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 24

I contemplate `only 3-6 months?' And for nearly all of that time I won't be here with her and Dad and Amelia. I'll be teaching back in The Village. At least I will have Will. But he's not Mum. I love them both, but it's different. Perhaps God knew in advance and led me to Will to ease the pain of losing her. Is that ridiculous? It's not fair! It's not an eye for an eye! It's a love for a love! That's cruel! I want both.

OMG. How is Amelia going to cope?

Chapter 25 - Discovered!

 

"Mum?" I ask hesitantly, intent on trying to keep my emotions in check. "Who knows, apart from Dad and me?"

"When I first found out, I discussed it with Aunty Doris and Karen. Knowing that Karen is studying nursing, I wanted to check, with her knowledge, what I was being told. She confirmed almost everything, except the need for chemotherapy. Apparently, she is not alone in being very sceptical about its overall effectiveness and she told me that there are alternatives which I could, or should at least, consider."

Mum takes a deep breath and continues, "When I brought up other possibilities with my specialist, he simply dismissed them as `rubbish' and `quackery'."

"Why doesn't Karen like chemo? Isn't that the accepted way to treat cancer?" I ask.

"Karen quoted me some statistics, saying that the medical profession considers chemo to have been successful if the patient lives for at least 5 years after having it."

"That's good," I encourage Mum. "What is the success rate?"

Mum replies somewhat despondently, "Sadly, only 3%-5%."

My fleeting hope evaporates instantly.

She adds, "and radiation therapy is only used when the cancer is localised, not widespread as mine is."

I voice my limited knowledge on the subject, "Mum, I've heard that chemo can be very effective in attacking cancers cells all over the body but is it true that it also attacks and weakens the good cells? Is that the problem?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Karen told me that the worst part is that it weakens the body's immune system - the very thing that is capable of fighting the cancer. So, I have a choice - have the chemo and endure the side effects, like increased lassitude, general weakness, hair loss and progressive debilitation, or try to focus on strengthening my immune system and hope for the best."

"How can you do that?" I ask, a glimmer of hope returning to my mind.

"Karen is doing some research for me. That's why she wanted to get away today instead of staying for dinner. Oh, and my specialist told me that if I declined to have the chemo and opted for some alternative, then he would refuse to treat me at any time in the future. It's not much of a choice except the quality of life in the time remaining, is it?"

Anger instantly displaces my fear and misery. I would love an alternative treatment to be successful, not only because of Mum's health and life, but I would want to rub the specialist's nose in it! It's obvious that he's not focussed on saving my mother's life. It sounds like, to him, she is merely another opportunity to make money from somebody else's misfortune, or to use her as a guinea pig for a new cocktail of toxic chemicals. I'm glad that the majority of those who have taken the Hippocratic Oath are not like him. Hypocrite! Hmm, I've heard the expression, `Hypocritic Oath', which right now seems extremely relevant!

A few minutes are spent in silence while I devour a custard tart. Mum sips her coffee with a contemplative smile as she watches me conjure its total disappearance: now you see it, now you don't. I find myself gazing mindlessly into the ripples and crystal clearness of the pool.

When I hear Sis clattering down the stairs, I turn to see her clutching some papers. Will is right behind her. Both are chattering and laughing. He's good for her too! Not just for me.

"Mum, Thomas," she calls. "Look at these!" She drops the papers onto the table and spreads them out. She and Will sit down.

Will spots the custard tarts. "Would you like fries with that?" I ask, following his focus. Will looks at me curiously without comprehending my attempted humour. Obviously, I've seen too many McDonalds advertisements and he hasn't seen enough!

"Coffee? Lemonade?" I ask them, looking from Will to Mum for her need of a second cup. She shakes her head, indicating that she still has half a cup remaining.

I head to the kitchen for coffee for Will, and more for me, and I can hear Sis extolling the virtues of her drawings with their new-found facial features.

At this rate, she may even be able to draw a recognisable face by the time Will and I leave next week. Then I think, `well, it may look like a face but will it be anyone recognisable?' That makes me smile.

