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 35

Only moments later there is a quick knock on our door and Marty enters, without waiting for an invitation. He looks at each of us in our own beds. The surprise on his face betrays that he was expecting to see something different. Very different, I expect, and I am thankful that I didn't give in to Will's need immediately!

"Yes, Marty?" Will poses to him, with an air of rebuke at his intrusion.

I expect that Marty had a speech already prepared; something like, `Aha! I thought so!' in anticipation of finding us in the act of doing something together. However, he stumbles to find replacement words. "Umm, I, umm, I forgot to ask ... Are you planning on sleeping late after your long trip, or would you like breakfast early?"

Not a bad comeback!

I am anticipating a smart-arse response from Will, along the lines of, `Well, you may as well poison us earlier rather than later!' but I beat him to a reply. "Early would be great. Thanks, Marty. I'm looking forward to whatever it is. Good night."

"Good night," he replies, knowing that he has been dismissed. Then he adds, "I knew that fat boy wouldn't want to wait for longer than necessary!"

"Fuck off Marty!" Will firstly hurls the words, and then Marty ducks a flung pillow, closes the door and escapes to his double bed.

 

 

Chapter 36 – Revelations

Despite being excited with expectancy, I don't want to hurry Will along, so I relax and close my eyes. I contemplate our `welcome back' at the hands (or rather, outspoken tongue) of an appreciative Marty. Memories, anticipations and sensations blur into a darkening fogginess, and I am aware of my progressive softening down below. I surrender consciousness.

I am now so accustomed to having Will's body next to mine that the vague sensation of our touching thighs does little to rouse me. My delightful dream is an accurate replay of that first night: shared body warmth, Will's arm between us, his `creeping' fingers, his first tentative touch of my cock, playing in my pubic hair and me reaching for him.

Just like the few seconds before the climax of a wet dream, when the impending release rouses the body from the land of Nod to urgent consciousness, I realise what is happening. He IS with me! I am not asleep. Despite the urge to make passionate love to him, as I did last night in the motel, I resist.

I crave to live again the thrill of that initial seduction, in our big brother / little brother fantasy. I play my part as accurately as I can remember it.

"Are you OK?" I ask.

"Yeah, I guess. I didn't want to be alone tonight," he tells me.

Our bodies settle into the same relaxed positions on our backs. Will's rests his right arm along the depression between our two touching thighs. I lay my left hand on his right one. He turns his hand over, interlocking our fingers and I give his hand a gentle squeeze. He squeezes my hand back, in acknowledgment. I force myself to release our grip and move my arm away from him.

My senses are heightened as I focus on Will's hand as, from between our bodies, he moves it so that it's resting palm-down on my pelvic bone, with his elbow on my abdomen. Soon, he moves it again, in the same direction - only a measured few of centimetres, and then a couple more. His little finger is now against my cock that is still remarkably dormant on my abdomen.

I recall that previous end to our `material rule on Will's seventeenth birthday'! His finger tips are again resting in my pubes. For a painfully long time there is no further movement. Then he begins to gently rake and rub my tight curls with his fingers, back and forth, up and down, but with no attempt to grab anything - yet.

"Will, are you sure you want to do this?" I ask him, breaking the silence and recalling the sexual tension that had been built that very first time.

"Do you mind, Tom?" he whispers back.

"No. Not really." I want him to re-live the magic of this moment. I move my left arm and place it on his body, and begin to gently copy his pube play.

"God, I wish you were my brother," Will sighs with much emotion. He's remembered exactly what he said, and dreams which have come true! I smile.

There are no further words, just touching. Occasionally Will moves his hand from my curly hairs to run his fingers up and down my abs. He now knows that it's one of my turn-ons. I respond, conveying the message that I'm, again, willing to follow his lead.

He begins to regularly brush the back of his hand against my cock as he explores my abs. My willpower to stay soft has already gone. The dragon has been awake for some minutes now.

He reaches down and his hand envelopes my balls which start to tingle in the delight of his now-familiar touch. He again fondles first one then the other then both together, lifting, rolling, weighing them, re-affirming differences in size, shape, firmness - nonchalantly, lightly, firmly, surely. I slowly proceed to copy his movements. It only takes the initial contact of my fingers for me to confirm that Will's manhood, as previously and as expected this time, is totally rigid.

Will presses my perineum. I open my legs, then slowly move to do the same to him, running my finger up from near his hole across the lowest part of his hard-on to his balls. And again. He continues to do the same until we match each other in stiffness.

He strokes upwards, encouraging the releasing of my pre-cum. He stops short of the head and returns his fingers to the base of my cock and repeats a full `milking' stroke, this time, all the way to the top. He encounters my now-familiar discharge of natural lubrication. He spreads it around the head, causing me to shudder and sigh with pleasure at the sensation, then he moves south for another stroke. Oh my! I synchronise my stroking with his. His cock twitches. Mine twitches. Both of our tools remember what is about to happen in replay.

When Will's fingers return to my head there is much more slickness waiting for him. He cups his hand around my shaft and spreads the oil around and down its length. I gasp at the feeling. Back for more - spreading, and still more. His hand is now sliding up and down my cock, lubricating it, grasping it, pushing it down, milking it up. OMG! My senior school student is jacking me off! Not for the first time, this time!

