Teenage Angst
N Fourbois

Disclaimer: this story describes the developing relationship between two teenage boys and is very 'English'. The way the relationship develops is more important than detailed descriptions of sexual activity which can be readily found elsewhere. Should this not be to your taste, please do not read it. Feedback is always encouraging and welcome. E-mail address: nigel.b6@ukonline.co.uk


Toby lay in bed wide awake. Despite a demanding day at school at the end of a physically and mentally tiring week he could not get to sleep. Was it excitement? Was it apprehension? Was it the fact that on the following day, Saturday, something was going to happen that he had never dreamt would or could possibly happen? Normally he went to sleep almost straightaway and would remain asleep throughout the night. Toby was not characteristically a worrier. In fact he came across as a cheerful, all-embracing, outgoing kid. However, he had not only been born some fourteen years ago under the star sign Virgo, but he was also born a typical Virgoan. He was by nature a perfectionist and everything had to be just so. He firmly believed in the seven Ps - Prior Planning and Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance - and after waiting so long for this opportunity nothing could be allowed to go wrong. Tomorrow he was going on his first date.

Toby had been spared the ravages of puberty. His voice had changed just before his thirteenth birthday into a mellifluous bass without the embarrassing uncontrollable breaking that many adolescents suffer. He had grown steadily as his musculature kept pace and while his shoulders and hips had broadened his chest and stomach remained flat and developed muscle without any special input from him, since he was a keen sports player at school, rugby, cross-country, cricket and athletics, and went swimming at least once a week during term time and three or four times weekly during the holidays. His bottom was rounded without the extension of a 'bubble butt'. The only body hair he sported was a neat tuft above his groin. His jet black hair was straight and shining, contrasting sharply with his sapphire eyes, sapphire not only from their shade, but from the way they sparkled and lent a natural smile and look of merriment to his face which itself betrayed alertness, intelligence and an interest in all that was going on around him. His skin was white in winter, but easily tanned in summer and in the shower he still displayed a neat 'bikini line' where Speedos had been his only covering for much of the summer holidays. All in all he was one of Nature's wonders.

Toby was neat. He was neat in mind and body. Whatever clothes he wore, they were immaculate, even after a twenty mile hike and a night out camping in the country. He was every girl's desire and he was certainly on the wish list of the girls he met in the neighbourhood. But tonight his unruffled exterior was far from being matched by the ruffled mood he was suffering as he agonised over his first date.

Tomorrow morning there was a school rugby game, ten o'clock kick off, at home fortunately. He played fly-half. This was the third season for his school. He had natural eye-hand-foot-ball co-ordination and a sharpened ability to read the game. An awesome tackler he was matched in this by his scrum-half Graeme, an equally alert player whom he had partnered since the first form. Both his and Graeme's parents would be at the match to support them and the School team. After the game there would be a snack while they socialised with the visiting team, but following that a quick trip home to change out of school uniform and to get his things ready, then swimming, a trip to Burger Star before going to the cinema to see the latest Harry Potter film.

But back to tonight. Toby was lying in bed tormented about the next day, first on his back, then on his right side, then on his left side, then on his front. Lying on his front inevitably gave him a stiffie pressed down on by the weight of his body and any other night he would have given in to that pressure and jerked off fantasising about his date, but not tonight. He wanted to save his energies for the following day. Normally once he shed his load he would roll over and be asleep within minutes. That option was not open to him tonight although he frequently enjoyed such nocturnal activity. In summer he would not wear anything under the duvet, but with autumn he had adopted his customary night attire of loose cotton boxers and a loose cotton tee shirt. The boxers gave him the freedom to grope himself while the cotton soon soaked up the produce and he thus avoided embarrassing stains on his bed linen. He had bought several pairs while on holiday in Canada. Transatlantic cotton wear always seemed that much stouter than the flimsy European equivalents. Something to do with the difference between American and Indian cotton he had been told.

All this was going through his head in a muddled fashion as he fought and miserably failed to fall asleep. A thought struck him. He put the bedside light on and got up to look at himself in the mirror. His hair was almost dishevelled. 'I can't go on a date looking like that,' he said to himself. 'I'll have to get up early and go to the barber before the match. Take some hair conditioner for the shower too.' He wrote 'barber' and 'conditioner' down on a pad on his desk and set his alarm. He was after all a Virgoan.

