My family moved to a small town in Scotland during the 1930s. On my first day at the local secondary school, I met Peter, who had also recently moved into the area. We’d both had relatively sheltered upbringings, so this all-boys school was a significant shock to the system. The final year class that we joined comprised of twenty unruly and rowdy eighteen-year-old lads who’d grown up together and were in no mood to welcome strangers into their midst.
Teachers enforced discipline in the school through the frequent and widespread use of the heavy three-tailed tawse, and they seemed to delight in taking every opportunity to inflict pain on their charges, even for the most trivial of transgressions. On our first day, almost half of the class got the belt. Of course, the punishments had little effect. The boys no longer feared them.
In fact, for many getting the tawse regularly was a badge of honour; a sign that they were hard and couldn’t and wouldn’t be broken. The ultimate sanction was the extra-heavy tawse on the bare bottom in front of the whole school. Any boy who coped with this was treated as a hero by their peers.
Most teachers believed that boys needed to be regularly reminded who was boss. So, no-one, no matter how well-behaved, could escape the delights of the tawse. On our third day, Peter and I both got three of the best on each hand. I admit that I was crying like a baby after just two strokes. That had no effect. If anything, the teacher laid it on even harder.
Judging by the glint in his eye, he got a thrill from getting me to break down. You can imagine the encouragement and support that Peter and I got from the rest of the class later in the playground. Our status as softies was sealed. We were ostracised. After all, no-one wanted to associate with wimps. So, Peter and I just kept together.
One day Peter mentioned that his sister Jean was also having a difficult time making friends. She was being treated as an outsider, just like Peter and me. I realized there and then that my sister Margaret was likely to be in the same awkward position, so I asked her if she’d be willing to meet with Jean.
“Sure, I’m struggling to be accepted. Maybe we can be buddies.”
On Saturday morning, Margaret and I set off towards Peter's house. Doing this was quite risqué in those dark days; even siblings of different gender couldn’t be seen together in the absence of a minder without setting tongues wagging. I noticed quite a few people peeking out of their windows as we passed by.
Jean and Margaret hit it off straight away. They were so alike and soon engrossed in girly conversation, leaving Peter and me to our own devices.
“I think that we should go for a walk so that the busybodies can see that the two girls are here on their own, not horror upon horror, along with two boys.”
“Yeah, George, you’re right. It's sad, but we'd better not provide them with any ammunition.”
“George and I are going for a stroll. We’ll be back in the middle of the afternoon.”
“Enjoy yourselves and take your time, Margaret and I have plenty to talk about.”
Peter and I headed out and ended up at a nearby park.
“Thanks for bringing your sister over. I haven’t seen Jean look so happy since we moved here.”
Peter and I found a well-hidden clearing by the river and lay down on the bank to enjoy the sunshine. Soon after, I noticed that Peter was in discomfort.
“What’s wrong? Are you in pain?”
“No, I’ve just got a hard-on thinking about Margaret.”
“What's a hard-on, and what's my sister got to do with it?"
“Are you winding me up? Don’t you know anything?”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Wow, you’ve really had a sheltered life.”
Peter unbuckled his trousers and pushed them and his drawers down to his knees. These moves released his cock, which immediately sprung to attention.
“Doesn’t your dick go stiff when you think about girls?
“Yes, my willy does get hard occasionally, but I don’t know why. I’ve heard boys bragging about how they shag girls like rabbits, but I don’t give these stories any consideration. Our teachings say that sexual thoughts and acts are taboo out of marriage.”
“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you. Those spontaneous stiffies are the stirrings of your sex drive. Your cock is in charge. It already knows where it would like to be, what it wants to do and is giving you strong hints. You can ignore this information and become frustrated and angry, or you can explore your dick’s needs and find ways to satisfy them. It’s perfectly normal to do this. You won’t go blind or get hairy palms. In fact, a regular flush out is healthy for you and great fun. Now, I’ve got a hard-on that desperately needs some handling. Watch and learn.”
Peter clasped his willy in his right hand and started to rub the shaft. His erect dick engorged even more as he stroked it faster and faster. Peter’s breathing became erratic as his dong began to twitch and spasm uncontrollably and streams of a white liquid shot from its tip. The look of bliss on Peter’s face as he lay on the ground recovering was priceless.
Peter sat up, looked me in the eye. "My cousin enlightened me to the joys of cock, and now I'm going to teach you.”
Before I realized what was happening, Peter had pulled down my trousers and undies. I was mesmerized as my cock now took over. It grew quickly and then squirmed and rippled with excitement in Peter’s grasp. The joy intensified as Peter rubbed the shaft and reached a crescendo when his strokes hit top speed. My whole body tightened, my dick began to convulse, and waves of ecstasy surged through me as it shot a massive load. My heart was racing, and I was gasping for air long afterwards, but I was in seventh heaven.
“Wow, does that happen every time you go hard?”
"It does if you beat the meat."
"Ignorance is said to be bliss, but it's not. I’ve been missing out on all this pleasure.”
“Well, you know about it now. Make the best of it.”
“Thank you for educating me. Let’s see if the pupil can repay the teacher."
I leaned over to Peter, kissed his lifeless cock, and licked the tip with my tongue. This triggered an immediate response. Peter’s willy rose to the occasion and was soon straining hungrily within my tight grasp. The shaft thickened and went rock hard as I stroked it. Peter’s body went rigid, and he let loose a stream of oaths as his dick tremored wildly and released a seemingly endless load of cum.
