Kurt Chapter 106

Kurt

Life in The Village, and the `coming of age' of a student at its remote school,
through his own eyes.

This is an original work of pure fiction (just an expression of a fantasy)
by Robert A. Armstrong (a pseudonym)

Copyright 2013-2023. Robert Armstrong. This complete work of literary art is protected by US, Australian and International copyright law. It is the sole property of the author and may not be reproduced in any form whether in whole or in part without the prior express written consent of the author.
Licence is granted to Nifty Archive Alliance, Inc. for electronic publication on the Nifty.org website. All rights reserved.

The resemblance of the characters by action, name, location, or description to any real person is purely coincidental.

If it is illegal, or offensive, for you to read stories involving interactions of a sexual nature between adults and youths, then what are you doing here?

From Chapter 105:

The sound of the engine soon causes me to feel drowsy.

I wake up with a jump.

I was remembering what Ron taught me last night, and I reckon that I've just had a wet dream in the middle of the day!

"Welcome back!" Dad says. "You were sleeping like a baby!"

Chapter 106 – A Major Scare!

"Which one?" I ask.

"Which one, what?" Dad boomerangs back at me.

"The muted one or the mellifluous one?" I ask. "Which one was I asleep like?"

Dad comments, "So, did you find out what those two words mean?"

"Of course," I tell him. "I couldn't leave them bouncing around in my head without knowing what they meant!"

"You were just like both of them," Helen turns and smiles at me. "They haven't moved. Neither did you."

I'm suddenly aware of the dark patch showing on the front of my jeans, toward the right side where the sleeping-again Junior is still pointing, and I rest my forearm over the wetness.

"How come you were so tired?" Dad asks. "That's not at all like you!"

I choose my words carefully. "Maybe Ron and I just overdid everything."

Dad's phone rings.

Excellent timing!

Helen answers it. "Hello, Jim. Yes. Thank you. Just a moment. I'll put you on loudspeaker."

"Hi Jim," Dad says.

I catch Dad's eyes, smiling at me, in the rear-view mirror.

"Ron's an impressive worker," Dad replies. "He and Kurt make a good team."

<You're not wrong!> Mr Camerons says. < I think that they are both conscientious in everything that they do. Ron tells me that he really enjoys working with Kurt.>

Helen half-turns, smiles at me, then comments, "Kurt's like that in the kitchen too!"

I hear Mrs Cameron's voice, <Please tell your young chef, for me, that I remember where I put the recipe that we talked about. I wrote it on the back of the shortcrust pastry recipe.>

Helen's expression, and the raised phone asks whether I want to comment. I shake my head.

Dad continues, "I've asked Ron, while he's staying up this way, whether he'd like some paid work, a couple of days a week. Tom Grant is going to offer him some too. Maybe you can chat to him about it and see whether that fits in with his current university schedule, before we talk about any details. And, there are three places where he could sleep instead of travelling to and from Cunnamulla: obviously with us at Whispering Gums if he's working here, or if he's working for Tom, then at Jintabudjaree or our new house in The Village."

<I certainly will, Jan. And, thank you.> Mr Cameron says. Then he asks, <When do the boys go back to school?>

"Monday." Dad replies. "Their working holiday is over!"

"Bye!" Helen and Dad say together.

Dad looks at me again. "Well done, Sport! I should have looked at the Land Rover more carefully when Ron brought you to the hospital."

Helen, now sitting sideways in her seat, asks, "What recipe did Daphne mean?"

I explain about the coffee and freshly-made custard tarts that Mrs Cameron offered Ron and me, and that she told me that her custard tart recipe was somewhere in her Red Book.

As we pull up outside the homestead, both girls become `mellifluous'.

Helen comments that it's `feed time' and that she will heat up two of the bottles that were prepared at the hospital.

"They're probably both in need of a nappy change too," she says. Then she adds, "Jan, if you heat the bottles to the correct temperature, Kurt can help me with the girls."

That's unexpected. I'm shocked! "You want me to help change a baby's nappy?" I ask her.

"It's simple," she replies. "I'll show you how. I hope neither of them has done a poo."

"Me too!" I reply.

It's simpler than I imagined.

Old nappy off. Clean her up, with oil then powder. New nappy on. Wrap her up.

On the way, I get a ten-second anatomy lesson from Helen about `girls'. I'm so grateful!

Junior remains, thankfully, asleep.

What is also unexpected is me getting to hold and feed Melody.

Helen and I sit opposite each other on the single comfy lounges and she shows me exactly what to do. Including how to position Melody and burp her to release the air that she sucks in with the milk. And how to mop up whatever she throws up. Ugh.

"You're a natural!" Dad grins, looking at me. "I'll make us all coffee."

"Thank you, Kurt," Helen smiles at me. "I may want your help occasionally, if both babies need attention at the same time."

"No problem," I reply. "But Karl and I will be at school for most of the week. I think that my Dad should learn to help too." I grin, and call loudly, "Especially if there are dirty nappies!"