Toby did not get straight back into bed, but sat at his desk pencil in hand. He wrote down 'deodorant' and placed an exclamation mark after the word. 'Now what am I going to wear for the weekend?' Light blue Speedos went down on the pad. 'They're the most comfortable pair I've got and I don't look too brilliant in the black ones.' What he meant was that they were too tight round the crotch and made him appear prepubescent. He was out to impress. 'What else am I going to wear? Levi's and tee shirt, but which tee shirt? I'd like to wear that one I got off the internet from Café Express, but I haven't got the guts. I know. The Coq Sportif polo shirt. That should give a hint.'

He stood up again in front of the dressing table mirror, pulled down his boxers and looked at himself. Something irked him. He fetched a pair of scissors from his desk drawer and started to snip at his pubes. The difference was imperceptible apart from to himself. 'I know which shorts to take, the yellow Joe Boxers with the face and the tongue. They get me. Plain white tee shirt.' They all went down on the list. Finally HO1s. 'I feel so good in them and there's instant access too.' Toby looked at his watch. Five to twelve. 'I'd better get some sleep. It's a big day tomorrow. Five more minutes and it'll be a big day today.' He went back to bed and started thinking of his date. The inevitable happened, but he mentally chained his hands behind his back. His boner grew even harder, almost hurt. Suddenly the alarm went. It was morning and obviously he had gone to sleep eventually.

The alarm literally made Toby jump out of bed. He completely forgot in his panic that he was sporting morning wood and after she had heard his alarm it was that moment his mother chose to bring him in a morning cup of tea.
"Here you are, dear. Good Morning," she said looking at him and very quickly turning away again to rearrange his bedclothes. Purposely keeping her back towards him she said "You're up early. Your match isn't till ten." By now Toby had grabbed his dressing gown from the hook on the back of the door and put it on.
"Morning, Mum. Got to get my hair cut. Won't have time after the match."
"It looks all right to me, Toby." Although his parents knew all about his going out later, they did not know it was a date. Toby sat down on his bed, dunked his biscuits and drank his tea. Mother had left him to get on.

He went into the bathroom, but before he could climb into the shower, shock, horror! What was that red mark on his cheek?
"Oh no!" he cried out aloud. "First date, first zit!" So much for escaping the ravages of puberty. He squeezed it, but it hadn't come to a head yet and he just made it look worse. Barber's, then chemist. He made a mental note. At that moment he could hear his mother talking to his father from downstairs.
"You know, James, our Toby's getting to be quite a big boy. I can see he takes after his father." Toby blushed. 'They're discussing me,' he thought 'and she did see.' The blush disguised the zit.

He hurried himself along. He needed all the time he could get. He had to eat breakfast before a morning match or he wouldn't last out. Before afternoon matches it was brunch, but always the same pre-match fare - banana sandwiches with wholemeal bread and a couple more just before he got changed. At first the rest of the team used to think it was a joke, but over the three seasons they had been together, one by one they had taken to eating banana sandwiches before a match, with the approval of their games master.

Toby had cleaned his boots and packed his games bag the previous evening in typically Virgoan preparation. So when he was ready he just had to pick it up, walk to the bus stop and catch the bus into town. On Saturday morning there was no traffic to hold him up, so he arrived there promptly just as the barber's shop was opening and was first in the queue. All the way in it had been 'Shall I, shan't I?' and this self-interrogation ultimately ended with 'I will!'
"Could you change the style for me, please?" he asked the barber. His hair flowed from a centre parting, but the in style at school at the time was to have it short around the back and the ears with the top hair longer coming down to form a step. He had just the right hair type for it to be successful. The school rules frowned on long hair, which he never liked anyhow, and his parents had always been pretty liberal about his appearance, probably because of his uncanny gift of never looking scruffy. The barber ran his fingers through Toby's hair.
"Nice head of hair you've got there, son. Worth looking after." It sent a frisson down his spine, a physical sensation he rather enjoyed, but at the same time wasn't sure that the barber should be doing it to him. His school uniform had the advantage of getting him half fare on the bus and children's rate at the barber's. Despite his doubts about the barber he liked the finished product and walked shoulders back and head held high along to the chemist's shop. He would give his hair a good wash and condition it in the shower after the game. He wouldn't be the only one that did it and it was quite acceptable, particularly among the older boys. The zit still hadn't come to a head. He bought what the chemist recommended, applied it in the shop and slowly made his way to the school playing fields, arriving towards quarter past nine.

