Date: Mon, 29 May 2006 18:11:09 -0400 From: Jeff A Subject: Bren's Games Disclaimer: The events and persons described in this story are the product of my imagination. Some of the places happen to be real. This story is adult entertainment and not intended to be taken seriously. * * * Bren's Games The two boys became friends by accident of surname - when they arrived for their first day of school, Grade 1 at age 6, their teacher placed all the girls in pairs on one side of the room, and all the boys on the other. Paul Smith and Brenden Snedden were paired up in a double-seated wooden desk, the kind that was so ancient, it had a circular hole up the front for the inkwell, next to the groove for pencils. The old-fashioned desks were a good match for their old-fashioned teacher, Miss MacKinson, who was a firm believer in speaking only when spoken to, raising one's hand to ask a question, proper deportment, and above all, separating the sexes. Bren lived only a block and a half from school, and walked each morning by himself. In most country towns in Australia kids could still do that without fear, up until the late 1990's. Paulie was a 'bus kid' - one of about fifty children who lived in the large rural district surrounding the school. The further out you lived, the earlier the bus picked you up on its circuitous route around the back roads of Warrumbungle Shire. Paulie's parents had a beef smallholding - only about 200 acres - where they bred and fattened cattle for the city abbatoirs. The day Paulie stepped onto that old school bus for his first day at school was also the first time he had ever met anyone who was not related to him, so isolated was his parents' farm. Brenden, by contrast, was as gregarious a six-year-old as you could wish to meet. He knew the name of everybody in his street, all of the shopkeepers on Station Road (the main street of Warrumbungle Village), the postman, the milk cart driver, the garbage collector and even the old bloke that kept the grass mowed on the town's cricket oval. Bren was a born organiser. Paulie was as timid as a lamb. The two boys somehow complemented each other, and were firm friends from that first school day. Even though their second grade teacher, Miss Whittle, seated them on opposite sides of the room, the easy friendship of the two boys continued at morning recess and at lunchtime, when all the boys played their vigourous games and all the girls sat under the shade of the big poinciana and talked about the many things girls talk about. In third grade, their teacher Mrs Lawson followed the enlightened policy of allowing students to choose their own desk partners, so Paul and Brenden were reunited. Mrs Lawson was acknowledged by many as a good teacher, and one of her classroom management techniques was to threaten to split up desk partners if they misbehaved. She never had cause to worry with Bren and Paulie. The two boys valued their friendship too highly to wreck it by classroom misbehaviour. It was inevitable that the parents of the two boys would meet sooner or later. Mr and Mrs Smith did not get many opportunities to socialise, as the farm took up all of their time. The occasion of Paulie's eighth birthday provided the occasion for the Smiths to meet the parents of some of the children their son talked about at dinnertimes. Paulie's birthday party was a combination kids' party and adult social event, running from mid-morning until mid-afternoon. The kids, mostly Paulie's cousins, a few boys and girls from his class at school (and Bren, of course), had their own party table, leaving the adults, mostly Paulie's uncles and aunts plus the Sneddens, to sit around the barbecue and knock back grown-up food and drink. After lunch, Brenden organised the other kids in a peanut-eating contest. He showed them how to throw a peanut in the air and catch it in their mouths. All the kids had a riot of fun until one boy nearly choked. Bren hit him on the back and the peanut spurted out, making the boy burst into laughter. Brenden then poured fizzy soft drinks for all the boys, and started a belching contest. The girls flounced off in disgust, leaving the boys swigging soft drinks, burping and laughing. By three o'clock, everyone had enjoyed their fill and the guests began to depart in dribs and drabs. The Sneddens had given permission for Bren to stay on a sleep-over, while all the other children left with their parents. Since there was still several hours of daylight, Paulie suggested that the two should ride their bikes out to the small dam which watered the stock, about three hundred yards from the farmhouse. "Want to go for a swim?", Paulie asked when they pedalled up to the dam wall. "Dad's made a concrete ramp so it's not too muddy". "Um, we didn't bring our swimsuits, Paulie", Bren pointed out. "Don't need 'em. All the girls are gone", Paul replied with simple boy logic, and began to strip off his shirt and shorts. Undies quickly joined the pile, and a laughing Paulie skipped naked down the makeshift concrete slope into the muddy water. Shrugging, and feeling a bit weird, Brenden undid his clothing and made a pile of it next to his bike. Nudity in the open air was an intoxicating new sensation for Bren, who laughed as he splashed Paul and promptly fell over into the warm water. After their swim, the two boys dried off by lying on the sun-warmed concrete ramp, letting the warm air and sunshine evaporate the droplets of moisture from their bodies. Each boy had a good look at the other's nakedness, and decided it was okay to lie there nude. The two boys slept like very tired logs that night, and had another nude swim at the dam the next morning before Bren's dad drove out to the farm after lunch to pick him up. Bren's ninth birthday fell a few months later in the year. The only present he asked for was to invite Paulie for a sleepover. Mr Snedden had to drive out to the farm to pick him up, and drive him back the next day. Paulie loved everything about his overnight stay in the village - the noise of the big timber trucks as they plied their air brakes on the mountain road outside town; not having to do farm chores for a whole day; riding Bren's skateboard on the footpaths; so many different 'town' smells. He envied Bren's lifestyle very much. For his part, Brenden thought Paul was the luckiest kid ever - all the wide open spaces of the farm to ride his bike; swimming nude in the dam whenever he wanted; his pet galah and the cattledogs Jess and Jenn. Bren also admired Paulie's parents, the Smiths. They were almost always cheerful, even though the farm struggled to make a profit. They were very affectionate with Paul, unlike his own parents who were somewhat reserved. The alternating birthday sleepovers continued, and became a kind of tradition. On Paulie's twelfth birthday there was no party, only a sleepover. Paulie and Bren cycled out to the dam as soon as Bren's dad dropped him off, and both boys had stripped off their shorts and tee shirts and undies before the front wheels of their bikes, which lay on their sides on the dam wall, had stopped spinning. The two boys horsed about for fifteen minutes, splashing each other, trying to push each other over, playing 'shark attack' or 'crocodile roll', games that Bren made up on the spur of the moment. He was