Timmy and the Travellers – Chapter 9

We already know that Timmy would like Christy to be able to come and stay overnight, and he's got what can only be called a drastic plan to try to overcome his mother's probable objections. But before he puts it into force it's back to Danny's sex education class...

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After school Timmy and Wood made their way to the garage and found the two younger travellers waiting for them. Without waiting to be told they got undressed and sat in their seats as they had the previous evening.

"Quick test," said Danny. "Wrong answers will get you the belt. Smallboy - what's the stuff in a man's balls called?"

"Spunk," answered Wood.

"Good. Tiny - how long does a baby grow inside its mother?"

"Oh, crumbs..." Timmy racked his memory. "Erm... is it nine months?"

"Correct. Thought you were going to get whipped there... okay, that proves you were both listening last night. Now, did you do your homework?"

They both nodded, rather shamefacedly: they didn't really want to talk about it.

"Good. Was it nice?"

"Spose so," muttered Wood.

"You don't sound very sure. Maybe we'd better check. Stand up, both of you."

They stood up, slowly.

"Okay, Tiny Cock, show us exactly what you did to him."

"Oh, look, do we have to?" asked Wood. "I mean, it's a bit... well, personal."

"Slaves don't have anything personal," Danny told him. "That's why you don't have any clothes when you're here: everything you have belongs to us. Get on with it, Tiny."

So Timmy stood in front of Wood and began to caress his penis as he had done that morning, and although it took a while eventually it had the same result: Wood got an erection. Once it started it got very hard very quickly, and of course playing with it soon made Timmy go hard as well.

"Well, do it to him too, then," said Danny. "This isn't one way only, you know."

So Wood had to start stroking Timmy as well. For a good five minutes they stood there fondling each other's genitals, by the end of which they were both extremely stiff, and had almost forgotten that the travellers were watching them. Danny brought them back to earth.

"Okay, let go and let's see what you've got, then," he ordered.

They let go of each other and the travellers inspected their erections.

"Still pretty tiny, Tiny," commented Danny. "Yours is a bit longer now, though, Wood, but it's still pretty thin. I don't think any girl would do more than laugh at either of you. We'll have to find a way to make you both grow a bit...I know! We'll have to make sure you both get stiff a lot more often, because the more often it goes hard, the bigger it'll get. So from now on we'll have to make sure you both get stiff and stay stiff for most of the time you're here. That won't be enough on its own, though...you'll have to do it for each other, like you did today, and you'll have to do it whenever you can at school, but at least once a week and for at least ten minutes a day."

"Oh, come on!" protested Wood.

"No, I'm serious. I'm ordering you to do it, understand? And tonight I'll teach you another way to make yourselves hard, or rather to keep yourselves hard without actually having to touch each other's cocks all the time - though you can do that as well if you want. I want you to stand facing each other... like that... and now to move forward until you're touching each other... yes, good...

"And now you have to put your arms round each other and hug... okay, this isn't going to work like that because you're too short, Tiny - or maybe he's too tall. Either way we need to get you on the same level..."

"I've got an idea," said Tom. "Back in a minute." He disappeared out the door.

"Try this," suggested Danny. "Smallboy, you sit on the chair, and then Tiny, you sit on his lap facing him... yes, that looks pretty good. Now cuddle each other."

"This feels wrong," said Wood.

"It won't once you've done it for a bit," Danny assured him.

Wood put his arms round Timmy awkwardly, and Timmy did the same.

"Now just pretend you really, really like each other, and let's say that Timmy's unhappy and you want to make him feel better. Pretend I'm not here."

That, of course, was impossible, but they did their best, and were just about starting to relax when Danny said, "I'm not believing you yet. Try this."

He guided Timmy's head, moving it until Timmy's left cheek was pressed against Wood's right.

"That looks better," said Danny. "Okay, Wood, stroke his hair... yes, now you're getting it."