He reported to his games master and wandered into the changing room.
"Hi, Toby," came the general cry.
"Hi, lads," he replied cheerfully, genuinely pleased to see them even if it was Saturday.
"Love the hair, Tobe," shouted one jock.
"Ooooh!" came the accompanying chorus.
"New hairstyle, new girlfriend," cried one wag. Toby blushed.
"Boyfriend," contradicted Graeme who had just come in through the door.
"Bitch!" countered Toby and blushed even deeper.
"Hi, Graeme!" shouted everybody else amid the general laughter, including Toby's. Graeme dumped his bag next to Toby's and they both did the high-five. There was a close bond between the half backs.

Graeme was in many ways Toby's foil, his opposite, which probably accounts for why they hit it off together as soon as they met. Whereas Toby was black-haired, Graeme had tousled sandy-coloured hair. He was a boy's boy and it took him an effort to come up to Toby's smart appearance. They were both tough boys, but Graeme looked it. They did share many qualities as well. Graeme was no slouch at his lessons, and cross-country apart the equal of Toby in sport. You had to dig to find his sense of humour, but it was there even if it was not available to everyone. Slightly smaller than Toby, he was thicker set and a bundle of muscle. At school they had become inseparable and this year they discovered how much they missed each other's company in the summer break as their family holidays had not coincided and they could only do things together for two weeks or so.

At that stage of the morning's proceedings only the team captain was changed as he had to await the arrival of the visiting team. There were four games being played at home in all and all four captains were changed ready to go out and do their duty. It also meant the changing rooms got pretty crowded, but as the games were of different length according to age, changing after the match was staggered which was an advantage unless you were in the last team to finish and the hot water was running out, but that wasn't a common occurrence. Toby got out his banana sandwiches, offered one to Graeme who then got his out and offered one to Toby. They swapped and merrily munched away before starting to get undressed. The changing room was now quite full and noisy.

As they changed Toby and Graeme were chatting to one another, mainly about tactics, when Graeme suddenly said
"Tell you what, Toby. Why don't we swap over jockstraps?" Toby hesitated, but only because he felt himself stiffen at the idea. "It's all right. Mine's freshly washed," continued Graeme, misunderstanding Toby's hesitation. He said nothing, but delved into his games bag and without further discussion handed his over to Graeme with a grin on his face and took Toby's in exchange.
"Make sure we swap back afterwards," said Toby "or questions might be asked at home."
"We could always say it was an accident. They got mixed up in the changing room," replied Graeme.
"Yes, especially when they're found screwed up in the wrong shorts," countered Toby. The discussion had given him time to recover his composure sufficiently to carry on changing and when Toby slipped on Graeme's jockstrap the cotton felt cool to his skin, but the thought of something so intimate belonging to Graeme next to his own intimate area started him off again and he quickly pulled on his white rugger shorts. Luckily everything was now safely tucked inside and as his cock subsided he marvelled at how different, though comfortable, everything felt. He didn't dare look at Graeme. He would talk to him about it later. The important thing was the game and once ready the two halfbacks went out onto the pitch to start their warm up routine.

The whistle blew, the toss was taken and the teams swapped ends. The home team had the wind against them first half. As they jogged up to the other end of the field Toby and Graeme waved to their parents who were standing together on the touchline about halfway along. The game would be a tough one. None of their games was easy. That would have been against school policy, but Toby's team was no walkover either. At half time they were two points down, but at least they now had the wind behind them. Toby committed himself totally in the match, both physically and mentally, and he had forgotten the angst he had been feeling about his imminent date. Indeed while on the pitch he had even forgotten about the date itself. Both XVs worked hard at the game and although tries were scored by both sides the home team could could not make up the difference.
"Five minutes to go," shouted Toby's father from the touchline as they ran back after a classic try from the winger when the fullback ran up into the three quarters line making the overlap, but they were still two points behind. The kicks at goal were shared by Toby and the fullback according to where they were to be taken from. They were of equal ability, but the fullback was left-footed, while Toby took his kicks with the right foot, which meant that one or the other would have an advantage if the kicks were near the touchline.

