Kurt

 

Life in The Village, through the eyes of a student at the remote school.
(This is a parallel story to "Schoolie", but through different eyes.)
This chapter aligns, partially, with Chapter 38 of "Schoolie".

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

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 19:

Our wrestling skills are pretty evenly matched, and we roll around, with each of us spending time either on top of or under the other one, exerting our strength, but without hurting each other. Wresting with William has been excellent practice for this.

It's only when he manages to rub my face in wet dirt that I realise what he has just managed to achieve.

I push hard, roll him over and sit on his stomach, pinning his arms to the ground.

He looks at me and bursts into laughter.

"What?" I ask.

"Your face looks more like possum shit instead of possum piss," he chuckles.

 

 

Chapter 20 – Mr Grant and William are back

I know that I started this, so I have to be satisfied for him to have the last laugh. Anyway, I've had my bit of fun. "I think we'd better get home and into the shower!" I tell him. "And, we need to put on a load of washing."

The journey back home has more urgency to it than our walk down.

 

We strip off our clothes and leave them in a pile alongside the bath.

Our washing of each other is soapy, `clean and clinical'. Quick, but enjoyable.

"You want me to dry your back?" Karl asks. He does my shoulders, back, glutes and legs.

"Thanks," I tell him. "You?"

"Not finished yet," he smirks. "Turn around."

He does my front – high, low and middle. More time is spent on the middle. Of course. "Now you can do me," he says. It's obvious, looking at his middle, that he took quite a bit pleasure from doing mine.

I dry him and we have a quick, friendly play with each other's cock and balls. Nice!

"Do the washing or make us a cup of tea?" he asks.

"I'll wash everything, and you can do the tea." I answer him. "Also, pick out a game that you'd like to play."

"What game do you want?" he asks.

"Poker?" I reply. He has a great smile! I reckon that mine looks just like his. I want another chance to test out Ron's theory on Karl's tongue and nose signals.

Spot on! I win three games out of five. And one of the two that I lose, I throw intentionally so that he won't be in too bad a bad mood, losing at `his' game.

"Hey, it's time to put dinner on," Karl reminds me, looking at his watch.

We both check out what's available. Tonight, it's him doing the vegetables while I cook the meat.

"You want to do the onions, for me?" he asks.

No need to answer him. My stare is sufficient!

"Just peel them under water," I tell him. "No big deal!"

"It was worth a try, while you are still trying to make up for pissing on me!" he tells me and gets on with it.

"And whose face did you make to look like possum shit?" I remind him.

We both laugh. We're good with each other!

 

Dad compliments us on the dinner, as usual, and asks if we'd like to go to work with him tomorrow.

"Mrs Cameron told me that she owes you a cooking lesson, Kurt" he says. "And Mr Cameron and I are going to ride the horses up to the north paddocks and we thought that Karl might like to join us."

We are two happy boys when Dad finally turns out the lights after reading us the first chapter of Huckleberry Finn.

I think I'm going like this story. Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer could be Karl and me, off on an adventure. However, I don't see either Karl or me taking up smoking a pipe!

"I wonder when William and Mr Grant will be back," Karl comments in the darkness.

"No idea," I reply. "And, if they come back tomorrow, we won't be here. Hopefully they'll be back by Friday, because I'm sure that Mr Grant will want to open up the school and maybe do some work for next week, like he usually does."

"Your turn to visit," Karl says.

"Do you want to do it again?" I ask. "I thought that this morning might have been enough."

"Just thinking about this morning is enough to make me want to do it again," he tells me. "I'm already as stiff as your wooden sword. Come and see. I mean, come and feel."

It doesn't take us long. Both of us. He tells me that he is thinking of this morning and I say that I'm thinking of Mr Grant in the weir, although my thoughts are really split between Mr Grant and Ron.

 

It's Thursday and we're going out to `Whispering Gums'. Dad wakes us really early. I let Karl sit up front with Dad which means I can stretch out in the back seat, where I soon go back to sleep.

