The Dew-Pond
by David Heulfryn


It was Friday night, and Paul had arranged for James to come home with him for a sleepover. They had done it many times before. James would pack a bag and take it with him to school, and they would walk back to Paul’s place when the last bell sounded at half past three.

He did not live too far from school, but it did take them nearly an hour to get home. The huge bag James brought with him was mostly to blame; it was just too damn heavy. James had it slung over his shoulder, but the weight slowed them down to a leisurely dawdle. They were also too busy messing around and chatting to get back quickly. And Paul’s mum would be home, so as soon as they set foot through the front door, there would be that most effective dampener of any teenager having fun, parental supervision.

As they turned into the street where Paul lived, they finally got round to sorting out just what they were going to do this weekend. James had got special permission to stay until Sunday evening when his parents would pop round and pick him up, so there was plenty of time for them to get up to all sorts of mischief. But the one thing they had to do was homework, and Paul had managed to talk his mum round so that they could do it on Sunday morning. She insisted Friday night, but he put on his best face and sweetest voice, and she soon buckled.

“So, what d’ya think. Take the football on the common? Mum’ll have tea ready about six, so we should be back by then.”

“Yeah, sounds cool,” James said.

“’kay then. You brought your kit?” He asked but knew he did.


“We’ll get changed and then head straight back out.”

Paul then turned sharply up the driveway of his semi-detached home and led the way to the front door, James was lagging, dragging his bag.

“I’m home, mum!” Paul burst through the door as he always did; James carefully crossed the threshold, not wanting to do any damage with his bag. He was the guest and wanted to Paul’s mum no excuse in putting a damp squib on the weekend.

“Hi.” His mum called from the kitchen. “Is James with you?” and she poked her head around the door to greet the boys. “Hello, James.”


“We’re going to get changed and then play footy.”

“Okay, but bring your school things down with you, I need to get them washed.” She then looked at James. “You too, I’m washing his so I may as well put yours in too.”

James followed Paul up the stairs as best he could, struggling with the bag.

Once in Paul’s bedroom, James dropped the bag to the floor with a hefty thump and began to rummage through the clothes and shoes until he found his football kit. Eventually, both lads were changed and ran downstairs.

They dumped their school clothes in a heap at the foot of the stairs and headed for the front door.

“Bye, Mum. Back in about an hour.” Paul shouted as he opened the front door.

“Bye,” James said, closing the door behind him.


The common they went to was only a few minutes from the house. To get to the flat ground they had to climb a small dyke, about two metres high, that protected the small housing estate from the local brook which fed into the river, farmland lay on the other side and regularly flooded in the spring. As a little kid, Paul used to play by the brook, paddling and trying to catch the tiny sticklebacks that swam there. Many a time he would come home with sodden and muddy feet, causing much frowning from his mother. One day he slipped as he climbed down the bank and fell in, headfirst. His mum was none too pleased that day. ‘How many times have I told you to be careful!’ She would say, but she never really got mad at him. She knew he was sensible and not much harm could ever come by him playing there, it was only a few feet deep. But he was covered in mud. As punishment, she made him clean the bath after he had cleaned himself up.

Today was one of the few times that one of them came back absolutely filthy. As they kicked the ball around, they edged closer and closer to the brook. Paul kicked the ball hard to James, who could not stop it; the ball went flying past his feet and rolled down the bank and into the brook.

“Quick, it’ll float away!” Paul yelled

And James ran after it. But he couldn’t slow down quick enough when he reached the stream and went careering down the slippery bank into the water, the ball stuck in the mud at his feet.

“Shit,” James muttered under him breath and looked up to see Paul peering down at him, unable to contain his giggles. James picked up the ball, covered in mud, and threw it at Paul. It landed on his chest and fell straight down to the floor with a slap.

“Charmin’, James.” The ball had left a great filthy mark on his chest.

Both boys laughed.

James got to his feet, dripping wet and covered in mud. Paul extended his arm out and helped pull James up the embankment.


“You are not coming in like that!” Paul’s Mum shouted as she saw the state of them, refusing them to come in through the front door. “Round the back, both of you.”

They both went round to the back door, trying not to laugh and make his mum angrier. Paul tried to walk straight in, but his mum had other ideas.

“Don’t even think about it. I’ve just cleaned up. You,” she looked at her son, “leave your shoes by the door and give me your shirt. And you” she tutted at James, “I’d better have the lot, and you’d better get yourself in the shower.”

