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 16

I think for a moment. Lilly isn't, or may not be, dead, but she is still not here for her son. Perhaps she has eloped or gone off on a spree. Hopefully, she hasn't met with foul play at the hands of one or a number of undesirables. I'm not sure how Will is going to take this news once he thinks it through. He may be happy that she wasn't killed, or it could make him worse, knowing that she has literally left him to his own devices, intentionally abandoning him.

And how will that affect my plan for my parents to adopt Will if his mother is still alive? And what of my promise to `go all the way' with him the day he becomes my brother? Would its now-seemingly unlikelihood make Will even more miserable? And me, too?

I need to find another legitimising reason for making love to Will! Or is mutual passion simply enough?

Then the only questions would be, `When?' and `Where?'

We have two weeks remaining until the end of term.

Chapter 17 - End of Term 1 Revelations

 

Being a Saturday morning, I have come to the school to make my preparations for the week. Will has opted to travel with Marty to Big Town and help with the groceries. He also felt that it was time for another haircut. I had mine cut last week while Will visited Karl and Kurt, after which he has looked a little `shaggy' next to me, which hadn't bothered him prior to us getting identical ones. Now he wants to look the same as me. Neat and tidy. All of the time!

Will has told me that he and the twins didn't have time to do much together last weekend because Mr Andersen was there, but he did enjoy helping Karl, Kurt and their dad with some general maintenance around the house. However, he also told me, with a smirk, that they didn't exactly do nothing, either. They managed to slip away for a walk upstream along the river and, in a secluded spot, had some fun playing their new game - jacking each other off. Maybe when he said `didn't do too much' he meant that they were only able to do it once.

With only a few days remaining in the term, my preparation is completed quickly and I allow myself another brief nostalgic review of the past months of my life.

I decide to wander over to the weir. The first time that I came here it was four days before the beginning of term. And, here I am, four days prior to its end. It's a strange feeling. So much has happened in such a relatively short time.

It is an idyllic autumn morning, so different to the middle of summer when I arrived here. The air is cooler without being cold and the sky is the most brilliant blue. The sunshine is neither too hot nor ineffective. Just perfect!

I sit on the same log that supported and concealed me when I first saw Will, Karl and Kurt romping naked and aroused, playing their grabbing game with each other.

The mid-summer bugs are now not as plentiful, and their previous droning buzz is now a mere consoling murmur.

Knowing that there is nobody here, I allow my mind to take in and concentrate on the scenery itself.

The river is flowing a little more gently than it was back then. Having been told that the river is augmented by some underground springs, but still with no rain, upstream, the overflow has diminished in intensity. Although the weir is full, the down-stream river level has dropped somewhat. It's beginning to look more like a broad, thigh-deep `stream' than a river. Then I muse that the boys' secret place behind the spill-over remains intact.

I ponder that there is nothing green about this place, so different from my home garden and the council-tended parks and recreation areas. The native grasses here, whether by water deprivation or species, are brown. The river water is muddy coloured. The smooth majestic tree trunks are a sandy white, almost grey, with old, long strips of bark trailing from some remaining attachment onto the ground below which is, itself, a thirsty reddish-grey colour. The vertical strips remind me of the aerial roots of majestic rain forest fig trees.

The leaves of the trees, the river eucalypts, are a nondescript blend of silvery-grey and dusty green. The white swathes of exposed tree trunk look as though someone has taken to them with a pencil and scribbled on them with dark brown and yellowish lines. I understand now why they are called `scribbly gums' because of this natural phenomenon. Trees on either side of the river stretch their branches toward each other, as if to provide protection for the water below from summer sun when it is fierce and, seemingly, reaching out to those on the other side for a longing embrace.

What a beautiful life - the scenery, the weather, the honest county folk, and the boys, especially one (or three), and then there's Marty. What a blessing it has been to be living within his haven from the world, and to experience his `House Rule' of mutual secrecy! For good reason! Make that `reasons'.