My body somehow knows when we turn off the road onto the `Whispering Gums' property and I wake up.

"Nice company you two are!" my Dad tells me when he sees me in the rear vision mirror. I can tell that my brother is asleep in the front, with his head leaning against the window.

"Sorry, Dad," I say. "We're not used to waking up as early as you do."

Even though I know that Ron isn't here, his memory is enough to excite me to wide awake. Dad and I chat the rest of the way to the house.

Mr and Mrs Cameron both greet us, knowing that we were coming. "Breakfast will be on the table in five minutes, now that I know you're here," she says.

We get out. Mr Cameron shakes my hand. Mrs Cameron gives me a hug. Karl stirs and receives the same `welcome'.

"We'll just clean up a bit first," Dad says. "and we'll be over in a minute." He signals us to go with him to the bunk house.

Toilet and clean hands, all round.

Breakfast is lamb's fry. Mrs Cameron smiles at me when she serves it. "How's my young apprentice chef coming along?" she asks me.

"No complaints from Dad or my brother," I tell her. "You must be a really good teacher!"

She laughs and ruffles my hair. Adults seem to like doing that to me!

When we have all finished and washed it down with a mug of tea, I say to her, "If I'm your apprentice, then I insist on washing up! You can tell me if it's as good as the way you do it."

Karl motions to stick his finger down his throat in mockery of my offer.

"That's very sweet of you," Mrs Cameron tells me. "And I won't paddle you with the wooden spoon for doing my job. This time! But don't let it happen again!"

"OK," I tell her. "Deal!"

She has a great smile!

Mr Cameron, Dad and Karl head off for the horses, and I stay with the head chef. Despite my insistence, she does most of the washing anyway and I do most of the drying. She puts everything away.

"So, young Kurt," she starts. "You want to learn to cook apple pies, eh?"

"Yes, please, Mrs Cameron," I reply. "It's something that my Mum never taught Karl and me."

"Well, then," she says, "Here's a pen and paper. Make any notes that you need, and I can check them for you if you like. I think that we will make two. One we will have with lunch, and the other one you can take home with you."

 

We start with setting the temperature to pre-heat the oven. Then the ingredients, which she gathers from her pantry and come cupboards. She tells me the quantities and mentions any alternatives which she has used. Plus, she shares with me that she is giving away the `best version' of her family recipe.

She doesn't hurry, and gives me sufficient time to write.

She shows me that she prefers to have all of the quantities measured out in bowls first. Fortunately, there aren't many of them. She prepares hers and watches me measure out mine. Then the preparation of the pie plates.

Mrs Cameron goes step-by-step with the pastry and keeps one eye on what I am doing. "You're going great!" she keeps telling me.

Before the pies go into the oven, Mrs Cameron shows me two ways of `decorating' them. Pinching the edges or marking them with a fork. She does half of each pie and lets me do the other half. Lastly, a few finishing touches on top, using small pieces of left-over pastry, followed by glazing.

"Now, while I do the dishes," she insists, smiling at me, "would you like to make us both a cup of tea? And, if you look in the pantry, you might just find a jar of peanut cookies that I made yesterday."

Mrs Cameron and I enjoy the tea and the cookies. And I find that she is an excellent gin-rummy player.

My nose tells me long before the clock does, that the pies are close to being ready. After they are set aside to cool, and Mrs Cameron compliments me on the `professional' appearance of my pie, we resume our game.

Then she looks at her watch. "I expect the others will be back soon," Mrs Cameron tells me. "Time to prepare lunch, and, before you ask, no thank you for any offer of help. But I don't mind if you watch."

I take note of Mrs Cameron's slick technique for slicing vegetables. Despite her earlier protests, she lets me do some. And I learn how to make gravy.

Mrs Cameron is a fantastic lady. She reminds me of Ma in Brisbane. I think of Mum and hope that she is happy. It makes me a little sad to think that she might not be, but I really need to think that she is.

