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 32

Sorting done, Will and I lie side by side on the bed, holding hands, reminiscing about our day with Tony and Rocco and how, realistically, we could be friends with them. Our discussions also include Simon and Luke, Jarrod, Joey and, of course, Andy.

It's inevitable that we also rehearse what we should say to Marty. Our hands end up in more intimate touching but without the need to `do' anything apart from holding each other. However, I feel the real desire for both of us to `brush our teeth' tonight.

 

 

Chapter 33 – Ash

 

It's still early. However, after a day and night of ecstasy and complete physical draining, my body is slow to `get going', as my heavy eyelids do battle with the rest of my head.

Both the sensation of Will's body against mine and my tired eyes whisper, `stay'. My full bladder, the need to shower away the excesses of the night and the awareness that today we will meet the architect for our new home, all shout, `get up'. Noise must be mitigated and urgency wins.

I love `saving water' with my little brother, but, this morning, I appreciate the relaxed freedom to massage my scalp while shampooing my hair, matted from some misdirected nocturnal activity. I allow the unshared stream of hot water to power onto my head, down my neck and shoulders then warm my back and lower body. I rotate slowly. My whole body delights in absorbing the heat. My tired cock stretches yawningly to a relaxed, `normal' length, aided by a liberal application of scented body wash.

The second hardest thing to do in the morning, after forcing my feet out of bed and onto the floor, is turning off the hot water.

I dry off and then enjoy vigorously towelling my back and butt, which shakes my `stuff'. I use my hair dryer, firstly as its maker intended, and then to deliver a blast of hot air up and down my naked body - avoiding dwelling too long on the tender bits.

Re-entering the bedroom, I see Will struggling to escape our love nest. If we had drunk any alcohol last night, I would think that he was now nursing a hangover. Yes, we really wore each other out. He heads for me, arms outstretched for a hug. Instead, I grasp his hands and interlock my fingers with his and say, "After you've cleaned yourself up! How did you get so messy and smelly?"

He smirks, "I can't remember all of the details, but it must have been one hell of a wet dream!" I kiss him then give him a swat on his cute and tight bum as he heads for the bathroom.

I delay dressing until Will emerges. I extend my arms for the promised hug. He wraps his arms around my body then slaps me hard on both cheeks, holding on and pulling my hips to meet his. "Hey! That stings!" I remonstrate with him.

"Payback! Would you like me to kiss it better?" he asks.

"Yes... but I don't have the strength left for anything else," I complain to him. He turns me around, kneels down, kisses both my cheeks then, standing up, swats them again, and runs!

Within the confines of my room, he dodges and weaves from my grasping hands, laughing so hard that he soon collapses face-down on the bed.

I move to him and say, "Now, I've got you!" He doesn't move. I lower myself onto him and kiss the back of his neck. My cock nestles into its favourite position. "Thanks for last night," I whisper in his ear while continuing to plant kisses around his neck and shoulders, which cause him to shudder.

"Hey, you were great yourself. That was the best night ever!"

I remind him of our appointment with the architect and our opportunity to plan `our' house.

"Hell, Yeah!" he rasps, then rolls me off him, kisses me and heads to get dressed. Staring at ourselves in the mirror he stuns me with, "We make a great couple, don't we?" I let the word `couple' sink in and I blink multiple times to prevent my eyes from misting up with happiness. I hug him and we head down to seek out the source of some delicious aromas. It's only midway through breakfast that my brain does one of its customary catch-ups... surfing... Simon, Luke and Joey.

I glance outside. It's not raining but a little overcast. I know that there won't be many people out at this time of the day, only three dedicated surfers that I know of. "Hey," I put to Will. "How would you like one final session of body boarding this morning?"

He looks up at me and gives me a smirk of realisation as to why. "Yeah!" he says enthusiastically, omitting the `hell' bit, probably because my mother is right next to us. Then his face drops and he says, "But haven't we packed our swimming togs away? In a plastic bag, in another bag, in with something else? We'll have to pull everything out to find them.

"They wouldn't be too hard to find," I comment, "but I do have others that we can use instead."

Mum floors me with, "Well, you could always go skinny dipping!"

I'm sure that she meant it as a joke. Will slowly raises his eyes to mine and gives me a most wicked smile. I instantly know what he's thinking.