always doing that, Brenden. Didn't matter if he was in the school playground, in church, or walking along the footpath outside his house; he was always thinking up games to play, ether solo or in company. Tired after a full day of school and a vigourous splashathon, the two boys dragged themselves out of the water to dry off in the late afternoon sun. They lay on the concrete ramp, hands behind heads for pillows and looked up at the clouds, streaked red with the afternoon sun. The two boys were lying so close together, their elbows touched. The touch developed into a poke, then a jostle, soon a joust, quickly escalating into an all-out elbow war. The two boys got tired of that, too. Paul, who had been staring at Brenden's groin while catching his breath suddenly yelled "Hey! You got a hair!" "Bullshit! Where?" Brenden replied, looking down towards his crotch. "Right there!", Paulie exclaimed, and without so much as a by-your-leave, launched himself onto Brenden's stomach and thighs with both arms, pulling Brenden's small penis and slightly saggy scrotum this way and that, examining all around it for the filament he thought he just now saw. "Hey! Watch it! They're the only ones of them I got!", Brenden giggled, not unhappy that in his quest to locate the elusive precursor of puberty, Paul was giving his tool a very pleasant twirling. "Here it is!", Paul declared triumphantly, pulling Brenden's toyset to one side as he pointed to a single follicle, half an inch long, growing out of a crease of skin between penis and scrotum. "Well, whattaya know! A pube! I always knew I had it in me!", Bren joked. "Now, what about yours, eh?", he smirked, turning the tables on his smaller friend, tugging and twisting Paul's dick about. He couldn't do much with Paul's scrotum as it had not yet fully descended. "Yer wasting yer time", Paul lamented. "I checked this morning. Still as bald as a baby's butt". Paul was certainly no longer the shy child that Brenden met when starting school six years earlier. "Yeah, but it's fun to look, innit?", Brenden replied. He would have like to play more with Paulie's youthful genitals, but Paul had never given the slightest indication that he was into that, and Bren didn't want to do anything to risk their friendship. He rolled back to lie alongside Paul. The two boys looked up at the clouds again. "Are you still on for the holiday at Coffs Harbour next month? You haven't been grounded or anything like that?" Paul ventured. "You bet! I can't wait! My folks haven't been able to take me to the beach for ages", Bren replied enthusiastically. * * * "It's a bloody nightmare come true!" complained Paul when he met him at school on the last day of Term. The two boys' holiday at Coffs Harbour with Paul's parents was due to start the next day. When he first heard Paul's outburst, Brenden thought the holiday was off. "Off? Nah, it's still on. But guess what? My butthead of a cousin, Tristan, is coming too!" Paul moaned. "His parents, my Auntie Annie and Uncle George, are looking after the farm for mum and dad while we're away". "Tristan? Have I met him? What's he like?" asked Brenden casually, not wishing to sound too interested. "Er, he was at my party when I was ten, I think that's the only time you woulda seen him. He was only eight then. He was the little dork who always wanted to hang out with us, but every time you made up some cool game to play, he ran crying to his mummy", Paul explained. "He'll wreck our whole week, I know he will". Brenden didn't want any dramas before the trip even got underway, in case the Smiths changed their minds. "How about you just leave him to me? You just ignore him. I'll keep him out of your hair", he counselled. "Yeah, well, he's a bit of a spoilt brat. He's an only child, his olds give him everything, I hope you know what you're letting yourself in for", Paul replied. "Hey, I'm an 'only child' too, remember", Brenden expostulated, but in a light-hearted way. "You're nearly one too, both your big sisters have left home". "Just keep him away from me, and maybe we'll still have a cool time", Paul muttered. * * * Brenden's dad dropped him off at the farm early the next morning. Tristan was already there, having arrived with his folks on the train late the previous night. With the car already loaded up, it only took fifteen minutes to get on the road. One thing puzzled Brenden, who chose to sit in the middle of the back seat to keep the sparring cousins apart - when Brenden arrived at the farm, Tristan was wearing jeans and a checkered western shirt; when the boys climbed into the car a few minutes later, Tristan was wearing a tank top and boardshorts, the same outfit he and Paul were wearing. "Kids!", he thought, dismissing the wardrobe change as of no importance. Twenty minutes into the three-hour trip saw the three boys playing "rock-paper-scissors", with Brenden, who suggested it, in the middle playing two handed. With his left he competed with Tris who sat on his left, and with his right he played against Paulie. Actually, Brenden found he was better at the game when he didn't think about what to choose, and just made fist choices at random. The punishment for losing a round was a punch in the thigh, but Brenden didn't punch Tris very hard - he was beginning to enjoy sitting close to the younger boy, punching and being punched. When the punishment got a bit too vigourous, Mrs Smith leaned over the seat and told the boys to "Settle!", so they went back to watching the passing scenery for a while. It didn't take much longer for Tristan to fall asleep, his head leaning on Brenden's shoulder. He'd had a late night coming in on the train, and an earlier start that morning than he was accustomed to. Paulie was listening to music on his mp3 player and watching the countryside slip by. A few minutes later, Tristan, apparently still asleep, pulled Brenden's left arm in to his chest and began cuddling it like a comforter. He curled his leg over it to completely capture the arm, leaving Brenden unsure whether to be happy or embarrassed. Mrs Smith twisted around in her seat to survey the scene and just smiled. Tristan's mother was Mrs Smith's younger sister. "Tristan's got a little crush on you, I think, Brenden", she whispered theatrically. "That's so cute. He was so excited last night when he heard you'd be coming along. I'm glad you're here to keep them apart", she added. Paul looked over at the other two boys and simply rolled his eyes. Brenden took advantage of the quiet moment to give Tristan a closer inspection than he had previously. The more he checked the younger boy out, the more he saw to like. Tris had a ginger mop of hair, about the same colour as Paulie, only a shade or two lighter. "Must get it from their mothers", Bren thought to himself. The boy's skin was a pale golden colour, even under the tank top, which drooped open at the top, allowing Bren a good look at Tristan's chest. "He's got big nipples for a boy", Bren thought again. "There's some girls in my class at school who've got them like that. They poke out the front of their T shirts", he mused. Moving his eyes lower, he gazed at Tristan's long, smooth legs. "A bit like a girl's", he thought, as his penis started to swell in his boardshorts. Just at that moment, Tristan stirred in his