Peter looked at me and was positively beaming. “That’s the best wank I’ve ever had. From now on, self-pleasure will only be a second best. You’re a master.”
“Glad to give you the reward.”
As we lay in the sunshine, I felt Peter’s lips kiss the tip of my cock. It began to rise straight away and started to push between his lips. To my surprise, Peter didn’t pull away. He opened his mouth a little, allowing my growing tool to go deeper and deeper into it. I gasped and almost stopped breathing when Peter tightened his lips around the shaft and began to massage it with his warm, tactile tongue. My respiration rate returned to normal as my dick steadily settled into its new erotic cocoon but became erratic again when Peter began bobbing up and down on my shaft.
Waves of pleasure surged through my willy as the glans was exposed again and again in Peter’s warm mouth. Close to climax, I couldn’t help myself. I pushed my dick deeper into Peter’s mouth just as my load began to rush out. The poor boy almost choked. He struggled to cope with my nectar but eventually swallowed it all and then licked and massaged my willy as it shrunk back to a quiescent state.
“Well, you’re full of surprises. That was awesome.”
“That was your first blowjob. A fitting present for the pleasure that you’ve given me today. I’m sure that we’ll share it many more times.”
Sometime later, I began to caress Peter’s cock and balls with my fingers, but he stopped me.
“I think that we’d better call a halt today. You can have too much of a good thing. Besides, the girls will be wondering why we haven’t come home.”
My sexual curiosity now aroused, I was like a kid in the sweet shop and wanted more, but I reluctantly agreed. I stood up, tucked Peter’s willy inside his drawers, pulled them and then his trousers up into place, and fastened them. Peter did the same for me. He seemed to linger while he pulled my undies over my bottom and I gasped with delight when a finger accidentally slipped into the crack and touched my bum hole.
I thought nothing of this mishap. Why should I? But I was soon to find that it was no mistake. Peter had been testing the ground.
My Mum was at Peter’s house when we arrived back. She’d come to accompany Margaret and me to our home because tongues had been wagging during the day about us being out together without a chaperone. It was evident that our Mums were now friends, as were Jean and Margaret. Not too bad a day all around. That night, I slept well despite the visions of my delightful afternoon with Peter running like a continuous loop in my head.
The following morning, Mum, Margaret and I dressed in our Sunday best and headed off to church, a compulsory duty for decent citizens of the day. We shared a pew with Jean, Peter and his Mum, and after the service, we went to Peter’s house for a light meal. Afterwards, I noticed that our Mums were deep in conversation, and Jean and Margaret were busy doing girls things, so I said to Peter, “I fancy some fresh air. Will we go for a walk?"
"Yeah, a stroll would be good. Is that okay Mum?”
“That’s fine. Just don't be too long, and don't get your best clothes dirty."
Peter and I headed off towards a nearby wood that we knew had several well-hidden clearings. We both wanted some cock action, but how could we play our exciting games and keep our clothes clean? No problem, Peter brought out two large bath towels from the bag that he’d brought with him and lay them out on the ground.
“We can leave our clothes on here. They’ll be safe and clean.”
I was astounded by this suggestion but didn’t hesitate when Peter began to strip off. Soon we were both in the buff and appreciating the view. I was transfixed by Peter’s cock, and I couldn’t help noticing how it trembled when I leaned over to put my drawers onto my pile of clothes. I couldn’t imagine why his willy reacted in this way, but it thrilled me. I couldn’t help myself. I walked over to Peter and pulled him into a bearhug.
“Your dick looks hungry for action. Let me satisfy it.”
"Yeah, let's do something special together."
Peter and I were both self-conscious of our nudity and closeness, but we didn’t break off. Instinctively, we savoured an opportunity to do what boys shouldn’t; touch and explore each other. Oh my, Peter was fit, and his hands played a tune on me. I quivered as Peter massaged my bum while he sighed as I stroked his perineum. Both our cocks tingled as they rubbed and tussled each other. With some reluctance, we separated. Peter got two more towels from his bag and put one over a tree trunk and the other on the ground behind it.
“Lay down on the towel over that trunk.”
I did as I was told. I was nervous about being so exposed. More so when I then felt oil being poured into my crack and a finger working its way towards my hole.
“What are you doing?”
“You’re about to experience a special joy. Relax, I’ll do all the work.”
Before long, my hole was twitching as Peter’s finger massaged its sphincter. I moaned when his finger burst into me but was soon mewing with joy as he found and probed several sweet spots. I felt sad when Peter stopped but not for long. More oil was poured into my crack, and it was invaded by a familiar weapon. Surely Peter wasn’t about to drill my bum, was he?
The answer was evident when the tip of his dick reached my quivering hole and pushed hard against it. My sphincter struggled against the intruder but soon gave way. I cried in pain as Peter’s cock burst its way into me but was quickly sighing with joy as the glans triggered honey spot after honey spot while it delved deeper into my rectum. Then, I began to writhe in distress because my love tunnel was stretched to its limits by Peter’s massive tool.
Thankfully, Peter sensed my grief and waited for nature to come to my rescue. Slowly but surely, muscles relaxed, and my twat expanded to comfortably encase Peter's weapon. Now that I was settled, Peter began riding me with enthusiasm. My fanny writhed and squirmed as it battled with his rampaging cock. On at least three occasions, I felt Peter’s cock become extra stiff, as though it was close to climax.