"It's OK," I tell Mum, and give Will a stern look. "We'll find something to wear, and we'll finish breakfast when we get back."

I know that we should wait an appropriate time after eating but we'll have our boards as flotation devices. Besides, I've never actually experienced the parent-warned post-ingestion cramping, on those occasions when I ignored it!

Will and I head upstairs. "Do you honestly believe that you can parade around naked in public? This isn't one of those nudist beaches, you know," I tell him. "We could both be arrested! And this isn't the weir at The Village, either."

"That won't happen," Will replies, almost too dismissively. "Anyway, most of the time we would be in the water. However, it would be fun to do it!"

I'm not sure what to say. The thought of it is naughty enough to be mildly exciting, but is the risk worth it? I don't think so!

Will comments, "Hey, you haven't told me anything about nudist beaches."

I ignore him and fish out a couple of pairs of spare Speedos and give Will the red pair. We put them on, cover our well-defined bulges with shorts and pull on T-shirts. We grab towels then head down to the garage for our boards.

As expected, there are very few heads visible in the surf. Reasonable swell, though. I count only four - Simon, Luke and Joey together, plus one more about 75m away from them.

We walk down towards the water and drop our towels a few metres above the wet-sand line. They should stay dry here - the tide is on the way out. I remove my shorts and shirt and place them on top of my towel. Will does the same, except, he doesn't stop at the shorts. I see a flash of red polyester added to his pile.

He laughs, "Ha ha!" grabs his board and races across the short distance to the water then wades in. There are hoots from the cluster of three in the surf and I watch the body of my young Adonis being progressively concealed by the water. He pauses to attach his leg rope then, as he paddles and kicks out to the boys, all I can see is his head, shoulders and contracting pair of bare glutes. I have to admit, it's a stirring sight!

Will is almost out to where Simon, Luke and Joey are waiting when the latter all wave their Speedos high above their heads and cheer. I can't believe what I'm seeing! I look around nervously. Nobody else, except... the other guy out there seems to have drifted a little closer to the boys. I point to him, but they all take it as a greeting, raising their arms, with Speedos pushed up to their shoulders. Then, pointing back at me, they beckon.

Keeping my gaze fixed on the lone surfer, I attach my leg rope and head for the water, still fully `dressed' in my Speedos. This elicits hoots of derision and calls of "coward" and "chicken" from the four skinny dippers.

The gap to the loner appears to be slowly but perceptibly diminishing. I don't know what his intentions are, so I start to paddle out with absolute haste to alert the boys. Then, suddenly, they all catch a wave and four naked sets of glutes flash past me - literally. I turn to look but they are concealed by the bulk of the wave which they've caught. I paddle out a little farther.

The lone surfer is a lot closer now. He's older than me, maybe mid to late thirties, and I can tell that, below his muscled upper body, he's wearing board shorts.

I look towards the beach and see Speedos being deposited on the sand together with two of the body boards. Shit! I know what that means - tandem rides... naked. In `normal' circumstances I would be thrilled.

"Hi," I hear quite close to me. It sends a shiver through my whole body. The guy has paddled up close to me while I was distracted.

"Hi," I reply, without really wanting to encourage any conversation that might lead to him hanging around.

The naked quartet is on its way back out - two paddling and two swimming. "What do you reckon they're up to?" he asks, nodding towards the boys.

I have no idea who this guy could be - anything from the local inspector of police to a serial murderer. He's showing altogether too much interest in them to just be a casual surfer who might be expected to just ignore a bit of juvenile flesh.

"You know them?" he continues.

If ever there was a time that I needed my brain to work quickly, it's now! I've got my little brother and three friends frolicking naked in the surf, intent in riding atop each other on their boards and this unknown guy is asking questions about them, or is he interested in my involvement with them?

"My little brother and I are visiting from out west. He's made friends with the other boys since we arrived, but we're heading back home tomorrow," is all I say. Is it enough? Too much?

He replies with, "I hope they all don't do anything that they could be arrested for. This isn't a nudist beach." His voice has a tone of authority to it and I'm thinking that he could be a council ranger. So, he has definitely taken note of their nakedness!

