The groan from the back of the car almost caused me to drive into the side of the track, but just in time I held my nerve and rolled the car to a stop. “Shit!” I said out loud, if what Sean had said turned out to be true then my Dad would kill me. Worried I got out of the car thinking about how up till now it had all been so cool.

I was working in local pub as a part-time waiter. The pay was not great but it was real money and meant that I did not have to sponge of my hard working father. Money I knew was tight at home and with Christmas approaching I was real glad when the Queens Head opened up its old stableblock, revamped as a dining area. I had helped ‘Captain’ Cole the Landlord out over the summer cutting the grass area alongside the canal. We had gone down there for a family pub meal and as it was Dad’s local he was well known. Dad went into the pub to get our drinks and place our order and as he was on talking terms with the Landlord, he came out and surprised me with the fact I had a part-time job in the pub gardens. Dads’ reasoning was quite good really, I cut the lawn in the back garden at home so the pub lawn, which was not much bigger should be a doddle. What he had not heard was that Mr Cole or Captain as he was called had plans to expand the pub’s business.

I therefore found myself working alongside Captain as we cleared the canal side bank of weeds and small trees and bushes. I quite liked working with him; he was in his fifties and had come out of the army, with his wife, with the intention of running his own pub. He had not reached the rank of Captain but it was what he was known by and he preferred it the being ‘King’ Cole. Once he had shown me what to do, working alongside me in his sloppy ‘cellar gear’ as he called it, I was able to work on my own. As the pub got busy in the lunchtime I would find myself bringing in the glasses from the garden and its new extension that I was gradually creating.

I also found myself having to work more and more on my own as Captain had to work in the bar. As I was sixteen I could not help him out there but I could collect the growing number of glasses and get them into the bar. When he had the new glass washing machine installed in a side room to the bar I was also able to extend my work to washing and stacking the glasses, especially at buy weekend periods. Whilst the money was not great I did get a meal and soft drinks and his wife Maggie understood a growing boys food needs, especially after a hard session with the lawnmower with attitude. God that bloody machine drove me mad.

I had been working there for a month when I turned seventeen and as I had some money I decided to invite my family to the pub for a birthday meal and it would be my treat. Maggie thought it a great idea and I was not supposed to know about the birthday cake that she was baking me.

Anyway on that Thursday night, I turned up in a shirt and tie with Mum, Dad, my brothers Ron and Mike and my Aunt Maureen who was living with us temporarily after being widowed. We had a great meal and Captain presented us with a bottle of champagne to start with. It was great; I had never had champagne before it was just like coke with a bite. Course Ron and Mike being twelve and nine pretended to be pissed and in the end Dad had to speak sharp to them.

The surprise cake was a real surprise, it was the shape of a lawnmower and it was sweet revenge to eat it. The other big surprise was that all the family and friends had contributed to give me one present, driving lessons. Passing my test was one of my teenage ambitions.

“At last you will be able to drive the lawnmower properly,” said Captain solemnly and it raised a big laugh.
I had a bigger shock when I came to pay the bill Captain and Maggie refused to accept any money, it was a small reward for the low pay I earned they said and to top it all they told me that when the stableblock was ready for opening, my summer part-time job would be turned into a part-time waiting job. So I was guaranteed steady money, through the winter, if I wanted it, and did I.

I also found out that the driving lessons were actually a weeklong course and even better there was a test at the end. It was a very proud father who was chauffeured home that afternoon. My mates at school were really envious and I loved showing people my full driving license.

I soon settled down into my new job and got on with all the other part-timers. The boys who worked there Iain and Davey were great and we sometimes went out together, when we were not working, especially if Dad lent me the car, as I did not drink, (Yeah OK well I did but never when I drove) it meant they could have a drink and not worry about driving. We all lived close or near to the village so it was never a long journey away.

