Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Schoolie

Life in The Village, through the eyes of Tom Grant, the only teacher at the remote school.

This is an original work of pure fiction (just an expression of a fantasy)
by Robert A. Armstrong (a pseudonym)
(re-written from my 2013 version)

The resemblance of the characters by action, name, location or description to any real person is purely coincidental.

If it is illegal, or offensive, for you to read stories involving interactions of a sexual nature between adults and youths, then what are you doing here?

 

From Chapter 33

“When I finished, I put it away, did up my pants and turned around to wash my hands. He was waiting and punched me in the face, growling, `Fucking poofter!” I fell down. Then he left. When I got up my face hurt and my shirt was covered in blood. I got some paper towels and wiped a lot of it away but my nose kept bleeding.”

I really want to say, `I told you so!” but my sympathy for Will”s plight overcomes the urge to drive home my previous warnings to him. “OK,” I say. “Let”s finish up then get you home to clean you up properly.”

“I”m really sorry, Tom,” he says, giving me a quick hug in an attempt to make amends for his actions.

As we pass the Games shop, I note that Jarrod is busy with a customer, so we keep walking.

When we arrive home, I go in first. There”s nobody around, so I motion to Will and we hurry up the stairs.

 

 

Chapter 34 – The Trip Home

“OK. Take your bloody clothes off and I”ll get some ice from the refrigerator,” I say to Will.

“You want me naked, do you?” he asks enthusiastically. “I”ve never heard you swear that way before! But, if you”re that desperate, then for you, anything.”

“I meant `bloodied”, you incorrigible little sod,” I turn and say at the door. “I”ll wash them for you and then throw them into the clothes drier.”

“Awww!” he returns with fake disappointment but, then, smiles as broadly as the pain in his face allows. “Oww!”

“Incorrigible!” I mutter again treading down the first couple of stairs. Then I turn, retrace my steps and poke my head through the door. “But I wouldn”t complain if you did take everything off.” And I head down.

“Incorrigible!” I hear him call after me. Smart alec! Lovable! An absolute prize!

There”s nobody in the kitchen. Good! No explanations necessary! I put a couple of ice cubes into a plastic cup, grab some gauze patches from the first aid drawer and head back up, avoiding my parent-and-sister-alarm step.

I”m not as surprised as I could have been to see Will standing, facing the mirror, examining his face, touching it gingerly, naked.

With him in front of the mirror I get to see the best of him, back and front, at the same time. I never tire of taking in his perfection. It”s only making love to him that tires me – once we `get started” it”s hard to stop until we are both totally stuffed. LMAO.

Despite the very real temptation, I want to focus on fixing his face so that it”s not too obvious, if he can be serious for long enough, then I”ll take care of his clothes

I shut the door, walk over to him slowly, while ogling his beauty. My natural instinct is to grab one of his arse cheeks. I force myself to resist. “Face me,” I tell him.

He turns and stares into my eyes, probing seductively to my very soul. I have to avert eye contact, albeit reluctantly. I glance at the mirror which doesn”t aid my resolve. The angle of the light on his body merely highlights the firmness of both cheeks separately. I think, `Focus, Tom! The face, remember?” He continues to stare at me most alluringly while I use the gauze, wetted with iced water, to clear away all traces of blood from under his nose, one corner of his mouth and even a little to where it has run under his chin. I wrap an ice cube in another piece of gauze and tell him to hold it on his top lip. He takes it in one hand while, at the same time, reaching for the front of my pants. His own manhood is noticeably rising.

“Later,” I tell him then, holding my fingers across the top of the cup to prevent the ice cubes from escaping, I bathe my favourite all-beef rectal probe with the icy dregs. Now, his temperature isn”t the only thing going down!

“Hey!” he protests, looking shocked.

“Later, I told you,” I say with some seriousness. “Now, hold that ice there until I come back. I won”t be long.”

I collect his clothes and use them to mop up the spilled water. I add to the pile a wet and smelly towel from the other side of the bed that I”ve just remembered. Then I head out, leaving him to contemplate a memorable morning.

Having had some previous experience with blood from cuts and abrasions, I follow Mum”s tried-and-tested method for pre-washing then I set the washing machine to `cold” water. At least Will”s T-shirt isn”t white, in case there are any faint residual marks.

Thinking that my afternoon will be spent attempting to satisfy my little brother”s rampant hormonal needs, I am totally surprised when I return to our room after about 10 or so minutes, to see Will dressed in cargo shorts and a polo shirt. He is propped with his back against the bed head, sketch pad against his raised knees, pencil in one hand, gauze in the other, held to his lip. He raises his eyes briefly. The look on his face is an expression of guilt and remorse and pain, all rolled into one – just the look that a cute little puppy might have when being roused upon for `having an accident” on the rug. Big, sad eyes.

The fact that I say nothing, is more from surprise at Will”s rapid change, both in dress and demeanour, than anything else. I stand and stare and attempt to make sense of it all. Was it something I said? The last thing that I remember telling him was, `Later”. Did that upset him? Or was it the ice water? Did he feel that I was rejecting his advances and needs?

Gazing across the room, directly into my eyes he snuffles out, “Sorry,” then drops his focus back to his drawing.

I”m stunned. This is so unlike him. Even when he inadvertently told me of his mother”s abuse of him and, again, when he thought that he had burnt down her house, he was not quite like this. What is this apparent emotional melt down?

I stare at him, totally withdrawn into a world of pencil and paper. “Will?” I ask. He ignores me. “Will?” I ask again. He raises his eyes to me, without lifting his head. He blinks and tears fall onto his chest. He again looks down to his pad.

I close the door gently, lock it and walk softly but deliberately over to the bed and sit alongside him.

I am about to offer some words of consolation when he says, almost forcefully, “I”m sorry, Mr Grant.”

This breaks me up and cuts right to my heart! I”m no longer his brother and lover, `Tom”, but, now, merely `The Schoolie” – just an evil school teacher who has seduced and abused one of my students. I feel my world start to crumble, fearing, for whatever reason, that I”ve lost him. I suddenly feel very fragile.

“What?” I start, with a breaking voice, and through my own welling tears, not needing him to go into details, but just really needing to understand what is going through his mind.

He immediately jumps in, “I”m sorry for being gay. I”m sorry for liking other guys. I”m sorry for wanting to have fun with them. I”m sorry for loving you. I”m…”

“Whoa! Stop!” I interrupt. “Will, what is going on?”

He starts to sob deeply.

I lay one arm around his neck and shoulders. Discarding his sketch pad, he virtually collapses onto me, grasping me with both arms. His sobs become convulsive and very soon he is openly crying.

Hugging his head to my chest, I hold him and attempt to absorb his pain. I run my fingers lovingly through his curly hair. “Will,” I say as tenderly as I can, and, without waiting for a response, I continue, “There is no need to apologise for any of those things, and I love you very much.” I let that settle in then ask, “Are you really sorry for what we”ve shared? Are you saying that you wish that `getting lucky” and all of this, all of `us”, had never happened?”

He raises his head from my chest and tilts it slightly so that he can look at me. His expression is one of abject horror. “What?” he declares, more than asks.

Now I am totally confused.

I”m glad when he continues. “Oh, Tom, I didn”t mean that I was sorry for being in love with you. I”m just sorry that I hurt you and that I embarrass you and upset you by being gay and liking other guys. And I don”t blame you for not wanting me anymore.”

He sobs once then, being unable to hold his emotions in check, dissolves into tears again.

I wonder what I can say and I need to unravel this as quickly as possible.

“Will, where did this come from? Where did you get the idea that I don”t want you? I love you, and I do want you!”

“You said `later”,” he blubbers.

“And I meant it. Even though I was tempted to strip off my own clothes and grab hold of you, I wanted to help fix your poor face first, and to take care of your clothes. Why did you think that `later” meant something else?

“Because that”s what SHE always said,” he spits out, gaining a measure of control of his tears. “Whenever she said `later”, it always meant `never”. Always.”

“Who?”

“My mother.”

“Why would you think of her, and that, now?” I ask him, gently combing my fingers through his hair.

“I saw her.”

“When? Where?”

“On the way back from the mall with you. I saw her. She”s here.”

“What do you mean?”

“She”s here Tom. I saw her. She”s right here, right where we are!” He snuggles his head onto my chest and hugs me tightly.

As his words sink in, I feel my anger start to rise – not at Will, but at Lilly and the effect that the memory of her evokes in him. Whether it was her, or somebody who resembled her, it”s obvious that feelings with which I thought he had already dealt are still very raw and debilitating.

My eyes squint and I feel my teeth grind together as I recall the altercation with Lilly outside the pub at The Village. Yes, I”m angry, and I can understand that Will”s emotions are much more deeply affected by how she treated him – inflicting him with the `Little Willy” persona and abusing him when he hit adolescence. She used him to obtain financial support from the government which was spent on booze in the pub where she would pick up men then have sex with them in the family home, telling Will to `get out” while she `entertained them”. Yes, I am very angry.

