Date: Sun, 7 Jul 2013 20:11:17 +1030
From: Robert A. Armstrong <rob.aa@hotmail.com>
Subject: Schoolie - Chapter 3

Thank you for your encouraging feedback. I am endeavouring to respond to
all comments, questions and positive suggestions. And thanks to the couple
of people who have included photos.

I remind you that this is a work of pure fiction - just an expression of a
fantasy. Any embarrassing resemblance of my characters by action, name,
location or description to any real person is purely coincidental - if it
seems to be you, or somebody you know, I apologise.

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!


Rob



Chapter 3


After some light-hearted banter over a simple but delicious meal, and
avoiding any discussion about Will's sudden turnaround in attitude, we all
agree that it's time to hit the sack. Marty goes his way; Will and I go
ours. He ducks into the bathroom for a pee and I continue to my room, our
room - Will's and mine. That has a nice brotherly ring to it.

I strip off, country style or, rather, Marty-style, but leave my clothes
much neater than Marty did last night, and jump into bed, covered only by a
sheet - more for modesty than to keep me warm on a hot night. Will comes in
and closes the door. Eying my pile of clothes topped by my underpants he
doesn't appear to give modesty a second thought as he, too, strips, walking
back and forth with unashamed nakedness. Wow! He has absolutely nothing to
be ashamed of!

To me, everything about him is perfect. His innocent youthful face is
showing late adolescent maturity - more elongated than rounded with a
strong nose and jaw, eyebrows that are thickening and reaching towards one
another above his sky-blue eyes. The skin covering every square inch of his
body is flawless. And, the incredible muscle tone is evident in his arms,
legs, chest, abdomen and butt. And then there is his very manly... dare I
say it?

Flopping onto the bed, he partially covers up although I suspect that he
would have been just as comfortable not to. We talk for about an hour -
initially about his two paintings and his love of horses. My praise, about
these, and the others that I have seen at school, cements a proud smile
onto his face. Our talk turns, almost inevitably to our uncanny
likeness. The curly brown hair. The blue eyes, so unusual amongst all the
other O'Briens' dark ones. The muscled arms. The toned bodies. I keep it
`above the waist', despite my observation of similarities down below as
well. He asks me what it's like in the city, so I give him the quick and
clean version of my life.

"Tom?" he asks a little hesitantly. I realise that Will has just used my
name instead of `Mr G'.

"Yes, Will?"

"Do you...? Can I...? Would it be OK if...? Can I get into bed with you?"

"What?" I wasn't expecting that, at least not from Will. Marty maybe.

"You know, sort of like a big brother and little brother thing? We can just
keep talking, but I've always dreamed of what it would be like to snuggle
up with a brother at night."

"Will, I'm not so sure that's a good idea. We're not little boys any
more... just in case you hadn't noticed!"

That produces a fragile disappointed smile, but he's persistent. "Please,
Tom. House rule. It'll be OK."

I'm weakening. "But, I'm your teacher, Will," I half-heartedly plead.

"Pleeeeease Tom. Can we pretend we are brothers, just for tonight? I'm not
gonna tell! You look more like my brother than my teacher. I really wish
you were my brother instead of my teacher."

I consider his years of heartache - no father, no brother, drunken whore of
a mother, the butt of everyone's jokes or lack of consideration whenever
they call him `Little Willie'. Against my better judgment, I relent. "OK
little bro! Just for tonight. But no funny stuff, understand?" I'm more
concerned for my own potential lack of self control than for anything that
he could possibly consider doing.

He's quick to react, allowing no time for me to change my mind. I move over
to allow him room, and he pulls the sheet over us. We lie, side by side,
sharing body heat through our touching thighs and shoulders. I consciously
keep my hands away from his body, and we continue our previous
getting-to-know-you discussion.

As the conversation starts to flag, Will turns his body towards me, throws
his top arm over my chest and gives me a hug. "Good night big brother,
Tom," he says, looking into my eyes.

I turn towards him and with my own free arm draw our chests closer, and
give him a peck on his forehead and reply. "Good night little brother,
Will. Sleep well." Then I turn to face the wall. He leaves his arm across
my body and spoons up to me. I consciously ignore all other touching body
parts, and simply interlace my fingers into his. Nothing more is said.