"Will?" I break the long silence.

"I'm sorry, Tom. Did I do too much? Sorry!" This time I can hear the smile in his voice, instead of uncertainty.

"No, Will. You didn't do too much. I just want to tell you how fantastic this feels. It's OK if you want to keep going, but if you do, you're going to have me shooting my load very soon." I remember the exact words as if it was yesterday.

He giggles. He reaches down to the floor with his other hand and produces a towel. He has even remembered the towel! The smart little bugger! He pushes down the sheet and lays the towel across our chests and stomachs. We stretch it out so that we are covered to prevent our now-inevitable conclusions from making too much of a mess. And we now know exactly how messy that can be!

"So, big brother, we really enjoy doing the same things, don't we?" He recites from memory.

I loudly whisper, "You're a sexy little sod," pondering the absolute sexual maturity of this 17-year-old, even moreso than when we first did this.

We resume our mutual stimulation. My mind turns from my own cock to what my hand is occupied with. It milks him once more and as it reaches the top, it is met with his own flood of pre-cum. I spread it down his stiffness and up again. And down. His cock twitches and he moans very loudly. I'm glad that Marty is asleep - at least I hope that he is! Although I wouldn't put it past him to be outside our door, listening.

We continue stroking each other, now breathing heavily, and I coordinate with his rhythm. On each of his downstrokes I raise my hips, pushing my rod hard into his slickened fist. He increases his own pace a little, conveying a sense of urgency. I respond similarly, and when he starts to suck in air and exhale rapidly, I know that he is close. His hand freezes. His body tenses. He arches his hips off the bed, thrusting himself into my hand. I feel his cock swell and then it spasms, pumping strongly...three...four...five...more. With this stimulation, my own mind and body surrender with a long, muffled `ohhhh', and my cum-spurting organ quickly follows his lead. I feel a massive spurt hit my chin. I don't know where the rest of mine or where any of his ended up, apart from the flood in my hand!

The replayed experience is explosive. Ecstatic. Draining.

We have crossed many lines and broken much etiquette since that night when the short-lived `material rule' was so readily discarded.

While enjoying the pawing of each other's non-fat body, (despite Marty's prolonged assertions - albeit at Will's instigation, in reference to me) we rehearse our approach for tomorrow's revelation over lunch, considering that so many of Marty's (and Will's) family will be present.

We agree that each of us should sleep in his own bed, for now, lest Marty make a further sudden entrance. The towel is put to good use. I feel an emptiness as Will reluctantly removes himself from my embrace. In the dim, blue light from the digital clock that I have brought back with me, I turn on my side to stare at him; at his youthful, naked beauty, at his manly physique. It's a pleasant but unworthy substitute to feeling his warmth pressed against me. On his side, he smiles. I ache for him.

My sleep is anything but restful, impacted by dreams, no: nightmares, of Will being kidnapped by his mother's `friends', of Will being whisked away to fame and fortune by his dad, of Will hiding with Karl and Kurt beneath the overflow of the weir and then not re-emerging and unable to be located by anyone.

I wake multiple times to ensure that none of these is reality, at one time in a lather of perspiration, at another with heavy tears in my eyes. Each time I check that he is still there. Still here!

Finally, in the blue semi darkness, I imagine that I can discern his eyes, open, staring back at me. I stretch an arm in his direction to test my perception. He extends his arm towards mine. Even metres apart we connect emotionally.

He beckons. I succumb. We connect physically - arms, chests, legs, hips, lips. We move our bodies and, even in the current confined space of his single bed, bring each other slowly to another climax, this time without the use of the towel. I savour his magnetism and his salty sweetness and he mine.

I turn onto my side and Will nestles, purring, into his favourite position, hugging me tightly.

After a restful sleep, undisturbed by Marty, I answer the need to pee then crawl back into my own cold bed - just in case!

Not two minutes later, I hear the toilet flush again. Marty's up - on the prowl for a bit of early-morning voyeurism perhaps? Having not fully closed the door, I focus on it, anticipating some movement at Marty's hand. Nothing.

Will and I have only been back in town a little over 12 hours and I'm already living in a state of anxiety, which can only be dispelled by revealing the truth. And then what?

Kookaburras laugh. Thursday has arrived.

Pleasant aromas begin to permeate the room. Bacon and coffee are the most-easily discernible.

I decide on a quick shower just to `freshen up'. I deliberately leave the bathroom door open, wondering who will be the first to investigate.

I'm not surprised when I look up from rinsing away the shampoo to see Marty leaning on the door frame, watching, smiling. Being naked isn't exactly a house rule, just one of the benefits of his female-free retreat. Hanging free, well, no longer dangling, but not yet standing!

Did I just think `female-free'? Hmm. I wonder again about the mystery aroma.

"It's good to see you back," he chuckles.

"And front?" I ask, wiggling my eyebrows and rinsing off the object of his apparent attention.

"You haven't changed, have you?" he smirks.

"Maybe," I reply cryptically, and shut off the water. I step out, grab my towel and begin to briskly dry myself. We make small talk about the weather and `another interesting day coming up'.

