An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA - 36. ...Touched for the very first time

An English Teen, Circumcised in the USA

by Riley Jericho

...Touched for the very first time.

“Ground rules?" Out on the back deck, Toby gave his mom a dirty look "What do you mean, ground rules?”

He had a fair idea of where she was heading, but there was no way he was going to make it easy. Nudging Simon who was squeezed next to him on the seat, he made light of it, hoping she’d back off.

“Come on—don't you think we’re a bit old for that kind of stuff?”

Sitting across from them, Grace pursed her lips, and her glint drilled into Toby. "What you mean, Toby Skerrit, is that you're a bit young for that kind of stuff!"

"MOM!"

Hellfire! He shifted uncomfortably, under no allusions as to what she meant.

She was relentless. "You can kick off all you like, young man, but we're having this discussion whether you like it or not." She didn't have to raise her voice for Toby to realize how determined she was. Beside him, Simon seemed tense.

Toby glowered and resorted to pleading.

“Okay...but maybe we should just talk about this later?” As long as later then became never!

Patiently determined, Grace shook her head. "I think this involves both of you, don't you?"

Toby was about to fire back when Simon spoke up. "Ummm....don't you think we should hear what your mum is trying to say?"

Toby glared at him. Ambushing him like this, Si clearly didn't get it, didn't get what was at stake, and Toby bit back at him. "I know what she's trying to say! She thinks—" He saw Simon pull back, flinching at the cut of his outburst. It stopped him in his tracks, and he felt bad...again. The sight of Simon distantly hurt was worse than his mom's pestering. He knew he had to change...it was just so hard at times. He took a deep breath and turned back to Grace.

"Okay...sorry. We’re listening.” He felt a squeeze as Simon's hand wrapped around him, offering his support. Relieved, Toby squeezed back. Grace was studying them, and her lips twitched.

“What are you laughing at?” Toby glowered at her again.

“Sorry. I’m not laughing, really,” she said. Her attention flicked to the yard fence where noises of kids playing filtered across from the neighbors.

She softened her tone. “Well, maybe I was...just a bit. It's just you two are just too cute...and don't start telling me I can't tell my own baby that he's cute!" she added, overriding Toby's attempt to protest. Even Simon grinned!

She stood and began to gather their dinner plates. “So, unless you want to share the ground rules with the kids next door, then why don’t we clear up. You two wash up, I’ll put the coffee pot on, and we can talk inside.”

She smiled at them, invitingly. “Deal?”

Deal? What kind of deal was that?

Toby wondered about trying to add the dropping of the ‘ground rules’ discussion to the ‘deal’ when, reaching for the glasses, Simon stirred again and asked, “Do you want to wash or dry?”

Toby rolled his eyes. Neither was better, but then having a dishwasher that didn't need fixing would help, too.

They went inside with the dishes, and soon the smell of perked coffee was wafting through the kitchen as Simon methodically washed each item and Toby—rather less methodically—scrubbed most of the wet off with a cloth that was as wet as the dishes and stuffed them in the cupboard. Still, with the three of them, the jobs didn’t take long. Soon they had finished and settled back around the breakfast bar.

“Just a small one for me, please,” Simon said as Grace lifted the coffee pot questioningly. Toby shook his head—he had more on his mind than drinking coffee just at that moment. Finally, he came straight out with it before she could get back to where she’d been earlier.

“So, what you’re saying is, you don’t trust us!”

She wasn’t to be goaded so easily.

“Trust you?” She blew on her steaming mug and studied him over the rim. “We all have to be able to trust each other don’t we? Isn’t that what relationships are about?”

He glared at her accusingly. ‘Why do you always have to answer a question with another question? You always do that!”

Poorly, she hid a smirk. “I don’t know. Do I?”

Beside him, Simon sniggered and Toby ground his teeth in irritation. It was great that Si seemed a lot more relaxed, and got it that Grace knew about and accepted them, but right then it wasn’t helping.

Perhaps she could see him beginning to steam as she sat up and continued. “Trust you, Toby? Yes." She looked him squarely in the face. "Always sure that we’re singing off the same hymn sheet? No.”

“What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

“Boys, let me put it this way.” She took her spoon and began gently stirring the drink. “How do you think this conversation would go if Simon was a hulking, six-foot, high school football jock, and you, Toby, were the petite, yet madly-in-love cheerleader that he’d got the hots for?”

As Simon burst out laughing, Toby glared at her. "We don’t have girls at our school!”

“Fair enough.” She smirked, “So let’s say you two are at Creek and your name is April?”

“April?” Simon started shaking with laughter.

