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 6

"Marty, I'm feeling ashamed. I'm really sorry" I tell him.

"No." he says. "Don't be sorry and don't feel embarrassed. It's OK to have needs and to be able to relieve them. You certainly relieved my need." That smirk. "I haven't felt that good for a long time. However, it was hard not to scream out as I erupted!"

I just stare at him, not knowing how to respond. "So, you wanted to do it back to me, did you?" I ask.

"Yep. Would you have liked me to? Would you have let me?"

All I can say is, "I know that you're not drunk now, and I'm not freaked out... How do you feel about just pretending that I am you last night, passed out on the lounge, and you are me, and carry me to your bed?"

"Yeah, I reckon that I could give that a go." He smirks and I think, `This is going be fun.'

Then I feign collapse.

 

Chapter 7 - A New Rule

On Sunday afternoon, as I drive to pick up Will from Jake's place, I'm suffering pangs of guilt. Even though I know that he mucks around with Jake and Karl and Kurt, I feel like I've betrayed some unspoken bond between him and me, almost like I've two-timed him. Yep. I reckon that's what I've done. I feel that I should have been exclusively his. How badly will he react when he finds out that the guy he fantasises as his `big brother' has so readily let his cousin do what I've continued to deny him?

I reflect on the purely physical fun that I've had with Marty and, even though I really like the guy, there is not the same emotional attachment that I feel for Will. I can't explain it. There is a kindred spirit with Will. We both want each other. We both need each other to fill a gap in our lives. I want to do stuff with Will, but cannot countenance the same freedom with him that I've just allowed myself with Marty. If I was Will's brother and not his teacher, life would be much simpler. But, if I wasn't his teacher, I would never have met him. I feel sick. I'm torn between doing what is legally right and doing what feels so right.

On the way home, Will's chirpiness helps dispel my gloom and he gives me the run-down on how he's filled in his weekend.

How to put it in a nutshell? Food, frolics and `fun' with Jake. While divulging some but without going into too many details, and knowing that I suspected as much already, he confirms that he `got lucky' while they were alone - out along the river and also in bed.

I'm happy for him, but it doesn't ease my guilt.

Then I cop a question right out of left field. He shocks me with, "And did you enjoy your `alone time' with Marty?"

Fuck! How did he know about what Marty and I did? When did he find out? What happened to the House Rule? Marty's in big, big trouble, man!

Shit! So am I.

My facial expression is probably more than Will was expecting and, feeling myself blush, I bite my bottom lip. It is totally self-incriminating.

"So, my guess was right, eh?" he says grinning cheekily.

"You bloody little sod!" I throw back at him quickly. "You were only fishing, weren't you?"

I see a look of apprehension suddenly cross Will's face, as if he thinks that I am going to have a heated rant at him.

"How do you think I feel right now, Will?" I growl.

His fearful blank stare tells me that he doesn't know how to answer.

I can't possible hurt him so, controlling myself, I smirk and say, "Hey. Gotcha! I'm not mad at you Will, but I'm just feeling very outplayed by an altogether all-too-smart 16-year-old! Looks like you caught me out - big time!" Then I add, "This time!"

He actually starts breathing again, and the change I see in his countenance simply endears him to me even more. A flash of white teeth in a sun-tanned face! Was he actually expecting Marty and me to `have fun too' as he wished me on Friday afternoon? Is he OK with `sharing' me with his older cousin?

Then for some reason he says, "Haha! You'll have to learn to be careful around me, Tom. I notice things that other people don't."

Now that's creepy!

It quickly crosses my mind that Will's perceptive ability could be a key factor in why his paintings and drawings are so incredibly detailed.

Then he goes on to add some interesting titbits. "I've seen the way Marty checks you out when he thinks nobody is watching; he's always looking at your sexy backside."

Interesting slip-of-the-tongue comment!

So, Will thinks that I have a sexy bum!