At that point, a third naked body eases past his cousin and heads for the toilet. Will stands with his back to Marty, noisily empties his bladder, then flushes. He steps straight into the bath and turns on the shower taps.

I'm waiting for an opening comment from either of them, which is bound to set the tone for any ensuing morning conversation.

Silence.

I decide to break the ice. "Good morning, sunshine! Did you sleep well, back in your own bed again?" I know that Marty and Will will interpret this differently!

Will turns his head sufficiently to see me wink at him. He smirks and returns to soaping himself, then chirps, "I'd forgotten about those bloody kookaburras. At least the seagulls used to wait until a decent hour before squabbling over scraps of food."

Food? The use of that word gives Marty a perfect opportunity to pursue his `fat' line from last night. However, perhaps circumspectly, he says, instead, "Oops! Can't let the bacon burn," and he disappears.

Will turns and stares at me. "Sunshine?" he asks.

"Yep!" I reply. "You're pretty hot, and you certainly brighten my life." I think that the words sound really corny, but they're true. Then I add, nodding towards the kitchen, "Go easy on him, eh?"

"Hey! He started it," Will commences, sounding again like a young schoolboy deflecting blame.

I retort, "No, actually you did! Or don't you remember your wisecrack about me needing a double bed because of all the custard tarts that I eat?"

"Ouch! Yeah!" Will says with a hint of humility and slightly flushed cheeks. "Sorry about that!" I expect him to say `Sorry about that, Chief' but then realise that he would have had no exposure to Maxwell Smart's turn of phrase.

"No worries, Sunshine!" I say, grinning at him, then add, "Don't be too long playing with that thing, or all the bacon will be gone by the time you eventually get to the table." He suddenly becomes aware of what he's been unconsciously soaping up since Marty left, and the arousal that he's induced.

He giggles and waggles it at me. "Would you prefer my sausage, or Marty's bacon?"

I step towards him, extend my hand slowly towards his near-full erection, but deftly bypass it and twist the cold-water tap to fully on.

Then I run.

"Aaargh!" he screams, which is much more polite than what I was anticipating. Grasping the door frame for stability in my haste, I spin to look at him. His ego isn't the only thing deflated.

"You'll pay for that!" he proclaims, pointing an accusing index finger at me.

"Have your go, William," I tease, and poke out my tongue at him, just as my sister Amelia would do. He smirks, lifts his chin and licks his lips provocatively in response.

Marty's head appears from the kitchen. "What's up?" he asks.

"Nothing, really," I tell him. Then, looking at Will's shrinkage I add, "Nothing's up... at all." I smirk at Will, who gives me a different finger sign. Then, looking back at Marty, I comment, "Good cold-water pressure!" He catches on immediately and, smiling, gives me a `thumbs up'.

I quickly put on just a pair of jogging shorts and attempt to dash to the kitchen before Will catches me. However, just as I pass the bathroom door, he emerges and flicks me with a loud `crack' of his wet towel.

Marty looks to me for any explanation. "Just being playful!" I tell him, with no specific reference to either Will or myself.

Marty laughs. "I've really missed having you two around." Then he adds, "Like I said yesterday, he's changed. He seems so much happier. I'm looking forward to hearing why." He smirks at me and sets down three plates on the table, all loaded with inviting food - bacon, scrambled eggs and toast. "Coffee's coming," he adds.

Looking at his nakedness and then at my shorts, I comment, "I'm feeling overdressed."

His response is unexpected, but not uncharacteristic, as he focuses on my shorts. "You can always take them off... if you like."

Will appears, similarly dressed - shorts, that is, not naked. I can see the wheels turning in Marty's head: to dress or not to dress. Will sits down. Marty stays put.

As the bacon and eggs progressively disappear, I see Will checking Marty out. And I'm not the only one who is aware of it.

I try to save his bacon (or is that sausage?) by commenting, "You know, Marty, I'd forgotten how comfortable it is here! Will and I weren't able to get around like that (nodding towards his crotch) at my parents' place with my Mum and little sister around.

I stand up and remove my shorts. Marty has a good look. So does Will. As I sit, Marty and I both fix our gaze on him. No words.

"Hey! No pressure!" Will responds to our non-verbal imperative. He stands, drops his shorts then looks at each of us. "Satisfied?"

"More toast?" Marty asks. Will nods. "Then, you know where the bread and toaster are," he comments to Will without looking up. "And, while you are at it, a couple of extras for Tom and me would be really nice. Thank you for offering."

Will is trapped. He is forced to make a trip into the kitchen, `strutting his stuff'. Marty winks at me, and he deliberately turns his head to follow Will's body. He gives a low whistle.

Then Will smirks. "Marty, can you please do some fresh coffee, while I handle the toast?"

The smile initially drains from Marty's face but then it returns as he stands, slightly chunked up. Once again, he has not succeeded in getting the better of Will.

No anatomical comments from anyone, but three members are unmistakeably rising.

Marty surveys the scene then throws in, "Only natural, eh guys?"

I think that Will is surprised, but not shocked. Me too. Marty appears to be the most visibly excited of us all.

