Blowing Me, Blowing You - Aha!

by Ivor Slipper

I saw him on the first morning that I walked to the station to catch my train to Cannon Street. We'd just moved from the more inner suburbs of London to a village in Kent. By 'we' I mean my parents and I. I was just over eighteen and had been working with an insurance company in the City for the past year or so. At first I'd been the lowly office boy but had recently graduated to a (very) junior clerical position. Back then – this was the early 1960s – there were lots of clerical positions before the age of the computer arrived and removed most of those, along with typing pools and many other office type jobs.

My father had obtained a better job with a company located in a town a few miles from the village in question. My mother also worked – as one of those typists previously mentioned, so it was fairly certain that she could also get a similar job in the same town. That left me. In reality I had little choice but to move with them. In those days the wages I received were not going to be sufficient to enable me to rent anywhere to live in the area in which I'd grown up, so I could see no option other than to move with them. The fact that it meant leaving all the friends I'd grown up with in our neighbourhood, plus those that I'd made at the grammar school I'd attended and was still in touch with, was worth very little consideration in the overall scope of things.

So now I was faced with a much longer, and more expensive, journey to and from work every day, but I'd also be living in some little village. I'd know nobody and would have no friends. For someone who was possessed with a not very outgoing personality, it wasn't a very attractive prospect. Of course back then I didn't have a car, although I had taken a few driving lessons. But we only had one car with two drivers already, so my chances of getting to use that even when I passed my test were very small. I was thus reliant on public transport if I wanted to get out of the village - and there wasn't much of that.

I'd thus set off from home that morning in a fairly downcast mood. As I walked down the main road towards the station, about fifteen minutes from our bungalow, I saw him coming towards me. He looked to be everything that somewhere deep inside me I wanted to be, but knew I never could or would. There was I in my grey pinstripe suit, at least without turn-ups, black polished shoes, white shirt and modestly patterned tie, while coming toward me was the paper boy. 'Boy' wasn't the right word though as he looked to be only a year or two younger than me. But it was his appearance that marked our difference. He was about the same height as me at around six foot, well built – neither lean nor fat. His hair was black, long and slicked back; I knew it would end in a DA without needing to check after we passed. So different to my mousey brown hair, neatly cut and parted on the left hand side. What he was wearing though was the main difference between us. The short black leather jacket, the tight blue denims and the Doc Marten boots – those were the clothes I'd often dreamt of wearing but knew I never would.

As I saw him my mood brightened and I also felt my prick start to stiffen. Oh yes, I'd often tossed myself off at night thinking about boys like him. They were my sexual fantasy – the rough boys, the tough boys. Of course such boys would have no time for a little wimp like me, but I could dream, couldn't I? In all honesty I wasn't a total wimp as I did play some sport; tennis and badminton being the main ones, plus a little cricket. However, because I wore glasses the truly physical sports such as football and rugby were not for me. If you couldn't see the ball clearly without them, then playing either was next to impossible, and contact lenses weren't around then.

Hopefully without making it obvious, I tried to look more closely at him as we drew closer. He appeared to have a pleasant face, acne free, which luckily I also was. He looked at me, I chanced a smile and a 'Hi' and he sort of half smiled in return but without saying anything. After we'd passed I risked turning round, hoping that he wasn't doing the same thing. As I'd expected the 'duck's arse' was in place, the leather jacket was indeed one of the biker type that ended around his waist, thus affording me a good view of a well rounded arse encased in those tight denims. When I turned back to the front I found I had to make an adjustment in order to make my prick more comfortable.

Suddenly the walk to the station had become a lot more enjoyable. So did my wank in bed that night as I mentally stripped him, finding out what he wore underneath that pair of Wranglers, and then taking hold of his prick and bringing him off. It was the best wank I'd had in a long time.

We passed at about the same point most mornings. He appeared to be as regular with his deliveries as I was with my commute. I assumed he must be going to college, or was perhaps still in the sixth form at school and was doing his round prior to going there as it was before 8am that our paths crossed. Within a week or so we had got as far as exchanging a smile and a 'Hi' as we passed, but I couldn't see that anything more was likely to ever develop. I knew nothing about him, not even his name, although I did spot him on a couple of occasions while I was walking home from the station in the evening. He was kicking a football around on a bit of green with two other boys who both looked to be at least a couple of years younger than him. The green was in front of the small council estate in the village that comprised about ten houses and it was where I'd expected he lived. Each time I saw him he was wearing the same clothes, although once on a very warm day the leather jacket was off to reveal a black tee shirt. He did look happy while he was engaged in the game. On that particular evening he happened to look in my direction and I chanced a wave. I was pleasantly surprised to receive one in return accompanied by a smile.

