Timmy and the Travellers – Chapter 3

Author's note: after Chapter Two was posted I received a polite and well-expressed email from a reader who was concerned about what he saw as the unremitting cruelty of the first two chapters, and it is only fair to say that he has a valid point – so I thought maybe an authorial Word of Warning (sounds like a magic spell in a fantasy game!) might be called for.

First, it would be hard to overstate the antipathy between travellers and house-dwellers in real life. Even today, when racism and – at last – homophobia are being driven underground, it is still apparently acceptable to bash the gippos, and in the seventies, when I was able to see it for myself, it was a lot worse. In real life Timmy's treatment may well have been a lot uglier.

Nonetheless, because this is fiction, and because I am basically a nice, moral guy, I can guarantee that by the end of the story it would be possible for me to conclude with the words “and they all lived happily ever after”, if I were given to such hackneyed phrases. But before we get there we're going to encounter a fair bit more cruelty, with themes of revenge and even borderline sadism thrown in, because – as William Golding pointed out in 'The Lord of the Flies' - kids are like that. If you're going to stick with the story, consider yourselves warned.

Anyway, returning to the narrative: last time we left Timmy in the evil clutches (OK, maybe “evil” is an exaggeration) of Michael and the two younger travellers. But poor old Christy was stuck in bed with the dreaded lurgy and so he missed out on all the fun. Let's see how he's feeling now...


By late on Tuesday afternoon Christy was feeling a lot better. He got up, put his clothes on and went to find Michael, but his friend didn't seem to be on the site at all. He tried looking for Danny to see if he knew where his brother was, but he was missing, too. Then he realised that it was about five o'clock - no doubt Michael would be having fun making their pet townie repaint the garage, or something. He thought about going to join in, but it didn't seem worth it: probably Michael would already be on the point of sending Timmy home by now. He supposed he could go and hear about it, but then he decided that it could wait until Michael came back to the camp. Instead he checked his pocket, found some money and decided to go to the village shop.

He reached the entrance to the site, and looking down the road he saw two boys heading in the direction of the shop. He was pretty sure they were Danny and Tom. Wonder if they've got any spare money - or if I can persuade them to buy me some chews, he thought, and set off after them.

He reached the junction with the lane, glanced down it, and stopped. Timmy was coming towards him, but he looked in a really bad way: he was limping, his shirt was untucked, he wasn't wearing a tie and he seemed to be crying. Shit, thought Christy, now what?

"Hi, Timmy," he said.

Timmy saw him and flinched away.

"What's wrong? You look a real mess."

"N... Nothing," sobbed Timmy, limping past him and heading for the bus stop.

"Don't lie," said Christy. "You're not allowed to lie to me."

"Oh, go away!" cried Timmy, in the tone of voice that a less well brought up boy would have used to yell "Fuck off!" instead.

Oh, shit, thought Christy, he's really fucked up. I can't let him go home like this - promise or no promise, he's going to spill to the first adult who sees him. Nobody's going to believe there's nothing wrong...

"Tell me," he insisted, walking beside him.

"I... I can't."

"Yes, you can. You have to."

They reached the bus stop, but Timmy still wasn't talking.

"Please tell me," said Christy in a gentler voice. "I want to help."

Timmy stared at him, and saw a sympathetic face. He sobbed again, and took a deep breath.

"W... we played a g... game," he said. "Danny and Tom chased me through..."

"Hold on," said Christy. "You mean, Michael's told his brother about you?"

Timmy nodded.

"Well, I suppose it's okay, but he might have asked me first," said Christy. "Okay, carry on."

"Well... they c... caught me, so I had to be punished. Yesterday they beat me w.. with D... Danny's belt, but today..."

He took another deep breath. "They made me..."

He looked around nervously and lowered his voice, even though there was nobody in sight.

"I had to... to... well, lick their... you know, their... things," he managed to say.

"Eurghhhh!" said Christy. "That's disgusting!"

"I know. And I had to do it for ages, too. They liked it - really liked it, I mean. They said it made them feel really good. B... but..."

"Go on."

"B... but..." He swallowed. "Afterwards Michael told them to go, and then..."

He started sobbing again. "Then he m... made me... I'm sorry..."

"That's okay," said Christy, feeling frustrated - exactly what was the problem here?

"He... he made me...."

"Oh, shit!" said Christy: Timmy's bus was approaching. Bugger this, he thought, I can't let him go like this.

"I'm coming with you," he said. "You can't go home on your own like this."

"N... no... I'll b... be okay..."

"Will you, fuck. Get on."

Timmy stumbled onto the bus, showing his season ticket, and Christy got on after him and asked for a half to Bridgehanger, hoping he'd have enough left for the fare home. It turned out to be less than he had feared, though.

He pushed Timmy into the first available seat and sat down next to him. Timmy just kept sobbing, and Christy thought he wouldn't want to talk about it on the bus anyway, so he just sat quietly next to him. After a few minutes he surprised himself by putting an arm round Timmy's shoulders and hugging him. It surprised Timmy, too, who looked at him, and started sobbing again, but he made no attempt to remove the arm, and in fact he leaned against Christy for the rest of the journey.

They got off outside the village and Timmy led him to a house that stood on its own at the top of a small lane. He unlocked the door and led him upstairs.

"This is my room," he said, taking off his blazer and hanging it up, before sitting down on the bed and putting his head in his hands. Christy sat next to him and put his arm round him again.

"So, what happened?" he asked.

"M... Michael m... made me..."

One more deep breath.

"He made me bend over the chair, and then... then... "

"Then?" prompted Christy.

"Then he... he put... he put his thing in my bottom."

Fuck, thought Christy, no wonder you're all messed up.

"And it hurt! It really, really hurt, and I begged him to take it out, but he just... he just shoved it in even harder. He's got a really big one, much bigger than Danny's, and it felt like... I thought I was splitting in half..."

He swallowed again. "I started screaming, but he just slapped my face and told me to shut up. He went on and on ramming it into me, and I thought I was going to die... it hurt so much...