sleep and pulled Brenden's arm even closer to his chest. Brenden smirked as his wrist was crushed against Tristan's groin. He couldn't feel anything, only the warmth of Tristan's close body. He sighed and tried to relax. Outside the car, a summer shower suddenly erupted, blurring the windows. * * * The rain storm lasted the last half hour of their trip into Coffs Harbour. The family arrived at the resort and checked in to their room. Mr Smith asked the boys to put all the clothes and gear into the respective bedrooms while he took Mrs Smith to the resort's bar for a much needed pick-me-up after the long drive. "We won't be long, boys, just need a little something to wash down the dust of the road", he explained. Bren thought this a strange thing to say, given the rainy weather, but adults always said strange things. "We'll come back for you at lunchtime, by then you should have all the gear stowed away. Don't leave the room please, until we come for you. It's still raining anyway", he added, ushering Mrs Smith to the door. When the adults had departed, Brenden organised the unpacking of the suitcases, making it into a challenge between Paul and Tristan. With nothing else to do, the boys were finished in five minutes. "What about a game, Brenden?" suggested Paulie. Tris looked to Brenden, interested. "Hmm", the older boy mused. "We're stuck inside, there's only three of us...I know! What about 'Blind Man's Buff'? It's fun!", Bren enthused. "How do you play?", Tristan asked timidly. "Well, it'll be easier if I go first. That way you just do what I do when it's your turn. First, I take a blindfold-", here Brenden pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket with a theatrical flourish "-and cover my eyes. You two go into the bedroom and try to make yourselves different somehow - maybe kneel on a chair, muck up your hair or swap clothes or anything like that - because when I come in there and catch one of you, I have to try to figure out who I caught, by using the sense of touch alone. Don't make a sound, or I'll be able to hear who you are". "What if you can't find us?", Tris asked with a giggle. His laugh sounded like a tinkling bell, Brenden thought. "Well, obviously, if you hide in a cupboard or something I'll never find you and there wouldn't be any game. That's no fun. No, you have to let me catch you, that's part of it. If I guess who you are, then it's your turn to be the Blind Man-" "And if you don't, we get ta punch ya", Paulie interrupted. "Come on, Tris, it's even easy enough for you to play", he added, dragging his cousin into the bedroom. Brenden waited in the kitchen, tying the hankie around his head to cover his eyes. In the bedroom, Tristan began pulling tentatively at the hem of his shirt. "Do we swap clothes now?", he asked his older cousin. "Nah", scoffed Paulie. "He'll be expecting that. Let's just pull our shirts out and pretend like we swapped 'em. Let's mess up our hair, too. You kneel on this bed, I'll lie on that one, that way he can't tell who we are from our height". Tris was happy to comply, grateful his cousin was including him in the game. A yell of "Coming!" from outside made the two boys scamper to their positions. Blindfolded, Brenden walked into the bedroom like a sleepwalker, both arms outstretched, feeling for furniture that Paul might have 'accidentally' left in his way. His sense of hearing was sharper, but the rain on the roof drowned out the sounds of breathing he was hoping to hear. His knee bumped one of the beds so he began waving his arms around like an insect's feelers, trying to touch a body. Tristan saw Brenden getting very close to him, so he moved one knee back but the mattress squeaked and Brenden closed in on him and caught him by the arm. "Aha!" he declared. "I've got one of you. Now I only have to figure out which one it is". Brenden guessed that Paulie, who enjoyed comfort more than almost anything, would probably be lying down rather than kneeling up, so he decided he probably caught Tristan. Brenden began his inspection by ruffling Tristan's hair. "Hmm", he noted. Tristan suppressed a giggle, thinking this game was more fun than he thought it would be. Brenden moved his hands to Tristan's face, feeling all around it with his fingertips, touching Tristan's eyebrows, nose, lips and earlobes. Brenden's fingers travelled over Tristan's neck and shoulders. They touched, they tickled, and they stroked. The fingertips soon reached the hem on Tristan's tank-top, and ran all the way around it to his back. "Hmm", Brenden murmured again, as his hands pushed their way up inside the light cotton top, making Tristan flinch with a mild ticklishness. Brenden's fingers reached Tristan's nipples, and began to circle and probe. Tris gave a little moan, then stopped himself. The fingers were making his nipples stiff and aroused, but he clamped his mouth shut. He was determined to show the two bigger boys that he could play any game they made up. Brenden sensed a kind of eagerness within Tristan, a fervent desire to be touched and fondled, so he decided to make the most of it. He moved one hand around to the small of Tristan's back, to support him, then began stroking his chest and little tits in earnest, all the while making soft inquisitive noises to try to give the impression that he was trying to figure out whom he had caught. Tris couldn't help himself. Turned on by Brenden's groping, he began whimpering like a puppy that is being petted by a beloved master. His whimpering soon became a panting, as the hand that was in the small of his back dropped down to his bottom, and the hand that was on his chest and tummy dropped down to...to...his... "Oooh!" Tristan gasped, unable to keep quiet any longer, as Brenden gently groped his crotch and had a generous feel of Tristan's stiff little poker, and a tickle of Tristan's little balls. "Aha! It's Tristan!" Brenden declared triumphantly, tearing off the blindfold. His plan, had Tristan objected to being handled, was to make out that he only did it to get Tristan to speak, and thus discover who he was. But there was no need for subterfuge - Tristan was delighted with the whole experience. "Okay, you got me! My turn now! My turn!", he yelled, bobbing up and down on his knees on the bed. "Allright already!", Brenden yelled over the top of Tristan's yelling. "You go in the kitchen, and I'll put the blindfold on you for your turn. Scoot!" Brenden followed Tris out of the bedroom, Paul right behind them. "Okay, Tris, tell me if you can see", Bren ordered, tying the handkerchief around his brow. "I can't see anything!" he yelled in reply. "We're not deaf just because you can't see!" Paul yelled back. Brenden shushed them both, and made a sign to Paul to follow what he was doing. Brenden took off his tank top and dropped it on the floor. Shrugging his shoulders, Paul did likewise. Creeping quietly around behind Tristan, Brenden said "Okay, Tris, we're ready." Tristan wheeled around at the sound of Brenden's voice. The two shirtless boys stood in front of the Blind Man, awaiting his next move. Tristan raised his arms and felt about in the empty air. Paul did not much feel inclined to be caught by his younger cousin, so he fell back a little. Brenden stood his ground, and was immediately caught by the arm by the