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From his early teens, Jeremy had always had a feeling he was "different". While he was studying for his A levels and when other boys of his age were becoming interested in the opposite sex, Jeremy just felt... nothing. He was more inclined to spend the time with his head buried in a book or enjoying outdoor activities. He loved exploring the countryside on the second-hand bicycle his parents had given him for his 18th birthday. Many a weekend, he would disappear early on a Saturday morning for hours on end on his pride and joy, rucksack on his back, a map in his pocket and a foil-wrapped sandwich, lovingly prepared by his mother, and then spend as much of the day as possible cycling all across the county. He loved being on his own and the solitude riding his bike gave him, along with the ability to detach himself from everything that was going on around him and his family life. His Sundays were spent maintaining his beloved bike, making sure the tyres were pumped and that the gears were well-oiled.
Being the only student who felt he needed to apply himself that little bit harder for the upcoming exams, his limited circle of friends at school teased him mercilessly for spending too much time revising and not chasing "birds". Those who would never be his friends would frequently label him sneeringly as 'a poof', or "a queer". On the surface, it didn't bother him; he was fit enough to look after himself. Often, he had seen to the ringleader of a group of boys that seemed to delight in picking on him. Like everyone at that time, he hid his "difference" by attempting to fit in. He tried having girlfriends, but in his heart of hearts, he knew something was missing.
Anthony, his father, a good-looking man in his forties with a well-toned physique gained from his time in the army, had taught his sons how to look after themselves; "stand up to the bully", he would tell them. 'Once you've dealt with them, the rest of the gang will fade away. On the surface, he was a stern parent who believed in the saying "spare the rod and spoil the child" - something that his parents had instilled in him - but underneath that exterior was someone who loved his family and would do anything to protect them. He worked hard to put food on the table and make sure the family were well looked after and with a roof over their heads, but it always seemed that there was never enough for special occasions or the occasional treat. The engineering company that he had worked at before he was married was a safe job; he knew he'd not rise through the ranks with speed, but preferred to keep his head down and get on with his job.
Their children's education was his priority, and that ate into their limited budget. Most of the school uniforms were purchased second-hand, like the car the father drove.
Caroline, his once-glamorous mother, on the other hand, doted on their youngest son. It had been a difficult birth; the doctor had informed the parents that they should understand that it would be impossible for Caroline to conceive without serious consequences after Jeremy's birth.
Unlike his other two brothers, Alexander, the eldest son, and Matthew, their clever middle son, both whom had been sent away to boarding school, Jeremy had scraped through his 11+ to attend a local grammar school as a day boy. Alexander followed in his father's footsteps and attended his father's old school, whilst Matthew had won a scholarship to one of the top public schools..
To help the family finances, Caroline had taken a job with a local land agent, something she enjoyed, and although it didn't tax her more-than-adequate brain, she had fun helping clients find their perfect house, something she found she was good at. The little bit of extra money certainly helped with the expenses of such occasions as Christmas or birthdays.
Jeremy found himself frequently drawn to one of the teachers who taught him English. Mr Grainger was your typical teacher of the time: tweed jacket with leather arm patches, grey flannel trousers and well-polished shoes. Neat tie and sometimes a knitted waistcoat. There was something calming about his demeanour - he always found time to answer Jeremy's questions after the lesson, and took time to make sure Jeremy understood. Even Mr Grainger's lightly placed hand on his shoulder didn't worry Jeremy, although the other students teased him by calling him teacher's pet! It hadn't occurred to Jeremy that his was the only shoulder that received such attention.
It was one of his usual Saturday excursions on his trusty bike that Jeremy decided to divert to a small local town. He was thirsty, having covered 20 miles already, and it was only 11.30 in the morning. The town was bustling with its usual Saturday market in full swing: locals buying their fruit and veg, plus meat from the butcher's van, along with an assortment of delicious-looking pork pies and sausage rolls. With his small amount of pocket money, he bought an apple and sat on the bench to take in his surroundings. Well-clad women with shopping trolleys happily chatted amongst themselves, joking with the vendor on the stall about the quality of the fruit. From his seat, Jeremy could tune easily into the conversations being had, wondering if Bert's lumbago would ever clear up and imagining what these women would be cooking for supper that night.
