Kurt

 

Life in The Village, through the eyes of a student at the remote school.
(This is a parallel story to "Schoolie", but through different eyes.)
This chapter aligns, partially, with Chapter 50 of "Schoolie".

This is an original work of pure fiction (just an expression of a fantasy)
by Robert A. Armstrong (a pseudonym)

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 29:

William is about to beat Karl and me at dominoes, when Karl spots "Mr Grant's car!" pull up at the pub, and alerts William to it, obviously hoping to end the game, or at least distract him.

"You mean MY car!" William corrects him, giving Karl a light smack to the back of his head. "But, I'm going to win this game first!"

And he does.

Karl and I watch William, with hands tucked into his back pockets, stroll over to the pub to join Mr Grant, the pilot. Our Mr Grant, with his mother, drives `The Beast' back from the school and picks them up. Then he reverses out and heads back the way he has just come. Except, he goes past the old church, then turns north towards the bridge on the Whispering Gums road. I can still hear Mr Grant's new `Beast' even after I can no longer see it.

 

 

Chapter 30 – A New Friend

It's late in the day when I hear that deep growl again. Karl and I leave our dinner preparations and go out onto the verandah.

I think that The Beast could become a tourist attraction! Or, at least, a local attraction. A few guys that are Mr Grant's age come out to look, some for the second time.

This time, though, I can see Mr Grant talking to them and pointing. One gets into the driver's seat and then we see them lifting the bonnet to look at the engine. Some guys love to do that. I've never been one of them. Yet. Maybe.

I hear the engine restart, and then whoever is in the driver's seat revs it a few times. Very beast-like! William was right!

Mr Grant, the pilot, and our Mr Grant's mother who have gone into the pub, re-emerge with another lady and a young guy who looks to be about my age. I look at him carefully. He doesn't seem to be able to walk properly and one of his arms, the left one, has plaster on it from his wrist to his elbow. My guess is that he has had an accident, like falling out of a tree, or coming a cropper on his bike or skateboard. Apart from that, he looks really fit.

And handsome!

I hear him call out, `Tom' and he grabs hold of Mr Grant in a hug and holds on. Mr Grant hugs him back then musses up his hair, like he does to me. They continue to hold each other and are obviously friends!

I suddenly feel a little jealous, and can't stop myself from wondering whether they have ever `done anything' together, like what Mr Grant has done with me.

Then I see the other lady and Mr Grant's mother hugging.

Then the boy jumps up and down, as well as he is able, with his hand in the air as though he is desperate to answer a question in class.

William says something and then the boy hugs him too.

These people sure are a huggy-friendly lot!

The other lady gives Mr Grant a small bag and then William helps the boy into the front seat of The Beast. William jumps in and they take off in the direction of Marty's place.

The sun is setting so Karl and I go back to fixing dinner for us and Dad.

 

We have all just started eating when we hear it.

"The `Beast' is coming," I say, growling and showing my claws. LOL.

"Who, or what on earth is that?" Dad asks, not expecting that we would know. But, actually, we do. LOL.

"That's Mr Grant's new car," Karl announces.

"How do you know that?" Dad asks back.

"William told us," I answer. "It's Mr Grant's birthday present from his parents. We heard and saw it earlier today. And William gave it the name `The Beast', because of the way that it growls."

"Wow! That's some birthday present!" Dad says. "I'd love to see it up close in the daylight!"

"You will probably get the chance tomorrow," Karl tells him.

"Ah, yes, there's the official ownership ceremony out at the old haunted homestead," Dad comments.

"We are going, aren't we, Dad?" I plead with him. "Everybody's invited."

"Of course, son," he tells me, smiling. "I wouldn't pass up an opportunity to see that place!"

"But why did you say that it's haunted?" Karl asks, somewhat nervously.

"Think about it. Any house that can appear and disappear when it pleases, and can kill people, must be haunted, don't you think?" Dad answers.

That's probably not a good thing to hear just before I go to bed, especially after what I saw and felt last Saturday when we were out there.

Now I don't usually dream, unless it's about Ron or Mr Grant, but I must admit that it's difficult to sleep while thoughts of killer ghosts keep invading my head.