younger lad. "Aha! I got you! Now to figure out who you are!" Tristan shouted triumphantly. He began with Brenden's head, just as Bren had done to him. After feeling Brenden's face, Tristan moved to his shoulders, giving a little gasp when he realised that Brenden had removed his tank top. "So! You're trying to trick me! You guys didn't swap clothes at all!" Tris exclaimed, running his hands over Brenden's chest and stomach. When he felt the waistband of Brenden's boardshorts, his shoulders slumped a little in disappointment, a reaction that made Bren raise an eyebrow. "But I still think I can figure out who you are!", Tris stated smugly. He ran his open palm over the front of Brenden's boardies, feeling an element of stiffness beneath, and moved on to Brenden's bare thighs. Brenden had been holding his breath, expecting this to happen, forcing himself not to flinch or make a sound. But Tristan outsmarted him, a good trick for a ten-year-old. As soon as Brenden released his pent-up breath, thinking that he had outlasted Tristan's search, Tris brought his hand back up to Bren's crotch and grasped Brenden's stiffened rod. Brenden was shocked that this sweet, innocent looking little boy could be so bold. He grunted in surprise, but did not flinch as Tristan held his tool firmly. His surprise jumped up a level when Tristan's little hand dropped lower and grabbed Brenden's balls. "I wonder who this is?" Tristan mused out loud and he squeezed and released, squeezed and released. Brenden started to puff with discomfort, trying to keep from making any recognisable sounds, finally relaxing when Tristan let go of his nuts. But he was not finished there. Tristan's fingers fell to the leg hem of Brenden's boardshorts and began to worm their way up his smooth thigh. As the legs were very loose, Brenden realised that Tristan's fingers would reach his groin in about two and a half seconds. He gasped "Oh!" just as the little fingertips grazed his undies. Tristan grinned broadly in triumph. "It's Brenden!". Ripping the hankie off his eyes, he yelled "I guessed! I got it right! Ha ha ha!", capering madly around the small kitchen. Mr and Mrs Smith chose that moment to return to the unit to take the three boys to lunch. Mrs Smith gave Paul and Brenden a funny look as they pulled their tank tops back on, but Tristan distracted her by his obvious happiness. She was relieved the three were getting along so well. * * * Lunch in one of the resort's restaurants was a cosy affair. Tristan insisted on sitting next to Brenden at the dining table. Mr and Mrs Smith invited the boys to outline their plans for the afternoon over their buffet lunch. Between mouthfuls of food, Paulie suggested that he urgently needed to check out the local amusement parlours, to see what new video games existed in the big wide world outside Warrumbungle Shire. Tristan, who had been bumping Brenden's knee with his own all through lunch, wanted to go to the beach for a swim. Brenden, of course, bumped right back. "But there's a pool here at the resort, darling", Mrs Smith countered. "I know, Auntie, but I hardly never get to swim in surf. Can I please? Brenden can come with me to look after me. Please?" he whined, and looking to Brenden for his concurrence, Mrs Smith gave in. "All right, but I'm making a firm rule here and now. Nobody goes near any kind of water, whether pool or ocean, by himself. You always have to go in pairs, or all three at once. No discussion, no exceptions!". She glanced at Mr Smith for affirmation, which he gave with a nod of the head, his mouth full of food. * * * A sandy track led from the back entrance of the resort, through some sand dunes that were lightly forested with scrubby melaleucas, to the beach. Tristan held Brenden's hand as they skipped along the makeshift path, swinging their arms wildly as they went. Tristan seemed as happy as a dog with two tails. "Can we play that game again, the blind man game?" he chirped. "Well, it won't really work with only two people", Brenden explained. "How about we get off this track and play another game", he suggested, spotting a slightly larger tree among the low shrubs. He guided Tristan off the track about twenty metres to a taller paperbark, where the wind had made a natural bowl-shaped depression in the sand around the base of the tree. "This looks like a good spot", Brenden noted, letting go of Tristan's hand and dropping his towel. "Now, what can we play?" he mused aloud. "I know - how about we play The Animal Game?" "Sure", Tristan replied eagerly, throwing his towel on top of Brenden's. "How do you play?" "Well, it's a bit like Blind Man's Buff because we need a blindfold", Brenden explained. "I've got a clean hankie in my pocket. Now we just need some rope or string...hmm..." The two boys looked around for something suitable, but found nothing, until Tristan exclaimed "What about the cord in my boardshorts? Will that do?" Brenden's boardies had a Velcro fly, but Tristan's were of the old style with a long thin shoelace passing through eyelets on either side of the fly. He began excitedly unthreading the white cord, his boardshorts threatening to fall down as he did so. "Um..." Brenden began, "Won't your boardies fall down if you take that lace out?" "It's okay, I got cozzies underneath", Tris replied, pulling the cord through the last eyelet. His boardshorts promptly fell to his ankles. Tristan giggled as he stepped out of them, kicking the discarded garment towards the base of the tree. He held the cord out for Brenden to take, but the older boy was distracted by the sight of what Tristan had called his 'cozzies'. It was a speedo-type garment, pale green in colour, in the scanty European style. "Gee, Tris, I like your speedos" was all Brenden was able to say. The garment was a micro-bikini style slip, barely covering Tristan's bubble-cheeked bottom in the back, hanging low in the quarter-inch spaghetti-straps at the sides, and about the size of a triangular postage stamp in the front. The material was so thin it looked like it would go transparent when wet. To add to the sexy effect, it was not a tight fit, so that it appeared liable to fall off the boy's hips at any moment. "Oh, these? My Uncle Leo brought them back for me from France. He said all the boys over there wear them. He got me an earring, too, but Mum won't let me get my ear pierced, until I'm fourteen" Tristan confided. "Wow, he must be a cool Uncle", Brenden replied. "Yeah, he's my dad's younger brother, so he's my Uncle but not Paul's. I stayed at his place for a weekend once, it was cool." Brenden shook his head to clear it of a whole bunch of images of what Tristan might have gotten up to while staying the weekend with a friendly Uncle, then said "Okay, the Animal Game. Here's how you play. First I have to blindfold you-", he tied the hankie around Tristan's forehead, "-and I also have to tie your wrists to this branch here-", he looped the cord over a conveniently low-hanging branch of the tree, then tied it loosely around the boy's wrists, so that both his arms were raised to their full extension over his head. Tristan stood like an almost nude ballet dancer performing a pirouette. Brenden admired the younger boy's smooth body for a moment, then continued with the rules, which he was making up