James took off his trainers and began to make a pile of clothes in the doorway, first his socks, then shirt and finally his shorts. He had no problem just standing in front of his friend and his mum with only his underwear on but began to feel embarrassed when he noticed them both just staring at his muddy briefs, Paul barely containing a laugh.

“I’d better have them too.” His Mum chimed up, after inspecting the mud-encrusted undies. “Go get him a towel.” She told Paul.

Paul dashed off upstairs to grab a towel and came down, still with a big grin on his face. “Here y’are, mate.”

James wrapped the towel around his waist to cover himself up and carefully pulled down his underwear. Paul had seen him naked many times in the school showers, but he did not like the idea of exposing himself to his best mate’s Mum. That was going too far. He placed his pants on top of the pile of clothes, stepped over them, and followed Paul up the stairs.

James went straight into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Paul went to his bedroom and changed out of his shorts. He put on his jeans and a t-shirt and went downstairs to watch a bit a television.

After showering and drying himself, James came down the stairs in some track pants and a t-shirt. He sat next to Paul on the sofa and watched the television. Both boys could smell the cooking odours emanating from the kitchen.

As soon as dinner was over, James and Paul ran upstairs. They had to get in as much time on Paul’s games console before his Mum shouted up to tell them to go to bed.


They awoke late on Saturday morning. Paul’s mother decided to leave them to sleep and occupied her time pottering downstairs.

James woke first and, rubbing his eyes, walked to the bathroom. When he returned, he found Paul was sitting on the side of his bed.

“Mornin’,” James said.

Paul responded and got up to go to the bathroom. James busied himself by changing out of his boxers and getting dressed, he dressed in the same sweatpants and shirt he wore after his shower yesterday. He was rolling up his sleeping back and putting it to the side of the room when he heard Paul come back.

“What d’ya fancy doing today,” James asked.

“Don’t mind. But me mum’s going to be hanging round the house all day, so let’s go out.”

When they went downstairs, Paul’s mother fussed around them, getting their cereal, orange juice, and asking if they wanted toast. No matter how many times they said no, she kept asking.

Gulping down the last of his juice, Paul turned to James. “Come on, grab the football.” As they dashed through the front door, he shouted back to his mother. “We’re off out, see ya later.”

“Where’re you going.” She called.


The door slammed behind them, and they ran down the road to the brook. They sat on the bank and gazed over at the cornfield opposite.

“So, what do ya wanna do?” Paul asked.

James stared into the field. “Why don’t we go exploring. We ain’t done that in ages. And it beats hanging round.”

He stood up and tucked the football under his arm. He started to walk along the banks of the brook, and Paul followed behind.

They knew they should not have veered away from the brook and onto the farmland. There was no public footpath, and they were now trespassing. They yomped through the field, trampling down the reeds of corn. The adjacent field was fallow and passed that was a small tract of woodland. Their little housing estate got smaller as they got closer to the woods where they had spent many hours exploring and playing in when they were younger. Today, they called James again, but he soon got bored of climbing trees and pulling down those that were storm damaged.

Instead of going back, Paul forged ahead, leaving the woodland, kicking the football into the green fields. They raced each other to a small brick building. It had no roof and no windows. They had stumbled across, and old cow shed, the land once belonging to a livestock farm but was now derelict. Paul climbed the walls and stood to peer out over the countryside.

“Hey, James. There a pond over there.” He pointed into the distance.

James looked in the direction Paul gestured but could see nothing. He heard a thud and Paul leapt the six foot from the top of the wall to the hard, dry ground.


The ground around the dew-pond was chalky. White showed through the wisps of grass that tried to grow around its banks. It was quite large, probably about thirty feet in diameter and the water clear and calm. As the boys approached a few birds that were bathing in the pond took flight, droplets of water fell from their feet as they rose and splashed back into the pond.

“Strange place for a pond,” James commented.

Dew-ponds were often used as a water hole for sheep or cattle on farmland. Few were natural. The myth behind the name suggested that the morning dew trickled in each morning as it rolled off the grass, but the truth is often not as romantic; rain kept the ponds full.

“I wonder how deep it is.” Paul began to poke the pond with a stick he found on the ground. “Ground’s very firm.”

