A Last Minute Present
Even at fourteen years old, Ben was still a cute looking boy, especially according to Ali, his girlfriend. At his age, though, he was still working things out and he knew that his best friend (and other things), Paul, was due to move to Dorset in a couple of weeks. He knew he’d have to keep it from Ali but he really wanted to give Paul a Christmas present to remember.
He couldn’t ask his Sea Scout friends to help him because Ali was sure to find out somehow. Her network of contacts would have been the envy of MI5. He had to swallow his pride and ask Martin (pronounced “Mar’inâ€) and Chris (pronounced “Lanksâ€) to help. They were Scouts and should be only too pleased to do what he wanted. The other advantage was that, once Lanks gave his word on anything, it could be totally relied upon. The four boys were in on the early Land Farmers v Sailor Boys feuds. They were also in the same Tutor Group in school.
Ben had made the arrangement to meet at his place at 10:00 on Christmas Eve. He knew that his dad was due to finish work at mid-day and would then spend the next few hours in the pub with his work-mates. His mum would have to work through in the shop until about eight in the evening so he knew the place would be safe.
He had already explained what he wanted Martin and Lanks to do so very little time was wasted.
Ben was smooth-bodied, upright and quite well shaped. Both Paul and he worked out together in Paul’s garage but Ben was taller and carried a bit more spare weight. Ben knew that Paul liked him in his white cotton p.e. shorts. (Readers will need to understand that this story is set in the late ‘eighties when boys’ shorts were briefer and sometimes tighter than they are today. It wasn’t considered odd at the time; it was just normal.) If he wore his nylon print briefs (Yes, people DID wear them!) under them, they were perfectly decent. Even without his underpants, the tight three-inch legs would hold him in place normally and that’s just how Paul liked him.
Lanks and Martin arrived. “Are you sure about this?†asked Lanks.
“Of course he is.†replied Martin unbidden. Don’t misunderstand me: Martin was a good kid, he was just keen to get on with tying up one of his traditional adversaries.
Ben told the two Scouts to help themselves from the fridge while he got ready.
He soon re-appeared wearing just his shorts and carrying a duffle-bag. He emptied the contents of the bag, mainly gaffer tape, rope and fabric onto the floor.
“OK, lads, thanks for coming; I know I can trust you and I know that you’ll be only to happy to tie up a Sea-Scout and also be happy to support a member of the best tutor group in year nine.â€
(Sorry: a bit of necessary invention of unlikely dialogue there; other than the initial thanks, all these agreements had been arrived at previously.)
Under Ben’s instructions his wrists were taped to his ankles. Martin then scrunched him up as much as possible and then Lanks and he worked carefully to wrap the cumbersome “package†into as tight a ball as possible.
“OK, mate?†asked Lanks.
“Oh f***, yes.â€
“Last chance.â€
“No. Gag me, blindfold me then add the other bits I asked you for. Oh, and for Land Farmers, you don’t tie too bad.â€
Just for that the Scouts rolled their “sponsor†around with their feet a bit before agreeing that gagging him would be a good idea.â€
Ben found himself gagged with tape bound around his mouth. Let’s face it: silencing him wasn’t that important and he was most unlikely to try to struggle out of his bonds until he was released by his Prince Charming.
A few turns of tape around Ben’s head blindfolded him and the a few experimental loops round his neck and the rest of his body bound him into an even tighter ball. Alright, Martin and Lanks were doing Ben a favour, but human nature wouldn’t deny them the opportunity for a few minutes’ football.
OK, so that makes an excuse for the next game, not that that was necessary. Being honest, guys, Lanks and Martin made the phone call because they’d promised to. You must remember that, at this time, there were no mobile phones.
“Paul?â€
“Who is this? OK, it’s you. What’s up?
“The Scouts want to wish the Sea Scouts a Merry Christmas. Why don’t you come round to Ben’s and see what I mean?â€
Let’s face it: a lot of the pleasure of the present lies in the unwrapping.