Date: Tue, 25 Mar 2014 19:19:52 +1100
From: Robert A. Armstrong <rob.aa@hotmail.com>
Subject: Schoolie - Chapter 27

If you are new to this story, may I suggest that you read from the
beginning, to understand the plot and the characters.

If you are a regular, thank you for your continued interest!

Warning: If relationships between boys and men is not your scene, or if
you're under age, or if it is not legal for you to be reading this, then
please leave, now, before somebody finds out!

Otherwise, enjoy!



From Chapter 26

I step, naked, through the doorway and face him. He sees me and stops
moving. He stands still. His eyes lock onto mine and he smiles. Not
seductively. Just happily.

As traces of shampoo glisten down his body, his flaccid manhood seems to
lengthen; then it begins to expand in girth and to move slowly away from
his body, continuing until it is standing well above horizontal.

How could I resist him?



Chapter 27

Will and I are teased downstairs, drawn by the aroma of fresh bacon. I see
two plates of it, with scrambled egg and sausages. Mum adds a scoop of
mushrooms in a hot creamy sauce to each. I love Mum's breakfasts. The
toaster pops. I love hot buttered toast.

"Nice shower, boys?" Mum asks, smirking. She knows!

"Really great, thanks, Aunty Susan." Will replies, although I can tell that
his focus at the moment is more on the food.

Mum adds dryly, "You know, saving water by showering together doesn't quite
add up if you're in there for more than twice as long."

"Hey. That's pretty funny, Mum," I reply. "but it's really hard to get out
of a hot shower."

At my double-entendre, both Will and Mum turn to look at me and we all
smirk and share the moment of understanding and acceptance.

I've never experienced the fun of sharing intimate conversation with either
of my parents previously. It feels comfortable.

"What are you boys planning on doing today?" she asks.

"We haven't discussed it yet." I reply. "Perhaps we could drive up to the
hinterland and take in the sights. Looking from up there, back to the
coast, is spectacular. The air is so clear today that the view will be as
good as it gets. Another thing that I want to do is to take Will to a
couple of the theme parks - perhaps Warner Bros Movie World and Sea
World. Although, come to think of it, he may not appreciate swimming with
dolphins. Perhaps Wet'N'Wild would be more fun for him."

"What's a `theme park'?" Will immediately asks. I have to keep reminding
myself that he has had a very sheltered, even deprived, upbringing without
exposure to TV or computers or even magazines. Then I think of Marty's
stack of mags. Hmm. Not entirely sheltered! I know, having met Will and
Marty and the twins, that I have taken so much for granted growing up.

Mum says, "Hard to explain, Will, but you'll need a full day to have fun at
two of them. What about tomorrow or Friday?"

Will looks up. I think we're going shopping tomorrow, Aunty Susan."

"Yes," I add. "we're going to check out a couple of the other malls." Will
turns his slightly worried gaze upon me. I add, "And, we're going to buy a
games console, and some games of course." Will relaxes.

I continue, "I think most of the kids at The Village have never played
computer-type games. I might even be able to find some educational ones -
maths, science, reading." I know that Will is anticipating seeing Jarrod
again. "OK. The hinterland it is, then. If we go soon, we can be back for
lunch about one o'clock."

"That will work," Mum adds. "Bill rang to say that he's coming about then,
and wants to talk to you both."

"What about?" Will and I are both curious.

"He didn't say. You know his style. He never fully tells you what's going
on."

"That's the truth!" I say to Will for his enlightenment, but in response to
Mum as well.

I message Simon that Will and I won't be at the beach this morning. He
sends back a frowny face. :(

"See you tomorrow then?" I send him a smiley face. :)

The drive takes about an hour, through outer suburbs, past some manicured
golf courses and the negotiation of a gradually-increasing gradient and
curves. Glimpses back to the coast as we zig-zag across the face of the
escarpment are picture-postcard stuff. I wonder whether the views capture
any of Will's artistic interest.

I park in the street of a little town that I know has some coffee shops
situated to take full advantage of the views. We walk. There are shops that
exploit the needs of tourists to purchase memorabilia. I find it ironic,
almost obscene, that sourvenirs of a place like this are probably produced
in some smoky little back-street third-world sweat shop.

