrs Connelly’s, it’ll be a nice break for her…”</p><p><br /></p><p> </p><div><br /></div>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-61930002506690451902022-11-20T20:21:00.000+00:002022-11-20T20:21:26.345+00:00Mrs. Connelly's Red Indian Summer Camp for Boys<p> <span style="font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mrs Connelly had, for a number of years, been running a summer camp for boys. It was exceedingly popular with mums of teens who gave the camp their highest recommendation to friends and other family members, thus ensuring Mrs Connelly had little need to advertise the facilities available at her special summer long ‘Red Indian’ camp for boys aged between twelve and sixteen. Many of the boys had been sent to the camp year after year ever since first attending it when they were twelve years old. The mums were so relieved to have the burden of looking after their sons and finding things for them to do to keep them out of mischief, they gladly sent the boys off to camp to get them from under their feet.</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-a39e71b7-7fff-7242-1a5e-487950652659"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The camp itself was set in a vast, remote lakeside woodland. Facilities for the boys were fairly basic since Mrs Connelly was a firm believer that boys in the age group that attended her summer camp didn’t need a lot of what she called ‘mollycoddling’. Besides they were kept so busy with various activities that boys didn’t have time to think about the comforts or distractions they might have found had they been allowed to stay at home.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The remoteness of the camp was a big selling point and it also meant the boys were free to take part in all the usual activities associated with camp life, including day-long hikes escorted by camp counsellors and traditional boys’ games as well as skinny-dipping in the lake, properly supervised of course.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Each year Mrs Connelly recruited around six girls to help supervise the boys. The girls were all aged roughly sixteen or seventeen and were specially selected after a rigorous interview conducted personally by Mrs Connelly. Competition among girls for the opportunity to be a counsellor at Mrs Connelly’s summer camps was keen, since a good reference from her was a guarantee of future work among families with teenage boys who needed looking after by well a trained girl counsellor. Two male counsellors, aged in their late teens or very early twenties, were also recruited by Mrs Connelly. These older boys (Mrs Connelly always referred to the male counsellors as ‘boys’) were expected to muck in and share the younger boys accommodation, act as rôle-models and to generally bond with the boys attending the summer camp.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The main accommodation for the boys, as well as the older boy counsellors, was a basic wooden bunkhouse. By comparison the girl counsellors had very comfortable dormitory accommodation in the ‘big house’, as Mrs Connelly’s well appointed residence was called. The girls each had their own private bathroom and shower, whereas the boys had to make to with open-air gang showers without privacy screens. In fact, as they quickly discovered, there was very little privacy for boys at all.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The boys bunkhouse was supplemented by a number of wigwams and teepees erected around the grounds for the boys to use during sleep-outs. From this it will be gathered that a major component of the camp was the ethos of the Red Indian, indeed boys at the camp were expected to dress in age appropriate costumes of Indian Braves. These days of course Mrs Connelly would be accused of ‘cultural appropriation’, but in the far off days in which my stories are set the idea of making young boys adopt the dress and partake of rituals, whether or not based in fact, did not to my knowledge cause the batting of one solitary eyelid. Indeed, as I have said, the parents of active, playful and at times rambunctious boys were only too happy to see their progeny taken off their hands for a few weeks during the summer holidays.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Arthur was twenty and his best buddy Leo nineteen, when they signed up as camp counsellors for the summer. Neither boy quite knew what he was in for, but they needed the money to help see them through another year at university. It was a friend of Leo’s mother who had heard of the jobs going at Mrs Connelly’s summer camp, but when he was told about it, Leo was less than enthusiastic. His mum went ballistic. Did Leo think he could laze about all summer and not lift a finger to earn some money? Didn’t he realise how much it was costing to keep him at university? Finally Leo’s mother told him flatly, he was going to work at Mrs Connelly’s Summer Camp… full stop!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Leo went to his room in a sulk. It was true, he could do with some money for sure, but the idea of being holed up in some summer camp… I mean, where’s the nearest club to this place, he asked himself, convinced it would be hell on earth to be stuck there all summer. He told his pal, Arthur in the hope he’d think of an excuse not to go.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Come on… what have we got to lose, Leo? Being paid to keep an eye on a bunch of boys for a few months… Can’t be that difficult,” Arthur said. It was not the response Leo was after.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yeah, but…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yeah, but what? We could both do with a break from studies… it’s been a tough year and neither of us have had much in the way of exercise… I can’t remember when I last swam or played sport of any sort. Jeez, Leo, we’d be paid real money to take a holiday!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Put like that Leo acquiesced: “Okay, okay Art I give in… where do I sign?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“We’d better ask for an application form first and hope no one else has been signed up… ask your mum’s friend if she’d write to the camp, she’s the one who knows all about it, isn’t she?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Leo nodded and agreed, but his mother was ahead of him. She had spoken to her friend, explained the position and asked her to do all she could to get Leo and his friend Arthur jobs at the summer camp.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The friend duly forwarded an enthusiastic reference to Mrs Connelly saying what well behaved and trustworthy boys Leo and Arthur were. From the moment she received the letter along with the enclosed recent photos of the boys, Mrs Connelly was left in on doubt as to their suitability. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The boys eagerly signed Mrs Connelly’s standard short-term contract. Mrs Connelly had been let down before by both boys and girls saying they were keen to work as camp counsellors, only to be told they weren’t coming after all, so she had a contract drawn up that, although it evoked fearsome penalties for breaking its terms, its validity in law was doubtful.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Along with the contracts Mrs Connelly sent the boys a brochure about the summer camp. They saw pictures of boys in Red Indian costumes which they thought were highly amusing. There were pictures of boys on hikes, boys sitting around a campfire and boys playing outdoor games. In each picture the boys were dressed in Red Indian costumes.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On another page they read that Mrs Connelly ran ‘Health and Welfare Classes’ for the boys. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art shrugged his shoulders when Leo asked what he thought those were all about: “Search me… health and welfare, I suppose.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They turned a page to see a group of boys, this time not wearing their Red Indian costumes because they were all totally nude, running away from the camera toward a lake.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art laughed: “Don’t forget to pack your Speedos, Leo…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Leo didn’t pay much attention. He saw something far more interesting: “Hey! Look at this…”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art popped a boner when he saw a photo of the girl counsellors in their skimpy outfits.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Leo panted like a demented dog as he thought of all the opportunities that were to be laid out before him in the coming months. He pushed his hand down the front of the shorts he was wearing and grabbed his stiff rod. Art saw what he was doing and laughed: “Can’t you leave that thing alone for five minutes?!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But they’re so hot!!” Leo was beside himself, “I can’t believe we never heard of this place before… please, tell me I’m not dreaming, Art…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You’re not dreaming, buddy… we’ll be spending all summer there, so save your juices!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There was a picture towards the back of the brochure which sort of puzzled Art. It was the only photo in which boy counsellors appeared. There was nothing Art could put his finger on, so he didn’t bother mentioning it to Leo, but it was the expression on one of the boy’s faces. He couldn’t quite make out what it was. The photo was nothing special, just two boys about Art’s age, photographed waist up, bare chested, with their arms over each other’s shoulders just as Art and Leo did sometimes after they’d been working out, or maybe doing some aerobic exercises together. There were three smiling girl counsellors wearing crop-tops in the picture as well, but although the girls’ smiles were obviously genuine, the boys’ smiles looked a little forced. Maybe that’s what Art found a bit strange, but he knew if he said anything to Leo, now that Leo’d seen all those girls, it would be a complete waste of time. Leo wouldn’t be listening to anything he said.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A covering letter from Mrs Connelly told the boys that everything they needed would be supplied, including all necessary clothing, towels and sheets. The letter was signed off with a few jolly words, ‘Just bring a toothbrush!’. Of course neither Art nor Leo was quite prepared to take Mrs Connelly literally at her word, so they made sure to pack their hiking shorts, T-shirts and Speedos… as well as a toothbrush.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Leo’s mother drove the boys to the camp reception site. The summer camp itself was situated a few miles off the main road down tracks unsuitable for ordinary vehicles. There was a small hut in which new arrivals could wait, just off the road. Leo’s mother pulled up as the heavens opened. Art and Leo jumped out into the pouring rain and dashed for the hut as the car pulled away. Dripping wet the boys looked at one another.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Did you pick up the bags?” Leo asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“No… didn’t you?” Art replied. Already he could feel his anger rising, “You were sitting on the back seat!” he shouted, “Why didn’t pick them up? For Chrissakes, man!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I didn’t think mum was going to drive off like that… It’s not my fault…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yeah… it never is your fault, like the time we got stuck at your sister’s party…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">always</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> bring that up… the girls were just having fun… I didn’t think that would happen…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That’s your trouble, Leo, you don’t… Your dick does it all for you…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Ha… bloody… ha…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well it’s true, isn’t it… ever since we were kids you’ve never left your dick alone… you made sure you won every wanking competition going… even now, just the other day at the pool in the changing cubicle you were so horny you couldn’t keep your hands off that sausage of yours… it wasn’t funny… couldn’t you have waited till I’d got out of the cubicle before you jerked off? Your spunk went all up my arm, you filthy little sod…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yup… sorry about that buddy… I can’t help it if I’m horny all the time…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art calmed down and sighed: “Look… what are we going to do? I thought the transport from the camp would be here to meet us…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Start walking, I guess… I mean we’re both soaked to the skin already. If it chucks it down again we’re not going to get any wetter…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You’re right , bud… let’s mosey on down the ole trail…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art and Leo stepped out of the hut. Although it had stopped raining, thick droplets of rainwater pelted them every few feet as the branches overhead shook in the breeze. About twenty minutes into their hike the boys heard a vehicle approaching and around a bend ahead of them a red flatbed truck appeared with Mrs Connelly herself at the wheel. Squeezed in beside her were three of the girl counsellors who’d asked just to come along for the ride, but in reality they were keen to check out the boys. The cab wasn’t big enough for them all to sit side by side, so one of the girls was sat in her friend’s lap and got first sight of Art and Leo.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh… you should see them… soaked to the skin!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“A-dorable!!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Lemme see! Lemme see!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was Mrs Connelly’s turn to speak: “What on earth are they doing here? Couldn’t they have waited for us. I told them… or at least one of their mothers what time I’d pick them up. Now they’ve gone and got themselves soaked. We’d better make sure they get changed when we get them to the camp…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She lowered the side window: “Arthur and Leonard? Why? Oh never mind… hop on the back and hold on tight… I’ll have to go up to the main road to turn round… you should have stayed where you were…” She raised the window again as the boys climbed onto the back of the truck, “Boys…” she said shaking head. The girls giggled. They were looking forward to seeing more of Art and Leo… a lot more!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The truck lumbered along the muddy track. It seemed to Art and Leo to take just as long to get back to the main road as it had for them to walk as far as they had. And they were not only getting even wetter, but slugs of mud were flung up at them as the truck bounced along the rutted track. Mrs Connelly turned the truck around just as the clouds cleared to let the summer sun break through.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Still holding on, boys?” she called.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, Mrs Connelly!” Art and Leo called back, “Still here…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Good… hang on tight and we’ll be at the camp in no time…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mrs Connelly lived up to her promise and put her foot down. She always found the going easier on her way to the camp for some reason and the boys hung on to each other, as well as the side panels of the flatbed, as they were flung about getting more splattered with mud. Mrs Connelly drove straight to the boys’ section of the camp and when they arrived both Art and Leo were a complete mess. They had both been wearing shorts and a T-shirt, but these were almost unrecognisable, just as wet and muddy as the rest of their bodies as they climbed off the back of the truck.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The girls laughed at the sight of Art and Leo. Mrs Connelly shook her head from side to side and muttered: “Well I never…” as if the boys had got into such a state on purpose.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You’d both better get stripped off before you get a chill. There’s a shower for boys round the other side of the bunkhouse… that’s where you’ll be staying. You’ll find the outfits you’ll be wearing in there on your beds. Any questions?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art spoke: “Leo managed to leave our bags in his mum’s car, so all we’ve got is what we’re wearing…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“How unfortunate… but never mind, you’ll find that boys don’t need much at this camp…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Leo fumed, but said nothing.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mrs Connelly turned to the girls: “Phoebe… you go up to the big house and help Jane in the kitchen… Jo and Maria… in need you to bring some blankets from the storeroom for the boys… it still gets a bit chilly at night,” she explained to Art and Leo who were still standing looking perplexed, not knowing quite what they’d let themselves in for.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Chop! Chop!” Mrs Connelly said as she clapped her hands, “Get those wet things off and take a shower…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art and Leo jumped to it and shot round the corner in the direction they’d been told the showers were situated. As soon as they were out of sight of Mrs Connelly Leo turned to look at his friend.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Jeez… those girls are hot!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, I saw where your hands were…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It’s going to be tough…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hard work</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> you might say…” said Art laughing.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Very funny… I can’t help it if I’m over-sexed…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They both came to a sudden halt when they saw the very basic showers.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Is this it! Jeez… anyone could walk past and see us…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“These must be for the boys, Leo… she can’t mean these… I mean they’re out of the ark… better make do with them until we find out where our showers are… come on get stripped off…” Art said as he pulled off his soaking wet, mud-spattered T-shirt. His muddy shorts were stuck to him and it was a struggle to get them off. Art had got them about halfway down his legs when Mrs Connelly walked round the corner.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Haven’t you boys showered yet? Come on, Arthur… give me those wet things. Leo… we don’t stand on ceremony here… get those clothes off before you get a chill. I’ll take these wet things of yours up to the laundry for you.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art did as he was told. He finished unhooking his wet shorts from his feet and handed over his things to Mrs Connelly as Leo hummed and hawed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art walked over to the open showers, turned the tap and started to rinse off the mud. Art had dark hair, whereas Leo was almost ash-blond. Art carried on washing himself, feeling refreshed after being bounced about as he’d hung on to the back of the flat bed truck.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mrs Connelly’s voice deepened: “Leo… I’m waiting…” When Leo continued to hesitate, she added, “There’s no call for you boys to be so modest… I can assure you that you’ve got nothing to show that I’ve not seen before… now get those wet things off and get under the shower with Arthur…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A red-faced and nervous Leo eventually pulled off his wet clothes. His partial erection was plain to see as he handed over his shorts and T-shirt. Mrs Connelly glanced at Leo’s exposed appendage, but other than a barely audible click of her tongue, she said nothing. She had just turned to go when Phoebe rushed around the corner: “Jane wants to know if there’s any more tins of chopped tomatoes…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When they heard Phoebe’s voice both Art and Leo quickly turned on their heels so their backs were towards the girl. They clutched their hands between their legs. Phoebe smiled and relished the kudos of being the first girl to see the boy counsellors in the nude, even if it was just their bottoms. Mrs Connelly knew what she was up to and rolled her eyes upward before speaking: “Jane knows full well where the tins of tomatoes are kept… really!” She might have added that Phoebe knew perfectly well herself and that there was no need for her to come and ask.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Let’s leave the boys to finish showering,” Mrs Connelly said to Phoebe before turning and calling out to Art and Leo, “I’ll take these clothes up to the big house for a good wash… If you want something to wear in the meantime, you’ll find your summer camp outfits on your bunks inside the hut…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Leo turned towards Art: “What does she mean ‘</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> you want something to wear’. What is this? Some kind of nudist camp?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I expect she was just having a joke… we’ve got outfits to wear she said while our stuff’s being washed…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That Phoebe…” Leo started to say before Art told him to shut up and finish washing.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There were no towels to be seen, so the two boys were forced to ‘air dry’. Luckily for them the clouds had lifted and the sun was back out. It didn’t take long to dry off and the nude boys stepped into the bunkhouse for the first time.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It’s a bit basic,” were Leo’s first words.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It’s a bunkhouse, what do you expect?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Which bunks d’you think ours are, Art?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“How should I know… the ones with the outfits lying on them, I guess…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">these</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">?” Leo said as he picked up a couple of flimsy </span><span style="font-size: 16px; white-space: pre-wrap;">strips of soft</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> leather held together by leather laces. “What do you think these are?” he asked Art.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art felt as if a mule had just kicked him in the stomach. He knew very well what Leo was holding up and waving in front of his face.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It’s called a loincloth, Leo… Red Indians wore them…” he explained, “Remember those photos in the brochure Mrs Connelly sent us?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Leo looked closely at the strips of leather: “Doesn’t seem to be much of it… it’s for the kids I guess…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Er, </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">no</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, Leo, I don’t think so… didn’t you hear what Mrs Connelly said? They’re for us to wear…” Art informed his buddy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Leo’s jaw nearly hit the floor: “You’ve got to be kidding, Art… this thing’s </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">tiny</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">! She can’t expect us to wear these…” Leo held the strip of leather up to himself. His penis was only just covered by the soft leather. “Chrisake… if I get a hard-on… </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jeez</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art could help but laugh: “Whad’ya mean </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">if</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> you get a hard-on? You pop a boner every time the wind changes direction… You’ll just have to learn some self-control.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art picked up the other loincloth and held it against himself. Leo was right, the thin, soft strips of chamois leather only just covered his penis too. He looked up to see that Leo was tying the strings of his loincloth. Art watched as Leo pulled at the leather flaps, adjusting it try and cover himself front and rear.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Leo, with a goofy grin, looked at his buddy: “Hey, it feels kinda cool… put yours on, Art.” Leo looked down at himself, then pushed his hips out a little and changing his voice so he sounded serious asked, “Tell me, Art… do my balls look big in this? Be honest…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Leo’s question had both boys in fits of laughter. Leo helped Art to get the strings on his loincloth tied. They stood and looked at each other. They soon figured out that for the best coverage both loincloths had to be worn as low as possible which meant the boys’ pubic hair was visible as it curled over the top of the front flap. It was possibly at this point Art realised why the boy counsellors they’d seen in the brochure looked so glum. Maybe it was because they were wearing similar loincloths to the type Leo and Art were now wearing.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Hey! Look what I’ve found…” Leo called. While Art was contemplating the next few months counselling boys wearing nothing but a skimpy loincloth, Leo had been poking about the bunkhouse.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What’ve you found?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Leo waved a headband and some long feathers: “... moccasins too… this is going to be fun!” Leo opened another cupboard and yelled with delight: “Tomahawks! Not real ones… plastic… and… oh, gosh… there’s bows and arrows… toy ones…” He turned to Art with a big grin on his face, “If the Cavalry come… we’ll be ready for ‘em…” he said as he waved a rubber tomahawk above his head.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art looked with disbelief at his best friend as he watched him pull on the headband, the moccasins and some armbands he’d found. Although Art was the older of the two, there was little more than six months between them. They had always been close and there hadn’t been a time when they’d not shared secrets. Growing up together they’d got up to all sorts of adventures and scrapes… though more through luck than by judgement they’d come through unharmed. Even before puberty the boys had found out the pleasures to be had from masturbation and Art remembered how he had demonstrated to an incredulous Leo what fun it was to play with your penis. Now in front of him in the buckhouse, Leo had reverted to become the exuberant, boisterous boyhood friend that Art remembered. Art watched as Leo leapt about waving a rubber tomahawk, his loincloth flapping about, as he performed some sort of improvised war dance.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Leo… we’re supposed to be looking after the kids, not behaving like them…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport… I was just getting into the mood for when the boys arrive…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Aren’t you forgetting something, Leo?” Art asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Leo stopped jumping about and furrowed his brows.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“The girls, Leo… there are girls… do you really want them to think you’re a dickhead?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It’s too late for that</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">…” A girl’s voice informed him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Leo’s hands went straight for the front of his loincloth when he saw Phoebe and Maria in the doorway.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jeez</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.. couldn’t you have knocked or something?” Leo protested.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What on earth for?” Phoebe said, “Maria and I were enjoying your dance. Chill out… this is a summer camp… all the boys love playing Red Indians and you two are their Heap Big Chiefs…” As she said the last few words, Phoebe cast her eyes downwards and made no secret that she was looking at Leo’s loincloth.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh, and by the way,” Maria chipped in, “Mrs Connelly likes her Indian Chiefs to be neater than that,” she nodded at Leo’s ash-blond pubic hair showing above the loincloth flap, “I’ve got some scissors… I could give them a nice trim… you too,” she added looking at Art.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I don’t think so,” Art said as firmly as he could given that he had only a thin strip of soft leather between modesty and total exposure. Art was also painfully aware that his rear flap was actually shorter and thinner than the one at the front, so in order to hide his almost bare bottom, he stood facing the girls.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Maria shrugged her shoulders: “Have it your own way…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Phoebe feigned indifference too even though she was as curious as her fellow counsellors to see even more of the two new boys: “Mrs Connelly says you can come up to the big house for something to eat,” she said, “Only today though… when the boys arrive here tomorrow, you’ll be eating with them…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Can you boys cook?” Maria asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Course I can cook,” Leo replied.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yeah, he can open a tin of beans…” Art added with a chuckle.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“C’mon… let’s get a move on… doesn’t do to keep Mrs Connelly waiting,” Phoebe said as she hustled them all out of the bunkhouse. Art and Leo were careful to walk behind the girls as they made their way up to the big house. They were even more careful to see that the front tabs of their loincloths didn’t flap to one side. This was tricky as the strips of leather were thin and the slightest movement or puff of wind uncovered things which the boys would rather have left covered, so they kept their hands pressed to their loincloths in order to preserve their modesty.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Ah, there you are!” Mrs Connelly called from the terrace of the big house, “It’s turned out so nice that I thought we would eat out here,” she paused to direct her gaze towards Art and Leo, “I see you found your summer camp outfits… and Leo, you look just wonderful… the headband and feather suit you…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Maria spoke up: “I did tell them how you liked boys to look, but they both refused… I had a pair of scissors with as well…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mrs Connelly looked at the boys a little more closely: “Hmm, I see what you mean… it’ll be a distraction for the younger boys…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But we won’t be wearing this outfit all the time… will we?” Art interrupted, “I mean… we can have our shorts back when they’ve been washed, can’t we?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mrs Connelly sighed: “Of course… but the thing is the water supply here is very expensive, so we only do any laundry when there’s a full load for the machine. Seeing as this is the start of the summer camp, it’s likely to be a long way off before we can justify doing any laundry…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art got the feeling that the mule was back and had kicked him in the stomach again.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mrs Connelly saw how he’d reacted to her news: “But you’ve got your outfits… cheer up… they’ll be plenty of indian braves to keep you company tomorrow and as soon as we’ve got enough laundry to do, you’ll be the first to know…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art couldn’t believe he and Leo would be expected to wear the flimsy loincloths for the foreseeable future… and he couldn’t believe the words he spoke in reply: “Thank you, Mrs Connelly…” Jeez, he thought to himself, Jeez did I just thank her for making me wear this?!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Maria gave a slight cough. That was enough to remind Mrs Connelly that her two new boy counsellors needed smartening up if they were to be wearing nothing but loincloths for the summer.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, Maria… we can’t have our boy counsellors looking untidy,” she turned to the boys, “I’m sure you understand, you see most of the boys who come to summer camp haven’t grown any…” she looked pointedly at the pubic hair visible above the loincloths of Art and Leo, “It won’t take a minute for Maria to tidy you up a bit…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art thought it best to keep quiet… for the moment anyhow, but Leo wasn’t about to give up his pubic hair without a protest: “But… but,” he stuttered, sounding for all the world like a boy six or seven years younger “It’s not fair! Pleeease… do I have to?” Leo might have added there weren’t many fine blond hairs there in the first place, an incontrovertible fact as he was an extremely late developer. Art could remember Leo asking him to check to see if he had sprouted any boy-hairs and how he’d taken hold of his friend’s penis to pull it from side to side to see if Leo had started to grow any hairs. Leo was sixteen at the time. The late arrival of his pubic hair was obviously why Leo was not very keen to see it disappear.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But it’s just a trim, so it’s not all untidy curling above your loincloth,” Maria explained.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art knew why Leo was so reluctant to have his pubic hair trimmed. Art could afford to lose a few of his dark hairs above his loincloth. Even though, like Leo, his scrotum was still smooth and hairless, Art had noticeably more hairs around his penis, whereas Leo still had very few. The hairs visible were pretty well all the pubic hair that Leo possessed. Art knew as well as Leo, that if Maria started to trim Leo’s little bush, he’d more than likely be left with no pubic hair at all!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I really don’t know why you’re making such a fuss,” Mrs Connelly said, “I’m sure they’ll grow back after summer camp has finished. Now let’s have no more of this silly behaviour… Maria, would you make sure you do this properly. As I explained to you earlier it’s important there is no hair visible above their costumes… I don’t want the little boys getting all inquisitive, or upset if they see their counsellors have got hair where they have none…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, Mrs Connelly,” Maria replied. Remembering what was said, she fetched shaving foam and a razor…</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art and Leo, much as they might have preferred otherwise, knew they had to cooperate with whatever was required of them. Art couldn’t very well back out as he’d been the one to convince Leo of the rewards of the summer months spend at the camp. And there was absolutely no way that Leo would be able to face his mother ever again after witnessing her uncompromising attitude to what she deemed was her son’s reluctance to earn some money. If he walked out of this job as counsellor at the camp what hope would there be of touching his mother for some dosh to tide him over? None at all.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It took two girls, Maria and Phoebe, to remove all visible pubic hair from Art and Leo. Art watched as Leo leant back against a table, supporting himself with his hands laid flat on the table-top. The girls knelt at Leo’s feet and it took less than half a minute before the little flap of soft leather was pushed to one side by Leo’s stiffening penis. First the tip of Leo’s foreskin was seen peeking out at the bottom of the chamois flap. Then the flap was raised slowly in front of Maria and Phoebe, until Leo’s penis was pointing more or less straight at the girls. Maria waited patiently, scissors in her hand, as the leather flap started to slide off the penis to one side. Leo’s balls were completely revealed and the girls could see they were quite devoid of hair.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art knew that his buddy would never be able to be in such close proximity to two beautiful girls like Maria and Phoebe without popping a boner, so to him it was no surprise, but that didn’t stop him from feeling embarrassed for the shame he knew it must be causing Leo. Leo’s erection almost hid completely the tuft of light-coloured pubic hair. Leo sucked in his lips as the girls pondered what to do with the erection so obviously in the way.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I think you’d better help us, Art,” Maria said and turned ask Phoebe if she’d mind taking off Leo’s loincloth, “... it’s going to get in the way,” she explained.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art stepped forward between the two girls. He looked Leo straight in the eyes and thought about saying something to comfort his best mate, but realised it’d be of little use. Leo now wore nothing apart from a headband with a huge feather attached, a couple of armbands and a pair of moccasins. Art could see how mortified his friend was and realised Leo was probably busy praying that his situation wouldn’t get any worse. How worse could it get? It didn’t take a genius to realise the danger of holding Leo’s penis without any thought to the consequences of mishandling it. Art knew Leo and so he carefully took hold of his friend’s penis about midway down the shaft before easing out of the way for Maria. He took great care to avoid the ultra sensitive head.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Phoebe look up at Art quizzically.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Believe me, I know what I’m doing…” Art said in answer to her unasked question.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Leo’s penis out of the way, Maria started to snip away at the little tuft of hair. Leo was breathing hard, doing his best to control himself and promising himself a really good wank later. He’d never had a girl so close to his penis before, since in spite of all his braggadocio, Leo was still a virgin.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Locks of Leo’s almost translucent pubic hair tumbled down his legs as Maria’s scissors cut off more and more of the curly hair until all there was left was some barely visible stubble. But even this was considered too much to leave in sight of impressionable young boys. Art knew what was coming next and watched as Phoebe helped Maria to rub some shaving foam around the base of Leo’s penis. Art held on tight to his buddy’s stiff rod. Maria picked up the small safety razor and within seconds had reduced Leo to the status of a ‘baldie’ once more. Art released his grip on Leo’s penis. He saw moisture in his buddy’s eyes and so was not surprised when Leo rushed off so fast he forgot to pick up his loincloth.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art, being a little more mature than Leo, managed to control himself as the girls set about trimming his pubic hair. Maria merely clipped the hairs that had curled over the top of the loincloth and after a quick shave of the resultant stubble, declared her work done.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mrs Connelly came back: “I’ve just seen Leo… I didn’t mean you to remove </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">all</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> his pubic hair, girls… Leo looks as bald as a coot…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m sorry Mrs Connelly, but there really wasn’t much hair around Leo’s penis,” Maria explained, “...and once I’d given it a trim with my scissors, there didn’t seem much point leaving two or three little hairs, so Phoebe and I just shaved them off with the stubble… Sorry if we should have left them, Mrs Connelly…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well, want’s done is done… but I hope you’ve left Arthur with some pubic hair, we’ve got to have at least one boy with some hair down there for the boys’ ‘Health and Welfare’ classes.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When Art returned to the bunkhouse he saw that Leo had been crying. Leo still wore the headband, armband and moccasins he’d found earlier. Art was holding the loincloth he’d picked up from where Leo had left it up at the big house.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Here, buddy… I’m sorry you had to loose your hairs, but they’ll grow back and besides there won’t be many kids with them…” Art said as he tried to console his friend.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Leo looked up, his eyes still red and sore: “... and I’ll be just like one of them… won’t I?” There was an understandable bitterness in his voice.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“No you won’t, buddy… not with a dick like yours…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Leo looked up and managed a smile: “Jeez… I thought I was going to cum… I really did. They’re so hot… I fancy Phoebe… don’t you think she’s… she’s…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Hot?” Art suggested.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yeah… </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">hot</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Don’t get your hopes up, old buddy… we’re here to look after the boys and I don’t think Mrs Connelly will take too kindly if she finds out there’s been any hanky-panky between boy and girl counsellors…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Hanky-panky?!” Leo spluttered his amusement at Art’s choice of phrase. “Why not?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’ll tell you why not,” Art was flabbergasted by Leo’s stupidity, “If you get into trouble with Mrs Connelly she’ll throw you… and probably me, off the camp. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when your mother found out… and when she finished with you, you’d have me to contend with. Look, buddy were on velvet here… summer work outdoors, well paid in a place where we can’t spend it… and all we’ve got to do is look after a few boys, keep them happy and do what Mrs Connelly asks… </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Please</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> Leo, don’t screw things up…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Art gave Leo the loincloth he’d left behind: “Put this back on, buddy… somehow I think it might be a while before we get our stuff back from the laundry…”</span></p><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><br /></p></span>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-27216545057682205282022-08-07T16:59:00.000+01:002022-08-07T16:59:16.484+01:00Adam and the Coach - Part 2<p> </p><span id="docs-internal-guid-96b9ff6c-7fff-da26-76dc-70369dfa2caa"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Of course you are, Adam… just as long as </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">this</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> stays on where it belongs,” Coach Peters said in reply to Adam’s question - ‘</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">this</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">’ being of course the chastity cage that now encased Adam’s genitals.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Hand on heart, Adam couldn’t honestly say that he was as pleased as he thought he would’ve been at the news of his selection to join the Alpha Squad. In truth the loss of what might be called his ‘masturbation privileges’, alarming though it was, hadn’t quite sunk in. Sure, he regretted not finishing the surreptitious wank he’d had in his bedroom while Coach Peters was talking to his parents, but long term - a future of wankless frustration- no, that desert wasteland, barren of pleasure, hadn’t fully hit home.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">AND </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">you behave yourself, Adam,” his mother snapped, “... because if I ever find out that you’ve been playing with your… with yourself, I shall not hesitate to inform Coach Peters and tell her that you are no longer fit to be a member of the Alpha Squad… Do I make myself clear?