I stir in my sleep when I feel Will heave a deep sigh. He's scarcely
moved. Apart from his chest against my back, I can feel one of his knees
resting on my leg with his thighs pressed tightly against me. I am aware of
his long, hard penis nestled in between my bum cheeks. His heavy breathing
tells me he's sound asleep, so I leave him be. The warmth of another human
body next to my nakedness is almost intoxicating. God, it's been so long!
With misty eyes at both the beauty and yet the impossibility of this whole
situation continuing I drift back to sleep.

I don't know what time it is when I'm woken by a solo mosquito. I hate
mosquitoes - their buzz and their bite. I carefully ease myself away from
Will and clamber out of bed. Will rolls onto his stomach to fill the void
that I've created. I cover him with the sheet to protect him from the lone
vampire that I reflectively decide will be easier to find and exterminate
in the morning. Only Will's hair is showing. I decide to take a pee,
without flushing so there is no noise that would wake up Will or Marty. I
come back into the room and decide that it's a better option to get into
Will's bed, pulling up the sheet to protect myself. I fall asleep, facing
the wall, with my back towards Will.

I hear the board creak and I open one eye. It's already morning. The door
opens quietly and I sense Marty enter the room. I don't move. I hear him
say, "Hey, Little Willie, I need your help," then I feel a cold hand move
under the sheet, take hold of my butt and squeeze it.

I roll over and glare at him at the same time as Will throws back the sheet
off his head and chest and murmurs drowsily from the other bed, "Sup
Marty?"

I wish I had a camera. The look on Marty's face is priceless! He looks from
me across to Will and stammers out "Umm, I need some help up at Mum's place
to fix a door. Can you please come and help me?" He retreats hastily,
without looking at back at me, and closes the door again.

Will clambers out of bed, eyes closed, yawns loudly as he stands up on the
balls of his feet and stretches towards the ceiling, seemingly unaware that
his morning wood is at full stretch. As he slowly relaxes, he opens his
eyes, looks at me and notices my smirk. His face changes to one of
inquiry. "What?" I look down at his boner. "Shit", he says and tries to
cover it all up, using both hands.

"Relax, bro," I tell him. "If I get up right now, we'll look even more like
brothers. The way I see it, you're a couple of centimetres longer than me
down there, and I'm about the same amount taller than you on top, so I
reckon that evens us up, OK?"

He smiles and says, "You are so cool... Tom." And he relaxes his hands.

I decide to fully relieve his embarrassment and, throwing all caution to
the wind, I mimic, as exactly as I can, what he has just done. I climb out
of bed, yawn and stretch, making it obvious that my eyes are closed, to let
him check out my own stiffness, if he wants to. I fully open one eye,
emulating a wink, and ask, "House rule?" He has the broadest grin on his
face.

By now he has had time to confirm what I had said. "Yes! It's just between
you and me, big brother," he says with a confidence that I hadn't
previously seen. He takes his towel, carries it in front of him, perhaps in
case Marty is lurking, opens the door and heads for the bathroom. He
doesn't have a bubble butt, although his muscular glutes are quite
pronounced. They are very firm and tend to favour the middle of his body,
creating a long, deep, very masculine `cleavage'. They are an ideal
complement to his slim hips and they perfectly top off his well-defined
legs. As he walks, I watch them tighten alternately. As he moves I berate
myself for wanting to touch him, to feel the smoothness of his skin and the
firmness of his contracting muscles. I feel myself attracted to him
physically, more than I should ever allow myself to be.

Out of sight, out of mind! As my erection slackens I grab my towel and wrap
it around my waist, then I go looking for Marty while Will is in the
bathroom. Marty is in the kitchen, with two hands wrapped around a mug of
coffee. He avoids my eyes.