When I return with the two coffees, Sis is still talking. I muse on whether she will turn blue or purple if she doesn't pause for a breath.

Will and I devour a custard tart each. Mum cuts hers neatly into wedges and eats them far more elegantly than we do. Sis hasn't touched hers. She can't eat and talk at the same time. Well, not politely!

There is a sudden silence and I realise that Amelia has shut up. I'm tempted to ask sarcastically, `What did you say?' but I restrain myself, fearing that she might actually repeat it all.

Mum, Will and I all offer our encouragement which is received in much the same manner as a cat responds to being stroked. She gathers her papers and stands, appearing as though she is about to dash off.

Will looks from her to the now-lone custard tart, then back again. "Are you going to eat that?" he asks.

"Nah! I'll get fat. You have it."

He again looks at the pastry, then at me. "Wanna share it?" he offers.

"No, buddy. It's all yours." I wink at Mum.

I'm anticipating a `Hell, Yeah!' but hear, "Wow. Thanks!" instead.

Mum informs us that Uncle Bill will be joining us for dinner again tonight and that he is actually bringing the food - Chinese or Thai – apparently, he hadn't decided which when he rang earlier and Mum said that she had no preference.

Then she excuses herself, saying that her morning with Aunty Doris, Karen and Amelia had left her tired and in need of some rest.

Will and I are left alone. He is ensuring that the plate has no crumbs remaining. "Did you know that the Acropolis in Big Town makes pretty good ones?" I comment.

"What? These?" he replies. I nod. "I'm gonna have to go into town with you and Marty more often," he says as he licks his fingers clean, for the second or third time.

"Will?"

"Yes, bro?"

"Could you please do something for me?"

"What? Out here, with your Mum and sister at home? Can't you wait until tonight?" he replies, overacting with mock horror.

"Not that, you wicked sexy sod!" I say, looking into his mischievous eyes. "You can do whatever you like to me in bed later." He rapidly raises his eyebrows multiple times in glee.

"No. What I would like is, could you please do a group drawing of Mum, Dad, Amelia and me? "

"Sure! No problem! Any special reason?"

"Yes, actually. But, let's just say that I'd like it to be a surprise."

"OK. Give me a day or so. How do you want the four of you arranged in the picture?"

I explain my thoughts and he nods. I also think that I'll take the opportunity to have Uncle Bill take a series of family photographs - and include Will. Maybe, Sis, Will and me; Dad and Mum; Mum and me, and one of all of us.

I feel my emotions starting to rise so, rather than succumbing to them, I suggest that Will and I walk to the mall.

The afternoon is spent walking, looking into shop windows and, occasionally, browsing merchandise inside some shops.

Will takes more than a cursory interest in the electronic games shop. He points out a couple that Sam, at the motel, showed him. He also comments how much he thinks that Karl and Kurt would enjoy playing certain ones.

With no other customers in the shop, the curly-headed salesman emerges from behind his counter and offers us the customary, "Good afternoon, gentlemen. May I help you?"

Despite replying that we are just browsing, he hovers nearby, offering comments on some of the games that Will picks up to look at more closely.

He also appears, I think, to be checking out Will more closely at the same time.

It doesn't take much for my horny little brother to catch on, and deliberately engages him with questions. He looks at me and winks. He's toying with the poor guy, but it's fun for me to watch. I'm sure that the young guy has no idea that he, himself, had become the character in a game being played by Will.

He begins to select games and, having seen the sort in which Will has shown interest, offers them to him with comments on their objective, how they are played, their levels of difficulty, etc. I move to an adjoining display and, while pretending to look at the merchandise, I really just watch the interplay between Will and `the guy'.

I notice, as games are passed back and forth between them, that there is some deliberate touching - standing close together and lightly holding the other person's hand until the object is released. It's not as covert as either of them might think!

Will turns to me, holds up a game, as if seeking my opinion, then winks. He knows exactly what he is doing! I nod and give him the `H' sign. He smirks.

If Will hasn't seen the emergent bulge in the front of the young guy's close-fitting trousers, then it certainly hasn't escaped my eyes! Hard to miss! The guy finally succumbs to the need to release the straining member and, as discretely as he can manage, nudges his gear into a more comfortable position.