Of more interest to me are the carvings from the multi-coloured and
oddly-grained local timbers in specialist shops displaying everything from
small letter openers to oversized dining tables.

One piece catches my eye. It's a key ring attached to a piece of polished
wood - light wood, almost yellow. But its primary feature is a slightly
off-centred knot in the wood. Almost red. Heart-shaped. Natural. One of a
kind. Nothing tacky or artificial about this! Even Will admires its
beauty. I buy it.

Outside the shop I give it to will as a token of my love for him, of our
mutual `magnetism'. I tell him that whatever fate has in store for us both,
or wherever we are, he can always carry my love with him, and hold
it. Tears form in his eyes and he throws his arms around me. "Thank you,
Tom," is all that he is able to choke out.

As we continue to walk and check out some curiosity shops we come across
one with ornate cuckoo clocks of all sizes including one much taller than
Will and me.

I have an urge to take and hold his hand. However I regret that there is
still some propriety to be observed here. I settle for putting an arm
across his shoulder, `buddy style'. That, at least, is quite socially
acceptable. It may not be so back in The Village, except for a couple of
pub patrons holding each other for stability against the forces of
insobriety and gravity.

I am not sure how either of us is going to cope, having to keep our hands
off each other. I'm even uncertain how much freedom Marty's `House Rule'
will afford us, and what his attitude to us will be as a `couple'. Maybe we
could include him in some limited threesome activities. Would that satisfy
him? After all, mucking around with me, the Schoolie, didn't seem to faze
him. But how would he feel about `doing stuff' with his young cousin?

"Hey!" Will says as he elbows me lightly in the ribs. "Where are you? Come
back to me!"

"Sorry. I seem to be doing quite a bit of day-dreaming lately."

"Where were you?"

"I was back in The Village, at Marty's, wondering whether he will accept
our relationship. And whether he'd be jealous, or feel left out, or want
`in' on our fun together. What do you think? He's your cousin. You've known
him all your life. How will he react?"

Will, in his inimitable style, doesn't even take time to ponder before he
responds, "He'll be OK. After all, he wasn't at all shocked at springing
Jake and me jacking each other off, or by the three of us jacking off at
the bath together."

Then my mouth precedes my brain, again! "And he was OK with him and me
using the `men's room' together, too."

"What?" Will says, stopping in his tracks. "You and Marty did something
together in the `men's room'? What? Through the holes? Together? At the
same time?"

"Oops!" I say, covering my mouth - as if that will stop the words that have
already escaped! "Too much information!" I feel myself blush. "It, umm, was
the weekend that you stayed at Jake's. It, umm, just sort of happened."

"Hey!" Will laughs. "I actually thought that the pair of you would have
done a bit more than that."

"Well, actually..." I begin, then realise how incriminating those to words
are.

"Haha. I thought so!"

"Nothing really serious," I jump in. "I'll tell you about it tonight." Then
I think of something that Will is sure to enjoy. "In fact, why don't we
re-enact the whole thing. I'll be me, and you can be Marty. I'll tell you
what to do, although I think you'll catch on pretty quickly."

"Hell, yeh!" he enthuses.

I cast my mind back to the oily naked wrestling and the fun that followed,
and I think, `Hell, yeh!' both for the memory of what happened with Marty
and the anticipation of what will occur with Will tonight.

We are fortunate to locate a café table with an unobstructed view. Will
finds it breathtaking. He has never been so high up and looking down upon
any landscape, except, maybe at Simon's where we were, maybe 40-50 metres
above the ground. Here, the height is over 1,000 metres.

I point out to Will the landmarks, and trace for him the route that we took
to get here. As we look easterly, the almost-noonday sun throws no
glare. Being nearly overhead, it acts like a spotlight showing the entire
landscape in detail. The slight westerly breeze overnight has taken any
particulate matter way out to see, giving crystal clarity to everything.

Will is spellbound. "What a picture!" he says in almost breathless
wonder. "It's a pity we don't have a camera because I won't remember all of
this."

In my mind I make a note to remedy that situation for Will.

I take out my smartphone and begin capturing the scenery, making sure to
include Will in the foreground of some. I show him how to use it and he
takes a couple of me.

