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 4 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, what are you doing here?

 

 

From Chapter 2:

Sweet dreams. My brain transforms Willie #2 from being our teacher into being another one of us students, and we all have fun in the weir - #2 and me, #1 and Karl. Naked. Grabbing and feeling games.

I wake up with wet pyjama pants.

 

Chapter 3 – New Experiences

Sunday morning is our usual day to sleep in. However, today, I get up, fold my pyjama pants with the wet patch and hide them under my pillow then I put on my play clothes.

Should I ask my Dad what's going on with me and my wet pyjamas? He'd probably ask me too many questions. Nah!

Should I ask Karl if it happens to him too? As if! He'd only make fun of me, call me a `baby-wet-the-bed' and he'd also tell Little.

I'll try to work it out myself. It's happened a few times now. Always at night while I'm asleep. It wasn't like I got terrified of pirates in my dream and peed myself! No, it has always happened after dreaming about having some naughty fun.

I'm sure that Dad's going to ask me why I got up so early, so I start to make breakfast for the three of us. I'll just tell him that I wanted it to be a surprise. I'm glad that Mum showed me how to make pancakes. Nice smell. As soon as I start cooking, Dad and Karl are up. Karl still has his PJ pants on. Dad has nothing on. I try not to stare at his willie. Yes, he and Little are very much alike! I wonder if Dad's `Big' is like Little's `Big'. I feel myself starting to go hard so I wash the flour and spilled batter off my hands in the sink - cold water - then go back to concentrating on the pancakes. It goes back down.

So, next time it goes hard, I'll have to remember to think about cooking pancakes!

We help Dad tidy up around the house. He has told us that we need to keep the weeds down (we don't have a lot of grass because of the drought, except for a patch where the bath and kitchen water empty out) and not to have wood stacked up too close to the house because of snakes. The one thing that does seem to do well is spiders. Every second week we brush them off the house and the windows. Karl and I take our turn at brushing out the toilet. Today it's his turn. And he can't weasel his way out of it again today, either, because Dad hands him the broom and points across at the `out house'. Haha.

Dad makes us all a great salad for lunch and then tells us that he's going over to the pub, now that it's open for Sunday trading, for a drink and a chat with the guys.

As he heads off, we see Little coming our way. He high-fives Dad as they pass. "Hey, guys!" he calls to us. "Do you want to go over to the school and say hello to Mr Grant?"

He comes inside with us and suggests that we go swimming, and that we can go and see Mr Grant on the way. He has his swimming shorts on which he wears when other people are around. Karl and I usually just wear our `special' white underpants.

I'm not sure whether it's OK to be talking to our teacher, wearing only my undies. But, then I remember that he already saw us in them on Friday when he arrived. He didn't seem to care. I remember how he especially looked at me and mine. And his smile. No, he didn't care at all! And he made sure that he got my name right. And I had my cheeky bit of fun mouthing his name back to him. All good!

I suddenly feel really happy about doing this, and I strip down super-fast. "OK, let's go," I tell Karl and Little.

I grab my pirate sword for protection from any snakes and we follow Little across the bit of a track between our place and the school, keeping a look out for slithering nasties. On the way, I slash at the tall, dry grass in case any snakes or pirates are hiding.

When we get to the school road, I put my sword down, to use on the way back. We cross the road, go through the gate and head for the step up to the verandah.

I see that the all of blinds are up and the windows on this side are open. I think that I can see Mr Grant at the teacher's desk. He's looking at us.

I am about to knock, when Mr Grant calls, "Come on in, guys!" He stays at his desk, puts his pen down and smiles. The three of us go over to his desk, in the corner of the room opposite to the door, and lean (well, half-sit, actually) on the little kids' desk right in front of him. He looks at us. "Let me see," he says, pointing, "You're Karl, and you're Kurt. Right? And both about to turn thirteen next Friday." He's looking straight at me.

He adds, "And your big friend is William, the artist."

Little has a weird look on his face. Nothing bad, but not exactly a grin either.

My brother says boldly, "Wow, Mr Grant! You're good!" Then he turns to me and says, "It looks like we won't be able to trick Mr Grant, eh Kurt?"

"Bugger!" I let slip, then apologise a couple of times to Mr Grant, and I feel my face go red.

