Timmy and the Travellers – Chapter 15

The end of term is in sight, and plans are being made for the holidays – but there are still four days to go, and Truscott has a few hurdles to clear first...


When Truscott met Carlington outside the juniors' form room at the start of break on Tuesday morning he found the little redhead in a good mood: he had just learned that he had finished top of the class for the spring term, and that meant that he had earned the £5 his father had promised to give him if he ended the term in the top three.

"Take the morning off," he said, magnanimously. " And you can have all the lunch breaks off for the rest of the week as well."

"Thanks," said Truscott. "Er... please may I be excused?"

"What? Oh, yes, of course - and you don't have to come and ask for permission for the rest of the day, either. You're free until morning break tomorrow."

"Thanks," said Truscott once more, and ran off before Carlington could change his mind.

The following morning, however, it was back to business as usual: neither Williams nor Gwyn-Thomas was in a celebratory mood, and they marched him off to the pavilion, took him up to the back changing room and ordered him to strip.

"I want to try that thing Colin showed us last week," Williams told him. "You know, where you put it in your mouth. Uzzy said it felt really nice, and if he's right, and you do it properly, maybe we won't make you wet yourself today." He pulled a coin from his pocket and spun it. "Heads or tails?" he asked Gwyn-Thomas.


"Hard luck, it's tails. That means I get to go first."

He began to get undressed, and when he was naked he sat on the bench, and Truscott dropped to his knees in front of him and lowered his head. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to do this: Williams's fat tummy and thick thighs made it hard to get close to what was a very small penis - even though it was already stiff it was only about two and a half inches long.

"Can you lean back a bit?" he asked. "Otherwise I won't be able to get at you properly."

Williams obliged and also spread his legs a little wider, and now Truscott was able to get it into his mouth, though he had to make much smaller movements than he had been able to do with Carlington and Shabbir, and he also found that he was unable to push Williams's foreskin back: when he tried doing it by hand Williams told him that it hurt and made him stop. So he just squeezed hard and licked the tip and generally did his best.

It took a while, but at last Williams started to wriggle about and push against him, and eventually the younger boy grabbed Truscott's head and pulled it hard against himself. His whole body tensed up and he gave a gasp. He held Truscott in place for a couple of seconds more and then relaxed and pushed him away.

"What was that like?" asked Gwyn-Thomas, who had been watching in fascination.

"It's hard to describe," said Williams, standing up and pulling his pants on, "but it felt really good. It's your turn - see what you think."

Gwyn-Thomas had been a little reluctant to undress - after all, Truscott had made him do so several times, and he had found it made him deeply ashamed. But this time Truscott himself was naked, and Williams hadn't seemed too reluctant to take his own clothes off - and, besides, Gwyn-Thomas felt slightly less ashamed of his own little thingy now that he had seen that Williams had one that was even smaller. So he got undressed and took Williams's place on the bench, while Truscott shuffled forward on his knees and bent over him.

Truscott found this much easier: Gwyn-Thomas was a skinny little kid, and his erection, though quite thin, was about three-quarters of an inch longer than Williams's, and when he got it into his mouth he found that the foreskin slipped back quite easily, exposing the sensitive head. But even though he thought he was doing a good job, Gwyn-Thomas didn't seem to agree with him: after about twenty seconds he pushed him away.

“That feels strange,” said the Welsh boy. “And... I don't think I like it.”

“I was doing it the same as for you, honest,” said Truscott, looking nervously at Williams – he really didn't want to be made to wet himself again.

”I know,” said Gwyn-Thomas. “It's just that... I'd sooner you didn't, that's all. It felt too weird.” He stood up and started to put his clothes on.

"I thought it was brilliant," said Williams. "I'm going to want to have that done lots of times."

"Please can I get dressed?" asked Truscott. "I think the bell will be going in about five minutes..."

"Yes, okay," said Williams. "And I reckon you did it properly, too, so you don't have to pee yourself today - unless you think different, Owen?"