"Would you like one together?" the waitress asks as she serves our mugs of
coffee with Danish pastries. They didn't have custard tarts.

"Yes, please," Will replies. I was expecting a `hell, yeh' but am pleased
at his more appropriate response. We have one taken sitting together over
coffee and another standing, with our arms around each other's shoulders.

"Thank you very much," I offer, and determine to give her a good tip as we
pay for the bill, even though tipping is not the usual custom in Australia.

Our time is spent chatting, generally, with Will comparing a lifetime in
The Village and a week in the Gold Coast. And we wonder on the quirk of
fate that brought us together and the extreme odds against us being
related, let alone being sired by the same man, years and hundreds of
kilometres apart. Kismet.

We talk about our `holiday flings' with the guys at the beach and the
seemingly-open acceptance of gay liaisons here. I express that we have been
charmed not to have been exposed or inadvertently detected, so far. I don't
want to push our luck too far and suggest, if we are going to do more with
these guys, that somebody should act as a lookout, a `cockatoo' in
Australian idiomatic language.

He agrees. As the oldest two, he and I have the most to lose for such
indulgences as we have enjoyed, especially with young Andy and Joey.

Will is looking forward to meeting up with Jarrod at the Games Shop and
also to seeing Sam again at the motel on the way home. Me too, and I recall
Will's words, `he's hung like a horse and spurts like a fountain'. We have
only a handful of days remaining here.

Heavy on my heart are Mum's cancer and her opted treatment. I'm not
convinced that she is making the best choice in avoiding chemotherapy. I
know that it's expensive and potentially debilitating, but it brings some
hope, doesn't it? Alternatives have their supporters, and I wonder why they
are not embraced by the medical profession if they are effective. Or are
egos getting in the way of progress? I contemplate life without her and my
eyes mist over.

"Hey!" Will says, bringing me back to him. "What's up?"

I look at Will and blink, forcing a tear to drop from each of my
eyes. "There's something that you're not telling me, isn't there?" he asks
tenderly.

I take a paper serviette from the dispenser and blot my eyes dry. There is
no point in denying anything, especially to Will, with his ability to
`read' people more than anyone I've met. Mum's ability is close to his! I
could never conceal stuff from her. I used to think that she was some sort
of psychic, or had hidden cameras everywhere.

I ponder my promise to Mum not to tell anyone else. Actually, didn't I only
undertake no to say anything to Amelia? So, sharing with Will is not
breaking a confidence.

"Yes, Will. There is something that I haven't told you yet."

"Is it so bad that you can't tell me now?" he asks very maturely,
considering his still-tender age.

"Will, I want you to promise me that you won't let this slip to anyone else
- especially Amelia!"

"My God, Tom! What is it?" he asks seriously.

"Promise me, Will. No slip-ups! You have to be very careful when Sis is
around."

"Of course, Tom!"

"Promise me!"

"I promise, but you know that I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, or is it
her?"

I pause, open my mouth to speak, but all that happens is that my fill up
again. I take another serviette, remove the tears, and struggle to say the
words. "Mum is dying of cancer." Then the waterworks really start, despite
my best resolve. Will moves closer and alternates between rubbing my back
and resting his arm around my shoulders. "Sorry, Will. I just can't talk
about it at the moment," I whisper.

Getting to his feet, Will says, "I'll be back in a minute." I assume that
he has to visit the toilet.

A few minutes after he resumes his seat, drawing it up alongside my own,
the waitress brings us two more coffees, and more Danish pastries. "Thank
you," Will says. I look at him and he smirks. "Hey, you looked like you
needed a refill." I reach out, squeeze his hand, but not only in gratitude
for his thoughtfulness.

The return trip is a little quieter. Will rests his hand on my leg in an
obvious expression of support, occasionally simply rubbing the inside of my
thigh during our conversation, yet without any sexual suggestion.

Steering right away from Mum, I discuss with him the relative benefits of
smart phones, iPhones, satellite phones, iPads and tablets, with the
ability to take, store and display photographs. The limited reception at
The Village is a definite consideration for him and me.