"Before you came here," Will continues, "I also noticed how many trips he was making to the `men's room' so I snuck down behind it one day to find out what was going on. And, Yeah, I saw what he does down there - from the outside. Very hot. I just had to jack off while I watched his slick cock keep coming out of the hole and disappearing almost in again until he spurted. I never told him though. He still doesn't know that I saw him. But once, when I came down to his place and he wasn't around, I went down there and had a go myself. Have you done it yet?"

Shit. Can this kid actually read minds, or is he just fishing again?

Either way, he knows from my silence and blank stare that he's got me once more! Twice in two minutes.

"Don't worry Tom," he tries to placate me. "We can keep each other's secrets! So... I know about you and Marty having a bit of fun, eh? Just like you know about Jake and me. But... nobody knows about us, you and me, right? It's all good."

He smiles as gives me the `H'. If I wasn't driving, I would hug and kiss the kid. What the hell! I stop the car and do it anyway. Who's gonna see us in the middle of nowhere?

He totally understands about how special the fun is that he and I share, and we both know where we've drawn the boundary while-ever I am his teacher. But I can tell that he also understands that a man has other needs beyond jacking off. I know that he's `read' the Porn mag, and I wonder how long it will be before he wants to progress to other things with either Jake, or with me. We need a good brother-to-brother talk.

As we draw closer to The Village, travelling smoothly at about 80 km per hour, I spot a large mob of sheep off to one side, a little way ahead, with a few `loners' much closer to the road.

"Hey, you'd better slow down, Tom," Will says in a serious tone that I haven't heard from him previously.

"Why?" I reply. "There's none on the road. And I'm not going to hit them out there," indicating the mob off to the left.

"Believe me. You'd better slow right down! If just one decides to cross the road, all of the others will follow. Seriously! I'm not joking, Tom." He is squirming in his seat and his voice has now taken on a tone of urgency.

I don't argue and take Will's advice, even though I am sceptical. 20 km per hour.

Then, without warning, sure enough, one of the `loners' looks at my approaching car and dashes across the road about 15m in front of us. I know the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence but I've never heard of sheep feeling safer on the other side of the road.

Just as Will had warned, the entire mob looks up and bolts off after the first one.

Another country lesson for the city schoolie!

So, I think, are sheep just oversized lemmings, willing to follow each other to their doom? I brake to almost a standstill, but then continue, very slowly. Suddenly, the last third of the mob give up their pointless exercise and turn back.

"Thanks, Will. You're smarter than they are stupid." I mean it as a compliment, but I'm not sure that's how Will takes my confusion of words.

"Huh?" he grunts. So, I explain to him how clever I think he is, and the smile returns to his angelic face.

We approach the pub and I ask Will whether he wants me to drop him at home, or if he's coming down to Marty's for dinner. "Tom, let me grab a few things and I'll come down with you," he says without any hesitation.

"Make sure this is all right with your mum, OK?" I encourage, as much for my sake as his.

Also, I don't verbalise it, but I am fearful of Lilly getting offside with Will or with me, even though I haven't met her yet. I don't want to arouse any suspicions in her mind, no matter how rational or irrational. They might just be true, and impossible to explain. An inebriated gossip can be unpredictable, and I wouldn't want her to say or do anything that I could regret.

As we slowly approach the shack, the sun is setting below the river gums and I experience that particular déjà vu yet again. Why? As I search my conscious memory without any satisfactory explanation, I stop the car and Will dashes inside.

I very soon become aware that he is taking a lot longer than on the previous occasion. I wait. Nearly ten minutes drag by. Fearing that something has happened to him, I am about to go and investigate when Will emerges, carrying some clothing. He jumps in and looks upset.

"What's up buddy?" I ask, laying a consoling arm across the back of his shoulders and drawing him slightly towards me. He stares straight ahead, avoiding direct eye contact. It's obvious that he is fighting back tears.

