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)
Copyright 2013-2021. Robert
Armstrong. This complete work of literary art is protected by US,
Australian and International copyright law. It is the sole property of the
author and may not be reproduced in any form whether in whole or in part
without the prior express written consent of the author.
License is granted to Nifty Archive Alliance, Inc. for electronic publication
on the Nifty.org website. All rights reserved.
The resemblance
of the characters by action, name, location or description to any real person
is purely coincidental.
If it is illegal,
or offensive, for you to read stories involving interactions of a sexual nature
between adults and youths, then what are you doing here?
From
Chapter 68:
I hear the rooster
crowing. I open one eye and imagine having roast chicken for lunch!
I try to recall my
dreams, and think that I must be Peter Pan, the boy who didn't want to grow up.
Was he afraid of growing up?
I'm not really
afraid to grow up, but I don't want to lose those warm, fuzzy feelings of
playing with a teddy bear, or hearing bedtime stories, or playing pirates with
my wooden sword or doing crazy dances around a camp fire, or playing tag and
hide and seek.
The rooster crows
again. And I need to pee.
And Junior lets me
know that he's definitely not afraid of growing up!
And I'm going to
be a big brother!
Chapter 69 – Getting Fitted
I head for the nearest gum tree, about nine strides
from the back door. Less than usual because I'm in a hurry. Or is it `fewer'?
Who cares? I'm busting!
I hitch the elastic of my pyjama pants under my balls
so that the material doesn't get wet.
It's difficult to pee with an erection. However, the
cool morning air quickly and thankfully has a similar effect to washing in cold
water.
"You're not so grown up now, are you, eh?" I tell
Junior, waggling him and talking as though I'm having a conversation with a
real person.
And, I understand now why peeing is called `relieving
one's self'! So good!
Fully relieved, I say to Junior, "Hey, did you hear
that you are going to have a little brother? Nice, eh?" Then I tuck him back
in.
I walk to the back door with less urgency than when I
was hurrying in the other direction.
What if the baby is a girl? What do girls look like
`down there', without a penis? Would Helen think I was weird if I asked to have
a look? Maybe I could ask my Dad, and he would mention
it to Helen and she would show me without me having to ask. Probably while the
baby is having a bath or getting a nappy changed. Sounds like a plan! If it's a
girl.
The bathroom light is out now, so I decide to have a
quick shower, just to freshen up before our trip to Cunnamulla.
I use lots of the `extra body' shampoo on my hair, rub
it mostly dry with a towel and then finish by brushing it until it sits how I
want it, hanging more to one side. If I flick my head to the side, it falls
perfectly! And, it looks a really light colour after shampooing and brushing.
Nice!
I'm not sure whether or not we will need to take our
jeans off while we are being `fitted'. So, I decide to wear what I call my
`special underpants'; the ones that we bought in Cunnamulla when we were on our
way to see Mum and Ma and Pa. I don't wear them all of the time. Usually just
my normal white ones. I like these special ones, with the pouch up front for
Junior and my balls. They're really comfortable and the pouch helps things to
`stick out' a bit instead of just hanging down between my legs.
I probably don't need to wear my good trousers or my
new shirt, so I put on my newer jeans and one of my favourite Polo shirts. I
don't suppose it would hurt to wear my good boots because they're the ones I'll
probably be wearing at the wedding. Everything needs to `fit' properly. I'll
take my hat too, for no real reason. Just to walk around in.
"Well, hello handsome!" Helen says as I wander into
the kitchen to see whether I can help with anything. "I reckon that all of the
young ladies at the wedding will be looking at you and Karl. Maybe some of the
men too!" She grins at me.
Men? Is she joking? Is she hinting at something which
we don't talk about? I don't want to ask. Has she noticed how well Ron and I
get on together? Or Andy and I?
Maybe she can see the expression on my face, betraying
the concern in my head, and she adds, "Yes, I'm sure that the young men will be
totally jealous of how attractive you are to the ladies. Even to older ladies!"
Relieved, I reply, "I reckon that nobody will notice
Karl and me. They'll be too busy looking at my Dad and
his beautiful bride."
"Get out of my kitchen, you young, silver-tongued
Adonis," she says, "before I want to hug you to death and eat you up!"
"I'll set the table for breakfast then," I tell her, and
head to the dining room.
But first, I get my phone and use the App to look up
`Adonis'. Ron showed me how to use it. `Adonis' is spelled exactly as it
sounds. Two meanings. Well, I don't want to be killed while hunting wild pigs.