 

I must have slept at some stage, because my nose wakes up to the smell of breakfast cooking.

Then one eye comes to life. It focuses on Karl's bed, which is empty.

As my brain also emerges from semi-consciousness, it struggles between my brother being taken and murdered by a ghost, and him having breakfast with Dad without waking me up, plus a few other improbable scenarios.

"Hey son, are you awake yet?" a voice beckons from the doorway. My ears have joined my other awake senses. "Breakfast is on the table."

"Thanks, Dad," my voice mutters, and I force my feet to locate the floor.

Then I wonder whether it would be too shocking to just to do an urgent pee into the bath and flush it away by turning on the shower. The quick answer is `No'. So, I do it.

 

As we are eating, we hear Mr Grant's new car pull up at the pub. With a half-eaten slice of toast still in one hand, I go out onto the verandah with Dad and Karl. We look across towards the pub and Dad gets his first sight of The Beast.

"Wow!" Dad almost whistles. "Every man around here would like one of those. Including me." Then, after thinking about it a little, he adds, "But it's not a work vehicle, is it? Real men drive utes!"

I understand what Dad is saying about the need for farmers to carry tools and equipment and food for animals and stuff, but I feel that he just insulted Mr Grant.

I need to defend him. "It may not be so useful for a farmer," I say, "but it's great for a country schoolie! Don't you think so, Dad?"

"Yeah, you're right son. And more suitable than the cute, little, city-bloke toy that he's been driving."

My brother jumps in, "You'd better not let William hear you call it a `city bloke toy' or `cute'. Mr Grant gave it to him and he's really proud of it. Besides, it's almost brand new."

I can see the wheels turning in Dad's mind. "Excellent first car for a teenager!" he announces. "William is a very lucky young man."

Peace made. I think that Karl was feeling as miffed for William as I was for Mr Grant.

Dad changes the subject. "OK, men, there are jobs to be done!"

"We did them yesterday while you were at work," Karl announces.

"What? All of them?" Dad asks.

I make sure that he knows what I've done: "I even cleaned the toilet!" Then I add, "For the second week in a row!"

"How come?" Dad asks. "I remember that you did it last week. Wasn't it Karl's turn this week?"

"Oh, was it?" Karl asks. His attempt at angelic surprise fails, at least on me. "We must have got it muddled up."

I'm not going to have an argument, so I tell Dad my plan to roster our names on the calendar for toilet cleaning.

"Great suggestion!" he says, then turns and asks, "Was that your idea Karl?" Dad turns to me and winks, knowingly. "I'll get a pen now, and write in the next couple of months."

And he does.

And Karl frowns.

Dad insists on conducting a work inspection, and marking things off on his imaginary check list. "Excellent!" he chirps. "Well done." Then he adds, "So what will we do this morning, then?"

"Did Mr Cameron give you his newspaper from last weekend?" I ask. "We didn't see it."

"I had forgotten," Dad says. "It's still in the ute. I'll get it." And he heads out.

"I'll wash up," I call after him.

Dad comes back in with the paper to see me stacking dishes ready for washing while Karl is still sitting at the table.

"And how are you being helpful, son?" Dad directs at Karl, eye to eye.

"Umm," he starts, "keeping out of the way. I could make us a coffee."

"Jug's already on," I tell him. The comment is for Dad actually.

"I've got something for you to do," Dad tells him. "Can you take a broom and sweep out the back of the ute for me? It got a bit messy carting farm stuff back and forth yesterday."

I say nothing, but smile to myself. Outwardly and inwardly.

My brother has come off second best! What can he say? He can't refuse. He can't swap jobs with me. He can't have sudden stomach cramps. He can't get out of doing a bit of real work.

Haha.

Dad settles back down at the table and begins on the newspaper.

 

Breakfast dishes are done. And put away.

Jug is boiled. I make three coffees and set them on the table, where each of us was sitting for breakfast.

I remember the apple and jam tarts. I retrieve them from the cupboard, and put the plate, into the microwave, setting it for 30 seconds.

My brother comes back in, just as I place the plate of tarts onto the table in front of Dad.

