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 37
I cling to Will's body, beginning to fill him fully. He relaxes
flat onto the towel and I feel both of our bodies spasming. They seem to
continue for ages.
"Stay inside me," Will almost pleads and we both manoeuvre onto
our sides with him facing the window and with my back to the door. We pull the
sheet over us. I hug him tightly and snuggle with him in our post-orgasmic
euphoria.
Some many minutes later, I sense movement. Then I feel another
body slide into the bed behind me. He lays a hand on my shoulder and I feel his
hot breath on the back of my neck as he pushes his large semi-soft rod against
my cheeks. He says nothing. Neither do I. He spoons up close and tight, and I
feel him relax.
Before I drop off to sleep, I think to myself, `Hmmm. It must be
an O'Brien thing.'
Chapter
38 - Clearing the Weeds
When I wake, it takes me a few moments to gain my bearings. The memory
of last night's events replays in my mind but I realise that Will and I are now
alone. In Marty's bed. No third person. No Marty. Just Will and me. My cock is no
longer inside him and the towel beneath us is very wet.
I kiss Will's neck and I slip away, heading for the bathroom. As I
take aim at the toilet bowl, I see a large amount of white stuff in there - some
floating but most has sunk to the bottom of the bowl in globules. Marty forgot to
flush last night! My yellow and his white all disappear with a single push of the
button.
I decide to freshen up with a quick shower, twiddle the taps to achieve
my preferred temperature, then I step in.
OK, some people have an ear for music, but I reckon that Marty has
an ear for a running shower. After washing my front, I turn to let the hot water
caress my back and, there he is! At the door!
Instead of leaning, as usual, he quickly checks up the hallway then
comes straight over to me. "Sorry about last night!" he half-whispers.
Now, I would normally string him along, as Will does. However, this
morning I'm in a benevolent mood. I reply, matter-of-factly, "What did you enjoy
most - watching us, or jacking off in the hallway, or climbing into bed and spooning
me?"
"Does Will know?" he replies nervously, without answering my question.
"No," I reply. "And I wasn't going to mention it to him, unless you
think that I should."
"Thank you, Tom. And, no! Please don't say anything. I think that he
would be annoyed after my comment about considering making a play for you. I wouldn't
want to upset him - or you. Can we keep it just between us?"
"Sure," I tell him, turning off the water and stepping out. "I at least
owe you that!"
I grab a spare towel and begin to dry myself. He takes a pee and asks,
somewhat hesitantly, "Umm, did you find something of mine that I left behind in
here last night?"
I reply, "Yeah. And one heck of a lot, too!"
"Well, that was two lots, actually," he confesses, almost proudly.
"One was after I watched you guys going at it and the second lot was after I crept
back out of your bed. Having my cock pressed against your backside became too much
for me and I needed to relieve myself again. I didn't flush because I didn't want
to wake you. And, anyway, I thought that I'd be the first one up this morning."
"All good!" I say. Then I add, "So now you know!"
"Know what?" he asks, as if there is nothing new.
"How far your young cousin and his school teacher / brother go."
"It's something that I never did with any of my brothers," he replies,
again without a direct comment about Will and me. "But hey, I've certainly made
up for it with `him' and `her' on Saturdays after we meet at the café," he jokes.
I have to ask. "And who will it be this Saturday?"
Marty replies, "It's never her by herself - only him alone or both
together."
"And this week?" I smile.
"Both!" he grins, and I sense a stirring between his legs.
"Do you like both?" I realise that this is one of those questions to
which he could claim a right of reply but, hey, I think that we have progressed
beyond that; we're now into the territory of open truthfulness and trust.
"I actually love doing both!" Marty replies, and his cock begins to
display an upward inclination. "I'll fill you in later."
"I'll bet that you'd love to do that too," I tease.
He reacts quickly, "You ARE worse than I am," he says as he grasps
at my backside. I hang up the towel and head for the door. "But, for the record,
you're right, about filling you in!" he smirks, raising an eyebrow.
"I think that you'd better stick to `him' and `her'," I tell him. "It
will be much less complicated!"
"Yes, but..." Marty starts.
I have to cut him off. "Don't you do anything that would upset Will,
Marty. He's happy with me. You said so yourself. Please don't let anything come
between him and me, especially any feelings that you and I might have towards each
other." Shit! Did I just say that? `Feelings towards each other'?
"I'll get breakfast started," Marty says, as he leaves me, perhaps
to ponder my unfortunate slip of the tongue.