The second one is `A very handsome young man'. I smile. And I guess having a
silver tongue is a compliment as well.
I like Helen! My Dad is lucky. So are Karl and I!
Jacko and Karl end up doing the breakfast dishes.
Karl's own rule! Not my fault!
"We should be back around lunch time on Sunday," Dad
tells Ron and Jacko. "In the meantime, try to have some fun. OK?"
"And please remember to feed the chooks," Helen adds.
I hope that they don't have the kind of fun with each
other that Ron and I would have, or that Jacko and Karl would have. But, why
not, if they want to? None of my business! Really.
I think, wouldn't it be nice if they had lunch ready for
us on Sunday? Roast chicken would be good. Hey! That rooster's nice and fat! Do
you need a rooster to get eggs from the hens? Maybe we should keep the rooster
for the farm stay guests to complain about! Haha.
Cunnamulla is busy! After all, it is Saturday morning
and many people who work on properties, like ours, come in to stock up on their
requirements for the next week, or month.
We can't book into the hotel yet. It's too early.
However, they do allow us to leave our bags in their secure room, so that they
are not visible in the back of the Land Rover while Helen is driving around.
We go to the same café where we had hamburgers last
time. The same table, near the front window, is free. Again, I enjoy watching
the people going past, especially when they smile at me, or give me a `hello'
sign. Is it my smile or because I'm a stranger in town?
I have a caramel milkshake, same as the one that Pa
bought for us in Brisbane. And, instead of ordering a hamburger, which seems more
for lunch, I get one of their custard tarts. I should really check Mrs
Cameron's Red Book to see if there is a recipe for them. I have noticed
`custard' in it, but I think that this pastry is not the same as the one I use for
my apple pies and apple tarts and jam tarts. This one seems lighter and
flakier.
I ask Helen.
She tells me, "I know that apple pies are made with what
is called shortcrust pastry, but I'd never really thought about what is used in
custard tarts. Aren't they the same? Why don't you ask the waitress? If she
doesn't know, she might ask the cook for you."
"Excuse me," I say politely at the next opportunity,
and thinking that this young lady wouldn't know, "but would it be possible to
please ask your cook what is the difference between the pastry of an apple pie
and your custard tarts. These are delicious, by the way."
"I'm really sorry, sir," she replies. "But our
pastrycook has left already. He starts at two thirty in the morning and goes
home when the baking is finished."
"Thank you, anyway," I, smile. I'd better search Mrs
Cameron's Red Book for it!
I think that the waitress is blushing! She moves to
the next table, but I notice that she half turns and looks at me over her
shoulder.
"I reckon that she likes you," Helen tells me. "Just my
woman's intuition."
"Maybe you should invite her to the wedding," my Dad says to Helen.
Then, pointing, he bursts out laughing at the expression
on my face which must betray the sick feeling in my stomach.
Helen drops us at the suit-hire place. She and Dad
arrange where and when to meet.
"Welcome, Mr Andersen," a well-dressed man, older than
Dad, says, shaking hands.
Dad introduces Karl and Me as his `best men' to Mr
Taylor (how appropriate!) and requests that his suit and ours all be of the
same style.
Mr Taylor shows us four popular styles, displayed on
what I would call `dummies'. However, I'm told that
they are `mannequins', made of fibreglass. I can see an undressed one, and it
has even been created with a large lump between its legs!
While Dad suggests one that is more `traditional',
Karl and I prefer pants that appear flatter at the front, because they have no
zipper and no side pockets. They have a high waistband with no belt loops, but they
have some silver buttons down each side. I've never seen any trousers like
these. I guess, if you want to pee, you will have to undo the buttons and fold
down the flap at the front. Weird. But they look good on the mannequin.
We agree to try on Dad's choice and he agrees to try
ours, and Mr Taylor fetches some in what he guesses are our sizes.
We emerge from different change rooms in our `wedding
clothes', leaving our jeans there.
After we all look at each other wearing both styles, face-to-face
and side-by-side, in the mirrors, Karl and I win.
Dad says, "Just don't describe these to Helen! OK. She
is going to be totally surprised!"
I know what he means. Wearing our new-style
underpants, certain things will be noticeable! On Dad as well as Karl and me.
But not too much.
"An excellent choice!" Mr Taylor compliments us. "You
have the perfect bodies for the pants and the jackets."
If Andy was here, he would tell me that I look very
sexy! If Ron was here, he would say that, in these trousers, I had `nice glutes'. And Karl. And Dad! Mr Taylor is right,
Dad does have a good body.