At this, Peter slowed his stroke rate, and for him, the acute moments passed. Not for me, the enthralling sensations in my love tunnel persisted and surged to greater heights each time Peter returned to a high stroke rate. I was already delirious when his rapier became rock hard yet again. This time Peter didn’t slow down, he just raided me harder and faster until I screamed with delight as his cock finally shuddered and flooded my twat with hot juices.
I’d scarcely settled and recovered when Peter whispered in my ear. “Now it’s your turn to do the work.”
Peter lay down on the tree trunk. In truth, I didn’t feel ready to do it, but one glimpse of Peter’s bottom quickly reinvigorated me. I clasped his buttocks, kissed the crack, and slid my tongue all the way down to his anus. Peter giggled as I licked and teased it. His hole soon quivered to the touch of my oiled index finger and shuddered as the sphincter gave way.
We both gasped when my finger burst inside, and Peter began sighing gently as my fingertip found hot spots in his twat. He gave an intense moan when my fingertip chanced upon a particularly sensitive area and became very aroused as I continued stroking it.
Peter braced himself as soon as I withdrew my finger. I quickly lubed my erect dick and drove it into Peter’s crack until the tip was snuffling his hole. I pushed and pushed against the sphincter to no avail. Now frustrated, I rammed my cock hard into Peter's ass. He cried out as the sphincter suddenly gave way, and the tip of my cock penetrated him. My glans trembled with delight as it probed deeper and deeper into its new nest.
The sensations flowing from my cock while raiding Peter’s tight tunnel were mind-blowing and became even more intense as I began moving back and fore inside him. Peter was groaning as I pounded him. His fanny fought mightily with my rampaging cock and quickly drove it to a climax. Peter and I both screamed as my dick spasmed and released its load into the depths of his love tunnel.
“Wow, that was something special. You’ve blown me away.”
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop myself.”
“Don’t apologize. The shag was wonderful, even more so if it made you happy.”
Peter and I lay on the ground for a short time to recover. We then checked each other and cleaned off residual grass stains before redressing. As I was pulling up my drawers, Peter handed me a pad.
“Girls wear towels like this. Put it inside your undies over the bum crack. It’ll soak up the backflow and stop your clothes being stained.”
I didn’t understand what Peter meant by this but followed his instructions. As we walked home, I soon learned the truth of a maxim well known to all girls, 'what goes in, must come out.’ Peter’s generous deposit began to drip. Fortunately, the towel did its job, but I had to replace it soon after we reached Peter’s house.
I waited as Peter first went to the bathroom. When I entered after, there was a fresh towel left out for me. I removed my used one, disposed of it and put the new one into place. As I was doing this, the enormity of the risk that Peter and I’d just taken dawned on me. What if one of our Mum's or sister's had needed to go to the loo before me? They’d have found the fresh towel and quickly surmised that Peter and I were using their liners. Imagine the horrors of trying to explain to them why.
That evening Mum, Margaret and I headed home. They chatted together but soon realized that I was there in body but not in soul.
“Is there something wrong? Are you ill?”
“No, I’m just daydreaming about the countryside.”
“You must have seen some lovely things this afternoon.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
What would they have thought had they known that the beautiful image burning in my brain wasn’t of the local flora or fauna but of Peter? Of course, he was naked, cock erect, and ready for action.
I tossed and turned in bed that evening as the day's flashed through my mind. Peter and I’d just screwed each other, and far from being ashamed of it, as we should’ve been, we were both happy and willing to do it again. Interestingly, our actions and instincts had been purely physical. We’d used each other's boy fud for stress-relief and sensual pleasure, and it’d worked.
I was calm and at peace, more so than for a long time. Even that sadistic teacher didn’t seem so bad. Could Peter and I continue in this way? I certainly hope so. Being best friends with benefits could be neat.
Next morning, I got up early and had a shower. As I was drying off, I noticed that the bathroom cupboard was open. Sitting at its front were the mysterious packages that I’d seen so many times before, but now, I knew what they were; towels. I slipped two from the open packet and hid them in my PJs. Then I put them in an envelope which I put into my pencil case. Better to be prepared for the future, just in case.
At school Monday passed by as usual, except that I got the belt for supposed rudeness. Tuesday and Wednesday went without mishap, with others in the class being the focus of the teacher’s ministrations. Peter and I both fell afoul of his tawse on Thursday afternoon. By now, we usually stoically accepted the belt but, on this occasion, Peter broke down, much to the joy of the teacher. Peter didn't bounce back and was far from his usual cheery self as we headed home after school. Next morning, Peter was very down and upset and was close to exploding when he received a further bout of teacher’s justice.
I knew that I had to do something about the situation. As soon as the lunch bell rang, I said, “Come with me.”
Peter looked bemused but followed me out to the playground and along to the furthest away buildings of the school. There I ushered him into an empty storage room where I knew we wouldn’t be disturbed. I didn’t say a word. I locked the door, stripped off, lay over the arm of a padded chair, and offered up my ass. Peter looked like a rabbit staring into headlights.
I wiggled my bum. “Don’t mess about. You know you want it, and we haven't got all day. Use your spit as a lubricant."