“The point—and yes I do have one before you interrupt, Toby—is that I’m under no allusions that young people your age aren’t stuffed full of hormones.”

Simon, who seemed to find it all far funnier than he should, put his arm around Toby and took on a deep gravelly voice “Oh April, baby…”

Even Grace lost it then, and Toby waited impatiently for some time for them both to get a life!

Eventually, she gathered herself again.

“Okay—where was I?” Grace snickered again, and then settled down. “As I was saying, there would be no way as a parent that I would let an overly-hormoned hunk like Simon shut the bedroom door for hours on end with my fourteen-year-old little April the other side!”

Toby kept his face still, but cringed when, out of the corner of his eye, he could see Simon blushing. SHIT! With a reaction like that, his mom would definitely know they’d been up to more than cuddling!

“Now, you’re not kids, and I don’t want to pry,” she continued, “but, like I said, I think we need to be singing from the same hymn sheet.”

Toby was tempted to say something about sucking off Simon in church, but wisely held back. Instead, a little irritation crept into his tone. “So you’re telling us now we can’t be alone in a room by ourselves?”

There was not a chance he was going to accept that! His voice started climbing further. “How is that trusting?” He was getting angry again.

Grace gazed back levelly. “Why don’t you just hear me out before you go off the deep end?”

Toby was about to fire something back, when he felt Simon rubbing his leg. It felt like a gentle warning. Glancing at the frown on Simon’s face, he could see he was right and made a supreme effort and closed his mouth.

“I can’t control you, Toby.” It was a strong word, and she seemed to be focused on him at first, but then she included Simon, too. “Either of you. And I don’t want to. You’re not kids anymore. You’re fifteen and I don’t plan on watching over you 24/7! But—”

“But what?”

“Don’t be quick to rush into things that you’re not ready for. I’m hoping you’re old enough to know the difference, that’s all.”

Toby cringed, but returned a bland stare. “What’s that supposed to mean!”

Grace sighed. “Do I really need to spell it out?”

Simon got there first. “No...we understand!”

“YES, you do!” Toby glared at both of them, infuriated that they were even having this conversation. What the hell did what he and Simon did have to do with her?

Her voice hardened, and her eyes drilled into him.

“Then for your sake, Toby Skerrit, let me be frank. In my opinion, you’re FAR too young for sex.” She didn't hold back. "And definitely the kind that you would need a condom for!"

Beside him, Simon gasped. "OH MY GOSH!"

From the corner of his eye, Toby could see that the shock in Simon's voice matched his face.

"We weren’t going to do anything like that!” Simon muttered.

Toby turned on him. “We might. It’s our decision, isn’t it? Not hers!”

“TOBY!” Simon’s eyes were wide, his face red.

"And this is really what you want, Toby?" Grace asked, harshly enough that it got his attention.

He was angry but, instinctively, he knew what she meant. Not 'want' sex—not even wanting Simon in that sense. The look on Simon's face was what she meant. The look that was leading towards Si making his excuses and dashing for the door again. No, he didn't want that, but before he had time to gather his thoughts any further, she held up her hands.

"Well, you know what I think." She reached across and, softly, touched both their hands. "Simon, sweetheart, I don't mean to embarrass you, but, as Toby knows, we've always agreed to speak honestly in this house. It's the only way we've managed to keep it together. You’ve just started dating, and trust me, I’m delighted for you both. But you’re just dating."

She withdrew her hands, but never broke eye contact. "I'm not trying to put you down or make things unpleasant. I just don't want you to make the mistakes I made at your age—or do something either of you regret."

Toby didn't know what to say—and he definitely didn't want to know about her 'mistakes'. Hell, he could even be one of them! His voice sounded dry when he muttered, "Okay."

It wasn't much but it was all he could get out.

"Truce?"

He nodded.

* * *

Bursting out of the mall doors heaving their numerous bags with them, Luke and Ryan hurried across the roadway to Lucy’s van. Luke pulled open the side door while trying not to drop anything.

“Hi, Mum. Sorry we’re late!”

“I hope you got what you needed?” she asked. From her tone, he could tell she wasn't in the best of moods at the delay.

“Yes we did, thanks.” He himself was in a good mood and refused to let her spoil it. “Sorry again—there was quite a line at the checkout.”

It was only a tiny white lie, and Ryan dug him in the ribs as he tried to keep his face from showing it. They began to bundle their various bags into the backseat alongside just as many Publix shopping bags.

“I’m guessing there wasn’t any change?” Lucy remarked, eying the haul.