"Just boys being boys, I expect," I say, hoping to downplay any serious intent in his mind, and thankful that I've left my Speedos in place.

At that moment, a large swell looms behind us. "This looks like a good one!" I exclaim and set myself to catch it and, maybe, intercept the boys. I paddle furiously and am relieved when he catches it too, which leaves the boys to their own devious devices, for a while at least.

We ride the wave all the way to the beach. I stand and glance seaward, hoping to give the boys a sign to stay out there. However, they are just about to take off on a wave - tandem! This could quickly turn into a disaster!

"I'm feeling a bit queasy after breakfast," I tell the guy. "I think I'll sit out for a while... actually, I might shower and get dressed."

"I should probably be going myself," he replies. "I've been here too long already."

I want to shout for joy and relief but I still feel uneasy about him being around the boys. And now that he suddenly wants to take off, having put himself in a position of being observed and recognisable, he has me on high alert.

Hoping to lure him away from the water's edge, I pick up my clothes and towel, put them over my left arm then extend my right hand to him. "I'm Tom, by the way," I say.

Taking my hand and shaking it, he replies, "Mark... Mark Golding."

I'm curious about him, for a number of reasons, so I ask, smiling, "So what do you do Mark, when you're not surfing?" I take a couple of steps towards the dressing shed.

He takes the bait. Yes!!

He walks alongside me, and I keep my back to the surf and its tandem surfers.

"Gold Coast Police - sergeant for the local area command," he answers. It sounds well-rehearsed.

My heart sinks. No, it doesn't! Just the opposite! It starts pounding. I that hope he can't hear it.

Thinking on the run I ask, "I've often wondered... what's the biggest challenge around here? Is it the weekends? Drunks? Hoons? Drugs?" I know better than to ask a closed `Yes / No' question when you want to keep somebody engaged and talking.

"Yeah, all of the above," he says, smiling. "But we get our share of serious crimes as well - car thefts, break and enter, rape, murder - the usual, you know?"

I wonder how much he knows about Andy's situation.

"Wow!" I exclaim. Then I add, hoping to keep his focus away from the water, "Tell me, Mark, does all that have an effect on you personally? I mean, how do you cope with the more serious stuff and `switch off'?"

"You learn to live with it," he replies matter-of-factly. "The worst part of the job is knocking on somebody's door to tell them that their son or daughter's been killed in car accident. What about you?" he asks. "What about you? What do you do?"

"School teacher. This is my first year out of uni and I scored a one-teacher school out on the Warrego River." I immediately realise that I've already given him way too much information about me and Will, as little as it may be. There are far too many questions that he could ask me, like, `have you always lived out that way?' and `if so, how did you get a school so close to home?' and `does your brother live out there too?'

Hoping to maximise Will's innocence in what's going on behind us I add, "Even though I went to university here, this is my little brother's first visit to The Coast. We do have some relatives here, but, being still at school, he hasn't travelled much. He's made quite a few friends in the past two weeks and I'm sure that he'll want to come back next school holidays."

We reach the dressing sheds. A backwards glance reveals that the boys are back out in deep water again.

Sergeant Golding and I shower, without dropping our swimming costumes. We chat - policing, teaching, undisciplined youth.

I soon become very aware of laughing and multiple loud voices, coming closer. I pray that they've all put their Speedos back on!

"Oh, well, I'd better go. Duty calls," Mark says, stepping out of the shower. Without a towel or a change of clothes, my guess is that he must live reasonably close to the beach. "It's been good to meet you, Tom," he says. "Good luck out west." We shake hands then he heads towards the doorway and is almost bowled over by Joey, followed closely by the other three - thankfully, all clad.

Joey floors me with, "Oh, hi dad. I thought that you'd gone home already."

"On my way, son," Mark replies, ruffling Joey's hair. "Don't be late for breakfast, or your mother will blame me for it. You've got about fifteen minutes."

"Hello, Mr Golding," Simon and Luke say respectfully as he passes them and bumps fists with them.

I wait until he's well gone. "He's your dad?" I say with surprise to Joey. "I thought that he might have been some pervert who was going to make a move on you guys, which is why I tried to get him away from you all. He could have lured you into the dressing sheds, got you naked and done who-knows-what to you."

