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 13
As I round a slight bend in the track, I stop dead, fearful of that which I see before me.
A large, brown snake could not be more terrifying, nor a long-tusked, wild boar more threatening and dangerous to me.
There, next to the tree that marks the fork to Marty's Mum's place is... Anna!
Chapter 14 - Double Vision
Every expletive that my brain can recall flashes painfully through my head.
I feel like a fawn, cornered by a large hungry cat. Could a tiger or mountain lion be more threatening to my health?
I am tempted to jog right past and simply salute her on the way. That might work on the boardwalk back home, but not here, even if I did have my earphones to isolate me from reality. However, social etiquette demands that I stop and, at the least, exchange pleasantries.
I'm confused. How is it that can I appreciate her beauty so much and yet not be attracted to her? Yes, I told her that she was attractive, but I'm not attracted to her in the same way that Will's magnetism attracts me. Her breasts are round, and each would be a `hand-full'. The knee-pants that she is wearing highlight the shape of her hips and thighs and long legs.
My old demons resurface. Why doesn't she stir my blood? Why don't I find her sexy? Why aren't I `normal'? She probably wants me to ravish her, right here and now. But I can't. Could I perform if I pretended that she is Will or Marty, or Kurt perhaps? She'll realise my secret if she tries something and I can't respond!
I muster all my courage and pray that my mouth and brain cooperate and collaborate this time. "Good morning, Anna," I chirp.
"Hi, Tom." Her tone is sultry and alluring.
I can tell instantly that I'm in deep shit!
I nervously reply, "I just thought that I'd take a quick morning jog."
I am about to add a comment about needing to work off the calories that my body is beginning to store from all the great food that I've been eating when my brain overrules... `Don't!' it tells me. And it acknowledges why: she'd have a perfect suggestion for burning calories!
I sidle around her, lean my back against the tree, trying to appear relaxed, and I nervously attempt to make small talk. "Beautiful morning for a jog! Did you see that sunrise? It's great to have Marty back, eh? How's your Mum?"
She moves and stands directly in front of me and seems to glide closer with each of my questions and I feel myself pushing back against the tree – there's no room to retreat!
I continue, "I'm looking forward to the holidays, and to catching up with my family... and to seeing my girlfriend, Karen."
The `Karen' line doesn't dissuade her at all! She steps closer – there are only centimetres now separating us. I can feel her breath on my face. I feel myself sweating.
She snares me with, "Why? Is Karen going to do something for you that I couldn't?"
Then she does it. She leans her body against mine. Her breasts compress against my chest. Her pelvis connects with mine. She will be able to feel Junior against her body. Junior betrays me - he starts to swell! Why? Body heat? Or the thought of a willing body, wanting `it'? Shit. Why now?
She presses her groin into mine a few times. On each occasion that she pulls back, Junior expands a little more. Help! How do I get out of this?
I mumble, "Anna, this feels really nice, but I need to go to the toilet, badly!"
"No problem!" she says, backing off a little way. She giggles, "You can water the tree. I won't look."
I think, `Like hell you won't'.
I continue, "Yes, but that's not what I need to do. I think that the jogging has stirred up last night's dinner. Sorry. I really need to go."
How can she argue against scaring the crap out of me?
"OK," She says, with some obvious disappointment. "Maybe tomorrow?"
"Yeah, maybe." I echo back.
I will spend the next 24 hours praying for rain! Or a sprained ankle!
I don't even look back as I jog on with some urgency. Junior is flopping around in a semi-erect state. The feeling against my trackies is, again, quite stimulating, but thinking about what almost happened will quickly put him back to sleep.
My only comforts at the moment are the rising sun on my back and the thought of getting back to Will. The dogs bark. I head for the bathroom, close the door, lean both of my hands on the wall above the toilet and wait for my body to decide whether or not it is going to throw up.
Is this how Will felt, with Anna stalking him? I can truly empathise with him now. Poor, miserable kid!
As my body settles down, I wash my face and head back outside. Marty passes me, naked, and closes the bathroom door.
Will has moved back to his own bed and is lying, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. "Hi, Tom. Where did you go?"
"To hell and back!" my still-unsettled breathing pants.
He lifts his head and looks at me inquiringly.
I simply say, "I'll explain it later, Will."
I close the door and lay myself gently on top of him. No gyrations. Just a quick kiss to his forehead and a comforting snuggle.
"You're really upset about something, aren't you?" he asks quietly.
"Yes, but I'll be OK shortly," I say, exhaling fully. "Being here with you is easing the pain."
I hear the toilet flush and I roll off him, just in case!
Marty calls, "Breakfast in 15 minutes! OK?"
Will and I both acknowledge the chef's return, "Yes, Marty. OK. Thanks."
Will doesn't pursue questioning of my mood, but says in a low voice, "You were cruel last night. You know, don't you, that if you count Friday night, you made me come 8 times in 24 hours. That's once every three hours." Well, there's nothing wrong with his maths! "At first, I thought that my balls would shrivel up, then I realised that you didn't do so badly yourself - six - 3 on Friday night, 1 on Saturday morning and then 2 during my `punishment'. Hey! How much fun could you and I possibly have together at that rate?"