“From what you gave me?” Luke could sense her studying the numerous bags with suspicion as they climbed in. He reached for the seatbelt. “No, not really…sorry…”

“I got some stuff as well, Lucy,” Ryan chipped in as he buckled up.

"Oh...I see," she replied, her tone indicating that she seemed happier believing that not all the bags were Luke's. Luke let the impression stand. It was the truth this time...kind of. Ryan had actually bought stuff, too—plenty of it—just not for himself. So, it was only a slight white lie, but who cared? In fact the final bill was a long way past $200. He’d have to find some way of squaring that out with him.

The most important think was it got his mum off his back as they made good time back home. At some point he'd have to explain, but that was a problem for another day.

After being so full of life in the store, Ryan was withdrawn and was quiet the whole return journey. With his head back on the headrest, he seemed to be asleep. On the other hand, Lucy seemed to want to chat, so Luke kept up a conversation with her as best he could while Ryan slumbered, though he steered her away from the specifics of what he’d bought.

Twenty minutes later, they bumped onto the drive, and Ryan seemed to stir himself.

"You're awake then?" Luke nudged him as his mum killed the engine.

"I wasn't asleep."

"Whatever...come on." Luke slid open the door. "Let's go in and get this stuff unpacked."

Out in the fresh air again, Ryan brightened and, after helping take in all the Publix bags, they took their own straight upstairs.

Back in Luke's bedroom, Ryan appeared animated once more, going straight to where they'd stashed the bottle of tequila. “Shopping is thirsty work!” he grinned, pouring both of them a refill. "Ready for another?"

Happy to end the day with a few more tastes, Luke sipped a little of his, though Ryan tipped his head back and then splashed yet more inches into his glass. Luke watched him with growing concern.

"Don't you think you've had enough now?"

Ryan scowled and swigged the rest of it back.

Luke ignored the pout, and continued, "You should slow up on that stuff, you know." Some of his previous giddiness was passing and he didn’t particularly want to go back there. "You’re never gonna make it home in one piece on your bike."

“So? I’ll stay then!” Ryan retorted with a flash of irritation. "Anyway, you don't know anything about me!"

It was a strange thing to say, though Ryan was on a roll for being unexpected that week. For a few short moments his voice had become tight and angry, though Luke wasn't sure at whom, or about what.

Ryan shook his head as if trying to clear it.

"Christ, listen to me!" He put the glass down and sounded unsteady. "You’re right, I think I really have had too much!"

He gathered himself and peered toward the bags. “Anyway, stop sounding like your mother and let’s unpack!”

As they started into the bags, Luke said, "You know you are welcome to stay over, if you want."

Ryan shook his head. "School tomorrow," he grunted.

Luke wasn't particularly surprised, and guessed Ryan never actually meant what he’d said earlier. In fact, it had never happened. Not once in all the years they'd known each other had Ryan ever spent the night. Luke has put it out there a few times in the past when they were younger, at a time when Simon and Toby were frequently staying over at each other's places, but every time, Ry had always found some reason to decline.

Eventually Luke had stopped asking.

On the other hand, he had to admit that he had absolutely no desire to stay over at Ry's place, either. Not with his parents! Thankfully, Ryan had never invited him.

Just then, it was even more complicated, and in retrospect he wasn't disappointed that Ryan wouldn’t be pulling in the spare mattress. Firstly, with a skin full of tequila, Luke didn't quite trust himself not to say, or even do, something really stupid. On top of that, he had a dick that jumped up and down at the slightest provocation.

Shit, even thinking about sleeping together, separate beds or not, gave him a hard-on!

No—there was far too much that could get awkward, and all in all, Luke was quite relieved Ryan was heading to his own bed. He put the jumbled thoughts to one side, and got back to checking through what they'd purchased.

On went another CD—jazz this time—and it felt like Christmas again as, item by item, they unpacked the multiple bags and removed whatever tags still remained. To a backdrop of Mack the Knife, they carefully laid everything out on the bed…and only then was Luke beginning to realize how much there was! Counting out the number of pairs of briefs alone that he now owned, he saw how unlikely it was that he'd ever run out, even if his mum never washed for a couple of weeks! It was high time for a radical clear out.

The two of them went through Luke's wardrobe, which may not have been a good idea as Ryan was back in a peppy mood, and Luke ended up losing more of his older clothes than he’d originally planned. Leaving Ryan to sort out some of his old shirts, he quickly emptied out his underwear drawer, ­only keeping a couple of pairs in good condition to use for sleeping. Then, into the drawer went all the new.