This did feel quite nice, Timmy admitted to himself, though it felt nowhere near as good as being in the same sort of position with Christy. Still, it was nice enough. He nuzzled contentedly against Wood's cheek and closed his eyes.

They stayed like that for quite some time. Danny kept quiet, just watching them, and Timmy and Wood had both managed to relax completely. Timmy heard the garage door open, but he assumed it was just Tom coming back until he heard Michael's voice say, "Aah. Don't they look sweet?"

He sat up and let go of Wood, and saw Michael, Tom... and Christy. He felt deeply ashamed when he saw the look on Christy's face, and stood up quickly, aware that he was blushing.

"I... that is, we... we were..."

"We could see what you were doing," said Michael. "Dirty little boys!"

"No... I mean, no, we... we weren't..."

"Yes, you were. Now shut up, both of you."

Tom had brought back four old planks, or rather one old plank that had been broken into four bits. He put these on the floor, one on top of the other, and then made Timmy stand on them, and when Wood was pushed into position facing him the height difference had been reduced to a couple of inches.

"You'd better take these with you when you go tonight," Danny told Wood. "Stick them in the bushes as you go through the school, or just leave them somewhere you can get them tomorrow. When you two do the exercises I showed you Tiny can stand on the planks - though sitting down like that looked okay, too."

"Okay, you can go," said Danny. "Tomorrow we'll go hunting again - I want a good excuse to whip your bums."

They got dressed, and Wood picked up the planks and left. Timmy finished tying his shoelaces - they always seemed to end up in a knot when he took them off in a hurry - picked up his bag and followed him out. He was a little surprised when Christy stepped out right behind him.

"Won't they want to know where you're going?" he asked.

"They know - at least, they know I'm helping you make it easier for you to spend more time with us," Christy told him.

"Oh. Okay."

They walked up the lane, but stopped before they reached the main road. They were out of sight of any of the houses here, and there was a grass bank quite like the one by the bus stop. Timmy put down his bag.

"Look, are you sure you want to do this?" asked Christy.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"It's just... I don't want to hurt you."

"You must! I really want this to work, Christy! I keep thinking about how good it'll be if we can spend a night together... I know it's going to hurt, but it'll be more than worth it."

"Sure?"

Timmy nodded.

Christy looked around to make sure there was nobody about, and then grabbed Timmy by the front of his blazer, swung him round and threw him onto the grass. He kicked him hard on the left thigh and then again on his buttocks as he rolled over, then grabbed his blazer once more and dragged him a little way up the bank.

"Enough?" he asked.

"Not yet," said Timmy, trying not to cry. "Y... you'd better punch me a few times."

Christy pulled him upright and punched him as hard as he could, first in the ribs, then on the upper arm, and finally in the stomach. Timmy collapsed to the ground and rolled about in obvious agony.

"That's enough," said Christy, firmly.

"A...are you... s...s...sure?"

"More than enough. Come on, let's see the damage."

Timmy looked a mess: there were grass stains on his clothes, his hair was messed up, there were tears on his face, and he could hardly walk because of the kick to his leg. Christy more or less carried him to the bus stop, sitting him down on the bank when he got there and dropping his bag next to him.

When the bus came he helped him on board, paid his own fare and sat down next to him, and at the end of the journey he helped him off the bus and acted as a human crutch until they reached Timmy's house. Once inside he put him down by the telephone and waited while Timmy called his mum, told her he'd been beaten up and asked if she could get home a bit earlier than usual, and then he carried him up the stairs, helped him to undress, carried him into the bathroom, ran a bath and put him in it, and then helped him to wash himself - Timmy's right arm was still hurting almost as much as his left leg.

Timmy soaked for a bit, and then Christy dried him, carried him back to the bedroom and helped him into his pyjamas. Then Timmy got into bed while Christy sat beside the bed, holding his hand.

A couple of minutes later they heard the front door open.

"Up here, mum!" Timmy called.