"Give it everything, lads" encouraged the captain as the visitors restarted. It was a long kick against the wind, ably gathered by the fullback, but it meant they had most of the field to regain if they were to have another chance of scoring. It was a grind working the ball up the field as the visitors needed to score to put the game beyond doubt for them and the School too wanted a victory. In fact for two minutes it became a kind of tennis match with the two equally matched fullbacks kicking for space. The School had the advantage of the breeze behind them as their fullback launched yet another kick which fortunately for them his opposing number knocked on. A scrum ten yards into their half and about ten from the touchline. Toby had lost count of the time. The whistle blew. He automatically thought it was for no side, but no. The referee had caught the visitors collapsing the scrum and awarded the School a penalty. The captain passed the ball to Toby to take a kick at goal. It wasn't going to be easy. The wind had veered and looking at the flag posts he saw that it was blowing diagonally across the pitch. Everything depended on him. He placed the ball, looked around. There was dead silence. He suddenly felt that zit on his face irritating him and he unwisely rubbed it with his muddy fingers. He measured his run up, took the kick and then
"Oh shit!" He'd sliced the ball and in disgust at himself he turned his back. But what he didn't see was that the wind was countering the slice and the ball now flew in slow motion as it were towards the goal posts. Still silence from the spectators and then a communal "Aaah!" as it hit one of the uprights, but then a sudden gust blew sufficiently as the ball dropped to make it cross the bar. The linesmen's flags went up, a loud cheer went up and the final whistle blew. Not until then did Toby realise that he had scored three points and though he had no tries to his credit in that game, he suddenly became man of the match.

As his team ran to the sideline to form a tunnel to clap off the opposition, all emotion and adrenaline simply drained from Toby and he immediately felt the effects of his worrying and lack of sleep the previous night. But that was overtaken by events. The visitors passed through the tunnel and formed their own to clap off the home team. That over, his team mates grabbed him, hoisted him onto their shoulders cheering and carried him back to the changing room and in time honoured tradition dumped him fully clothed under the running showers applauding and cheering like mad. The celebrations finished he walked dripping back to where his clothes were and struggled to get out of his boots and wet kit. Then he remembered. He was wearing Graeme's jockstrap. He took it off, wrung it out and apologetically returned it to Graeme.
"Nothing to apologise for. It's a lucky mascot. We must do that again." And to Toby's amazement he took the dank article, put it to his nose and took a deep breath. No one else had seen him. It was a ritual between just them. Without further ado and not to be outdone, when Graeme handed Toby back his, he rolled it up and savoured its bouquet, but Toby forgot he had taken his shorts off along with Graeme's jockstrap, so his cock, warm and with the blood flowing from over an hour's physical exercise, immediately stood to attention. Fortunately, wringing wet, he still had his rugby jersey on. The aroma of Graeme's sweaty loins had been an immediate turn-on.

"Tell you what," said Toby. "Let's swap shorts for the next match."
"We'd better try it out before then," answered Graeme.
"Why's that?"
"Think about it. We've got different styles and body shapes."

That was true. In their own way they both looked extremely attractive in their white rugger shorts, but whereas Graeme at scrum half wore very short shorts that were flared and very wide at the leg and only touched his body where the drawstring was tightened round his waist, Toby wore 'long' shorts with a narrow leg which hugged his body. Again this was a case of 'opposites attract' and one boy was the foil of the other. When Graeme was upended in a tackle his shorts showed all, especially how neatly his jockstrap revealed his packet with the back straps stretched tight across his bare buttocks. With Toby, however, his shorts outlined the details of his loins as they stood proud against his lower abdomen while the cotton material betrayed only the outline of the straps across his butt.

Finally Toby could get into the shower, just before the senior teams came in. He carefully shampooed and conditioned his new hairstyle. He would have to finish off the titillation at home when it had had a chance to dry, but the foundation was there. The teams ate their light buffet lunch in the company of their parents and supporters. The School XV was congratulated by the master in charge, particularly Toby. The visitors climbed back onto their coach and departed. Then the home team drifted away.
"See ya, Toby," said Graeme.
"See ya, Graeme," replied Toby. They high-fived and Toby got into his parent's car for the drive home.

Once they were there Toby's mother made him sit down in an armchair and relax while she brought him a cup of cocoa and some biscuits. She knew he was in a hurry to get off to keep his date. That was not quite true for his parents knew nothing of a date as such. They just knew that he was going for a sleepover, the first that he'd ever invited to.

