Solstice

A story by Bard Boy [bard_boy(at)protonmail(dot)com]

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fiction about an inappropriate relationship between a man and a preteen boy. One of the boundaries crossed in this relationship is engagement in sexual activity between the man and the boy. If you do not want to read such a story, or it is illegal for you to do so because of your age or where you live, you should stop reading now and go do something else instead. The fictional depiction of an inappropriate relationship between a man and a boy is by no means encouragement to any man who would seek to forge such a relationship for real. This story is not set in the present day, so rest assured every aspect is fictional.

This story is the property of the author. Do not repost it elsewhere without their prior consent.

Nifty relies on donations. If you can contribute, do so here.

The dry disclaiming out of the way, I hope you enjoy reading the story (in which ever way suits you best). Feel free to contact me on the email above.

This is a final, bonus story from the Solstice characters and universe. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope to hear from you if you do. There is a cool e-book version of Solstice, with all the mistakes purged and this post-story adventure included, available on request.

Mynd!

To Jake, James and Manny,

Dim ar radio! Dim telecom! I hope you enjoy this gift. Thank you so much for your visit – please come again!!

Love,

Jen, Megan and Emyr x

**

The summer sun had begun to heat the morning when the boys went out to play. They could hardly wait; two-and-a-half days of heavy storms had kept them cooped up in the house like neglected racing pigeons. They couldn't wait to spread their wings again.

They hadn't been shut in by choice. When the first of the heavy downpours came, they both ran outside to dance around in the rain. I was furious. They both looked as if they'd been stood under a power shower. I shouted at them from the front door to get themselves inside. They were sheepish, heads down, as I sent them to separate bedrooms: James to his room, Manny to his. I went into each of them with a towel and said the same thing; voice low and firm, staccato words: Undress. Dry off. Get into bed. It was late afternoon, but I pretended I was sending them to bed for the night. Both looked miserable, pulling themselves awkwardly out of their soaked clothes, but didn't dare argue. They were relieved when, a couple of hours later, I told them to get into their pyjamas and come for dinner.

Sleeping arrangements had been complicated by there being the three of us. I managed to coax James to take his old room back up, sleeping in his old bed with covers printed with stylised images of planets and stars. Manny took what had been a spare room with a single bed, on the side of the farmhouse next to Nell's room. James' bedroom and mine were on the opposite side of the main living room. It wasn't a particularly inspiring or exciting room for a young boy, but the opportunity to redecorate had yet to present itself. He at least had a set of spare sheets for James' bed to add some colour: sketch-style prints of triangles and spirals in oranges and yellows, on a blue-green background. It reminded me of bedding I'd had as a child in the early 90s, which I routinely left in a heap on the bedroom floor early every Saturday morning, racing downstairs in just my underpants to watch Rugrats and Aaahh!!! Real Monsters on Nickelodeon until lunch.

These new arrangements didn't stick particularly convincingly. It wasn't uncommon for me to wake – or be awoken – to find a sweet-smelling young man in bed with me; occasionally both at once. There wasn't enough space in my bed for that, so I discouraged mιnages ΰ trois strongly. The deal I suggested was that we would all sleep together in the winter house, when we would be glad of the heat. Rules, structure, and discipline were very important in managing two headstrong young boys who weren't used to being around other children all the time, much less living together with one. There was unintended joint mischief like the rain dancing, organised joint mischief of various flavours, and – of course – inevitable arguments and fights, with the boys needing to be comforted and scolded in equal measure.

Despite this, there was more than double the fun. It goes without saying that the organised joint mischief involved sexy joint mischief. But, more generally, an extra companion meant extra companionship. They always had each other for entertainment, and I had another boy to educate, care for, and learn to love.

The previous night, under the heavy, clockwork rattle of the rain on the rooftop, we played an old 1920s wind-up horse racing game. A green waxed linen racetrack connected to a mechanism built into the game's wooden container. Spinning the handle caused the racetrack to vibrate, sliding the horses along at random rates from the starting blocks to the finish. We gambled with real money. James' horse, Dark Rum, took the most victories. I called my horse Saracen; Manny called his Black Star. The two unclaimed horses took on various names across different races: Punjabi, Cherry Red, Cujo, Old Man, Ringbearer, Noble Steed...

The boys were back quicker than I expected. I heard their laughing and squealing, and the pounding of their feet as they ran a footrace back to the house.

Manny was first to leap through the open doorway, panting, red-faced and sweaty. "Jake, you gotta come see this, man!"

James bundled through the door and leaned on Manny from behind, breathing heavily and dribbling sweat down his face. "Jake, we found something really cool!"

I stood and regarded them. I'd been doing their laundry while they were out. I held one of James' psychedelic t-shirts in one hand, the other on my hip, like a teapot who had been asked whether they could step in for a shift while the washing line was on leave. "What have you two been up to now?"

"We went exploring in the woods," said Manny.

"You'll never guess what we found, Jake," said James.

"You'd better tell me then," I said.

"A car!" They both practically shouted it at the same time, and giggled to each other.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Do you mean a wreck, or one that's been burnt out, or somebody in a car, or what?"

"Just a car," said James reaching out the arm that he wasn't resting on Manny's neck and shoulders. "You know."

Seeing James' elbow and hand gave me a good guess at why he was standing behind Manny.

"James, could you stand to the side for a second?"

"But the car, Jake..."

"James?"

He stepped to the side of Manny, so his front was fully visible. Manny stifled a wicked grin.

"You're covered in grass stains and mud," I said, in a slightly irritated tone.

"It was Manny's fault," James protested. "He floored me and pinned me down!"

"He was bullying me!" said Manny, trying hard not to laugh. "You know how he's always bullying me!"

"You don't have a mark on you, Manny," I said, "so explain to me how James was bullying you and yet he's the one who's covered in mud?"

"He called me a name."

"No I didn't!" James whined, unconvincingly.

"Is that good enough reason to beat him up?"

"No..."

"He didn't beat me up!"

"What was the name James called you?" I asked.

"Manny couldn't beat me up," James pouted. I ignored him. Manny was struggling not to laugh.

"What did James call you?"

"I don't want to say it," Manny giggled.

"What did you call Manny, James?"

James was trying not to laugh now, too. He blushed and stifled a snigger as he began to explain. "I said... he looks and smells like... like your sweaty ballbag after you've been out gardening all day."

The giggles bubbled from Manny like mountain spring water as James was forced to repeat what he'd said. I closed my eyes and tried not to laugh as well. "First of all, James, I know you like that smell – and taste – so don't get being cheeky about that." James burbled in surprise and Manny laughed out loud again, covering his mouth with his hands. "Secondly, I can't imagine Manny likes being compared to a scrotum, does he? It's not a nice thing to say, so you need to apologise to Manny."

"Sorry Manny," said James, reluctantly.

"And Manny definitely shouldn't have wrestled you to the ground and pinned you down, should he?"

Manny suddenly looked less amused. "No, Jake, I shouldn't have pinned James."

"He tried to make me eat grass!" James complained. I ignored him again.

"Why shouldn't we fight with each other?"

"Because someone might get hurt," said Manny, guiltily.

"Apologise to James, please."

"I'm sorry James."

Satisfied I'd successfully sucked enough of the excitement from the boys to fulfil my duties as the responsible adult, I let them off the hook. "Good boys."

"Can you show us how to work the car now?" I still wasn't sure what they were talking about, but Manny was insistent and the two of them were instantly excited again despite their telling-off.

"After James has washed his hands, arms, and knees, and changed his clothes."

"Yesss!" said Manny, clenching his fists.

James didn't seem quite so excited by the prerequisite to investigating their `car'. "Will you heat the water for me?" he said, trying to sound far too sweet.

"No," I said. He shot me an annoyed look and took a breath as if to complain. "Tough titties," I interjected, before he could speak. He smirked despite himself and walked silently off to fetch the water jug from the kitchen.

**

The courtyard between the farmhouse and the abandoned bungalow, where Drew, Harriet, Harry and Cerys had lived, was strewn with the paraphernalia of two young boys being in residence. Improvised wooden goalposts took pride of place in front of the bungalow door, strung with a coarse cargo net. Several tennis balls pillaged on a late-winter revisit to the sports shop were scattered across the cracked stone floor. Two water pistols lay against the wall of the central well, which always as we approached midsummer began to run dry. Baths became damp-flannel scrub-downs, I avoided water as much as practical in my cooking, and toilet flushes were limited strictly to solid jobs. I even tried to train the boys to go one after the other to further save water, but sadly they were uncooperative and inefficient shitters.

Manny jogged over to the football as we left the farmhouse together, rolling it out of his feet to attempt a shot on goal. I stole the ball off his toe, holding my forearm out to shield it from him, swivelled and smashed a shot into the roof of the net.

"Hey!" complained Manny.

"Good goal, Jake!" chirped James, bringing up the rear in a fresh set of clothes.

They led me on the path they'd taken through the woods. We'd occasionally come across the pheasants, fluttering and waddling stupidly, and Manny would chase them a little. He'd been fascinated by the wildlife since we'd arrived back at the farm. There can't have been much of interest to encounter from his city-centre flat. I told the boys about how, when I was at university, my college had a pet tortoise. They were fascinated when I told them it was probably still there now, barely aware that more than twenty years had passed. I'd once sent my brother a picture of the tortoise. His response was straightforward: Weird animal. Imagine having a neck like dad's ball sack.

Eventually we reached something of a clearing, a sun-dappled glade where a burn that fed a beck that eventually joined the River Wear clove its way through the trees and bushes. There, unmistakably, was a battered old 4x4. A Toyota of some sort.

"Told ya!" said Manny, jogging up to it to peer through the rear windscreen.

"See, Jake," said James, bouncing on the spot, "we told you we'd found a car."

I was taken aback. It looked externally to be in decent working order. There was no reason why it should have been left here. I took a few paces along the bank of the burn, looking for any clue as to how it might have got there. There the faint remains of tyre tracks, but they seemed largely to have been worn away. Weeds were growing in one channel caused by the vehicle straddling the stream beneath it. It must have been abandoned for some time – probably while we were away in the winter.

"What does this mean?" asked Manny, stood on the rear bumper, his forefinger against a sticker on the inside of the back windscreen of the 4x4.

"It's some French football club," I said. "I don't know why it's there."

"Do you think it still works?" asked James, pressing down on the bodywork above the front left wheel and feeling the suspension bounce.

"Why does it have a wheel on the back door?" asked Manny. They were both spellbound by the car, despite it being, to my mind, a bit shabby.

"It's a spare, Manny, in case one of the others breaks," I said. "James, have you tried opening the doors?"

"Oh. Like this?" James pulled on the handle and the front passenger door swung open. "Cool!"

It occurred to me that they must have seen the car and run straight home to tell me, before indulging the urge to examine and fiddle with it themselves. It was sweet, but also very sensible of them. I felt a rush of pride.

James climbed into the car and sat on the passenger seat. I strode over towards the open door. Manny came running in front of me and began to clamber into the passenger seat beside James. I swatted at his pertly-presented backside.

"Move it, asscrackers!" I don't know why I said that. It was something my mom used to say sometimes. "Why don't you both get into the driver's seat?"

James climbed across the ridge between the two front seats, with the gearstick and handbrake, plonking himself excitedly in front of the steering wheel. Manny followed and they were squashed together, each with both hands trying to turn the wheel. It wouldn't move. Power steering. I knelt on the vacant passenger seat peering into the back seat of the car and further into the tiny boot area behind the seats. No identifying features, only two jerry cans stashed behind the rear seats. I sat back down facing forward again. One, then – inevitably – both boys, found that pressing on the centre of the wheel sounded the horn.

I had my head in the glove box searching for more clues. Nothing. Just a pair of quite fancy Paul Frank sunglasses. Lovers in the backseat. "Alright boys, enough with the horn!" I admonished, snapping the glovebox closed. Manny was in a hysterical fit of giggles, rolling and crying next to James in the front seat, who was laughing both at the horn and how amused Manny was by it. He started poking and tickling the helpless Manny, who squealed more and writhed in the seat. Their legs were jerking and kicking under the wheel, and eventually James' knee made contact with something he hadn't noticed before.

"Argh; something metal scratched my leg," he said, leaving Manny be and bending down to investigate. "Hey, Jake! There's some keys here!"

"Leave them there; I'll come around," I said, quickly and firmly, not wanting the ignition on with the Chuckle Brothers behind the wheel. I moved around the car and opened the driver's side door from the outside, resting my hand on James' bare knee to lean over the running water of the burn and turn the key.

"Don't touch anything!" I warned. Manny had recovered his composure and was now leaning over James' lap to get a better look at what I was doing, one hand on the side of the chair and the other on James' vacant left knee. "Three, two, one..."

I turned the key and the 4x4 immediately sparked into life. The boys cheered and laughed.

"Can we drive it now, Jake?" asked Manny raising his body up to look expectantly at me, putting all his weight on poor James' knobbly knees.

"I'm getting squished!" said James, gently encouraging Manny upright with his hands on the boy's shoulders. He turned to me. "Can we Jake? Please?"

It didn't make any sense. It wasn't even a new model. The plates and interior suggested it was manufactured in 2004. I was only barely a teenager back then. The car was good to go but had just been abandoned in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere in northeast England. With the engine on, the dials on the dash were very clear that even the water and oil levels were good, the fuel tank nearly full. If the cans in the back were full, we could go almost anywhere...

"How do you boys fancy..." I began, holding for effect and watching the excitement build in their eyes. They were gripping each other's arms. "Going to the seaside!"

"Yeessss!" Both of them were bouncing and whooping in the seat, holding their linked arms in the air. Manny started pumping the horn again, hooting with laughter as he did.

"Okay," I said. "Just calm it down for a second, boys." They quietened and looked at me, ready to listen, eyes glittering with excitement. "Before we can go anywhere, we need to make sure we've got what we need. We'll go back home, pack some clothes, some towels, our sleeping bag, and some food. Then we need to make sure the chickens are fed and watered in case we're away for a couple of days, and we need to make sure everything is locked up safe. Okay?"

