Author's note:
Welcome to the second chapter of Two Thousand and Ten – the tale of a year in the life of two friends from a seaside town in southern England. I would like to take this opportunity to point out that the following chapter is purely a work of fiction, my character names are chosen totally at random, and no resemblance to any person (living or dead), or any company/organisation, is intended and entirely coincidental. All characters are over 18 years of age. Please also remember that the author wishes to retain the right to use artistic licence whenever he wishes!
Hope you enjoy chapter two!
Two Thousand and Ten
Chapter Two – March & April
Monday March 1st 2010 - 10:24am
It was that time of year in England when daffodils seem to be growing everywhere. The cheerful yellow blooms that spring up in every park, garden, public space and even traffic islands and roundabouts, were messengers that spring was on its way and the drab, grey darkness of the English winter would soon be replaced with the vibrant colours of springtime. It wouldn't be long until the straggly, skeletal trees came back to life and painted the landscape with a wash of a million different shades of green. England wasn't called a
'green and pleasant land'
for nothing.
But that would be a few weeks away yet. However, the daffodils were the clearest indication that change was in the air.
Lindi looked out at the carpet of yellow blooms in the flowerbed outside the staff room window. She was savouring her third cup of instant coffee of the day during her morning break between lessons. Her year 11 pupils were doing well, and she had high hopes of their success in the forthcoming exams. Her year 7 pupils were up next that morning, they were settling into life at secondary school quite nicely now and already she had identified one or two star pupils. But she was always mindful not to single them out for too much of her attention. Although she would quietly inform them of her after-school history club that she held for an hour every Tuesday.
She was also mindful about keeping her male students engaged. There had been a growing achievement gap between girls and boys for many years, part of which was, in Lindi's opinion, due to the introduction of the GCSE curriculum in the late 1980's.
It was obvious to her that the current curriculum was more in tune with the way girls learned than the way boys did. The gap between the sexes wasn't that the boys were any less intelligent than the girls, just that they learnt differently and the current system didn't seem to work for them. The GCSE, or General Certificate of Secondary Education curriculum had replaced the old O-levels in the late 1980's and far more emphasis was placed on coursework than the final exam. The meticulousness required to maintain a good standard of coursework played much more to the strengths of the girls than it did to the boys who always used to thrive better when the clear goal of the final exam was more of a deciding factor than it is today.
She had aired her concerns many times at teaching conferences and through letters to the Department for Education and the government's Education Secretary. Each time though, the answers she received all boiled down to a simple message. That message being in essence a rather dismissive "Yeah, and?? Your problem being what exactly?" This apparent malaise regarding the issue of male underachievement both confused and concerned her. She didn't like to buy into Peter's joking conspiracy theory that the Department for Education, and the government at large for that matter, was under the influence of some kind of shadowy feminist illuminati, but sometimes she did wonder if there
was
a grain of truth to it somewhere.
'Drrrrrrrrrrrrinnnnnngggg!!!'
The bell sounded throughout the classrooms and corridors of the school signaling that it was time for the next lesson. Lindi drained the remainder of her coffee, rinsed her mug out in the sink and headed back to her classroom. Today's subject for her youngest pupils was King Henry VIII and his six wives. She always remembered the little mantra she had learned when she herself was at school to remember the order of Henry's Queens ultimate fates: divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived.
Monday, March 1st 2010 - 12:09pm
Peter had been on a dizzying high for several days now - ever since he had spent three days having sex with Alison at the flat the lesbian shared with her partner, Becky. He finally felt like a real man - in his mind he was an alpha male who had rutted with a female and, hopefully, successfully fertilised her. It would be a few weeks yet before he would know if their union had been successful but he was optimistic about the possibility of becoming a father, even if he was destined not to be a full-time parent. After having sex eighteen times she damned well ought to be pregnant, Peter mused.