Even as the words leave my mouth, I can't help but think that they could apply to me. I suddenly feel amused, yet guilty at the same time. I smile at Joey.

He slides down his Speedos, revealing a very cold-water-affected boy cock, and hangs them on a wall peg. He's a handsome specimen of a boy, having entered puberty, with a good patch of hair `down there' and a nice pair of low-hanging, smooth marbles.

"He's going to think that's hilarious, when I tell him," Joey laughs.

"Just don't tell him too much!" Will throws in.

"Dad and I have this understanding," Joey smiles, "he doesn't talk to me about his work, and I don't talk to him about my friends and what I do with them. And he's always said, `ask no questions and you'll be told no lies'. But, having you trying to protect us from a potential pervert - him - is funny. I've got to tell him that!"

Joey fills his hands with liquid soap and holds them invitingly. "So, who wants to be washed first?" he puts to all of us, yet to nobody in particular. His boyhood is thawing and expanding and rising.

Three Speedos are discarded as quickly as they were at the water's edge. Again, I'm the laggard, as my mind processes what I've just seen and heard. Playing around with the teenage son of a cop could be very risky, and yet it doesn't seem to worry Joey in the slightest!

"Take them off! Take them off!" The chanting comes from the four naked guys under the showers. I slowly remove my `covering' and they all clap and cheer. I join them, laughing, sure that the five of us will make the most of the next ten minutes, if we're not interrupted.

I step into the midst of them to be welcomed by multiple slippery hands that proceed to soap up my entire body, neck to knees, front and back. Needless to say, I rise quickly to the occasion.

There is much communal rubbing, jiggling, jacking and frotting. My first 5-way! Lol. Even though Joey is the youngest, he is really worked up and is the first to spurt - accompanied by a loud `Aargh'.

"I'm close, too," Will tells him. "You wanna finish me off?" Joey is not slow in accepting Will's offer and he quickly brings my little brother to a powerful climax, wearing the result of it all over his chest.

"Me next!" Simon urges him. Joey works on his cock while I slip my middle finger between Simon's glutes. Then, Joey is quickly sporting another set of white streaks.

As the shower cleanses Joey, I hold his hips and nestle against his firm little backside while he services Luke. I have to pull away from him before I cum. He turns to me. "Righto, mister!" he chirps. "Let me have it." He cups my balls with his left hand and uses his slick right hand on my aching stiffness. Needless to say, it only takes a few strokes and I erupt onto him too.

We share a communal hug and delight in ensuring that everyone is clean, doubly clean.

Luke tauntingly says, "Don't be late for breakfast Joey. You don't want your dad asking questions and being told lies about what took you so long."

We all laugh. Will and I dry off, don our shorts commando-style, pull on our T-shirts and roll our wet Speedos in our towels.

There are more hugs all `round with promises of `catching up' when we are back for the next holidays, with the hope that young Andy will be able to join us. Joey heads off first, at a run. Simon, Luke, Will and I all walk together and talk - thankful for having met each other, and expressing our anxieties about Andy.

We wish each other well for the coming school term. We have each other's phone numbers and, thanks to Uncle Bill's generosity with the new phones, we will be able to keep in touch.

When we re-enter the house, Mum tells us that there is bacon in the foil-covered dish in the oven, together with some fresh scrambled eggs. Will says, "Thank you, Aunty Susan. We've just worked up a great appetite." He smirks at me. What a little devil! "If you put on the toast, Tom," he tells me, "I'll make the coffee."

I fleetingly wonder where Amelia is, and then then the thought is erased as the house phone rings.

Uncle Bill will be here with the architect in 30 minutes.

Will and I have enough time to eat and then change into something more comfortable. In the privacy of our room I tell him, "Bro, you worry me sometimes. You know that?"

"What do you mean?" he replies. I can't tell whether he's genuinely unaware of the risk he has just taken or whether he's dismissing it. I don't want his newly-found bravado and self-confidence in public to lead him into trouble, but neither do I want to quench his spirit. I feel mostly responsible for helping to awaken this sensual dragon within him.