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adam couldn’t believe the injustice of it… there he stood in the middle of the living-room naked save for a humiliating chastity cage and his mum was telling him that if she found out he’d had a wank, she’d get him slung out of the Squad. How could he possibly masturbate with this device locked onto his nob? Adam could see clearly that with this thing in place there was no room for an erection, never mind the chance of a wank. He wondered how other boys in the Alpha Squad managed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But, mum… how can I?” Adam blurted out, before he realised this was a tacit admission that he had indeed been masturbating.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m sure Adam will behave himself… won’t you son?” Johnny Barrow, Adam’s father interjected, after all, like Adam, he couldn’t see how anyone could possibly play with themselves wearing one of Coach’s chastity cages.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">His wife sniffed: “You haven’t managed to stop Adam from misbehaving so far, have you Johnny? So I’m not sure we should rely on his word that he’s been behaving himself. I want you to keep a much closer eye on Adam in future, Johnny… and if I even suspect our son has been masturbating I shall get on to Coach Peters straight away.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adam was shocked. He was so thrilled to be selected for the Alpha Squad and he couldn’t bear the thought of ever being thrown out of it again.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I won’t, mum… I won’t, honest I won’t…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It would have broken your heart to see Adam, a normal sixteen year old boy, pleading with his mum, begging her to believe in his future good behaviour. Adam possessed all the natural urges and desires of a boy his age and now he was committing himself to a life of chastity. Ruth Barrow hunched her shoulders and sniffed once more as if to say she’d believe that when she saw it.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was down to Coach Peters to lighten the mood in the Barrow’s living-room.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m sure Adam will set a fine example to all the boys who see him wearing his chastity cage. I’ve seen how dedicated he is. Once he sets his mind to achieving goals, there’s no boy in my experience like him. It’s all down to focus… focus, focus, focus and now that Adam has accepted that he needs to be in chastity and forget about wasting all his energies masturbating, I believe we’ll see great progress… won’t we Adam?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Sure thing, Coach,” Adam assured Coach Peters in that ‘aw-gee-shucks’ keen as mustard manner that so annoyed his mother. Quite where he got it from she didn’t know… probably from watching too much American television, she thought and sniffed disapprovingly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Now there are just one or two minor issues that we need to address…” Coach Peters said casually.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Mum… can I go back to my bedroom now? I’ve got to finish my homework,” Adam asked. It wasn’t much fun standing with no clothes on in the living-room in front of his parents and Coach Peters. And he’d heard enough about chastity cages to be going on with, besides he wanted to have a closer look at the thing that had been locked onto his penis.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I thought you’d have finished your homework by now, Adam…” his mum said with more than a hint of suspicion apparent in her voice. Now she knew that Adam had been masturbating, any tardiness on his behalf was now open to a new, quite shocking interpretation.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It would be best if Adam stays while I run through the hygiene procedures and, er, certain other issues,” Coach Peters said, “It will be a lot easier to explain with him here in front of us…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Johnny Barrow once more squirmed in his seat. His heart went out to his son stood a few feet away wearing nothing but that awful device. The two women in the room had made their positions with regard to masturbation very clear and appeared quite unconcerned for Adam’s modesty. The fact that he was nude didn’t bother them at all. Johnny was left with the distinct impression that anyone could walk into the room and neither woman would bat an eyelid. Indeed they would more than likely be treated to a full description of events so far.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Coach Peters, Johnny was sure, really did want to get the best performance possible from talented boys like Adam. If that meant putting them into permanent chastity, then that was a price worth paying for the greater good of the Squad. Boys in the Alpha Squad must - and here Johnny started to have doubts about his reasoning - these boys must somehow </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">want</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to be controlled, to be denied the ability to masturbate. No, that couldn’t be right. Surely any healthy young boy told he’d have to accept enforced chastity would simply walk away… wouldn’t they? But they didn’t - well at least enough of them didn’t to form the Squad. That puzzled Johnny. Surely all the boys in the Squad couldn’t have mothers as strong-willed as Adam’s?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So what was it that made the Alpha Squad boys so compliant?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Johnny was so far immersed in his thoughts and speculations that he didn’t at first grasp what Coach Peters was saying.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... these cuffs will keep Adam’s hands out of the way while his cage is unlocked and removed for cleaning. With his hands secured behind his back, Adam will be unable to handle his penis… is that clear?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Do we have to use the cuffs every time we take off the, er cage?” Johnny asked, shocked by this new development. The cage, it seemed, was only one of the steps involved in preventing Adam from playing with his penis. What next, Johnny wondered?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ruth rolled her eyes up, astonished that her husband could be so slow on the uptake. She sighed audibly:</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Of course Adam needs to be prevented from touching himself… that’s what the cage is for, Johnny… and if the cage has to be taken off, then Adam has to have his hands held out of the way… I should have thought that was obvious, Johnny… you know boys aren’t to be trusted.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Johnny blushed. It wasn’t pleasant to be criticised in this way in front of Coach Peters, never mind his son.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“All I was thinking, dear, was that if Adam was to hold his hands up behind his neck, for instance…” he said in an effort to save his dignity.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Coach Peters smiled: “If only boys could be trusted to do as they were told, Mr Barrow. I’m sure you have the best of intentions, but believe me when a boy has not been permitted to masturbate for a prolonged period… say eight or nine months, the temptation to touch his penis is overwhelming…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Eight or nine </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">months</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">! Adam could hardly believe his ears. The thought of not being able to have a wank for months on end was appalling.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That’s why we need to address another concern,” Coach Peters added.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“And what might that be?” Ruth Barrow said.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Just because a boy is in chastity it doesn’t mean he stops producing certain, er bodily fluids,” Coach Peters explained, “Indeed, in certain cases I’ve known boys to actually increase the amount of these fluids their teenage bodies create. If this is not dealt with it can lead to problems… what one might call ‘uncontrolled leakage’ caused by the build up of these fluids...”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It sounds perfectly disgusting,” Ruth interjected, “How do you deal with it?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Obviously we can’t allow this to happen… and it would be unfair to the boy’s parents to have to contend with their son’s over-active secretions, so boys in the Alpha Squad undergo regular sessions to drain them of their excess bodily fluids…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This news sparked different reactions from each member of the Barrow family. Adam, fresh from the realisation he would be prevented from indulging in one of his favourite pastimes, was keen to know just what these </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">sessions</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> would involve in the hope that any outcome would at least bring with it the thrill he experienced when he masturbated. Johnny, for his part, simply couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Things went from bad to worse for boys in the Alpha Squad it seemed to him. Impressionable boys hoodwinked, as he saw it, into accepting strict chastity, a chastity enforced by locking a special cage over their young genitals… and now what? He felt obliged to ask Coach Peters what these ‘regular sessions’ consisted of and just how precisely were the unfortunate boys drained of their fluids. But before he had time to frame his questions his wife, Ruth had a few words of her own to say.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ruth, upon hearing the words ‘</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">excess bodily fluids</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">’ was positively revolted… however, she was made of sterner stuff and knew where her duty lay. Boys, all boys, needed a firm hand if they were to be kept from getting above themselves. Johnny had been far too lenient with Adam and Ruth blamed herself for not being stricter with them both.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I do trust you’re not going to tell me you pander to their baser instincts during these sessions,” she said, positively seething with indignation, “I simply couldn’t condone Adam’s presence in the Squad if these sessions of yours involved anything at all… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">sordid</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I can put your mind at rest straightaway, Mrs Barrow,” Coach Peters replied, “Boys are relieved of the buildup of their fluids by a process known as ‘milking’. This technique has been perfected by a fully qualified paediatrician and she always attends the sessions…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But I thought paediatricians were concerned with younger boys…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Her specialism,” Coach Peters interrupted Mrs Barrow, “...is the study of puberty in boys and I can assure you she views boys of Adam’s age as still very much within her remit. She has given freely of her time to the club… in particular the Alpha Squad team members. Adam will be seeing a lot of Dr. Shute in the coming weeks, I can assure of that.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Johnny summoned up the courage to speak. He coughed… “Ahem… what exactly does this procedure involve, might I ask?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ruth was shocked at the forthright nature of her husband’s question: “Johnny!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... but I thought we should… and Adam of course… that Coach Peters should… should give us some idea of what’s involved…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m sure that if Coach Peters says that a qualified medical person is in attendance for these so-called </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">milking</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> sessions, then there is no need for us to concern ourselves with the details…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m sure that is the case, dear, but wouldn’t it be helpful to know what’s involved… I mean Adam might want to talk to us about it… what happens during the procedure… he might need reassuring…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">To his surprise, Coach Peters took Johnny’s side straightaway: “Yes, your husband is perfectly correct,” she said, addressing Ruth Barrow, “It does help the boys come to terms with the milking procedure if they feel their parents understand the process. Quite often boys… when they are milked for the first time, find they need reassurance and consolation… they can feel short-changed…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“In what way ‘short-changed’,” Ruth asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“The girls who carry out the milking…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ruth was flabbergasted: “Girls!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Vicky Protheroe and Poppy Haydock have both been fully trained by Dr Shute to assist and, when required, to carry out full milkings…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adam couldn’t believe his ears. Vicky Protheroe and Poppy Haydock were girls at his own school! They were only a year ahead of him… and they were milking boys! Adam felt his penis straining against his chastity cage. If he’d understood what milking involved, he might not have been so excited.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Please put your mind at rest, Mrs Barrow, the girls take their duties seriously,” Coach Peters assured her, “They wouldn’t have been allowed into the boys’ changing room if it were felt they had only volunteered for purient reasons.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ruth was to some extent placated: “I’m pleased to hear that and I’m sure that if the girls are as sensible as you say…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... but we still don’t know what’s involved,” Johnny interjected.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well, if you didn’t keep interrupting, Johnny, Coach Peters might be able to tell us…” Ruth sighed, exasperated by her husband’s seemingly constant and unnecessary interjections. “I do wish you wouldn’t interfere like this, Johnny… you </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">do</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> want what’s best for Adam, don’t you?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes… yes, of course I do, dear… it’s just that we’ve no idea what Adam will be expected to do when he is, er… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">milked</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ruth was getting exceedingly impatient with Johnny and was about to let her feelings show. However, Coach Peters saw that a parental dispute at this stage would not help Adam. Coach needed the support of both parents if she was to successfully induct their son into the Alpha Squad. She quickly stepped in to prevent the situation getting out of hand.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“As I was saying, Dr Shute has recruited Vicky and Poppy to help with milking the Alpha Squad boys. Given the number of boys in the Squad, Dr Shute couldn’t possibly be expected to carry out all the milkings personally, which is why the girls were asked to help. As I also said, Vicky and Poppy have both been fully trained and carry out their duties with commendable efficiency. One or two of the boys were, let’s say, a little uncooperative to begin with when Vicky and Poppy first started to assist with milking duties, but the girls soon made it clear they wouldn’t stand for any nonsense from them… I think their babysitting experiences with younger teen boys helped enormously and was probably one of the reasons Dr Shute recruited them in the first place.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adam was beginning to have second thoughts. He knew that Vicky and Poppy had a reputation for coming out with some truly scathing ‘put-downs’ if they thought a boy was getting too big for his boots. Yes, Adam was also aware of boys who had tried it on with either Vicky or Poppy and had come away with fleas in their ears much to the amusement, it has to be said, of other boys and their mates standing within earshot. Even so, the thought… the very idea, of Poppy Haydock manipulating his penis caused Adam’s heart rate to escalate dangerously, which in turn caused his penis to strain painfully against its cage. Adam struggled to think of something less stimulating; the homework he’d been doing; Miss Brown, the gorgon who taught Geography; his football team’s miserable performance in the Third Division… anything to take his mind off the hands of Poppy Haydock. But then Coach Peters started to explain to his parents what was involved in carrying out the milking procedure.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“The boys all line up… stripped nude of course, but before a boy’s cage can be removed one of the girls secures his hands behind his back by means of these cuffs… perhaps you’d allow me to demonstrate this with Adam…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ruth Barrow gave her approval and without further ado Coach Peters told Adam to turn around and put his hands behind his back. With the cuffs secured around Adam’s wrists, his arms were held firmly behind his back. Adam felt even more exposed than ever as he glanced in the direction of the big picture window of the living-room which looked out onto the road outside. Anyone walking by the house only had to look towards the window to see a sixteen year old boy naked, apart from a rather uncomfortable chastity cage, standing with his arms held behind his back.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The observer would see that the cage was about to be removed by the boy’s coach and if they were able to look closely they would see at the tip of the cage was a drop of clear viscous liquid. And if the observer were to wait a little longer they would see how the drop would slowly increase in size until it formed a short string that hung from the cage. The cage might twitch and jerk as the string of clear fluid became longer and longer until it swung like a pendulum from the end of the cage.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adam knew then that his secret was out. Certainly Coach Peters was sufficiently experienced in the habits of teenage boys to know that he’d recently been masturbating. However she also concluded, to judge by the easy production of pre-ejaculate fluid, that Adam had failed to stimulate himself to full orgasm and concomitant ejaculation. Perhaps it was an opportunity for her to demonstrate how a boy is milked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Johnny looked worried. He could guess what his son had been up to and blamed himself for not somehow making sure Adam had time to finish his wank, if indeed that’s what he’d been doing, before he came downstairs. Johnny wasn’t to know that it was Adam’s decision to finish masturbating later in the evening when he had more time to build himself up to a truly explosive climax, one that would see his spunk-jet fly over his head to land with a satisfying </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">splat</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> on the headboard of his bed. Of course, if Adam’s aim was off, he was just as likely to end up with a sticky mess all over his face!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mrs Barrow was not at all pleased when she saw the string of goo: “What on earth… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adam</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Coach Peters took charge of the situation once more: “If you’ll allow me, Mrs Barrow… Adam has clearly become over excited at the news he has been selected for the Alpha Squad. It’s perfectly natural for boys of Adam’s age to lose control of themselves. You’d be surprised at some of the reactions I’ve witnessed, Mrs Barrow. Some boys simply never grow up. It’s as if they need to be told what good boys they are and praised for every little achievement. That’s to say how some boys just need encouragement to push themselves that little bit further… indeed you could say that’s the basic ethos of the Alpha Squad… pushing boys a little bit harder by giving them lots of praise they so need at that time of their lives. It’s really quite touching to see boys like Adam when they realise how much they need to be strictly supervised to give their best performances…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">that</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">…” Ruth Barrow said, drawing attention to the ever lengthening string of pre-cum dangling from Adam’s chastity cage.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh that’s nothing to worry about, Mr Barrow,” Coach Peters assured her, “Adam has simply got himself all worked up and over excited… just like a little boy, but although he’s past that age physically, mentally boys in their teens still behave like… well, just like little boys. What you are seeing is the manifestation of Adam’s excitement… and Adam has become so excited that I’m beginning to think he hasn’t been as naughty as I at first thought. You see boys usually only produce this amount of pre-ejaculate when they have been in strict chastity for some considerable time, so it rather looks as if Adam has been conserving his energies, rather than dissipating them through excessive masturbation…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Johnny Barrow looked at his son. He wasn’t fooled by Coach Peter’s interpretation at all. He was positive Adam had been masturbating. The resultant string of pre-cum wasn’t due to Adam’s self-denial, it was due to his son’s ‘edging’, something he’d learnt to do himself… up until the time he met Ruth, that is.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Johnny realised it was his chance to speak up for his son: “This must mean that Adam can be trusted without resorting to the use of the chastity cage…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Both his wife, Ruth and Coach Peters looked at him blankly. These expressions could mean only one thing… Johnny clearly hadn’t understood how things were. Adam had been put into chastity and he would remain in chastity and as long as he was in chastity he would wear his chastity cage. That was all there was to it.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You don’t understand, Johnny,” Ruth said shaking her head, “Either that or you’re being wilfully obtuse. It is for Adam’s own good that he’s been put into chastity, it’s for no one else’s sake Johnny and the sooner you realise that, the better… Now, if you’ll let Coach Peters continue, I think we can all benefit from her experience with training boys like Adam.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Thank you Mrs Barrow. As I was about to say, given Adam’s over excited condition it would seem to be the perfect opportunity to show you both how we go about draining boys of their excess juices by the process we call ‘milking’. As you can see Adam has already worked himself up to such a state that he requires some expert attention. This of course would normally be dealt with at an Alpha Squad meeting, but in my opinion Adam needs to be attended to before then…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ruth had a suggestion to make: “Poppy Haydock lives just around the corner. I could call her mother and ask if she would allow Poppy to help with your demonstration.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Much as he might fantasise about the ministrations of Poppy Haydock, the reality of having her here, being directed by Coach Peters, in the living-room in front of his parents, horrified Adam. He begged his mother not to call Mrs Haydock. He had been humiliated enough already, but mums always know best and Ruth Barrow went into the hall to the telephone. The call was made. Adam could hear his mother’s voice, but not clearly enough to understand what was said. The string of pre-cum grew longer and now dangled down to his knees.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ruth Barrow came back into the room: “That’s settled… Poppy and her mother will be round shortly…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adam almost fainted.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Coach Peters was just running through a few minor details when the doorbell was heard. Johnny was sent to open the front door and show the guests into the living-room. Adam felt as if he was some sort of mannequin. While everyone introduced themselves to each other, no one appeared to see, let alone acknowledge, the nude boy standing in the middle of the room with his hands cuffed behind his back whilst displaying a chastity cage secured between his legs.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Coach Peters explained how there was a new recruit about to join the Alpha Squad and all eyes in the room were suddenly focussed on a blushing, hugely embarrassed Adam who was now even more ashamed of the string of pre-cum that he knew everyone could see swinging from the tip of his chastity cage, than his nudity.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adam could see by the look in Poppy’s eyes that she had seen it all before. There was something almost dismissive in the way she carried out her evaluation of him. Coach Peters was right, Poppy and no doubt Vicky too, looked upon boys like Adam in a way that made them feel totally inadequate.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Poppy quickly assessed the situation and turned to Coach Peters. She spoke softly to Coach who nodded and said something in reply. Adam was unable to hear what was said and as his mother and Mrs Haydock were talking in a normal conversational volume it made it impossible for him to know what Poppy was saying. Johnny too strained to make out what was being said between Coach Peters and Poppy Haydock and in the end gave up.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then Poppy turned and spoke: “Mrs Barrow, do you have a bowl I could use?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Certainly… </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Johnny</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, go and fetch one of the Tupperware bowls from the kitchen… they’re in the top cupboard to the left of the sink,” Ruth turned back to Poppy, “What sort of size, dear?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“We normally use a medium pudding basin size,” Poppy replied, “but a small one will fine.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Johnny</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">!” Ruth called to her husband who was already on his way to the kitchen, “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Johnny</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">! One of the smaller bowls!” she turned this time to Mrs Haydock, “He’ll bring something that’s quite unsuitable… too big or too small…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mrs Haydock pursed her lips. She understood. Men could never be relied upon to anything correctly.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Fortunately for Johnny the Tupperware bowl was deemed to be quite adequate by Poppy. She took the bowl and snapped off the lid.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Come over here Adam,” Poppy ordered the now extremely nervous boy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adam did as he was told, but as he approached Poppy the string of pre-cum that up to now had been swinging freely between his legs, suddenly landed with a cold, wet slap on Adam’s left thigh.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Poppy sighed: “I’m sorry, Mrs Barrow, but have you got a facecloth I can use?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Johnny was duly sent off once more to fetch the required item for Poppy who, as everyone could see, was in complete control of the situation. Ruth Barrow was impressed as was even Poppy’s mother who had never seen her daughter in her supervisory role at an Alpha Squad training session. Coach Peters, who had seen Poppy assisting Dr Shute on any number of occasions, smiled with genuine pride at the teenage girl’s maturity as she placed a small key in Poppy’s open palm.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Johnny returned with a flannel and gulped when he saw the little key in the hand of a young girl. It was as though he was witnessing control of his son’s sex-life, or at least Adam’s ability to masturbate, being handed </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">carte blanche</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> to Poppy. Adam’s teenage life was at that moment destined to be changed, as Johnny saw it, in much the same way as his own life was when he met Ruth.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Poppy sat on one of the armchairs that furnished the Barrow living-room and called Adam to stand closer. Adam, his hands still cuffed securely behind his back, flinched as Poppy wiped the pre-cum from his thigh. Poppy admonished Adam as if he was a little boy, telling him to hold still. Then Poppy, without another thought, simply took hold of Adam’s chastity cage while she used the tiny key to unlock the miniature padlock that held the cage secure.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Poppy carefully eased the cage from Adam’s penis. She was experienced enough to know that even if Adam’s new cage had only been locked in place for a short while, his penis would still be very sensitive to external stimulation. The copious amount of pre-cum that had dribbled from Adam’s penis was also another indicator that alerted Poppy to the danger of an accidental emission - this would be a very basic, unforgivable error for one so experienced as Poppy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Poppy was not at all surprised to see Adam’s penis quickly engorge and the foreskin partially retract to uncover the meatus. Within a few short moments the penis had become fully erect. This was the usual reaction of a boy undergoing his first milking and Poppy barely registered the fact unlike Adam’s mother who was shocked and about to say something before being stopped by a sign from Coach Peters.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Poppy is in charge now,” she whispered to Mrs Barrow, “She knows what to do…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The ladies and Johnny watched as Poppy stood up directed Adam to stand behind and face the the armchair upon which she’d been sitting. The chair-back was almost waist-high to Adam who was then ordered by Poppy to lean forward and rest his head sideways on the top of the chair-back.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Push your bottom out, Adam… place your feet apart… good boy… now I’m going to drain all that nasty boy-stuff that’s built up inside you… we’ll drain it off for you regularly so you’ll never have to play your silly little boy games ever again…” Poppy took the Tupperware bowl in her left hand, bent down and carefully reached between Adam’s parted legs. She then gently took hold of Adam’s engorged penis in her fingers and slowly, firmly pulled it back until it was pointing down at the plastic bowl.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ruth saw how uncomfortable Poppy must be to be bent over as she was and decided to do something about it: “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Johnny</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">… go and fetch the pouffe for Poppy to sit on… can’t you see how uncomfortable she must be having to bend down like that?” She turned to Mrs Haydock, “Men… why do you have to tell them to do the simplest of things?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Johnny brought the pouffe over from the other side of the room and positioned it for Poppy to sit down on.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“There… that’s much better,” Ruth Barrow said.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Poppy agreed that it was much more comfortable before turning back and asking: “Are you going to be a good boy for me, Adam?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Without thinking Adam quickly gasped: “</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Yes, miss</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.” His penis was tingling and Adam knew that if his foreskin was further retracted and he felt the slightest stimulation on the zillions of nerve-endings that covered the underside of his penis and in particular the frenulum, he would have the glorious, intense orgasm he’d denied himself earlier.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sadly for Adam that was not going to happen. Poppy had perfected her technique of milking boys without allowing them to enjoy an orgasm. It required complete control of the boy’s penis and this could only be achieved through thorough training and experience. To Poppy, milking a boy was just a routine task that had to be done. The only pleasure she derived from it was the satisfaction of a job well done.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Poppy knew all the tricks that boys would resort to, desperate for the release of an orgasm. She was more than a match for a boy who, aching to be stimulated, would try and move the head of his penis into her hand, hoping to feel Poppy’s fingers rubbing this super sensitive part of his anatomy. The boy would be frustrated however. Poppy was an expert and could extract every last drop of semen from the boy during the administration of a controlled ruined orgasm.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adam was hardly aware of what was happening to him. He felt Poppy’s hand gripping the shaft of his penis at its lower end. In a series of small jerks that Poppy knew would edge Adam ever closer to ejaculation, she timed the throbbing of the rigid member, moving her hand clear and driving Adam almost insane.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">OH NO…. PLEASE</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">!!!” Adam cried out when he realised what was happening. He could no longer control his emission. Poppy had expertly taken him to the point of no return </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">WITHOUT THE EXQUISITE THRILL OF AN ORGASM</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">!! </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Adam’s semen splashed into the Tupperware bowl as Poppy held his penis by the base, making sure every last drop was collected.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Good boy, Adam… clever boy… oh, what a clever boy you are… there it is… let it all come out… good boy… there we are… all done, clever boy!” Poppy said as if praising a little boy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Poppy snapped the lid onto the Tupperware bowl and picked up the facecloth. While she waited for Adam’s penis to soften she looked up and saw that tears of frustration were rolling from down Adam’s face. It was a perfectly natural reaction, one that Poppy was familiar with.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“There, there… it’s all over now, Adam,” Poppy said, comforting him, “I’ll just get you cleaned up in a moment and then we can get you locked back up in your chastity cage like a good boy…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Coach Peters smiled and spoke to Adam’s mother: “That’s all there is to it… you need never have to worry about Adam playing with his penis and masturbating as long as there are girls like Poppy to keep him under control.”</span></p><br /></span>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-9293364773743724912022-06-26T14:16:00.000+01:002022-06-26T14:16:47.089+01:00Adam and the Coach<p> </p><p>“Adam really has the potential to up his game if he puts his mind to it…”</p><p>Coach Peters was talking to Adam’s parents, Ruth and Johnny Barrow. She was sat facing the parents who were sitting next to each other on the sofa opposite her. Adam had been sent upstairs to finish his homework in his bedroom.</p><p>“As you know of course, Adam has just turned sixteen and that means he’s officially entitled to become a member of the Alpha Squad,” Coach informed the boy’s parents, “And I would like to move him up into the Squad because I really believe Adam has the potential to become a leading member of the team… but I need to be absolutely sure of his total commitment before I promote him.” </p><p>“I’m not sure what you mean, Coach,” Ruth interrupted, “Adam’s always enjoyed his training sessions at the club… Johnny agrees with me, don’t you, Johnny?” Ruth didn’t wait for her husband’s response before she carried on, “But what can Adam do to improve? You’ve always told us how pleased you are with his performance... ”</p><p>Coach smiled: “Yes… perhaps I haven’t made myself clear. You see it’s not just a question of commitment, it’s also a question of the boy’s ability to focus on performance to the exclusion of all other distractions, Mrs Barrow… and, let’s be honest, boys of Adam’s age are easily distracted…”</p><p>“Distracted? In what way distracted?” Ruth asked. She was puzzled and didn’t want to see her son penalised and held back from the prestige of joining Coach’s Alpha Squad after all she’d done to help and encourage Adam. “What can we do to help?”</p><p>Coach sat back. This was a delicate moment, but she was adept at dealing with parents like Ruth and Johnny Barrow. It needed a certain amount of tact, but Coach Peters was pretty sure that Mr Barrow already understood what was meant by Adam being ‘distracted’ even though he hadn’t thus far been allowed by his wife to get a word in edgeways. It didn’t take a genius to work out who wore the trousers in this particular house.</p><p>Coach Peters cleared her throat and started to explain that when boys reach a certain age…</p><p>“... and puberty kicks in, there are changes which can affect their athletic performance. Some of these changes are good and some lead on to behaviour that is not so good… counterproductive behaviour you might say.”</p><p>Johnny shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. He was now certain where this was going and it was bound to be hugely embarrassing. Ruth, on the other hand was listening intently to every word Coach Peters was saying.</p><p>“Just say the word and we’ll do everything we can to help Adam… no matter what,” Ruth assured Coach Peters, “Isn’t that so Johnny?” There was a split second pause during which time Johnny tried to say something, but he wasn’t nearly quick enough and his wife answered for him. “There, Johnny agrees with me…” she said taking her husband’s tardy response as support for her stance and finally added, “What can we do to help? Adam so enjoys his training sessions at the club. I’d hate to think of anything that might spoil his enjoyment and hold him back…”</p><p>Coach Peters paused to gather her thoughts once more: “Let me explain… Adam was what we call a ‘<i>late bloomer</i>’,” she continued, “He didn’t show all the usual external signs of puberty until he’d just turned fifteen… a year ago, in fact… Adam didn’t have any pubic hair at all before then… indeed, he has very little of it now, as I’m sure you’ve noticed...”</p><p>Ruth interrupted: “Johnny might have noticed, but I haven’t seen Adam in the nude since he was thirteen.” She turned to her husband, “Why didn’t you tell me our son was one of these late bloomers?” she didn’t wait for an answer from her husband, whose face was beginning to turn red and who she seemed to be blaming for their son’s condition, before turning back to face Coach Peters and asking her whether Adam should be seen by a specialist.</p><p>“Oh, there’s nothing to be concerned about, Mrs Barrow, really there isn’t… All the boys at the club have regular physical check-ups and if there had been anything wrong, then you’d have been the first to know. The check-ups are very thorough,” Coach Peters sought to reassure Adam’s mother, “It’s just that some boys develop later than others. I expect Adam inherited the trait from your husband…”</p><p>Johnny blushed a deeper red than ever as his wife questioned him: “Were you a late bloomer, Johnny? I know you’ve always been on the small size in that department…”</p><p>Coach Peters smiled as she interrupted: “The size of a boy’s penis, if that's what you are referring to, has really nothing to do with late puberty. If a boy is a late bloomer, the size… thickness and length, of his penis usually develops normally given time. If your husband is a bit, um… that’s probably nothing to do with his having been a late bloomer… some boys are just born that way and stay that way into adulthood.”</p><p>“What about Adam?” Ruth asked and added pointedly, “Since my husband doesn’t see fit to inform me of our son’s physical development.”</p><p>“I can assure you that Adam has a perfectly normal sized penis… indeed I might go so far as to say that Adam’s penis is slightly larger than average… compared with all the boys I see during training sessions, that is.” Coach Peters rocked her head from side to side, “Some boys have little tiddlers and some boys seem to have swallowed an elephant’s trunk for breakfast…” she said with a chuckle.</p><p>It was Ruth’s turn to blush. The thought of even a larger than average penis made her feel quite giddy with excitement… never mind a super-large elephant’s trunk! Sadly Johnny’s little penis was definitely in the ‘tiddler’ class, so it was a relief to know there was at least one respectable sized penis in the family.</p><p>Upstairs and oblivious to what was being talked about in the the front-room downstairs, Adam was up to his usual tricks. He’d finished his homework and was lying on his bed playing with the very penis that Coach Peters was discussing so openly with his mother. Adam decided to slow down his wank, to hold back and wait until later before he let himself cum. Although he’d been a late bloomer, Adam had quickly learnt from other boys how, by prolonging his wank, he could achieve a really awesome, explosive cum. For the time being though Adam wondered what Coach Peters was talking about with his parents and so he tucked his penis back into his underpants, zipped up his denims and waited.</p><p>“You were telling us about distractions that were holding Adam back,” Ruth prompted Coach Peters.</p><p>“Oh yes… thank you for reminding me… Yes, boys who go through puberty learn certain, er <i>habits</i>… usually from friends… pernicious habits that affect boys and distract them. Time wasting habits when they should be studying or training…”</p><p>“What sort of habits are you talking about?” Ruth asked innocently.</p><p>“Masturbation.” Coach Peters answered unequivocally, “There’s no point in beating around the bush, Mrs Barrow. I’m afraid boys will be boys… and once they learn how to masturbate it’s very difficult to get them to stop.”</p><p>There was silence in the room before Ruth replied: “Are you telling me that my son Adam has started masturbating?”</p><p>“I’m afraid Adam has been masturbating for some considerable time…”</p><p>There was another pause while this further revelation sunk in.</p><p>“Did you know about this?” Ruth said turning to her husband, “Did you know Adam was masturbating?”</p><p>Nobody even bothered to wait for an answer from Johnny whose face got even redder.</p><p>Coach Peters continued: “I would say that Adam was already masturbating before he started puberty… after all he would have been thirteen and have pubescent and post pubescent friends. Adam would have had plenty of opportunity to see other boys masturbating on sleepovers and so forth. Your son would have been known as a ‘<i>dry-cummer</i>’, a colloquial term used among boys… that is masturbating and achieving an orgasm, but unable to produce or ejaculate sperm.” Coach Peters paused to let this information sink in before adding, “But the problem becomes more significant as puberty kicks in. Masturbation can develop into a chronic habit which impacts on a boy's schoolwork and his athletic abilities.”</p><p>“Is there anything that can be done?” Ruth asked as Johnny squirmed on the sofa next to her. Johnny was pretty certain that Adam had been masturbating… he knew the signs. Yes, Johnny was sure his son masturbated just like any other healthy young boy. He too used to enjoy masturbating… that is up until the moment he met Ruth. His wife had made it quite clear that she did not approve of such activities, so for Adam’s sake he had kept his suspicions to himself. However, Johnny did wonder, if he was correct in his assumption, how Adam had managed to masturbate and at the same time keep this a secret… especially from his mother.</p><p>As Coach Peters spoke some more Johnny realised with horror the direction in which the conversation was headed and that inevitably his son’s life would have to change.</p><p>“Boys like Adam need help to redirect all the energy they use when they masturbate and funnel it into things they should be doing,” Coach Peters continued, “And to do this they need to stop masturbating…”</p><p>“So we tell Adam to stop doing it…” Ruth said flatly, “If it’s explained to him that it’s ruining his chances to join the Alpha Squad, I’m sure he’ll understand…”</p><p>“I’m afraid it’s not that easy,” Coach Peters said.