His mother ran up the stairs and into his bedroom, stopping short at the sight of Christy. This was the moment the boys had not really been able to plan for, and they just had to hope that Timmy's mum's reaction would be as they had hoped.

"Who are you?" she opened.

"He's... he helped me," said Timmy.

"What happened?"

"I was waiting at the bus stop in Shortham, and two bigger boys got off a bus and... they asked me for money. I said I hadn't got any, so they started hitting me... I thought they were going to kill me, but then Christy came..."

"I was on my way back from the shop," said Christy, suddenly very aware of his broad Irish accent. "We're camped just back from that bus stop - by the water tower, you know? Anyway, I saw these two boys picking on a smaller one, only they weren't just picking on him, they were giving him a right good thumping... I thought that was right out of order, so I thumped the bigger one before he knew I was there and then bashed the other one, too. They weren't expecting it, and then I showed them my knife - we normally carry them - and they ran.

"Timmy looked in a bad way, though. I asked if I should call an ambulance, but he said he would be okay if he could get home. I didn't think he could make it on his own because his leg's not too good, so I thought I'd better come with him... so here we are."

"When we got here he helped me have a bath and get into bed," said Timmy, "and he's been here since."

"I didn't want to go until you got here," said Christy. "I think he's all right apart from bruises, but I didn't want to leave him on his own. But now you're here I'd better get back. Timmy, I'll keep an eye on the bus stop for a few days, or I'll get one of my friends to do it for me if I can't. I don't think they'll bother you again, but it won't do any harm to watch in case."

He stood up, squeezed Timmy's hand once more and headed for the stairs. Timmy's mum followed him down. It was obvious that she didn't know what to say: Christy could almost read the conflict between 'He's a traveller, they're all thieves' and 'he helped my son' raging through her head, so he said nothing.

"Thank you," she said, when they reached the front door. She opened her handbag. "Let me give you something..."

Christy managed to look outraged. "I don't want money for doing what's right," he said, firmly. "He was in trouble and I was there, that's all there is to it. Good night, Mrs Collier."

He let himself out and walked away.

Mrs Collier went back upstairs.

"Let's see what happened, then," she said, so Timmy showed her the various bits of him that were starting to bruise up.

"Christy had to more or less carry me home," he said. "I can't really walk on my left leg at the moment."

"I'm taking you to hospital," she said. "There might be something broken."

"There isn't. Look, I can move everything. It's just sore, that's all. Now that I've had a bath and can rest I'll probably be fine in the morning."

"Well.. all right, then but if anything starts to hurt you tell me straight away. I can't understand why a gipsy boy should bother helping you, that's all. Unless... did he leave you on your own at all after you got here?"

"No. He carried me upstairs, helped me undress, ran the bath while I was in the bathroom, helped me wash, carried me back in here and helped me put my pyjamas on, and then he stayed with me until you got here. Don't worry, he hasn't stolen anything. He was really nice and kind, and he was really worried about me. I like him, mum."

"He's still a gipsy, Timmy. They're not like us."

"No, a lot of kids at my school would just have walked past without trying to help me. He didn't."

"Well, it doesn't matter. I think you'd better stay at home tomorrow - you'll probably feel better if you rest it over the weekend. I'll call the office and tell them I need a day off tomorrow."

The next day was Friday, so all of the juniors gathered at the pavilion at break except for Carlington, who went to collect Truscott from Wood as soon as break started. The juniors had all told each other what they had done to Truscott during their tours of duty, and today Carlington intended to put him through every part of it again. They took him up to the back room and ordered him to undress, which he did.

Carlington picked up Truscott's underpants and examined them.

"I see you've managed not to pee in your pants so far today," he commented. "Perhaps we should add checking your underwear to our list of things to do - we wouldn't want you to get into dirty habits, would we? And, talking of being dirty, perhaps we should check the other side, too. Bend over the table and spread your legs - we need to check your bum to see if you've learned how to wipe yourself properly."

