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The Peculiar Memories of J. Arthur - the school years.

By Bernard Bostik III

The one pound coin in the palm of my hand glistened and shone with the ferocity of it's newness. They'd only been out a few weeks and I'd managed to procure one from the depths of my mothers handbag. God there was all sorts in there! Broken lipsticks, key's, orange peel, a finger nail, Tampax and a brand spanking new nicker coin. I closed my hand around the warm coin and transferred it to my trousers, I done the Asda Price tap on the front pocket and hopped, skipped and jumped on my way to school.


 What shall it be?..... should I go for the 10 Embassy Filter?.....or should it be a full on sausage dinner with all the trimmings (bread & butter, can of Tizer) down at Wings chippy at dinner time? 


My choice changed when I bumped into Tex as I entered the shop to buy the fags....


"Hey Tex got any new films?"


"As it happens our Jeff's just got a load of new ones in from work, loads of them Swedish Erotica with Seka in"


Tex was the Larry Flynt of our year (minus the wheelchair, of course) and his asking price for a 24 hour rent of a bluey was extortionate to say the least.


"A POUND? come on Tex mate, can we come to some sort of agreement"


 I was bored shitless with my mag stash under the bed, I needed new material and quick. Tex knew my predicament and he was milking it for all it was worth. A pound would mean no fags! A pound would mean no chippy dinner! I was going to pay for the use of that video, without any doubt, the mind was already made up. I just needed to barter for a better deal. 


"I'll take two films for a pound then, how's that sound Tex"


"OK, just knock round ours at dinner and tell me dad to get you two vids from under our Jeff's bed, the one with Seka written in red felt tip and anyone of the others"


As I waited at the open front door of Tex's house,  I observed through the crack in the door, his old man Billy retrieve the Seka video out of the video recorder under the television. He then came and slammed it in my hand before disappearing up stairs to collect my second video, from under their Jeff's bed.


Had I caught old man Billy cracking one off to Seka in her red silky underwear and obligatory chiffon scarf tied around her neck?. Billy hobbled back down stairs and handed me the other video. My wanking scenario was confirmed when a fleeting glimpse noticed old Billy was flying low. I turned on my heels and with a heart pumping at a thunderous level, I legged it home.


The heavy velvet curtains were drawn with a bit of a struggle, but once they were closed and every last bit of sunlight was extinguished from the front room, the games could then begin. I had to be quick as I'd already eaten into my dinner hour by 22 minutes and 20 seconds according to the swatch on my wrist. So as quick as lighting I freed the 'Seka' video from it's Kwik Save bag entrapment. I then hobbled over to the Ferguson Videostar with my trousers already around my ankles and pressed eject.


All systems go and after pressing play I positioned myself on the floor with a wad of bog roll at my side and rod in hand. But it was over in a flash. Seka had only just started chewing on the first cock ( of three!), when I couldn't help but splatter the contents of my testis all over the pink coloured bog roll. I dabbed the end of my bell with a few clean sheets of shit roll and placed the whole snotty ensemble on top of the TV whilst I pulled my strides up and retrieved Seka from the video recorder. A quick jam butty later and I was on my way back to school.


I realised my faux pas one hour in on a boring physics lesson, later on in the afternoon. I 'd drifting off into the land of nod at the back of the class when suddenly the colour pink started flashing up in my brain. I was having pervy dreams about getting a handful of Suzanne Sims tits behind the bike sheds but when I get to the bit were I lift her skirt up revealing a pink pair of briefs I have a mental block and can't think of nothing else but the colour pink. I want to carry on my thoughts and get my hands inside those nice pink knickers and start to frig her off for all I was worth, but I can't. I want to carry on thinking about pulling them pink knickers to one side as I hitch one of her legs up and stab away with my dagger of love at her slippery hole, but I can't. I want to carry on my thoughts about tearing those pretty pink knickerbocker glories off with my teeth and bending Suzanne over so I can pep per her bullet hole with my assault rifle, but I can't.