I go to my own room, straighten the bedclothes and slip on a pair of
shorts. I also throw a pair for Will onto his bed, then I head back to Marty's room.
Will is lying on his back, hands behind his head and staring at the ceiling.
"Hey, bro!" I greet him.
"Hey, yourself," he replies, turning his head just sufficiently for
his eyes to meet mine.
"Sleep well?" I ask.
"Hell, Yeah, thanks to you. Last night was fantastic. So were you!
And doing it in Marty's bed was a real hoot! I kept wondering if he could hear us,
and what he would be thinking."
"With the noises you were making, I'll bet that he heard quite a lot."
"I hope so," he giggles.
I think that Will is a real man sexually but just a mischievous boy
in many other ways. I love everything about him.
"What? You wanted him to hear us?" I put to him, sitting myself on
the bed and leaning across to him to give him a `good morning' peck on the lips
with a friendly jiggle of his package.
"Of course!" Will laughs. "I wanted him to know that if he could have
sex with both a guy and a girl at 18, then I can do that stuff too, at 17.
"Only there is no girl!" I remind him.
"I don't need one," he replies, smirking. "You've got what he's got
plus also what she's got - a pole and a hole. And I want both. Two in one is a bonus!"
I simply smile at his juvenile maturity.
"Why don't you go and freshen up in the shower and I'll deal with the
smell and the wet towels," I tell him, standing to fetch the deodorant.
He leaves the room, walking a little funny, perhaps to hold in any
lingering remnant of what I filled him with during the night.
Breakfast is interesting - if that's the right word for the atmosphere.
Much more subdued than usual, without the usual Will-and-Marty banter and ongoing
one-upmanship.
Much has been revealed in the past 24 hours - more than sufficient
for a period of quiet and prolonged contemplation.
Will could be processing Marty's confessed introduction to sexual activity
with both a guy and a girl and the loss of his virginity in every aspect (even though
we haven't heard the `her' details yet, nor of when Marty and `he' first went the
whole way) and mentally comparing himself with his cousin from multiple aspects.
Will last night overtly demonstrated his own sexual appetite and capability, albeit
he thinks that Marty has only heard us doing it. He is unaware of Marty's voyeurism.
Then again, Will may be thinking over his `coming out' to Marty and any implications
of that for him, for me, for us.
And what of Marty - finally `fessing up' to his bisexual orientation
and giving Will and me a lot of detail about his self-discovery and actualisation
of his teenage erotic fantasies? How is he feeling about revealing that? And, who
knows what he's processing about watching me screwing his little cousin. When I
saw him jacking off in the hallway, was he focussed on Will, or on me? Was he fantasising
about swapping places with one of us? Which one? Or, was his mind on being with
`him' and `her'?
I'm wondering why Marty climbed into bed and spooned up to me. Did
he know it was me? Did he think it might be Will? Did he want to do something with
me? Will? Us?
Why did he so readily tell us so much about himself after keeping it
concealed for so long?
Why did Will want Marty to hear him and me making out?
Why do I keep thinking of 13-year old, blue-eyed, blond-haired Kurt?
Am I becoming as obsessed with him as he appears to be with me? Maybe he's `cooled
off' while Will and I were away. Maybe masturbating with his twin brother, Karl,
will satisfy his urges. And what of Will and Karl? Does Will want to keep `playing
games' with Karl, and both twins? He's already taught them to jack off. Does he
want to do more with them now that he is so much more experienced? How can I dissuade
him when I, myself, entertain these continuing, impossible, thoughts about Kurt?
How can my thrilling life with Will be such a mess of confusion and
contradictions and complications?
Over breakfast I'm unaware of bits of conversation among the three
of us. Surely meaningless, if there is any!
Today, I'm the first to stop daydreaming and I ask Marty directly,
"So what are you planning today, Marty?"
He blinks a few times, like coming out of a hypnotic trance. "I've
been doing a few things over at Mum's - mainly helping to fix up the old cottage.
I'm not actually helping her; I'm being helpful by doing it all myself. Mum has
it in her mind that the cottage needs a few repairs and painting. I started to question
why, but that only led to an argument. So, I'm just getting on with it. What about
you? Anything planned?"
I reply, "I think that I'll do a bit of a tidy-up around the school.
Inside's OK but it could do with an airing-out. The outside, though, seems scruffy
- nothing major. When I'm finished up there, I could come over and help you at the
cottage."
Will seems to `wake up' with the exchange between Marty and me. "I'd
like to see if Karl and Kurt are at home today. Is that OK?"