By then, Ryan had a pile of castoffs, too. Some of the old shirts Luke tried on again, just to be sure he didn't prefer to keep them, but in the end he just went with the flow, and quite a few other items, too, were dumped with the redundant boxers. But then new shirts, shorts, tees and jeans went neatly onto hangers and into drawers.

In the process, the level of the tequila bottle dropped closer to the bottom. After hanging up the last shirt, Ryan tipped a little more into his tumbler. Luke shook his head as Ryan offered some to him, deciding that what he had left would be his last. As an afterthought, he took the bottle from Ryan and stashed it out of sight. It would be the last for him, too!

Finally, half way through the CD, he settled back on his chair as, yet again, Ryan took to the bed. Having had something to focus on, his friend seemed to have settled again.

“Thanks,” Ryan murmured, though it was as if he was speaking to himself.

“For what?" Luke asked, making himself comfortable with what he was determined would be his last few sips of tequila. "And anyway, it should be me that says thanks, with you buying me all this stuff!”

“You already did!” With bleary eyes, Ryan grinned. “Lots a times…”

At that, he went quiet and seemed to disappear into himself again, and they returned to relative harmony for most of the rest of the CD, until Luke wondered if Ryan had even fallen asleep.

Luke shifted uncomfortably in the chair. He needed a pee and the Turtles were grabbing at his bits. He stood up carefully. If he could fix one problem, he could certainly fix the other, especially if Ry was asleep...something that was probably good for him. It was getting late, and perhaps with a quick power nap, his friend might be in a better state to head home.

In the meantime...

Luke smirked to himself, shuffled to his chest of drawers and slid open the top one. However, the movement disturbed Ryan, whose eyes shot open and he murmured, “What's up?”

Luke felt like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"I thought you were asleep!" he muttered, trying not to appear sheepish. "I was just thinking about changing out of these ridiculous turtle boxers, that’s all. They're killing me!"

Ryan grunted and, still lying on the bed, turned over onto his back. Unexpectedly, he began to scratch down the front of his jeans around his crotch.

"Y'think you got problems," Ryan mumbled. His voice was as unsteady as his movements. "This fucking itches like crazy!"

It was almost as if he didn't register that Luke was there as, roughly, he unsnapped his jeans and Luke got the surprise of his life as he watched him unzip himself to push the jeans and boxers down enough to show his crotch in all its shaven glory. Luke stared, reminded of the harsh treatment and circumstances of the radical shave Ry had been treated to. Yet still he was magnetized to the sexually charged view in front of him.

"For God's sake, put it away," Luke muttered, feeling awkward. Warily, his eyes flicked to the door. "Someone might come in!" To make it even worse, Ryan was far from the normality of soft that Luke had been used to seeing in the locker rooms—hair or not! It taunted him and, inside his own shorts, the strain quickly returned.

He tried to downplay the display in the hope Ryan would cover up.

"It doesn't look too bad," he offered, unsuccessfully trying to drag his eyes from something that was thick and meaty, something that twitched and began to uncurl, even as he gawked at it.

Shit! It was coming alive.

Ryan didn't seem to hear him, but rolled off the bed and, rather unsteadily, stood. He seemed to be in his own little world as he pushed his jeans to his ankles. Resentment leaked from his bleary eyes, and he muttered, "The fucking bastard took everything!"

It wasn’t hard to guess that the 'bastard' was Kieran McElroy, and by 'everything', Luke took a stab that Ryan’s outrage had something to do with all the hair being stripped from his legs, too. Normally covered by a lawn of short black hairs, he'd been mown down to an effeminate boy, and it suddenly made sense why, despite the hot weather, he’d chosen to wear jeans instead of shorts.

Ryan looked up and blurted, "It's fuck’n ridic’lous!"

Feeling he'd been caught staring, Luke swallowed as, almost absently, Ryan started massaging his hardening dick, pulling at it with his fingers as it swung up. Yet if he was aware he was already well in to an erection, he didn't appear to show it.

Seeing Ryan still so pissed off by his treatment, Luke felt a renewed twinge of guilt, this time reminded of a certain particular day just before Christmas not many months earlier. The day when he, and everyone else—Ry included, to be fair—had ambushed Kieran McElroy in locker room B. It had been the day when an unfortunate Kieran got a taste of his own medicine after what he'd pulled on Joe Wong; the day he discovered the truth that if you gave, you got.

If you didn't count the inches or the skin color, the pair of smoothly-shaven groins sported by Ryan and Kieran were quite similar. But this time there was no party atmosphere, cans of foam or screaming in delight to welcome the onset of a smoking boner. Back then, it had been spectacular. Now Luke wondered what the hell they'd been thinking!