"No chance! I'm not showing you lot my arse! Come on, Carlington, I never did that to any of you, did I?"

"Afraid we'll find some smears?" mocked Carlington.

"No! It's just... that's private. It's bad enough having to pee in front of you, but fair enough, I made you do that so you can get me back for it. But I'm not showing my bum-hole to a bunch of little kids."

"Okay," said Carlington, surprising everyone. "If you think that's going too far, you'd better get dressed."

Some of the others protested, but Carlington shut them up. Truscott stared at him.

"Can I really get dressed?" he asked.

"If you want."

So he did, but Carlington stopped him from putting his tie on and instead used it to tie his hands behind his back.

"Okay, Sim, where's this cupboard you were telling us about?" he asked.

"Upthtairs," Lewis told him.

They marched Truscott up the stairs and into the left-hand changing room, opened the cupboard and pushed him into it.

"See you later," said Carlington, closing and bolting the door.

He took the others back down to the rear changing room, and they spent the rest of the break chatting about this and that. A couple of minutes before the bell was due to go they went and released Truscott, but they didn't untie his hands. Instead they marched him back to the main school building and handed him over to Wood.

"We haven't let him pee this break," Carlington told him. "Make sure he doesn't manage to go between now and lunchtime, please. Oh, and you'd better not untie his hands until the lesson starts - we wouldn't went him trying to sneak off to the loo before the teacher arrives, would we?"

At lunchtime Wood delivered Truscott back exactly as he had received him, his hands bound behind his back, and the juniors marched him back to the pavilion. Truscott expected to be taken to the usual room and undressed, but instead they took him straight back up to the top room and locked him in the cupboard again.

"Wait!" he called as the door was closing. "Look, I'm sorry about earlier - I don't mind you examining me, honest!"

"Too late," Carlington told him and bolted the door.

They left him there, not only during the lunch break, but also through the following half-hour while they were in the dining hall eating lunch. They found Wood and told him what they were doing, and Wood told the teachers that Truscott wasn't feeling hungry and so wouldn't be coming in for lunch. As soon as they had finished eating they ran back to the pavilion to see if Truscott's bladder had failed, but they found that, although he was plainly desperate to go, his trousers were still dry. He begged and begged them to let him pee before he had to go in for afternoon classes, but they refused.

"You've got to learn that when we tell you to do something you have to do it," Carlington told him. "It doesn't matter whether you think it's fair or not, or if you think it's too dirty, or whatever: you do it, straight away and without arguing, like you swore to do. If you don't, you get punished."

"Yes, okay, punish me, but not like this - please?"

"We haven't got time now. Hard luck."

They gave him back to Wood with his hands still bound, and Wood took him into the first class of the afternoon. He lasted twenty minutes, and then his bladder gave way and he wet himself copiously. Because he was sitting down it soaked not only the front of his trousers, but the seat as well, and he had to endure ten minutes of utter misery before the lesson ended. Wood was sitting next to him, and as soon as the teacher had left the room he announced loudly, "Oh, God, Truscott's done it again!", dragging him to his feet so that the whole class could see the state of his clothes.

They shrieked with laughter, and Wood forced him to endure it for a minute or so before letting him go, telling him to run and change and not to be late for the next lesson. He came back in his gym shorts once more, and had to endure the taunts of his classmates for the rest of the afternoon.

After school Wood went to the garage. Only Christy and Tom were there: Michael and Danny had gone out somewhere with their father. Wood explained that Timmy hadn't been in school all day, so they hadn't been able to do their sex education homework. Christy said that in that case he was going to visit Timmy to see if he was okay, but Tom said that he wanted to stay and have some fun with Wood, so Christy left them to it.

He walked, first to the village shop and then to the bus stop, where he caught the first bus that came along, getting to Timmy's house at about twenty-five to five. He rang the doorbell and Timmy's mother answered.