"No, I think he tried to do it to me properly, too, so I don't mind letting him off," said Gwyn-Thomas. "Look, you might as well go, Matt. I'll wait for him to get dressed and then make sure the door's locked - you go and grab our bags, and I'll meet you at the start of next lesson."

Williams nodded and went out.

"So... what did it taste like?" Gwyn-Thomas asked Truscott as he got dressed.

"Nothing much, really," Truscott told him. "The first time I was made to do it I thought it would be horrible, but really it tastes about the same as sucking a finger would - at least, with you lot it does."

"Really?" asked Gwyn-Thomas, putting his index finger in his mouth and sucking on it. "That's interesting..."

He waited while Truscott did up his shorts and put his tie and blazer back on and then led him down the stairs, closing the pavilion door carefully behind them and replacing the key in its normal hiding place inside the nearest rhododendron bush.

"Is it okay if I go for a pee before next lesson?" Truscott asked him.

"Well... really I ought to make you do it here, see, like you did to me... but I suppose there isn't really time to make you get undressed again. Okay, you've got permission."

"Thanks," said Truscott, and ran off.

That evening he went to the garage with Timmy and Stephen. He was feeling a little better than he had felt for a couple of days: a complete day off on Tuesday had restored his spirits quite a lot, and today hadn't exactly been arduous - sucking two little erections, one for less than half a minute, was a piece of cake beside some of what he had been through in the past couple of weeks. But he was still scared of being beaten, and resolved to do everything he could to avoid another such session tonight.

"Tonight we're going hunting," announced Danny as soon as the three schoolboys were inside the garage. "It's not raining, so there's no reason not to - is there, Mikey?"

"I suppose not. Get undressed, then, you three."

"Mikey, do we have to?" asked Timmy. "I mean... what I was saying to you on Monday night..." and he looked meaningfully at Truscott.

"Sorry, Timmy, but you're still a slave, at least until Friday, and that means you do what you're told. Just for once I want to see all three of you running about in the altogether. After all, you all look funny undressed, one way and another. Now don't argue or I might have to beat you."

Reluctantly Timmy took off everything except his shoes. Stephen and Truscott did likewise.

"Now stand up and face each other," commanded Michael. "That way you can get it over and done with, and you won't have to worry about it all the time."

Timmy took a deep breath and stood up, keeping his hands at his sides. Of course by now he and Stephen had seen each other naked plenty of times, and both of them had seen Truscott stripped as well, but this was the first time that Truscott had been able to have a proper look at them, since on Monday evening both had been lying on their fronts while sucking the two younger travellers. Truscott looked at Stephen for a few seconds and then stared at Timmy.

"Yours is nice," he told Stephen. "It's a bit small, but it looks good. But... flipping heck, Collier, what's wrong with yours?"

"Nothing's wrong with it," Christy told him, before Timmy could answer. "It's small, that's all."

"Yes, but... why isn't there any skin on it?"

"I had an operation when I was little," said Timmy, embarrassed. "I think they took the skin off it then."

"He's not the only one," Stephen pointed out. "Lewis and Shabbir haven't got any skin on the end of theirs, either."

"That's true - but... well, it's just... gosh, it must be really difficult for you to be so small. I'm really sorry, Collier. I promise I won't tell anyone about it."

Timmy stared at him: he sounded, and looked, completely sincere.

"There's no reason for you to be sorry," he said. "It wasn't you who operated on it. But - thanks for promising not to talk about it at school."

"That's okay. I mean, I wouldn't want the kids in our class seeing me undressed, either."

"Come on, then" said Danny, impatiently. "I want to hunt you down and punish you," and he waggled his groin at them suggestively.

The travellers helped the schoolboys past the brambles, scouted out the lane for traffic (as usual there was none) and escorted them up the lane and into the wood.

"How are we going to do this?" asked Michael. "Should we hunt them one at a time or all together? If we do them one at a time we're going to be here quite a long time..."

"How about if Timmy and I go together, and then Truscott goes on his own?" suggested Stephen. "That won't take quite so long."

"Okay," agreed Michael. "But if you get caught it'll be ten whips each and you'll have to suck Danny and Tom."

"Fair enough," agreed Stephen.