"Sure," I tell him. "We can drive up together. Besides, I could use
an extra pair of hands, or three, for a while. Then, when I come to help Marty,
you can too, if you like."
"Yes, Michelangelo! Your painting skills could be useful," Marty suggests.
Will seems unimpressed with Marty's insincere compliment, if it was
a compliment and not just another taunt. "Will Anna be there?" Will asks.
"Maybe," Marty replies. "If I tell her that you and Tom are coming,
then I'll bet that she will be. Besides, she never goes anywhere!" He chuckles.
Will and I don't share his mirth. And I ponder, `Yes, where else would she be?'
"In that case," Will says straight-faced, "I really hope that Karl
and Kurt have a lot to tell me!" He obviously wants to avoid his female `man-eating'
cousin, if at all possible.
Marty only responds with, "And did you sleep well ... in my double bed?"
Then he looks at me and winks.
Will's focus changes from Marty to me; he smirks, then replies, "Yeah.
Why?"
"Well I thought that you might have been in some sort of pain. It sure
sounded like it," he answers with a knowing grin.
Will gets up from the table, takes his plate to the sink and says,
"You know, Marty, I thought that you could tell the difference between pleasure
and pain. Last night was all pleasure and ..." As he walks past the still-naked Marty,
(rising to take his own things to the sink) Will slips his hand under his cousin's
balls and gives them a yank.
"Aargh!" Marty screeches.
"...And that is the difference," Will laughs, heading for the door, rapidly.
"My pleasure: your pain!"
Holding his tender bollocks, Marty calls after Will, "Why, you little..."
Will cuts him off, "Haha. I'm no longer the little one here, Marty!
Remember?"
Marty takes a couple of tentative steps, grimaces and then decides
to give up the chase. "It looks like you're going have your hands full with that
one!" he says to me.
"Frequently," is all I reply. We both laugh.
"Marty?" I ask. "I don't suppose we could sleep in your bed for one
more night, could we... please... mate?"
He looks at me and smirks, "And how often would you two like the use
of the double bed?"
"Frequently!" I respond which, again, elicits more merriment.
"I tell you what..." Marty says, "...a few weeks ago when I was in Big
Town, I saw a set of double bunks in the furniture shop. The top was a single bed
and the bottom was a double."
There is a pause while my mind conjures up a picture of what Marty
is describing.
He continues, "If you and Michelangelo would like that, I could take
the two singles in your room over to the cottage. Mum has often said that an extra
couple of beds would be handy for visitors. That way, you two can either sleep together
or separately, and anyone who comes over and sees the bed can be told that you're
the top and he's the bottom."
He suddenly realises the implication of what he has just said and he
actually blushes.
"Or vice versa," I put in, to help relieve his embarrassment. He looks
at me.
"Really?" he inquires.
"Sure. He can have the top bunk. I don't care," I tell him plain-faced.
"Why? What did you think that I meant?"
More smirking, then laughter.
Remembering that I now have the technology to connect and check, I
find the furniture store's number with Marty's help, and confirm that they have
a flat-packed set of bunks in stock. I give them my credit card number for the bunks,
mattresses, new pillows and linen. It's not cold now, but some new blankets won't
go astray, so I get some of them too. Acacia can have the two single beds and everything
that goes with them.
"Why don't you surprise Will?" Marty suggests. "I can pick up everything
tomorrow while I'm in town. I shouldn't have any trouble fitting everything into
the SUV."
"Deal!" I tell him. "I'll tell Will that he can take my car to drive
up and see Jake. When you get back, we could assemble the bed while he's away and
take the singles over to the cottage. Oh, and Marty," I say with a touch of seriousness,
"if you have any intentions of spying on us tonight... you'd better not... let Will
catch you!"
I realise that it's a veiled invitation. He smirks.
"No. All good," he replies. "And, again, I apologise for last night."
"It's OK. No harm done," I tell him, and I give him a conciliatory
light slap to his bare bum.
"I saw that!" I hear, as Will re-emerges, probably wondering whether
Marty was still intent on seeking revenge for Will's `squirrel grip' on him.
"Well, that's one mosquito that you won't have to worry about tonight!"
I tell Marty.
Will's eyes dart between the two of us, then he merely raises a sceptical
eyebrow.
"Come on," I say to Will. "You'll probably need more than a pair of
shorts if you're going to spend some time with Karl and Kurt, and then help me
to clean up the yard at the school." He again raises his eyebrow, but the accompanying
smirk indicates that he might actually think he's already `overdressed for the occasion'.
"Incorrigible!" I mouth to him so that Marty can't see. Then Will heads
for the bedroom.