"It's OK Tom," Will gets out, with difficulty. "She was almost off her face and blamed me for the place being in such a stinking mess. It's impossible to reason with her when she's in one of those moods, so I just had to clean it all up. Her clothes. Her dirty dishes. Her half-eaten food. Her empty bottles. Her cigarettes and other rubbish. She said I couldn't go to Marty's unless I cleaned up first."

He turns to look at me. All I can do, here, is draw him close enough to rest my forehead on his and say, "Hey, Will. I'm here for you! Whatever you need! We can talk about it later. It's probably time that we had a discussion about you and me anyway. Nothing bad. I really like you, you know. Probably more than I should!"

I smile into his eyes, which brighten considerably. As he pulls his face back from me a little to focus, the worry contours on his face morph, slowly but surely, into smiley lines.

 

Getting out of the car at Marty's we both scream in unison at the barking dogs and go in, to find Marty already `slaving over a hot stove'.

"Lamb roast with vegetables followed by rice pudding," he states as if we had asked him what was on the menu.

It suddenly hits me that both brother and sister, Marty and Anna, are accomplished cooks, and great housekeepers. And both overtly sensual.

He adds, "And I did suspect that I might see you for dinner, Little W... umm, cousin!"

Relaxing in my lightweight grey track pants with my two favourite guys beside me at the dinner table, I have a hard time deciding whose lamb roast is better - Marty's or my mother's. Both are excellent. And Marty has made a tangy but sweet mint sauce to go with it. Nice. The pumpkin is soft, the potatoes are crisp and the roast onion, parsnip and steamed peas are just full of flavour. Sorry Mrs Grant, you only take second prize on this one!

Will is already into his second helping of rice pudding. I stop at one. I'm stuffed already, despite my taste buds demanding to be further tantalised.

Will and I go into our dish washing, drying, putting-away routine as Marty makes no pretence about staring at us. I am starting to feel uncomfortable about what could be going through his mind when, pointing his finger backwards and forwards between Will and me he says, "You know, there is something about you two...!"

`Fuck!' I think. `He's worked it out! Will and me. Now I'm in deep, deep shit.' How could he possibly know? I've said nothing. I've been careful around Will. Apart from the first time he saw me comforting Will, I've been ultra-careful not to do or say anything in Marty's presence that could arouse his awareness of my feelings for his young cousin. And, with Will's perceptive ability, I'm almost certain that he has been careful as well. We always sleep with the bedroom door closed, to `keep the mosquitoes out', and are very quiet in there when we talk and touch. Has Will said anything to Jake? Would Jake say anything to Marty? I look at Will who pouts slightly and shrugs as if to say, `Don't ask me.'

Marty seems to verbalise his thoughts rather than directing them at us. "Why didn't I see it before?" Then he looks straight at Will and points at him.

"You," he starts, "you seem to be coming down and staying an awful lot since the Schoolie, here," pointing at me, "moved in. And, you also seem to be very happy with yourself nowadays. What gives?"

Now, at this point I feel like my world is about to cave in. My stressed brain tries to conjure up words to say on Will's behalf that will appease Marty and deflect his thoughts from the truth. However, I am dumbfounded when Will jumps in. "Very funny Marty! I would have thought that it's as obvious as the nose on your face or, in your case, the cock in your jeans..."

I'm tempted to smile but my heart simply jumps into my mouth. Then Will continues, "Ever since Mr Grant moved in here, your cooking has become restaurant quality. Why wouldn't I want to come and eat with you two, instead of having cold baked beans with stale bread and margarine at home? Am I happy? Yes, Marty. It's because you take such good care of me, and because Mr Grant is helping me with my reading and other stuff. And, you two are fun to be with. I feel great. Why shouldn't I smile?"

Then he adds slowly and deliberately, "But, now that I think about it, Marty, just tell me why you have started cooking such great food for Mr Grant? What gives, yourself? Eh?"