Yes, the first term has been wonderful for me. I have settled well into teaching. Anything that I didn't know about routines Jane has taught me. My college notes have proved to be invaluable in preparing lessons and dealing with little issues. There have been virtually no disciplinary problems, and I count myself very lucky. The senior boys all work well together and have taken a leaf out of Jane's book by helping the younger ones, receiving encouragement and praise from me in return. Will's reading has really improved with help from Jake, Kurt and Karl and, of course, from me at home. It seems that he has overcome his self-consciousness at his delayed development and both his skill and confidence have grown rapidly together, allowing his true personality to shine through his previously-guarded exterior.

It's comical that Will and I now really do look practically like twins - same height, same hairstyle, same build, same voice (almost). On a couple of occasions, some of the young ones have inadvertently called Will `Sir'. On another occasion, Jake slapped me on the backside and said, "Come on Willie, I can still beat you at marbles!" This was, of course, followed by a look of absolute Kurt-like horror on Jake's face when he realised his error. All I could do to put him at ease was to laugh, ruffle his hair and say, "I'm sure that you can, Jake."

I try to contemplate life from Will's perspective. Three months ago, he was `Little Willie', the butt of everybody's joke whether intended or not, repeatedly sexually abused by his drunken, whorish mother, yet able to take refuge at his cousin Marty's place when necessary. Secretly gay, in a straight world! His only outlets have been teaching his 14-year-old cousin, Jake, to jack off and sharing those private moments with him. And then, there are the adolescent romps and cock-grabbing games with the twins, Karl and Kurt. And he has recently `taught' them to `do it' too.

Then one day the new Schoolie, Thomas Grant (that would be me), arrived - oddly similar in appearance to himself, a person who checked out Will's ample package at first meeting and who was not afraid of physical contact - a person with whom there was a mutual magnetism and with whom Will could share his secrets. But, best of all, the new `Schoolie' was willing to `get lucky' with him, and a sexual rapport has developed, even though the two of them have not gone all the way, nor even sucked each other. They have created and lived out, albeit in private, a big brother / little brother fantasy, with the promise of a full-on loving and sexual relationship, as soon as the Schoolie overcomes his fears and inhibitions that threaten his professional standing and aspirations.

What a complicated life I lead!

Sunday prior to the rapidly-approaching end of term.

Will and I are at Marty's, which has become Will's permanent home, since his mother's house burned down and she disappeared, just over a week ago. As far as Chad was able to discern in his police investigation from the few witnesses in town that day, Lilly was seen riding with a muscular young biker late in the afternoon. A couple of pub patrons thought that they previously had seen him in Big Town with biker friends. Another said that he thought he heard multiple bikes that night, heading east, not long after which it was noticed that her house was ablaze. There was no trace of her, and the ashes indicated that most of her (meagre) possessions were burnt. Her whereabouts remains a mystery although there is no evidence of foul play, and the arson is an open case for the police - maybe it was a parting gesture from Lilly, possibly with the help of her new friend, perhaps with one or more of his associates.

Will and I are sitting on our beds opposite each other and just chatting as we frequently do these days. While I am reclining against the wall, Will is sitting forward, feet on the floor, forearms resting on his thighs, with those blue eyes in his handsome face directed towards me. Engaging.

I mention in the conversation that I am looking forward to going home for the two-week break and I see his expression take on a gloom. The corners of his mouth droop and his gaze drops from me to his feet.

Then it hits me - Will is thinking that while I am living it up back on the Gold Coast, he is going be left to virtually fend for himself again, only worse this time. No father, no mother and seemingly abandoned by his `big brother', his new soul mate. His moodiness strikes a nerve. Did I overlook telling him of my intentions, although they were settled in my mind weeks ago, even before the fire?

It takes me less than a moment to remedy the situation.

"Will," I say quietly. His eyes remain focussed on the floor, possibly anticipating the dreaded talk that he thinks will start with `It'll be OK. I'll be back before you know it!'

His body heaves a deep sigh - not quite a sob, so I urge a little more strongly, "Will!"

Without moving his head too much, slowly his water-filled eyes lift and peer at me from a totally broken-hearted face.

"Will," I say tenderly, "How would you like to come home with me to the Gold Coast for the two weeks' holiday?"

"What?" he asks, as though my words were part of some dream from which he has suddenly awoken. His face jerks upwards to greet mine; wide-eyed, mouth agape.