More appropriately attired, Will and I head for the car, leaving Marty,
still naked, in the kitchen. "See you at your Mum's a bit later," I tell him.
"Come for lunch at 12 o'clock," Marty calls after us. "Mum will be
delighted to see you." Then he adds, "So will Anna." And I hear him laugh. No, it's
more of a cackle!
Will turns to me, wrinkles his nose and puts his hand out for the car
keys.
He drives straight to Karl and Kurt's place and is greeted animatedly
by the pair of them before he even reaches the front door.
"If I don't see you beforehand, I'll come back
for you about 11:30, which should give us both time to freshen up before lunch,"
I tell him while walking around to the
driver's side.
"Hello Mr Grant," both Karl and Kurt call.
"Hi boys!" I reply. "Have you had a good
holiday?"
"Yes, sir," they reply enthusiastically.
"I hope to hear all about it sometime,"
I say to them. They immediately look at each other and I sense that I won't be told
everything. Boys!
After I open all of the school's windows, I head for the tool locker
behind the building, on the church side. I retrieve the smallish wheelbarrow, a
hoe and a new pair of gloves from the top shelf.
There is no green grass to mow. The yard is mainly baked earth with
patches of brown vegetation. The object of my attention is the multitude of spikey
weeks that have emerged in the past fortnight, and some which I had previously ignored
and are now much larger. I don't understand how they can thrive where very little
of anything else will grow.
I methodically start chopping the prickly buggers out and fill the
wheelbarrow to deposit them in the farthest corner of the schoolyard where the children
don't venture. Multiple barrow loads.
It's hot work and I've forgotten to bring a hat. I remove my T-shirt
and place the neck of it over the top of my head so that it hangs over my shoulders
and upper back. I reckon that I probably look like an Arab or an Egyptian pharaoh.
There is a slight breeze that tempers the heat but, at times, it creates
a momentary dust cloud. Once it generates a small willy-willy, a small whirling
funnel of powdery matter and leaves, which dances across the yard.
I decide to clear the whole yard, or as much as possible, and I keep
working until I hear voices.
All three boys stop and stare. What a sight I must be - sweaty, dusty,
bare-chested, shirt on my head and the tops of my jeans, front and back, soaked
with the accumulation of perspiration that has run down from my upper body.
"Excuse me, mister," Will says in a very polite voice, "but we're looking
for our school teacher, Mr Grant. Have you seen him anywhere?" His straight face
broadens to a grin, Karl and Kurt begin to titter, and then all three burst into
self-satisfying laughter.
I play along. "You might check under that pile of weeds in the back
corner. I think I heard some noises coming from up there a while ago." They smirk.
I add, "Then, again, he may be in the boys' toilet. I was just about to head over
there, so I'll look in that direction for you."
I walk off, leaving them in a tittering, mirthful mood. I remove my
T-shirt and begin to wipe my face and chest. The combination of dust and sweat leaves
a brown hand-print and muddy streaks on my light-coloured shirt. I sling it over
my shoulder then, inside, I step up to the urinal, unzip and begin to relieve my
over-full bladder, relishing the release.
Suddenly, a body appears, sidles right up to me and pulls down the
front of his shorts, hooks the waist band under his balls, displaying his cock and
darkening furriness for my inspection while he ogles my own. He takes a quick pee
and is finished in a few squirts.
Popping his gear back inside, he says, "Gee, Mr Grant. Your back's
all sweaty. Can I wipe it for you?"
I'm tempted to correct him with `may I...?' but I reply very simply,
"Thank you, Kurt." He takes the shirt from my shoulder and gently rubs me from top
to bottom (literally).
He says, "You missed some up front," and rubs my pecs and abs, and
I shudder. Whether it is from his touch or my final squirt of urine, I'm not sure.
He takes a final good look at my cock, returns my T-shirt to my shoulder, then skips
out. I zip up and follow. I think that I'm going to have a real problem with this
boy (maybe even more than young Mikey's forwardness at the motel).
Will is doing some hoeing and Karl is returning
from the far corner with the empty barrow.
"Did you find him?" I ask.
Karl smirks, "Nope, but I think that there
might be a snake up there."
Kurt adds, "I saw a snake in the toilet,
but it's gone now. Oh, and I found Mr Grant too."
I give him my best disgusted look, but
it's hard to maintain a serious expression with three handsome young guys grinning
at me, all of us fully cognisant of the intent of Kurt's humour.
