by Blake Dawson* <blake@menetor.com>
From the Preface to Chapter 1:
If you like to read this kind of story but are concerned about possible legal implications, work to change the law! If you don’t, why are you here?
*Blake Dawson is the person the otherwise anonymous author would be if “trading places” became magically possible.
Summer holidays had changed from being very simple and self-contained to being highly complicated and mixed up with everything else we were doing in life. I had some representative cricket commitments to squeeze in and mum was no longer able to keep a block of time clear of all business commitments, so the drive down to Bermagui which had once been a magical expedition had degenerated into an all too familiar commute. Just to complicate things, I had decided that for once on my life I ought to sample the world of paid work and lined up some casual work at the town supermarket which conveniently allowed a bit of shift juggling. Mum had to go up to Sydney for a couple of appointments early in the new year, and with just one swap I was able to give her some company on the trip.
We found the drive easiest late in the evening, so weren’t exactly prepared to hear a couple of sharp rings on our door bell before eight next morning. “I’ll get it,” I yelled knowing mum would be already busy getting her act together for her first appointment. I staggered to the door bleary-eyed, hair uncombed and hardly dressed, to find a handsome if sweaty young man in jogging gear. “Blake?” he looked me up and down as though not sure what he was looking at, “it is you. Just look at you. I don’t believe ...” His eyes almost burned into my brain and slowly things started to come back to me: “David? David Scott. Look at you. What have you been doing? You walk out of my life as a boy two and a half years ago and come back as the most handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on.” “You haven’t done too bad yourself, even if I have dragged you out of bed.” “Well what are you doing here?” “Hey, you’re the one who told me to come back here when it was time to start life on my own. I’ve got an offer from UNSW to start their Information Technology degree course at Randwick, which makes settling back here look pretty attractive.” “Great, but that hardly explains how you landed here like this at this hour. You didn’t run from Brisbane.” “Nor Adelaide, where I’ve actually been for the past 18 months, even though my folks moved on again in September, leaving me to finish year 12 living with my recently divorced sister. No, I spent a few weeks with my parents after the exams and got into Sydney on Monday. I knew you were looking to shift when I left and would probably be down the coast, so I made my first call at Harris’s Sports Store and who should be there nattering away but old Walshie. He immediately insisted on putting me up at least until I got a chance to find something that suited me better, and mentioned that he thought your mother might be coming up to town today for a business appointment. I figured I could do with some exercise and called past here on the way back.”
“Hey mum,” I yelled back into the house, “we’ve got a boarder.” “Hang on, I’ll be there in a minute,” she obviously hadn’t made sense of what I had yelled and assumed that whoever had come to the door was looking for her. The two past and future lovers just stood there and looked each other over thoroughly, gradually mapping three year old memories to that new day’s realities. Mum walked up behind me without me noticing, but David quickly spotted her quizzical expression: “Good morning Ms Dawson, at least you haven’t changed unless maybe you’ve got a bit younger. Blake and I would have walked past each other in the street.” When I didn’t hear any response from behind me, I turned to mum and prompted: “You remember David Scott, he used to practice with Hayden and me on Mondays the season Hades went up to Under 14, and his parents do jobs that involve relocating every year or so.” “I do remember now, but I would never have recognised you David.” “That’s fine Ms Dawson, I just can’t believe Blake. He was just an emotional kid when I left, and look at him now. If you washed and dressed him you could take him anywhere.” Emotional still, but embarrassed, not since: “Mum, do you remember how much he embarrassed me when I walked into his room uninvited and found that old picture of me out of the local rag stuck up on his wall right in the middle of cut out pictures of a whole lot of sporting superstars. And look at him now. Isn’t he just the most handsome young man you’ve ever set eyes on?” I was overcome by the realisation that we were still standing in the doorway and I hadn’t even greeted David properly, so I took a quick step forward, threw my arms around his neck and gave him a passionate kiss in full view of mum and any neighbours who wanted to gawk, then took him by the hand, turned around and invited him to join us for breakfast, which I then had to throw together in a hurry.
