Timmy and the Travellers -- Chapter 23




Okay, the summer term has started, and that means that an important exam is hanging over the senior boys, and the certainty that the travellers are going to move on is hanging over everyone. There are one or two other matters to be dealt with first, though -- and one of our hitherto fringe characters is suddenly going to find himself at the centre of most of what goes on in this chapter...


At break on Monday morning Carlington called all the juniors to a meeting in the pavilion.

"I was talking to the travellers over the holidays," he told them, "and they've agreed with me that we should leave Truscott alone this term..."

There were a couple of mutterings of discontent.

"After all," Carlington went on, "he's done absolutely everything we've told him to, even the really disgusting stuff -- and we did say when we first talked about it that if he behaved we should let him take his exams in peace. Well, I think he's behaved well enough. Does anyone think different?"

They looked at each other, but nobody raised any argument.

"Okay, that's settled, then. Oh, by the way, he's agreed to keep wearing shorts right through the exams and until the end of term -- at least that way you'll have something to remind you that he's still being punished. Oh, and another thing: apparently he's now paid back all the money he owed us -- he sold some records and cassettes or something last week. He's giving the money to Timmy this morning, so if you're still owed anything, you'll probably get it today. Stephen -- Wood -- still owes a bit, but that's our bonus, rather than the money they took in the first place, so I've told Timmy to tell him we don't mind waiting a little longer for that. Okay, everyone happy?"

Again, nobody argued, at least not audibly, so he said they might as well go back to the yard, and everyone followed him out.

"I'm really not very happy about this," said Williams to Gwyn-Thomas as they walked together back towards the yard.

"Then why didn't you say anything?"

"Because Colin's right, really: we can't say Truscott didn't do what we told him to. But I really wanted to make him suck on my thingy again -- that felt absolutely brilliant. I can't believe I only got to make him do it once."

Gwyn-Thomas stopped and checked that the others were now out of earshot, and then said hesitantly, "Matt... if you want...maybe..."


"Well... I could do it for you, if you want."

"Huh? Seriously?"

"Yes, if you want -- and if you promise not to tell the others."

"But... why would you want to do a disgusting thing like that?"

Gwyn-Thomas shrugged. "Maybe I won't want to, once I've tried," he said. "But... I don't know, it seems sort of interesting, and I don't mind trying."

"Okay, then," said Williams, who wasn't going to turn down an offer like that. "But... there's no way I'm going to do it to you as well, OK? Right, well, if you're happy with that, how about back at the pavilion at lunch time?"

"Okay. But you'll have to tell me what to do -- Truscott didn't really do it to me for long enough for work out the best way to do it."

"Don't worry, I will. And if you mess it up I'll make you pee in your pants. I'm joking," he added, seeing the look on Gwyn-Thomas's face. "Don't worry, Owen, I can tell the difference between you and Truscott. You're the one with the funny accent."

Gwyn-Thomas rammed his elbow into his ribs, and Williams tried to retaliate, but Gwyn-Thomas skipped out of range.

"Don't be cheeky, or I'll bite it off, see?" he threatened. And he ran off before Williams could catch up with him.


They went back to the pavilion at lunch time. They knew there was nobody else inside because the key was still in its usual place in the bush: if anyone else came now that they had taken it they would know that the pavilion was occupied and so would hopefully go away. Indeed, unless they were carrying a knife they would be unable to get in anyway. Consequently Matt and Owen felt quite safe, but they nonetheless went up to one of the small rooms at the top of the pavilion: if the caretaker were to take it into his head to visit the pavilion this lunch break, he would be unlikely to come all the way to the top of the building.

"Come on, then, get undressed," said Matt, sitting on the bench.

"And you."

"You go first. After all, we always made Truscott strip before we did, and if you're pretending to be him you have to do it right."

"Well... okay, then." Owen wasn't sure that he really wanted to `pretend to be Truscott', but he supposed it wouldn't do any harm: Matt had seen him undressed before, after all. So he took all his clothes off, hanging them up carefully on the pegs.