"Will, I don't want you to imagine that you can just drop your pants whenever and wherever you like," I lovingly admonish him while, at the same time, reflecting upon the beauty of his body in its natural state in a natural setting. "We have been unusually lucky with all the guys that we've met in the past two weeks, but not everyone is like them. And, things could have been very different if that guy hadn't been Joey's dad. I just don't want you to get into trouble or hurt."

"Thank you, Tom. I know that you want what's best for me. I'll try to be good," he says.

His words reflect a sincere sentiment and yet, they have a certain hollowness to them. I have genuine concerns for his naïveté in a cruel world. "Just be careful in future, OK?" I put to him.

"Yes, Tom. I'm sorry if I upset you. I guess I suddenly missed the freedom of swimming in the weir with Karl and Kurt. I'm glad that we'll be home on Wednesday."

"Me too, bro," I tell him, but then warn, "You know that things will never be the same back there any more, don't you?"

"What do you mean?" he asks, appearing suddenly and genuinely concerned.

"Well, to start with, you are no longer a naïve little... virgin. We've both experienced thrills beyond the grabbing games that you used to play with Karl and Kurt, and more than your jacking off with Jake and, recently, the twins. It will be hard for you to go back to just doing that with them, don't you think? You may feel like doing more with them but they may not be ready for what you want. You, yourself, told me that Jake has already said that he doesn't want to do more."

"Yeah, I know," he replies, with an air of sadness.

I continue, "And it would be wrong to push any of them into anything more than they want or are ready for." Then, after a reflective pause, I add, "It was different for you and me. We were both `up for it', weren't we?" I nudge him playfully.

"Hell, Yeah!" is expressed with a little less intensity than usual - pensively. "Frequently!"

"And, just so you know, I tried really hard not to give in to my urges back then, or to your urging," I confess. Will looks at me quizzically. I continue, "But then, I hadn't counted on your determination and incredible magnetism, which wore me down – however, it didn't take an awful lot!"

He giggles, "Do you remember the day in your car when I asked you if you wanted to `get lucky' with me?"

"Hell, Yeah!" I smirk to him. "I'll remember that day for the rest of my life. That was the moment when my moral resolve totally collapsed. You had me from that moment on. It was the thrill of my life. At least it was then. But now we've experienced much more beyond simply feeling each other up, haven't we?"

"Hell, fucking Yeah!" he responds fervently, then grabs me and wrestles me to the bed. We enjoy each other's lengthy and firm embrace, but restrain ourselves from getting `too excited', with Uncle Bill due soon.

 

When they arrive, I'm impressed with Uncle Bill's architect, introduced to us as `Ash - short for Ashley'. He is friendly and declines the offered caffeine, preferring water instead. He gets straight to business, spreading some documents on the dining table. I am surprised to see a satellite photograph of the property, clearly showing the river, school, church, pub, Karl and Kurt's house and even Will's house. It's obvious that this one was not taken recently.

We all move to the same side of the table - Ash between Uncle Bill and me, with Will on my other side.

The full extent of `our' property is evident only when a set of coloured boundary outlines on a transparency is placed over the photograph, also showing some potential sites for the house. The possibilities opposite the pub or close to the school both have practical up-sides, but lack a degree of privacy. Will and I agree that the one farthest from the school, backing almost to the river, is our preferred option. It has the added benefit of potential summertime shade from the tall river gums.

That settled, we turn to the expansive floor plan. Ash has designed us a double-storey, `U'-shaped house and advises that the `U' will incorporate a private courtyard and spa pool. According to our choice of locations, it will be sited to open directly towards the river.

In a nutshell, upstairs, the western arm of the `U' building would be taken up completely by the enormous master bedroom and huge walk-through wardrobe to a large ensuite. The other arm would house three double bedrooms, two sharing an adjoining bathroom, the third with its own private ensuite. The remainder of the floor, to the front, is open space.

Downstairs, below the master suite is Will's studio. The other side is designated as a `games area'. Ash explains that this could include anything that we want - computers, pool table, gym equipment, and more. Will looks at me and raises his eyebrows. I think, `No, we're not putting BDSM stuff in the house,' in case that's what he's thinking! The front part of the downstairs is an open-plan lounge / dining / kitchen.

So, essentially, the master suite and studio will face west but with additional windows north and south. The other bedrooms and `games room' look east to Karl and Kurt's place, the school, church and pub.