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Ruth asked.</p><p>“You see in my experience boys like Adam become obsessed with masturbation… they depend on it for the thrill of indulging in something they know to be wrong. Each waking moment Adam will be thinking about the next opportunity to masturbate. I’ve seen it happen so many times in otherwise healthy boys who’ve had the potential to join the Alpha Squad…”</p><p>“... Boys like Adam who find themselves trapped in this cycle of self-abuse need our help. The temptation to masturbate among pubescent and post-pubescent boys like Adam is overwhelming.”</p><p>Coach Peters paused to allow her words to sink in. She knew Johnny understood what she was saying was true of teenage boys the world over, but what would Adam’s mother Ruth think, being told her son was addicted to masturbation?</p><p>Ruth thought for a moment. The subject was distasteful, but it had to be faced. Coach Peters clearly knew what she was talking about though. She had been running the club for a number of years and everyone Ruth knew had nothing but the highest praise for the way Coach Peters got the very best performances out of the boys. Ruth trusted Coach Peters and considered it an honour that she took such an interest in her son.</p><p>“Please continue,” she said.</p><p>“As I said the temptation for boys like Adam to masturbate is immense. Even before he entered puberty Adam will have become subject to spontaneous erections in which the penis becomes stiff and fully erect for no apparent reason. It’s a condition I see every day during training sessions… Boys think I don’t notice, but it’s hard to conceal a fully erect penis wearing regulation P.E. shorts… even more so in the changing-room and when fully nude under the communal showers. Boys will often show off when they are sporting an erection among other boys. They think it is ‘smart’ to take hold of their penis and to masturbate for a lark. They think it’s harmless fun when they take hold of another’s boy’s penis and to urge him to masturbate. This is how Adam will have learnt how to masturbate… by watching other, older boys and by being encouraged by them to play with his own penis… It won’t have taken long before Adam was able to practice full masturbation...”</p><p>Ruth Barrow interrupted Coach Peters. She had heard enough to know what Adam needed: “But what can we do to stop Adam from masturbating?” There was an urgency in her voice that Coach Peters recognised.</p><p>“There is something we <i>can </i>do that will prevent Adam from being able to masturbate. However, I will need the agreement of both you, Mrs Barrow and you, Mr Barrow if you decide that what I propose is the course of action we need to take…”</p><p>Ruth Barrow was all ears.</p><p>“I propose that we place Adam in chastity,” Coach Peters began, “We do this by locking his penis in a small device called a chastity cage. It’s really very straightforward and once the cage is secured in place Adam will be unable to masturbate. All boys in the Alpha Squad have worn chastity cages at some point in order to control their masturbation habit and indeed many boys choose to continue wearing their chastity cage even after the need to do so has passed…”</p><p>“What does this ‘device’ look like?” Ruth asked. Her husband meanwhile, was appalled at the thought that his son would be unable to pleasure himself in the same way that he had done at Adam’s age.</p><p>Coach Peters took a chastity cage out of the small bag she had brought with her.</p><p>“Here it is. This ring will fit snugly over Adam’s penis and scrotum… do you see? Then we simply slip Adam’s penis into the cage and this little lock clips shut and holds everything in place. That’s all there is to it, Mrs Barrow. Once they’ve had a chastity cage put on them and they’ve got used to wearing it, most boys forget they’ve even got one on.”</p><p>Johnny Barrow wondered how any boy could possibly not know he was wearing a chastity cage. It looked a frightful thing to have to put on a boy, but he kept quiet. He knew that if his wife decided that Adam must be put into chastity, then Adam would be put into chastity no matter what he said.</p><p>“That looks ideal,” Ruth said enthusiastically.</p><p>“It is… I can assure you it’s what Adam needs,” Coach Peters said, “Believe me, it will focus Adam’s mind on the things that matter. There’s just a bit of paperwork for you to sign and we can get Adam fixed up with his new chastity device straightaway.”</p><p>Although he knew he was on a hiding to nothing, Johnny realised he had to say something: “What? Now? Here? Today?”</p><p>Ruth turned to face her husband: “And why not? You heard what Coach Peters said. Boys of Adam’s age need all the help they can get if they are to be spared this terrible urge to play with themselves all the time…”</p><p>“I’m sorry, Ruth… it’s just that I didn’t want us to rush into a decision like this without giving it some thought and… er, discussing it...” Johnny tried his best.</p><p>Ruth sighed. This was typical of Johnny. He would prevaricate over the most trivial things. Now, when something as important as their son’s future was at stake, he was trying to find excuses to not to grasp the nettle and do what needed to be done.</p><p>“What else is there to discuss?” Ruth said firmly, “Coach Peters has spent a great deal of her valuable time explaining the situation. She is experienced in these matters, Johnny, which you are not…”</p><p>Johnny mumbled something about speaking to Adam and that maybe he wouldn’t need to be put into a chastity cage if he promised not to masturbate.</p><p>Coach Peters smiled: “It’s my experience that wouldn’t work. Adam would promise to behave, but the next thing you know… well, as I said before, ‘boys will be boys’.”</p><p>“There,” said Ruth finally, “There’s nothing more to be said. It’s been decided that Adam needs to be put into chastity and that’s all there is to it.”</p><p>“But I…” Johnny made one last attempt to spare his son.</p><p>“You want Adam to join the Alpha Squad, don’t you?” Coach Peters asked, “You should be proud of Adam… he’s got the makings of a top class athlete, but like all boys of his age he needs to focus on what needs to be done and the only way to do that is to stop him from expending all his energy masturbating.”</p><p>Johnny sighed: “I understand…” He would have added, ‘Okay, you win… I give up’, but he knew he’d be in even more trouble with his wife had he dared to do so.</p><p>Coach Peters reached into her grip again and pulled out the paperwork she’d prepared earlier as she’d anticipated getting Adam’s parents’ agreement to put their son into chastity.</p><p>“If you would both sign Adam’s ‘Chastity Pledge’. As he is still a minor and unable to sign for himself, you are signing on his behalf as his guardians… his <i>moral </i>guardians I should say. It states that Adam is voluntarily entering chastity and is freely wearing a chastity cage in order to fulfil the terms of his Pledge. ”</p><p>Coach Peters handed the paperwork to Mrs Barrow who signed the form straightaway. She handed it to her husband who glanced at the contents, hesitated, then countersigned the document. He handed it back to Coach Peters.</p><p>“Good… Adam is now technically in chastity,” she said, “All that remains is to secure his penis in the chastity cage... “</p><p>“Shall I call for him to come downstairs?” Ruth Barrow asked.</p><p>“Yes… and if you wouldn’t mind asking him to leave his clothes upstairs… It’s better if he is fully nude so that you can both see how the device is fitted.”</p><p>Without a second thought Ruth got up and went to the bottom of the stairs and called up to her son, “Adam! Adam! I want you to take off all your clothes and come down here right away…”</p><p>Adam shot out of his room. He wasn’t sure of what his mum just said… No clothes! Surely that couldn’t be right?</p><p>Ruth repeated her order… louder and with more than a hint of menace.</p><p>“But, mum… I’ll be totally nude… I can’t come down in the nude…”</p><p>“There’s only Coach Peters here and she sees you nude every time you go to the club…”</p><p>“Yes, but…”</p><p>“No more arguments… this is very important. Now do as I say…”</p><p>“But, mum…”</p><p> “Don’t try my patience, Adam. Your father will come up and help you get undressed… <i>Johnny</i>!”</p><p>Reluctantly Johnny did as he was told and joined his son in Adam’s bedroom. Adam was sat on his bed completely bewildered.</p><p>“Come on Adam… better do what mum says,” Johnny said trying to sound as if if was no big deal, “There’s only her and Coach Peters downstairs…”</p><p>“But, dad… why nude?” Adam asked looking up, his eyes wide in uncomprehending disbelief.</p><p>“It’s… it’s just something to, er…” Johnny couldn’t bring himself to explain why his son should take all his clothes off, “It’s Coach’s idea and, er your mum and I agree… it’s to help you…”</p><p>“Help me… how?” Adam asked, still unable to understand why that meant he had to be nude.</p><p>“It’s about you stepping up to the Alpha Squad… you want to step up to the Alpha Squad don’t you Adam? You’ve always talked about wanting to be selected, haven’t you?” Johnny tried his best to sound enthusiastic, but he felt like a louse.</p><p>“Yes, dad… more than anything…”</p><p>“Well, this will help… that’s all I can say… Coach Peters will explain everything once you’re downstairs,” Johnny realised they were taking too long, “Look Adam, you need to get a move on… you know what mum’s like… come on, get those clothes off and come downstairs… no one’s going to be bothered about seeing you in the nude… It’s really for your own good, Adam.” Then Johnny uttered the word that made him feel even more of a louse than ever: “... <i>honestly</i>…”</p><p>Ruth called up again and threatened to come upstairs herself if Adam wasn’t undressed and downstairs in the next couple of minutes.</p><p>Adam got the message and started to take his clothes off. Johnny turned away and walked out onto the landing. If anything he was more embarrassed than his son.</p><p>“Okay, dad… I’m ready,” Adam, having stripped and flung his clothes onto his bed, called out from his bedroom as he clutched his hands between his legs.</p><p>Johnny led the way downstairs with Adam, now totally nude, following a few steps behind his father. They entered the front room. Coach Peters twisted round to watch their entrance. </p><p>She smiled: “No need to be so modest, Adam… you know the club rule, ‘no covering up’… now put your hands at your sides like a good boy. There’s nothing to be shy about. We’re all grown-ups here.”</p><p>Adam felt as if a super-strong magnet was forcing his hands to clamp themselves to his crotch, so it took a huge effort to pull them away from between his legs. His face was burning as he slowly uncovered himself in front of everyone.</p><p>Coach was right, Adam’s penis was slightly larger than average for a boy his age. His balls too, were plump and well-developed, but there was a noticeable deficiency of pubic hair, just a small tuft at the base of Adam’s penis and none at all on his scrotum.</p><p>“What on earth took you so long?” Ruth asked, “Coach Peters hasn’t got all day you know.”</p><p>Adam hung his head unable to look anyone in the eye: “Sorry, mum,” was all he managed to say.</p><p>Coach Peters decided to take the lead: “I expect you’re wondering why I’m here, Adam…”</p><p>Actually, that wasn’t at the top of the list of questions Adam wanted to ask. What he really wanted to know was why he was standing in the middle of the front-room completely nude. Not only was he nude in front of his parents and Coach Peters, but Adam also saw that no one had seen fit to close the curtains. Anyone passing down their road would be able to see nude Adam quite clearly.</p><p>“... well your parents and I have had a little talk… about you, Adam,” Coach Peters continued, “We all know that you’re a great team player… your report card shows that and I think, now that you’re sixteen, that it’s time for you to join the Alpha Squad…”</p><p>Adam smiled. What boy wouldn’t on being told how good he was? A sense of pride filled his chest, but he still didn’t understand why he’d had to take all his clothes off.</p><p>“Of course being a member of the Alpha Squad means total commitment, Adam. All your energy has to be focused on your performance… you understand that, don’t you, Adam?”</p><p>“Sure, Coach… sure...” Adam said, eager to agree and even more eager to put his clothes back on.</p><p>“Are you willing to do whatever it takes? To go that extra mile?” Coach Peters asked.</p><p>Adam hesitated. He’d heard rumours… rumours about boys in the Alpha Squad. Some of those boys, the rumour went, had been fitted with a sort of device. Adam wasn’t sure what the device was, but the consensus among his friends was that it was fitted to a boy’s penis. The Alpha Squad trained separately, so Adam had never seen them in the changing-room, let alone the communal showers, to have the rumours confirmed.</p><p>“Coach Peters asked you a question,” Adam’s mother prompted him.</p><p>Adam’s eyes were wide as he looked at Coach Peters to answer her question.</p><p>“I, er… I guess so…” he replied nervously.</p><p> “I thought so,” Coach Peters said, “You’re a good boy, Adam and I know you’ll do well in the Alpha Squad. I know you’ll put everything into your performance…”</p><p>Adam was beginning to think he was going to get promoted to the Alpha Squad and that the rumours he’d heard about what might happen were just that… rumours without foundation.</p><p>“I will, Coach… honest.”</p><p>“... I can’t remember the last time we had a boy like you in training,” Coach Peters continued, “You’re a natural for promotion, Adam. It was only your age holding you back. But you’re sixteen now and fully qualified under club rules to step up to the Alpha Squad…” Coach Peters paused. Adam blushed enough to light up the room. “I bet you’re excited, Adam.”</p><p>“Gosh, I sure am, Coach…”</p><p>To be promoted to the Alpha Squad was a dream come true for a boy like Adam. To have Coach Peter’s praise heaped upon him was indeed intoxicating. He would agree with anything Coach said now he’d been told he was a ‘natural’.</p><p>“The thing is, Adam, we have to be sure of your commitment. Your parents need to know you will focus all your energy on your training sessions with the Alpha Squad, because I need their consent before we can promote you… Do you understand, Adam?”</p><p>“I will, Coach… I will… one hundred and ten percent.” There was a desperation creeping into Adam’s voice. All other thoughts had been put to one side. He wanted so much to be part of the Alpha Squad.</p><p>“It’s not me you have to convince, Adam,” Coach Peters said calmly, “It’s your mum and dad. They’re the ones you need to persuade that you’ll do anything… do whatever it takes, to be in the Alpha Squad…”</p><p>Adam turned to face Ruth and Johnny, his parents.</p><p>“Pleeeease can I join the Alpha Squad? I’ll work hard at it… honest, I will…”</p><p>But Adam could see in their faces that something was wrong. He was certain his dad knew something when he was upstairs. His mum’s face bore an expression that Adam knew only too well. There was something <i>badly </i>wrong and it meant he was in trouble.</p><p>“Adam Joshua Barrow,” Ruth said and Adam knew straight away he was in deep, deep trouble as his mother only ever called him by his full name when this was the case. “Coach Peters has told your father and I something that I didn’t think I’d ever hear said about my son…”</p><p>Adam felt a great weight descending. Everything he’d done in his life that could possibly be wrong filtered through his brain as he tried to prepare himself for what was coming.</p><p>“... something that’s going to prevent you from giving your best,” Adam’s mother continued, “And until that’s sorted out your father and I have decided that you’re not ready for the Alpha Squad…”</p><p>Adam was very nearly in tears when he heard these words spoken. Johnny squirmed in his seat. He’d not been consulted. He’d not said anything about Adam being denied his place in the Alpha Squad. But he knew enough to keep his mouth shut.</p><p>“But… but, mum… please… please… why can’t I join the Alpha Squad?” Adam pleaded as the first big teardrops rolled down his smooth, unblemished face. “Please… What have I done wrong? Coach Peters wants me to join the Alpha Squad… why can’t I? Please, mum… please let me…”</p><p>“To think that a son of mine..." Ruth hesitated and turned to her husband, “Johnny, you tell him, I can't bear to…”</p><p>Johnny made a noise that sounded like he was clearing his throat… half cough and half <i>hurumpt</i>. He squirmed some more and eventually said a few words.</p><p>“It’s… Well, er… your mother and I, er… we want you you be happy and, er… well, Coach Peters has told us that you need to concentrate and to, er focus, when, er, if you get into the Alpha Squad…”</p><p>“But I will, dad… I will… honest…” Adam pleaded, still not understanding why there should be any doubt him being promoted. His teardrops fell from his chin and splashed onto his bare chest..</p><p>Johnny blushed more than ever at the sight of his son’s distress and stammered some more before he got the next few words out.</p><p>“Um… the thing is, er Adam… Coach, um Peters has, er told us something… something which, er puts a different light on, er things...” Johnny took a deep breath, “Coach Peters has told us that you’ve been… been masturbating, Adam…”</p><p>There was silence. Adam stood in the middle of the room as if pole-axed. He couldn’t believe what his dad had just said. That they knew what he’d been doing was a total shock. Shame and embarrassment rolled over Adam as waves in a stormy sea of emotion. He wanted to hide, or to run away… anything to avoid the awful embarrassment his was suffering… suffering standing nude in front of his parents and Coach Peters.</p><p>Ruth spoke: “Have you anything to say?”</p><p>Adam was struck dumb. He shook his head. It was no use trying to deny it. He masturbated at least three times a day… more, much more, if he was with friends for a sleepover (what the boys humorously called a <i>wank-over party</i>).</p><p>There was a silence as intense as it it was prolonged.</p><p>Coach Peters waited a few moments before speaking and suggesting a solution.</p><p>“Look, Adam, boys of your age think it’s really cool to masturbate. Boys carry on masturbating even though they know it affects their performance negatively. They think I don’t know what they’re doing. They think they can get away it and carry on masturbating. But these boys who carry on masturbating won’t ever be asked to join the Alpha Squad.” Coach Peters paused before continuing. She looked Adam straight in the eye: “You’ve got what it takes, Adam. I’ve trained lots of boys and I can see when a boy has got the talent needed to join the Alpha Squad and you’ve got what it takes. But boys in the Alpha Squad have to give their total, unquestioning commitment to the Team. Training sessions are tough and unless you can give that commitment one hundred and ten percent, you are no use to the Team. Now, my question to you, Adam, is are you willing to go that extra mile… give all of that one hundred and ten percent? Because the only way I can be sure you’re giving me that total commitment is if you give me a solemn pledge that you will stop masturbating.”</p><p>Adam was stunned. The thought that he would have to give up masturbating in order to join the Alpha Squad never entered his head… it was just too much to take in. Coach Peters saw Adam’s reaction. She’d seen how distressed boys were when they were told they must stop masturbating. It was a perfectly natural reaction for boys used to indulging in self-abuse.</p><p>“I know it won’t be easy for you to stop masturbating, Adam,” Coach Peters continued, “I’ve explained this to your parents and they have given their permission for you to wear a chastity cage… it’s a device to help you get over your compulsion to masturbate. It’s really no big deal, Adam. You’ll find that nearly all the boys in the Alpha Squad wear chastity devices all the time to help control their urges to masturbate. They’ll tell you they don’t even notice they’re wearing them after a while…”</p><p>Adam was barely listening as Coach Peters continued to explain in her most reasonable voice how easily the device would be fitted over his penis and secured with a tiny padlock to prevent its unauthorised removal. Adam brushed away another tear as it welled up and rolled down his cheek. He tried ever so hard to take in Coach Peter’s words.</p><p>“Will… will I have to wear it all the time, Coach?” Adam asked.</p><p>“Let’s see… the next Alpha Squad training session is in two weeks time, so we’ll need to put you into your chastity device today if you’re to feel the benefit… come over here… a bit closer, Adam and we’ll soon have you ready to join the Alpha Squad.”</p><p>Coach turned to look at Adam’s parents: “The boys just call it ‘<i>the cage</i>’... Adam will soon get used to wearing it and I’m sure you’ll notice an improvement in his behaviour.”</p><p>It only took Coach a couple of minutes before she had Adam locked securely in his chastity cage. She kept one key and gave a duplicate to Ruth Barrow, telling her to make sure she put it in a safe place.</p><p>Adam looked down at his cage. It looked pretty secure. And then he cursed himself for not finishing his wank when he had the chance.</p><p>“Does this mean I’m in the squad?” he asked.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-62638894255533744062022-06-05T16:59:00.000+01:002022-06-05T16:59:00.779+01:00The Smartest Schoolboy - Part 3<p> </p><p>There had been ripples of polite applause as the variously dressed contestants had each made their way out onto the stage. Julian, by then a bundle of nerves, had stood waiting in the wings to be called to face the judges dressed in nothing but his tiny speedo-style swimming trunks that he had last worn when he had been selected for his school’s swimming team three years before. The little trunks now scarcely fitted and it had been struggle for him to pull them up. And when he had pulled the trunks right up, to Julian’s horror he found that his bottom cheeks were mostly bare since in order to cover his genitals (freshly shorn of pubic hair) it was necessary for him to pull as much of the material forward as he could thereby squeezing the back of the trunks between his bottom cheeks. Even then the absurdly small trunks could not be made to cover what was now clearly a bald pubis. Julian, glancing down at the humiliating swimwear, could actually see the base of his hairless penis pressing against the waistband of the trunks.</p><p>“Not nervous are you?” a voice behind Julian spoke. It was one of the assistants helping out during the competition to ensure its smooth running. She made no mention of Julian’s extremely brief costume, but merely told him not to be worried about facing the judging panel. “Just remember to stand straight and speak up… they won’t bite, you know,” she added in an effort to comfort the obviously tense boy in front of her.</p><p>Julian turned his head to look at the young assistant who smiled her encouragement.</p><p>“I’ll do my best,” he said, while wondering if this was what it felt for those about to be ordered to go “over the top” during a “big push” observed by a <i>Sopwith Camel </i>flying far above the battlefield. Well, not quite. Julian was enough of a realist to know that he was at least guaranteed to return from the stage alive. He stepped out from the wings and peered around the curtain at the expectant audience.</p><p>The ripples of applause that greeted the announcement of Julian’s turn on the stage died away quickly to be replaced by a stunned silence as he stepped forward nervously on his bare feet straight into the spotlight. No one in the audience, with the exception of Julian’s mother along with her friends and their families, had expected to see a boy dressed in such a low-cut and very brief pair of swimming trunks.</p><p>Julian, now more anxious than ever, walked across the apron to where the judges sat at a table to the side of the stage. From the audience he heard the sound of one person enthusiastically clapping and he didn’t need to be told that it was his mother. Flushed with embarrassment Julian heard more people begin applauding. Gradually more people joined in, so that by the time Julian arrived in front of the judges the entire audience was applauding him.</p><p>Although it was well intended the effect was to make Julian even more self-conscious than ever and if he could have blushed any more he most certainly would have done.</p><p>Miss Prism, the senior judge and chairwoman of the <i>Smartest Schoolboy Awards</i> committee opened the batting for the judges by reminding Julian to speak up and to speak clearly. He was asked to confirm his name and age:</p><p>“Julian Raft… and I’m sixteen, Miss Prism…”</p><p>Upon hearing how old Julian was, one or two gasps of astonished disbelief could be heard from the auditorium. Under the glare of the spotlight everyone present could see how smooth and unblemished Julian’s body was. Not a blemish, not a single pimple, not a sign of any body hair could be seen and as for those cute little swim-trunks… why, they were so tiny it was easy to conclude that Julian hadn’t even started to sprout any pubic hair! Surely he couldn’t be as old as sixteen?</p><p>“Perhaps you could tell the judges something about yourself… what your hobbies are…” Miss Prism asked Julian. She seemed quite oblivious to the fact that standing in front of her and her fellow judges was an almost naked teenage boy who was blushing to the roots of his severely short schoolboy haircut.</p><p>“I… er, I like sports and… er, I used to swim for my school,” Julian began before realising he was drawing even more attention to his tiny swimming trunks. But it was too late. One of the other judges piped up:</p><p>“Are these your school’s team trunks you’re wearing for us today?” they asked.</p><p>Julian nodded and just about managed to confirm that they were.</p><p>“I must say they’re very brief,” the judge continued.</p><p>“I, um… I, er, haven’t swum on the school team for a couple of years…” Julian explained, “But mum thought… er, I had to… um… er, that’s why… um…”</p><p>Miss Prism took charge of proceedings again. She could see that Julian was deeply embarrassed to be standing on stage wearing a quite frankly ridiculously, nay <i>indecently </i>small pair of boy’s swimming trunks. Nevertheless, she concluded, Julian must have enjoyed his time on his school’s swimming team otherwise what other reason could there have been for him to choose to proudly wear these ludicrously ‘<i>petite</i>’ trunks?</p><p>“I expect you won lots of medals when you swam for your school team and that’s why you chose to wear your team trunks,” Miss Prism said diplomatically, “Now, why don’t you tell us something about your hobbies.”</p><p>On safer ground Julian told the judges about how much he enjoyed building models and how he liked collecting things such as stamps and postcards.</p><p>Sitting in the audience Julian’s mother had been thrilled by the enthusiastic applause generated as Julian crossed the stage to face the judges. She distinctly heard one woman say how cute Julian looked as he stood on view, while another cooed, “ahh… isn’t he sweet?” and yet another said she couldn’t believe he was sixteen, “he looks so much younger… my boy’s thirteen and I don’t think I could persuade him to put on those tiny trunks at the seaside, never mind getting up onto a stage in front of everyone like that… my boy insists on wearing those awful baggy swim-shorts.”</p><p>In a line along the rear of the stage the other contestants stood and watched as Julian went through his ordeal in front of the judges. All of the boys were dressed far more modestly in their various outfits. Only two of them showed any bare leg at all and these were rugby players in their rugby kit who, the eagle eyed might have spotted, spent a fair bit of time whispering to each other and chortling when they looked in Julian’s direction.</p><p>Julian breathed a sigh of relief when the questions were over and he was out of the spotlight. He joined the line-up of more sensibly dressed boys for an official photograph to be taken of the <i>Smartest Schoolboy</i> entrants at this stage of the competition. As the photographer set up the equipment the boys jostled for position and Julian found himself standing between the two rugby players. They might have been about a year younger than Julian, but it was clear from their stocky physiques why they had been chosen to play rugby.</p><p>After a few moments the boys were lined up across the stage, each boy dressed in such a way to represent his ‘passion’ as the competition rules phrased the requirement for this part of the contest. There were boys in their cricketing whites, boys dressed in their chorister’s outfits, one boy archer with his bow and arrows, a couple of gymnasts wearing singlets and long stirrup pants, three musicians holding their instruments, the two rugby players already mentioned and slap in the middle, squeezed between the rugby players, stood Julian dressed in nothing more than his his breathtakingly brief swimming trunks.</p><p>It might not have been quite so bad for Julian if all the other boys were wearing swimming trunks as he’d been led to believe. At least then he perhaps wouldn’t have stood out so much, but as it was the eyes of everyone in the audience were naturally drawn to the boy in the middle wearing hardly anything. Indeed from the back of the hall it was difficult to tell whether or not Julian was wearing anything at all!</p><p>However, Julian was soon in for a surprise as the photographer called on the boys to smile for the camera. The photographer fussed about making some last minute adjustments as the boys grinned with their eyes fixed on the camera lens.</p><p>The rugby boys’ teamwork was very nice. There was no signal between them, no glance of meaning, no gesture that Julian might have picked up on before his arms were pinned to his back and his tiny swimming trunks yanked unceremoniously straight down to his ankles. The photographer’s motorised camera recorded the event in superb full-colour clarity as the rest of the boys all cheered another boy’s misfortune. As the judges, stunned by the unexpected events, looked on, the audience roared with laughter no doubt thinking that Julian being stripped of his swimming trunks was all part of the show. Even his mother couldn’t hide a smile as she watched her son becoming the centre of attention… as if he wasn’t already. Mrs Atwell’s daughters, all three of them sat between their mother and Mrs Raft, couldn’t believe their eyes. Julian Raft, up there on the stage… <i>nude</i>! Maria, the eldest girl had thought to bring her camera, hoping she might get to take some photos of Julian, but never thinking she might have the opportunity to snap him in his birthday suit. Maria made the most of her opportunity and prayed that Mrs Grant at the chemist’s would develop and print her special photos.</p><p>On stage Julian struggled to free himself from the steel-hard grip of the rugby player who held his arms pinned together behind his back. Deafened by the audience laughter Julian twisted and kicked out, only to lose his tiny trunks which flew from his right foot and went skidding across the stage. Nothing was left to the imagination as Julian’s penis, now seen to be completely bald, bounced in all directions between his legs. Meanwhile the other rugby player retrieved Julian’s swimming trunks, held them aloft and displayed his prize by waving them about.</p><p>This unscheduled event lasted less than a minute before the commanding voice of Miss Prism was heard to boom above the laughing, cheering audience.</p><p>“That’s quite enough!! Boys!! Release Master Raft at once!” She turned to her fellow judges, “I expect this sort of roisterous behaviour is common among the rugby playing fraternity, but I cannot sanction it during the competition… BOYS!!” Miss Prism again turned her head to the rugby players who were still enjoying their ‘roisterous behaviour’, “Will you stop what you are doing… <i>immediately</i>!”</p><p>The boy holding Julian finally loosened his grip and Julian shook himself free. Although embarrassed beyond belief Julian was unsure about what he should do apart from squashing his hands as tightly as he could stand between his legs. He was given back his tiny swimming trunks by the second rugby player whose cheery, “No hard feelings, eh!” failed to impress Julian who merely scowled in response. There was nothing he could do with the trunks since to attempt to put them on again straight away on stage would be more embarrassing than ever, so he clutched them to his crotch and waited to be told what to do.</p><p>Miss Prism could be seen consulting with her fellow judges while it occurred to the photographer that the required ‘official’ photo hadn’t been taken along with all the unofficial photos.</p><p>Miss Prism spoke: “Boys,” she addressed the two rugby playing miscreants as she consulted the papers in front of her, “Max and Douglas isn’t it? I have consulted with my fellow judges and we have decided that however much you may have thought of your prank as a bit of fun, we cannot let it go without imposing sanctions on both of you. You have brought the <i>Smartest Schoolboy</i> competition into disrepute by your silly, childish behaviour…”</p><p>“... however, we understand that such high-spirited, some might say boorish behaviour is not considered unusual within the sporting milieu, an environment with which you boys are no doubt familiar, so the judges have decided to give you a choice of penalties. In a moment I will explain what these penalties are, but I want you to understand that whichever penalty you decide to accept, this same penalty must be accepted by both of you. Do you understand?”</p><p>The boys understood. Julian, still unsure of what to do with himself, continued to clutch his trunks tightly to his nether regions, although the focus of the attention among the audience had shifted to the two rugby boys which was a slight relief. Like everyone in the hall Julian was eager to find out what the penalties were going to be for the boys who had pulled down his swimming trunks.</p><p>“Good,” Miss Prism said adopting her curt, businesslike manor, “As I said you have a choice boys, either you are dismissed from the <i>Smartest Schoolboy</i> competition immediately and a report detailing your activities sent to your school, who will no doubt take appropriate action in the light of your behaviour… or you stay in the competition and accept the punishment which the judges have agreed you deserve. I feel it only fair to warn you this punishment will be of a corporal nature and it will be administered here and now…”</p><p>Before his partner in horseplay could say anything, Max spoke: “We want to stay in the competition and will accept whatever punishment…<i> Doug, will you keep quiet</i>…” he hissed at Douglas, who would at least wanted to be consulted before accepting punishment… <i>corporal </i>punishment at that. But Max had his own reasons for jumping in and telling Miss Prism which option they would take. The last thing Max wanted was for his school to be told what he and Doug had done. He had only entered the <i>Smartest Schoolboy</i> competition to get out of a jam… well it wasn’t so much as a jam as the threat of expulsion from school due to a fracas in the changing-room during an away match. It was only by the skin of his teeth that Max had managed to cling on to his place in his school’s rugby first XV. Reluctantly he’d agreed to enter the <i>Smartest Schoolboy</i> competition as a form of penance, to convince his school how truly sorry he was and how much he regretted his behaviour, so that last thing Max needed was for a report to to wing its way back to his school informing them of his lapse in conduct.</p><p>Douglas on the other hand had no such concerns and would rather have avoided summery punishment. But Max managed to have a hasty few words with Douglas to explain his propensity for landing in the soup and his need to avoid word reaching his school about his and Douglas’ prank. So in the spirit of schoolboy loyalty Douglas acquiesced and agreed to accept punishment from the competition judges.</p><p>“Good, I’m pleased to hear that,” Miss Prism said, “It will save us a great deal of paperwork.” And having said this she turned to one of the competition assistants and said a few words out of earshot. The assistant, the same girl who had a few kind words for Julian before he went on stage, nodded her head and slipped out of view into the wings. She wasn’t long and returned with a thin crook-handled schoolboy cane, part of a display the organisers had erected in the lobby. The theme of the display was ‘Schoolboys through the Ages’ and as such had a variety of items associated with the education of boys over the years. The use of the cane was perhaps not as common as it used to be, but it was nevertheless still felt that it warranted a place in the display. There were in fact a number of punishment instruments including a range of tawses, a martinet, as well as a variety of canes.</p><p>Miss Prism asked the girl to place the cane on the desk in front of her before sending the assistant back once more to the display. This time when she returned Max and Douglas were startled to see she was carrying the martinet.</p><p>“Thank you, my dear,” Miss Prism said as she took the martinet and dangled it by her side, giving it a quick shake so the lashes all hung together freely.</p><p>There was quite a buzz in the audience at this unexpected turn of events, but the hall fell silent as Miss Prism rose from her chair to walk across and take centre stage.</p><p>“I believe we have our dear friends and neighbours in France to thank for this little instrument of correction,” she said as she once more shook the martinet. “I am told that it is extremely effective at seeking out those parts of a boy’s body that may have escaped punishment by other means.”</p><p>Douglas dug his elbow into Max’s side and hissed: “... <i>look what you’ve let us in for</i>…”</p><p>“... <i>can’t be any worse than the cane</i>…” Max whispered back feigning nonchalance.</p><p>“... <i>I wouldn’t be too sure</i>…” Douglas replied.</p><p>“So what the judges and I propose,” Miss Prism announced, “is that each boy in turn receives six strokes of the cane on his bare buttocks after which each boy,” Miss Prism paused and smiled good-naturedly, “then enjoys a continental treat to round off their reward for their uncouth behaviour.” She looked out into the auditorium and scanned the faces looking for any sign of dissent from her proposals. None was forthcoming. It appeared the audience was keen to see Max and Douglas taken down a peg or two.</p><p>“Julian!” Miss Prism said rather sharply, “I’m sure you would like to help prepare these two naughty boys to receive their just deserts. If you would be so kind as to lower and remove the rugby shorts from Max and Douglas, that would be most helpful and at the same time a fitting recompense for their behaviour toward yourself.”</p><p>It seemed a bit unfair to order Julian to relieve Max and Douglas of their rugby shorts, since he was still clutching his swimming trunks and was otherwise completely naked.</p><p>“Please, Miss Prism… might I put my swim trunks back on?” Julian asked.</p><p>“I suppose so, but do get a move on…”</p><p>Julian thanked Miss Prism, but he suddenly realised he was faced with a dilemma. If he turned his back to hide his front from the audience, they would be presented with his bare bottom - and of course the boys lined up at the back of the stage would get to see Julian struggling to pull up his trunks anyway.</p><p>Miss Prism saw Julian dithering: “Come along, do hurry up, Julian, if you want to put your swim suit back on… and there’s no need to be quite so modest about it…”</p><p>“Yes, Miss Prism…” </p><p>Surprisingly Max offered to help and suggested that he and Douglas stood one in front and the other behind Julian while he pulled his trunks up. That way they would afford Julian some privacy. Miss Prism gave her consent and the two rugby boys positioned themselves in front and behind Julian.</p><p>Of course Julian - and Miss Prism for that matter - should have realised that Max and Douglas were up to no good. The minute Julian had pulled his tight little trunks up to his knees, the two boys simply stepped to one side leaving Julian, hobbled by his own trunks, facing the audience with his hairless boy-parts on display once more.</p><p>The audience roared with laughter as Julian stood frozen to the spot. The boys behind him giggled and blew a few wolf-whistles, while even Miss Prism was seen to smile indulgently at these further antics on stage.</p><p>“<i>Oh, that’s got to be worth getting the cane for</i>…” Max whispered to Douglas.</p><p>Douglas grinned: “<i>Nice one, Max… God, he doesn’t know which way to turn</i>…”</p><p>“... <i>and those tiny little trunks are so tight</i>…”</p><p>“... <i>he can’t pull them up without making a complete fool of himself</i>…”</p><p>Poor Julian. His tiny trunks were harder to pull up than ever. As he struggled under the spotlight he began to perspire which made matters worse as the little trunks stuck to the damp skin of his thighs. Julian fought to pull up his trunks, twisting this way and that and in the meantime putting on an entertaining display for everyone watching. The most obvious solution would have been for Julian to run into the wings, but when he tried, with the trunks only just past his knees, the best he could manage was a sort of duck-like waddle and this only very slowly. Julian had never been so humiliated in his life. He was, and he knew it, a laughing-stock. No one appeared to have any sympathy for his plight simply because everyone was having so much fun watching him struggle to pull up a pair of absurdly small boy’s swimming trunks.</p><p>As one lady was heard to say to the lady sitting next to her: “He should never have put those silly little things on in the first place!”</p><p>“I agree… it’s his own fault if he can’t get them back on again… really, they’re far too small for him.”</p><p>“<i>Boys</i>… they’re so vain. I bet he thought he looked like a real lady-killer wearing them…”</p><p>“At his age too!”</p><p>The ladies laughed.</p><p>There was a kerfuffle in the audience as one of the spectators moved along a row of seats in an attempt to get to the aisle. No one wanted to miss a thing and so the people she passed were none too pleased to be asked to move out of the way, if only for a brief second. Having extricated herself from the row, the woman marched down the aisle straight towards the stage. She climbed up the steps ignoring the raised voices from the judges table and strode across the stage to where Julian was still struggling with his swimming trunks. Julian registered movement in his peripheral vision and turned his head sideways.</p><p>“<i>MUM</i>!!”</p><p>This was worse than ever! Bad enough to be caught naked in public, but to have his mum come striding up out of nowhere like a mother hen and with that look in her eye that could mean only one thing… she was intent on <i>helping</i>... oh, the shame.</p><p>“<i>Julian</i>… whatever do you think you are doing? Here, let me see to it…”</p><p>Without another word spoken Julian’s mother bent down and brushed his hands out of the way. She took hold of the the little trunks and yanked on them with a force that would have done credit to a weightlifter’s ‘snatch’. It took three more hefty tugs before mum had restored Julian’s competition swimming trunks to their rightful, proper place. The audience cheered and Mrs Raft waved in acknowledgement.</p><p>Miss Prism walked over to thank Mrs Raft and spoke: “Sometimes what’s needed is a mother’s touch. I think that Julian might need a break after entertaining us with that performance. Perhaps you would be good enough to deal with these two boys and remove their rugby shorts…”</p><p>“With pleasure…” came the reply followed by a roar of approval from the audience.</p><p>Julian’s mother made short work of the rugby shorts of Max and Douglas and she placed them on the judges table. Only the boys’ bottoms were bared since they both wore jock-straps. As it turned out the jock-straps were both a blessing and a curse for Max and Douglas since on the one hand it preserved their modesty, but on the other it meant that the martinet could be used with full force and effect with the boys’ thighs spread wide as the genitals were, to a certain extent, protected by the jock-strap pouch.</p><p>Miss Prism, as it turned out, was experienced both in the use of the cane and the martinet. To administer the cane each boy was ordered to present himself in the classic schoolboy ‘touch-toes’ position with legs straight and bottom pushed out to receive each stroke.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-67314373839397195442021-12-31T12:26:00.000+00:002021-12-31T12:26:41.832+00:00The Smartest Schoolboy - Part 2<p> </p><p>Embarrassing as it had been for Julian when he accepted the award for the ‘<i>Smartest Schoolboy of the Year Award (Senior)</i>’ in front of the packed hall dressed in his short trouser school uniform, it wasn’t, surprisingly enough, the most mortifying moment of the event. As has been related before, Julian’s short trousers had been bought for him when he was just fourteen and, worn for the competition, were now so eye-wateringly short they completely exposed his smooth, unblemished upper thighs. No, that had not been the worse moment of the competition for Julian.