He was still hanging his pants up when Matt grabbed him and started tickling him. Owen squealed and tried to escape, but he was desperately ticklish and Matt was stronger than he was, so there was nothing he could do except to beg for mercy, which he did, breathlessly.

"Submit?" demanded Matt.

"I submit!" gasped Owen.

"Good. Then your punishment for submitting is that you have to suck my thingy."

"But... I was going to do that anyway," said Owen in confusion.

"I know. But now if anyone ever finds out about it -- which they won't, I'm sure -- you can honestly say that you did it because I forced you to. If you say you volunteered people might think you were a bit strange, but if you were made to do it, nobody will blame you at all. They might blame me for bullying you, but that's nothing like as bad as it would be for you if they started thinking you were a homo, or something."

"Oh, right. Thanks, Matt -- I hadn't thought of it like that."

"Of course, since I'm now officially bullying you, you'd better do a good job, otherwise I might have to punish you."

"You'd have to catch me first."

"That's why you haven't got any clothes on -- you can't run far like that. Anyway, let's get on with it..."

He sat in the edge of the bench and Owen dropped to his knees in front of him. Hesitantly he leaned forward and closed his lips around Matt's still soft willy.

"Now you lick it until it goes hard," his friend told him. "And then you sort of slide it into and out of your mouth."

Owen did as he was told, and after a few seconds he felt Matt's little organ starting to react. He licked a little harder, and once he thought it was as hard as it could get he started to slide his lips up and down the shaft. Matt had to give him a few instructions as to speed and pressure, but soon he was doing it the way Matt wanted.

Owen felt a bit strange about doing this, but at the same time he thought it was sort of fun, making his friend wriggle about and utter strange noises. It didn't taste bad, or anything... soon he became aware that his own thingy had gone hard, and he slipped a hand down between his legs and started playing with it, until Matt told him pretty sharply to get back to using his hands in the approved manner -- in other words, on him.

It took quite a long time to get Matt to the point of no return, but he gave the impression that he was enjoying every second of it, groaning and wriggling and pulling Owen's head hard against him, until finally he gave an extra big thrust and pulled Owen against him as hard as he could. Owen went on licking at it as Matt squealed his way through his orgasm, only finally stopping when Matt let go of his head and relaxed.

"Was that OK?" he asked, standing up.

"That was bloody amazing," said Matt. "I reckon you do it even better than Truscott did. Look, Owen... you will do that again for me, won't you?"

"Maybe," said his friend, grinning at him. "Let's see...I could charge you ten pence a go -- or maybe I won't charge you, provided you run across the cricket square in the nude first..."

"Or maybe I'll beat you up if you get stroppy," said Matt. "Maybe I'll sit on you and bounce up and down for half an hour."

Owen giggled. "I'd end up squished all over the floor," he said. "And I wouldn't be able to do it at all afterwards, so maybe you better not."

"Okay, but I could probably think of some other nasty things to do instead."

"Or you could just ask me nicely."

"OK, I'm asking you nicely. Please?"

"Good. In that case, no, I don't mind doing that again."

"Brilliant! Come on, then, we'd better get dressed."

They put their clothes back on and let themselves out of the pavilion.


Stephen and Truscott went to the garage after school, and Timmy went with them, even though he was no longer a slave: it would give him a chance to see Christy, which was reason enough for going.

Michael was in a very good mood -- he'd been flirting round one of the girls on the site for a while, and to his complete amazement she had agreed to go out with him. This would be the first time he had ever been out with a girl, and thinking about it had simply driven everything else from his mind. Besides, he'd been thinking about what Stephen had said just before the holiday had started, and what Colin had said to him on the first Tuesday -- and Timmy's comments outside the cinema hadn't done any harm, either.