It decided me to take a chance the next morning. I was shy by nature so didn't usually start conversations, but I thought I had an opening line at least. As we drew level I said,

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself last night."

"Oh, them's me twin brothers. It gets 'em outa the house while our mum's cooking dinner. Saves 'em getting under 'er feet an' causing trouble."

I laughed. "Didn't think you could get into trouble round here. Is there anything to do at night?"

"Not much if you can't get into town. There's Youth Club on a Thursday evening an' a session at the Church on Mondays."

"Where's the Youth Club meet?"

"Village Hall. Six thirty on to about nine thirty."

"Can anyone come?"

"As long as you live in the village an' aren't over twenty one – yeah."

"Might see you on Thursday then. I'm Keith by the way."

"Okay. Be good to 'ave someone new. My name's Dave."

"Look Dave, I've gotta run or I'll miss my train, but I'll see you Thursday."

"Right. I've gotta move too, don't wanna miss the school bus."

And with that we continued in our opposite directions.

I'd learned quite a bit in that brief conversation. He had younger brothers who he appeared to care for, he was still at school and his name was Dave which meant the subject of my wank tonight would finally have a name. That thought made me hard as I walked, more quickly than usual, the rest of the way to the station.

Come Thursday evening my parents were rather surprised when I told them over dinner I was going to the Youth Club after we'd finished. Their surprise was because it wasn't in my nature to join things, but although they asked where and when it was they didn't think to ask how I'd found out about it. By the time we'd finished the meal and I'd got changed – I was excused washing up duties that night – it was about a quarter past seven. Dressed in a pair of jeans, a grey polo shirt, red pullover, navy blue anorak and wearing a pair of tennis shoes, I set out for the village hall.

The sound of pop music could easily be heard outside, but luckily the village hall was on the edge of the village green and not close to any houses. I almost had second thoughts, but I wanted to see more of Dave and this was the only obvious way for that to happen. I opened the door and the noise level increased significantly. It was a large room and I could see a table tennis table and a small size snooker table that were both in use. At one end of the room was what could be a bar on other occasions with a few tables and chairs in front of it. Along the opposite wall to the door were several other chairs, some of which were occupied. My quick scan took in about a couple of dozen kids, more or less equally split between boys and girls, most of whom looked to be a few years younger than me.

I caught sight of Dave who was sitting at one of the tables, on his own, nursing a bottle of coke. He looked over towards the door, saw me, gave a little smile, stood up and walked over.

"Thought you'd chickened out."

I laughed. "It's alright for you. Get out of school about half past three, get home and then you just lounge around until your mum puts your dinner on the table. Whereas I don't get home from work until about half six. Sheesh, I ain't a miracle worker!"

It was his turn to grin. "Alright, don't get your knickers in a twist. Let's get you signed in first. Did you bring any money?"

"Yes, why?"

"Costs two bob each week, that's why. Come on."

He led me over to a table where a guy, who I guess was in his late thirties, was sat and who he introduced to me as Bob Timmings. Bob shook my hand, welcomed me, and after telling me to sit down, took note of my details – name, age, address and phone number – before taking my florin.

Then I was free to enjoy the facilities. I thought it would make sense to offer to buy Dave another coke, which he accepted, and with those we sat back down at the table he'd been sitting at when I arrived. I got him to tell me the names of some of the other kids there and hoped I'd remember them. I found out if you wanted to play table tennis or pool you signed your name on a list by each table and waited your turn, which also applied to the dart board I hadn't initially noticed. I'd never played any of them, but thought with my experience in tennis and badminton, I might not be totally useless at table tennis, so asked Dave if he wanted a game.

"I ain't much good," he replied.

"Can't be any worse than me. I've never played!"

"Best not let you fuckin' beat me then," he said as he got up and went to put our names on the list. We sat and watched the activities and idly chatted while waiting our turn. I'd been a bit surprised he seemed to be on his own, so I asked if his own friends weren't there tonight.

"Ain't really got no friends. I'm a council estate kid what goes to the secondary modern school. Most of this lot," he waved his hand round the room, "either go to the grammar or a private school. They don't wanna spend time with me, so I don't often bother to come. Just thought you might be different. Dunno why though seeing 'ow you dress an' talk."