He and Timmy ran off into the wood. It was getting a bit easier to hide as leaves were starting to appear on some of the trees, though the undergrowth was also growing, and that slowed them down a bit. Stephen led Timmy to a large tree that they hadn't used before and helped him to climb it. They worked their way as far up as they could get and then stood quietly on a pair of adjoining branches and waited.

Time went by, and there was no sign of the hunters at all: they didn't hear anything until a distant shout announced that the time was up. Grinning at each other, they climbed back down and made their way back to the starting point.

"Looks like you two are in luck," said Michael. "Right, Truscott, it's your turn. It'll be easier for you to hide, because there's only one of you, so if we catch you it'll be forty whips and you have to suck all of us. Ready... go!"

Forty! Truscott knew he couldn't handle that. The first time he had played this game he had been worried about the brambles and so had moved far too slowly, but this time the fear of what was sure to be an agonising whipping drove him to move much more rapidly, even though now and again a trailing bramble tore at his shin. He ran more or less directly away from the starting point, intent on keeping going until the time was up, but discovered - as Timmy had found once before - that the wood came to an end in a barbed wire fence, beyond which lay a long open field.

He thought about it for a few seconds, then realised that there was a solution. Carefully he climbed over the fence, and once over it he turned to his right and ran alongside the fence as fast as he could. Here there was nothing but grass, so he could run flat out: in fact the only problem was that his big penis kept flapping about and hitting his stomach, so he had to cup a hand over his genitals in order to run unhampered.

After a couple of hundred yards he climbed back into the wood and crouched down behind a large tree. He felt sure that the hunters would not think to look here - there was heavy undergrowth all around him, and to have reached this place without leaving the wood would have been impossible for someone without clothes.

And he was right - eventually he heard the hunters calling for him to come back, they were out of time. He climbed back over the fence and retraced his steps, re-entering the wood where he had first left it and making his way back to the starting point. Danny in particular looked thoroughly disappointed.

They all made their way back to the garage.

"Come on, Mikey, can't we beat him anyway?" wheedled Danny. "He's a slave, so we can do what we want to him even if we don't catch him."

"No, we can't," said Michael. "I'm not having these townies thinking that we don't keep our word. He won the game, so he doesn't get whipped, and that's the end of it. Don't worry, Danny, you'll get plenty of chances to beat him later - we've got him until September, after all. Okay, you three, you can get dressed. Oh, and we're not going to be here tomorrow, so you can all have the evening off. Be here on Friday."

"It's the last day of term, and we usually finish a bit early on the last day," Timmy told him. "We'll probably be here before four o'clock."

"Okay, then we'll come early, too."

On Thursdays Simeon and Usman were on duty, and by now they were so interested in having fun with each other that they couldn't really be bothered with Truscott, so when Truscott met them by their form room Usman told him that he could have the day off. Once he had run gratefully away the two juniors made their way to "their" room at the top of the pavilion and closed the door behind them.

"Why haven't you started getting undressed?" demanded Usman.

"Thorry, Thir!" replied Simeon, throwing his blazer off.

Usman sat on the edge of the table, swinging his legs and watching his friend undress.

"Too slow," he announced, once Simeon was naked. "Now I'm going to have to spank you. Come here."

He sat on the bench and Simeon positioned himself across his lap, hampered somewhat by his stiff penis, which was in danger of being squashed against Usman's leg.

"How many do you think you deserve?" Usman asked.

"I don't know - I thuppothe thicth ith the normal number."

"Yes, but you can't say the number 'six', so we'd better pick one you can say. How about ten?"

"I can thay 'four' or 'two', or even 'one'," Simeon pointed out.

"Yes, but that wouldn't be enough to teach you a lesson, would it? No, we'd better stick to ten."

And Usman started to spank him, firmly but without going over the top, and it hurt a great deal less than the belt had done. In fact it barely hurt at all, and once again Lewis found the thought of what he must look like, naked and being spanked like a naughty little boy, incredibly exciting. Usman finished the spanking and told him to stand up and face him.