“Will, are you saying that you saw somebody that reminded you of your mother?” I ask, hoping to deflect any fear that she might come back into his life.

He props himself up so that he can see me. “No, Tom. I”m saying that it was her! I”d recognise her anywhere.”

“But, are you sure, Will? They say that everyone has a double out there somewhere in the world.”

“Tom, it was her, I”m telling you! I wasn”t just her looks. I know that it was her by her little mannerisms – the way she was standing and constantly flicking her middle finger with her thumb. It was definitely her.”

“Did she see you?” I ask.

“No. She seemed happy enough and she was talking with some people on their bikes. She didn”t even look up when we got near to them. I would have died if she had recognised me,” he replies, with a hint of genuine fear.

“Was that when you suddenly swapped places and walked on the other side of me?”

“Yes.”

“I think that I noticed them – rough looking bunch, in their leathers, with their tattoos. I never like to look or stare at those characters in case one of them wants to pick a fight. It can happen around here! And it has.”

“I thought that they would bash us if she recognised me, or you.” Will admits.

“I”ve never seen them around here before,” I confide. “Maybe they are just passing through. Anyway, we are leaving tomorrow, so we probably won”t see them again, ever.” I try to be as encouraging as possible to allay his fears.

“But she”s still alive. I thought that maybe she wouldn”t be. I wished and hoped and even prayed that she wouldn”t be,” Will confesses.

Multiple thoughts race through my mind. Should I contact Chad, Marty”s brother, the cop, in Big Town? Or, ask Uncle Bill to tell Angela (Assistant Commissioner Grayson), or speak to Joey”s dad?

But, then, what could any of them do? She”s not dead, she doesn”t appear to be kidnapped and there is probably no evidence to link her friends to the arson in The Village. I chastise myself for not having Will”s powers of observation. But, why would I have had any reason to scan, and memorise, the licence plates of their bikes so that they could be identified – especially since I actually avoided looking in their direction in the first place?

I think it”s extremely unlikely that Lilly would ever return to The Village with her new `friends” unless it was the result of some drug- or alcohol-induced nostalgia. Or, alternatively, if this new liaison were to come unstuck, leaving Lilly at the mercy of the world, then she might seek `sanctuary” among her family. Let us hope not!

Let sleeping dogs lie, as they say. The battle now will be for Will”s mind and emotional stability.

“Hello! Earth to Tom! Come in Tom!” I hear Will”s voice and I return to the reality of the here-and-now.

“I”m so sorry, Will,” I apologise. “I was just thinking about the chances of ever running into your mother again. I”m sure that it won”t happen.”

“But I did run into her, didn”t I? Here, of all places! The best place that I”ve ever been in my whole life! And she was here!” he moans.

“Will, listen to me.” I try to be firm but encouraging and supportive. “Things are different now. You will always have your `guardian angel” with you,” I say, holding his shoulders and looking into his eyes, and reminding him of how we had scared Lilly those many weeks ago. “I believe that she”s afraid of me and what wrath I might invoke upon her, from up above.”

Will smiles and I continue, “She would never have expected to run into me, or us, here, so far away from The Village.”

Then I add, “And we have some powerful contacts, apart from Chad, there”s Joey”s dad who seems like a great guy with a lot of influence around here. And let”s not forget Assistant Commissioner Grayson, and the resources that she has at her disposal. Your dad would never let anything happen to you! You know that, don”t you?”

He reflects for a moment on the totality of the situation and mumbles, “Uh-huh.” He kneels beside me on the bed, wraps his arms around my neck and kisses me. “Thank you, Tom. I love you so much. Don”t ever leave me. I need my guardian angel with me forever.”

“Love you too, bro,” I reply. “Remember that I”m always here for you. Just talk to me if you ever have a problem. I can”t always promise that I”ll have a magic wand to make the wicked witch and goblins disappear, but I”ll try my hardest for you.”

He draws his head back slightly, looks at me and smirks, with the oddest expression.

“What?” I ask.

“I love your magic wand,” he almost giggles, dropping one hand to my crotch. “Happy to help it perform magic spells on me any time.”

“Incorrigible!” I say to him, laying my hand on top of his, both acceptingly and, at the same time, protectively.

“So, is it `later” yet?” he asks, moving his hand around and being rewarded with a firming response.

It”s weird. With my hand on his, I can feel the muscles of his fingers exploring and stimulating me while, at the same time, my package underneath is responding to his touch. It”s like playing with myself – but different!

I remove my hand and use it to undo the lone button on his shirt that he has fastened. His manipulating hand responds. My cock responds.

My hand moves to his dress shorts, unbuttons them with measured deliberation, then slowly slides down his zipper. There are stirrings evident. The dragon has awoken and, without any CKs to restrain it, emerges, steeling itself for action.

He reaches for my zipper. “Don”t rush. Go slowly,” I encourage him. I fold back the flaps of his shorts and slide my hand up under his shirt and run my fingers around and over each of his nipples. I alternately tickle his abs and the sides of his abdomen then run my open palm firmly over them, and repeat this, multiple times, until he begins to quiver. His cock jerks. I lay my palm on it to quieten it, but this has precisely the opposite effect. It jerks twice more.

He fondles the front of my underpants while I remove my shirt. He removes his as well. We move to a near-69 position and, with measured restraint, denude each other completely.

In this position, the next actions are almost inevitable. I let Will lead, and I mirror his actions exactly. Thigh licking. Ball sucking. Cock teasing.

“That”s driving me nuts,” he confesses, “having you do everything to me that I do to you.”

“I know that you”re loving it,” I tell him. “Teasing you is fun.”

He takes my cock into his mouth and pretends to bite it, as some sort of punishment. I punish him in the same manner. His pseudo-biting turns to frenzied sucking. I respond appropriately.

He slows. So do I.

Then he gets the message that he is actually controlling his own stimulation by showing me exactly what he wants. Forceful sucking. Backing off. Head teasing. Taking in the whole length. Exploring my hole. When I insert my finger into him, he freezes. Then it happens, and his body”s convulsive outburst triggers my own hip-thrusting, ecstatic raptures of pleasure. Time slows to a stand-still.

When we are done sucking each other `dry”, I swivel around, press my hips against his and offer him my mouth, tenderly.

With my hand on his butt, and with him grasping mine, we drift into a most pleasurable slumber.

I”m not sure who rouses first and, even though we have not encrusted each other”s body, this time, we decide to `save water” anyway.

His fat lip is less obvious. I probably wouldn”t notice it if I didn”t know what had happened.

We dress. “What were you drawing when I came in?” I ask. “Me with horns?”

“No,” Will replies, laughing. “I”ve already got horny drawings of you.”

“What?” I ask him. “When? Why haven”t I seen them?”

“They”re in a different book,” he says. “I”d never show that one to other people, like I would with this one.” He picks up the sketch pad and offers it to me.

I leaf through the pages and am impressed by what I see. Amazing likenesses of the people Will has met while he has been here – Mum, Dad, Amelia, Uncle Bill (his real-life father, and mine), Simon, Luke, Joey, young Andy, Jarrod, Tony and Rocco, and the last one whom I don”t know, not done in as much detail as the others.

“What? No nudes?” I put to him, having expected quite a few.

“In the other book,” he smirks back, raising and lowering his eyebrows. Then, catching my surprised expression, he adds, squinting at me in mock admonition of my earlier words to him, “Later!” He”s certainly a cheeky bugger!

“I started keeping track of people so that I could remember them, and perhaps show Marty, Karl, Kurt and Jake,” he adds, “and tell them about my time here.”

My expression must betray my concern.

“Don”t worry. I won”t be telling them everything!” he smirks. I feel my face relax.

“I especially like the one of young Andy,” I tell Will, ruffling his hair. “You”ve captured him at his playful best. I hope that we see him like this again, sometime.” Will nods.

“There”s an early one missing,” I comment.

“I know,” he replies, smiling at me.

We look at each other and say simultaneously, “Horse-boy Sam.”

Will adds, “I know that we”ll see him tomorrow, so I thought that I”d wait until we”re back at the motel.”

I have to ask about the `stranger”, his latest drawing. “And who”s this cute number, eh?” I tease, digging him in the ribs.

Will pauses. “He”s to remind me to be more careful.”

“What? Is he the cause of your bloody nose?” I ask. Will nods. “Hmm,” I reply. “I can see why you thought of making friends with him!” I see a certain tension melt from Will”s face.

“I haven”t finished ordu escort that one yet. I was doing it when you came back in.”

 

The family dinner tonight is a stimulating time – good food, good company and interesting discussions. Will and I sit together, opposite Amelia and Uncle Bill, with Mum and Dad at each end of the table.