It is my intention to buy us both the best available devices that meet our
needs - the capability to make phone calls out in The Village as well as
whatever it takes to meet Will's need and desire to take photos. As well, I
suggest that he should digitise images of all of his artwork, and
categorise them just as Uncle Bill has done with his collections.

He nods and hums in agreement without, I can tell, full comprehension of my
technical jargon.

When we arrive home, Uncle Bill is already there. He and Mum are sitting at
the table out by the pool. Their body language reveals that there is still
a closeness and bond between them. I don' think that he would try anything
sexual with her - at least I hope not, but I still sense that they have a
very strong friendship.

And I wonder where Sis is? Out with friends, or simply making herself
scarce?

I decline Mum's offer of more caffeine, but grab Will and me a lemonade and
we join them by the pool. Uncle Bill shakes our hands and gives us both a
bit of a hug. Will and I both kiss Mum on the cheek and she looks at us,
inquiringly. I'll tell her later about Will's knowledge of her condition
and the agreement to keep it from Amelia. I don't know how much Uncle Bill
knows, if anything.

I try, for once, to get the better of Uncle Bill first and, in a jocular
voice ask, "Long night, Uncle Bill?" thinking of him and Monika together.

"Probably as long as yours," he fires back. I feel myself blush, although
it's my own fault for starting the subject. Will looks away.

"Touché," I say as deadpanly as I can. Then to Mum I comment, "He hasn't
changed, has he?"

"No," she replies smiling. "And is never likely to."

We exchange some meaningless pleasantries before Will comments on the views
from the top of the mountain.

Uncle Bill broaches some more serious stuff.

"You know, son," he says to Will, with obvious pride, "it takes a lot to
impress Monika, and she was thrilled last night."

Will and I look at each other and stifle titters.

"I mean by Will's artwork, you pair of incorrigible miscreants!" Will looks
puzzled at the characterisation.

"He means that we both have dirty minds," I say to Will, who noticeably
relaxes and smirks in tacit agreement.

"I think you will be seeing a lot more of her in the future. She has some
great ideas about showing your work. And, believe me, she is one
well-connected lady." Will looks at me and I wink. "But more of that
another time." Uncle Bill concludes that thread of conversation. "Right
now, though, there is something else that I want to tell you."

I don't comment on what I was thinking of him and Monika, because, being an
`incorrigible miscreant', I know that Uncle Bill would make me regret it.

"After you first told me what had happened," he continues, "I took the
liberty of checking with the Land Titles Office as to who is the owner of
the land where your mother's house is, or was. It seems, according to their
cadastral system, that it had always been common land, for general use,
unowned by anyone. Then about 50 years ago it was re-gazetted for building
and able to be purchased. But nobody bought it. Obviously no-one out there
ever reads the Government Gazette." I think that is one of Uncle Bill's
less successful attempts at humour!

"So I made an offer on it," he adds, "which was accepted. Government
offices don't normally work that fast but when you know the Director,
anything is possible. After she and I returned to the office from brunch,
all the paperwork was ready.

"Wow!" Will exclaims. And I wonder how many women he has in his harem.

Uncle Bill continues, "That's not the half of it. The actual piece of land
is quite large, according to the maps. It is bounded by the river, the road
that runs all the way west from the pub and right up to the school."

I visualise the triangular area to which he's referring. It's the field of
weeds opposite the pub and everything north and west to the river. It not
only includes Will's place but also that of Mr Sorensen and the twins.

Will says, "So you now own all that land?"

"No." he says, drawing strange looks from all of us.Then he adds, "You
do. The title deeds now list you and Tom as joint owners."

"What?" I blurt out. "Why?"

"Oh, I don't know. I just thought that you two might like a house together
with perhaps an art studio attached, in a place that you both obviously
love. If you think that you don't like it or you decide to travel, or want
to move somewhere else, you can always sell it and split the money. Think
about it - opposite the school, next to the
river. Trees. Birds. Sunsets. But, it's such an idyllic location, you might
appreciate having it as a place to either call home or just treat it as a
`country retreat' later on. Will's painting of the weir reminded me of what
a magical place it is."

I look from will to Mum and then Uncle Bill. I can tell from his
restlessness that there is more.