"At last he stopped, pulled it out and told me to get dressed and go, but it took ages to get dressed, and... and I couldn't walk properly... and it wouldn't stop hurting...it still hurts, Christy, and... I think I'm bleeding... I think he ripped me open inside, and now I'm bleeding... I can feel it, it's all wet... I'm going to die, Christy... I'm going to bleed to death..."

He dissolved into tears again.

Fuck, thought Christy. You stupid bastard, Mikey... I mean, I can understand why you wanted to do it – fuck, I want to do it too, but, Jesus, you can't just shag a little pansy like this and expect him just to walk away and pretend it never happened... How the hell do I sort this out before his parents get home?

"Let me look," he said. "I can see if you're bleeding or not, and if you are maybe we can find a way to stop it."

Timmy stood up and fumbled his trousers and pants down to his ankles. At least there didn't seem to be any blood on his pants, thought Christy.

"Lie on your tummy," he said, and when Timmy was in position Christy carefully removed Timmy's shoes and pulled the trousers and pants right off.

"Can you kneel up and open your legs as far as you can?" he asked, and Timmy managed to do that.

Christy looked, and there was no sign of blood. It was wet, though: no doubt Michael had spunked up, he thought. Jammy sod - I wonder what that felt like?

"I can't see any blood," he said. "Stay there a moment... where's the bathroom?"

"Second door on the right," said Timmy.

Christy went and found some toilet paper and wiped Timmy's bum.

"Look," he said, showing it to him. "No blood. It might not be as bad as you thought. Look, take off the rest of your clothes and come with me."

Timmy removed his shirt and socks and followed Christy docilely into the bathroom.

"Run a bath," said Christy. "We'll wash you properly and then we can see if you're okay or not."

Timmy started to run a bath, and while it was running Christy told him to sit on the toilet and to try to shit - that would give them a chance to see if there was any blood.

"I'm scared," said Timmy, sitting down gingerly.

"Don't be," said Christy, sitting down on the floor in front of the toilet and looking up at him. "You're going to be okay, I'm sure."

He was torn between several different emotions: anger at Michael for jeopardising their fun, jealousy because he had done something that Christy now wished he had been able to do himself, and - and this was a surprise to him - a sort of hesitant but nonetheless genuine sympathy for Timmy. Okay, the kid was a feeble little pansy and a townie to boot, but still...

"Anything?" he asked.

Timmy shook his head.

"Okay, stand up and I'll have a look."

Wordlessly Timmy stood up and turned round. No blood, and when Christy took a piece of toilet paper and wiped, there was nothing. No blood in the bowl either, he noted.

"You're okay," he said. "No sign of blood at all."


"Really. Now get in the bath and relax, and then give yourself a proper wash - you've got mud on your knees, you know."

"That's from playing in the wood," he said, easing himself into the warm water. He lay back for a couple of minutes and then picked up the soap and washed himself all over. Then he reached for the plug.

"Hang on," said Christy. "Would you mind if... Can I get in once you've finished?"

"Of course," said Timmy, getting out and taking a towel from the rail.

"Thanks," said Christy, throwing his clothes off. "It's just... I never get the chance to do this. Normally we go to the swimming pool when we want a proper shower, otherwise it's washing out of a bowl. This is nice."

He lay back, enjoying the feel of the warm water.

"I thought some caravans had showers?" said Timmy.

"Some do, but not the one I live in - or most of the others, come to that. You can't believe how good this feels."

He took the soap and had a thorough wash, and then Timmy handed him a bottle of shampoo.

"Wash your hair, and I'll rinse it for you," he said, picking up a large jug and filling it with warm water. Christy accepted with enthusiasm and gave his hair the best wash it had had in a very long time, and Timmy used three jugs of warm water to make sure all the shampoo was rinsed out.

"That's really nice," said Christy, dreamily, as the last jug of warm water flowed gently over his chest. "I could stay here all day... but I suppose I shouldn't."

He pulled out the plug, stood up and took the towel Timmy offered. He dried himself off, picked up his clothes and led Timmy back to the bedroom.

"Now we're both nice and clean, I'd better see if I can stop your bum hurting," he said. "Kneel on the bed with your bum in the air."

"It feels a lot better," said Timmy, getting into position. "I think it helps knowing I'm not bleeding."

"Of course it does. Stay there a second."

He ran to the bathroom and came back with a small jar of Vaseline he had seen on a shelf.

"Now let's make sure there's no damage," he said. He pulled a small chair beside the bed, sat on it and very gently ran his finger over Timmy's anus, just barely touching it.

"Okay?" he asked.

Timmy nodded, so Christy pressed a little harder, stroking Timmy's bum at the same time. When there was still no objection he dipped his finger into the Vaseline, rubbed a little of it around the hole and very carefully pushed his finger inside.

Timmy gasped. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Just making sure you're okay inside."

"But... you'll get your finger... you know, dirty," he said.

"So what? I know where the washbasin is."

"Yes, but..."

"Shh! The question is, does this hurt?"

"No, it feels okay."

"Good." He pressed a little further until his finger was as far in as it could get. He rotated it and slipped it in and out a couple of times.

"Still okay?"

"Yes, that doesn't hurt at all."

Christy hesitated. He wondered if he dared to do what he wanted to. He would have to be really, really careful if he did... Fuck it, he thought, let's go for it.

"Can you move, so you're bending over the side of the bed?" he said. "Kneel on the floor and relax across the bed... yes, like that."

He slipped his finger inside again, and again Timmy said it felt okay.

"Okay," said Christy, pulling his finger out and applying a new dab of Vaseline to the hole. "Trouble is, my finger isn't really long enough: I'm trying to get some of this Vaseline right in there, where Michael... well, you know. It'll soothe you if I can. But the only way I can do it is... well, look, Michael and me, we're about the same size, so if I can put mine where he put his, it should cover the same space..."

"No!" cried Timmy, his voice panicky. "I couldn't take that again!"

"I won't do it like he did," said Christy. "I'm going to be really slow and careful, and if it hurts I swear I'll stop and take it out straight away."