Amelia gushes about her `new cousin” and her improved drawing skills. She dashes away briefly, returning with a single page of family `likenesses”. They”re not to Will”s standard, but each is recognisable. I”m delighted that I am no longer portrayed as a stick figure topped by a vampire”s head with blood dripping from my fangs!

At one point, Uncle Bill moves to stand behind Will and me. He lays one hand on each of our shoulders and boasts, “Two weeks ago I had no children, and now I discover that I have…” I think that he is about to say `two” but stops short, perhaps realising that Amelia doesn”t know about me! He continues, “…a very handsome and talented son.” He makes a show of ruffling Will”s hair, but I feel him, more covertly, squeeze my shoulder as well, in tacit recognition of our own relationship. He resumes his seat and winks at me. I return his wink and smile.

We discuss Will”s potential, Marty, school, the new house and possible reactions from The Village people (LOL). There are positive wishes all-round for good health. It”s an allusion to Mum”s cancer treatment, but nothing specific is said about that.

Before leaving, Uncle Bill gives us all a hug, even Dad, his brother. Then he bids Will and me `safe travelling”, with the intention to catch up, at The Village, with architect Ashley Cook, soon. Will shoots me a quick glance. I know why. That”s one more face that he needs to draw. Maybe when we see him again.

 

Our love-making throughout the night in interspersed with recollections of our most sensual moments over the past two weeks – the multiple occasions with the boys in the shower at the beach, fun at Simon”s place with him and Luke, giving hairy Jarrod an introduction to fucking another guy, and the raunchiness of Tony and Rocco at the Villa di Verdi. All carry expectations of repeat performances in the future. Each anecdote spurs us on, and we spurt on, both outside and inside of each other.

We cling to each other (in both senses of the word) and we finally succumb to exhaustion. Sweet dreams! Indeed!

 

I rouse and feel Will nestled into his favourite position behind me with his arm across my body. When I wake more fully, I sense the great need to spray deodorant around. A lot of deodorant!

Saving water together is slow, soapy and sensual. I didn”t think that I could cum again after last night, Will either. I am wrong on both counts. I think of having a small AAA Eveready battery turned into a second gift key ring for him. The only problem with the brand is the spelling. It should be `Ever Ready”!

I shampoo his curls – up top and down below – both from behind him (his crack and my vertical rod now have a perfect understanding of each other). I let him rinse off, then he settles back onto me. I reach for the conditioner. I do his head first. He rinses. Then, with a new handful, I reach around him and do his pubes and play with his stiffness at the same time.

“Holy shit!” he exclaims. “That feels fantastic!” And he drives his slipperiness hard into my fist. “What is that?”

“Just hair conditioner,” I tell him.

“We”ve got to get ourselves lots of that stuff!” he gasps, pumping forcefully. He pushes and grunts and moans and explodes. He relaxes his full weight against me. I wrap my arms around him and kiss his neck. He shudders.

Regaining his composure and balance he tells me to “Swap places”. He leans against the shower screen for support then pulls me back onto him. His cock is still rigid. He repeats everything that I did for him. He”s right! I”d better pick up an ample supply of conditioner at city supermarket prices! Oh, and maybe a whole box of deodorant spray cans.

 

I don”t want Mum snooping around my room, just in case she finds something that I wouldn”t want her to see. Will and I leave it and the bathroom in `pristine” condition – sheets ready for the laundry, no clothes (or towels) under the bed, all `bits and pieces” tucked away in a drawer; nothing out of place. I ask Will to use his super eye for detail to double-check.

All OK!

After a final `swish” of deodorant, I close the door and we carry our bags downstairs, placing them to the side of the front door. Mum”s breakfast teases my nostrils and my eyes. Even before my taste buds get their turn, I am salivating. Bacon, scrambled eggs, sausages, hot buttered toast, coffee!

Amelia daintily consumes her fresh fruit salad and Dad settles for a lesser version of my and Will”s huge helpings.

It”s time. After a quick trip to the toilet, I help Will to load our gear into the car.

Dad shakes our hands and wishes us a safe journey.

Will receives a long hug from Amelia and he gives her a peck on the cheek. Double-peck, Karen-style, much to Amelia”s delight.

She gives me a quick hug and a poked tongue. I poke mine back at her, then grab her in a huge hug and say, “Love, you, Sis.”

At first, she is stunned, but then smiles, shakes her head and mutters her recently-favourite word for me, “Weird!”

Mum hugs Will and kisses him. “Welcome to the family. We all love you,” she says quietly. It”s a personal comment, not intended as a throw-away line. She has a tear in her eye. She adds, “I hope to see you both during the next holidays.”

I wonder at her choice of words. Is there any doubt that Will and I will return together? Or is she referring to the possibility that the cancer may take its toll on her? Is there something she hasn”t told me? At this thought, my eyes mist over and I feel my heart sink.

I take her in my arms and feel both her love and her frailty. She kisses me. “Look after him!” she whispers, then picks up a cooler bag and offers it to me. “Something for the trip,” she says. “There”s a thermos of coffee and some of your favourites to eat.”

“Love you, Mum. Take care. See you soon.”

“God willing,” she replies. I kiss her and don”t even want to consider the possibility of this being `good-bye”.

I throw Will the car keys. He gives them some consideration then tosses them back. “Later!” he chuckles. I know that he is not keen to negotiate the morning traffic, but also smile at his exercising of our `new word” from yesterday.

My first stop is a 24-hour supermarket for some cheap `essentials”, aka deodorant and hair conditioner.

 

After about 2 hours `on the road” I see a `Rest Area” with covered tables and seats as well as a toilet. I pull in.

We both relieve ourselves. No hanky-panky, this time!

I retrieve the cooler bag and place it on a table. Will sits opposite me. I wait, then ask him, “Will, do you notice anything?”

He carefully ponders my question and tunes in to my thoughts. “No cars. No horns. No surf. No crowds.” Then he adds, “Just us!” He smiles.

“Give me your hands,” I say. He extends both arms across the table. “Now close your eyes.”

We sit, holding hands, for two or three minutes without moving. My senses heighten. I can hear Will breathing. I feel his heart beat through a pulse in the soft firmness of his hands. I hear the subtle gurgle of a creek somewhere nearby, falling over rocks or logs into shallow pools.

The mid-morning sun warms my back. Leaves rustle in the slight breeze. I discern at least four different bird calls � and not a seagull amongst them! The air smells of eucalyptus, no longer salt water.

I contemplate how fortunate I am to have found a lover – not just a sex partner; a friend – not just an acquaintance; a little brother – not just some handsome young guy! I squeeze his fingers, open my eyes and stare into his. “I love you, Will,” I whisper with sincere emotion. “I will always be your guardian angel.”

He replies, with a twinkle in his eye, “I love you too, Tom. And I will always be your horny little devil.” He squeezes my hands.

I laugh at him then reach for the cooler bag. Coffee, plastic mugs and… some… guess! Bless her! Mum is one very special person!

We make short work of two of the custard tarts and drink half of the coffee. I re-seal the bag, hand Will the car keys, telling him, “It”s later!” He freely cackles the most infectious, boyish laughter into the clean, mountain air; this time he accepts them.

 

The scenery changes from tall forest trees to what can only be described as `scrubby timber”. We disturb a flock of sulphur-crested cockatoos whose raucous calls make known their displeasure. I”ve heard a dozen before, but not hundreds all together. Almost deafening! They fly off, continuing to complain, leaving a boring, now uninhabited, dead eucalypt which a few moments ago resembled a huge living magnolia in bloom.

 

A town, much larger than Big Town, provides a late lunch of the remaining custard tarts and coffee, and a much-welcomed pit stop. I take the opportunity to phone ahead to the motel. Sam”s mother asks our location and advises that we should, therefore, be there about 5:00pm. “Well in time for dinner,” she adds. “It will be good to see you both again. Sam has been driving me crazy, asking when you would be here. Your brother made a big impression on him when you stayed here two weeks ago. At least, now, Sam can spend his time watching the clock instead of pestering me every ten minutes.”

I thank her and relay to Will, Sam”s anticipation at seeing him again. “Probably anticipating `getting lucky”,” I tell Will. In fact, I”m certain that he”ll be very disappointed if he doesn”t.

After all, wasn”t it Sam `who spurts like a fountain” who made such a large impression on Will? All over him, in fact.

“Yeah, me too,” Will smirks.

“Thought so!” I tell him.

“You might get lucky too,” Will fires back.

“Yeah, we”ll see about that! I”ll be happy just to get a peek at his `hung-like-a-horse” equipment.”

“As if!” Will admonishes. “Once you see it, you”ll want to feel it, and when you get your hands on it, the rest is predictable. I know you, brother!”

Lost for words, with no prospect of a redeeming come-back, I just laugh. Will punches my shoulder then, jumping away from my attempted retaliation, tosses me the keys and says, “My turn to relax.”