"I see it still can't keep itself under control," he said, taking hold of Lewis's solid penis and stroking it gently. "Maybe I should cut it off, then it wouldn't keep making your shorts stick out."

For a moment Simeon even found that thought exciting: how would it feel to be tied up helplessly while Usman actually cut his thingy right off, making him physically into a girl? But then even his enflamed imagination rejected the idea: having his friend hold and stroke it, as he was doing now, felt far too good.

"Pleathe don't," he begged. "I do try to keep it under control, honetht. It'th jutht that whenever I'm with you it theemth to want to thtick out."

"Well, somehow we're going to have to find a way to deal with it. Maybe I should tie you up and hit it with my belt every time it goes hard? I bet it would pretty soon learn its lesson if I did that. Anyway, Sim, it's nearly the end of term and I want to celebrate, so - would you like me to get undressed too?"

"Yeth, pleathe!"

"Okay - but you're not allowed to look, so I'm going to blindfold you."

To Simeon's immense disappointment Usman took a black eye cover from his blazer pocket. It was a proper one, of the sort used by long-haul airline passengers who want to sleep during the flight - Usman's dad had brought it back with him the last time he had flown to Pakistan to visit his relatives - and once it was in place Simeon found that he couldn't see anything.

"Now you can undress me," said Usman, guiding his friend's hands to his shoulders.

Slowly Simeon removed his friend's clothing, hanging everything up on one of the hooks as he went. He accidentally dropped the blazer on the floor and Usman swatted his bottom for it, and after that he made sure that he was in the right place by feeling carefully before placing the shirt, tie and vest on the next hook along.

He removed Usman's shoes, socks and shorts and then paused, but Usman simply placed Simeon's hands on the waistband of his pants and waited, so Simeon slowly pulled the pants down, waited while Usman stepped out of them, and then groped his way to the pegs and hung them up with the shorts.

In a way, knowing that his friend was completely naked next to him but not being able to see was exciting in its own right, but Simeon really wanted the blindfold off. But instead Usman guided his hands to his shoulders once more.

"Now you're allowed to touch me all over," he said. "Do it nicely and maybe I won't have to give you the belt today."

Simeon didn't need to be told twice. He began to caress Usman's shoulders, sliding his hands round and over the bony shoulder-blades, and stroking down the sides of his skinny chest, feeling the ribs. He moved on to his friend's tummy and then dropped to his knees, squeezing and stroking the firm little buttocks. His hands crept round the front, caressing the area around the base of the penis but not actually touching it, until Simeon couldn't restrain himself any longer.

He cupped Usman's balls in his left hand, using his right to stroke the boy's erection gently and slowly. He leaned forward and planted a kiss on the tip, and then, without being told to do so, he slid the whole length into his mouth and began to suck on it steadily, caressing Usman's bottom with one hand and fondling his balls with the other. Usman gave a groan of pleasure and placed his hands on Simeon's head, slowly stroking his hair.

This was so good that in no time at all Usman felt the magical sensation swelling up inside him, and holding Simeon's head firmly he thrust against it, climaxing with a cry. Once it was over he let go and stepped back, then he pulled Simeon to his feet and embraced him.

"That was brilliant, Sim," he said, reaching up and removing the blindfold. "You're the best slave in the world."

They held each other for a few seconds, then Usman glanced at his watch, which was the only thing he was still wearing.

"We'd better get dressed," he said. But once he had stepped back from his friend's embrace he didn't turn round or reach for his clothes: instead he allowed Simeon to look at him.

"I really like theeing you naked," Simeon told him. "You look tho... perfect, thomehow. Even when your thing ith thoft, you thtill look really good."

"You don't think it's too small?"

Simeon shook his head. "I like it betht when it'th all hard, but it thtill lookth good like it ith now," he said.

Usman stepped forward and hugged him again.

"Thanks, Sim," he said. He broke free and grabbed his pants. "Come on, or we'll be late."

They got dressed and headed back towards their form room.

"Sim... I wanted to ask," said Usman. "Would you like to come and play with me during the holidays?"

"Of courthe I would!" cried Simeon; his eyes lighting up. "Ecthept... would your parentth let me - I mean, me being a Jew, and that?"

