A tale of looting and coming of age (repost)
... The summer of 1986 means two things to me. The first of these was the genesis of my lifelong apathy towards football thanks to me being the only 12 year old boy out in the street during the first week of the summer holidays as everyone else was sat indoors watching England predictably lose.

The second memory is of the fleeting bond of friendship that was forged in adventure by three twelve year old boys and ultimately broken apart by mutual mistrust. We've all grown up now and gone our separate ways. However, I daresay they both remember the events as vividly as I do for the same reason. We all learned a lot about human emotions that summer.

Firstly, we'll introduce the awkward kid with long gangly limbs and curly hair forced unwillingly into an ill-advised side parting - me. Then there was the somewhat spoiled cocky and assertive leader of the trio - Robin. Lastly there was the portly ginger haired kid full of bravado trying to assert himself - Neil.

Misfits one and all, we spent the long and languid summer days talking about Raleigh bicycles and girls. The latter discussions were charged with exotic promise as the hormonal harbingers of puberty coursed through our veins. None of us had ever kissed a girl, although each of us sought to outdo the others with embellished fanciful stories about the objects of our affections.

All very innocent now but back then the delicious whiff of salacious scandal hung thick in the air as we trudged along the footpaths bisecting the big grassy fields adjacent to a large gravel pit near our homes. Portia Clemence had once shown me her nipple (this was in fact true), Susan Jones had saucily flashed her pants at Robin, Neil was trying to find the words that would draw an adoring Liz Foster into his arms for keeps - or the end of the summer holidays at least.

And then we happened upon something which would change our lives forever.

A few feet away from the seldom used footpath, amongst the bare earth and gravel, we found a makeshift shelter. Our territorial instincts piqued, we investigated further and discovered three empty packets of Hula-Hoops, a red tartan blanket and two glossy magazines bearing a scantily clad lady on the front which hinted at the treasures which might lurk contained within the pages.

"They belong to somebody! We can’t just take them!" I protested.

"But it can't hurt just to borrow them for a bit?" said Neil

"We can't hang around here. What if it's some tramp who made this shelter and he comes back?" said Robin.

While I opted to be the lookout, Neil and Robin picked up a magazine each and slipped it up their shirts carefully. Giddy with excitement, we scrambled back to the footpath and made our way carefully to a small copse nearby, fearful that an adult we knew - a teacher, a next door neighbour perhaps - might approach us and find the forbidden bounty we were smuggling away.

And thus the most deliciously scandalous afternoon was had, pouring over the full page photographs and reading aloud the stories, interspersed with gasps and sniggers of delight.

"Clarissa cooed with delight as I finally parted her lips and slid my massive cock into her inch by inch as she demanded that I fill her hungry pussy..."

Wow. This is exactly what sex must be like. Yeah.

Some of the women in the magazines were in their early twenties the thought of the private company of such mature women made us yearn for adulthood. Oh yes, we were aghast that twenty one year old ladies only ever wore stockings and lacy underwear underneath their daily clothing.

The onset of our respective dinner times meant that we had to return the magazines and run home before we were missed. Robin had other ideas though.

"Hide them in the hollow of that tree. No-one will find them there and we can come back later and have another look".

"Yeah!"

We agreed to keep this a wonderful secret between the three of us. A vow of smug silence about our find was quickly made as we departed for home, wearing great big shit eating grins on our pre-teen faces. We'd finally seen naked ladies. We were practically men.

A week later, with the first flecks of gold starting to bite into the green leaves that marked the approaching end of the balmy summer holidays we went back to check our secret stash for one last look before returning school. Once again I was lookout as Neil and Robin groped into the hollow of the tree and retrieve our carefully hidden bounty.

"They're gone!" Robin cried with anguish.

"Which one of you is playing a trick on us?" I hissed in reply scarcely believing that someone could find them in that good a hiding place.

"Somebody must have followed us here and taken them" said Neil

In that moment, the mood began to turn sour. It had to be Neil who'd taken them. It had to be. Robin hurtfully threw charges of pilferage in my direction. Our indestructible bond of friendship was breaking apart amongst the mutual mistrust and ultimately shattered as the accusations turned into an exchange of blows.

And thus we returned to school the next day, each of us coldly acknowledging the others, unaware that the mood was a foreboding warning of the jealousies and Machiavellian misdemeanour that would eventually occur when we did eventually start dating girls for real.

Ah, the summer of 1986... We found treasure but ultimately we lost our innocence.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 12 Aug 2011, 10:45, 10 replies)

Beautifully written young man.

( girlinthehole, Fri 12 Aug 2011, 11:05, closed)

beautifuly written

reminds me of Les Dawsons soliloquies and you can't get higher praise than that
(sittingduck Attention seeking, bullshitting fuck-knuckle, Fri 12 Aug 2011, 11:26, closed)

Sorry to repeat what others say, but
Beautifully written
( sandettie light vessel automatic New Twitter - @bollocksreally, Fri 12 Aug 2011, 13:40, closed)

Fucking rubbish.

( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Fri 12 Aug 2011, 13:49, closed)

^This made me laugh
Sorry PJM ;)
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 12 Aug 2011, 13:50, closed)

That's alright
Made me laugh too.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 12 Aug 2011, 14:05, closed)

Well written!
There is nothing - NOTHING - that breaks up youthful friendship so easily than a porn find.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Fri 12 Aug 2011, 14:04, closed)

Ah yes,
"Clarissa cooed with delight as I finally parted her lips and slid my massive cock into her inch by inch as she demanded that I fill her hungry pussy..."

That's what's missing from all the internet pron - the literature!

Maybe that's why posters here of a certain age have a way with describing sexy encounters so lacking in the more youthful contributors; they haven't been brought up on Mayfair and Penthouse 'stories'.

Poor things.
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Tue 16 Aug 2011, 11:24, closed)

One of these days I will write a frankspencer special with the final line
"And I climbed on top of her and did it".
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Tue 16 Aug 2011, 15:41, closed)

I can feel a book straining to burst forth from you sir
Fantastic use of prose, excellent diction. I am sure that the Guardian would love to read your writing.
Clicky for Machiavellian misdemeanor on its own.
( Rev. Jayneflakes Buy my book, I need the cash for drugs and hookers, Tue 16 Aug 2011, 20:09, closed)