There is suddenly the opportunity and perhaps the temptation for any one of us to initiate `something'. But, for me, that would take the fun out of our planned `revelations'.

So, in a semi-aroused state, I walk to the sink and wash my hands and forearms in cold water. It `cools me down'.

I deliberately steer the conversation towards lunch preparations, Di, Reg, Marty's Mum and, of course, sister (Anna). This all quenches their fires!

I take all of the empty dishes to the sink, quickly wash up and do most of the talking while the other two drink their coffee. I conclude with, "What time is lunch, Marty? I might go up to the school first, open some windows and check that everything is OK for next week."

"Twelve o'clock. Noon." Marty replies. "Country time is regulated by a man's stomach."

All is well, until he nods towards Will and adds, smugly, "I'm glad that we don't run off his body clock. We'd never know what the real time was!"

I turn and glare at Will in the hope that he will not take Marty's bait. He winks at me and says nothing.

Getting no response from Will, Marty focuses on him then throws in, "So are you going over with Mr Grant, or would you prefer to help Anna prepare lunch?" He's really pushing the boundaries!

I fully expect Will to hit Marty with a `FOM', but, instead, he steps towards him and raises both of his hands. Instead of punching him, which I thought was imminent, he gently places one on each side of Marty's head and kisses him on both cheeks, Italian style. "Love you too, cousin!" he says to a stunned Marty. For fun, Will throws in, "Did Tom tell you that his girlfriend, Karen, was Italian?" Then, as he wiggles his hips walking back towards the bedroom, he throws in, "Ciao, bello!"

Marty and I are left staring at each other. His mouth is hanging open. "It seems that he has learned a lot at my place in the last few weeks," is all that I can say. I add, "I'd better get dressed," and leave Marty looking like an oversized, garden ornament, frozen to the spot, mouth open, naked.

I think how much fun it would be for Will to draw him with this shocked expression, rivalling that of Kurt under the weir overflow the day he grabbed my cock and balls by mistake.

"What was that all about?" I ask Will, puzzled, as I join him in our room.

"Just playing with his mind," Will replies. "I've just realised how much fun it is to do that!"

"Why?"

"Hey, you told me to go easy on him. So, I've decided that I'm not going to play his trading-insults game." Will smiles wickedly. "I'm just gonna confuse him out of his mind instead. Full on. He won't know what to say! Think about it - he won't know the difference between me telling him the truth about us or whether I'm just pulling his leg. By the time I'm finished, he won't know what is black and what is white."

I have to admit that it could certainly `soften the blow'. I wish I'd thought of it! "Brilliant, but cruel!" I comment, then break into a smirk myself. We do our secret-pact handshake and hug each other. "Hey, let's put some clothes on before we get carried away, you handsome brute!"

When we re-emerge, Marty has also `covered up' with his cut-offs, not that they disguise much!

"I've decided to help Anna," Will announces, which elicits another jaw-dropping expression from Marty. And me. I turn and look at Will. He winks at me.

"Then, again, she probably wouldn't get much done, would she?" he adds to Marty. "She'd be too busy watching me or trying to touch me. I wouldn't want to upset your Mum. I'd better go with Tom after all." He heads for the door, leaving me to shrug at Marty.

"What have you done to him?" Marty asks. "Are you responsible for creating this monster?"

"I think you can blame Karen and my sister for that!" I put to Marty, leaving him to ponder some possible implications - red herrings. Will is right. Confusing Marty could be a lot of fun.

I virtually chase Will down the steps. He beats me to the car and to the driver's seat. As he extends his hand for my keys, he commands, "Hey, it'll save you the trouble of removing my `P' plates."

I laugh, "Yeah, like that would be a major effort!" and dutifully hand them over.

As he drives, Will asks, "So are we going to tell them everything today?"

"Let's follow our plan," I reply, "but leave a bit of room to play it by ear. I still want to find out from Marty about that aroma in his bedroom. Let's not scare him. I want something left to trade off for his secret. I don't think he'll tell us the answer to that with all of his family present, do you? I have a hunch about that."

"Hey, I'd like to play with him a bit more," Will answers.

"With what part of him?" I ask, smirking.

"With his head of course," he shoots back.

"Which head?" I tease.

Will looks at me. "Incorrigible!" he laughs, shaking his head.

"That's something else you've learned, eh?" I put to him.

Him: "You're a good teacher."

Me: "You're a quick learner. Too quick, I think, sometimes."

"Can we stop by Karl and Kurt's place?" Will asks as we arrive at the turn, then drives straight ahead before I can answer. He stops the car, jumps out and knocks on the door.

No answer.

"They must be away," I console him as he returns to the car, looking disappointed.

"They didn't say they were going anywhere before the holidays," he replies.

"Maybe they've gone to work with their dad, or are staying out on the property that he manages," I offer by way of explanation. "Or perhaps their dad has taken them into Big Town for the day."

"Or maybe they're swimming," he adds, hopefully.

As we exit the car at the school, I head for the building and Will takes off towards the weir.

My footsteps resonate on the wooden verandah. The key turns. The lock clunks. The door squeaks and stale air rushes to escape.