"Stephen, you first," he said. "Tom's been saying all sorts of nice things about you, and Bren Byrne reckons you're OK, too -- he says you worked hard and didn't act like you were afraid to get your hands dirty, which is what he expected. Anyway, Tom reckons you shouldn't have to be a slave any longer, and I'm happy enough with that. So here's your file -- and if you want to borrow my lighter to get rid on the photos in a minute, fine -- just do it outside.

"Truscott... I'm still not sure about you, to be honest, but Colin reckons you've been a good slave. I'm probably going to be too busy to spend a lot of time here for a while, but I expect Danny will still want to see you on Mondays, at least until your exams start..."

"Obviously," interrupted his brother. "I'm not missing out on getting a good suck."

"...so from now on you just have to come round on Mondays, and if Danny doesn't want you for... well, anything, you can go home. And once we get to a week before the exams you can stop coming: we'll give you your file back and you won't have to be a slave any longer."

"Then who's going to suck me off?" demanded Danny.

"You'll have to find your own slave -- or get a girlfriend, if you can find one stupid enough to have you."

"Try the local blind school," suggested Tom, grinning at him. The usual wrestling match ensued.

"Anyway, as far as I'm concerned you can all use this place whenever you like," Michael went on, "unless I'm using it, of course."

"How will we know if you're using it?" asked Stephen.

"You'll hear his bird laughing hysterically and saying things like, "Call that a cock?" and "Lend me a magnifying glass," suggested Christy.

"Fuck off, baldy," said Michael, without rancour. "Just `cos you're jealous, because no girl's ever going to look at you."

"I think I could live with that," whispered Christy in Timmy's ear.

"No, it's a serious question," said Stephen. "I mean, we should have a signal or something, so that if Michael -- or anyone else, come to that -- is using the garage, nobody will interrupt."

They discussed it for a bit and finally decided to put a pair of large sticks in the form of a cross on the ground just outside the door if the garage was in use.

After that Michael said he was going, there was someone he had to see, which was greeted with some mock cheering. Danny collared Truscott before he could disappear: "If I've only got you for a few more weeks, I'm going to make the most of it," he said. "So get undressed, and we'll see if you've remembered everything I've taught you."

The others drifted off, Christy walking up to the bus stop with Timmy while Stephen and Tom went and burnt Stephen's file (and Tom didn't think to ask if he could keep the pictures) and then walked slowly back to Stephen's house. Both schoolboys knew that visits would be discouraged, except perhaps at weekends, until the exams were over, so this short period immediately after school was all the time they would have together for a while.


A week rolled by, then another. Christy came over to stay with Timmy one Friday night, and Tom spent a Saturday with Stephen, but both the older boys were too preoccupied with the exams to be able to get the maximum out of the visits. Danny made Truscott suck him for the next couple of Mondays, but after that he took pity on him and told him he didn't have to come any more until the first Monday after the exams, at which point he would be freed -- "Provided," Danny added, "that I get a really good suck first."

Colin and Truscott got together at the weekends, which Truscott enjoyed a lot more than he had his Mondays with Danny, but they spent more time revising together than they did misbehaving: Colin was bright enough to be able to help Truscott with some of his revision, and was able to test him from the textbooks for the more difficult subjects. Nonetheless, there was a point on the second Saturday where Truscott was obviously finding it hard to concentrate, and so Colin decided to give him an incentive.

"I know you can do better than this," he said, "so I'll make you an offer: get the next ten questions right and I'll get undressed, and stay undressed for the next half hour -- or, at least, until my parents get home from the shops. Okay?"

That gave Truscott a serious incentive, though it also gave him a bit of a distraction: he had to concentrate on his work and not on imagining a naked Colin. But he knuckled down and got the questions all right.

"See?" said Colin. "I knew you could do it. Perhaps you'll do your best in the exam if I offer to spend a whole day with you without any clothes on provided that you pass... no, I'm not offering that yet, but I'll think about it. Okay, put the books away for a bit: I bet you won't be able to concentrate if I'm sitting here in the nude, so we'll take a break for half an hour."