</p><p>A new feature of the <i>Smartest Schoolboy Awards</i> was a sports section during which boys were required to dress in the outfit or kit appropriate to the sport in which they had represented their school. This would give the judges the opportunity to ask the boys about their favourite sports and for the audience to compare the boys’ sports kits and see if they still looked smart enough to be in with a chance to win the competition.</p><p>Whether or not Mrs Raft had read the brochure that accompanied the entry form for the competition too hurriedly or not, the fact of the matter remained that because Julian had indeed swam in the junior school swimming team, she immediately assumed that all boys taking part in the new sports section would have represented their schools in swimming events and be similarly dressed in their school’s official team swimming trunks. Certainly, and for whatever reason, this was the impression she gave to her son. There was no escaping the fact that Mrs Raft was still inordinately proud of Julian for representing his school in swimming competitions and perhaps saw in the <i>Smartest Schoolboy Awards</i> the opportunity to rekindle the glory of her son’s achievement and once again enjoy the warm glow of a parent’s pride.</p><p>The boys had spent the morning of the competition dressed in their school uniforms in front of the judges. Both Senior and Junior groups had been assessed and points awarded. There had been a certain amount of banter and teasing among the boys behind the scenes mainly due to the extraordinary sight, a novelty to the older boys, of Julian’s extremely brief short trousers. Even among the junior contestants only two boys were wearing shorts and these shorts, reaching to within an inch of the youngsters’ knees, were nowhere near as short as Julian’s thigh-baring ones. Needless to say and to put it mildly, Julian felt very uncomfortable being the only senior boy in short trousers and such shamefully brief ones at that. But he gulped as he thought of what was to come and what he’d be wearing in the next part of the competition for which Julian’s mum had dug out the swimming trunks he’d worn when he, aged thirteen, had been selected to be on his school swimming team.</p><p>He thought of what had happened when he tried them on a few days earlier and shuddered…</p><p><br /></p><p> +++++</p><p><br /></p><p>Julian had been sat at his little desk in his bedroom. He’d just returned home from school. On his bed were laid his school short trousers and a pair of the extremely brief white junior schoolboy underpants so generously given to him by Mrs Stevens, a friend of Julian’s mother. Next to these were Julian’s black school regulation speedo-style swimming trunks that his mum had told him would be needed to be worn for part of the <i>Smartest Schoolboy competition</i>.</p><p>Julian had a spot of homework that he needed to get out of the way, but before he settled down to this task he took off his shoes and then stood up to take off his long trousers and underpants. Mum had said the best way to get used to wearing short trousers again was to change into them as soon as he returned home after school. Mum was right of course and Julian was slowly getting used to this new state of affairs. What Julian hadn’t bargained on was the reappearance of his old school swimming trunks. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to wear them. It must have been when he was in the Third Form, he thought. Blimey! I’d have been thirteen. Julian gained his Swimming Proficiency Certificate and was chosen to be on his school’s junior swimming team and brief black speedo-style trunks were compulsory for all boys on the team. The tiny trunks were embarrassing to wear even then and as soon as Julian was dropped from the team he managed to persuade his mum to buy him a pair of swim-shorts like most boys wore when they went swimming. The black school trunks were put away and Julian forgot about them, until now...</p><p>Julian picked up the little trunks. They hadn’t covered up much when he was thirteen and Julian remembered the awful feeling of vulnerability when he wore them at a swimming gala his school had hosted one year. Being a member of his school’s junior swimming team Julian was forced to wear nothing but his tiny regulation trunks for the whole day. It might not have been too bad if he was in the swimming pool arena the whole time, but Julian was also given a sash to wear and expected to ‘meet-and-greet’ parents and visitors to the gala when he was not competing in events. The sash was draped from Julian’s left shoulder to his right hip and bore the words ‘Swimming Gala Attendant’. Julian was also expected to show visitors around the school and answer their questions, which he found really embarrassing. He shuddered at the memory of escorting fully dressed adults into classrooms dressed only in his tiny school trunks.</p><p>Julian’s mum called up from the hall downstairs: “Are you ready, Julian? Mrs Atwell is expecting us at half past… Julian?! Haven’t you changed yet? Get a move on, darling… I don’t want us to be late.”</p><p>‘<i>Boys</i>!’ Mrs Raft said to herself as she went back to the kitchen. It was very kind of Mrs Atwell to offer to set up the paddling-pool in her back garden. It would be an ideal opportunity for Julian to try out his school swimming trunks again.</p><p>Upstairs Julian stepped into the little trunks, just to see what they felt like and to see if they still fitted him. He slowly pulled them up his long bare legs and over his bottom. He pushed his penis and testicles into the trunks and stood up straight. Gosh, the trunks were small and as Julian peered into his bedroom mirror he could see that it was obvious he was now a ‘baldie’ again, since the trunks only just covered the base of his penis. His pubis was clean and hairless, Mrs Stevens saw to that on her visit with the junior underpants. It was also quite clear to Julian that his trunks were far too small for him to wear, never mind to parade in on the stage in front of everyone for the <i>Smartest Schoolboy Awards</i>.</p><p>“Oh good, you’ve put your swim-trunks on already,” Julian’s mum said from the doorway of his bedroom.</p><p>Julian looked at his mum: “What do you mean?”</p><p>“That’s why I put your school trunks out for… so you could put them on when we got to Mrs Atwell’s…”</p><p>“But I don’t understand, mum… what’s Mrs Atwell got to do with it?”</p><p>“Oh, Julian, I sometimes think what I tell you goes in one ear and straight out the other,” mum sighed and explained that she’d told Julian that Mrs Atwell had a big paddling-pool she’d bought for her daughters and that as the weather had been so nice the last few days, she’d filled the pool for the children to play in. “When I told her that for part of the competition boys had to put on their school swimming-trunks, Mrs Atwell offered to let you use the pool just to get used to wearing your school trunks, Julian… Wasn’t that kind of her?”</p><p>“But, mum… I can’t wear these… look at them, they’re far too small,” Julian protested.</p><p>“Nonsense, Julian… there’s nothing wrong with them… nothing at all,” his mother assured him, “I can’t see what all the fuss is about… Come on, get a move on…”</p><p>Julian stuck his thumbs into the trunks, ready to lug them down.</p><p>“Oh, don’t bother to change now, Julian… you may as well leave your trunks on. Mrs Atwell house is only just round the corner…”</p><p>“B-but…” Julian was horrified at the very idea of visiting Mrs Atwell and her three young daughters… never mind walking round wearing his tiny school swimming trunks. “Shall I take some clothes to get dressed, er… when we’ve finished, um… playing in the paddling pool, mum?”</p><p>Julian thought he sounded like a little boy of ten asking mummy for her permission, rather than a teenager of sixteen. Maybe it’s because I feel so vulnerable, he said to himself.</p><p>“Really, Julian, I can’t see why you’re making such a song and dance about wearing your swim trunks to visit Mrs Atwell. You know very well that you’ll be welcome to wear your trunks for as long as you like. Mrs Atwell won’t be in the slightest bit bothered if you stay in your trunks after you’ve finished playing in the pool. Now, for the last time… will you get a move on?!”</p><p>Mrs Raft turned, left Julian’s bedroom and went back downstairs. Julian took one last look at himself in the mirror and followed his mother. He felt very strange and very nervous as he escorted his mother out of the front door. When he heard the lock click, Julian shuddered to think how all his clothes were now completely out of his reach. He would have to remain dressed in nothing but his embarrassing little school swimming trunks until he and his mum returned.</p><p>“Come along, Julian… don’t dawdle,” his mum urged as she strode along the pavement passing by a neighbour who was out clipping his hedge with a pair of well-used garden shears.</p><p>“Afternoon, Mrs Raft,” he called, “Afternoon, Julian… off swimming are you? The pool is the other way, you know…” he added with a teasing smile.</p><p>“Good afternoon, Mr Watts,” Mrs Raft replied as she stopped and returned the greeting, “No, Julian and I are off to Mrs Atwell’s… Julian is going to be entering the <i>Smartest Schoolboy Awards</i> and for part of the competition boys will be wearing their school uniform swimming trunks. I thought Julian might like the opportunity to wear his trunks in public as it were… so as to be more confident when the time came and he had to wear them in front of all the judges… isn’t that so, Julian?”</p><p>Mr Watts could see how embarrassed Julian was to be standing in the street wearing nothing but what appeared to be the smallest, tightest little black swimming trunks that a boy of Julian’s age could possibly wear without being arrested. Why, Mr Watts could even see to his surprise, that Julian had no pubic hair… certainly none to speak of, as the trunks were so small and low-fitting. Anyone could see that Julian’s pubis was quite bald.</p><p>Julian saw where Mr Watts was looking and blushed a deeper shade of red than ever as he replied to his mum’s question: “Er, yes, mum…”</p><p>“Of course in my day…” and Mr Watts was off, recalling that at his particular school, boys weren’t even permitted to wear what he called ‘bathing costumes’. “No… we all had to swim as nature intended, in the nude.” He turned to Julian, put his open hand to the side of his mouth, and in a stage whisper intended for Julian’s ears alone, “You should count yourself lucky to have <i>anything </i>to wear, my lad. It were dead embarrassing the times mums and daughters came to watch us boys all in the bare...” Mr Watts winked, “... and I don’t need to tell you what else can happen to a boy on those occasions… <i>‘twere dead embarrassing</i>.”</p><p>Julian knew only too well what Mr Watts was alluding to and the very thought of it made him tremble. What if it happened when he was at Mrs Atwell’s in front of her daughters? What if it happened in front of the judges? What if it happened <i>now</i>?! Already Julian could feel an uncomfortable pressure in the front of his tiny school trunks. He desperately tried to think of something to take his mind off the images Mr Watts’ reminiscences were conjuring up in his mind’s eye. The thoughts were terrifying, yet they were having an effect least desired for a boy standing on the pavement of a suburban street wearing only a pair of swimming trunks bought for him when he was thirteen years old.</p><p>Julian’s mother and Mr Watts carried on talking as Julian struggled with his thoughts and how to control himself in front of his mother and their neighbour. That Julian felt so conspicuous was only the half of it. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, leastways he knew he couldn’t use them to shield the front of his swimming trunks, that would only draw attention to them. Folding his arms across his chest made him feel smug and self-important, as if he was happy to be seen wearing so little and the same went, if not more so, for how he felt when he held his arms akimbo. Holding his hands behind his back, Julian just felt too submissive. So Julian stood with his arms hanging limply by his sides and thought about the kit of the <i>Sopwith Camel</i> that awaited him at Mr Handley’s shop and that seemed to do the trick.</p><p>“Come along, Julian!” his mother called as she waved ‘<i>cheerio</i>’ to Mr Watts.</p><p>“Good luck, Julian!” Mr Watts called out as he watched the two of them continue on their way.</p><p>Upon reaching Mrs Atwell’s Julian followed his mother up the short path leading to the front door of the semi-detached ‘Tudorbethan’ house. Julian expected to hear the sounds of splashing and raised voices coming from the paddling-pool, but he could hear nothing. Suddenly the front door was flung open and Mrs Atwell stood framed in the doorway. Behind her were her three daughters… all fully dressed!</p><p>“I’m so sorry…” she said, “There’s been a bit of a disaster… the pool has sprung a leak… but the water’s not going to waste… Watering my runner beans with it... Never mind come in… come in both of you… oh, I see you’ve put your trunks on already, Julian… I am sorry, but they’ll be no paddling today, not until we’ve got the pool mended…”</p><p>Mrs Atwell was one of those women who, once she started talking, it was difficult for her to stop.</p><p>“Never mind, Julian, we don’t stand on ceremony in this house… you can go and change upstairs… what’s that? You didn’t bring a change of clothes? Oh, never mind, this is liberty hall, isn’t it girls?” This was one of Mrs Atwell’s verbal tics. She didn’t expect an answer from her daughters. “You come straight through, Julian and you can help the girls in the kitchen while your mother and I catch up with each other’s news… There’s some sandwiches and the tea’s brewing...”</p><p>At this point Julian was as red-faced as he’d ever been. Now he was the only one wearing the wrong, the wholly inappropriate, clothing… such as it was. Now, when he really needed to concentrate on the <i>Sopwith Camel</i> kit to take his mind off his present situation, he was being ushered through to the kitchen by three fully dressed girls who were clearly all thrilled to see a sixteen year old boy wearing such brief swimming trunks.</p><p>In the kitchen and out of hearing of their mother, the oldest girl, Maria, started to hum a tune. Her sisters giggled and joined in and started to sing a few words before Julian realised what the song was.</p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p><i>It was an itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka-dot bikini</i></p><p><i>That he wore for the first time today...</i></p></blockquote><p>Of course it wasn’t a bikini Julian was wearing let alone a yellow polka-dot bikini, but that didn’t matter to the girls, they was just thrilled to see how absurdly brief Julian’s swimming trunks were and the song was so appropriate. The girls were right, Julian might not have been wearing a yellow polka-dot bikini, but his swimming trunks were surely <i>itsy bitsy</i> and most definitely <i>teenie weenie</i>!</p><p>If it had been at all possible for him to blush a deeper red, Julian would have done so, but as it was even his ears were glowing hot and bright red with embarrassment in front of the girls.</p><p>“Mum says you’re going in for the <i>Smartest Schoolboy</i> competition,” Maria observed, “Is that why you’re wearing your school swimming trunks? They are your school trunks, aren’t they?”</p><p>Julian said they were.</p><p>“Bit small aren’t they? They don’t look very comfortable...” Maria queried. Her sisters stifled a giggle and snickered as their older sister questioned Julian.</p><p>“They’re an old pair… I don’t wear them anymore…” Julian answered.</p><p>“But you’re wearing them now…” Maria countered.</p><p>“That’s because I don’t have any other school trunks… I usually wear swimming shorts, but mum says I’ve got to wear these for part of the competition.”</p><p>“Crikey! You’re brave… I wouldn’t fancy standing in front of a load of people gawping at me if I was wearing an ordinary one-piece swimsuit, but you, wearing that little thing, you’re… well, that’s brave is all I’ll say.”</p><p>“They’re not so small,” Julian said trying to defend himself, although he knew it was far from the truth. His swimming trunks were absurdly small and to stand in Mrs Atwell’s kitchen in front of her daughters was testing Julian’s commitment to the competition to the limit. Only the thought of missing out on the <i>Sopwith Camel</i> kit kept him from throwing in the towel right then and there and racing back home, to the privacy of his bedroom where he would take a pair of scissors to the blasted, tight little school trunks and cut them into tiny pieces.</p><p>But that wasn’t going to happen and Julian knew it wasn’t going to happen. The lure of the kit waiting for him at Mr Handley’s shop was far too strong and it now seemed as if Julian would suffer any indignity for the sake of his hobby.</p><p>Mrs Atwell poked her head round the door. “Come on girls! Get a move on! Too busy chatting to Julian I’ll be bound… Julian you can make yourself useful and bring the milk and sugar through…”</p><p>The girls led the way and Julian followed holding the milk jug and one hand and the sugar bowl in the other. Plates were passed around and Julian, having put the milk and sugar down on the table, thought he could sit down on one of the comfortable chairs into which he could sink with some degree of safety knowing his little swimming trunks wouldn’t be so noticeable. But the girls got to sit down first and Julian was left standing into the middle of the room, all seats taken.</p><p>“Come and sit by me, Julian,” his mother called as she patted the arm of her chair.</p><p>To be sat on the arm of his mother’s chair would mean being perched in a most uncomfortable, not say say vulnerable, position and Julian hesitated. He could see that he would have to sit side-saddle, as it were, with his bare legs dangling in front of everyone. Mrs Atwell sensed Julian’s discomfort and told one of her girls to fetch a stool from the kitchen for him to sit on.</p><p>Laura, the daughter charged with the task, shot out on the room to return a few seconds later carrying one of the high stools from the breakfast bar. The stools were so high that the younger girls could barely lift themselves onto it without climbing up using the foot rests. Julian, though taller, still gulped as he could see the foot rest at the front was too low for him to reach when sat down. There were two other foot rests either side of the stool that were higher up, but to use them would mean Julian’s thighs would be spread wide, leaving his brief school swimming trunks exposed to everyone’s gaze. It was clear that to be sat on the stool would be a whole lot worse than to be sat next to his mum on the arm of her chair. But as Mrs Atwell had been kind enough to ask Laura to fetch the stool it would be churlish, Julian realised, of him to decline to use the stool.</p><p>Julian very carefully stood with his back to the stool and reached back with his arms, placed his hands flat on the seat before hoisting himself up onto the seat. Mrs Atwell and his mum were chatting away and took little notice of Julian as he maneuvered himself carefully onto the stool, but the girls watched him intensely. It was as if Julian could feel their eyes scanning every square inch of his body as he tried, largely unsuccessfully, to ascend the stool with as much dignity as he could muster.</p><p>If Julian was in any doubt what the ‘swimwear’ part of the Smartest Schoolboy competition was going to be like, he now had no illusions. Perched on the stool in Mrs Atwell’s living-room, Julian began to see how his short trouser uniform was going to be a doddle compared to parading in front of the judges and audience wearing his school swimming trunks. Indeed, remarkable as it may seem, Julian now realised that short trousers were the least of his worries…</p><p>“Oh yes, I’ve already promised that Julian will wear the same short trouser uniform when he goes to visit…” Mrs Raft was explaining to Mrs Atwell.</p><p>When Julian heard he almost fell off the stool: “<i>MUM</i>!!” he gasped, “What are you talking about…? What have you promised…?”</p><p>“It’s simply common courtesy, Julian,” his mum replied, “Mr Fenner asked you specifically to go back to his shop after the competition to show him your trophy…”</p><p>“But I might not win, mum…”</p><p>“Of course you’ll win, darling…”</p><p>“An honourable mention at the very least,” Mrs Atwell chipped in.</p><p>“... and then there’s Mr Handley at the model shop. I think it would be nice of you to put on your short trouser uniform when you collect the <i>Soapwell</i>…”</p><p>“It’s <i>Sopwith</i>, mum… <i>Sopwith Camel</i>,” Julian corrected his mother, exasperated by the inaccuracy even though these new developments were worrying him.</p><p>“Yes… so you’ll wear your short trouser uniform then, won’t you?” Julian’s mum continued, but not really expecting an answer since it was more of a statement than a question.</p><p>Julian was bewildered and wondered if there was anything else his mum was going to surprise him with.</p><p>Maria started to hum a tune… <i>It was an itsy bitsy teenie weenie</i>… Her sisters giggled.</p><p><br /></p><p> +++++</p><p><br /></p><p>The time came for the boys to change into their sports kit. Cubicles had been set up for the senior boys to use. Junior boys were expected to change without the use of such facilities accorded to the older boys.</p><p>With a heavy heart Julian undressed and then squeezed himself into his tiny black speedo-style swimming trunks, trunks that had been bought for him three years ago. He felt uncomfortable in the cubicle wearing so little, but that was as nothing to how he felt when he stepped out and saw his fellow competitors. Not one of them was wearing swimming trunks as Julian had been led to believe! Indeed none of them wore anything even remotely as brief and revealing as Julian’s ludicrously brief speedo trunks. What was going on?! The words whizzed around Julian’s head and made him almost faint with anxiety. Why weren’t any of the other boys wearing swimming trunks? The buzz of boys’ voices that had echoed in the room suddenly died away. There was a short pause while heads turned towards Julian and a few of the older boys sniggered at the sight of the almost naked sixteen year old in their midst. One or two younger boys began to giggle before the room was filled with the sound of laughter. Boys in their cricketing whites, boys dressed in rugby kit or football kit, boys carrying bow and arrows… but no other boy was to be seen wearing anything as embarrassing as a pair of speedo-style trunks that were so small as to make it plain the wearer had no pubic hair.</p><p>One of the cricketers came forward. He was a boy of about Julian’s age.</p><p>He spoke to a bewildered Julian: “Rather you than me, chum… you saw how many were in the audience… hundreds. I wouldn’t be seen dead in those trunks… Blimey, just the thought of standing in front of them in… in nothing but <i>that</i>… makes me shiver just to think of it.” He whistled and repeated, “Rather you than me… <i>any day</i>.”</p><p>“But… but I thought everyone had to wear trunks…”</p><p>“Only if that was your favourite sport at school… Crumbs, even if swimming was my favourite sport I wouldn’t have chosen to wear…” the boy could hardly keep a straight face anymore and burst out laughing as he blurted out the word “... <i>those</i>!”</p><p>Another boy stepped up. He was dressed in his school’s archery club uniform and wearing a rather dandy green felt hunter hat complete with a pheasant feather pinned through one side of the crown. He offered his advice to Julian.</p><p>“If I was you I’d change into something else… anything… you can’t go on stage in front of hundreds of people in that little thing… they’ll all be staring at you.”</p><p>Julian was about to turn and go back into the changing booth when one the the competition officials strode into the room and announced the start of the next round. All boys, junior and senior, were due on stage dressed in the kit of their designated school sport. There was no chance for Julian to change his mind as he was hustled along with all the other boys.</p><p>One by one boys were called to be interviewed by the judges. Julian could hear the audience applause as each boy walked out onto the stage and then the murmuring of voices as the boy was questioned. It was a stressful, not to say nerve-racking time for Julian as he waited, knowing that the time would come when he too would have to walk out in front of everyone. Then suddenly it was his turn.</p><p>“Can we have the next contestant please… <i>Master Julian Raft</i>!”</p><p>Julian felt as if his legs were about to turn to jelly. He’d never felt so nervous and embarrassed in his life as he slowly made his way towards the stage wearing nothing more than a tiny pair of swimming trunks to face the judges and the audience.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-58267130334685281492021-07-21T12:29:00.000+01:002021-07-21T12:29:56.568+01:00The Smartest Schoolboy<p> </p><p>Julian was horrified. How on earth had it come to this? More than a little flurried, Julian could feel his heart thumping as he stepped out from the wings and onto the stage to be presented with the ‘<i>Smartest Schoolboy of the Year Award (Senior)</i>’ in front of parents and teachers along with the sponsors. Cameras flashed as Julian walked forward. This was the worst nightmare he could possibly imagine for a boy of sixteen such as himself… well for any boy over the age of about ten come to that, as Julian felt a cool current of air tickle the backs of his thighs and was again made aware that his legs were quite bare.</p><p>After a final consultation the awards were made and the judges had decided by a majority that Julian was the smartest boy in the senior schoolboy category. There had been no other boys wearing short trousers in this group and there had been a certain amount of debate among the judges as to whether boys were allowed to wear short school trousers in the senior schoolboy group. But in the end the view of the senior judge, Miss Prism, prevailed and short trousers were officially deemed acceptable as worn by older boys taking part in the competition.</p><p>Julian, in his super short school trousers was therefore called forward to stand next to the winner of the junior schoolboy category, a fresh-faced eager young twelve year old who, much to Julian’s chagrin, was wearing a pair of crisply ironed long trousers.</p><p>Julian clutched his trophy to his waist in an unconscious effort to hide behind it, before calls came from the photographers to hold up the silver cup.</p><p>“Hold it up! That’s it!” one of them called out, “Lift it higher… c’mon <i>smile</i>… show us how pleased you are to win the award… go on… that’s it… good…”</p><p>Feeling like a complete idiot, Julian obliged. As he grinned from ear to ear, his rosy red cheeks turned redder as he blushed in front of the cameras.</p><p>Another photographer urged Julian to lift the trophy above his head. Not thinking, Julian did as he was asked, but with a sudden realisation that was truly sickening, Julian felt his short trousers being pulled upwards as he raised his arms. The photographers snapped away as Julian’s extreme upper thighs were slowly revealed in all their smooth, unblemished glory. Nervously Julian held the trophy aloft, very much aware of what was on view to the audience in front of him. His smile became closer to a rictus grin as he prayed no one was paying attention to what was happening to the back of his short school trousers.</p><p>But just as these thoughts were passing through his mind he heard another photographer call out: “Julian! Julian! Turn round and show your trophy to the other competitors...”</p><p>Julian hesitated. He could already feel the slight tickle of a breeze on the lower curves of his bottom cheeks, so he had a pretty good idea of how far his extremely short school shorts had risen. To turn round now would mean more photographs taken and the record of his humiliation would be complete. Julian knew how popular the <i>Smartest Schoolboy Awards</i> were. There was no getting away from it, pictures of Julian accepting the award would be soon be appearing everywhere. Out of the corner of his eye Julian could see the twelve year old standing next to him was already looking at his fully exposed bare thighs and sniggering.</p><p>Julian thought that he must have been a fool to let himself be persuaded to get involved in the competition and he began to wonder whether his reward for doing so had been worth the price he was now so shamefully paying. </p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;">*****</p><p><br /></p><p>“<i>Julian</i>…” his mum called from the sitting-room, “Julian… I think you should enter. There’s a category for older boys this year… You nearly made the finals when you entered the last time…”</p><p>Julian’s heart sank. He was sat at the kitchen table trying to get on with a particularly tricky part of some model-making on which he was working.</p><p>“That was nearly four years ago mum…” Julian called back as he removed a burr from the side of a crucial piece of the model. “... and besides I’m sixteen now, mum, in case you’d forgotten…” Then he added a remark to himself <i>sotto voce</i>: “Blast! Parts twenty-two and twenty-three are supposed to fit together and be joined to part nine… exactly how I'd like to know?!”</p><p>“What was that, dear?”</p><p>“I said I’m too old for that sort of thing,” Julian replied as he wrestled with the fiddly pieces in an attempt to get them to fit together. Why were these plans made so difficult, he wondered? I reckon you could fit twenty-three to nine before you attach twenty-two, that’d make more sense. Do the people who write these instructions ever build the models, he wondered?</p><p>“To old for what, dear? Playing with your models?” Julian’s mum enquired with a smile.</p><p>“No, not that… You know what I mean, the smart schoolboy thing… I’m too old for that and besides my uniform won’t do… it could hardly be called <i>smart</i>, as you keep telling me every morning…”</p><p>“Yes it is looking a bit frayed and worn... your trousers don’t fit you very well either…”</p><p>“Don’t fit me! Crikey! …the bottom of the legs are flapping about near the top of my ankles… makes me look a right berk, but you said I’d have to make do with them until I left school…”</p><p>“It didn’t seem seem worth it darling… buying you a new pair of school trousers when you’ll be leaving at the end of the year.”</p><p>“... the sooner the better… now can I please get on with my model?”</p><p>“I still think you should enter the competition, Julian. I told you, there’s a special category just for older boys like you this year and this will be your last chance to take part… why don’t you? Just for me, darling,” mum paused to let this sink in before she added, “If you bothered to get a proper haircut you’d be halfway there…”</p><p>Julian was beginning to sense trouble. When his mum started to talk about haircuts… <i>proper </i>haircuts, Julian knew he’d best be on his guard.</p><p>“What’s the point when I haven’t got a decent uniform to wear?”</p><p>Mum was of quite the opposite opinion, although she wasn’t about to show her hand just yet.</p><p>An adroit change of subject was required.</p><p>“Julian?”</p><p>“Yes, mum…”</p><p>“That model you were telling me about the other day…”</p><p>“What? Oh, the <i>Sopwith Camel</i> kit…”</p><p>“Yes, that’s the one… are you going to buy that one next?”</p><p>“Nah… Chance’d be a fine thing. It’s an amazing model, but it’s far too expensive… way out of my league.”</p><p>There was silence for a few moments before Julian spoke again and wistfully sighed to himself as he thought of the <i>Sopwith Camel</i> specs: “What wouldn't I do to get my hands on that kit…”</p><p>“What’s that you said, dear?”</p><p>“Nothing, mum… just dreaming.”</p><p>Silence followed as Julian got on with his model and mum continued reading. Nothing further was said about the <i>Smartest Schoolboy Awards</i> and Julian naturally assumed it had been forgotten and thought of it no more.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>The following morning Julian set off to school after breakfast as usual. As usual the bottom of his trouser legs flapped embarrassingly about his ankles, the cause of matutinal jocularities at Julian’s expense among his fellow classmates as they lined up for morning assembly. Julian’s apple-cheeked face, still smooth and unblemished, was partially obscured by the long fringe of hair that he was constantly flicking from his eyes, much, it has to be said, to his mother’s annoyance. But this was the fashion among young boys of Julian’s age when hair was allowed to grow long enough to touch, and even in some cases grow over, the collar of a boy’s school blazer. For these things alone it was clear that Julian would stand little chance of passing even the basic entry requirements of the <i>Smartest Schoolboy Awards</i>.</p><p><br /></p><p>The little bell jingled as Julian’s mother entered the shop. She glanced about the unfamiliar surroundings. The proprietor, a middle-aged gentleman wearing a brown storeman’s coat, appeared from the back of the premises.</p><p>“Can I be of assistance, madam?”</p><p>“Er, yes… I hope so. You see my son, he’s sixteen, is a keen model-maker and I wanted to… well, it’s to be a surprise, you see…”</p><p>“Sixteen, eh? What sort of surprise? Something special?”</p><p>Julian’s mother nodded: “Yes, it will have to be something very special…”</p><p>“Do you know what he’s interested in? Ships? Cars? Historical planes?”</p><p>“Yes, planes… that’s it… he was talking about a Sopforth something or other…”</p><p>“A plane, you say?” the proprietor was puzzled for a moment, “Do you mean <i>Sopwith</i>? A <i>Sopwith Camel</i>?”</p><p>“Yes… that’s it, the <i>Sopwith Camel</i> kit, he called it.”</p><p>“Well that would be a very special surprise for any sixteen year old boy, madam… It’s one of the most complex and er, well I have to say expensive kits we sell. I’m not in the habit of turning away custom you understand, but are you sure your son would be capable of assembling this model? There’s over forty pages of instructions, never mind the sheets of plans…”</p><p>“I’m sure he’ll be capable and it sounds as if it will keep Julian occupied and out of mischief for quite some time.”</p><p>“Julian? Julian Raft? Julian’s your son? Why, I know Julian, madam, he’s one of my regular customers and he’s an excellent young modeller… he’ll certainly do the <i>Sopwith Camel</i> kit full justice… and when it’s finished you can tell him that I’d consider it an honour to display it in my shop.” The proprietor paused before continuing, “May I ask what this surprise is in connection with?”</p><p>“I don’t mind telling you, but it must remain a secret for the time being,” Julian’s mother replied, “You see I hoping to persuade Julian to enter a competition soon, but I’m afraid, well to be honest, he’s not very keen to do so and he’s going to need a little, er shall we say... <i>inducement</i>.”</p><p>“I quite understand and the <i>Sopwith</i> kit will be the bait, as it were,” the proprietor said as he smiled and nodded his head in agreement with Julian’s mother’s strategy, “Hmm… if I know Julian, he’d do anything to get his hands on this kit. Would you like me to put a reserved sticker on the kit?”</p><p>“Yes, please do… No, actually I’ll pay for it now, since you’ve convinced me that Julian is unlikely to refuse my offer…”</p><p>“Perhaps I should keep the kit until you are satisfied that you have Julian’s agreement to enter the competition, although I’m sure he will when he finds out that you’ve bought the <i>Sopwith Camel</i> kit.”</p><p>Mrs Raft nodded: “Please do…”</p><p>“In that case the sticker shall read ‘Paid In Full - To Be Collected - Master Julian Raft’”</p><p>“Perfect, but not to be handed to Julian unless he has my written permission.”</p><p>“Why, of course, Madam… er, Mrs Raft.”</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Julian’s mother was brought up never to discard anything that might come in useful in the future. Although her son didn’t have any even passably smart <i>long </i>school trousers, she remembered that she’d kept Julian’s last two pairs of <i>short </i>school trousers, one pair hardly used, since they’d been bought in the same year her son was allowed to graduate into ‘longs’.</p><p>Mrs Raft reasoned that although Julian had shot up in the past eighteen months, she knew from her visit with Julian to the school outfitters, that his waist measurement was unchanged and was the same as it had been when he was fourteen when his last pair of short school trousers had been bought.</p><p>Mrs Raft looked at Julian’s short trousers and she could see straightaway there might be a problem. In the last two years styles had changed and boy’s short school trousers now had longer legs… some much longer, almost reaching the boy’s knees. The inseam of Julian’s short school trousers was almost non-existent. Mrs Raft would need to check if there were any rules concerning the minimum length of short trousers that could be worn in the competition.</p><p>Next out of the drawer were Julian’s school regulation swimming trunks. Since swimming was no longer a compulsory lesson in the upper forms of Julian’s school, he had insisted on the purchase of swim-shorts for when he went swimming at the local pool. Mum knew that in the swimwear section of the Smartest Schoolboy competition, school regulation trunks had to be worn. She held up the flimsy speedo-style trunks. Twisted them this way and that and decided that there would be no need to incur the expense of another pair.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>A couple of days went by before Mrs Raft broached the subject of the <i>Smartest Schoolboy</i> competition once more. Julian had not given the matter any thought at all and so was somewhat unnerved when his mother, in a roundabout way, raised the subject again.</p><p>“I was looking through some of your old clothes the other day… I can’t think why we kept those school shorts of yours…” Mrs Raft paused for emphasis, “I don’t suppose they’d even fit you now…”</p><p>Julian listened to his mother, wondering where this was going. So what did he care about his old school short trousers?</p><p>“I mean, you’ve grown a bit in the last year or so, haven’t you?” his mother continued, “I expect you’d have a hard time getting them up over your bottom… even if you could I don’t suppose you’d be able to do them up properly... ”</p><p>Now, if there’s one strategy that might get a result, Mrs Raft knew, and that was to appeal to her son’s vanity. If anything was going to work, that would. Teenage boys, she knew, could be exceptionally vane.</p><p>She was right.</p><p>“I bet you I could get them on…” Julian said without thinking.</p><p>“Well, I don’t think so… I don’t think you could get them on… not without a struggle.”</p><p>There was a pause. Understandably Mrs Raft was loath to push her son too hard, but she needn’t have worried, Julian rose to the bait.</p><p>Julian put down his copy of ‘<i>Practical ModelMaker</i>’. Honestly, he thought, a boy can’t get a moments peace: “Alright… I’ll show you… I’ll prove it… Where are they?”</p><p>“Upstairs… I left them on the end of your bed just in case you wanted to keep them,” his mum replied.</p><p>Why would I want to keep them? Julian wondered as he went up the stairs to his bedroom. Short trousers are for kids, he thought, forgetting that it wasn’t that long ago that he was going to school in short trousers himself.</p><p>Julian walked into his room and there on his bed were the two pairs of school uniform short trousers that his mother had dug out. He picked up a pair.</p><p>“<i>Blimey</i>… they’re shorter than I remember… <i>Crikey-O-Mikey</i>… these are even shorter!” he exclaimed as he fingered the legs of the second pair.</p><p>Still, Julian wasn’t to be put off. After all, only his mother would see him wearing them, so he bent down to unlace his shoes. Shoes off, Julian unzipped his trousers, pushed them down and pulled them off. Julian was wearing white boy’s briefs. He folded his ‘longs’ and picked up one of the pairs of short trousers. Looked at them. Sneered and put them back down again and in an act of boyish bravado, picked up the second pair of short trousers, the pair with the shorter legs.</p><p>“I’ll show her,” Julian said to himself as he stepped into the shorts. He pulled them up without any difficulty and didn’t even have to alter the button side adjusters at the waist. They were surprisingly comfortable.</p><p>Julian couldn’t believe that he’d worn such short short trousers to school. He’d totally forgotten what it felt like to have his thighs bare to the very tops of his legs. It was a feeling that made him glad he no longer had to wear short trousers to school any more.</p><p>He bent down to slip on his shoes again and felt the trousers ride up at the back. When he stood up again, Julian was shocked to see himself in his bedroom mirror with the lower curves of his bottom perfectly visible, uncovered by the rising legs of the shorts. He reached back and plucked at the hems of the short legs of his brief school trousers and pulled them back down as much as he could.</p><p>Back downstairs Julian stood in front of his mother.</p><p>“There… I told you they’d fit,” Julian said proudly, “I didn’t even have to adjust the waist…”</p><p>“They look very smart, Julian and I apologise… you were right and I was wrong,” mum admitted, “They still fit you perfectly… and you’ve such lovely legs, Julian, it’s a shame you keep them covered up…”</p><p>“<i>Mum</i>…” Julian blushed. He was very self-conscious when it came to his legs, embarrassed that they were still as smooth and unblemished as a twelve year old.</p><p>“But you have, Julian…” his mother said and after a pause added wistfully, “Do you know if you had a proper haircut I’d bet you could win that award wearing those smart school trousers of yours…”</p><p>It took Julian a moment or two before he realised what award his mother was talking about.</p><p>“What me?! Enter that competition! Wear these short trousers! <i>Not likely</i>!”</p><p>“Why not? If you went and got yourself a proper haircut at Mr Fenner’s you’d be more than halfway there…”</p><p>“But, mum, Mr Fenner is so old-fashioned. He’d give me one of those awful short-back-and-sides haircuts that were out of fashion when they built the Ark. I’d look a right dork.”</p><p>“You wouldn’t, darling… you’ve got the right shaped head to carry it off… Still if you don’t want to…”</p><p>“Too right I don’t want to.”</p><p>“Well it’s up to you, Julian… if you don’t want to, that’s all there is to it…”</p><p>It was late in the evening and Julian didn’t see the point in changing out of his short trousers and so resumed his study of ‘<i>Practical ModelMaker</i>’. Mum went into the kitchen to set the table for breakfast. As she took a cereal packet down from one of the cupboards she called through to the living-room: “Julian…”</p><p>“Yes, mum…”</p><p>“I was in that model shop of yours the other day… the man there was very helpful…”</p><p>“Mr Handley?”</p><p>“Yes, Mr Handley… He told me that you were an excellent modeller…”</p><p>Julian was puzzled. What was his mother doing in the model shop? She never showed the slightest interest in going there before.</p><p>“Mum, why did you want to go into Mr Handley's shop?” he asked.</p><p>“I wanted to ask him about a particular model you’d mentioned… as I say, Mr Handley was extremely helpful and knew right away what I was talking about…”</p><p>Julian sensed a quickening of his pulse. His thoughts raced as he tried not to get too excited.</p><p>“You asked Mr Handley about the <i>Sopwith Camel</i> kit?” Julian gasped, “<i>Oh mum… you didn’t</i>?!”</p><p>“Yes, that was it the <i>Sopwith Camel</i> kit, but at first he tried to put me off buying it…”</p><p>“<i>Buying it</i>! Buying the <i>Sopwith Camel</i> kit! Please mum… please tell me you ignored him!”</p><p>Julian was beside himself with excitement. The <i>Sopwith Camel</i> kit was what he dreamed about before he fell asleep at night. He thought about the kit during boring English lessons. He talked about the <i>Sopwith Camel</i> with his fellow modellers incessantly. In short Julian was obsessed with the kit.</p><p>“Mr Handley was insistent that I should only buy the kit for a boy who was capable of doing it full justice. He told me how very complex the instructions are and how only a very experienced boy could hope to assemble it properly…”</p><p>Julian was on the edge of his seat, desperate to know whether mum had bought the kit.</p><p>“Then, when I mentioned your name and Mr Handley told me how he knew you and that he was confident the kit would be within your capabilities, I told him it was to be a very special treat for…”</p><p>“<i>But, did you buy it, mum</i>?!” Julian couldn’t help himself… he had to know.</p><p>“Yes, of course I bought it, Julian, but that’s not the point…”</p><p>“But… I don’t understand, mum, what do you mean it’s not the point?”</p><p>“The point is, Julian, that I made Mr Handley promise that he was only to hand you the model kit when he knew you’d agreed to enter the competition…”</p><p>Julian didn’t speak. He was too busy trying to take all this in. Did mum seriously mean <i>that </i>competition… the schoolboy award thing? He shook his head in disbelief.