I tell Will that I think we should move on. The salesman looks disappointed but when I comment to Will that we can come back again with the intent of purchasing a console and some games to take back to The Village with us, the young guy, obviously realising the possibility of both making a sale and of seeing Will again, smiles and offers Will and me each a business card from his shirt pocket.

I glance at his name and say, "Thank you, Jarrod. You can count on seeing us again, soon."

He shakes both my hand and Will's, which he appears to hold longer than necessary, commenting, "I look forward to helping you when you return. It's been a pleasure meeting you." I think to myself, `I'll bet that it has!'

Then he adds, "Oh. I'm here Monday thru Thursday. On Saturday I'm here with another staff member."

What I actually hear, between the lines, is, `Four days a week I'm here alone.'

I deliberately use Will's name in case Jarrod missed it the first time. "Will, let's talk about what you would like to buy when we come back. Then I deliberately drop the innuendo, "I'm sure that Jarrod might have something special hidden away that you would enjoy playing with."

Jarrod seems to blush, then, as Will walks away from him and towards me, Jarrod takes the opportunity to again adjust the bulkiness in his trousers.

He lifts his eyes from Will's backside and catches me staring straight at him. His eyes express some concern, even fear, but I smile at him, deliberately and openly put a hand to my own gear and give him an exaggerated wink. I think he relaxes somewhat and smiles back, albeit tentatively, then hurries back behind his counter, presumably to make another, more agreeable, clothing adjustment. Will says nothing.

As we continue walking, I say, "Will, do you realise what you did to that poor guy?"

"What?" Will asks, being anything but innocent or convincing in his pretended naivety.

"You mean that you didn't notice the hard-on that you gave him, touching him and standing so close to him?"

"Of course! But he started it! He was checking me out, big time. I just played along."

"Yeah, right!" I reply, in my most sarcastic tone.

He comes back with, "Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it! And what was that comment about him having something that I would like to play with?"

"I only meant that he could probably find you a couple of good games to play."

"Liar!" Will throws back at me. We both laugh, each knowing exactly what the other is saying.

"OK. Let's come back Thursday," I say. "Jarrod will be here alone."

I'm not sure whether or not I hear Will whisper, `Hell, Yeah!' Or was it only my brain telling my ears what to expect?

We stop to buy a couple of smoothies. I have strawberry. Will chooses banana. We continue walking, drinking, browsing and talking.

We arrive home to a tantalising smell emanating from the kitchen. I know that Uncle Bill is bringing dinner. Maybe Mum is doing dessert. It smells like an apple pie, or maybe, hopefully, a large custard tart!

Amelia is out by the pool, drawing. Will and I take a can of lemonade and join her. She shows him what she is doing and he compliments her on her efforts, pointing out areas for improvement.

Will excuses himself to use the bathroom.

Sis and I make a bit of small talk, then she puts down her pencil, stares at me and comes straight out with, "Thomas, while we are alone, let me ask, don't you think it's about time that you told everyone that you are gay?"

I almost choke as my half-swallowed mouthful of fizz is coughed up through my mouth and nose.

"What did you say?" I'm sure that I heard her correctly, but am instantly thrown onto the defensive.

"Oh, come on! I've known for two years. I just wonder when you are going to let Mum and Dad know. And, more importantly, Will!"

I stare at her blankly. So, she knows! But how? Two years? It's obvious that none of the family has let it slip, or she wouldn't be suggesting that I tell them. There is no point in denying it, but what do I say?

"You think that I'm gay?"

"Thomas, it doesn't matter to me, but I know that you are gay. And so do some other people."

"What! Who? How?" Then I realise that the `how' is as good as an admission.

"I have school friends with older brothers and sisters."

I pause to see if she adds more. She doesn't, so I prompt her, "And...?"

"It seems that two of them have sisters who tried to get you into bed, and you wouldn't do it. They were both pretty pissed off with you."

"Watch your mouth, Sis. Don't let Mum hear you using that language!" It's all that I can say. But I do recall one incident to which she is referring.