He knew he would have an enforced rest of at least half an hour, so he gave in physically and relaxed, but his mind was still working on all he had to do for his overnight stay away from home. For a start his hair was still (relatively speaking) a mess, even though his mother had already told him how much she liked the new style. He was still in his school uniform. He hadn't unpacked his rugby kit which after the soaking in the shower would soon begin to fester and his boots would need urgent cleaning and drying out, for although his parents gave him a generous allowance it did not stretch to a new pair of rugby boots and since they had only bought these at the beginning of term, they wouldn't be too happy. He even dozed in the chair.

After the anticipated half an hour he was released. He put his rugby kit in the washing machine checking he really did have his own jockstrap and not Graeme's, cleaned his boots off, shoved newspaper inside, put them to dry in the airing cupboard and went to change. First priority his hair which he brushed and combed. The conditioner had done its work and he found that it 'bounced'. He was rather pleased with the new style. His mother was right. It did suit him. Standing in front of his dressing table mirror he smelt his armpits turning up his nose. He went into the bathroom, literally scrubbed them with soap, hot water and a nail brush, came back and rubbed deodorant cream into them. He found that more effective than the usual sprays and it didn't make his skin sting. One more dab with the zit lotion. It was actually working he noticed and although there was nothing to squeeze, the skin was less red and the bump was receding. He put on his LCS polo shirt, pulled on his jeans and carefully buttoned them up over his packet to give the best effect. At last he was ready to pack the things listed on his notepad into his rucksack. Ready at last he went to say goodbye to his parents, but he stopped halfway down the stairs, turned and rushed back up.
"Damn," he said to himself. "I nearly forgot the Gold Spot breath freshener." He returned to the kitchen and said that he would ring to say what time he'd be back, checking his mobile was in the correct pocket of the rucksack.
"Have you got enough money, Toby?" his father asked.
"I think so," he replied.
"You'd better put this tenner in your pocket for emergencies, but I want it back if there's no emergency, okay?"
"Yes, Dad, and thanks a lot." He was very good like that and wouldn't spend it unless he had to and his Dad would get it back. He put his pack on his back, said goodbye and went out to the garage to fetch his cycle. Once outside he mounted and rode off to his date.

On reaching his destination he only had to ring once before the door opened almost immediately. Toby stepped inside. No high-five this time. He simply took Graeme in a hug and squeezed him gently, but not without feeling some expansion in both his and Graeme's trouser department.

Over two years they had become inseparable friends, but it was not until just before the beginning of that term that they came out and declared their passion to one another. Toby was confused about how it occurred, Graeme equally so. It was their last day of freedom before school began and as they often did in the summer they went down to the beach to swim. After their first dip they sunbathed and Graeme asked Toby to rub some sunscreen on his back. The following happened as if by accident. As Graeme was lying face down on his towel, Toby knelt astride his body massaging his back with sunscreen and as he went beyond the small of his back, sheer devilment made him pull Graeme's trunks down over his buttocks and anoint them. Instead of making a protest Graeme groaned and said in a soft voice almost whispering
"Rub it into my crack."
"You've made me go hard now, Graeme."
"That's nothing compared to what you're doing. I think I've just come in my trunks." Toby poured some more sunscreen on his middle finger and carried on 'protecting' his friend against the sun, saying jokingly
"Do I often have that effect on you?"
"Usually only at night or in the early morning," the implication being clear. A groyne, rather appropriately, separated them from their nearest neighbours. Once August was over the beach by and large emptied.
"You know, Graeme, you do exactly the same for me, but I never dared mention it before. I was so scared you'd never want to speak to me again if I did."
"Oh God, how I wish we'd talked before. You know, this summer's been unbearable without you." Toby put down the bottle of sunscreen and lay flat on his stomach next to his friend and put his arm round him, whispering in his ear how he had felt the same.

A new chapter in their relationship had opened on the very last day of the holidays when they could do little about it, at least not until this particular weekend together.

Graeme broke the hug in the hallway and said "Come and say hello to Mum and Dad." Over a cup of tea they chatted about the morning's rugby match and arrangements for the weekend.
"What have you two got planned for tomorrow?" Graeme's mother asked.
"Well, we don't really know," replied Toby. "I said I would give Mum a ring and let her know."
"I suggest you stop to lunch and do what you want to do in the afternoon. We usually go for a walk along the sea front or in the country. You can please yourselves, but I know Graeme still has some homework to do, which means you probably have as well."
"That's true, unfortunately," answered Toby.
"Graeme, go and show Toby where to put his things. You'd better put your bike in the shed first before someone makes off with it. I'm sorry we can't give you a room to yourself, but Graeme's sister is home from college until the end of the month." Toby tried to look disappointed while saying it didn't matter. Only Graeme wasn't fooled by his facial expression.

