Date: Fri, 6 Mar 2015 15:09:53 +1100
From: Robert A. Armstrong <rob.aa@hotmail.com>
Subject: Schoolie - Chapter 38

If you are new to this story, may I suggest that you read patiently 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 37


"Stay inside me," Will almost pleads and we both manoeuvre onto our sides
with him facing the window and with my back to the door. We pull the sheet
over us. I hug him tightly and snuggle with him in our post-orgasmic
euphoria.

Some many minutes later, I sense movement. Then I feel another body slide
into the bed behind me. He lays a hand on my shoulder and I feel his hot
breath on the back of my neck as he pushes his large semi-soft rod against
my cheeks. He says nothing. Neither do I. He spoons up close and tight, and
I feel him relax.

Before I drop off to sleep, I think to myself, `Hmmm. It must be an O'Brien
thing.'



Chapter 38

When I wake, it takes me a few moments to gain my bearings. The memory of
last night's events replays in my mind but I realise that Will and I are
now alone. No third person. No Marty. Just Will and me. My cock is no
longer inside him and the towel beneath us is very wet.

I kiss Will's neck and I slip away, heading for the bathroom. As I take aim
at the toilet bowl I see a large amount of white stuff in there - some
floating but most has sunk to the bottom of the bowl in globules. Marty
forgot to flush last night! My yellow and his white all disappear with a
single push of the button.

I decide to freshen up with a quick shower, twiddle the taps to achieve my
preferred temperature, then I step in.

OK, some people have an ear for music, but I reckon that Marty has an ear
for shower water. After washing my front, I turn to let the hot water
caress my back and, there he is! At the door!

Instead of leaning, as usual, he quickly checks up the hallway then comes
straight over to me. "Sorry about last night!" he half-whispers.

Now, I would normally string him along, as Will does. However, this morning
I'm in a benevolent mood. I reply, matter-of-factly, "What did you enjoy
most - watching us, or jacking off in the hallway, or climbing into bed and
spooning me?"

"Does Will know?" he replies nervously, without answering my question.

"No," I reply. "And I wasn't going to mention it to him, unless you think
that I should."

"Thank you, Tom. And, no! Please don't say anything. I think that he would
be annoyed after my comment about considering making a play for you. I
wouldn't want to upset him - or you. Can we keep it just between us?"

"Sure," I tell him, turning off the water and stepping out. "I at least owe
you that!"

I grab a spare towel and begin to dry myself. He takes a pee and asks,
somewhat reluctantly, "Did you find something of mine that I left behind in
here last night?"

I reply, "Yeh. And a lot of it too!"

"Well, that was two lots, actually," he confesses, almost proudly. "One was
after I watched you guys going at it and the second lot was after I crept
out of bed. Having my cock pressed against your backside became too much
for me and I needed to relieve myself again. I didn't flush because I
didn't want to wake you. And, anyway, I thought that I'd be the first one
up this morning."

"All good!" I say. Then I add, "So now you know!"

"Know what?" he asks, as if there is nothing new.

"How far your young cousin and his school teacher / brother go."

"It's something that I never did with any of my brothers," he replies,
again without a direct comment about Will and me. "But hey, I've certainly
made up for it with `him' and `her' on Saturdays after we meet at the
café," he jokes.

I have to ask. "And who will it be this Saturday?"

Marty replies, "It's never her by herself - only him alone or both
together."

"And this week?" I smile.

"Both!" he grins, and I sense a stirring between his legs.

"Do you like both?" I realise that this is one of those questions to which
he could claim a right of reply but, hey, I think that we have progressed
beyond that; we're now into the territory of open truthfulness and trust.

"I actually love doing both!" Marty replies, and his cock begins to display
an upward inclination. "I'll fill you in later."

"I'll bet that you'd love to do that too," I tease.

He reacts quickly, "You ARE worse than I am," he says as he pinches my
bum. I hang up the towel and head for the door. "But, for the record,
you're right about filling you in!" he smirks, raising an eyebrow.

"I think that you'd better stick to `him' and `her'," I tell him. "It will
be much less complicated!"

"Yes, but..." Marty starts.

I have to cut him off. "Don't do anything that would upset Will,
Marty. He's happy with me. You said so yourself. Please don't let anything
come between him and me, especially any feelings that you and I might have
towards each other." Shit! Did I just say that? `Feelings towards each
other'?