</p><p>The penny dropped: “<i>MUM</i>!… you’re not seriously suggesting I enter the <i>Smartest Schoolboy</i> competition?!”</p><p>“Why ever not? I keep telling you how you could easily win one of the awards if you set your mind to it…”</p><p>“But, mum…”</p><p>“And now you’ve got the <i>Sopwith Camel</i> kit to look forward to… provided Mr Handley knows you’ve agreed to be in the competition…”</p><p>“But, mum…”</p><p>“He could easily give that model to some other boy who’s more deserving…”</p><p>Poor Julian was on the horns of a dilemma. He really wanted the <i>Sopwith Camel</i> kit, but was the price, entering the blasted <i>Smartest Schoolboy Awards</i>, too high? He’d never get the chance to buy the Sopwith kit himself, at least not for a very long time, and the thought of letting this opportunity go was headachingly awful. He simply couldn’t let this pass by and yet he was overwhelmed by what he knew would be involved.</p><p>Julian rubbed his hands along his bare thighs as he thought some more.</p><p>“If I agree…” he said haltingly, “Do I have to wear these short trousers, mum… can’t I have a new pair of longs?”</p><p>“But, darling, I made it clear ages ago that your school longs would have to see you through to the end of the year… and you can’t wear those in the competition. It simply wouldn’t make sense to buy a brand new pair of school trousers that you were only going to have the use of for a few months. Besides, you’ve proved to me that those short trousers fit you perfectly… and they haven’t had much wear at all. You’ll look very smart wearing those…”</p><p>“But, mum…”</p><p>“It’s only a competition, darling… and just think how thrilled you’ll be when Mr Handley hands over that model to you… He must think a lot of you, Julian, you know he even said that he would be proud to display the <i>Sopwith Camel</i> in his shop when you’d finished building it…” </p><p>Julian sighed a heartfelt sigh: “Okay, mum, I’ll do it.”</p><p>“I am pleased, Julian… and you will go to Mr Fenner’s for a proper haircut, won’t you?”</p><p>“Yes, mum…”</p><p>“Just one other thing, Julian…”</p><p>“Yes, mum,” Julian replied nervously. What else could there be?</p><p>“We’ll have to sort you out with some more suitable underpants. The ones you’re wearing… I can just see a little bit of white when you were sitting down. We don’t want you to lose points because your underpants are showing, do we?”</p><p>“Er, no… no, mum.”</p><p>“Good… that’s settled. Now, shall I make you a cocoa drink to take up to bed?”</p><p>“Please… yes... thanks, mum.”</p><p><br /></p><p>And so the evening drew to a close and Julian carried his bedtime drink upstairs to undress and put on his pyjamas, ready for bed. Before he climbed into bed, Julian had a look through his collection of model-making magazines until he found what he was after, an issue in which the <i>Sopwith Camel</i> kit was reviewed. The review was exceptionally detailed. Julian pulled the bedclothes back and got into bed. He lay on his side sipping his cocoa and turned the pages of his magazine as he read through the review and marvelled at the photographs of the model in various stages of construction. The close-up pictures showed the precision with which details of the aircraft had been reproduced in fine scale. Julian was awestruck.</p><p>He finally closed the magazine and put it on his bedside table. Julian finished his drink, rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. To think that mum had already bought the <i>Sopwith Camel</i> kit! All he had to do was enter the <i>Smartest Schoolboy</i> competition and it would be his to build. Julian frowned. He pictured the article he’d just read. Having a haircut and putting on a pair of short school trousers had to be a price worth paying… surely? And with that thought, Julian drifted off to sleep.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>The next morning nothing was said about the model <i>or </i>the competition and Julian set off for school. However, the <i>Sopwith Camel</i> and thoughts of wearing short school trousers remained uppermost in his mind. When he returned home after school, doubts he’d been having during the day were close to the surface. There were only one or two boys in the First Year that he’d seen wearing short trousers and their shorts were far longer than the ones he’d put on last night, something he’d not noticed before and clearly a factor to be considered.</p><p>Julian sat down to tea.</p><p>“Mum… are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked.</p><p>“What idea’s that, darling?”</p><p>“You know… the smartest schoolboy thing,” Julian replied, “I mean hardly any boys wear short trousers to school these days. I only saw two First Year boys wearing them and their shorts were miles longer than the ones I’ll have to wear.”</p><p>Mum thought for a moment. It seemed to her that her son had accepted that he would be wearing short trousers for the competition, but he needed a mother’s reassurance that everything would be for the best. She knew Julian wanted the <i>Sopwith Camel</i> kit more than anything. The fact that it was sitting in Mr Handley's shop fully paid for, was a strong enough incentive for Julian to enter the competition. Julian simply needed mum’s encouragement, she concluded.</p><p>“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, Julian... besides short trousers always look longer on little boys. I don’t suppose your trousers were that much shorter than theirs,” Julian’s mother said, although she knew full well how short trousers had indeed become longer-legged and she had checked to see if there were any rules regarding the length of short trousers that were permissible when worn for the <i>Smartest Schoolboy</i> competition. There were none, so Julian’s thigh-baring ultra-short school trousers were perfectly acceptable.</p><p>“You know, darling, I think you’ve just got out of the habit of wearing short trousers. I’m sure if you wore them a bit more often, you’d soon build up your confidence,” Julian’s mum paused as if in thought, then added, “The competition is still a few weeks away, Julian… why don’t you use that time to practice wearing your short trousers…”</p><p>“What do you mean ‘practice’, mum...”</p><p>“Well, for instance, you could go and change into them the minute you come home from school and wear them around the house… you’d soon get used to wearing short trousers again.”</p><p>This didn’t seem at all unreasonable to Julian. However, he still had doubts: “But, mum, it’s the thought of all those people seeing me in short trousers… I mean they’re really very short. I'm sure they’re much shorter than the ones I saw those First Formers wearing…”</p><p>“Hmm..” mum thought for a moment, “What if I asked a couple of my friends over when you’re wearing them and when you’re used to them seeing you in short trousers we could just go for a little walk…”</p><p>“A little walk… <i>outside</i>?!” Julian was horrified at the thought.</p><p>“It’s just an idea, darling… but the sooner you get used to wearing your short trousers in front of other people, the sooner you’ll feel confident when the time comes and you’re standing in front of the judges.”</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>The biggest test for Julian came exactly a week before the competition when, in full short trouser uniform, <i>tenue impeccable</i>, he went to Mr Fenner’s for his special, pre-competition haircut.</p><p>“Well, well, well… Master Julian Raft,” Mr Fenner beamed, “Your mum’s told me all about the competition and if you want my opinion, you’ll walk away with First Prize… no trouble at all.”</p><p>Julian was blushing fit to burst as Mr Fenner went on to tell him how smart… how very smart he looked in short trousers.</p><p>“Mum says I’ve to ask for…” Julian gulped, it was now or never, he thought, “... for a traditional short back and sides, Mr Fenner.”</p><p>“Certainly, Master Julian… if you’ll take a seat,” Mr Fenner said as he directed Julian to his barber’s chair, “Of course normally a boy wearing short trousers would be seated on the plank, but I can’t remember the last time a boy your age in short trousers needed to use the plank, so I’ll make an exception for you today…”</p><p>“Thank you, Mr Fenner,” Julian said as he sat down on the vinyl-covered barber’s chair. Although it was a privilege for a short-trousered boy to forgo having to sit on the infantile plank placed across the arms of the chair, Julian sensed that within a few minutes the backs of his bare legs would be sticking uncomfortably to the plastic chair-covering. He looked up at the mirror and at his full head of hair for the last time before Mr Fenner set to work with his scissors, comb and the electric clippers.</p><p>Mr Fenner swished a cape over Julian’s head and as it settled down Julian could see his bare legs sticking out from under the cape, just like a little schoolboy. The cape was secured in place around Julian’s neck and Mr Fenner got quickly to work on his haircut. Julian’s head was moved backwards and forwards, from side to side, this way and that while Mr Fenner, in complete control, snipped and combed, thinning Julian’s hair ready for the clippers. Julian’s cut hair cascaded down the cape as Julian looked on, horrified at the amount of his hair tumbling down onto the lino flooring of Mr Fenner’s shop.</p><p>“Time for the cold steel,” Mr Fenner joked as he reached for the electric clippers. He placed his hand firmly on the crown of Julian’s head and pushed forward and down as he exposed the nape of Julian’s neck. Mr Fenner flicked a switch, the clippers buzzed into life and Julian felt the vibrating teeth of the clippers on the back of his neck. Mr Fenner believed a short back and sides should be just that, short, and that is precisely what Julian received.</p><p>As was his habit when he’d finished a boy’s haircut, Mr Fenner reached for his big tub of Brylcreem. Boys were never asked if they would like any on their hair. Mr Fenner was of the view that a haircut was not complete without a good dollop of Brylcreem worked into the boy’s hair. So, taking a good-sized scoop from the tub with his fingers, he spent a few minutes rubbing the hair cream into the crown of Julian’s head, making sure the hair was well slicked with the product. Finally, Julian’s hair was combed and given a razor sharp parting.</p><p>Julian looked at his reflection in the big mirror on the wall opposite the chair on which he sat. Julian gawped for a few seconds quite unable to believe he was looking at himself. He looked like… Julian couldn’t even be sure if any boy had ever looked like he did as he stepped out of Mr Fenner’s chair. Presumably they must have done… but when? Mr Fenner was old. Julian thought he must have been at least fifty something, so maybe boys did have haircuts like this when he was younger.</p><p>Julian was in a daze as he went to pay. “No charge,” said Mr Fenner, “When you win the contest, just you bring the cup back here to show me and I’ll put a photo of you with it in my window. How’s that sound?”</p><p>“Thank you very much, Mr Fenner.”</p><p>And with that, Julian went home. He was so shocked by the severe haircut Mr Fenner had given him that he didn’t even notice a couple of boys as they whistled and shouted rude comments in his direction.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>Compared with his experience at Mr Fenner’s, Julian meetings with his mother’s friends had been much less traumatic… up to a point, that is. Julian had rather liked the compliments he was given, being told how smart, how <i>very </i>smart he looked… and, yes, although it caused him to blush, Julian accepted with good grace when he was told that short trousers suited boys with such smooth, unblemished legs like his. Julian even felt relaxed enough to talk about his models and how his mum had promised him a very special model for entering the <i>Smartest Schoolboy Awards</i>. The ladies listened politely as they sipped their teas. They too were mothers of boys who had similar interests as Julian and they knew how boys loved to talk enthusiastically about these things. Julian needed little encouragement before he was even telling them how nervous he felt about appearing in front of lots of people in his short trousers. But his mum’s friends had been briefed sufficiently enough to know what to say. Julian was being very brave. It wasn’t every sixteen year old boy who would be willing to show up his contemporaries.</p><p>“What do you mean?” Julian asked.</p><p>“The other boys in your age group… they’ll probably be wearing long trousers, you know,” one of the ladies informed him. “Won’t they be in for a surprise when they see you wearing your school shorts… I’ll bet they’ll be ever so jealous when they realise they could have worn short trousers as well.”</p><p>Julian gulped. He was pretty sure the other boys his age taking part in the competition wouldn’t be in the least bit envious… come to that, Julian hadn’t even considered what the other boys would be wearing. All he’d been concerned about up to that point was appearing in short trousers in front of the judges and the audience at the awards competition.</p><p><br /></p><p>At one of these meetings with his mother’s friends Mrs Stevens, a close neighbour with two sons a few years younger than Julian, said to his mum: “I’ve brought some spare pairs of underpants you were asking me about the other day.”</p><p>She produced a couple of packs from her handbag. The underpants were still in their cellophane packaging which crinkled as Mrs Stevens placed the packs on the coffee table in front of her. Both packs made it clear the contents had the approval of various Schools Associations for wearing with regulation school uniforms. The underpants, it was stated on the packs, were made to be worn by boys of ages twelve to thirteen years.</p><p>“I brought some of these because, as you see, they’re specially designed to be worn with short school trousers,” Mrs Stevens said as she pointed to the information panel on the little packs, “Albert and Adam both wear longs to school now, so they don’t need these type of underpants anymore… Oh, and I’ve brought some junior schoolboy vests as well… just in case.”</p><p>“Let’s have a look at these underpants then,” Julian’s mother said and she took out one of the pairs from its crinkly cellophane wrapping. “Gosh! But they are brief…”</p><p>“Yes, but I’m sure Julian will have no trouble with them… after all, Julian’s not that much older than the boys these underpants are made for and, besides, you don’t want him to lose points just because he’s let down by his underpants, do you?”</p><p>“You’re quite right… best be on the safe side,” Julian’s mother agreed.</p><p>“Right then, shall we see how they look on Julian?” Mrs Stevens asked quite straightforwardly.</p><p>“Yes, that’s a good idea,” Julian’s mum admitted, “Best we make sure they fit properly… Julian, come over here and you can try on these underpants…”</p><p>Julian, who hadn’t been consulted during the discussion about schoolboy underpants, simply froze and whined: “<i>Mum</i>… not here…”</p><p>“Of course <i>here</i>, darling… how else are we going to see if these underpants fit you… we have to make sure they don’t show when you’re wearing your school shorts…”</p><p>“But, <i>mum</i>…”</p><p>“Oh, don’t make such a fuss, Julian… Mrs Stevens has got two boys of her own and Mrs Bridges used to help me out… it wasn’t that long ago when she used to help out at your bathtime…”</p><p>Julian realised there was no call for any modesty in front of his mother’s friends. Yes, all of them were experienced in looking after boys and, yes Mrs Bridges and Mrs Atwell had even seen him with no clothes on, but that was a few years ago and things had changed…</p><p>“<i>Please</i>, mum…” Julian begged.</p><p>“I really don’t see why you’re making such a fuss about this, Julian,” his mother responded. She wasn’t going to put up with Julian’s silly behaviour in front of her friends, “There’s no need to be shy. I don’t think anyone else is at all bothered, so I don’t see why you should be… now come over here and let’s get those trousers off…”</p><p>Nervously Julian stepped forward towards his mother. It was the matter of a few seconds before Julian felt his short school trousers slipping down his long smooth legs. Without another word spoken Julian lifted his right foot as his mother’s hand touched the back of his calf and stepped out of his short trousers. The procedure was repeated for his other foot and Mrs Stevens helpfully moved to pick up Julian’s school shorts.</p><p>Mum’s hands came up to the waistband of Julian’s white cotton schoolboy underpants. Julian held his breath as his underpants were pulled down. First his bottom was uncovered, then mum’s fingers slipped round to the front of the underpants and the moment that all boys dread was upon him. Mum wasn’t in the least concerned and tugged Julian’s underpants down, over his private parts just as if she did this and undressed him in front of her friends in the living-room every day of the week.</p><p>As the underpants were removed Julian’s penis wobbled and came to rest. Now bare from the waist down, Julian avoided eye-contact with any of the ladies in the room, instead fixing his gaze on a picture hanging on the far wall of the room. He felt desperately embarrassed.</p><p>The new junior schoolboy underpants were drawn up Julian’s legs. Without a moments hesitation mum took hold of Julian’s penis before pulling up the front of the underpants.</p><p>Julian was shocked: “<i>Mum</i>…” </p><p>“Well, you’d better do it…” his mum conceded.</p><p>More embarrassed than ever, Julian arranged his penis and testicles within the tight confines of the junior underpants designed for boys up the the age thirteen. He fixed his eyes back on the wall opposite.</p><p>It was true the little white underpants were cut in such a way to facilitate the wearing of extremely brief short trousers, but before the ladies could assess the effect of them on Julian’s particular pair of short trousers, there was another matter of concern that had become apparent.</p><p>“Tsk, tsk, tsk…” It was Mrs Stevens who first drew attention to the problem. “I hadn’t thought… but that will never do… do you see?”</p><p>“Hmm… yes, we’ll have to do something… we certainly can’t leave it like that…” Julian’s mother agreed.</p><p>Mrs Stevens shook her head: “I’d not thought about that… you see Albert’s still too young and Adam’s only just started to… well, you can only just about see them, but he’s very proud nonetheless…”</p><p>“What are we going to do?” Julian’s mum asked.</p><p>“There’s only one thing we can do...” Mrs Stevens replied.</p><p>Julian took his eyes from the wall and looked down to try and see what the problem was. For the life of him, Julian couldn’t make out what it was… until his mum reached out to the few feathery hairs that could just be seen curling out from under the elastic of the tight little junior underpants. The light-coloured hairs were barely visible, but they were noticeable enough to the eagle-eyed ladies.</p><p>“... scissors will have to for now,” Mrs Stevens continued, “but I think you’d be better off with shaving foam and a razor on the day…”</p><p>“Yes… I think you’re right…”</p><p>“<i>MUM</i>!! <i>YOU CAN’T</i>!!” Julian was understandably upset. His pubic hair had been a long time coming and he wasn’t best pleased at the thought of losing it so soon after its appearance. Julian had been one of the last boys in his class at school to sprout hairs at the base of his penis. One or two boys had got their hairs when they were in the First Form; Julian had had to wait until he was almost fifteen before his appeared. When Julian was fourteen he suffered agonies of humiliation each time he went into the obligatory communal showers after PE and games at school. The good-natured joshing, calling him ‘baldy’ and such like, soon wore thin on the sensitive boy. And now his mum was seriously considering following the advice of a neighbour and removing his precious pubic hair just for this silly competition. I mean, thought Julian, who’s even going to see my underpants?</p><p>But mum wasn’t concerned: “Oh, don’t be such fuss-pot, darling… you know it’ll all grow back again…”</p><p>“But… but… <i>mum</i>,” Julian wanted to plead that it had taken long enough for his hairs to grow in the first place, he didn’t want to wait for them to grow a second time and in the meantime have to put up with all the gibes from his classmates calling him ‘baldy’ and taunting him all over again. However, Julian was not about to divulge his inner feelings and how anxious he was in front of a roomful of his mother’s friends. So, with a heartfelt sigh he had to settle for the underwhelming words: “But, mum, it’s not fair…”</p><p>“Your mum’s right, Julian… it’ll will soon grow back,” Mrs Stevens said in an effort to console Julian, “And it’s all in a good cause, so let’s give them a little trim just to smarten you up, eh?”</p><p>Julian couldn’t begin to understand what the ‘good cause’ might be, unless it was to give everyone a laugh at his expense. First it was the short school trousers that he hadn’t worn for years, then the haircut… not just any old haircut, but one of Mr Fenner’s special short-back-and-sides haircuts, then these stupid junior schoolboy underpants… and now they want to cut off my hairs! Where will it all end, Julian wondered.</p><p>Faced with superior odds Julian stood still while he suffered the indignity of having his junior schoolboy underpants taken down by Mrs Stevens, while his mum went off in search of a suitable pair of scissors. It was of course a huge embarrassment to have his boyhood on show once more, a situation made worse by the complete indifference shown by his mum’s friends. While Julian blushed hotly to the roots of his hair, the ladies continued to chat as if it was a matter of no concern to have a boy of sixteen standing in their midst with his penis on display.</p><p>Julian’s mother returned with a small pair of scissors and handed them to Mrs Stevens: “Will these do?” she asked.</p><p>“Perfect… shall I make a start?” Mrs Stevens replied.</p><p>“Yes, if you wouldn’t mind… the sooner it’s done, the sooner we’ll know if the junior underpants are going to be suitable for Julian to wear with his school shorts.”</p><p>Julian was shocked when Mrs Stevens took hold of his penis and pulled it to one side and set to work with the little scissors. He couldn’t bring himself to look down at what she was doing at first, but when he heard the <i>snippy-snip-snip</i> of the scissors and felt the cold metal touch his bare flesh, he just had to look and was horrified to see his cut boy-hairs tumbling down his legs as Mrs Stevens worked the little scissors around the base of his penis. One side denuded of pubic hair, Mrs Stevens pulled Julian’s penis so that she could get to the other side with the scissors. Once more Julian suffered the heartbreak of seeing his precious boy-hairs snipped off and watching as they floated to the floor of the living-room.</p><p>“There, that’s much better,” Mrs Stevens said with some satisfaction, “Julian won’t have any problems wearing junior underpants now…”</p><p>Julian was horror-struck. Looking down, there was absolutely no sign that he’d ever had any pubic hair! Mrs Stevens had certainly been very thorough and since Julian’s pubic hair was very light in colour, the little that remained was almost invisible when viewed from even just a few inches away. No wonder Julian thought he was completely bald.</p><p>Needless to say after Julian had been helped on with the junior schoolboy underpants for a second time, there was absolutely no sign of his unsightly pubic hair. Mum and Mrs Stevens were both pleased with the result and felt confident that Julian would be in with a chance to win the <i>Smartest Schoolboy of the Year Award</i>. Julian was given his short school trousers back and told to put them back on. Once mum had straightened his tie and brushed away a couple of specks of fluff, the ladies stepped back to examine the blushing boy. Mrs Atwell stepped forward and made sure that everything was ‘just so’ by fiddling with the hem of Julian’s shorts. Meanwhile Mrs Bridges brushed her hand over his hair and wiped a mote of dust from his face. </p><p>“If Julian doesn’t win the <i>Smartest Schoolboy Award</i>, I’ll want to know the reason why,” his mum said emphatically and with a degree of pride that so touched Julian that he unexpectedly found himself hoping he could live up to it.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-91135071955505680502021-06-28T14:15:00.000+01:002021-06-28T14:15:24.038+01:00The Book Club - Part 3<p> </p><p>Hugh (just 18) was angry with himself. How could he have let a pompous little twit like Simon (19 - nearly 20) trick him into that game of strip table-tennis? He stared at Simon’s woefully small, almost hairless genitals. If it wasn’t for the fact that Hugh was dressed in his old school uniform complete with eye-wateringly brief short trousers, he might have been tempted to take matters into his own hands and give Simon what for… well, that and the fact they were both facing their respective mothers and the other members of the Bunbury Ladies Reading Circle, as well as Abigail and Heather, the young daughters of one of the members of said circle.</p><p>Hugh had to be content with watching Simon’s mother deal with her son. She was clearly mortified by Simon’s behaviour in front of her guests and was in no doubt that she had to show them how naughty boys were dealt with in her house. It was a simple case that her dignity demanded she did so.</p><p>Everyone sensed this and remained respectfully quiet. The only sounds were of Simon whimpering and pleading and promising his mother that he wouldn’t do it again, that he would behave himself in future, if only please, please, please, she wouldn't, not in front of everyone.</p><p>“Wouldn’t <i>what</i>, Simon?” Amanda stopped and asked her son.</p><p>Hugh had to smirk as he saw Simon realise what he’d just implied by his miserable pleading.</p><p>“Come along, Simon… what wouldn’t mummy do if you behaved yourself?” Amanda insisted.</p><p>Simon, still standing on the coffee table with his hands firmly on his head and his little schoolboy underpants at his feet, screwed up his face. Hugh thought Simon was about to burst into tears, but Simon was merely stealing himself to tell everyone in the room what he knew mummy would do.</p><p>“Spank my bottom…” he blurted out. It was hardly the behaviour of a boy of almost twenty summers and when he realised he’d made a mistake Simon corrected himself and actually apologised! This was done under the watchful gaze of the Bunbury Ladies Reading Circle and their junior members the sisters Heather and Abigail… and of course Hugh. </p><p>“Um, I’m sorry, I meant <i>bare </i>bottom, mummy… you’d spank my <i>bare </i>bottom.”</p><p>“That’s correct,” Amanda confirmed, “You know as well as I do that a spanking does a boy absolutely no good unless it’s administered to his bare bottom.”</p><p>“Yes, mummy,” Simon agreed.</p><p>“Now get down from the coffee table and let’s show the ladies how we deal with naughty boys in this house.”</p><p>It was obvious to everyone what a struggle it was for Simon to comply. The ladies now knew and of course Simon knew what awaited him. Abigail stepped forward and offered to assist by helping Simon untangle his underpants from his feet which she did showing remarkable efficiency and addressing Simon as if he was nearer twelve than twenty.</p><p>“Oh you <i>have </i>got your little underpants into a tangle,” Abigail admonished the blushing boy, “What have you been up to? Come along let’s lift up this little footy… that’s right… now the other one… <i>what a clever boy</i>!”</p><p>Hugh could barely contain himself as he watched Simon being assisted by Abigail who now handed Simon’s junior schoolboy underpants to her sister, Heather.</p><p>Hugh stepped forward with his arm held out. “Here… let me help you off the coffee table, Simon.”</p><p>Simon glared at Hugh.</p><p>Amanda smiled and praised Hugh for being so helpful and setting such a fine example for her badly behaved son. However, Margret, Hugh’s mother, couldn’t help wondering what her son was up to, but decided to wait and see and soak up some of the reflected glory of Hugh’s so far exemplary, gentlemanly behaviour.</p><p>So, somewhat reluctantly, Simon took hold of Hugh’s hand and stepped down from the coffee table. Left wearing just his school shirt and tie, together with his ankle socks and T-bar school sandals, Simon looked quite ridiculous standing in front of the Bunbury Ladies Reading Circle. As Simon turned to face his mother, Hugh saw the pale cheeks of Simon’s bottom. Hugh glanced around the room whilst wondering whether Simon’s mum would just give him a hand spanking on his bare bottom, or was there a paddle or and hair brush lying about ready to be employed on a naughty bottom?</p><p>Then Hugh spotted it… <i>pay dirt</i>! He grinned. Perfect. There, on the sideboard across the room where it had been casually discarded, was a Palio SuperXpress Master table tennis bat. No wonder Simon had won those table tennis games so easily, Hugh thought. If he was playing with one of those he must have known I didn’t stand a chance. He took me for a sucker alright.</p><p>It was Hugh’s turn to glare at Simon. His eyes travelled down to look at Simon’s pale bottom once more and Hugh wondered just how red they would turn after a really good spanking with the Palio bat. ‘<i>Dream on,</i>’ Hugh thought, ‘do you seriously expect he’ll be spanked with that bat?’ he told himself… but, you never know. Hugh was nothing if not an optimist.</p><p>Simon continued to plead with his mother not to spank him in front of everyone, but it hardly needs to be recorded that his words were in vain. Amanda stood to one side of her son and then took hold of the back tail of Simon’s grey school shirt and with one practiced tug, yanked it up and pushed it firmly into the collar, thus effectively baring Simon’s front from chest to ankle and from ankle to shoulder at the back.</p><p>Simon’s penis had by this time deflated somewhat. Abigail, with her comprehensive knowledge of puberty in boys, can’t have been the only person in the room to wonder why Simon had such a boyish-looking penis. Why, it was much smaller and thinner than those Abigail saw in her school books. From where she was sitting Abigail could see that Simon’s foreskin was noticeably longer than the ones she’d seen in the book about how boys develop during their teen years. Could it be that Simon’s penis is even smaller than it looks, she wondered? No wonder he didn’t want his trousers taken down to be measured properly.</p><p>“Hands back up on your head, Simon,” his mothered ordered, “... <i>and keep them there</i>,” she added menacingly, expecting her son to behave himself and do what he was told.</p><p>Hugh wished he could have seen Simon’s face as Amanda put her left hand on Simon’s shoulder and then raised her right arm. She swung her hand sharply downwards and cracked it squarely across Simon’s left buttock. Simon jolted forward and in the process his penis was seen to slap up against his pubis, much to the amusement of Heather and Abigail. More spanks followed as Amanda swatted her son’s bottom cheeks and in the process turning them a light pink colour. Each time her hand made contact, Simon’s hips pushed out and an incoherent noise was heard to leave his lips. Gradually the noises turned to barely comprehensible pleading, but mum’s hand continued to spank Simon’s bottom turning it from light pink to bright red in colour.</p><p>It was only with extreme difficulty that Simon managed to keep his hands on his head. But when mum’s hand finally stopped warming up his bottom, Simon performed a sort of jig for the obvious amusement of ladies of the book club, hopping from one foot to the other in an attempt to ease the stinging sensation left by his mother’s practiced hand upon his bare bottom.</p><p>“Well done, Amanda!” Betty Crabbe said as she expressed her wholehearted support for the book club member.</p><p>“I’ll go along with that,” Margret, Hugh’s mother, chipped in before adding, “I’d not thought of spanking Hugh standing up… it looked very effective.” Margret looked meaningfully at Hugh, but before Hugh could say anything, Amanda spoke:</p><p>“If you think that was effective, Margret, you should see what happens when I use my hairbrush…”</p><p>Simon’s head twisted round to face his mother. The shocked look on his face said it all.</p><p>“... it’s just a pity I left it upstairs…”</p><p>Heather leapt up: “I’ll fetch it, Mrs Waters…” she offered enthusiastically.</p><p>Hugh was on the alert. He’d never get another chance like this… <i>do it now, say something</i>, he told himself, before Heather goes for the hairbrush.</p><p>Simon looked over to Hugh when he heard him cough politely:</p><p>“Ahem… Mrs Waters… um, why don’t you use that ping-pong bat instead?” Hugh said as he indicated the table tennis bat lying on the sideboard.</p><p>Everyone turned their heads to see the bat Hugh had drawn their attention to, but before their eyes had properly focused and they’d realised the the use to which it could be put, Simon let out a blood-curdling shriek as he lunged at Hugh.</p><p>“<i>YOU BASTARD</i>!!… <i>YOU… YOU LITTLE SHIT</i>!!”</p><p>Wisely Hugh, for once in his life, did nothing and simply watched and let Simon dig himself into a hole. It took little more than a second before Simon realised how deep that hole was.</p><p>“<i>Simon Waters</i>!!” Amanda snapped, “What <i>do </i>you think you are doing?! And what do you mean by using language like that?! You’re a disgrace! Showing me up like that! Who do you think you are to behave like that in front of my guests! And as for attacking Hugh for absolutely no reason…” Amanda paused and turned to speak to Hugh in a somewhat less vigorous voice: “Yes, that table-tennis bat will be a perfect substitute, Hugh. Thank you for your suggestion.”</p><p>The contrast between the two boys was not lost on the ladies. Red-faced and red-bottomed, Simon was on the verge of tears as he was brought down to earth by his mother’s words. With his shirt pulled up and tucked into its collar, and in the absence of both short trousers and underpants, Simon was, for all practical purposes, nude. Hugh, on the other hand, stood smartly and fully dressed. Fighting the urge to look smug, Hugh had the satisfaction of knowing that Simon was getting his just reward.</p><p>“But, mum… mummy… it’s my Palio SuperXpress… please… don’t use it… it’ll ruin it for play…” Simon implored his mother.</p><p>“Well you shouldn’t have left it lying about, should you… I’ve told you enough times to put your things away… It will be a lesson for you to look after your table-tennis bat... and you can think about that lesson while Hugh uses it to spank your bottom…”</p><p>It was hard to know which boy was more shocked, Hugh or Simon. Certainly Simon’s mouth fell open as he finally cottoned on to the circumstances under which he’d met Hugh before.</p><p>“Now go and fetch your bat and hand it over to Hugh,” Amanda instructed her disgraced son, “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about the shameful language you used…”</p><p>Simon knew that meant an unpleasant trip to the kitchen sink for a mouth-soaping before the day was out.</p><p>Amanda turned towards Hugh as Simon crossed the room to fetch the table-tennis bat: “What position would you like Simon to adopt? I leave it down to you… Simon will do whatever you require...” There was no need for her to say anything else. Simon knew by the tone of his mother’s voice that he was in enough trouble already to risk upsetting her further.</p><p>Hugh looked thoughtfully at the coffee table: “<i>Any </i>position, Mrs Waters?”</p><p>Amanda nodded.</p><p>Over on the other side of the room Simon picked up his Palio bat. He looked at it and ran his fingers over the red sponge. It was hard, perfect for fast loops and chops, but he trembled to think what it would feel like smacking his already tender bare bottom. He walked back and nervously held out the bat for Hugh to take while looking down and refusing to make eye contact.</p><p>Hugh couldn’t resist a sly smile as he told Simon to get back up onto the coffee table… and this time he was instructed to kneel. Reluctantly Simon did as he was told, but baulked when Hugh explained that he was to lean forward over the edge of the table and put his hands flat on the carpet, even though he knew what sort of mood his mother was in.</p><p>Simon’s obstinacy did not go down at all well with Amanda and there followed the usual exchange of views: “... but, mum… do I have to? It’s not fair…” “Simon you’re only making things worse for yourself… now do what Hugh says...” “Please, mummy…” before the final “<i>That’s enough</i>!” from Amanda brought the exchange of words to a halt.</p><p>All the while Hugh stood patiently to one side and watched as Simon made a fuss and annoyed his mother even further. Never mind, Hugh thought, it gives me the perfect excuse to really put Simon’s Palio bat through its paces.</p><p>Finally Simon stretched out and, leaning forward, placed his hands on the carpeted floor. He’d never before felt quite this vulnerable and as Hugh tapped the table tennis bat on his perfectly positioned bare bottom, Simon realised he was left utterly defenceless. Having to support his whole upper body weight on his hands meant he had no choice but to stay in position and take every swat of the bat that Hugh delivered no matter how much they stung.</p><p>“How many shall I give him, Mrs Waters?” Hugh asked politely.</p><p>“Oh, you carry on, Hugh and I’ll let you know when I think he’s had enough,” Simon’s mother replied. Hugh was delighted to oblige.</p><p>Needless to say this news did not go down well with Simon as he waited anxiously for the spanking to begin. He was already visibly tense and, with bottom cheeks clenched, braced himself for the first strike of his own table tennis bat on his own bare bottom. But Hugh simply swished the bat to-and-fro a few times to get the feel of it before he was ready to start. And even then, when the bat first touched Simon’s bottom, it was only for a few taps before Hugh pressed it firmly against the right buttock and teased the increasingly nervous Simon. Although this tactic used up valuable time, Hugh knew from personal experience how it raised the levels of nervous anticipation to stratospheric levels. He could see the effect it was having on Simon whose eyes were squeezed tightly shut in expectation of the first sting of the bat.</p><p>A few more taps on Simon’s left buttock and then suddenly Hugh swung the bat down hard on each bare cheek in turn, as if returning some of the strokes he’d received during the game he’d been hoodwinked into playing against Simon. After four rapid swats, Hugh paused and waited for the full effect of the first swats to make themselves felt. Simon twisted his hips and jiggled his bottom as best as he could much to the amusement, it has to be said, of the ladies. Heather couldn’t stop herself from giggling as she watched, while Abigail was astonished at the powerful effect the simple table tennis bat had when applied to a boy’s bare bottom. Even after the first few strokes Abigail couldn’t help noticing how the colour of Simon’s bottom almost matched that of the bright red bat held in Hugh’s capable hand.</p><p>Simon tried not not debase himself any further by making a noise, but after another series of taps followed by some truly inspired strokes from Hugh wielding the bat, Simon begged for him to stop, pleading shamelessly as his knees slowly parted on the coffee table and his bottom sagged as he attempted to ease the awful stinging sensation that now beset his neither regions.</p><p>Hugh didn’t need to say anything, as Simon’s mother told her son, in no uncertain terms, to push his bottom out properly and to stop whining… it was only a table tennis bat after all, she added.</p><p>Throughout these proceedings it should be noted that Hugh’s mother, Margret couldn’t help wondering why Simon reacted so violently to Hugh’s mention of the table tennis bat. It was quite a puzzle. She, like everyone else in the room, could see the remarkable effect of the bat as an instrument of punishment was having on Simon’s bottom. But the curious thing about it was that Hugh, as far as she was aware, had never been beaten with a table tennis bat, so why did he suggest using it to Mrs Waters? If Hugh hadn’t been on the receiving end of a bat, how did he know of its undoubted effectiveness?</p><p>In the meantime Simon was struggling to stay in position as Hugh returned every one of the whacks with the table tennis bat that he had received from Simon during the after-school table tennis club… with interest.</p><p>As the final wallop of the bat landed on Simon’s sizzling, red-hot bottom, he was left with tears and snot running down his face as he tried to catch his breath. Simon had never known a spanking to sting so much. Even his mother’s hairbrush didn’t sting quite as bad as the table tennis bat. But just as he was managing to get control of himself again, Abigail spoke:</p><p>“Please, Mrs Waters, can I have a go?”</p><p>“Well, I’m not sure, dear. Hugh’s given Simon quite a spanking… you can see how red his bottom is,” Amanda replied.</p><p>But then Abigail’s mother Cynthia chipped in: “Oh, go on Amanda. Let Abigail have ago if she wants to… I don’t think she’ll be able to spank Simon’s bottom as hard as a big strong boy like Hugh…”</p><p>Amanda looked down at her son’s bright red bottom and thought about it for a moment before replying: “All right then… but just six strokes,” she said.</p><p>Hugh handed the bat to Abigail and told her where to stand for the best swing.</p><p>Simon’s head shot up when he felt the first of Abigail’s half dozen stokes of the bat, all of which fell square across the lower curves of his bottom cheeks. Abigail had consciously aimed for this area as she could see it was a paler red than the rest of Simon’s bare bottom and therefore obviously in need of her attention.</p><p>After her allotted six strokes which had left Simon wailing like a banshee, Cynthia turned to Amanda: “It sounds as if I was wrong… seems as if Abigail can swing that bat as well as a boy!”</p><p>Of course no one was surprised when Heather wanted a go with the table tennis bat as well, to which Simon pleaded that his bottom was on fire and please, please, please no more thwacks with the bat on his bottom. So Amanda ruled that Simon’s bottom had had enough, but Heather looked so disappointed that she suggested Heather might like to try the bat out on Simon’s thighs which Amanda could see were quite untouched and still pale.</p><p>“Is that alright with you, Simon?” his mother asked sarcastically.</p><p>Inwardly Simon groaned, but accepted the compromise: “Yes, mummy…”</p><p>Simon’s face was now a real mess covered in tears, drool and snot, made worse when he tried to wipe his nose as he supported himself with one hand on the carpet. His mother told him helpfully that it wouldn’t be possible for Heather to be able to spank him very hard with the bat and that she wasn’t even going to hit his bottom just as he’d asked.</p><p>Once more Hugh’s expertise was called upon to show Heather the best way to grip the handle of the table tennis bat. Unprompted he also told Heather whereabouts to aim for on the back of Simon’s so far unblemished thighs. Heather nodded and set about her task with vim and vigour. She landed the bat on exactly the right spot on Simon’s left thigh… well, it must have been the right spot as Simon reared up and yelped, much to the surprise of everyone watching. Was Simon such a softie, they wondered, that he could react in such a way to a spanking given by a young girl like Heather?</p><p>Heather smacked the bat down on Simon’s right thigh which brought a similar reaction. Simon started begging Heather to stop.</p><p>Heather paused and looked at Simon’s mother for advice.</p><p>“Simon… what do you think you are doing?” his mother scolded him, “I can’t see what all the fuss is about. You asked for Heather not to spank your bottom, which I agreed to, and now you’re making a great big fuss because she’s spanking the backs of your thighs which you agreed she could do… I just don’t know what’s got into you, I really don’t. Now get your head down and let Heather get on with her turn…”</p><p>Hugh looked down as Simon steadied himself and waited for Heather to resume spanking his thighs. Hugh felt magnanimous and was almost ready to offer to shake hands with Simon and to call it quits, although Hugh thought it somehow unlikely Simon would be willing to oblige having been utterly humiliated in front of his mother’s guests and spanked with the very same table tennis bat that Simon had used on Hugh’s bare bottom. Simon had been spanked by himself, Abigail <i>and </i>Heather, who had the distinction of warming Simon’s thighs. There really wasn’t much more that Hugh could think of that might add to Simon’s shame… unless, unless he could think of a way to draw some more attention to that pathetic little penis Hugh could just about glimpse dangling between Simon’s legs as he knelt on the coffee table. Every time Heather hit his legs with the bat Simon’s penis would flick up out of sight, his erection long gone.</p><p>The last stroke of the bat from Heather finally came and Simon was told he could stand up and climb down off the table. It was clear to Amanda that he was desperate to sooth his stinging bottom and thighs.