"And, now, we just need to take a few measurements to
ensure that the waist, legs and chest are perfect on the day." Mr Taylor says.
Then, I think that he is making a joke when he asks, "Are any of you intending
on putting on weight in the next month?"
"I hope not!" I answer.
"That depends on what Helen feeds us," Karl adds.
"Definitely not!" Dad says, having the final word.
"Anyway," Mr Taylor tells us, "When you pick up the
suits the weekend before the wedding, we can make any final minor adjustments
on the spot. Our machinists are always ready. Most of our garments have elastic
inserts, both in the trousers and in the coats, as part of the design, so we
usually don't have any trouble."
"Excellent!" Dad says.
Mr Taylor tells us, as though speaking to someone else,
"I will take Mr Andersen's measurements myself and I will have my apprentice,
who is also my nephew, to take those of the two best men."
Then he introduces `Archie' to us; a young man with a
tape measure hanging around his neck. He is wearing a white
shirt and dark-grey trousers. His matching vest has five buttons, all
done up.
"Good morning, Kurt and Karl," Archie says, smiling
and extending his hand which we both shake. "I am very pleased to meet you both."
It sounds funny, this very polite speaking, coming
from somebody who seems not much older than Karl and me.
"Please come with me back to the large fitting room,"
he says, picking up a note book and pen, then leading the way.
This room, where Karl and I have
left our jeans, is large enough for the three of us, to move around in, with a
small table on which Archie places his notebook and pen, and a large mirror.
Archie says, "We will only need
four measurements for the trousers: waist, hips, outside leg and inside leg.
Can I assume that you are both the same, in relation to those measurements?"
"Yes, you may" I reply, answering
his question and politely correcting his English without drawing attention to
it.
"All over!" Karl adds.
Archie's formal manner alters. He
relaxes and grins goofily. "All over?"
"Every centimetre!" Karl says, grinning
back.
"I should check to make sure,"
Archie tells us, pulling the tape measure from his neck.
"Where would you like to start?" I
ask, thinking that he's suggesting that he wants to measure Junior first and
then Karl's.
"Let's do the jacket first;
shoulders chest and waist," Archie replies, smiling.
He measures Karl first, and makes
notes.
Then me. "Identical," he tells us,
and makes notes.
"I already have your waist. Let's
do the hips," Archie says, again approaching Karl.
He wraps his arms around Karl's
hips and draws the tape measure across the front of Karl's trousers and holds
it in place at Karl's hip while he reads the number.
"Kurt?" he says to me. "Your turn."
I have no idea how he got my name
right. Lucky guess? Most people can't tell. Except Ron. Maybe Archie can see
auras too.
He wraps the tape measure around me
and reads the number, except with his hands at the front of my pants instead of
at the side. I can feel his knuckles push against Junior.
"Not exactly the same," Archies
says, and turns back towards Karl. "Let me check."
He measures again, reading the
number with his hands at the front, as he did with me. I watch him carefully,
and there is no doubt that his is `accidentally' feeling what is inside Karl's
trousers.
"Similar," he says. "Double check,
Kurt?"
I know what he is going to find if
he does it the same way, because Junior is having one of his uncontrollable
moments.
Archie measures me again. "Hmm," he
says. "The number seems larger. Should we use the original measurement, or
allow for a bit of expansion? What do you think?" He grins at us.
My brother and I look at each
other. Karl tells me, "Hey, I can tell that you're getting a stiffy! It's pretty
obvious! If that happens at the wedding, do you want people to see it?"
"Maybe we should use an average of
the numbers," I say to Archie.
"Let's add 15 millimetres to the
original measurement," he says. "You don't want to hide your assets
altogether!"
Understanding what he is referring
to, the three of us grin at each other. A bulge without the outline!
"OK," I tell Archie, and look to
Karl for his agreement.
"Suits me," he says.
Archie makes a note in his book.
"Now," he says. "How high do you
want the trousers to sit?'
Karl and I look a little confused.
Archie causes his own trousers to
sit lower, pulling them down low on his hips. "Like this?" Then he lifts them as
high as they will go, displaying to us, the clear outlines of his own `assets'.
"Or, like this? Why don't the two of you stand in front of the mirror and try
both. See what you think."
Karl and I stand side by side. He
pulls his lower. I pull mine right up.
"Well, I don't want us to look like
that!" Karl says, pointing at Junior, stretching the material.
He raises his trousers and I lower
mine until we are in agreement.
