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 48 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 28:

"It looks like you've got yourself a real treasure, love," Julie Smith says to Mr Grant.

William is standing alongside him. "What do you mean, Mrs Smith?" he asks her.

"Hasn't he told you yet, dear?" she answers.

"Told me what?" William replies, looking at Mr Grant, who has this really weird expression on his face.

"Tom is the new owner of this property," Mrs Smith tells him.

William looks funny with his mouth wide open. Mr Grant pushes his chin up. "Close your mouth. You'll catch flies!" he tells him.

 

 

Chapter 29 – I Love Maths Lessons!

William tries to reply, but all we hear is a lot of `what?'s and `how?'s and pauses. Nothing that he says really makes much sense.

I look at Karl and ask in a low voice, "Did I hear Mrs Smith just say that Mr Grant owns this place?"

"That's what I heard too," Karl whispers back to me.

We look from William's confused expression to Mr Grant's smirk and then to Mrs Smith's beaming smile.

Mrs Smith begins to explain for us, "The quick version is that, many years ago, the locals agreed that the first person to discover the house after it didn't disappear again, should be given ownership of the house. And Tom is the one who has discovered it. So, he owns it – or he will, just as soon as all of the papers are signed."

As she retells the curse to us in more detail, and explains how Mr Grant has become the owner of the property, William's mouth gets wider and wider. Mr Grant stretches out his hand to close it again, but William sees it coming and manages it on his own!

Jintabudjaree!

I turn and look at Karl, and close his mouth for him, which sort of `wakes him up'.

As we all head back downstairs, Marty says to us boys, "Did you practical jokers go around and close all of the doors down here?"

"How could we do that?" William replies. "It couldn't have been us. We were upstairs the whole time! Right, guys?"

Marty looks at Karl and me. We support what William has said.

I look at Mr Grant. He has a weird expression on his face. Not scared, exactly, but creepy, like he has just seen a ghost.

He is the last one out and he closes the door.

Suddenly, one of the men says, "Sorry, Tom, I left my hat on the stand just inside the door. I won't be a minute." He grabs the knob. The door won't budge. "Not this again!" he complains.

Mr Grant takes a couple of steps towards the door, touches the knob, and it just swings open. His expression is now sort of goofy. He shrugs and tells everyone, "It likes me!"

The man gets his hat and comes back out, almost sideways, clutching his hat against his chest, and avoiding getting too close to Mr Grant, as if touching him would turn him to stone, or into a chicken, or something. Then he quickly takes off, down the stairs, scrambles into one of the cars, and yanks the door loudly shut behind him.

I have the feeling that there is something very strange about this place! Disappearing and re-appearing for over a hundred years. Causing people to die. Doors that close by themselves. A front door that won't open, except if Mr Grant, the new owner, touches it. And, why does it look in such good condition, and so clean, if nobody lives here? I wonder whether it might actually be inhabited by ghosts, and I shudder.

 

The trip back into The Village is spent with Marty, William, Karl and me asking Mr Grant questions, most of which can't give any real answer to.

Marty: "So, what possessed you to venture out this way, especially since you knew that your father's friend was just the latest one of the curse's many victims? And he hasn't even been buried yet!"

I'm shocked. I hope that Marty's not talking about any of the three nice people in the helicopter who visited our school!

Mr Grant: "I don't know. I was just, sort of, drawn to it, like it was some kind of magnet, pulling me in."

William: "And, what's with the door knob thing? How come you can open it and nobody else can?"

Mr Grant: "I have no idea!"

Karl: "How come everything is so neat and clean?"

Mr Grant: "Beats me, too!"

Me: "Do you think it's haunted?"

Mr Grant: "I hope not!"

Karl: "When do you become the owner?"

Marty answers that one: "Julie Smith said that she would help organise everything for next Saturday, to give time for the legal witnesses to be there, and to invite everyone in the district."

Me: "Do you think a lot of people will want to come?"

Mr Grant: "How would I know?"

Marty: "You bet they will!"

William: "So, what are you going to do with the place?"

Mr Grant: "I don't know."

And so it goes on. Lots of questions. Very few answers.

 

At the pub, Mr Grant pulls up his car among all of the others.

"Mr Grant has promised to buy everyone a drink. You guys can walk from here," Marty says. Then, looking directly at William, he adds, "The exercise will do you good, tubby!"

William gives Marty a filthy, squinty look, but says nothing.

As we walk back to our place, I have to ask, "What was that all about? Marty calling you `tubby'?"

"Long story!" William answers. "Maybe it has something to do with Mr Grant telling him that I like custard tarts. We had them a lot when I stayed with his parents. And Marty reckoned I was gonna get fat."

"That's a good one!" Karl jokes. "Tubby!" Then he adds, "I would have said `horny', not `tubby'." He gives a quick grab to the front of William's pants, and then dashes off in front of us. He looks over his shoulder to see if William is catching up, but William continues to calmly walk with me."

"Aren't you gonna chase him, and grab him back?" I ask.

"I don't need to chase him," William smiles. "When we get to your place, he has nowhere else to run!" And, making ball-scrunching motions with his fingers, he adds, "And, then I'll grab him!"