He undressed, and Truscott sat and watched him in admiration.

"Your turn," said Colin, once he was naked.

"Hey, how come I have to get undressed? This is supposed to be a reward for me!"

"Yes, but we can have a lot more fun if we're both naked, can't we? Besides, I like seeing you naked. You look nice these days."

The shampoo had been effective: Truscott's hair was now soft and clean. The soap still had some work to do, because the zits were proving a little more stubborn, but there were still fewer than there had been at Easter.

So Truscott got undressed and they first looked at each other and then started to touch each other, and Truscott was delighted to see that Colin had an erection: maybe he really was starting to like looking at him, he thought.

They caressed each other for a bit, and then Truscott asked if Colin wanted to be sucked.

"Not today. But... would you like to masturbate me? I'd like to know what it feels like if someone else does it."

"Okay," agreed Truscott, with alacrity. "Lie on the bed, then."

So Colin relaxed on the bed, and Truscott came and sat down beside him, took hold of the beautiful organ and started to rub it steadily.

"That's nice," said Colin, dreamily. "Keep going like that."

So Truscott kept going like that, and after a bit Colin reached round and took hold of Truscott's erection and started to caress it. Truscott moved a little closer so that he could reach it more easily and then got on with his own side of the operation. Soon Colin was wriggling about.

"I'm almost there," he said. "Don't stop, please... aaah... aaahhh... yes!"

And Truscott found that his hand was wet, and so was the tip of Colin's penis.

"Hey, look, Colin, you've got some," he pointed out.

"What!? Gosh, so I have... I must be growing up faster than I thought. Thanks, Graham, that was really good."

It was the first time he had used Truscott's first name -- in fact Truscott hadn't even realised he knew what it was.

"That's okay, Colin. I enjoyed it."

"Good. Now it's your turn. Lie on your back."

So they swapped places and Colin returned the favour, though he moved his box of tissues to the side of the bed first: he knew there'd be rather more to mop up afterwards.

Truscott closed his eyes, thinking how perfect this was: here he was, relaxed and comfortable, being masturbated by the most beautiful boy in the world. He decided that it had been worth going through everything he had been through in the past few weeks to get to where he was now.

"Get ready," he said, as he felt the moment sweeping towards him, so Colin pushed a bit to the right and kept going, so that the output -- and there was lots of it -- landed squarely on Truscott's chest and stomach, rather than on the bed. Colin held on until the eruption was over and then cleaned up with some tissues.

"Was that okay?" he asked. "I mean, I've never done it to someone else, either."

"It was brilliant," said Truscott, sitting up. "I don't deserve to have you do that to me..."

"Yes, you do. We're friends now, Graham, and friends are supposed to share -- and that includes nice feelings. Agreed?"

"Okay," said Graham, feeling as happy as he had ever felt. "Agreed."


During one break three weeks into term Timmy was sitting in a corner of the yard studying maths problems when he was interrupted by a polite cough at his elbow. He looked up and recognised Gwyn-Thomas.

"Hello, Owen," he said, dredging up the boy's Christian name from the depths of a memory that was currently preoccupied with trigonometry and sentence structure. "What can I do for you?"

"Well... it's a bit awkward, see..."

"Go on," said Timmy, putting his book down. "What is it?"

"Well... what it is, see... look, when we let Truscott stop... you know, doing stuff, Matt -- that's Matt Williams, see? -- was a bit upset, because he really liked having his... you know, his thingy, sucked. So... Look, I can trust you, can't I?"

"Of course you can."

"Okay... well, look, I said I'd do it for him instead, see?"

He was clearly expecting Timmy to jump up and tell him how disgusting he was. Timmy, of course, did nothing of the kind.

"Okay," he simply said, "so what's the problem?"