Well, have you ever seen the tables turned so fast! The hunter has instantly become the hunted. There is stunned silence, both from Marty and from me. After a time-stands-still moment, Marty jumps up, grabs a tea towel and flicks Will on the bum with it, making a loud whip-cracking noise. Will stands his ground and just absorbs the impact.

"You cheeky young bugger!" Marty laughs at him.

Now it's Marty's turn to feel uncomfortable and vulnerable. He turns to me and says jovially, "I see what you mean about the big smart arse being a handful. He's all yours."

Then, he turns on his heels, grabs a couple of magazines from the corner table and goes to his room, closing the door not so quietly behind him.

I guess that he didn't want to continue any dialogue where he might have to answer Will's question and, perhaps, divulge a real motive.

I stand motionless and just look at Will, amazed by his quick thinking and daring. All I can manage is an admiring, "Well, done, sport!" Will smiles and walks up very close to me, takes one of my hands and places it directly onto his crotch, holding it there while he says in a low seductive voice, "So, I'm a handful, am I?"

Giving him a gentle squeeze, I reply, "Yes, indeed you are, but I think we're done here. Time to have that you-and-me talk, in private," nodding to indicate our room.

I grab two cans of lemonade from the fridge for Will and me and head to our room for the now-necessary talk about our relationship, including the `brother' fantasy that we have both readily adopted.

I hand him a can, shut the door and sit on my bed. Will looks nervous. I pat the space next to me so that we can sit alongside each other, instead of opposite. I don't want this discussion to appear in any way adversarial. I pop my can and lean back against the wall. Will follows my lead.

I begin, "Will, although I've only been here for a couple of weeks, it just seems that I've known you a lot longer. A lot has happened, hasn't it?" He nods. "I get to call you `Will' when we're alone, and you've done well remembering when it's appropriate to call me `Tom', Mr G.' or `Sir'."

He adds, "And even though it seems that Marty can't make up his mind between `William' and `Willie', you've got everyone calling me `William' instead of `Little Willie'. I can't tell you how much that means to me. Thank you." He leans, so that his shoulder is against mine.

I continue, "And we both understand the value of Marty's House Rule for him and for us - especially us. It means that we not only keep our mouths firmly shut about things we don't want anyone else to know, but it has helped us to be confident and trust each other in what we do. Right?"

"Yeah," he says as he lays his hand on my crotch, gives my `package' a friendly jiggle, then removes it again.

"I love that you let me do that, Tom," he croons. "Like in Marty's truck that first morning and then in your car, and even like this. And I love you rubbing me as well. I would really like to do more, you know, like I do with Karl and Kurt or, even better, like with Jake. And you and I have seen each other naked and hard, and even jerked off alongside each other and Marty into the bath. Remember that morning?"

I reply, "Yes, Will. How could I forget it? It was at that point that I thought of you more as an equal than as one of my students. And I have seen you playing naked with the twins, and I appreciate that you've told me about you and Jake jerking each other off. You really do like having sexy fun with guys, don't you?"

I suddenly feel very guilty for my unintentional suggestion of Will's sexuality. I try to make amends, "Will, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that you are..."

"Gay?" He asks, then pauses. "I know what that means, Tom. And, I'd never admit it to anyone else except you, but, yes. I believe I am. I wasn't sure till I met you. It all makes sense now - I get stiff seeing Marty without his clothes, and I get `sexcited' with Karl and Kurt, and I have a lot of fun jacking off with Jake, but I feel different with you somehow. Even though you've never let me play with you naked, I'd really love to."

He turns, looks into my eyes and pauses, perhaps expectantly. "And I want you to do lots more with me, too, like Jake and I do, but... even more. Even like in Marty's sexy magazine. I feel like I want to do all of that with you." I know that Will is talking about sucking and fucking, and it's impossible for me to stay soft. I quickly tent out my lightweight trackies and make no attempt to hide it from him.

He places his hand back on my crotch and, this time, gives my erection a squeeze. "I'll bet that you'd like to do that stuff with me too. Am I right?"

