Miles in at the Deep End


by Miles Paul

PART ONE I trudged gratefully into the lobby of the swimming baths. The warmth and humidity, the unique combination of smells, hit me at once. Already I was pretty wet from the rain and was looking forward to a good swim or at least to just messing around in the shallow end - I wasnt that great a swimmer. The place looked half deserted but I could hear the occasional thwack of the diving board and the splash that followed, a few cries from the changing rooms. Unmistakable, the weird acoustic they always have.

Boys messing around. Big boys flicking towels, swearing, belching, gelling their hair. All the things I wanted to avoid. I paid my money out of the £5 my mum had given me for the afternoon and took my ticket and coloured wristband with the locker key attached and headed for the boys changing rooms.

There werent many there after all. Four or five boys of about 15 in the main room. A fat, older man just heading into one of the curtained off cubicles. I passed through quickly avoiding eye contact and made for the seclusion of my favourite alcove where Id have some privacy to get changed.

I was a bit put out to find two boys already there. They must have just gone in before I arrived. Despite their age difference they were clearly brothers, the red hair and freckles they both sported gave that away. The older was about 17 or so, tall, gangly even, thin but muscular. The other was much nearer my own age, 12, maybe a year younger. I kind of recognised him from somewhere although he didnt go to the same school, Im sure. I knew most of the 1st years by sight. They both had the same pale skin, the same greenish eyes. The same toothy smile.

I set my carrier bag down on the bench and sat down to undo my shoes. I glanced across at the brothers. They were both already shirtless and carried on undressing without taking any notice of me. They kept up a stream of banter between them that was almost shocking to me as an only child. To have that kind of intimacy, that openness and camaraderie. I felt a pang of jealousy that was shocking in its intensity and was completely beyond my 12 year old comprehension.

I slowly unpeeled my socks, taking my time, waiting for them to leave so I wouldnt be seen naked in front of them. They were already in their underpants. I adjusted my neck to watch out of the corner of my eye. Both wore the same regulation white Y-fronts. The younger boy suddenly stared straight at me, saw me watching on the sly. Grinning all the time, he looked back and stared at his brothers groin. The older boy lowered his pants carefully revealing what seemed to me a massive bush of red pubic hair. I knew boys got hair there eventually but had only seen the occasional wisp sprouting from a couple of 13 year olds. This was evidently the real thing. And I never thought they could be red.

The younger boy let out a stream of high pitched giggles.

"Shut up, Stuart. Or do you want you got yesterday?"

Stuart. OK.

Stuart grinned wider still, a little reddening in his face the only indication that he did, indeed know that the threat was not just another joke. Another piece of their on-going, brotherly banter.

"Were friends really" Stuart said.

To me. He addressed it directly to me.

"Were not friends. Youre my little brother - theres a big difference. Now hurry up. "

Stuart paused, a little melodramatically, before tugging his undies down and getting quickly into a pair of tight black speedos. He watched me watching him as his tiny penis slipped shyly into his trunks.

"Dont look!" he said. He was still laughing but what could I do? He was more or less waving it in my face.

They stuffed their bags into a locker and Stuart was off.

"Come on Colin, hurry up. See you!" This last bit to me. Well, maybe he would, maybe he wouldnt.

When they were gone I hurried up a bit myself and got changed, chose the locker next to theirs and headed for the pool.

"Come on inside, Miles. Dont just stand there. Youre wet enough as it is."

Colin dumped their bags with the wet swimming trunks and towels in the hallway. Stuart ran on ahead. I held back, not knowing the layout of the house, not sure how far the invitation extended. Not yet ready to follow Stuart down every path no matter where it may lead.

"Hey, shoes off!" Colin shouted. Then in a quieter voice. "You too Miles. I dont want muddy footprints everywhere. Stuart! Shoes off, please!"

There was no answer except a couple of heavy thuds as two black plimsolls came flying through the air, landing only inches from where Colin was stooped down untying his shoelaces. He said nothing but winced in what seemed like genuine annoyance. The first genuine annoyance hed shown all afternoon. Perhaps he already regretted saying that I could come back to the house.