as he went. "Now, I am going to imitate...um...three animals, and you have to guess which animals they are. You have to get all three right to win", he declared. "That sounds too easy!", Tristan protested. "What's to stop me from just guessing a whole bunch of animals until I get them right?". "Well...because every time you get an animal wrong...your speedo gets pulled down a bit", Brenden improvised. A shiver ran though Tristan's body as he said this, which reassured Brenden that this was the kind of game Tristan wanted to play. "When you get the animal right, I'll click my fingers, so you'll know", Brenden added, for good measure. He had thought of some elements of this game before that day, but never dreamed he would get such a beautiful body to play it on. "Okay", Brenden declared. "Now the game has started, I'll stop talking, so you wont be distracted. I'll just be animals", he explained, then dropped onto all fours and crawled around Tristan's legs, brushing his bare shoulders and ribcage against Tristan's calves and shins. "Hmm", the near nude boy said aloud. "I can feel you against my legs, like a...a...feels like...a Cat! You're a Cat!" Tristan yelled exultantly. Brenden clicked his fingers once, then stood up. Tristan had a huge grin on his face at his first correct answer. "I wonder what you're going to be next?", he mused aloud. Brenden knelt on the sand in front of the younger boy and formed his fingers into a tight cluster. Beginning at Tristan's foot, the fingers 'walked' up the boy's leg. The sensation of the light fingertip touch was immediately felt by the ticklish Tristan. He squirmed around, but not so much as to dislodge the walking fingers. When the fingers reached mid-thigh, they stopped. Tristan breathed a sigh of relief, but his respite was only temporary. With his other hand, Brenden commenced another set of walking fingertips, up the boy's other leg. "Oooh! It's like...um...tiny little feet...walking on me...like....um....Ants! It's Ants! Oh!" Tristan's shock was caused by Brenden pulling the nearest speedo strap down three inches. The boy flinched a little when he felt his flimsy clothing descend, but did not protest. "Okay. Okay. Not ants", Tristan reasoned aloud. "But it's something with...er...little feet that walk all over a person..." During this monologue, Brenden was having the time of his life, making his twin sets of fingers walk all around the expanse of bare skin on Tristan's exposed, but willing, body. Up his ribs, under his armpits which were fully exposed by Tristan's position, over his shoulder, across his throat, down his back, even across the front of the speedo. They marked time on Tristan's big puffy nipples, which caused a quickening of the boy's breathing, before cascading down to his belly button, an innie. "Shit!" Tristan gasped as his navel was explored by the marching fingertips. Brenden was amused to hear one so young resort to crudity. "What else...oh! Is it a cockroach? Oh!" Tristan gasped again as the thin strap on the other side of the skimpy bathing costume was lowered a similar amount. By doing the same action on both sides, Brenden had established the 'currency' for incorrect guesses - three inches apiece. Now the only things holding the swimsuit in place were Tristan's rounded bottom cheeks in the back, and his cocklet in the front, which had naturally firmed up considerably under all the attention. "Right! Not ants, not a cockroach", Tristan voiced his thoughts. "What else walks all over a person, with little feet? A Spider!" he exclaimed, almost regretfully as the fingertips left his body and he heard the Click! of correctness from Brenden. "One more, and I win!" he bravely asserted. But he was completely unprepared for the next and final set of stimuli as Brenden did what he had been wanting to do since the car trip up from the farm at Warrumbungle Shire. He formed his lips into an 'O' and latched onto Tristan's right nipple and began to suck, gently but insistently. "Gawd!", groaned the boy as he felt like his whole body was being sucked out through his nipple. "What the...what...sucks? Is it...one of those...African things with the long nose that eats ants...an Aardvark? Aagh!" A wrong answer allowed Brenden to reach around behind Tristan and pull his swimsuit all the way down over his left buttcheek. His only regret was that he was busy in front, so he couldn't see the boy's exposed bottom. He switched to the other nipple. "Aargh! Still sucking. Not an aardvark". Tristan continued his verbal logic. "Maybe it's only Aussie animals? That would rule out...er...an elephant, I guess. Oh! That wasn't a guess!" Tris protested as Brenden reach around and pulled the other side of the bathing suit down until it rested below his right bumcheek. His bottom was now fully exposed, the swimsuit only held up by Tristan's stiff, finger-sized penis. Glancing downwards, Brenden could easily see the outline of the shape of Tristan's circumcised glans (as was the custom for Aussie boys at the time) through the almost-gauze-like material. He decided it would be his next target. Poor Tristan was a collage of emotions. He was excited by the game, specifically by the sensuality of it, he was thrilled by the touching from his new friend Brenden, he was determined to win, he was scared of how the game would turn out, and he was getting twitchy from standing still with his arms straight up and tied to the branch overhead. "Okay. Okay. Aussie animals that suck. Jeez! Plenty of them bite, or scratch, or sting! What sucks? Wait a minute! Maybe it's a baby animal - they suck their mothers' teats! Is it a...lamb?", he whispered, fearing the worst. But Brenden was enjoying his open access to Tristan's body way too much to stop now. He curled his index fingers and hooked them into the little spaces between the swimsuit and Tristan's smooth groin, and pulled the front of the suit straight down to mid-thigh. As the blindfolded boy let out a gasp at being thoroughly pantsed, Brenden's lips caught hold of Tristan's flailing stiffie and continued their inexorable sucking. "Oh God! Oh God! Oh Jeez!", Tristan cursed and muttered, tossing his handkerchiefed head from side to side. If the sucking on his nipples was sensuous, this was sensational! Brenden maintained a steady vacuum, and supplemented his lip action by tonguing the boy's sensitive little knob. Tristan was not completely unhappy though. Despite squirming a great deal, he made sure his pricklet didn't fall out of Brenden's mouth. "Well, nothing worse can happen now, so I might as well guess all I want!" Tristan moaned. "Is it a Vampire Bat? Oh!" The cause of Tristan's dismay was his little swimsuit. Brenden had pulled it right down so that it now pooled around his ankles. Brenden's mouth had released its stiff little captive and moved a bit lower to Tristan's scrotum, engulfing both testicles easily, and continued his sucking. "Oh Jeez! Not my balls! Oh! I give up! I can't think of any more, Bren! Please tell me what it is!" Tristan begged. Brenden was turned on, but he wasn't cruel. He released Tristan's tasty little sack from his mouth, pulled the skimpy briefs up his smooth legs and back into place, removed the blindfold and undid his wrists from the simple loop of corded string. Tris was a bit unsteady