Timmy and the Travellers – Chapter 21

It'd be a bit unfair to abandon Stephen and Tom after their disappointment at the end of the last chapter, so we're going to stay with them for a bit and see what Tom makes of living in a house...


It didn’t take too long for Tom to discover that there were some things about being a townie that he liked: he already knew about the large, soft bed, and the large amount of room that Stephen had to spread his belongings about, and he quickly decided that having a big television on the premises – especially a colour one – was a definite plus, too. He parked himself in front of it, and would probably have been happy to stay there for the rest of the day if Stephen hadn’t dragged him away.

“We’ll get plenty of time to watch telly this evening,” he pointed out. “There’s not much on at the moment, anyway. Come upstairs and we’ll sort out where we’re going to put your stuff.”

Since Tom’s ‘stuff’ consisted of a small sponge bag, he didn’t think it would take too long to find somewhere to put it, but he allowed himself to be led upstairs all the same. It was the first time he had seen Stephen’s bathroom, and, as Stephen had hoped, he was keen to try out the hot water.

“Have a bath,” he suggested. “It’s a lot better than trying to wash out of a bowl, I can tell you.”

“Well… okay, then.” Washing was not generally high on Tom’s list of priorities: he reckoned that a shower once a week at the pool pretty much did the job, though he was prepared to have a quick sponge down at home if he got particularly grubby. But the novelty value of these arrangements led him to decide to give them a try – after all, he was supposed to be living like a townie this weekend, so he supposed he might as well do it properly.

Stephen put the plug in the bath and started running the water, adding a measure of the bubbly bath stuff he usually used, and Tom watched in fascination as the bath quickly filled with foaming water.

“That’s a lot quicker than sticking the water on the cooker to heat up, like we do,” he commented. “Is it always hot as soon as you turn the tap on?”

“Usually. If we empty the hot water tank we have to wait while it heats up again, but there’s usually plenty.” He checked that the water wasn’t too hot or too cold. “Okay, get undressed and jump in,” he said. “And I bet this’ll be the first time you’ve had two thorough washes in two days…”

Tom wondered if Stephen was suggesting that he ought to wash more often, but he didn’t want to get into an argument about it, so he didn’t reply. Instead he took off his clothes, folding them up neatly as he went – something he never bothered to do with his own clothes – and climbed into the bath.

“It’s hot!” he commented.

“Do you want me to put some more cold in?”

“No, just give me a minute to get used to it.”

Gingerly he sat down, gasping a little as the hot water covered his middle, and then even more slowly he slid down until he was lying in the water, which now covered his chest.

“I think I like this,” he said, after a minute or so. “It’s different to having a shower, but it’s nice. I could probably go to sleep like this.”

“Better not,” said Stephen. “If you did, you’d wake up and find the water had gone cold, which wouldn’t be nice. Or you might slip right down and drown. Or, worse than that, my sister might come in and see you.”

Tom gave a mock shriek of horror and piled foam over his groin.

“I don’t suppose it matters if she sees you,” he commented. “There’s nothing much to see in your case, is there?”

Stephen filled a jug with water and poured it over Tom’s head.

“Don’t be cheeky, little brother,” he said, “or the next jug will be cold water.”

“I thought you were the little brother,” said Tom. “I’m bigger than you where it matters, after all.”

Stephen filled the jug at the cold tap and held it over Tom’s head.

“Sorry, who’s the little brother?” he asked.

“You are – eeek!”

A stream of cold water landed on his head, and he ducked under the surface to escape the worst of it.

“Behave, or I’ll go downstairs and fill the jug with ice cubes instead,” threatened Stephen. “And I’ll pull the plug out first, so you won’t be able to hide in the warm water: you’ll be lying there in the open air, all bare and with ice cubes all over your balls.”

“You wouldn’t do that to me,” said Tom, confidently.

“Why not?”

“Because we’re brothers, and you wouldn’t do something that nasty to your brother. And because if you did I’d think of something even worse to get you back. And don’t forget you’ll be a slave again after the holidays: be nice to me, or me and Danny will spend every evening chasing you naked through the woods and whipping your bum.”

“And you won’t do that to me,” replied Stephen. “Same reason.”

“Ah, but Danny might. He’s not your brother, after all – all he wants from townies is a chance to beat them up. And to get a nice suck, of course. If you’re nice to me I might tell him not to be too nasty to you, but if you’re not nice to me, I’ll let him do whatever he wants.”