"After all the papers were signed, my friend introduced me to one of her
young architects. We chatted for a while and he will have some preliminary
plans for a building by next Monday. You guys can change and add whatever
you like then there's nothing to prevent the builders from starting on it."

Will is still uncomprehendingly stunned. "So, Tom and I own the land and
you are planning on building us a house on it?"

"That's about the size of it, my boy," he replies. "Do you like it or don't
like it? What do you think?"

"I think I'm dreaming," Will responds. "So that means we will have our own
house, and we can invite our friends over?" Will is mulling over things in
his mind as much as seeking confirmation. His face slowly changes from
disbelief and shock to a very broad grin. I'm not sure what he's thinking,
but I'll bet it includes the names Jake, Karl and Kurt!

I stand and give Uncle Bill a huge hug and `thank you', then again throw
in, "Why?"

"Hey, what are fathers for, if they can't indulge their sons a little?
Besides, the cost won't even cause a ripple in my bank account."

While Will is hugging his Dad, I think, `But what about Marty?' I enjoy his
company. He's been good to me, and he relies on my rent money because
there's not much work around - except at his mother's house and she only
rewards him by throwing dog bones at him for his smart-arse comments.

To my un-asked question, Uncle Bill adds, "Do you know any locals who could
assist the builders? It would be good money for a couple of months. And I'm
sure that the pub will appreciate the increased patronage, both in food and
drink, as well as the accommodation. You two might even make friends with a
couple of cute apprentices."

Mum swats him across the shoulder. "Bill!" she admonishes.

"Only joking!" he replies with his got-you-again grin.

I can see the wheels turning in Will's head. Uncle Bill might have been
joking, but...

I again think of Marty. Who knows? If he does take the opportunity to work
with the builders, as I'm sure he will, he might even meet somebody special
himself. Hmmm.

Mum excuses herself to prepare lunch, leaving Will and me with our dad,
`Uncle Bill'. He fills me in on suggestions for power, water, phone,
aircon, TV and more. "I even thought that while they're at it, I'll get the
technical guys to hook up another satellite dish and TV for the pub. I'm
sure the patrons will appreciate it as much as the licencee will."

I think of Marty. I'd like to do something similar for him too, in terms of
`mod cons'. "Anyway," Uncle Bill adds, "we have plenty of time to plan it
all out. If we aren't finished thinking it through by the time you have to
go back, I can always come and pay you a visit."

We lunch.

Uncle Bill dashes off.

Mum excuses herself to rest.

I message Simon to see what he's doing. Will and I spend a torrid afternoon
with him and Luke. While Will and Luke are showering together (to save
water, of course), I ask Simon, "Do you know anything about Andy's mother's
boyfriend?"

"Yeh, I've seen him a couple of times. About your age, which seems pretty
weird."

"Eh?" I ask, curious at the last bit. Should I be insulted?

"I mean weird for someone her age to have a boyfriend his age. He's like a
pro footballer, or something, and really well hung from what I can make
out, which is probably what she sees in him. I don't think that he's too
bright and Andy tells me that he has a bad temper and a short fuse. Why?"

"Oh, just something that Andy mentioned to me." I'm not sure exactly what
Andy has told Simon, so I say nothing else.

At home, conversation over dinner centres on Uncle Bill's revelation of the
land purchase and potential house design. It's a stimulating discussion,
with Dad and Amelia throwing in their ideas as well. Sis insists that 2 or
3 storeys would be `cool'. Dad suggests a long ranch style, with broad
verandahs and a separate art studio with connecting `breezeway' and
under-shelter car parking - one for me, one for Will and one or two for
visitors. Will loves the `one for him' car space idea.

Mum and Dad decide to `hit the sack' first. She is looking very tired. I
have to talk with Karen about her and the potential cancer treatment. Maybe
tomorrow if she's free. I'm aware that time is critical, and I haven't seen
nor heard of anything concrete happening yet.

Amelia asks Will if he can give her another drawing lesson. I detect Will's
hesitancy because of his intention to `come out' to her, but sense that
he's not ready to do it tonight. He counters with, "How about tomorrow,
after breakfast? I'm feeling pretty tired right now. It's been a full day."