on his feet as the blood rushed back into his arms, so Brenden supported him by holding him in a very friendly embrace. Finding his mouth near Tristan's ear, he whispered "I was a leech!" Tristan giggled as he slumped to the sand, but Brenden caught him and made him stand while he spread the towels out for them both to lie on. Still rubbing his wrists, Tristan raised his head to look back at the track they left earlier. "Do you think anyone can see us from the track?", he asked Bren. "I don't think so - we're pretty low behind this dune", was his reply. "Well, I know a game too - but it's kind of a secret", Tris added. "Yeah?" Brenden sat up, his interest piqued. "Are you allowed to tell me?" "Um, I guess so. My Uncle Leo showed it to me", Tris confided. "The same Uncle who gave you the swimsuit?" Brenden guessed. This could prove very interesting. "Yep. It's called 'Doctors'. Ever heard of it?" Tris asked, his voice dropped to a sly whisper. Of course Brenden had heard of 'Doctors'. Practically every boy and girl in the world has played this game at some time or other. Some kids enjoyed it so much, they studied at University to become doctors as adults, so they could keep on playing it, and get paid for it. But Brenden thought there might be some merit in ignorance. "No, I don't think so. Can you show me?" he asked, all innocence. "Well, okay. I'll show you like how Uncle Leo showed me. Lay back on the towel", Tris ordered.. Brenden complied. "Now, I'm the Doctor, and you're the patient. You've got something wrong with you, and I have to find out what it is, and cure you. Okay?", Tris explained. Brenden nodded. "Sounds easy enough", he added. Tristan sat up, and squirmed over so that he was sitting alongside Brenden's hips. He placed both sets of fingers on either side of Brenden's throat and pressed lightly. "Does that hurt, young man?", he asked, trying to deepen his voice. Brenden suppressed a giggle, but shook his head in the negative. Tristan moved his fingertips to both of Brenden's small brown nipples and pressed. "What about here. my boy?" he asked in his gruff voice. Brenden shook his head again, and watched the fingers as they moved down to the bottom of his ribs. In his prone position, the older boy's ribcage stood out a little from his abdomen. Tristan pushed gently at the softer flesh just below the bottom rib on either side. "And here, does it hurt?", he asked again. "No, Doctor, not there", Brenden replied, just to find out whether Tris wanted him to have a speaking part in this game. Tris nodded his approval at Brenden's answer. "I'll have to go a bit lower, then, my lad", Tris advised. He placed all his fingertips in a line from waist to waist that crossed Brenden's flat navel, and carefully pressed down. "How about here, my boy?" "Ooh, that does hurt a little bit, Doctor. I think you're getting close to where the pain is", Brenden feigned. He was still sexually charged after the previous game, and it appeared that Tristan wasn't going to waste too much time in preliminaries. He wondered some more about Uncle Leo, but was jolted back to attention by Tristan, who pulled the waistband of his boardshorts outwards and, feeling underneath with his free hand, grasped his hard tool and gave it a light squeeze. "And what about under here, young man. Is your p-p-penis sore?". The excitement of what he was doing made Tristan a little short of breath, and he gasped as he asked the vital question. "Oh, yes, Doctor, now you mention it, it does feel sore", Brenden replied, trying to sound shy. "Well, I'll just have to take a closer look", Tristan stated gruffly. He released the waistband, but then set about unclasping the top button and ripping apart the Velcro fly of Brenden's boardies. Pulling the two sides wide apart, he yanked the garment down to Brenden's knees, the older boy helping by raising his butt a little. Brenden wore a pair of conventional speedos under his boardshorts (because you never know when soggy boardies are going to come off in the surf). He had long ago lost the cord to his speedos, but they stayed up because they were a snug fit. His cock tented the blue nylon upwards, a sight not lost on Tristan, who licked his lips before proceeding. "I'm going to have to remove these as well, my lad", he cautioned, grabbing the sides of Brenden's briefs and drawing the garment down Brenden's thighs to join the boardshorts. Brenden lifted his bum even higher this time, to show he was happy with the direction the game was taking. Brenden's hard rocket seemed glad to be exposed to the dappled sunlight beneath the tree, and pointed proudly upwards. Tristan took hold of the stiff stalk in one hand, and lightly squeezed the exposed knobhead with the fingertips of his other hand. "Is th-this part sore, little boy?", he asked, still feeling around the glans. Squirming under the sensations being generated by Tristan's soft little hands and fingers, Brenden managed to make his voice sound a bit more childish, to fall in line with what he thought was his expected role in Tristan's fantasy game. "Oh, yes, Doctor, that's where it hurts the most, right there at the top of my little penis. The part where my wee-wee comes out. Why does it go all hard like that, Doctor? Is it serious?", Brenden fluttered his eyelashes as he looked up at Tristan. "It's a bad illness called Rigger Morris", Tristan sagely advised. "It makes you go stiff all over, starting right here with your p-penis. There's only one known cure". "A cure? What is it, Doctor? Please, cure me!", Brenden simpered. "The only cure is - saliva! I must apply it directly to your sick penis, to make it better. Lie back while I cure you, little boy". With that startling prescription, Tristan bent down and engulfed as much as he could of Brenden's four-inch boyhood, then slobbered all over it, tonguing the head and licking up and down the sides. The suddenness of the oral attack left Brenden gasping, as he slumped back on the towel. It was all he could do to restrain himself from grabbing Tristan's head and guiding it up and down on his sensitised rod. But the younger boy seemed to be doing well enough on his own. So well, in fact, that Brenden quickly reached a climax, jerking his hips upwards and spitting a single clear drop of pre-come into Tristan's mouth. The young Doctor raised his head and swirled the droplet around before swallowing, smiling and declaring "I think you're cured!" Brenden held his arms out to his young medico, who eagerly accepted the embrace, falling onto Brenden's chest. "You're a good Doctor", Brenden sighed, patting Tristan's bare back. "And you're a good Patient", Tristan replied, snuggling in closer. * * * The two boys never got to the surf that day. After lying on their towels a while longer, Brenden suggested it was time to head back to the resort. Tristan jumped up and grabbed his towel, found his boardshorts and re-threaded the cord (but only in the top eyelets - he put the rest off until later) and dressed himself. Brenden similarly readjusted his clothing, and, hand in hand again, they picked their way back to the track and strolled to the resort. "I wanna sleep with you in your bed tonight, Bren. Can I?" Tristan asked as they skipped along the rough path. "Do you think your Aunt and Uncle would be cool with