“That’s blackmail!”

“Don’t care. Put that jug down – or fill it with warm water: it felt quite nice the first time.”

So Stephen refilled the jug with warm water and poured it slowly over Tom’s head and down his body, and then he handed him the shampoo bottle.

“Wash your hair and I’ll rinse it for you,” he said.

Tom lathered up his hair, and Stephen rinsed him down with several jugs of water.

“Wait a sec,” said Tom. He stood up, poured a little more shampoo into his hand and rubbed it round his groin.

“Tom, there’s no hair to wash there,” Stephen pointed out.

“No, but there will be soon enough, so I thought I ought to get used to washing it. Well, go on, then – fill the jug and rinse me.”

Stephen refilled his jug and poured it, very slowly, over Tom’s genitals, rinsing away the soap and having another effect at the same time.

“That felt nice,” said Tom, looking at his growing erection. “Do that again.”

Stephen did it again, and again, and each successive jug of water seemed to make it even harder. But after the third jug Stephen put the jug back under the basin and told Tom to get out of the bath and dry himself off.

“You can’t leave me like this,” complained Tom, staring at himself.

“Why not?”

“’Cos it would be cruel.”

“Maybe I’m feeling cruel,” said Stephen, passing Tom a large towel. “And then again, maybe I’m not.”

He picked up a much smaller hand towel and carefully began to dry Tom’s genitals, and of course the attention it was getting meant that Tom’s erection stayed good and hard. Tom dried himself off quickly and got out of the bath, at which point Stephen stopped what he was doing, pulled the plug out to empty the bath, picked Tom up and carried him through to the bedroom.

“Now, we can’t do anything too bad at the moment, because Mum’s downstairs and Emma’s out in the garden with Dad,” he pointed out. “Probably I should just make you get dressed, but maybe – if you apologise for those comments about my size – I could be persuaded to do something about that thing of yours first.”

“I’m sorry I said it was small;” said Tom. “I mean, it is small, we both know that, but I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“That’s your idea of an apology, is it?”

Tom shrugged and grinned, and after a moment Stephen grinned back.

“Wait there,” he said, and he trotted back to the bathroom and retrieved Tom’s clothes, which he put on the chair beside his desk. Then he flicked over the tiny bolt on his bedroom door: one strong push would get past it, but the idea was to allow him to indicate that he’d like a bit of privacy, rather than barring the door to all comers.

He came and sat next to where Tom was lying on the bed and took hold of the hardest part of him, stroking it gently.

“Can you take your clothes off, please?” asked Tom. “Doing this is nicer when we’re both undressed.”

So Stephen got undressed and lay down on the bed next to him.

“We’d better not take too long now,” he said, “or the family will wonder what we’re doing. But tomorrow morning they’ll be off to do the shopping – they can’t do it today because most of the shops are shut – and then we’ll have the house to ourselves. Unless you’d prefer to go shopping with them, that is…”

“No, thanks. I’m going to lie in that big soft townie bed all morning. I’ll probably kick my little brother out and make him go and get breakfast for me, too…”

“If I hear much more of that ‘little brother’ stuff, someone round here’s going to get his bum smacked.”

“You wouldn’t. You like me too much.”

Stephen rolled Tom over onto his tummy and smacked his bottom lightly a couple of times.

“Don’t count on it,” said Stephen. “If you were really my brother I wouldn’t let you get away with all that cheek, so I don’t see why I should when we’re just pretending. Just because you’ve got big balls, doesn’t mean you have to have a big mouth, too.”

“Ah, but you’ve only got little balls, and you need a big mouth – otherwise you wouldn’t be able to get my big cock in it.”

“You must want to be spanked,” said Stephen.

“I don’t mind. You’re so feeble I won’t even feel it.”

So Stephen spanked him a bit harder, and Tom retaliated, and they wrestled for a couple of minutes, until they slipped off the bed and fell on the floor. The noise of their landing provoked a shouted enquiry from downstairs asking if everything was alright.

“Fine,” shouted Stephen, getting to his feet and pulling Tom up after him. “We’re just getting changed. Come on,” he added in a quieter voice, “we’d better get dressed and go downstairs. And mind you behave, otherwise tomorrow when they’re out of the house I’ll spank you really hard.”

“No, you won’t,” said Tom, complacently. “You’re too nice to do that.”