</p><p>“All right, Simon, you can have two minutes…” Amanda didn’t need to tell Simon what to do as he went straight up on tiptoes, pushed his hips forward and reached back with his hands to rub his sore bottom. The spanking dance that followed was perhaps the most entertaining part of the book club meeting. Everyone watched as Simon, bereft of any sense of shame, leapt, squirmed and wriggled about frantically trying to ease the stinging, burning sensation left by the application of his very own table tennis bat to his neither regions. In short, Simon made a complete spectacle of himself before he was told to put his hands on his head and stand facing the room and to watch while his short trousers were measured by the girls.</p><p>Abigail and Heather set to work and lay Simon’s short trousers on top of the coffee table.</p><p>“Make sure they’re nice and flat to get a proper measurement,” the girls’ mother, Cynthia advised.</p><p>“We know what we’re doing, mum” Abigail replied as she smoothed out Simon’s brief schoolboy shorts.</p><p>“Gosh, they look even smaller off than on,” Heather said as she laid the measuring tape along the inseam of Simon’s short trousers.</p><p>“Hold it tight… that’s it, now let’s have a look,” Abigail said as she peered down at the tape. “You were right, Heather,” she announced, “... one and a quarter inches exactly! Let’s just check the other leg… yes, that’s the same… one and a quarter inches.”</p><p>Abigail looked up: “We needn’t have taken down Simon’s short trousers after all…”</p><p>“... but if we hadn’t taken them down, you wouldn’t have got to spank his bare bottom,” Heather observed.</p><p>“... and you wouldn’t have got to spank his legs either,” Abigail added.</p><p>Hugh knew what was next on the agenda and decided to show himself to be a paragon of virtue in the eyes of the ladies by offering to take off his own schoolboy shorts so they could be measured by the girls. The offer accepted, Hugh sidled over towards Simon. He needed to be as close to Simon as could for the simple reason that it would give him opportunity to conclusively humiliate his adversary. Hugh had never felt so reckless. Making sure that everyone would see, Hugh pulled his shirt up out of his short trousers and, with his head down, tucked the tails under his chin. Next he unhooked and unzipped his old prep school shorts and then Hugh ‘accidentally’ caught the waistband of his underpants under his thumbs and pushed sharply downwards. Trousers and underpants together were, in the blink of an eye, rumpled around his ankles before Hugh ‘realised’ what he’d done. He stood up straight so that everyone in the room would at least have a glimpse of his penis which his underpants, until that moment, had contained.</p><p>Hugh immediately apologised for his ‘mistake’: “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to…”</p><p>But before Hugh had chance to bend back down again to retrieve his underpants, Betty Crabbe stopped him: “Just a moment, Hugh,” she said, “This looks like an opportunity to test Abigail’s earlier observations about the size of a boy’s penis post puberty. We’ve all seen Simon’s… er, specimen which really doesn’t seem to support Abigail’s theory. Now we have a second… er, specimen which, on the face of it, might prove Abigail to be correct after all...”</p><p>Hugh acted as if he was shocked by this suggestion and looked over at his mother.</p><p>“<i>Mum</i>…?” he queried, for all the world as if the last thing he wanted was to have his penis compared to that of Simon, “<i>Pleeease</i>… this is so embarrassing.”</p><p>Of course Hugh couldn’t wait to be compared to Simon whose pathetic little tiddler... now that it was soft, it looked smaller than ever.</p><p>“Don’t be silly, Hugh,” Margret, his mother, replied, “It will be a valuable lesson for the girls… Now finish taking off your trousers and underpants and go and stand next to Simon.”</p><p>Hugh, doing his best to look crestfallen and with a hang-dog sigh replied, “Yes, mum…” giving everyone the impression that what he was doing was done under great sufferance.</p><p>Hugh slipped off his short trousers and placed them on the coffee table, together with his underpants, next to Simon’s trousers. Turning his back to his audience to walk the couple of paces to stand next to Simon, he caught his adversary’s eyes and grinned. The look on Simon’s face made it all worthwhile… he was supremely, utterly humiliated.</p><p>Hugh slipped his arm around Simon’s waist and pulled him close so their thighs were once more touching, only this time both boys were bare from the waist down. Simon struggled, but Hugh held him tight.</p><p>“Well, what do you think, Abigail?” her mother, Cynthia asked, “Does the size of Hugh’s penis support your theory?”</p><p>“It’s not <i>my </i>theory, mum,” Abigail replied, “It’s what we were told in sex ed. class. Anyway, it was the length of a boy’s <i>erect </i>penis and Hugh’s isn’t erect…”</p><p>“Neither is Simon’s… not now,” Heather giggled.</p><p>“But even so, from where I’m sitting Hugh’s penis looks to be at least five inches long as it is,” Cynthia observed, “Won’t that do?”</p><p>It was Maureen Carter’s suggestion that caused a gasp of astonishment: “Wouldn’t it be possible for Simon and Hugh to… well, after all, Abigail said their lesson was about the length of a boy’s <i>erect </i>penis. I don’t see why we can’t ask the boys to, er… display erect penises for comparison and, perhaps… um, measurement. I mean, the girls have already been using my tape measure… and I’ve no objection should they wish to use it to establish if they are being taught correctly...”</p><p>“Well, I for one agree,” Betty Crabbe said in her usual forthright manner, “It’ll give Abigail the undoubted benefit of hands-on experience through the acquisition of empirical data…”</p><p>“You mean to say that you think it’s in order for Abigail to measure the length of the boys’ erections?” Margret countered in a tone of voice that was meant to sound as if she was shocked at the very suggestion, but she couldn’t keep a straight face before adding, “Go ahead then… by all means. It looks as though Hugh’s halfway there already as it is…”</p><p>“<i>Mumm</i>…” Hugh once more feigned his innocence.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-8658121578122216782021-04-13T21:01:00.008+01:002021-04-14T21:14:12.776+01:00The Book Club - Part 2<p> </p><p>Simon was bewildered. He was trapped in the hallway and could see there was no escape as the girls’ voices grew louder on the path outside. Simon detected the unmistakable sounds of excitement from the girls as they neared the front door. He was dimly aware of Betty Crabbe telling his mother how much smarter boys looked when dressed in proper short trousers. His mother was saying something, but Simon’s mind was elsewhere.</p><p>“<i>Simon</i>…!” she said sharply, “Would you <i>please </i>go to the door and greet our guests and if I have to repeat myself again there’ll be trouble.” Amanda Waters turned to Betty Crabbe, “You see what I have to put up with… Simon’s off in a world of his own half the time.”</p><p>Nervously Simon picked at the back of his little school shorts as he went to the front door.</p><p>“Now girls, you’re not to make a fuss,” Simon heard the girls’ mother say, “Simon is <i>very </i>shy and will get <i>very </i>upset if you start teasing him…”</p><p>Simon stepped forward and stood in the doorway. In front of him were two girls and just behind them their mother, Mrs Cynthia James, a founder member of the Bunbury Ladies Reading Circle. The girls, Abigail and Heather, were in their mid-teens, Abigail, the eldest, being nearly three years younger than Simon. Both girls were dressed modestly, wearing pinafore dresses that Simon saw covered their knees. Instinctively Simon brushed his hands against his bare thighs, feeling the bare flesh made him feel even more exposed than ever.</p><p>“Please… er, please, won’t you come in,” Simon said, doing his best to be polite. He certainly didn’t want a repeat of the ear-pulling episode in front of these girls. He saw Abigail nudge her younger sister who in turn stifled a giggle as they stepped into the hallway.</p><p>“Thank you, Simon,” Cynthia James said as she too came into the house, “I must say how pleased I am to see you looking so smart… Those short trousers do suit you, Simon.”</p><p>Simon knew what he was required to say and through gritted teeth managed to say, “Thank you.”</p><p>Mrs James could tell that it was struggle for Simon to reply to her compliment, it hardly mattered whether he meant it or not. It was a sufficient demonstration in her eyes that Simon was a polite, well brought up boy, perhaps a little shy, although that might be expected in a boy wearing such very smart, thigh-revealing short trousers.</p><p>The next lady to arrive and join the group was Maureen Carter who made no attempt to disguise her interest in what Simon was wearing and frightened the already nervous boy further by casually observing to no one in in particular: “Oh, I <i>am </i>looking forward to today’s meeting!”</p><p>Poor Simon became even more flustered when he heard further footsteps on the footpath and wandered how many more ladies he would have to greet. However, this time he was in for a surprise when Hugh was ushered through the doorway by his mother, Margret Williams.</p><p>Hugh and Simon looked at each other and both blushed a deeper red than ever when they saw how they both wore absurdly short short trousers. Hugh had been dressed in his old prep school uniform and had pleaded with his mother not to be taken to her book club meeting, but the threat of an on-the-spot bare bottom spanking soon put an end to his whinging. Though Hugh didn’t escape a few well-placed smacks on the back of his legs when he hesitated before setting off. Faint red marks on Hugh’s bare thighs still visible as he entered Mrs Waters’ house.</p><p>“Shake hands with Hugh, Simon,” his mother told her son.</p><p>Simon offered his hand to Hugh and red-faced the boys introduced themselves to each other, both wondering what the other had done to deserve the humiliation of being put back into short trousers. Then it suddenly dawned on Hugh that he’d seen Simon before and realised he had an old score to settle. It was clear Simon had no idea that he’d ever met Hugh before, let alone that there was any unfinished business between the two of them. Simon was still wondering why Hugh was in short trousers, although of course that was a whole lot better than having to meet a boy who was wearing longs. Hugh said nothing and decided to bide his time, wondering if today would offer the opportunity for revenge for what happened during the after-school table-tennis club two years ago when Simon had tricked Hugh and another boy into paying forfeits for the loss of each game. Simon was a far more experienced table-tennis player than Hugh who ended up paying dearly for his mistakes since each each game he lost to Simon meant Hugh had to remove one item of clothing. When he had no more clothes to forfeit, Hugh was made to bend over the table-tennis table when he lost yet another game and to accept a bare bottom spanking from Simon brandishing his table-tennis bat. It might not have been quite as bad if Hugh’s nude ordeal was confined to a group of boys, but when a girls’ team arrived to practice and Hugh found his clothes had mysteriously disappeared, well that was humiliation of a different order entirely. So yes, Hugh was hoping that today might be the day when he could settle this old score.</p><p>“Now we’re all here, why don’t we go through to the front room and make ourselves comfy?” Amanda announced. She then turned to Hugh and Simon. “You boys can make yourselves useful… I’ve prepared some sandwiches and cakes for our guests. They’re in the kitchen along with the tea things. Tea is already made, so it should be nicely brewed by now, so you can start by bringing the tea through… milk and sugar is on the tea tray.”</p><p>As Amanda gave her instructions to the boys the members of the Bunbury Ladies Reading Circle along with Abigail and Heather seated themselves in the comfort of Amanda’s front room.</p><p>“Well ladies,” Betty Crabbe said, once more taking her place as chairwoman, “I think the first item of business is to offer a warm welcome to our special guests, Abigail and Heather James…”</p><p>The two girls blushed at these unexpected words and the gentle round of applause that followed.</p><p>“It’s so heartening to see some young blood at one of our meetings,” Betty continued, “I’m sure there are lots of other activities that Abigail and Heather would rather be be undertaking today, but I’m pleased they have decided to see what we ladies get up to at our Reading Circle meetings. Who knows, perhaps we might even persuade Abigail and Heather to become regular members of our little group, especially if…”</p><p>Before Betty Crabbe could say any more Hugh and Simon brought in the tea things. As directed they made their way, somewhat nervously in front of the ladies and young girls, to the low coffee table in the middle of the room. Once there they realised the only way they could safely place the trays on the table was to bend down. As Hugh carefully lowered his tray of Mrs Waters best cups and saucers onto the table, Simon was shocked to see Hugh’s shorts ride up. The lower Hugh bent down, the higher his little short trousers rode up until the smooth pale lower curves of his bottom were exposed for everyone in the room to see.</p><p>“Put the cups and saucers out on the table, Hugh,” Amanda Water instructed Hugh, “Then you can take the tray back into the kitchen… <i>Simon</i>, what are you doing?!” she snapped when she saw that her son was trying to avoid bending down and having his short trousers ride up like Hugh’s had done. Simon was attempting a half-kneel-half-crouch manoeuvre which risked upsetting the teapot, milk jug and sugar he was carrying on the tray.</p><p>“Just put the tray down on the table, Simon,” his mother said, “This is not the time to entertain us with your juggling act…”</p><p>“I’d have thought that boys wearing short trousers would take more care carrying a tray with a hot tea pot,” Maureen Carter observed and thus drawing everyone’s attention to the extremely short trousers worn by Hugh and Simon. Needless to say the boys couldn’t wait to get back into the kitchen, so Simon gulped and bent forward feeling his tiny short trousers riding up like Hugh’s had done. His embarrassment was enhanced as he heard Heather whisper loud enough for him to hear: “Look, mummy… I can see that boy’s bare bottom.”</p><p>Neither boy had the opportunity to adjust their little shorts before the order came to take the trays back to the kitchen and as they left the room, with lower bottom curves still bare, they heard the tinkle of girls’ laughter joined by one or two of the ladies bursting into half-suppressed guffaws.</p><p>“This is just so embarrassing,” Simon complained to Hugh as they returned to the kitchen.</p><p>“Embarrassing! How do you think I felt having to take a bus then walk the rest of the way here with mum?” Hugh replied indignantly, thinking that Simon hadn’t a clue what being embarrassed was really like.</p><p>“So?” Simon replied, “It’s not your mum who’s invited all these ladies to tea…”</p><p>“... and girls,” Hugh reminded him.</p><p>“Yes… and girls.”</p><p>The two boys fell silent for a moment before curiosity got the better of Simon and he asked Hugh where his mum got his uniform from.</p><p>“It’s my old prep school uniform… how about you?” Hugh asked, trying his best to be friendly and not let on how he really felt about Simon.</p><p>“Mum dug out an old pair of my school shorts I used to wear when I was twelve or thirteen,” Simon paused and looked down at his bare legs. He rubbed the open palm of his left hand across the side of his exposed thigh just below the hem of his short trousers before adding, “Then she had the legs taken up… <i>shortened</i>, as if they weren’t already short enough already… Mum makes me wear them when she thinks I’ve… well, um, y’know…” Simon stopped talking before he revealed too much, little knowing that his mother had already made it plan to the ladies of the reading circle why she’d so often had to resort to putting Simon back into short trousers.</p><p>“Me too,” Hugh said, although not twigging what Simon was afraid to say, “I hate wearing them. My kid brother is still in short trousers full time… he’s thirteen… He thinks it’s a big laugh when I have to wear them,” Hugh told Simon, “Starts bossing me about ‘cos my old uniform is for junior boys and that makes Harry more senior… and he never stops telling me. His teasing drives me nuts and gets me into even more trouble with mum.”</p><p>“Rotten luck,” Simon commiserated.</p><p>In the front room Betty congratulated Amanda and Margret on getting their sons to ‘model’ their short trouser uniforms for the benefit of the reading circle.</p><p>“It was inspiring to read ‘<i>A Guide to the Correction of Young Gentlemen</i>’, but of course nothing beats having two real boys, appropriately dressed, standing in front of you,” Betty turned to Abigail and Heather, “What do you two think of our boy models, Simon and Hugh? Do you think they’re embarrassed to wear short trousers like the book says?”</p><p>Abigail spoke first and used the word all young boys dread to hear, calling them ‘<i>cute</i>’. “When we read the book… ‘The Guide’, together with mum I don’t think Heather and I believed that teenage boys could be so ashamed to be seen wearing short trousers… <i>proper short trousers</i>, mum called them… but I can see that Simon and Hugh are both really, really embarrassed about wearing them in front of us, but I think they both look awfully cute… Heather and I have been trying to decide which boy...”</p><p>Heather had been getting visibly excited and clearly wanted her chance to talk and she interrupted her sister: “... we want to know which boy is wearing the shortest shorts. Abigail thinks it’s Hugh, but I think it’s Simon, because when he bent over,” Heather paused to giggle, “... I saw lots more of <i>his </i>bottom!”</p><p>“Well, that’s a very good question, Heather,” Betty responded, “How are we to resolve the matter and satisfy the girls’ curiosity? Yes, Maureen?”</p><p>“I have a measuring tape in my handbag, if that will help,” Maureen informed the group.</p><p>“Good… then if Margret and Amanda have no objection we’ll have the boys back in so we can see whether Abigail or Heather is the best estimator of the length of a boy’s short trousers,” Betty said with a chuckle.</p><p>Of course neither Margret nor Amanda had the slightest objection, so Hugh and Simon were called and told to come and join the ladies and girls in the front room.</p><p>The boys looked at each other, both of them nervously wondering ‘<i>what now</i>?’ As they walked through, each boy checked the hem of his grey short trousers. Wishing, desperately wishing they were longer, Simon and Hugh tugged at the material without any effect. Their short trousers were supposed to be short and that’s all there was to it.</p><p>“Come in… don’t be shy… that’s it, over there where we can all see you,” Betty told the boys, “Now, the girls… that is Abigail and Heather, want to know which of you is wearing the shortest pair of short trousers…”</p><p>Simon brushed his fingertips against his bare thighs. He didn’t like the way this was going. Neither did Hugh, but although horribly embarrassed he managed to croak out the words: “I think mine are.”</p><p>“<i>Oh</i>,” Betty said, “Now that is a surprise… Heather rather thought Simon was wearing the shorter pair… after all his mother did have his short trousers specially altered and taken up…”</p><p>Hugh hung his head. He definitely didn’t like the way this was going. As usual when he was put into short trousers he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Putting them by his sides his hands touched the bare flesh of his exposed thighs and simply reinforced the fact that he was wearing short trousers. Holding his arms behind his back seemed to him to be the best option, but it made him feel even more like a little boy being scolded. Hugh wasn’t to know that Simon felt just the same.</p><p>“Do you think your short trousers are shorter than Hugh’s?” Betty asked Simon.</p><p>“I… I don’t know,” Simon replied nervously, unsure whether it was better to know or not.</p><p>“Perhaps if you boys stand side by side we might find out which of you has the shortest short trousers,” Betty suggested.</p><p>Of course it wasn’t a suggestion. The boys knew that, so they moved as close to each other as they could, which wasn’t close enough. The hems of the short trousers weren’t sufficiently near to positively gauge whether Simon’s or Hugh’s were the shortest pair of short trousers.</p><p>“Put your arms round each other’s waist,” Betty said to the boys, “That’s it… squeeze in closer… now let’s have a look…”</p><p>Somewhat reluctantly Simon and Hugh did as they were told. As their bare thighs touched both boys flinched as if zapped by a spark of static electricity. Nevertheless Simon pressed his hand into Hugh’s waist just as Hugh pressed his hand into Simon’s waist. The boys felt distinctly uncomfortable standing with their arms around each other in front of their mums’ friends. This was far too close for comfort and the boys, their levels of embarrassment climbing all the time, avoided eye contact with each other and everyone in the room by staring fixedly at the carpet at their feet.</p><p>Margret, seemingly unaware of her son’s acute embarrassment, spoke: “Hmm… I’m not sure that helps. You see although Simon’s short trousers do look shorter than Hugh’s, I think you can see that Simon is very slightly taller than Hugh so the hem of his short trousers is higher and so it appears as if he is wearing shorter shorts. I think they each need to be properly measured.”</p><p>“I agree, Margret,” Betty concurred, “I believe Maureen said she has a tape measure and it occurs to me that the girls might like to do the measuring since it was they wished to know which boy is wearing the shortest shorts…”</p><p>Simon groaned: “<i>Oh, mum, please</i>… do we have to have our shorts measured?”</p><p>Hugh chipped in and pleaded with his mum too, using the tired phase of boyhood, “...<i>but it’s not fair</i>.”</p><p>“Well girls, would you like to measure the boys’ short trousers?” Betty asked.</p><p>The reply was a resounding, “<i>Yes please</i>!” and Maureen handed her tape measure to Abigail.</p><p>The boys were ordered to fetch the trays, clear the coffee table and take the tea things back into the kitchen.</p><p>Relieved to be at least out of view of the girls and the ladies of the book club, if only for a few moments, the boys started to argue as boys do, purely as a way of putting aside the acute embarrassment they’d undergone in the front room.</p><p>Simon started off by telling Hugh that he had ‘<i>girly legs</i>’ and he could feel how smooth they were when they were standing next to each other.</p><p>“What do you mean, <i>girly-legs</i>? Your legs are just as smooth… what, does your mummy shave them for you?” Hugh countered.</p><p>“No she doesn’t shave my legs, as it happens…” Simon replied trying to sound superior, “Anyone can see your girly legs won’t ever need shaving… <i>girly-legs</i>…”</p><p>“Stop calling me <i>girly-legs</i>… you were pressing your thighs against me. Maybe you like feeling up boy’s legs. Is that it? Bet you get into trouble ‘cos you like it when mummy makes you wear short trousers…”</p><p>Simon was ready to take a swing at Hugh, who was ready squaring up for a bundle, when they heard the voice of Simon’s mother calling loud and clear from the front room: “What are you boys up to in there? Come along! Get a move on! The girls are waiting.”</p><p>Hugh and Simon looked daggers at each other.</p><p>“We’ll sort this out later…” Simon threatened.</p><p>“Yeah… You bet,” Hugh countered.</p><p>“Yeah,” Simon responded.</p><p>They looked and sounded for all the world like two squabbling boys squaring up to each other in the school playground… but silently relieved when the bell is rung at the end of playtime, thus being spared from having to actually carry out their threats against each other.</p><p>The boys went back into the front room to face the ladies of the book club as well as Abigail and Heather. The coffee table was positioned in the middle of the room. The girls stood by the side of the table. Abigail held the tape measure in her hand.</p><p>“Right,” said Betty, “Who wants to have his short trousers measured first?”</p><p>Simon and Hugh looked at each other. It was no surprise to find that neither boy volunteered to be the first.</p><p>“Alright, girls you choose,” Betty spoke again, “Which boy would you like to measure first?”</p><p>Heather stepped forward, took a reluctant Simon by the hand and guided him to the table.</p><p>“Up you get, Simon,” his mother, Amanda ordered her son.</p><p>Simon clambered up onto the coffee table and immediately felt even more vulnerable than ever. It was only with great difficulty that he avoided the inquisitive eyes of his mother’s friends as they watched and waited for his little short trousers to be measured by the girls.</p><p>“Legs apart,” Abigail ordered, “and keep your hands out of the way… put them on your head.”</p><p>When she heard this Simon’s mother looked at Cynthia, Abigail’s mother, and nodded to express her approval and to also show how impressed with Abigail she was.</p><p>Simon parted his legs enough for his short trousers to be measured, but looked pleadingly at his mother before lifting his arms.</p><p>“Do as Abigail has asked, Simon.” The tone of his mother’s voice was enough to make Simon do as he was told.</p><p>The tape measure was handed to Heather and she had the honour of taking the first measurement. Abigail seemed to know what she was doing as she told her sister how to place the tip of the measuring tape on the inner seam of Simon’s trouser leg.</p><p>“It’s got to be measured from the crotch… isn’t that right mummy?” Abigail said turning to her mother, Cynthia James.</p><p>“Yes, darling… make sure that Heather has the tape pressed firmly against Simon’s leg,” Cynthia advised her daughters.</p><p>The girls got to work and Simon felt two sets of fingers manoeuvring the tape dangerously close to his boy-bits. The girls prodded the metal tip of the tape and pressed it right up into Simon’s groin causing him to flinch and the tape to slip.</p><p>“Keep still, Simon,” his mother snapped, “How do expect the girls to measure your short trousers if you keep fidgeting? Now be still and cooperate.”</p><p>“But, mum…” Simon whined, but didn’t say any more when he heard Maureen speak.</p><p>“I think the only way you’re going to be able to measure their short trousers properly,” she said, “is if the trousers are taken off and measured when they’re not being worn…”</p><p>“An excellent idea, Maureen, but I think we’ll give the girls the opportunity to measure the boys’ short trousers <i>in situ</i> first,” Amanda said and then added for Simon’s benefit, “I’m sure Simon will see sense and cooperate now…”</p><p>Simon’s behaviour was fuel to Hugh’s resentment of the older boy. Not only was Simon behaving like a prize plonker, but he’d managed to saddle them with the threat of having their short trousers taken right off! Hugh was sure that <i>he </i>wouldn’t give the girls any excuse to take down his trousers. He wouldn’t dance about on the table like a complete prat like Simon.</p><p>Abigail and Heather whispered to each other. They’d make sure Simon’s little trousers would have to come down.</p><p>Under strict instructions to keep perfectly still the measurement of Simon’s short trousers began again. This time, in spite of all the girls’ intentions, Simon managed to bravely keep still as he felt the metal tip of the tape measure again being pressed right up into the crutch of his shorts. He also kept still as he felt the girls’ fingers brushing the bare flesh of his inner thighs as they read the tape measure.</p><p>“One and a quarter inches,” Heather announced.</p><p>“Are you sure… that looks like one and an eighth to me,” her sister Abigail said.</p><p>The girls tried he other leg as Simon struggled to keep still. But not only was Simon, hands still resolutely pressed firmly to the top of his head, trying to keep from flinching, he was also desperately trying to stop another movement from developing inside his underpants.</p><p>Hugh had seen the signs. The slight, but to Hugh’s trained eye, noticeable bulge pushing out the front of Simon’s short trousers was a dead giveaway. Hugh wondered how long it would be before someone said something. Then a glorious thought occurred to Hugh, what if they decide to take his trousers down? They’ll all see it then!</p><p>Needless to say, the thought that Hugh himself might be soon in that very same position never occurred to him. He just wanted to see Simon humiliated for calling him ‘girly-legs’ <i>and </i>for tricking him into playing strip ping-pong.</p><p>“No… it’s definitely one and a quarter,” Heather said firmly, “Look, see…”</p><p>“Let me hold the tape,” Abigail said to her sister, “You hold the other end against Simon’s leg…”</p><p>The girls’ fingers were all over Simon’s upper thighs, tickling the soft inner flesh which caused Simon to jerk back.</p><p>The girls were left holding the tape against thin air.</p><p>Abigail turned to her mother: “Mummy, Simon won’t keep still… We can’t measure his trousers properly if he keeps moving…”</p><p>Simon’s mother, Amanda took charge: “Simon, you were given the opportunity to let the girls measure your short trousers while you were wearing them… well, that didn’t work. How could it with you jumping about all over the place? As you didn’t want to cooperate and let Abigail and Heather do their measuring with you wearing your short trousers, then I think we’ll take up Maureen’s suggestion and have those trousers of yours right off so they can be measured properly…”</p><p>Hugh had a hard job to hide his smile as he watched Simon standing on the coffee table. Hugh could tell that Simon was almost in tears as he pleaded… <i>begged</i>, his mother let him keep his short trousers on. He would stand still. He would let the girls measure all they wanted to, but please… <i>please</i>, he implored, don’t take my trousers down in front of everyone.</p><p>Hugh thought this was the most glorious moment ever. In his overactive imagination Hugh saw himself forever taunting Simon in a sing-songy voice with those very words: ‘<i>don’t take my trousers down, mummy... not in front of everyone, mummy</i>’.</p><p>Betty, on observing Simon’s behaviour remembered a few words from the book they’d been discussing at their previous meeting: “To experience <i>déculottage</i>…”, she said to herself, “Yes, a most severe humiliation for a boy of Simon’s age and temperament.”</p><p>Blimey, if he’s already like this, Hugh thought as he watched Simon pathetically pleading to be spared his disgrace, what’s he going to be like when everyone sees he’s got a hard-on? Hugh very nearly burst out laughing at the thought before he had a brilliant idea.</p><p>“Um… excuse me, Mrs Waters,” he said, “but can I help, er with Simon’s trousers? I’m sure I would be easier for <i>me </i>to undo them and, er help Abigail and Heather take them down.”</p><p>“That’s very kind of you, Hugh… very thoughtful indeed. Perhaps you could help the girls then. I know that little metal double clasp can be a bit fiddly and stiff,” Amanda replied.</p><p>Not the only thing that’s a bit stiff, Hugh thought.</p><p>“<i>Mummy… please… he can’t… It’s not fair</i>!” Simon wailed, for all the world like a little boy who’s favourite sweetie has just been given to another child. But Simon was sensible enough to stay put and watched as Hugh stepped up to the coffee table to help Abigail and Heather. Simon’s eyes looked down to watch Hugh’s fingers as they moved towards the front of his grey short trousers. Hugh looked up at Simon with a barely suppressed smile on his face. It didn’t take a genius to decode the look in Simon’s eyes: “<i>I’ll get you for this</i>!” It was as plain as if Simon’s words had been spoken out loud.</p><p>As a boy Hugh was of course used to these fiddly clasps and he unclipped the metal hooks with ease. Then he took the little metal flap at the top of the zip between the fingers of his right hand, ready to pull it down over the bump in Simon’s short trousers.</p><p>Hugh knew the best way of pulling down the zip-fly was to grab hold of the waistband of the the grey shorts with his other hand, which is exactly what he did and in the process yanked Simon’s shorts upwards sharply.</p><p>“<i>OWW</i>!!” Simon yelled as his balls were caught by the crotch seam of his short trousers. He turned to his mother: “<i>Mum</i>, that hurt… Hugh did that deliberately…”</p><p>“Oh, don’t make such a fuss, Simon… Act your age… Hugh’s only…”</p><p>“But, mum he caught my… my…” Simon interrupted and then stopped abruptly when he realised what he he was about to say in front of everyone.</p><p>Hugh’s antics surprisingly had little effect on the bulge in his short trousers.</p><p>“Please continue, Hugh,” Amanda said, “And do ignore my son’s theatrics…”</p><p>Eagerly Hugh did as he was told and started to pull the zip-fly down… until it reached the bump. Hugh pressed his knuckles against it and felt Simon’s penis through the grey fabric of his short trousers. Well, Hugh had to otherwise how could he manage to pull the zip down any further? Quite whether Hugh needed to do quite so much prodding and poking is perhaps questionable as this only made the situation worse… for Simon, that is. Hugh could easily feel the stiff rod was, well, stiff.</p><p>“Get a move on, Hugh… the girls are waiting to measure Simon’s shorts,” Amanda said.</p><p>“Sorry, but the zip’s being a bit awkward… something in the way, I think… no, there that’s got it…” With one sharp tug, Hugh pulled the zip all the way down.</p><p>The front of Simon’s short trousers fell open to reveal a pair of startlingly white junior schoolboy underpants. Hugh stepped back to give everyone a chance to see Simon’s tight little boy underpants framed by the now open fly of the short trousers. Hugh couldn’t help but grin as he looked at Simon’s balls, clearly defined by the taut white cotton, but what was really thrilling was to see Simon’s penis pressing against the cotton material as well. Not only that, but Hugh could see that Simon’s penis was dangerously close to the sloping fly of the little boy underpants. Any unguarded movement could see Simon’s penis poking out of the open fly… a delicious thought for the vengeful Hugh.</p><p>Hugh leant forward again and slipped his fingers underneath the legs of Simon’s short trousers and with a gentle tug watched as they slipped down Simon's smooth legs.</p><p>“Thank you, Hugh… that will do for now,” Amanda said, giving Hugh the hope that his involvement in Simon’s humiliation wasn’t quite over. “Abigail… Heather… take Simon’s trousers… you’ll have to lift his feet… yes that’s it… now watch… <i>SIMON</i>!!”</p><p>Hugh sniggered. As the girls had lifted Simon’s legs the boy’s hips had twisted and as they did so his penis, so close to the fly gap, pushed its way out and escaped the confines of the tight little schoolboy underpants. What Hugh saw very nearly caused him to burst out laughing. Simon’s penis, despite the unmistakable lump in his underpants, wasn’t that big at all! Hugh reckoned Simon’s little man was no thicker than his had been when he was thirteen or so and it wasn’t even as long as his had been then either. It was Hugh’s considered opinion that Simon’s erect penis was no more than a risible three inches long... if that.</p><p>“SIMON!! What do you think you’re doing?!” his mother admonished him for moving his hands and Hugh realised<i> she hadn’t even noticed Simon’s little penis</i>! “Put your hands back where they belong.”</p><p>Dutifully Simon did as he was told and placed his hands back on his head. Simon’s grey Trutex school shirt, freed from his short trousers, was pulled up as he lifted his arms and as his shirt was raised upwards Simon’s junior schoolboy underpants with his little penis poking out were slowly revealed.</p><p>Hugh could almost feel the heat of Simon’s shame, so intense had it become.</p><p>“And what are you smirking at, Hugh?” his mother Margret asked, “You’ve had your short trousers taken down often enough… I’m surprised you find it funny when it happens to another boy…”</p><p>Hugh apologised. It was nothing, he told his mum.</p><p>Still no one had noticed Simon’s penis, not even Abigail and Heather who were busy measuring the inner seam of his short trousers. Hugh couldn’t believe that no one in the room had seen it… mind you, he thought, it is small. Hugh tried to imagine what Simon must feel like perched on the coffee table, hands on head, in front of his mum and a room full of ladies and the two girls, knowing that any moment someone would at last notice his penis sticking out of the fly of his underpants.</p><p>Someone has got to see it sooner or later, thought Hugh, he must know that he can’t stand there forever without someone seeing it… then what? Hugh could barely contain the urge to chivy things along a bit by ‘accidentally’ drawing attention to the little pink soldier standing to attention, sticking out of Simon’s junior schoolboy underpants.</p><p>Hugh caught Simon’s eye and while no one was looking managed a wicked smile. Simon knew what was going through Hugh’s mind and, as much as it was possible with his eyes alone, he pleaded for Hugh not to do anything. But Hugh didn’t need to do anything as Heather chose that precise moment to look up and announce the length of Simon’s short trousers. She was just about to do so when she saw what was poking out of Simon’s underpants.</p><p>“Mummy look!! I can see Simon’s willy!!” Heather shouted loud enough to rattle the tea cups. “Look! He’s pushed his willy out of his underpants…”</p><p>Abigail looked up and grimaced.</p><p>Naturally Simon moved to cover himself, but his mother told him sharply not to move before telling him to apologise to her guests for his disgraceful behaviour.</p><p>Hugh watched as the ladies present pursed their lips as they peered at Simon’s penis. In so doing they ensured Simon felt fully ashamed of himself.</p><p>Finally Abigail spoke: “It’s not very big is it?” she said dismissively while looking fixedly at Simon’s still erect penis.</p><p>“And what makes you think that, young miss?” Abigail’s mother asked, “Are you an expert on the penis size of boys all of a sudden?”</p><p>“No,” Abigail answered, “but there was some stuff in sex ed. class about how a boy’s penis gets bigger during puberty. I wasn’t really listening much, but I remember we were told how the average length of a boy’s penis after puberty was between five and six inches… erect, that is…”</p><p>“I think that’s quite enough, Abigail,” Cynthia interrupted her daughter.</p><p>“But, mum… Simon’s is way smaller that that…” Abigail insisted.</p><p>“Your daughter does have a point,” Betty Crabbe observed, “Simon’s penis does appear to be on the small side.” She turned to Amanda Waters, “Perhaps this is why he plays… ahem, misbehaves so much… maybe it’s his way of trying to improve on that which nature has seen fit to bestow upon him, thinking it will make it a bit longer,” Betty laughed.</p><p>“Well, if that was the case it would be well over a foot long, the amount of times I’ve caught him playing with it…” Amanda chuckled in reply.</p><p>It was now perfectly clear to everyone in the room that Simon had been caught masturbating. The ladies of the Bunbury Ladies Reading Circle had been told at an earlier meeting that this was the reason Simon spent so much time in short trousers as a punishment for his behaviour. But now Abigail and Heather, as well as Hugh, were also in the know. Hugh of course had guessed straightaway… what boy wouldn’t? And what boy would not relish seeing his adversary in such a predicament as that in which Simon now found himself? It goes without saying that Hugh was aware of his own guilt, after all he too indulged freely in the same naughty behaviour as Simon... but he wasn’t the one standing on the coffee table with his penis poking out of his underpants for all to see.</p><p>‘<i>Glorious</i>’, was the word that rolled silently over Hugh’s tongue as he watched Simon’s humiliation, but even he didn’t expect to see his rival’s complete debasement as Amanda stepped up to her son who quaked nervously as he stood on the coffee table. Without another word spoken, Simon’s mother reached over to the waistband of her son’s junior schoolboy underpants and, gripping hold of it, tugged the underpants downwards. Of course Simon’s penis, remarkably still in an erect state, was caught in the little underpants, but this was of no concern to mum and as she yanked the underpants all the way down to Simon’s ankles, his little penis, freed from its restraint, slapped up against what looked for all the world to Hugh like a totally bald pubis! What Hugh couldn’t see, along with everyone else in the room for that matter, were the few, straggly, immature little hairs hidden behind Simon’s erect penis. Simon had been a very late bloomer indeed.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-89203711626506990972021-01-18T19:09:00.001+00:002021-01-18T19:09:41.508+00:00The Book Club<p> </p><p>“Ladies this week we have been reading ‘<i>A Guide to the Correction of Young Gentlemen</i>’ by ‘A Lady’, a book first published in 1924,” Betty Crabbe, chairwomen of the Bunbury Ladies Reading Circle, said in her usual forthright, no nonsense manner, “First impressions? 1924… a long time ago. Is the book still relevant? Margret, you’ve a couple of young boys… still a useful book d’you think?”</p><p>Margret Williams sat on the sofa with the book held in her lap. All eyes were on her. “Well, of course the writing about nurses and governesses is a little dated… few of us could afford their services these days... but I have to say that my boys would find some of the contents of the book, particularly about discipline, to be still quite relevant… painfully relevant I might add.”</p><p>“Does that mean you spank your boys?” Maureen Carter, herself childless and unmarried.</p><p>“Why of course… why wouldn’t I? If they’ve been naughty they know what to expect,” Margret Williams replied.</p><p>“How old is Hugh now, Margret?” Betty Crabbe asked, “He must be getting a bit old to take over your knee.”</p><p>“He was eighteen on his last birthday, but that doesn’t mean he’s exempt from a spanking… far from it. Hugh seems to give me more reason to spank him than he ever did when he was Harry’s age…”</p><p>“... and how old is Harry?” Betty asked.</p><p>“Thirteen…”</p><p>“... and does Harry get his fair share of spankings?”</p><p>“I can assure you that hardly a week goes by that Harry gets his bare bottom warmed by a spanking…”</p><p>“Then you would agree that our current book, ‘<i>A Guide to the Correction of Young Gentlemen</i>’, should still have a place on the family bookshelf?”</p><p>“Oh, absolutely, Betty,” Margret agreed.</p><p>“Yes, Cynthia?”</p><p>“I don’t have any boys as you know, but I have to say that I found the book most interesting and I would say still relevant in families like Margret’s,” Cynthia James said.</p><p>“Interesting? In what way?” Betty asked.</p><p>“Perhaps I should’ve said most interesting for the effect it had on my girls. You see, when they saw what I was reading they both insisted on sitting down with me and we read the book together. They were fascinated to read about the boys being undressed and made ready for their punishment. Abigail and Heather couldn’t believe that there are boys today who are spanked completely bare…”</p><p>“Yes, I too found it difficult to think it might happen in this day and age,” Maureen Carter said as she agreed with Cynthia James.</p><p>“I can assure you that it does happen… in our house at least,” Margret said emphatically.</p><p>“If we could just leave that aspect for the moment,” Betty said taking charge of the discussion once more, “I’d like us to turn to Chapter 2 of the Guide. It’s entitled ‘<i>The Eternal Boy</i>’ and I think it may ring some bells with us all…”</p><p>“The chapter starts: ‘<i>The condition of boyhood persists in males far longer than many women imagine - in some cases, it is a permanent part of their characters</i>…” Yes, Amanda?”</p><p>“I think we can take it as a given that boys, some boys, never mature… or at least never seem to want to leave boyhood behind,” observed Amanda Waters, “My Simon is nearly twenty, but a lot of the time he behaves as if he’s still in junior school…”</p><p>“How do you deal with that behaviour, Amanda?” Betty asked.</p><p>“I treat him just as I would if he really was still in junior school,” Amanda said without hesitation.</p><p>“Meaning?”</p><p>“I don’t want to bore you with the details because… well, this came as a surprise to me when I turned to Chapter Four of this book… to see that others had been there before me.”</p><p>Betty turned over the pages in her copy: “ Ah yes… ‘<i>Clothing and the Régime</i>’ . You mean you enforce discipline by means of particular clothing, Amanda?”</p><p>“I find it very effective,” Amanda replied, warming to her subject, “For instance the book tells us how... and I quote, ‘<i>a young gentleman who has been wearing long trousers for several years will be especially mortified to learn that he is to revert to short ones</i>’. I can certainly attest to the efficacy of that particular strategy…”</p><p>“Do go on,” Betty urged.