It was after a college dance. Many of my mates bragged the next day about `scoring' with their dates. I made excuses about mine having a headache. Lame, eh?

But, in reality, she tried her damnest to get it off with me. I think we got as far as the bed and then I couldn't go through with it. I was as limp as a dead chicken.

Sis is right - she was really pissed off with me and threatened to tell everyone that I had no sexual interest in girls. But, hearing no repercussions, I thankfully concluded that she had thought better of it in the morning.

Sis intrudes on my thoughts. "As well as that, a couple of my friends' big brothers were always happy when they came home after visiting you for an hour or so. One has already told his parents that he is gay."

Then I recall the Nicholson twins. I always favoured him over her. While she was chasing me, I was infatuated by her brother's body the whole time. I used to visit her, only so that I could make friends with him. Maybe he was even one of those that Simon saw me 69-ing with by the pool! Hell, I didn't know that a brother and sister compared notes! Shit!

"And...," she continues, "I've seen the way that you look at other guys... and at Will. So, I know you're gay! You'd better tell Will! And Mum and Dad. I've said nothing to any of them, but you certainly need to."

Her stare demands a response. I ease into it. "You've known for two years?" She nods. "And yet you said nothing to me about it?" She shakes her head. "I don't know whether to thank you or to hate you!"

"It's true, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's true." I confess humbly, then offer, "but, just so that you know, I HAVE already told Mum and Dad. And Will."

"I don't believe you!" she snaps back - not nastily, but in total disbelief.

"It's true, Amelia." I hear Will say from the doorway. Sis and I instantly turn our heads towards him. I didn't know that he had come down and was standing there, listening.

He continues, "I was with Tom when he told your parents. It was a very emotional time, and harder on him than it was on them."

"Really?" Sis asks. "What about you, weren't you shocked?"

"No, Amelia. Tom had told me before we got here, just in case I didn't want to share a room with him. He gave me the option of using your guest room." Only Will and I know that he's stretching the truth, but it looks as though Sis is buying it. Will adds, "I trust him. He would never do anything that I didn't want to do."

Well, that's about the most ambiguous and leading a statement that I've ever heard! At least he's back on the truth. I just pray that Amelia doesn't ask the next most obvious question - about Will himself!

Then, Mum appears at the doorway behind Will. That instantly silences Amelia. There is a God. Thank you!

"Is everything OK?" Mum asks. "You all look a little tense."

"Everything's fine Mum," I half-smile at her. "I have just shared with Amelia what I told you and Dad yesterday. She has accepted that I am gay, but didn't believe that I'd already told you both."

"It's all good, Amelia. Let it go, darling. I know you must be shocked. We can talk about it later, if you need to. But, for now, can you please help me set up for dinner?"

Sis goes in with Mum, but not before poking her tongue out at me. I reciprocate, causing a broad grin to spread across Will's face.

"I'm sorry, Will. I didn't want to dob you in as well. She asked me straight out if I was gay while you were upstairs. I'll fill you in with the details later."

"No worries, Tom. But I suppose that I'd better tell her about me, sometime, too. She's bound to put two and two together pretty soon or find out from somebody else. I'd rather tell her myself."

"You want to go and get cleaned up for dinner?" I ask. He nods. And smirks - now what caused that evil grin? As we pass Mum and Amelia, I comment that we are going to get `freshen up' before Uncle Bill arrives. Mum says something in acknowledgement. Amelia follows me with a squinty, steely stare, then she looks at Will.

As I close our bedroom door I say to Will, "Did you see the look that Sis gave both of us? She may have already figured it out!"

"I'll tell her during our next drawing lesson. At least she'll be in a good mood. I hope she'll be OK with it. I wouldn't want to hurt her in any way. So far, we are getting on really well together. And she's so much more fun than Jane, and definitely better than Anna. I like her - as a cousin! My best cousin!"

I walk into the bathroom and fill the hand basin with warm water in preparation for a quick wash. Will steps up behind me, wraps his arms around my chest, presses his lower body against mine and kisses me on the neck. I shudder. "I really and truly love you," he whispers. "And, I love being alone with you."