that?" Brenden queried. "Leave them to me. You just play along", Tris replied. * * * Dinner was taken in one of the resort's restaurants, the three boys filling their tummies at the All You Can Eat buffet. After two bowls of ice cream, Tristan turned a white-moustached face to Mrs Smith. "If I get frightened in the night, can I get in your bed, Auntie Jean?" he asked, as Mrs Smith wiped the remnants of ice cream off Tristan's upper lip with her napkin. "Oh, darling, there's nothing to be frightened of here. I know it's different to home, but Paul and Brenden will be right there nearby, you'll be all right". She glanced at her husband and caught a look of horror from him. Paul just rolled his eyes and sighed. "Well then can I sleep with Brenden?", he whined. Mrs Smith looked relieved, but asked Brenden if that would be okay with him. Playing his part, Brenden made out that he was thinking about it for a couple of moments, then conceded. "I s'pose so, as long as he doesn't wet the bed", he grudgingly agreed. Inside, he was marvelling at the manipulative power of the ten-year-old. "I won't, Auntie. I'll be good", Tris assured her. "That's very nice of you Brenden, thanks very much. I know the beds are only small, but he's only a little fellow, and it would mean a lot to me if Mr Smith and I could have an undisturbed night". Paul shuddered at the thought of his parents wanting to have some privacy, then put it out of his mind. At least the little twerp didn't ask to sleep with him. Following dinner and a lengthy game of three-handed Monopoly on the floor of their family room, the three boys prepared for bed. Paul was surprised that Tristan brushed his teeth without being told, but dismissed it as he kissed his mother goodnight and wandered to the second bedroom the three of them shared. Tristan and Brenden did likewise, but after closing the door behind him, Brenden suggested airily to Tristan that as it might get a bit warm with both of them in the same bed, he should remove his pyjama top so he wouldn't get too hot. Tristan couldn't completely hide his smile as he dropped the garment onto the floor and climbed into the narrow bed where a similarly topless Brenden awaited him. Paul was last to get into bed, so he turned out the light. Brenden and Tristan, spooning under their cosy bedclothes waited a few minutes for Paul's breathing to deepen before talking. Brenden already had his outer arm draped over Tristan's bare chest, and was idly fondling and tweaking his young friend's nipples. "I know another game we can play", Tristan whispered, turning towards his friend. Brenden was not at all bothered that his role as instigator of games was being usurped, especially since Tristan's games had a more adult flavour, coming (indirectly), he suspected, from Uncle Leo. "What is it? Brenden whispered back, as he dropped his hand lower to rub Tristan's tummy. "Mummies and Daddies", Tris replied, reaching down to pull his pyjama shorts down to his knees. He kicked his legs to push the shorts all the way down to his feet, then off. "You take yours off too", he whispered. Brenden squirmed his PJ shorts down his legs and kicked them off to join Tristan's in the bottom of the bed. "I'll be the mummy. You be the daddy", Tristan explained. "You want me to suck you before we start?" "Uh, no thanks, I'm already hard", Brenden muttered, a little embarrassed that a boy younger than him was taking the lead in a way that suggested he was more experienced in these matters. Tristan giggled softly. "Okay, daddy, I'll roll on my back, and you get on top of me. You sort of hafta lean on your elbows". Tristan edged over to the middle of the narrow bunk while Brenden cautiously climbed over the top of him, fearful of making the bed squeak. It was more like a complex gymnastics routine than a game, Brenden thought. Driven on by curiosity as much as lust, Brenden manoeuvred himself into the missionary position above the smaller boy, who then wrapped his legs around Brenden's waist, locking his ankles in the small of Brenden's back. "Mmm, daddy, you're so big and strong. Give mummy a kiss, then you can...fuck me", Tristan's sultry voice urged, barely audible. Brenden was shocked at Tristan's crude language, but also fiercely turned on. He had never kissed a boy before, but in view of what they had already done together. it didn't seem too much to ask. Puckering up, he lowered his hips and lips to the prone boy lying beneath him. At the same time as the tip of his now pulsing erection touched Tristan's bare groin, his lips touched the younger boy's. He felt Tristan's little tongue poke out and part his lips, and realised that they were going to "French kiss", an activity that he had only previously overheard about in giggled whispers among the girls in his class at school. Brenden was momentarily distracted into immobility by the sensation of Tristan's swirling, darting tongue in his mouth, so Tristan decided it was up to him to accelerate the proceedings. He lowered his heels from where they were locked, in the small of Brenden's back, down to the crack of his bottom and began squeezing and flexing, urging Brenden's hips into motion. Brenden might never have contemplated this activity intellectually, but his hips instinctively knew what to do, and began pumping. A small amount of Brenden's pre-come had leaked out of his tool and made the motion of his penis alongside Tristan's more slippery, but after only four or five pumps, the bed began to creak, so he stopped suddenly. "Slowly", Tris whispered, unlocking lips for a second. "Okay, mummy", Brenden replied, trying to keep in character. He made a deep thrust, the tip of his tool reaching almost to Tristan's ribcage, then stopped. Then retracted. He plunged again. Stopped again. Tristan's arms were around his neck, pulling their faces together. Only one more plunge, and Brenden's hips quivered with a spastic ecstasy. He squirted a single drop of clear fluid onto Tristan's tummy, then exhaled deeply. Realising that Tristan had not yet climaxed, he slipped under Tristan's grasp and dived for his penis. Grabbing the throbbing finger of flesh, he rubbed and sucked on it until Tristan's hips jerked upwards and froze. Bren slid back up the bed to cuddle the sated boy. "You fucked me good, daddy", Tris whispered, a contented smile in his voice. "You're...uh...really good at this...stuff, Tris. I really...uh...like you", Brenden faltered. "I like you too, daddy", Tris replied, keeping the game going. "I'm going to be sad when this holiday is over, and I have to go back home", he sighed. "Let's enjoy it while we can, er, mummy. Do you want to...er...hang out with me tomorrow, and...do stuff?", Brenden eagerly whispered. "What about Paulie? Won't he...get jealous or something? He's your friend, isn't he?" Tris whispered back. "Yeah, he is, but...hey, that reminds me. Why doesn't he like you? Did something...happen between you guys?" Brenden asked. Even though it was nearly pitch dark in the room, Brenden could sense that Tristan's face fell. "It's my fault", Tris explained. "One day I was visiting Auntie Jean's place. I was only about seven. I was a real goody-goody back then, before Uncle Leo- er, before...um, anyway, Paulie took me behind the cowshed and pulled his pants down. He