Stash Bonding
I'm sat here at my desk on this gloomy November afternoon contemplating an economic outlook as piss poor as the drizzly grey weather. I won't dwell on the current climate (economic or meteorological), instead I'll invite interested readers to join me as I reminisce about warm carefree summer evenings, long, long ago...

... The summer of 1986 means two things to me. The first of these things is the genesis of my apathy towards football thanks to being the only 12 year old boy playing 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 geeky kid with long gangly limbs who's curly hair was forced unwillingly into an unflattering 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 trying hard 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 languid and exotic promise as the 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 was 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! It's wrong to just take them!" I protested.

"But it can't hurt to have a look?" said Neil

"We can't hang around here. What if it's some nasty bloke who made this shelter and he catches us?" said Robin.

With myself as 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 cock into her inch by inch as she demanded that I fill her hungry pussy..."

Wow. This is what sex must be like.

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 approaching 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 self-satisfied 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 the 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

With that, 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 rear their ugly heads 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", Thu 6 Nov 2008, 16:27, 11 replies)

It's like
...a British version of 'Stand by me'.

Wicked.
(dchurch bah, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 16:36, closed)

^this

( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 16:38, closed)

Exactly what I thought!
I kept getting images of Stand By Me as I was reading. Excellent stuff.

The thing is, you've taken an already done-to-death topic (the finding of porn as kids) and made it fresh and exciting (not like that! Dirty bastards). Beautiful.

*Hero-worships* *clicks*
(The Apeface Cherub is not a cunty-uber-cunt, Fri 7 Nov 2008, 8:07, closed)

Same here!
Great story - have a click.
( snee held his breath since, Fri 7 Nov 2008, 12:47, closed)

Bosh
Mack it.

*click*
(Spaff_Quaffer Wise fwom your gwave., Thu 6 Nov 2008, 17:26, closed)

*click*
You haven't properly reached your teenage until you've Found Porn.
( Scaryduck LIKES EGG, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 17:59, closed)

A reply from Scaryduck
Is praise indeed.

Thank you sir!
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 7 Nov 2008, 19:03, closed)

You paint a colourful picture sir.
Nicely. *clicks*
( Noeli overtheshoulderboulderholderthingstraplatchboobs, Thu 6 Nov 2008, 22:01, closed)

You
knicked it didn't you!
(kitescreech still here, Fri 7 Nov 2008, 13:18, closed)

I love
the closing line.
(ice9, Fri 7 Nov 2008, 14:28, closed)

Ahhh
I can almost see the scene. Very well written and not the usual porn related tat. Well, you are a big boy now and I doubt you need to scurry around in bushes in for your kicks, well not with out a mountain bike anyway.
Happy days and many clicks.
x
( Rev. Jayneflakes Buy my book, I need the cash for drugs and hookers, Sun 9 Nov 2008, 21:49, closed)