I lower my hands and reach behind and around our two bodies, grasping the cheeks of his beautiful firm butt, holding his body securely against mine. I tilt my head backwards and turn it towards his face. "I love you too," I whisper. Our lips touch. He releases his grip. So do I, turning to face him. My growing erection is met by his. Our tongues begin a long duel, then so do the restrained swords in our pants as we mash our hips back and forth.

I say to Will, "Hey, we're only supposed to be up here, freshening up. If we stay any longer, and these things don't soften up, Sis is gonna twig straight away. We have all night to play after Uncle Bill leaves."

"Hell, Yeah!" he growls.

I should have anticipated that!

I let out the warm water and replace it with cold. Hopefully, it will send messages down below to help reduce the swellings, as our hands and faces feel its chill.

Will says, "I'll go down first and just complain about how slow you are. Amelia will love that."

I give him a couple of minutes' head start then head down. Will is helping Amelia set the table. I see that it is prepared for seven instead of the six that I expected. "Why the extra setting?" I ask Mum.

"Bill rang and asked whether he could bring a friend. You know what he's like. So, I said `OK'."

"Will his guest be of the female, social variety, or of the male, business variety?" I inquire.

"He didn't actually say but, knowing Bill, it could be either."

Our speculations will soon be resolved because I hear a car pull into the driveway.

The bell rings. Dad answers the door. I can tell from overhearing the greetings that Uncle Bill's guest is indeed female, but I can't determine whether she's young or old.

Then my one-track mind presumes that `Big Willie' may be in a playful mood tonight. After dinner. Somewhere.

When Dad, Uncle Bill and his guest come inside, I am surprised. Uncle Bill does the family introductions. His `guest' is a beautiful sophisticate, aged somewhere over 40, hair pulled back and secured in a tight roll, slim, with ample breasts - or implants.

We learn that her name is Monika and that she is the director of an arts gallery in Brisbane. His primary purpose in inviting her along, Uncle Bill tells us, is to have her meet Will and see some of his work. And, I wouldn't be surprised if he has a you-know-what secondary purpose in mind, after they both leave!

He hands Mum two plastic bags with far too many containers of food for seven people, suggesting that they be spread along the length of the table so that people can choose whatever they might like.

Mum and Dad sit at the ends of the table with Monika and Uncle Bill on one side and Sis, Will and I opposite them on the other side.

Dinner discussions initially focus upon Monika, her role, her connections and her influence, as extolled by Uncle Bill.

Monika either confirms, adds detail, or tones down his over-exaggerations, without denying anything.

As the food disappears, conversation inevitably turns to Will and his work. Uncle Bill's adulation of Will and enthusiasm for his artistry are met by a polite air of scepticism from Monika, as I read her body language and tone.

She speaks, "Will, you should know that Bill has told me that he thinks you are the greatest new artist since Leonardo da Vinci. I'm sure that you'll appreciate that I have to take almost everything that he says with a grain of salt. He's prone to over-exaggeration, as you heard earlier. However, I'm happy to look at your work for myself." Her tone of voice is very patronising.

I can't resist a jibe at Uncle Bill. "He's usually like that when he talks about himself. We're used to it." He gives me a dirty look. I continue, "However, in this case, it may all be warranted." Monika smiles at me condescendingly.

Uncle Bill says, "Will, why don't you bring down a selection of your work - a mix of landscapes, horses and portraits, just enough to whet Monika's appetite."

"Horses?" Monika interjects with a half sneer. Everyone appears to ignore her attitude. I'm trying very hard!

"Tom," Uncle Bill says, "I'd be grateful if you lend your opinion to what Will is selecting." Will and I head upstairs, select some of his work in different media (but mainly oils and pencil) and head back down.

As we descend the stairs, everyone is in the process of moving to the lounge room.

Monika notices Will's gift hanging on the wall and comments to Uncle Bill, "Isn't that a print from one of your photographs? I seem to remember it as part of what we looked at for an exhibition that you had about 15 or 20 years ago."

"Look more closely," Uncle Bill replies.