"I'll get breakfast started," Marty says, as he leaves me to ponder my
inappropriate words.

I go to my own room, straighten the bedclothes and slip on a pair of
shorts. I also throw a pair for Will onto his bed, then I head back to
Marty's room. Will is lying on his back, hands behind his head and staring
at the ceiling.

"Hey, bro!" I greet him.

"Hey, yourself," he replies, turning his head just sufficiently for his
eyes to meet mine.

"Sleep well?" I ask.

"Hell, yeh, thanks to you. Last night was fantastic. So were you! And doing
it in Marty's bed was a real hoot! I kept wondering if he could hear us,
and what he would be thinking."

"With the noises you were making, I'll bet that he heard quite a lot."

"I hope so," he giggles. I think that Will is a real man sexually but just
a mischievous boy in many other ways. I love everything about him.

"What? You wanted him to hear us?" I put to him, sitting myself on the bed
and leaning across to him to give him a `good morning' peck on the lips
with a friendly jiggle of his package.

"Of course!" Will laughs. "I wanted him to know that if he could have sex
with both a guy and a girl at 18, then I can do that stuff too, at 17.

"Only there was no girl!" I remind him.

"I don't need one," he replies, smirking. "You've got what he's got and
also what she's got - a pole and a hole. And I want both. Two in one is a
bonus!" I simply smile at his juvenile maturity.

"Why don't you go and freshen up in the shower and I'll deal with the smell
and the wet towels," I tell him, standing to fetch the deodorant.

He leaves the room, walking a little funny, perhaps to hold in any remnant
of what I filled him with during the night.

Friday breakfast is interesting - if that's the right word for the
atmosphere. Much more subdued than usual, without the usual Will-and-Marty
banter and ongoing one-upmanship.

Much has been revealed in the past 24 hours - more than sufficient for a
period of quiet and prolonged contemplation.

Will could be processing Marty's confessed introduction to sexual activity
with both a guy and a girl and the loss of his virginity in every aspect
(even though we haven't heard the `her' details yet, nor of when Marty and
`he' first went the whole way) and mentally comparing himself with his
cousin from multiple aspects. Will last night overtly demonstrated his own
sexual appetite and capability, albeit he thinks that Marty has only heard
us doing it. He is unaware of Marty's voyeurism. Then again, Will may be
thinking over his `coming out' to Marty and any implications of that for
him, for me, for us.

And what of Marty - finally `fessing up' to his bisexual orientation and
giving Will and me a lot of detail about his self-discovery and
actualisation of his teenage erotic fantasies? How is he feeling about
doing that? And, who knows what he's processing about watching me screwing
his little cousin. When I saw him jacking off in the hallway, was he
focussed on Will, or on me? Was he fantasising about swapping places with
one of us? Which one? Or, was his mind on being with `him' and `her'?

I'm wondering why Marty climbed into bed and spooned up to me. Did he know
it was me? Did he think it might be Will? Did he want to do something with
me? Will? Us?

Why did he tell us so much about himself after keeping it concealed for so
long?

Why did Will want Marty to hear him and me making out?

Why do I keep thinking of 12-year old, blue-eyed, blond-haired Kurt? Am I
becoming as obsessed with him as he appears to be with me? Maybe he's
`cooled off' while Will and I were away. Maybe masturbating with his twin
brother, Karl, will satisfy his urges. And what of Will and Karl? Does Will
want to keep `playing games' with Karl, or both twins? He's already taught
them to jack off. Does he want to do more with them now that he is so much
more experienced? How can I dissuade him when I, myself, entertain these
continuing thoughts about Kurt?

How can my thrilling life with Will be such a mess of confusion and
contradictions and complications?

Over breakfast I'm unaware of bits of conversation among the three of
us. Surely meaningless, if there is any!

Today, I'm the first to stop daydreaming and I ask Marty directly, "So what
are you planning today, Marty?"

He blinks a few times, like coming out of a hypnotic trance. "I've been
doing a few things over at Mum's - mainly helping to fix up the old
cottage. Actually, I'm not helping anyone, I'm being helpful and doing it
all myself. Mum has it in her mind that the cottage needs a few repairs and
painting. I started to question why but that only led to an argument. So,
I'm just getting on with it. What about you? Anything planned?"

I reply, "I think that I'll do a bit of a tidy-up around the
school. Inside's OK but it could do with an airing-out. The outside seems
scruffy - nothing major. When I'm finished there, I could come over and
help you at the cottage."