The front of the building with upper and lower open areas face the `road' but, with the house sited towards the rear of the block, Ash suggests extensive front-yard landscaping would be appropriate.

The design of the structure, I am pleasantly surprised to see, is of a style that matches the pub. Is it Victorian? Edwardian? Georgian? `Heritage'? I have no idea, but it looks grand!

Ash explains the differences in these periods and we decide to call it `Colonial Victorian' as it incorporates broad frontal verandahs, upper and lower, with decorative cast-iron lacework.

He tells us that the house will be powered by banks of solar panels with a diesel generator as a backup. The insulation will minimise the need for heating / cooling and the adjustable louvres over the courtyard can admit sunlight in the cooler months while blocking it at other times. Many features of the house will be controllable by computer - a full home automation system; an idea that Uncle Bill had previously `floated' with us.

There will also be a large satellite dish sited on the eastern side of the house which will enable powerful radio communications, and even `pull in' TV programmes.

Overall, a very modern house within an impressive period-designed exterior. This is going to cost a fortune! But Uncle Bill has said that he is happy, for his two sons, to pay for whatever we want. Will and I are truly blessed!

Ash also mentions the potential, if desired, to replace the existing house on the property (Karl and Kurt's place) with a single street or two of half a dozen Victorian cottages. These, together with the main house and the pub, would almost bring a re-birth or re-invigoration of The Village. The possibilities for these could be numerous and he suggests that we consult `the locals' for ideas as to their potential use, prior to actually committing to anything.

I am surprised to hear Ash say that, on Uncle Bill's say-so, he has already arranged for some heavy equipment to be moved onto the site, and has begun making enquiries regarding local tradespeople and labourers. I insist that Marty's name be included for any long-term work.

Uncle Bill adds, "It is also my intention to do some restoration work on the pub, with the owner's permission. Do you think that they'd refuse my offer?" He smiles.

"Wow!" is all that Will can reply. He's normally the one with all the words when I am deficient.

"How could they not accept?" I ask. "I'm already starting to think of some possibilities for The Village as a tourist stop-over."

Uncle Bill informs us, "Ash and I have already had a brainstorming session. We'll have another one with you and some locals when we come to visit."

"What?" I ask. "When are you coming to visit? It's a long way, you know."

"Soon," he answers. "But, don't worry. We'll be flying, not driving. "There's some on-site organisation to be done with builders, contractors and the local council."

So many thoughts run through my mind. Will our house be more of a landmark than the pub? What will the locals think? How much should we tell them? What if Will becomes famous and Uncle Bill wants him to go away with him? How long will I remain as teacher? Is the new house over-kill? At what point will we need to declare the ownership of the land and the new house? What will Mr Andersen and the twins think when they find out that they're living on our land? Did they buy their house? Who from? Or, did they just move in, like Will's mother?

They all seem to be problems. But, for every problem there could be a number of solutions. These must be taken one at a time, or they would have the potential to become overwhelming and depressing.

Will and I have a lot to discuss.

Will has already been thinking. He asks, "What about statues and a fountain in the front yard?" I think, `No, you're not getting a statue of David!'

Ash doesn't give a definitive answer, but replies by way of a question. "Do you think they would be in keeping with the character of The Village? Do you think they'd be more at home in an Italian villa?"

This guy, handsome, I realise, in his own way, is a smart cookie! He's right, but I don't want to override any of Will's suggestions, so I let him process Ash's thoughts and he replies, unprompted, "Yeah, I see what you're saying." Only Will and I know where his thoughts came from. "But, then, what about the satellite dish?"

Ash ponders the question and then proposes, "We could disguise it from the street by a semi-circular hedge of native plants so that it's not `in your face'."

"What about including it in the front yard landscaping? It could actually be the centre piece instead of the fountain or statue," Will responds.

"Interesting," Ash says. "Leave that with me."

My turn. "Ash, what do you think of swapping the smaller bedrooms upstairs with the games area downstairs? That way, visitors need never leave the lower level if they were not interested in playing games."

Will looks at me and smirks one of his `I get it' smiles. "Yeah!" he says. "Let's keep them totally separate from us." He shows nervous signs of suddenly realising the implication of the `us' pronouncement. His look towards me changes to one of consternation. He looks at his father.