We explained to mum about the course he had got into and she suggested it was the perfect field for him to earn his keep by helping with the odd job for our business, which would in turn give him practical experience to help with his course. He mentioned that he expected he would spend the breaks between semesters with his parents in whatever city they happened to be at the time, and we got into catching up on what each other had been doing for two and a half years. He said that living anywhere but Sydney at least left them some money over for personal comforts, and we told him how our business had grown rapidly. At each new city he had quickly found the local cricket club as the fastest entry into the community, and reckoned he might even sneak a game in the ones with our club on Saturday while I was still working down the coast. He had kept my glossy photo in pride of place on his wall, but of recent times surrounded it with rock stars rather than sports stars. I hadn’t become a music fan despite fiddling around with an old guitar and our work for Lukie’s band. “Lukie?” “Lucas Coulter. I’ve been his little mate since we met yonks ago at Bermagui, and he’s got a bit of a thing going with mum on the side. We’ve been doing their PR and promotional stuff for the last couple of years ...” “Hey, if you could only see how my room was in Adelaide. Your picture was surrounded by every picture ever published of Lucas. I’ve been to all their gigs in both Brisbane and Adelaide while I was there and think he’s just the coolest dude alive.” Mum was just about ready to walk out the door, but caught the last bit of our conversation, stopped and dug a couple of tee-shirts out of a bag she was carrying and tossed one to each of thus. “We’ve done plenty so it won’t hurt to give a couple to his fans, but these are embargoed till noon, when we launch the new video clip so be careful where you wear them.” We confirmed that David would stay on at Walshie’s till mum and I got back from Bermagui permanently and then shift into our spare room. That didn’t stop David trying out his new bed immediately, with my help, and we certainly weren’t tempted to put on the band shirts, nor anything else for that matter, till well after the embargo had expired. One other thing had changed during our two and a half year separation—the couple of lines he had previously drawn on our bedroom pleasures had been thoroughly erased.
David had just jogged off when mum rang to say she would be held up for a couple of hours. I decided to blade round to Warren Alexander’s to tell him we were about to get a like minded boarder who he might like to pal up with. From half a block away, i could hear what I soon worked out was Buster howling and assumed that nobody was home and that I might need to settle my four legged mate down. I was reluctant to use the back entrance in blades, so tried the door and was somewhat surprised when Warren answered it with Buster by his side. I had only got half way through asking what was worrying the dog before he had sniffed over my blades, given me a big lick on the face and was out through the gate and down the road at full speed. I figured and called back that I’d have to get him and was off. Rounding the corner at the bottom of the street, I spotted him pausing to looking back, but the moment he knew I had spotted him, he was off again full tilt. It stayed like that all the way. On a couple of long straight stretches I almost caught him, but he could still accelerate away as he pleased. I had very soon worked out exactly where we has was leading me and became content just to observe his choice of route to avoid traffic, while starting to plan just what I might have to do once we got there.
We worked out later that it was over four kilometres, and when he got to the front door of the house he had only seen once before, he stretched his neck to the sky and let our a shattering howl which was immediately answered from the back yard. Mrs James was at the door before I had a chance to ring the bell, completely ignored Buster and asked me how I knew. I didn’t know anything: “He just brought me here,” was the most accurate way I could explain it. “Come in around the side way,” she instructed, and I immediately saw but could hardly believe what the fuss was about: “The last one was born at noon. They’re just perfect. I’m so glad we gave her the chance to have one more litter.” “Hey, he looks like a pretty proud father.” Buster was very quietly and very gently sharing his attention between the bitch and the pups which were all trying to suckle. I couldn’t take my eyes off them: “Hey, did you see that.” When she said she hadn’t, I said I could swear that the pup now up on the front nipple had been squeezed out down the back by the other four and that Buster had sniffed and licked a free nipple and then shovelled the pup to it with his snout. Mrs James muttered something about them knowing a lot more than they are given credit for and ducked inside, returning shortly with a can of Pepsi for me, a water bowl for Buster who hadn’t touched the bitch’s water despite his tongue hanging out, and the news that she had rung Warren and that he was on his way over to pick us up as soon as we had satisfied our curiosity. She then asked whether I wanted to be one of the “good homes” for one of them and I explained for what was going to be anything but the last time that I just did not think it would be fair to drag a dog through the changes that were sure to come in my life between then and when I at least doubled my age. We were about to leave to make sure I beat mum home for my lift down the coast, when I succumbed to a sudden urge to pull off my very new but already very sweaty promotional tee shirt, rub it all over Buster, and chuck it into the bitch’s box for extra bedding, announcing: “You must call the youngest ‘Embargo’,” and told a quarter of the story why on our way out.
On the drive back to Bermagui, mum mentioned that our caravan, even with our new annexe in only its third summer, seemed to have been outgrown by our need for flexibility and thought she might start looking for something a bit more permanent so we could come and go as we pleased. I had already done a bit of planning to try to introduce a few more of my city mates to the pleasures of the coast and suggested that we should not cancel our core two week booking at the camp as I might be able to acquire a tent which would be more suitable for a bunch of teens.
I was on evening shift at the supermarket on one of those rare Tuesdays that did not demand a second visit to the beach, and found myself wandering the back streets—fantasising about possible holiday houses. Crossing an intersection, I had a flash back to that party after the fifth Thursday party two summers earlier, recognising that for the first time since I was somewhere near the “shack” we had been invited back to, so I decided to see if I could work out just which it had been. The most likely candidate I could find had a for sale sign out front but showed some signs of recent occupation, so I decided to risk a knock on the door.