"Where did these come from?" Dad asks.

"My hands are more useful than just sweeping out toilets and washing dishes, you know," I joke.

Behind Dad's back, but so that only Karl can see, I make wanking motions. That brings a smile back to my brother's face.

Then, in a rare moment of support, Karl says while washing his hands, "They're really good Dad. We had some yesterday when Kurt made them. And we had to hide these ones from William, or there would be none left for you."

"What? You didn't give him any?" Dad asks, concerned that our training in good manners and hospitality could be wasted.

"It's OK, Dad," I say. "When we heard him pull up, I put some on a plate for him and hid the rest. When he came in, his nose and stomach led him straight to the ones that I'd left out.

 

We drink, eat and share parts of the newspaper. And, we hear Mr Grant's beast growl its way out towards the homestead.

I am keen to get out there too but Dad reckons that it would be more polite for us to not be amongst the first ones to arrive, nor the last.

Karl and I dress in our new jeans and shirts. And we grab our hats. A perfect opportunity to wear them at last!

From our place we can see the pub and the street outside, which makes for a perfect game – to identify the owner of each car as it heads out for the official ceremony.

Dad identifies `Davo' as he emerges from the pub and then watches a lot of others pile out too, and he tells us all of their names and points out the vehicle that each one drives. Some cars are left `parked' while their owners travel with mates.

Mr & Mrs Smith's truck is easy. We see it parked at the pub all of the time.

Karl spots Marty's blue SUV, and I guess that he's taking his mother, Mrs O'Brien plus his sister.

We see a police car. "That will be Marty's brothers, Sean and Chad," Dad tells us. "Chad is the police officer in Big Town."

"And Sean drives the ambulance," I add. "We talked to him not so long ago, when he was out here."

I'm the first to hear and call out the identity of Mr Reg O'Brien's Land Rover. I'd know that sound anywhere! Coming down the road from their property it turns off to cross the bridge without coming into The Village.

Another one that comes from the same direction catches Dad's attention, just before it turns off as well. "That will be Helen O'Sullivan in the Council's SUV, from Cunnamulla," He says.

He is suddenly keen to leave, so the three of us pile into his work ute and head off.

Karl spots David and Eric in one car turning at the pub as we reach it.

I see some of the young girls in another car right behind them.

We all head out, almost together, but Dad is keen not to drive in anyone's dust, so, after we cross the bridge, he `fans out' to the left.

When we pull up, side by side, it's obvious that lots of people have arrived earlier. Everyone piles out.

Mr Grant, coming down the front steps and heading towards us new arrivals, calls out "Hi everyone!"

All of us kids who have bunched together call back, "Good afternoon, Mr Grant."

I think that it sounds really funny, way out here, away from school.

I spot William coming from around the corner of the house, and that other young guy is with him; the handsome one with a sore leg and the plaster cast on his arm. He's wearing the same-coloured jeans as me, but his are tighter and show off things that are inside, like my old ones. He's a bit older than I had first imagined from a distance.

I feel tingly-strange inside.

I hear William introduce the guy as "Andy" to Jake, Jane, and the little kids. Then they reach Karl and me.

My brother shakes hands with Andy and they say, "Hello, nice to meet you Andy/Karl."

I feel paralysed! I stare into his eyes. They look the same as Ron's. Has Ron come back in another body? I don't know what to say. Or do.

Karl elbows me to wake me up or to `re-start my engine'.

I extend my hand and Andy merges his own with it. I feel him shaking it. I can't take my eyes off his. He's staring back at me.

"Hello," he says. "I'm Andy."

"Hello, Andy," I reply. "My name's Kurt."

"Hello, Kurt," he says back.

How can his eyes be as magnetic as Ron's? If I was able to block out everything except his eyes, I'd swear that it was Ron looking at me! Or, is that just wishful thinking? A daydream.

However, he immediately releases our handshake and looks a bit flustered. For me, time seems to stand still. Then, everything begins happening in slow motion.

I'm aware of things happening around me, but I'm not paying too much attention to them: Jake going over to join William and Karl; Dad talking with Ms O'Sullivan; Mr Grant speaking with some parents.