They got dressed and went downstairs, and spent the rest of the day kicking a football about in the garden, playing cards and watching television. By the time bedtime came around Tom had decided he didn’t mind being a townie at all: maybe it would get boring eventually, always being in the same place and doing the same things, but in the short term he was perfectly happy.

Stephen’s parents were not given to coming in to say ‘Goodnight’, but just in case Tom started out in a sleeping bag on the folding camp bed: they had already decided that “having a bad dream” would offer a suitable excuse for him moving in to share Stephen’s bed later. They talked quietly for an hour or so until they heard Stephen’s parents coming upstairs to go to bed themselves, and ten minutes later, when the house had gone quiet, Tom abandoned the sleeping bag and got into bed next to Stephen. Neither of them had been wearing anything, so they were now the way they wanted to be: naked, and in the same bed.

“Your mum won’t come in to wake us up for breakfast or anything, will she?” asked Tom.

“No. She might knock at the door, but she won’t come in – or not unless she hears strange noises, anyway, which means I won’t be able to spank you until she’s gone shopping.”

“What a pity! It means I won’t be able to spank you, either.”

“Keep dreaming.”

Tom wriggled a bit closer, and Stephen put his arm round him. He really enjoyed being close to Tom like this, and it was at times like this that he regretted not having a real brother. It would be fun to have someone like Tom to play with, and to tease – and, indeed, to be teased by, because he enjoyed the way Tom made fun of him sometimes. He wondered if he would change his mind if Tom really did live with him full time: after all, having a little brother could probably be really annoying sometimes, especially if they kept sticking their nose into his business. At least, that’s what a couple of his friends at school had told him. But he found it hard to imagine that he would ever get tired of having a brother like Tom about the place…

He enjoyed the sex things they did together, too, though he thought that was something that might change as he got older; probably he’d be going out with girls before too long, and he’d only want to do that sort of thing with them once he reached that stage. But the sex was only a small part of being friends with Tom, and he was sure he’d still want them to do other stuff together, playing and talking and things like that, even after he started dating girls. In the meantime he’d enjoy that sort of thing with Tom, too: he was determined that they should have another try at what they had failed to do that afternoon.

Tom had quickly adjusted to the softer bed and was already almost asleep. Stephen stroked his hair, and Tom murmured something inaudible and moved even closer, so Stephen did it again and then hugged him.

“Night, little brother,” he said, softly.

“Night, even littler brother,” replied Tom, in a sleepy murmur. Stephen smiled to himself and settled down to sleep.

As predicted, their morning wake-up call came in the form of a knock at the door and a voice telling them that breakfast would be ready in fifteen minutes. Stephen would have liked to spend the whole morning where he was now, but he supposed that breakfast might be a good idea, too, so he threw back the covers and stood up. As seemed to happen quite often when he first got up, he had an erection, and when Tom noticed he giggled.

“You must think I’m really sexy,” he said.

“No, this just happens most mornings,” said Stephen.

“Yeah, right. Anyway, it’s still smaller than mine, even like that.”

“No, it isn’t,” replied Stephen, and he wrenched the sheets back to prove it. Tom’s was still soft, but almost as soon as the sheet was removed it started to harden.

“Looks like you think I’m sexy, too,” observed Stephen.

“No, it’s stiff with terror, ‘cos it’s never seen anything as horrible as your face.”

“You’ve obviously not used a mirror lately, then.”

Tom made a rude noise and stood up, holding his erection alongside Stephen’s and demonstrating that they were still about the same length, and that Tom’s was still thicker.

“Little brother!” he said, cheekily.

“You wait till my parents have gone out;” said Stephen, pulling on his hitherto-unused pyjama trousers and heading for the bathroom. Tom pulled on his underpants – which still felt strange to him – and followed him, and they peed, washed and cleaned their teeth (without splashing each other more than was absolutely necessary – at least, necessary in Tom’s eyes), and then went back to the bedroom, dressed and went downstairs for breakfast.

After breakfast they waited impatiently for the rest of the family to go shopping.

“Sure you don’t want to come with us?” asked Stephen’s mother.

“No, thanks. We’ll see you when you get back.”

“Okay. Mind you behave yourselves while we’re gone.” And she closed the door behind her.

They waited until the car had pulled out of the driveway and driven away, then Stephen said, “So – are we going to behave ourselves?”

“That depends on whether you’re going to do what I tell you, baby brother.”