Shit! He remembered it like yesterday!

* * *

Having pinned Kieran to the floor—and even that had been hard work as he kicked and fought like a berserker—they’d literally dragged him, with him kicking every inch of the way, into the shower room.

They were in locker B that day, the smaller of the two changing rooms, with just the twenty of them coming off the back of a grueling forty-five minutes on the weights and treadmills. The shower was a single square room, ideal for individual classes, with showerheads on opposite walls and a set running down the middle.

Nobody wanted to miss out, and the steamy wet room had been packed. Most were still togged in sweatpants and getting completely soaked, though nobody—apart from Kier—really cared. It had been buzzing—a spirited gathering which, at the time, had seemed hilarious.

Kier had been completely bushwhacked, and plenty of enthusiastic strong arms were more than willing to lock him still on the wet floor while they stripped his black backside bare. With everyone wet and slippery, Kier had made another massive effort to break loose, scratching and bruising quite a few in the process, but he wasn't going anywhere. The stretched him out, and out came the cans of foam and razors they’d brought for the occasion. Poor guy. Swearing like a trooper, he'd suffered the humiliation of having his dark skin shaved as smooth as a baby's bum! They’d worked methodically, laughing themselves silly as he’d hurled abuse, and it wasn't long before he'd lost the lot from the neck down. Both Luke and Ry had been in the thick of it wielding razors—Ry and Todd had even been the ones to scrape Kier's tight curly pubes right off, for God's sake!

Hellfire! It had been an absolute blast!

It had only meant to be a shave, but, all at once, taking it further didn’t appear such a cockeyed idea. It was totally spur of the moment, though it was surprising how 'unsurprised' everyone appeared to be once it was floated out there! They already had him held down, so hell, why not? And after what Kier had done to Joe Wong just a few days earlier, Kier literally hadn't a leg to stand on. So, for that—alongside some revenge for some considerable damage he'd inflicted on the way across the changing rooms—it was payback time!

With grunts of determination, they struck before anyone changed their minds. Luke had willingly grabbed a leg and helped lift the tall basketball player off the floor, and hollered in feverish triumph with the rest of them as they forced both nicely shaved legs over a couple of obliging shoulders. It wasn't like they had anything against Kieran...in fact the opposite. Most really liked the guy, but it didn't mean he wasn't fair game. If you gave, you got, and it was way past his turn!

With roars of delight, Kier got lifted into position.

* * *

But now, after the appalling week they'd just had, Luke wondered what the hell they thought they were doing to pull a stunt like that on anyone! Now, he wondered if maybe even Kier, in the days over Christmas, had felt as bad as Ryan looked right now. Ryan was probably right in what he said earlier—you wouldn’t wish the hang even on your worst enemy.

* * *

However, back then, as Kier gaped out at them from his upside-down vantage, Luke had smirked in amusement when he spotted the look of dismay appear. The familiar horror that came when a guy realized that he’d just been popped up into a Hang! It was easy then to convince himself that it was nothing dodgy about it, because everyone—except Kier, of course—seemed to be up for it...even Ryan.

More than happy to enjoy the spectacle, Luke had buried all the inconvenient questions and allowed himself to be manipulated by what he was watching. He planned to enjoy it and ask questions later!

He hadn't been able to take his eyes off it, safe in the knowledge that nobody else seemed to be able to, either. Squirming while they'd shaved his crack, Kieran's brown wanger was as soft and flaccid as a limp lettuce. It had been another occasion when he couldn't help but think that, even soft, a well-cut dick looked a hell of a lot better—and hotter—than one with a shriveled worm hanging off the end!

The sock eventually came out and Kieran kicked and twisted and swore blue murder, but it didn’t do him any good as it got wrapped under his nuts several times and pulled hard.

With another lesson looming, time had been as tight as the sock. However, it had been more bad luck for Kieran when, having shaved him off, then lifted and banded him, he got his freshly smooth nuts left under one of the shower heads where he was invigoratingly stimulated by the pressured jets. The massage of a pretty sensitive area turned out to be mesmerizingly uplifting!

As Luke had studied him from the anonymity of the crowd, Kieran seemed to realize he was getting in deep as the look on his face turned from hostile to hunted. Despite his best efforts, he started to sprout! There was no doubt about it, the band worked superbly, getting him nicely ready for the pleasure trip! It had been an intense experience for Luke to see a guy, and one that he knew quite well, be taken from soft to fully hard. He'd remained glued as, within a short few moments, an impressively long and beautifully cut wanger became aroused.