"Dave, I went to a grammar school, but only because I got a scholarship. We lived on a council estate so I didn't have any friends for the opposite reason. Soon as I started going there they reckoned I was all stuck up and dropped me. So I know what it's like. We're only here 'cos my father had a win on the pools that enabled them to put down a deposit on the house we've got now."

Just then the table tennis table became free. Dave got serious and took off his leather jacket to reveal a plaid shirt over a white t-shirt, so I took off my anorak. I soon got the hang of the game, although Dave beat me quite easily. Less easily when we had a second game some time later. I also tried my hand at darts - not bad, and at pool - pretty awful.

Nine thirty soon came round. Everyone seemed to help in putting things away, but Dave and I were the last two left apart from Bob. He came out with us, locked the door, bid us goodnight, got into his car and drove away.

"You gonna buy me a beer then?" Dave asked.

I was surprised. Of course I drank; I just hadn't expected him to.

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen going on sixteen, but I reckon you're eighteen ain'tcha? So you can buy an' I can drink."

I laughed. "Alright, one pint. Let's go."

The village pub was situated opposite the green so we didn't have far to walk. We had no trouble getting served and I suspected Dave had probably been there previously. It was fairly quiet, so we found a table, sat down and chatted some more in between taking sips of our lagers. We'd sat on a bench seat and I noticed as we drank that while initially there had been a distance between us, before we finished our pints Dave's right leg was touching my left. I didn't think mine had moved, but.... As we finished our lagers Dave stood up,

"I need a slash, coming?"

I followed him to the toilets, where the urinal was a long trough. We were the only ones there. We both unzipped and let our streams flow. I couldn't help checking him over out of the corner of my eye. He was circumcised and looked to be about five inches, pretty much the same as mine. I raised my eyes to look at his face. He was looking at my prick. He gave me a grin and licked his lips.

I really wasn't sure what to make of that. Yes, I had wanked off on a couple of occasions with a friend at school, but Dave I hardly knew. I tucked my prick back inside my underpants and zipped up my jeans.

"I gotta go, Dave. Thanks for tonight. I'll see you next Thursday, right?"

"Okay, Keith. But I expect I'll see you before then."

"Yes indeed. We usually pass in the mornings."

And with that we went our separate ways. I had a troubled night wondering what, if anything, was behind him licking his lips. Mind you, I did have a very good wank first in which his prick featured large in my thoughts.

We did indeed pass the next morning with our customary quick greeting. In fact we passed every morning, but the following Thursday was different. The path we both used was on the right hand side of the road as I walked down it. He came toward me with his paper bag slung over his right shoulder. We always simply passed each other but that morning he walked right in front of me, stopped and thus forced me to do the same. We were less than a foot apart. He leaned forward and I thought for one mad moment that he was going to kiss me, but he pulled his paper bag round into a position where any passing car would not be able to see beyond it. Then he moved his left hand forward and grabbed my balls at the same time smiling broadly and saying,

"Coming tonight?"

I was staggered at what had just happened; even more so when he ran his hand up from my balls and rubbed my prick. I was being groped in broad daylight on a street! It was unbelievable.

"Er....yeah," I stammered.

"Good. I'm gonna blow you away tonight."

"Eh? What you mean?" I had no clue what he was talking about, which I'm sure the expression on my face showed very clearly.

"On the table tennis table, stupid. What else you think I mean?"

There was an expression on his face I couldn't place. It wasn't evil, but there was a sparkle in his eyes and a grin that I felt sure implied some sort of devilment. The way he stressed the word 'else' made me think he did mean something else, but I had no idea what, even though he was still rubbing my prick which was by now erect. Mind you, what he was doing was rather stopping any rational thoughts from entering my brain!

"Oh, er, nothing. Look, I've gotta go or I'll miss my train."

"Okay. See you later."

He removed his hand from the front of my trousers and stepped aside to let me pass. I walked on, but something made me turn after a few yards. Instead of seeing his rear as he walked away he was facing me, a grin on his face and his left hand rubbing the front of his jeans. I smiled at him, turn round and walked on adjusting the position of my prick in my briefs as I did.

I spent a very strange day at work. Frequently thinking of him and what he'd meant. In the end I found myself going into one of the toilet cubicles and having a wank – something I'd never before considered doing at work, but I hoped it would get rid of the erection I'd been trying to hide for most of the day whenever I thought of our conversation.

When I got to the hall that evening he was sitting at the same table as the previous week. When he saw me come in he stood up and walked over.

"Good thing you ain't late. I signed us up for table tennis and we're next on."

"Thanks. I'd better go and sign up and pay my dues then. You're obviously anxious to blow me away."