"Good morning, Marty," I say, more politely than I probably need to. He
looks up and nods his acknowledgment. "What's with the butt grabbing?" I
ask directly but as non-judgmentally as I can muster - trying to make it
sound like a simple, normal question from an ignorant city slicker. Apart
from his guilty expression, his eyes tell me that he fears I'm about to
unload much more. He's obviously used to being harangued by his Mum. I
simply look at him, raise one inquiring eyebrow and wait for a response.

"Sorry, Tom. I thought you were Little Willie. Um, that Little Willie was
you. Um, all I could see was your hair. You swapped beds. It was just meant
to be a bit of fun - cold hand on his warm body to wake him up."

I decide to go easy on him, for now. After all he's the provider of my
haven from the gossips and the rest of the world. And I've taken a liking
to him, smirks and all. "Yeh, Marty. It was cold, and it did wake me
up. All I ask is that in future, you make sure that you identify who you
are playing with, so you know how far you should go. OK?" I deliberately
say it as ambiguously as possible to leave him totally confused about my
intention. Then I add with the cruelest smirk that I can muster, to mess
with his head, "whether it's him... or me... or Jake." He stares blankly at
me, and I can tell that he doesn't know what to say, especially at my use
of Jake's name. I can tell that his brain is processing something when he
doesn't question what I've just said. I think the expression is `Now I've
got him by the short and curlies'!

"Sure, Tom. You've got my word on it." he concedes very sheepishly.

"So, what's happening this morning at your Mum's?" I ask brightly, to
change the subject and let the fish off the hook.

He gulps and, still with a little quiver in his voice says, "Mum came over
very early and said she pushed her front fly screen door open and it just
fell off its hinges. Knowing her quick temper, I think that there must have
been a little more force than just pushing it open. I'll go and rehang it
for her. I've got quick-setting filler, hinges, and screws. I just need
someone to hold things straight for me. Will loves to be helpful. Besides
Anna will love having him there. And Mum has invited us all to stay for
breakfast. So, Will can't refuse, although I'm sure he'd like to fake some
contagious tropical disease in order to stay away from Anna. I don't know
if it's just her he doesn't want to be around, or all girls. Couldn't blame
him really, after living with his mother. Although, he and Jane get on well
together, but only as cousins and school friends. Nothing funny going on
there."

Marty and Will are going to take the truck, with some tools in it. I tell
Marty that I'll change into my lightweight grey track pants and jog or walk
over - I need the exercise. Marty calls, "Hey,Little Willie, can you bring
the truck around from out back for me?" and he throws Will the keys as he
bounds into the room. Will glows with excitement and dashes out of the door
that is nearest to our room. Marty turns to me.

"Oh, Tom?"

"Yes, Marty?"

"Thanks, mate. I owe you one, for being so cool about... you know."

"House rule." I smirk at him. "But, be aware. I fully intend having you
return the favour one day". He smiles back, and I sense his relief. There
seems to be a lot of that going around at the moment.

I walk along the track that I had driven yesterday, deciding to avoid the
most direct route between the two houses after a warning from Marty about
the possibility of deadly snakes in the vegetation - especially at this
time of year when they are most active. I'm beginning to think that this
country experience will be about `educating the city school teacher' more
than me educating the country children. I observe much while walking. The
brown grass-like vegetation that probably grew and died after the last rain
- however long ago that was. The river gums that lean over the gentle flow
of narrow water as if to protect it from the sunlight. There are remnants
of things just left to rot - old car bits, old windmill and water tank
parts, broken tools, rusted 44 gallon drums, the carcasses of animals where
they either dropped from heat exhaustion or rabid dog bite, or snake
venom. I have no intention of being added to the museum, thank you!

As I approach Marty's mum's house, the dogs sense my presence first, and
Mum looks down the track to see the cause of their agitation. I can see
that Will and Marty are just finishing up. I guess that it wasn't a big
job. Just an awkward one that required a bit of patience, know-how and
assistance.

Marty closes his tool box, heads in my direction and puts it in the back of
his truck. He waits. "Come and meet Mum and I'll show you some fireworks,"
he says softly as I reach the truck. Then a damn cute smirk. Then aloud:
"Mum, this is Tom Grant, the new schoolie. Tom, this is Acacia O'Brien, my
mum." That's a really goofy grin I see on his face.