"Hello, Mrs Collier," he said. "I've come to see how Timmy is. May I come in?"

"Oh. Err... yes, of course. He's in the back room."

Christy found Timmy in his pyjamas watching television.

"Hi, Timmy," he said, aware that Timmy's mother was behind him. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better, thanks. My leg still hurts a bit but I can walk okay now, and everything else is fine except for some bruises."

"Oh, good. Look... I bought you this."

He handed over a Get Well Soon card he had bought in the village shop. It was about the cheapest one they had, but Christy wasn't exactly rolling in money.

"Wow, thanks! Look, Mum, he's brought me a card!"

"That's nice, dear."

"Can you stay for a little bit?" Timmy asked.

"Yes, okay, thanks, I'd like that," said Christy, before Timmy's mum could say no. He sat on the settee next to Timmy and started to watch television. Mrs Collier hesitated, and then said, "Timmy, I need to go to the shop. Will you be all right if I leave you for fifteen minutes?"

"Of course. Christy's here in case anything happens."

"Right. I won't be long."

Christy went to the window and watched Timmy's mum walk away.

"Okay, she's gone," he said. "Are you really okay? I was a bit worried about the leg - I didn't mean to kick you quite so hard."

"No, it's fine - I've been putting it on a bit to make sure I got a day off school. But I'm going to have some brilliant bruises - look."

He stood up and removed his pyjamas, and Christy looked at the blossoming bruises on his arm, chest, buttock and thigh.

"Did I really do all that?" he said. "Sorry, Timmy."

He went and hugged him and Timmy enthusiastically hugged him back.

"At least I didn't bruise this," said Christy, running a finger against Timmy's little penis.

"If you had I'd have made you kiss it better," said Timmy.

"No chance. But we can probably make Truscott kiss it better if you like."

"No, thanks, that would make it worse. But... I wouldn't mind kissing yours better."

"We'd better not," said Christy. "It would be a bit hard to explain if your mum came back and found you sucking me. I don't think telling her you were just showing your gratitude would really convince her, somehow. You'd better get dressed again."

So Timmy put his pyjamas back on, and when his mum came home she found them curled up on the settee together watching Crackerjack. She brought them both a Coke and went and made some sandwiches for them, and Christy was infallibly polite throughout. After a bit he asked if he could use the toilet, and Mrs Collier, after a momentary hesitation while she calculated if there were any valuables on the way, told him where it was, even though he already knew.

As soon as he had gone Timmy asked, "Mum, would it be all right if I asked Christy to come over to play at the weekend?"

"Timmy, I'm not sure if..."

"Please, mum? I really like him - and he likes me, too - he bought me a card and came all the way over here to see if I was okay, and I don't think he's really got very much money to spend on bus fares and cards, so he must like me, don't you think?"

"Timmy, it's just..."

"Look, I know you think travellers are different and all that, but I don't think it matters where he lives. He's nice. Please?"

"Well... "

"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?"

"Well... all right, then."

"Wow! Thanks, mum!"

As soon as Christy came back Timmy asked, "Would you like to come over and play tomorrow?"

"Yes, that'd be fun - as long as you're okay. I don't want you to hurt that leg any more."

"It'll be fine - we don't have to run about too much, do we?"

"Then I'd really like that. Thanks, Timmy."

"Come for lunch," said Timmy's mum. "Can you get here for one o'clock?"

"I expect so. Thanks, Mrs Collier."

While Christy was attempting to charm Timmy's mum, Tom was having fun with Wood. As soon as Wood was naked he asked him two or three questions about sex, all of which Wood got right, and then said that he ought to see if he had remembered what he had been taught the previous evening.

"You'll have to pretend that I'm Timmy," he said, starting to undress. "Obviously my cock's about ten times bigger than his, but otherwise we're about the same size. Sit on the chair and we'll see if you remembered how to cuddle."