Karl and I used to enjoy tricking Mr Grumpy. We always used to tell him that he got us wrong when he called us by name, even when he had it right. That's why he ended up separating us, and I had to sit with the girls. Then he could probably tell me by the pout on my face. Sometimes Karl and I still swapped places and got into trouble for it. Luckily, nobody dobbed on us to our Dad.

To change the subject as quickly as possible I ask, "Why did you call him `William', Mr Grant? His name's `Little Willie'."

Mr Grant looks into my eyes and says softly, almost like it's a secret, "Because I just couldn't bring myself to call any boy a `little willie', Kurt. He looks down very quickly at the front of my underpants (in case I didn't understand what he was talking about) then straight back into my eyes. I stare back at him and smirk. He smiles.

I turn to look at Karl, and we both burst into giggles.

Mr Grant adds, "So, from now on, at school, he's going to be `William'. OK? Can you two please remember to help that happen?"

"Yes, sir," Karl and I reply, together.

Then Mr Grant says, "He's going to be a famous artist one day. Did you know that? And everyone here will be able to say that they knew him and went to school with him. I've seen some of his drawings and paintings at his cousin's house. They are amazing!"

I wonder how he could work all that out in the two days that he's been here!

He continues talking about Little's, I mean William's, painting and drawing ability, but he keeps glancing at my underpants. Why? I hope I'm not getting hard! That would be too embarrassing. I take a quick look at myself. Aargh! Pancakes! Pancakes!

William (as if changing from `Little Willie' to `Little' wasn't hard enough, I don't know about this!) says something that shocks me. He grins at Mr Grant and says, "We're all going over to the weir for a swim and to muck around. Would you like to come and join us?"

I can't believe that he's asked Mr Grant to come and muck around with us. Where did that come from? I know exactly what William's idea of `mucking around' is lately, and I really don't think that Mr Grant would want us to see him with nothing on. But I really wouldn't care if he saw me naked. My Dad does, all the time. It's OK. And I did make a wish for somebody that I could muck around with, didn't I?

Mr Grant replies, "Thank you, William, but maybe some other time? Just not today."

Did he just say that he would be happy to muck around with us in the weir sometime? OMG. Pancakes! Pancakes! Longer, fatter, harder. It's standing up but my underpants are keeping it flat against my body. I'm pretty sure that Mr Grant has noticed it. He looks into my eyes, smiles and mouths `Kurt'. I mouth `Mr Grant' back at him. And grin. Yep. He knows! And he knows that I know that he knows!

He stands up, pretends to be some sort of evil monster, then tells us, "Flee for your lives!" And we do, waving our arms and yelling as though we are about to be grabbed by pirates and tied up then made to walk the plank into a sea full of hungry sharks.

Did I just notice something about the front of Mr Grant's pants? I wonder if he has a better solution than thinking about `pancakes'!

William gets to the weir first, takes off his shorts, throws them onto a log and dives in. I see his 16-year old white, muscly backside disappear into the brown water. My undies are the next things onto the log. My penis is already hard, and we haven't even started `mucking around' yet.

William soon solves that, grabbing my balls under the water and then swimming upstream. Two can play that game. I do the same to Karl, the moment that he is wet. There is a lot of dodging, grabbing and swimming. Again, I seem to be their focus of attention, so I head for the bank then jump down into the water on the other side of the waterfall. Then I hide by going right across to the other end of the beam, where it's darker, and harder to be seen.

It's not long before Karl's head appears near me. He looks around in the dimness, then submerges and disappears again. I move away from the far bank, drift out and stand up, only to find myself face to face with Karl. He is totally surprised. I get a good quick grab of his nearly-stiff willie then dive back towards the far bank again. Haha. Gotcha, bro!

I'm not sure where William is!

Still behind the waterfall, I move across towards the other bank, nearer to the school, just in case Karl tries to get back at me. I won't be where he thinks I am.

Still, William suddenly pops up in front of me, just couple of steps away. I can only see his backside so I quickly move, reach around him and grab `Big'. It's really hard, and I have this incredible desire to just hang on to it instead of diving out and swimming away. He grips my hand but, instead of retaliating, simply holds it there, firmly, then he pushes `Big' up into my hand a few times. Then he releases his hand, spins me around, holds me to him with one arm across my chest, and does exactly the same to me with his other hand. He's not rough so I don't struggle. He grips my hardness firmly but gently and moves his hand up and down, lots of times, and I can feel `Big' pressing against my backside. What the hell? He's never done anything like this stuff before. But it all feels really good. Naughty, but good.