"Okay," said James, grinning 360 degrees around his face, "I've never seen the sea before. Have you, Manny?"

"No," said Manny. "Do you know what it's like, Jake?"

"Big," I said, "and wavy and sparkly. More water than you've ever seen – probably more than you can imagine – but it's salty."

"I don't mind salty things," said Manny. I sniggered to myself. That was something I'd learned about him in the past couple of months.

"There were pictures of the ocean in the world atlas books. We looked at them in the winter house, remember Manny?" said James.

"Oh yeah! Those books with all the countries and places!"

"Ready to go?" I interrupted, still leaning across the burn to keep my head in the car. The boys nodded. "Shift over then. Neither of you can reach the pedals."

**

Getting the car out of the clearing was a bit tricky. Especially as Manny and James had insisted on sitting on my lap as I drove. So much bouncing, and squeaking, and throwing of arms to point at things. Even moving at 5m/h through the trees was a thrill for them. It was lucky at that speed that there was no chance of me wrapping the thing around one of the trunks. Once we'd found the track the car had departed from, I made the boys sit properly somewhere else. They both crammed into the passenger seat and shared it for the five-minute ride back to the farmhouse. Luckily the thing was an automatic. I'd never formally learned to drive – though I knew how to do it well enough – so point and go was a huge bonus.

James was tasked with selecting and packing clothes for us all – two changes each – and adding in a couple of clean towels. I bottled some water and boxed some food. Manny was supposed to be finding the sleeping bag and putting it in its compression sack, but from the sounds I heard from the living room and glances I cast over my shoulder through the door, it seemed more like he was wrestling it. He was still struggling by the time James and I were finished with our jobs, so I had them both kneel either side of me on the floor and showed them how to do it properly. A friend who had been a boy scout showed me the trick once: you grab an end of the sleeping bag, stuff it in the sack, keep stuffing and don't release until you have it all in. Folding or rolling will only break your sleeping bag over time by weakening it with regular creases. Perhaps that was why my inherited, ancient multi-person sleeping bag was still alive.

With the chickens seen to and the house locked up (and Mrs Williams wished goodbye – the old girl could look after herself better than we could), we were ready to set off. I loaded our stuff on the back seat. The boys were amazed that I could pull a lever and the seat would roll forward to give me access to the back. I think they'd assumed that people just climbed over the front seats to get to the back ones, since they had no doors of their own. Of course, by the time I had the driver's seat back in place and was ready to sit down, James and Manny had already piled together into the passenger seat.

"Are you sure you both want to sit there?" I said. "We could be driving for a long time. It'll get uncomfortable."

"It's not fair to have only one of us in the front," said James.

"You could both sit in the back," I offered.

Manny shook his head slowly and dramatically at me, his eyes closed and a silly smile on his face. That told me.

"Okay, well belt up then."

They looked at me blankly. I pulled my seatbelt over my shoulder, held out the socket to show the boys, and clicked it into place. They both reached around and tried to yank at the passenger seatbelt. Obviously, it didn't move.

"Be gentle. It's designed not to move if you put too much force on it; it thinks you're crashing the car."

James sat back in place, closest to the gearstick and handbrake in the middle of the car. Manny, theatrically gently, pulled the belt down and handed the buckle to James. He pulled it a bit more firmly and clicked it into place.

"Gah!" said Manny, the belt digging into his neck and face. "I'm being strangled."

"Well, two people aren't meant to sit there," I said, trying not to sound too much like the grown-up saying I told you so. "Pull it down so it goes over your shoulder, or under your armpit."

Manny pulled the polyester belt to one side, so as it was sitting against his left arm where it met his shoulder. It stayed put, for now.

"Everybody ready?"

"Yeah!"

"Comfortable?"

"Yeah!"

"Nobody needs the toilet?"

"No!"

"Let's get going then!"

I started the engine, put the car into drive, and set out down the farm track towards the open road.

**

I had no idea where I was taking us. For some reason, my brain was telling me west coast, so I winged it along the upland roads that took us the rest of the way across the Pennines into Cumbria, feeling out for the M6. I found the A66 and then the A685, dropping us onto the M6 at Tebay in deepest Cumbria, nestled between low, green mountains.

James used his prime position to take the reins as DJ. Back at the winter house, I had used the computer to make copies of our favourite albums on a stack of blank CDs pilfered from a pile of debris in the back of an office supplies superstore. They were collected in a zip-up carry case, each identified by labels scrawled in black marker in James' loopy, childish handwriting. He took to the role with glee, both boys thoroughly enjoying the ride, thrilled with the feeling of our motion and the ever-changing scenery outside. The roads were clear but for the odd abandoned vehicle. We travelled with ease and freedom, the car a fairy-tale carriage beneath us.

Manny got restless first, annoyed again by the digging of the seatbelt into his neck.

"This belt is so annoying," he complained, leaning into James more to evade it and resting his head on his friend's shoulder.

"That's okay," said James. "I don't mind you being snuggled up with me."

"Oh yeah?" giggled Manny. "How about like this?"

He leaned further over James, resting his head on James' chest and, grinning broadly at me, placing his outstretched left hand firmly on the middle of James' shorts.

"Poor baby," said James. "I'll give you a cuddle."

James wrapped his arms around Manny, wasting no time in sliding both of his hands into the back of the younger boy's shorts, one on each buttock. I could barely keep my eyes on the road, watching the waistband of Manny's brightly coloured boxers slip higher up the front of James' forearms.

"Boys..." I began. Manny stepped things up to the next level before they had the chance to acknowledge me. He rammed his hand into the front of James' shorts and squeezed roughly. James kicked and yelped in surprise, his foot very nearly making contact with the gearstick as I did 70 between the stone walls and embankments of the winding Ash Fell Road.

"Boys!" I snapped, much more forcefully. "What do you think will happen if you distract me or knock something you're not supposed to while we're driving fast? The car will crash, and we'll all get badly hurt – at best. If you want to mess about, you can both get on the back seat."

"Sorry, Jake," said James, looking and sounding a bit shocked, and very much like he meant the apology. Both boys had leaped up straight from surprise as soon as I raised my voice to them. It's not something I do often.

"I'm sorry," added Manny, also genuine. "We'll be good. Promise."

"It's okay to be excited," I told them, "I'm excited too. But one thing you have to remember about being in a car is that you can't jump around at the front near the driver, because they need to concentrate, and they need all these knobs and buttons left in the right places."

"We understand," said James.

"Alright. I'm sorry I shouted."

The boys said nothing. After a couple of minutes, Manny was back to pointing out sheep on the moors, and James started talking about which CD he might put on next. The moment passed, cascading into the next as certainly as the rain runs down off the moors, into the rivers and out to sea.

**

I stopped the car on the bridge over the Lune at Halton for a piss break. The boys had begun to fidget and complain of needing to go – I should have made them before we set out, rather than just asking – and there was nothing preventing me from stopping wherever I wanted. The only disappointment was that we couldn't see the city of Lancaster from there, obscured as it was behind treetops and grassy hills.

I had the three of us stand together at the rear left wheel of the car, me in the middle, James to the left, Manny to the right, and pee together in the traditional roadside way.

"If either of you wee on my legs or feet," I said, "we won't stop again no matter how desperate you get." I'd never seen the two of them concentrate so hard on their aim. James blushed a little and smiled at me when he saw I was watching him go, but he didn't stop.

Manny bounded away as soon as he was finished, running off to stretch his legs on the empty carriageway. James stayed beside me as I was shaking off, heavy traffic behind his eyes as he watched me.

"Jake," he said, "where are we going?"

"I don't know James. I haven't decided yet."

"Oh," he said, wrinkling his lips and moving his mouth around. I tried to help him out.

"Any suggestions?"

"Umm, maybe," he said.

"Well I can't consider them unless you tell me what they are," I said, smiling and rubbing his cheek.

"I'm the king of the world!" shouted Manny, somewhere off to the right, arms spread, spinning on the spot in the middle of the empty motorway bridge.

The combination of my reassurance and the reminder that Manny might return at any second and interrupt us must have given James the imperative to spit out what he wanted. "Do you know how to get to Harry's family's old house?"

"Yeah," I said, slightly taken aback, yet not entirely surprised. "I stayed there once. I'm sure I can find it again. Is that where you want to go?"

James nodded.

"Alright then. It's by the sea, so it ticks the right box."

"What's going on?" said Manny, jogging back over and leaning against my arm, grabbing my wrist with his hands.

I lifted my arm from beneath him and drew it around his shoulders. "We were just talking about going to North Wales. How does that sound?"

"I'm in!" smiled Manny, wriggling free of my grasp and bounding into the front seat of the car through the still-open door. He stuck his head out of the door. "Come on, James! What are you waiting for? The end of the world?"

"I'm coming," said James, stretching out his back and wandering over to the open door.

I made my way to the driver's side. As I sat down, James was clambering over Manny to reclaim his place. Manny suddenly reached his hands under James' t-shirt, tickling his tight little belly. James shrieked and threw himself down sideways onto his half of the passenger seat. Manny grinned into his face. James responded by leaning in, smiling back, then forcing a burp directly into Manny's face. Manny let James right himself ready to belt up. Then, without saying a word, he lifted his backside so as his crack straddled the meat of James' thigh, and let out a big, wet-sounding fart. They were both immediately collapsing into each other, hysterical with laughter. I watched and smiled from my safe distance. Nothing, ever, beats being a tween boy totally at ease with a close friend.

**

We hadn't been back on the move long before the boys started getting hungry. I'd got Manny to pass me the shades out of the glove box, and I put them on. This, naturally, led to them being passed around and posed with back and forth, while – rather incongruously – New Order's `The Perfect Kiss' played on CD, complete with extended frog croaking solo. It was after the croaking finished that I was able to pick out the sound of a tummy rumbling as the boys took it in turns to joke in the glasses.

"Oh dear," I said. "Who was that?"

"Me!" said Manny, patting his stomach.

"I'm starving too," said James, pulling the sunglasses down to the end of his nose to peer over the rims.

"Give me those!" I laughed, pinching the shades from the end of James' nose and putting them back on my face. "Have a look in the bag, James. See what we've got for lunch."

James wriggled between the front seats on his belly, reaching into the bag with the food boxes while Manny held him around his bare legs, so he wouldn't fall headfirst into the rear footwell.

"We've got salad with river fish," he called out, "salad with chicken–"

"RIP Muriel," I said.

"RIP Muriel," added James, "–and lots of parsnip chips with herbs."

"Decide between you whether you want fish or Muriel. There should be an empty box to mix some of the salad with the chips, and a few forks."

"I don't mind," said Manny.

"Nor do I," said James, dangling through the middle of the car.

"Alright, well I think Muriel will keep better than fish, so let's have some of that first."

James passed the boxes we needed forward to Manny, then made to move backwards without warning, bashing Manny in the face with his bottom. Manny wasted no time in giving it an annoyed slap back, which reverberated through the vehicle.

"Oi!" yelped James, scrambling to get back into place.

"Boys..." I said, in the low, universal `you're about to get told off' voice.

"Sorry, James," said Manny, sheepishly.

"That hurt," whined James, pushing himself backwards. His rear end was still waving in front of Manny as he crawled back onto the seat. Manny gave it a gentle stroke, but James wasn't satisfied. "Kiss it better!"

Manny screwed up his face, leaned in, and went to plant a kiss on James' bum cheek. As soon as James felt Manny's head approaching, he pressed back and farted, his crack right against Manny's face.

"Euuurgh! Jake!" whined Manny. "I felt the gas moving his shorts!"

James was laughing away, still half-crawled out from between the seats. I took a hand off the wheel and hauled him back into place on the front seat, roughly enough to show I was annoyed.

"Enough. Both of you."

It was quiet for a minute, neither of them saying anything or fidgeting. Hunger got the better of them. They soon settled down and were friends again, mixing half the fishy salad with some of the parsnip chips, and poking their forks in to share, their thighs pressed together to make a surface for the box between them.

"See, better when you're not fighting," I said. They ignored me and carried on eating their lunch. "Isn't somebody going to feed me?"

"Okay, baby Jakey," said James, getting a mix of food on his fork. "Here comes the motor car!"

I leaned in to accept the mouthful. James smiled as he fed me, amusedly satisfied by the role reversal.

**

Both boys drifted off to sleep for a while after lunch, probably from a combination of food, the motion, the heat of each other's bodies, and general crashing from overexcitement. Being their age is almost as exhausting as being an adult. I woke them up in time for our first glimpse of `the sea', the Mersey Estuary as glimpsed from the M56, its sluggish flow having invaded the low-lying farmland on its south bank and encroached nearly as far as the motorway. There was lots of excited gasping, ooh-ing and ahh-ing as the boys strained to lean across and see it through my driver's side window. I stopped the car for a couple of minutes with the front pointed towards the water, so they could get a proper look through the windscreen.

We were approaching Chester, which had stood steadfast on a rocky outcrop to our south for nearly two thousand years. Deva Victrix; Cair Legion, Caer; Legacζstir, Chester. I wondered how it must have felt to have lived here in the year 410, with the Roman army having withdrawn all but the veterans staying behind with their Britannic wives and children, the cities of Britannia left to fend for themselves. Then I realised I already knew.

We passed to the north of Chester, and I learned that the Welsh border in this area wasn't quite where I thought it was. I had expected it to be the River Dee, but it ran seemingly at random through the countryside just north of the river, so I almost missed it. James spotted the road sign for the border immediately.

"Does that mean we're nearly there?" he squeaked.

"How much of England did we have to cross from our house just to get here?" I asked.

"A lot," he said.

"So do you think that just being in Wales means we're close to where we need to go?"

"Suppose not," he said, a little deflated.