Will seems to `wake up' with the exchange between Marty and me. "I'd like
to see if Karl and Kurt are at home today. Is that OK?"

"Sure," I tell him. "We can drive up together. Besides, I could use an
extra pair of hands, or three, for a while. Then, when I come to help
Marty, you can too, if you like."

"Yes, Michelangelo! Your painting skills could be useful," Marty suggests.

Will seems unimpressed with Marty's insincere compliment, if it was a
compliment and not just another taunt. "Will Anna be there?" he asks

"Maybe," Marty replies. "If I tell her that you and Tom are coming, then
I'll bet that she will be." He chuckles. Will and I don't share his mirth.

"In that case," Will says straight-faced, "I really hope that Karl and Kurt
have a lot to tell me!" He obviously wants to avoid his female `man-eating'
cousin, if at all possible.

Marty only responds with, "And did you sleep well ... in my double bed?"
Then he looks at me and winks.

Will's focus changes from Marty to me; he smirks, then replies, "Yeh. Why?"

"Well I thought that you might have been in some sort of pain. It sure
sounded like it," he answers with a knowing grin.

Will gets up from the table, takes his plate to the sink and says, "You
know, Marty, I thought that you could tell the difference between pleasure
and pain. Last night was all pleasure and ..." As he walks past the
still-naked Marty, (rising to take his own things to the sink) Will slips
his hand under his cousin's balls and gives them a yank.

"Aargh!" Marty screeches.

"...And that is the difference," Will laughs, heading for the door,
rapidly. "My pleasure: your pain!"

Holding his tender bollocks, Marty calls after Will, "Why, you little..."

Will cuts him off, "Haha. I'm no long the little one here, Marty!"

Marty takes a couple of tentative steps, grimaces and then decides to give
up the chase. "It looks like you'll have your hands full with that one!" he
says to me.

"Frequently," is all I reply. We both laugh.

"Marty?" I ask. "I don't suppose we could sleep in your bed for one more
night, could we... please... mate?"

He looks at me and smirks, "And how often would you two like the use of the
double bed?"

"Frequently!" I respond which, again, elicits much merriment.

"I tell you what..." Marty says, "...a few weeks ago when I was in Big
Town, I saw a set of double bunks in the furniture shop. The top was a
single bed and the bottom was a double."

There is a pause while my mind conjures up a picture of what Marty is
describing.

He continues, "If you and Michelangelo would like that, I could take the
two singles over to the cottage. Mum has often said that an extra couple of
beds would be handy for visitors. That way, you two can either sleep
together or separately, and anyone who comes over and sees the bed can be
told that you're the top and he's the bottom."

He suddenly realises the implication of what he has just said and he
actually blushes.

"Or vice versa," I put in, to help relieve his embarrassment. He looks at
me.

"Really?" he inquires.

"Sure. He can have the top bunk. I don't care," I tell him
plain-faced. "Why? What did you think that I meant?"

More laughter.

Remembering that I now have the technology to check and connect, I find the
furniture store's number with Marty's help, and confirm that they have a
flat-packed set of bunks in stock. I give them my credit card number for
the bunks, mattresses, new pillows and linen. It's not cold now, but some
new blankets won't go astray, so I get some of them too. Acacia can have
the two single beds and everything that goes with them.

"Why don't you surprise Will?" Marty suggests. "I can pick up everything
tomorrow while I'm in town. I shouldn't have any trouble fitting everything
into the SUV."

"Deal!" I tell him. "I'll tell him that he can take my car to drive up and
see Jake. When you get back we could assemble the bed while he's away and
take the singles over to the cottage. Oh, and Marty," I say with a touch of
seriousness, "if you have any intentions of spying on us tonight... you'd
better not... let Will catch you!"

I realise that it's a veiled invitation. He smirks.

"No. All good," he replies. "And, again, I apologise for last night."

"It's OK. No harm done," I tell him, and I give him a conciliatory light
slap to his bare bum.

"I saw that!" I hear as Will re-emerges, probably wondering whether Marty
was still intent on seeking revenge for Will's `squirrel grip' on him.

"Well, that's one mosquito that you won't have to worry about tonight!" I
tell Marty.

Will's eyes dart between the two of us, then he merely raises a sceptical
eyebrow.

"Come on," I say to Will. "You'll need a bit more than a pair of shorts if
you're going to spend some time with Karl and Kurt." He again raises his
eyebrow, but the accompanying smirk indicates that he might actually think
he's already `overdressed for the occasion'.