This statement unleashed a tornado. Peter’s clothes were off in seconds, and his tool was erect, twitching, and raring to go as he moistened my hole. I squealed as the tip of Peter’s cock prised open my sphincter and forced its way into me. Happily, the acute pain was transient and soon replaced by pleasant feelings as the glans nuzzled and stimulated many hot spots during its journey to the depths of my twat.
Peter stopped for a moment but then went ape. He rode me hard and fast and never let up. I don’t know for how long Peter drilled me, but my whole body was trembling, and my nether regions felt like jelly before his vinegar strokes finally filled my ravished fud with soothing spunk. I was engulfed by a tumult of enthralling sensations and fainted.
Peter was gently stroking my forehead when I came to.
“Are you okay? Are you okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me. Yes, you screwed me silly, but I’m okay with that.”
“But I shouldn’t have gone feral. I shouldn’t have vented my anger on you.”
“Don’t be silly. That was the whole point; to let you satiate your pain. I’m fine and happy that it worked.”
“Why did you do this for me?”
“I could see that my best friend was distressed and in need of relief. I knew that this was the best way to help you. By the way, what was upsetting you?”
“Several boys from another class have been picking on me all week. I don’t know why. They pantsed me yesterday and wouldn’t let me go until the crowd of boys in the playground had all ogled and ridiculed my flaccid manhood. They laughed their heads off. My humiliation was made all the worse when I then broke down while getting the belt. I was ashamed and angry but now, thanks to you, things don't seem so bad."
“Well, I’m glad that you’re at peace now and let me assure you that you've got a cock to die for. My twat can attest to that. I think that we’d better get dressed and head back to class. We don’t want to get the belt for being late. You may have to help me, I’m a bit unsteady on my feet thanks to your unbridled enthusiasm."
I don't remember much of the afternoon, except sharing some knowing smiles with Peter, getting the tawse for not paying attention in class and having to replace my towel before setting home because of the generosity of Peter's deposit. Mum was worried when I went to bed early that night, but I was still on cloud nine and slept well.
Peter and I didn’t go wild. A rampant stress-relieving session once a week usually met our needs, but if things were going badly at school, we coupled more frequently. The type of action depended on our levels of tension and time available. Mutual wanking or sixty-nines sometimes did the business, but usually robust cock-twat workouts were the order of the day. Nothing matched the therapeutic effects of a good ride, either as top or bottom.
Peter and I were discreet, but I suppose that it was inevitable that we’d be caught. I was impaled on Peter’s cock when Robert and Phil, two boys from our class, walked into our supposedly secret place.
“See, I told you they were sneaking off for some hanky-panky and would be easily caught.”
My heart sank like a stone imagining what would happen us once the school knew of our intimate activities, but things didn’t turn out as expected.
“Hey, that looks like fun. We want to join in.”
So, it came to be that Peter and I lay over either arm of the chair while Robert and Phil lubricated their cocks. What else could we do? We couldn’t argue with them. Both boys were nervous and hesitant. I felt Robert’s dick tremble as it pushed into my crack and touched my hole. He pushed harder and harder against it but to no avail. Worried that he would give up, I waited for Robert’s next thrust. As he pushed forward, I shoved backwards with my ass, and the tip of Robert’s cock burst its way into me.
Peter must have done something similar because Phil broke into a happy smile at the same moment. Although Robert and Phil were initially nervous and hesitant, they became wild animals once inside us. They drilled our twats, as though there was to be no tomorrow. Our fannies were trashed long before the boys reached climax and shot their loads.
Robert and Phil were about to pick up their clothes when Peter spoke up.
“Hold on a minute. You’ve had great fun as tops, but you got carried away. You need to be a bottom at least once to appreciate the risks they’re taking to please you. Now is the time to learn. Get over the chair.”
Both boys obeyed without complaint. Robert was soon sighing as my finger worked its way through his virginal hole and found a few sweet spots in his love tunnel. He gasped as my erect cock entered his crack and touched his hole. I pushed very hard against, and Robert screamed when his sphincter eventually gave up the fight and allowed the tip of my dick into his tunnel. Robert was squirming as I moved deeper and deeper into him, but he soon settled and adjusted to my cock.
I went slowly at first but then moved to a faster steady speed. I felt Robert’s twat begin to struggle and squirm. As I came close to climax, I eased off for a few strokes before stoking the fire again. This time his twat was in tumult as I neared orgasm. Robert was groaning loudly with every stroke. I allowed my ardour to settle once more and then pounded him again. Soon my cock was ready to blow. Robert gasped with pleasure as two vigorous strokes hit home and flooded the depths of his tunnel with cum.
Peter finished Phil at the same time. The happy smiles on Robert’s and Phil's faces told us everything. We’d popped their anal cherries, and they were in dreamland; job well done. I knew that it wouldn’t be long before Robert and Phil were enjoying each other’s fannies.
The four of us redressed, tidied ourselves, and headed off to class. The afternoon went uneventfully, although I did notice that Robert and Phil were more fidgety than usual. My problem was that I couldn’t get the image of Peter shagging Phil out of my mind. I was jealous and got hornier as the afternoon went on.
When the final bell rang, I threw caution to the wind and virtually dragged Peter to our secret place. I stripped off my clothes. "I need your cock. Take me now, take me hard."
Never in need of a second invitation, Peter was soon ransacking my twat. I was close to collapse when he stopped pounding me. "Now, it's my turn. Make me moan."
I went wild at the sight of Peter’s sweet hole and shagged him hard and fast. I was close to climax when Peter stopped me.