“I’m going for a paddle.” James kicked off his trainers, removed his socks and tucked them in his trainers. He rolled up legs of his sweatpants to just below the knee and gingerly stepped into the water.

Paul, motionless, watched half expecting him to suddenly disappear underwater. When it did not happen, he rolled up his trousers, kicked off his own trainers and joined James, paddling towards the centre of the pond.

“Wait up!” He called.

James turned around just in time to see Paul jogging through the water, his foot hit a rock in the water. He heard him yelp and fall forward, his hands outstretched to break his fall. James laughed.

The sodden Paul rose to his feet, water dripping from his clothes. He did not laugh, but his face broke into a smile, a mischievous smile. He lunged forward and grabbed James round the waist. It was too high to be an effective Rugby tackle, but his momentum and strength brought James splashing down.

James struggled, but Paul had come on top of him and dunked his head into the shallow pool.

James felt Paul release him, so he pulled himself up. He shook his head, throwing the excess water from his hair in all directions.

“You bastard. Now we’re both soaked.”

James did not look very happy, but as Paul relaxed and opened his mouth to apologise, he got his own back and tackled Paul, who fell. Instead of getting up, he sat in the pool and looked at James, who towered over him, his hands on hips. Both boys erupted into laughter. James held out his hand and pulled Paul to his feet. They walked to the bank and dropped to the grass.

“Oh, god. Your mum’ll kill us. What with yesterday, as well.”

Paul carried on laughing. “I know, but it was fun.”

They both lay on the grass looking up into the blue sky, watching the few clouds float away.

“We’ve got to do something,” Paul said. “I feel horrible in my damp clothes, and they smell.”

“Let’s just let the sun dry ‘em.”

Paul sat up and took off his t-shirt. He laid it flat next to him and began to unbutton his jeans.

“What you doing? You can’t take your clothes off” James looked shocked.

“I can’t lie in wet clothes. Besides, there’s no one around.” Paul pulled his jeans from his legs, placed them neatly next to his t-shirt and lay back down. He wore nothing but his damp boxer shorts. James did not look at him but, out of the corner of his eye, could see Paul’s boxers cling to his body and a slight bulge.

“Come on, James. You must be uncomfortable too. There’s no one around. Just imagine being on a beach in your trunks.”

Although James was hesitant, he stripped down to his briefs and lay back down. His eyes fixated on a cloud and tracked its movement across the sky; he did not want to look across at Paul. They lay silent and allowed the cool breeze to dry their skin.

Despite his concentration on the cloud, James could not help but notice Paul. He kept fidgeting and fiddling with his boxers.

After a few minutes, he got fed up. “Paul, what’s the matter.”

“I’m uncomfortable.” He fidgeted some more.

“Just lie still, and they’ll dry.”

“It’s no good, I’ve got to take them off.”

“You can’t!”

“James, we see each other in the shower after games twice a week.”

Without waiting for James’ permission, Paul lifted his backside off the grass and slipped his boxers to his knees. He sat up, pulled his legs free and carefully draped them on the ground with the rest of his clothes. James kept his eyes fixed skywards.

Paul grabbed his crotch and fiddled. “That’s better.”

James was silent.

“Oh, come on, James. It’s just us two.”

“What if someone comes?”

“Don’t be stupid, and besides, we would see them approach before they could see that we weren’t wearing any clothes.”

James gave in and removed his briefs. He knew he would be more comfortable but was uneasy with being naked and alone with another boy.

They lay quiet for the next half an hour and let the sun dry them. Periodically they would turn onto their fronts to allow the sun on their back.

Paul reached out and felt his clothes. “Still damp.”

He got to his feet and brushed the stray blades of grass from his skin. He looked down at James and saw his eyes closed. He looked peaceful with his damp brown hair clinging to his forehead. His mouth was open slightly, breathing, his chest gently rising and falling. Paul looked lower at the blond hairs around his navel; they trailed down and grew darker until they met his neat and small patch of pubes. Despite their many showers after gym at school, Paul never risked the long lingering look he now took at James’ crotch. He wanted to reach out and stroke the three inches of flaccid skin and clutch the sac that was now shrivelled, warming it and bringing it back to life.

Paul felt his own dick swell. It was not hard, but it was enough to show his excitement. He knelt beside James, staring into his face and licked his lips. He looked asleep. He was being drawn to this face.