Off course all the staff were invited to the Staff Christmas Party which would carry on from the pub closing time on Christmas Eve. I was not sure about this as Mum and Dad did the Father Christmas thing that night and I felt sure they would object, especially as it would mean a late night, more like an early morning. I was so pleased, over the moon in fact, when they said ‘yes’, alright initially mum said no, but dad talked her round, ‘He’s growing up,” he told her, ‘we have to let him go sometime; at least we know he’s in a controlled environment,’ and he spoke to Captain about it. When I became taxi driver for the staff that night I was so chuffed, I did not see the non-drinking tag, which made mum feel better about letting me attend. So that night, sorry morning; as those who lived furthest away cleaned up, I drove everyone else home until all I had left were Iain and three regulars who had also been invited to stay.

The oldest guy, Mr Gray, one of the evening regulars who was divorced and lived on his own, got into the front with me; Iain, the barman, Sean and Gazza, also young regulars, getting in the back. Mr Gray was quite merry but nice and even gave me a fiver when he got out of the car. Gazza now got out of the back and got in the front and I quickly dropped him off. To my surprise Sean now got in bedside me.

“Sorry mate,” he said, “but I can’t sit in the back with him anymore,” and he pointed to Iain who had disappeared down along the back seat. “He’s well pissed and I would be careful driving him cos he might chuck.”

This worried me, the car was Dad’s pride and joy and having someone throw up in the back across the velour seats would an absolute disaster and I would certainly use the loss of the car for, a week or even a month.

“He’s in a funny mood, as well,” Sean said, “’e keeps stroking my knee and slobbering over it, then he kisses it and believe it or not moves up me leg to kiss me between the legs. Well I can’t ‘ave that,” he giggled, “people might think we had something going on,” and he laughed. “Besides,” added Sean, “I wanted to make sure he did nothing to my new coat. I got it as a Christmas present for myself.”

I duly admired the new coat, which was long and black and suited him very well. He smoothed it down and unbuttoned to sit in the car it opened up to reveal the bulge between his legs. I kept looking at that bulge and wishing I could see what lay inside it. For years I had kept quiet about the fact that I liked looking at men’s and boys bulges. It had taken me along time to understand that other males did not always share my views and I was almost certain that I was gay. I knew when wanked that it was men I thought about, cocks in particular, big cocks spurting their cum all over me. I had up till now never ever done anything about nor found myself in any position to do so.

I had served Sean, his Friday night burger and chips many a time and I always felt giggly about him. He was tall, dark haired and to me had the sexiest smile. In my fantasies it had been more than burger and chips I had served him and sitting there in the dark in the car with him, the start of one of my particular fantasies gave me a huge boner, one I had to adjust to drive safely with.

Sean lived on a farm; his parents were farmworkers and had a tied cottage up a cart track. When I had done the local paper round I had often delivered up there to the four cottages which had been built opposite each other. As I turned into the track Iain groaned and I started driving slower over the bumpy road. All too soon we were at Sean’s cottage.

In my fantasy this is where he looked deep into my eyes, kissed me with a hot sucking lips and let me massage his huge magnificent sausage, spraying me with his voluminous ballsful of mancream, marking me as his bitch. What he did not do was the open the car door and slightly drunk all but fall out.
Quickly I rushed t help him up and managed to brush against his bulge in doing so. Did I feel a tremor, a response? He looked at me; I saw the fathomless depths of his dark eyes as I held him close. He leaned forward; I could smell his slightly alcoholic breath, closer he came. With throbbing cock I waited for that angels s brief kiss before we got down to some deep tongue action.

“Cheers mate,” he slurred, Merry Christmas, an fanks for the lift,” and swaying my reality and not my fantasy, stumbled of to his home. Open-mouthed, waiting, I stood there as loves young dream became a hand wave.

Now back down to earth I got into the car and drove off. That was when Iain’s groan stopped me.
“Shit,” I repeated and undoing the seatbelt turned around to check on Iain, what Sean had said about him being in a funny mood was probably true. Iain’s girlfriend’s family had recently moved house and she now lived sixty miles away and they were trying to carry on the relationship but were having trouble coping with the distance problems. It was made especially difficult as Iain did not have any transport and although at eighteen was just about a year older than I was he had not yet passed his test.