Toby took his rucksack upstairs with Graeme. He had a large room, combined bedroom and study with a desk and a computer, a CD player and his own television set. The walls were covered with posters of sportsmen except for one corner which had family and team photos. A single bed had clearly been brought into the room for Toby, but he was amazed to see that Graeme's was a small double. His jaw dropped.
"I can read your mind, young Toby, like an open book, and you might be right." Graeme took him in another hug and Toby automatically planted a kiss on his cheek.
"Sort your stuff out quickly. Telephone home to say when you'll be back tomorrow and let's go," said Graeme. They put on their jackets and said good-bye to Graeme's parents.
"What time are you coming home?" asked his father. "The film ends about half past eight, so it'll be between nine and half past."
"What are you seeing?"
"The new Harry Potter film."
"Mind how you go."
"See you later. Bye," they chorused and left.

Graeme lived in town so everything was within easy walking distance. As they made their way to the leisure centre he said
"You know, Toby, I really like that new haircut of yours. I can't wait to run my fingers through it." Toby ruffled Graeme's hair in response making no difference whatsoever. They were both on a high, not only from the match still, but also from their recently discovered passion for one another. Last July they were just good friends, but it was those four weeks apart that had made them realise how they missed each other and the catalyst to the transformation of their relationship from being best mates into love had been the sunscreen on the beach, although the word 'love' had not yet entered either of their heads and might have raised enough questions to ruin their spontaneity if it had.

They paid their entrance to the swimming pool and got changed, put their belongings and valuables in one locker and Toby strapped the key to this wrist.
"Race you to the other side of the pool," challenged Graeme as they splashed through the foot bath.
"You're on," and diving off the edge of the pool they shot across, Toby winning by a hand's length. They often went swimming together and their routine was to complete twenty lengths of the pool before doing the things that boys do in a swimming pool. They both found it hard going after the morning's rugby, but managed to pace and encourage each other changing the stroke with each length. Then onto the slides and the diving boards until it was time to go. They had pre-booked the tickets after school the previous day in case they sold out quickly. In fact they even chose where to sit.

They went off to Burger Star, an independent fast food emporium which had found favour with the boys at school. The burgers were not only better than at the big chains, but cheaper too with a greater choice of relishes and bits and pieces. They sat themselves down in a quiet corner by themselves and started to work their way through their meals. It was the first quiet moment they had together since that last time on the beach. School was too hectic and public. Among the hurly-burly of school life they could only enjoy each other's company, no more. They weren't normally the love struck, contemplative type of teenager, either of them, but now they were sitting opposite staring into each other's eyes. Their voices had quietened down. The atmosphere had changed from two extrovert teenagers challenging each other in physical endeavour into two moody teenagers exploring and probing their newly formed emotional relationship.
"Graeme, do you really think of me when you're having a wank?"
"Every time. And you?"
"Every time as well."
"And what do you think about?"
"That either I'm doing it to you or you're doing it me?"
"So do I. Which way round do you like more?"
"It doesn't matter. I like them both."
"And you don't mind me thinking of you like that?" asked Graeme.
"How could I when I do the same?" replied Toby. "You know I was ever so worried about this weekend. I'm glad we had the rugby. It helped to take my mind off it, but I wanted everything to be right," he continued. "I couldn't get to sleep last night because of it. I still can't get over what you said when I was rubbing that suntan oil into you on the beach."
"What about?"
"When you said it made you come in your bathers."
"It did. It was bad enough when you were massaging my back, but when you put your finger up my crevice, that took me over the edge without any warning."
"It won't be an accident next time."
"Graeme, do you ever think of girls when you're having a wank."
"Never. My sister would put you off for life."
"That's not fair."
"It's true, though." They both laughed. Graeme looked at his watch. "We'd better get going or we'll miss the beginning."

