"MOR-NIN'-ZAC!" yelled Gareth as he leapt up and down on Zac's bed.

Zac opened his sleep-filled eyes and smiled.

"'Koff," he grinned and dragged Gareth on top of him.

"HANSON! JONES! My classroom. Morning break." barked Russell.

"FUCK! Doesn't that guy ever l..."

"AND tomorrow," he yelled, stepping back into the doorway from his just-out-of-view position behind the doorframe. "And be late at your peril." With that curt remark, he strode off down the corridor.

Gareth reluctantly prized himself out of Zac's grip, allowing Zac to see the four-and-a-half inch bulge that was the result of a need to piss and the smell of Zac Hanson.

Gareth grinned, thrust his hips at Zac in an exaggerated manner, then grabbed his towell and joined the procession of lads heading for the bathroom.

Zac smiled an inane grin, arched his back and catapulted himself out of bed. He too grabbed his towell and ran down the corridor after Gareth, spinning it into a rope and whipping him on the arse when he caught up.

"ARRGH! You fuck!" He yelled as he turned round to assail Zac. Zac, however, simply jumped round to his blind side, pushed him backwards and legged it to the bathroom, shedding his boxers and T-shirt in the process so that he was completely naked by the time he got there. Showing no regard for the poor second former who was just about to step under the free shower jet, Zac barged in and walked straight into his place, but there was sod all he could do about it.

"Hey, Pete," whispered Gareth into the second former's ear. "You still got that SuperSoaker here?"

Little Pete's face grew into a smile that Satan himself would've been proud of, and he legged it back to his dorm.

Zac, meanwhile, was enjoying his piping hot shower, shampooing his hair with someone elses shampoo and just feeling thoroughly good about himself as he ran his foamy hands through his hair, over his shoulders to his chest, and finally down to squeeze and massage his not-completely-soft cock.

'This won't do' grinned Gareth to himself. 'I think my Mr. Hanson needs knocking down a couple of pegs!'

Glancing round the room, he spotted the red plastic waste paper bin. On closer investigation, he found it to have a liner containing a couple of used tissues. Excellent! He pulled the liner out and stuck the bin under the tap the cleaners used for flooding the floor to save having to use a mop bucket. Just then, little Pete reappeared brandishing his outrageously coloured SuperSoaker and proceeded to fill it in the sink. Once both parties were fully armed, Pete set the ball rolling (under Gareth's direction) by confronting Zac.

"Hi, er, Zac..."

"That's my name, don't wear it out..."

"Yeah, well, you nicked my shower..."

"Whatever, man - I'll be done in a minute..."

"I want my shower NOW!" yelled Pete, producing the SuperSoaker from behind his back.

"Bet you don't!" yelled Zac, cocky as ever.

"Bad bet," grinned Pete, squeezing the trigger. Zac leapt back deep into the protection afforded by the envelope of warm water created by "his" shower head. Mistake. Gareth closed the hot water stop-tap, sending nothing but freezing water over him.

A few seconds later, Zac leapt away from the now icy stream of water with a loud "FUCK!", much to everyone's amusement and as he did, Gareth chucked his bin full of cold water all over him.

Zac made repeated kinda swallowing / choking noises as the icy water knocked the wind out of him so, just to add insult to injury, Gareth grabbed his towel, ran the end of it under the cold tap and whipped his arse with it.

"That's for nicking me shower!" said Pete, giving Zac one final shot from the SuperSoaker before taking his rightful place under the now warm, freshly vacated shower head.

"Damn. Looks like we're gonna have to get you warmed up again," smiled Gareth at what to all intents and purpose like a drowned rat, albeit a rather cute one.

Zac, ever wanting the last word, smiled and shook his head violently from side to side, his drenched hair catching Gareth quite convincingly round his cheeks. Before he could retaliate, Zac grabbed him in a headlock and dragged him back down the coridor to their dorm, dripping cold water all over him.

I gradually woke to the relaxing sound of a cacophany of birds singing for all their worth in the trees by the river. I was lieing on my left side, my right side limbs draped over Tay, semi-hard dick nestled neatly in his defined buttocks.

The thing that confused my mind, however, was the fact someone was doing the same to me, only difference being whoever's dick it was was a whole lot harder, and a lot closer to its target than I was with Tay!

Being ultra-careful not to disturb whoever it was, I gently turned my head to try and get a glimpse of my wanna-be lover. Fully expecting it to be either Jamie or Triv having accidentally turned over in their sleep, I was rather entertained to find that the throbbing lump of flesh between my arse cheeks belonged to no other than Spider! This could be good...