"Incorrigible!" I mouth to him so that Marty can't see. Then Will heads for
the bedroom.

Appropriately attired, Will and I head for the car, leaving Marty, still
naked, in the kitchen. "See you at your Mum's a bit later," I tell him.

"Come for lunch at 12 o'clock," Marty calls after us. "Mum will be
delighted to see you." Then he adds, "So will Anna." And I hear him laugh.

Will turns to me, wrinkles his nose and puts his hand out for the car keys.

He drives straight to Karl and Kurt's place and is greeted animatedly by
the pair of them before he even reaches the front door.

"If I don't see you beforehand, I'll come back for you about 11:30, which
should give us both time to freshen up before lunch," I tell him while
walking around to the driver's side.

"Hello Mr Grant," both Karl and Kurt call.

"Hi boys!" I reply. "Have you had a good holiday?"

"Yes, sir," they reply enthusiastically.

"I hope to hear all about it sometime," I say to them. They immediately
look at each other and I sense that I won't be told everything. Boys!

After I open all of the school's windows I head for the tool locker behind
the building, on the church side. I retrieve the smallish wheelbarrow, a
hoe and a new pair of gloves from the top shelf.

There is no green grass to mow. The yard is mainly baked earth with patches
of brown vegetation. The object of my attention is the multitude of spikey
weeks that have emerged in the past fortnight, and some now-larger ones
which I had ignored previously. I don't understand how they can thrive
where very little else will grow.

I methodically start chopping the prickly buggers out and fill the
wheelbarrow to deposit them in the far corner of the schoolyard where the
children don't play. Multiple barrow loads.

It's hot work and I've forgotten to bring a hat. I remove my T-shirt and
place the neck of it over the top of my head so that it hangs over my
shoulders and upper back. I reckon that I probably look like an Arab or an
Egyptian pharaoh.

There is a slight breeze that tempers the heat but, at times, it creates a
momentary dust cloud. Once it generates a small willy-willy, a small
whirling funnel of powdery matter and leaves, which dances across the yard.

I decide to clear the whole yard, or as much as possible and I keep working
until I hear voices.

All three boys stop and stare. What a sight I must be - sweaty, dusty,
bare-chested, shirt on my head and the tops of my jeans, front and back,
soaked with the accumulation of perspiration that has run down from my
upper body.

"Excuse me, mister," Will says in a very polite voice, "but we're looking
for our school teacher, Mr Grant. Have you seen him anywhere?" His straight
face broadens to a grin, Karl and Kurt begin to titter, and then all three
burst into self-satisfying laughter.

I play along. "You might check under that pile of weeds in the back
corner. I think I heard some noises coming from up there a while ago." They
smirk. I add, "Then, again, he may be in the boys' toilet. I was just about
to head over there, so I'll check that out for you."

I walk off, leaving them in a tittering, mirthful mood. I remove my T-shirt
and begin to wipe my face and chest. The combination of dust and sweat
leaves a brown hand-print and muddy streaks on my light-coloured shirt. I
sling it over my shoulder then, inside, I step up to the urinal, unzip and
begin to relieve my over-full bladder, relishing the release. Suddenly a
body appears, sidles right up to me and pulls down the front of his shorts,
hooks them under his balls, displaying his cock and darkening furriness for
my inspection while he ogles my own. He takes a quick pee and is finished
in a few squirts.

Popping his gear back inside, he says, "Gee, Mr Grant. Your back's all
sweaty too. Can I fix it for you?"

I'm tempted to correct him with `may I...?' but I reply very simply, "Thank
you, Kurt." He takes the shirt from my shoulder and gently rubs me from top
to bottom (literally).

He says, "You missed some up front," and rubs my pecs and abs, and I
shudder. Whether it is from his touch or my final squirt of urine, I'm not
sure. He takes a final good look at my cock, returns my T-shirt to my
shoulder, then skips out. I zip up and follow. I think that I'm going to
have a real problem with this boy (just like young Mikey's forwardness at
the motel).

Will is doing some hoeing and Karl is returning from the far corner with
the empty barrow.

"Did you find him?" I ask.

Karl smirks, "Nope, but I think that there might be a snake up there."

Kurt adds, "I saw a snake in the toilet, but it's gone now. Oh, and I found
Mr Grant too."