Monika moves to within a metre of the painting and begins to comment on the computer-enhanced image with simulated brush strokes.

"Look closer," Uncle Bill encourages. Monika takes a small device from her bag. It appears to be a magnifying glass with an inbuilt light. She moves it over one area of the picture and then another, then another.

"It actually is a painting!" she exclaims. "But, it looks so..., so..., so realistic. It's almost photographic. Somebody has put a lot of effort into copying one of your photos."

Uncle Bill, at that point, withdraws from a folder that he had placed on the lounge, a photograph. "Here, see for yourself. This is mine. What you are seeing up there is not a copy. The trees have grown, one has fallen down, the river level has dropped and the shadows indicate a different time of day. Monika, dear, you are looking at an original oil painting. The only similarity to mine is the subject matter."

"But, who? How? When?" Monika begins, clearly shocked. She scans the picture again and discovers the small signature. "Who is `LW'?" she asks. "Why do I not know this artist?"

"You do." Uncle Bill replies. I introduced him to you earlier and you had dinner with him. Do you remember why I invited you here?"

Monika looks around and focuses on Will. Without saying a word, she points to him while raising her eyebrows inquiringly in Uncle Bill's direction.

"Did I exaggerate his ability, or what?" he asks her.

"OMG, Bill. Do you realise how good this is? How good he is?"

Ignoring the opportunity to gloat, Uncle Bill turns to Will. "Son, show her some more."

Will shows her the almost-completed picture of Marty's house that I watched him working on, plus a couple of his favourite `horse' pictures and pencil sketches of Marty (in his cut-offs) and of `Mum' O'Brien (complete with apron and fly-away hair pulled into a rough bun).

Amelia dashes upstairs and returns almost immediately, clutching his drawing of her. "Will did this one of me the other day while we were talking," she gushes.

Monika instantly realises what it is that Will has captured as well as the physical detail. She looks at all three portraits. "I can almost see their inner selves," she says in a voice that is starting to quiver. She offers her assessment of both Marty's and his Mum's personalities, based on what she can discern from Will's drawings.

"Spot on! That's them to a tee!" I comment. Will confirms it.

She has tears in her eyes. She grabs Will in a hug and hangs on, mumbling superlatives the whole time. Will, initially surprised, and then grateful, is now looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"Let him breathe!" Uncle Bill pleads. "Don't kill him off. You've only just met him."

"Oh, I am so sorry! Forgive me. I got carried away," she offers to Will. She retrieves a handkerchief from her purse and dabs under her eyes.

Mum breaks in, "Coffee anyone, with dessert?"

Monika's response is, "My dear, I need something a lot stronger than coffee. Do you have any alcohol? OMG. OMG," she mutters to herself.

She scans and re-scans Will's works, with the ice in her drink clinking the side of the glass. Her hand is trembling at her `discovery' of a young artistic master - a nobody from nowhere. My little brother - William O'Brien-Grant!

Mum and Amelia bring in the coffee and the dessert. I was right! Mum was cooking a full-sized custard tart.

Needless to say, there is not a crumb remaining after all have eaten their portion, or, in the case of Will and me, portions.

After much praise, commendation and adulation of Will and his work, Monika and Uncle Bill call it a night. Monika thanks Mum and Dad for their hospitality, says a polite `good-bye' to Sis and me, then grabs Will in another bear hug. "You and I are going to talk some more, young man!" she says to him. "It's been a privilege to meet you."

Her `take me home, Bill,' is followed by a wink from him to Will and me. I was right! As far as he is concerned, `the night is still young'.

"See you tomorrow sometime," Uncle Bill calls to us as he escorts Monika outside.

"Well," Dad says, "Will, it looks as though you have been officially discovered."

Will gathers his work, says goodnight to everyone and heads up to bed. "Gotta brush my teeth," he calls as he disappears up the stairs. I smirk, knowing what he means and what we will be doing later.

I spend another 10 minutes chatting with Mum and Dad about Monika and her promises to Will about his future. Then I think to myself, `he should be well and truly ready by now' and I smile.

I kiss Mum, hug Dad and poke out my tongue, smilingly, at Amelia. All are reciprocated in kind.