“Let’s share this one.”
We got into a sixty-nine and finished each other in a mind-blowing joint climax.
“I was jealous of you and Phil. You looked like you were really enjoying riding him.”
“I resented you and Robert for the same reason. How stupid can we be? But you must admit we’ve found a wonderful way to dispel our fears. You’ll always be my go-to stress-reliever.”
“Okay, let’s go home. I definitely need my beauty sleep tonight.”
Robert and Phil were now bitten by the bug. They rode each other daily during the first week but then settled to a far less exhausting but equally satisfying regime of vigorous romps once or twice a week. Others in the class twigged to Robert’s and Phil’s sexual activities and before long, several other best friend pairs were enjoying the pleasures of regular therapeutic coupling.
A pair of boys approached Peter and me. “We know that some of the boys are having some special fun. We don’t know exactly what it is, and no-one will tell us. We don’t want to miss out. Do you know? Will you help us?”
How could we refuse? Peter and I met with Andy and John the following Saturday and went to a well-hidden site in the park. Both boys went bright red when Peter and I stripped off and looked stunned as we wanked each other. Thankfully, Andy and John got excited and didn’t need much cajoling to take down their trousers and undies and reveal their roused willies.
The enthralled looks that they shared as they held each other’s dicks for the first time were a delight. Without further encouragement, they stroked the sausage with enthusiasm and were soon were gasping for air as their cocks spasmed wildly and shot their loads. The scene was priceless and brought back the happy memories of my first time.
Andy and John then watched open-mouthed as Peter rode me doggy style. They winced as Peter’s cock forced its way into my hole, but they were almost in my face as I moaned and groaned under Peter’s onslaught.
“You’re really enjoying it, aren't you? Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Yes, it was a little sore at first, but now its pure pleasure. Nothing matches the sweet sensations of being plundered by a rampant cock.”
I don’t know if Peter liked having an audience because he finished me off with a rapier-like flourish, causing me to unleash a string of sexual epithets. Andy and John were transfixed by our reactions post-climax and oohed and aahed when Peter’s cum-coated shaft popped out of my ass.
Peter and I persuaded Andy and John to strip off entirely and to begin warming up their dicks. While they were engrossed in this, Peter and I lubricated each other’s holes and found a spot to kneel facing each other in doggy position. By now, the boy cocks were erect and ready. I told Andy to go behind Peter and John to go behind me.
“You know what to do. Go to it and enjoy it?"
They didn’t hesitate. John’s dick plunged into my crack and pushed hard against the hole. Being well-coated with lubricant, my sphincter resisted hardly at all, so the tip of John’s cock was soon snuffling its way around the inside of my love tunnel. John lost any inhibitions and went wild. He plunged the whole of his shaft into me, then pulled almost all the way back and began thrusting full-length strokes into me again and again. I coped with his rough pounding but only just. Imagine if this had been my first time?
I squeezed hard on John’s willy to try to get him to slow his pace, but this only encouraged him. Thrilled by the extra tightness, John drilled me even faster and harder. Finally, his dick trembled viciously and filled the depths of my twat with hot spunk. John slumped on top of me. He was exhausted but gurgling just like a contented baby.
We didn’t want the Andy and John to cool down too much, so we got them to set up in the same positions that we’d just occupied and began fingering and lubricating their virgin holes. The boys both chuckled during this warm-up but then squealed when we popped their anal cherries. We took it slowly, wanting this first time to be a joy for them. This approach worked well, and both boys were soon cooing with delight while our cocks slowly and gently raided their twats.
John became particularly enthused, his cock got hard, convulsed wildly and then shot its load while I continued to drill his fud. I was overjoyed but could hardly believe it; for the first time, I'd ridden a boy to orgasm. As I savoured the moment, I heard Andy climax. This was the trigger. Peter and I now screwed the boys hard and fast until we both shot our loads. Andy and John were ecstatic. I've never seen two boys smile so much.
Come mid-afternoon, I said to the boys, “Peter and I are going to share some fun, what you do is up to you.”
Peter’s cock had just entered my fanny when I saw John mount Andy and begin to ride him. Soon, I saw the flashes of delight on Andy’s face as his twat was raided repeatedly. Then, there was a sudden rush of activity, and Andy let out a yell as John rammed home the vinegar stroke. I realized that during this distraction, I’d been inattentive with Peter.
To invigorate his experience, I tightened myself around his cock. This extra pressure drove Peter wild, and before long, he had driven my twat into a frenzy and was filling it with spunk. By now, Andy was straddling John and eagerly screwing him. I jumped on Peter and set about pillaging his twat. Hearing Andy let out a final primal groan of orgasm powered me onward, and Peter was soon quivering and groaning while my cock filled his well-ravished fud with my love juices.
We all lay on the grass for a short time to recover, redressed, and then headed home still engulfed in the bliss of our day. Peter and I had a lazy Sunday but judging by Andy’s and John’s tired looks on Monday, they’d revisited their wells of love several times during the supposed day of rest. Not that this was unexpected. Once you’ve had that first taste of honey, you want it all the time. Only with experience does one learn that it’s by far sweetest when rationed.
From that day, all eleven best-friend pairs in the class regularly dipped their wicks. Usually, one or two couples would go off for some exercise air during lunchtime and come back, looking very flushed and satisfied. This meant that the secret place first used by Peter and me was occupied most days, but fortunately, we found other ones for our trysts.
