Kurt
Life in The
Village, through the eyes of a student at the remote school.
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 55:
I listen for
silence, to ensure that Dad and Helen have gone to bed, and I'm about to get
off my bed and go to Karl's room, when he appears, closing my door quietly
behind him.
"What's with the
pyjama pants?" I ask, pointing.
"Well, I wouldn't
want Helen to see my dick and my hairs if she just happened to be walking
around, like going to the toilet, or something," he says, and quickly lets his
PJs drop to the floor, revealing his excited erection, and his thickening bush
of light brown `chicken feathers'.
"OK," I tell him,
"seeing that you're already way ahead of me, get over here and I'll do you
first."
Chapter 56 – Getting dirty
I wonder what the time is? It's not fully light
outside.
I'm so glad that Mr Grant doesn't have a rooster at
Jintabudjaree!
It's great to wake up in a big bed, even though it's
strange not having somebody with me – either my brother, or Andy, and to feel
their warm body pressed against mine, or mine against theirs. It would be
interesting to wake up with Mr Grant, but that will probably never happen! How
could it? With Karl and William in the house?
Karl and I have discovered that my new bed is great
for playing on! Like the double bed at Jintabudjaree. I'm looking forward to
trying out his bed tonight!
I'm glad that Karl and I remembered our spunk rags
from the old house. They were definitely wet by the time that we finished last
night. He took his back to his room. I told him that he could stay with me, but
he was scared of what Helen might see, or think, in the morning. Dad wouldn't
have worried. I would simply have told Dad that us sleeping in separate rooms
might take a bit of getting used to!
I lie awake – no, I'm still waking up, looking at the
ceiling and thinking.
Farm stays? I remember having a weird dream about a
whole bunch of people staying here and helping me to clean out one of the
workers' huts. There was Andy, Ron, Dave from the train, William, Joey that I
met at the beach and, Mr Grant. Ash too! And, when we finished working, they
were all shaking hands with me and tickling my palm. I just can't remember
which one of them, after shaking hands with me, did sexy stuff to me to make me
spurt. In my half-sleep I automatically reached for my spunk rag and caught
everything just in time! That was better than waking up with wet pyjamas!
Besides, I wasn't wearing any.
"Cock-a-doodle-do!"
I wonder what the time is now? I squint at my watch. 5
o'clock? You've got to be kidding!
There is a knock on my door, more of a thump actually,
and on Karl's, and I hear Dad's voice, "We don't serve breakfast in bed here!
10 minutes!"
OK. Now, I'm awake.
I pull on my pyjama pants, just in case I run into
Helen on my way to the shower.
I adjust the water temperature, drop the PJs and step
in.
I'm peeing in the shower when the bathroom door opens
then closes.
"Good morning, handsome," I tell my brother. "Did you
sleep well too?"
"Very peacefully!" he replies, shucking his pyjama
pants and joining me. "Until I heard that trucking rooster. Make that the
`fucking' rooster. If you want to roast it, then I'll wring it's scrawny neck!"
We indulge in a bit of all-over touchy-feely, with
soap, pretending to wash each other.
"It's not the same with Helen around!" Karl groans.
"There's always one of the workers' huts," I remind
him, raising and lowering my eyebrows. "It will be even better when Dad
installs the gas hot water system in the northern one."
"It's a date," he grins.
We turn off the taps and dry ourselves.
PJs are pulled on, just to return the few steps to our
rooms. This is also going to take some getting used to!
Appropriately dressed for the day (blue jeans, our old
boots and a warm shirt) we sit down to breakfast.
"Farmers are always up early," Dad says, before
forking some bacon into his mouth. "Sometimes even before their rooster."
"What I'm hearing," Karl says, slowly and
deliberately, "is that nobody would miss that rooster if it had an `accident'!"
He glances sideways at me and smirks.
"You'll get used to it!" Dad tells him. "We have."