He finished the apple and stood up to find a bin. On the other side of the marketplace, he espied a bin next to the public conveniences and made his way over to dispose of the remnants and make use of the facilities. "Never miss an opportunity", he could hear his mother saying.
The facility was quite small, with 2 lockups to one side as you entered. In front of him were 6 stalls. The place was quite clean, but had that unfamiliar aroma of bleach melded with stale pee. One of the lockups was free, so he made his way inside, finding a bolt to secure the door.
Lowering his trousers and sitting down, checking there was loo roll, he suddenly noticed a hole in the wall between the two lockups. Whoever was in the next door had kindly placed a piece of paper over the hole to give them both a bit of privacy. As Jeremy sat there, he didn't at first notice the paper being moved slightly to allow his neighbour a glimpse of what might be going on. It was a few minutes later before the paper was removed completely, and Jeremy could see the man's eye peering through the hole to check what he might be doing. As his neighbour leaned right back, Jeremy was aware that his neighbour was tugging on his rather large, hard cock. He couldn't explain why this excited him and discreetly leaned forward to see more, aware that his cock was starting to harden. The man in the next door cubicle slid his finger in and out of the hole, gesturing god-knows what to Jeremy. He stood up, showing off his hard cock and stroking his hand back and forth along its length, twisting his body sideways to give his neighbour a good look at what was on offer.
It wasn't too long before this stiff cock was being slowly pushed through the hole, much to Jeremy's surprise. The purple shiny helmet and veiny shaft looked too good to miss, and although Jeremy wasn't sure what he should do, he wondered what might happen if he lightly flicked his tongue on the eye and around the purple end. He was enjoying this sensation and tasting the salty dribble of precum oozing from this cock and could hear the gentle sighs of pleasure coming from the other side. After a few minutes, the cock was withdrawn, and the bloke sat down, ripping a piece of loo paper out of the dispenser. A moment later, the piece of paper came through the hole, so Jeremy took it and read what was written. "I have a car not too far away, it'll be safer than here," it said.
With a few hand gestures and nothing said, the man indicated he'd meet him outside by the car park next door. He got up and threw a few sheets of paper down the loo, flushing it before he left, and made his way out. Jeremy followed shortly afterwards, choosing to wash and dry his hands in the antiquated all-in-one system installed in the facilities.
He was concentrating on brushing the remaining water off his hands as he walked out when he heard a familiar voice.
"Hello, Jeremy." It was his English teacher, Mr Grainger, walking towards him, smiling.
"Oh, hullo, Mr Grainger," Jeremy stuttered in surprise. "How are you, sir?" He could feel his face redden, as though he'd been caught in the act.
"Very well, thank you. What brings you here?"
"I like to spend my Saturdays on my bike, sir."
"Good lad! Hope you're being careful." This last veiled comment slightly threw Jeremy - he wasn't sure what he needed to be careful about. With that, Mr Grainger disappeared into the public loo.
Jeremy quickly unlocked his bike and walked it a short distance to where his lock-up neighbour was standing, who in turn threw his cigarette on the floor and turned on his heels to walk to his car. Jeremy followed at a safe distance, watching which car the man was driving.
He was unaware that Mr Grainger had emerged from the public loo and was now watching his every movement in the car park. He could see Jeremy speaking to a stranger through his open car window, which slightly concerned Mr Grainger. But he dismissed the thought and carried on with his morning shopping. "He's old enough to look after himself," thought the English teacher. "I'll check what he was up to on Monday after the lesson."
After a short conversation, Jim, the car driver, as he'd introduced himself to Jeremy, suggested a quiet spot where they could meet. It wasn't too far out of the town and sounded easy to find, so Jeremy said he'd follow him there.
Slightly flushed with excitement, not due to his exertions, Jeremy peddled up to the assigned meeting place. He placed his bike on its stand next to a tall hedge, noticing the car was empty. From the other side of the hedge, he heard a light cough and made his way through a gap to the field where he found Jim waiting.