Embarrassed, Wood sat down and Tom, now naked, came and sat on his lap facing him. He put his arms round the older boy and nuzzled against him.

"Come on, then, give me a nice cuddle," he said. "Pretend you really, really fancy me."

Awkwardly Wood put his arms round the smaller boy, and Tom snuggled against him. Then he burrowed a hand between them and started to play with Wood's limp penis. Wood jerked in shock and let go of him.

"Don't stop," said Tom. "You cuddle nicely."

Obediently Wood put his hands round him again, and Tom smiled at him and started to tug on his penis once more. Soon Wood was fully erect.

"That's better," said Tom, standing up to admire his handiwork. "Stand up - yes, you look nicer like that."

He stepped in close and started to play with it, stroking and tickling, and gradually Wood relaxed, thinking that at least it was just the two of them, so nobody at school would find out about it. He realised that he liked what Tom was doing: it made his penis feel warm and excited. Without really intending to do so he reached down and took hold of Tom's, which was every bit as hard as his own, and started to stroke it gently.

"That's brilliant," said Tom, dreamily. "Keep going like that."

For a good ten minutes they caressed each other, and Wood was quite disappointed when Tom let go of him and stepped back. But he was only changing position: he came and stood behind Wood, pressing his body up against him, and then he reached round Wood's body and started to caress his penis once more. If anything this felt even nicer, so he reached down behind himself and started to squeeze Tom's erection again.

"Tell the truth - you like doing this, don't you?" asked Tom.

"Well... yes. Same as you do," said Wood, defiantly.

Tom didn't deny it.

"Don't forget to keep telling the truth," he said. "If I said that if you want to you can get dressed and go home now, or you can stay for a bit longer, what would you do?"

"I'd stay," said Wood, in a low voice.

Tom laughed. "God, you're so dirty!" he exclaimed. "You like playing with cocks!"

"So do you," accused Wood.

"You even admit it. 'So do you'," mocked Tom, but he didn't stop playing with Wood's erection. "Anyway... would you like me to fuck you?"

"No!" cried Wood.

"Are you sure? If we did that, we'd be able to go on doing stuff like this for as long as we wanted, not just until the end of August."

"As long as you wanted, you mean."

"True. But you'd want to as well, I can tell."

"Yes, but... I don't want to be a girl," said Wood. "Not even a part-girl."

"If we didn't tell anyone, nobody would ever find out."

"Yes, but... no, Tom, don't - please?"

"Okay. It's up to you - like we told you before, we won't make you do that if you don't want. Okay, would you like to suck me?"

"Not really. But... I'll do it if you want me to."

"Of course you will, you're a slave, stupid! I just want to know if you'd volunteer."

Wood hesitated. He'd found that he didn't really mind doing it, even though it was a pretty shameful thing to do... still, if he refused unless ordered, at least he could hang on to his self-respect for a bit longer.

"No," he said, eventually. "I... I don't want you to think I'm queer, Tom."

"I already know you're queer, stupid. I haven't told anyone, though, and I won't, either."

Tom came round in front of him once more and looked up at him.

"You're all confused, aren't you?" he said. "Part of you thinks you shouldn't be doing dirty stuff like this, especially with a shitty little gippo, but another part of you likes it and wants to do more. You're funny - your name's Stephen, isn't it? You're funny, Stephen. Okay, go and get dressed."

Tom enjoyed the look of disappointment on Wood's face. He sat down, still naked, and watched the older boy get dressed, and then he quickly pulled on his own clothes.

"Come on," he said. "I want you to show me where you live."

They walked up the lane and took the footpath towards the school.

"I don't think that, you know," said Wood.

"Don't think what?"

"I don't think you're a shitty little gippo."

"Yes, you do, you're just scared to say so. I heard what you said when you first saw us."

"That was then."

"Nothing's changed - I bet you still hate us."