There is a definite twinkle in his eyes.
"Will, I have never done that before. Don't expect that to be my normal rate. You'll kill me quickly if you ever expect that regularly."
We laugh and I head for the shower.
I spend the rest of Sunday at the school, preparing the week's lessons. No visits from Karl and Kurt. I'm thankful and yet, at the same time, disappointed.
Monday morning. I give the jogging a miss. Anna will definitely be pissed off!
It is so good to see my school full of cherubs. So innocent! (Well, most of them.)
As I look over them all working diligently, I realise that I have no photos of them to send home to Mum and Dad, nor for the cherubs' parents to keep, either.
I can take the photos with my phone this week and email them from Big Town - I'll go in with Marty on Saturday.
I tell everyone that tomorrow will be `School Photo Day' and suggest that they all wear something appropriate. Will is in for a surprise! And so is everybody else!
Tuesday morning. I suggest to Will that he wear some of the new clothes that I bought him for his birthday. He cuts a handsome figure in his close-fitting (manhood-enhancing) jeans, checked shirt, with his matching belt and boots.
Having waited to see what he would choose, I dress identically while he is making the coffee. When I emerge for my morning shot of caffeine too, Will is stunned. But, even moreso is Marty.
Will comments first, "How did you get those? Why haven't I seen them before? How come they're exactly the same as mine? When...?" and he can't finish the question.
Marty just lets go a `wow'-type whistle, and then there is momentary silence before his brain furnishes his mouth with words.
"Holy shit," is all that he can muster. More silence. I stand next to Will, leaning my forearm on his shoulder. Marty continues, "It's hard to tell if I'm looking at two Toms or two Williams."
He scans us from head to foot, then chuckles while indicating both our crotches, "Hell! You guys even hang on the same side!"
Will, still noticeably shocked somewhat, but never missing an opportunity to have a dig at Marty, chirps up, "And when, cousin, did you start taking such an interest in Mr Grant's cock and balls? And mine, for that matter?"
Marty realises the implications of what he has said and struggles for an explanation.
Will has bested him once again!
Caught between Will's smirk and Marty's incoherent mumblings, I decide to help out. There are certain conclusions that I don't want Marty to make.
"Marty," I explain to him, "the clothes were a special deal while you were in hospital. I couldn't resist. I didn't mention it to William. You don't think it's too weird, do you? I just thought that it would be a bit of fun. This is just for the photos today, but it should be hilarious. It's been interesting watching people seeing our similar faces, and my quirky sense of humour insisted that I push the envelope just a bit further. I did think of buying you some too, but I wasn't sure of your sizes."
I explain to Marty about `School Photo Day' and ask him whether he could drive up to The Village later to take some with both Will and me in them, along with the rest of the children.
He agrees.
In my mind, though, I have another plan for this afternoon. It will be a day that Will's mother is never going to forget!
I imagine her seeing Will enter the house twice, and then leaving twice, maybe even full repeats or cross-overs with one of us coming while the other is going.
I can't wait to see her confused face and muddled brain. Then I think, no, her `addled' brain.
At school there are many whistles, `oohs' and `OMGs' from all of the students (especially from Jake, Karl and Kurt) when they see Will and me together. Their mirth gradually subsides and Will and I settle into our respective roles for the day.
At lunchtime, I see Marty's SUV parked over at the pub so, while the children are eating, under Jane's supervision, I stroll across to enlist his assistance with the photos.
As I enter the pub, I see a few patrons including Marty who is talking to a rather unkempt woman who appears a little unsteady in her seat. She is using exaggerated hand gestures and uttering slightly slurred speech.
Marty acknowledges me and gets up.
The woman attempts to focus on me, squinting, but says nothing.
Marty says, "Come on. Jump in and I'll drive you back to the school."
With Marty helping to `marshal the troops', I take a host of individual photos and a couple of full-group ones.
Then I step in and Marty takes a few that include both Will and me. We look like a pair of matching book-ends.
The arrangement is made even more interesting by the fact that Karl is next to Will and Kurt is next to me. Jake and Jane are between the four of us with the other cherubs in front - some standing and the smallest ones seated.
I take some group shots - siblings and `best friends'.
Marty wants to take one of Will and me together `for laughs' he tells everyone. This had crossed my mind but I wasn't sure whether or not I should suggest it.
He also takes another `interesting one' of Will, me, Karl and Kurt. Hmmm. Two sets of identically-dressed boys. LOL.
We finish by asking Jane to take a couple of Marty and me together.
I thank Marty for his help and he heads off - straight past the pub and he turns towards home.
I allow the children some extra lunch time then we go back inside to complete the day's work.
After school, Will and I are in my car - Will is driving. He slows as we approach the pub. I observe the same woman whom I noted earlier in the day, leaning on the old peppercorn tree for support, noticeably more intoxicated than previously.
