Kurt
Life in The
Village, and the `coming of age' of a student at its remote school,
through his own eyes.
This is an
original work of pure fiction (just an expression of a fantasy)
by Robert A. Armstrong (a pseudonym)
Copyright 2013-2023. 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.
Licence 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 96:
Mr Grant and I
have a lot of fun, doing just about everything except `giving ourselves to each
other completely'. I know that William and Mr Grant do it, but, for me, it's
something to share with only Andy.
I don't know
whether my twin brother has done it yet with anyone, which would be either
William or Jacko. I'd like to find out, but don't know how to ask him, without
getting too many questions back about what and how I know, and who with, and
when, etc..
It's really
tempting sometimes, to go further with Karl than we already do! If Andy and I
hadn't promised to only do it with each other, I would love to teach my brother
how to do it!
Andy and I both
know that we jack off with other guys, and do a bit of other stuff, but, we
trust each other not to go all the way with them. A promise is a promise.
I'm good at
keeping promises!
Chapter 97 – The New House and Our
First Guests
I
hadn't really considered the consequences of all of the work being finished in
The Village.
It now looks as though it deserves to be in one of
William's beautiful paintings. I expect, and hope, that he will paint our `New
Village' one day! Maybe, do even more than one painting.
The Village Green between the school and the First
Street houses looks so much better now than the brown weeds and grass that used
to be there. No snakes and no pirates!
For Karl and me, it's just like our own big, green
backyard. We can kick the soccer ball to each other, or throw and catch a
tennis ball and see how far apart we can get without dropping it. It's really
good fun, especially when Dad joins in.
And, people sometimes walk over from the pub and sit on
any of the four bench seats, which have been set into concrete, to enjoy their
drinks.
I often see Jacko's friends from the pub playing touch
football there, or cricket. Sometimes my brother and I join them if they're
still playing after we get home from school.
Mr Grant says that we kids could probably play soccer
there on Fridays instead of on our dusty playground.
The side-by-side houses in both First Street and
Second Street look amazing, just like some of the homes that I saw in Brisbane,
which. Pa called `terrace houses'. And the peppercorn trees down the middle of each
wide street will grow, Ash told us, to be almost as big as the old one outside
the pub.
We have our house at the river-end of First Street.
Marty has a house at the end of Second Street, next to another one which is an
office for Ash.
The pub is now fully `restored' and looks way better
than it did in any of the old photographs that hang around its dining room walls.
Dad reckons that a lot of tourists will want to come
out here now, and, they may even want to include a farm stay at our huge
property, Whispering Gums.
However, it's not just the appearance of everything
which has altered.
Our lives have changed too.
Monday to Thursday nights, Karl and I stay in our new
house. After school on Fridays, we travel back to Whispering Gums for the
weekend, before being driven in early on Monday mornings. Sometimes, Mr Grant
comes for dinner on Sundays and we go with hi, back
to Jintabudjaree for the night, for the short trip to school the next Morning.
That means that Karl and I have only one night there to `enjoy some time alone'
with William (if he's not away) and with Mr Grant.
When he's not busy at Whispering Gums, Dad some nights
stays in the new house during the week with Helen, especially if they have been
to Big Town or Cunnamulla for the day, but at other times too.
Our new house is nice, clean, tidy
and spacious, compared to our old one. But it's not the same without William coming
over after school to `play'. Besides, Helen is always there now when we get
home!
I wonder, has William outgrown us? His life is
different now. He's becoming famous.
I have a couple of things to look forward to. Andy's
birthday is coming up at the end of May, and I'm going to spend the second week
of our school holidays with him. And, during the first week of our holidays, we
will be having our first farm-stay guests. And then, in June, I will be getting
two sisters!
"I have bad news, and good news," Helen tells us over
dinner.
Everyone stops chewing and stares at her.
I hope that her bad news isn't about the babies.
"Lars, Helga and their children can't come," she says.
I feel really deflated (English! Opposite of `inflated'.
Like balloons.) I was so looking forward to them being here, especially since
their son, Bjorn is 16! And I had imagined that, perhaps, he might be into having
a bit of extra fun, away from his parents and his sister. You know what I mean!
Helen continues, "However, because Ingrid wants to
complete an additional unit in her university course, they will come later in
the year."
By then, it will be a lot warmer, and warm weather
means that Bjorn might enjoy some time with us in the swimming hole! That's
good news!
However, my brother appears very disappointed. He had
been really excited and looking forward to teaching them all to ride and take
them, horses walking, up to the lookout.
Now those things will have to wait for a few more
months, or whenever they can come.
"But the best part," Helen tells us, "is that Helga's
sister and all of her children are going to come instead, at the time of Lars
and Helga's original booking."
"What children does she have?" I ask, now a little
more excited.
Karl brightens as well.
"I don't know yet," Helen tells us. "But, I had the
impression that `all of her children' meant that she and her husband have more
than Helga, who is her older sister."