"Oh... Well, I mean, I... I sort of enjoy doing it, right, and Matt enjoys me doing it, too -- we've done it a few times now, usually in the pavilion, but I went round to his house last weekend when his parents were out and we did it there, too... But... OK, it's fun doing it with Matt; but I was sort of wondering..."


"I was wondering... see, Matt's one is really small, and I wondered what it would be like to suck on a bigger one. And I thought, well, you're two years older than us, so you've probably got quite a big one, and I'm pretty sure I can trust you not to talk about it, and... well, I'd like to do it for you, if you want me to."

"Oh. Well, Owen, I'm sorry to disappoint you..."

"Oh, that's OK, pretend I didn't ask," said Owen, backing away.

"No, it's not that. It's just... well, mine's really tiny -- I'm sure Matt's is bigger than mine."

"Gosh... could I see?"

"Well... I get a bit embarrassed about it," admitted Timmy.

"That's OK. I won't tell anyone, not even Matt -- and... well, there's something about me that people laugh at, too -- we could swap embarrassments, if you like."

"OK, then," said Timmy, intrigued. "Meet me at the pavilion at lunchtime, then."

So at lunchtime he met Owen at the pavilion and they let themselves in and went up to the back room.

"I'll go first," offered Owen. "It's not quite the same as... you know, being small, but it's something that everyone laughs at..."

"Is it your squint?" asked Timmy. "I mean, I can imagine that people make fun of you for that. Well, that and the accent, of course."

"Well, sort of. See, I'm supposed to wear this." And he pulled an eye-patch from his blazer pocket and put it over his left eye. "I have to wear it in class, so I can see the board without it going double, and I'm supposed to wear it all the time. But everyone makes jokes about it when I do -- you know, calling me Long Taffy Silver, and asking where my parrot is, and stuff like that -- and I get sick of it, so I usually only wear it in class, where it's just my own lot who make the jokes. So... this is what I look like out of school. Go ahead and laugh if you want."

"I'm not going to laugh," said Timmy. "Only stupid people would laugh at you for wearing it -- and I bet your real friends don't, do they?"

"Well, sometimes -- but not very often," admitted Owen. "It's like we don't make jokes about Matt being overweight -- the rest of the class call him Fat Matt, but we don't. At least I can take my patch off: Matt can't leave his stomach at home, and Colin and Uzzy can't see without their glasses, and of course they all laugh at Simeon's lisp. I just get sick of it..."

"That's the whole point," said Timmy. "Everyone has something for other people to take the mickey out of -- I mean, look at me: I'm a titch with a tiny thingy. You have to learn to ignore the idiots: it doesn't matter what they think or say. What matters is what your real friends think of you -- and they won't laugh at you, especially if they know how much you hate it."

He stood up and started to undress.

"You know that me and Wood are friends with the travellers," he went on. "A lot of people don't like them, calling them names and stuff -- but anyone who gets to know them is going to find out that they're just kids, like us: it doesn't matter how they live, it's what they're like inside that counts. Some people in your class probably don't know you very well, so they just pick up on the obvious stuff, like the squint and the accent, and they think that's all you are. Same as Matt's stomach or Colin's hair. But once they get to know you properly, they can sort of look past those things and see the real you.

"Okay, now you can see why I wouldn't be much use to you if you want a nice big one to suck..."

He pulled his pants off and stood up. Owen stared at him.

"Gosh, Timmy, that really is small," he said. "Is there something wrong with it?"

"No, it's just little. Everyone tells me it'll start growing soon, and I hope they're right, but it's not the most important thing about me -- any more than that patch should be the most important thing about you. And... look, Owen, it's really none of my business, but if you're supposed to wear it all the time, don't you think you should? I mean, I expect it's meant to help your eyes get better, and they won't if you don't do what the doctors told you to. Just ignore the idiots -- or maybe you could try playing along: get yourself an inflatable parrot, or a crutch, or something, and practise going "Aaaarrrrghhhh, aha, Jim lad," and stuff. You might find they like it and start laughing with you instead of at you."