"You swear?"

"I swear. Trust me, Timmy. I don't want to hurt you - I want to help."

"Well... okay, then," said Timmy, looking distrustfully at Christy's already stiff penis, which looked far too big to him.

"Great!" said Christy, rubbing some Vaseline onto his penis. "Okay, open your legs, press outwards a bit and then try to relax. Now tell me when I'm in the right place.."

He lined up, guided by Timmy, and then very slowly and carefully he started to push it in. Timmy gave a gasp when the knob slipped inside.

"Okay?" asked Christy, not going any further.

Timmy nodded.

"Okay, now try to relax - don't fight me, and it won't hurt. If it does, shout and I'll stop."

Very slowly Christy leaned forward. Like Michael he was completely inexperienced, and he had never even imagined doing this to another boy - or even to a girl, come to that. Although Michael sometimes commented on girls they saw, Christy wasn't all that interested. He supposed that would all change when puberty arrived: although he and Michael were the same age and about the same size, Michael already had some pubic hair, while he himself had none, a fact that Michael had commented on several times. Maybe when his hairs arrived he'd start wanting to go out with girls, he thought.

He kept pressing gently forward until he was fully inside, and then once again he held still.

"Still okay?" he asked.

Timmy nodded. "That feels okay," he said. "It's nothing like... when he did it."

"Okay. Now let's try a bit of massage."

Christy withdrew about half way and then pressed it in again, slowly. Timmy said nothing, so he did it again, but this time he came back too far and it slipped right out. He swore and carefully reinserted. He pushed it all the way in, and then back a bit, taking care not to overdo it.

"Try squeezing a bit," he said. "Make sure none of your muscles are damaged."

Timmy squeezed, and Christy gasped.

"Sorry!" cried Timmy at once.

"No, it's fine. It felt quite nice, actually. Do it again."

He did it again, and Christy began to thrust slowly back and forward. This felt really good, he thought. He was very glad that he had wanked himself earlier in the afternoon (just to check that the flu hadn't damaged anything important!), because otherwise he thought he'd have already reached orgasm here. As it was he thought he could keep this going without coming for a while yet.

And then Timmy gave a groan of his own, and immediately Christy stopped.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"No! No... I don't know why, but it feels... well, nice," said Timmy.

"Nice? Really?"

"Yes - sort of warm...I don't understand it, because when Michael did it it was agony, but with you it's... well, good. Please don't stop."

Bloody hell, thought Christy, it's my lucky day. He started rocking back and forwards again, and Timmy squeezed and pushed against him, and soon he was uttering little gasps.

"It feels really nice," he said. "Except... I think I'm going to pee. Sorry, Christy, but you'd better stop."

Christy knew that symptom well enough, even if he couldn't understand how being fucked could make it happen. Fucking someone, yes - he was getting that way himself. But being on the receiving end... how could that work?

"You're not going to pee," he said. "Trust me. Just hold it in and you'll be fine." He went on thrusting.

"But I'll wet the bed, and then I'll get into trouble!" protested Timmy.

"You won't, I promise. Keep squeezing and try to hold it back for as long as possible. You'll understand why later."

Christy kept going, aware that his own orgasm was very close, while Timmy gave short gasps as he worked with him, until finally he gave a little cry and tensed right up. Christy held position for a few seconds to allow Timmy to experience his orgasm, then resumed for the twenty or so seconds he needed to come himself. He gave a final thrust as he ejaculated and then collapsed forward to lie across Timmy's back.

"What happened?" asked Timmy, slipping a hand underneath himself to confirm that he wasn't wet.

"What did it feel like?" asked Christy. still recovering.

"I don't know... I never felt anything like that. It was sort of like I wanted to pee, but then I got all warm inside, and everything sort of swelled up, and it felt as if I was going to burst, and when it did burst it was all warm and shivery at the same time..."

"Yes, but did it feel nice or nasty?"

"It was amazing! It's the nicest feeling I've ever had!"

"I'm glad," said Christy, and he found that he was: he didn't understand how it had happened, but if Timmy had really enjoyed it he would probably let him do it again... in fact, he would probably want him to do it again. And that suited him just fine: his own orgasm had been absolutely brilliant, far better than wanking, and he wanted more like it.

"...but I still don't know what made it happen," Timmy went on.

"Nor do I, to be honest. I know that when your cock gets rubbed it makes you feel nice. That's why I got the same sort of feeling just after you did, and it's why Michael did it to you earlier - he'll have had the same sort of feeling. And it's probably why Danny and Tom liked you licking theirs. But I don't know why it happened to you - unless your cock was rubbing against the bed?"

"Not really," said Timmy. "It was more what you were doing, I think."

"Then I don't know," said Christy, carefully withdrawing his now deflated cock and reaching for the toilet paper he had brought through to the bedroom earlier. He wiped himself down, took a fresh piece and wiped Timmy's bum, cleaning off the Vaseline, and then went into the bathroom to wash himself more thoroughly. When he was finished he went back to the bedroom and found Timmy, still naked, lying on his back looking at the ceiling.

"What time do the buses go back?" Christy asked him

Timmy looked at his bedside clock. "About twenty-five minutes' time," he said. "But.... I don't mind if you want to stay longer."

"I'd probably better get the first bus. After all, nobody knows where I am," said Christy.

"Oh. Okay, then," said Timmy, sounding disappointed. "But you don't have to go for another fifteen minutes, anyway."

"Don't you want to get rid of me, so you can stop being a slave?"

"No! Anyway, you haven't treated me like a slave all evening. You've been more like a friend who wanted to help me."

Christy felt guilty: okay, he'd treated Timmy nicely, but only to stop him spilling the beans to his parents. And he'd fucked him, too, which wasn't really the act of a friend, was it? Okay, as it turned out Timmy had enjoyed it, but Christy had had no idea that was going to happen: he'd just wanted to fuck the kid the way his friend had done.

"I was worried about you," he said, not looking at him. "Michael shouldn't have done that to you."

There was a silence.

"You can get dressed if you want, by the way," said Christy.