My focus is entirely on Andy. I can't see his aura like Ron would be able to, but I can definitely feel something. Something, very strongly. And judging by the sudden, more obvious outline in the front of his jeans, he can too. My body continues to tingle. Oh, no! If Junior insists on having one of his uncontrollable moments now, I hope that nothing more happens! That would be too embarrassing! In front of Andy, and with all of these people around me.

"Thank you all for coming," Mr Grant calls, raising his voice, which breaks my concentration on Andy.

Mr Grant continues by inviting people to look through the house and to grab some food and drink from on the southern side of the first verandah.

"Hey, do you want to get something to eat then have a look around?" I ask Andy. "I can show you, if you like. I've been here before."

"I have been in the house already," he replies. "I came here with Tom. In his new car. Tom's my friend."

I'm instantly aware that something more is wrong with Andy than his plastered arm and the way that he walks.

His speech is not what I expected to come from his handsome teenage face. He sounds... `simple'. Even young David's and little Eric's speech are more, what's the word..., fluent. I don't know what Andy's problem is, but I suddenly feel very sorry for him. Can I help him? How? I don't know. Does he have friends? Does he need a friend?

Who is Andy and why is he here?

And, why did he say that Mr Grant is his friend? I can't stop myself from wondering whether Mr Grant has sucked his dick too. That's something that I wouldn't like Mr Grant to do to him. Mr Grant is my Christmas wish! And, him doing stuff with me is my birthday wish!

I wonder whether Andy would even like someone to suck his dick for him! I can still see its prominence in his jeans. It looks similar in size to Karl's and mine.

Not now, Junior! No! Down! Cold water! Cold shower! Ice water! Behave!

"Yes. I would like to have some food. Thank you, Kurt," Andy says, interrupting my thoughts.

"OK. Come on. Let's get some," I answer. I'm very tempted to take his hand, or put my arm over his shoulder, but I manage to resist.

I simply lead the way towards the front steps and I am conscious of Andy's not-so-smooth walking. I slow down to match the speed at which he seems comfortable. We reach the steps and Andy puts his right hand on the railing. I put out my arm for him, to help. He rests his plastered arm on top of mine and locks the fingers of that hand with mine. He's holding my hand! He looks at me and smiles. "Thank you, Kurt. You're my friend," he tells me.

With his hand resting on top of mine, I tighten my fingers and squeeze his fingertips. "I'm very happy to be your friend, Andy," I reply.

He squeezes back and, very broadly, grins at me. He's happy. So is Junior. But, not quite jumping for joy. Thankfully.

I can tell that he's not leaning on me for support, but his fingers hold my hand tightly as we go up every step.

At the top, he says, "Thank you, Kurt. You're my friend."

Hearing him say the `my friend' words again, I think that I might have been too quick to read something into his saying the same thing about Mr Grant, who might only have been helpful to him too.

We each get a sausage in a bread roll, with extras, plus a can of drink.

Because he now has each of his hands full, I ask him, "Are you OK, Andy? Can you manage?"

"Yes, thank you, Kurt," he answers. "I can manage."

We continue along the verandah and around to the back of the house. Alone, we stop and eat. I lean against the railing and face him. He's, leaning on the wall. It gives me a chance to `check him out', head to toe.

In my mind, I can compare him with Karl. In a way, it's like comparing him with me.

Despite my interest in the front of his jeans, I determine to start at the top. I think he's probably only a little taller than Karl and me. And well built. Athletic.

My hair is all blond. His is blond too, but different. It's light brown underneath but almost yellow on top.

His face is very handsome. Mature. Ron's eyes. Great smile. And he has an Adam's apple!

Strong pecs. Flat stomach. Slim waist.

Well, it didn't take me long to get down to his... you know!

Am I making it too obvious? I glance at his face and he's watching me checking him out. Caught! Embarrassment!

But he smiles, and winks at me. Then he makes no pretence about checking out my jeans. Then, when he looks up at my face, I wink back at him.

Righto, Junior. You have my permission to do it! And he does.

Matching Andy's.

We keep eating, sipping, smiling and perving at each other's now-obvious but restrained erections.