They made their way along the High Street to the Odeon. There was still a bit of a queue, but with tickets they could bypass that. They got to their seats in the back row just as the trailers were coming to an end.
"Take your jacket off, Toby, or you won't feel the benefit of it when you get outside."
"You sound just like my mother."
"It was meant to. Now put your jacket across your lap like this," Graeme whispered. Toby gave him a look. "You'll see why." At that moment silence descended as the trailers finished and the main feature was about to begin. Toby heard a zip being undone, but paid no further attention thinking someone else in the audience was taking their coat off. The film started.

They were riveted by the film and found it easily up to the standard of the earlier Harry Potter movies. As he shifted in his seat Toby's hand accidentally touched Graeme's and he automatically took hold of it. He had a reassuring feeling as Graeme squeezed it. As time passed Graeme took it and slipped it under the anorak on his lap. He had indeed heard a zip for now his hand was now firmly placed on the opening of Graeme's trousers. No doubt for he felt his half hard cock as it was beginning to expand in his underwear. Toby was not shocked, mildly surprised perhaps at this new experience and what's more he was enjoying it as his own cock started to swell. Now he was torn between concentrating on the film and thinking back to what had happened on the beach. He compromised. He concentrated on the film and enjoyed what he was feeling with his hand. Later in the film Toby felt Graeme's hand under his jacket, but finding little success as it struggled with his buttons.
"Rule No 1," he heard whispered in his ear. "You don't wear 501s on a date to the pictures."
"I knew something had to go wrong," he whispered back and got back to the film.

In the end the film claimed the boys' attention entirely. As the credits rolled, they discreetly withdrew their hands and Graeme pulled his zip up. Fortunately, but unhappily, Toby had played the gentleman and there was no mess to be discreetly wiped up with a handkerchief.
"How about a coke?" said Toby on their way out.
"I should think we've got time. I did stretch it to nine thirty," and they made their way back to Burger Star. It had grown dark by now as it did in the autumn. While they were sitting there, Graeme started up.
"Toby, do you find that Daniel Radcliffe hot, or is he hot?"
"Eye candy, two-dimensional eye candy, but I see where you're coming from. Must admit, his voice really turns me on now it's broken."
"That packet of his wasn't terribly two-dimensional, either. Didn't you notice? You know, you could have a hairstyle like his."
"Yeah, but I don't want the compulsory scar that goes with it."
"And he's the same age as us, give or take a couple of months?"

They drank up and started out for Graeme's home. They felt refreshed and once they had left the bright lights of the High Street behind them they were overtaken by a certain zest. It started with just clumsily banging into one another as adolescents do, then pushing each other and finally like young colts a chase along the street. Toby was just about to catch up when Graeme dodged into an alleyway and grabbed him.
"I've been waiting for this," he said as he manuvered him against the wall, held him in an embrace and gently kissed him on the lips. Although Toby had never experienced a sexual kiss before, some innate instinct made him force Graeme's lips apart, no great difficulty, and push his tongue past his teeth searching for his. His body just took off. He had never undergone a feeling like it and that was not only when he felt Graeme's semi-hard cock pressing against his own. Time stood still and when they finally came up for breath, they looked longingly into each other's eyes. Then Graeme's face froze.
"Look at the time. It's twenty past nine." He grabbed Toby's hand and dragged him at a gallop along the street. Luckily there was no one else about as they careered along the pavement and finally reached Graeme's front door out of breath at nine twenty-nine.

"Did you have good time, boys," enquired Graeme's mother.
"Yes, thanks. The best."
"Come and sit down with us. I'm just making some cocoa." They went into the living room. Graeme's father and big sister were there watching television. Toby was introduced to Sarah and he immediately thought Graeme had been a little unfair about her. The television was switched off and Classic FM provided a little quiet background music while they chatted. Sarah is quite nice and amusing actually, Toby thought, a female Graeme really, but not so attractive. 'God, what did I just say?' Toby thought almost out aloud. 'I must watch myself, but it's true.' He talked about the special effects in the film to distract himself. Towards half past ten Graeme's mother said
"I expect you two boys are about ready for bed. You've had quite a strenuous day." Graeme made a token protest, but to Toby it was quite obvious what he was really thinking. "I don't suppose you two boys will get to sleep for talking, but at least you'll be resting," Toby could see the thinks-bubble rising from Graeme's head. 'Will we?'