Kieran was one of those many who were cut quite low. Even erect, there was only a couple of centimeters of foreskin left under a marked brown ring. Not bad looking, though Kier himself was not AT ALL happy as it started arching rather majestically away from his body.

It was a dick to be proud of—on that everyone agreed!

Kieran had been in a bind with nowhere to go, that was for sure! Yet, in the steamy shower room, he’d held out against the onslaught longer than most expected. Maybe the lack of foreskin helped and he wasn’t as sensitive as others, but the enflamed flared head glared back at them in defiance, and he bellowed like a trapped bull without even a hint of any jizzing. From the stony look on his face, he seemed convinced it was going to stay that way, and he probably thought he was far too pissed off for them to have any further effect on him.

How wrong he turned out to be as Todd had then squeezed almost a whole bottle of liquid soap in and around the sock they were using to jerk him.

His taut shaft became suddenly slick, catching him off guard and quickly everyone could see it changed the game completely. Unbalanced as the soapy sock persecuted his sweet spot, Kier swore and began to look rattled. Within moments, the angry confidence oozed out of him, replaced by twinges of desperation in his eyes as he felt himself being maneuvered into an uncontrollable upward spiral. He twisted in their grip with renewed vigor, but they held him firmly in a fixed position, so nothing would be allowed to distract him from a serious spunking.

Luke had seen it before, of course...just not like this, and he'd never been so absorbed by a boner, or fascinated by the idea that this one was going to erupt. While he really felt for the guy, and nobody liked the idea of being jerked in front of spectators, this was the Hang. Kier should have thought it through before he successfully unloaded Joe Wong across the floor of locker room A!

Now it was his turn. The guy was being invited to show off publically what he did in private.

The signs were suddenly there; a grunt; the tightening of his stomach muscles and the twisting up of his head as Kier and turned the inevitable corner. Heading for home, his head fell back as the impromptu shower party became jubilant, easing him into a rhythm from which there would be no turning back.

It was how it was, Luke had mused at the time. Guys got jerked off and maybe it happened at all schools. It certainly happened at theirs, and Kier would be no exception. From the look on his face, everyone knew that it was just a matter of time before he was milked out.

They all knew what it was like—the build up to a climax and the release it promised brought pleasure that every guy in that shower room was totally familiar with, and why they took themselves there almost daily. They all knew the sensations, and those signs were written all over Kieran as all it took were subtle changes in speed, rhythm and grip to ensure that he began to swell and darken under the slippery sock.

The Pleasure Trip. Jizzing, but without enjoyment, at least not for him that day. The poor guy was surrounded by eager friends, all intent on seeing him spurt, and his increasingly frantic begging fell on deaf ears. And for that reason, months later, Luke felt guilty, knowing it was no better than stealing.

The atmosphere in the showers that day just before Christmas had become electric, and caught up in it, Luke knew he’d become as aroused as Kieran. Secretive glances at a number of clingy sweatpants not covered by shirts proved he wasn’t alone!

Whatever. In the enthusiasm of it all, nobody seemed the slightest bit bothered. What they did care about was making sure Kieran was going to squirt for them that day. That day it would be Kier, the next it would end up being someone else. As long as it wasn't any of them, who cared?

It could hardly be described as subdued in the showers as the Kier was obviously reaching the end of the road. The clamor built up and they drove him gleefully every step of the way, cajoling him to spill! He swore and screeched blue murder, but it didn't do him any good as the sock became a hand that sped things along, jerking him with a rhythm that he couldn't resist. It was well past a case of ‘if’ and very much a case of ‘when’.

And everyone seemed to know that Kieran's time to join the hall of fame had come. Years of experience had it measured almost to the moment, and an expectant hush fell; the silence before the squirt. Kier was center stage and it was his show now.

He didn't disappoint.

The rhythm didn't let up and, abruptly, as an indication that he was now willing to end it, it forced out of him the kind of groan any teen worked hard to suppress if he were in his bedroom and his parents were nearby.

"Ohhh… Ooohhhhh...you fucking bastards!" Kiersn moaned, signaling the arrival of a spectacular climax as he became unglued. The muscles across his dark stomach tightened, and he pulled up against the restraints on his arms. The collective howled in victory as he was powerless to hold back what was being required of him.

This was the very moment they had signed him up for!

Arching his back against those holding them, and with toe-clenching intensity, he spat rapid-fire bullets, after which they kept him thrusting until he was completely exhausted.

Luke almost juiced himself on the spot!

Dumping the hapless Kier on the floor, the showers and locker room emptied fast after that, as nobody wanted to end up being picked on for a re-run! Kieran was left alone under the spray to lick his wounds. Luke had enjoyed every stimulating minute of it!