We both laugh.

We don't even get half way to our place when we hear singing and loud cheering come from the pub behind us.

We go into the house and Karl is nowhere to be seen. Not in the living area, not the kitchen, nor in our bedroom. But...the bathroom door is closed.

"No problem!" William calls. "But, for every minute you stay in there, my grip on your balls will get even tighter."

About a minute goes by. "Scrunch!" William calls.

Another minute. "Double scrunch!"

"OK!" Karl calls. "I'm coming out."

When he emerges, it's obvious that he has something stuffed down the front of his shorts, probably hoping to prevent William from carrying out his threat.

"Very funny!" William jokes. "But totally useless!"

William is able to get Karl into a kind of bear hug from behind. I watch as he grasps the bulge in Karl's shorts and then pulls Karl back against him, hard. From the expression on Karl's face, I think he's actually being double scrunched by whatever he's hiding in there. Maybe even triple. Then, "Aargh! Enough! You're squashing everything!" He manages to pull out a hand towel and gasps, relieved. Not for long!

Now that Karl's tender bits are `unprotected', William gets even, properly, but gently. Karl doesn't struggle too much and it only takes a minute before they both have a hand down each other's pants. Playing.

"OK, you two!" I say. "Come on, let's play something together, like cards or Monopoly until Mr Grant comes over. He may not be long, you know.

"He's pretty long," William says. He takes out his cock and waggles it at me. "However, mine's longer!"

"What?" I exclaim, but I know from personal experience that William is correct. "And how would you know how long Mr Grant's dick is?" I throw at him.

"Well, we do live together, and sleep together, you know!" William smirks.

"You mean you sleep in the same room," I correct him, hoping that he doesn't mean the same as when Ron and I slept together.

"Isn't that what I said?" he smirks again.

"So, you're just playing with my head?" I put to him.

"No, actually. I'm playing with your brother's head. His dick head!"

Wishing that Mr Grant and I could be so bold together, I try to ignore them, set up the Monopoly board and count out three lots of money.

"Come on," I say. "Put those things away then get a drink from the fridge." I add, "And sit down."

Karl brings me a lemonade and they both join me; Karl is opposite me with his back to the door, William is at the end of the table. He and I can both see the door.

We get into it. Karl and I swap properties so that we can build houses. Then, Karl, as banker, delights in extracting money from William at his almost every throw of the dice.

I hadn't really noticed it getting darker, until we are all startled by an unexpected sound!

"What the fuck!" William exclaims, jumping in shock and banging his knees on the underside of the table.

Karl's head snaps around to make sure that it wasn't part of the house falling in, then asks, "Was that thunder?"

"Couldn't be!" William exclaims. "It hasn't rained for years!"

Then there is a bright flash, and another loud crash!

We all jump up and run out onto the verandah. The last time that I saw rain was at Ma and Pa's. But this is nothing like that was. It's more like... wet air. It would have to be a whole lot wetter, for me to actually call it rain!

The next loud sound is not from the sky, but from the pub. Cheering. We all look down that way and see a lot of people crowded around the doorway, pointing and laughing.

 

When there is no further action from the sky, we go back to our game.

Not long afterwards, just as William has rolled his third double in a row to go directly to jail, we hear Mr Grant's car pull up and he walks in. We stand up.

"Thank goodness!" William exclaims. "These two were taking me to the cleaners!"

"Would you like to play with us, Mr Grant?" Karl asks, turning to face him.

I give Mr Grant a cheesy grin and wiggle my eyebrows, responding to my brother's words, thinking something totally different to what Karl intended.

Mr Grant flashes me a kind of warning glare, then, to my brother he answers, "Thank you, Karl, but maybe some other time. OK?"

"Sure, Mr Grant," my brother replies, "But, we'll take that as a promise." And he grins.

William is happy to call it quits. He `rescues' the car keys from Mr Grant's hand, then leads off with Karl, out onto the verandah and down the steps.

Mr Grant whispers to me as I join him, just inside the door, "Be careful, Kurt. William saw your reaction to Karl's words about me playing with you."

"Sure thing, Mr Grant," I reply, then I help his backside out of the door with a friendly swat, like he does to me at school, knowing that nobody else can see.

Mr Grant doesn't look back; just shakes his head as he walks down the path.

He's right, I remind myself, for his sake more than my own. I do need to be much more careful with him than what Karl is with William.

And I have tried to throw my brother and William off the scent by regularly complaining to them about Mr Grant's refusal to muck around with me, like they do together. And I have asked William, `Is there something wrong with me?' And there are times when I've even managed to squeeze out some tears at my disappointment. And I keep pestering William to jack me off after school `because Mr Grant won't' and, then when William does it, I tell him that I'm pretending that his hand is actually Mr Grant's.

I think that they've bought it! But I will have to be more careful when I'm with Mr Grant and they're around too. I don't want them to suspect that we might have already `done stuff' with each other.

I remind Karl that William, again, has not jacked me off, like he promised.

"No problem!" my brother tells me. "Tonight!"

 

There are two main topics of conversation with Dad over dinner. His theories about the `almost-rain' and our experience of the homestead.