Each of the three boys removes his shirt
and puts it on his head. Four Egyptians. They all pitch in. With their help, all
weeds are removed in short time. I thank them and we return all of the tools to
the shed.
The other two agree. Karl adds, "It's a
bit cool, though. Not exactly like it was weeks ago."
Kurt chides, "Don't be a woos! It'll be
refreshing." His ulterior motive for getting us into the weir is as plain as the
lines of self-imposed smudges on his face!
His infatuation with me has not cooled
one degree while we've been away!
Will looks at me and raises an eyebrow.
His expression says, `Well, what are you going to do now?' I answer him with a shrug
of my shoulders. I wouldn't mind a quick dip, but I don't want to encourage Kurt's
apparent obsession with me. Nor do I want Will to think that my affection for my
brother can be easily supplanted by a quick romp with a randy 13-year old.
What to do? Accepting the twins' invitation
could be seen as giving the green light to any ongoing sexual high jinx. I'm not
sure that even Chad could protect me if word of it got out.
However, to refuse to clean off the dust
and perspiration, on the other hand, makes no logical sense, and would render me
the target of much ridicule. I wouldn't want that to get back to the locals either.
I'm sure that Will can sense my dilemma,
and that I haven't just drifted off into one of my far-away reveries. He takes the
decision out of my hands. "Boy, do I need to clean up! I'll give you guys three
seconds head start. "1 ... 2 ..." Karl and Kurt take off at a gallop. "... 3!"
My own enthusiasm is more subdued. I walk.
I find the river bank strewn with discarded
clothes, including underwear, and there is a surfeit of splashing and squealing
from the water.
I casually remove my jeans and underpants,
slip in and submerge. The water is cool, but not chilly. However, if it was any
colder, a wetsuit like one of mine at home would be useful. I'm not sure that the
boys have even seen me through all their wallowing. My forehead and eyes surface
upstream of them, alligator style, and I swivel around to find them scanning the
river's edge.
"Is he coming or not?" Karl questions Will.
"I dunno," Will replies.
"I hope so!" Kurt chimes in.
I stay still and enjoy their uncertainty. Will spots me. I bob up and
I put a single finger to my lips. He smirks and disappears beneath the surface.
Karl is suddenly elevated out of the water on Will's shoulders and emits a loud
"Yee-ha!" They head for Kurt with intended menace on their faces.
"Hey!" Kurt protests. "That's not fair! I don't have a horse!"
I drift close enough to be sure of my bearings then sink out of
sight. My hands find his back first, with my fingers under his armpits, then I feel
downwards for his thighs, prise them apart, duck my head and pick up my rider.
"Oh, Yeah!" he shrieks as I rise to the surface with him on my
shoulders.
A good amount of horse-and-rider wrestling ensues. I can see Karl's
erection protruding from behind Will's head and can definitely feel Kurt's. Now
I've got one, and some close encounters with Will confirm what I anticipated of
his body too.
I make an exaggerated, overt display of washing myself clean, then
allow Will and Karl to get the better of Kurt and me. As I topple sideways, horse
and rider separate. I head for the bank and climb out. I hear groans of disappointment
from behind me. I don't mind giving Kurt an eyeful of my nakedness, rather than
a handful! He smacks the surface of the water in apparent frustration.
"Maybe another time, Kurt," I call to him, in an attempt to take the
edge off his disappointment.
Why on earth did I just tell him that? Now, he'll be after me at every
opportunity! Stupid Schoolie! Or is that what I really desire and hope for?
"C'mon, Will. We have an appointment for lunch," I call as pull my
jeans on after first brushing off as much water as possible with my hands and the
few remaining clean sections of my T-shirt.
The battle between desire and `duty' is evident. Will wants to stay
and `muck around' some more with the twins but also needs to do the right thing
by his protector/cousin, Marty.
As Will slowly emerges from the river, his muscles are taught due to
its coolness. Marty's taunts of `tubby' certainly cannot be justified in the slightest.
Will is a beauty - slim, without bulked-up muscles, just well-defined. He would
make an ideal underwear/swimwear model - eye candy extraordinaire! Ripples and bulges
in all the right places!
His Gold Coast tan emphasises the pale silhouette of where Speedos
have been worn, against which his dark patch of pubic curls frames his still-thickened,
but slackening, manhood.
I don't know what the three of them may have already done together
this morning but Karl and Kurt have had their short-lived thrill with Will and
me together for today! Any more will have to be at their own hand. LOL.
"Maybe I'll see you tomorrow, guys," Will calls to them as we head
back together. We lock up and drive to Marty's. The plan is to clean up, dress casually
for lunch at Mum's and then stay and help Marty with the cottage.