"Or they might just laugh at me a lot more."

"Yes, they might," agreed Timmy, starting to get dressed again. "But they might not. I'd have thought it's worth a try, anyway. And your real friends won't change how they feel about you, and that's the most important thing."

He finished getting dressed and they headed down the stairs.

"Actually," said Timmy, "if you seriously want to try sucking a proper-sized one, I know someone who would definitely let you -- and there'd be no danger of him spreading it about the school, either, because he doesn't go to our school. Do you want me to see if I can arrange it?"

"Yes, please."

"Okay -- come and see me in the same place tomorrow morning at break and I'll tell you how I get on."

So that evening after school Timmy went to the travellers' site. A couple of months ago the idea of walking into a travellers' encampment in his school uniform would have made him wet himself in fear, but now he didn't even think about it. He said hello to the dogs as they wandered out to meet him, and they gave him a cursory sniff and a lick and wandered off again.

He went to Michael and Danny's caravan, hoping Michael wasn't entertaining his girlfriend there, but only their mother was in. She greeted him cheerfully -- by now the whole encampment knew about the friendship between him and Christy -- and told him that Danny was off playing somewhere, and that he should try by the water tower. He duly went that way and found Danny and Tom playing cards round the back of it.

"Hello, Tiny" Danny greeted him, happily. "What's the matter -- are you missing the beautiful taste of my cock?"

"No, strangely enough. But... I might have a replacement for you."


"There's this kid at school, in Colin's class, and he owes me. Don't worry about the details: let's just say that he has to do what I say for a bit. I'd like to make him suck me, but as you know, there's not a lot of me to suck..."

"You can say that again!"

"So I thought I could lend him to you for a bit -- provided you stop making cheeky remarks about me, of course. What do you think?"

"What, and he'd have to suck me?"

"If you want. But... that's all, Danny, okay? No chasing him naked through the brambles, no sticking it up his bum, no whippings, just sucking, okay?"

"God, yes! When can he start?"

"Tomorrow. But I'm serious, Danny -- if he tells me that you've done anything else to him, the deal's off, all right? Stick to sucking and you can have him for a couple of weeks, and after that we'll see."

"Right! Thanks, Tiny -- er, Timmy, I mean. Since I let Truscott off I've had nobody. I'd have made Tom do it -- I know I can beat him up -- but he threatened to set Stephen on me if I did."

"Crap!" said Tom. "I don't need Stephen's help to beat you up."

"Okay," said Timmy, backing away from the start of another wrestling match. "Be at the garage tomorrow at four -- and, look, could you have a proper wash first? Make him puke and I might not be able to make him come a second time."

"Are you saying I smell?"

"Well... let's say a good wash first wouldn't do any harm to your chances of getting him to do this for you more than once."

"Okay, I suppose I'll think about it," muttered Danny.

"Great. Oh, and Tom, I've only said there'll be one. Would you mind letting Danny come on his own?"

"Depends if he pays me," said Tom, grinning.

"Or if he puts you in hospital first," growled Danny.

Tom grinned even wider and jumped on him again -- he didn't mind too much, because he knew he could always have fun with Stephen if he needed a bit of sex, while Danny had no outlet at the moment. He was quite happy to let Danny go to the garage on his own, but he wasn't ready to say so yet.

Timmy left them to it, and the following day he told Owen that he'd found a boy who would be happy to let himself be sucked.

"It's one of your traveller friends, isn't it?" asked Owen, who was wearing his patch today.

"Yes -- is that okay?"

"I suppose so -- it's just... I don't know anything about them, and they seem a bit scary."

"They're not, once you get to know them. Like I said, they're just kids like us. Anyway, his name's Danny, and we've got a place... I'll show you after school. Meet me by the west gate at four o'clock."