I wonder if he's ever done this with my brother. Should I ask Karl? Nope. I'll just pretend that it was #2 who was playing with me. Maybe William could be both #1 to Karl and #2 to me, secretly. Would that answer my Christmas wish? It's not exactly the same as what I wanted! But, then, neither is Mr Grant, who looks a bit like William's twin.

Or did William think that I was Karl just now?

He turns me around to face him. We are both really hard. He can tell that it's me. He wraps his hand around my hard cock and gets me to hold his. He starts to move his hand up and down again and tells me to do the same to him. "Do you like this?" he asks.

"I dunno," I tell him. "I guess so!" I do it to him a few more times and then I stop.

"What?" he asks.

"Karl might see us," I reply, fearing that my brother might tell our Dad what he's seen me doing. I let William go and he takes his hand off mine too.

"It's all OK. Don't worry," he tells me.

With my heart thumping, I dive through the waterfall and head for the bank.

I clamber out, pull my undies back on and run to pick up my sword, then dash home across the track, through the grass, swishing at those imaginary pirates on the way. I kill three of them. I don't even think about snakes.

I head straight for the bathroom, grab my towel and dry myself properly. Then I go to my room and put my shorts on and a shirt. When I come out, I'm startled to see Dad sitting in one of the arm chairs, reading. "Oh, hi Dad." I say. "I didn't see you there."

"You seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, son. Is everything OK?" he asks, putting his book down, and turning his body to face me.

At that moment, Karl appears in the doorway, and I answer Dad, partly to let Karl know that he is here. "Yes, Dad. Everything's fine. Karl and I were just playing with William in the weir. Everything's OK. I just wanted to beat Karl home. We had a race." I stare at Karl and he nods his agreement, playing along.

"I let him have a head start, Dad," Karl throws in. "But it was too much, and I couldn't catch him."

"Yes, well it must have been a really big head start!" Dad replies to Karl. "Because he beat you by a couple of minutes."

I can see Karl thinking. Fast. "Yes, umm, well, when I saw that I wasn't going to be able to catch him, I stopped to say good-bye to William and just walked the rest of the way." He turns his gaze from Dad to me, expectantly, hoping that he has done well and that his part of the story is believable.

"Who's William?" Dad puts to both of us. He pauses long enough to add, "Do you mean Little Willie?"

Karl and I look at each other. My brother speaks up. "Mr Grant told us that we should call him `William' instead of `Little Willie' and said that he could never call any boy a `little willie'. Especially William."

I want to burst out laughing (especially recalling the `Big', hard willie that I was playing with just a few minutes ago) but I'm too scared let it escape! I should tell Karl to shut up, before he tells Dad any more, but I'm not game to do that either.

Dad eases my fear by chuckling loudly himself. "Yes. I fully understand," Dad says, grinning broadly. "And he's right. You two aren't the only ones growing up. He's a smart man, this Schoolie, Mr Grant. I like him already and I haven't even met him yet."

"I like him, too," I tell Dad. Then I wonder whether I should have said that. I hope he doesn't ask me why.

Over dinner, Dad tells us that he has a special treat for us. He has received his boss's permission to bring Karl and me along for the day tomorrow, Monday, before we go back to school. He says that there is lots of stuff that we can help with, and he thinks that we will enjoy looking around the property.

 

He wasn't wrong. The moment that we turn off the main road, I can tell that this is a special place. It's not that it's green, because it isn't, after more than four years of drought. It's not that there are any flowers, because there aren't; flowers don't grow where there is no water unless they like dry, red earth or they are types of cactus. It's not because of a lake or a creek, because I don't see any. It's something else.

Somebody, a long time ago, planted two long, straight rows of gum trees about every 50m, right from the main road turn-off to somewhere. But where? "You'll see," Dad tells me, after I ask him.

Dad continues driving. I see kangaroos – some are mothers. One has a joey's head protruding from her pouch. I see emus – parents and babies. We cross the umpteenth what dad calls a `cattle grid' and I see sheep, then cattle. He doesn't explain why they're called that, and neither Karl nor I bother to ask.