Dad adds, "So, if she is the younger sister, I expect
that her children will be younger than Ingrid and Bjorn, their cousins, and maybe
not old enough to ride quad bikes, but possibly able to enjoy sitting in a
saddle and walking around.
I look at Karl's face for some reaction. He doesn't
look upset. But, he doesn't look happy, either. Maybe he's just thinking about
it; horses with little kids?
I suddenly remember that I was going to make up a list
of everything that people could do. Whatever happened to that?
I'll have to give it more thought too. I hadn't
considered what a lot of little kids could do. Maybe I should ask Mr Grant.
He's good with the little kids at school. So is Jane, the `Deputy Sheriff'.
Will she think I'm weird if I ask her for some things that kids could do?
They could set the table for meals and colour in
pictures of farm animals, and go for rides in the Land Rover and check for
tadpoles around the water holes. While I can imagine them being led around on a
horse, and feeding the chooks and collecting eggs, I wonder whether they would
be old enough to help make cookies in the kitchen? They could definitely stir
the ingredients, roll the pastry and use cookie
cutters. And they could use different coloured icing on them after they have
been cooked.
I could also check at the library in Cunnamulla to see
if they have children's books about farms and farm animals. Helen and I could
read them an afternoon story while their parents are out doing some adult stuff
with Dad.
Thinking! OK. So, with whom should I check first? Jane
or Mr Grant?
"So, who's washing up then?" my brother asks.
It's obviously not him, or he wouldn't have mentioned
it! I reckon that it's Dad and me this time.
"And what will you and Jacko be doing?" I ask him,
almost instantly regretting my words! I certainly don't want to imply
anything that would get either of them into trouble.
"Mucking out the horse stalls," Dad answers, as if on
their behalf.
Jacko's face shows some relief, after my slip of the
tongue.
Karl should be relieved too. However, I see a subtle
ball-scrunching motion from him, directed at me. I guess that it's his turn to
visit my bed tonight. If we were alone, I'd respond to his sign with a wanking gesture.
No need. We both smirk at each other.
I wait so long for Karl to arrive that I'm beginning
to think that he has fallen asleep, or has forgotten.
Forgotten? As if!
"Did you start without me?" he half-whispers, as
though somebody else might be listening, and he closes the door softly.
"I could have," I reply, lifting my bedcover while he
drops his pyjama pants and slips in. "But, it's much more fun when you get me
started!"
"Dad and Helen were still up and walking around," Karl
says, reaching for Junior, who responds quickly.
He plays with my hairs for all of about five seconds
then moves to Junior, squeezing and pumping him up and down until I start
leaking. Karl enjoys jiggling my balls. So do I.
Then he suddenly stops.
"What's the matter?" he asks me.
"Nothing!" I tell him. "I was enjoying everything.
Why?"
"I'm ready too, you know!" he growls at me.
"Oops. Sorry," I tell him, then add. "You have become
so good that I was just loving it!"
I move my hand below his stomach. He's right. He IS
ready! Not hardly ready. But hard and ready!
He moans while I catch up to where he had me.
Then, surprisingly, he takes the lead by kneeling, kissing
my neck, then running his tongue down my belly and taking Junior right inside
his mouth. He loves doing this.
"Ohhh!" I moan. "Have you been practising this on
Jacko?"
He fills his mouth with Junior and, while sucking and
licking, mumbles something which is impossible to understand, probably to avoid
answering my question.
He knows when he has me really excited, and rolls down
onto his back.
No words necessary. Another time of catchup for me.
When I sense that we are both `almost there', I turn
180 degrees (Maths!) and we enjoy sucking each other at the same time. I have
heard the term `69' somewhere!
It takes a lot of concentration and deep breathing to hold
myself back. Who taught me that? Andy or Mr Grant?
I let him spurt first and I swallow it. Then I relax
and let fly!
While we are both waiting for our breathing to
recover, it's Karl who says, "You know, one good thing about staying in the new
house during the week, is that we won't have to tip-toe to each other's room to
avoid Dad and Helen."
"Just like old times, eh?" I grin.
The first week of our school holidays has come quickly.
Crunch time! D-Day!
Our farm-stay guests are arriving today, and I have
the planned activities ready for them.
What I didn't know until last week was how they would
be travelling here.
I had wondered. Were they driving? Hiring a car? Was Dad
picking them up in Cunnamulla?
My Dad had kept it quiet until he had made the
arrangements with Mr Grant and his pilot friend, Danny.
By helicopter? I didn't see that coming!
Apparently, our guests were happy to pay for the
helicopter ride from Cunnamulla to our place. Part of the experience! And, it's
a lot faster than the two hours that it takes by car.
"Where is the helicopter going to land?" Karl had asked.
Dad stared at him and replied, "Anywhere the pilot
wants to! Do we have enough land here for a helicopter?"
The expression on my brother's face was priceless!
`Duh! Owa-tarfu-lyam.' LOL
[Author: Say it out loud!]
We're holding back having lunch until our guests
arrive. Helen has the roast and vegetables warming. I have two apple pies
cooling.