Dave burst out laughing as I finished speaking. "Oh yeah! Can't wait!"

We were soon on the table and as I'd expected he did beat me quite easily, although I was starting to get more of a hang on the game. I could certainly manage to keep the ball on the table better, but a lot of my points came from his errors rather than my winners. Once we'd finished we signed up for another game and played darts while we waited our turn. This time I actually managed to get almost half as many points as him.

When we'd finished I was surprised when Dave said, "You gonna buy me a beer again?"

"It's only just after nine. Don't you want to stay to the end? And what about clearing away?"

"Bob can do that; 'sides I fancies a beer."

So we headed over to the pub. Once again it was fairly quiet and we sat on the same bench drinking our pints and eating a couple of packets of crisps. This time there was no doubt that Dave had his leg touching mine. The contact was making my prick harden and a, hopefully, surreptitious glance down, gave me the impression that Dave's was in a similar state. When we'd finished our lagers he said he needed a slash and I followed him to the loos. Tonight there was no doubt that we both were looking at the others equipment as our streams ran free.

Once we'd tucked our pricks back inside and zipped up, Dave spoke.

"I owe you for the beer."

"Nah, don't matter. You can buy next week." I was happy to buy. I knew I had more money than him having a proper job and it seemed he could be a friend even if he was a bit younger than me.

"You in a hurry?"

"Not specially. Why?"

"Come with me."

I had no idea what he had in mind, but as we left the pub he walked back across the green towards the village hall which was now all in darkness as it was about a quarter to ten. He led me round the back to a shed. It was padlocked, but Dave produced some keys from the pocket of his leather jacket, opened it and we were in. The shed had a couple of windows on one side and as the moon was shining I could dimly make out what was there. It was evidently used for keeping things such as the football goalposts and nets and all sorts of miscellaneous bits and pieces.

"Alright, so why've you brought me here?"

"Told you, I owes you for the beer."

He turned to face me and placed his hands on my shoulders and drew in a deep breath,

"I saw how you looked at me that first morning. A quick look at me face and then your eyes were down at me fly. When it were the same for the next two mornings I was pretty certain you was wondering about what was underneath. Weren't you Keith?"

I'd been caught. Now what was going to happen? Was he going to beat me up?

"Yeah.....I s'pose I was......sorry. It's just......" I tailed off.

"Keith, I don't mind. I've been looking for someone to play with."

His hands left my shoulders and arrived at my waist. I felt my belt being unbuckled and the top button of my jeans being undone before the zip was pushed down. My prick was rock hard inside my briefs as my jeans were pushed down and a hand rubbed across the front of my briefs. I let out a moan. I couldn't believe what was happening and my disbelief increased greatly when I felt my briefs being pushed down. My prick sprang free. I could only see the tip, but it felt both harder and longer than ever before.

And then he dropped to his knees. I didn't understand why as he could toss me off where he was. He put his fingers round my dick and stroked it gently. I let out a soft moan when suddenly the tip of it felt damp, and then the head; I could only moan louder in response to what was happening while I could swear my prick was expanding even more. But then I felt the wetness spread down my prick. He had to be licking it, something I'd never thought about. The exquisite feeling I was experiencing intensified. I couldn't help groaning louder, hoping nobody else was around. I felt a new sensation and realised that my prick was now being sucked and drawn into Dave's mouth – in and then out. The sensations I was experiencing increased to an almost unbearable level. I felt my balls tighten and knew I was about to shoot. I tried to withdraw my prick, but he wrapped his fingers round it and held it in place. I started to pump pulse after pulse of my semen into his mouth.

I think I may have blacked out as the next thing I remember was sitting on a pile of goal nets. Dave was alongside me, one leather clad arm around my shoulder. I turned my head to look at him – there was a smile on his face.

"You taste good on top of salt an' vinegar crisps," he said with a chuckle.

"What was that?"

"Told you I was gonna blow you away tonight," he chuckled again.

The penny finally dropped. I'd heard talk of blow jobs at school from some of the guys who had girl friends, but I'd no idea what they were and assumed it was part of male to female sex.

"Fucking hell. I'm glad I came tonight," I said without realising the significance of that comment.

He almost doubled up when I said it. "You sure did!" he exclaimed when he'd recovered.

That had both of us laughing. When we stopped it dawned on me that I ought to attend to his needs. I reached out towards his fly, but he grabbed my hand.

"I wanted to do that. It were for me as much as you. You don't 'ave to do me just because I did you. Think about it an' if you decide you do, tell me to buy the beers. Alright?"