Slowly at first, I began to clench and release my buttocks, dragging his foreskin over the sensitive tip of his dick. He made a muffled grunting noise and began to hump against me. The muscular arm he had draped over me began to tense, pulling its owner hard against me. Accompanied by a determined grunt, he thrust one final time, spraying my back with copious amounts of his cum. Whether it was his own horniness, our display of raw passion or just the smell of sex that provoked this I wasn't sure, but he sure enjoyed it. So powerful was his orgasm, in fact, that it woke him right up. I pretended to be asleep.

Spider sighed hugged me again. Then he must've opened his eyes.

"Oh fuck," I heard him mouth as he oh-so-gently began to try and unravel himself from me without causing me to stir. "Shit. Shit shit shit!"

Quickly, he wiped his cum off my arse, and immediately got up and left the tent. All the cuffuffle caused Triv, Jamie and Tay to begin to wake up. I hugged tay close to me, him giving a slight moan of approval. I bent over him and kissed him on the cheek, revelling once more in the stunning texture of his pale skin.

He opened his sleep-laden eyes a fraction, allowing me a glimpse of those deep pools of consciousness that hypnotised me so. As he focused, a broad smile spread across his face. "Mornin', lover!" he almost giggled.

"What's so funny?"

"You!"

"You think I'm funny, do ya?"

"Kinda..." he said in a tone that made him sound sooo sexy.

We were both now grinning as wide as was possible without personal injury.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"YEAH?"

"YEAH!!"

"Right! Prepare to be tickled!" I announced, getting into a kneeling position. Tay immediately curled up hedgehog-style, trying to protect all his tickleish bits as fas as possible.

He succeeded for the most part except for his testicles which, due to their capacious size, could not be easily concieled in his present position. As an observation from our earlier experiences, the most sensual tracing of a finger over genetalia could be quickly and easily degenerated into the most astoundingly ticklish feeling simply by accompanying the action with the phrase "Ticky, ticky, ticky!". Just goes to prove how much brain power goes into interpreting feelings...

Using my index and forefingers as a pair of "legs", I began "walking" my fingers from his right knee towards his upper thigh:

"Round and round the garden"

"No, Dean, don't!"

"Like a teddy bear"

"DEAN!!" Tay's fingers were clenching hard at the material of the sleeping bag now.

"One step,"

"NO!"

"Two step,"

"Arrggggnnnnnnn..." Tay muffled his own groan by shoving the sleeping bag into his mouth and biting down hard.

"Aaaaaaaaaand...... TICKLEUNDERTHERE!!!" With light, fast finger movements I caressed the delicate bridge of skin between his bollocks and arsehole. Within a second, he'd burst out of the hedgehog position by straightening his legs at lightning speed, trapping my hand under his arse.

"Gotcha now, Hanson!" I grinned and dropped my head down onto his tummy, blowing the loudest, wettest, most violent raspberry I could muster, causing him to shriek out with pleasure, then collapse into complusive fits of laughter. "G... Gerroff me, you freak!" he spluttered. I looked him straight in the eye, took a deep breath and blew another one right over his left nipple. His limbs were now thrashing around all over the place in a desperate attempt to break out from underneath my mouth. No chance. His level of laughter continued to increase until he could barely make a sound - his body just convulsing as his jungs tried to expel air that simply wasn't available.

I eased off my assault, Tay just looking dazed and generally out of it as is laughing subsided, but still having one of those rediculously wide smiles only a damn good tickling can produce. I found myself wondering at his astonishingly good looks, the soft lines of his (now rosy) cheeks and slightly upturned nose accentuating somehow his dark, vaguely angular eyebrows, the whole symmetry of which was hinted at by the smallest of widow's peaks at his hairline. He was georgeous, he could be moody, he was beautiful: he was MINE...

And then he was on top of me, pinning my shoulders down with his slightly bronzed arms, taking advantage of my state of admiration of him to the full.

"How you can expect me" he said, hair half obscuring his face, "not to get you back for that..."

I smiled and ran my hands up and down his arms from the tips of his fingers to his pits and back again. The mock stern look on his face was once again replaced by that of pleasure: he lowered his hips on to mine so his entire weight was being supported by my shoulders and my dick. BOY did that feel good! He drew breath as he made contact with me, both of us closing our eyes as the pleasure surged forwards from our loins. I wrapped my arms round his back and higged him closer to me, Tay gently letting his arms bend as he allowed more of our naked bodies to come together.