I squeezed the knobble of his knee. "Maybe an hour more."

"How come these road signs have all these funny words on them?" Manny piped up.

"It's Welsh! Is it Welsh, Jake?" asked James, excitedly. "Manny, did you know Welsh people have their own language?"

"That's cool," shrugged Manny. "My nana could speak Asante, but she only ever taught me a few words."

"Wow!" said James. "Like what?"

"Kom de me" said Manny, grinning.

"What does that mean?" asked James.

"I'm hungry!" cried Manny, and started giggling.

"Trust you!" I said. "That means you must have a day name, right, Manny?"

"Day name?" said James. "What's that?"

"It's a name you get if you're born on a certain day. Mine is Emmanuel Kwame."

"Which day is Kwame for?" I asked.

"Saturday!" he cheered, throwing his arms in the air, then wrapping his right around James' shoulders. "What day were you born, James?"

"I dunno," said James, looking at me hopefully.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Sorry, mate."

James looked a little disappointed, but he quickly thought of something else. "Which day were you born on, Jake?"

"Thursday," I said. "What would that be, Manny?"

"Yaw," he said. James giggled.

"That's no fun," I said.

"What can I be?" asked James. "What's your other favourite day name after Kwame?"

"Ooh! You can be Sunday!" said Manny. "That's really close to mine."

"What's that?" said James.

"Kwasi!" said Manny, lifting James' wrists up with his hands like he was declaring him a heavyweight champion.

James leaned into Manny's chest and they both giggled. The next I looked, as we began to blast down the A55 North Wales Expressway, they had both fallen back to sleep, leant together and tangled in each other's arms.

**

I woke the boys once more as we approached the sea proper, the expressway meeting the northern coastline at Pensarn. The railway ran parallel, between the sea and the expressway. The sea had crept forward in places, subsuming lengths of the tracks under rolling sand dunes as the beach realigned itself. The land behind the shoreline for the majority of the North Welsh coast is quite steep and hilly, so luckily the sea couldn't make the required inroads to threaten the ribbon of expressway tracking it westwards.

It wasn't much longer before we were on the approach to Drew and Harriet's old place. I parked the car up by the promenade, slipping straight off the expressway and finding ourselves pretty much in the middle of town. The tide was high, and the water battered against the old sea wall, submerging the beach entirely. The boys relieved themselves through the railings on top.

It didn't take long for the pestering to begin.

"Which way is Harry's house?" said James, shielding his eyes to look at me as I stood in the shade of a broken-down old pub, surrounded by ghostly seafront apartments. A baby seagull perched on top of a lamppost above him, peeping constantly for its parents.

"Just a few streets that way," I pointed. "We can walk it from here."

"I want to stay and look at he sea," said Manny, craning over the railings to look at the water. James frowned at him.

"We've got plenty of time for that," I said. "Besides, it'll be better later when the tide's out."

I led the boys inland along the leafy streets, James walking quietly by my side, looking around, Manny reluctantly bringing up the rear. A curtain twitched in a house across the street from us, and I waited for Manny to catch up so I could grab both boys by their hands.

"It's too hot to hold hands, man!" Manny complained. "It's all sweaty and horrible."

I ignored him and dragged him along at my pace. He wasn't having any of it. "I want to take my shirt off!"

"Shut up, Manny!" snapped James.

"James!" I growled, yanking at his hand. Both boys stomped along in simmering silence. I was exasperated; worn out from the drive without the added drama of mediating their bickering. I decided we were going somewhere else as soon as James had seen the house.

It was a tense few minutes later that we arrived outside. The house was late nineteenth or early twentieth-century redbrick, three stories. Overgrown green and purple bushes shaded the front of it, which stared blankly at us. The windows were intact, but the blinds were down, the glass only showing the reflection of us stood hand-in-hand at the end of the driveway.

James pulled free and marched to the front door with his head down. He stood on the front step, turned to shoot me a wobbly, nervous glance, and knocked three times with the metal knocker.

The clicks of James' knock reverberated around the street. He stood watching the door closely, glancing occasionally at the front window, but nothing happened. The distant sound of the sea and the racket of baby seagulls was the only indication that anything was moving at all.

"Come on," I said quietly to Manny, who was trying to squirm free of my grip on his hand. I walked us towards James at the front of the house. He knocked on the door again, more times, harder. I gently pulled his hand away from the knocker and stroked the nape of his neck and top of his spine, lumpy beneath the damp collar of his t-shirt. "There's no car here, James. Maybe they're out?"

He looked up at me with wide, disappointed eyes. My heart ached. He was willing me to make things right. I eased him in front of me with my hands on his skinny shoulders, then reached around him to try the door handle. It gave no resistance. The door swung open without protest.

James stepped over the threshold without hesitation. I followed, Manny resignedly stepping in behind me. James looked around the hallway, back and forth between the steep stairs ahead of him, and the rooms branching off ahead. I picked up a musty smell; Manny wrinkled his nose too. James took a deep breath.

"Hello?" he shouted. "Hello? It's James!"

I glanced at the shoe rack. The shoes had all seen better days. Among them were some baby shoes, like you'd put on a toddler. A few coats hung on pegs above; a couple for a little boy.

James bounded up a few stairs. "Hello?" he shouted. "Harry? Dru-Dru? Yettie?"

My insides churned as he called the names. This was six-year-old James shouting. Twelve-year-old James had been left at the door.

"It's me, James! You know, James Martin?" He leaped back down the stairs and bounded through the hallway, bursting through the far door. It had been the kitchen. Evidently nothing. He jogged back out, pushed through the next door. Dining room. Must have been empty. He pushed through the near door, jogging past us, cheeks red with desperation. From the front room, a frustrated whine-growl echoed through the house, vibrating deeper into his throat until it was just a gargle, and we could hear it no more.

Manny was suddenly closer to my side. Our arms brushed and our eyes met. He was concerned, uncomprehending; maybe even a bit scared. I ruffled his curls gently and plucked one of the little boy coats from the collection on the pegs, leading Manny by his shoulders to join James in the living room.

It was dingy in the front room with the Venetian blinds closed. Stripes of sunlight streaked the high ceiling according to the angle of the slats. Pictures of Drew and Harriet adorned the shelves. Baby pictures of Harry. Pictures with their extended family; anonymous adults and children.

James had flopped in a dejected heap on a soft cream sofa, arms and legs limp, chin in his chest. Glum wasn't the word; lips pursed, eyebrows back, eyes glassy. I sat beside him, and he gave that look again: the look that told me he wanted me to fix everything; to make it all better. I just sat, steadily meeting his eye, not touching him. Manny poked around the room.

"You okay?" I said.

James shook his head.

"I'm sorry, mate."

James let out a deep sigh. "I just wanted them to be here," he mumbled. "I wanted to see that they were alright."

"Jamey..." I began. He frowned a little at me using his baby name. "James, how old do you think Harry would be now?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"How old are you?" I asked.

"Twelve," he mumbled, as if he didn't really want to be using his voice.

"Right," I said. "So how old is Harry if you're twelve?"

"Seventeen?" said James, uncertainly. "Eighteen?" He looked at me for confirmation.

"Exactly," I said. "Do you think you'd even recognise him straight away?"

James shrugged. Manny disturbed something on a shelf, and I followed James' eyes as he scowled at him.

"Look at this coat, James. How old do you think Harry was when he had this?"

"I don't know," James grumbled, evidently tiring of my tactic.

I handed him the coat. "Look at the label."

James opened the coat up, fingering the soft, fluffy material of the inside. "Age Four to Five," he read.

"That coat was made before you were born, James," I said. "I'm sorry, mate. They haven't been back here since then."

James sighed, still fingering the material of the coat, then screwed up his face, clamping his eyes shut. He chucked the little coat across the room. It flew towards where Manny was standing, divebombing near his feet. He gave me a little `look what James did!' displeased glance and stooped to pick the thing up.

"Where did they go then?" said James, releasing his face, the force of his frustration coming through in his voice.

"I don't know, mate," I said. "I don't know."

James huffed and rolled towards me. I ran a hand through the soft, mousey tufts of his short hair, feeling his cheek rest against my ribs.

"Come on," I said, "staying here feeling unhappy won't change anything. Let's get out in the sun and enjoy ourselves."

"Does that mean we can go back to the sea now?" said Manny, trotting over to the sofa, little coat in hand. James growled under his breath and shot Manny an ugly look under his furrowed brow.

"I think we all need some time to clear our heads," I said. "Let's not stay here. We can head to the west coast and find a nice beach next to the mountains."

"Awww-uhh!" stropped Manny. James continued scowling from under my armpit, gripping my wrist against him.

"No moaning," I said. "It'll only be another hour. We can ride with the windows down and cool ourselves off a bit. When you see the mountains, you'll understand."

Manny swivelled on his heels and made for the front door. I eased James up and walked him out behind Manny, my arm draped across his shoulders, stroking his chest as we went. Manny reached up to put Harry's little coat back on its peg. As we overtook Manny, James went to kick at his heels with a leg, but swung and missed unnoticed as I pulled him away.

"It's not his fault," I whispered to James, calmly as I could through my temple-thumping irritation. "Taking it out on Manny will only make you feel worse."

Manny, his task complete, skipped happily behind us, closing and locking the door on his way out.

**

Once the car was back in sight, I let James storm off ahead with the keys. I hung back with Manny, letting him speculate how tall the mountains would be, and what it would be like to see them for real.

"Jake, why did we come here and go to that house? Who lived there?"

"I'll explain later, mate, when it's just you and me."

James had parked himself in the middle of the passenger seat, evidently spoiling for a fight. I got in on my side and wound the window down. I asked James to move over a little. He gave a few millimetres and sat firm; arms folded.

I'd asked Manny to wind the passenger window down before he got in the car. After he'd finished, he whipped his t-shirt over his head, slapping his flat, caramel tummy a couple of times for effect. He giggled and launched himself into the seat alongside James, shoving him playfully with his hips to encourage him to move over.

"Get off!" complained James, pushing Manny with his hands. "I don't want your stinky naked body on me!"

"I don't stink!" protested Manny in surprise.

"James," I began, very curtly, my patience stretched to its very extremities, "if you don't want to sit next to Manny, climb on the back seat."

"Why should I?" pouted James. "I'm older!"

"Well I'm bigger!" Manny shot back.

"I was here first!" screeched James.

"Enough!" I shouted, raising my voice for the second time that day. "You're on your final warning, both of you. I don't want to hear another peep from either of you til we get to where we're going. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Jake," said Manny, his spirits deflated again.

"Put your top back on for now Manny, there's a good lad," I said, much more gently. "And James?"

"Yes, Jake," he conceded, barely audible. He shuffled his bottom across to give Manny his fair share of the seat.

Manny, his t-shirt back in place, pulled out the seatbelt and held it out for James. James took the belt and clipped them in. Neither of them looked at each other, though they were sat shoulder to shoulder, pressed even closer as they'd angled their legs away from each other. I took a very deep breath, reminding them both how annoyed I was, and swung the car around back towards the expressway.

Once we were on the open road again, I stole another glance at the boys. They were still sitting on each other's shoulder blades, as back to back as they could manage. Manny watched the scenery go by through his window, looking thoroughly fed up. James, on the other hand, looked bereft. The car was silent but for the sound of the engine. James showed no interest in DJing nor in watching the world outside. He stared at his feet.

I reached across and squeezed a knobbly knee. He blew through his nose and snapped his eyes shut, rolling against Manny and smothering his face into the boy's back. A tear escaped and dribbled down his cheek.

Manny, somewhat reluctantly at first, turned to put his arm around James. I gave him an expectant look, wiggling my chin to give a quick flick of my mouth and eyebrows in silent encouragement. He turned and embraced James fully, then, sweetly, kissed James on the head as he leaned over to rub his back. James had let another couple of tears dribble down his face, but he wasn't sobbing. He recovered and let Manny hold him, wrapping his arms around Manny's waist.

Manny looked at me, his eyes requesting permission to speak. I smiled and nodded my head.

"James," he whispered, "do you want to be friends again?"

James nodded his head against Manny's chest and gave his middle a squeeze.

"Cool," whispered Manny. "I was hoping you did. I don't want you to be sad or upset with me."

"Boys," I said, not whispering, "look at that!"

I'd turned off the expressway to follow the River Conwy south. Running parallel to the river on the far bank was the first of a growing and gathering clutch of mountains.

"Woaaah!" said Manny. "James, look at this, man!"

James twisted himself so he had his head resting on Manny's tummy and crotch, looking directly up out of the windscreen.

"Coooool!" he said, throwing a pink-faced grin at the first of the mountaintops. Then he wriggled in Manny's lap, making Manny giggle a little. "Hey," said James, "there's a window in the roof of the car! I never noticed that before!"

"Can we open it, Jake?" asked Manny. "Pleeease?"

"Yeah, it's really hot," said James. "Could we take our tops off too?"

**

The topless twosome were awed and attentive as we pushed deeper into the Conwy Valley, blasted by warm wind from the open windows and the sunroof. The climbs and dips in the road got bigger and more stomach-suspendingly exciting; the mountains to our right got fuller and taller; the river between mountain and road narrower and fleeter. They took to wrapping their tongues – hopelessly badly – around the name of every passing town: Llanrwst, Betws y Coed, Blaenau Ffestiniog. Then, high in the mountains amongst the otherworldly landscapes of the quarries, James began to recount to Manny the story of the wicked Count Karlstein, and his dirty, foul dealings with Zamiel, the Demon Huntsman, deep in the Swiss mountains.

"Count Karlstein was a rich man indeed. He lived in a great castle in the village of Karlstein, high in the Swiss alps. There he ruled over the village, content to order the people back and forth through his cowardly servant, Herr Snivelwurst. He also took care of his two English nieces, Lucy and Charlotte. He hired a local girl, Hildi, to be their servant. Hildi was caring for the girls one night when she overheard the true story of the Count's riches. Ten years before, Count Karlstein had done an evil deal with Zamiel, the Demon Huntsman of the forest! He was granted his great wealth on the condition that, ten years later, the huntsman would be given a human sacrifice on All Souls' Eve! And guess who the Count had chosen...?"