"I don't have to tell them you're a Jew, do I?"

"No, but... well, Thimeon ith a bit of a Jewith name, ithn't it?"

"Not really - 'Sim' could be short for 'Simon', and you don't have to be Jewish to be called Simon. And 'Lewis' isn't particularly Jewish, either. It's not like you're called Abraham Cohen, or Jacob Blumenstein, or something, is it? Whereas anyone hearing my name would know straight away that I'm a Moslem. That's why you'd better come to visit me instead of me coming to visit you."

"Okay - but I think my parentth might not mind too much - I mean, you're from Pakithtan, not Egypt or Thyria or thomewhere like that."

"Okay - maybe we can come and play at each other's houses, then."

"Brilliant! But it'll have to be at the beginning of the holiday, 'coth Pathover thtartth on Wednethday evening and I'll have to be with my family for that."

"What's Pathover?"

"Pasth... Passover," said Simeon, with enormous effort. "It'th a big Jewith fethtival, and it lathts for a week. But we can play at the beginning and the end of the holiday."

"Okay. I'll talk to my parents and see if I can have you over on Monday or Tuesday, then."

Friday was the last day of term, and Truscott was feeling better than he had for a long time: since Monday everything seemed to have gone better than expected, and he had made it through to the holidays after all. Just today to get through...

He was a little late reaching the juniors' form room at the start of break - the teacher who had taken the last lesson before break had kept them back to tell them what they needed to revise over the holidays to help prepare themselves for the exams they would take in May and June - and when he got there the room was empty. So he went to the tennis courts, where he found Carlington with his head in a book.

"Where's everyone else?" he asked.

Carlington shrugged. "Owen and Luke are playing football," he said, waving at the far end of the tennis court, where a group of boys were kicking a tennis ball around. "I think Usman said he was going to the library, so Sim's probably gone with him. Not sure about Matt." He stood up. "So I suppose that just leaves you and me. Come on, then."

He headed off towards the west gate, taking their usual roundabout route to the back of the pavilion (the straight line route across the cricket square would certainly have been seen and questioned by a member of staff), and Truscott trailed after him, his heart sinking: when he had seen that Carlington was the only one around he had hoped to be let off once more. Instead he was going to be stuck on his own with the boy who hated him most.

Once in the back room Carlington ordered him to strip and started to remove his own clothes, and once they were both naked he positioned Truscott over a chair, pulled his legs open and started to rub some lubricant onto his anus. Then he lined himself up and forced his way in, pushing slowly until it was as far in as it would go.

"I thought we might stay like this for a while," he said. "That way you'll be able to feel me inside you for the whole break. Just think about what's happening to you, Truscott. Maybe sometime in the holidays we can spend a whole day like this - now that really would be fun."

After a bit he started to rock back and forward slowly. Once again Truscott found that it didn't hurt too much, and once again he was ashamed to find that he was getting stiff. At least there was nobody here to see it this time, unless Carlington took it into his head to lean out sideways, but that didn't really make him feel a lot better about it.

Carlington went on moving back and forwards, and after a bit Truscott found, to his horror, that he was starting to get excited: he could feel a sort of warmth in his groin, the same sort of feeling he got when he played with himself... But that was a good feeling, and he couldn't possibly get good feelings from a humiliating situation like this - could he?

It seemed that he could. Carlington was moving a little faster now, apparently getting closer to his own climax, but for Truscott too the feeling was growing. He struggled to hold it in, writhing and gasping - how could this be happening? He wasn't touching his penis - in fact, nothing was touching it: it was just sticking out into thin air. But the feeling was growing and swelling, and nothing he could do could hold it back any longer... an overwhelming orgasm shook him; far more intense than the ones he got when masturbating, and three or four jets of whitish spunk shot from his quivering penis. Because of the curve in his erection it landed, not underneath the chair, but to the left of it.

Thirty seconds or so later, when Truscott had just about come down from his high, Carlington reached his own orgasm, thrusting hard and pulling Truscott back against him. Once it was over he rested for a few seconds, then withdrew, stood up, reached for his packet of tissues - and saw the mess on the floor.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It's my stuff," said Truscott, shamefacedly.