 

I hear voices. However, the only face that I see is that of Mr Cameron. He walks directly across to Mrs Cameron and gives her a peck on the cheek. Then he says to me, with a nod of his head, "Your dad and brother are cleaning up in the bunk house."

That sounds like a polite hint for me to go and see them. So, I do.

I find them in the shower room, standing at the wash basin. "It smells like a couple of horses in here!" I say, waving my hand in front of my nose as if to clear the air.

Well, at least I thought that it sounded funny!

I guess the two wet washers that hit me in the head are from people who don't quite share my sense of humour.

The one thing that they are keen to share, however, is their scent. They both hug me and hold onto to me long enough to ensure that I end up smelling just like them.

OK. So now three people need to wash and spray some deodorant!

 

Lunch, as always from Mrs Cameron, is wonderful. I already knew what we were going to have, but the taste is just as surprisingly delicious.

Then the apple pie comes out. "Kurt should be able to make you one of these now," Mrs Cameron tells Karl and my Dad. "He took notes." She looks at me and winks. I know what she has done by my pattern of the pastry pieces on the top. I say nothing.

After the addition of custard and cream, the pie disappears quickly.

Mr Cameron comments to his wife, "One of your better efforts, love. Thank you for the cinnamon, too."

Dad adds, "Thank you, Daphne. We were all looking forward to that." It's the only time that I've ever heard Dad call Mrs Cameron by her first name.

"Really delicious pie, Mrs Cameron. Thank you." Karl completes the trio of compliments.

Mrs Cameron looks at me, smiles and puts a finger to her lips. I feel as proud as if I'd won a medal at the Annual Agricultural Show in Brisbane.

 

As we are about to head out of the door, Dad tells the Camerons that he'll see them in the morning. Karl says goodbye and he thanks Mr Cameron for the horse ride. I shake Mr Cameron's hand.

Mrs Cameron gives me a hug, embarrasses me by kissing me and saying, "You will make a wonderful cook, Kurt. Goodbye and good luck."

It almost sounds as though one of us is going on a very long trip!

Then she says to me, loudly enough so that everyone can hear, "Oh, dear! I've made a terrible mistake. I'm so sorry. What a careless mix-up! I seem to have put your pie on the table for dessert. You'd better take mine home with you, for dinner."

I feel my face stretching into a massive smile as all of the others look at me in amazement. Mr Cameron and Dad take their grown-up turns at ruffling my hair. If Mr Grant, or Ron, was here, I'm sure that he would give me a friendly swat on the tail. I wish! Karl just looks at me and shakes his head.

It's a reasonably quiet ride home. I do try to divert the focus from Dad's compliments of my cooking to what Karl did and enjoyed most during his ride.

 

Dad cooks dinner. Mrs Cameron has provided dessert. Karl makes a cup of tea for him and me and a coffee for Dad.

A few games of poker are followed by another chapter of Huckleberry Finn.

Dad's kisses goodnight and lights out are then followed by Karl and I enjoying each other's touch; tonight, in my bed.

"You seem to be getting good at doing everything!" Karl tells me after he enjoys spurting.

"Except horse riding!" I say, to cheer him up.

He giggles. We take turns of spooning each other for a while before he returns to his own bed.

 

Karl and I clean up after our Friday breakfast and we are beginning to plan what we will do for the day over a cup of tea, when we hear a familiar sound. We look out of the window and see Mr Grant's car heading towards our place. Excitedly, we rush outside and wave as it comes to a stop.

William jumps out of the driver's seat and hurries towards us.

Mr Grant gets out to swap sides and calls to William, "If I don't see you beforehand, I'll come back for you about 11:30, which should give us both time to freshen up before lunch."

Karl and I call out, "Hello Mr Grant!"

He replies, "Hi boys! Have you had a good holiday?"

"Yes, sir," we both reply. I'm really excited to see him again. He looks great!