 

The landscape changes again. Trees become bushes. Sparser. Greenness gives way to brown, and the first appearance of saltbush clumps and kangaroos. The occasional large lizard scurries to safety from its sunlounge of hot asphalt as we approach and pass. There is ample evidence along the way of many that had not been quick enough.

Will not only relaxes but stretches his legs out and drifts off to sleep. One knee drops to the side. At one point, I notice a very discernible erection in his pants. Who knows what he is dreaming, but the odds are that could start with S.. and end with ..M. I resist the urge to lay my hand on it, and leave him, undisturbed, to enjoy the fullness of his fantasy.

I muse on the possibility of Will and Sam, 200km apart, both concurrently dreaming up strategies to seduce the other into jacking off, or more.

My thoughts wander to devising a couple of my own strategies – a) make myself scarce for a few minutes (perhaps talking to Sam”s mother then return to catch them in the act of something); b) let Sam sit between Will and me while he demonstrates a car-racing game on Will”s new tablet, with appropriate leaning, touching and `stick-shift” changing; c) taking a shower while they sit on the bed playing, and then, after a little while, appearing naked whilst drying myself, and see where that leads!

Whatever! From what Will has told me about Sam being so horny, it shouldn”t take the pair of them long to get into the `swing of things”, regardless of somebody”s scenario.

Will stirs from his slumber. The clear outline of his rigidity has subsided into an amorphous bulge. “Where are we?” he enquires, gazing out at the formless countryside.

“Not far now,” I tell him, and his alertness kicks up a notch. His hand goes down, almost automatically, to his crotch, has a feel of the residual lump and then he sits up straight.

I”m tempted to interrogate him regarding the cause of his stiffness, but decide to leave the poor guy alone, allowing whatever it was to remain private.

 

I turn into the motel and, even before the car stops completely, we are greeted by a waving, enthusiastic Sam and a slightly shorter version of him – young Mikey. Sam reaches his hand through the passenger”s side window and it is grasped by Will”s own. “Hi, Will. We”ve been expecting you.”

He hurries around to my side of the car, extends his firm right hand and, in his customer-service voice announces, “Good afternoon, Mister Grant. Welcome back. Mum will have dinner ready in about 45 minutes.”

I smile at him, noting that his hand isn”t the only part of him that appears extended at the moment. “Thank you, Sam. It”s good to see you again. You too, Mikey,” I call to him.

“I”ll tell Mum that you”re here,” Mikey smiles, then excitedly rushing back inside.

“I”ve prepared your room myself,” Sam announces proudly. “Same one as last time.”

I think, `Hmm, Scenario a)” and I kick it off by saying, “Will why don”t you take the car down to the room with Sam, while I fix up the paperwork with his mother?”

Sam opens my door and holds it while I clamber out and stretch. Will takes my place in the driver”s seat and Sam immediately sets off towards the room.

In the afternoon light, it appears that Sam”s trousers have shrunk to skin tight; his high butt cheeks, separated by his pulled-up-too-far pants are attractively highlighted either by a light dusting of something on which he has sat or by being constantly worn. Either way, the view beats any scenery that we”ve passed along the way! Will nudges my hip through the open car window and regains my attention. “I”ll spend a little social time chatting to Sam”s mother,” I smile at him. “I”ll be down in about 10 minutes.”

When I go inside, Mikey is behind the desk. He rings the bell and his mother appears.

“Hello, Mr Grant,” she almost sings. “How lovely to see you again. Mikey, can you please go and turn the hotplates down to `low”. Thank you.”

Mikey smiles broadly at me, then disappears.

We complete the tariff formalities and go through an information exchange – the differences in weather between here and the Gold Coast, what her boys have done during the past weeks and what Will and I have done to fill in our time (well, not all of it), how Sam and Mikey loved having their dad home for 4 days last week. It”s obvious that they all miss male company. She remarks how animated the boys have been at the thought of seeing Will again. I ask about their education and she fills me in on the pleasures and pain of `home schooling” and the materials that they use. She comments that although their grades are high, she”s sure that they miss out on some social benefits – cricket and soccer, friends with whom to chat and exchange stories and even just `hanging out” with someone other than a big/little brother.

“I expect that Will is showing off his new computer tablet to Sam and that they”re probably into playing some game or other,” I comment. And I think to myself that it”s more likely that they”re already into a bit of `other”. “I think I”ll go and freshen up before dinner.”

“I”ll send Mikey down when it”s almost ready,” his mother replies. “About 30 minutes or so. That should give you enough time.” She smiles politely and I thank her.

Unlike the previous occasion, there is one other car at the motel, parked in the middle of the row of units. Ours is right down at the end.

Our door is shut but they”ve left me the key in the lock. I turn it and walk in. Will and Sam are propped up against the head of the double bed. They appear somewhat startled, as if they”ve been disturbed in the middle of something. LOL.

“I hope I”m not interrupting anything,” I smirk.

“No. It”s all good,” Will says then adds, “I was just showing Sam my games.” He has a wry smile on his face. Sam, on the other hand, looks as guilty as a fox in the henhouse.

“Keep going,” I tell the pair of them. “I”m going to have a shower before dinner. Sam, your mother said that she would send Mikey down to let us know when it”s nearly ready.”

“I”ve already set the tables,” Sam chimes in. “It”s Mikey”s turn to clear away tonight.”

He returns his focus to the screen. Will rests one hand on Sam”s thigh or, maybe, returns it there. Sam looks at Will”s hand, then at me. I wink at him and his apparent consternation relaxes to a returned, if hesitant, grin.

There is something different about the room this time. It”s not quite how I remember it. But what? It can”t be smaller and I see no additional furniture. Single bed, Double bed. Desk. TV. It”s all here.

“Are you guys playing a game on the tablet, or just checking out the features?” I ask.

Will looks at me and replies, most ambiguously, “Yes.” Sam says nothing, but looks at me blankly. I move over to the bed and poke my head in front of the screen Racing cars. Hmm. Ready… set…

I turn my gaze away and, as I look up, it hits me. The bed has been moved, not much, just sufficiently to see from it into the bathroom, directly towards the shower, in fact. I recall Sam”s words, `I”ve prepared your room myself”. So! Horse-boy Sam has a scenario of his own in mind, does he? A little bit of voyeurism?

I strip down to my underwear, throwing my clothes onto the single bed, noting Sam”s poorly-disguised surreptitious glances at me. I smile at him and he looks back to the screen – fleetingly. I pick up one of the folded towels from the bed, collect my toiletries and wander into the bathroom. I place the towel on the toilet seat and turn on the hot water tap. When I turn around, I realise how much of the bed that I can see from here. Aha!

I step towards it, and pull the sliding bathroom door not quite half shut, in a pretended move towards privacy, then I check. Yep! I can still see them, and they me.

I drop my undies and step into the shower, closing the glass door, which won”t impede anybody”s vision. I deliberately keep my backside to the door, but turn occasionally to glance through the gap, teasingly keeping my `gear” mostly covered in a lather of soap. Sam is staring. I pretend not to be able to see him. Does he really think that vision through the opening is only one-way? It does actually work both ways, Sam!

I maintain my back-to-the-door orientation while I shampoo my hair yet, occasionally, stealing a quick glance doorward. The tablet has been put to one side. Will and Sam have changed their attention to each other”s `gear stick”, just feeling each other up. Sam”s gaze, however, remains focussed in my direction. I decide to tease him by turning sideways and letting him see me full profile, head to toe, soaping, rinsing and re-soaping my body. I know that he will be enjoying the sight of my expanding and rising member. I”ll bet that his is already at full stretch. A quick glance. Yep! Will is making the most of it. Sam appears to have a handful as well.

I turn almost 180 degrees, again pretending not to see them. They now have their hands inside each other”s pants. I didn”t think that there was any more room in Sam”s! Will looks in my direction and smiles. He knows! Sam”s gaze is unwavering. I decide to show him a bit more than he would have hoped for. I start to stroke my stiffness, varying my stance in his line of vision from profile to full frontal.

I rinse off, without any attempt at a final release, and reduce the water temperature, which also relaxes things down below.

Scenario c) coming up!

I use the face washer to remove the excess water, squeeze it then step out. I don”t want to leave a wet trail. Sam is watching. But, with my imminent return to the bedroom, I can see that he and Will have both quickly withdrawn their hands and osmaniye escort are re-adjusting their clothing to a more respectable appearance. For Sam, that”s not going to be as easy.

Allowing my towel to hang down the front of my body, I use one end to dry my hair, face, ears and neck as I push the sliding door fully open then walk over to the bed and stand close to Sam who is nearer the edge. It looks as though I am being modest. Actually, I”m deliberately teasing him.