"It's OK," Uncle Bill says to both of us. "Ash knows about my two sons wanting to share the master suite."

We both look at Ash, who smiles in return. Then he adds somewhat philosophically, "Personal lives are personal. No problem! Especially from me." He passes a knowing wink.

I instantly like him, pat him on the back and say, "Thanks, Ash."

Will kicks me in the ankle. I know why. I remove my hand from his lower, lower back.

"We can discuss furniture, furnishings and appliances later," Ash says. "What I need next are the reports from the geologists and engineers that I've asked for. Then, if it's all OK, I'll draw up a set of plans for your final approval before submitting them to the local council. I also need to factor in provision for water, electricity, waste disposal, et cetera. I don't anticipate that there will be any hold up. Bill has connections."

Uncle Bill looks at us and touches the side of his nose. I immediately presume that his best `connections' are female.

"Anything else?" Ash asks. When there is no response, he declares, "Then we're done for today." Smiling, he proffers one of his business cards to each of Will and myself. "Call me anytime if you have a question or would like to suggest something."

Will kicks me again. I kick him back and smile.

We shake hands and thank Ash for his work. Uncle Bill gives Will and me a hug and tells us that he and Ash will see us out at The Village sometime next week.

More questions in my head! How will the O'Brien clan take to meeting the guy who got `their Lilly' pregnant and set her on the path to debauchery? Or, was she actually that way inclined prior to their `interlude'? Maybe Will shouldn't reveal that Uncle Bill is his father. Then how will we explain to Marty and others that we are brothers? Another complication!

As Uncle Bill and Ash drive off, Will says to me, "He's not exactly what I imagined."

I look at him and ask, "What do you mean?"

"Well, I thought that an architect would be old, fat, glasses, neat and tidy with a white shirt and tie. He certainly wasn't any of those - young, slim, strange hairdo, bit of a beard, hoodie and skin-tight jeans." Then he taunts sarcastically, "Or didn't you notice?"

"Yes, of course I noticed," I reply, "but I was more interested in the house."

"As if!" Will says, a little snappily. "I notice that you had to touch him, didn't you? I'll bet that if I hadn't kicked you, you would have slipped your hand down lower onto his cute arse soon enough."

"Is that what you were focussed on? Do I detect a hint of jealousy?" I put to him playfully.

"Hell, Yeah!" he replies. "If I was standing where you were, I would have tried it, and a lot sooner than you did!"

"You're really incorrigible," I tell him. "I really hope that you can stay out of trouble!"

"Anyway," Will jokes, "we'll catch up again next week. Then we'll see what happens!"

What can I say? Nothing! So, I just kick him in the ankle and run.

Even hobbling, he does a good job of chasing me up the stairs. I run into our room. By contrast, Will ambles in behind me, closes the door and locks it. "Now, I've got you!" he grins with a leer, parroting my words from earlier in the morning. He pounces on me, wrestles me to the bed and we resume our earlier embrace. This time we don't stop, and we allow our passions full freedom until, fully naked and perspiring profusely, we are both wet and sticky.

Life is fun. Abundantly.

After saving water by showering together, Will and I decide to visit Jarrod now as we probably won't want to hang around until the mall and its shops are open tomorrow. We can have a couple of hours driving done by that time. Jeans, T-shirt and sandals are the selected `dress code' to visit the mall. It's a good time to go there - prior to the lunchtime `rush'.

There's a couple of young schoolkids looking through the displays of games when we arrive. Jarrod's focus is on them and, with his back half-turned to the door, he doesn't see us standing there, observing. The pair of browsers are not much to look at, so Jarrod must be more focussed on preventing shoplifting.

It's only when the kids see us watching them and quickly leave, and as Jarrod's gaze follows them through the door, that he notices us. His face brightens considerably.

Same work uniform. Same tight pants. Same nice bulge. We enter. He shakes my hand. He holds Will's. I let Will do the talking.

"Mate, Tom and I just wanted to come down to say goodbye and tell you how great it was to meet you. Thanks for everything."

"I should be thanking you," Jarrod replies. "When will you be back? You will keep in touch, won't you?"