I shivered as I felt his warm breath on my neck, closely followed by the wonderful sensation of his tongue lapping at my flesh, which was succeeded by the intense feeling of his teeth sinking into me as he hickeyed me good and proper. I moaned loudly and arched my back as the pain (which my brain was quite successfully interpreting as intense pleasure) shot through me, causing my already hard dick to spasm violently. Tay finished his bite with a slap of his lips and traced his tongue up onto my cheek, over my lips and down to my ear on my right.

He sucked the lobe into his mouth and bit on it gently. He simultaneously ran his hands down from my shoulders to the middle of my rib cage, then whispered into my ear:

"We'll just skip the 'round and round' bit, shall we?" and so saying, dug his fingers into my ribs. Once again, he'd taken me completely off guard.

"ARRGH! Tay! Stoppit!"

"No way!" he grinned. "I got you exactly where I want you!" and with that doubled up his efforts, causing ME to start thrashing around, laughing uncontrollably. I tried to roll over - not the best of ideas: He stopped me half way, one hand attaching my stomach, the other my back.

Then he suddenly leapt off me and dived for the tent flap, naked as the day he were born. I made an inspired grab for his ankle but only succeeded in touching it - no way near good enough to hinder his rapid exit. 'Here goes,' I thought, and dived into the freezing air after him.

I stood up and raced off after the beautiful naked form infront of me, hoping he was looking where he was going, as I was way too busy admiring his wonderfully tight backside to worry about minor details such as navigation and people-evasion. The sense of doing something completely stupid (such as running through a field with no clothes on in broad daylight) felt strangely good - if it was the sheer ludicrouness of it or just the feeling of liberation I'm not sure, but whatever it was it fealt great.

Tay was not looking where he was going. "Morning ma'am!" he yelled as he legged it past the field's owner who was feeding her chickens.

"Oooh I say! 'Ere, Glad! Look at this!" I heard her yell as I too raced past her, hot on the heels of the blond adonis that had just greeted her.

Tay's route took us on a long elliptical path, skirting round our corner of the field and into the wooded area by the stream. Shit he was a good runner! He nimbly evaded the trees, leaping from side to side, never once faultering or slowing. Then he stopped dead, and I ran headlong into the back of him.

"HA! Gotch..." I saw why he'd stopped. Spider was sat, knees against chest, gently rocking back and forth, sobbing his heart out.

"Hey Spider! Wossup, man?" asked Tay, kneeling down to his level.

Spider looked at Tay and myself and momentarily forgot his anguish as he realised we were completely naked. He then looked very awkward.

"Don't matter..."

"You wouldn't be sat way out here if it didn't matter," smiled Tay. "C'mon - you can tell us..."

"It's, uh, kinda sick..." he admitted, blushing deeply. Tay raised an eyebrow. And it involves you..."

"Huh?"

"I told you it were sick..."

"No - go on..."

"Well, I were havin' this SERIOUSLY cool dream about this girl at school, yeah? Melissa..."

Melissa Cooper was the school hooker. She was fifteen going on thirty, and had seemingly had every lad in school at least once. Every lad, that was, bar me. I annoyed her something rotten for the simple reason that no matter how hard she tried to get into my kegs, she was always turned down flat. And believe me, I LOVED doing that...

"Anyway, I were really goin' at her - she were moanin' an' all and I came real hard in her so she screamed with pleasure..." Spider was actually smiling as he relived his dream, infact to such an extent he had to rearrange himself. "Thing is, when I opened my eyes, it was you I was fucking, Tay... I were so shocked I woke up, then found it was actually Dean I'd been rubbing against..."

He looked at me. "I came all over your back, man... Sorry..."

Tay smiled. "Why thankyou, Spider! That's quite a compliment! Anyway, what happened next?"

"Uhh - that's it."

"Soooo, um, like.... What's your point?"

Spider looked in disbelief at Tay. "Don't you think that's sick?"

"What?"

"THAT!"

"Should I?"

"YES!" yelled Spider, now completely exhasperated. "I don't like boys! I'm not a fucking queer! Shit, sorry..."

"Probably not," I added. "You're just horny..."

"Yeah, but..."

"But nothing! Just forget it... Besides," I said, moving over to Tay and throwing my arm around him. "I don't blame you one little bit! I'd rather have Tay any time!!"

"Yeah, but you're gay, Dean..."

"Damn - forgot about that..."