The formerly fractious class became a unit that looked out for each other and made sure that our unique workouts remained a secret; a significant achievement with so the many prying eyes and teacher’s pets in the school. By in large, we were monogamous, but there was an understanding that we could provide emergency relief to others if needed. For example, with Peter’s agreement, I bottomed for John on a couple of occasions while Andy was off ill.
Most couples found, like Peter and I, that stress-relief about once a week was more than adequate. However, our needs increased while we were doing exams. Then, pairs sometimes burnt the calories far more often. During this period, Peter and I often coupled every two days and some others engaged in daily relief.
Peter and I had decided to celebrate the end of the winter-term exams, so as soon as the last test finished, we set off for an isolated barn where we thought we’d be safe. We had to run there because of torrential rain, but we didn't care; we had only one thing in mind. Peter and I were just starting to undress when Robert and Phil walked in.
"Oh, sorry, we thought that this place would be empty. We'll leave you."
“Don’t be silly, you don’t need to go back into the wet. There’s plenty of room here, find a place, and enjoy yourselves."
As it turned out, the barn was the place of choice for everyone in the class on that wet day. Soon, eleven boy-pairs were working out amongst the straw. The place was heaving, and the air filled with the erotic sounds and aromas of enthusiastic humping. I’m not sure if this ambience overexcited us or male competitivity took over because each pair went into overdrive.
To all intents and purposes, we shagged ourselves silly; every boy’s fud supped at least three or four loads of their partner’s cum. I was groaning loudly as Peter pounded my twat to distraction for the fourth time and screamed as his tremoring cock finally shot its remaining dregs of cum into me. Only when I heard a round of applause did I realize that we’d provided the last cabaret.
Eventually, people stirred and began redressing. This was a slow process because our clothes were all mixed together. Finding our outerwear wasn't too hard, but it was impossible to figure out whose underwear was whose. So, people ended up selecting the first ones that fitted them.
Being a kind soul, I waited until everyone else had made their choices. Big mistake because I found that a girl's vest and knickers were all that was left. Obviously, no one would admit that this underwear was theirs, and everyone thought it hilarious that I now had no choice but to wear them.
As I put on the camisole and then stepped into the bloomers, the barn fell silent. Everyone was ogling me, their eyes almost out on stalks. What on earth was going on? Only minutes before we’d been mingling freely together stark naked, but now the boys were utterly entranced while I redressed. Then it occurred to me. They’d only seen girls fully clothed, so could do more than fantasize about their hidden delights. Now, one layer of mystery was partly peeled back. They were looking at the nearest thing to a girl in her underwear.
Under the steely gaze of the boys, I picked up my shirt and put it on. The shirt was a size bigger than I really needed, so the hem reached well down my thighs. As I finished buttoning up the front, I was surprised to be handed a narrow belt by Phil.
“Put this around your waist.”
I did so and blushed when I was then greeted with raucous wolf-whistling.
“Wow, what a lovely dress. You’re oh, so girly, a real tease.”
Without further ado, Phil put his arm around me and clasped me tight. Then, he slipped his free hand under the skirt and up on to my knickers. I was quivering with trepidation when Phil then began to feel me up. In no time, he located the leg elastic, lifted it, and pushed his hand inside my bloomers.
I sighed as his fingers worked their way up my inner thigh, brushed my balls, and then began caressing my perineum. Delightful sensations began to build in my groin but then, all too soon, Phil removed his hand and let me go. He looked delighted with his achievement. I’d no doubt that he’d go on to please many a girl, but hopefully, they'd never find out how he’d perfected his fingering technique.
I saw that the remaining boys were now gathered around me. Like boys the world over, they’d all heard endless stories of the joys hidden under a girl’s skirt and were very keen to investigate them for real. But the boys also knew that it wouldn’t happen any time soon. So, for them, the chance to explore the pantie-clad delights of the next best thing was, pardon the pun, an opportunity to be grabbed with both hands. All to practice for the real thing, of course.
I could have argued or refused, but these were my mates, and I didn't want to spoil the end of their day. So, over the next hour, my knickers were pawed, probed, and caressed by one boy after another. Being their first visit to that enchanted place, most boys settled for an exploratory fumble and grope, but, like Andy, one or two boys had more definite ideas of what they wanted to do. I got quite horny as their fingers worked their magic inside my knickers.
Only one boy took the quickest way to the promised land. He went straight to the waistband of my bloomers and pulled them down out of the way. Without further ado, his fingers were on my crotch, massaging the zone which in girls would house the ultimate sweet spot. I was cooing as he stroked my taint and gasped with delight when he unexpectedly popped his index finger into my anus. He looked so happy to have triggered this response.
One by one the boys headed off home after they’d had their turn with me. As the numbers in the barn dwindled, the remainder became more and more excited. The last two were in such discomfort that they had to open the fly of their drawers and release their straining cocks. By then, my knickers were warm and wet, not just from my fluids but also the ministrations of so many hot and sweaty hands.
To my surprise, these boys shot their loads as soon as their fingers found my moist gusset. Presumably, in their sex-charged state, they’d momentarily imagined that they’d found the motherlode; a wet pussy. I’m sure that they were a little disappointed, but their post-climax smiles were still a wonder to behold.
As I heard the two boys laughing while they went their way, I stumbled and fell to the ground. I tried to get up, but I didn’t have the strength. So, I just curled up amongst the straw and was still laying there when Peter appeared back in the barn.