wanted to compare his dick with mine. But I cried, and ran to mum, and told her. She told Auntie Jean, and Auntie Jean went crook on him. Ever since, he hasn't liked me. I don't blame him". "You sure changed since then", Brenden whispered, reaching down between their bodies to caress Tristan's tool to comfort him. Tris snuggled closer and gave Brenden's nose a playful lick. "Can I give you that suck now?", the younger boy asked. Brenden's grin nearly lit up the room as Tris disappeared beneath the sheets. Lying back on the pillow, feeling the exquisite mouth and tongue of the ten-year-old sex fiend working on his knobhead, he began to devise a plan to bring Paulie and his cousin back onto good terms with each other. * * * Breakfast was another buffet affair, the three boys between them eating enough food to last a regiment of soldiers for two weeks. "Have you boys made any plans for today?", Mrs Smith asked the three of them broadly when the ravenous lads returned to the table from their third trip to the hot food bar. Brenden spoke first. "I was going to ask Paul if he wanted to hang out around the resort today, maybe check out the pool and the gym. I hear the pool's got a cool spa". Paul looked interested at this suggestion, so he just nodded to save spraying his mouthful of food all over the table. "What about you, darling, what will you be doing today?", Mrs Smith asked Tristan. "Um, I got a bit too much sun yesterday, Auntie Jean, I thought I might just hang around the room and read a book", Tris answered. Paul smirked, revelling in Tristan's discomfort. "Oh, that's a shame, such a nice day, too. Do you want me to put some sunburn lotion on you?" she solicited. "Oh, er, it'll be okay, Auntie Jean. I'll ask Brenden to put some on me later", he evaded. Mrs Smith simply smiled at this. "Thanks again for looking after the boys for me, Brenden, Mr Smith and I really appreciate it. It's been a while since we had a restful holiday", Mrs Smith sighed. Brenden was a little embarrassed at this praise, and blushed sweetly, which made Mrs Smith smile. "I'm grateful Paul invited me, and thank you for having me, Mrs Smith", he replied. After downing several of those tiny motel-sized glasses of fruit juice, the three boys excused themselves and headed back to their room. "I think they've got a sauna here, Paulie. Ever been in one? They're great", Brenden asked as the two boys changed into their swimwear. Tristan lay on his stomach on the bed, deliberately turned away from them, reading a Phantom comic book. Paul glanced over at Tristan, to see if he was listening in, then nodded in agreement. The two older boys quickly finished dressing, then left the room, leaving the younger lad alone. "Race you to the pool", Brenden exclaimed, running down the hallway that led to the resort's recreation area, Paulie right behind him. The two boys leapt into the pool, discarding their towels on the deck in mid air. Surfacing, a splash fight immediately erupted between the two friends. Quickly tiring of that, they swam a few lengths of the irregularly-shaped pool before swimming to the side and clinging to the edge. "It's good to get away from the dork for a while", Paul declared, watching Brenden's face closely for signs of disagreement. "I'm impressed that you put up with him for the whole afternoon yesterday, then, you let him sleep in your bed! The little baby!" "We had a bit of a talk. You could say we came to an understanding", Brenden suggested suavely. "He told me about how you two...er, had a disagreement". "I don't wanna talk about it", growled Paul. "That's cool. It's just that Tris told me that he's sorry for what happened back then, he was young and scared, and one day he hopes to make it up to you, if he gets the chance", Brenden invented. "He said all that?", Paul queried, amazed. "Well, not in those words, but it's what he meant. Hey, you wanna check out the sauna?" "Cool!" Paul responded. "I never been in a sauna before. What's it like?" "Well, it's a hot wooden box full of steam and you sweat a lot", Bren explained. "Uh...huh - and the good part is?" Paul retorted, hauling himself out of the pool. "It's a lot better than it sounds. You're supposed to spend a bit of time in the sauna, then plunge into cold water, then back into the sauna to sweat some more", Brenden elaborated. "You're making this up, aren't you", Paul asserted. "Serious, man, people in Europe think they're great. In Russia, they go in naked. Kids and everybody. You know how we chill out in the nude at the dam at your place - well, in Europe, most people don't have enough room for a dam, so they all go to the sauna. Wanna try?", Brenden urged as he clambered out of the pool and shook the water off himself like a big pink puppy. Cringing back from the cold droplets Brenden was showering about, Paul relented. "Okay, already! So where is this torture chamber?" "I think it's down this way", Brenden directed, leaving moist footprints on the concrete as he walked alongside the pool to an unobtrusive hallway leading to a wooden door. Paul followed behind, towelling his wet hair as he walked. "This is it!", Brenden declared, hauling the heavy door back on its hinges. A blast of hot, humid air greeted the two boys as they crowded into the doorway. "Look! You sit on these benches", Brenden explained as they let the door close behind them and climbed onto the wooden slats. "What about the 'nude' bit?" Paul asked, spreading his towel on the lower tier of the sauna. "I'll just latch the door. No-one can come in without knocking", Brenden assured his friend. But when he reached the door handled, he only mimed throwing the latch, leaving the door unlocked. Turning back to Paul, he saw that his friend was pulling off his boardshorts and speedos, ready to stretch out naked on the towel. Brenden quickly shucked his own swimwear and sat beside Paul. "How is it so far?", he asked. "I s'pose it's okay", Paul drawled. "This wood's a bit hard on the bum", he added, lifting his hips to settle into a more comfortable position. Paul's head was away from the door, and he was looking straight up, so he did not notice the 'locked' door quietly open, and a small figure slip inside. Brenden distracted him further by asking "How's the pube hunt going? Had a look lately?" "Not since we got here", Paul replied lazily. "Well, I think I'll just do a spot inspection. I hate being the only one with hair", Brenden smirked, waving his hand at Tristan, who had slipped off his own skimpy speedo and was crouching on the floor below the level of the bench seat. "Yeah, I just bet you do", Paul answered, as he felt a hand that he assumed was Brenden's carefully grasping his soft tool and levering it back and forth. He closed his eyes to enjoy what he thought were Brenden's ministrations, then suddenly opened them with a start. His penis was being sucked! "What the f-!" he began, trying to sit up, but Brenden rested both hands on his shoulders and lowered him back to the bench. "Shh, it's okay. It's only Tristan, apologising. He's pretty good at it, eh?", Brenden soothed. "Tris? Apol-? Shit, that feels good! I suppose you cooked this up, Bren?" Paul guessed. "Me? It was all his idea. And while he's doing that, I got another idea. Wait a sec while I lock this door properly". * * * End