Up ahead I can see that the rows of gums trees lead straight to a large house. Beautiful. With flower gardens, obviously watered from the two large water tanks that I can see, or from the used bathroom and kitchen water, like at our place.

Behind the house are many trees and Dad tells us that they line the banks of a river there, which ends up flowing into the one near our house, but much farther upstream. Apparently, there are some natural springs underneath this whole area, so the river is never dry, even after years of drought. That helps explain why the weir near the school is always overflowing. I had wondered about that.

Dad steers to the left, around the house and parks closer to the river, next to the largest of a few sheds. Karl and I pile out. The first thing that I notice, apart from the heat, is the smell of the gum trees. Eucalyptus. Just like at our place, only much stronger. I like it.

A man, older than Dad, plus a guy who looks to be older than William, but not as old as Mr Grant, both emerge from the shed to meet us. Dad introduces us to his boss, Mr Cameron, who then says, "this is my nephew, Ron, who has been up from Sydney for the holidays and will be going home at the end of the week. He is going to start at university in a fortnight."

Now, there's something that I observe immediately about Ron. He seems only a bit shorter than William but has muscles like I've never seen. His shirt is bulging at the chest and top of his arms. It's not the only part of him that's bulging either! He's wearing tight, cream-coloured jeans. Maybe they're too tight. I don't need X-Ray vision to see things! His thighs are bulging, but so is something a bit higher than that! I hope I'm not staring, or that he doesn't see me staring. Aargh! Pancakes!

Karl shakes Ron's hand and tells him his name.

"And I'm Kurt," I tell him. Instead of just shaking his hand, I grin then squeeze it as hard as I can manage to show him that I have muscles too. His response is quick but painful. He grins back at me.

Mr Cameron continues back to the house. Dad and Ron show us around.

 

We see lots of different machinery in one shed. In a second one there are stalls for horses, although I didn't see any of them while we were driving in. Another shed is kept locked because it contains fuel and chemicals. Then, in the next shed, there are four quad bikes! Dad says, "Ron will show you how to ride them and then you can take one each and go with him to check some of the closer fence lines to see if any repairs are necessary."

Wow! Work and fun!

Dad continues, "Ron knows what to do if any fences need mending, and you two can help. Sometimes it's easier with more than one person. He'd normally help me do it when he comes up here, but I have some urgent roof mending to attend to. I thought that you two might like the opportunity to ride the bikes and to help to do something really useful. Some real work instead of just sweeping out a toilet and brushing away cobwebs."

I look at Ron. His bulge and his face. He grins at me.

"So, see you later guys," Dad says, ruffling our hair, and he heads back towards the main house. He turns and adds to Ron, "If these two turkeys give you any trouble, or try anything funny, you have my permission to deal with them, any way you like. Except drowning. We don't want to pollute the river."

"Very funny, Dad!" I call after him.

"Any way I like!" Ron tells us with a smirk and a half whisper.

I instantly have a strange feeling that, sooner or later, he will definitely take the opportunity that Dad has offered him to `deal with' us, somehow.

"Come on Kurt and Karl, and I'll show you how to ride a quad. Ever been on one before?" He looks at us and points as he says our names, but gets them wrong.

"I'm Karl," my brother says. "He's Kurt. I'm the smart one." I give him a dirty look. I'll get even later.

Two minutes later, with the bikes pushed out ready to ride, Ron tries again. This time he gets us right.

"Wrong again, Ronnie", Karl says cheekily, then he winks at me.

"Really?" Ron replies. "What, you guys have swapped socks in the last couple of minutes, have you?"

Karl and I look down at the legs of our blue jeans and then look at each other. He's got black socks and mine are white. Apart from that, we are dressed identically, as we like to do. I also notice that our jeans seem shorter than they used to be. Tighter too.

"Nice try," Ron says.

I still have something smart up my sleeve for him. "But how do you know which of us is which. We might have been lying when we told you our names the first time."

"Doesn't matter!" Ron throws back at me. I could just as easily call you two galahs, couldn't I? Or, maybe, that should be magpies! `Black' and `white'"

I'm in a good mood. "Then, what if we both swapped a sock and wore one of each colour?"