So after school Timmy took Owen to the garage, where Danny was eagerly waiting for them. He'd managed to persuade Tom not to come, though Tom made him agree that he now owed him one.

"What's with the patch?" he asked.

"He's got a bad eye," said Timmy, before Owen could answer. "Don't take the piss out of it, or I might have to start talking about your freckles."

"It's better to have freckles than a tiny cock," countered Danny. "Anyway, Blind Boy, what's your name, and how did you manage to upset Tiny, here?"

"My name's Owen, and I was cheeky to him, lots of times," said Owen, who had already worked out the right line to take -- with Timmy's help, of course. "See, I saw him getting changed and made some jokes about his... you know, his thingy..."

"I know, it's tiny, isn't it?" said Danny, grinning at Timmy. "But... where the hell did you get that stupid accent?"

"You think I've got a stupid accent?" said Owen, incredulously. "What about yours?"

"There's nothing wrong with the way I speak," said Danny, in his usual broad Irish brogue. "And if you're cheeky about it, I'll have to punish you some more."

"I think you've both got funny accents," said Timmy, "so nobody's getting punished for it, okay? Anyway, I'll leave you to it. Owen, I'll want to see you in the playground at break to hear all about it -- which means you stick to our agreement, Danny, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," said Danny, putting his tongue out at him. "Now you'd better go, before the sight of my great big cock makes you faint with jealousy."

"One day, Danny," said Timmy, "you're going to insult the wrong person."

"Maybe, but it isn't going to be you - you're always the right person to insult."

Timmy gave up. He let himself out and walked back up to the bus stop to catch his bus home.

"So..." Danny began, once Timmy had gone, "what exactly has he told you, then?"

"Nothing, really. He just said I'd have to... well, you know, suck on it."

"Then he hasn't told you any of the important stuff. See, this is my place, and anyone who comes in here has to do exactly what I tell him, and if he doesn't, I can punish him however I like. Did you know that Timmy used to be my slave?"

Owen shook his head, and he wondered if it could be true. But Colin had said something about the travellers being in overall charge of Truscott, so he supposed it was possible.

"You wouldn't believe the stuff we used to do to him," Danny went on. "I'll tell you about it later, if you like. But right now you've got to strip - we don't let townies stay in here with their clothes on."

Owen had expected this, but it still made him feel a bit strange: this wasn't like undressing in front of Matt - this was a complete stranger, and a rather scary one, too.

"Come on, hurry up," said Danny. "Or do you want to be punished?"

Owen didn't, so he took his clothes off. He hesitated when he reached his pants, but Danny glared at him and he took them off.

"Stand up straight with your hands on your head," ordered Danny, and Owen complied. Danny stared at him.

"Well, you're bigger than Tiny, but not much," he commented. "How old are you?"

"Ten," said Owen. "I'll be eleven next week, though."

"Brilliant! I won't be eleven for another three weeks, so you're older than me. And that means I can do whatever I want to you, and nobody can accuse me of bullying."

"Are you sure? I mean, you're taller than me, and a bit heavier, too."

"Doesn't matter," said Danny, confidently. "You can only bully people younger than yourself. So, I can do whatever I want, and it won't be bullying. Anyway - let's see if you can suck as well as Tiny." He started to get undressed.

"You mean - you've made Timmy do this?"

"God, yes, loads of times. And he's brilliant at it, too. So let's see how you compare."

He threw off the last of his clothing and lay down on the mattress. Owen came and took up a position between his legs, and immediately decided that this was more comfortable than kneeling on the pavilion floor. He examined Danny's equipment with interest: it was clearly bigger than his own, and substantially bigger than Matt's, but it didn't look too big to fit in his mouth. He opened wide and slipped it in.

Danny told him how he wanted it done and then relaxed and enjoyed it. For a beginner, the kid was doing okay, he thought, but he had a way to go before he got anywhere close to Timmy's standards.

"Use your hands a bit more," he said. "Just try touching me all over - I'll tell you what feels best."