Nothing has changed since the last day of term - nor should it have. It's like stepping back in time, even if only by two weeks, except that I'm not the same person who locked the door that afternoon. As I proceed to raise the blinds and open the windows, I ponder...

I have a different biological father from the one I've always known; I have a brother; I'm no longer a virgin; I have a long-term lover; I have new friends - young friends, sexy friends; my Mother is dying of cancer; I own property, right here, right across there!

I've made a difference in Will's life and he's changed mine.

My day dreaming is interrupted by a loud, "Nope! Not there!" and Will proceeds to help me straighten desks and generally clean up. Then, without further comment, he asks, "Can I drive up and see Jake?"

"May I?" I correct him.

"May you what?" he says, looking puzzled.

"May I drive up and see Jake," I reply.

"Why do you want to go and see Jake?" he questions me.

"Not me. You," I tell him. "You said, `Can I?' I'm sure that you can. But you're asking my permission to take my car, so you say, `May I?'"

His brain works fairly fast. "OK. I get it," he answers. "For a moment, I thought that you were doing a Marty on my brain."

I toss him the keys. He thanks me and he hurries out. His driving, on the other hand, is unhurried, and I am thankful.

I decide to plan some work for the first week. When I next check the time it's almost eleven o'clock. I wonder what Will and Jake are up to and what he's telling him. Then I remember that I can now phone him. I press his number and wait.

"Hello?" he answers tentatively.

"Hi Will. It's Tom." I initiate the conversation. "Are you having fun with Jake?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because he's not here."

"Then what are you doing? You've been gone for ages."

"I'm having a cup of coffee with Aunty Di. She was just making some scones when I arrived, so she asked me if I wanted some. We've been chatting for the whole time."

"Where's Jake?" I ask.

"He went into Big Town with Uncle Reg to pick up Jane who's been staying with her friend."

"It's nearly eleven. Are you coming back to get me? We need to get ready for lunch, and I hope you haven't filled up on scones."

"No, do you want me to get fat, or something?" Then he giggles, "Aunty Di had some fresh cookies too."

"Tell Di that I said hello and that I'll talk with her over lunch. Now can you please come and get me?"

"May I?" he corrects me and giggles.

"Smart arse!" I tell him, hoping that Di cannot overhear the phone conversation with her good ear.

"OK. Bye!"

I decide to leave the schoolroom windows open for better ventilation, then come back to close them later. I lock the door and wait for Will on the western verandah. While surveying the land which Will and I now own, from the school, across to the weir and around the bend in the river to the end of the track past Will's old place, I hear Reg's Land Rover before I see it. He turns at the pub to head for home. He toots. There is a flourish of arms from Jane and Jake and I wave back.

I hear an exchange of car horns - Reg's and mine and a minute or so later Will pulls up.

"Home, James," I tell him, and we both laugh about the occasion, months ago, when he said the same thing to me when our seating positions were reversed.

As we pass `our spot' on the track, we both simply take an obligatory quick feel of each other's crotch. We smile to each other at the pleasure and relevance of it.

We again rehearse our proposed lunchtime revelations and arrive back at Marty's. It's good to see him in full-legged jeans. Blue shirt. Handsome as ever!

"I'm going across to Mum's now," Marty says, "just to help move a few things around. Come over when you're both ready."

"OK. Won't be long," I tell him.

His SUV departs. Will and I look at each other. We have the place to ourselves. There is a flurry of clothing and we are both naked.

We make quick work of bringing each other to our third ecstatic release within a few hours, spraying our stuff on each other, like animals marking out their territory, stimulated by a total freedom on the lounge room cow hide that is not possible behind closed doors and within the confines of a single bed.

We save precious water by showering together and savouring each other's soapy, firm muscles. Will's tender touch heightens my realisation that he wants me as much as I want him.

I used to think that my desire for other guys was one-way - satisfying my lust while they simply `played along'. It is a totally different feeling, being wanted, being needed, and being able to satisfy those needs for another person. Unselfishly. My own pleasure is of secondary importance, yet, is heightened by pleasing him.

We dress - neatly but not formally, following Marty's lead. A touch of our now-popular deodorant is a precursor to pulling on our colourful Polo shirts and our jeans.

"Ready?" I ask.

"Let's do it," Will replies, giving me a hug.

I dangle the car keys between two fingers and, with a grateful smile, his hand envelops them. No need to race to the driver's seat this time.

We pull up outside Acacia and Anna's place and `park' between Reg's Land Rover and Marty's SUV. Chad's police car is also not far away. I guess that everyone is here. I reach for Will's hand and give it a squeeze before we get out.

"Nervous?" I check with him.

"A few butterflies, but excited too," he responds, gripping my hand, and squeezing back.

Inside, there are handshakes all `round and some back-slapping. As if what we are about to disclose will not be surprising enough, the irrepressible Will practises his double-cheek kissing on Acacia, Di and Anna. The older two relish the attention. Anna flushes with apparent embarrassment. I didn't think that was possible! Jane dodges behind her mother, avoiding Will's greeting altogether.

There is hearty laughter from everyone when Will, grasping next-in-line Chad's hand and shaking it, jokingly puckers his lips. "Don't even think about it!" Chad exclaims, holding a restraining hand between his face and Will's.