Karl adds, "Yeah, and what if we weren't wearing anything at all?" He thinks for a moment about his words, then clarifies, "I mean, what if we weren't wearing any socks at all?"

"Interesting!" Ron smirks after Karl's slip of the tongue. Then, rubbing his hands, he repeats Dad's words, `Any way I like!' I've seen that evil grin before, somewhere. Something is definitely gonna happen!

Without warning, he grabs Karl and me in headlocks, one on each side of him. We put up a friendly but useless struggle, like wrestling with William. I'm really tempted to grab his bulge, but I resist the urge. If it was William I would definitely do it. Then he says, "Your dad warned me about you two practical jokers, and he told me about the slightly different eyebrow – eh, Karl? When I looked for it, I saw the difference straight away, but I wouldn't have noticed if your Dad hadn't clued me in yesterday."

I think I may still have one up on him! "But you got our names wrong the first time."

"What makes you think that it was a mistake? What if it was deliberate, to see what you would do?" And he does a perfect imitation of a galah. "Skwaaark."

Karl and I are silent. I think he's winning the battle of the minds which Karl and I started.

"Guys, "he says, releasing us, "It's OK. I like to muck around and have a bit of fun, too. Can we be friends?"

He extends a sociable fist towards us, and we oblige by both `bumping' it. I can't help noticing that one of his many bulges has grown, and his cock is now noticeably longer and fatter, pointing down his left thigh. Another `Big'. My bet is that he's not wearing any undies!

"Now, let's see about these bikes," he says.

He turns his back towards us while he does a bit of a jig, adjusting something in the front of his jeans. When I see his front again, his `something' is lying straight out to the side.

He says, "My bike has all the fencing gear on the back already, and my aunt has packed us some food and drinks, which is all strapped to one of yours."

We get the safety talk and the instructions. Karl and I take turns of riding a bike around the enclosure while Ron supervises, calling instructions for braking, changing gears and steering. "Just make sure that you don't ever turn too quickly, or these things can overturn. Your dad might have been joking about dead bodies, but these things are not toys. Be careful. You can follow me. Right?"

He gets yeses from Karl and me.

We start off following him, `eating his dust', literally. Karl first.

A minute later, Ron stops his bike and laughs, "I meant to tell you not to follow directly behind me, but always a bit to the side of the bike in front, or you could end up covered in red dust." He pauses. "Oh, I see that you've discovered that already." He grins, wickedly.

My bet is that he intentionally let us follow single file before telling us the dustless way.

Karl is not happy!

We follow various fence lines.

We do a couple of fence repairs. Not many. In one place, he holds a star picket while Karl and I use the tool to ram it into the ground. He keeps saying, "A bit more, a bit more. Come on guys. I thought that you might have some muscle under those shirts." He's enjoying having us doing the heavy stuff!

He re-connects two ends of wire and shows us how to use the tool to tighten them. There are five strands. Ron does one. Karl and I do two each.

After a couple of hours, we have travelled so far back and forth, up and down, across and back, that, with the sun almost directly overhead, I have no idea in which direction the house is from here.

I discover that sheep often leave it until the last minute before they get out of your way. I also learn that Ron doesn't mind using swear words at them. Adult swear words!

We follow one fence towards a line of trees, which I pick as the river. As we pull up under a giant tree and turn the bikes off, Ron says, "Swimming hole!"

I, for one, covered in red-brown dust and streaks of perspiration, would love to take a dip. The water looks a lot cleaner than at the weir, and we are near a spot where I can see that it will be easy just to walk in. Not a steep bank.

"Swim first, then eat," he tells us. He then proceeds to strip off all of his clothes and he throws them onto the seat of his bike. I was right about him wearing no undies!

Now, I haven't seen many naked guys – Karl, Dad, William and I've had a look at a few willies in the boys' toilet, but Ron's body is amazing. His penis is thicker than William's and Dad's, but not as long. His balls are like ours, high and round. Only bigger, which makes his penis stick out. Oh, and the muscles! He's got muscles like, like... I don't know. But I can see them all really clearly, even on his stomach. He has a line of brown hair from his belly button down to join the rest of it. He knows that I'm staring at him and grins at me, turns and walks away from us into the water. OMG. he's even got muscles on his backside!