"Mr Grant, how nice to meet you. But, a word of warning, if I ever hear you
call me `Acacia', I'll give you a good whooping, like Marty's gonna
get. Don't think you've heard the last of this, Martin Charles O'Brien!"

"She'll do it, too!" Marty laughs, while ducking to avoid being hit with
the dog's bone that his mum picks up and throws at him. "Fortunately, her
aim's not as good as it used to be!" he taunts. And he dodges another one.

"It's very nice to meet you Mrs O'Brien. I've heard a lot about you from
Marty." She gives him a filthy look. "Only nice things, I assure you, Mrs
O'Brien," I add, lying.

"Yeh," says Marty. "Only nice things! It was a really short conversation."
This time he doesn't turn and duck fast enough, and a bone finds its mark,
skimming the back of his head. He obviously hadn't seen her slip that one
into her apron pocket.

"Just call me `Mum', like the civilized people around here," she replies,
glaring at Marty but intent on making a good impression on me. Too late!
And I know that Marty will pay further whenever `Mum' gets the
opportunity. "Anna should have breakfast ready by now. Please come inside."

The interior of the house is fairly Spartan, which I was fully expecting,
having seen Marty's place and that of Reg and Di. No city `luxuries' way
out here. The only floor coverings are tanned cow hides and a few sheep
skins. A couple of hand-crocheted cushion covers lie on a settee and on the
eclectic collection of four lounge chairs. I think, `I know a chair at
school that one of those cushions would be great for. I see a beautiful
likeness of the house hanging above the fireplace. I note the artist's
initials - LW.

The table is covered with a clean cloth with creases indicating that it has
been folded and stored for a long time. Plates, glasses, cups and cutlery
are in place. A glass pitcher of milk. No juice. Some food is already on
the table. I see and smell the bacon, eggs, hash browns, mushrooms and
grilled tomatoes. Anna is an attractive young woman, hair tied back - same
colour as Marty's, in the same mould as her brother, but rounded where a
man wants a woman to be firm and rounded, but with a little too much make
up for the occasion in contrast to her mother's none! She directs Marty and
I to sit alongside each other. Mum takes up her position at the head of the
table. Where else would she sit? I notice that a chair which might have
been at the other end has been removed. She invites Will to one of the
remaining two vacant chairs. He looks somewhat nervous, and sits opposite
me. As she heads back to the kitchen, she runs her hand across the full
width of Will's broad shoulders. He cringes slightly. As she returns with
the last of the breakfast, a huge pile of pancakes, she does it again with
her other hand, only more slowly and dropping it a bit lower. Will is
clearly not comfortable. Anna proudly declares that she has prepared the
whole breakfast for us. I'm impressed, even if Will is not.

Anna sits next to Will and nudges her chair a bit closer to him. I see him
look down and I'm not sure if she is touching his thigh with her leg or
with her hand.

Intermingled with questions and answers, it is a hastily-eaten meal.

I thank Anna for her delicious efforts and, while cheekily looking at Will,
comment that she will make someone a wonderful wife, even though I know
that cousins can't marry. It is just a playful insinuation. Nevertheless,
if his look could kill, I am dead! I offer to help clean up, but Mum says,
"No."

I sense from the looks between Mum and Anna and their glances at me, that
something else is `cooking'. While Mum looks on strangely, Anna walks over
to me, shakes my hand, looks at me very demurely and says, "Mr Grant, it's
always a pleasure to prepare a meal for someone who appreciates it." I
immediately wish I'd kept my mischievous mouth closed as my words, and
their potential consequences, echo in my head, `...she will make someone a
wonderful wife...' and Marty's words of Friday add a haunting complication:
`...she'll be all over you if you give her half a chance...' Shit! What
monster have I now unleashed? Let me out - quick!

Marty says, "Come on guys. Let's hit the track!" Little could I know how
foretelling his words were to be.

"Jump in, Tom, I'll give you a ride back." In contrast to his modern SUV
Marty's vintage 'paddock basher' truck has a small bench seat up front. I'm
not sure that the three of us will fit. I slide in the passenger's side
with Will right behind me. Realising that my legs and Will's don't have
enough room for me to avoid impeding the changing of gears with the stick
that's protruding from the middle of the floor, I squash over against
Marty, putting one leg either side of the long rod that is topped with
something that looks like a black pool ball.