I get another lump, this time in my throat. OK. Crunch time!

"Will, I've told you that I really like you, and much more than I should. My problem is that I'm your teacher, and the law frowns upon teachers taking advantage of their students. I could end up in prison. You really wouldn't want that to happen, if somebody found out, or put two and two together about us, would you? It might be your mother, or Marty, or Anna, or even Jake's sister. I really think that I've gone too far with you already, let alone doing more!"

Will withdraws his hand and looks absolutely devastated.

Can I possibly balance my desire for him and my professional obligation? How can I stop his heart from breaking? I endure the silence for a very long minute. Then I slowly move my hand onto his crotch and ask gently, "Would you really like to do stuff with me like in that magazine? Because I'd love to do stuff with you, Will. But, to be honest, I'm too shit-scared to." That stuns him.

"Tom," he appeals to me, "I don't know if you are gay too, but all I can tell you is that I want to do stuff with you. I really want to get naked with you and try all that stuff. If you want to do it too, what's stopping us? We can be careful, and quiet and keep it a secret. Nobody will know."

"Will, you told me that you notice things that other people don't, like Marty checking me out. Well, let me tell you that I've also seen the way that you and Jake look at each other, and touch each other. And the way that Karl and Kurt and you whisper and smirk together. You'd better be careful yourself. Do you really think that nobody will see, in our faces, how much we mean to each other? There is something of a bond between us that I can't explain. And I'm really afraid that it's going to become difficult to hide. I was terrified that Marty might have seen it tonight. Maybe he already has."

Will says, half-pleading and half-justifying his feelings, "Tom, I just want to tell you that every time I jack off now, I think of you. At night, I dream of being with you; not just lying next to you, but playing with your body, and you enjoying mine. I don't know how long I can pretend that there's nothing going on in my mind, and my heart, and in my pants." He smiles and returns his hand to my crotch yet again. "Oooh, and in your pants too." He grins at me.

We enjoy a mutual massage of each other's firmness for a few minutes until the wet patch on the front of my trackies becomes too large and too wet. I am about to give in to Will's desire by sliding my hand inside his shorts and letting him do the same to me, when I reluctantly desist! I have to keep reminding myself that Will is just a vulnerable boy inside a very handsome and desirable young man's body.

"Will, I'm aching for you, but I just can't do anything at the moment. Can you understand? Please don't be upset with me. Can we just continue to enjoy doing this for a while, and take things really slowly? And, I want you to know that if you and I were really brothers, I'd let you do whatever you want with me, even everything you've seen in the porn mag. But..."

"Tom! Karl, Kurt and I like being naked and grabbing each other's cocks, and Jake and I love jacking each other off, whenever we can. I love playing with them, but if I have to wait until you think that it's OK for you and me to do that stuff, then I will wait. I'll settle for doing anything with you, even just this. I just don't want to lose you. I think I love you more than just as a brother. I don't know. I can't explain it. I feel like that science experiment with the two magnets and the iron filings. There's an attraction between us that I can actually feel. I want to be close to you. I want to be closer than just close."

Oh God! I feel exactly what he feels. But I can't give in to my lust. Not now. Not yet. It's too soon.

Perhaps a compromise... "Will, I think we might be able to get away with doing a little more than just playing with the front of each other's pants. I tell you what. If you absolutely promise that you won't do anything, or say or even hint at anything while anyone is around, in case they see us or pick up on the magnetism that I'm feeling too, I'll agree to us exploring stuff that does not involve any skin-to-skin contact with our private bits. So, any touching would be OK so long as there is material between us. What do you think?"

Of course he's going to agree! I don't need to ask, but I want to hear him say it.

"Really?" He asks as excitedly as if he has just won a horse in a card game.

I can see the wheels already spinning in his head, and I can't imagine what measure of sexual activity he's dreaming up.