He repeats, "What did you say?" He blinks, causing his eyes to overflow, which indicates his current deep emotion. His cheeks become streaked, almost to his chin. The muscles around his eyes, nose and mouth relax, and his countenance is now a combination of shock, relief and wonder.

"Will, I believe that you and I are meant to be alongside each other, or with one on top."

LOL. He smiles broadly and nods.

I add, "I don't think that I could stand being away from you for two weeks. Would you come home with me to the Gold Coast? Please? Even though you're not my little brother, I'd love to do all kinds of `brother' stuff with you as if you were; teach you to surf, go to the theme parks and we could go bike riding and to the movies. We can share the driving and you might even get lucky. In fact, I can guarantee it. What do you say?"

I give him a very suggestive smirk, raising my eyebrows up and down a couple of times.

Will jumps up, gives me a hug and rushes out of the bedroom door. I can hear him in the kitchen, "Marty. Guess what? Mr Grant has asked me to go with him for the holidays to meet his mum and dad and little sister. We are gonna do stuff and he's gonna teach me to surf, and let me drive, and go to the movies..."

"Whoa! Slow down, Cuz!" Marty interrupts, giving Will a chance to breathe. "That's fantastic."

Then, being Marty, he cannot resist... "So, he's taking you home to meet the `rents, eh? And take you to the movies? And will he buy you chocolates and flowers?"

I appear just in time to hear Marty's jibe.

Will's face becomes blank. Marty continues his roasting... "Is he gonna propose too?"

Will and I nod to each other then hit him with the only comment that is appropriate, "Fuck off, Marty!" in stereo.

The seriousness on Will's face melts. Marty enjoys the humour of his teasing, points to the expression on Will's face then bursts out laughing. I join him. Soon it's a trio. If Marty only knew the truth! Or does he suspect it?

Will heads outside whooping and hollering around the yard. The dogs leap and chorus in his excited yelping.

Marty says, "Tom, this is possibly the best thing that has ever happened to the young guy. Thank you so much for caring and taking William under your wing. I don't know what he would have done if you hadn't turned up." Then he adds, "And I want to thank you for the fun times that you and I have shared. Do you think that he suspects anything?"

"Marty, the pleasure has been all mine, believe me," I smile at him. "And, if William suspects anything, he has never said anything to me about it."

I think to myself, `he doesn't need to say or `think' anything - he knows! And he's OK with it'.

Will returns, and Marty cannot resist stirring even further, "Whatever is Jake going to do without you around, to give him a hand?"

Will gives a quick response, "No problem, Marty. It's OK. He knows how to get by without me... now." There are smirks all round, then the laughing resumes. We all know that we all know about Jake and Will jacking off together.

I ponder that this is the first time I have ever heard Marty and Will exchange any banter of a sexual nature or any innuendo. This is a real plus, considering what might happen in Term 2 between me and each of them. Having our relationships `out in the open' and covered by the `House Rule' would be another burden lifted for me. Do I countenance any three-way activity? Nope! That's too `out there' to even contemplate.

 

Now, end-of-term wouldn't be complete without a party, would it? I've decided that the children will work, as per the usual routine Monday thru Wednesday. On Thursday, we will have a `fun morning' of indoor and outdoor games, followed by a celebratory lunch and then a general `clean up'.

Monday morning. I put the plan to my `cherubs'. Everybody excitedly agrees. Jane offers to coordinate the food and Jake says that he will organise the games. These are two great kids that Reg and Di are raising!

Will cannot keep secret the fact that I've invited him to spend the holidays with my parents, rather than saying `with Mr Grant'. He is smart.

I think, given that they know his circumstances, everyone is happy for him.

Young David, who is normally a reserved lad, chirps up, "Gee, Mr Grant, I hope that your mum and dad can tell which one of you is William and which one is really you!" Everyone laughs.

I continue the joke with him, "Yes, David. Although, it would be great if they made William clean up my bedroom, make my bed every day and do the dishes, instead of me, wouldn't it?" This evokes much giggling from the little ones and some light-hearted jibes from the senior boys towards Will about all the jobs that he could be given to do.