I'm about to say that Dad is probably up in the
morning before the rooster anyway, but I keep my birds-and-bees thoughts behind
my lips, locked in my head.
Helen says, "After breakfast, we thought that we'd
take you around and show you what we've been doing for the last week." She
looks at me and grins, "Apart from the obvious!"
I nearly choke on a half-swallowed mouthful of coffee.
I can't believe that she just said that! I know that she is getting me back for
my words yesterday while we were driving.
Karl merely glances at me, unsympathetic to my
situation. He shakes his head and keeps chewing. He has no idea! Dad and Helen
are both smirking at me. I just grin back in a shared moment of grown-up
humour.
A hot breakfast always starts the day well. And a hot
mug of coffee warms my hands as well.
"Come with me," Dad says to Karl. "We can tend to the
animals, while Helen gives Kurt a tour of the cupboards and the pantry."
Karl looks at me. I can't tell whether his
`what-the-hell?' face is one of shock or jealousy.
It seems that, whether inadvertently or after a
discussion between Dad and Helen, some `roles' for my brother and me seem to
have been determined. Karl's on the outside. Mine on the inside. Hard versus
easy. Dirtier versus cleaner. Him supervised and bothered by Dad versus me
supporting and trusted by Helen.
While part of me feels sorry for Karl, another small
part thinks `Payback!' for his previous avoidance of work, like not cleaning
the outside toilet, and his lack of volunteering for things. My Dad doesn't
miss much!
While Helen and I check out all of the cupboards in
the hallway and the kitchen, she grabs a few things and hands them to me. "Your
father and I thought that we could have lunch at one of the workers' huts," she
tells me. "That way, we can check out whether anything else needs to be done.
We know that you have an eagle eye for details."
With the inside `tour' complete, we prepare a `picnic
basket'.
"Bring on the farm stays!" my brother grumbles as he
passes me on the way to the bathroom. "I'll definitely have my list of things
ready for them to `HELP' with!"
Balancing some eggs in one of his large hands, Dad
comes in, grinning.
Not knowing exactly what he made Karl do, I wonder
whether my brother is thinking that he might prefer to work with Ron, and run
the risk of being `assassinated'. LOL.
We head south first and Dad points out some old `junk'
that he would like to move away from where people could injure themselves. "We
can fence off a small paddock which would be out of bounds to visitors," he
tells us. "Probably past the workers' hut, down this way."
"How would we move it all?" I ask.
"Probably drag it with the tractor," Dad replies.
"What tractor?" Karl asks. "I've never seen a tractor
here."
"It's in a separate section of the shed where the quad
bikes are," Dad replies. "Virtually a room with its own door. Mr Cameron showed
it to me before he left. I've been working on it, but I'll still need to get a
mechanic out here to get it running properly. Helen has suggested a couple of
people that the Council use. Or, maybe one of the men working in The Village
could have a go at it. I'll ask them this week when I'm in there."
"When are you going in there, Dad?" I ask.
"I'll ask around on Monday when I come to watch the
house being moved," he replies. "Besides, I need to discuss some things with
Ash and Marty before I start doing work on the rows of houses. Which reminds
me," he continues, "I'm going to get a couple of extra hands out here to help
with some general stuff while I'm doing whatever Ash wants. The first ones are
coming next Saturday, and then possibly regularly, so you'll get to know them."
"Will they be doing some of the stuff that you made me
do this morning?" Karl asks, suddenly showing a bit more interest.
"Probably not," Dad tells him, swivelling in his seat.
"One is going to bring out the gas hot water system for the northern workers'
hut. It may take him the whole weekend to install and test it. The other guy
has a bit of farming experience and is coming from Cunnamulla. I'll have him
start to erect the fences for the junk paddock that I mentioned. You guys will
probably get to help him with that."
We pass the horse paddocks and I comment, "I could
teach some people to make sure that the rails are all secure and mend some
fences. Even though I know how to do it myself, some people might like to
help."