"It's okay - I don't mind you seeing me when it's just you. I don't even mind if you make fun of my little thing - I know you like making me undress so you can laugh about how small it is. Anyway, you haven't put your clothes on yet, have you?"

"I suppose not. But I'm not going to tease you tonight: you haven't done anything to deserve being teased. Let's both get dressed, shall we?"

Christy put his clothes back on, while Timmy opened a cupboard and got out a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt.

"Are all those clothes really yours?" asked Christy, looking over his shoulder.

"Well.. yes," said Timmy, feeling vaguely guilty: he realised that travellers probably didn't have a lot of clothes - or a lot of anything else, come to that.

He closed the cupboard quickly and finished dressing.

"I'd better go," said Christy, once they were both dressed. "I don't want to miss the bus."

"I'll come down to the stop with you," said Timmy. "My parents won't be home for a while yet."

They walked to the bus stop together, and Timmy waited with him until the bus came.

"I'll talk to Michael," said Christy as it appeared. "I'll try to make sure he doesn't hurt you like that again."

"Thanks. Look... do you want to come home with me again tomorrow?"

"Okay," said Christy, at once. "I'll make sure the others let you go fairly early, then we'll get plenty of time."

The bus came and Christy got onto it, not in the slightest begrudging the bus fares he had had to lay out. Timmy waved to him as the bus pulled away, and he waved back.

Once he got back to the site Christy went to find Michael, and once he found him he led him out away from the caravans.

"What the fuck were you playing at?" he asked once they were out of earshot of everyone else. "You nearly got yourself arrested tonight - and Danny and Tom, too."

"What are you talking about?"

"Fucking the arse off Timmy, you moron!"

"Oh, that."

"Yes, that. Didn't you see the state he was in when he left? If I hadn't bumped into him he'd have gone straight home bawling his eyes out and spilled his guts to his parents, and then what do suppose would have happened?"

"But... I thought he was putting it on!"

"Putting it on? He could hardly walk! He reckoned you'd fucked him so hard he was split open inside and bleeding to death!"

"Fuck! Of course, everyone knows I've got a really big one..."

"This isn't a joke, you moron! He was really messed up - it took me ages to sort him out. I got him calmed down in the end, showed him that there wasn't any blood - he was wet because you'd shot him full of spunk, not because you'd split him open, but I didn't tell him that - and after that he was basically okay. But you can't do that to him again, Mikey - you're too big, it hurts him too much. We can't risk him throwing another wobbly like that - next time I might not be able to calm him down."

He hesitated: Michael was his best friend, but he'd been fucking stupid this afternoon, and Christy felt justified in carrying on:

"Of course, that means I won't be able to do it to him either, because I'm at least as big as you are. You really are a cunt, Mikey." Pause. "So what was it like? I hope it was worth it, knowing that neither of us can do it again."

"You wish you were as big as me... okay, okay, I'm sorry, Christy. You're right, I suppose I should have made sure he was okay afterwards. I'm sorry you won't be able to do it to him, because it was really good, loads better than wanking. It was like rubbing against a tight, warm, wet vice, or something. I came for ages... sorry, Christy, honest... are you sure we can't do it again?"

"I don't think so - it really messed with his head, as well as his body. We can't risk it, at least not anytime soon. But he said something about licking the other two..."

"Yeah, we made him suck them both off. They said it was brilliant."

"Well, I suppose we can make him do that to us, too. Course, he'll choke if I do it to him 'cos I've got so much spunk..."

Michael snorted. "He won't even notice you've come, baldy-boy. I'm the mature one round here."

"Just 'cos you've got a few bits of fluff..."


"Anyway, you got to promise not to fuck him again, Mikey, no matter how much you want to."




"And that's me you're promising, Mikey: this isn't one of those promises we make to townies that don't mean anything. This is for real."

"Okay, I know."

"That's okay, then. And I think we should go easy on him tomorrow night, too: nothing too painful, no sex and we let him go early. Okay?"

"I suppose so, if it'll keep him sweet."


The following evening Timmy reached the garage to find all four travellers waiting for him. Before he could say anything Michael grabbed him and took him back outside - they hadn't said anything to Danny and Tom about what had happened the previous afternoon, and Michael didn't see any reason to involve them now - and closed the door.

"Look," he said, quietly, "about last night... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hurt you like that. I didn't realise... no, sod it, I did realise, I just didn't care. Christy says it really messed you up... like I said, sorry. Okay?"

"I suppose so."

"Okay. But... you're still my slave, okay? If I wanted to do that to you again, I could, except... well, I've promised Christy I won't, or at least not for a long time. So I won't. Okay?"


"Good. Okay, now you'd better get in there and strip, hadn't you?"

Timmy supposed it was more of an apology than he had really expected, and it proved that Christy had told him the truth the previous evening when he had said he would talk to Michael, and that was good to know. He went back into the garage and took all his clothes off, replacing his shoes when everything else was off.

They took him back to the woods.

"There's four of us tonight, so we'll say we have to find you within fifteen minutes instead of twenty," said Christy. "That'll make up for us having an extra hunter. Okay, off you go."

This time Timmy was as ready as he could be, because he'd got permission to leave school that lunch time and had brought his secateurs to the wood. He had found a good clump of undergrowth and carefully clipped himself a passage into the middle of it. He had even taken his shirt off before trying it to make sure that he hadn't left any brambles in the wrong place. Finally he had left some of his clippings at the entrance to his tunnel, having removed most of the thorns from the stems.

Now he ran straight until he was out of sight of the hunters, veered right, found his hiding place, very carefully and nervously crawled into it feet first, and then pulled the clippings into the mouth of his tunnel. Then he settled back to wait.

For quite a while nothing happened, but then he heard voices. They stopped only about ten yards away.

"Where is the little sod?" asked Michael. "I swear he went this way..."

"Come on, we've got to find him quickly," said Danny, "otherwise we won't be able to make him suck our cocks. We've only got four minutes left."