I am expecting to see Will naked. Instead, he is wearing the same shorts that he had on that first day that we `played' with each other in my car. "Hello, Sir," he says as I close the door. "Wanna get lucky?" reminiscent of his words to me that day.

I crawl onto the bed and lay myself beside him. We place our hands on each other's leg, just as we did back then. He continues to repeat his actions by running his hand up my thigh until he encounters my swelling package, then he desists. "You'd better go and brush your teeth," he growls at me seductively. "It's going to be a long night."

 

Early in the morning I am aware that Will is spooned up to me. I prise open my eyes, savouring the feel of his arm across my chest and his morning wood nestled between my cheeks. His heavy, regular breathing against my neck is testament to the energy expended in releasing his three loads last night - one in my mouth, one inside me while he held me tightly in a doggy position, and one while my cock was finding and massaging his prostate with him on his back. I feel somewhat depleted myself. LOL. I gently roll him onto his back. He stirs only momentarily with a slight snort and then returns to his dreams.

I take a pee, shower, dress and meet Mum downstairs.

"Dad has left for work and Amelia has gone for an early jog with her friend," she begins.

I hug her and say, "I love you, Mum! I don't suppose you've made a decision yet about the chemo?"

"Actually, I have," she replies. "I'm going to try the alternatives. How bad can they be if the chemo doesn't guarantee a positive outcome? Why would I want to be as sick as a dog and make everyone else suffer too?"

"That's very brave of you," I reply. "Whatever I can do to support you, you only have to ask. You know that, right?"

"Thank you, darling. But I think that it's Amelia who may need your support. I'm not going to tell her at this stage, until I have some indication from the treatment one way or the other. Karen is meeting me today with some information and contact details. Please don't make a fuss, and try not to worry - that won't change the outcome! However, we all need to be happy and positive. That will go a long way towards helping me."

We let the subject drop as a bright-eyed Will comes down to join us.

"Good morning, Aunty Susan," he chirps, giving her a hug and a kiss. He shocks me by giving me a hug too, and kissing me on the cheek. I feel myself blush. Mum just smiles. I'm glad that Amelia isn't here.

"The surf report is good for today," Mum relates to neither of us in particular. It's a subtle hint to take off for the beach.

"Great!" Will replies. "Joey's going to show me a couple of more tricks on the board today." We each grab some toast, finish our coffee, then go up to change.

Upstairs, he reminds me, "And, I'll bet that Joey and young Andy have a few tricks that they want to show you too in the shower." He smirks.

"Yeah. I sort of invited that, didn't I?" I reply.

"No, you didn't just `sort-of invite that'," Will says. "You virtually promised them that they could both have a go at jacking you off today! I hope we left some juice in your tank last night! I can't wait to watch the action."

We arrive a bit earlier than usual. I recognise Joey. The others aren't here yet. The swells are bigger than on any day previously. Joey is making the most of them. I admire his skill and it's wonderful to watch him speeding across the face of a wave, spinning, flipping and then shooting about 2m off the top of the wave when he's done with it.

I think that for larger-sized waves, they are remarkably translucent today, as they rise before breaking. I can clearly see the occasional small schools of different fish in them, as the early sun behind them produces silhouettes in the pale green/blue water.

Will runs with his board to join Joey, paddling out. It's funny watching him being swamped as the waves crash over him on his first two attempts at getting out there. Timing is everything!

He makes it to where Joey is lying on his board, with not much more than his head visible above the water. I can see their two bobbing heads appear and disappear between successive waves.

I hear Simon call out behind me and turn towards the sound of his voice. However, just as I take my eyes off Joey and Will, I catch a glimpse of something that sends chills up my spine. What was that? I look again, but it is gone. I thought that I saw, in the second wave behind them, a large, dark shape... with a fin!

Will and Joey rise and disappear again as the next wave passes over them and obscures them from my sight.

Then I hear a scream; a blood-curdling, heart-stopping shriek. I recognise the voice immediately as Will's.

Then, as that wave subsides, I see only one head. I am frozen in fear.

 

 

(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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