I'd never seen anything like it. Manny was hanging off James' every word, listening with rapt attention, watching James intently as he told the story. James was entirely focused on Manny, too, their eyes locked together, dancing and sparkling as James told the tale and Manny listened excitedly.

I let them enjoy themselves and focused on the drive. I took the lower road out of Blaenau Ffestiniog, following the course of a mountain stream that eventually became the Afon Dwyryd. The Dwyryd seemed high and wide in its valley the further we followed it down; an orphaned telegraph pole stood stoically against the flow of the water as it pooled over what had once been open fields. The low road re-joined the main road, which took a higher route to loop through old villages and connect to a main route south, near a bridge over the river. We had a choice. I stopped the car dead just before a big, green directional billboard, outlining the options at the junction.

I sat pondering the best route, stroking the whiskers on my chin. James had just finished his story.

"What have we stopped for?" he said, looking around at the dense roadside trees, and probably, as I did, picking up the sound of the river rushing along beside us. Manny looked at James and shrugged his slightly clammy-looking bare shoulders.

"I'm trying to decide which way to go," I said.

"Which way goes to the sea?" asked Manny.

"Well, both, I guess," I said, "But I'm worried that on one side the road might go underwater."

"Why would a road be built underwater?" said James, as if it was the most idiotic thing he'd ever heard.

"The water wasn't there when it was built," I said, "but it could have got higher and flooded it."

Manny looked up at the sign. "Har-letch," he read, inadvertently mangling pronunciation again. "Porth-mad-dog. Porth Mad Dog! Haha! Let's go there! Please Jake?"

"I don't know," I said, "I think Porthmadog is right down at the mouth of this river, right on the coast. I'm worried we won't be able to get there because of the water."

"Aww." Manny stuck his bottom lip out but didn't seem particularly upset.

"What about the other place?" said James.

"Harlech?" I said, getting a surprised look from James as the -ch caught in the back of my throat. "Never heard of it. Worth a try."

I got the car moving again and chose to ignore the bridge carrying the main road towards Porthmadog, opting instead to stay on the same bank of the Dwyryd and follow the ridge of the foothills on our side. It took us through a little hamlet almost straight away.

"Look!" said Manny. "More again!"

"Oh yeah!" said James, leaning over Manny, both boys leaning and waving out of the window. "Hi!"

We sped past a very confused-looking older lady and what was probably her little granddaughter, who waved back slowly, open-jawed at the two near-naked boys hailing her from the open front window of a real-life passing car.

"Hahaha!" James chuckled. "They were really surprised to see us!"

"That was even better than the one before!" laughed Manny.

"You're only saying that because it was girls!" teased James.

"Shut up," said Manny, bashfully, going limp and resting his bodyweight against James in their shared seat.

We'd passed another set of people earlier, back in Llanrwst. It had been the same setup, us speeding by indiscreetly in our car, boys squealing and waving from the window, unsuspecting pedestrians watching the bizarre and unexpected sight. The people in Llanrwst were less fazed though; a dad with a boy more James and Manny's age. They simply laughed and gave us big waves back and thumbs-up. I suspect James and Manny secretly wanted to cause more of a spectacle.

"Look down," I said, drawing their attention back to the river. "Looks like we made a good call."

Almost the entire vale below was filled with water, as a stream running underneath us joined alongside a more substantial river ahead. The water lapped at the edges of the carriageway we could have taken. "It's probably worse further down," I observed.

It turned out I was entirely correct. At the end of the valley, the river yawned out an improbably wide estuary, a side road and a railway emerging suddenly from the lapping waves and muddy, marshy deposits on the bank to greet us from nowhere, like something from an Escher. The railway disappeared below the silt and waves again, the water eventually only being held back from the tarmac by the flimsy stone walls and earthworks separating the roadside from what were once farmers' fields. Eventually we reached a fork at which we could follow our road no more. It too had succumbed to the waves.

"Going left," I said, shrugging at the boys. They grinned with wide-eyed excitement. We couldn't be any closer to the sea. Or perhaps we could. I passed another left turn for a high road through the shoreside hills and continued straight along our new path. All was well for 1500m, until a sudden dip in the road had me slamming the brakes on. Out of nowhere, the sticky sand and the sea appeared in front of us again.

"Woah!" The boys were caught by their seatbelt and flew back against the seat as the car jerked to an abrupt halt. Manny made a little pretend choking noise and pulled the belt back away from his neck.

"Oops," I said. "Should've seen that coming. Back to the high road, I guess."

I turned the car around on the crest of the dip, speeding back to the turning for the lane up through the hills. This put the boys on the right side of the car to look out over the water and coo their excited comments. It's so sparkly! Look at how it moves! There's a bird sat on the water just bobbing up and down!

The high road was far less hassle. We followed it all the way. It dropped us in a little village to the south of Harlech, where a long sandy beach stretched invitingly before us, north and south, just across the now-grounded railway tracks. There was only one place we were stopping this car. I think if I tried to take it anywhere other than straight to the beach, the boys would have jacked it from me and taken us there themselves. The coast road ran on a hillside high above the beach and train tracks for some time, frustrating us from gaining access. Eventually, as we pushed our way further into Harlech, the landscape helped us out. I parked up as close to the sand as possible, on a service lane of a now partially inundated golf course.

**

The tide was out; the beach streaked with a tan-line of untouched grey sand before the wet, sticky brown stuff stretched out to the receding waves. I stood holding two pairs of shoes as James and Manny shrieked and whooped on the heat of the dry sand, kicking and throwing it at each other, rolling around, wrestling in just their shorts and underpants.

"Come on Jake!" James shouted. "We're going to run out to the water!"

I locked the shoes up in the car with my own and armed myself with the towels. I was about to head back down to join James and Manny, frolicking again in the sand, when I heard a voice.

"Look at those happy boys!"

It was a soft voice, resonating kindness into the salty breeze. A woman's voice.

"It's like they've never seen sand before! You must have brought them a long way?" The woman was slightly shorter than me, her chestnut eyes being level with my mouth, and had long, dark hair. The Dark People of the Mountains was what Drew used to call the north-west Welsh. She personified it.

"It's weird," I said. "We found this car, just dumped, near where we live, up in the North Pennines near Durham. It even has loads of spare petrol. It's like we've been blessed by the god of road trips."

The woman laughed. "That is a lucky find," she said. "I suppose you were for those boys as well? You're not the dad?"

"You don't think?" I joked.

"Oh, sorry!" said the woman, hand to her mouth. "Just with them both looking about the same age, and one of them being... you know... mixed... Oh, I've gone and put my foot in it now, haven't I?"

"Don't worry! Don't worry," I laughed, reaching out for her shoulder. "I was being sarcastic. It's fine. My fault."

"Oh, God! Sorry!" she laughed, nervously. "I don't get much adult company these days. It's probably driven me bonkers."

"Same here," I said. "Jake. Nice to meet you."

She shook my hand. "Jen. I live just up the way with my two, Megan and Emyr. We saw you pulling in. Then, when the kids saw the boys, well, I had to come down and say hello or I'd have had a mutiny on my hands!"

"I know the feeling," I joked. "Speaking of which, I think I'm holding up these two from their first dip in the sea. Sorry." I could see James and Manny watching us carefully from the beach, talking to each other quietly. We'd set out around lunchtime, but we must have been on the road five hours. The worst of the day's heat was starting to dissipate, but the sun was still quite high in the sky. I wanted the boys to get plenty of paddling time in.

"Go and get them sorted!" laughed Jen. "How about I come back in an hour or so to get you, and you bring the boys back for dinner at ours. I'm sure they'd all love that... I mean, if you want?"

"Thank you! Sounds great! I'm sure my pair will be really excited to meet more kids."

"That's great," Jen beamed. "It'll be so good to get the kids using English as well. We only ever use Welsh at home, so they never get the chance to practise. Anyway, I'll leave you to it. See you in a bit!"

As Jen walked off, it suddenly dawned on me that without anyone making it otherwise – no TV, no radio, no internet – English was again as foreign here as French or Swahili. It was a strange thought, but somehow it made me smile. We were exotic visitors.

"Who was that?" asked Manny, as I joined the boys on the sand.

"Our host for the night, I think," I said.

"Does she fancy you or something?" said James, sounding more than slightly concerned.

"I think she was more interested in you two, actually."

James pulled a `what?' face. Manny also looked confused.

"She has two children, a girl and a boy," I said. "She wants you to meet them after we've played in the sea for a while."

"Cool!" said James.

"How old?" said Manny.

"Dunno. Didn't ask," I said.

"You're useless."

"Guess you two are driving yourselves home, then."

"No-ohh!" Manny groaned, buffeting himself into my side. I caught his shoulders with my arm, and we laughed together, taking our first steps onto the sea-moistened sand.

**

The boys were naked, and in the water ahead of me. After several minutes of loud, nervous running in and out of the waves, I suggested we go in for a proper paddle. I started stripping off by way of encouragement; while I was pulling my t-shirt over my head, they'd somehow already lost their shorts. I collected both pairs, each still with sweat-dampened boxers embedded in the seat, and I weighed them down under our towels, so they didn't escape. They were both up to their nipples in the surf as I waded out to join them. They turned and laughed at my hairy genitals bouncing as I splashed into the water. I stuck my tongue out at them.

We played for a while, splashing and chasing each other, me helping the boys float on their backs. When they were a bit more confident with the water, I took to throwing them up and in. It didn't last long; they were a bit too heavy for it. They tried to dunk me as I stood in the sumo position in the water, getting my breath back. I retaliated with fingers in slippery armpits until a truce was called.

I held them close to me, one at each hip, looking out towards Ireland as the sun shimmered on the distant undulations of the water. "It's been a long day already," I said, lowly into the space between their ears, two heads reaching my chest. "We won't get to play tonight if Jen asks us to stay with them, so I think you two could do with a release now, d'you think?"

James nodded and pushed his crack against my thigh. Manny giggled and did the same. I reached around with both arms, James on my left, Manny on my right, pulling them to me across their bellies as we bobbed with the waves. Both were starting to get hard when I reached them, both stiffened immediately on my touch. I fingered their smooth scrotums, ribbed and crinkled to their bodies under the water, teasing around their genitals and feeling them wriggle against me until I took hold of a stiff willy in each hand, both boys stiffening and gasping as I began to wank them.

My erection slipped between the two of them as they pressed back against me, grunting and humming as I brought them off under the water. I pumped myself slowly back and forth. James' alabaster boy parts showed no signs of growth since I'd first seen him erect at nine. Manny was slightly longer and thicker, but there was little in it between them. They were hard and hot as I fiddled them beneath the waves, soft skins gliding back and forth under my thumb and forefinger.

Manny came first, balling his fists, squeaking and growling, pushing his head back against my dripping chest to look into my eyes as he came down. I slowed my action, just squeezing and rolling his knob and the end of his foreskin under my thumb and finger until he gently eased my hand away. James was still going, humping back and forth against my left hand as I tried to keep the rhythm going while my right hand was doing something different. Manny came to the rescue, reaching under the water and squeezing James' balls, hard. A groan strangled in the back of James' throat and his willy writhed between by fingers, skinned back fully, sharing sweet nothings with the ocean as he collapsed further back against my body.

"Good?" I said.

"Yeah!" chuckled Manny. James grimaced and nodded; his face pushed against the wet hair in the cleft of my chest.

"Remind me of the rules for tonight," I said, cupping the back of James' head against me as he rested on my chest. Manny had taken my hand under the water.

"No doing rude stuff," said James, his breathing beginning to calm.

"Good. What else?"

"No talking about rude stuff either," said Manny, with a grin and a swing of my hand.

"Alright. How important is it that we keep to those rules?"

"We will, Jake," said James, running his hand against my chest.

"Is it your turn first?" said Manny. "Before we have to stick to the rules?"

"Do you think I've earned it?"

Manny grinned and nodded. James gave me a squeeze and a kiss on the chest, then moved out of the way to give Manny access to my still-hard dick under the water. There were soft little hands everywhere. Two on my shaft, one on my balls, another playing with my bum cheeks. Then they took it in turns to focus on different things. Two disconnected hands make for a very poor and disjointed hand job, after all. It didn't take them long to finish me off. I groaned and shot off a few powerful volleys into the sea, pulling both boys back to my chest to kiss them on the heads.

"Thanks, my big boys," I said. Manny giggled and pressed his face more into my chest, always a little embarrassed at praise for making me spunk.

"I think the fish should be thanking you for the food," chuckled James. I saw his hand move under the water, and Manny jumped against me in surprise, his buttock having been unexpectedly given a big squeeze. That was my cue to let the boys separate, their attention gone now the sex was done.

**

I spotted Jen walking down to meet us as I was helping the boys dry themselves off. I had at least got my shorts back on, but they were both still naked – something they seemed suddenly much more bashful about with a grown woman approaching.

"Where are my shorts, Jake?"

"Let go of the towel! I can do it myself!"

I dumped the towel over Manny's head, collected my t-shirt, and went to greet Jen. She waited at the edge of the dry strip of sand, not wanting to get her feet wet on the slurpy surface that had been beneath the tide.

"Hi," she said.

"Hiya, I need to get our shoes from the car," I said. "Come with me; they're being a bit funny about being undressed with you around, so they'll appreciate it if I get your back turned."

Jen laughed and joined me on the walk up to the car. "Meg and Emyr are so excited," she said. "It was all I could do not to let them run down here and interrupt your swimming!"

"It wouldn't have been a problem if they had."

"No, I said to them, you'll have all evening to play with them when they come here for their tea. I thought it was best to let you have a bit of private time with your boys enjoying the beach for the first time."