"Is that all?" he asks with an almost-evil grin. "No skin-to-skin contact with your cock and balls or your butt? But everything else is OK if we have some clothing on? What if one of us is just covered by a sheet? Does that count as material between us?"

His mind is in overdrive and I can tell that his brain is lining up a whole lot of stuff to do already.

I want him as much as he wants me, but I hope that I can control my urges from overstepping the mark and giving in to him. I know it's skating on very thin ice!

"Yes, Will. Really," I tell him. "Just the material rule - clothing or a sheet, or a towel. Deal?"

"Hell Yeah, Tom! Deal!" I hope and pray that Marty isn't listening.

As I place my hand over the now-throbbing big cock in his shorts, he grins and lowers his face directly towards the wet spot on my track pants. He's gonna push this rule to its very extreme, I can tell.

-----

Will and I are now some weeks into our newly-defined `material rule' relationship with restricted benefits. LOL.

We have spent a lot of time alone together in the bedroom, and I explain to Marty that I am helping him with his reading, using the Motor Traffic Handbook for Learner Drivers as a basis. I feel that it's far more practical for a sixteen-year-old than any of the Elementary Readers in the school's store room, with their juvenile language and artificial stories.

Judging by his expressions, although he doesn't say anything, I don't know whether Marty fully believes me, but Will corroborates my story whenever the need arises, telling Marty how good he's getting.

On a couple of occasions, Marty has grabbed the book and asked Will to read to him, to ensure that he hadn't just memorised it and was reciting it, prompted by relevant pictures. Some kids can do that, pretending to read.

He's getting really good all right, and not just at his reading. Will, as expected, has taken full advantage of the `material rule'. Not that I'm complaining!

Only a couple of days ago, having just pulled up my clean underwear after taking an early shower, I felt Will come up behind me and press his naked body against mine, holding me around the chest. I could feel his stiffness press between my cheeks. He nestled his rod into the length of my crack and started thrusting movements. Feeling him slip up and down, the extremely thin material did not detract from the sensation at all. "Will..." I began to say.

"Hey, I'm not breaking the rule Tom," he quickly jumped in. "You've got your undies on."

I continued, "Will... can you at least close the door first?" After giving me a goofy grin, more of an embarrassed `oops' face, he did. I stayed in the same position but turned so that I could watch him. I enjoyed watching his weighty cock bounce up and down as he hurried the few steps back. He held me again, and resumed his frotting, alternately bending his knees and stretching up, sliding his cock from near my hole to the small of my back, then down again, dry humping me.

"Oh, Tom, I just had to try this. Wow. It feels so good," he growled.

"We are seriously going to get into trouble, you know." I said to him. "But don't stop now." My own breathing was quickening at the sensation of his rock-hard cock sliding up and down my crack. He rested his head against my back and just went for it a bit faster, grunting each time that he pushed. He reached around me and took hold of my underwear-covered cock, which was straining to one side, and started rubbing it, and squeezing it, and fondling my balls. I savoured every moment.

After a couple of minutes or so, I felt his body tense. "Oh, no you don't!" I laughed. "I've just had a shower." I grabbed for my towel, turned quickly and grasped his cock with it as he erupted. Will wrapped his arms around my neck, and finished thrusting into my hand and cumming into the towel. I let go, leaving the towel hanging from his erection, like a shirt on a fence post, and told him to go to the bathroom to `clean up and cool off'.

"Thanks." He said, grinning. "I really needed that."

-----

This morning, as I look over at him, I can see his morning wood seriously disturbing the flatness of the sheet that covers him. He appears to be still sleeping.

My turn to instigate something! I creep out of my bed and over to his. My own cock is rock hard in anticipation as I kneel astride his slightly-parted legs, and lower my crotch onto his. I support myself on my elbows with my face only centimetres from his own. As his body regains consciousness, he smiles first, then slowly opens his eyes. He pushes the sheet down off his chest so that, from the waist up, there is nothing between us. He reaches up, takes my head in his hands, kisses me, then lays my head alongside his own.