They moved away, and Timmy counted slowly to two hundred and fifty and then quietly pushed the seal away from his tunnel and climbed out, making sure that the hunters weren't in view: this was a good hiding place and he wanted to be able to use it again. As soon as he was clear he stood up and ran as quickly and quietly as he could back towards the lane. He was halfway there when they first started calling for him to come out, shouting that he had won and could go home.

"Okay," he said, leaning against the nearest large tree. "I'm over here."

They came through the woods and caught up with him.

"Where were you?" asked Danny. "I'm sure we looked all round that tree."

"I'm so skinny I'm almost invisible when I stand sideways on," Timmy told him.

"You're just lucky, that's all. Next time we'll get you, and then we'll make you suck our knobs for hours."

"You have to catch me first."

They went back to the garage and let Timmy put his clothes on.

"Just wait till tomorrow," said Danny, darkly.

"Okay," said Timmy, blithely. "Bye!"

He went out.

"I'll go and help him past the brambles," said Christy, " and then I'm going for a walk. I'll leave you lot to sort out what we're going to do to him tomorrow."

He caught up with Timmy at the top of the drive, helped him past the brambles and walked up the lane with him.

"How did you manage to avoid us?" he asked. "I tried to lead them off in the wrong direction, but Michael was sure he knew which way you'd gone and I couldn't talk him out of it. Of course, when we didn't find you I was able to say 'told you!' loudly..."

"I just managed to slip past you. Anyway... this means we'll be able to get the earlier bus, which is good."

"And I told them at home that I was going for a long walk, so they won't expect me back too soon."

"Really? That's great!" said Timmy, and Christy could see that he meant it. "You'll be able to stay for ages!"

They got on the bus and sat in the same place as the previous evening, and this time Timmy leaned his head on Christy's shoulder of his own accord, so Christy thought he might as well put his arm round his shoulders again.

They got off the bus and walked to Timmy's house, and once more Timmy led Christy up to his room.

"What would you like to do first?" he asked. "I know... would you like a bath? Tonight we've got plenty of time, so you'll be able to relax and soak for a while."

"Are you saying I smell?"

"No! no, of course not, I just thought..."

"I'm teasing, you idiot. I'd love a bath."

"Oh! Great!"

Timmy went through to the bathroom and started running a bath, and this time Christy got undressed in the bedroom, piling his clothes on the hard backed chair that stood in front of the desk. Naked, he wandered through to the bathroom and waited until the bath was ready.

"This is the first time I've had my clothes on while one of you hasn't," Timmy pointed out. "It feels strange, somehow."

"Get undressed, then," suggested Christy. "Then it won't."


Timmy went back to the bedroom, leaving the water running, and returned a couple of minutes later wearing nothing but his St Christopher.

"You don't mind if I keep this on?" he asked. "Only, I usually do, even when I'm in bed. I only take it off when I'm being a slave."

"You're not a slave tonight," Christy told him. "Keep it on."

Timmy finished running the bath, adding lots of foamy stuff.

"Go on, then," he invited.

Christy stepped into the bath, found the water temperature to be just right, sat down and then stretched out.

"Is it okay? Not too hot, or anything?"

"It's brilliant," said Christy. "Is it really okay if I stay here for a while? This is really nice..."

"Take as long as you want. Of course, the water will freeze over eventually..."

"I expect I'll get out before that happens."

For a few minutes Christy just luxuriated, eyes closed, enjoying the sensation of warm water surrounding him. Timmy sat on the toilet and watched him.

"Would you like me to wash you?" he asked, after a bit.

"I think I can probably manage myself," said Christy, surprised.

"Yes, but it'll be nicer if I do it for you."

Christy looked at him. "Okay, then," he invited. "Go ahead."

"Sit up, then."

Christy sat up, and Timmy took some soap and a flannel and started washing Christy's chest and arms.

"Stand up," he said, when he had soaped his top half thoroughly.

"Aren't you going to rinse me off?"

"Later. Come on, stand up."

Christy stood up and let Timmy cover his legs with lather. Finally Timmy turned his attention to the bit in the middle, starting with Christy's bum, which he soaped very thoroughly, getting Christy to spread his legs so that he could get right into the cleft.

"Do you want to do the last bit?" he asked.

"Why? You're doing fine. Carry on," invited Christy.

So Timmy got plenty of lather on his hands and started applying it to Christy's balls, and then to his penis. Almost immediately it started to harden, and by the time Timmy had finished - and for some reason it took a good couple of minutes before he was satisfied that Christy's genitals were sufficiently soapy - it was extremely stiff.

"It's big, isn't it?" commented Timmy. "And it really sticks up, too."

"I'm not sure if it's got quite enough soap on yet," said Christy.

"Okay." And Timmy applied some more, taking another couple of minutes over it. Then he filled the big jug with warm water and started to pour it all over Christy, washing the soap away. Finally he told him to lie back in the water to finish soaking.

After another five minutes or so he asked Christy if he wanted his hair washed.

"No, it's okay," he said. "It was done pretty thoroughly last night - I don't think it needs another go. Pass me a towel."

He stood up and Timmy handed him a towel, and he dried himself while Timmy let the water out and rinsed the bath. Then they went back to the bedroom and sat on the bed.

"You know, this bed is really soft!" commented Christy. "Can.. can I try lying on it?"

"Try lying in it," suggested Timmy, pulling the covers back. "Then you'll see what it's like to sleep in."

"Okay, thanks." Christy got into the bed and relaxed. "This is nice - it's a lot softer than mine. And it's really big, too - I reckon three people could sleep in here."

"Really? It's only a single," said Timmy.

"It's a fair bit bigger than mine. And Michael and Danny share one that's only about half this size. At least I haven't got any brothers, so I don't have to share. I'm not sure if I could sleep in this, though - it's almost too soft, and there's more room than I'm used to. Could you draw the curtains? Maybe if it's a bit darker I can see what it would be like for real."

So Timmy drew the bedroom curtains.

"It still feels too big," said Christy.

Timmy climbed in beside him. "Is this better?" he said. "Now you've only got the amount of room you're used to. "

"Well... I suppose so. I've never actually shared a bed, though, so I don't really know what it's like."