"Take it easy changing into second," I playfully tell Marty, as I
momentarily hold my crotch and spread my legs a little wider to allow room
for the gear shift to move! We both turn and smirk at each other, and I
hear one of Will's giggles.

I have my arms folded on my chest as Marty starts off slowly with the truck
in first gear then eases back into second, with his hand sitting seriously
close to my crotch. He says, "Smooth enough for you? I'd better leave it in
second though - can't go too fast on this track, you know!" I'm not sure
whether he does this intentionally, but I have my suspicions.

Now anybody else, myself included, would surely have then put his
gear-changing hand back onto the steering wheel for more secure
control. Not Marty. He leaves it there. He says he knows all the holes and
bumps on this track. And I reckon he's driving through every single one of
them! He has us all bouncing around. It is inevitable that my body, like
theirs, unrestrained by any seat belt, is rising and falling, sliding
backwards and forwards. And Marty does not reposition so much as a
finger. I know he is enjoying it each time my lower body slips forward into
the gear stick and his waiting bare skin. He acts as if he doesn't notice,
so I pretend to be oblivious to what's happening as well. However, my
manhood is not as unresponsive. I can feel it growing as each forward lurch
causes it to press up against the back of Marty's hand.

I would normally have tried to reposition my leg back towards Will, but I'm
now curious to see how far Marty is prepared to take his little
touchy/feely game. Marty and I are not the only ones aware of what he is
doing. I glance at Will, who raises an eyebrow as if to say, "What the
hell...?" I just wink knowingly at him. He smiles! I actually allow myself
to bone up which, in my light trackies and freedom-permitting underwear,
becomes very, very obvious. It's now touching his hand even without me
sliding. I glance first out of Marty's window and then Will's to
surreptitiously check their crotches. Marty's wearing his cut-offs and Will
a pale blue pair of cotton shorts. As expected, both are bulging, but for
different reasons - Marty is enjoying the feel; Will is enjoying the show.

We bump along for another five minutes and there is a definite sexual
tension in the front seat. Marty's hand, while still holding the gear
shift, now appears to be resting its weight on my rigid member, and both he
and Will are stretched to their limits in their confined pants. Marty's
pants appear to have a quite-visible damp patch developing. Will is
definitely not interested in the scenery outside.

As Marty slows the truck to a halt in front of the house, he removes his
hand. I half turn my body towards him, look at him eye to eye, drop my hand
directly onto his crotch and say "Thank you Mr O'Brien for the stimulating
ride, but how hard can it be to avoid a few bumps?" And I give his hard
tool a couple of firm squeezes. He jumps out, bangs the door shut and
wanders around to the back of the truck, presumably to remove his tools (or
to adjust the one in his shorts).

Will is chuckling and trying very hard to avoid laughing right out loud. I
think: `What the hell, who cares? He's reached the age of consent.' So I
turn to him and say "And I hope, Mr O'Brien, that the ride was not too hard
on you too?" and I give Will the same gentle grope and squeeze as Marty. As
I leave my hand in place, I look into Will's face and I can see an unusual
expression - a lusty desire in his eyes but a hesitant drawing in of his
bottom lip. I know what he is thinking and what he really wants to do. To
make it easy on him and remove any guilt on his part, with my free hand I
gently take his wrist and draw his fingers directly across and down onto my
boner and hold him there for a few seconds while still staring directly
into his eyes. He gets his first feel of his new brother. My cock twitches
strongly. So does his. More than once.

After an inappropriately long ten to fifteen seconds, I remove my hand, and
so does Will. We also pile out. Excited. Confused. Horny.

I deliberately do not adjust myself and allow my boner to point the way to
the door. "Excuse me gentleman," I say in the most cultured voice that I
can muster. "Junior here," pointing down to it, "and I have some personal
business to attend to in the bathroom."