"Thanks for dinner," Dad encourages us. "After I've read you another chapter tonight, I might just duck over to the pub for a while for a drink and to hear what everybody thinks about the homestead. Is that OK with you guys?"

"Sure, Dad," Karl says.

I agree.

Thanks to my brother, after Huckleberry Finn and while Dad is over at the pub, I get my second thrill for the day! I make out that it's the first. I reward my twin, similarly, for his thoughtfulness. His second as well.

 

It's great to be able to spend a relaxing day, Sunday, with Dad.

 

On Monday morning, just as we are leaving for school, we see Mr Grant's car turn the corner near the pub. The five people who are on the verandah at the time all bow to the car, and we see a hand wave to them from the car!

"What do you reckon, that's all about?" I ask Karl.

"I have no idea," he replies. "But, if William knows, he'll tell me."

During lunch time, William spends some time walking around the perimeter fence with my brother. I wasn't invited, so I just watch them. William waves his arms around a lot, and points to the school building a lot. Karl nods a lot. Then they bump fists and join in the games with the rest of us.

Just as we are about to go back inside, William says to me, by myself, "Mr Grant wants to talk to you after school for a while."

"Why? Am I in trouble?" I ask him.

"You'll find out!" he says.

I'll bet that William just wants more alone-time with Karl, or vice versa! Maybe he's asked Mr Grant to keep me out of the way for 15 or 20 minutes. Of course!

Even so, I worry for most of the afternoon that I might have done something bad, or that Mr Grant's annoyed with me, or, even worse, that he doesn't want to do anything with me anymore, in case we get caught. In case he gets caught. I'm feeling really guilty.

 

Everyone leaves, including William and Karl. My miserable heart begins pounding when Mr Grant says, "Kurt, can we talk?" Here it comes! No more fun! First, I lose Ron and now, it'll be Mr Grant.

He asks me to close the door then come and stand next to his desk. He can tell from my face that I'm not happy.

"Hey," he says. "What's wrong?"

I can't answer. My throat is choked up and my eyes fill with tears. I bow my head and wait for the inevitable bad news.

Mr Grant puts his arms around me and hugs me. I wrap my arms around him too. Maybe it's for the last time.

"Do you want to hear something funny?" he asks.

With my head bowed, and against his chest, I nod, without saying anything.

He says, "Apparently, you are a really good actor!"

Very confused about this, I look up, at his face.

"William told me," he continues, "that you think I don't like you because I won't muck around with you, like he does with Karl."

"I'm sorry, Mr Grant," I say.

"Don't be sorry," he tells me. "Just the opposite! You've done a fantastic job. They're both convinced that you and I haven't done anything together. Nothing!"

I smile at him.

"In fact, your acting and your stories have been so believable, that now they're both very concerned for you. And, William's really mad at me for making you miserable." Mr Grant pats my backside and says, "Thank you."

I grab a tissue from the box on his desk, wipe my eyes and manage a half-smile. "Is that funny?" I ask.

"Not half as much as what I'm about to tell you," Mr Grant says, smiling.

What can I say? I just give him a curious and `please-go-on' look.

He says, "William has spent most of Saturday night, and yesterday, teaching me how I should `do some stuff' with you."

"What?" I ask, more confused than ever.

"You'll like William's scenario," Mr Grant says. "I'm supposed to get you to stand next to me while I explain a maths problem to you. Then I move you to standing between my legs. Then sit you on my knee, and then in my lap. Then I have to put my arms around you, between your legs, and rest my hands on your `stuff', before sliding one hand first inside your pants and then inside your underpants to feel your penis and balls."

"And what am I supposed to do?" I ask.

"William didn't tell me to do more than that," he answers, chuckling. "Maybe, if you weren't shocked, you could just pretend to enjoy it?"

I giggle.

Mr Grant says, "The square on the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the squares on the other two sides". He comments, "That's just in case William checks with you and me separately what the maths lesson was."

"I know," I tell him. "Pythagoras."

He ruffles my hair (which probably wasn't in William's script) then continues to follow his other instructions perfectly, `to the letter'.

"Ok. End of William's lesson," he tells met. "He didn't say whether I had to go any further, to jack you off. So, you can tell them everything up to this point if they really want to know."

"This really IS funny," I giggle to him.

"And just so that you can tell them the absolute truth, I'm not going to jack you off," he says.

I feel suddenly very disappointed, because Junior had already started to respond, in the way that he usually does!

Then Mr Grant grins, "But, we both know another way of getting to the same result, don't we?"

I know exactly what he means! Junior jumps and expands. The whole way.

I get off Mr Grant's lap so that I can move everything aside except the box of tissues.

I take off all of my clothes and, leaving them in a heap on the floor, get up onto his table, and prepare myself for some fun. I'm lying down and junior is standing up. Horizontal vs vertical (maths!). Actually, he's horizontal too, on my stomach.

Mr Grant starts slowly, playing with my `public' hair. Then he stands Junior back to vertical and lowers his moist lips down onto him and slides them all the way down. Then he sucks as he comes back up. Like on Saturday.

I shudder. "I love this," I tell him. Then I'm game enough to ask, remembering a recent English lesson, "May you please take off your clothes too, Mr Grant? I'd like to hold yours while you are sucking mine."