"Neither have I. But I suppose it would be nice sharing in the winter - we could keep each other warm."


"Like this." Timmy wriggled close to him and put his arm round his shoulders.

"Mmm. Yes, I suppose that would keep us warm. But if you snore I'd have to push you out of bed."

"I don't snore!"

"How do you know?"

"Well.... I'm just sure I don't."

"Maybe I'll sleep here for real one night and find out."

"Would you? I mean, I'd like that."

"What, you'd like being pushed out of bed in the middle of the night?"

"No, stupid! I mean I'd like you to stay overnight."


"Yes, really. We could share the bed and find out if either of us really does snore, and we could keep each other warm if it was cold... lie on your back and I'll pretend I'm a blanket."

Christy rolled over onto his back and Timmy climbed on top of him, so that they were face to face. He wasn't very heavy, and Christy liked the feeling of warmth and closeness. He put his arms round Timmy and held him close, and Timmy lay with his head against Christy's shoulder.

"This is really nice," he said, "but I'm not sure if we could really get to sleep like this."

"Who cares?" said Christy, dreamily.

Timmy wriggled against him, and Christy began to get an erection. Timmy felt it and giggled.

"You're getting all big again," he said. "It'll get squashed."

"No, it won't," said Christy, and he reached down and pushed his stiffening penis between Timmy's legs. "Now it's out of the way."

They lay in each other's arms for about five minutes. Christy wondered why he kept getting hard. True, Timmy wasn't much of a boy: he had no genitals to speak of and he was pretty in an almost feminine way - Christy was sure that if he changed his hairstyle from the rather boyish parting to something brushed back he could pass as a girl with no trouble at all. But Christy knew he was really a boy, and so there was no excuse for getting stiff: only queers get hard with other boys, he thought.

On the other hand, it was easy to fall back on the usual argument: Christy hadn't reached puberty yet, and no doubt everything would change once his hairs started growing. In the meantime this felt really nice, and it would be stupid to worry about it too much...

"Can we change places?" asked Timmy. "I want to know how it feels being underneath."

"It feels nice," said Christy, wriggling out from under.

"So does being on top. Try it."

Christy did, and now Timmy's arms came round him and hugged him, and it felt really nice.

"It is good," he said, after a couple of minutes, "but I don't think we could actually sleep like this. Let's try it on our sides."

They repositioned themselves lying on their sides, both facing the same way with Timmy in front, and Christy pulled him against him in a spoons position, hugging him close.

"That feels brilliant," said Timmy in a sleepy voice. "I can feel your thing against my bum. It's nice."

Christy reached down and found Timmy's penis, and was surprised to find it hard, and bigger than he had expected: now there was a definite shaft to it, not just a knob. He held it between his first two fingers and his thumb and stroked it gently.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who gets hard," he commented.

"It happens sometimes, but I don't know why," Timmy told him.

"Can I see?"

"Well... okay, then. But nobody's ever seen it like that before."

Timmy rolled onto his back and threw the covers off, and Christy was able to see that the little organ had grown to almost two inches, sticking straight out.

"It's nice," said Christy. "And it proves there's nothing really wrong with you - it's just a bit small, that's all, but it's a proper one, all the same."

"I don't know why it's so small," Timmy told him, pulling the blankets back over them. "I know I had an operation on it when I was very young, but I don't know why or what exactly they did to it."

"It'll get bigger," Christy assured him.

"Will it?"

"I promise - and probably quite soon now. When boys get to about thirteen they start to develop - it's called puberty, and it's when a boy starts becoming a man. You get taller and stronger, and your voice gets deeper, and eventually you have to start shaving or you get a beard. And one of the things that happens is that your cock and balls get a lot bigger. You've seen Danny and Tom: my cock was the same size as theirs a year or so ago, and so was Michael's. They'll start growing in a couple of years' time, but you're thirteen already so it should happen to you a lot sooner than that."

"Is that really true? You're not just trying to cheer me up?"

"I swear. I mean, I don't know how big yours will be in the end, 'cos it's pretty small to start with, but it will certainly be bigger than it is now."

"I hope so. I'm sick of being teased all the time."

"Have I teased you at all tonight?"

"No, but you're different. You're my friend... at least, I think you are."

"I am," said Christy, "I really like you."

He thought about that. It was true, he realised: somewhere along the line he had moved from seeing Timmy as a feeble little townie whom they could hurt for their entertainment to seeing a quiet, gentle boy who had offered him nothing but friendship, despite the fact that initially at least Christy had done nothing to deserve it. It wasn't Timmy's fault if he was underdeveloped for his age, nor had he chosen to have soft, girlish features. Christy realised that somewhere he had stopped considering Timmy's physical shortcomings and seen past the little skinny effeminate body to the warm, loving person inside - and he realised that Timmy was the only townie he had ever known who had never once called him a gippo, and indeed who genuinely didn't seem to care that he was a traveller at all. To Timmy he was just a boy like himself. Christy had never known a townie to treat him as anything other than a total inferior, something barely better than a dog, and to find a boy who treated him as an equal and a friend was almost earth-shattering.

"I like you a lot," he went on. "And not just because you let me use your bath and share your bed, either."

"I know that," said Timmy, quietly. "I really like you, too. You've been kind to me, instead of laughing at me and trying to hurt me. Being with you is really good - especially when we don't have any clothes on and can cuddle up close. It feels warm and nice."

"Doesn't it bother you, me being a traveller?"

"Why should it?"

"Well... most townies think we're all a bunch of thieves. Aren't you afraid I'll nick all your stuff?"

"No, of course not. I don't think that at all. I trust you, Christy."

"Even after what Michael did to you?"

"That was Michael, not you. You're not like that."

Christy felt guilty again, aware that he was like that, and could easily have done the same thing if he had been where Michael was. But not now, he thought: from now on, I'm going to treat Timmy like a friend, not like a pathetic little townie slave.

"Christy... do you want to put it in my bottom again?"