"I heard that!" I hear from Dad's voice in the kitchen.

With both girls sound asleep in their new bassinets, the three of us settle down to our coffees.

"And, I found these cookies," Dad tells us. "Are they fresh?"

"No," I reply, then grin, "I made them yesterday."

Suddenly Helen looks around and asks, "Umm. Where is your brother? And Jacko?"

I reply, hoping that it's true, "They've both been working really hard, and staying down at the southern workers' hut. Ron and I had lunch with them yesterday. We took down some spaghetti Bolognese. And apple tarts."

"You made spaghetti Bolognese?" Dad questions me, surprised.

"No. I did the apple tarts. Ron made the spaghetti. One of Mrs Cameron's recipes, I think." I have to add, "You would have loved to see Karl trying to pick up long strands of spaghetti with a spoon!"

"How did he manage, then," Helen asks, a little concerned.

I reply, "Ron showed us all how to use a fork and spoon to twist the spaghetti into a ball. Then it was simple. And, surprisingly, Karl got it, first go!"

"I should go down and see what they've managed to accomplish, and thank them," Dad says. "Want to come?" he asks me. Then he adds, "Do you know how much they have been able to cut and stack."

"No idea!" I tell him honestly. (Thanks for the tip, Ron!)

"I'll do the dishes, Helen tells us. "You two can go ahead."

"I'll better change out of my good clothes first," I tell my Dad.

"Aaarh! What has happened out here?" I hear Helen call from the kitchen.

Dad and I both arrive in the kitchen at the same time, from different directions.

"What?" I ask, but knowing exactly what Helen has discovered.

"Everything's clean and tidy! And organised!" she comments to my Dad as much as to me, and indicates to Dad the cupboards and pantry.

"Well, I didn't spend all of my time working on the Land Rover, and looking after the animals, and helping Ron to mend fences," I tell her. "Besides, I thought that you might need extra space in the pantry for the girls' things."

"I love you, Kurt Andersen," Helen tells me and hugs me. I think that she is about to cry.

Dad makes the hug a threesome. "Thank you, Sport," he tells me, then ruffles my hair.

I get to sit up front with Dad in the new... "What is this car, exactly?" I ask him.

"Let's just call it a `People Mover'," he replies. "Because, that's what it's for. And the ute will be used for work around the property. Maybe Ron and you can rejuvenate that as well."

"Nice seats!" I tell him. "Almost like lounge chairs. There are even arm rests!"

Dad tells me. "It's an exclusive design with a larger engine and lots of extras. I'll show you them all... after I've read the manual!"

Larger engine? It sounds just like Mr Grant's `Beast'. Roaaar!

"Dad?" I ask. "What colour is this? I've never seen anything like it. Not even in Brisbane when Karl and I visited Mum and Ma and Pa. It's sort of greyish, silvery, greenish blue."

"It's one of the latest metallic finishes," Dad says. "This particular colour is `eucalyptus'."

"Of course!" I exclaim. "Gum leaves are exactly what it reminds me of."

As we approach the workers' hut, there is no sign of the ute, so we continue straight for where Jacko and Karl are, hopefully, working.

With our new `people mover', there'll be no sneaking up on people! The sound of its engine will be obvious to all except anyone who is deaf, or who has his head under water – that could be Karl, with Ron's help! LOL.

We'll have to think up a name for it, like Mr Grant has `Beast' for his. Something better than `Beast2'! Maybe a specific beast? Lion? Rhinoceros? Bull? Elephant – I don't think so! I'll ask Helen's opinion. Even better, why not have a full family discussion over dinner?

As we approach the rubbish paddock where Jacko and Karl have been cutting and stacking wood, I'm feeling very apprehensive. (Where did that word come from? An English lesson?)

Have they done enough work? Or did they spend too much time mucking around together?

If they haven't done enough, Dad will ask them why not? Also, what they have been doing! This could go really badly!

We drive around a stand of trees. The paddock comes into view. I'm shocked at what I see!

Where did the rubbish go?

"Will you look at that!" Dad exclaims. "They've built a wall of cut wood to conceal all of the rubbish! How clever is that!"

OK. Jacko and Karl are off the hook! And, they're in Dad's good books, I reckon!

"I told you that they'd been working hard, didn't I?" I say, relieved. "I just didn't know how much!"

Jacko and Karl, obviously attracted by the sound of the new `car', are waiting to greet us.

I was focussed on the large wall of wood and hadn't noticed them at first.

Dad and Jacko shake hands. Karl gets a hug and his hair ruffled.

"Great work, men!" Dad tells them, indicating the `wall'.

Whoa! Dad has just referred to my brother as a man!

I wish that I could describe the glow on my brother's face! Even brighter than his and Jacko's usual goofy expressions after they've been mucking around together!