"Hold them right there," Archie
tells us. "Just two measurements now. Down the outside of the leg from the
waist to where the bottom of the trousers will sit. And also
from the crotch down to the same point. Good idea to wear your boots today, by
the way!"
He does the `outside' measurement
on Karl and then writes it down. "No real need to check yours, I guess," he
tells me, but I'll do the inside leg on you." He grins at me. "Excuse me if I
get a bit close to your gentlemen," he says, gripping his crotch, in case I don't
understand what he is telling me.
"No problem," I tell him. I add,
smiling, "But be gentle!"
"Hold still," Archie tells me. Then
he runs the end of the tape measure up to where the crotch of the trousers is
sitting. I can feel Junior and my balls resting against his fingers. He jiggles
the tape measure up and down slightly as he takes the measurement number from a
position on my boot. "Just checking! Everything OK?" he asks.
"Perfectly!" I tell him. "Like I
said, no problem!"
"Thank you," he replies. "You can
probably change back into your jeans now, and I'll take the trousers and the
coats to the other room where we make the necessary adjustments."
He stands, watching, while we
remove the trousers. Karl turns his back, but I let him have a good look at the
filled pouch on my new underpants and I give my `gentlemen' a jiggle. He grins
at me and mouths, `Thanks'. He gathers our suits and leaves.
When Karl and I emerge, Dad is
talking to Mr Taylor. Archie is not in the front of the shop.
"I hope that Archie was thorough," Mr Taylor says,
which sounds more like a question.
"He didn't have to check everything twice," Karl
replies. "Kurt and I are identical."
I add, "Well, he did check a couple of things, just to
make sure. He wrote everything down and he was very efficient and
professional."
I'm not sure whether that is a fib exactly, but he
didn't really do any grabbing or actual feeling of things. I think that he was satisfied
with just the little bit of touching. I didn't mind, and I'm glad that he seemed
happy with what I let him do and see.
"Thank you for telling me that," Mr Taylor says to me.
"That will be a great boost to his confidence. He's still fairly new at this.
If you like, I will get him to do your final fittings when you come to pick up
everything."
"I'm happy with Archie doing that," I say, as I look
at Karl.
"Yeah. Me too," Karl tells Mr Taylor.
"All right, Mr Andersen," he tells my Dad. We'll see you then in three weeks."
He shakes hands with all of us, and we go to find a
place for lunch. Hamburgers.
Then we book into the hotel and take the bags up; Dad's
and Helen's to their room, and Karl's and mine to our separate room, down the
hallway.
We meet Dad at Reception, then, the three of us wander
up and down the main streets, looking at all of the shops.
"Haircut time?" Dad asks, pointing at our blond `mops'
as he calls them, when we pass a barber's shop.
"What about when we pick up the suits?" I suggest.
Then it will only be a week to the wedding and they will still look good. And
we could arrange to meet Andy here and take him back home with us.
"Good thinking," Dad tells me. "Anyone fancy an ice
cream then instead of a haircut?"
Helen joins us for dinner. Chinese, of course!
Karl and I are sitting with our backs to the door. Karl
is close to the wall, and I'm on the `outside'. Helen and Dad are facing the
door. Helen said that she wanted to notice who comes in because she knows many
of the people here.
I'm concentrating on using my chopsticks when some
people walk past us. Looking back from talking to Dad, Helen says, "Well, bless
my soul! Archie Taylor! Look at you! Haven't you grown!"
He stops and smiles, "Oh, hello, Ms O'Sullivan. So
nice to see you again. You are looking well!"
"Another silver tongue!" she
says to me. "He always did have the best manners in town! You two would make a
good pair!"
Not now, Junior! Down! Don't even think about it!
Archie's parents turn back and chat with Helen, who
introduces Dad, Karl and me to them, some of her `old' friends.
Archie tells his parents, "I met Mr Andersen and Kurt
and Karl this morning in the shop."
"So, this is the lucky man!" Archie's mum exclaims.
"We've heard about your wedding."
Helen replies, "I think that I'm the lucky one. Three
handsome men for the price of one!"
I hope that I'm the only one who sees Archie wink at
me.
Helen says, "Why don't you come out to Whispering Gums
one weekend? We'd love to have you visit and catch up. And Archie can go riding
with the boys. We have horses and quad bikes."
"Thank you," Archie's Dad replies. "We'd love to. But
it would have to be on a Sunday. Now that Archie is working, his Saturdays are taken
until mid-afternoon."
"Or you could come for dinner one Saturday and stay
the night," Dad says. There are plenty of beds."