"No, I don't! I mean... if I hated you, I could never have done... what we were doing back there."

"Perhaps not. So you don't hate me, then?"

"No!"

"So what do you think about me?"

"Well... I suppose I quite like you, really."

"Why? Because I helped show you what a baby you are for not knowing anything about sex?"

"No... well... it's more... look, you could do anything you want to me, you know that. You could whip me for fun, you could have made me suck on it for you... and you could... well, you know, put it in me if you wanted, whatever I said. But you haven't done any of that."

"Do you think I'm good-looking?"

"No... I mean, well... yes, but... look, you're not supposed to rate boys like that!"

"Poor Stephen!" mocked Tom, enjoying himself hugely. "You're all messed up!"

They walked past the school and on as far as Wood's house.

"That's where I live," he said, pointing from across the road.

"Gosh, it's big, isn't it? Could I come in?"

"Well... yes, okay - my mum and my sister always go shopping on Friday evening, and at the moment my dad goes with them... okay, you can come and see my room, but I haven't really got much to show you."

He took Tom up to his bedroom, and Tom stood and gaped.

"'Haven't got much to show me'?" he said. "Is all this stuff yours?"

"Well... yes, but it's not all that much..."

Tom looked at his bookcase, his shelves of model tanks, the football posters (of Liverpool) on the walls, the drawers of clothes - in much the same way as Christy had been overawed by Timmy's room the first time he had seen it. Tom had never been in a private house before, and he was amazed. He opened the wardrobe and looked at all the clothes in it, and then turned to face Wood.

"Fucking hell, Stephen," he said, "if you think this is not much, you want to see what I've got."

Wood felt embarrassed. He had no idea of how travellers lived: he'd seen gipsies with solid gold bracelets and flash cars, and although there was no sign of anything of that sort with these travellers he didn't really know what sort of standard of living they had.

"In fact... here's a challenge," Tom went on. "In your school holidays I want you to come and stay with me for two or three days so you can see what things are like where I live. Or are you chicken?"

"No, I'll do it," said Wood, "if I can square it with my mum and dad, that is. If that's what you want."

"It is. It's not an order, mind, so it's up to you."

"If you want me to, I'll do it," Wood said again.

"Good. How long have we got before your family gets back?"

"At least half an hour, probably quite a bit more."

"Good. Get undressed, then, and we'll see what it's like snogging each other when it's nice and warm."

Wood took off his school clothes and hung them up while Tom just threw his clothes on the floor, and for the next twenty minutes they lay on the bed feeling each other up and cuddling. Then Tom said he ought to go to make sure he was out of the way before Wood's family got back, so he got up, put his clothes on and left.

Wood lay naked on his bed feeling thoroughly confused. He didn't think there was anything wrong with him: he'd never really thought about girls, though there was a pretty girl a year or so older than him who lived across the road, and he liked seeing her in the mornings - it sort of brightened his day. He'd certainly never thought about whether or not other boys were good looking, and until a day or so ago he'd have said that he was not remotely interested in seeing other boys undressed, far less actually touching them... well, in that way. But undressing with Collier at school had been sort of interesting, and as for what he'd been doing this evening... he'd enjoyed it, he admitted to himself: he'd loved the feeling of Tom's fingers as they explored his private places, and he'd enjoyed the soft velvety feel of the skin on Tom's thingy, and the solidity of what lay beneath that skin...

What scared him most was the thought that if Tom had ordered him to suck, he'd have done it without really minding at all. And, worse, if Tom had really wanted to fuck him, he thought he might even have liked that, too, even though he knew that this would make him a complete queer. He really wished he had someone he could talk to about it.

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Looks like Timmy isn't the only one who's starting to look at the travellers – well, one of them, anyway – in a whole new way. And Tom is definitely enjoying teasing Wood, but is there more to it than mere teasing? You'll have to wait and see...

You know the mail address by now – gothmog@nyms.net. It still works, you know.