I give him my best disgusted look, but it's hard to maintain a serious
expression with three handsome young guys grinning at me, fully cognisant
of the intent of Kurt's humour.

The three of them each remove their shirt, put it on their head, and pitch
in. With their help, all weeds are removed in short time. I thank them and
we return all of the tools to the shed.

Will comments on how dusty we all appear. Kurt is the one to suggest a
remedy. "How about a quick dip in the weir to clean up?"

The other two agree. Karl adds, "It's a bit cool, though. Not exactly like
it was weeks ago."

Kurt chides, "Don't be a woos! It'll be refreshing." His ulterior motive
for getting us into the weir is as plain as the smudges on his face! His
infatuation with me has not cooled one degree while we've been away!

Will looks at me and raises an eyebrow. His expression says, `Well, what
are you going to do now?' I answer him with a shrug of my shoulders. I
wouldn't mind a quick dip, but I don't want to encourage Kurt's apparent
obsession with me. Nor do I want Will to think that my affection for my
brother can be easily supplanted by a quick romp with a randy 12-year old.

What to do? Accepting the twins' invitation could be seen as giving the
green light to ongoing sexual high jinks. I'm not sure that even Chad could
protect me if word of it got out.

However, to refuse to clean off the dust and perspiration, on the other
hand, makes no logical sense, and would render me the target of much
ridicule. I wouldn't want that to get back to the locals either.

I'm sure that Will can sense my dilemma, and that I haven't just drifted
off into one of my far-away reveries. He takes the decision out of my
hands. "Boy, do I need to clean up! I'll give you guys three seconds head
start. ...1 ... 2 ..." Karl and Kurt take off at a gallop. "... 3!"

Will is in hot pursuit. He overtakes them just outside the gate and dashes
away from them.

My own enthusiasm is more subdued. I walk.

I find the river bank strewn with discarded clothes, including underwear,
and there is a surfeit of splashing and squealing from the water.

I casually remove my shorts and underpants and slip in. I'm not sure that
they've even seen me through all the wallowing. My forehead and eyes
surface upstream of them and I swivel around to find them scanning the
river's edge.

"Is he coming or not?" Karl questions Will.

"I dunno," Will replies.

"I hope so!" Kurt chimes in.

I stay still and enjoy their uncertainty. Will spots me and I put a single
finger to my lips. He smirks and submerges. Karl is suddenly elevated out
of the water on Will's shoulders and emits a loud "Yee-ha!" They head for
Kurt with intended menace on their faces.

"Hey!" Kurt protests. "That's not fair! I don't have a horse!"

I drift close enough to be sure of my bearings then sink below the
surface. My hands touch his back first then I feel for his thighs, prise
them apart, duck my head and pick up my rider.

"Oh, yeh!" he shrieks as I rise to the surface with him.

A good amount of horse-and-rider wrestling ensues. I can see Karl's
erection protruding from behind Will's head and can definitely feel
Kurt's. Now I've got one, and some close encounters with Will confirm what
I expected of his body too.

I make an exaggerated, overt display of washing myself clean, then allow
Will and Karl to get the better of Kurt and me. As I topple sideways, horse
and rider separate. I head for the bank and climb out. I hear groans of
disappointment from behind me. I don't mind giving Kurt an eyeful of my
nakedness, rather than a handful! He smacks the surface of the water in
apparent frustration.

"Maybe another time, Kurt," I call to him, in an attempt to take the edge
off his disappointment.

Why on earth did I just tell him that? Now, he'll be after me at every
opportunity! Stupid Schoolie! Or is that what I really desire and hope for?

"C'mon, Will. We have an appointment for lunch," I call as pull my clothes
on after brushing off as much water as possible with my hands first.

The battle between desire and `duty' is evident. He wants to stay and `muck
around' some more with the twins but needs to do the right thing by his
protector/cousin, Marty.

As Will slowly emerges from the river, his muscles are taught due to its
coolness. Marty's taunts of `tubby' certainly cannot be justified in the
slightest. Will is a beauty - slim, without bulked-up muscles, just
well-defined. He would make an ideal underwear/Speedo model - eye candy
extraordinaire! Ripples and bulges in all the right places!

His dark patch of pubic curls is starkly contrasted against his
Gold-Coast-tanned skin and they neatly frame his still-thickened but
slackening manhood.

I don't know what the three of them may have already done together this
morning but Karl and Kurt have had their short-lived thrill with us two for
today! Any more will have to be at their own hand. LOL.