“Mikey will be here soon,” I say matter-of-factly. “Would you guys like to finish your game after dinner?” Sam looks at Will. Will looks at me. I smirk back and wink. “And if you”re not going to shower before dinner, Will, you”d better have one later.” They look at each other again and smile. I continue, “Now, you”d both better go and wash your hands and faces with cold water. It will help those things to go down,” I joke, pointing my fingers at their bulges. They follow the direction of my pointing then glance at me, then at each other. Will smiles. Sam blushes.

I throw my towel onto the single bed and stand there, totally exposed. Sam”s expression is priceless. He knows that he should appear shocked or should look away, but his face betrays his interest. He should really learn to close his mouth when he”s staring!

I get dressed. The boys utilise the cold water then make themselves as respectable as residual swellings allow. “Come on. Let”s go,” I say. “We won”t wait for Mikey to fetch us.” I open the door. As Will leaves, I give him a friendly smack on the bum. Sam slows as he approaches the door and he looks at me – not in fear, but, apparently in brave anticipation. He gets his swat as well; a couple actually! I enjoy the feel of his firm muscles as much as he does from being swatted, I”m sure. Like Kurt.

The daylight is fast diminishing but there is nothing gloomy about being behind Will and Sam; the slimness of their figures clearly discernible with their rounded cheeks contracting enticingly as we walk to the other end of the complex.

Once we are inside, Mikey insists on sitting next to Will, so there is a quick rearrangement of place settings with Mikey, Will and Sam on one side of the table and “we oldies” opposite.

Another, as-yet-unoccupied table is set for three telecommunications workers who, I am told, are out west checking the regional infrastructure. They are using the motel as their base for about a week. Good income for her, according to the boys” mother – paid by the federal government. “We don”t see much of them,” she says. “They leave early each morning. Sometimes I pack a hamper for their breakfast if they have a long way to travel. Also, one for lunch. They come in for a big meal at night, collect their hampers for the next day if they are leaving early, then disappear.”

“They”re really old!” Mikey pipes up, to join the conversation. Then he adds, “Like Mum and Dad!” He giggles. His mother picks up her serviette and throws it at him in mock offence.

If I was to hazard a guess at her age, I would put her in her early 40s. Old? Well, I guess that I might consider somebody more than three times my age to be old, too. I understand Mikey”s perspective, but still smile.

Sam asks his mother”s permission to finish the computer game with Will after dinner. She agrees. Mikey frowns. “I set and you”re on clean-away, squirt. Remember?” Sam reminds him.

Mikey pouts, “It”s not fair. I never get to play with nobody.”

“Anybody,” his mother corrects him.

“I don”t never get to play with not anybody,” Mikey reiterates, emphasising the `anybody”, regardless of the multiple negatives. I smirk.

His mother looks at me and sighs, “He”ll get it one day, I hope.”

“Yes, probably when he”s really old,” I say, grinning at him. Then I add, “Like Sam.”

Smiles around the table erupt into infectious giggling, as Sam gets up and imitates an old man hobbling around the room.

Mikey dutifully begins to collect the used plates and utensils as his mother heads back to the kitchen for dessert.

“Here, let me do that, Mikey,” I offer. “Why don”t you stay and talk with Will?”

He beams, “Thank you, Mister Grant.” Sam adopts a sour face momentarily, as though I had given away some advantage that belonged to him.

In the kitchen, I explain to their mother that I”ve let Sam”s little brother have a bit of time to talk with my little brother and she smiles, “Thank you, Mister Grant. I think that Mikey was looking forward to seeing Will as much as Sam was. All we heard from Sam for the first few days after you left was, `Will this…” and `Will that…”. I think that Mikey quickly felt that he had been deprived of something special.”

“Do you think that Mikey might accept a `substitute Will” for a while?” I ask her. “I”d be happy to spend a bit of time with him. Maybe he would be happy to show me how to play one or two of the games on my new computer tablet. Most of them I”ve never seen before; the salesman put them on there. Mikey would probably beat me, regardless of whatever game it is.”

“Oh, would you, Mister Grant? I”m sure that he will be thrilled! His father is either too tired to spend time with him or is really busy doing motel maintenance when he”s home, and even Sam seems to want to be alone a lot lately. And, even though I spend time with him, I think that Mikey is outgrowing his `Mum” all too quickly. It was about this same age, almost 12, when Sam really shot up and started giving up on his childhood toys and interests. Mikey just loves it when Sam wants to spend time with him. They wrestle a lot, which both boys enjoy, but some days Mikey just seems to get under his big brother”s skin.”

I can”t help but wonder if and when Mikey will want to be included in Sam”s games – not the computer ones.

“Give them another year or so, after Mikey grows a bit more, and I”m sure that they”ll be the best of mates,” I encourage her, displaying a little of my child psychology knowledge and thinking to myself of other ways that two teenage brothers could become closer; regretfully, exactly what Will and I both missed.

“Oh, by the way, I”m Barbara,” she says. “I”m sorry. It was rude of me to not introduce myself earlier.”

“I”m guilty as well!” I tell her. “Please call me `Tom”.”

I help her carry the bowls of apple pie, custard and freshly-whipped cream back to the table and ensure that all three boys have the largest servings. Their eyes sparkle, especially Will”s. The sweets disappear quickly. Sam pushes his plate past Will towards Mikey saying, “There you go, squirt.” Mikey dutifully but unenthusiastically takes it, collects the other empties from everyone and heads towards the kitchen.

“Coffee?” Barbara asks.

“Thank you. White and one sugar, please,” I reply. She disappears.

“Would you like a milk shake, Will?” Sam asks.

“Really?” he replies, surprised.

“Sure! I make them all the time. Chocolate?”

Will nods, “How did you know?”

“Just a guess,” Sam replies. “Mikey and I love chocolate.”

As Sam is about to enter the kitchen, he is nearly bowled over by Mikey coming the other way. “Hey! Watch it, squirt!” Sam remonstrates. “No running inside!”

Mikey ignores him. He is beaming and rushes over to me, positioning himself `in my face”, standing astride my thigh. He couldn”t get much closer. “Gee, Mister Grant. Thank you! Mum said that you”d play with me while Sam”s playing with Will.”

The pouty look on Will”s face reminds me instantly of Garry Coleman”s favourite expression for his brother in the `Different Strokes” TV series that Mum has on DVD – `Wots you talkin” `bout, Willis??” It conveys an air of suspicion: `What”s going on? What are you up to?”

I Wink at Will, then say to Mikey, “Yes. Are you any good at computer games?”

“You bet!” he quips.

I reply to him, but mainly for Will”s benefit, “You don”t mind if Sam plays with Will in our room on Will”s computer while you and I play here on mine?” Now Will smiles at me.

“No way! That”d be so cool!” He”s bouncing excitedly, almost springing, above my leg. Then, facing me, he sits onto my thigh, relaxing his full body weight onto me, with one of his knees very near my crotch and the other one outside of my leg. “Thank you, Mister Grant!”

I ruffle his hair. “No problem, Mikey. But you”re not allowed to beat me too badly, OK?”

He chuckles and bounces, his knee brushing against my pants. I cup my balls with one hand, smile at him and whisper as discretely as possible, “Just be careful down there, eh, sport?”

He looks down at his knee and my hand then giggles, “Sure thing, Mister Grant!” He moves back until his bottom is touching my knee, which I raise and lower, bouncing him up and down. He enjoys the `ride” and then, clutching his own package, he leans forward and whispers back at me, “That tickles!”

He hops off, collects the salt, pepper and sauce from the centre of the table and heads back towards the kitchen.

Before Will makes any smart-arse remarks about Mikey, I get in first. “I hope you appreciate me giving up my time so that you and Sam can be alone for a while.”

He says, “Thanks, Tom,” and I think that he is about to add more when Mikey re-emerges with a tall glass of chocolate-coloured milk, followed by Sam carrying two more and by Barbara with a couple of coffees.

Everybody resumes his own seat. Will and Sam talk about different computer games. Barbara and I discuss the lack of rain and she tells me that it”s much worse where her husband is. The local farmers there are in dire straits, with many having to resort to shooting their emaciated livestock because there is no feed and they can”t afford to have any trucked in. Most of the water there has dried up. At least here, at the motel, water is pumped from a natural spring not too far away.

I can tell from the look on poor Mikey”s face that he doesn”t know which conversation to listen to. He occasionally makes a comment to Will and Sam about his score in a particular game but is largely ignored by those two. He also looks very sad as he contemplates what Barbara is saying, or is it just that he feels that he”s the `odd one out” now that both his brother”s and his mother”s attentions are on somebody else?

Will and Sam finish their milkshakes with a pair of noisy slurps and Will offers to take the tall glasses to the kitchen. Sam says, “It”s OK. Mikey will do it, won”t you, squirt?”

I see Mikey `give Sam the finger” below the level of the table. Unfortunately, so does his mother. “I saw that Mikey,” Barbara scolds. “Just for that you can take their things when you have finished, plus Mister Grant”s and mine.” Then she adds, “I”ve a mind not to let you play with Mister Grant at all!”