While our mouths are busy with the food and drink, our eyes are having a conversation of their own.

My mind imagines that, with sound, it would be something like this...

`I like you.'

`Me too. You're my friend.'

`I like your body.'

`Same.'

`You've got a nice cock.'

`You too.'

`Can I feel it?'

`Yeah.'

`You like wanking?'

I'm suddenly brought back to reality when a couple of adults join us, carrying their food and beer. "G'day, boys," one of them says. "Nice views from around here!"

Andy and I both answer, "Yes," and, with my back towards them, I turn to look at the horizon, knowing that's what he meant, even though I had another view on my mind.

Andy and I move along the verandah a little farther. Other adults join us. Our privacy has gone. Totally.

I finish my food, put my drink down and untuck my shirt. "We don't want people to see everything, do we?" I whisper to Andy.

He looks at me and copies my actions. "No, we don't want them to see our hard cocks, do we?" Andy whispers back then adds. "But I like seeing your hard one."

"Let's finish our drinks and then go exploring in the house," I suggest.

Maybe `things' will go down if we can concentrate on something else. If I can find something else to focus on!

As we move back towards the front of the house, more cars arrive and Mr Grant goes down to meet them. Everyone appears to be in a really good mood.

I hear different men call Mr Grant various names: `Tom', `Mr Grant', `Mr Mayor' and, one even says, `Harry Potter'.

I have no idea what that's all about!

Mr Grant replies to the last one, "G'day, Jacko, How's that magic wand of yours? Keeping a firm grip on it, are you?"

The other men all laugh, carry on and slap Mr Grant on the back. One says, "Nice, one, Schoolie! He deserved that!"

I wonder if they thought what I did, about Jacko keeping a firm grip on his magic wand. Meaning, playing with his stiff cock.

I'm tempted to join in with their laughter, but that would reveal that I was eavesdropping on their conversation, and betray the fact that someone my age understands cocks and stiffs and playing with himself.

I grab Andy by the shirt and steer us back towards the front door before we are noticed.

It is shut. Andy says, "I'll get it." He opens it and we go in.

He appears to shiver, but I don't feel cold at all.

"Are you all right, Andy?" I ask, putting my arm around his shoulders.

"Yes, thank you, Kurt," he tells me. "I'm OK."

"Upstairs or downstairs?" I ask.

"Yes, please. Upstairs or downstairs," he answers.

I think that it is going to take me a bit of time to get used to the fact that I'm not talking to Karl or William. Andy is different. I could be his friend and look after him. I wouldn't want anyone to make fun of him because of his speech.

"OK," I say. "Let's start downstairs then go upstairs."

"OK," Andy agrees. "Downstairs then upstairs."

We go to the library first because it's closest to the front door.

"Hello, Andy," Mr Grant, the pilot, says to him. "And hello young fellow," he says to me. "You're one of the twins, aren't you? Which one are you?"

Andy answers, "Hello, Mr Grant. This is Kurt, and he's my friend."

"And, are you looking after Kurt, Andy?" Mr Grant asks him, very kindly.

"Oh, yes, Mr Grant," Andy answers. "We have to look after our friends."

Mr Grant looks at me and says, "Thank you, young fellow. He's lucky to have you as a friend."

"Come on, Andy," I tell him. "There's a lot more of the house to see."

We go into the lounge room. Andy heads for the seat next to the fire. "I like this one," he tells me. "So does Tom."

I have an idea. "Would you like to play hide and seek with me, Andy?" I ask him.

He becomes very excited. "Oh, yes, please," he answers, bobbing up and down on the seat. "I would love that. I can hide and you can seek. That means you will have to find me. Close your eyes and count to... What should you count to, Kurt?"

"How about thirty?" I suggest.

"OK. But not fast. Cover your eyes and count so that I can hear you," he gives the orders. "And no, cheating! OK?"

"I don't cheat, Andy," I tell him. "I'll close my eyes and also cover them with my hands. And I'll turn my back too. Ready?"

"OK!" he says.

I start to count and I hear him head for the door.

"...Twenty-nine... Thirty! Here I come, ready or not!" I call. I don't care if other people can hear me. This is all for Andy's benefit.