"Maybe I'll see you tomorrow, guys," Will calls to them as we head back
together. We lock up and drive to Marty's. The plan is to clean up, dress
casually for lunch at Mum's and then stay and help Marty with the cottage.

Alone, together, we indulge in a slow, stimulating shower that would, I
know, be the envy of Karl and Kurt. I love to run my hands over his back
and sides, savouring the ripple of his muscles against his strong
frame. Grasping and kneading the powerful glutes of his backside always
gives me a thrill. To have my actions reciprocated usually triggers a
session of passionate playfulness and happy endings. Not today. Well, not
right now! Tonight... definitely!

Acacia and Anna have, again, conjured up a feast fit for an adolescent
appetite, not to mention for a Schoolie with a sweet tooth!

Nothing to fear from the seating arrangement - brother and sister together,
opposite teacher and student. Matriarch at the table head, to my right.

Anna is able to look directly at Will and me as we share more of our Gold
Coast experiences - the tellable ones! She shows a more keen interest when
Will describes the Villa di Verdi and the cousins Tony and Rocco. I cannot
imagine the slight-bodied Tony being interested in, or of interest to, her,
but Rocco ... hmm!

When I comment that I've invited them to spend some time visiting our
school, Anna's attention is intensified and her mind goes into
overdrive. "When would they be coming? They could stay in the
cottage. Marty will have it ready! We only need a couple of beds and they
could eat with Mum and me. No trouble!" There is a twinkle in her eye, and,
I sense, a smile on Will's face.

Marty is amused at his sister's sudden interest in a couple of handsome
Italians (based on Will's description, but without incriminating himself or
me in any way).

Acacia seems less so. She looks at me and I simply shrug. Then I add a few
titbits that Will had omitted. "Tony is the only son of a very famous and
rich restauranteur. And you should have seen their house. A villa straight
out of Tuscany! I suppose `a mansion' could describe it better, with its
marble floors and statues and expensive paintings and tapestries. And the
gardens - wow!"

Suddenly Acacia, too, becomes more attentive. For fun, I throw in, almost
dismissively, "But Rocco's definitely the `stallion' of the pair, if you
like muscles and hairiness and that sort of thing."

Anna is squirming, mouth partially open. I hope that she doesn't drool at
the table! Will kicks me under the table. Marty squints at me and I
wink. He smirks.

Both guys know that I am pushing the women's buttons! Unfair, but fun! I'm
not sure what Rocco would think, though.

"Their visit would be some time in the future but may be as soon as the end
of this term," I tell them.

The conversation continues for the duration of the meal, even through
dessert. `Tuscany', `Villa di Verdi', `Italians', `Tony' and `Rocco' figure
most prominently.

As I sip my coffee, I thank Anna and Acacia for their hospitality and throw
in, as a final comment that the Italian boys are good cooks too and that
Will and I really enjoyed their cannolis and fresh cream for dessert. Will
coughs and splutters into his lemonade and looks up, red-faced. He excuses
himself by saying, "Sorry. It must have gone down the wrong way!"

Marty raises an inquiring eyebrow. I give him the slightest of nods in
acknowledgment. He looks at Will and smirks.

Despite the fact that Marty had mentioned it previously, I'd never really
taken any notice of the cottage before today. It sits directly behind
Acacia's house, at a distance of 50 metres or so. Marty tells me that his
grandfather built it before constructing the larger building in which we
now sit.

We walk over to it.

It's small, but clean and bright - a combined living / dining / kitchen
area, similar to Marty's but on a much smaller scale and with only one
bedroom.

The next thing that I notice is that there appears to be no bathroom. When
I ask Marty about it, he opens the back door and points to a pair of cement
laundry tubs on a stand, with a single tap over each. "There you go - bath,
shower and laundry, all in one. And over there," he says, indicating a tiny
wooded structure, some farther distance away, "is the old toilet. It's just
a hole in the ground below a wooden seat made of two planks. It's been
known to stink worse than a rotting sheep's carcass on a hot summer's day."

I look at the laundry tubs and Marty chuckles, "Actually, there's no bath,
no shower, and no hot water - unless you heat a pot on the old stove. Oh,
and there's no electricity. When dad had gas and electricity connected to
the `big house' as he called it and the `shearers quarters' he didn't see
the need to extend either back out to here. At least there is water that
comes from the tank alongside the house but, at the moment, that's empty
too - no rain: no water! The other two places are fed from the tank with
the big windmill that pumps water up from the river. If ever the river
stopped flowing, we'd all be in big trouble. We kids didn't miss having a
bath because there was always the river - only not in the middle of
winter!"