Stephen grabbed him and dragged him upstairs to the bedroom. Then he pushed him onto the bed and started trying to strip him. Tom retaliated by pulling at Stephen’s clothes, and for a couple of minutes they struggled happily, each trying to undress the other. Stephen’s extra weight and strength soon told, however, and before too long Tom was naked.

“Now, are you going to apologise, or do I have to tickle you to death first?” asked Stephen.

“I might decide to apologise – but only if you finish getting undressed first.”

Stephen could see no good reason not to go along with this, so he took off the rest of his clothes, but the moment he was naked Tom leapt on him and grabbed his genitals, squeezing hard.

“I’ve thought about it,” he said, “and I’ve decided that apologising would be a bad idea.”

“That’s fighting dirty,” complained Stephen, struggling briefly but stopping again when Tom squeezed even harder.

“No, it isn’t: it’s fighting clever. After all, you’re three years older than me, and a lot bigger and stronger, so I have to find ways to beat you – and this one seems pretty good to me. So – are you going to apologise, or do I have to pull everything right off?”

Stephen struggled a bit more and tried to grab Tom’s privates, but Tom squeezed again and moved his vulnerable areas a little further away.

“Come on, then: admit you’re my little brother and promise to do what you’re told, or I’ll turn you into a girl.”

Stephen knew perfectly well that Tom wasn’t going to do anything of the sort, but his balls were hurting, and every attempt to break free simply resulted in Tom gripping even harder.

“Okay!” cried Stephen, eventually. “Okay, I’m sorry, okay? Now let go.”

“Not until you admit you’re the little brother.”

“Alright, I’m the little brother. Happy now?”

“And do you promise to be a good little brother and do what I tell you for the rest of the day?”

It took another couple of squeezes before Stephen was prepared to do that, but in the end he gasped out what Tom wanted to hear, and Tom gave a final squeeze and let go. Stephen held himself, checking that everything was still where it was supposed to be.

“Now, baby brother, I want you to kneel down and kiss my great big cock, and to admit to it that it’s loads bigger and better than yours,” Tom commanded.

Stephen grinned and dropped to his knees, and Tom sat on the bed in front of him and thrust his groin forward.

“Hello, Tom’s cock,” said Stephen. “Tom wants me to say that you’re loads bigger and better than mine, so I’m saying it.” And he placed a quick kiss on the tip.

“That’s not quite the same as admitting it,” Tom pointed out.

“You’re right there,” agreed Stephen. “But I’ve done what you told me to. And now, if you’d like to shut up for five minutes, maybe I can do something you didn’t tell me to.”

He slipped the erection into his mouth and began to suck on it, very slowly. Tom decided that keeping his mouth shut would be a good idea, in the circumstances, so he simply sat where he was and enjoyed it.

Stephen groped under the bed and managed to get hold of the small jar of Vaseline he had placed there the previous evening, and without stopping what he was doing he managed to open the jar and transfer a blob of Vaseline onto his bum. Then he scooped up a little more, took Tom’s erection out of his mouth and anointed it with lubricant.

“Stand up,” he told Tom. “This time it’s bound to work, because now we both know you’re the boss, and I’m just the little boy who has to do what he’s told. And now you can prove it.”

He positioned himself across the bed and spread his legs, and Tom took up position behind him and moved forwards until his erection was just touching Stephen’s bum. Stephen took hold of it and tugged it into approximately the right place, determined to get it inside before Tom started thinking about what he was doing and getting nervous about it again, and this time he got it into position first time.

“Now push,” he said, and Tom leaned forward while Stephen tried to push out and then relax – and this time it slipped in easily, so easily that as soon as Tom moved it slipped back out again.

“See? That was simple. This time once it’s inside, just keep still until we both get used to it.”

Having succeeded once, Tom was able to relax a little, and the second attempt went in as easily as the first, except that this time it went all the way in. Stephen gave a gasp.

“Are you OK?” asked Tom, nervously.

“Fine. It’s just bigger than I thought… yes, okay, I admit it’s big. Just shut up about it, OK?”

“I don’t think you can tell me what to do at the moment,” said Tom, his self-confidence flooding back. “Looks to me like I’m in complete charge here – you’re getting a fucking, like you deserve for insulting me earlier.” He paused. “It’s not really hurting too much, is it?” he asked, in a completely different tone of voice. “I mean, tell me if it hurts and I’ll stop straight away. I don’t want to hurt you, Stephen.”