"Well, yes... but perhaps we ought to try something else first. You told me that Danny and Tom made you suck on theirs... what was it like?"

Timmy shrugged. "Nasty and embarrassing - but I suppose it was better than getting whipped, and it was loads better than what Michael did to me afterwards."

"Good, because I think they'll make you do it again - lots. And Michael will, too, now that I've told him he mustn't do the other thing to you."

"Well, I suppose I can put up with it."

"Yes, but... look, Timmy, there's something you need to know before you do it to Michael. It's another one of those things that happen when you get to puberty... how much do you know about sex?"

"Well... nothing really."

"Do you know where babies come from?"

"Yes, but... I don't know why, or anything."

"Okay. So I suppose you don't know what your balls are for, either?"

Timmy shook his head.

"Well, something gets made in them, something that goes to make babies when you're grown up. It's called spunk. It starts happening at puberty, like all those other things, and what it means is that when a boy who has reached puberty - or a bit before then, even - gets excited - you know, that same feeling you got last night when we did that thing together - his spunk comes out of the end of his cock. Danny and Tom are too young and haven't got any, but Michael has, so if you suck on his cock some spunk will come out in your mouth."

"Oh. Is it poisonous, or does it just taste horrible?"

"Neither, really. It certainly isn't poisonous, and it doesn't taste bad, either - it isn't like piss, or anything."

"Oh." Pause. "How do you know?"

"Well... shit, Timmy, this is embarrassing... see, I'm old enough to have some, and once when some came out of my cock I... I tasted it to see what it was like."

"Oh... I won't tell anyone, obviously. So what did it taste like?"

"It's hard to describe, really - sort of a bit salty, but... I don't know. I just wanted to you to be ready for it, because otherwise Michael would just do it without telling you it was going to happen and hope it made you choke. He's like that. So I thought... maybe... perhaps you could do it to me now, so you'd get a chance to find out what it's like without having people laughing at you and calling you names."

"Okay, then," said Timmy, straight away. "What do I have to do?"

"Just do the same as you did to Danny and Tom. I'll give you plenty of warning when I'm getting excited."

"Okay. Lie on your back, then."

Christy couldn't believe Timmy was prepared to do something like this with absolutely no argument, but he wasn't going to complain. He lay on his back and spread his legs, and Timmy moved the covers out of the way, opened the curtains so that he could see what he was doing and then lay down on his tummy between Christy's legs. He opened his mouth and slid Christy's hard penis into it, closing his lips and squeezing, and then he started to use his tongue, and finally he began to slide it into and out of his mouth.

"Oh, fuck!" exclaimed Christy.

Timmy stopped straight away. "What's wrong?" he asked anxiously. "Aren't I doing it right?"

"No, it's absolutely fucking amazing," said Christy. "I mean... sorry about the swearing..."

"That's okay. Shall I carry on then?"

"Fu... I mean, yes, please do."

So he did, and Christy thought it was incredible. He'd heard people speaking about this, but he hadn't begun to understand what it actually felt like. Soon he realised that he was getting close.

"Timmy... you don't have to do this if you don't want," he said.

"Is it going to make you feel nice?"

"It feels fucking amazing already, and it's going to get better."

"Then I want to do it," said Timmy simply, and he got on with it.

"Okay... could you try using your hand as well? Stroke my balls, feel around the base of my cock, that sort of thing."

"Okay." So Timmy did that as well, and within thirty seconds Christy was having to fight to keep from reaching orgasm.

"Get ready, Timmy... it's almost there... it's coming... aaahhhhh... yes!"

Timmy felt something spurt out into his mouth. Christy was right - it didn't taste bad, or at least he didn't think it did. He waited until he was sure that Christy had finished, then slid the penis out of his mouth and looked for somewhere to spit.

"It's safe to swallow it," Christy told him. "But go and spit it into the toilet if you want - I'll wait here."

Timmy trotted through to the bathroom and spat it out, but he couldn't make out what it looked like - it just looked as if he had spat into the toilet. He shrugged, wiped his mouth and went back to the bedroom, where he found that Christy had got back under the covers.

"Come on in," said Christy, holding the covers open, so Timmy got into bed next to him. Christy pulled Timmy on top of him and hugged him hard.

"Thanks, Timmy," he said, quietly. "That felt so nice... it wasn't too bad for you, was it?"

"It wasn't bad at all - in fact, it was sort of fun, making you wriggle about and swear. And I didn't mind the taste, either. Is it really okay to swallow it?"

"Yes, but obviously you don't have to."

"No, I will next time, just to see what that's like."

"Next time?"

"Well, I expect you'd like me to do that again, if it really felt as nice as you say."

"Yes, but... shit, Timmy, you really don't have to. I shouldn't have asked you."

"Of course you should. Michael won't ask me, he'll make me do it, and I'd much sooner find out what it's like with you instead of just getting it sprung on me with him. Anyway, like I said, I like making you feel nice."

"I don't deserve you."

"I don't deserve you, you mean. You've been such a good friend I don't mind doing stuff like that for you whenever you want it."

For several minutes they lay quietly together. Christy was by now totally confused by his own feelings: here he was, naked in bed with another boy, and a townie at that. If someone had told him that Michael was given to cuddling another boy naked in bed - other than his brother, of course, though as far as he knew the brothers didn't sleep naked - he would seriously wonder if his friend had turned into a queer. Only homos cuddle other boys. And his usual "explanation" - the fact that he hadn't yet reached puberty - was starting to hold less and less water, because he had to admit to himself that he really enjoyed what he was doing with Timmy, and he couldn't imagine that he would really feel differently about it when his first pubic hair made its debut. He was pretty sure that Timmy would still look as attractive as he did now, and that he would enjoy the sex every bit as much.

And the real giveaway was that it wasn't just the sex he enjoyed. If it had simply been that he enjoyed being sucked, he could perhaps try to kid himself that it was really all about dominating a townie and forcing him to serve him. First, he knew that he wasn't forcing Timmy to do anything, and second, he was just as content to share the bed and snuggle up to him. And he really liked the boy - in fact, he was wondering if he wasn't actually falling in love with him. And how queer would that be?