"And they might like to drive the Land Rover," Karl
throws in. He says it with a strange grin on his face, knowing that driving it
around the property is probably something that I would want to do.
"We'll see about that," Dad tells him. Then he turns
sufficiently to wink at me. He knows!
It's obvious that the workers' hut has been cleaned.
Not that it was dirty before, but I can tell that Helen and Dad have been
through it. And something is different.
"How do you like the curtains?" Helen asks.
Of course! The place didn't have curtains when Ron and
I stayed here, or when I showed it to Mr Grant.
"I didn't notice them at first," I tell her, which is
not good for a person who is supposed to have the eyes of a hawk, "because they
don't actually cover any part of the windows."
"Yes," she replies. "I made them so that they would
sit to the sides to let in the maximum amount of light, and, when they're
pulled across, there's enough material to completely cover the glass to keep
the heat in during winter and the heat out during the summer."
"I'm glad that they're not all pink and girly!" Karl
contributes.
"Give me a break!" Helen answers. "It's a workers'
hut, not a ladies' sewing room."
"I reckon we need to check the fly screens," I say. "I
think that there are a few holes, from memory. There!" I say pointing, "and
there, and that one too."
"Well spotted!" Dad says. "And I think that a fresh
coat of paint would go down well too. What do you reckon, Karl?"
Helen throws in, "It would be perfect for you Karl. Your
dad told me that you love to paint."
I look at him with a cheesy grin. He frowns and gives
me `the finger' so that Helen and Dad can't see it.
"Definitely a home-stay activity!" Karl mumbles.
Having completed a to-do list, including some wall
tiles in the shower room with some ideas about the general flooring, we head
north.
Dad stops at the swimming hole.
"Let's eat here," he says.
"This place brings back so many memories!" Helen
gushes.
I can't disagree with her. Mine is `Ron'. Seeing his
naked body for the first time, and having him muck around with his big dick
between my legs, and feeling him spurt. Yes. Great memories!
"Yes, it does for me too!" Karl says. "But I
survived!"
Dad gives him the `picnic basket'. "I'll spread the
blanket," Dad tells him. "And you can unpack everything."
"Just like before," Karl mutters. "I'm the one doing
the work!"
However, he doesn't gripe about the food. And, after
the sandwiches and coffee, Helen's hazelnut and chocolate cake with fresh cream
sweetens him up.
He points at me and indicates the cake as if to ask
whether I made it. I shake my head, then I'm pleasantly surprised when I hear
him say, "Very nice cake, Helen. Thank you."
I wonder what he would have said if I told him that I had
made it?
We complete an inspection of the northern hut. The
counter top could do with some freshening up or replacing, and we pick out
where the gas hot water system will sit.
"We could always put a gas heater in here too," I say,
"even though I really like the wood burner. It would be a good backup if we ran
out of wood, plus safer for farm stay people."
"Not a bad idea," Dad says, "especially seeing that
we'll have two large gas bottles here anyway. However, I don't think that we
would run out of wood. Isn't that right Karl? I'll cut the logs to length with
the chain saw and you can split them."
"One more farm stay activity for my list," Karl
announces, pulling a face. "Plus, stacking."
I think that Dad is deliberately trying to get under
my brother's skin. And he's succeeding! I'll bet that if Helen wasn't with us,
there'd be a lot of `ship' and `truck' words, not necessarily so that Dad could
hear them. I wonder what Dad would do if Karl actually swore at him one day?
He's too old for the `naughty corner'! How about withdrawing privileges like
horse riding and using the quad bikes?
Which reminds me... "Is it OK, Dad, if Karl and I take
the quad bikes for a spin on the mud flats before dinner?"
For the first time today, except when he was having Helen's
hazelnut and chocolate cake, my brother has a genuine smile on his dial!
"Yeah, Dad. Can we?" he pleads. "Please."
Should I remind him of `May we?' instead of `Can we?'
Nah!