Alone, together, we indulge in a slow, stimulating shower that would,
I know, be the envy of Karl and Kurt. I love to run my hands over his back and sides,
savouring the ripple of his muscles against his strong frame. Grasping and kneading
the powerful glutes of his backside always gives me a thrill. To have my actions
reciprocated usually triggers a session of passionate playfulness and happy endings.
Not today. Well, not right now! Tonight... definitely!
Acacia and Anna have, again, conjured up a feast fit for a teenage
appetite, not to mention for a Schoolie with a sweet tooth!
Nothing to fear from the seating arrangement - brother and sister together,
opposite teacher and student. Matriarch at the table head, to my right.
Anna is able to look directly at Will and me as we share more of our
Gold Coast experiences - the tellable ones! She shows a more-keen interest when
Will describes the Villa di Verdi and the cousins Tony and Rocco. I cannot imagine
the slight-bodied Tony being interested in, or of interest to, her, but Rocco ...
hmm!
When I comment that I've invited them to spend some time visiting our
school, Anna's attention is intensified and her mind goes into overdrive. "When
would they be coming? They could stay in the cottage. Marty will have it ready!
We only need a couple of beds and they could eat with Mum and me. No trouble!" There
is a twinkle in her eye, and, I sense, a smile on Will's face.
Marty is amused at his sister's sudden interest in a couple of handsome
Italians (based on Will's description, but without incriminating himself or me in
any way).
Acacia seems less so. She looks at me and I simply shrug. Then I add
a few titbits that Will had omitted. "Tony is the only son of a very famous and
rich restauranteur. And you should have seen their house. A villa straight out of
Tuscany! I suppose a `mansion' could describe it better, with its marble floors
and statues and expensive paintings and tapestries. And the gardens - wow!"
Suddenly Acacia, too, becomes more attentive. For fun, I throw in,
almost dismissively, "But Rocco's definitely the `stallion' of the pair, if you
like muscles and hairiness and that sort of thing."
Anna is squirming, mouth partially open. I hope that she doesn't drool
at the table! Will kicks me under the table. Marty squints at me and I wink. He
smirks.
Both guys know that I am pushing the women's buttons! Unfair, but fun!
I'm not sure what Rocco would think, though.
"Their visit would be some time in the future but could be as soon
as the end of this next term," I tell them.
The conversation continues for the duration of the meal, and even through
dessert. `Tuscany', `Villa di Verdi', `Italians', `Tony' and `Rocco' figure most
prominently.
As I sip my coffee, I thank Anna and Acacia for their hospitality and
throw in, as a final comment that the Italian boys are good cooks too and that Will
and I really enjoyed their cannolis and fresh cream for dessert. Will coughs and
splutters into his lemonade and looks up, red-faced. He excuses himself by saying,
"Sorry. It must have gone down the wrong way!"
Marty raises an inquiring eyebrow. I give him the slightest of nods
in acknowledgment. He looks at Will and smirks.
Despite the fact that Marty had mentioned it previously, I'd never
really taken any notice of the cottage before today. It sits directly behind Acacia's
house, at a distance of 50 metres or so. Marty tells me that his grandfather built
it before constructing the larger building in which we are now sitting.
We walk over to it.
It's small, but clean and bright - a combined living / dining / kitchen
area, similar to Marty's but on a much smaller scale and with only one bedroom.
The next thing that I notice is that there appears to be no bathroom.
When I ask Marty about it, he opens the back door and points to a pair of cement
laundry tubs on a stand, with a single tap over each. "There you go - bath, shower
and laundry, all in one. And over there," he says, indicating a tiny wooded structure,
some farther distance away, "is the old toilet. It's just a hole in the ground below
a wooden seat made of two planks. It's been known to stink worse than a rotting
sheep's carcass on a hot summer's day. I should probably fill it in."
I look at the laundry tubs and Marty chuckles, "Actually, there's no
bath, no shower, and no hot water - unless you heat a pot on the old stove. Oh,
and there's no electricity. When dad organised to have gas and electricity
facilities installed and hooked up connected to the `big house' as he called it,
and to the `shearers quarters' he didn't see the need to extend either of those
things back out to here. At least there is some water that comes from rainwater
run-off out of the tank alongside the building but, at the moment, that's empty
too - no rain: no water! The other two houses are fed from the tank with the big
windmill that pumps water up from the river. If ever the river stopped flowing,
we'd all be in big trouble. We kids didn't miss having a bath because there was
always the river – except, not in the middle of winter!"