Karl, on a completely different level, comments quietly to me, just loud enough for the other seniors to hear it, "I hope William doesn't try to kiss your girlfriend, Mr Grant." Nobody else understands Karl's reference and his attempt at humour falls flat. However, without making public comment, I move behind him, ruffle his hair and say in a half-whisper, "Don't worry, Karl. He will never get the chance!" Will, hearing my comment, smirks at me. I wink back.

Kurt giggles

 

Wednesday afternoon. Jane reminds everyone what they need to bring for tomorrow's party. I encourage the children to take home any art and craft work that they have done during the term, so that they won't be encumbered tomorrow.

After a delicious meal at Marty's, Will and I are doing the dishes when I hear the sound of a familiar old Land Rover even before the dogs start barking. I look inquiringly at Will and then at Marty who says, "That will be Reg and Jake."

Will and I both stare at him, waiting for some sort of explanation. He adds, "I thought that my two young cousins might like to spend some time together before William disappears for two weeks, so I drove out to Reg and Di's for lunch and arranged for Reg to bring Jake down after dinner to stay the night."

A huge grin spreads over Will's face as he looks at me for my assent to a potential night of fun. I smile and nod. Then he turns to Marty and asks the obvious, "Where's he gonna sleep?"

In my mind, and I am sure in Will's, there are only two possibilities. One is for me to give up my bed but I'm sure that Marty would not be so connivingly obvious in getting me to sleep with him - especially with two sexually-charged teenagers in the house.

"I think that there is only one option. Don't you?" he asks, addressing Will. "I'm afraid that you and Jake will have to suffer each other's snoring and farting in my bed while I take your single in with Mr Grant," Marty says with his trade-mark, knowing smirk.

It's what I was expecting, and exactly what Will would have wished for. He looks at me. I nod again and give him our `H' sign.

As the Land Rover becomes silent, he dashes out to greet Reg and Jake.

The two boys rush through the door with Jake's bag, and head straight for Marty's room. Reg follows at a more leisurely pace. I already have the jug on for coffee and take out the Lemonade for the boys.

A half hour is spent in talking serious country matters. Reg and Marty discuss snakes, the lack of rain and the price of diesel fuel. The boys focus on the water temperature at the weir and who might snore the loudest; the consensus is Marty! I silently contemplate how many tissues Will and Jake might use tonight and what Marty might want to do with me.

Reg departs, admonishing Jake to be on his best behaviour. He says goodbye to Will and shakes both Marty's hand and mine.

The boys spend scant time in feigning the need to turn in early `because we have school tomorrow'.

I throw Jake a box of tissues. "Just in case you need to blow your nose during the night," I grin. Will winks. Jake blushes. Marty smirks. The boys disappear and close Marty's door.

"Well, this is an interesting development," I comment to Marty. "I wasn't expecting this."

Marty replies, "The way I see it Tom, it's a win-win-win-win situation." And he smirks. "This way, you and I get to spend some time together without worrying about William catching us - he'll be too busy with Jake. He wouldn't even think that we might be doing anything."

Then I muse, `as long as you want to think that, Marty, I'm happy with your ignorance'.

"Arm wrestle?" Marty asks. "Loser gets to drop his gear first." I nod and set myself up at the table. Marty joins me. "Go!" he says. It takes me all of about two seconds after his initial resistance to get the better of him. "Too good for me!" he smirks and immediately shucks everything, then raises an eyebrow.

"In the bedroom, Marty! I don't want either of the boys to head out for a pee and see the both of us like that - indicating his nakedness and stiffness. He gathers his cut-offs and T-shirt and leads the way. His erection gives a royal wave, bobbing from side to side as he walks.

As I follow Marty, I hear a poorly-stifled squeal from Marty's room. Score: Jake, one; Will, unknown.

I visit the bathroom, flush, brush my teeth and head in to join Marty, closing the door behind me. Marty wastes no time in helping me to shed my gear. His touch is stimulating and I am soon as hard as he is. He makes no pretence about his intentions and drops to his knees, looking up at me. I nod, close my eyes and tilt my head backwards in anticipation.

I feel his warm fingers running up and down my thighs and around to my backside. All the while I can feel his hot breath only centimetres from my groin. Then he cups my balls in his hand and I feel his tongue caressing them. He licks up my cock, envelops my head and begins his ministration. Not much foreplay! Straight into it! I can't help moaning at the undeniably welcome pleasure that continues for a few minutes.