"Sure thing," Will tells him. "I expect we'll be back during the next holidays." He looks to me for confirmation and I nod. He continues, "I hope you'll be up for some fun when we see you again." The statement, with an upward intonation, turns it into a hopeful question.

"Absolutely!" Jarrod replies. "One-on-one games are my specialty."

He and Will look at each other, then burst into laughter.

"Jarrod," I ask, "While we're here, can you show us how to set up a Facebook account? It's about time that we got into that social media stuff.

"No problem," he says. "Let's do it right here, instead of at the back of the shop. That way, I can keep an eye on any kids. We lose a lot of stock during school holidays."

Will says, "If you show Tom, then he can show me later. Right now, I need to find the men's toilet. Too much coffee, I expect."

Jarrod indicates where it is. Will leaves, somewhat hurriedly.

Jarrod then proceeds to step me through the process, basically doing it all for me as he asks me for the relevant personal details, but checking that I understand the procedure. "I can be your first friend," he says, "Will's too, when you've got him set up."

It has taken a short while and I'm beginning to wonder where Will is, when he comes through the door. His T-shirt is splattered with red, and he's holding paper towelling to his face.

"What happened to you?" I ask, stepping to him and holding his shoulders to peer into his teary eyes.

"A bit of an accident," he says, removing the paper to reveal a bloodied nose and face.

"Oh, my God," Jarrod exclaims, hurrying to the back of the store and re-appearing with some ice in a cloth. "Hold this on it. It will help to stop the bleeding and reduce the swelling." Jarrod also produces a second cloth and helps to remove the blood from Will's mouth, cheeks and chin. I don't see anything split that might require medical attention.

"What happened?" Jarrod repeats my words.

"I... I ran into something," Will responds hesitantly.

"What really happened?" I ask with a touch of school-teacher-like persistence, fearing that he has been mugged for his phone and money.

"I feel stupid. Can I tell you later?" Will almost pleads.

"OK. Maybe a cool drink and a custard tart will help you feel better," I say.

Will smiles and then winces in pain.

We know where the coffee shop is. We, again, shake hands and also `man-hug' with Jarrod and express our desires to catch up next holidays, but to keep in touch in the meantime. Jarrod also receives a friendly parting grope on the backside from Will, behind the counter.

The bleeding has stopped, and, with Jarrod still showing genuine concern for Will's condition, we leave.

I tell Will to find us a table, where we can talk, while I place our order. I get lemonade with ice for him, coffee for me, two custard tarts and a small cup of ice. I also grab some paper serviettes on the way back to the table.

We take a minute to clean him up as much as possible. It looks as though the worst he can expect is a fat lip and some soreness around his mouth and nose. He uses some ice to sooth his lip.

He continues to apologise until I say, "Enough, Will! Now tell me what really happened. What did you `accidentally run into'?"

"Somebody's fist," he mumbles, with his head bowed.

"What?" I ask him. "Were you mugged? Did they take your new phone or demand money?"

"No, nothing like that," he adds without elaborating.

It looks as though I will have to prise the truth out of him, piece by piece. "Will, why did he punch you?"

"I don't know."

"Where were you?"

"In the toilet."

"Did you say anything to him to provoke him?"

"No."

"Was he cute?" I ask, pursuing an instinct.

Will lifts his eyes to mine and confesses, "Yes... very."

"Did you do something to him?"

"No, Tom, I swear. I didn't touch him." Then he adds, "I didn't get a chance to."

"OK," I say, trying to remain calm and suppress my impatience and displeasure at his terse answers. "You'd better tell me exactly what happened – all of it – now! And don't leave anything out."

There is a pause. He starts slowly, looking at me momentarily with tear-filled eyes. "I was in a hurry when I went in. He was just ahead of me. There were three urinals and he went to the middle one. I just stood to his left, unzipped and let fly. I just let it hang out while I enjoyed the relief."

I don't interrupt and wait for Will to continue. "I noticed him turn his head and look at my cock, so I didn't worry about having a good look at his. He was holding it and then it looked like he started to rub it, but he must have only been getting rid of the last bit of piss. I thought that he was doing something else and giving me a sign, so I started jacking mine and looked at his face. He yelled, `Fuck off!' then zipped up and stepped back.

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

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

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

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

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

 

(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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