He does, and he stands so that it's easy for me to touch him and play with him and his balls. I rub his pre-cum up and down his shaft and, after a short while, he starts to moan, like I am. He hands me some tissues and, knowing that he is close too, I erupt into his mouth.

With my handful of tissues around his cock, it suddenly hardens, jumps and spurts. Lots of times. I've caught all of it, I think.

 

We wait. He stands with one hand on my chest and the other on my thigh. When I recover sufficiently from my shuddering, I get off the table and hug him. With his body pressed against mine, he reaches around me and rests both hands on my glutes. I just enjoy the feeling of our two bodies together as `things' start to return to their normal sizes.

"I need to pee," I tell him.

"Me too. Let's go and hang out together!" he replies. I laugh at the double meaning. "After we put our clothes back on."

 

We put the tissues down the hole then stand side by side and let go, peeing together. I smile at Mr Grant. He ruffles my hair then puts one arm around my shoulders and hugs me to him.

We go back to the school room and Mr Grant puts up one blind as the signal to William.

We wait.

William either didn't see the blind, or he and Karl were `busy'. My guess is... both.

 

William almost bolts through the door, smiling. "Everything OK?" he asks.

"Yep," I say. although, after what Mr Grant shared with me, I can tell that William wants to hear some details.

He doesn't get any from me, nor from Mr Grant!

Mr Grant drives us back to our place. As I get out, I say, "Thanks for the extra help with the Maths, Mr Grant," fairly loudly, so that both William and Karl, can hear it. Maybe a trifle overacting!

Karl gets out and looks at William.

William jumps out too. "I think that I left my, umm... something... inside," he says to Mr Grant, and follows Karl and me into the house.

We're hardly through the door when William bombards me with questions.

"So, what maths did Mr Grant help you with?"

"Explaining Pythagoras," I say. "The square on the hypot..."

"Yeah. I know what it is!" William cuts me off. "And then what happened?"

"Nothing much," I tell him.

"Like what?" William persists. "Did he grab you?"

"Like what?" I parrot back to him.

"Like this," he says, grabbing the front of my shorts, causing my whole body to recoil.

"Why would you even ask me that?" I put to him.

"Did he jack you off?" he spits out.

"What? Like you do? No! Definitely not. He wouldn't do that to me, even though I wouldn't object to it if he wanted to." Inwardly I'm laughing. Outwardly, I'm trying to keep a straight, serious face. Even frowning a little.

William looks annoyed. He virtually stomps out.

Karl and I follow, more calmly, and wave to them as Mr Grant drives away.

"Were you telling the truth?" Karl asks me. "Or lying? Did Mr Grant jack you off?"

"I wasn't lying!" I insist. "He did not jack me off. Cross my heart and hope to die. But I was hoping that he might. But he didn't. Why are you asking? Did you and William plan something? I saw you both at lunch time. You were like two pirates skulking (my new comprehension word) around the deck of a ship and plotting some conspiracy!"

Karl confesses, "William told Mr Grant how upset you have been lately, all because he won't muck around with you, like he did in the weir, except not in the weir, like William and me, and you." It sounds confused, but I know exactly what he is getting at!

"You know what this means?" I ask Karl.

"What?" he says.

"It means I've missed out again! William's gone home. Are you busy tonight?"

He laughs at my invitation. "OK. But you have to do me too. You're getting pretty good at it!"

I smile.

 

Tuesday. I think about what Mr Grant said, and I make a point of not being seen alone with him, avoiding him for most of the day.

William and Karl notice.

"He doesn't hate you, you know!" William says, walking up to me at lunchtime.

"Who?" I ask, but knowing full well who he's talking about.

"Mr Grant!" he replies. "Haven't you heard anything that Karl and I have been telling you? He wasn't mad at you for grabbing him in the weir. And, he was OK with playing horse-and-rider-wrestling, and letting you feel him up, and him doing the same to you. And he knows that you and Karl and I muck around. You and him even caught Karl and me in the middle of doing it the other day!"

"But I want to do with him what Karl does with you, "I complain. "I thought that he might have done it yesterday afternoon. But he didn't. And, then you went home without doing me either! Do you wonder why I'm not happy?"

I don't let on that Karl and I had a lot of slow fun last night.

"I think your luck might be about to change!" William says. "I gave Mr Grant a good talking-to last night!" He smirks and wiggles his eyebrows.

"And, what does that mean?" I ask him.

William smirks, "You'll find out. I think that he'll want to help you with your maths again this afternoon.

"OK," is all that I say, playing dumb.

 

After school, Mr Grant explains to me that he's supposed to repeat all of his actions from yesterday, except that, after sticking his hands down my pants, he has to continue to jack me off. "William insisted!" he laughs.

I laugh too, and agree to him doing it. As if I wouldn't! Although, I just can't picture them having that conversation!

I'm happy to incorporate William's little scenario, but what William doesn't know is that we have our own script. We start by stripping off our clothes. Then Mr Grant asks me, "What's 1 and 1?" He explains to me how the answer could be 11, and the Maths lesson is over.