I move to the door and look out. Look around. I'm sure that he'll be somewhere downstairs. Getting up the stairs and hiding all within 30 seconds would have been too difficult for him.

I look around, and think. Three possibilities. Dining room, kitchen or outside. I go to the front door and look around. Not anywhere obvious out here!

I go to the door of the dining room. There's really nowhere to hide in here. But I crouch down and look under the big table anyway. I'd see him if he was here. He must be in the kitchen.

He could be behind a bench. I walk around. Nope. And there are no cupboards, only shelves. He's not here! That's very strange. He must have gone outside. I head out onto the verandah. I see William and Karl standing at the top of the stairs, each with food and a drink. "Did you see Andy come out here?" I ask.

"Nope." Karl says.

William adds, "We've been here for ages, and he didn't come out of the front door."

"Thanks," I tell them. "I seem to have lost him somewhere."

They could both be lying!

I head back inside.

How stupid of me! I didn't check the library. Mr Grant, the pilot, and his friend are both studying the same book. They look up when they see me. "No," they both answer when I ask if Andy had come into here. At least I know that they wouldn't lie to me.

Maybe the place is haunted and a ghost took him.

I wonder how I could have missed him, so I think that I'll start over again.

I walk back into the lounge room. "There you are!" I say, shocked and I point at him in his favourite chair. "How did you get back in here, and where were you hiding out there?"

Andy giggles. "I didn't go out there, Kurt. Haha. You couldn't find me."

"Yes you did," I say. "I couldn't see you, but I heard you heading for the door!"

"But, you didn't look behind the door!" he proclaims, pointing at me for my stupidity, and laughing.

"So, you went to the door and hid behind it, instead of going out through it, did you?" I say.

"Yes. I was clever. I'm good at hiding," he tells me, puffing out his chest.

"You are clever!" I tell him. "You certainly tricked me!"

I walk over to him, wrap my arms around him from behind and tickle his ribs. He cackles but makes no attempt to break free. I'm tempted to tickle him somewhere else but there are too many people around and somebody might see me. So, I let him go.

"Upstairs!" he announces, and heads straight out of the room, towards the big staircase.

Ahead of me on the stairs, and without using the railing for support, he heads to the right. I'm impressed.

He waits outside the black and white bedroom. As I reach him, he tells me, "You can hide, and I will find you."

"You mean, you will TRY to find me," I say, smiling.

"I will find you," he tells me again. "I'm good at hiding and I'm good at finding."

"OK." I say. "Same rule. Count to thirty. Eyes closed. No cheating."

His response is "OK. 1... 2... 3..."

"Stop!" I say. "You didn't close your eyes. Go over and face the bathroom door, close your eyes, and start again."

He turns around, covers his eyes and counts, "4... 5... 6..."

That's not what I meant but I'm not going to argue.

I have a plan. I walk down the steps near the zebra and up the other side, noisily.

I hear "... 12... 13..."

I get to the other side then, as quietly as possible, tip-toe-run to the pink room. I almost-close the door and watch him through the crack.

He finishes counting and heads straight for the bathroom on this side. While he is in there, I dash around to the door that opens onto the front verandah. I stand outside and peep back at the bathroom.

He comes out and goes into the green room. I dash to the blue room and, again, watch through an almost-shut door.

I watch him actually go out onto the verandah and I dash past the master's bedroom and go straight into the bathroom and close the door. I hope that I had enough time and that he didn't come back in from the verandah and see me.

I open the door a little and watch him go into the blue room. Good! That means that he didn't see me.

Now what? I look around. I don't see anywhere to hide. I check the cupboard. Lots of towels but not enough room for me in there. I wonder if I would have enough time to dash past him, back to the blue room, while Andy is checking the black and white one.

I lean on the wall and think. Then I nearly fall as the wall moves. Like a door, a part of it swings way from me into a dark space, and part of it swings outwards. I look in then step through the gap, close it and lean against it.

This is fun.

"Now I've got you!" I hear Andy call out as he enters the bathroom. "There's nowhere else to hide. And I checked behind all of the doors in the bedrooms!"