"Thanks," I said. "We definitely enjoyed it."

I opened the car and went to sit on the passenger seat to put my shoes back on. It had two t-shirts abandoned on it. I shook my head and flung them to one side.

"I know the feeling," laughed Jen.

"Don't," I said, tending to the laces of my first shoe. "I've had five hours of them sharing the front seat of the car today. I don't even want to think about it anymore."

I heard the chatter of James and Manny approaching as I finished putting my shoes on. When they realised Jen was watching them, they went quiet.

"Hello," she said, "and what are your names?"

They both looked at their feet, apparently neither wanting to go first.

"This is Emmanuel," I said, patting the head of the boy nearest to me.

"It's Manny," he said, blushing a little.

"It's only Emmanuel when he's been naughty," I said.

"Oh, I see!" smiled Jen.

"This one is James," I said, ruffling his wet hair.

"Hello," said James, looking at Jen from under his brow so as not to have to raise his head.

"I don't know what's got into them," I said. "Normally they won't shut up."

"That's okay," said Jen. "Plenty of time to get to know each other tonight."

"Tops and shoes!" I said to the boys. Each handed me a wet towel, which I slung on the back seat of the car to dry as they were tangling themselves in knots getting redressed.

Jen led us the short way to her house. I walked in step with her, trying to keep a hand on each boy to force them to keep up.

"How old are you, James?" Jen asked.

"Twelve," said James, then squatted to play with his laces, avoiding my hand and dropping back behind us.

"What about you, Manny?"

"Eleven," he said. No such luck for Manny. I had him around the shoulders, and he was walking between me and Jen.

"Don't you have lovely hair, Manny?" she said. It had begun to dry in dark, fluffy ringlets on the top of his head, and she ran her fingers through it.

"Thanks!" he said, relaxing and grinning a little.

We'd all recently had haircuts. I found an old rechargeable set of clippers at the winter house and charged them up as much as possible before leaving for the farm. It made haircuts a hell of a lot less stressful, especially with there now being three of us. Plus, to be brutally honest, I had no idea how to cut Manny's hair. When it's long, it bushes and bouffants out into an almost afro, which is not something I have any experience of trying to care for. The solution seemed to be to shave the sides and leave a little bit of length on the top, which naturally curls.

"Lewis Hamilton," I said, nodding at Manny to Jen. She laughed.

"Who's that?" said Manny.

"Oh, only one of the greatest racing drivers of all time," I said. "We'll have to get you behind the wheel on the way home. Maybe the hairstyle is the source of his enormous talent."

"Like Samson and Delilah!" cried Manny, pleased that he'd got the reference.

"Who're they?" said James, pushing his way under my arm to stand between me and Manny.

"Oh, look at you two," said Jen. "A proper little double act!"

James didn't know how to respond to that, so put his arm around mine and Manny's waists as we walked. Jen showed us up the steps to her front door. The house was in grey local stone, roofed with darker grey slate tiles, on the hillside overlooking the beach. I could already hear the sounds of excited children inside.

"Croeso i Harlech," she said, opening the door for us.

"Diolch," I replied, my brain straining against its limited Welsh vocabulary.

James looked at me strangely. I pushed him into the house behind Manny. I got the boys to sit on the stairs and remove their shoes, kicking my own off too. Jen opened the door to the living room and waved us in.

"Hello!" she said to the two children inside, who seemed to have frozen in the middle of bounding around the living room when we opened the door. "Do you want to meet our guests?"

The girl, Meg, was clearly the elder. She wasn't as dark-haired as her mother, nor quite as pale-skinned. She had long, straight brown hair, with a ribbon tied in the back, and her mother's chestnut eyes. She waved nervously at the boys as they stood in the doorway of the front room. I gestured to them and they sheepishly came to stand in front of me, letting me rest an arm on each of their outer shoulders.

"This is Megan," said Jen. "Say hello, Meg. Tell the boys how old you are."

"Hi," said Meg, smiling at James and Manny, "I'm called Meg and I'm eleven. Nice to meet you."

"What about you, Emyr?" said Jen, looking at her little boy. He didn't say anything, just looked at the carpet and shot occasional nervous glances at his big sister. "Come on, Em," said Jen, moving to kneel next to the boy and put an arm around his hips. "Os nad ydych chi'n siarad Saesneg, ni fyddwch chi'n gallu chwarae gyda'r bechgyn," she said quietly to his ear.

Emyr was a serious looking boy. He had shiny, floppy, coal black hair, inexpertly cut, and a ghostly pale complexion, only emphasised further by a sprinkling of freckles over the bridge of his nose. It was only when he eventually looked up that I noticed he had the most arresting emerald green eyes. I heard James give a little gasp and a `woah!' under his breath.

"I'm Emyr," the boy said quietly, a little pink filling his pale cheeks. "I'm eight."

James made a beeline for Emyr. "Hi Emyr. I'm James and I'm twelve. What do you and your sister like to play? This is Manny. He's eleven and he's a bit like my little brother."

Emyr looked surprised at James' sudden verbal diarrhoea, but he smiled and let James put an arm around him. Manny and Megan wandered over too, beginning to introduce themselves to each other. Jen beamed at me.

"Do you need any help with the cooking?" I asked. "We can leave them to it?"

"You can help me get started on the wine," she said, and pointed my way to the kitchen.

**

As it was, I declined to start drinking before dinner. Jen had decided to go with the almost unrealistically stereotypical option of preparing a lamb roast. But then, I suppose if you have a whole hillside alive with sheep above your house, it makes perfect sense.

"It took a while to get used to killing and cutting up animals for food," she observed, as I chopped carrots and she prepared potatoes. "I never really thought about it when there was someone else doing it for us."

The chatter from the front room was constant, with the occasional cheer or squeal, and plenty of thumps of little bodies leaping and bouncing around. It occurred to me that, as much as I loved them – as much as James in particular had been my world for the last three years or more – it was nice to be away from James and Manny and just chilling with another adult.

Inevitably we got onto the topic of the kids. I explained how I'd been good friends with James' parents since university, that I'd joined up with them on their farm where we'd survived the last death rattles of the world we knew. I explained how his dad had died before I moved in, and how his mother had died just over three years ago, after a long period of illness. I didn't explain about Drew or Harriet or Harry or Cerys. Nor Jon, nor the winter house. I explained that we and Manny had found each other, but I didn't elaborate too much on the details.

"What about yours, then?" I asked. "Where's dad?"

"My partner, Gethin, died five years ago," she said, pausing with a knife halfway embedded in a potato. "He was such a good dad. It's a real shame for Megan, and Emyr especially. He wasn't quite four at the time. He barely remembers him."

"And you?"

"Well, I have to be alright, don't I?" she said, resuming chopping the potatoes, with more force and intent, "You understand. You're the grown-up too."

I'd finished the carrots. I poured Jen a large glass of red.

"Here," I said, gently taking hold of her wrist. "Let me finish this. Take a break for a while."

She put down the knife and took the wine glass from me, her fingers wrapping around mine. "Thanks," she said. Then she looked away, an avalanche of coal-black hair covering her face as she made to take a seat at the table with her glass.

It was my job to call the kids in for dinner. "Come on, dinner's ready! Everybody at the table!"

"It smells really nice, Jake. What is it?" It was James' voice coming at me as I stuck my head around the living room door. I don't know what it was about the idea that had taken them today, but James was topless again, as was Manny. They'd even managed to get Emyr just stood around in his denim shorts and black ankle socks. Only Megan was still fully dressed.

"You're in for a real treat," I said. "Though you might want to check Jen's rules for clothing at the dinner table."

"What's that?" called Jen from the kitchen, hearing her name as she served up the plates.

"Nudity at the dinner table," I shouted, as James pulled an unimpressed face.

"Oh, that's fine," she said. "You're lucky Em's wearing more than just his smelly old boxers today!"

Poor Emyr blushed crimson as Manny covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. James narrowed his eyes at Manny as if to say: `stop it!'. Manny straightened up and stood wobbly faced, struggling to control his mouth.

"Are you coming or what?" I said, sweeping my hands at the open door in an `after you' gesture.

"Come on, Em," said James, putting his arm over the shoulders of the younger boy. "When it's hot, I like hanging around in just my pants, too."

I followed Meg and Manny through the door, giving the back of Manny's head a rough ruffle as he now struggled not to laugh at James' mother hen routine. "I think you might have a rival for your big sister role," I joked to Megan.

"That's alright," said Meg. "It means he's not annoying me for a few hours."

"Woah!" I heard James say, up ahead, as I marched into the kitchen at Manny and Megan's lolloping pace. "This looks really good. What is it?"

"It's a lamb roast, with boiled vegetables, roast potatoes and roast parsnips," said Jen. "I hope you like it."

"Oh, don't worry. I will," said James, practically dribbling down his chin as he took a seat next to Emyr.

"Very stereotypically Welsh," I said. "Just a shame we don't have cheese toasties to top it all off."

"What's a toastie?" asked Manny, plopping himself down opposite James.

"Bread with cheese or meat between it, cooked so that it goes crispy on the outside and the stuff on the inside melts."

"Oh yeah," said James. "That thing you used to have. Bread."

The two adults took up position at either end of the four-person table, squashed on alongside two kids each. I was on my first glass of wine, Jen on her second. I sat next to Emyr and Megan and tried to start up a conversation. Meg was a bright and endearing girl, interested in the landscape and the wildlife. She knew the people we'd sped past on our way down to Harlech; sometimes she would make the walk up to Maentwrog and see them there, but more often it was the family from the hills who made the three-hour walk down to the beach for the day.

Emyr was shy and painfully unsure of himself around an adult speaking English. He spent most of his time turned away from me, hanging instead on James' every word. That meant that Jen also didn't get much opportunity to speak to James, instead indulging Manny in a conversation that had him giggling or exclaiming something excitedly every thirty seconds.

As soon as James and Emyr had finished their food, James wandered off from the table. He spotted a rack of CDs on the kitchen wall and was drawn to them immediately, Emyr quickly in tow.

"What sort of music do you have here?" asked James, not looking at us but presumably addressing his question to Jen. "What music do you like listening to, Em?"

Emyr evidently didn't understand the question. He shot James a worried look.

"Oi, watch it, nosey," I admonished James from the table. Ninety minutes with Emyr and he'd soon regained his confidence.

"He's alright," said Jen. "We don't listen to music, James, love. We don't have anything to play it on."

"We have a little battery powered Walkman thing," I said. "James is a real muso. Keeps him out of trouble."

"It's a shame, really," said Jen. "I haven't listened to music in years. We still sing sometimes, though, don't we?" Meg nodded enthusiastically. Emyr was busy watching James rifle through CDs.

"James likes to sing too, but he isn't very good," laughed Manny.

"Whatever, Manny," sighed James, keeping his back to us. "What does this say, Em?"

"Oh yes, we have a few Welsh ones in there," said Jen.

"The car has a working CD player," I said. "If you want, we could head down to the beach and have a little party."

"Yeah!" shouted James, pumping a fist in the air. "You have the best ideas, Jake."

"Sounds good to me," said Jen. "What d'you think, Meg, Em?"

"Yes please!" said Emyr. James offered him a hi-five.

"Can I put a dress on?" asked Megan.

"Don't see why not," said Jen.

"Up for more beach fun?" I asked Manny. He nodded his head enthusiastically.

Later, he came and leaned against my shoulder as I was sat in my chair draining my glass, Megan having gone to get changed and Jen helping James and Emyr find her favourite music. He took my hand and whispered into my ear: "Do you think Meg will look nice in a dress?"

**

We took a couple of beers and some fake wine for the kids down to the beach with us. Apparently the shop in the nearby holiday caravan park had enough leftover stocks of booze to last Jen the rest of the century. I turned the car on so that the radio was just running on the battery, cranked the volume right up, and opened both doors and the boot. The sun was in no hurry to set as the tide crawled back towards us.

Jen put on the first of her selections, some Welsh-language band that I'd never heard of. Sounded a bit like The Fall, but in Welsh. Emyr was amazed – not only by the car, which James took upon himself to explain to the boy in full detail at a hundred miles an hour – but by the music pumping out at him in his mother tongue.

"Mam, maen nhw'n canu yn Gymraeg!" he squeaked, wide-eyed and barely stopping himself from clapping his hands.

"Ie, gwirion! Maen nhw'n Gymraeg!" she replied, beaming at her little boy.

The kids drank some of their fizzy grape drink and were soon off frolicking on the sand, leaving Jen and me to chat. I spotted after a while that the boys had taken themselves off for a group piss further down the beach, and probably a bit of sly show-and-tell. Megan, left to her own devices, tried out some cartwheels and headstands, feeling the thrill of her light dress flooding down below her nipples. When Manny turned around from his piss and clocked her, front on to him, standing on her hands in her baby-blue knickers with only her head hidden by her dress, I swear I saw him nearly lose his eyeballs, like pinballs ricocheting from the buffers. If it wasn't the case that he, James, and Emyr were comparing boners, I didn't doubt he had one to deal with now. He walked delightfully awkwardly as he made his way back up the beach. Meg turned on her hands, bum now pointing at the boys, and lowered herself down to her feet by arching her back, her toes touching down first, thighs spread, stretching the fabric of her pants over her crotch. Manny nearly stumbled headfirst into the sand, pressing his hands together in the pockets of his shorts, his mouth dropping open. Megan's dress dropped down, revealing Manny's presence to her, and she smiled nervously at him. He just blinked and pressed his hands together in his pockets again, probably thinking that nobody would notice he was squeezing his groin. James, piggy backing Emyr up the beach behind, was completely oblivious.

I went and ran around with the kids for a while, played some games of tig, adjudicated a couple of wheelbarrow races – the pairings and positionings being obvious. I went back up to join Jen and drink my beer just as she'd changed CD.

"Libraries gave us power," I said, with impressed surprise. "Then work came and made us free."