"It's no wonder that nobody lives in this nice little place," I comment.
Marty replies, "Sean and Chad tried it for a while, but gave up very
quickly and decided that moving to Big Town was a better option than staying with
Mum and Anna and me. They also couldn't be bothered fixing up the shearers' quarters.
It didn't bother me so, in my own time, I did what they didn't want to do, and moved
in when it was `liveable'. Now the place is my own little haven... and yours." He
smiles, so do Will and I.
By the end of the day the cottage is spic and span, despite stinking
of the paint that we have used. "Marty, I think that my head is beginning to ache
from the fumes," I tell him. "Can we call it quits for the day?"
"There's not much left to do anyway," Marty replies. "You two have
been a great help. Thanks. I can finish the rest when I get back from town tomorrow."
Then he adds, "Time off for good behaviour, Will. Why don't you catch up with Jake
tomorrow? I think he's missed you." Marty winks at me. Will is in for a surprise
when he gets home from Jake's and sees our bedroom.
While we are packing up, Acacia strolls across from the big house to
carry out the obligatory matriarchal `inspection'.
Her effusive compliments are followed by an invitation to stay for
dinner. Marty is hesitant, obviously not wanting to spend more time with his mother
(and sister) than is absolutely necessary, but desirous of not insulting her either.
"If it's all the same, Mrs O'Brien," I say to her, "I'm really tired
after hoeing out weeds at the school all morning and I have a bit of a headache
from the paint fumes. I'd really like a shower and an early night in bed."
With his back to Acacia I see Will smirk and mouth, `me too'.
"That's all right dear," Acacia replies. "Maybe another time, and you
can tell us more about your Italian friends."
I knew that is what was on her agenda! And Anna's! Oh, well, they're
each entitled to their own fantasies!
While Will showers, Marty starts cooking a simple dinner of sausages,
mashed potatoes with onion, minted peas and carrots.
I'm the one who does the crying over the onions. Then I do the potatoes.
Will emerges naked. There is a brief stopping of the time continuum
as Marty and I both stare at him. I think of those TV ads where everything freezes
except the central character. "That feels better," he says, exhaling heavily.
"Ready for bed, are we?" Marty puts to him with a grin.
"Yeah, well, the way that I figure it," Will responds, "why put on
clean stuff when I'm only gonna take it off again?"
"Absolutely!" Marty says jovially and I see him take in Will's slender,
trim form, highlighted by his dangling white cock and balls, both offset by his
dark curls. "And I can see that you at least didn't sunbake naked while you were
away!"
I turn and look at Marty to give him my `evil eye' of warning to back
off and not to try anything.
"I'm next in the shower," I tell them both. "Will, can you please set
the table?"
"Do you mean 'may you'?", he says slowly and deliberately. Well,
he almost has the grammar correct. He enjoyed that!
I leave the pair of them alone but strain to glean any snippets of
conversation. Eavesdropping? Of course!
It may have been only the fear of discovery that kept Will and Marty
apart previously. Now that both of their secrets have been shared, most of the barriers
have been removed! Will and I should really talk about that.
I'm already fairly clean from the dip in the river, so I just need
to rinse off any paint smells and I give my hair a quick shampoo for the same reason.
I turn off the running water as quickly as I can, and the only discussion that I
can make out is Marty `selling' Will on spending most of the day with Jake.
I decide to adopt Will's dress code and stroll out, free-balling.
I stand next to Will and we strike a pose, resting an arm around each
other's shoulders.
Marty has to comment! "Heckle and Jeckle!" he jokes, then adds, looking
us up and down, "There's no doubt that you are brothers!"
"And there's no doubt that horse-shit pies are on your menu sometime
soon," Will throws in.
Marty's face drops from being reminded. As he walks past us on the
way to the bathroom, he slaps Will's backside, hard. "Another dead mozzie!" he quips,
then he runs.
I whisper a plan to Will, then he and I wait for the sound of the shower.
Marty's broad back and contracting muscular glutes are facing the door.
Will and I lean on opposite sides for the door frame, Marty-style, and simply stare
at him, willing our eyes to burn into him a consciousness that he has an audience.
It works. He turns his head slowly and looks at us, then faces us fully.
We say nothing.
"What?" Marty asks. Silence from us.
"Well, what are you looking at?" he continues. That's our cue.
"Nothing much," I respond.
Then Will says, "Yeah, that's right, nothing much at all!" and he unambiguously
lowers his eyes to Marty's gear. I have to hold back a laugh at the shocked expression
on Marty's face.