That's a good one! I'm gonna try that on Dad.

We follow yesterday's script – with me between his legs, on his thigh, on his lap. However, at this point, the only comfortable position that we can find is with me sitting on his pubes with his hard cock sticking out from below my balls. It doesn't worry me. If anything, I'm happy of how it reminds me of my time with Ron.

Today, with no clothes to get in the way, we succeed in playing and rubbing and jacking off much more easily. Even though I have only the head of his cock from between my legs to work with, he seems to enjoy it! So much so, that he spurts first. Then he does me. Clothes are put back on. I'm still breathing heavily from the thrill of it. Wet tissues down the toilet. Side-by-side peeing. A blind is raised to signal for William to drive over here.

While we are waiting, I tell him, "It was fun doing it like that too, Mr Grant".

He says, "We can go back to doing it our other way tomorrow, if you like."

I thank him, hug him and we lock the door when we hear the car pull up.

William drives me and Karl back home. He doesn't make any excuse today, and just follows us inside, like yesterday.

Mr Grant probably knows that William wants to check whether or not he has followed `the script'.

I tell William and Karl, "He did it! He finally did it! He jacked me off!" And I proceed to tell them a simplified, but clothes-on, version. I hug William and I add, "Thanks! You don't need to stay behind and do it for me today. Which is what you would have been doing if Mr Grant hadn't done it!" Then, getting cheeky, I add, "However, I think that you still owe me a few. I'll take a rain check on those!"

William smirks. He's happy because he knows that I'm happy. And because Mr Grant has `done what he was told to do'. If William only knew! He won't hear the full version from me (nor from Mr Grant)! And, neither will my brother!

Karl and I wave them off. Then, Karl puts his arm over my shoulder and asks, "So, how was it?"

I continue my deception. "It was good, but I think that you and William do it better."

"Maybe we've had more practice!" he laughs.

"You can practise on me any time you like," I tell him. More laughing. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.

We start dinner.

There is a rumble from the sky and then more `wet air'. It's not enough to even turn the red dust into any sort of mud. Most of it disappears as soon as it touches the ground. Its only effect seems to be to gradually change the colour of the ground.

 

I'm looking forward to staying after school Wednesday. I tell William and Karl to "go and have fun, while I try to get Mr Grant to do it again, like yesterday."

William and my brother have hardly set off for home when, with the door locked, I have my clothes off and lay myself down on Mr Grant's desk. Junior is stiff and ready.

I tell him, "Don't waste time taking your clothes off, Mr Grant." He knows what I want and his warm, moist lips start their magic straight away.

Twice he teases me by taking his mouth off Junior and licking my abs, my nipples and even my thighs. Only when I feel shivers through my whole body does Mr Grant go back to sucking on Junior.

I think he enjoys watching me and feeling me shiver and moan and smile...

And spurt!

 

When I've caught my breath, I sit up and say, "Oh, wow. That felt great, Mr Grant. Would you like me to do you, like yesterday?"

"Only if you want to Kurt," he says.

"Yes, I want to make you happy too," I tell him, and I suggest that he takes off his clothes now and I'll sit on his lap, just like yesterday.

By the time he gets naked, his penis is stiff. Maybe it was even earlier, but I was too focussed on Junior to notice. And, his IS just like William's!

I'm very comfortable feeling his hairy pubes tickling my smooth backside, also with the feeling of his hard penis between my legs. My balls are resting to either side of it, and I can see its head and a little bit of the shaft.

He rubs my legs and holds Junior, who hasn't gone soft but is not totally stiff either. I squeeze my glutes together and feel Mr Grant's penis jump. Then, while I hold it, I feel the slipperiness, so I know that I'm making him happy and excited. I use his pre-cum to massage his dick head and as much of his shaft as I can reach.

Then there is more pre-cum and I decide to do something that Ron taught me. I hope Mr Grant doesn't think that it's too gross!

I take his pre-cum and smear it under my balls and back as far as I can reach. Then I slide my hips forwards and backwards while resting my hands on Mr Grant's thighs, which has two effects: it makes his dick slip up and down between my legs and produces more pre-cum which then makes it even slipperier. There is a third effect; Mr Grant starts to moan.

Suddenly, he grasps my hips very tightly so that I can't move them. But he starts moving his own up and down and his penis slides through and back between my legs. He moans more. I think of Ron, and Junior swells to full length and is rigid again.

Mr Grant grabs a fist full of tissues and gives them to me; I know exactly what for, and I catch all of his stuff when he spurts.

"What on earth made you do that?" he asks me.

"Are you angry with me, Mr Grant?" I ask.

He hugs me. "Oh, no!" he exclaims. "But where did you learn to do that? Did William teach you that?"

"No, he didn't," I answer truthfully. Then I add, "William is pretty good with his hand, but he has never done anything like that. I just felt like it was something that I wanted to try, because it might make you happy."

That's the truth, but not the whole truth. I promised Ron that I wouldn't tell. I always keep my promises. And always will.

I ask, "Did it feel good, Mr Grant?"

He replies, "Yes it did, Kurt. Thank you. But I think that we'd better stick to what we have done before."

"Why?" I ask.