“It’s OK, it just made me feel a bit strange – sort of like I needed to… well, you know. But I seem to be getting used to it now. Try pulling back a bit – not too far, we don’t want it coming right out – and then shove it in again.”

But Tom pulled back a little too far, and it came out again. Annoyed with himself, he lined it back up without assistance and pushed it in once more.

“It’s because it’s so short,” said Stephen, grinning. “You can’t work with one as small as that – it’s bound to pop out every time you move half an inch.”

“You were just saying how big it was,” said Tom.

“That was thickness, not length.”

“Well, stop being cheeky about it, or you’ll get spanked. In fact, you’re in just the right position.” And Tom slapped the side of Stephen’s right buttock. “Anyway, it only came out ‘cos I’m still getting used to this. Bet it won’t this time.”

And it didn’t: gradually Tom worked out how much he needed to move to make it feel good without it slipping out, and once he had the answer to that question he started rocking backwards and forwards. And Stephen found that it didn’t hurt any more – in fact, it felt quite nice. He squeezed a little, and Tom gasped and told him to keep doing it…

Considering their complete inexperience, their first attempt was remarkably effective: Tom slowly thrust his way to a brilliant orgasm, and although Stephen didn’t reach a climax himself he enjoyed the sensation it gave him – and, even more, he enjoyed the look on Tom’s face afterwards, which demonstrated how much Tom had got out of it.

Stephen grabbed a handful of tissues from the box on his chest of drawers, handed a couple to Tom and wiped himself down with a third. Tom cleaned himself up and then came and hugged Stephen fiercely.

“That was so good,” he said. “You’re brilliant, Stephen: I’ll never forget that as long as I live.”

“That was the idea, to give us both something to remember about each other even if… well, you know... you moving away, and that.”

“But we are going to do it again, aren’t we?” asked Tom.

“Of course, if you want to.”

“And you really don’t mind?”

“Don’t mind? I enjoyed it – I loved having you stuck inside me like that. I’d certainly like to do it again.”

"Brilliant!" And Tom hugged him again, even harder.

"We'd better clean ourselves up properly before mum and dad get back;" said Stephen, breaking free. "I'll run you another bath, shall I?"

"Yes, please!"

So Stephen ran another bath and Tom washed himself thoroughly and then soaked for a bit. Stephen waited until he had finished and then jumped in long enough to wash his bottom, and then they both went back to the bedroom and got dressed. When Stephen's family got home they found the two boys innocently watching television.

Shortly after lunch Stephen got a phone call from Timmy.

"Me and Christy are going to the cinema on Tuesday," Timmy started.

"'Christy and I'," said Stephen.


"'Christy and I', not 'Me and Christy'," said Stephen. "'Me and Christy' is bad grammar."

"Oh, right. Anyway, me and Christy are going to the cinema on Tuesday, and we wondered if you and Tom would like to come, too."

"What's on?"

"The Eagle has Landed. Michael Caine's in it, and it's supposed to be quite good."

"Hang on, I'll ask," said Stephen, and he put the handset down. "Oi, Tom!" he shouted.


"Do you want to go to the cinema on Tuesday?"

"Yes, OK."

Stephen picked up the handset again. "Okay," he reported, "me and Tom - if you insist on ignoring the rules of grammar - would like to come, too. What time does it start?"

Timmy checked - he'd copied the times from the local paper - and they agreed to meet at the cinema.

"We're going to ask Michael and Danny to come, too," Timmy said. "Apparently they got paid for a job at the end of last week, so they should have some money."

"Okay," said Stephen, "we'll see you there."

That evening Stephen's dad drove the two boys to church for Midnight Mass. Tom's family had kept a place in their pew for them.

"Who's this town kid, then?" asked Mr O'Leary, looking his son up and down. "And what has he done with my son?"

"Stephen's friend Timmy lent them to me," said Tom, feeling a bit embarrassed. "We're about the same size. They feel a bit strange, to be honest."

"You look really sharp," said Mr O'Leary, winking at Stephen. "Are you sure you'll want to come back to living with us poor travelling folk afterwards?"

"Of course I will. It's sort of fun being a townie for a few days, but I wouldn't want to do it for good. I'd miss you, and I'd miss being able to move about and see new places."

"Oh, OK. Maybe we won't sell your bed after all, then," said Mr O'Leary.