They all said good night and the boys went upstairs.
"Do you want to shower first, Toby"
"Okay," and he took his washing gear along to the bathroom. On his return Graeme went off. Toby put on his tee shirt and the yellow Joe Boxers and climbed into bed. So tired was he that he was dozing off when Graeme got back. He woke up with a start, but his mouth opened wide when he saw Graeme take off his dressing gown and climb into the double bed completely naked. Somehow seeing a boy naked in the school changing room and seeing that same boy naked in his bedroom were two entirely different experiences. Toby was overtaken by a feeling he could only later, looking back, describe as lust or desire or yearning.
"Toby, are you going to stay there all night? Because if you are that single bed is going to be very cramped by morning." Toby took the hint, grinned, got out and climbed into the double bed beside Graeme.
"Love the boxers, but they'll be off by morning if I have anything to do with it." he said with a wicked smile on his face as he helped Toby off with his tee shirt. Toby took the hint and neatly folded his tee shirt and boxers before placing them on a chair with the rest of his clothes.

They woke up about six the following morning in an embrace before it was properly light. They both needed the bathroom after which they returned to bed and fell back to sleep in each other's arms for another hour. The passion was too much for them as they ad-libbed the previous night's performance. As that passion subsided they lay there in each other's arms until they heard a stirring elsewhere in the house.

"That's Mum up and about making a cup of tea. I don't think she'd come in with you here in case you're in the middle of dressing, but you can't be sure." Toby gave him a quick kiss on the lips, put his tee shirt and boxers on and climbed back into his own bed. It felt cold and made him fully awake. Five minutes later there was a knock at the door.
"Are you awake yet?"
"We are now, Mum," answered Graeme cheekily.
"Would you like a cup of tea?"
"Yes, please," they both replied.
"Make yourselves decent and I'll bring one up in a couple of minutes."
"Oh, Mum!" shouted Graeme in mock indignation. He got up, drew the curtains back and opened a window before climbing back into bed. Toby couldn't help but follow every movement of his naked body. When the next knock at the door came, everything was as it should be. The boys drank their tea and one by one got up, showered away the evidence of their nocturnal activities, dressed and went down to breakfast.

Sunday morning passed as Sunday morning does: play station, kicking a ball round in the back garden and just chilling out listening to music. Toby enjoyed Sunday lunch, not only for the food, but for the way he was completely absorbed as one of the family after being told he was not to stand on ceremony. True to their word Graeme's parents and sister went for a walk while the boys sat on the sofa in the front room watching a video. After the previous night they were content to sit there with their arms round each other. When the video was finished, they wanted to go out into the garden to throw a rugby ball around, but before they did Toby said
"Wait a minute. I've got something for you." He raced upstairs hotly pursued by Graeme, undid his rucksack and produced his spare pair of rugger shorts. "I remembered what you said. Try these for size." He'd even thought to put his other jockstrap in the pocket. Graeme went to his chest of drawers and produce likewise his spare shorts and jock. They quickly changed and went outdoors to throw a rugby ball to each other in the garden, practising the scrum-half's delivery to his fly-half. It worked for Toby. He liked the freedom Graeme's flared shorts gave him and he found the cool fresh air on his buttocks exhilarating.
"It doesn't work for me. They restrict me when I crouch and bend," said Graeme. "But I like the feel of them and they remind me of you. I could use them for PE or running."
"Let's swap permanently, the shorts I mean. We need to wear our own jocks before swapping them or there's no thrill."
"Can you sew?" asked Graeme.
"Basic stuff."
"Because we need to swap over the name tapes."
"We must do this again," said Toby.
"What? Practise our passing?"
"No, you idiot. Go on another date. I'll ask Mum and Dad if you can stop at our place next time, but it'll be cramped."
"I sleep in a single bed."
"You fool," said Graeme as he grabbed Toby and planted a kiss on his lips. At that moment they heard a car pull up in the drive.

They ran into the kitchen. Graeme put the kettle on and started to make a pot of tea as his parents and sister came in. After they had all drunk their tea, Toby gathered his things together, including his new pair of shorts, in his rucksack, said his thank yous and goodbyes, fetched his cycle from the garden shed. A quick hug and he set off for home with Graeme waving as he went. Toby's angst had disappeared.

Next day they met as usual at school.
"Graeme, I got it sorted. Weekend after next at my place. Okay?"
"Cool," and they went off to assembly to hear the Headmaster announce the results of Saturday's rugby.

© N Fourbois 2003
E-mail: nigel.b6@ukonline.co.uk