There is a look of horror, not only on Mikey”s face, but from the other two as well, at this withdrawal of anticipated `freedom” and fun, but I don”t want to intervene in parental discipline, so I simply raise my eyebrows to Will and Sam and take another sip of coffee.

Mikey”s eyes fill up with tears and he splutters out, “I”m sorry, Mum.”

“OK, then,” Barbara tells him. “You can still play, but it will only be about half an hour.”

Sam and Will both noticeably relax. Mikey goes to his mother, gives her a hug and apologises again.

Will and Sam head out, in order to `maximise” their available time together.

Barbara and I continue chatting while Mikey clears the table and wipes it down.

“Mum, should Mister Grant and I play in here, or on the lounge?” a chastened Mikey asks his mother.

“It doesn”t matter, dear,” she replies. “Whichever is easier.” She looks to me for some direction.

“I have no idea, Barbara,” I tell her. “It”s all new to me. Why don”t we leave it up to Mikey, once he sees the computer tablet and the games?”

“Sure. That sounds reasonable,” she replies. “It will take him about ten minutes to finish his jobs.” We continue talking for about another five and I suggest that I should get my tablet so that I”ll be ready when Mikey is.

I stroll back to the room. The boys have had almost ten minutes” head start. I wonder where they”ll be up to, or what they”ll be up to! The door is ajar and both of them are propped up on the bed, with the tablet on Sam”s thighs. They look up at me, obviously having anticipated my return. Will indicates where he has placed my device, ready for me.

“Thanks, Will. I will probably be more like 45 minutes, I think. You two have fun.” I smile at them, grab the room key and close the door firmly on my way out. I stand and listen. No laughs, no `Hell Yeah”s. Maybe they do intend to just play computer games after all.

As if! I”ll give computer games 5 minutes; 10 absolute max.

I greet Barbara then sit at the table, get the tablet `going” and locate the folder in which Jarrod has installed all of the games. There seems to be many more than what I paid for. I hope that there”s nothing to which Mikey shouldn”t be exposed.

“Ready for inspection?” Barbara intones as Mikey enters the room from the kitchen, professing that all is done.

“Yes, Mum,” he replies, subserviently, and she follows him out.

In a matter of seconds, Mikey bolts excitedly back into the room and plonks himself next to me, shuffling his chair as close and it will go. Barbara follows, and busies herself with replenishing stocks in cupboards and drawers.

Mikey cranes his neck to look at the screen, then asks, “Can I please sit on your knee, Mister Grant, so that I can see better?”

“You”d better ask your mother if it”s OK with her,” I reply, with a measure of trepidation at his question.

“Mum?” he asks, raising his voice, knowing that she would have heard his original request.

I look towards Barbara for her decision, with a suitable expression of surprise on my face. She looks at Mikey and smiles, “That”s OK, if Mister Grant doesn”t mind.”

I pat my knee and Mikey jumps on, sitting astride my leg like a cowboy on his horse, with his back to me. Barbara smiles and gives me an `AOK” sign with her hand, then busies herself between the dining room and Reception. Mikey wiggles his firm little bottom back as far as it will go and leans his body back against mine. I suspect, from what Barbara has told me that he doesn”t get a lot of this close contact with his dad.

I jiggle my knee up and down a little, making `horsey” noises, while Mikey takes control of the screen and begins exploring the games folder. Then he stops, looks all around, seemingly to confirm that Barbara is not within earshot, then says, a little louder and his previous whisper, “That tickles again.” He swivels himself around, sideways to me, so that both of his legs are between mine. He adds, out of the blue, “When it tickles like that, it gets hard.”

I look at him. “What do you mean, Mikey?”

He displays the front of his shorts to me and fingers a crayon-thick and none-too-short erection. “When it tickles, it goes hard, like this.” This appears to be spoken with matter-of-fact innocence, but as though he is confiding in me a great personal secret, not for his mother”s ears.

Out of interest I ask, “How old are you, Mikey?”

“Twelve and eleven twelfths,” he proudly replies.

I think, `exactly as Kurt was when I first met him”.

Then, finding a particular car-racing game, he announces, “Hey, I know this one. Can we play this one, please?”

“Sure, if you like, sport,” I tell him.

He looks around as if searching for something. “What”s up?” I ask.

“There”s no second controller.” He replies. “That means we”ll have to take turns.”

“OK,” I tell him. “You go first and I”ll watch.”

He starts the game then wiggles and squirms as if trying to find a more comfortable position. He finishes up leaning right into my lap with both of his legs between mine, feet touching the floor. He continues to play and squirm, leaning to the right then left and his bottom slides in sync with his leaning. I feel his cheeks contract whenever he hits the brakes. Uh-oh! His movements are causing me some unwanted stimulation and I can feel a certain firmness developing beneath him.

Mikey continues to move back and forth, left and right and, occasionally, up and down. I can tell that my swelling bump has become a hard lump. He presses `pause” in the game, but continues to swivel and slide, trying to get comfortable, presumably because of my stiffness under his backside. Then he reaches behind him as if to locate the source of his discomfort. He gets it first go! His young hand grips my erection and then he lets go.

“Oh,” he says smiling at me. “Does yours tickle too?”

“Yes, Mikey, it does.” I tell him and add, “But it”s not something that I think you should tell anyone. OK?”

“OK, Mister Grant. I won”t tell. Sam says that I shouldn”t oughta tell stuff too.”

Should I ask him? I”m curious, but shouldn”t go down that path. “Good boy, I reply. You shouldn”t tell stuff if your brother asks you not to. And maybe there”s some stuff that you wouldn”t want him to tell either. It”s called trusting each other.”

Fortunately, there is a lot of noise in reception and I can tell that the workers have come for their meal. Mikey jumps up, pulls his shirt over his shorts and manages to conceal his crayon. “Sam should be helping Mum tonight, but I guess I”m gonna have to do it. Then, he can do the big `clean away” afterwards. Ha, ha, ha, Sam!!”

I rearrange my own thicker piece of `stationery” while Barbara shows her other guests to their `usual table”. She apologises to me for interrupting and says, “Mikey”s going to help me for about 10-15 minutes. You can continue playing in the lounge room, if you like.”

I thank her and say, “I”ll put the computer tablet in there and come back shortly.”

Barbara and Mikey go into their obviously-well-rehearsed customer-service flurry. Orders. Drinks. Cooking.

I head off to check what the horn dogs are up to.

While walking, my conscience has a `heart-to-heart” with me. Months ago, I was reluctant to touch Will and to let him touch me. Then I gave in. And, there were the `games” with the twins and Will in the weir. And, the fun at the beach with those guys, then Jarrod and with Tony and Rocco. Now Mikey seems interested in some touchy-feely stuff! Where am I heading? When do I say, `NO”? How can I say, `NO”?

I reach our room and immediately note that something is different. No light is shining from inside. I wonder whether they have turned the light off to better see the screen, or if they are playing a ribald version of `Murder in the Dark”, or maybe they just find doing touchy-feely `stuff” more exciting in total darkness.

I insert my key in the lock as silently as possible and turn it. No squeaks. The door opens. I see a shaft of light emanating from the bathroom and hear the sound of a running shower. I close the door quietly, creep over to the bed and sit myself where Sam was earlier. I can see them but, with the bedroom darkened, I doubt that they would be able to see me. I sit very still and watch.

I take in the beauty of Sam”s naked backside – two firm, rounded globes that bulge to accentuate his crack even more! I watch them contact and relax, over and over. He is hunched over Will”s back. Surely, he cannot have his massive tool inside Will”s arse! It”s not possible!

Then they work their way around, profile-to-me, and I see the end of Sam”s horse-sized cock continually reappearing from under Will”s balls with each thrust.

“Oh, Will,” Sam moans. “This feels fantastic!” He pounds Will a few more times.

“Don”t cum!” Will tells him.

Sam pulls right back and I get to see all of him. OMG. Look at the size of that thing!

I wonder whether Mikey”s long crayon will end up as large as his big brother”s equipment!

Will turns Sam around, soaps his own cock and does some thrusting of his own. He closes his eyes and I can see ecstasy on his face with every push. He reaches around and takes Sam”s giant cock and commences jacking it, alternating between one and two hands.

I can tell from Sam”s face that the geyser is about to erupt. He warns Will who keeps jacking. ostim escort Then I see a huge stream of white reach almost to the top of the shower screen. And another. And more. OMG. Will was right – he does spurt like a fountain! How on earth…?

I see Will slam up against Sam”s backside and then a smaller, but decent, spray emanates from below Sam”s balls. Sam turns and they mash their hips together. Will cups Sam”s globes and Sam returns the favour.

Now is a good time, I think.

I creep to the bathroom door, poke my head in and announce, “Nice show, boys!”

“Shit!” Sam says, as he jumps, unsure whether to cover his mouth, his heart or some small portion of his over-sized gear.