Jake and Will give each other a quick hug and slap on the back, and immediately draw each other to one side for a rapid exchange of some `catch-up' information.

Sean plays the waiter, ensuring that everyone has a cold drink.

Without announcing anything, the ladies begin to load the extended table with food.

Reg calls a halt to the chatter and gives thanks. Then there is mild confusion over seating. Di, Acacia, Jane and Anna are closest to the kitchen, around one end. I am invited to sit next to Di. Will is directly opposite me and `ends up' between Anna and Jake. Reg is on my other side with the trio of brothers (Sean, Chad and Marty) taking the end seats farthest from the kitchen. Separation of the sexes. Typical!

`Announcements' from Will and me are not high on `the agenda' and small talk around the table quickly homes in on the primary purpose for the gathering - what is going on up in The Village.

Marty extols the logic of fixing the road.

Reg doesn't think that the Council would bother and, anyway, the machinery is not owned by them. He's had a closer look at it.

Acacia proposes that, because of the drought, they might be going to build a second weir downstream from the first.

Sean can't see any purpose in that, and agrees with Marty that the road would be of much higher priority.

Propositions and counter-propositions continue for a while until Chad finally says loudly, "OK! I've listened to all of that. Now do you want to hear some actual facts?" All eyes turn to him. "I've been able to find out from a friend in the Council that all of the land from near the school, along the river and over to where it bends, has been bought by somebody."

"How can they do that? And, just who sold it to them?" Acacia cuts in indignantly.

"Apparently, it never had an owner and houses, including Lilly's, were either built on it without permission nor Council approval, or were legacies from The Village in its heyday."

Acacia is not done. "Reg, didn't your father own that land? Didn't he build the houses - the one that Lilly lived in, and the one that Mr Andersen has, and another one that was pulled down opposite the pub because it became an eyesore for patrons?"

"Well, that's what I understood," he replies. "But I was only a kid myself then, and we all just assumed it was Father's."

"Apparently not," Chad continues.

Stunned silence, head scratching and ear tugging. Also, much forking and chewing of food.

Trust the ever-practical Jane to ask the obvious question. "So, who bought it? Who owns it now?"

"Must be me, then!" Will blurts out to them.

For that, he gets a slap on the back of the head from Jake and a tirade of ridicule from the brothers, led by Marty. "You should stick to eating custard tarts and getting fat. That's more your style!"

Will winks at me. I'm sure that everyone else at the table is amused at his `attempted' humour. Only the two of us know the truth. I decide to join in, "Hey, but didn't I buy half of it from you in a Monopoly game that you were losing?" I direct at Will. Everybody laughs because they think that I'm `taking the Mickey' out of him.

Truth revealed, and truth rejected!

Marty can't let it go. "And just what are you planning on doing with it? Going to build houses and a hotel?"

"Of course!" Will replies boldly.

"How much rent will I have to pay if I land on it?" Marty asks smugly.

"Hmm. I'll have to discuss that with my partner," Will says, extending his hand across the table to me. We shake while he says to me, "What about the same price as a deluxe double bed or a thousand custard tarts?"

"Deal!" I add

"Have you two comedians finished?" Chad asks, looking from Will to me. Then he continues, "Well, somebody has bought it, and a Development Application been submitted but is unavailable for public viewing at the moment."

"Why would anybody want to build anything out here?" Anna offers.

"Maybe they discovered gold or oil or gas, like the Beverly Hillbillies," Di suggests.

"I think I might build a castle on it instead of a hotel," Will tells everyone.

He is bombarded by a flurry of rumpled napkins.

"OK. No castle! Just a big two-storey house, then!" Will's enjoying this. So am I!

"I'll keep on it and find out what I can," Chad reassures everyone.

"Me too!" Will adds. "I think my new partner and I will have our architect and financial adviser fly out here next week to discuss the details with us."

"Deal!" I say, reaching across the table and shaking his hand again.

For that, Will receives another slap to the head from Jake and I cop a napkin in the face from somebody, probably Marty, who says, "Don't encourage him!"

Acacia laughs, "This reminds me of how Chad and Marty used to carry on. They had a lot of fun. It is good to hear such mirth again."

"It was fun until you chased us with a broom," Chad says. "And you didn't stop until you caught us either."

"Yeah, and that was fun until you learned to throw dog bones," Marty adds.

Everyone chuckles.

Marty persists with Will, "I suppose the next think you'll be trying to have us believe is that you've seen UFOs or that the two of you got married while you were away."

Will shoots me a quick, meaningful, look amid the family chortles and titters.

"Is same-sex marriage even legal in this state, yet?" I inquire of Chad, in an attempt to generalise the topic.

"Yes. It's just a recent thing," Chad replies, then adds jovially but with sincere factuality, "However, he couldn't get married at 17 without a parent's permission, and he doesn't know who his father is, or where his mother is."

"Yes, I do!" Will retorts, without looking up from his plate. I think that Chad has just struck a nerve.

"Yes, you do what?" Marty puts to him. "Know who your father is or know where Lilly is?"

"Both!" Will states bluntly.