I nodded. "Alright, but....." I stopped unsure if I should ask what was on my mind.

"But what?" Dave asked.

I hesitated before deciding to take the plunge. "You don't have to answer, but how did you learn how to do that?"

He laughed. "At school," he replied.

"They didn't have lessons on that at my school!" I retorted.

"Nah, nor at mine really. These was special lessons."

I grinned. "Bet they were. You wanna tell me about them."

"It'll take a while," he replied. "How about we get the bus into town on Saturday and go to the flicks. We can go to the Wimpy Bar after if you want an' I'll tell you then."

I said I thought that was a great idea, so with that decided we tidied ourselves up and exited the shed. After we'd gone our separate ways I walked home – very slowly. When I arrived at our front gate I opened it and then stood there trying to take in and make sense of what had happened. I'd never considered myself a poof or a homo, but what we'd just done was surely that? Furthermore, I'd almost said that I'd do the same to him and that would definitely make me a homo. I swirled the idea around in my mind. I'd never had a girl friend and never felt like I wanted one, but there was no doubt that I looked at boys – had done for some years, but never really done anything with one until now. Was that not evidence of what I was?

When I finally went in I was very unforthcoming to my parents about the evening at the Youth Club, not that I was much of a talker at the best of times. As soon as I reasonably could I wished them goodnight and headed for my room. Once I'd washed and changed into my pyjamas I climbed into bed and immediately started reliving what Dave had done to me. Of course I immediately got hard and it wasn't long before I was pumping into a tissue. Afterwards I lay for a long time thinking about the consequences. I was an only child, my parents would expect me to marry and give them grandchildren. They would not expect me to be a homosexual that was for sure. Eventually I dropped off to sleep.

Dave and I passed the next morning. We had a quick chat and agreed which bus we'd catch to go into town on Saturday. I'd just about got used to the fact that going anywhere from this village by public transport needed to be planned. Where I'd lived before you could catch a bus every five minutes or so, even outside the rush hour. Here they were at most once an hour, often less and non existent on Sundays. We also agreed that we'd go and see the latest James Bond film – 'From Russia With Love'. We knew it would be popular so made sure we got into town in good time to get in the queue. That proved to be a wise decision as the cinema was packed even on Saturday afternoon.

After the film we made our way to the Wimpy Bar and ordered our burgers and chips. We managed to find a table for just two but the place was packed. I felt sure Dave wouldn't want to talk there about something that was evidently highly personal and indeed we mainly talked about the film which we'd both thought was great. When we'd finished our meal, for which I insisted on paying, we left. As soon as we got outside Dave said he was sorry he hadn't been able to talk there as he'd promised, but because it was so crowded he was afraid other people would hear. I told him I understood and there was no hurry for him to tell me. We walked to the bus station and caught a bus back to the village. When we got there Dave said he'd had an idea and suggested I walk towards where he lived. Near the council houses was a small kid's play area which was now deserted, so we went and sat on a couple of the swings. With just a little effort we managed to get our swinging co-ordinated. Once we'd done so Dave started to talk.

Understandably he was hesitant at first. What he told me was very personal and I was absolutely sure had never been told to anyone else, certainly not his parents. When he'd finished I could sort of understand why he wanted to tell someone, but I was surprised he'd chosen me seeing we hardly knew each other. However, he had said he had no real friends in the village and perhaps because I was a couple of years older he thought of me as some sort of older brother. One thing did become evident as he talked was that Dave was not the rough, tough kid that his clothes and appearance suggested. They were a shield to mask the sensitive kid who he really was.

I don't know how long we sat on those swings. It must have been at least an hour because what he said often came to a halt at certain points or when I asked a question about something. Thus it is best if I give a synopsis of what he told me.

Have you ever heard the phrase 'Pocket Billiards'? I hadn't, and Dave had to explain that to me right at the start of his story because, in reality, that was where it all began. For those who don't know, 'Pocket Billiards' is where you either make a hole in the pocket of your trousers or jeans, or indeed remove the whole pocket, thus giving easy access for your fingers to your prick and balls. At this time he was fourteen and the craze had rather swept through his class. Provided you did it only occasionally and not too obviously, you could enjoy a pleasant time stroking yourself, especially during a boring lesson! Dave's problem came one class where he was so lost in pleasuring himself that he failed to keep track of the teacher's whereabouts. He was brought back to reality on hearing the teacher voice very close to him demanding that he remove his hand from his pocket and show what he was holding. Until he saw the dampness on Dave's fingers, Mr South had perhaps been unaware of what he was doing. Dave was told to report to him at the end of the lesson.