He gently thrusts his hips up into me, and I reciprocate. This time, I take the initiative, and play `sword fights' with him, lifting myself up and down, moving myself from side to side, and sliding our poles against each other. I can feel his hot breath against the side of my face for the many minutes that we silently enjoy each other.

We both start breathing harder and then panting. The next thing that I feel is his pulsing cock and the emergence of a warm wetness between us. I restrain my urge to cry out. Within a matter of seconds, and a couple more thrusts, I add massively to the wetness of the sheet and relax onto him fully. We just lie together in silence, waiting for our breathing to return to normal and for our erections to subside.

It's only when I hear the toilet flush, and thereby know that Marty is up and about, that I move. As I pick up my towel for a quick cleansing shower, I look at the huge mess that Will and I have made of his sheet. It will soon dry in this heat.

I hope that Marty doesn't come in and see it in the meantime. As I head for the bathroom, I call out "Morning, Marty!"

He echoes that he will have breakfast ready in ten minutes, then adds, "Is that lazy cousin of mine even awake yet?"

I smile to myself, then call out, "Oh, Yeah! He's up!" as I close the bathroom door.

I relieve my bladder first then take a quick, cleansing shower.

I'm enjoying the new level of my brother fantasy with Will although, from time to time, I suspect that playing out this fantasy might simply be the attempted justification of my unprofessional lust for him. However, deep in my heart, what I actually feel for Will is much more than lust. I feel a very strong connection with this young man. Apart from the vision of his muscular, blemish-free body and an undeniably handsome face, he's witty and radiates a magnetism that I've never experienced previously - with anyone. I'm happy just to be in his presence and to look at him, and to take in the fluidity of his every movement, and to feel his every grin and wink and smirk causing my heartbeat to quicken. The sexual play is a bonus - but what a great bonus! He appears satisfied with the freedom we've agreed because I believe that, apart from the skin-to-skin restriction, our playfulness complements, for him, what he's doing with Jake, or rather what he isn't doing with Jake.

We pass each other in the doorway. I flinch as he makes to grab my naked crotch, but he stops centimetres short, whispering, "It's OK, Tom. I know the rules!" My heart jumps yet again. He smirks then closes the bathroom door. And, yes, he's delightfully playful!

Over breakfast Marty asks, "It's Saturday. You guys want to come into town with me this morning?" I reflect on the possibilities and the opportunity to look around, with Marty as a guide, recalling that the town was just a blur on my first day out here as I passed through to pick up the school keys from the Post Office.

"Great idea. Thanks, Marty. I can do my preparation this afternoon when we get back."

I look to Will for his response. He says, "Thanks, Marty, but if it's all the same, some other time. I told Karl and Kurt that I would spend some time with them today."

He glances at me ever-so briefly and I detect an intent which I'm sure that Marty doesn't.

I simply smile and say, in the most unemotional voice that I can muster, for Marty's benefit, "OK, William. Have fun."

But, as I pick up my plate and mug and walk behind Marty to the sink, I turn and, taking a jiggling handful of my gear, I give Will a smirk and a wink. He looks from me down to his plate; I suspect so that Marty cannot see any give-away expression on his face.

We soon drop Will near the pub then do a U-turn, and Marty's metallic blue SUV roars towards `Big Town'.

I fully expect Marty to quiz me, on the way, about me and Will, given his previous statement of `there is something about you two'.

He starts with, "So, what do you think of... Willie... umm... William?" Then he adds, "Damn, it's hard not to call him `Little Willie'!"

I'm not sure that I can withstand 90 minutes of cross examination, but I start with, "He's a good kid, Marty. And I might joke about him being a handful and a smart-arse, but he's really eager to learn. Not to mention, he's an incredibly talented artist, as you, yourself, pointed out to me."