</p><p>“Simon has always hated wearing short trousers… ever since he was quite young and at an age at which you would expect to see him in short trousers. Then there was a time when a lot of mothers began putting their boys into long trousers and Simon began to complain that his friends were all wearing longs to school,” Amanda explained, “To be frank I blame the schools for allowing this lapse in school uniform standards to take place... Well, shortly after Simon’s fifteenth birthday I relented and bought him his first pair of long trousers. I wished I hadn’t as Simon’s behaviour coupled with the onset of puberty… Simon was a rather late bloomer, turned him into a most difficult boy. The only effective recourse was my threatening to put him back into short trousers if he didn’t buck his ideas up. This worked for a time, but as I’m sure you all know there quickly comes a time when a threat must be carried out…”</p><p>“Well, when Simon came home from school one Friday afternoon I sent him up to his bedroom where he found that I’d laid out a pair of his short trousers he’d worn for school in the second form. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you of the tantrum I had to deal with before Simon put on the little short trousers. During the week I’d arranged for the hems to be taken up by a seamstress friend of mine. Simon’s short trousers always looked very smart and now, I can assure you, they were <i>very </i>short indeed. Simon was told that he would be wearing his short trousers for the weekend and could have his long trousers back for school on Monday morning provided he was well behaved over the weekend.”</p><p>“As I’m sure you can imagine, ladies, that did the trick… but of course boys being boys it wasn’t long before Simon found himself put back into short trousers again,” Amanda concluded.</p><p>“Thank you Amanda. It seems this book is more relevant than I thought,” Betty observed. “Would anyone like to ask Amanda a question with relation to the chapter?”</p><p>“Yes, this was something that Abigail, my eldest girl, picked up on when we read the book together,” Cynthia said, “She found it hard to accept that any boy would be so upset about having to wear short trousers. ‘Girls wear skirts. What’s so strange about boys being made to wear short trousers?’ she said. Abigail simply refused to believe that a boy would be ‘<i>mortified</i>’, to quote from the book. Is this really the case, Amanda? Does it affect Simon so deeply when you put him into short trousers?”</p><p>“There is simply nothing Simon fears more than finding those specially altered short trousers laid out on his bed…” Amanda replied. “That’s often quite enough to make him burst into tears and cry like a baby before he’s even put them on and pulled them up.”</p><p>“If I could just butt in here,” Margret interrupted, “I just wanted to make it clear for those who aren’t familiar with the subject of short trousers that Amanda is talking about proper tailored short trousers such as those worn to school, or worn as part of a short trouser suit, for instance. I think Amanda will agree with me that we are not talking here about baggy beach shorts and such like… dread word ‘<i>leisurewear</i>’.”</p><p>“Most certainly… thank you, Margret for making that clear,” Amanda replied, “It is an important distinction and one that I know Simon is fully aware of…”</p><p>“It sounds as though you also have experience of using short trousers as a means of discipline, Margret,” Betty observed.</p><p>“Most certainly,” Margret concurred, “For one thing putting a boy back into short trousers doesn’t require the same expenditure of energy as giving him a good bare bottom spanking!”</p><p>The ladies roared with laughter at Margret’s observation. This was turning out to be a most interesting meeting of their book club.</p><p>“Of course Harry is still in short trousers, so the expenditure of energy is often needed, but Hugh, on the other hand, can be brought back into line quite easily. Just as Amanda described a moment ago, Hugh is put back into short trousers… an old prep-school pair of his along with the rest of his old school uniform. Hugh finds this immensely humiliating as off course the colours of his tie, the tops of his socks and blazer, all proclaim him to be younger than his brother…”</p><p>“How does Harry respond to this?” Maureen asked. She too was finding the subject of their discussion most interesting.</p><p>“Harry thinks it great fun,” Margret replied, “He knows that as long as he behaves himself, he can act as the big older brother… In a way it’s a complete rôle reversal for the boys and very humbling for Hugh who might also find himself in trouble for not doing what Harry tells him.”</p><p>“Well, that does sound a very effective use of short trousers…” Betty said.</p><p>“Could I just add,” Margret interrupted, “Harry is occasionally allowed to bring some of his friends around when when this rôle reversal is taking place and they all have a great time teasing and making fun of an older boy put back into short trousers… as I said, it’s a very humbling experience for Hugh.”</p><p>“Is there anything you’d like to add, Amanda?” Betty asked.</p><p>“Just one thing… when I was explaining Simon’s reaction to seeing his short trousers laid out on his bed and how he’d often burst into tears…” Amanda said, “I forgot to add how he’d plead with me and beg me not to make him wear short trousers again. There’s something almost endearing about seeing a boy of Simon’s age with tears running down his face, ‘Please, mummy… I won’t do it again…’ he’ll say with his face all screwed up…”</p><p>“What won’t he do again, if I might ask?” Betty enquired.</p><p>“Well, it’s a rather personal problem that Simon has…” Amanda replied somewhat coyly.</p><p>“Ahh… perhaps it is what 'A Lady' refers to in Chapter 4, on page 31 I believe?” Betty suggested.</p><p>There could be heard the rustling of pages being turned. Then silence as the ladies read the relevant words.</p><p>All eyes turned to Amanda.</p><p>“Is it self-abuse, Amanda?” Betty asked, “Is that why you put him back into short trousers?”</p><p>Amanda nodded: “Yes, I was at my wits end. Why boys persist in playing with themselves after you’ve told them not to… it’s quite beyond me. Simon simply hates being put back into short trousers… as I said, he’s in tears and genuinely ashamed of himself when he’s found out, but that doesn’t stop him…”</p><p>Maureen gave a slight cough and asked: “Has anyone else seen Simon dressed in short trousers on these occasions?”</p><p>“I think Simon would be absolutely horrified to be seen wearing short trousers,” Amanda replied, “As it is Simon will rush off upstairs to his bedroom at the slightest sign of a visitor…”</p><p>“I think what Maureen is going to suggest…” Betty said and nodded towards Maureen, “Am I right?”</p><p>“I thought it might help if Simon was to be presented wearing his short trousers to some of your friends,” Maureen proposed, “It might be that the shock of appearing dressed as a younger, junior boy, with his legs bare and exposed in his little short trousers might be just what he needs to make him stop and think before he carries on with his pernicious habit…”</p><p>“Perhaps a bare bottom spanking in front of the assembled guests,” Cynthia suggested.</p><p>“Plenty for Amanda to think about then,” Betty concluded, “Actually Cynthia’s suggestion leads us on rather neatly to Chapter 6 in which the authoress deals with corporal punishment and the preparation necessary beforehand… Yes, Margret.”</p><p>“I’d just like to highlight a couple of sentences if I may, ‘<i>Boys are all different, but all share a common fear of being stripped for chastisement - especially by a woman</i>.’ Then a ‘Lady’ goes on to say, ‘<i>To experience déculottage is a severe humiliation</i>.’ I for one can certainly vouch for the truth of those statements.”</p><p>“I take it you are speaking from your experiences with Harry and Hugh?” Betty asked.</p><p>“Very much so… I can assure you that facing a wall in our front room for a period of quiet contemplation of his misdeeds, with trousers and underpants down... or completely removed, before a spanking has an effect quite out of proportion to what one might expect,” Margret concurred.</p><p>“Yes, it seems as if the many, how shall I put it?... refinements… make all the difference,” Betty observed. Then she asked Margret, “Do you have the same problems of self-abuse with your boys?”</p><p>Margret’s eyes rolled upwards: “Is the Pope a Catholic?” she asked in jest which brought forth laughter and giggles from the ladies assembled.</p><p>“I should say so,” Margret added, “I’m always finding evidence of their little escapades…”</p><p>“You mean…?”</p><p>“Yes…”</p><p>“And Harry too…?”</p><p>“Oh, yes… Harry has started to leave small samples of his DNA for me to find in his bedroom,” Margret said to more chuckles from the ladies who were amused at Margret’s description of her son’s sperm.</p><p>“I wonder if I may make a suggestion?” Maureen Carter asked.</p><p>“By all means,” Betty said, in her rôle chairing the meeting, “We’re all here to listen to one another’s thoughts and ideas.”</p><p>“Well, it occurred to me from what’s been said that there is a case to be made… from an educational point of view, you understand,” Maureen began to have doubts about her idea. Now that she was talking out loud and about to put her thoughts into words, she wondered whether it was such a good idea after all. She hesitated.</p><p>“What is it Maureen? Spit it out. Don’t keep us all in suspense,” Betty said.</p><p>Maureen gave a little cough and continued: “I was thinking about what Cynthia said about her daughters not believing that a boy, particularly older boys such as Margret’s Hugh or Amanda’s Simon, could be so embarrassed about being put into short trousers…”</p><p>“... well, it occurred to me that we might give Abigail, Cynthia’s eldest I believe, the opportunity by inviting the boys and Abigail along to a special book club meeting… um, the boys would be dressed in their short trousers of course.”</p><p>There was silence in the room as the ladies looked at one another as they tried to gauge each other’s response. The pause, however, was more to do with the fact that it was Maureen Carter who should have put forward such an idea.</p><p>“Oh… I’m sorry… it was rather presumptuous of me I know,” Maureen apologised.</p><p>“Oh, good heavens… there’s no need to apologise, Maureen… none at all,” Betty assured her, “I think it’s a marvelous idea…”</p><p>It was quickly apparent that other members of the book club agreed with Betty’s sentiments and Maureen blushed as her fellow club members praised her idea.</p><p>“How do you think Simon will react to Maureen’s proposal?” A smiling Betty asked Amanda.</p><p>“He’ll be appalled!” Amanda replied.</p><p>“Hugh will too… he hates anyone to know that he has to wear short trousers if he’s been a naughty boy,” Margret said with a laugh, “Do think I should bring Harry along too?”</p><p>“If Harry were to be in longs, that might emphasise the point,” Maureen chipped in as she gained confidence.</p><p>“I agree,” Amanda said, “There’s nothing a boy like Simon hates so much as seeing a much younger boy wearing long trousers. As I said before, I kept Simon in short trousers until just after his fifteenth birthday He still resents seeing long trousers worn by young boys...”</p><p>“Even though he’s wearing longs himself?” Cynthia asked.</p><p>“Gosh… yes, I should say so,” Amanda replied, “Simon gets right up on his high horse when he sees junior boys wearing long trousers… says it shouldn’t be allowed. Actually, it’s quite funny to hear him… especially when I’ve had reason to lay out a pair of his short trousers on his bed to change into when he gets home…”</p><p>“That must be quite satisfying, listening to Simon spouting off about how young boys shouldn’t be allowed to wear long trousers, but not knowing that when he gets home he’ll have to hand over his longs and put on a pair of short trousers,” Margret commented. “There’s a sort of poetic justice to that.”</p><p>“‘Hand over’ you say?” Betty queried.</p><p>“Oh yes, when Hugh has to forfeit his longs, he must hand them to me to be put away somewhere safe,” Margret answered, “It helps to reinforce the act of demotion, so Hugh knows that he won’t get his long trousers back until I’m completely satisfied with his behaviour… Oh, by the way, I should just remind Maureen that Harry’s still in short trousers… he’s only thirteen years old after all, so he hasn’t actually got any long trousers at all.”</p><p>“Oh, that’s a shame… not that Harry is still wearing short trousers, but that there can’t be a younger boy wearing longs when Hugh and Simon are here in their short trousers,” Maureen commented, “Never mind, it can’t be helped.”</p><p>“Ladies, we are rather drifting away from the discussion of our book choice,” Betty reminded them, “Not that this hasn’t been a most fascinating topic we’ve been discussing. Indeed I do hope we can bring to fruition the idea of... what shall we call it? A demonstration? Perhaps one of our afternoon meetings can be given over to an assessment of the value of putting older boys back into short trousers… with suitable models brought along by Margret and Amanda. Would that be useful?” Betty then put the idea to a vote. Unsurprisingly there was unanimous support for Betty’s proposal.</p><p>The rest of the meeting proceeded with the ladies discussing the various merits of non-corporal and corporal punishment. These discussions, it must be said, were principally led by Margret and Amamda, as they related their own experiences with bringing up boys. Other members of the group were happy to listen and ask questions to which both Margret and Amanda answered with complete honesty and openness.</p><p>Margret described how she would not hesitate to scold either Harry or Hugh as they stood in front of her with trousers and underpants lowered and shirt pinned up. Even Hugh, at eighteen, could be reduced to tears as he waited to go over his mother’s knee for a bare bottom spanking.</p><p>“The effect is even more pronounced if there are others present,” Margret added, “Hugh has a habit of showing off in front of his cousins when they visit. It always gets him into trouble and he ends up having a spanking in front of them and his aunt…”</p><p>“That must be deeply shaming for him,” Betty commented.</p><p>“I wonder if Margret would be kind enough to give us a demonstration… a demonstration with Hugh,” Maureen asked, “I can’t quite visualise how Hugh responds, but if I could see what happens, I’d have a much better idea…”</p><p>One or two of the ladies chuckled at Maureen’s suggestion. Of course a practical demonstration of the positive effects of putting older boys back into smart, tailored short trousers had already been agreed upon, but the tantalising thought of being shown what would happen if Hugh or Simon were to have transgressed in some way and needed to be disciplined, something that would usually be dealt with at home, to have that performed in front of the assembled ladies of the book club… wouldn’t that be something to brighten up the long winter evenings?</p><p>The book club was due to meet a fortnight later. Both Margret and Amanda agreed that in the space of two weeks Hugh and Simon were certain to have got themselves into some sort of bother which would need the attention of their respective mothers. They decided to keep one another informed of the behaviour of their boys.</p><p style="text-align: center;">******</p><p>It didn’t take long for Amanda’s son Simon to get himself into trouble. Simon was surprised and not a little unnerved when his mother told him that his behaviour would be dealt with the following Thursday, it being the next meeting of the book club, although Simon was unaware of this ‘coincidence’. This put Simon on edge as it meant waiting five whole days before he would learn the terms of his retribution and Simon hated waiting. By the second day Simon was reduced to pleading with his mother to punish him for his transgression, but he was simply told that he’d have to wait. On the third day Simon went to his wardrobe and took out the short trousers and the rest of the school uniform he wore when being punished. Simon stripped and put on the white junior schoolboy underpants and vest. As always happened when he started to dress in this uniform he began to feel anxious. It wasn’t so much the physical aspect of his punishment, that he could withstand even if it did reduce him to tears, no, it was the fear of being seen dressed like a junior schoolboy in the horribly short school uniform trousers. Like most boys of his age he felt humiliated to be dressed as a junior boy, as if puberty hadn’t taken place. God knows it had taken Simon a good while longer than most of the other boys at school to clear that particular hurdle. Putting him back into short trousers added insult to injury and he was terrified of his friends finding out about the way he was punished.</p><p>As it was it was probably Simon’s late puberty that accounted for much of his behavioural problems. His mother, Amanda, having discussed with other mothers how Simon had remained ‘my little boy’ or ‘a late bloomer’ (both euphemisms used by these ladies to describe a boy’s delayed puberty), she concluded that Simon’s tendency to show off in front of his friends could be put down to him trying to convince them that he was just as strong and mature as they were, something they all knew to be quite laughable.</p><p>Simon picked up the specially altered ultra short short trousers and, feeling his stomach knotting up, stepped into them. Simon’s legs were still perfectly smooth and unblemished which caused him even more embarrassment. His short trousers displayed his flawless legs so completely that he was brought to the brink of fainting as he caught sight of himself in his bedroom mirror. Simon bent down to slip on his ankle socks and as he did so he felt the all too familiar sensation of his little grey shorts riding up over the lower curves of his bottom. He reached for his T-bar school sandals and put them on to complete his uniform. He stood up straight and immediately reached back to tug at the hem at the back of his short trousers, an instinctive response to try and cover the bare flesh exposed as he bent over.</p><p>For a moment Simon wondered if he was doing the right thing. His idea was to present himself fully dressed in his junior schoolboy uniform, ready for whatever punishment his mother chose to give him in the hope that he could get it out of the way and not have to wait until Thursday. Sadly Simon was to be disappointed. </p><p>“Well I must say I <i>am </i>surprised, Simon,” Amanda said when her son entered the room. “I always say how smart you look wearing short trousers…”</p><p>“Please, mum… Can’t we get it over with… my punishment, that is,” Simon pleaded.</p><p>“Is that why you put on your uniform, Simon?”</p><p>“Yes, mum…”</p><p>“I’m afraid it’s not going to make any difference, Simon. I said that I’d deal with you on Thursday and Thursday it will be…”</p><p>“Oh, mummy… <i>pleeease</i>! I don’t want to wait until Thursday…” Simon implored his mother, pouting and looking every inch the naughty schoolboy as he squeezed his fists and smacked his bare thighs in frustration.</p><p>In his mother’s eyes Simon was no longer a teenager of nineteen summers, but more her little boy ready to take his first nervous steps into his grammar school.</p><p>“Simon, I don’t want you to make it worse for yourself than it is already. We agreed that you would abide by my rules just as long as you were living under my roof. I see no evidence that you are about to change your accommodation arrangements, therefore I must conclude that you are willing to obey my wishes when it comes to your discipline. That is the case is it not?”</p><p>“Yes, mummy,” Simon bowed his head, unable to argue. His mother was right. He had agreed to do his chores and behave himself while he lived at home. “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, mummy…”</p><p>“You’ve not upset me, Simon… not in the least,” Amanda paused and thought for a moment, “Since you’ve taken the trouble to change into your nice uniform you may keep it on and you may also change into it on your return home each day…”</p><p>“<i>Oh, mummy</i>…” Simon exclaimed, shocked at this imposition.</p><p>“Simon,” Amanda warned her son sternly, “I will lay your uniform out on your bed each day and I will expect you to go straight up to your room and change without any argument. Are we agreed?”</p><p>Defeated, Simon nodded his head, “Yes, mummy.”</p><p style="text-align: center;">******</p><p>Thursday came round soon enough. What Simon didn’t know was that his mother’s book club would be meeting at their house that very day. He was still unaware when he heard the doorbell ringing. Simon had changed into his school uniform and was already on edge as he wondered what his punishment would be following his transgression a few days before.</p><p>His mother called out from the kitchen: “<i>Simon</i>! Would you see who that is please? I’m busy.”</p><p>This was new to Simon. He’d never answered the front door dressed in short trousers. He was about to call back to his mother that he couldn’t go to the door; that he was wearing his school uniform, but he realised to do that would be a mistake, so he walked into the hall right up to the front door. Simon took a deep breath and reached up and grasped the door-knob. He stood behind the door, shielding himself from view, as he turned the knob and slowly opened and peered around the door to see who it was.</p><p>“Hello Simon… It is Simon isn’t it? I’m Betty Crabbe, a friend of your mother’s… she is expecting me,” Betty Crabbe announced herself brightly to the bewildered boy.</p><p>“I, er… you’d better come in,” Simon said, still cowering behind the door as he opened it wide enough for Betty Crabbe to enter the hall.</p><p>“I chair the Bunbury Ladies Reading Circle… your mother’s a member,” Betty explained to the increasingly nervous Simon, who realised that at some point this lady was going to see what he was wearing.</p><p>“You see we were getting a bit fed up always meeting at the same house, so at our last gathering we decided to take it in turns to host our little group and your mother’s name was top of the list. Did she not say anything?”</p><p>Simon was shocked as he grasped the full implication of what he was being told: “You mean… <i>here… today… now</i>?”</p><p>“Yes, Simon… that’s the idea,” Betty said and then asked, “Simon, don’t think I’m being nosy, but do you always hide behind the door like that when you have visitors?”</p><p>“No, er, it’s nothing… um, why don’t you, er, go through to the front room… Mrs, er Crabbe,” Simon replied, getting and sounding very flustered, “I, er… I need to, er go and change…”</p><p>“You’ll do no such thing,” his mother said sternly as she walked into the hall, “Now stop being silly and come out from behind that door, Simon and say ‘hello’ properly to Mrs Crabbe…”</p><p>“Mum… I can’t… please… please don’t make me,” Simon pleaded as he cowered behind the open door.</p><p>“Simon, I’m warning you… don’t make things worse for yourself. Stop this ridiculous infantile behaviour right now, because if I have come over there and drag you from behind that door I shall confiscate all your other clothes for the next four weeks and you will only be allowed to wear what you are wearing now… unless you would prefer to wear nothing at all.”</p><p>Betty Crabbe turned to Amanda Waters and smiled, “Oh, is that what all this performance is about? Simon is already wearing his short trousers,” she said answering her own question, “I might have guessed.”</p><p>Amanda Waters had had quite enough and without further ado she marched straight over to Simon, reached up, took him by the ear and pulled him out from behind the door.</p><p>Simon squealed in protest, begging his mother to let him go, but Amanda held onto his ear telling her son that she would only let go once he’d apologised to Betty Crabbe.</p><p>“<i>I’m sorry…. I’m sorry… Oh, mummy, please… it hurts</i>…” Simon said as he squirmed in front of his mother’s visitor.</p><p>“I’m still waiting for a proper apology, Simon,” his mother reminded him as she held onto his ear.</p><p>Simon finally found the right words and apologised for his behaviour to Betty Crabbe.</p><p>“Thank you Simon,” Betty said and walked up to the embarrassed boy, “Now let’s get you straightened up again… Your short trousers have got all rucked up while you did your little dance… Fancy a big boy like you making such a fuss.” And with that Betty Crabbe reached down and slipped her fingers up into the front of Simon’s short trousers. She gave them a gentle tug and then brushed them with the open palms of her hands as she marvelled at how they must be the shortest boy’s short trousers she’d ever seen.</p><p>“There we are… all nice and smart again… and you’re going to be looking just as smart wearing your short trousers for the next four weeks now I believe…”</p><p>Simon couldn’t prevent a slight groan from passing through his lips as he looked pleadingly at his mother, but he could see it would be no use for him to say anything. There was no point in arguing, far from it, that was the worse thing he could do. Simon knew from experience that his mother would think nothing of extending the period during which he would wear short trousers.</p><p>Just at that moment came the sound of girls’ voices through the still open front door.</p><p>“That’ll be Cynthia James with Abigail and Heather by the sounds of it,” Betty Crabbe said to Amanda, “If you remember her girls were so interested in our last book they simply begged to be allowed to come along to one of our meetings… I hope you don’t mind.”</p><p>“Not at all… Of course I don’t mind,” Amanda replied.</p><p>Simon’s face was ashen as he unconsciously rubbed his bare thighs together and looked from his mother to Betty and back again.</p><p>The sound of the girls’ footsteps on the path grew closer...</p><div><br /></div><div><i><a href="https://moggstories.blogspot.com/p/blog-page_22.html">Story Index</a></i></div>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com69tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-2526956011994979192020-11-08T19:59:00.001+00:002020-11-08T20:03:44.222+00:00Francis & Wendy<p><span style="font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wendy was fortunate to have an uncle who was a keen motorsports enthusiast. He had taken Wendy to all sorts of different events from hill-climbing to Formula One. It would to true to say that this had instilled in her a love of cars, a petrolhead in the making maybe. Wendy had been taught to drive on private roads by her uncle and she was already a seasoned driver by the age of fifteen. It came as no big surprise therefore that she obtained her driving licence just a few days after her seventeenth birthday.</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-df7ef931-7fff-a90d-9b53-9639e2655495"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As a present for passing her driving test Wendy’s uncle gave her the use of his MG Midget convertible sports car. Wendy understood that such a valuable car from her uncle’s small collection of cars was most definitely not a gift, she was nonetheless thrilled to be able to drive the MG on public roads. Of the cars she had driven while she learnt to drive the little MG was by far her favourite.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">This was the car Wendy had driven to Mrs Park’s house for her date with Francis.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the previous part of this story [<a href="https://moggstories.blogspot.com/2020/06/francis-his-sisters-part-5.html">Francis & His Sisters - Part 5</a>] we left Wendy wiping Christopher clean after Francis had managed to ejaculate over his fellow Red Indian. It was an accident of course. Francis had hidden himself in a clump of tall bamboo at the bottom of the garden in order to deal with an erection. He stood no chance of concealing his engorged penis as he was wearing nothing more than a tiny piece of buckskin over his private parts. This little flap of leather constituted the whole of the tenderfoot loincloth he was wearing and was itself a major (if somewhat minute) part of his Red Indian play outfit which included a beaded headband replete with colourful feather. The minuscule flap didn’t actually cover his private parts you understand, it was more of a concession to boyhood modesty and not really designed for a boy as old and as well developed as Francis.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As Francis and Christopher left the confines of the house the tiny flap of Francis’ loincloth had been pushed to one side by Francis’ penis as his erection developed. Francis knew that he needed to do something pretty pronto before anyone caught him with his penis upright, at attention and on full display. A quick J. Arthur was the only solution and he headed straight for the bottom of the garden where the shrubbery afforded some privacy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If it hadn’t been for Christopher’s curiosity Francis might have got away with his stratagem whereby he would ejaculate into the shrubbery and wait until his penis was soft enough to cover with the buckskin... well cover up what he could as best he could. As it was Christopher, who should have been keeping a look out, crept a few steps closer to the clump of bamboo than he should have done. Curiosity getting the better of him, Christopher pulled apart some of the canes to see if he could watch Francis masturbating. Sure enough Christopher saw Francis’ fist as it pumped furiously, whipping up and down the length of the turgid member. But Francis got a scare when he heard the bamboo rustling. He turned, with his fist working on automatic pilot, saw who the intruder was and would have turned back, but the shock startled him enough to trigger an explosive ejaculation just as he had turned to face Christopher.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What the two boys didn’t know was that Wendy had left the house and was in the garden in time to see what Francis and Christopher were up to. When she realised, and saw the evidence, Wendy must have thought all her birthdays had come at once. She was sensible enough to keep her feelings to herself. Sizing up the situation and realising how embarrassed Francis would be, she decided to tell the boys the ‘incident’ was strictly between the three of them.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As Wendy suspected, Francis was deeply embarrassed. Wendy was the girl of his dreams. He was angry with himself for what had happened. It wasn’t Christopher’s fault that he got sprayed with cum. It was his own fault for having no self control. Wearing the stupid little tenderfoot costume didn’t help of course and he still didn’t understand his mixed feelings toward it. Francis admitted to himself that Wendy would have every reason to go home and forget about him. Who, he wondered, would want to go out with a boy who dressed up in such childish outfits, a boy who played Cowboys and Indians with younger boys like Christopher? No, Francis was positive Wendy wouldn’t understand. As he watched her clean up Christopher, he was sure she wouldn’t understand, but, however much it might hurt, he had to know for sure where he stood.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Er, Wendy…” Francis began nervously. Wendy turned to look at him. “... have we er, still got a date?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wendy smiled: “Of course we have. Why would you think otherwise?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Francis was relieved, but couldn’t bring himself to look Wendy in the eye as he replied: “I… I just thought that… er, maybe… after… you know…” Francis nodded in Christopher’s direction, “Er, that… stuff… I thought that… y’know…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Wendy said cheerfully, “I told you, that’s between you, me and Christopher…” she paused briefly before adding, “I understand boys... look Francis, sometimes boys get over excited. You can’t help it… it’s natural… I’m okay with it, really I am.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Francis could hardly believe what he’d just heard: “Are… are you sure… really?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Of course I am... I wouldn’t say I was if I wasn’t,” Wendy replied, “I told you how much I liked you… it’s true… now come on let’s go for a drive and forget what’s happened… we can drop off Christopher on the way.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“A </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">drive</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">!” Francis was stunned.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Sure… my uncle has lent me a car…” Wendy could see Francis still didn’t understand, “Didn’t you know I’d passed my driving test?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Francis shook his head and Wendy took hold of his hand as she began to walk towards the house.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Come on, Francis, it’ll be fun... </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christopher</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">!” Wendy called as she held out her other hand for Christopher to hold. “My two brave Red Indian Braves!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What have you decided to do?” Mrs Park asked as they re-entered the house.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Wendy’s got a car and she’s taking us for a spin… we’re dropping Christopher at Mrs Harper’s on the way,” Francis replied with the sort of breathless enthusiasm of a boy half his age.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That’ll be nice…” Francis’ mother replied.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It’s my uncle’s car, Mrs Park... I promised I’d only be out for a couple of hours… uncle wants to show it to one of his friends later,” Wendy explained.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You’d better get a move on then…” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Francis turned to leave the room: “I’ll just nip upstairs and change…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh, I don’t think there’s time for that, Francis. You heard Wendy… she’s only got the car for an hour or two,” his mum said stopping Francis in his tracks.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You’re right, Mrs Park,” Wendy agreed, “We haven’t got much time, Francis... don’t worry about your costume, you’ll be safe in the car.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Francis looked from Wendy to his mother and back again. He really, really wanted to go on his date… but wearing nothing but his Red Indian outfit, his </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">tenderfoot </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Red Indian outfit… he wasn’t so sure.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wendy took his hand again and squeezed it gently.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It’ll be all right, Francis…” she promised.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In her wildest dream Wendy never imagined going on a date with Francis with him wearing the skimpiest, utterly ridiculous and revealing costume. Outwardly she was perfectly composed and sensible, agreeing with Mrs Park how it would do Francis the world of good to get out and about a bit more. Having the use of her uncle’s car meant she could take Francis to all sorts of places. Did Wendy imagine it, or did Mrs Park wink at her as much to say, ‘</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">yes, wearing that costume</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">’? </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wendy didn’t disguise the fact that she was looking at Francis’ costume once more, from his moccasins, beaded anklets and bracelets, armbands and headband with its long, brightly coloured feather and of course the tiny flap of buckskin hanging from a cord tied around Francis’ hips. All he needs is some war-paint, Wendy thought. She led him out of the house and down the driveway. Christopher followed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It hardly needs a genius to realise how nervous Francis was as he meekly allowed Wendy to lead him away from the safety of the house. He had waited so long for his date with Wendy that he couldn’t afford anything to go wrong. Francis knew that he could have dragged his heels and insisted he change out of the absurdly revealing Red Indian outfit, but that ploy, he felt sure, would have courted disaster. Wendy could have left him and he knew he’d never have another opportunity to date her. But it was still crazy to leave the house dressed in a little boy’s outfit. Francis felt the single thin strip of soft leather between his legs... the tiny flap that didn’t even cover his boyhood properly. So, he wondered, how bad would it be? After all he’d be sitting in the car. No one was going to see what he was wearing and if anyone was nosy enough to peer into the car, they’d surely think he’d just taken off his T-shirt. It’d be okay, Francis told himself. They were going for a drive. He was going to stay in the car. What could possibly go wrong?</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At the end of the drive Wendy suddenly had an idea and stepped behind Francis. She reached up and covered his eyes with her hands.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Whoa! What’s this for?” Francis asked. He was feeling vulnerable enough without Wendy playing tricks on him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh, don’t be such softie… I want it to be a surprise, that’s all,” Wendy said as she turned to Christopher, quickly took one hand away from Francis’ head and, putting a finger to her lips, gestured to him to keep quiet.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They moved out out onto the pavement. The little yellow convertible MG Midget, with its top down, sparkled in the sun. Wendy’s uncle took pride in keeping the car in tip-top condition.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christopher couldn’t help himself and gasped when he realised </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">this </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">was Wendy’s car. Whether this was from excitement of the opportunity to ride in a sports car, or whether he was shocked they would be riding in an open-top car… maybe a bit of both, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Francis was going to make of it!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wendy slid her hands away from Francis’ head.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What do you think? It’s my favourite car… the best one ever. Do you like it? Say you like it.” Wendy said earnestly, betraying no sign of any other motive other than her eagerness to please Francis.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wendy hands rested on Francis’ hips as she stood behind him. Francis focussed on the open-topped car in front of him, his mouth fell open and his eyes grew wider.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It’s really kind of uncle to lend me the MG… it really is my favourite,” Wendy said as she squeezed Francis excitedly, “It’s great fun to drive…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Of course Francis wasn’t really bothered about whether the MG was fun to drive or not, all he was concerned about was sitting in an open-topped sports car and being driven about wearing a kid’s Red Indian outfit that hardly covered his nob never mind his balls.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christopher, however, thought differently. Maybe it was because he had a bit more experience of life with little or no clothes, but for now he looked at the car and uttered one word, “</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Cool</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You’ll have to squeeze in the back somehow, Christopher… the MG’s only designed for two…” Wendy apologised.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christopher wasn’t at all worried and leapt in behind the passenger seat, happily sitting sideways with his knees up, “Oh, this is so </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">cool</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wendy walked round to the driver’s side, “Come on, Francis, get in,” she called.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Even at this late stage Francis fought the urge to run back into the house, but he knew he’d never live it down if he did. For heaven’s sake, he told himself, Christopher couldn’t get in the car quick rough… at least </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">he’s</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> enjoying it. Then if I did go back I’d never get another chance to date Wendy… mum would give me a bollocking and that would be nothing to the teasing I’d get from Sarah and Sam… No, I’d never live it down.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Francis reached out, gripped the door handle, pressed the catch and pulled the door open. Carefully he slipped into the seat and Wendy started the car and put it into gear. She briefly patted Francis on his bare thigh and they were off…</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Just got to stop and get some petrol, then we’ll drop Christopher off…” Wendy said breezily.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh, do you have to… can’t I come for a ride?” Christopher shouted for the back against the wind noise.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Francis couldn’t decide whether to fold his arms or to keep his hands pressed between his legs. He felt extremely vulnerable sat in the open-top MG. Christopher, on the other hand, was enjoying every second of the drive.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wendy could see out of the corner of her eye that Francis was tense: “Relax, Francis… I’m a very careful driver,” she said even though she knew it wasn’t her driving Francis was worried about.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It’s not that, Wendy,” Francis replied, “It’s this… well, if you must know it’s this Red Indian outfit…” he blurted out.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What? Oh, don’t worry about that,” Wendy said cheerfully, “I’m not bothered about that at all… Oh, you’re not </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">shy</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">, are you?” she asked as if it had only just occurred to her. “There’s really no need to be… not on my account.” Then she took her left hand off the steering wheel and gently patted Francis on his right thigh before taking hold of the gear stick to change down as she steered the little MG round a corner.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Francis was in no doubt about Wendy’s sincerity. She is being really nice and trying hard to help, he thought, but she doesn’t realise how embarrassing it is to wear this costume. I’m </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">not </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">shy… not normally anyway, it’s just this silly outfit. I mean my outfit was bad enough, but being made to swap with Christopher for this tiny tenderfoot loincloth was awful. Francis sighed. Wendy was being so understanding...</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m just going to pull in here for some petrol,” Wendy said as she steered the MG into a petrol station, “You stay there…” she added as she stepped out of the car just as an attendant crossed the forecourt towards them. The badge she wore said that her name was Jill.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When she saw the boys wearing headbands with brightly coloured feathers, the attendant Jill couldn’t help but be curious.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You boys off to the fancy dress party too?” Jill said as she unscrewed the filler cap at the back of the MG.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">the </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">fancy dress party?” Wendy asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, there were a couple of boys… no, three actually, not five minutes ago dressed in the most adorable little lederhosen outfits of all things,” Jill explained, “Quite a sight… and when one of the boys got out of the car… well you should have see him… very cute,” she said and winked at Wendy. “Little leather micro-shorts… he had lovely smooth legs... how much petrol?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh, just a gallon… that should be enough,” Wendy answered, “I wonder where they were off to… did they say?” she turned and said to Francis over her shoulder, “Francis, could you pass me my purse, it’s in the glove compartment.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Francis found Wendy’s purse and held it out, stretching sideways over to the driver’s door, but Wendy had turned back towards the attendant.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I wonder if it’s anyone we know?” Wendy pondered.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’d be a shame for these boys to miss it… all dressed up like real Red… oh, my!” the Jill gasped when she saw that Francis’ bottom was quite bare, for he was now leaning across the space between the two seats trying to get Wendy’s attention.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christopher giggled as Francis, realising what the attendant had seen, shot back into the passenger seat.