"Are you a fan?" she said.

"Saw them live once," I said. "When you said `Welsh music', I thought it was all going to be Welsh-language stuff."

"Oh no," Jen replied. "Plenty of time for some of the hwntw classics as well. You're lucky we don't have any Tom Jones!"

"I remember this coming out when I was a little kid," I said. "I only discovered them for real as a teenager, though. Opened another world for me at the time. The Holy Bible. Incredible record."

"Both those albums came out before I was born!" Jen laughed.

"Wow! I must be old."

"Don't worry about it," she said. "These lot probably think we're both about sixty."

The sunset was slowly creeping upon us, so we rounded up a set of increasingly sleepy kids. They'd just been sat on the beach chatting together for the past half an hour, the energy for play long since spent.

"How would you three boys like to stay at ours tonight?" asked Jen.

James nearly bounced out of his skin, Emyr glued to his side still. "Can we, Jake? Please?"

"Well, unless you want to kip on the beach," I said.

"That would be cool," said James, "but staying with Em and Megan is even better!"

"That's decided then," laughed Jen. I got the player to spit out her CD and locked up the car.

**

We sat in the living room finishing off the wine as the kids sat and chatted. Manny and Meg were playing some game, drawing on each other's backs with their fingers. James sat on the floor with his back against a settee, looking at a bookshelf.

"Can you read in English, Em?"

"I try," said Emyr.

"Okay," said James, "let's try together!"

Emyr trotted over to the bookshelf and returned with The Twits, by Roald Dahl, a classic for the younger and less confident reader. James patted the floor beneath his legs, and Emyr sat down, resting cross-legged against James. James moved his thighs together so that he was squeezing against Emyr's legs and hugged the boy to him around his tummy. Emyr began reading. What a lot of hairy-faced men there are around nowadays! James occasionally helped or gently corrected as Emyr read, pausing sometimes to discuss the pictures.

"It's sweet isn't it, how those two are getting on?" said Jen.

"James has always been very sweet," I said. "He's a very gentle and caring boy. Definitely wears his heart on his sleeve."

"It's good for Em," she said. "He misses out, not having any other male company around. No wonder they've taken to each other so quickly."

I nodded in agreement, but I wasn't so sure. Watching James cuddle the younger boy to him, heads nuzzled together, occasionally stroking and patting him as they read, I got an uneasy feeling that James had other intentions in mind. Like watching the cycle of shit wash back around, one generation passing on the death kiss of its weaknesses to the next.

Jen had washed down the last of her glass. She offered me the dregs from the bottle. I declined and she took them for herself. Once we were both finished, I suggested that it was probably bedtime. I was exhausted.

"What are the sleeping arrangements?" I asked Jen.

"Can I sleep in Emyr's bed tonight?" James cut in.

"I don't think that's a good idea, mate," I said.

"But why?"

How do you explain to the boy you're molesting that you're worried he's going to molest another, younger boy? "I don't think that would be fair on Emyr. We should stick together tonight, don't you think?"

"You and the boys can take my bed," said Jen. "I'll go in with Em. It's no bother."

James looked disappointed, the unspoken annoyance in his eyes framed by the dark circles building underneath them.

"You're tired and you need your beauty sleep," I said to James. "Say your goodnights. You can play with Emyr again in the morning."

"It's not playing," he grumbled, and stomped over to give Emyr a goodnight hug.

"Come on," I said to Manny, "you too, Casanova."

"What does that mean?" said Manny, getting up of the sofa and stretching into a yawn.

"I'll tell you later," I said.

"Night Meg," he yawned. "What did you say it was? Nozda?"

"Nos dda," said Meg, giving Manny a little wave before yawning in sympathy.

I corralled the boys up the stairs and went into the room Jen showed us. We'd be sharing her double bed. James sat huffily on the edge, causing the bedsprings to creak.

"Are you going to go and brush your teeth?" I asked.

"No."

"You won't be thanking me tomorrow if your gums are swollen from red meat between your teeth," I said.

"I think we left the toothbrushes in the car," said Manny.

James flopped back onto the bed and huffed some more. I took the opportunity to slide his shorts and socks off, leaving him ready for bed in just his pants. Manny took this as a cue to undress himself too.

"Tired?" I said to James, stroking his belly.

"Get off!" he whined.

"Oh, we're not doing this again, are we James?"

"Shut up!"

"How many times is this today, James? I'm getting tired of the stroppy teenager act."

James folded his arms over his chest and said nothing. Manny came and sat alongside him.

"Megan is really cool," he said. "Thanks for bringing us here, Jake."

"Hmph!" said James, rolling onto his side away from Manny.

"You can sleep on the floor if you're going to be like this," I said.

"Why wouldn't you let me sleep with Emyr like I wanted?" he grumbled.

"I told you why not," I said. "Don't you think it's better that we're all together?"

"I bet you would have let Manny sleep with stupid Megan," he said derisively.

"I certainly wouldn't have," I said. "And Manny never suggested it."

"Yeah, well Manny's so perfect, isn't he?"

Manny shot James a little annoyed look. I put my hand out to encourage him to stay quiet.

"None of us are perfect," I said. "I wouldn't have let either of you sleep with Emyr or Meg, because I don't think I could trust either of you not to break the rules after you've had such a fun night getting to know them. I know I wouldn't've if I was you."

"Why shouldn't I play with Em in bed?" James said. "You told me you used to do that with your friends."

"James, me and my friends were the same age, and we were all as clueless about sex as each other. It was just a bit of fun to explore with each other."

"It would be fun for Emyr to explore with me!"

"But James, when we did it – me and my mates – we were always terrified of our parents finding out, even though we were in it together as equals. What do you think Jen would say if she found out you'd been leading Emyr into sexual stuff? What questions do you think she'd be asking of all of us then?"

"It's not fair!" pouted James. "You're way older than us than I am over Em, and you lead us into sex stuff, and we like it!"

"Yeah, and what good has it done us?" I said. "We're meant to be on a little holiday enjoying ourselves, and instead we spend half of the day arguing."

James growled and pounded the bed in frustration, rolling onto his front and burying his head in the pillows. Manny leaned over and put a hand on James' shoulder. "James, you know what I think–"

"Shut up Manny! You don't understand anything!" James wailed into the pillow. "It's got nothing to do with you! I wish you weren't here!"

He threw a fist at Manny, which I caught by the wrist before it made contact. I squeezed harder than was comfortable for James. "How many times today, James? You do not take out your feelings on Manny. Understood?" His arm went limp as he grunted into the pillow, and I let it drop.

Manny sat shell-shocked on the bed. He looked up at me with tears in his eyes.

"Manny," I said, as quietly and kindly as I could muster, "why don't you put your shorts on and go and get your shoes? We can go and get our bags we forgot from the car."

He nodded quickly, blinking back tears before they could escape his eyes, and bundled himself into his shorts. He left the bedroom in a hurry.

I sat down on the bed next to James as Manny quick-shuffled down the stairs, hand planted firmly between his shoulder blades. I whispered sternly in his ear. "I know it's been a long, intense day. I know we're all tired. I know you don't want to admit it, but you're still upset about Harry's house. That does not excuse your behaviour. If you need to talk to anyone about your feelings, you talk to me. If you need to blame anyone for how you feel, you blame me. Not Manny. Imagine how you've just made him feel. He loves you like a big brother. Imagine if I told you I didn't love you and don't want you around. I'll see you in a few minutes."

I finished with a less than playful slap of one of his buttocks as I rose to leave. I watched his small bum wobble under the fabric of his boxers, lumping and creasing as it disappeared into the cleft of his crack. A skinny boy, lanky frame on a short body, alone and vulnerable by the waterside at the ends of his earth.

**

Manny walked quietly beside me in the dark as we made our way back to the car. I put my arm around his bare shoulders and he leant against me, following the cat's eyes in the middle of the road downhill, reflecting the moonlight back at us.

"Are you not cold without a top on?" I asked, stroking a bare clavicle, cool in the evening breeze.

I felt him shake his head against my side. He paused a little longer, before piping up in a quiet squeak. "Why doesn't James want to be my friend anymore?"

"James is just tired and got himself all upset," I said. "Don't pay him any attention. He loves being your friend."

"He doesn't like me anymore."

"He loves you, Manny," I said. "Believe me. You two get on like a house on fire, even if sometimes you like to wind each other up."

"Yeah," Manny said, "James is easy to get going."

"He is," I said, "and he doesn't know what to do with all his feelings sometimes. He's been used to being the only kid around getting all the attention from adults. He had me all to himself for years. It's easier for him to pick on you if he's upset with something I've done – or haven't done – than to tell his feelings to me."

"I don't get why he's so upset though," said Manny, sounding down. "Is it because of something I did? Is it because of what happened at that house?"

"Oh, shit!" I said. "We never did have that chat about the house, did we?"

"No," said Manny. "Swearer."

"Sorry, mate. It really wasn't fair of me not to have told you before. James is mostly upset about the house; not about you."

"But why?" said Manny. "Who was meant to be there?"

"When James was little, we had some friends who lived in the bungalow next to the main farmhouse. You know where I mean?"

"Yeah. The building we never go into that has the goalposts in front of the door."

"Right. So there were four of them living there. Drew and Harriet, the adults, were friends with me and James' parents from when we met at university. They had a little boy called Harry, and they looked after a little girl called Cerys, who was the daughter of another friend of ours, but her mom had died."

"Harriet and Harry? That's weird."

"No more than when a dad names a son after himself," I said. "Anyway, so when James was nearly seven, Harry and Cerys were the same ages as you and James are now. They were like a big brother and sister to James. They had their own house separate from me and James and his mom, but we did almost everything together."

"Where did they go then?"

"Cerys, the little girl, caught a nasty illness. An illness that killed lots and lots of people. I had to look after her until she died."

"Like me and my nana," said Manny, with a sigh.

"Sort of," I said, "except Cerys was the same age as you are now and got very poorly very quickly. But her illness was something that I'm lucky enough not to be able to catch, so I took care of her."

We'd stopped halfway down the hill as we talked. Manny leaned against me, letting me cradle his body – so lithe and healthy, yet so small and fragile – against mine. "So James' big sister died. That's really sad. What about the others?"

"The illness was so contagious and dangerous that they decided they had to go away for a while to protect James, because he was still so little. Even if they hadn't caught it, they could still be carrying it, so they decided they'd try to drive home, to the house we went to today."

"But they weren't there?"

"No."

"So what happened?"

"I guess they didn't go home."

"Oh..."

"So that's what James is upset about today. Not you. He just wanted to find them. It's only recently that he realised that Cerys had died rather than just gone away. It must have been on his mind as soon as he realised we could drive anywhere in the car."

We'd begun walking down the hill again, my arm holding Manny close by his shoulders, hand rested gently on his stringy bicep. "James must have been really annoyed that I didn't want us to go to the house. If you told me then I would've kept quiet and been kinder to him."

"I'm really sorry, mate. That's all my fault. I should have told you and tried to explain straight away, but I was too worried about James' feelings. I didn't give enough thought to you until James started using you to take out his frustration."

"That's not fair, though. I didn't make his friends get poorly or move away from him."

"No, it isn't fair. And James knows that. He shouldn't deliberately hurt other people because he's hurting. I think he and I are going to have a long chat about that when we get home."

"Are you going to have him in your bed?"

"I think that'd be the place he'd be most comfortable to talk to me. You're not jealous, are you?"

"Umm... maybe a little bit."

"How about you come in a couple of nights later? We can talk all about you."

"Thanks." Manny leaned into a side hug with me as we walked. "Can we do some stuff after we talk as well?"

"If that's what you want. You only have to ask."

"Sick."

Manny and I walked in silence until we were nearly at the car. We could see the sea stretching before us, waves twinkling in the moonlight, the rush and the smell of the waves assailing our senses as we rounded the corner and came to the bottom of the hill. Harlech Castle loomed dark and vacant above us, a tattered red dragon fluttering in the breeze on the flagpole.

"Umm... Jake?" Manny began. I squeezed his shoulder to encourage him to continue. "Would you, you know... If I'd asked you, would you have let me sleep in Meg's bed tonight like James said?"

"No, Manny," I said, stopping to unlock the car. "I wouldn't have."

"Oh," he said, playing with a stone under his feet. "Um... why not?"

"Because it was nice to see you and James having fun with Meg and Emyr tonight just like normal kids," I said. "Trust me, you don't want to complicate things by having sex with them. You're too young for that."

"But we are normal kids? Aren't we? Me and James?"

"Yeah," I said. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said it like that."

"That's okay."

I handed Manny the smaller of two rucksacks. "Put this on." I took the larger one for myself. I locked up the car and we turned back up the hill, walking side by side on the empty road towards the house.

"Manny," I said, "you know I love you, don't you?"

"Yeah!" said Manny. "Course I do! Even if you did leave me out a bit today."

"I mean, I've known James pretty much since he was a baby, and we've done all this stuff together and it's complicated, I mean, how well we know each other. That was what made things so weird today. I should have considered you more. But just because I know James inside out doesn't mean I don't care about you too."

"Thanks, Jake." He took my hand and swung it around between us for a while. "I love you and James too. You're both the best. I hope James still loves me."

"You know he does."

"Yeah." I almost heard the cogs in his head turning as he waited a second to change the subject. "Actually, Jake?"

"What?"

"Do you think Meg likes me?"

I chuckled. "Why? Do you like her?"

"I dunno," he said, still swinging my hand back and forth. "I never spent any time with a girl before. It feels sort of weird and funny."

"Exciting maybe?"

"Yeah."

"You were excited when you saw her in just her pants, weren't you?"

Manny let out a gasp and his loud giggles echoed off the walls of the empty buildings around us. "You saw that?"

"Yep. Saw you playing with yourself through your shorts as well."

"Oh..."

"It's okay. Nothing wrong."