"Let's just say that it's safer. Maybe one day, you'll understand," he tells me, and gives me a hug.

Ron said that he would tell me more when I was 16. What are they both hiding from me?

I stand up and he wipes between my legs with more tissues. This feels good. Junior agrees.

"Mr Grant?" I ask.

"Yes Kurt."

"What would you say if I asked you to suck me again?" I ask him, somewhat hesitantly.

"What? Now? You want me to do it again, now?"

"Yes. Please. I want you to do it again. Like the first time you did it." I tell him. "I know that I've only just spurted a couple of minutes ago, but I really want to feel you do it again. Please."

"OK," he says. "But if it starts to feel uncomfortable in any way, you have to say `Stop'. OK?"

"OK," I tell him while I clamber back onto his desk and lie down.

He starts like before. The only difference this time is that he has no clothes on and, with him standing between my legs, I can feel the warmth of his body against my skin. And I get to hold his cock and play with his balls, both of which excite Junior even more.

His face goes slowly, up and down, pushing and sucking. He uses one hand to hold Junior, and the other one to tickle my body by running his fingers around my thighs and abs and across my chest.

I hear nothing except my heart beating. I'm totally relaxed, just as if I'm going to sleep and I can feel nothing except his mouth and what it's doing to Junior, and stirring feelings deep down in my body.

After a while, the tingling starts. Deep. Slow. Intense. I start to breathe faster. Instead of going faster too, Mr Grant actually backs off and goes slower. The feelings get much stronger and I can't help moaning, loudly. I try very hard to hold back what is going to happen. It feels fantastic! I groan. Then, when I can't hold on any longer, I cry out, "Aaargh!" and just let fly! Three powerful spurts and I'm done! Then, I let go of every muscle in my body, and just lie here. Like a used towel, tossed onto my bed. Lifeless.

After our usual toilet stop, Mr Grant, without having to raise a blind today, locks up and we start walking over to my place.

I'm half expecting to catch William and Karl still wanking each other but, to my surprise, we find them waiting on the verandah. "We saw you coming," William tells us.

Mr Grant says goodbye to Karl and me and heads for his car, where William left it. William and Karl virtually drag me inside and ask me questions. I tell them the bare minimum, no more than what they wanted to hear, and I say that I'm happy.

 

Thursday becomes another opportunity for William and Karl to be alone, allowing Mr Grant to give me another `maths lesson'. That has become our `secret code' for him and me having a bit of fun together.

I take my usual position on Mr Grant's table and tell him not to hurry. I'm beginning to like going slowly! He can tell when I'm getting close and he deliberately goes even slower to delay my fantastic eruption.

 

"Mr Grant?" I ask, playing with his erection, while recovering my normal breathing.

"Yes, Kurt?" he says, resting a hand on each of my thighs and staring into my eyes.

"Mr Grant," would you like me to do the same thing to you too?"

He laughs, "Thank you for offering, Kurt, but I don't think that you would find it very easy," and holding up a finger on each hand, he indicates the length of his penis, as if he is showing me the size of the fish that got away.

I plead with him. "Please Mr Grant, may I try it on you?" Then, in an attempt to explain, "It's something that I couldn't do with my brother or with William. They would get awfully suspicious if I even suggested it. But I really want to see what it's like to do it."

He shrugs and doesn't show much resistance. So, he gets me to swap places with him.

Sitting on the edge of his table, he tells me to take it slowly and not to attempt to take it all in, like he does to me.

I try to remember exactly how he started on me. I look at his face and he smiles. I hold his balls in one hand and wrap my other one around the lower part of his stiff penis. Then I lick my lips and open my mouth. I work on his head first. It's a mouthful! I move my tongue around, licking him and sucking like I would do on a straw in a thick milkshake.

He laughs. I think that he's making fun of me, until, when I get a rhythm going between pushing my lips down over the edge of his head and licking the underside of it while sucking back up, he begins to moan, like I did.

"Have you done this before?" he asks.

"No, Sir," I answer, giving my mouth a rest from its work. "Only in my dreams. I've never actually tried it before. Why? Am I doing it wrong?"

"Wrongly," he corrects my English. Then tells me. "Quite the opposite, Kurt. You are doing it rightly, I mean right. Wonderfully right!

I feel my face broaden into a huge grin. "Thank you, Sir."

"No, thank you!" Mr Grant replies.

I go back to what I was doing, and, despite his warning, I want to push my lips right down to his pubic hair, like he did to me. And I try it.

Big mistake! My throat, thinking that I'm in danger of choking, heaves it straight back out again. I cough and splutter.

"Sorry!" I say, more for not taking his advice than for mucking it up.

"Now you know why," he says, smiling. "You had me really close just before that," he says. "Do you want to finish me off? You can just use your hand, if you want to."

This time I take his advice and, with my tight, slippery hand rising and falling all the way between base and tip, he very quickly fills a handful of tissues. I love the feel of his cock jerking and spurting! And his happy moans.

 

After taking our side-by-side pee, and having locked up, we start walking back to my place via the short cut. Mr Grant reminds me that there will be no school tomorrow because he and William are going to a funeral in Cunnamulla.