Marty appears to ignore what I have said and, for once, I am thankful that he launches into an O'Brien soliloquy. "He really likes you, you know, Tom. You are the only Schoolie who has ever really taken an interest in him. He tells me that you praise him, help him every day with his reading, offer him advice when he asks for it and you seem to go out of your way to ensure that the kids respect him, and each other. I suppose this is the first opportunity that I've had to thank you for that. I used to worry about him so much, especially with his mother the way that she is. And, now, you've even got me calling him just plain `Willie' and `William'."

I can tell that Marty does not know the full extent of Lilly's abuse of her son. Perhaps I don't either, more or less. Will has never gone into detail. I've just presumed the worst.

I'm happy to leave Marty's understanding at Lilly's drunken ranting, raving and abandoning of her son to fend for himself.

My ego is boosted by Marty's recounting of many positive things that Will has offered up about me, without a single hint of anything physical. Marty even apologises for his `lovebirds' jibe on that first Saturday night. I smile, but guiltily think, `If you only knew, Marty!'

The trip to Big Town doesn't seem long. Interspersed with his thoughts on everything and everyone in The Village, Marty points out various landmarks, family homesteads of some of my students and other `country' features along the way. Fortunately, he omits any linking of me with his sister, Anna. Maybe he's saving that for the drive home!

The morning is well advanced when we pull up in the shade of a row of large peppercorn trees.

Getting out of Marty's SUV, I can smell them. Spicy and, yes, peppery.

Also, I am immediately confronted by the dusty heat, by the buzz of cicadas, by the annoyance of flies and additionally, by the strong scent of eucalyptus oil from gum trees.

Our first stop is the grocery store, with its lingering smell of old wooden floorboards, so different to the daily-disinfected marble tiles of the arcades and malls at home.

Marty introduces me to the friendly and rotund grocer, gives him a list and says that we will be back later to pick everything up. I reflect that this is what `customer service' must have been like prior to `self-service' supermarkets.

We walk up one side of the main street and down the other, the only strip of shops in town. Marty identifies each shop and introduces me to almost everyone that we pass. After half a dozen encounters, I have developed `stock, standard' answers to their usual questions of `How do you like it out here?' and `Where are you from?' Marty's answer to `And, how's your Mum?' is also well-practised.

We end up at the `Acropolis Café'. It seems that just about every country town that I've been to has one of this name. The Greek pictures on the walls seem so out of place here. But I've never found one yet that didn't serve great food at a reasonable price.

There are two rows of horseshoe-shaped booths with tightly-studded red vinyl seats, each of which will accommodate about six people. We sit at one near the front of the shop, with me facing the door.

As people come in, Marty introduces me to them. Many of them are roustabouts or general farm hands and, judging from the handshakes and shoulder jabbing, many seems to know Marty very well.

One pair, a handsome man and a curvaceous young woman, continue to their own seats after our obligatory introductions and pleasantries.

It is only as they walk away that I become aware of the scent. That one in Marty's car! Was it him? Or her? Was it after-shave or perfume? Maybe I'll get a chance to talk to them separately sometime, if not today, isolate the source of the aroma, and put another piece of my Marty-puzzle into place.

We order coffee and I add a custard tart - one of my many weaknesses. I'm half way through it when I look up to see a police officer walk in and stand by our table. He looks directly at me and asks, "Excuse me sir, are you Thomas Grant?"

"Yes, sir." I answer.

"Could I please have a word, Mr Grant – outside," he states sternly.

I look at Marty who shrugs then, laying down my half-eaten pastry, I get up nervously and follow.

My heart is pounding as a dozen scenarios race through my mind, foremost of which are those involving me and Will.

 

(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/

-----

If you like this story, and haven't said 'hello' yet, please take a couple of minutes to email me.

rob.zz@hotmail.com

I try to reply to everyone. Please be patient.

-----

Please support the efforts at Nifty. Every little bit helps to ensure that

our stories continue to be posted. Do it here: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html