"I hope to hear all about it sometime," he says. Karl and I glance at each other. I'm looking forward to talking to Mr Grant. I'll definitely tell him about the fencing, driving the Land Rover, painting the shed and learning to cook things, however he certainly won't be hearing about ALL of what I did, or learned. Maybe, someday, I'll get to actually show him.

I will leave the horse riding and possum bits for Karl to tell. Well, I expect that SOME of the possum bits will be left out.

"Mr Grant's going to do some work in the school yard. We can go over and help him soon, if you like," William says.

I'd be very happy to be able to help Mr Grant do anything, just to be close to him.

William turns to Karl, "Hey, I missed you guys!" he says, grabbing my brother in a hug. Then he hugs me too.

"You wanna do something? Gentle?" Karl asks, smirking. I think he's missed playing with something `Big'.

I've never known my brother or William to pass up an opportunity to muck around with each other!

We head for our bedroom and William sits in the middle of Karl's bed, propping himself against the wall. Karl grabs his `spunk towel'. Maybe he thinks that a mere face washer is not going to be sufficient for what he imagines is going to happen. My brother and I take our familiar places, one on each side of William.

William wastes no time in taking the initiative. I guess that he wouldn't have had too many opportunities to jack off in the home of Mr Grant's parents. Maybe at night, or maybe in the shower. I'll have to suggest to Karl that he asks William about that.

Hands progress very quickly from outside our pants to inside, on our undies, and then all the way inside. The three of us slide our pants down.

William, using both hands, can play with my brother and me at the same time.

Karl and I, on the other hand, do what we always do, take turns with his cock and his balls.

Having played so much with Ron, I have a new appreciation for balls. I handle them gently, roll them, tickle them and jiggle them gently. William lets out a low, satisfied, `Ooooh', and squeezes my cock as if to let me know that it's my hand which he is appreciating, instead of Karl's steady jerk-jerk-jerk.

Karl and I swap. I want to see how William reacts to some of the different grips that Ron showed me. Plus, I alternate slow rubbing with quick jerking. He turns and looks at me, but says nothing. I see questions on his face. I just smile at him.

I know that William and I have made enough pre-cum to eliminate the need for any baby oil. Probably, Karl too.

William begins to copy, on me, what I'm doing to him and, like Ron, he has me very excited, very quickly. "I'm gonna need the towel soon," I say to Karl.

"What? Already?" he answers, and passes it over.

I don't need to give William any instructions. He seems to know exactly what I want. He stops jerking Karl to concentrate on me. I feel the tingle start way down deep. This is the best part – trying to hold on before I spurt. I feel the pressure build up and then I have to let it go. `Ka-pow!'

The first couple of spurts overshoot the towel completely. My chin and neck are wearing them.

"Wow!" William says. "Did you miss me that much?"

My reply is more of a giggle than an answer.

Karl is next to use the towel.

"OK. Who's doing me?" William asks two very satisfied brothers.

Before Karl can jump in, I say, "I will. Then you two can go again, if you like, while I make us some tea or coffee." I know that they can. I probably could too, but I don't want them to know that. Besides, I'm satisfied already.

Two grins. No arguments.

I imagine that `Big' is actually `Moby' and I do to him what I spent a lot of time trying out last week.

The towel gets wetter.

"I don't remember it being this good!" William says, almost panting. "Have you guys been practising, or something?"

"Not as much as we would have liked to!" Karl says. Little does he know that he's only speaking for himself. Haha.

We clean up, drain our mugs and head over to the school.

As we walk through the school gate, it's almost like there are three conversations going at once. William's talking about surfing, Karl's going on about horse riding and I'm keen to get in about when I was driving the Land Rover.

We walk into the playground and stop dead in our tracks. It's the funniest sight that I've seen for ages! A body, which I take to be Mr Grant, is dusty, sweaty all the way down into the top of his jeans, and wearing a T-shirt pulled over his head and dangling onto his shoulders.