"Just forget it, Spider," concluded Tay. "Just one of those things. You still haven't caught me, Dean!" he grinned, and legged it back off to the tent.

"YOU FUCK! Comere!!" I yelled and raced after him...

Spider sighed and shook his head. He knew he wasn't gay. How could he be? He'd already had two girls and SEROIOUSLY enjoyed it. The image of Tay he'd dreamt flashed before his mind's eye and he winced, ashamed - almost betrayed - that his sub-conscious could do that to him. 'Just forget it,' he told himself. He stood up slowly and walked back towards the violently shaking tent as Tay and I mobbed Triv and Jamie with cold hands and feet...

"Sugar in the gas tank of his car," suggested Zac as they sat in Chapel waiting for the staff to grace them with their presence.

"He'd kill us, man!" laughed Gareth. "That MG is his pride and joy!"

"Banana up the tailpipe then. Nick his distributor cap! Let the tyres down!"

"We CAN'T touch the car. He'd have us expelled... How come you know

so damn much about trashing cars, anyway?"

Zac grinned. "Ike has one!"

"Can you be quiet now, please?" yelled the bedraggeled Prefect on Duty from the doors of the chapel. The volume of the voices steadily decreased to a rumble, but didn't stop completely until the headmaster had taken his seat.

Seeing as it was Friday, hymn practise was the agenda for this morning's chapel. Gareth picked up his battered hymn book from under his chair and leafed through the vaguely attached pages. Zac grabbed the brittle from him and started doing exactly the same thing.

"Shit, I don't know any of these!" he whispered as the effeminate music teacher cleared "his" throat in the most pathetic way possible.

Now there was being gay, and there was being a complete wuss. Ben Moodie fell well and truely into wussland. Bizarre thing was, I'm fairly certain he ain't gay... Ho hum...

"I'd like to start this morning by playing you a piece of music..."

"Man, does this guy HAVE balls, or were they cut off when he was a kid?"

"Nathan? Could you start the music please?"

Silence.

"Nathan?" he enquired again - his easily-flustered personality shining through good and strong as a murmur started to travel round the chapel. Curruters half turned round in his seat, leant back and poked Nathan, who was heavily engrossed in a copy of 'Private Eye'. He jumped and slammed the play button on the CD player, a moment later the chapel being deafened by the hundred decibel onslaught as Vivaldi's 'Spring' screeched forth through the ancient, vastly over- driven speakers.

Nathan dived for the volume control and wrestled it to a lower level. After it had been allowed to play for a minute or so, Mr. Moodie waved at Nath for him to turn the CD off.

"Who can tell me the name of that passage?"

"BACK passage?" whispered Zac into Gareth's ear, causing him to splutter a stifled laugh.

A few hands went up around chapel, including Mr. Curruthers'.

"Yes, Martin?"

"Innit the music to the MFI ad on TV?"

As the assembly degenerated into fits of laughter (much to Russell's distain) Moodie cast his eyes heavenward in his pathetic "give me strength" way. "Mr. Currethers, perhaps you could enlighten us further?" he asked, hoping to get a co-operative response from his colleague. No chance. This is Eddie Curruthers we are dealing with here...

"Sorry, Ben - I thought it was the MFI music too..."

Moodie visibly cringed as all traces of decorum made a rapid exit from the Chapel. Why did this ALWAYS happen to him? He looked round the raucous crowds to see a single arm held aloft. THERE WAS STILL HOPE! He made a very sibilant "Shhhhhh" sound, the conversation tailing off for the third time.

"Yes um..." SHIT! He didn't know the kid's name! DAMN DAMN DAMN!

"Zac," grinned Zac.

Oh no - not Zac Hanson! He'd heard Russell ranting about him in the staff room, and although he usually took Russells descriptions of the atrocities any pupil under his care committed with a cellar of salt, somehow they suddenly appeared very real as this seemingly innocuous blonde lad sat before him, smiling sweetly.

"Yes, Zac?" He asked with trepidation.

"It's the Allegro from the 'Spring' movement of Vivaldi's 'The Four Seasons'."

Moodie's jaw dropped through the Chapel floor. A text-book perfect answer! From Zac Hanson! There was a god! He would have to speak with him later.

Russell simply glared at Zac. He had been looking for any excuse to slap another day of Hard Labour on him, but he had been denied that pleasure. And it made him angry...


On to Chapter Seventeen

Back to Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Index

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The Exchange is © 1999 by Dean Lidster. This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.

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