He gets to where the water is mostly covering his legs then dives in. He surfaces then turns to stare at us. He's standing in water that's almost up to his neck. "Well, are you guys coming in, or what?"

I hesitate, and then take off my shirt, boots, socks and jeans, slowly. I'm not looking at what Karl is doing behind me. I focus on Ron. I stand, just staring at him. I'm tingling at the sight of his body and my undies have a tent sticking way out in front. He's looking straight at it, and is grinning at me.

He calls out, "Come on, you galahs, or are you actually chickens? Buk, Buk, Buk, Bukaaaa."

I don't like being called a `chicken', but I can just tell that thinking of pancakes today is not going to help my stiff situation. This is going to be embarrassing! I half-turn pull my undies off and put them onto the seat with my other clothes.

I don't know whether to put my hands over my rigid penis or not. It's way too excited and is now standing straight up! In the end, I just pretend and convince myself that it's only like mucking around with William at the weir. So, I turn directly to face Ron and walk towards him. He can see everything. I'm glad that it has grown a bit longer in the last couple of months and is starting to be thicker too. Hey, I'm only thirteen (almost); not sixteen. Gimme a break!

I walk towards him. When I'm closer to him, in thigh-deep water, Ron says, "Hey, the chicken's even got a crop of feathers growing down there!" pointing to the hair above my penis.

I dive in and head straight for him. I don't know whether to punch him in the balls, or to hug him, pretending that I can't swim too well. Maybe, I'll just grab and pull his cock, then swim away, like at the weir with Karl and William.

I get close and reach out for his body under the water. He grabs my wrists and then pulls me up, against his body, hugging me like my Dad did when I was little. He turns me so that I'm half floating, with my head out of the water, supporting me and holding me against his hip, with one hand gripping my backside. "Aaargh! Don't hurt me!" I shout. Then I whisper, "I don't swim very well." I'm not worried and I'm sure that he wouldn't cause me any pain, but the scared look on Karl's face is priceless! Yes! I put my arms around Ron's neck and just hang on to him, pretending to be afraid of the deep water. In this position, one of my legs is resting against his cock. He seems to either not notice, or not care.

"Buk, Buk, Buk, Bukaaaa," he clucks at Karl, who still has his undies on, but they're not bulging like mine were.

When he finally sheds them, Karl's penis isn't hard at all. He walks and dives in, only, not towards us, but downstream, keeping his distance. Maybe he thinks that Ron really might drown the pair of us. After all, he's already got hold of me and he could drown Karl at the same time.

Karl keeps swimming without looking back.

Ron takes a step towards the bank so that the water level is across his chest.

Now, I am really sitting on his hip and being supported by his hand under my backside. He bobs up and down and I can feel my body rubbing against his. To be more specific, my rigid, excited penis is rubbing up and down against his side. I'm sure that he can feel it. He gives my butt a firm squeeze, and hangs on.

I decide to be daring and I move my leg around so that it's pressing against his cock. I'm feeling him with my leg instead of my hand. I can feel his hairs. Without saying anything, he continues to bob up and down. Now, with each movement, my knee is actually rubbing his cock, and I can feel that it is almost fully hard. He keeps bobbing and I keep rubbing. Who cares about `pancakes' now?

I look around to see where Karl is. He has swum about 50m downstream from us. So, I decide to reach down and take a tentative feel of Ron's cock and his balls with my hand. He looks around to see where Karl is, then turns his back towards Karl's direction.

He holds my hand around his chunky cock. "You like this, don't you?" Ron whispers in my ear.

"I guess so," I tell him. I lie, sort of, because, I'm not just `liking it', I'm really enjoying our sexy little game, if that's what it is.

He uses both hands to hold me and turn me so that my back is against his chest, then he lowers me until I can feel his now-hard cock between my legs. It's almost like a seat for me to sit on. I reach down again and can feel the end of it sticking out under my balls. Now, that's `Big'. Fat and big!

He holds me with one hand across my chest, like William did, and then starts playing with my balls and stiff willie, rubbing it up and down. Is this something that all sixteen-year olds like to do? I reckon that he's got to be more than sixteen if he's going to start university soon!

"Do you wank yet?" he whispers.

 

(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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I try to reply to everyone.

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