William is the first to speak. Very politely, "Excuse me, mister," he says, "but we're looking for our school teacher, Mr Grant. Have you seen him anywhere?" It's hard for him not to grin, and Karl and I begin to giggle. Then all three of us burst into laughter.

One of the things that I like about Mr Grant is that he can be very funny. He plays along with William's joke. "You might check behind that big pile of weeds in the back corner," he says. "I thought that I heard some noises coming from up there a while ago."

I think, `What would he be doing behind a pile of weeds?' We all look at each other and smile because that is so ridiculous!

Then Mr Grant adds, "However, he may be in the boys' toilet. I was just about to head over there, so I'll look in there for you."

He's still pretending to not be himself. That's pretty funny. I say to Karl and William, "Why don't you check the pile of weeds and I'll check out the toilet myself. I need to pee anyway."

Not wanting to appear too anxious to catch up to Mr Grant, I walk. But he's had a head start and he's already inside.

When I turn the corner, he's already peeing. I step up next to him, pull down the front of my shorts and undies just enough to let my cock and balls hang out over the top of them. I turn a bit towards Mr Grant so that he can see everything. Actually, so that I can get a good look at his. I can only do a few squirts. Mr Grant keeps going.

I've seen his and he was looking at mine! I pull everything up, tucking my gear back inside and I step back.

Mr Grant has his T-shirt slung over one shoulder. What he has been doing has obviously been hard work. I can see from the streaks that he has wiped his face and chest. I tell him, "Gee, Mr Grant, your back's all sweaty. Can I wipe it for you?"

He doesn't answer for a moment but then says, "Thank you, Kurt."

I grab his shirt from his shoulder and wipe his back from his shoulders down to his jeans. I push down the waistband a bit so that I rub to the top of his glutes. He doesn't say anything, so I say, "Maybe you might have missed some up front too," so I step forward next to him and rub his chest and his bare stomach. I'd love to rub something lower down for him too, but he's still peeing. He shudders a bit, probably because he enjoys me touching him!

Anyway, I neatly lay his T-shirt back over his shoulder and skip off to join the others. William is using the hoe to chop some weeds and Karl is just heading back from the far corner with the empty barrow.

Mr Grant catches up to us and asks Karl, "Well, did you find him?"

Karl smirks, "Nope, but I think that there might be a snake up there."

I add my two-cents worth, "I saw a snake in the toilet, but it's gone now. Oh, and I found Mr Grant too."

I'm sure that William and my brother both know what I was talking about.

Mr Grant stares at me, trying to make a serious face. I just stare back at him, point and mouth, `Mr Grant'. His seriousness cracks, and he smiles.

Mr Grant puts his T-shirt back on his head. I copy him. William and Karl do too. Mr Grant reckons that we now look like four ancient Egyptians.

Karl and I chop the weeds out. Mr Grant picks them up and puts them into the wheelbarrow, and William adds them to the growing pile in the back corner of the yard.

With the four of us working, all of the weeds are removed pretty quickly.

We put everything back into the shed. "Thanks, boys," Mr Grant says. "You've been a great help."

"Hey, look at us!" William says. "Now all of us are covered in dust, and sweaty.

"Why don't we all go for a quick dip in the weir to clean up?" I ask them, hoping that Mr Grant will strip off and, perhaps, play with me, like I think he would really love to do.

William and my brother agree. Karl adds, "It's a bit cool, though. Not exactly like it was weeks ago."

I'm not going to be talked out of this chance. "Don't be a woos!" I say, looking from Karl to Mr Grant. "It'll be refreshing." I see William look strangely at Mr Grant and raises one eyebrow. Mr Grant shrugs his shoulders. I think that there's a conversation going on between them, without words.

Then, William says, "Boy, do I need to clean up! I'll give you guys a three-seconds head-start. "1 ... 2 ..." Karl and I take off. "... 3!" I just hope that Mr Grant is gonna come too.

I'm out in front of Karl and beat him to the gate. However, just as I head for the weir, William overtakes me and dashes away.