"Your... what are you talking about?"

"Well, I... I don't really know what it is. I just know that when I get excited - you know, that same feeling you get when you... do that to me, or when I suck it - this stuff comes out. It's the same with the two older travellers - when I suck on theirs, that stuff comes out in my mouth. I suppose it starts happening when you get to a certain age, because it doesn't happen with the younger travellers or any of your lot."

"But... I don't understand. How come you got excited?"

"I don't know," said Truscott, miserably. "But... perhaps it's like Danny said: maybe I'm starting to turn into a girl. Maybe in future I'll get excited when I have to act like a girl..."

"Oh, wow!" said Carlington. "I'm turning you into a girl! Oh, God, this is brilliant... by the end of the holidays maybe you'll start growing breasts, too! Now we're definitely going to be spending time together over Easter!"

He finished cleaning himself off and started to get dressed.

"You'd better go and get some toilet paper, or something, and clean that stuff up," he said, and Truscott ran through to the toilet and came back with a wad of paper, which he used to clean the floor. When he came back from dumping it Carlington was just tying his shoelaces.

"Get dressed," he instructed. "You can have the weekend off, but I want you to come to my house on Monday morning - here's the address," and he handed Truscott a piece of paper. "My mum's going out for the day, and dad will be at work, so we can spend the whole day doing stuff like that - and you can suck me, and of course I can beat you between doing sex things to you... this is going to be a really brilliant holiday!"

After school the three schoolboys went to the garage together and found the four travellers waiting for them.

"Well, I suppose it's the end of term," said Michael, “and that means that Timmy isn't a slave any longer. Here's your file, Timmy - and you can borrow my cigarette lighter if you like."

He handed over the folder, and Timmy opened it and extracted the three photos. He took Michael's lighter, but before he could set fire to them Christy grabbed his arm.

"Better do it outside," he said. "Polaroids stink when you burn them - I suppose it's the chemicals in the paper, or something. Come on, I'll come with you." And he more or less pulled Timmy through the door, closing it behind them.

"Do you... I mean, would you mind if... " he said.


"Well... could I keep this one?" asked Christy, holding out the head and shoulders shot.

"Of course - but I've probably got a better one of me at home."

"No, this one's nice. And... look, I know this is a bit of a cheek, but... I'd really like to be able to keep this one, too."

'This one' was the full-frontal. Timmy hesitated, but only for a second: this was Christy, after all.

"Of course you can," he said. "Just don't let Danny steal it from you."

"He won't even know I've got it," Christy promised. "Come on; let's burn the other one."

They set light to the close-up picture and watched it burn, and Christy was right: it did stink. When it was safely burnt out Christy tucked the other two into his jacket pocket and they went back inside.

"Stephen's not getting his file back," Michael said, "but he's not a slave for the next couple of weeks - provided he sticks it out living with Tom for at least two days, that is. If he doesn't, he's a slave again, and he'll get a major beating as well. If he sticks it out, though, he's free until the start of the summer term."

"I bet he lasts a lot more than two days," said Tom, loyally.

"Are you sure? He'll have to put up with you, after all," said Danny, and that led to another wrestling match. This time everyone else just let them get on with it.

"That means we've only got one slave left," said Michael, "but he's definitely not getting let off. We're going to want to see you during the holidays, Truscott - you can have the weekend off, but let's start on Monday. Be here at ten o'clock."

"I can't do Monday," Truscott told him. "I've already got to go to Carlington's house on Monday."

"We'd better say Tuesday, then," said Michael. "Assuming Carlington doesn't beat you to death on Monday, of course. Ten o'clock, here."


"And now I want a suck," Michael went on. "In fact, you can suck all of us - and that includes Stephen and Timmy if they want."

"No, thanks," said Stephen straight away.

Timmy hesitated: he did wonder exactly what it felt like. But he didn't really want Truscott doing it to him - as far as he was concerned, the only person he wanted to do sex stuff with was Christy, so he shook his head and said, "Me neither. But thanks for the offer."