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It’s a tenderfoot loincloth,” Christopher, feeling an explanation was called for, decided to tell the attendant, “Tenderfoots aren’t allowed a flap at the back…” he giggled again at Francis’ evident embarrassment. “It’s mine really, but Francis wanted to try it on…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I didn’t… mum made me,” Francis hissed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Did too!” Christopher insisted.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Didn’t…” Francis said almost whispering his response.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Boys, boys! There’s only one way to settle this,” Jill announced. She’d finished filling the MG and had replaced the filler cap. She walked round to the passenger side of the car and looked down at Francis who sat with his hands squeezed between his legs again.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Let’s see what’s so special about this tenderfoot loincloth that you were so keen to try on… come on, it can’t be any worse than the lederhosen I saw those boys wearing,” she said.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christopher couldn’t help but snigger, “‘Tis too… you wait ‘til you see it.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Francis twisted his head round to face Christopher: “Shut up!” he snapped.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wendy meanwhile was smiling at the little contretemps between the boys. It was always funny to see boys squabbling, usually over the most trivial of things.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christopher decided to put Francis to the test. To the amusement of both Jill and Wendy he challenged Francis to let the attendant compare his outfit with his own.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Don’t be stupid!” was Francis’ curt response.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Chicken!” was Christopher’s answer.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“No I’m not chicken!”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Okay, I dare you then!” Christopher challenged Francis.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christopher debouched from the tight confines of the back of the MG and climbed out onto the forecourt of the petrol station. Francis, embarrassed beyond belief, stayed sat resolutely in the passenger seat of the sports car.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The attendant studied Christopher’s outfit: “Hmm, looks like I was wrong… your Red Indian outfit is certainly more, er, revealing than those little leather shorts the other boys were wearing.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christopher turned around so the attendant could see the rear flap of his costume.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It’s a bit on the small side,” Jill said on seeing the tiny flap that really hardly covered much of Christopher’s well rounded bottom.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yeah, but it’s more than the tenderfoot…” Christopher started to say before he was interrupted by Francis again telling him to shut up.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Don’t be like that, Francis,” Wendy said, “Christopher’s only trying to be helpful.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Francis pouted like a little boy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You’re not going to let Christopher win, are you?” Wendy added.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Francis looked up at her: “What do you mean?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well, if you don’t do the dare, surely Christopher is entitled to make you do a forfeit?” Wendy explained, although she really had no idea of the rules boys had for challenges like dares.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Like what?” Francis asked nervously. He didn’t like the sound of this at all.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Could be anything, I suppose… that’d be up to Christopher,” Wendy said vaguely.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was enough to frighten Francis into action and he slowly opened the car door. Cautiously he put his left leg out and then twisted himself round and put his right leg out. It was enough for Jill to see why Francis wanted to stay in the car, since she could now see just how small the front flap of his Red Indian costume was. She gasped. It was </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">tiny</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">! It didn’t even properly cover his penis and she could clearly see his pump balls squashed between his thighs.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Francis gripped the dashboard with one hand and the back of the passenger seat with the other and slowly eased himself out of the relatively safe confines of the MG.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Francis stood up straight, then looked down and made an attempt to adjust the little flap, but to little effect since he was too well developed for a tenderfoot loincloth to afford him any degree of respectability.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jill put her hand to her chin as if in thought. “Well?” she said and Francis knew what was required. He shuffled round so that he back was towards the attendant. Christopher moved to stand next to Francis.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh, that’s just </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">so </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">cute!” the attendant cooed as she assessed the sight before her. One totally bare bottom, that of Francis and one very nearly bare bottom, that of Christopher. Jill looked up at Wendy, “I’ve just got to take a picture of them… do you mind? I took a couple snaps of the boys in their lederhosen,” she added as if this justified her taking a few photos of Francis and Christopher as well.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I don’t see why not,” Wendy answered magnanimously, completely ignoring Francis whose mouth fell open at this further indignity. Christopher wasn’t that bothered as he was of the opinion that anything which caused Francis further embarrassment was funny and anyhow he deserved to be embarrassed for not doing the dare straightaway.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... besides, where’s the harm in a few photos?” Wendy added as Jill went to fetch her camera from her office.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Francis took the opportunity to appeal to Wendy: “Can’t we just go for this drive? You don’t know what it’s like standing here…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Don’t be such a wet blanket, Francis… look, Christopher isn’t bothered,” Wendy pointed out cheerfully as she made light of Francis’ predicament.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A few moments later Jill came back from her booth with her camera. She quickly arranged the boys in front of the MG and took a few photos before calling over for Wendy to join them.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“... that’s it… you stand between them… put your arms over their shoulders… now </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">smile </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">all of you…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Then Wendy had an idea: “How about you take one as if these frightening Red Indians were trying to capture me?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What Wendy meant was that the boys, who up to that point had been posed facing the attendant’s camera, would now have to turn and face Wendy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What a great idea!” Jill said as she snapped away taking some memorable shots of Christopher’s and Francis’ bottoms.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Everyone was having so much fun… everyone except Francis of course. So much fun they almost didn’t notice another car when it pulled into the garage.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A woman leaned out of the driver’s window and Jill, with her camera in hand, went over to see what her customer wanted.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Are those boys going to the fancy dress party as well?” the lady asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jill noticed a boy sat in the back seat next to a girl wearing an elaborate party frock. The boy, however was wearing a snorkel and diving mask… and very little else as far as Jill could see.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The lady saw where Jill was looking and laughed: “My son Peter… he’s going as a diver. His sister Rosy, she’s going too…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m a milkmaid,” Rosy informed her and lifting a small pail from the floor of the car.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Is Peter wearing flippers?” Jill asked and for a reply Rosy put the pail down and lifted one of her brother’s legs up. Yes, Peter was wearing flippers</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well I never!” Jill said and turned to speak to their mother, “Would Peter and Rosy like to come and meet the Red Indians? I’d love to take some pictures of them all together.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That’s a lovely idea… Rosy, help Peter out of the car and go and join the boys over there,” mum told the children, then added to Jill by way of explanation, “Peter needs a bit of assistance… those flippers are a bit of a hindrance, but they’re part of Peter’s costume.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Jill watched as Rosy got out of the car and walked round to help her brother out. The flippers were rather large and made walking difficult for the young boy who looked to Jill to be about the same age as Christopher, but if the flippers were oversized, Peter’s speedo swim trunks were minute!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Rosy found them in Peter’s room,” mum explained, “I don’t know why he kept them. Peter hasn’t worn them since he was ten. Rosy insisted he wear them for the party.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">They laughed as they watched Peter making his way slowly across the forecourt lifting each flipper clear of the ground and then down again with a sharp smack.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m surprised he managed to squeeze into those swim trunks,” Jill commented as she watched Peter flip flop his way over towards Christopher and Francis, “It must have been an almighty struggle...” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It was,” Peter’s mother informed Jill, “We both had to help him…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Gosh… you and Rosy? I bet he wasn’t very happy about that,” Jill said with a smirk.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wendy watched as Peter walked laboriously towards Francis, Christopher and herself. She clapped and applauded: “Well done!” She too couldn’t help but notice the tiny speedos that Peter was wearing.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wendy turned to Francis: “We really ought to go to the fancy dress party…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christopher thought it was a great idea. Francis wasn’t in the least bit enthusiastic.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Go on, Francis… it’ll be fun,” Wendy said trying to cheer him up.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But we can’t go if we haven’t been invited,” Francis said firmly as if he was using his ‘get out of jail’ card.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Let’s go and ask the lady in the car. She must know if it would be alright,” Wendy said and took Francis by the hand. Wendy tugged Francis and urged him to ‘</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">come on</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">’, so Francis was made to walk across the forecourt, away from the comparative safety of the MG.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Cor… I thought my stupid old swim trunks were small enough,” Peter confided in Christopher, “but your Red Indian outfits are </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">tiny</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">!” He pointed towards Francis’ loincloth, “</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Crikey</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">... you can see his nob and everything… Phew, I’m glad it’s not me.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You better watch out you don’t run into Ben Harper then,” Christopher replied.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Who’s Ben Harper?” Peter asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Christopher took great delight in telling Peter all about Ben and his games of Cowboys and Indians and brought him up to date with the difference between a tenderfoot loincloth and that of an Indian brave.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Actually I should be wearing a tenderfoot loincloth,” Christopher explained, feeling superior in his knowledge of matters pertaining to games of Cowboys and Indians when it had become clear that Peter hadn’t a clue as to what was involved, “But Francis’ mum made him swap with me, so…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You mean he… he’s not wearing anything behind…” Peter gasped.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Look see… nothing at all,” Christopher said as he pointed towards Francis’ bare bottom, “I told you, there’s no flap at the back of a tenderfoot loincloth…” Then he leant forward towards Peter to add in a whisper, “Betcha can’t guess how old he is.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter shook his head: “Dunno… thirteen… fourteen, maybe…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He’s nearly seventeen</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">…” Christopher informed him.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Never</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">…” Peter couldn’t believe what Christopher had told him, “But he hasn’t got any hairs. That loincloth thingy is so small… you can see he hasn’t got any nob-hairs at all… He can’t be that old.”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That’s because he was scalped by the cowboys…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-style: italic; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Blimey</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">…” Peter was gobsmacked. Then a thought occurred to him. “What’s he doing running about like that at his age?”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter made it sound as though Francis was nearer seventy than seventeen, but he undoubtedly had a point.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Long story,” Christopher replied, “but I gather his mum thought he was spending too much time in his bedroom… alone… capiche?” </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Peter giggled: “What? Doing it?” He curled his fist and made a slight jerking movement to show he understood.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yup… he did it in the garden not half and hour ago…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You see him doing it?” Peter asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“More than that…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Whad’ya mean?” Peter was transfixed.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“He spunked up and it squirted over me… He didn’t mean to,” Christopher explained, then added magnanimously, “My fault really… I shouldn’t have got too close…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Wow…” was all Peter could think to say. He’d never seen an older boy wanking before. In fact he wasn’t even sure older boys did it, so it came as a surprise to find out that Francis did. He felt quite envious of Christopher for having been able watch Francis at it, but he wasn’t too sure about being squirted over.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Meanwhile Francis was feeling particularly nervous standing next to Wendy in front of the car belonging to the mother of Peter and Rosy.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Hello, I’m Wendy and this is Francis,” Wendy introduced themselves.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Pleased to meet you. My name’s Lake… Mildred Lake,” came the reply.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wendy leaned in towards Mildred, out of earshot of Francis who, anyway was too busy looking round nervously to hear anything said. “Actually it’s our first date… Francis and me,” she whispered.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“How on earth did you get him to wear that fancy dress costume? You’re a very lucky girl to persuade an attractive boy to come to the party dressed like that…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well, that’s the thing… we weren’t actually going to the party,” Wendy explained, “Francis dresses up to play Cowboys and Indians…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Mildred couldn’t control herself and burst out laughing: “You’re kidding…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Wendy glanced at Francis. He was still far too worried about being seen to have heard Mrs Lake’s laughter.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Some boys never grow up,” Mildred Lake told Wendy, “Although I think you already know that…”</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Do you think they’ll let us into the party?” Wendy asked.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Wearing those costumes? No problem. You follow me and I’ll make sure you all get in,” Mildred Lake replied.</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></p><br /><i><a href="https://moggstories.blogspot.com/p/blog-page_22.html">Story Index</a></i><br /><br /><br /><br /></span>mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4204457024610088297.post-23862703998319747982020-08-10T15:37:00.000+01:002020-08-10T15:37:22.256+01:00The P.E. Club - Part 4<br />
<br />
“Ricky! What <i>have </i>you been up to?!” Mrs Livesey exclaimed when she saw the state Ricky was in, “You knew you had an important visitor… I told you about Robert… how he might help you join the P.E. Club… and yet look at you! What on earth is he going to think?”<br />
<br />
I have to admit Ricky did look remarkably disheveled. His school shoes were scuffed. One sock was at half-mast, the other pushed all the way down to his ankle. Ricky’s knees looked as if he’d been shuffling about in muddy grass and his legs were filthy. The grass stains extended to his school shorts and blazer. It will be no surprise to learn how his shirt was completely untucked from his trousers and that his school tie was almost totally undone. His school cap was nowhere to be seen.<br />
<br />
Mrs Livesey was appalled and, while I stood to one side, carried on in much the same way my own mother would have done under similar circumstances. Ricky was in a mess and by the look on his face he knew he was in serious trouble. He kept glancing nervously between me and his mum.<br />
<br />
As usual in these situations it was a waste of time trying to find out how Ricky managed to get into such a state. The damage had been done and Ricky knew there was a price to pay.<br />
<br />
“Look how smart Robert is,” Mrs Livesey said as she pressed a hand on top of Ricky’s head, directing it towards me. “That’s a boy who takes pride in his appearance… look… Robert hasn’t got grass stains on his legs, has he, Ricky?”<br />
<br />
“No, mum…” Ricky replied. There was a quizzical look on his face as though something had just dawned on him.<br />
<br />
“Robert’s clothes are nice and clean… aren’t they, Ricky?”<br />
<br />
“Yes, mum... “ Ricky looked earnestly at his mother. “Mum… why’s he wearing short trousers?”<br />
<br />
“Because it’s part of the uniform he’s been given to wear by the P.E. Club,” mum answered, “... and he’s proud to wear short trousers, unlike some little boys I could mention… besides, it’s an honour for him to wear them… isn’t it, Robert?”<br />
<br />
“Of course it is, Ricky,” I said smiling. What else could I say? I could hardly tell Mrs Livesey I felt ridiculous standing in her kitchen in the shortest pair of short trousers it had ever been my misfortune to wear.<br />
<br />
Despite Ricky’s current situation he wasn’t too afraid to tell us how he couldn’t wait to get some long trousers and that some of his classmates were already in longs… and how he never, ever wanted to wear short trousers again once mum had bought him some longs.<br />
<br />
Mrs Livesey looked at me and sighed, “This is just what I was telling you about…”<br />
<br />
I looked at Ricky and spoke, “I don’t think mum will be in any hurry to buy you a pair of long trousers, especially when you come home in the state you are now. Mum might decide to keep you in short trousers… my mum made sure I stayed in short trousers until I was much older than you are now. Besides, when you join the P.E. Club you’ll find that all the boys wear short trousers. When you get a bit older, Ricky, you’ll understand…”<br />
<br />
“I think it’s about time we got you out of these clothes, Ricky,” Mrs Livesey decided, “… and then we’ll give you a strip wash here in the kitchen…”<br />
<br />
“<i>MUM</i>!!” Ricky was outraged.<br />
<br />
“I wouldn’t make too much of a fuss young man, because when we’ve got you nice and clean, Robert is going to take you over his knees for a thorough bare bottom spanking… aren’t you Robert?”<br />
<br />
To say I was astonished by Mrs Livesey’s words would be an understatement and to be perfectly honest I didn’t believe it was my place to administer Ricky’s spanking, bare bottom or not. But before I could reply, Ricky had a few words to say.<br />
<br />
“Not a spanking… please, mum… not in the kitchen… please, mum,”<br />
<br />
Mrs Livesey had already started to undress Ricky before he surprised us both by what he said next.<br />
<br />
Ricky looked at me coyly and then spoke: “Mum… please not Robert… don’t let Robert spank me…” Mrs Livesey was unbuttoning Ricky’s school shirt, but paused and asked her son what he meant. “Will you spank me instead, mum?”<br />
<br />
“Whatever for?” she asked.<br />
<br />
Ricky didn’t answer his mum’s question, but repeated himself: “Please, mum… will you spank me?”<br />
<br />
Mrs Livesey looked at me quizzically. I shrugged as much to say that I didn’t understand Ricky either. Did he think a spanking from me would be more painful than one from his mum, I thought? Hardly, as I was sure Mrs Livesey would have had far more spanking experience than me. Or maybe Ricky was simply embarrassed by the thought of being spanked by an older boy… who knows? But I wonder if Ricky realised I would be staying in the kitchen whatever happened.<br />
<br />
I sat and watched as Mrs Livesey methodically undressed Ricky. Off came his shoes, off came his socks, down came Ricky’s short school trousers, off came his shirt… until Ricky was left standing in his little white underpants. Mrs Livesey moved to pull down her son’s underpants at which Ricky jerked back and grabbed hold of the elastic waistband of the underpants.<br />
<br />
“<i>NO</i>!! <i>Please, mum… not… not in front of Robert</i>…” he pleaded and it became apparent that Ricky didn’t want to be seen undressed in front of an older boy.<br />
<br />
“Take your hands away, Ricky!” Mrs Livesey snapped. “I don’t think Robert’s going to mind if he sees you with no clothes on… I’m sure he sees lots of bare boys at the P.E. Club,” Mrs Livesey added as she slipped her fingers inside the waistband of Ricky’s underpants. She’d clearly had plenty of practice at this manoeuvre and I watched as she slid her hands around and down over Ricky’s bottom before sweeping her hands back round to his front. Ricky’s bottom was now bare and the front of his underpants had been pulled low enough for me to see the base of his bald penis.<br />
<br />
“Stand still, Ricky and let me take your underpants off,” Mrs Livesey said as her son performed a nervous dance in anticipation of of his baring.<br />
<br />
I was surprised at Ricky’s modesty. Considering what I’d seen him getting up to in his school’s security video, I would have thought the little matter of being stripped nude in the kitchen wouldn’t have bothered him that much. Or maybe it was the thought of the spanking he was going to get after mum had given him a strip wash.<br />
<br />
Ricky’s underpants came down and mum soon had them added to the pile of his school clothes. It was predicable to see Ricky cup his hands between his legs and for the moment Mrs Livesey ignored this as she pulled him towards the sink.<br />
<br />
“Robert, I wonder if you could give me some assistance?” Mrs Livesey asked me.<br />
<br />
“Certainly…” I replied as I crossed the kitchen.<br />
<br />
“Would you grip Ricky’s arms and hold them above his head while I wash his legs?”<br />
<br />
Needless to say Ricky struggled, wriggling this way and that until mum gave him a sharp smack on his left thigh.<br />
<br />
“Don’t make it worse for yourself, Ricky… let mum clean you up,” I advised him as I took hold of his wrists and pulled his arms up high. The usual pleadings of it not being fair were ignored by his mum and I told him that he shouldn’t have got into such a mess in the first place. Mrs Livesey made short work of Ricky’s strip wash. She gave me a towel and told me to dry Ricky. I’d noticed a change in her tone of voice when she addressed me and what she said next took me by surprise:<br />
<br />
“... and when you’ve finished doing that you can give Ricky a good spanking on his bare bottom.”<br />
<br />
However much I might have enjoyed the thought of taking Ricky over my lap for a spanking I felt that as I was wearing short trousers it was not appropriate for me to do so. I protested that it wasn’t my place to spank Ricky, but Mrs Livesey wouldn’t hear of it.<br />
<br />
“You will be Ricky’s supervisor at the P.E. Club. It doesn’t seem unreasonable to ask you to demonstrate to me here and now exactly how you will exert your authority when he misbehaves.” She paused before adding firmly, “… and if I don’t hear Ricky howling and begging to be spared after you’ve been spanking him for five minutes, I will personally show how that is done by giving a practical lesson for you by using your own bare bottom. Do I make myself clear, Robert?”<br />
<br />
I told Mrs Livesey that she had made herself perfectly clear and as I sat on one the the kitchen stools, Ricky, looking apprehensive, was made to stand by my right hand side. He rubbed his bottom in nervous anticipation of the spanking he was about to receive. I patted my lap and helped to position Ricky as he leant forwards over my bare thighs.<br />
<br />
Mrs Livesey set the kitchen timer and nodded for me to start. I had five minutes to demonstrate my prowess at spanking. If anything I was more nervous than Ricky as I commenced his spanking. His mother watched me with a critical eye as I smacked her son’s bare bottom, but there was no sound from Ricky. Not a peep. It didn’t seem to make any difference how hard I tried spanking him, Ricky stayed resolutely silent.<br />
<br />
“Four minutes left…” Mrs Livesey announced.<br />
<br />
I spanked Ricky harder. I tried concentrating all my efforts on one spot. I spanked Ricky on his sweet ‘sit-spots’, but still there was not a peep from Ricky.<br />
<br />
“Three minutes left…” Mrs Livesey informed me coldly.<br />
<br />
Ricky was wriggling and his legs made a series of scissor movements, so I knew my spanking must have been having <i>some </i>effect. At one point Ricky’s right arm shot up as if to protect his bottom. I grabbed the wrist and held it tight against Ricky’s back. I continued to spank Ricky as hard as I was able, but there was still no noise other than the steady <i>smack, smack, smack</i> as my hand made contact with Ricky’ bare bottom.<br />
<br />
“Two minutes to go…”<br />
<br />
Hearing Mrs Livesey’s voice made me redouble my efforts. Surely Ricky should be yelling his head off by now, I thought. He was wriggling and scissoring his legs even more as my hand smacked the tender red flesh of his bottom… but that didn’t count. As long as Ricky remained silent, I was due for a demonstration from Mrs Livesey of how to make a boy howl, beg and plead using my bottom.<br />
<br />
By this time and with this thought uppermost on my mind I was sweating more with fear than the exertion of spanking Ricky.<br />
<br />
“One minute left,” said Mrs Livesey.<br />
<br />
Still no noise apart from the steady slap of my hand on the reddening bottom of the naked wriggling Ricky.<br />
<br />
“Thirty seconds left…”<br />
<br />
I was frantic. I couldn’t believe that any bare-bottomed boy could hold out during such a spanking and not yell out. It was only then the penny really dropped. Up to that point I thought that it was simply a battle of wills, but now I realised Ricky was holding out so that he could be rewarded by watching while I had a spanking over his mother’s lap. A spanking she had guaranteed would make me howl and beg of mercy!<br />
<br />
No wonder Ricky had kept silent…<br />
<br />
“<i>BEEP</i>! <i>BEEP</i>! <i>BEEP</i>!”<br />
<br />
The kitchen timer sounded and my sore hand came to rest on Ricky’s hot bottom cheeks. I made Ricky stay in position over my lap while I got my breath back in the hope Ricky might make a noise loud enough to exempt me from his mother’s threat to give me a spanking.<br />
<br />
A minute passed and it became clear what fate awaited me in Mrs Livesey’s kitchen. Apart from taking a few deep breaths and trying to relieve his scorching bottom by bucking and twisting his hips, Ricky remained stoically silent. I looked up at Mrs Livesey and she signaled me to stand up and face her.<br />
<br />
Released from my grip, Ricky jumped up and immediately grabbed hold of his bottom with both hands then commenced a most energetic post-spanking dance around the kitchen. He was no longer at all concerned about his nudity and I couldn’t help but watch as his thighs worked like pistons causing his boys-bits to flap about and slap against his legs.<br />
<br />
Ricky was allowed a few minutes to finish his dance before Mrs Livesey told him to stand still and clasp his hands behind his head for his corner-time. He did as he was told and I saw that his eyes were damp and glistening with tears. I wondered how he’d managed to keep from yelling during the spanking I’d given him, but before facing the wall Ricky turned and spoke:<br />
<br />
“Please, mum… can I watch… to see how it’s done… a proper spanking, I mean…”<br />
<br />
I very nearly grabbed hold of Ricky once more for another spanking. The cheek!! It was obvious what he’d been up to and now he wanted to watch me getting spanked!<br />
<br />
Mrs Livesey thought about it for a moment. Ricky must have convinced her that my spanking was not of a standard sufficient for proper discipline as her reply made it clear.<br />
<br />
“Yes… Yes, Ricky… you may stand and watch while I give Robert a spanking. It’s quite obvious he needs a lesson in how to administer an effective spanking to a boy’s bare bottom… but be sure to keep your hands at the back of your head, Ricky.”<br />
<br />
Now it was my turn to be undressed by Mrs Livesey.<br />
<br />
Ricky’s mum was methodical in her work as she first came and stood behind me, reached up to the collar of my jacket and pulled it downwards so that my arms slipped out. Mrs Livesey came back round to face me, handed me my jacket and told me to take it and hang it in the hall. I did as I was told and passed by Ricky who smirked and poked his tongue out at me.<br />
<br />
“Ricky!! Do that once more and you’ll be over my knee for a dose of my hairbrush,” his mum warned him.<br />
<br />
My heart beat faster as I hung up my jacket and returned to the kitchen to stand in front of Mr Livesey once more. This time she reached up to removed my tie and unbuttoned my shirt and it became clear to me that I was to be completely undressed for my spanking, fully nude, just like Ricky.<br />
<br />
Leaving my shirt unbuttoned and open, Mrs Livesey pulled up a chair and sat down. She reached forward and pushed her hands into the waistband of my short trousers. Pulling me forward, she started to tell me how disappointed she was with me; how she’d expected a boy of my age to take his responsibilities more seriously… and so it went on. Every so often I would apologise, desperately ashamed and embarrassed to be standing in the middle of her kitchen while she slowly undressed me.<br />
<br />
My little short trousers were unzipped and pulled open. I was conscious of Ricky’ eyes as he watched every step of my disrobing. I felt Mrs Livesey’s fingers as they were pushed up the legs of my ultra brief shorts.<br />
<br />
“I hope you are thoroughly ashamed of yourself, Robert.”<br />
<br />
“Yes, Mrs Livesey,” I mumbled.<br />
<br />
She tugged my short trousers, pulling them down over my bottom and they tumbled to my feet.<br />
<br />
“Hold up your shirt, Robert… I was so disappointed in you… I really would have expected you to be able to give Ricky such thorough spanking that would have made him beg you to stop… hold your shirt right up, Robert…”<br />
<br />
Mrs Livesey brought her fingers up to the waistband of my white schoolboy underpants and I could feel beads of perspiration on my forehead. I knew what was next.<br />
<br />
I’ve no doubt that Mrs Livesey had gained a great deal of experience in removing a boy’s underpants over the years. She certainly knew how to deal with the little school regulation underpants that were part of my P.E. Club uniform. Keeping up her scolding of me, she pushed her fingers into the elastic waistband and slowly eased it downwards.<br />
<br />
“Honestly, Robert, I’d have thought a boy of your age wouldn’t have had any trouble spanking Ricky…”<br />
<br />
“I’m sorry, Mrs Livesey,” I apologised as I saw Ricky lean forwards, keen not to miss anything.<br />
<br />
“Well, it just wasn’t good enough… was it, Robert?”<br />
<br />
“No, Mrs Livesey…”<br />
<br />
“When I spank a boy I expect him to make a great deal of noise… I expect him to beg me to stop… I expect him to be bawling… sobbing… crying his eyes out… don’t I, Ricky?”<br />
<br />
“Yes, mum…” Ricky replied and by the tone of his voice he was eager to watch his mum in action on my bottom… my bare bottom.<br />
<br />
Mrs Livesey had pulled the waistband of my underpants down to the base of my penis… far enough to see that I had no pubic hair and was as bald as Ricky. She made no comment, but merely pushed her hands around the waistband until her fingers were touching the bare flesh of my bottom. Mrs Livesey eased my underpants back down over my bottom and then slid her hands back to my hips and pulled the now stretched elastic waistband further down. My penis was now partially uncovered.<br />
<br />
“You see, Robert,” Mrs Livesey continued as if pulling down the underpants of a nineteen year old boy was an everyday event of no consequence, “You see when a boy is spanked, he should be aware of nothing other than his blazing bottom…”<br />
<br />
“Yes, Mrs Livesey,” I replied getting more and more anxious by the second. Already I could feel my stomach churning in anticipation of my forthcoming spanking… to say nothing of the imminent lowering of my underpants.<br />
<br />
“... that is why I often make use of my hairbrush.”<br />
<br />
I gulped. I think Ricky might have been shocked to hear that too.<br />
<br />
“... a boy will then promise to be good, promise to do his homework, promise to do his chores properly… promise anything in fact for the spanking to stop…”<br />
<br />
I gulped again: “Yes, Mrs Livesey.<br />
<br />
“Frankly I’m surprised you didn’t ask to borrow my hairbrush when you spanked Ricky…”<br />
<br />
“I’m sorry, Mrs Livesey…”<br />
<br />
“After all, it was obvious you weren’t able to achieve the desired result with your bare hand after the first minute…”<br />
<br />
“I’m really sorry, Mrs Livesey.”<br />
<br />
At that precise moment that back door opened and with a loud “<i>Coo-ee</i>!” one of Mrs Livesey’s neighbours entered the kitchen.<br />
<br />
“Oh! Am I interrupting anything?” she asked when she saw Ricky standing in the kitchen nude and with his hands clasped behind his head. She must also of course have seen me, a bundle of nerves, standing in front of Mrs Livesey.<br />
<br />
“No… not all all, Jill,” Mrs Livesey answered just as if she was in the middle of some tedious household chore, “Come in and take a pew…”<br />
<br />
Calmly, without any fuss and without any allowance made for arrival of the unexpected visitor, Mrs Livesey drew my underpants down to my knees. My penis, slightly engorged I’m ashamed to say, once released from the confines of my tight schoolboy underpants, sprung outwards and wobbled in front of her before coming to rest.<br />
<br />
“<i>Cor</i>!!” Ricky exclaimed when he saw the result of his mother’s action.<br />
<br />
Mrs Livesey looked directly at my now fully exposed genitals. “I grew up with two brothers,” she said, “... and both of them had abundant pubic hair by your age, Robert… Yet I see you have none.”<br />
<br />
Ricky couldn’t resist a further exclamation when he realised I was as bald as he was. He was about to say something more when the neighbour spoke.<br />
<br />
“I’d keep quiet if I were you, Ricky… By the looks of things you’ve earned one spanking already today.”<br />
<br />
I was then obliged to tell Mrs Livesey in front of her neighbour and Ricky, that Doc considered pubic hair on boys to be unhealthy as well as unnecessary and therefore to set an example I had agreed to keep myself smooth and hairless. I can’t tell you how embarrassed I was at that point in the proceedings. Mrs Livesey was having no trouble in cutting me down to size and I felt as if I were not much older than Ricky.<br />
<br />
Mrs Livesey left me standing in the middle of the kitchen holding my shirt right up to my shoulders and with my underpants clinging to my knees. My extremely brief short trousers were still in a puddle at my feet.<br />
<br />
“Shall I put the kettle on, Jill?” Mrs Livesey asked her neighbour as she crossed the kitchen.<br />
<br />
“What a good idea, Helen… are you going to introduce me to this young man?” Jill said as if finding an almost naked teenager in her friend’s kitchen was a perfectly normal occurrence.<br />
<br />
“Certainly, Jill. This is Robert… I think I mentioned him to you the other day. He’s the boy who helps run the PE Club that Ricky will be joining to help control that little problem of his we talked about at our coffee morning last week…”<br />
<br />
“Oh yes, <i>that </i>little problem… One or two other boys in need of the same treatment were mentioned as I recall… and my Ralph’s no saint either, I can assure you,” Jill said with a smile.<br />
<br />
“Ralph’s fourteen now isn’t he?” Mrs Livesey asked her neighbour.<br />
<br />
“Yes, but he’s a <i>young </i>fourteen… <i>entre nous</i>, he’s what you might call a late bloomer… a very late bloomer. Poor Ralph’s dreadfully embarrassed about it… even covers his front bits if I catch him when he’s undressed… all a bit silly really, because… well, boys tend to forget their mums have seen everything anyway, so there’s no need to hide their boy things from us just because they’re growing up,” Jill informed us.<br />
<br />
“... and you say he’s already… er, doing that thing we were talking about at the coffee morning?” Mrs Livesey said hesitantly, presumably not wanting to talk too openly about masturbation in front of her son, Ricky.<br />
<br />
But Jill knew exactly what Mrs Livesey meant: “Oh yes, Helen… although it’s only recently I’ve seen any evidence… just a few spots.”<br />
<br />
I began to feel sorry for Ralph having such personal and private matters talked about so freely and with such little concern by his mother. His boy-secrets were now completely out in the open; the subject of his late pubescence common knowledge among others… as well as his <i>habit</i>, that thing boys do, all the mothers were talking about over coffee.<br />
<br />
Mrs Livesey turned to her son:” Ricky, if I find out that you’ve been telling anyone else what Aunty Jill has just said about Ralph I’ll give you such a spanking with my hairbrush that you won’t be able to sit down for a week… Do I make myself clear?”<br />
<br />
Ricky understood alright. He just had to remember to be very careful how he used this new found knowledge. “Yes, mum… I won’t say a thing…” he replied keeping a straight face.<br />
<br />
“I wonder, Jill… while I make the tea… if you wouldn’t mind helping Robert off with the rest of his clothes. He’s been holding up his shirt for a while and his arms must be aching quite a bit now.”<br />
<br />
What Mrs Livesey said was true, but I wasn’t sure if the embarrassment of having her neighbour Jill removing the rest of my clothing wasn’t too high a price to pay for the comfort of being able to straighten my arms.<br />
<br />
Jill turned out to be just as adept at undressing a boy as Mrs Livesey. All the while she chatted to her friend as she eased my shirt off and then slipped my underpants further down my legs.<br />
<br />
“What about his sandals, Helen?” Jill asked.<br />
<br />
“He can keep those on for now,” came the reply.<br />
<br />
I lifted up each foot in turn so that Jill could remove my short trousers and underpants and stood nude, bar ankle socks and sandals. If anything having these left on made me feel more naked than ever; the socks and sandals on my feet simply drew attention to the lack of any other clothing on my otherwise bare body.<br />
<br />
“My, but these short trousers of yours are <i>very </i>short, Robert,” Jill said as she held them up in front of her and examined them, “Was that your choice, to have them so short?”<br />
<br />
“No… er, no they’re part of my visiting uniform… for when I’m representing the PE Club,” I replied rather softly as I was deeply embarrassed by the situation in which I’d found myself.<br />
<br />
“Well, it’s a brave boy who wears <i>these </i>little shorts… wouldn’t you agree, Helen?”<br />
<br />
Mrs Livsesy smiled and said that in her opinion short trousers for boys should always be tailored to allow lots of fresh air to circulate around the boy’s thighs… whatever his age.<br />
<br />
“Robert must get lots of fresh air wearing these… there’s hardly any leg to them at all.” Jill turned to me again: “Is that why you were wearing these little schoolboy underpants? They’re the same type as the underpants I buy for Ralph.”<br />
<br />
I wondered if my ordeal could get any more embarrassing as I explained why I was wearing a pair of underpants designed to be worn by a fourteen year old schoolboy.<br />
<br />
“... and they’re smarter too,” I managed to croak after I explained that any other underwear would be likely to be seen as the legs of my short trousers were, as Jill had pointed out, so very short.<br />
<br />
Jill made use of the apron she was wearing to collect and carry my clothes.<br />
<br />
“What would you like me to do with Robert’s clothes, Helen?” she asked.<br />
<br />
“Oh, put them through on the hall table. Robert can collect them later…”<br />
<br />
Those words sounded rather ominous and it looked as if I was to forfeit my clothes for some time, or at least until Mrs Livesey saw fit to allow me to get dressed again. I stood in the kitchen like a nervous, naughty boy about to be spanked. I was now more than ever certain Mrs Livesey was about to show me how a ‘proper’ spanking should be administered.<br />
<br />
Jill came back into the kitchen: “Is there anything else for me to do, Helen?” she asked.<br />
<br />
“Yes, would you be an angel and fetch my hairbrush… Ricky will show you where it’s kept…”<br />
<br />
Ricky couldn’t help himself and whooped with delight at the prospect of seeing me spanked with his mother’s hairbrush. Jill took Ricky by the hand and he led her off to find the hairbrush… well, to be precise, Ricky positively dragged Jill from the room in his eagerness to show her where his mum kept the hairbrush.<br />
<br />
“Hands clasped behind your head now, Robert,” Mrs Livesey ordered as Jill and Ricky left the kitchen.<br />
<br />
My head was in a whirl. I hadn’t expected any of this to happen. It was embarrassing enough to dress in the PE Club uniform to come and visit Mrs Livesey and to meet with Ricky. I thought that I’d have a chat over a cup of tea and maybe tell Ricky something about the club. But here I was standing practically nude in Mrs Livesey’s kitchen waiting to be spanked by her with a hairbrush while Jill, a neighbour, and Ricky watched. Not only that, but I was to be spanked until I was bawling and pleading to be spared, while I was no doubt blubbing as tears and snot ran down my face. Yes, I knew only too well what the effects of a well-aimed hairbrush could be on a boy’s defenceless bare bottom. The purpose of this was to demonstrate what Mrs Livesey considered to be a ‘proper’ spanking… the type of spanking I’d failed to give her son Ricky.<br />
<br />mogghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14573749248484965019noreply@blogger.com22