When I comment on her, Will says, obviously quite embarrassed about her condition, "That's my mum."
I ask him to stop so that I can get out to see if she needs any help.
"Better to leave her alone, Tom," Will advises.
Nevertheless. I insist that he stop.
I walk up to her and ask, politely, whether I can help her. I do not expect her response. She sings loudly, in a taunting, nursery-rhyme fashion:
"Little Willie, Little
Willie
Who's got a little willie?
Daddy's got a big one,
Baby's got a little one,
Show us your little willie, Little
Willie."
I am shocked. As I turn to look at Will for his reaction, I feel a thud to the side of my head.
My ear is buzzing. My face is stinging. Then I hear, "How many times have I told you not to come to the fucking pub when I'm here? You little shit! I saw you in here earlier, and Marty even had to take you back to school."
She obviously thought, and still thinks, that I am Will.
Now, I have never, ever, felt like hitting a woman... until now! Not just for punching me, but moreso for insulting the wonderful young guy with whom I know I am falling in love. I'm glad that it was me that she hit and not him.
If she was a man, I would be tempted to retaliate and `deck him' on the spot!
Will jumps out of the car, screaming, "Stop it! Stop it!"
Lilly starts to call out, "And who the fu.." then, turning towards him, stops dead, shakes her head, slaps her own face, then squints at him and me, dressed the same and looking identical. Then she finishes, "... are you?"
"I'm William O'Brien, your son," Will shoots back at her.
"Then who the fuck is this...?" she screams, swaying and pointing unsteadily at me.
I stand alongside Will and answer her, "I am William's guardian angel."
I stop to let the words sink in.
"I was sent here to protect him from you," almost through clenched teeth. "I know all about you and what you have done to him. And, I warn you... leave him alone or you will suffer the consequences - greatly! If you ever touch him again, you will wish that you were dead, believe me."
I say to Will, "Come on. Let's go, while I am still in control of myself."
We resume our positions in the car and Will drives off, leaving his mother in an even more unsteady and incoherent state than she was before our `meeting'.
I am fuming! I can feel the heat in my face and the hair on the back of my neck is bristling. I inhale and exhale heavily in an attempt to re-oxygenate and calm myself. "I hope God strikes her down with a bolt of lightning!" I rasp out through my gritted teeth.
Then I realise that I am referring to Will's mother, in front of him. "Oh, Will. I am so sorry. I didn't mean that!"
"No, Tom. It's OK. Except, I think that burnt at the stake would be better than lightning. Slower! More painful! And more appropriate!
When he pulls off the road and travels a little way down the track to Marty's, he stops the car among some trees. "Remember this place, Tom?" he asks, in an obvious attempt to help me settle down.
"How could I forget it, Will? I think of it at least twice each day - driving out and driving home. It's where we first `got lucky' with one another."
Then I put my hand on his thigh, just as I did those many weeks ago. He does the same. We repeat our first feeling-up of each other, thigh squeezing, cock rubbing and ball fondling. [Author's note: see Ch. 4]
We do it exactly as we did then, like putting the scene on instant replay. With one difference: when Will gets to the point where he reaches for my zipper, this time I let him proceed.
He plays with my stiffness, through my underpants, adjusting it to one side where it is less strained. He rubs over my balls then slips his fingers inside the waist band and repeats it all - skin on skin. No inhibitions. No material rule. He fishes out my erection and spreads the pre-cum around my head.
I copy his actions. "So that's where my red undies went!" I joke as I see what he's wearing under his jeans.
"Will, would you be upset if we didn't finish this off here, now? No sense in having to wash brand new clothes. Besides, I like it better when one of us is lying on top of the other one. Have you recovered enough from Saturday night?
"Hell, Yeah, but I think that I couldn't manage more than 2 tonight. Well, maybe 3."
We both laugh, manage to tuck ourselves in then zip up.
The remaining minutes of driving back to the house are full of mutual apologies - Will apologising for his mum and me apologising for getting angry and also for not fully comprehending and appreciating what he had been putting up with for so long.
"Lightning!" I suggest.
"The stake!" Will replies
We settle on her being tied to a stake and ignited by lightning.
Our mood has brightened.
Today we have grown even closer to one another.
Dinner is delicious and the three of us pass around my phone with the photographs, commenting on expressions, clothes, groupings, etc.
I mentally make a note of which ones to send to Mum and Dad.
Marty is drinking beer. Will's having lemonade and I'm into the caffeine. We all agree when it's time to `hit the sack'. I don't know whether Marty falls asleep quickly, but Will and I don't. LOL.
My deodorant comes in handy, yet again, as an air freshener. I need to buy more of this stuff. I'm running out.
(to be continued)
There is a parallel version to this
story, told through the eyes of Kurt.
Find it at https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/kurt-series/
-----
If you like this story, and haven't said 'hello' yet, please take a couple of minutes to email me.
rob.zz@hotmail.com
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: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html