Why did my brain stop at the pink knickers? Why was the colour pink so significant? It then dawned on me as I woke up from my dream. With slobber running down from the corner of my mouth, I sat up in my chair as I came out of my slumber like I'd just had an electric shock and slurred a few words that sounded like 'oink hog haul' but in my mind i was saying 'Pink bog roll'. 


"PINK BOG ROLL" I shouted out again more clearly and clearly without thinking. God damn! I'd left my snotty pink bog roll mess from my wank earlier on top of the telly.


"What was that Arthur?" said Mr Barraclough the physics teacher. as he turned around.


He was half way through writing Newton's Law of Motion on the blackboard for us to copy and the one thing Barraclough hated was being disturbed when scribbling away on the board.


"What did you say then Arthur?" He inquired again with the incisiveness of someone who I thought deserved an answer.


My answer of "I was just yawning sir" was met with a splattering of suppressed giggles from my class mates and it means me spending the rest of the lesson stood outside in the corridor. It was then that a certain Mr Dennis - who was the head of year -  walked past , and upon noticing me he summoned me to his office for a further scalding. I ended up on report but I had other more pressing issues to deal with, like what had happened to the spunk rag on top of the TV? Had my mother discovered it after returning home from work and put two and two together and sussed out I'd been jacking off to hardcore porn in the front room?. So after the final bell sounded I gave it toes and sprinted all the way home to face the music.


My digits were shaking like fuck as I tried to put the key in the front door lock. My heart was racing also but it danced to a different beat than it did earlier on in the day. When I was fumbling with the keys at dinner time my heart was bouncing to some 70's porn funk, the tune my heart was beat mixing to now was Chopin's Funeral March. I finally opened the door and stepped inside. I spied my mother in the kitchen with her back to me and her hands busy in the dirty dish water.


"Is that you son? Your Nans in the front room go and say hello" she said with out turning round.


"OK" I grunted


By that cheerful reception I received of her, it was good to say she hadn't found it. As I poked my head around the door my nutty Nan who was riddled with Alzheimer's was over by the TV & Video player, poking around. she was the oly other person who could lay claim to finding the offending article.


"Is this one of them computers?" she said tapping on the Video machine.


"No Nan it's a video recorder, you can record what's on the telly and watch it back later" I blurted as I manoeuvred myself around her whilst hunting out the wank rag.


"Your Grandad brought me one of them computers back from the War" she croaked


"It's not a compu.....argh fuck it....did he Nan. What type was it a ZX81 or a Spectrum?" I said as I manhandled her back to the arm chair.


"I'm not sure but we used to listen to the Andrews Sisters on it all the time though" the nutty old mare continued.


There was no sign of the offending 'stiff as cardboard by now' spunk catcher, so where had it gone? Mum entered the room with a cup of tea for Nan and placed it down on the coaster on the coffee table. She then fished for the sweetex out my Nans handbag and proceeded to administer two minute white dots in the steaming brew.


"You had a good day in school? any homework to do?" 


She didn't normally ask these types of questions about my school day but I think she felt obliged with her mother being present.


"Er......not much like......I finished most of it during the lessons" I lied


I fucked off in to the sanity of the kitchen and raided the biscuit barrel. It was here I received my third scalding of the day off my mother. She warned me about eating to many biscuits and not leaving enough room for my tea. I wasn't arsed though because I'd already been keeping the horrible brown sludge in the pan under surveillance for the past few minutes and there was no chance any of that was entering my gullet, so I stocked up on more custard creams when she returned to carer duties in the front room. 


Where was it?...and what had happened to it?....I found out during tea. I first noticed a tiny pink triangle of toilet paper when my Nan leaned over for the pepper grinder, It was poking from the sleeve of her cardigan. Now the old Doris was a little bit partial to the tissue/toilet paper/handkerchief stuck up the sleeve routine, so there was a good chance that the semen swab stuffed up the arm of the bloody Marks & Spencers cardy was mine. I don't know if that was my offending article or not (I couldn't get a close enough look when she got it out to dab her weeping eye), maybe I'm just being presumptuous, but what else could of happened to it? My Mum found it and is keeping schtum or my Nan found it and is using it as a handkerchief.


Next Month : The YTS years



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