"All right," Dad says. "Let's head back to the house."
Helen adds, "And, before you offer, Kurt, I don't need
any help getting dinner, thank you. You two should go and enjoy yourselves."
Karl and I have a terrific time on the bikes, racing
each other and seeing whether we can follow exactly in the other person's
tracks.
At one point, however, with me following him, Karl
tries to turn too sharply, too fast, and two wheels come right off the ground.
He regains balance and pulls the bike to a stop.
He is shaking. "That scared the shit out of me!" he
says to my worried face. "Please don't tell Dad!"
"Just be careful, OK?" I shoot back at him, scared
because of what might have happened. Despite the both of us wearing a few
streaks of sprayed crusty mud, I grab him in a hug. "I don't want you with
crushed ribs, or an amputated leg, or worse!"
"I know," he
almost sobs, obviously aware of the potential consequences of showing off and
forgetting safety. "Sorry!"
It suddenly seems a lot colder, with the sun having
dipped very low in the western sky.
"Let's head back," I say. "A hot shower will do us
both good."
"Let's have it in the bunk house," Karl grins. "It's
more private over there."
"I'll tell Helen that we didn't want to track mud into
the main house," I suggest as an excuse, "and that the bunk house is easier to
clean."
"You really are smart, aren't ya?" Karl grins, punching
my shoulder. "Race you back!"
"You've already won!" I tell him. "So, take it easy,
OK?"
He gives me a `thumbs up', restarts his bike, revs it
and takes off. He looks over his shoulder and, seeing that I'm not trying to
keep up with him, eases off the accelerator.
I worry about him sometimes. A lot, actually.
Dad is waiting for us near the bike shed. "Leave them
out here," he says. "I'll clean them off for you." Then, looking at us, he adds,
"And you'd better clean yourselves off. Why don't you use the showers in the
bunk house?"
"Exactly what Karl and I were thinking," I tell him.
"Hey, Karl," I say. "Either you or I will have to
clean up whatever mess we make inside, so let's leave our boots at the door and
brush off as much dirt as possible before we go in."
The mud has dried during the ride back, and it comes
off with less trouble than I expected.
It's much easier for my brother and me to shower
together in here, with two shower heads, than under the single one in the house.
And, if Dad comes in, he won't think anything of seeing the both of us naked
together. Karl and I both reckon that Helen wouldn't come in here, knowing that
the two of us are in the showers.
We get very soapy and very excited. You know what I
mean!
I think that my brother's hand technique on Junior is
improving! Either that or I'm just feeling really horny. He has me right on the
edge.
"Wait!" I tell him. "I want to spurt at the same time
that you do."
I move behind him and pull him against my body. Then,
reaching around him, I give his dick the quick-jerk treatment which I know will
push him to the limit. He soon starts to gasp.
"OK. Finish ourselves!" I tell him, and, facing each
other, I coordinate my wanking with his. I feel it coming. "I can't stop now,"
I say, and by some miracle, within one spurt, we both fire our white stuff at
each other, like our two water pistols. And we laugh.
Under a single shower head, we hug each other tightly
while we `calm down' and let the water pour over us.
"Wow," Karl groans. "I loved that! We should do this
more often."
Over dinner, I suggest to Dad and Helen that the bunk house
should always be used to clean off before coming into the house. After work. Or
after riding the bikes. Maybe even after taking the horses out. Same rule for
any farm stay people if they are going to join us inside for meals.
"Agreed!" Dad says.
"Amen to that!" Helen adds.
So! Karl and I now have permission to get dirty and
shower together whenever we want! And I think how much fun it would be to get
muddy with Andy, or with Mr Grant!
After sneaking into Karl's bed, and running my hand
over his naked body, playing with his hairs and his balls and getting his dick
stiff, I'm surprised that he doesn't want me to jack him off! "Just let's hug,"
he tells me.
He has something serious on his mind! I can tell.
(to be continued)
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The parallel
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