"Stop!" I tell him. "I don't want to cum so soon." We swap places and I take a little more time exploring his body than he did with me. When I finally take his shaft into my mouth, he lets out a long, low groan. I pull off him. "On the bed!" I command.

He lays himself on Will's bed, on his back, knees bent, feet apart. I crawl between them and continue pleasuring him while he massages my scalp. "Getting close ... 69," he says breathily.

I reposition myself with one knee either side of his head. He lowers his knees and I lean forwards to resume my sucking of him, pausing briefly to savour the moment that he takes me into his mouth. "Cumming," he soon warns, probably expecting me to pull off him.

Instead, I ensure that he has not a single drop to mop up, swallowing everything that erupts from his pulsing rod.

"OMG," he says. "I didn't think that you would do that! Well, if you can manage it, so can I." He resumes. My moaning and tensing body alert him. It's weird that, as I spurt, I think of Will and imagine it's him drinking my sweet and sticky nectar.

Suddenly I hear the toilet flush on the other side of the wall.

"Do you think that they heard us?" I ask Marty.

"Does it matter?" he replies. "We both know what they are doing."

"Marty, I don't want my students to know that their teacher is having sex with their cousin."

"Even if they did, they'd never tell. House Rule!" Marty reminds me.

After we both calm down, I go to my own bed and lie, staring at the ceiling, hoping that it was Will and not Jake.

"Tom?" Marty says quietly. "Can I ask you something, personal?"

"I suppose so, Marty, after what we've just enjoyed together." I reply.

"Yes, but it's not about you and me," he continues with some obvious hesitancy.

"What is it Marty?" I'm curious. I turn my face towards him.

Surely, he's not going to ask about me and his sister, Anna!

"Tom, this is hard to say, and please don't be offended, but... has William ever tried to hit on you? We both know what he likes to do with Jake."

Well, that has floored me! Do I answer him honestly? Can I afford to rat on Will and also, thereby, incriminate myself? What would that say for my professional standing with my other students? Then I contemplate my fun with Karl and Kurt. I'm not exactly innocent in that regard, am I?

Maybe it's my lack of response and stunned silence that causes Marty to continue. "I'm sorry, Tom. I didn't mean to imply anything. It's just that... I've seen the way that he looks at you. And he always likes to stand really close to you and hangs off your every word - much the same way as my sister used to fawn over him. Knowing him the way I do and how you've been so open with me, I can't imagine that he hasn't suggested or, perhaps, even tried doing something with you! And, I've never seen you get angry with him, or try to keep him at a distance. You are a very accepting, magnetic person, Tom."

`OK, Thomas,' I tell myself. `Let's see you get out of this one!' I take a deep breath.

"You know, Marty, you are partially right," I begin. He looks at me, perhaps anticipating some revelationary confession. However, while I determine not to lie to him, I just won't tell him the whole truth, either.

"I've taken a liking to young William. My sympathy for his plight turned into compassion and care the more I came to understand him and his needs. You, yourself, told me about how Lilly treated him, and then there was that whole `Little Willie' thing. I've enjoyed teaching him to read. You told me that he would be grateful and I know that he is. You were absolutely right! And, I wish that you could have seen his face when Chad presented him with his Driver's Licence. And yes, he hugs me and stuff sometimes to show his appreciation. Perhaps it's the only way he knows how. He seems a pretty tactile kind of person. And I don't have a problem with that. And we look so much alike! He even pretends sometimes that I'm his big brother. You know, Marty, if I was his brother instead of his teacher, I could probably allow myself to be a little more physical with him."

Nothing that I have said is untrue. I just wonder how Marty will interpret it.

Marty replies, "Tom, I know he's comfortable with you, even being in the same bedroom. It's obvious. So long as you are comfortable with him, then I'm OK with the arrangement. I had never anticipated that he would be permanently bunking in with you, when you first arrived. I just don't want you to feel uneasy about it. However, it's wonderful to see him so happy. I don't remember him being like this, even when he was a little kid. He has really come out of his shell with you around."