"Let's get back," Dad tells the `men', "before the girls wake up." He adds, "Hey! You two had better have a long shower in the bunkhouse before you come into the house. You smell! Hard-work perspiration. I'll show you the new car later."

Jacko and Karl look at each other. Their expressions are the beginning of `goofy grins'! Ha!

With Karl's and Jacko's coffees getting cold on the table, my Dad comments, "I wonder what's keeping them?"

I can guess! But, Dad did tell them to take a long shower.

"I'll go and check," I offer. "Maybe they're still talking about all of the work that they did."

"No. It's OK. I'll go!" Dad tells me, putting his coffee mug onto the floor and lifting himself out of his comfy chair. "You can stay and talk to Helen about the girls. Or you might want to look for that custard tart recipe."

Shit!

I hurry to my room `to blow my nose' and immediately ring Karl's phone.

I know that my joke about the ring tone is going to be over, but so will Karl and Jacko be, if Dad springs them mucking around together.

Come on! Answer your phone, Karl!

How many times does the rooster have to crow before Karl picks up his phone? I hope he didn't switch it off or turn the volume down!

I watch Dad from my bedroom window. It will take him just over two minutes more to reach the bunkhouse. I've timed the walk previously, often actually. And I know exactly how many steps that it takes me.

<WHAT?> I hear an angry voice demand.

"Dad's on his way over there." I tell him. "Get dressed! Quick!"

Without allowing my brother to comment, which would only use up valuable time, I disconnect and amble back to the lounge room. I hope that my panic isn't obvious.

I make a show of wiping my nose again, and putting my handkerchief into my back pocket, then I sit down at the table, facing the door and the front windows.

I glance towards the bunkhouse. Dad's almost there!

I feel my heart pounding.

There's more at stake here than my brother and Jacko!

If Dad catches the farm hand mucking around with one of his handsome, teenage sons, would he reckon that Jacko might have done stuff to me too?

I have a sudden inspiration and hurry back to my room, grab my tracksuit bottoms and a clean pair of underpants, then dash out of the front door, and take a running jump off the verandah. (My best ever!)

"Dad! Dad!" I call.

He stops right outside the bunkhouse door, and turns around.

I wave the clothes above my head and run towards him.

About 20m short, I slow to a walk.

"What's up, Kurt?" he asks.

I tell him, "I thought that Karl would need some clean clothes. Otherwise, he'll either have to put on the same stinky ones, ...or walk back naked."

I grin.

A grin also spreads across my Dad's face.

"Interesting thought!" he tells me, then ruffles my hair.

Jacko emerges from the bunkhouse. Hair wet. Shirt out. Boots in hand.

He sits on the top step to put his boots on, which also blocks the doorway.

"Karl has asked me to fetch him some clean clothes," he says, looking up at my Dad.

Dad holds out my tracksuit and undies.

I grab them from his hand and say, "I might as well give them to him myself, now that I'm here." I add, "Why don't you show Jacko the new car."

There is a moment of silence while Dad considers what I've said.

"OK." Is all that he replies. Then, to Jacko, "You want to take a look now, or later?"

"Now would be great!" Jacko replies, standing up, boots on. Stomping. "Thanks, Jan."

As they head off together, Jacko glances sideways at me and mouths, `Thanks'.

My heart is still pounding. Just not as much!

"I was gonna knock your fucking block off," Karl greets me, with a clenched fist, "when I jumped out of the shower to catch the rooster, and discovered that the noise was coming from my phone. Then I realised that you must have done that!"

I start to explain, "It was just a joke that..."

My brother cuts me off. "But, when you told me that Dad was coming over, I nearly shit myself. I can't imagine what would have happened if he had found us still in the shower, with Jacko's dick between my legs! It might have looked like he was doing something else to me! So, instead of a busted nose, I want to give you a big hug. Thank you, brother."

His body pressed against me, I feel his gratitude.

I comment, handing him the clothes, "These are mine. I didn't have time to look for yours." I add, stepping back and looking down at his still-pretty-much-full hard-on, "Maybe you should get back under the cold water first."

While he's `cooling off', I consider Karl's words; `...like he was doing something else to me'! So, Karl knows about the `something else' that one guy can do to another, does he? Like Andy and me? How? Have he and Jacko talked about it? Hmm. I have a few questions for my brother tonight.

We walk back, close together. Karl is clutching his `stinky' clothes in one hand, with his other arm across the back of my shoulders.

His arm tightens around my neck, a little. "But, I still owe you for that rooster thing," he growls into my ear.

"You can get even with me in bed tonight, if you like" I tell him, grinning.

Junior wakes up.

No, not now, Junior!

(to be continued)

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The partly-parallel version to this story, `Schoolie', told through the eyes of Tom Grant, gives the backstory specifically for Tom, William, Andy and Jintabudjaree.
Find `Schoolie' at https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/schoolie

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If you're interested, I have 26 (A-Z) short stories at

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-friends/massage-tales

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