Well, after a couple of gasps from the ladies, that stops the chewing and conversation around the table dead in its tracks! What do they call it? A `barbecue stopper' or a `party stopper'?

Dropping his knife and fork noisily onto his plate, Reg speaks up. "All right! That is not funny, William. Enough! You're carrying this little game of yours too far now."

"But it's true, Uncle Reg." Will pleads, looking him in the eye, serious this time because his truthfulness is not believed.

"You know where your mother is?" Chad asks. "We've had police looking for her for ages now!"

"Well, I did a few days ago. We saw her with some guys on bikes, near where Mr Grant's parents live."

All heads swing towards me for confirmation.

"I noticed the people as we passed them in the street," I tell them, "but I didn't really look at them. When Will told me later that one of them was his mother, he seemed too upset to be making it up. I suggested that he could have been mistaken, but he even described one of her mannerisms."

"Flicking her fingers?" Di inquires.

"Yes. And that's why I know that it was her," Will answers

"Where is she now, honey?" Acacia asks him.

"I don't know, and I don't care," Will replies with a sneer of contempt for his mother. I'm sure that many of the people around the table can understand why.

Sean asks another, more pertinent question, very calmly, "William, did I just hear you say that you know who your father is?"

"Yes," Will answers plainly.

"How could you possibly know that, son?" Reg asks his nephew tenderly.

Will stares at me and breaks into a faint smile. That's my cue to take it from here.

"If I may," I begin, "I think that I'd better tell you the saga."

Riveted silence!

"When I first came here, months ago, I kept having feelings of déjà vu, as though I'd been here once before, but, of course, I hadn't. I seemed to recognise the pub, Lilly and Will's house, the line of river gums, the sunsets and more. I had no idea why. That is, until Will said something on our way to my parents' place."

"We were just chatting about things, and Will commented that he didn't know anything about his father, except for a few things that Lilly had told him. She gave `Little Willie' his father's name, William, and she used to tell everyone that the `Big Willie' was a world-famous photographer."

"Yes, we all heard that story a hundred times," Acacia adds disdainfully.

"Well, it was that little piece of information which actually caused the penny to drop for me," I continue. "When I was young, I went to an art show, a photographic and painting exhibition, that included a series of amazing photographs taken in a little country town. And Will's words instantly triggered my memory of those photos - the cause of my flashback images. And, yes, as you might have guessed, they were taken right here in The Village. The dates of those photos placed them here... it would be 18 years ago now.

"The point is... I knew who that photographer was, and is. So, when I put 2 and 2 together, I realised immediately that he must be Will's father."

I can see that each person in the room is hanging off my every word, in the expectation of hearing the solution to this long-standing family mystery.

I look at Will. He has tears in his eyes. "Are you OK?" I ask him. He nods and places his hand, palm-down, in the middle of the table. I lay my hand on his. Di, alongside me, can see Will's eyes. She adds her hand to mine. Reg, on my other side, does likewise. Acacia and her three sons leave their seats and give Will consoling hugs which, because of their expressed tenderness and affection due to his many years of pain, only ensures that his moist eyes overflow.

There is a retrieval of napkins and a mopping of eyes - many eyes, not just Will's. The brothers pat Will on the back or shoulder and return to their seats. Acacia remains behind Will, with her arms softly and protectively around his neck. Kissing the top of Will's head, she asks me, "Tom, what did Will say when you told him?"

I look her in the eyes then at Will and say, "I didn't tell him."

"What?" Marty says, shocked. "Why on earth not? Didn't you think that he..."

"I had to think things through," I cut Marty off. "I wanted to pick the right time and place, and definitely not while we were driving."

There is a cacophony of questions: "So, who is it?" "What's his name?" "Where is he?" "Does he know?" "When did William find out?"

Will silences them all with, "I actually met him the next day, but please, let Mr Grant finish telling you the rest." He gives me a teary, but at the same time, cheery, smile.

"While I was working out the best way of breaking the news to Will, at home, I'll bet that you can't imagine my shock when Mum told me that Dad's brother, my Uncle Bill, was in town and coming to dinner. I hadn't seen the globe-trotting photographer for nearly five years."

I let my words sink in and I can see, and almost hear, the wheels turning in their heads. Will is smiling.

"What?" Marty finally exclaims. "Are you saying that your uncle is Will's father? The guy who..." He stops short of saying what I know he is thinking, then he adds, "That would make you and Will..." He pauses.

"Cousins!" Jane lets out. "The Schoolie and Little Willie are cousins!" She quickly covers her mouth then apologises to both Will and me for her remark.

Jake adds his bit, "Does that mean, because Mr Grant and I are both Will's cousins that I'm related to Mr Grant too?"

"I'm afraid not, pet," his mother, Di, tells him. "I'll explain it to you later."

"Well, that certainly accounts for the similarities in their appearance," Acacia says.

Will's face has a broad grin from ear to ear. He nods at me. It is a sign to go ahead and shock them further.

"However..." I continue, and pause, which draws their total attention. "It's a bit more complicated than that. The short version of what I only just learned myself is that when my parents were trying to start a family, years ago, they had to finally resort to an IVF programme. And `to keep it all in the family', so to speak, the sperm was donated by..."