He continues, "And, just so you know, if the two of you ever did want to become friendlier, if you know what I mean, I wouldn't have a problem with that because I know that you'd be gentle with him."

Well, if ever there was to be a `go for it' imprimatur, that sure sounds like it to me!

"Thanks, Marty. I appreciate your trust. But, at the moment I'm happy having a bit of occasional man-fun with you." That is the truth. "However, if William wanted to do something like that, I'm not sure how I'd respond."

That last bit is a lie, and I know it!

I add, "But, Marty, please don't mention anything to him. I don't want you putting those ideas into his head."

He laughs.

I think to myself, `Because you're too late!'

The toilet flushes again. Score? Who knows? Just lots of `runny noses'! I already know what Will is capable of achieving in 24 hours! LOL.

 

Thursday. Game day. Party day. Clean up day. End of term. The children's spirits are high all day - through Jake's games, through the party, and even through the clean-up. Not that there's much to do that isn't done at the end of each week - it's another example of well-organised and well-executed teamwork.

It's only with everything done that any trace of nostalgic regret becomes evident. Not from Jane - she is going to spend some time with her friend in Big Town. No, it's the boys who show the emotion. Not for the end of term, but for being left without Will to brighten their lives, probably for the first time ever! I know that the twins will spend some time with their dad. I'm not sure what Jake will do.

It's time. Those children who can see their parents' cars at the pub I allow to walk over to them. I'm sure that they don't drink and drive - a lime juice over crushed ice with some sparkling mineral water would get my vote.

Will heads off with Karl and Kurt and I tell them that I will come over and get him when I'm ready, being careful, of course, to allow them sufficient time to say good-bye privately, with a bit of fun together.

Reg arrives to pick up Jane and Jake and hands me a small hamper of `goodies' from Di for me and Will to enjoy on our journey. As brother and sister clamber into the Land Rover, Reg holds back. "You know, Tom, the kids all love you. You're really a special person and an answer to our prayers." I look at him with a little confusion. "Jake has loved coming to school this term."

Hmm. The taming of Tarzan! What a great title for a story! Haha! I contemplate the family's country hospitality and generosity. Reg shakes my hand profusely. Is that a tear in his eye? Why? How could I have made such a difference in their lives? Or Jake's?

I close up and lock the gate this time, to keep out the marauding wildlife (LOL), and drive over to Karl and Kurt's. We say our goodbyes with hugs. Kurt hangs on to me for what seems an inappropriately long time. Perhaps he's simply prolonging my rubbing of his back and open-palm patting of his backside.

I hand Will his P-plates and tell him that he can drive for the first two hours and then I will take over until we reach the motel.

"Motel?" he asks.

"Yeah," I reply. "The trip is far too long for a single journey." I can already see the wheels turning in his head - probably nothing that I haven't already contemplated myself.

We start off, to the cheers of the twins. Will waves and toots the horn. I'm sure that he would love to be driving Sean's ambulance and to give the siren a blast.

As smart as he is, it is obvious that Will has very little experience in, or even the concept of distance and time except, maybe, for a return trip to Big Town. It is only when I put it to him that to get from here to my parents' place is like going back and forth to Big Town five or six time without stopping that he shows any glimmer of understanding. However, at the moment, I think his mind is probably focussed on the possibility of `getting lucky' with me at the motel.

It takes a while for him to relax behind the wheel. It's only after we pass Reg and Di's property and he reminds me, "That's Jake's place," that he settles into driving with some ease, commenting on birds and animals and vegetation - almost like he is giving me a lesson in local flora and fauna!

It's a perfect opportunity, apart from filling in the time, to check where his mind is in relation to a number of things. I start with something that I think will be easy.

"Did you have fun with Jake last night?" I deliberately don't ask about him `getting lucky'.

"Yeah! It was great of Marty to organise for him to come down."

"Why do you think Marty did that?" I ask in all innocence, but hoping that he might go into a bit of detail.

"Probably so that Marty could be alone with you, I reckon," he says with a smirk.

"What do you mean, Will?" His statement has put me instantly on the defensive!

"Hey, what did I tell you, Tom? I notice things. Not to mention the noises that you two were making!" He glances at me quickly, then turns back to the road. His smirk is now a broad grin.