I add, "Archie and Karl and I could always sleep in
the bunkhouse with the farm hands, which would leave two bedrooms free in the
house."
"That is very thoughtful of you," Archie's mum tells
me. Then, to Helen and Dad, "We'll talk about it, and arrange something. Thank
you. Good to see you again! Enjoy your meal."
"You too," Helen says.
They go to another table at the back of the restaurant
and Helen fills us in about her friends. "And the last time that I saw them all
together, it must have been about three years ago, maybe longer. From memory, Archie
was about thirteen then, and already at high school. My, he has grown."
"It happens!" Dad says, pointing across the table, and
back and forth between Karl and me. "Sometimes, quickly."
I think, `Yes, and sometimes unpredictably!' It's
lucky that I didn't have to stand up!
We are just about finished eating when Archie comes to
our table. "Excuse me Mr Andersen and Ms O'Sullivan," he says. "My Dad requested
that I give you his phone number and he has asked for yours. So that you can
talk to each other. They would really like to accept your offer. And I'm
looking forward to going riding with Kurt and Karl too."
He hands Dad a serviette with his parents' names and
some phone numbers on it. While Dad is writing on another serviette, Archie,
standing next to me, slips me a piece of paper behind his back, so that nobody
else can see it. I hold it tightly in my fist. When I get the chance, I will
put it into my pocket and look at it later.
Before Dad goes to the cash register to pay, we all
say goodnight to the Taylors and everyone says that they are looking forward to
catching up.
"Do you play dominoes?" Archie's mum asks Karl and me.
"Archie's really good at that."
Weird comment! But I think that Archie is in for a
surprise, when he plays against Jacko!
"We have dominoes, Mrs Taylor," I reply. "And monopoly
and Chinese Checkers and, apart from being really good on a horse, Karl is
excellent at playing poker." I add, "That is, on a good day!" which draws a fake
frown from Karl, and polite giggles from everyone else.
"What about you, Kurt?" Archie's Dad asks. "And what
are you good at?"
"Just about everything!" Helen butts in. "We don't
have time tonight to go through the list. Maybe when you come and stay."
I suddenly get a feeling that having the Taylors come
over may not be such a good idea if it is only going to turn into a competition
of who can do what best!
But, I do wonder whether Archie's any good at wanking! LOL.
And I think about the `assets' that I could see when he yanked his trousers up
high this morning.
Not now, Junior!
Thankfully, we say our final goodbyes and head out.
As we walk back to the hotel, I can't help feeling
sorry for Archie, especially if that's how his family treat him, having to be
good at stuff, and expecting him to speak politely when he's with them and
anybody else. He was different when he was alone with us; when he relaxed!
Karl's and my room has both a
double bed and a single, so there is no question of where we should sleep!
We lie alongside each other, just playing, when Karl
asks, "Hey, what was going on with Archie today?"
"What do you mean?" I answer.
"You know!" he tells me. "Touching the front of our
trousers so that he could feel what we had inside, and then playing with yours
while he took your `inside leg' measurement."
"I didn't mind," I tell my brother. "Maybe he doesn't
have anyone to play with like you and I do." I give Karl's balls a jiggle to
emphasise what I'm saying.
"And," Karl goes on, "He's the only person that I've
ever heard say `Kurt and Karl' instead of `Karl and Kurt'. I reckon he might
have the hots for you."
"Does it worry you, being named second?" I ask.
"No, but it just sounded weird!" he replies.
"What was weird," I say, "was how his mother commented
on how good Archie was at playing dominoes. And then when I said that you were
good at riding horses and playing poker, his father asked what I was good at!"
"I could have told them something that you're really
good at!" Karl says, taking hold of Junior and giving him a friendly wank."
"You are too!" I tell him. "Oh, that feels good!"
"You want to play in the shower?" Kurt asks me.
"What? Like we did last Sunday night at
Jintabudjaree?" I ask.
"Yeah that!" he replies.
"Hell, Yeah!" I tell him.
After our fun, which I try to make last as long as
possible, I sleep well. Very happy!
(to be continued)
-----
Thank you to everyone who has contacted me recently
to express your support!
-----
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
immediately. Please be patient.
-----
The partly-parallel
version to this story, `Schoolie', told through the eyes of Tom Grant, gives
the backstory specifically for Tom, William, Andy and Jintabudjaree.
Find `Schoolie' at https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/schoolie
-----
If you're interested, I have 26 (A-Z) short stories
at
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-friends/massage-tales
-----
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