"It's no wonder that nobody lives in this nice little place," I comment.

Marty replies, "Sean and Chad tried it for a while, but gave up very
quickly and decided that moving to Big Town was a better option than
staying with Mum and Anna and me. They also couldn't be bothered fixing up
the shearers quarters. It didn't bother me, so I did what they wouldn't and
moved in when it was `liveable'. Now the place is my own little
haven... and yours." He smiles, so do Will and I.

By the end of the day the cottage is spic and span, despite stinking of the
paint that we have used. "Marty, I think that my head is beginning to ache
from the fumes," I tell him. "Can we call it quits for the day?"

"There's not much left to do anyway," Marty replies. "You two have been a
great help. Thanks. I can finish the rest when I get back from town
tomorrow." Then he adds, "Time off for good behaviour, Will. Why don't you
catch up with Jake tomorrow? I think he's missed you." Marty winks at
me. Will is in for a surprise when he gets home from Jake's and sees our
bedroom.

While we are packing up, Acacia strolls across from the big house to carry
out an obligatory matriarchal `inspection'.

Her effusive compliments are followed by an invitation to stay for
dinner. Marty is hesitant, obviously not wanting to spend more time with
his mother (and sister) than is absolutely necessary, but desirous of not
insulting her either.

"If it's all the same, Mrs O'Brien," I say to her, "I'm really tired after
hoeing out weeds at the school all morning and I have a bit of a headache
from the paint fumes. I'd really like a shower and an early night in bed."

With his back to Acacia I see Will smirk and mouth, `me too'.

"That's all right dear," Acacia replies. "Maybe another time, and you can
tell us more about your Italian friends."

I knew that is what was on her agenda! And Anna's! Oh, well, they're each
entitled to their own fantasies!

While Will showers, Marty starts cooking a simple dinner of sausages,
mashed potatoes with onion, minted peas and carrots.

I'm the one who does the crying over the peeling of onions. Then I do the
potatoes.

Will emerges naked. There is a brief stopping of the time continuum as
Marty and I both stare at him. I think of those TV ads where everything
freezes except the central character. "That feels better," he says,
exhaling heavily.,

"Ready for bed are we?" Marty puts to him with a grin.

"Yeh, well, the way that I figure it," Will responds, "why put on clean
stuff when I'm only gonna take it off again?"

"Absolutely!" Marty says jovially and I see him take in Will's slender,
trim form, highlighted by his dangling white cock and balls, both offset by
his dark curls. "And I can see that you didn't sunbake naked while you were
away!"

I turn and look at Marty to give him my `evil eye' of warning to back off
and not to try anything.

"I'm next in the shower," I tell them both. "Will, can you please set the
table?"

"Do you mean 'may you'?", he says slowly and deliberately. Well, he almost
has the grammar correct. He enjoyed that!

I leave the pair of them alone but strain to glean any snippets of
conversation. Eavesdropping? You betcha!

It may have only been fear of discovery that kept Will and Marty apart
previously. Now that both of their secrets have been shared, most of the
barriers have been removed! Will and I need to talk about it.

I'm already fairly clean from the dip in the river, so I just need to rinse
off any paint smells and I give my hair a quick shampoo for the same
reason. I turn off the running water as quickly as I can, and the only
discussion that I can make out is Marty `selling' Will on spending most of
the day with Jake.

I decide to adopt Will's dress code and stroll out, free-balling.

I stand next to Will and we strike a pose, resting an arm around each
other's shoulders.

Marty has to comment! "Heckle and Jeckle!" he jokes, then adds, looking us
up and down, "There's no doubt that you're brothers!"

"And there's no doubt that horse-shit pies are on your menu sometime soon,"
Will throws in.

Marty's face drops from being reminded. As he walks past us on the way to
the bathroom, he slaps Will's backside, hard. "Another dead mozzie!" he
quips, then he runs.

I whisper a plan to Will, then he and I wait for the sound of the shower.

Marty's broad back and contracting muscular glutes are facing the
door. Will and I lean on opposite sides for the door frame, Marty-style,
and simply stare at him, willing our eyes to burn into him a consciousness
that he has an audience.