"What?" I ask again.

"After Jake and I had `blown our noses' I took the tissues to the toilet. I had to pee anyway. That wall must be thinner than I thought and, I am able to tell the difference between Marty's voice and yours. It sounded like you got one hell of a blow job. Hey, I am aware of the sounds that you make now when you spurt, you know!"

"Will!" I exclaim. "How long were you listening?"

"Long enough," is all that he says. Then he adds, with almost a hint of sadness, "I'm happy for you Tom. But how come you won't do that with me?"

He's got me. "You know why, Will. It's the teacher / student thing. It's not that I don't want to, it just..."

He cuts me off. "Tom, I don't get it - after the things that we've already done. What difference would it make?"

I can't help but worry. "Will, I'm really sorry! And you know that Marty and I have mucked around a bit, just like I know about you and Jake." Then I add, "...and Karl and Kurt. Are you upset with me, or mad at me?"

"No, Tom. I'm not upset, just confused. I'd love to do that with you and to have you do that to me. Jake won't. I've asked him. I really want to know what it's like. You and Marty certainly made it sound like great fun!"

Now I'm feeling really bad. I don't know whether it's pity for Will or for the satisfaction of my own lust, but I'm conceding defeat. I'm done with fighting it! What's one more level of intimate action with the guy who wants me? The guy who says he needs me and loves me? The guy with whom I want to do `everything' anyway?

I have no defence. Forget self-control! That went weeks, maybe months, ago!

"OK, Will. You win. I give in. You and me. Our first blow job together! Tonight, at the motel.

"Hell, yeah! About bloody time!" he yells.

I have to remind him to watch the road to ensure that we both get to the motel alive.

He stares at the road. I stare at him. He is a picture of angelic manhood. The only things missing are the wings and the halo. His beaming smile tells me that I've `done good'. He is the epitome of happiness at this moment. It's a pity that he can't see and paint himself like this.

I take out my phone, select the camera app and take some pics.

"Hey, what are you doing?" he asks.

"I want to remember the happiness on your face at this moment," I tell him.

He is glowing. Then I think, `what's he gonna be like when we actually do it? Wow! And when we `go all the way'? Because I know that it's gonna happen sooner or later!

With the impending thrill of the night before us, and the very obvious chunking in both of our jeans, it's difficult to think of much else. However, I do try to distract Will's thinking as much as possible, drawing his attention to the road and to points of interest.

After I take over the driving, our discussions continue. Will volunteers his feelings on many subjects, including the thrill of `finding' me, and how alike we look - haircuts, clothes, face, body. LOL. And then there was the thrill when he got his Driver's Licence!

He comments on his excitements at getting lucky with Karl and Kurt and being the one to show them how to `spunk'.

He doesn't leave out his fun with Jake either, nor his love of Marty, for having taken him in and allowing him some privacy with me. Does Marty suspect anything? It's a subject that has crossed both of our minds.

Surprisingly, Will even shares his mixed feelings about his mother - how she looked after him when he was little, her abuse of him as he grew, her drinking, her men (including Mr Andersen on a regular basis) and, her final abandonment of him.

Then, with about 15 minutes remaining before we arrive at the motel, I hear something that I would never have anticipated.

"You know, Tom, Mum didn't talk much about my dad. Maybe she really didn't know much else except that he had a big willie and that he was a famous photographer... so she claimed!" He empasises these last words with an obvious disdain for Lilly's disposition for drunken exaggerations, much like her last boast about her new, protective Harley-rider friend!

Suddenly, the penny drops in my mind!

More like it all crash-lands!

OMG! That photographer! Of course! I recall the exhibition that I attended with my high school art class when I was about 13. The iconic country pub. The river gums and the sunsets. The old shack.

OMG! I now clearly realise the cause of all my episodes of déjà vu!

My chin and bottom lip start to quiver, almost uncontrollably, and I feel my eyes in the early stages of welling up with tears. I cover my mouth as I start to choke up and ask Will for a tissue `to get some bloody dust out of my eyes'.

My heart is pounding. For once Lilly had told it right. That photographer is world famous!

Should I tell Will now, or not?

OMG! I know who Will's father is! And, I am the only person on earth who does!

 

(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/

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