Timmy, on the other hand, had no problems with the situation at all, other than finding it hard to believe how lucky he was: here he was with a really nice-looking boy who seemed to like him as much has he liked Christy. The fact that they came from different backgrounds didn't seem to matter in the slightest.

He rolled over to face Christy - they had reverted to side by side - and smiled at him.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Perfect," said Christy, smiling back.

Timmy pushed him onto his back and slid on top of him once more.

"Good," he said, nuzzling against him.

Christy slid his arms around him and hugged him, and Timmy turned his head and kissed him on the cheek. Christy froze: this was a step too far, he thought... but all he said was "Why did you do that?"

"Because you're supposed to kiss people you love," Timmy told him.

"People you l... Timmy, you hardly know me!"

"I know you well enough. Nobody's ever been as nice to me as you have."

"But... don't you have friends at school?"

"Well, sort of. There are boys I get on okay with, but none that I'd want to share my bed with. There's nobody I'd trust the way I trust you."

Christy couldn't think of an answer to this, so he settled for hugging Timmy instead, and Timmy obviously felt that was answer enough, because he turned and kissed him again, and this time Christy found that he didn't mind at all. In fact, before he could stop and think was he was doing he kissed Timmy back. Timmy gave a sort of purr of contentment and snuggled against him.

They stayed like that for another ten minutes or so, and then Timmy asked, "Do you want to put it in my bottom again, then?"

"Well... yes, if that's what you want," said Christy. Even though it was less than half an hour since he had been sucked he felt that he could do it again with no trouble at all, given the circumstances.

"Of course it is. I want to feel... you know, what I felt last time again.."

"Okay. Wait here while I get the Vaseline."

Christy nipped to the bathroom to get the lubricant, and when he got back he found Timmy already kneeling against the bed. Just seeing him like that was enough to get Christy hard, and by the time he had rubbed a little Vaseline against Timmy's bum he was stiff and straining once more. He added some Vaseline to the tip of his erection, lined up with Timmy's help and, as carefully as last time, pushed his knob inside. This time Timmy was able to relax much more easily, and told Christy to keep going almost straight away.

They settled into a slow rhythm, and soon Timmy was starting to utter little gasps of pleasure. Christy slipped a hand around his partner's waist and found that his little penis was hard, so he took hold of it and squeezed gently as he continued to rock back and forwards.

"That feels brilliant," Timmy told him. "You can go a little faster if you like..."

Christy speeded up a little , and before much longer it was fairly clear that Timmy was getting excited. Christy was nowhere near ready himself and wondered if he ought to stop once Timmy had reached his climax, which followed very quickly, accompanied by a cry of ecstasy and some phenomenally hard squeezing that made Christy cry out himself. He stopped and hugged his partner while Timmy came down from his high, and then, just to see what Timmy's reaction would be, he started moving again. Timmy didn't object at all, and soon he was moving in time once more.

"Are you okay?" Christy asked him. "We can stop if you want to."

"You haven't got excited yet, have you?" asked Timmy.

"No, but that doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does - we share things, you and me. Actually it still feels nice. Keep going."

Christy wasn't sure if he was telling the truth when he said it still felt nice, but after a moment's hesitation he set to once more.

He was feeling good now, but still some way short of an orgasm, and he hoped Timmy wouldn't start to regret asking him to carry on. But, on the contrary, soon Timmy was exhibiting all the signs of heartily enjoying it again, and just before Christy reached his climax Timmy came for a second time. This time his convulsions were too much for Christy, who couldn't hold his own climax back in the face of the pressure on his erection. He gasped as he ejaculated, thrusting hard, and then he fell forward across his partner's back, as he had done the first time.

"Did you really get the feeling twice?" he asked, once he had got his breath back.

Timmy nodded. "I felt a bit funny for a minute or two after the first time, but then it got nice again. The second one was even better than the first one. I didn't know it could happen more than once - thanks, Christy."

"Nor did I - I know I have to stop after one, so you must be better at this than me. You're pretty special, Timmy."

He withdrew carefully and trotted off to the bathroom to clean up. Timmy followed him in and wiped himself down and then sat on the toilet to wait for him. Once they were ready they went back to the bedroom and got dressed.

"Thanks, Christy," said Timmy, pulling him close and hugging him. "You make me feel so brilliant. I really love you."

"I love you, too," said Christy, surrendering the last of his reservations.

"Do you mean that?"

"Yes, I do." And to prove it Christy kissed Timmy gently on the cheek. "And I'm going to make sure that none of the others hurts you again, too."


"I'll think of something. Trust me, Timmy."

"Only.. I don't mind playing with Danny and Tom, and I won't mind if they make me put their things in my mouth, either. I'd just prefer not to get whipped all the time - and I don't really want anyone except you to put their thing in my bottom."

"I can guarantee that. Anyone else who tries it will get their face smashed in."

"Thanks, Christy." Timmy kissed him again, and then Christy had to return the kiss, and then they tried kissing on the lips. Neither had ever done this to anyone before, so they were both a bit tentative, and neither thought of opening their mouth while they were doing it, but it still felt marvellous to both of them, and Christy firmly silenced the little voice in his head that said that you weren't supposed to kiss boys. Bugger off, voice, he thought: I'll kiss whoever I want.


... which just goes to show the difference a good lubricant makes – well, that and whether or not the person wielding the penis cares about what it's doing to his victim/partner, of course. So now Timmy's got a friend and ally, and Christy finds himself experiencing feelings he isn't sure he should be having (I mean, falling for a TOWNIE???????? - oh, and a boy, rather than a girl, by the way, though maybe that's less reprehensible...). Nonetheless, Christy's protection should mean Timmy gets an easier time from the other travellers from now on, or does it? Let's wait and see...

Comments and constructive criticism are welcome as ever: you can reach me at gothmog@nyms.net. Many thanks to everyone who has already responded, and apologies to those to whom I have not replied: your comments are nonetheless very much appreciated.

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