I smile and think, `Full day? More of an emptying day'! He was first
emptied at the beach this morning, then in the shower with me and also at
least once with Luke this afternoon. And I haven't finished with him yet!
We still have an oily wrestling match ahead of us. I hope that I have the
stamina to last the distance myself! At least I know that neither of us
will erupt prematurely. LOL.

I immerse the bottle of baby oil in the basin of hot water to warm - much
nicer on the skin than cold.

We both `brush our teeth'. It's great to be clean and smell fresh without
fear of embarrassment or of offending the other person.

Having first laid a number of towels on the floor, I slowly and
methodically apply the warm oil thinly to Will's body - neck to ankles,
front and back. It doesn't take much to get him hard, but I resist the
obvious temptation! He repeats the oiling of me and I suggest that it will
be better if he waits a while before lingering `down there', because the
sexual tension created by delaying any touching of cock and balls will
actually heighten the anticipation and pleasure.

I recall Marty oiling up my back and wishing at the time that it was
Will. I luxuriate in the realisation of his touch tonight.

I suggest to Will that we initially kneel in front of each other and try to
unbalance the other person, much like the horse and rider game with Karl
and Kurt in the weir - except without the horses.

I spread my knees wider than Will has his, giving me a more stable
base. After a bit of touchy-feely stuff, it doesn't take much to pull him
sideways and forwards. "You'll have to do better than that!" I mock. "Try
again."

Will copies my setup and tries the same move on me. Without success! What
develops is essentially a contest of upper body strength, with the added
difficulty of the slippery oil.

"Wait a bit," I call, and move in closer so that our lower bodies are now
in direct contact.

"This is more like it!" Will growls. There is much rubbing, pushing and
pulling on chest, back, shoulders, stomach and even butt grasping and hole
poking. "I can't wait any longer!" Will eventually blurts out and makes a
grab for my erection. I'm not going to capitulate so easily! Although, I'd
love to! I want to prolong the fun.

The contest really begins, with me twisting and squirming to prevent him
from gaining easy access to the object of his intention. He gets close to
it. Many light touches, however no attempt at grasping is successful. Haha.

It is only when I really want him, that I push him down flat on his
stomach, lay myself on his back, pinning his shoulders with my arms and
body weight, his legs with my knees and his pelvis with my own. My cock,
almost on autopilot, finds its way between his cheeks.

"Do it!" he almost squeals, widening his knees and thighs. Sliding on his
well-oiled body is thrilling. So is having my slippery steel rod penetrate
his now-lubricated hole.

I draw his legs together, pull out of him and slide farther down his
body. Using the valley between his thighs as a runway, I navigate my
missile upwards, between his cheeks and into the aircraft hangar. He
elevates his hips slightly and keeps his body perfectly positioned so that
I never miss, and he groans each time that I park it in him, as deep as
possible. I love the feel of his cheeks massaging my abs as I push upwards,
and again as I uncouple from him. I do all that I can to heighten the
skin-on-skin sensation and before long, my aircraft is emptying its payload
of fuel.

He deliberately contracts his cheeks and internal muscles, again and again,
syphoning every last drop out of me. Shit! This feels so good! Did I teach
him this? Or is he just a natural?

There is no role playing for him. I roll onto my back and, raising my legs
to his shoulders, he takes me fast and hard. When he finally collapses onto
me I simply delight in tracing the curves of his slick muscles, everso
slightly. He shudders repeatedly as my fingertips explore him. I discover
his most ticklish spots.

Time to save some more water, to remove both the baby oil and the man
oil. LOL.

As I think of what lies ahead tomorrow - seeing the guys at the beach, Will
telling Amelia that he is gay and us re-visiting Jarrod at the Games shop,
I feel tired, yet sleep doesn't come as easily for me as it does for
Will. His regular, slow breathing indicate that he has `dropped off'.

Many things run through my head - land, house, Karl & Kurt, Uncle Bill,
Monika, Will's art, Will coming out to Amelia, guys at the beach,
authorities arresting me, Chad the cop `fixing things for a price', Andy
being abused, the mother's boyfriend, Mum's funeral, Jarrod, Sam, Marty,
Kurt, cherubs. Sweet dreams mixed with nightmares. Am I awake or asleep?



To be continued...

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