There are a few moments of silence, obviously while he is looking around. I hear him checking the cupboard. "I know that I saw you come in here! Where the fuck are you?"

I don't know why he checked the last two bedrooms if he saw me. Was he being overly thorough in case it wasn't me? Or did he know that I was watching him? And I didn't know think that he would swear, either.

The more I think about him standing there wondering where I could be, the funnier it gets and I can't stop myself from giggling at the confusion that must be on his face and in his mind.

"I can hear you," Andy says. "But I can't see you. Where are you?"

He knocks on the wall. "Come in!" I call, and laugh.

There is silence. I push the bit that swings out, and I burst out laughing at the shock on his face.

"Do come in!" I say to him.

He pokes his head through the gap and looks around. "It's dark!" he exclaims.

I extend my hand, and he takes it and steps in. I close the wall panel.

"Now it's really dark!" he says, and he begins to touch my body, like he's checking to see that I'm still here. Then I feel him check to see if my cock is still here too, and he giggles.

I check his, and we both giggle.

"This could be a fun place, later," I tell him.

Junior is really excited.

"This is fun," he tells me, giving Junior a squeezy feel.

I'm really tempted to start mucking around with him, but I don't want to be missed if they start doing the signing stuff. "Let's come back later," I say. "After everything is done and nobody will be looking for us."

"Yes, I would like to come back later," Andy tells me.

I push on the panel and it becomes very light. "Oh, there you are!" I joke.

"There you are too," Andy says.

We step out. I close the panel. "Shirts out?" I say to him.

He knows what I mean. "We don't want anyone to see our stiff cocks, do we?" he asks.

"Definitely not!" I answer.

I begin to open the door when I see Mr Grant heading our way. He has just come out of the blue room.

I close the door. "Quick!" I tell Andy. "Mr Grant's coming. Let's hide."

He feels the wall and I show him where to push. We step into the dark and I close it again.

I hear the door open. "Anyone here?" I hear Mr Grant's voice. "Andy? Kurt?"

I hear him check the towel cupboard and then go out again. Meanwhile, Andy is checking out Junior, who is enjoying the attention.

"Not now," I whisper. "They're already looking for us. Let's go. We can come back later."

We open and close the wall panel.

"Shirts out?" Andy says. We both look at our erections and then cover them.

"Let's count to thirty," I say, "and then we can go out."

We count together, whispering so that nobody will hear us. "... 28... 29... 30!"

"Let's go!" I say.

I open the door, and Andy and I dash out, then stop dead in front of Mr Grant who is standing against the railing near the top of the stairs. He looks worried.

"Oh, hi Mr Grant," I laugh at him.

"Hi Tom!" Andy says, and gives him a high-five. He adds, "Kurt is my friend!"

Andy and I are about to go down the stairs when Mr Grant steps in front of us. Andy and I go on opposite sides of him, but he grabs me with one arm and Andy with his other one. Then he pulls us against his body. I try to wriggle loose, but I can't. So, I just let him hang on to me. I like the feeling of being next to his body. I liked it even better when he and I had no clothes on!

"Where on earth have you two been? Where did you come from?" he asks, and tickles me. I hear Andy giggle too. "I was just in there and I didn't see you!"

I stop wriggling and look at Andy. Then we both laugh at how well we hid from him.

"A secret passage!" I tell Mr Grant.

I don't know if he believes me. "Show me!" he says, in a happy voice.

"Can't!" Andy laughs. "'Cause then it wouldn't be a secret!"

Andy and I both laugh again. I can't believe that he just said that! And you should see the expression on Mr Grant's face. Hilarious!

Mr Grant lets me go and I back up to the bathroom door. At the same time, Mr Grant grabs Andy from behind with both hands, pulls him close and then starts to tickle him. Andy is obviously very ticklish. He squeals and squawks and waves his arms and legs around trying to get free. Then, he yells out, "Aargh! Stop. Stop! Stop!! I'll tell! I'll tell!!!"

Mr Grant lets him go and Andy scoots across to stand alongside me at the bathroom door. He puts his unplastered right arm over my shoulder and I do the same to him. We're friends!