I look over my shoulder. Mr Grant isn't running, but he is coming. Yes!

I get to the weir in time to see William's naked backside submerge. I strip off and dump my clothes next to his. Karl joins me and his clothes join mine.

The water is cool, but it's great fun, the three of us being able to muck around together, again, naked. There is a lot of chasing, grabbing, splashing and noise.

Karl stops and asks William, "Is Mr Grant coming or not?" Everyone is still.

"I dunno," he replies.

I add, "I certainly hope so!" and I wonder why we can't see him because he couldn't have been too far behind us.

William suddenly disappears and comes up with Karl on his shoulders. My brother lets out a loud "Yee-ha!" They head straight for me. I can tell by their faces what they have in mind. Same old routine: the two of them against the one of me!

"That's not fair!" I call out. "I don't have a horse!"

Suddenly I feel two hands under my armpits and on my back. They slide all the way down my body, feel and squeeze my glutes and push my legs apart. Then I feel a head between my legs and I'm lifted up on his shoulders. Mr Grant's shoulders.

"Oh, Yeah!" I call out, happy that he's here and that he wants to play with me. Junior gets very hard, very quickly. I'm sure that Mr Grant can feel it pressing into the back of his neck. I adjust it so that it's pointing to the side, but mainly upwards.

Karl's stiff too. I can see his. And I wonder about our two horses.

I love the feel of Mr Grant's warm skin under my body.

Instead of concentrating on William and Karl, Mr Grant starts to rub and wash himself, bobbing down to let the dirt flow off and away from him with the bit of current that exists. He rubs my legs a few times for me too, from my ankles right up as far as he can reach.

Mainly when he bobs under the water, his hand touches my erection a couple of times. I think that he does that on purpose but is pretending not to.

The other two head for Mr Grant and me. Karl and I wrestle. William and Mr Grant bump and push each other. Suddenly, with one big charge from William and a shove from Karl, I fall off, sideways.

I expect Mr Grant to pick me up again, but, instead, he heads for the bank and climbs out. I groan. I'm really disappointed. But, at least, Mr Grant stands facing me while he begins to brush the water of himself with his hands. I can tell that he was having fun and that he had an erection too, because it hasn't gone all the way down yet.

I wish that he would have stayed so that he and I could play with each other. I slap the water a couple of times to show that I'm disappointed.

"Maybe another time, Kurt," he calls down to me, still allowing me a good look at his naked body. Very much like William's and sort-of like Ron's. So, he does want to play with me! Another time. I knew it!

I grin, point at him and mouth `Mr Grant'. He's smiling. He points back and mouths `Kurt'.

He calls, "C'mon, Will. We have an appointment for lunch," and he turns his T-shirt inside out and dries his backside and front side. He pulls on his underpants, then his jeans.

"Sorry, guys," William says to Karl and me. "I'd love to stay, but we promised to help Marty with some stuff." He climbs up the bank and it's like Mr Grant doing it all over again. Beautiful body. Just like Ron's. Nice glutes too!

He faces us while he is getting dressed, like Mr Grant did. His wet pubic hair looks even darker against the whiteness of where he was wearing a pair of swimming costumes at the beach and didn't get tanned. And, I was right about him having an erection when he was mucking around with us.

"Maybe I'll see you tomorrow, guys," he calls to us as he and Mr Grant head off.

 

Karl and I stay a bit longer, but it's not the same without William and Mr Grant. A lot of the excitement has gone.

We head home, have a hot shower, dry each other and get dressed. Jacking off can wait until tonight, and I have a lot of things to think about while we're doing it. Especially Mr Grant touching me and saying that he wanted to play with me `another time'.

 

(to be continued)

 

The parallel version to this story, is told through the eyes of Tom Grant, the `Schoolie'.
Find it at https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/schoolie

If you'd like a full picture of their lives and thoughts, you should read both concurrently.

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rob.zz@hotmail.com

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