That means there will be no `maths lesson'! But I will still have Karl at night.

William and Karl don't ask any questions today. They don't need to; they can probably see the pleasure on my face. If Karl asks tonight what we did that I enjoyed most, I can honestly say that Mr Grant let me jack him off after I had spurted.

There is no wet air tonight. So, it's probably not going to rain!

After Huckleberry Finn I fall asleep very quickly, for once.

 

It's strange, knowing that it's Friday, and not getting ready for school. Karl and I hang around in our pyjamas for longer than usual. We even have breakfast with them still on, and notice Mr Grant's car turn the corner at the pub and head out along the road that goes to Cunnamulla, past where Jake and Jane live.

"What do you want to do today?" Karl asks, while we clean up and put all of the dishes away.

"Well, we could do some of our Saturday jobs," I tell him, "seeing that there's that special shindig out at the homestead tomorrow to make Mr Grant its new owner. I reckon that Dad will want to go and take us out there."

"Yeah, and then we could play cards or Monopoly or something," he answers.

"But Monopoly's not the same, without William to make bankrupt," I tell him, smiling. "That's most of the fun!"

"OK. Jobs, then poker," he says. "Maybe even a game or two of gin rummy. Depends on whether you let me win or not!" He knows that I've been winning a lot, by watching his face when he's playing. That's something else that Ron taught me.

I miss Ron.

"Then there's always dominoes," I add.

"Done!" he says. "Let's get into it. Who's turn is it to do the toilet? Yours?"

"How come it's always my turn?" I put to him. Today, I actually don't care, because we have been going at school and Dad goes at Whispering Gums, so ours was hardly used this week. If at all.

"Because it IS your turn!" he insists.

"Just to make you happy, I'll do it today, even though I remember doing it last week," I tell him. "But, I'm gonna ask Dad to mark the Saturdays on the calendar in future, so that we can tell for sure. He can put `KA' for Karl and `KU' for Kurt. That should solve any future memory problems."

"Whatever you reckon," he says, although I can tell that he's not overly thrilled with having his turn recorded, `in writing'. He fetches the two different brooms, for the inside and outside and thrusts them at me.

"I love you too!" I say as sarcastically as possible then head outside.

"You mean you love my dick and my hand," he calls after me.

I turn around and stick my head through the door. "You forgot your balls. I love them too!" I smile at him. That lightens the mood.

"You can love them tonight, if you like," he laughs.

"It's a date!" I tell him, and head back out.

I do some thinking while I work. It doesn't take me long. When I come back into the house, Karl is still doing the bathroom. I wash my hands in the kitchen sink.

 

I decide to check the cupboards. Yes! We have everything that I need!

I put all of the stuff out onto the bench, checking that I haven't missed anything by lining them up in the order that I'll need to use them. It's something that I saw Mrs Cameron do, even though she didn't specifically tell me that she was doing it.

Karl comes out to check what all the noises are that I'm making.

"I'm doing something special!" is all that I tell him.

"Well, don't forget to clean up your mess!" he says.

"You worry about the bathroom and the washing, and leave the kitchen to me. You won't have to clean up anything out here," I reassure him.

 

By the time that he's finished, I have the oven going and everything that I've used is washed and put away.

"Smells good!" he says, and asks, "What's cooking?"

"A surprise!" I tell him. Then, as his hand reaches for the handle on the oven door, I call, "Hey! No peeking! When it's ready, you can make us both a cup of coffee."

 

I'm in a good mood, so I don't try to outdo my brother at cards. I just play them as they fall. The result is that he wins two hands of poker. Then, looking at my watch, I announce that it's time to reveal the source of the tantalising smells.

Karl immediately puts the jug on, but has one eye on the oven as I open the door. I put the slide onto the bench, then explain what he's looking at. "The square ones are apple tarts and the smaller, triangular ones are jam tarts."

"Yum!" he says, with his hand hovering over them. "Which one can I have?"

"None," I tell him, "until they cool down a bit, or you'll burn your tongue and kill your taste buds!"

"Then, which one can I have?" he asks again.

"One of each, if you like," I smile.

"There as six of each," he tells me, as if I didn't know that already.

"Then, there's enough for dessert tonight," I say. "Unless William turns up, then we'd better hide half so that Dad gets some."

After making us both a cup of coffee, Karl loses the next three hands. I think his mind is on something else. Probably out of impatience, he finally asks, "Are they ready yet?"

"Yeah. OK. Go for it!" I tell him. There is no hesitation! He puts one of each on a plate for himself and the same for me.

We give the cards a rest so that we can savour our `morning tea'.

"So, you've got your wish! Getting Mr Grant to jack you off," is Karl's opening comment to his overdue but predictable discussion in which I know that I will have to think very carefully before I say anything.

"Yep. Finally." I reply. I wait until he is about to ask me something else, then fill my mouth with pastry and apple, in case I need some extra thinking time.

"So how did he do it?" This one is more than a yes/no question. I chew and think and chew and swallow.

"Pretty much straight up and down," I answer, keeping it simple.

"What? How? Fast? Slow? Tight? Loose?" he persists.

"Yeah. All of that," I answer. "A bit of everything, just like how you do it to me in bed."