* * *

Not like now. Now, up in his room with a drunk and depressed buddy who was naked from the waist down, Luke really wasn't enjoying it…at all!

"Come on, Ry," Luke gaped at his best friend in mounting discomfort. Even to himself his voice sounded dry. "Pack it up!"

For him, what they'd done with Kieran had been a huge turn on, but what Ryan was doing—whether he realized it or not—was quite disturbing. Luke could hear sounds drifting up from downstairs. It sounded like Simon was back.

In front of Luke, apparently oblivious to everything but his own anguish, Ryan continued to pull at himself, his head somewhere other than in Luke's room. He raised his eyes and looked wretched. With his hand wrapped around his dick, his erection was as sadly depressed as he was himself—a halfhearted attempt that failed to climb past the horizontal.

Even so, Luke was appalled to think that he was about to try make himself shoot, when, abruptly, Ry’s hand dropped away. His face twisted as he growled, "The bastards were right...it's fuck'n tiny. I look like some fuck'n kid!"

Luke looked away, at a loss. He wasn’t a doctor or a counselor or even a fucking boyfriend, and he tried hard not to appear too drawn by the scene as the memories of Kieran still taunted him.

Ryan dropped his eyes and sounded defeated. "No…who’d fuck'n want..." He trailed off and it made no sense to Luke.

There was an increase in the sounds coming up the stairs. Someone was coming. Panicked, Luke bounded across to stand protectively by the door. This was BAD!

"RYAN!" he hissed as loudly as he dared. "Please! Not here! You have to cover up!"

Ryan stared at himself and then at Luke. He seemed confused and then something else.

"Not you...sorry..." Ryan began to pull up his jeans. “I need a bloody piss.” Unsteady on his feet, he looked pale and sweaty as he weaved towards the bathroom and closed the door behind himself.

Fucking hell...

Luke tried to decide what to do. Ryan was in a bad way, and it was all his fault for bringing the tequila upstairs in the first place. What a bloody stupid idea that had turned out to be! Not only was there going to be more hell to pay later over Ryan's vivid display, but how the hell was he ever going to get him home, with him in this kind of state?

He was interrupted by a knock at the door. It opened on its own accord, and he moved aside as his mum breezed in with a bundle of ironing draped over her arm.

"Oh?" She glanced around the room. "Has Ryan gone?"

Luke tried to sound and appear nonchalant—no small feat in the circumstances! "He's just in the bathroom," he replied. And he hoped for God's sake Ryan would stay there until he could figure out what to do.

"Well, it’s getting late.” Lucy lay the freshly laundered and ironed washing on the bed. “Perhaps he should be going soon? It's a school day tomorrow."

"Yep I know. He's going in a bit."

It looked like she was about to start putting all the clean laundry away, so he added quickly, "Don't worry, I can do all that. We'll be down soon." Perhaps, if the others were all in the lounge watching the TV, he might be able to bundle Ry out the back door, unseen?

But was Ry safe to bike home like this?

She shrugged and left the clothes on the bed, though still didn't appear in any hurry to leave.

What the HELL did she want?

Luke was agitated, worried that, at any moment, Ryan might open the bathroom door and come in looking totally pissed—or worse, pissed, naked and aroused!

In an effort to leave her no reason to stay, Luke started to pick up items of clothing to hang up in his wardrobe when, out of the corner of his eye he saw her open the top drawer of his bedside cabinet. Wondering what she was doing, he turned in time to see her slip a small package from out of her cardigan pocket and into his top drawer. It looked like a box, and nothing like a pair of socks!

Despite being freaked about what was still beyond the bathroom door, he was intrigued.

“What’s that?” he asked.

She looked up, startled and seemed at a loss for words. If he didn’t know her better, he might have said she was even embarrassed!

She coughed. “Oh, it’s nothing,"

He frowned. For ‘nothing’, she sounded as flustered as hell as she closed the drawer and murmured, "Well, I mean it's something, but—”

Now it was something?

That did it. He needed to know and stepped around the bed to go find out for himself.

“Something? What do you mean something? What kind of something?”

Her eyes flicked from him to the drawer, making her appear even more suspicious. “Just something I picked up for you earlier, while you were in the mall…from Publix."

"To eat?"

"To eat? No—” Now she seemed to be squirming. “Just something that Doctor Tiberius said you might need.”

“Tiberius?” He blinked in surprise. “Some medicine you mean?

He frowned, trying to recall if there'd been any other prescription he was meant to take, but couldn’t think of anything.