Stephen found the service easier to follow this time: even though it started completely differently, after a bit he found things following the same path as they had on Thursday. Once again he stayed in the pew with his dad and Bridie when it was time for communion, and this time he didn't have to be told what to do.

After the service Tom spotted Carlington again, and this time when they went to say hello Carlington didn't seem at all embarrassed.

"Very smart, Tom," he commented. "Did you find some pathetic town boy to steal them from?"

"Sort of. Timmy lent them to me. And I'll tell him you said he was pathetic."

"I was kidding, silly. Anyway, you look completely different like that."

"Which shows you shouldn't judge by appearances," said Stephen, "because he's the same, stroppy, cheeky kid he usually is. He's staying with me at the moment, and I can tell you he hasn't changed a bit."

"Watch it, little brother," said Tom, grinning at him. "Hey, Colin - we're all going to the cinema on Tuesday. Do you want to come?"

"Yes, OK. I won't be doing anything else because dad will be back to work and mum's going to visit my gran - I was going to have to go, too, and I really don't mind having something else to do instead. I like my gran, but it can be boring, just sitting about all day. Hang on, I'll just go and make sure..."

He trotted off and spoke to his parents, and came back a minute or so later.

"Yes, it's fine," he reported. "Er...would it be okay if I bring someone with me?"

"Why, have you got a girlfriend?" asked Tom, grinning.

"Don't be silly - who'd want to go out with me? No, I thought I might ask my friend Luke to come, that's all. I mean, you lot all know each other, but I don't really know any of you very well, and I'd like to have someone to talk to."

"We'd all talk to you," protested Tom. "But obviously if you want to bring a friend with you, you can."

"It starts at half past two, so we're going to meet at the cinema at two o'clock," Stephen told him.

"Great," said Carlington. "I'll see you there."

So on the Sunday morning Carlington tried to call Luke Jenner, but the phone was not answered; and it went on ringing unanswered when he tried again in the afternoon and evening. He tried again on Monday morning, with the same result, so it looked as if the Jenners had gone away for Easter.

Damn, he thought. He was sure Tom was right, and that he wouldn't be ignored if he went on his own, but it would be more fun if he had one of his own friends there to talk to and share his Maltesers with. He wondered who else he could ask... Matt would eat all the Maltesers himself, and he knew Owen was away for the holidays...

And then he had a thought. Why not? he said to himself - and he picked up the phone book and started looking under 'T'...

"What are you doing tomorrow?" asked Carlington, when the phone was answered.

"Well... nothing, really - except I'm meant to be revising."

"I know. But... how do you fancy going to the cinema?"

"What, with you?"

'"Obviously. Actually, it’s the travellers who are going, and Timmy and Stephen, and they asked me if I'd like to go, too. And I thought you might like to come with me."

"Then... yes, I would. Very much."

"Good. Then come round here about eleven, and that'll give us enough time to have something to eat before the film starts."

Truscott rang Carlington's doorbell just before eleven o'clock; and was greeted - in complete contrast to his previous visit - with a big smile.

"You didn't have to put your best clothes on," Carlington said.

"They're not, not really. But I didn't want to look too scruffy. And... I've got a pair of shorts in my bag, in case you'd prefer me to wear those..."

"That's only for at school. Anyway, come upstairs."

Truscott followed him up to his bedroom.

"I thought maybe we could do some sex before we go," said Carlington. "But only if you want to - I did promise to let you have this week for revising, after all."

"No, I don't mind at all. Are we going to do it properly this time?"

By way of response, Carlington showed him an old newspaper and a jar of Vaseline.

"You'd better get undressed," he said, "and then you can help me to get ready."

Truscott undressed quickly, and watched as Carlington took his own clothes off and sat on the bed. Without having to be told, Truscott dropped to his knees in front of him and started to suck at Carlington's large erection.

Carlington let him get on with it for a minute or two and then told him to stop and take up position across the chair. The newspaper was deployed underneath him, a dab of Vaseline was applied to him, and then Carlington carefully entered him.

"You don't have to fight it this time," Carlington told him. "Try to enjoy it instead."

So Truscott relaxed a bit, squeezed a little and enjoyed the feeling of Carlington's body against and inside him. And very quickly he went hard, and steadily the feeling grew...

"I'm getting there, Colin," he said.

"Then we'd better wait for a bit," replied Carlington. "I don't want you getting there too quickly; or you won't enjoy the rest of it." And he stopped moving.