"I sort of couldn't help it." I didn't need to make out Manny's face in the dark to imagine him blushing a little. His voice was a low whisper.

"I know the feeling," I said. "It's natural. Just ask James some of the things he's seen me do when I'm excited."

"Yeah," laughed Manny, "I bet!"

"Shh!" I said. "We're nearly at the house now. You'll wake everyone up!"

"Sorry!" said Manny in a stage whisper. He buffeted his shoulder against me playfully, then suddenly stood still for a second.

"What's up?"

"Jake," he said, "I just thought. Do you think James is upset because he likes Emyr and I like Megan?"

**

It was heartening to see James sat up against the headboard as we re-entered Jen's bedroom. He gave us a wobbly, pink-cheeked smile as we walked in, hands folded on top of his underpants.

"Hey," I said, sitting down next to him. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. I pulled him onto my lap.

"What's with all this silliness today, hm?"

"I dunno," he said, leaning back against me and closing his eyes. "It's just..."

I let him think for a long few moments, until it was clear he didn't know what to say next. "Just that you don't know how to explain the way you feel sometimes?"

"I suppose so," he said.

"And maybe you don't know what to do with those feelings at the moment either, so you lash out at other people."

"I'm sorry." He sounded defeated. I squeezed him close to me.

"You don't have to be sorry for how you feel," I said. "I just wish you'd try to talk to me about it, rather than bottling it up and then blowing up on Manny. You know I'll always love you, don't you?"

James just nodded; eyes closed. I held him close to me, rocking his body on my lap. Manny sat beside us and stroked James' shins and feet.

"I'm sorry if I annoyed you at your friends' house earlier," said Manny. "I didn't know why we were there or why it was special to you."

"Do you have something to say to Manny?" I whispered in his ear.

James nodded. I let go of him and he shuffled alongside Manny.

"I'm really sorry for being mean to you, Manny," said James. "I love you and you and Jake are my best friends in the world. Please don't hate me for what I said to you today and just now. It wasn't your fault at all, but I was horrible to you just because I felt bad."

Manny pulled James into a hug-cum-headlock. "I don't hate you, silly. I love you too, man!"

James smiled as Manny ruffled his hair. He pulled himself free of Manny's grip, and kissed him on the cheek. "Jake, would it break the rules if I offered to do something to make it up to Manny?"

I looked up at the bedroom door. Without saying a word, I closed it, and found Jen's lock beneath the handle. We were closed off to the outside world. The boys grinned.

"What do you want me to do, Manny?" James whispered excitedly.

"I don't know," said Manny. I could tell there was something on his mind, but he made a show of pretending to think for a little while. "Hmm..." he said, "James, do you think you could, you know... lick me?"

"You mean on your willy?" said James.

"No," said Manny. "I mean, you know... the other place. Downstairs."

James sucked in his breath, looked at me for reassurance. "Okay," he said, in a small voice. "How do I do it, Jake?"

"Both of you take your pants off," I said. "Manny, get on your hands and knees on the bed."

They stripped the last vestiges of their clothing and Manny crawled into place on the mattress. James looked at me for instruction.

"Okay James, crawl in behind Manny so you have your head up his bum." He did as he was told. Both boys' stiff willies twitched as James' breath played over Manny's anus. "Now get your face in there and give it a few swipes with your tongue."

James screwed up his face and steeled himself for his first step into the unknown. He must have been inhaling Manny's scent from the position he had crawled into, but I don't know if he realised that it would be a similar taste. He stuck his tongue out and tentatively made contact with Manny's airtight wrinkle. Manny yelped and bucked forward.

"James, how about if I do you at the same time, just until you have an idea of what you're doing? You can try to copy my movements." I leant into place behind James and spread his thin, angular cheeks.

"Thanks Jake," James breathed, and pushed back instinctively against my face for me to begin. I lapped at his crack, a few broad strokes at first before swirling around and beginning to add suction on his wrinkled pink ring. He tasted of burgers and sea salt. James let out some muffled coos, and Manny grunted too. I could only guess that James was trying to copy my actions on Manny in turn. I curled my tongue and tried to puncture James' sphincter, hoping he'd be encouraged to try the same on Manny. From the younger boy's little whimper, I assumed James had taken the hint.

"How's it tasting for you, James?" I asked, pulling off him. "Are you okay to keep going?"

He lifted his head. "It's kind of salty and meaty," he said. "Does it always taste like that?"

"Meaty for sure," I said. "I think the salty taste is from being in the sea earlier. You taste the same tonight too."

"Oh. Okay."

"Get back to work," I joked, playfully slapping at James' buttocks. I leaned across the bed and reached under Manny to fondle his stiffy. "He's doing a good job, eh?"

"Yeah," sighed Manny, "feels really good."

"Let's make him an ass prisoner," I said. "Teach him a lesson for being mean."

"Okay," giggled Manny. "What do I need to do?"

"Lie down flat on your front," I said. "Reach back and spread your cheeks."

Manny obeyed instantly. James followed suit and got in position lapping Manny's hole lying down.

"Alright," I said. "Now lift your legs up and cross them behind James' head. Keep him pressed into your bum so he can't get out."

Manny closed and crossed his calves at the back of James' head, pressing the older lad's head firmly into his crack.

"You can let go of your bum cheeks now," I said. "He's not getting out from between them. Is this okay for you, James?"

James giggled and nodded into Manny's cleft, giving a thumbs up to make the point. I could hear his slurping and sucking, his nose and mouth fully hidden between Manny's muscular buttocks.

"Uhh... that's good," said Manny, beginning to hump the mattress.

"Make yourself useful," I said, shuffling around to kneel in front of him, presenting my erect cock to his lips. Manny grunted and opened wide, letting me push in without any control. He swallowed, stifling a gag, stopped humping the bed a second to adjust his position so that his hands were on my thighs, policing the penetration. He was an inexperienced cocksucker, but enthusiastic and never shy to take the lead and assert himself in the situation. He held my hips in place for me to slip the couple of inches he was comfortable with in and out of his mouth as he resumed his dry humping of the bed, riding the sensations of James' tongue on his rosebud.

"How's your jaw, James?" I asked after a few minutes. Manny had started humping the bed quicker and drooling down his chin as he allowed me to facefuck him. I didn't want him to climax without James having a fair shot, as much as he deserved to be made to pleasure Manny for his earlier misbehaviour. James grunted and wobbled a held-out hand. I pulled my cock from Manny's mouth. "Okay Manny. Better let him go."

"I was nearly there!" he complained, swallowing down stringy cocksucking spit.

"Let him go," I repeated. Manny opened his legs and let James lift his head up. His face was shiny with saliva and Manny's sticky anal secretions.

"Want to rub willies?" he asked Manny.

"Yeah!" said Manny. "I'll go on top."

James lay down on the other side of the bed with his head on the pillow, legs spread out. Manny clambered over and lowered himself onto James, legs tight together, willy to willy.

"Pull your skins back," I said. "It'll feel way better."

James eyeballed Manny. He sniggered under his breath and reached down between them, skinning back James' stiffy and then his own, lowering himself down so they were pressed groin to groin before the skin could sneak back up on them.

James gave a little upward thrust. Manny grunted as he got going again, grinding himself into James' stiff sex. The smell of their shared arousal flooded the room, along with the waft of Manny's wet crack. My mouth was watering. I'd just had my best meal since Winter Solstice, but suddenly I was ravenous again for the flavour of my rampantly horny boys.

Manny had taken James' wrists in his hands, pinning him down as they ground their dicks together. They stared into each other's eyes, smirking, noses occasionally rubbing. Manny must have been able to smell his scent all over James' face.

"Kiss," I ordered. They wanted to but were unsure, as if waiting for permission. James craned his neck and pushed his lips onto Manny. Manny pushed back. Soon there was the slurping sound of open-mothed snogging as Manny ate his anal juices from James' tongue.

"Manny," I said, "pull James' legs up so they're over your shoulders. Then get on your knees to grind your willy against his."

He was annoyed at the interruption, but he did as he was told. Manny sat back into a kneel between James' spread legs and hoisted up James' knees to rest on his shoulders. He spread his knees for balance and dove back into position, grinding downwards into James' crotch as both boys' bottoms were presented fully behind them.

I wasted no time in swinging around, presented with the irresistible sight of two slimy pink balloon knots, little pouches dancing and tightening as they pressed together, and seemingly a single seam of flesh running from James' coccyx against the mattress unbroken up to Manny's anus, flaring with every thrust. I knelt in and took a deep breath, tickling the boys' balls with a cold breeze as they rubbed their bits together. I took one broad stroke with my tongue, all the way up from where the tail of James' back met the crevice between his skinny cheeks, right along the ridge of his masculinity, tonguing the boys' silky scrotums as they pressed together, following Manny's seam right up to his winking third eye. As well as sea salt and red meat, he tasted weirdly like kissing James, slathered so completely with the boy's saliva. My tongue had barely penetrated Manny when he came, whimpering girlishly into James' mouth, smashing his stouter cock and balls against his de facto big brother beneath him. As soon as Manny had slumped from his orgasm and released James from his pin, James flipped the two of them over, slapped his pelvis madly against Manny as the younger boy writhed in sensitive, post-orgasmic discomfort, and moaned his own climax into Manny's neck.

They rolled apart, each boy on his back. I stroked opposite inside thighs as they came down, all smiles, their reddened willies reducing and foreskins popping back into place.

"Should we do you now, Jake?" asked Manny, having recovered first given more time.

"Nah," I said. "Still probably shouldn't with other adults around."

"Thanks Manny, thanks Jake," said James, panting and resting a wrist over his forehead. "That was a really good one."

"Me too," said Manny. "Thanks guys."

"Once you've got your breath back, go and brush your teeth," I said, back in responsible adult mode. "Toothbrushes and paste are in one of the side pockets of the bags. There's a jug of water near the bathroom sink."

"Alright," said Manny, swinging his legs off the bed. "If you say so."

"And put some pants on before you go anywhere," I reminded them. Manny picked up James' dirty boxers.

"Doesn't matter if we swap," he said, and yanked them up his legs.

James hauled himself up and slipped Manny's boxers on. They trotted off to the bathroom with their toothbrushes without saying a word. I heard some giggling and gargling, and soon they were back, minty breath almost overriding the smell of their groins.

**

I'd wished the boys goodnight in case – as I suspected – they conked out before I returned from the darkness of the bathroom. I was splashing some water on my face to clear some of the boy-arse residue when Jen sauntered in wearing only a long t-shirt, silhouetted against the dancing half-light of the landing from our open bedroom door.

"I thought I heard you up," she said.

"Only just got the boys down," I said. "Wanted to brush my teeth and freshen up."

"You're good with those boys," she said, stepping close alongside me in the darkness. "They're a credit to you."

I shrugged. "I hope so. They're really good lads."

"You know," she said, taking my hand in hers, "it's not just Emyr who's missed having a male role model around this house."

My heart botched a cartwheel in the quicksand of my chest.

"Jen," I said, "you know... you know I'm not really attracted to women, don't you?"

She stopped for a second, then readjusted her tack and tried again. "Come on," she said. "What does it matter? You must get so lonely all the time too, spending all those days just with children running around under your feet. We're both adults. We can give each other something that they can't."

"No, Jen," I said, pulling my hand back from hers. "I'm sorry. I can't."

"Jake," she touched my elbow, ran her hand up and down my upper arm, "how long has it been for you as well? Just close your eyes; I can be whoever you want... You must need it too, surely? Unless..."

Gravity seemed to draw my heart into my throat, as if I was standing on my head. Jen had already begun to laugh off her scandalous passing thought when I leaned in to kiss her on the mouth. How bad could it be, to shag a woman to protect James and Manny – or most of all, if I was honest, myself? I imagined, in the split second as I felt our lips meet, that if she realised the truth and freaked out, man for man we could take them. I was bigger and stronger than Jen. Manny was bigger and stronger than Megan. If James could think with his head rather than his dick for a second, he was much bigger and stronger than Emyr. We could be back at the car and speeding off before they could do a thing. But it was easier, so much easier, to lean my head down and snog Jen. So much warmer and softer too. It occurred to me for an instant, as her arms began to cling to my shoulder blades and I wrapped mine around the small of her back, one hand wandering down to explore her bare buttocks over the lower seam of her t-shirt, that she would definitely be able to taste the boys on my mouth. Hints of saliva and arse juices and a trace of little boy faeces. But she said nothing. She just grunted and pushed her tongue harder and deeper into mine.

We snuck down to the beach, silent and determined, her wearing only her t-shirt and flip flops, me dressed more modestly in my shorts and t-shirt I'd put on this morning back in the North Pennines, County Durham – a lifetime ago. We kissed on the beach again; I ran my hands under her t-shirt to knead and fondle her breasts (how long ago had she weaned Emyr?) squeezing and pinching her nipples. She threw her t-shirt off. I felt the brush of soft armpit hair against the back of my hand as her body moved to free itself of the long cotton garment. She tore me free of my top, too. Suckled on one of my hairy nipples like a starving baby. Bit. Too hard. Soon she was on her knees, yanking me free of my remaining clothing. She took my cock in her mouth, sucked me from semi to hard. Her technique was jarringly poor, worse even than the unpractised Manny, catching me with her teeth. But she was drunk and hadn't tasted hard meat for many a long year. I'd let her off. A mouth is a mouth.

I never touched or tasted her. She didn't expect it of me. Before long she was on her hands and knees in the sand, groaning as I entered her furry cunt. Tight and wet. Abortive penetration of James aside, I hadn't been in a proper hole for a long, long time. I got to work. Waste not want not. But, truth be told, the biggest sexual organ in the body is always the brain. Even in the dark, with the rush of the Atlantic at high tide to cancel out your senses like a burst of static, you can't fuck yourself straight just because a desperate soul has your knob in a warm, wet embrace. The melty man cometh. I felt myself begin to wilt.