Mr Grant stares at us, looking from one to the other, as if he is comparing Andy and me. He grins. Then, his focus stops on Andy and he says, "OK, sport! What's all this about a secret passage?"

"It's true, Tom. We found it by accident," he replies.

"Actually, I found it," I tell Mr Grant.

"But he wouldn't have found it without me," Andy jumps in, wanting at least part of the recognition.

I decide to tell Mr Grant the full story. "Mr Grant, you see, we were playing hide and seek. I came in here," I say, pointing to the bathroom, "and was looking to see if I'd fit inside the cupboard where the towels and things are stacked. When I couldn't, I closed the door, and accidentally leaned on the bit of wall next to it, and it swivelled around. I stepped in and closed it and Andy couldn't find me. It was really funny listening to him. He called out, `I saw you come in here. Where the fuck are you?' He would never have found me if I hadn't burst out laughing."

I look at Andy and his face goes red. Embarrassed red.

"I should have said `truck', shouldn't I have, Tom?" Andy asks him, hanging his head. It sounds like an apology.

"It's OK, Andy," Mr Grant tells him. "Just try not to say it too often, because it might slip out one day in front of your mother and then I think you would be in big trouble, mister!"

"You're not wrong," Andy says with a pained face, rubbing his backside as an indication of what would probably be in store for him.

Mr Grant asks, "And did you explore your secret passage? Could I fit in there?"

Now, why does Mr Grant suddenly look embarrassed?

I smile and tell him, "We couldn't explore where it went because it was too dark. We were just about to leave when we saw that you were coming this way from the front balcony. So, we just went back in there to hide. From you. It was a good hiding place, wasn't it?"

"Too right!" Mr Grant says. "OK, you'd better show me."

Andy turns to me, "Did he say please?"

"No, I didn't hear it," I reply, smirking.

"Well, then..." Andy starts to say, "I don't think that we should..."

Suddenly Mr Grant pounces on him, and wraps his arms around him, like before. Andy's going to get tickled again!

"NO! OK. OK," Andy squeals. Then he adds, as if he was the teacher, "We'll overlook your bad manners... this time."

He and I both laugh and hurry through the bathroom door and stand in front of the piece of panelling next to the cupboard doors.

"After you," Andy tells me.

"No, after you," I reply, thinking how much fun it would be to delay showing Mr Grant the secret passage as long as possible.

"But I insist," Andy continues.

"No, no, no..." I say again. I can't help grinning an evil grin and look at Mr Grant's face to see what his reaction is to my little delaying game.

"Let me give you both a hand," Mr Grant says, and immediately swats each of us on the tail at the same time.

It is a shock, but it doesn't hurt. Andy and I both burst out laughing. Mr Grant is a great guy! Heaps of fun!

I lean forward onto the panel and push on one edge. It swings open.

Mr Grant looks in, then goes inside a few steps. Andy and I follow him.

"I think we should come back with a torch and explore," Mr Grant says, sounding a bit like a pirate seeking buried treasure.

I use one of William's favourite expressions. "Hell, yeah!"

"Truckin' hell yeah!" Andy says. Then he laughs. Me too. And Mr Grant. It's so great to be able to share a joke with an adult without getting roused on!

"Do you want to tell anyone else about this, or should we just keep it our little secret?" Mr Grant asks us.

Is he kidding? "Secret!" Andy and I reply together.

Mr Grant agrees.

Andy and I high-five each other.

The secret panel suddenly slams shut and we are in complete darkness. Then I hear, "Wooooo! I am the ghost of the big house!"

I know that it's not Mr Grant trying to scare us, but it sounds deeper than Andy's voice.

I hear some shuffling noises. I don't want to be in here with a ghost!

I know where the panel is, so I push on it and it opens again. I virtually jump out, followed by Andy. We leave Mr Grant behind and `escape'.

 

(to be continued)

 

The parallel version to this story, is told through the eyes of Tom Grant, the `Schoolie'.
Find it at https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/schoolie

If you'd like a full picture of their lives and thoughts, you should read both concurrently.

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rob.zz@hotmail.com

I try to reply to everyone, though maybe not the same day. Please be patient.

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