With his moist lips, Paul leant forward and gently placed them on James. Their lips touched, but neither flinched from this contact.

James kept his eyes closed when he felt Paul’s kiss. He was not sure if it were real. Feeling the moistness against his dry lips, he opened his mouth slightly and traced both lips with his tongue. He heard a groan. Paul thrust his tongue forward, and they began to taste each other, sharing saliva. Their tongues played and rolled around their mouths, neither boy breathed.

Paul broke off and inhaled deeply. James opened his eyes and saw Paul looking away from him.

He heard Paul whisper. “I’m sorry.”

James sat up and placed his hand on Paul’s bare arm. He looked down at his own crotch and realised he was hard. “It’s okay. I liked it.”

Paul turned and looked at James, a tear almost formed in his eye. James merely leant forward and placed a kiss on his lips. The attraction was mutual, and he wanted Paul to know. James wrapped his arms around Paul and pulled him closer. Paul responded and embraced James.

Allowing his hand to fall, James felt Paul’s hard cock. He began to gently stroke it and inhaled the moans of pleasure from Paul.

James pushed forward to get Paul to lay on the grass, their lips never lost contact, and his hand kept stroking his cock. Pausing a moment, James straddled Paul and released his cock. He could feel it behind him, pressing into his backside. Paul brought his hand up and gripped James’ dick. It throbbed in his hand, the heat burning through his flesh. He rubbed the tip of the dick as he brought the foreskin down, the pre-cum slime staining his fingers. James kissed deeper into Paul’s mouth, his groans reverberating through their bodies. Paul continued to wank his friend’s dick. Then James broke off the kiss and arched his back and neck as if silently braying to the moon.

Paul felt the dick in his fist swell. Then the warmth of cum on his chest as it flew from the dick in his hand. James gasped for air while Paul gently stroked his dick until it stopped pumping. He released it and rubbed his hand over the pools of cum on his chest.

James climbed off Paul and lay beside him, his hand reaching over for Paul’s cock. He gripped it and began to pump while looking into his face. Paul closed his eyes and began to pant, his fists pounded the firm ground, and his cock erupted cum onto his chest. James stopped pumping and felt its rhythmic pumping against his palm.

As Paul’s orgasm subsided, James slowly started stoking again, milking the cock. James nestled closer to Paul and rested his head on his shoulder. His hand went from Paul’s cock and mixed the pools of cum that rested on his chest.

“Paul. That was fantastic.”

“I know. It’s never felt like that before.”

“I’m glad you kissed me; I’ve thought about it for a long time.”

Neither could pinpoint the moment their feelings of friendship had evolved. It was a gradual change. They had shared a close friendship for many years, growing up together, going to school together. It was very rare that a week went by without them seeing it each other. Paul’s thoughts and feelings for his friend became stronger as he went through puberty, and those feelings now took control of his head and made him act. He tried to suppress his feelings for James but being naked and alone with him was too much, and he could not prevent their first kiss. He felt relieved that it was finally no longer a secret and that James had reciprocated his kiss.

James’ feelings hit him head on a few years ago. It was a sudden realisation that he felt something stronger than friendship for Paul, but could not describe. He supposed it was love but was not sure. He began to get curious and fantasised about touching Paul’s naked body. As time passed, he would ritually wank off to images of Paul he had glimpsed in the showers at school.

“Are we okay?” Paul asked.

“Yes. I’ve wanted this for some time, and now it’s started I don’t want to stop.”

“We’ll have to be careful.”

“I know.” James rubbed his hand over Paul’s chest to try and reassure him. “You’re sticky.”

“I like it.”

“Come again?” James quipped, raising a smile on Paul’s face.

“I’m getting hungry. Are we dry yet?”

Their clothes were still slightly damp, but they thought it best to go home and change. As they pulled on their underwear, they jumped and squirmed. James said that the damp felt horrible, and they dressed quickly, eager to get home.


“Finally, you’re back.” Paul’s mum cried from the kitchen. She heard them bound upstairs and yelled. “Wait there. I want to talk to you.”

Paul hung his head over the bannister and saw his mother come into the hall.

“I’ve got to go to the shops.”


“Do you both want to come or stay here?”

“You go, Mum, we’ll be all right. We want to grab some lunch anyway.”

They dashed upstairs and closed themselves in Paul’s bedroom.

“I need a shower,” James said.