I tried to keep up the pace and rhythm, panicking inside. Somehow, irrationally, I couldn't shake the idea that my failure would cause her to twig I was messing around with the boys. I tried to fantasise. Jen was presenting herself to us as a vessel to repopulate the Earth. She and Megan nude on all fours in their living room, legs wide apart, lewdly thrusting their hips back at us. Manny rock hard, ready and willing to break his prepubescent duck on Meg, if not Jen too. The three of us – James as well – stood naked and saluting, ready to go. Then Emyr, almost translucent in his nakedness, stood to one side, looking back and forth before making an unspoken choice, crawling into place beside the rest of his family and reaching back to spread his cheeks. He presents himself fully to a delighted James, who can't contain himself from peeing with delight all over the little boy's back.

No use. Still semi by virtue of the physical stimulation, but no hornier, and now feeling like an incorrigible pervert. There was nothing else for it. I slapped Jen on a gooseflesh buttock, surely from the cold rather than whatever the hell I was doing, grabbed her hips by both hands, and blurted the most nonsensical, offensive shit I could muster from my sleep-deprived brain.

"You fucking love that, don't you, bitch! Getting nailed by a fucking shirtlifter, you filthy slut!"

I was at full beam again. I pulled her back by the hair, hearing her grunt and moan with pain, but feeling the walls squeezing my cock twitch and slicken.

"You'll take any hard prick that comes your way, won't you? You're just that desperate to get off, aren't you? Who was next if not me, hm? James? Manny?"

At that point – luckily, with hindsight, before I moved on to suggesting Emyr – I erupted inside of her, collapsing on her back and landing us both face-down into the sand. Coarse grains coated her slimy cunt, her inner thighs, and the shaft of my spent dick. I rolled off and lay on my back, staring at the moon. She reached a hand underneath and frigged herself, soon bringing herself off, fanny twitching and gaping, winking glimpses of reams of my pearly spunk in its hidden tunnel as she came. I don't know how to make a woman do that.

"Sorry about that," I said, reeking of embarrassment. "I couldn't keep it up unless I talked really dirty. I tried imagining other things but... well, you must have felt the difference."

"It's alright," she said, reaching out to take my hand. "I know I was asking a lot of you. Will you hold me for a while?"

I did as I was told; in the end, no different from Manny or James. Master and apprentice, master and servant. Plus ηa change, plus c'est la mκme chose.

"Hey," I said, coming to my senses a few minutes later as we lay spooning in the sand, listening to each other breathe, "I hope if I come back this time next year, there isn't another little Megan or Emyr in the family."

"I don't think I can," she said. "You have two babies without medicine or a hospital, it fucks up your insides."

"Hm." I must not have sounded convinced.

"I'll go and try to squirt it out in the sea. Like a saltwater douche."

I think that was meant to be funny, but I didn't respond. I got up and gathered my clothes from around us.

"I'm going to head back to bed," I said. "If the boys wake up, they'll wonder where I am."

"See you in the morning," she said. She'd been lain spread eagled on the sand as she watched me dress. Now she crossed her legs and draped an arm over her chest.

"See you in the morning," I replied, making off up the hill and not looking back.

I shed my clothes again on arriving back in the bedroom; closed the door. The candle had burned low and it cast eerily deep shadows over the sleeping boys, who'd abandoned each other's underwear to the carpet beside the bed. In the heat of the night they'd spread apart, avoiding the humid warmth of each other's bodies. James lay tight against the left-hand side of the bed, lain on his right facing the wall, the way I always did and how he'd gotten used to sleeping alongside me. Manny was sprawled out taking up the entire right-hand side of the bed, sheets drawn up between his legs, which pointed off to his left, half-scissored apart.

I thought, as I sat into the middle of the bed and leaned over Manny to blow out the candle, that maybe I should wash off my genitals before going to sleep, but I was too tired and sure the boys would never notice anyway; they barely had the sensory insight to work out when they needed a wash themselves, let alone other people. I blew out the light and tried to shove Manny away with my shoulder and elbow. It didn't work. He didn't even stir. So I tried a trick that always worked with him. I licked my middle finger and scratched at his exposed crevice, tickling all over his sensitive little bum hole. His hips danced. I kept it up. He whined in slumber-coated annoyance and rolled his body away. I relaxed into the vacant space and was out in seconds.

**

"I think it's Jake, you know."

"But why would he be making that smell?"

"It's his willy, I swear. Look, it's sticky and he has sand in his hairs."

I came around far too early, feeling Manny's finger poking at my pubes.

"What are you doing?" I whined.

"Jake, can you smell that?" Manny giggled.

"Where did you go last night?" asked James, his eyes immediately filling my vision as I forced my heavy eyelids apart. "You took forever to come back here. I fell asleep waiting."

"Why do you have sand on your winky?" grinned Manny, desperately trying not to laugh.

"Did you... did you have sex with Jen?" asked James, grinning wide-eyed into my face, somewhere between overwhelmed with amusement and overawed with disgust.

I sighed heavily with weary exasperation. "Yes, you little perverts, I had sex with Jen."

Both James and Manny burst into little fits of atonal laughter. Then stopped. Then laughed again. Manny looked like he was shaking with nervous excitement.

"I thought you didn't like girls?" said James, in a somewhat accusatory tone.

"I don't," I said. "I tried to tell her no, but it seemed like she might work out that I was doing stuff with you pair if I didn't do it with her."

"Was it good?" blurted Manny, before slapping his hand to his mouth and letting out a nervous giggle again.

"Definitely had better," I groaned with resignation. I was getting roasted by a pair of preteen virgins for having sex with a relatively attractive woman, whose children they themselves fancied.

"Is she... Is she going to have a baby?" said James, losing confidence halfway through the question and reverting to a whisper.

"Unlikely. And I really, really hope not. Women don't just get pregnant at the drop of a hat. I need to give you pair the proper birds and bees lecture some time soon. Especially now Manny is getting urges."

"Shut up!" Manny grumbled, unhappy about having the tables turned on him. James shrieked with laughter.

"You too, laughing boy. Seem to remember you were pretty desperate to get in Emyr's bed last night."

"Yeah," said James, falling quiet. "I am really sorry about that. I promise."

"That's okay mate," I said, squeezing his bunched-up knee as he kneeled next to me. "We're only twelve once."

James made a satisfied noise. Manny cut in again, poking at my dick with his index finger. "So... is that what girls smell like, then?"

I pushed his arm away. "Pretty much." He sniffed his finger.

"Eee!" squeaked James.

"Give it a lick. I dare you." I had meant Manny, sat as he was with his finger in front of his face, but James got the wrong end of the stick. He leant tentatively over my crotch and ran the tip of his tongue over my soft penis.

"Yeuch!" he spat. "Disgusting!"

"Jesus, James!" I gasped. "I didn't mean you!"

Manny guffawed. "James just tasted fanny juice!"

"Eugh! It's horrible!" said James, melodramatically wiping his tongue with his hand.

"Go on," I nodded at Manny. "You may as well have a turn then."

"You want me to lick Jen's fanny taste off your willy?" he said, looking at me like I'd just asked whether he'd seen where my magic camel had gone.

I shrugged my shoulders and let my head rest on the pillow again. I was just closing my eyes in the hope of drifting back off to sleep, when I felt a slimy little tongue dancing over the head of my prick.

"What do you think, Manny?" I asked without bothering to move or open my eyes.

"Weird," he said. "Salty and fishy and kind of meaty, but bitter too."

"Do a good job cleaning up, there's a good lad. Imagine it's Megan if you want."

I lay back with a sense of total inertia, Manny – for some reason – obediently getting to work, making my aching cock stiffen reluctantly between his lips.

"Right, come on James," I said, feeling around unsighted for his thigh but ultimately making landfall on his hand. "I know what you like."

"What?" he said. I fumbled around for the tip of his willy and gave it a sharp tug. "Oh."

James got the message and straddled my head. I opened my eyes to a faceful of James' soft flesh, him staring down at me from somewhere in outer space. "You are going to suck it, Jake, aren't you?"

I opened wide and let him dump it all in at once. I bathed his balls, still a little salty from seawater – and probably hot summer night sleep sweat – and felt and smelt the tip of his boner poking stickily at my nose as it peeked from his foreskin. I sucked it in lazily, not doing much until he started pumping my mouth. Not doing much after either. My dick blew apathetically in Manny's face as he slurped lady tastes from the base of my shaft. I think Manny's surprised "Yuck!" made James come in my mouth soon after, his flavour getting slightly richer as his stiff nail spasmed on my tongue.

James hoisted his leg over my head to de-straddle himself, giving me a little glimpse and waft of his anus in the process. I could see Manny sat motionless, face strung with semen, not knowing what to do next.

"Lick him clean, James," I said, still sounding thoroughly bored. The boys looked at me like I'd taken complete leave of my senses since departing for the bathroom the night before. I mean, I assume Manny did, but he was hidden by a mask of jism wound around his cute little features like tinsel.

Unbelievably, James obeyed. Both boys were completely flaccid, unaroused, and yet one licked my semen from the other's face and swallowed, after the other had licked my penis clean of our female host's sex musk. At this point I was certain I was dreaming.

Manny sat perfectly still and allowed James to lick his face clean. Then, when he was done, James made Manny another offer. "You didn't get to cum yet this morning. Want to rub it in my bum crack for a bit?"

"Really?" said Manny, face still shiny with saliva and traces of semen. "Would you let me?"

James nodded and lay face down, right next to me, legs apart. "Jump on," he giggled, leaning up to wiggle his bum in the air. Manny lowered himself onto James, putting all his weight on the other boy's buttocks, slotting his floppy willy into James' groove. Within seconds he was thrusting into James like an engine piston. He stopped for a moment to lift up slightly – he'd stiffened facing downwards and needed to let it spring up to be comfortable – then got back about his business. James turned his head and smiled at me, completely nonplussed at Manny bouncing up and down on him frantically. I leaned my forehead into his and we stared contentedly into each other's blue eyes. With a squeak and a whimper, Manny was done.

**

Jen acted like nothing had happened as she served up breakfast that morning. I didn't have the heart to tell her I don't like eggs. Manny and James seemed to appreciate the treat. They were chattering away with Meg and Emyr as if they'd never stopped to go to bed the night before.

I collected our stuff to load it into the car. The kids followed me down to spend a morning in the sea. Jen stayed in the house but gifted us a CD with a little note before we left. It was the Welsh-language version of The Fall.

James and Manny were reluctant to skinny dip with Megan and Emyr around. Don't want to show your little willies in front of a girl? I teased them until they both tried to climb on me, and Manny's knee went for my balls. Luckily, he wasn't quite tall enough, so it just had the effect of nearly flipping him backwards. I let them change into each other's dirty boxers from the night before to use as swim trunks, the back seat of the car their semi-private changing room.

I lay on the sand uselessly, soaking in the sun as the heat of the morning built up over me like a layer of plaster. At some point Jen came down and lay next to me, sprawled out spread-eagled just the same.

"Hey," I said.

"Hey," she said.

We both laughed, rolling around in the sand until our batteries ran flat and I fell asleep on my front.

I woke up with sand-caked feet on either side of my head, drips raining down on the back of my head. I rolled over to see James standing over me, Manny's soaked pants clinging to the shape of his immature genitals. "I'm hungry," he said. "I think it's lunchtime. Your ears are burnt."

"I noticed," I said. "Go and get Muriel out of the car. You, me, and Manny can share her. Where's he gone?"

"He went for a poo in the bushes. Meg needed a wee, so she followed him."

"He'd better have worked out how to wipe himself with a leaf or something," I said. "If he comes over here complaining about his shitty arse, he can ride home wearing a nappy."

"You're really weird today, Jake," said James, still dripping over my head from sodden underpants. "I don't think you should have sex again."

Manny seemed to have handled himself on his return from `the bushes'. We sat on the beach and ate our lunch. Nobody had much to say.

"Boys," I said as we scraped the last of our food from the plastic boxes, "I think it's probably time we started heading home. Do you want to say your goodbyes to Meg and Emyr?"

They groaned but got on with bidding goodbye to new friends. They were too lethargic to protest too much, or even to be particularly upset. James held Emyr in a close hug and rocked him back and forth. Megan and Manny shared a tentative, nervous hug. Then they all swapped places.

"Thanks for having us," I said to Jen as I stood at the door of the car, keys in hand.

"No bother," said Jen. "Thank you for coming."

As I sat in the car, I shuddered at the double meaning. I waited for James and Manny to get in.

"Jake," said James, in the I'm going to ask you to do something for me tone of voice, "can you show me how to move the chair forward? I'm too tired to sit in the front on the way back."

"Just pull the lever at the side, near the bottom," I said. "It'll move itself, then Manny can push it back when he gets in."

"Actually, Jake," said Manny, "I think I want to get in the back too. I'm feeling really sleepy today."

I closed my eyes and rested my head on the centre of the wheel, trying not to sound the horn.

"Alright," I said. "Get in and click the seat back on yourselves. Move the bags to the front seat if you need to."

"Okay!"

There was shuffling. The car rocked. Click! A bag landed on the front seat. Then another, teetering and dropping into the footwell. I had to lean over and pull the passenger door shut, so I grabbed the shades again from the glove box and put them on. I turned and looked at the two happy boys behind me. Lovers on the backseat. They smiled contentedly at me, eyelids darkened and heavy, arms flopped down by their sides. Completely frazzled. They both had their seatbelts on.

"You're really good lads," I told them. "Did you know that?"

They just flicked their smiles a little wider for a few moments in response.

"Good time?" I asked.

"Great time," said James.

"The best time," said Manny.

"Well, I guess it wasn't bad," I said, and turned to start the car.

Jen, Megan and Emyr stood beside the road to wave us off. As I waved from the open window and pulled the car away up the hill, the boys windmilling madly in the back seat, I kicked myself internally for not bringing anything to take a picture with. Maybe next year, I thought.