“Fuck!” Will shouts, equally shocked. “You fucking scared the life out of me, Tom!”

“Yeah,” I laugh. “I just saw that life spray out of both of you.”

I push the door wider, go in and say to them both, “What a pity we don”t have time for a threesome!”

“Hell, Yeah!” Will shouts. Sam looks dumbfounded.

“What”s wrong, Sam? You saw mine earlier!” I put to him with a leery smile.

“Yes. But…” is all that he can manage.

Being totally worked up by their fun and eruptions, I walk to the shower door, undo my pants and release my stiffness. “Go on, you can touch it if you want to.” He tentatively takes it in his still-soapy hand and begins to rub me up and down, slowly. I moan in pleasure at the feel of his touch and reach for his softening but still bulky tool, and play with it. The feel of this, after watching their show together with the thought of being felt up my Mikey earlier, tips me over the edge, very quickly!

I spray them both and Sam milks me for the rest, as they both contemplate my streaks on their bodies.

“Hey,” I tell them, “You can just rinse it off in there! I”ll be back later.”

I withdraw, clean off the excess from my cock with a clean towel and zip up. I hope that there will be no leaks!

As I pull the unit door closed behind me, I can hear squeals and laughter – from both of them.

 

The workers are noisy. Barbara ushers me through to the lounge. I pass Mikey who says, “I won”t be long.”

Barbara adds, “He”ll be finished in a minute. I can handle the rest.”

I sink into a low, leather, 3-seater, and boot the tablet back into life. I restart the racing game and attempt to get in some practice, according to what I observed Mikey doing. I think I”m getting the hang of it although I could be black-flagged for going too slowly!

Mikey laughs from behind me. I didn”t hear him come in because I was concentrating.

“Come on, then. You show me how to do it, smarty pants!” I encourage and provoke him. He heads straight for my lap and wriggles to `settle in”, fully, feet off the floor. He takes over and the pace of the car increases dramatically. However, his wiggling, swivelling and sliding is far more than required by just syncing with the game, I think. The little imp! The thought of him trying to stimulate me intentionally, simply hastens the achievement of his objective, despite the fact that I”ve just cum, back in the unit. Can I say, `NO” now?

“Tickle, tickle!” he laughs, without taking his eyes off the screen.

During a slight pause in the game for a restart, he reaches under his backside and has a quick feel of my elongated tool. Can I say, `NO” now?

Rather than dissuade him, which propriety and the law dictate that I should do, I just say, “Don”t let your mother catch you doing that!”

“She won”t!” is his glib reply, and the game restarts.

I rest one hand on my knee and the other beside me on the lounge, then just relax and savour what his tight young backside is doing to me.

During the next pause, he grabs my hand and transfers it from my knee to the front of his shorts, straight onto his hard crayon!

“Go on,” he says. “Tickle it.” He resumes playing. When I don”t make any movement with my hand, he adds, “…Please.”

Against my better judgment, I accede to his plea and feel him up, rubbing and gauging the length, girth and firmness of his spike, then search for his balls. Their curvature is not hard to discern. I run my fingers lightly over them and feel his crayon twitch. “Tickle, tickle.” I say, parroting his earlier words to me.

He laughs, pauses the game, raises his butt and sandwiches his hand between him and me – palm down. “Tickle, tickle,” he echoes, exploring all of my gear.

We continue for about 30 seconds.

My conscience says `stop”. My senses counter with, `don”t stop.” Conscience wins, this time. But, how can I stop without hurting Mikey”s feelings?

I use both of my hands to lower him down off my lap. “Sorry, Mikey, I”ve got to go to the toilet. Where”s the closest one?”

Without thinking, he says, “In there,” indicating the dining room. Then he recants, with a measure of desperation, “Or, there”s one down there between my room and Sam”s room.”

I think to myself, `That”s all I need – having to explain to Barbara why I was down with Mikey near his bedroom!” “Thanks,” I tell him, “but this one will be fine.” I head back into the dining room, look around for it then head over to the door in the corner.

I wash my hands and face in cold water, as I had told Will and Sam to do earlier, then I do take a pee and pack my diminished gear away as securely as possible.

Without interrupting her too much, I chat to Barbara on my way back, and tell her, “Mikey”s really good in a racing car! Way better than I am.”

Mikey comes in probably following the sound of my voice. “Are you gonna play some more, Mister Grant?” I look at my watch and Barbara picks up on my cue.

“Not tonight, Mikey,” she says. “Mister Grant needs his sleep. He has a long way to drive tomorrow.”

“Awww!” he laments.

Neither I nor his mother is going to get into a debate with him.

“Mister Grant was just telling me how good you were. Please don”t spoil it,” she says smiling a motherly smile, in an attempt to placate his mood.

Mikey takes the bait! “Yeah, he was pretty good… but I was better.” He grins at me with a deeper understanding than that which he has conveyed to his mother.

I add my two cents worth, “Give me some time to practise and let”s see if I”m any better next time I stay here, eh, sport?” I wink.

He says, excitedly, “Are we going to see you again? Are you gonna come back?”

“Of course,” I reply. “Next holidays, for sure! And if any game gets too hard, I might need you to give me a hand, again.” He looks at me as if to clarify the meaning of what he”s hearing. I add, “We might even find something more exciting than the racing car game.” I”m hoping that Barbara doesn”t pick up on any double entendre. I can tell from Mikey”s wide eyes and broad grin that he certainly does.

I turn to Barbara, “At some time, Sam and Mikey might like to spend a few days at my school, when there”s some appropriate accommodation available. They can bring their home-schooling lessons and also play with the other kids, I mean `children””.

Barbara smiles.

“Oh, wow! Can we mum?” he lets burst forth, then adds, “Pleeeze!”

“But…” I add, addressing Mikey directly, “you have to be good for your mother and father. I”m sure that they”ll let me know if you”re not!”

“Thank you, Tom,” Barbara responds. “I”ll talk with my husband about it.”

“Thank you, Mister Grant,” Mikey echoes enthusiastically.

“Now, young man, you”d better get ready for bed,” Barbara tells him. “But first, can you please get Mister Grant”s computer for him?”

“It”s called a `tablet”, Mum,” Mikey corrects her, to display his superior knowledge of technology, as he disappears into the lounge room.

Barbara smiles towards the back of Mikey then asks me, “What time would you like breakfast Mister Grant? The workers said that they will `sleep in” tomorrow and eat at 6:30. So, any time after that would be good.

Mikey comes back with my tablet and catches the `6:30″ bit, then hands it over. He adds, “Thank you, Mister Grant for playing with me. It was fun.”

I know exactly what he means. Cheeky little brat, attempting to out-do my double meaning! Lovable imp, like Kurt.

I turn to Barbara, “Early is good for us, if I can wake Will up. Why don”t you send Mikey down when you”re ready for us?” Then I turn to Mikey. “How would you like to come and wake up Will in the morning for me by sitting on him and tickling him? At least he won”t be a grumpy grouch if YOU do it.”

He stares at me and I give him a knowing wink. I think that he”d enjoy playing `tickle, tickle” with Will, either to rouse him or arouse him. LOL.

I had thought that I might go back and catch Will and Sam doing something but, as I prepare to leave, they both stroll in.

Mikey rushes over to his brother and, jumping up and down like an excited little kangaroo, announces, “Hey Sam, Mister Grant said that they”ll come back next holidays and we can go and visit his school and I”m better than him in the car game and…”

“Mikey!” Barbara cuts him off. “We”ll talk about it later. OK?” She smiles at him and then at Sam. “Sam, honey, would you and Mikey like to spend a few days with Mister Grant and Will? It would have to be while your father is here to do your jobs, though, and so that I could drive you.”

“Hell, Yeah!” Sam replies. I know where he picked up that expression!

“I beg your pardon!” Barbara chastises.

“Sorry, Mother. Yes, thank you. I think that I would very much like that. And what do you think, little brother dear?”

Everybody chuckles at Sam”s overcompensation in the PPC (parental-present correctness) of his language.

I realise that Barbara had set no limits on the length of time that Sam could spend with Will and I”m surprised that he has returned so soon – without her having to send Mikey to collect him. “Are you and Will finished already?” she asks him.

“Yes mum,” he replies.

Will interjects, “Yes, he flogged me good! There”s only so much punishment that I can take!”

Sam looks at me sheepishly. Mikey looks too, curiously, obviously wondering if he has interpreted some other intention in my brother”s strange words. I raise my eyes skywards in an overt display of innocent ignorance! I don”t think that Mikey”s buying it; his eyes narrow and his lips purse as he looks from me to them and back.

“Thank you, Barbara, for a delicious dinner,” I say. “We”ll see you in the morning for breakfast. Good night, Sam. Good night, Mikey.”

There is a general exchange of pleasantries then Will and I head back.