Marty is so quick and accurate with a balled, wet face cloth, that
Will cops it fair in the ear as he attempts to duck away from the projectile.
Will picks up the cloth and is about to return fire when my outbreak
of laughter becomes a little too overt and irritating for his liking and he stuffs
the wet ball into my mouth instead.
Marty, out of the shower in a flash (no pun intended) grabs both Will
and me in a headlock, one with each arm.
There's a bit of a struggle, but Marty is strong. In the end, I stretch
out my right hand and grasp his cock which is thickening with the obvious pleasure
of the physical contact with both Will and me.
I extend my left hand to Will and latch onto his right butt cheek.
He responds by squeezing my shaft with his own right hand then he reaches around
Marty for his glutes. Seeing what is transpiring, Marty relaxes his arms and decisively
completes the double-circle - holding Will's cock with his right hand and my butt
with his left.
I'm sure that every bit of squeezing, fondling and jacking, initiated
by one, is transmitted around the trio.
While this is going on, a couple of memories run through my mind -
firstly of that day the three of us jacked off together at the bath; then when I
was on the tube at Sea World with Will, Simon, Luke; last, but not least, in the
toilet of Mr Verdi's restaurant with four of us again plus Tony and Rocco.
My body, stimulated by watching Marty's pleasure at having his hand
on his cousin's not-little willie for the first time, while being `done' himself
and, at the same time, watching Will's face, is all too much for me.
I don't give them any warning; I simply arch my back and erupt. Will,
at the first indication of what is about to occur (he knows me well enough by now)
points my cock at Marty, then up my own body and, finally, takes the rest himself.
He leans back, groans and adds his stuff to mine.
I feel Marty's body tense. His first excited shot hits Will under the
chin then, with his cock in my hand, I ensure that all three of us share his generous
outpouring.
I feel Marty's grip on my backside tighten. We, three, pull each other
into a tight, slippery hug, twisting our bodies first to one side and then the opposite,
rubbing ourselves on each other.
"Looks like we all need to shower again," Marty chuckles.
"You go first, Marty," I encourage, wiping myself with a towel. "I'll
go and put the jug on and check the sausages then you can make us some coffees when
you're done. "Just a quick rinse," I tell them both.
I'm back in a few moments just as Marty steps out and Will steps in,
with no need to adjust the water. Marty leaves. "I need to `brush my teeth' after
dinner," I tell Will, which elicits the biggest of grins. Then I add, "And Marty
said that we can use his bed for one more night, then we're back to our own room."
Will looks suddenly disappointed, but he doesn't know what Marty and
I have planned, does he? He rinses himself quickly then disappears, leaving the
shower to me.
When I re-enter our room, I see that Will has put my enema gear onto
my bed. He smiles at me and I cover it with my pillow. I'm not accustomed to such
overt displays. Then, as I recall everything that I have done in recent weeks, culminating
in allowing Marty to observe me making love to his young cousin, I have to smile
at my own prudish attitude. I remove the pillow.
We eat, naked. Nothing sexual. Not jokes about sausages. No insults.
Just liberated actions and discussions. It feels good!
We clean up and just when I am wondering about how we three can fill
in our evening (more conversation or a game of cards), Marty says, "Go on, you two.
Enjoy your last night in my room... and try to keep the noises down tonight, OK?"
I'm absolutely mortified when Will announces, "Yeah, we'll get to that
shortly, but Tom has an appointment with an enema kit first." I feel my ears flush
with embarrassment first, then my neck and cheeks; maybe all the way down to my
toes.
If Marty ever had any doubt regarding the discussion which we had of
me being comfortable `on the bottom bunk', Will has now removed that in a single
breath.
But Marty, ever gracious, responds, "Yeah, I wondered about that. When
I'm in town we use condoms." He just looks at me... differently! I'm tempted to ask
him what he is thinking, but I dare not. I'm afraid that I will hear him propose
some full-on three-way action!
Instead, I make some inane remark, "Oh, well, you'll get yours!" Then
I feel myself blush again at my boldness.
As I head for the bedroom to collect my `enema kit', I say, "Excuse
me, gentlemen. I believe that I have an appointment," and I give Will a withering
stare.
Marty, catching my expression, turns to Will and announces, "I think
that you're in big trouble, mister!"
When I emerge from the bathroom, some many minutes later, Will and
Marty are just sitting, talking. I say quite emphatically to Will, indicating the
bathroom with a nod of my head, "Your turn!" leaving no doubt in anybody's mind
what MY intentions are for the night!
(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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