He focused his attention back to his work - or at least, he tried to. He was due to attend the annual conference of the Royal Institute of Chartered Mechanical Engineers, which was being held in Nottingham in April. He had been requested by the committee to make a presentation on 'manufacturing technology in the digital age' but he was struggling to maintain sufficient attention on what he was doing. His mind kept wandering back to the events of a few days earlier when he had his penis buried inside a woman for the very first time.
He looked at the Powerpoint slides on his desktop computer, an especially powerful machine designed to be able to run the very latest CAD and 3D mechanical stress analysis software. He had been at it for ages and yet still the slides looked like a load of dull and uninspired crap.
"Oh, this is bloody hopeless!" He exclaimed, removing his glasses and rubbing his temples. What he needed was a break. What he needed was something to take his mind off the subject of sex.
What he
really
needed, the little nagging voice in his head told him, was a wank.
He immediately tried to dismiss that thought but it turned out to be infuriatingly insistent. The pressure caused by the erection in his pants was becoming too much to comfortably endure.
He tried to focus on his work but it was just no use.
"Dammit!!" He said through gritted teeth.
He got up from his desk and made for his office door. Just in time, he realised that his current state of arousal would most likely be visible through his trousers, so thinking quickly, he grabbed a sheaf of papers and drawings and held them in front of him to hide his obvious tumescence from view. Carrying drawings around was something he did all the time anyway so it would attract very little attention from the junior members of staff that occupied the large open-plan office space that lay beyond the privacy of Peter's single office.
Once past the twenty or so desks that stood between his office and the stairwell, he descended as quickly as he could. He could have used the toilets on the second floor but since they were the nearest to the office they would likely be busy. Not wanting to be disturbed, Peter instead opted to go down into the basement where there was a single unisex toilet cubicle situated next to the boiler room. He wouldn't be disturbed there.
This is crazy! Peter thought to himself as he flicked on the light and locked the toilet door, he was contemplating having a wank on company time - if anyone ever found out about this the consequences could be dire indeed and at the very least very embarrassing. But it was that slightly dangerous notion that excited him even more.
He unzipped his flies and slid his trousers halfway down. His underpants followed a few moments later, his aching erection springing free from its prison of cotton and elastic. Peter looked down to see a silvery stain of precum adorning the black material of his designer briefs.
There was no fantasy required this time. He simply grabbed hold of his drippingly erect penis and started pumping furiously. The constant drone of the extractor fan would muffle any involuntary sounds he might make while he relieved himself of his pent-up sexual desire so he could concentrate on trying to coax himself to orgasm as quickly as possible. There wasn't time to hang around.
In fact, Peter found himself pumping away at his penis so hard and fast that the precum that had collected between the head of his penis and his foreskin had changed from a crystal-clear strand of pre-ejaculate fluid, into a white froth, which seemed to make his erection appear like a rabid dog foaming at the mouth.
With a feeling of more than a little relief, Peter felt his climax approaching. He took his fist pumping down from top gear and slowed things down a little as he felt the familiar feeling of semen welling up in his loins, ready for ejaculation.
When it arrived, his orgasm was nothing special. He stiffened his body, squirted his semen directly into the waiting toilet bowl and after only a few seconds it was all over. Peter relaxed with a sigh and held his hands against the wall opposite him to hold himself up as he panted and gasped for air as if he had just run in the 200m final at the Olympics.
It wasn't the greatest orgasm he had ever felt, not even close to what he had experienced so very recently with Alison, but the release of pent-up tension and hormones was enough at least to scratch the itch. For now at least.
Peter cleaned himself up with some toilet paper, pulled his pants back up, zipped up his trousers and straightened his tie. He checked in the mirror that nothing was out of place, washed his hands, flushed the toilet and headed back upstairs to his office.
Monday, March 1st 2010 - 6:33pm
"You did what??" Lindi giggled as she sat down to dinner in Peter's top floor flat.
"I'm serious." Peter said as he sat opposite his friend, "I just couldn't concentrate on my work."