The extended dining table is set for ten. Dad, Helen,
Karl, me, Jacko, Danny, the mother and three children.
There is no father coming. I had asked Dad and Helen
why, and was told that it was none of our business.
Although, Helen did offer some possibilities: "Maybe
he is too busy at work to join them, or they may be divorced, or perhaps he has
died." Then she advised us, warned us actually, not to ask, because it would be
inconsiderate, extremely rude, and possibly painful for the family.
Karl and I have become accustomed to the sound of a
helicopter.
However, this time, it sounds different.
We all rush out to see it.
It's bigger than the other one that we've seen previously.
But, not by much. I was wondering how a family would fit inside the one that
originally brought Helen, Ash and the older Mr Grant
to The Village, the one that we went for a ride in; and even the one that
William, his father and the pilot came in recently.
It lands on the south side of the house, where the
ground is free from buildings and obstacles and where the dust is carried away
from us. How did the pilot know which way the light breeze was blowing?
We know not to run towards a helicopter while the
rotor blades are still turning, so Karl and I wait. Impatiently.
I'm dying to see the three children, hoping that my
activities will be suitable for them. And, perhaps there will be one or two
boys among them.
The first to alight is obviously the pilot. He appears
to be quite young; maybe older than William but younger than Mr Grant. I think
that he's the same one that we saw recently land on the Village Green.
He walks around to the other side and the first to be
helped out is the mother. She also appears to be young, like our Mum.
"OK, boys," Dad tells us. "Let's go now to see if we
can help with anything."
We don't run, but we walk excitedly towards the big
machine. The pilot opens a rear door and helps a girl down to the ground. She's
dressed in jeans and a checked shirt, but her blond plaited hair is a giveaway.
OK. So, there's one girl!
Then a second person is helped down. Another one! The
same. A girl! Twins?
Strike two!
The third one jumps down and the three stand together.
Dressed identically, but the third one's hair is short, like Karl's and mine. A
boy! Yes.
However, if it wasn't for their hair, I don't think
that I could tell them apart. Their faces are the same and they are the same
height.
I've heard of triplets, but I always thought that they
would be either three girls or three boys!
"Hello Danny," my Dad says, shaking hands with the
pilot.
"Hi Jan!" he replies.
Then, my Dad greets the mother and, for the first time
in my life I hear him speak in a language that is not English! They both smile
and shake hands.
I have no idea what he said, but it was obviously a
welcome.
"Thank you, but English, please!" the mother replies.
"We all want to practise our English while we are here."
It hadn't really crossed my mind that people don't all
speak English! But, I should have known! But, my Dad??
When Bjorn comes, I hope that he can speak English or,
maybe, we could have fun learning the words for some male body parts and
`certain actions' (LOL) in both languages! Yeah!
Dad, Jacko and Danny gather
the family's bags and lead the way toward to the house.
"How was your flight?" I ask the three who walk with Karl
and me behind the adults.
I guess that they are all about 11 or 12. Old enough
to ride on a quad bike and on a horse.
The boy answers, "My sisters were scared, but I was
brave. They are Nora and Emma. I am Anakin."
"I'm Kurt and my brother is Karl," I reply, and we all
shake their hands.
Anakin is an unusual name. I've heard it previously.
I'm just trying to remember where.
"What do you all want to do while you are here?" Karl
asks, interrupting my mind search.
I know that Helen would have sent them a lot of
information or, perhaps, they would have discussed it with their cousins, and
the mother with her sister.
"Horses," the two girls answer in unison (Music!).
"Bikes," Anakin says, making revving motions with his
hands and sounds with his mouth. This is going to be a great week. For them and
me.
"May I please help you with the food?" the mother says
to Helen, and they head to the kitchen.
We take our places at the table, except for Dad, who
tags along to assist the ladies.
They take longer than I would have anticipated, so,
while Jacko and Danny are talking about the larger helicopter, Karl and I tell
the trio about our school and they share with us about theirs.
I talk about our nice teacher, Mr Grant, and they tell
us that their teachers are very strict.
During lunch, we list all of the things that they can
do during their week here.
And, I raise the subject of where people are going to
sleep.
"We weren't sure exactly how many boys and girls we
were expecting," I start. "But, how would this work? The ladies (and I point to
Nora, Emma and their mother) can have the bunk house,
which is close to the main house, and we `men' (indicating Anakin, Karl, Jacko
and I) can all take the southern workers' cottage. Jacko or I can drive the ute
down and back.
Anakin looks very happy, while his mother has a funny
expression on her face.
"Kurt," Helen asks, "Would you like to help me with
the desserts?"
Karl actually offers to help take some dishes to the
kitchen! Good manners in front of guests!
"There is something that you both need to know," Helen
tells us in the kitchen.
She pauses.
"What?" Karl asks.
She hesitates, as
if searching for the words.
I'm sure that Karl's mouth, and mine, are both in
fly-catching mode.
"WHAT?" I manage to blurt out. "How can a girl be a
boy?"
(to be continued)
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If you like the story, and haven't said 'hello'
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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
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