So Owen tried using his hands a bit more, and Danny seemed to like it, judging by the way he was wriggling about.

Owen was starting to enjoy himself: he liked the feeling of control, and he definitely enjoyed having a bit more to work with - and he thought Danny tasted nice, too. Of course, he didn't know that this was because Danny had taken Timmy's advice and had a proper wash that afternoon. His mother had wondered if he was ill when he said he wanted to have a proper strip wash: normally Danny wasn't all that bothered about hygiene between visits to the pool. But she had heated up some water for him all the same, and he had taken it outside, put up the canvas screen, undressed and given himself a thorough wash.

Tom had leaned over the top of the screen watching him and making sarcastic remarks, but Danny had ignored him, at least until he had finished. At that point he had put his clothes back on, picked up the bowl, and walked past Tom, pointedly holding his nose.

Danny was by now getting close. This was the point at which Timmy would have stopped, making him wait and drawing the whole thing out, but of course Owen hadn't been taught to do that yet. Instead he kept going, pushing Danny closer and closer, until finally he thrust upwards, forcing Owen's head against him as he climaxed.

"Not bad," he said, afterwards. "Obviously you'll need a lot more training before I'm really satisfied with you, but you did it well enough that I won't have to whip you today. Okay, pass me my clothes."

Owen stood up to do that, and it didn't escape Danny's notice that he had an erection. Excellent, he thought, realising that if Owen liked doing this he'd be able to get him to keep doing it for ages - and maybe he could be persuaded to do other things, as well...

"Stand by the wall with your hands on your head until I'm dressed," he ordered, and Owen complied without argument. Danny dressed, taking his time, and then stood in front of Owen, taking hold of his stiff little penis and squeezing it.

"Now, are you going to go on being a good little boy and do whatever I tell you?" he asked.

"Yes, I promise! Aaahh... that hurts!"

"It'll hurt a lot more if I have to punish you. OK, get dressed."

So Owen put his clothes back on, though he had trouble doing his shorts back up at first.

"When can you come again?" Danny asked him.

"It's up to you. Timmy just said I have to do what you tell me, so if you tell me to come tomorrow, obviously I have to."

"Brilliant! Tomorrow after school, then. And remember, if you don't turn up on time I'll have to punish you, like we did with Timmy."

"What did you do to him?"

"We beat him with my belt, loads of times. And... come on, I'll show you what else we did to him."

He led Owen out of the garage and up the lane, taking him into the wood.

"We used to make him strip bare, apart from his shoes, and then we used to hunt him through the woods. If we caught him, he got beaten. It was really funny, watching him running about in the nude trying not to get scratched. And if you mess me about, I might do it to you, too."

"I won't," promised Owen, who didn't fancy that idea at all. "I'll be good, I swear."

"Good. OK, you can go - but don't be late tomorrow, or else."

Danny headed back to the site, and Owen set off for home. He was surprised by how much he had enjoyed the evening: he'd hoped he would enjoy sucking Danny, and he had; but what made it better was the feeling of danger: he wasn't completely sure he could trust Danny not to hurt him, and somehow that made the whole experience even more exciting. He found himself really looking forward to their next session...


So now Danny's happy, because he's managed to replace Truscott, and Owen's happy, because he's got something a little larger to work with -- clearly as an enthusiastic player of the pink woodwind instrument, he'd rather have a bassoon to blow into than a piccolo.

So, does that mean everyone is happy now? No, it doesn't: the Move is still looming. And in the next -- which will also be the final -- chapter, we'll see what happens when the moment arrives.

The mail address is still gothmog@nyms.net but I've been having problems with the computer (yet again!!) -- I haven't been able to check my mail for over a week now, so sincere apologies to everyone who has mailed me in the meantime. I'll answer you as soon as I can make alternative arrangements. Fortunately I had backed up the story to CD, so I'll be able to post the last chapter once I've finished editing it.

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

David Clarke