Jim was ready for him; his flies were undone, and the bulge in his pants was prominent. Instinctively, Jeremy approached, his heart racing, fully aware of what was about to happen. Jim undid the thick belt and let his trousers fall to the ground, as Jeremy knelt in front of him and fumbled to free his hard cock from the boxer shorts. Jim moaned as he felt Jeremy's warm lips gently caress the eye of his cock and slowly take the length deep in his mouth.
"Oh god, that feels good," he whispered as his hands rested on the back of Jeremy's head. "You'll make me cum, boy." The large, swollen dick slid in and out of Jeremy's mouth with ease as Jim stroked his hair. "Yes, you like that cock, don't you, boy?" Jeremy felt both of Jim's hands on the back of his head holding him steady as he began to thrust harder and deeper. "You want my spunk, boy? You want to taste my load?" With one final thrust, Jim shot his hot, salty cum deep into Jeremy's mouth. Jeremy was keen to spit this thick, salty mixture out before he threw up. He was unused to the taste and texture of cum, and all he wanted to do right now was spit it out.
As Jim cleaned himself up on a piece of tissue he found in his pocket, he said "That was great. My wife don't do a blow job as good as that".
"I've never done it before," Jeremy blurted out, as Jim took a cigarette out of his packet and offered Jeremy a smoke. Anything, he thought, to take away the taste that lingered in his mouth.
"Blimey," replied Jim. "I'm your first?"
"Yes," Jeremy drew in the cigarette and coughed, spitting out what he hoped were the last remnants of spunk.
"Well, you give great head, mate." Jeremy smiled vacantly and stared down at the grass. "Listen," continued Jim, "I hope I see you again. I gotta go, wife and all that, you know?"
Jeremy looked up from where he sat, as Jim zipped himself up, brushed any grass off his trousers, muttered his goodbyes and disappeared back to his car.
Jeremy lay back on the soft mound of grass, enjoying the silence, ruminating on what had occurred in the past few minutes. The taste of the cigarette was alien to him, but he thought it better than cum. He opened his rucksack and found the ham sandwich made earlier and lay on his side as he opened the foil wrapping. Thank you, Mum, he thought and smiled as the clean taste of the sandwich soon removed any trace of fags and cum.
His ride back home was uneventful, as was the greeting from his parents. It was the usual Saturday mid-afternoon, his father sitting in his chair watching the racing, pipe in mouth, paper on his lap, checking the form. His mother was in the kitchen making a cup of tea and asked her son if he'd like one too, as he disappeared upstairs to clean his teeth, he shouted down, "yes please".
With what Jeremy hoped was a less noticeable smell of cigarettes, he sat down in the kitchen with his cup of tea, answering his mother's questions about where he'd been that day and had he met anyone.
"Bumped into my English teacher, Mr Grainger, mum. I cycled a good 20 miles to the town in the next county. It was a nice ride out." He sipped his tea and smiled thoughtfully at the events of the day. If his mother only knew...
"Oh, and how was he?" His mother enquired.
"Well, didn't say much, mum," Jeremy replied. "Asked me if I'd cycled all the way there. Bit stupid, really, as how else would I have got there? Bought an apple," he added as an afterthought.
"I'm surprised he didn't say something about revision and exams." Jeremy ignored the comment knowing full well it was a subtle hint for him to go and revise.
Finishing the cup of tea, he made his way back to his bedroom and, sitting down on his bed, took out the books he was studying for the forthcoming exams. Jeremy sighed heavily: he felt he'd never fully understand Shakespeare, yet his mother could quote passages ad infinitum to him. He opened the bookmarked page and stared and the lines of text in front of him. Try as he might, he couldn't take his mind off his earlier diversion in the field. He certainly found it hard to concentrate on what he should be reading. He sighed and lay back on his bed, his mind racing with what he'd done. Part of him felt a bit guilty. He tutted to himself and told himself not to be so silly. After all, he decided, he wasn't the only one.
To be continued...
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