The door was opened by a big framed sixteen year old beaming as though I was a long lost friend. I chose the search for the party venue as my excuse for being there and he suggested I might be better able to recognise the inside, and snibbed the door behind us. If there was no other house in the area with a centrally featured spa, then this must have been it and he was sure there wasn’t. He and his mother were renting for a week and he was sure that “Mrs Robinson” and the twins must have been doing likewise as the owner had put it on the market because he had never got around to making the use he had expected of it.
The “glad to see you” smile never stopped radiating from his face and eyes, even from behind the frameless reading glasses that perfectly fitted his reclusive tendencies. I worried it might be conspicuous that I could not keep my eyes off the way his shinily clear skin counterbalanced his almost overgrown body, but he preferred to remark on my apparent interest in the spa—suggesting I might like to join him in it as he had just got it ready. I didn’t have to be asked twice and was stripped naked and into the spa so quickly as to give the impression that there was not any other way to go about it. He was not too slow to follow and my eyes boggled at the size of the organs between his legs. We sat opposite and exchanged small talk. He wasn’t from Melbourne as I had first expected but from Canberra which helped explain a few things—there being no way a boy like him could have escaped a bit of hardening in a bigger city.
Our feet brushed each other and did not withdraw, instead playing their own games beneath the bubbles. I was ready to make the first move when his dick made its own move—its swollen bulbous head breaking the water surface. This was more than I could take so I propelled myself across the spa, grabbing his shaft and planting a kiss on his knob on the way to planting myself tightly against his side, then grabbing him and kissing his mouth. We were quickly laying back side by side tugging each other’s dicks and bending our necks for playful kisses until all too soon he turned the spa into a miniature Lake Burley Griffin and I did likewise not much later.
Hugging our still submerged bodies together as we recovered I asked him if he would like to fuck my arse. He didn’t think I would be able to take him and was worried that he might not have the self control to stop himself hurting me if it didn’t work. By then I wanted it desperately and simply led him out of the spa to where I could retrieve a condom and a tube of Ky from my pocket and apply them to his monster. I applied more Ky to my arse and draped myself over one of those over sized bean bags, legs apart and arse hole pointing to the ceiling. He squeezed a heap more Ky onto his hand and pushed his two middle fingers deep into my hole at which point he started to believe that he might really be able to fuck me.
He started almost playfully rubbing his knob up and down my crack, pushing it slightly into my hole and easing off. He was able to keep his weight off my body, so there was no real pressure but eventually his knob popped inside my ring. It felt simultaneously like the best and the worst of all possible things and my mind became a spectator on what my body was doing. With every possible care he slowly slipped his thickening shaft deeper inside me until his pair of what felt almost like cricket balls hit the back of my own balls. He just held there for what seemed like an age and that started what at first were short and slow strokes, while gradually allowing his body to come down more on top of me. As soon as his strokes reached the point of feeling uninhibited I started the multiple orgasms I had experienced when Lukie first fucked me, but this time my grown dick was soaking my stomach and the bean bag. For a long moment he held and fucked me harder, then exploded inside me, before withdrawing and rolling into a face to face embrace.
I finally got to play with his smile, his sparkling eyes and his perfect skin, while making him hug me right into his body. And then it was my turn to fuck his arse, after which we collapsed back into the spa to cool off a bit. Soon there was a knock at the door which he identified as being his mother home early. He opened the door with just a towel around him and I decided to stay naked in the spa. She had been fitting in some of her promotional work at Bega with her holiday and they had asked for another session on Thursday so she felt it reasonable to restrict herself to the standard hours and get home a bit early and relax in the spa. Knowing exactly what she must have been suspecting with good reason, I encouraged her to jump in with me and was pleased that she had no hesitation in also doing so naked. It had to be my move and I made it immediately, even being prepared to be a bit more crudely aggressive than I had ever been to a female. A couple of minutes of pushing my scoring up to eight was enough for me to lead her out of the spa, lay her on the recently cleaned bean bag and start fucking. The only problem was that my reserves were so low that it must have taken more than an hour for my recovery to overtake my stamina and reach the point where stopping would be acceptable. If she had been a bit drained before we started she was by then totally stuffed and just lay there while I showered and dressed ready for work.
Ready to leave, I slightly revived her with a big thank you kiss. Her son, who was by now decent and again relaxed but still radiant, saw me to the door where I gave him a much more passionate kiss in full view and he responded unhesitatingly. I confided that I did not have the faintest idea how I had managed everything I had just done and told him that I would try to get mum up to look the place over within the following couple of days.
I was back to day shift on Thursday, so the night before I told mum about having found the house with the spa, which she should have a look at the next day, and that the people staying there would be happy to show her through. She was still out when I got back to our van so I could only presume that the boy and/or the house had proved attractive to her. When she finally turned up two hours later, she dropped a contract of sale on the table, but I’m sure even that could not have taken all that time. That boy should make a good salesman.