“Wait until she’s gone. She’ll think it odd having a shower at lunchtime.”

They waited in their damp clothes until they heard the front door slam.

“Thank god.” Paul sighed and quickly threw off his damp clothes. “I couldn’t believe she didn’t notice.”

“Do you want to go in first? Or shall we go together?” James smiled.

They padded naked across the hallway together. James held Paul’s hand and pulled him along. James turned on the shower and stepped into the cramped bathtub, Paul followed. Underneath the fine spray, James began to lather the soap and rub the suds over Paul, the smell of the pond water filling the room. Paul enjoyed the feeling of being washed, becoming hard and allowing James to rub soap on his crotch. He became nervous as he felt James’ fingers on his backside, prising his crack open and jumping as his fingers teased his hole.

As he the soap was rinsed from his body, his dick deflated, and he returned the favour to James.

“Shit. We didn’t get a towel.” Paul turned off the water and flung the shower curtain back. Water dripped from his body, reverberating on the enamel bath. With his hands, he brushed off the excess water from his body and stepped from the bath. He grabbed a towel from the airing cupboard and quickly dried his legs and feet before throwing it to James.

“Hurry up,” Paul called as he ran to his bedroom and retrieved his used towel that was hung to dry by James the previous evening on the radiator.

James came into the bedroom, his towel over his shoulder and watched Paul as he vigorously rubbed his hair. He let his own towel drop to the floor as he grabbed Paul’s arse. Paul stopped and looked at James, instinctively they drew closer and kissed, James moved his hand to cup Paul’s dick and balls.

“Lie down,” James said, breaking off the kiss.

Paul obeyed and lay on his bed, his arms propping himself up and his legs slightly apart. James climbed onto the bed, straddled Paul, and kissed him. Paul’s head fell onto his pillow as he moved his arms to embrace James. He could already feel James’ dick poking his stomach, it was hard, and he wanted to touch it again, but it was crushed between their two bodies. His own dick towered upwards, behind James’ arse.

James pushed his body down and felt his crack connect with Paul’s dick. He pushed further and allowed Paul’s dick to tickle the trail between his legs before springing back as it passed his balls. He lowered his lips to Paul’s nipples, teased them with his tongue and bit them with his teeth. He kissed a trail south, kissed his navel and stroked Paul’s dick with his hand.

“Do you want me to do this?” James asked.

Paul looked down and James’ moist lips and the tip of his leaking tip. “Yes.”

James bowed his head and kissed Paul’s dick, who shuddered at this intimate touch and let out a soft purr. James licked the length of his shaft from his balls to tip before wrapping his lips around the head, his tongue still teasing the tip. As he went down, his lips retracted the foreskin.

Paul’s dick was bigger than James expected and could not fit it all in his mouth. Paul looked down; the curly dark bush was still an inch away from James’ lips.

James slowly stroked Paul’s dick with his lips, his tongue teasing its way along the shaft, his head twisting from side to side to enhance the sensation. James cupped Paul’s balls and gently rolled the tender orbs in his fingers, they felt cold to his touch.

Enjoying the attention James was giving him, Paul began to gently thrust and grind his hips to get his dick deeper into James.

No matter how hard he tried, James could not swallow it all. It was the first dick he’d had between his lips and did not really know what to do. From the moans that emanated from Paul, he was doing all right. His fingers eased their way beyond Paul’s sac and teased open his crack. He rubbed in rhythm as his head bobbed up and down on Paul’s dick, his fingers creeping closer to his hole.

Paul was lost in his emotions, audibly moaning and groaning. He was thankful that his mother was not around, unable to keep quiet. The speed his orgasm took hold surprised him.

“I’m goin’ to cum.”

The warning was enough time for James to let the dick slip from his lips and begin stroking his wet member with his hand. He felt the spasm as the dick erupted and watched cum fly and land on Paul’s chest. His hand kept up the gentle strokes until cum stopped flying. With a firm squeeze, James pushed out the remnants which flowed down over his hand.

Paul lay panting.

James pulled himself next to Paul and kissed his lips. He wrapped his arms around him and allowed Paul to rest his head on his shoulder.

They closed their eyes and drifted to sleep, only to be woken sometime later to Paul’s mother slamming the front door shut. Their sleeping embrace abruptly disturbed as they jumped from the bed, and frantically pulled on their clothes.


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