 

When I open the door, there is a strong smell of my deodorant. I make a show of sniffing the air, knowingly.

“OK,” Will announces. “I know! But it”s better than the other smell, eh?”

I grab him in a friendly headlock, ruffle his hair and say, “I expect that we”ll need more of that in the morning. Tonight could be our last night for what I”ve got in mind – at least until we get Marty on side!”

His `Hell, Yeah!” precedes a general divesting of clothing and a night of passionate love-making.

 

I wake early, need a pee and, after flushing, hear a quiet tap at the door. Mikey! I grab a towel, wrap it around me, hastily squirt some deodorant on me and into the air then open the door quietly. “Good morning, Mikey,” I say in a hushed voice as he peers into the room. “You”re earlier than I expected. And, yes, Will is still sound asleep.”

He looks me up and down in my state of almost-undress, and smiles. “Mum said that that breakfast will be ready in 15 minutes and hopes that is OK with you. The others will be gone soon.”

I usher him in, close the door and reply, “That”s fine – if we can get Will out of bed. Do you want to tickle him awake?”

He looks at me as if to question the permission which he is hoping that I intended.

I smile and nod. “Do whatever you like to Sleeping Beauty there while I have a quick shower. He”ll need one too.” Mikey looks at our bags and clothes on the single bed and I can see the `twelve-and-eleven-twelfths” wheels turning in his head regarding Will”s and my sleeping arrangement.

I head for the bathroom, deliberately leaving the door partially, but only minimally, closed. From the shower I can see Mikey, and he could see me if he were looking but he isn”t – he”s focussed on Will and, apparently, plucking up some courage.

I shower and shampoo quickly, keeping one eye on the bedroom.

Mikey begins on Will by prodding and feeling one of his arms then the uncovered leg. Will snorts and turns from his side to his back. He”s still asleep, but the tent pole below his waist isn”t! Mikey carefully lifts the sheet to take a peek then slowly puts it down again before resting his hand on top of the raised section.

I close the taps and begin to dry off.

I see Will”s arms move slowly, then, like the claws of a crab, they capture Mikey, who squeals in terror. Will sits bolt upright when he realises that it is not whom he was expecting and he surveys his ensnared prey.

Mikey breaks free and runs to me. I wrap my arms around him `for protection”. “It”s OK,” I tell him. “He”s like that in the morning.”

“I”ll get you both for that!” Will growls, trying hard to suppress his mirth. Ignoring his nakedness and engorgement, he flings back the sheet, jumps off the bed and heads for us. He whips the towel from around my waist. In grasping for it, I release Mikey and Will pounces. He picks Mikey up from behind, with one arm over his shoulder and across his chest, and the other through his legs, resting directly on his crotch. “Have you had a shower yet, this morning, Mikey?” he taunts, pushing past me into the bathroom.

“No. Don”t! Mum will go mad at me if I get wet!” he calls out,

“He”s only joking, Mikey,” I try to reassure him. “He”s like that in the morning, too.”

“Only playing, Mikey. Are you OK?” Will asks, hugging Mikey too him.

“Uh-huh.” Mikey says tentatively, but then visibly relaxing into Will”s arms, and making no move to wriggle free of either of Will”s hands. “You scared me, Will!” he protests, pouting.

“Hey, you shocked me too, buddy,” Will replies, letting him down slowly and releasing the hand between Mikey”s legs last of all. “Come on. Give me a hug, and we”ll call it even.”

Ignoring Will”s nakedness, or not, Mikey wraps his arms tightly around Will”s chest to his back. Will reciprocates and pats him on the backside. “You sure you”re OK?”

“Yes, just don”t tell Mum or Sam anything. OK?”

“If you don”t say anything, Mikey, neither will we. Deal?”

“Deal!” He gives Will a high-five, then me, glancing first at my body, then into my eyes. He has a huge grin on his face! “Thanks, Mister Grant. See you at breakfast.”

Then he”s gone.

“And what was that all about?” Will asks, with both hands on his hips.

“Tell you later,” I say. “Now that you”re up, boy do you need a shower!”

“It”s all your fault,” he jokes. “Want to save some water?”

“I”ve already used my quota. I”ll get dressed and see you up there. Be quick!”

When I enter the dining room, both boys are hard at work. Mikey is adding the finishing touches to a table set for five, and Sam is clearing away the last from where the telco workers were.

“Good morning, Mister Grant,” Sam greets me. “Is Will up?”

I think of an appropriate yet smart-alec response but simply state instead, “He was in the shower when I left him”.

“Good morning, Tom,” Barbara intones melodiously. “I hope you slept well.”

“Like a log,” I reply.

She continues, “If you”d like to sit down, the boys should both join you in a minute. Do you think Will is going to be long?”

I didn”t take any double meaning from her question until, in a freeze-frame moment, both boys stop in their tracks and look at me. By now they both know how long he is.

“I think that he”ll be here very shortly,” I reply.

“All right then. I”ll start serving. Would you help me please, Mikey?”

Will arrives, clean and sweet-smelling, just as Barbara brings in the last of the plates.

“Good morning, Will,” Barbara greets him.

Sam”s turn. “Hi Will.”

“Hello again, Will,” Mikey adds.

“Good morning everyone,” Will replies to everybody at once.

Same seating arrangements as last night. Conversation is jovial in anticipation of our next stay, with the possibility of a visit from the boys either before or after that.

When the coffee and milkshakes are finished, Barbara hands me a large bag. “Something for your trip,” she says.

Will and I thank her. Sam and Mikey give us both hugs and express their thanks for us coming. Does Sam mean `cumming”? LOL.

With Will taking the wheel, he and I wave to the three of them as we pass Reception on the way out.

 

As he drives, Will comments, “I”m so glad that you chose that place to stay.”

“They”re great people, aren”t they?” I reply.

“Yeah. But, tell me,” he asks, “why did Mikey come down and why was he feeling me up this morning? How did that come about? Did you encourage him or tell him to do that?”

“Last night,” I tell him, “Barbara asked whether we wanted an early breakfast. I said that I might have trouble waking you up, so I suggested that he come down and, if you were asleep, he could tickle you, the way he tickles Sam.”

“Is that the way he tickles Sam?” Will asks with some surprise.

“So, now we both know, eh?” I add.

“How old is he?” Will asks.

“He told me `twelve and eleven twelfths” when I asked him that last night. So, he”s about to turn thirteen.”

“That age!” Will comments. “Almost like Karl and Kurt.”

“Yes, and obviously showing an interest in male bits,” I add.

“Well, he certainly has some bits that could rival his brother”s in a year or so,” Will laughs.

“Yes, I saw you having a good feel his gear, and checking it out!” I don”t let on that I already know about Mikey”s `bits”.

“Hey, all in good fun,” Will replies. “Anyway, he started it!”

We both laugh at his juvenile-sounding excuse.

“Tell me,” I ask him. “Why did you and Sam come back so early last night?”

“Well, after you left, we did it again on the bed, and I wanted to leave something in the tank to fill you up with.”

“So, that was twice with Sam then twice with me. No wonder you needed tickling back to life this morning!” I tut-tut at him.

 

The countryside continues to change. If anything, it looks much browner than when we were travelling in the opposite direction, or maybe it was just the time of day and the light. We stop for a roadside pee. No problem with modesty – there”s probably not another car within 100km of us! We tuck into what Barbara has packed for us – too many sandwiches; not enough muffins; and fruit juice.

“I wonder what Sam and Mikey”s father is like,” I comment for no particular reason.

“Probably hung like a donkey or an elephant, I expect,” Will replies.

“And, how would you know how big an elephant”s dick is?” I ask.

“You need to learn how to use Google on your tablet, Tom,” Will laughs. “Jarrod showed me.”

 

It”s mid-afternoon when the landscape becomes familiar. The tree line, indicating the river. Jake and Jane”s place. The Village. The school. The church. Karl & Kurt”s. The pub. And, there is some unfamiliar earth-moving equipment at the end of the road. Hmm!

We turn, and head south then take the dirt road towards Marty”s. Will pulls up the car at a very memorable spot on the track.

“You wanna get lucky?” Will asks, laughing and sliding his hand up my thigh. It brings back beautiful and life-changing memories.

“Maybe later,” I reply, with my hand softly clutching the almost-firmness in his crotch.

Despite a certain d�j� vu, and nostalgic memories, I know that nothing for us will ever be the same again.

We drive on, and the familiar barking of the dogs heralds our return.

 

(to be continued)

 

There is a parallel version to this story, told through the eyes of Kurt.
Find it at https://www.//gay/adult-youth/kurt-series/

—–

If you like this story, and haven”t said “hello” yet, please take a couple of minutes to email ail

I try to reply to everyone. Please be patient.

—–

Please support the efforts at Nifty. Every little bit helps to ensure that

our stories continue to be posted. Do it here: fty/donate.html

 

 

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32