“For what? Come on, show me!” He crossed to her, grinning. Whatever she was hiding, it sounded like something he thought he should know about, and he was intrigued. He’d started to reach for the drawer to look for himself, when her voice stopped him.

"What are those?" she asked.

Distracted, he twisted his head towards where she was looking.

"Oh...well I had a clear out." Scrutinizing the pile of cast-off clothing on the floor, his pulse quickened and he quickly forgot about the drawer. "I thought Simon might want some of them. I'll give them to him later."

She zeroed in on the pile before he could intercept her. "That’s a nice idea. He's just back. I'll just go pop them in his room."

"Mum...it's fine...I can do it!" He stared frantically as she reached down.

"Don't be silly," she replied. She seemed determined. "I'm going that way anyway." She stooped, lifted the untidy pile, and the quarter-full bottle of tequila rolled out and settled against her foot. For long moments, she just stared at it, as if trying to make sense of what it was and why it was there.

OH SHIT! Luke swallowed hard, knowing that he was busted.

Scarily silent, she gently put the pile of clothing back down on the floor and lifted the bottle. As she turned to face him, he was shocked to see a radical change in her demeanor. Her voice was steady, though the eyes had turned hard.

"Is this from downstairs?"

“No....ummm...I mean yes, but—” He flinched under her prosecuting glare. "Mum, it's not what you think..."

“LUKE! How could you?” Her tone was still restrained, but he knew that wouldn't last long. She ground into him, unpeeling each layer of his deceit until he felt like total crap.

"No wonder you were acting so stupidly in the van!" she said. Her voice sharpened and the decibels crept up. "You're drunk!"

"I'm not!" He cowered before her trying to think of something to say. "We just had a bit, to taste what it was like."

Things moved quickly at that point, and before either of them could think of anything more to add, there was a terrible sound of vomiting coming from the bathroom.

It was followed swiftly by the sound of Simon’s voice. “OH MY GOD! He’s puked all over the floor!”

She glared at Luke furiously. “What have you done?”

Not waiting for an answer, she pushed past him and wrenched open the bathroom door. He followed her, looking around her to see Ryan groaning over the bowl and in a complete mess. Stupidly, the first thing that came to Luke's mind was 'at least he's got his jeans on!' He watched as Ryan retched again—this time erupting onto his shirt and trousers.

He wondered if mothers took some kind of training course on how to deal with a crisis as, while he stood there looking and feeling completely useless, she kicked into action and quickly knelt down by the toilet.

"Okay, Ryan." Her voice sounded soothing and motherly. "I’ve got you."

He watched them and felt quite irritated considering how harsh she'd been with him just moments before.

“You're a bit of a mess, aren't you?” she continued.

Understatement of the year!

Appearing to be released by her gentle touch, Ryan retched again, and then again, and she held his cold clammy head as the last remains of tequila and fish pie erupted from his stomach

When it looked like he’d finished, she turned to Simon who was staring in awe at the proceedings.

"Go and get your father," she said. The tone wasn't in anger, but even so, it was the one that was meant to be obeyed.

"Awe...I wanna watch," begged Simon.

Luke cringed. Wrong choice!

"Now!" She literally barked this time, and Simon got the message and scurried off like he'd been bitten.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up." Florence Nightingale returned. "Luke…help me will you?"

Between them, they stripped Ryan of the pukey tee and jeans, but they left on his boxers—Luke's actually—to preserve some shred of dignity.

Luke extracted the wallet and keys from the jeans and left them on the side, then took off Ryan's watch and helped him into the shower. Ryan stood shivering and looking totally miserable. Turning on the water for him, Luke had just pulled the curtain across, when a deeper voice broke out behind him.

"My God! What happened?"

Luke cringed again…his dad had arrived.

"Simon said Ryan was sick?" Geoff was staring at the putrid mess on the floor. With the hot water running, the stench of steamy puke was invading everyone's nostrils. “Was it the fish?”

The small bathroom felt cramped as Luke watched his mum lift the nearly empty bottle of tequila from where she'd placed it by the sink. She didn’t seem that pleased that her cooking was in question, and replied. “Actually, I think you’ll find this is the reason.”

Geoff's eyes widened. He quickly put two and two together and his face darkened.

"They were drinking?" It didn't take long for Geoff's feelings to surface and he rounded on Luke. "What the hell did you do?"

Luke wasn't sure whether his mum did it to protect him from another salvo or not, but she pointed to the sick-infested pile of clothing on the floor. "Luke, take those downstairs and put them in the sink in the garage."

It seemed a little too much to request a 'please'. Thankful to avoid his father’s wrath, at least for the moment, he gathered everything up and fled.