He waited thirty seconds or so and then started again, and by a series of starts and stops he succeeded in delaying Truscott's orgasm for some time. Eventually, however, he just kept going, and Truscott ejaculated all over the newspaper. After that Carlington did his best to finish himself off as quickly as he could, finally thrusting hard against Truscott as he reached his own climax.

"Well, at least you won't need to masturbate this time," he commented, pulling out and looking at the newspaper. "Come on through to the bathroom."

Carlington washed himself down in the washbasin, though he had to stand on a chair to get his genitals up high enough, and then he ran a bath and told Truscott to get into it.

"I've got a couple of presents for you," he said, nipping back to the bedroom and returning with a small plastic bag. "This shampoo is supposed to be good for greasy hair - use it instead of whatever rubbish you're using now, and use it at least three times a week, and it should sort your hair out. And this soap is supposed to help get rid of zits, provided you use it all the time. I've kept the packets, so you'll know what to buy when these run out. After all, if we're going to be seen together, I'd like you to look as good as possible."

"Thanks, Colin. I'll use them all the time, I promise."

"Good. You can start now." And he took the soap out of its wrapper and tossed it to Truscott, and then sat on the loo and watched as Truscott bathed.

"Aren't you going to get dressed?" asked Truscott.

"Not yet. I know you like looking at me like this... we can get dressed together when you've finished in the bath."

So Truscott washed and shampooed his hair, twice, and then got out, dried himself and followed Carlington back to the bedroom, where they got dressed - and he noticed that Carlington put on some clothes that were rather tidier than the ones he had been wearing when Truscott arrived.

They caught the first bus into Poundford Spa, went to the Wimpy Bar for something to eat and then walked to the cinema.

"I hope you've got enough money to buy me some sweets to eat inside," commented Carlington.

"Isn't that your job? I mean, I'm the girl, aren't I - so you ought to buy sweets for me, if you're taking me on a date."

Carlington laughed. "I hadn't thought of it as a date," he said. "I hadn't really thought of you as a girl, either - you're not exactly Miss World, are you? No, I think we'd better both be boys, and as you're the oldest, you can buy the sweets. We can think of it as a date if you like, though - as long as you don't call it that in front of the others."

"Okay," said Truscott. "I'll nip into Maynards. What do you want?"

"I'm joking, silly. I know you haven't got much money - after all, you've been paying us back for the last few weeks. I'll buy something for us to share - my mum gave me some money to spend. Come on, we'll go in together."

The others were a little surprised to see Truscott there with Carlington, but nobody made any adverse comment, not even Danny. The cinema was quite full, so they couldn't get into the back row, and that made it difficult for any of the couples to misbehave too much: Timmy and Christy held hands for much of the film; Tom and Stephen occasionally groped each other; and Carlington and Truscott fed each other Maltesers. Michael and Danny were too engrossed in the film to take any notice of what was going on around them, anyway.

They emerged into the sunshine afterwards talking excitedly about the film. Timmy said it was the first film he'd ever seen which made the Germans seem human - "After all," he pointed out, "if that soldier hadn't jumped into the water to rescue the little kid, nobody would have found out they were Germans. Maybe someone should make a film about travellers like that, so us townies would realise you're just normal people, too."

"Nah, it'd be better if we had guns, like the Germans," said Danny. "Then anyone who said the wrong thing about us would get shot..." and he broke into a loud impression of someone firing off a machine gun.

“Yes, but then everyone else would get guns and shoot back," Timmy pointed out. "And you'd lose, just like the Germans in the film, because there are loads of us and not many of you."

"Never mind about that," said Michael. "I want to learn how to do the whistle to control the dogs, like the Irish guy did. That'd be really useful - we could go and rob townie houses, and if they set the dogs on us, I'd just do that whistle and we could get away easy. I'm just kidding," he added, seeing the look on Timmy's face. "We never rob. We might swindle a bit, but we don't break in. That'd be asking for trouble."

"Hey, look, there's a 91", said Stephen, interrupting the discussion. "Let's run and catch it."

So they dashed off to the bus stop to catch the bus home.


So now Tom and Stephen have succeeded in taking their relationship to another level, but – like Timmy and Christy – they're trying not to think about the future, which after all is likely to separate them. As for Carlington and Truscott, they're not far off achieving 'couple' status themselves: before too long I'll probably have to start referring to them as Colin and Graham instead of using their surnames.

I'm gothmog@nyms.net – nuff said.

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

David Clarke