“Are you okay? I was worried when you didn’t follow the last lads out of here.”
“I'm okay. Just exhausted and confused. Don’t leave me, be my friend, hold me, kiss me.”
Peter was nonplussed momentarily but then grabbed me in his arms and planted his lips on mine. I pulled him in, and we shared our first luscious snog. We lay together amongst the straw engulfed in the sweet sensations that were flowing between us. Overcome by the events of the day, I broke off and cuddled into Peter’s protective arms.
Later, Peter helped me to dress and hand in hand, we made our way to our homes. Before we went on our separate ways, I hugged and kissed him.
“Thank you for caring and looking after me.”
I crashed into bed as soon as I got home and slept like a log through the night. Still feeling tired and sore the next day, I decided to spend the morning in bed. Luckily, I had to get up to go to the loo, and on my way back to bed, I noticed the camisole and cum-soaked knickers on the bedside chair. I hid them away in a drawer.
Just as well, because not long after Mum came into my room to wake me. I'd forgotten that joy of joys, the family was going shopping on Saturday. I spent a very long day, reluctantly traipsing around the shops. One thing made the day bearable. The memories of snogging with Peter. Had we moved on from best friends with benefits to something more intense?
The camisole and knickers were a problem. I couldn’t leave them in my drawer because Mum would inevitably find them. So, I washed off the stains as best I could, wrapped them in a towel and sneaked them into the family laundry basket. How was I to know that eagle-eyed Mum would spot straight away that they didn't belong? There was a heated discussion with Margaret about where they’d come from.
Eventually, they concluded that the undies must’ve belonged to a girl that had recently changed clothes at our house before attending school concert. Fortunately, my role was never suspected, or so I thought. The original owner of the undies also remained a mystery.
The Christmas and New Year period was very quiet. Peter and I met up only when our families had lunch together. Even then, the conversations were stilted. I was still in shock about the events in the barn and they'd clearly unsettled Peter as well. One day after the New Year, our Mums and sisters went off for the day on a shopping trip, so I took the opportunity to visit Peter. He was standoffish with me.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you want to be my friend anymore?”
"I do, but I'm scared that we’re getting too close.”
“You mean emotionally.”
“Yes, I want to be your friend, not your lover.”
“Can’t we go back to things as they were before?”
“I don’t know. Having seen you dressed as a girl, watching you being felt up as a girl, and kissing you, I don’t know if we can.”
“I see, that complicates things, but there’s one way to find out. Come with me.”
I led Peter through to his room, undressed and kneeled beside the bed. Peter hesitated for about a microsecond before he stripped off, lubricated his cock and drove it into my awaiting twat. Peter rode me hard and screwed my fanny to distraction. He clearly had plenty of accumulated stress to relieve because he shagged me for a long, long time, going through at least five cycles where he slowed things down when his dick was close to climax. We were both soaked in sweat and groaning loudly as Peter finally went feral. He drilled me without restraint until his tool shuddered and filled my fud with hot spunk.
Peter and I both crawled onto the bed and lay together recovering. This didn’t last long. Soon, I was raiding his love tunnel with all the vigour that I could muster. Peter was moaning contentedly as his twat finally gave up the fight, allowing me to pillage its very depths and coat them with my hot cum.
Peter and I then got into bed and slept together, just slept, for the remainder of the afternoon, entranced in the satisfying knowledge that we were besties with benefits once more. Over the rest of the holidays, we relieved our stress daily, culminating in an exhilarating but exhausting marathon session in the barn on the day before we went back to school. From then, we reverted to having intercourse about once a week just to purge the tensions of school life.
With the onset of spring, Peter and I began exploring the local countryside. There were many scenic and historical sites to sketch or paint, another passion that we shared. We soon realized that some locations were so remote that we never met anyone else. Ever adventurous, we’d often spend warm sunny days in these isolated places dressed as nature intended.
On these occasions, our libidos were high, and just like most animals in spring, we enthusiastically took each other's fannies time and again. Little sketching or painting was done, but we had great fun and provided the local wildlife with plenty of free raucous entertainment.
Although the ethos of the time was boys and girls had to be kept apart as they grew up, the barriers between them were nowhere as robust as the moral guardians believed. Then as now, teenagers were inherently curious about the opposite sex and adept at arranging forbidden liaisons. If a boy fancied a girl or vice-versa, they could sound them out via friends of friends, sisters, and brothers and arrange hook-ups if the responses were positive.
While most teens towed the strict moralist line, a few sweet trysts behind the bike sheds, in storerooms or in the hidden gullies and bushes of the playing fields were arranged in this way, and many of the lucky individuals would become life-long partners. I’d never been involved either directly or indirectly in such rendezvous, but that was about to change.
Margaret asked me to help her get together with Peter. Although I knew that she fancied him, this request came as a great shock to me because Margaret was very traditional in her views and always disparaging of couples who met up in this way.
“Can you ask Peter if he’ll walk out with me?”
“Yeah, I can do that, but why the great urgency? What’s brought this to a head?”
“A couple of friends have told me that Jenny, a girl in my class who chases anything in trousers, is boasting that she’s out to trap Peter. I need to get to him before Jenny spoils things for me.”
“Okay, I'll talk to Peter this afternoon.”