He changes focus, a little. "So, who does it better? Mr Grant or William?"

"Definitely William," I tell him. "So, lucky you!" I know that it's a lie. But Karl doesn't.

He smirks, as if to indicate that he thinks that, with William, he's got the better end of the deal, again.

And he doesn't feel the need to explore any `second-rate performance' from Mr Grant any further. I'm surprised that he doesn't ask me any details about me doing him. Then again, my brother, better than anyone, knows how I do it.

We return to our cards, then make sandwiches and have a late lunch.

 

Dominoes adds variety to our friendly competitiveness.

Then, the sound of Mr Grant's car alerts me to the fact that the tarts are all still out on the bench. I put one of each type onto a plate and the rest are quickly stashed away in a cupboard.

William hops out of the driver's seat.

At the same time, we hear a new, deep, engine sound from the pub and watch a large, shiny, silver SUV pull up. It attracts a lot of attention from those around the pub; many more come from inside for a `look-see' to satisfy their curiosity.

I'm tempted to stay and watch, but William heads for the front door and says, "Hey, what smells so good?" Karl follows him inside and I follow Karl.

William's stomach follows his nose straight to the apple and jam tarts that we have left out. "They're for you," Karl says. "We've had ours."

"How come they smell so fresh and are still warm?" William asks.

Karl says nothing but points at me. I bow. William, already with a mouthful, nods and gives me a thumbs-up.

While chewing another mouthful, William points outside, and we see Mr Grant, the helicopter pilot, walking towards our place. We all go out onto the verandah to meet him.

I extend my hand and say, "Good afternoon, Mr Grant." He shakes my hand. Karl follows my lead.

"William," he says, "would you mind if I borrowed your car for a while to go and visit Mrs O'Brien and Anna?"

"Your car?" Karl questions William, then looks to Mr Grant for an explanation. "Isn't that Mr Grant's, our teacher's, car?"

"He can tell you," Mr Grant says, patting William on the back.

"Mr Grant gave it to me," he answers.

"What? He gave it to you?" I say. "You're kidding me! He gave you his car? What for? How come?"

"Nope. Not kidding! Why would he need two cars?" and he points across to the pub.

"What?" Karl echoes my shock. "That big, shiny, new thing? That's his?"

"I named it `The Beast' because of its growl," William says. "It's Mr Grant's birthday present from his parents."

Karl and I both immediately look to the older Mr Grant.

"True!" he says.

He and William look across to the pub and give our Mr Grant, who waves in our direction, the thumbs-up.

William hands over the keys.

Mr Grant reacts to the expression on William's face: "Don't worry. I'll look after it."

 

William joins Karl and me in playing dominoes, and laments the fact that there are no more tarts for him to chew on. I give Karl a stare of warning not to say that there more, hidden away for us and Dad.

We hear `The Beast' start then drive from the pub to the school. We go to our bedroom window and look across to where it is parked. "That's Mr Grant's Mum," William tells us. "She's a really nice lady." He adds, "And she knows where to buy the best custard tarts in the Gold Coast!"

We watch for a few minutes while Mr Grant walks with her over towards the weir.

We go back to our game. Not long afterwards, William's phone rings. "Hello? Yes. Can do! No problem, Tom... I mean... Mr Grant. Yes. I'll keep an eye out for him and then come over to the pub. Thank you. Bye."

"Did you just call Mr Grant by his first name?" Karl asks, surprised, if not shocked.

William looks embarrassed but responds, "Well, when I was staying with his parents, he insisted that I call him `Tom' so that his father would not get confused. He's Mr Grant, too, you know."

"Wow!" I say. "That could become really confusing. Now, that's three Mr Grants!"

"Exactly!" William tells us. "Usually Marty and I call him `Tom' at Marty's place. He doesn't mind. But I have to try to remember to call him `Mr Grant' at school or around any school kids and other adults. It can be pretty complicated sometimes."

"Wow! Three Mr Grants!" I repeat.

William explains, "There's Mr Grant, the helicopter pilot who is the brother of Mr Grant who is the father of our Mr Grant."

I get it. And a light bulb of comprehension shows on Karl's face too.

William is about to beat Karl and me at dominoes, when Karl spots "Mr Grant's car!" pull up at the pub, and alerts William to it, obviously hoping to end the game, or at least distract him.

"You mean MY car!" William corrects him, giving Karl a light smack to the back of his head. "But, I'm going to win this game first!"

And he does.

 

Karl and I watch William, with hands tucked into his back pockets, stroll over to the pub to join Mr Grant, the pilot. Our Mr Grant, with his mother, drives `The Beast' back from the school and picks them up. Then he reverses out and heads back the way he has just come. Except, he goes past the old church, then turns north towards the bridge on the Whispering Gums road. I can still hear Mr Grant's new `Beast' even after I can no longer see it.

 

(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.

-----

If you like the story, and haven't said 'hello' yet, please take a couple of minutes to email me.

rob.zz@hotmail.com

I try to reply to everyone, though maybe not the same day. Please be patient.

-----

Please support the efforts at Nifty. Every little bit helps to ensure that

our stories are posted. Do it here: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html