"Okay. In that case you two can go if you like - we're just going to get sucked and then we're going to send him home and go and get something to eat. Stephen, I'll see you on Monday, I expect. Timmy - well, it's up to you now: you can come here any time you want."

Stephen and Timmy said goodbye to the travellers, picked up their bags and left, but they had only just reached the road when Christy came out of the garage and called for Timmy to wait a moment. Stephen said goodbye to Timmy and kept walking, and Christy fought his way past the brambles, took Timmy's hand and towed him a short distance down the lane.

"Timmy... what Stephen and Tom are doing - do you think your parents would let you come and stay the night with me, too?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. I doubt it, though - I mean, I think they're okay with you now, but I'm not sure they'd let me stay the night on a site full of travellers."

"Could you ask? It'd be brilliant if you could."

"Okay, I'll ask. But maybe we'd have a better chance of them saying yes if you come over and stay with me again first - then you can say something like 'thanks for letting me stay, Mrs Collier - and could Timmy come and stay with me?' That way it would look more like it's returning the favour, and they might be persuaded, especially if we both go 'pleeeeeeeeeeeeease?' to them. It seems to work when I do it, and with two of us... we could be lucky. If you can come to stay with me on Monday, maybe I can come to stay with you on Tuesday. I'll ask tonight if you can come over on Monday, anyway - call me over the weekend and I'll tell you if it's okay."

"What's your number?"

"Here," said Timmy, giving him the personal details page from his slave file. "You've got the photos, so you might as well have this, too."

"I'll call you on Sunday afternoon," Christy promised.

They walked back up the lane as far as the garage driveway, then Christy checked that nobody was about and pulled Timmy into his arms, hugging him and kissing him gently.

"Even if you can't stay, at least we can come here and play," he said. "I don't want to have to go right through the holidays without seeing you."

"God, nor do I. I'll try really hard to talk them into it, I promise."

"I know you will. Look, I'd better go back, or they'll wonder where I've gone. I love you, Timmy."

"I love you too."

Timmy headed for the bus stop, while Christy went back into the garage, where a naked Truscott was kneeling on the mattress in front of an equally naked Michael, who was showing signs of getting close. Danny was standing behind Truscott, occasionally flicking his backside with his belt, though only lightly.

"Sorry," said Danny, "you've lost your place in the queue, Christy. You shouldn't have gone out there to kiss little baby Timmy goodnight."

For a moment Christy went cold with shock, and then he realised that Danny hadn't actually seen them - he was just teasing, as usual.

"He's just jealous," said Tom. "Anyone who kissed his spotty face would puke up straight afterwards."

Danny made a rude noise at him. A few seconds later Michael gave a grunt as he came in Truscott's mouth; Truscott swallowed it down and waited for his next customer, and Danny was quick to seize the chair as soon as Michael vacated it.

Truscott sucked Danny, then Tom, then Christy, and he was delighted to find that doing it didn't excite him at all - in fact he didn't even get hard, far less have his stuff come out. Of course, that didn't explain why it had happened when Carlington had done the other thing to him, but at least it suggested that he wasn't quite as far down the road to becoming a girl as he had feared. Though as he headed for home he found himself thinking that things might be different when Carlington worked on him for a whole day...


Well, Truscott has survived to the end of term, but It doesn't sound as if he's going to get much of a break from the attentions of Carlington and the travellers. On the other hand, most of the others are looking forward to getting together during the holidays, and in the next chapter we'll start finding out what they get up to...

If you don't know by now that the mail address is gothmog@nyms.net then you haven't been paying attention! Feel free to use it...

FURTHER TO MY LAST NOTE: the new job starts next week, and I have now got myself somewhere to live, but it may take a week or so to get the phone connected and to arrange a broadband connection. There may therefore be a small delay before I can post the next chapter, but I hope that after than I'll be able to resume posting at regular intervals as before.

Copyright April 2007 – all rights reserved. Please do not reprint, repost or otherwise reproduce this or any part thereof anywhere without my written permission.

David Clarke