Peter was more than delighted with Margaret’s interest but was unsure about the practicalities. “The area is full of nosy parkers. If Margaret and I are seen out together, the red flags will soon be flying.”
"Margaret didn't say anything to me, but she's knowledgeable. I know that she'll have a plan."
My jaw dropped when Margaret explained what she had in mind. “I want us to swap. You’ll be me for the day, and I’ll be you.”
“What, are you suggesting that I be a girl and you a boy for the day?”
"That's exactly what I want. I'll dress in your clothes, and then no-one can complain. Peter and I’ll just be two boys out for a walk together.
“I can understand that, but why do I have to be a girl?”
“A boy and girl need to visit Peter and Jean, and two boys must then go for a walk. For us to cross-dress beforehand is the easiest and safest way of doing this.”
“I’d like to help, but I’m not keen.”
“Don’t be so high and mighty. This isn’t a request. After all, it won’t be your first-time in knickers will it? Yes, I know your little secret. The mysterious cami top and panties didn't belong to my friend, they were yours. If you want that information kept hush-hush, you’ll do as I say. Anyway, look on the bright side, you’ll get to spend the day with Jean.”
“Thanks, I’m sure she’ll have a good laugh at my expense.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
“Okay, I don’t have much choice, do I?”
Next morning, after our Mums had left to go shopping in the city, Margaret set her scheme in motion.
“Okay, strip off.”
I did as I was told. Margaret then put one of her bras on me and padded it out with socks. She dressed me a camisole, waist slip, white blouse, and a blue pleated skirt.
Margaret handed me a pair of shocking-pink panties. “You have to be all-girl, so take off your drawers and put these on. I know that you’ll like them.”
Given the circumstances, it was stupid of me to be nervous about removing my undies in front of my sister, but I was shaking. I finally got them off, stepped into the panties, and pulled them up without revealing my crotch. Margaret looked disappointed but would've been overjoyed had she realized just how much I was enjoying wearing her clothes. They were pretty, soft, and sensual. To be honest, I felt at ease in them.
Margaret handed me a pair of socks and Mary Jane shoes before she went off with my clothes. Soon, she came back fully dressed, she even had her hair tucked up in a net.
"How can you wear these horrible things? Their heavy, coarse and ugly."
“The down-side of being a boy.”
"What? Oh my, you do like girls' wear, don't you? I can see it in your eyes. Ah well, you enjoy. I'll just have to suffer to get what I want."
Despite Margaret’s complaints, the truth is that she looked stunning in my boys’ wear. Peter was in for a treat.
Margaret produced a wig, put it on me, and arranged it to match her hairstyle. I could now pass for Margaret at a distance, but up close, it would still be evident that I was a boy in a skirt. I didn’t get much time to think about things. Margaret was on a mission. She handed me her coat and hat and she, in turn, put on my jacket and cap. Then, she whisked me outside and locked the door before I knew what was going on.
I was terrified, and my fears were further heightened when the wind threatened to lift my skirt. We didn't live far from Peter's house, but the walk to there seemed to take forever. Luckily, we didn't meet anyone. Peter burst out laughing when he first saw me but then became serious when things were explained to him. Jean just hugged me, and she and I held hands as we walked with Peter and Margaret to the end of the street and then waved them on their way. Now the busybodies saw two boys go one way and two girls walk back to the house.
Two old men across the street got an eyeful when a gust lifted my skirt and slip, leaving my pink knickered crotch in full view. I was so shocked by this sudden exposure that I struggled to get my dress back in place, and the men seemed to appreciate every extra second it took me to cover myself again. Before that moment I’d always laughed when girls were caught unawares. But now I knew that it wasn’t funny; it was very embarrassing and upsetting.
But then the inner boy kicked in. I wondered how times the men would crack one-off while thinking of my pink-knickered groin. My distress was thus slightly tempered by the consideration that I’d brightened up these old men’s humdrum lives.
As Jean and I reached the house, she said something that caught me on the hop. "You need to learn how to control your skirt for the future.”
“What do you mean? Isn’t this a one-off?”
“That depends on today. Let’s wait and see. We can relax now. We’ve got the house to ourselves until evening.”
Jean didn't waste any time. She led me through to her room, sat me on the bed, pulled me into a clinch, and kissed me on the lips. Without hesitation, I clasped her tightly, and we sank into the most breath-taking of smooches.
I’d fancied Jean from the first day that we’d met but had never made any move on her. This was in part due to the conventions of the time. But also, because I didn’t feel that I was good enough for her. Jean was a boy’s dream and would have the hunks queuing up to be with her.
She shouldn’t be saddled with a nerd like me. That said, I was more than delighted to now find out that Jean had other ideas and had arranged a way for us to have quality time together. For me, a dream had come true.
This boy-boy, girl-girl plan had obviously been hatched by Margaret and Jean. Given the hold Margaret had over me regarding the cami and knickers, it made sense that I am the one coerced into dressing as a girl. Mind you, given that Peter would never agree to wear a dress, their choice wasn’t difficult. Who’d believe that a chance undie misadventure could lead me to this?
Now that Jean had signalled her interest in me, I wouldn't allow anything to stand in our way. No-one would question two girls spending time together. Also, I was surprisingly at ease dressing as a girl, so cross-dressing was a price that I was prepared to pay to have quality time with Jean. Of course, this meant that Margaret would have to get used to dressing as a boy or achieve the unlikely and persuade Peter to cross-dress.