Mr South was a new teacher of art who had only recently qualified, so was probably less than ten years older than his students. Possibly because of that he generally had a fairy relaxed attitude to classroom discipline. He was also popular with the students, although who knows which of those came first.

When Dave saw him at the end of the lesson Mr South told him that he was going to put him on what was called 'Headmaster's Report.' In effect this was a list of boys that was read out at Morning Assembly and those named had to report to the Head at lunchtime, dressed in PE kit, to be caned. Dave had been caned the previous week as he had chalked up three late arrivals at school that term which had earned him three strokes. He could still feel the ridges on his arse and didn't fancy adding to them. Thus when Mr South had suggested there could be an alternative which he might well enjoy more, Dave had jumped at the opportunity and agreed to return to the art room at the end of the school day. That was when things took a turn for the worse. Mr South came up behind Dave, inserted his hand into Dave's pocket and of course struck gold as Dave responded to the touch. The teacher withdrew his hand, came and stood in front of Dave and told him to get his prick out. Dave protested, but was reminded of the alternative and reluctantly agreed. On complying Mr South first took hold of his prick before kneeling down and taking it into his mouth. Dave experienced his first blow job and without doubt enjoyed the sensations. He was much less happy when after blowing Dave Mr South then took out his own prick and instructed Dave to suck him.

This was repeated on a weekly basis for the rest of the term. It was the summer term and a couple of weeks before it was due to end Mr South informed Dave he'd be leaving the school at that point. In some ways Dave was glad, but at the same time he had come to enjoy their activities and almost believe he was receiving special treatment from the teacher that other boys didn't get.

A couple of days before school ended Mr South suggested to Dave that, if his parents agreed, on the day afterwards he would take him to see an art exhibition in the nearby town. They did, and Mr South arranged to collect Dave in his car that morning. Dave enjoyed seeing the exhibition and being with Mr South, not least because his own parents had little interest in his art believing it was not going to be something from which he could earn a living when he left school. After they'd been round the exhibition they went to a cafe before Mr South drove Dave home.

The only thing was that he drove him to his flat rather than Dave's house. There Dave was persuaded to drink some wine before......

At that point Dave stopped talking and choked up. I could guess what had happened and easily understood why he didn't want to tell me. Indeed, I was amazed he'd told me that much.

In this day and age things like that wouldn't happen – kids are a lot wiser and there are more safety nets in place, but this was fifty plus years ago when life was very different.

When Dave was able to talk again he explained that what had happened to him made him believe he was selected because of how he looked and the fact that generally speaking, he was one of the good boys at school. That was when he got himself the paper round and with the money he earned he changed his image, adopting the 'tough guy' appearance. As he said, nobody had picked on him since then!

I still didn't understand why he had picked me though and I asked him that question.

"I ain't done it with no one since then, but once you've sucked someone off you get to look at people and wonder if they'd do it. Like I said, I saw where your eyes went when you first saw me and just sorta knew you'd be up for it. Least I 'oped you were."

I stopped my swing, got off and walked to stand in front of him. I stretched my hand out towards his fly. It was dark, but the bulge was evident.

"You gonna buy the beers on Thursday?" I asked. He nodded and smiled.

"Stand up then." I said. His eyes opened in surprise.

"Here? Now?"

"Why not? There's nobody around."

I rubbed my hand over his fly, feeling his hardness. He got off his swing and stood up. My fingers went to his zip and pulled it down. I reached inside and felt his prick under the slip type briefs he was wearing. I pulled those down sufficiently to enable me to extract his prick and then dropping to my knees guide it into my mouth. He didn't take long to shoot his load.

Looking back I know I didn't do a very good job, but at least I didn't bite his prick. My technique improved as the weeks went on. Thursday night was the highlight of the week for me and I think it was for him too. A few months later I passed my test and bought a motorbike. I got the gear too – leather jacket, levis, boots. My parents didn't approve, but it was my money so they couldn't stop me. Now we could go out into the country or even down to the coast – at least in the summer.

We were friends – with benefits, but it was never destined to be anything more. A year or so later Dave got himself into Art College and found a whole new circle of friends there. He even got his own motorbike and a girl to ride on the pillion. We still met at the Youth Club, but after a while it always seemed to be me who was buying the beers. As he said to me one night, he had someone else to take care of his needs now.

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Blowing Me, Blowing You - Aha!

by Ivor Slipper

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