I purposely do not close the bathroom door. I stride across to the bath on
the opposite wall and take down my track pants and underwear in one swift
motion, and begin to vigorously provide my rigid body member with some
long-overdue stress relief.

The open door and my naked contracting butt muscles have the desired
effect. First Will and then, shortly afterwards, Marty step up beside me,
one either side, and drop their gear. For a short while we are a trio in a
synchronised performance, and none of us is shy about checking out each
other's technique. The thought enters my mind `I wonder who will shoot
first'. It is almost a three-way dead heat. "House rule!" I call
out. "House rule!" they both echo back.

"OK, you pair of sexy sods, let's clean ourselves up and go have a cup of
coffee and a talk," I say to break the uncertainty of what to do next.

While the other two attend to themselves I volunteer to clean the
bath. Toilet paper, face washer and towels are the order of the
moment. Will and Marty each leave the room while I attend to myself , then
rinse out the bath and flush away all evidence. I think we all need a
change of clothing. Pre-cum stains can be embarrassing. Especially large
ones.

No sense in covering up now. When I enter our room, Will has his underwear
on and is about to put on his clean shorts. He stops and watches me. I let
him. I do something wicked. I decide to give him a personal performance of
the reverse of a strip tease. I decide to do my very first `dress tease'. I
slowly remove from the drawer, and display to Will, my many mail-ordered
undies. I select a pair and, while facing him, put them first on my head
then draw them back and forth over my shoulder then rub them across my
chest. I turn and wiggle my butt to him, let their black silkiness fall
down my back, catch them with my other hand, pull them through my legs,
form a sling and pull my whole package upwards, before letting it flop
down. Then, turning full circle, I carefully put one foot and then the
other in and pull them up slowly, cradling my butt at the back, and then
deliberately causing my balls to hang over at the front before I grasp
everything and make it disappear inside. He applauds and I take a bow!
Nothing like being comfortable with a brother, and enjoying a special
moment together! OMG! What we have both missed out on for years!

"Tom?" he whispers in a breaking, emotional voice.

"Yes, Will?"

"You are everything that I ever dreamed of for a brother. Thanks. And
please don't worry. Nobody else will ever hear anything about any of this,
from me." He gives me a quick brotherly man hug, finishes getting dressed
and heads for the living area.

I worry whether it is Will's deprivation, or my own depravity that is being
satisfied.

By the time I get there Marty and Will are holding their coffees and are
sitting in the two armchairs. My coffee is on the corner table. I pull over
one of the dining chairs to complete the triangle, turn it around, straddle
it and cross my arms on the back of the chair facing them, sternly. Marty
hands me my mug. I thank him, take a sip and then place it on the floor
next to me.

"OK guys. There's some serious stuff that we need to discuss," I
begin. Marty's face is more downcast than Will's. I can only imagine the
myriad of confused questions pounding through both of their heads.

"Did we all enjoy our little bit of fun this morning?" This throws them!
The hard expression on my face relaxes. Followed by theirs. "Because I
certainly did! However, it's not something that can ever escape this
house." I get nods of agreement from both of them.

"House rule," Will says, tentatively but trying to be positive.

"Agreed," adds Marty confidently.

"All for one, and one for all," I proclaim with my fist raised, but
immediately see that my Three Musketeers allusion is lost on both of them
as they look at me weirdly.

"Good. But what we did this morning is something that we will not repeat."
Their faces drop again. Interesting reaction!

"At least not regularly," I add. They both brighten considerably. I am
aware that I am playing emotional yo-yo with them, which is amusing me, but
it's totally unfair on them!

"Guys, I'd like to talk with each of you privately. Will, if you'd like me
to drop you home when I go up to the school, we can talk in the car." He
nods, but not enthusiastically. I'm not sure whether he's not looking
forward to our `talk' or to going home, or both.

"Marty, can we go for a walk first?"

"Sure," he says. "I'll show you around the property. I haven't done that
yet, sorry."

"Are you going to be OK for a while, while we're outside?" I ask Will,
hoping that he will not feel excluded or be too anxious.

"Sure. No problem, Mr G." I wink at his remembered protocol. He winks
back. What a great guy!


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