"Don't tell me!" Acacia exclaims. "Oh, my! It couldn't be!"

"No way!" Marty adds, catching on.

"...By my Uncle Bill." I answer them. "To be honest, I didn't know whether to cry or laugh when my parents told me. I was totally confused. That meant that my uncle is really my father and my Dad is actually my uncle. And that one of my school students, from a place I never knew existed, was, briefly, my cousin and is, in reality, my little brother!"

I allow Will to explain the moment when Mum unveiled Will's gift to her and Dad as being a `copy' of one of Uncle Bill's photographs, and how they compared notes, and... bingo! Father and son were united, for the first time.

There is a moment of stunned, sympathetic silence and then... "Bullshit!" Marty exclaims, drawing looks of astonishment from everyone. "Nice try!" he continues. "How long did it take you two clowns to dream up this April Fool's joke? A bit late, aren't you?

Looks bounce around the table, at Marty, at Will and at me, seeking clarification, confession, denial or a retraction. I agree that it is all highly improbable.

Will responds, "Hey! Why would I make that up? And he..." indicating me, "is not that creative!" He receives two smacks to the head from Jake. "What was that for?" Will complains.

Jake justifies his actions, "One was for lying to everyone and the other one was for insulting Mr Grant!"

"Sorry, Marty." I say, as though confessing to a ruse. Then I add, "It's your choice whether you believe us or not, but I'm not changing a word of it!"

"Oh, Yeah? Well, what about the land and houses and hotel, or castle, or big house, or whatever?" Marty hurls at us.

"I won't mention it again," I tell him. "But... if you're wrong, your Mum won't be able to make a humble pie big enough for you to swallow!"

"If I'm wrong," Marty shoots back, "I'll eat one full of horse shit! But if I'm right, you two will have to eat half each!"

"Deal!" Will says, on behalf of us both, without having to consult me.

Acacia, still behind Will, leans down and whispers in his ear. Will nods positively. Acacia hugs him tightly and kisses him. Then she comes around to me. The hug and kisses are repeated. "I'm so happy for you both," she whispers to me.

"OK. Apple pie time." She announces to everyone, which lightens the somewhat sombre mood. Then she directs at Marty, "And you'd better enjoy this pie, Martin Charles O'Brien, because I have a feeling that the next one you eat is going to taste very different!"

Laughs and jibes are mostly directed at Marty. Mostly. Even though I'm no expert lip reader, I can still discern Jake's grinning words to Will, accompanied by a nudge to the ribs, "You're gonna eat horse shit!"

Over dessert, Will's `more believable' holiday experiences are sought and shared, including the promise of them all seeing the video of his acting debut as Robin in a Batman escapade. His encounter with the shark/dolphin is met with gasps, then glee. Marty looks sceptically at Will.

The drama with young Andy is not mentioned. That is a story for another time, with Chad.

The issue of the machinery in The Village remains (in their minds) unresolved. For now.

 

I thank the ladies for the tasty lunch and for their efforts. Everyone begins to disperse.

Anna has remained quiet and aloof for most of the afternoon. I thank her for the cookies that she sent over for our return. She smiles and says, "It was a pleasure."

Back at Marty's I reflect that things have gone even better than Will and I had planned. Everyone has heard the truth. Some people may believe some of it. Marty appears to believe none of it. He's in for a nasty-tasting surprise! I get the feeling that Acacia is going to be an ally for Will and me.

There's one more thing to discuss.

"Marty," I begin, coffee in one hand and Will close by my other side, "we have some unfinished business."

"Uh-huh," he acknowledges.

"Some secrets to share?" I remind him.

"And the house rule applies, right?" He adds his own reminder. "What's told in the house, stays in the house."

Will checks, "Regardless of what it is?"

"Regardless!" Marty replies. I know he's busting to confirm his hunches about Will and me, but perhaps with some reluctance relating to his own situation. Then again, perhaps he considers it a worthwhile trade-off.

"Let's do it this way," I suggest. "You ask one question which we will answer 100% truthfully. Then it's our turn to ask, and we expect your response to be as truthful. Are we all agreed?"

"Yes," is the reply from Marty and Will.

"You first, Marty," Will tells him.

Marty pauses, perhaps framing his words appropriately or reflecting on what he will answer, given that he already suspects what our question will be. He begins, "You two were acting strangely around each other even before you left but it's been more obvious since you got back yesterday. My question is, have you two been mucking around with each other? You guys know what I mean."

"Yes," Will and I answer together, without hesitation and without giving any details.

Marty breaks into a broad grin. "Thought so! But be careful. It was becoming too bloody obvious! There's no problem with that as far as I'm concerned."

After a huge sigh of relief, Will says, "Our turn," then starts, "Marty, that smell from your bedroom..." He looks to me.

I continue, "I've smelled it before. Firstly, in your SUV and, next, the day in the Acropolis Café when that handsome young guy and curvaceous young woman, both about my age, walked past me together after talking to you. My question is, who did you have in your bedroom while we were away, assuming that it was for a bit of `mucking around' as you so delicately described things a moment ago. Was it her or him?"

Marty looks at me, then at Will, swallows hard, and answers, "Both of them."

 

(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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