It had been a spur of the moment decision. The pool was already closing when we left together and the rain had worsened, was now a downpour and not looking likely to stop.

"_s_h_i_t_." Colin had said. "Come on Stu, lets run. Someone picking you up, Miles?"

"Er....no. Im going to have to walk. Its not far. Well, Castle Street by the market."

"Thats bloody miles man!" Suddenly Colin couldnt seem to stop swearing. "Youll get soaked. Cant someone pick you up?"

"No"

I didnt want to go into it but the answer was definitely no.

"You can come back with us. Its only round the corner. Miles can come back cant he, Colin? Please. Please say yes. Please."

"Stuart, he might not want to. Whenve you got to be back?"

I shrugged.

"Look you can come back to our house till it stops raining, OK? If you like."

I though about this a bit.

"Wont your Mum mind?"

"Mum and Dad are away. Its just me and my favourite babysitter!" I could sense the banter was about to start up again.

"Yeah, me and my least favourite baby" Colin put real feeling into the word "baby".

"Hes not babysitting really. I mean he doesnt have to do anything. I can do it myself!"

"Thats not what Mum said"

"No she didnt. Shut up!"

"....um. OK. If thats alright. Just till it stops. The rain...."

"Come on then, were getting soaked."

Colin immediately broke into a jog .

"Come on!" cried Stuart. "Race you!"

As it turned out, Colin was a very good babysitter and soon had us organised. Stuart and I were sent up to his room to play with instructions to put our socks, shirts and trousers on the radiator to dry. He was right; we were soaked to the skin. He dried off downstairs and busied himself with sorting out some tea and biscuits.

We had no inhibitions now about seeing each other in our underpants. In the pool Stuart had deliberately dive-bombed as close to me as possible as an excuse to doggie-paddle up and offer to play at "see-who-can-hold-their-breathe-underwater-the-longest." Various games followed, some including Colin, who we tried unsuccessfully to duck. No matter how hard we pushed him down, hed pick one of us up, then the other and toss us carelessly away, only for us to swim back eagerly for another try. We were all tired out when the tannoy announced that the pool would close in 15 minutes. We clung onto Colin, breathing hard, one on either side. He leaned back easily in the shallow end, his right hand casually supporting my bottom, his left hand, Stuarts.

The showers were fairly cramped and with a couple of dads there trying to shower some little kids, the three of us were squeezed together under the one showerhead. Colin had stripped off his trunks straight away and was vigorously shampooing his hair - all of it. Stuart and I kept our trunks on until Colin clucked loudly at us:

"Cmon. Do it properly." and with a quick jerk pulled Stuarts Speedos down. He nodded at one of the fathers with his naked 3 year old. The father nodded back in sympathy. Little boys!

"And you, Miles. Use some shampoo" He reached the bottle out to me.

"Trunks down" he said "I dont want to waste it"

Stuart was already giggling as I reluctantly revealed all but after bumping each other a few times and watching each other soap ourselves there was really nothing left to hide. At one point some of the fathers had to edge past with their kids. Colin placed a hand on my shoulder, his other hand ever so gently on Stuarts head and drew us back towards him to make room. I leaned back into Colins body and felt his penis, massive, or so it seemed to me, against my back. Felt the electric touch of his red pubic hair.

So we messed about quite happily in our underwear, mostly batting a table tennis ball against the wall, making up the game as we went along, Stuart chatting away, always leading the play with me considering each turn of the game in turn; weighing out my answers judiciously. Stuart had the one bat, I improvised with an old childrens dictionary, batted the ball right back from whatever angle it came at me. We took it in turns to kneel on his bed and rummage for the ball on the other side whenever there was a miss-hit which was often. I watched in fascination as his plumpish backside wriggled innocently in front of me and I briefly wondered just how closely he was scrutinising my backside sticking up like that when it was my turn.

I was about to find out.

END OF PART ONE


More stories by Miles Paul