It works. He turns his head slowly and looks at us, then faces us fully. We
say nothing.

"Yes?" Marty asks. Silence from us.

"Well, what are you looking at?" he continues. That's our cue.

"Nothing much," I respond.

Then Will says, "Yeh, that's right, nothing much at all!" and he lowers his
eyes to Marty's gear. I have to hold back a laugh at the shocked expression
on Marty's face.

Marty is so quick and accurate with a balled, wet face cloth, that Will
cops it fair in the ear as he attempts to duck away from the projectile.

Will picks up the cloth and is about to return fire when my outbreak of
laughter become a little too overt and irritating for his liking and he
stuffs the wet ball into my mouth instead.

Marty, out of the shower in a flash (no pun intended) grabs both Will and
me in a headlock, one with each arm.

There's a bit of a struggle, but Marty is strong. In the end I stretch out
my right and grasp his cock which is thickening with the obvious pleasure
of the physical contact with both Will and me.

I extend my left hand to Will and latch onto his right butt cheek. He
responds by squeezing my shaft with his own right hand then he reaches
around Marty for his glutes. Seeing what is transpiring, Marty relaxes his
arms and decisively completes the double-circle - holding Will's cock with
his right hand and my butt with his left.

I'm sure that every squeeze, fondle and jerk, initiated by one, is
transmitted around the trio. Fingers find their way between butt cheeks;
cock heads are rubbed and there is soon a relaxed ring of grasping and
probing to the left and jacking to the right.

While this is going on, a couple of memories run through my mind - firstly
of that day the three of us jacked ourselves off at the bath; then when I
was on the tube at Sea World with Will, Simon, Luke; last, but not least,
in the toilet of Mr Verdi's restaurant with the four of us again plus Tony
and Rocco.

My body, stimulated by watching Marty's pleasure at having his hand on his
cousin's not-little willie for the first time, while being `done' himself
and, at the same time, watching Will's face, is all too much for me.

I don't give them any warning; I simply arch my back and erupt. Will, at
the first indication of what is about to occur (he knows me well enough by
now) points my cock at Marty, then up my own body and, finally, takes the
rest himself.

He leans back, groans and adds his stuff to mine.

I feel Marty's body tense. His first excited shot hits Will under the chin
then, with his cock in my hand, I ensure that all three of us share his
fountain.

I feel Marty's grip on my backside tighten. We, three, pull each other into
a tight, slippery hug, twisting our bodies first to one side and then the
opposite, rubbing ourselves on each other.

"Looks like we all need to shower again," Marty chuckles.

"You go first, Marty," I encourage, wiping myself with a towel. "I'll go
and put the jug on and check the sausages then you can make us some coffees
when you're done. "Just a quick rinse," I tell them both.

I'm back in a few moments just as Marty steps out and Will steps in, with
no need to adjust the water. Marty leaves. "I need to `brush my teeth'
after dinner," I tell Will, which elicits the biggest of grins. Then I add,
"And Marty said that we can use his bed for one more night, then we're back
to our own room."

Will looks suddenly disappointed, but he doesn't know what Marty and I have
planned, does he? He rinses himself quickly then disappears, leaving the
shower to me.

When I re-enter our room, I see that Will has put my enema gear onto my
bed. He smiles at me and I cover it with my pillow. I'm not accustomed to
such open displays. Then, as I recall everything that I have done in recent
weeks, culminating in allowing Marty to observe me fucking his young
cousin, I have to smile at my own prudish attitude. I remove the pillow.

We eat, naked. Nothing sexual. Not jokes about sausages. No insults. Just
liberated actions and discussions. It feels good!

We clean up and just when I am wondering about how we three can fill in our
evening (more conversation or a game of cards), Marty says, "Go on, you
two. Enjoy your last night in my room... and try to keep the noises down
tonight, OK?"

I'm absolutely mortified when Will announces, "Yeh, we'll get to that
shortly, but Tom has an appointment with an enema kit first." I feel my
ears flush with embarrassment first, then my neck and cheeks; maybe all the
way down to my toes.

If Marty ever had any doubt regarding the discussion we had of me being
comfortable `on the bottom bunk', Will has now removed that in a single
breath.

But Marty, ever gracious, responds, "Yeh, I wondered about that. When I'm
in town we use condoms." He just looks at me... differently! I'm tempted to
ask him what he is thinking, but I dare not. I'm afraid that I will hear
him propose some full-on three-way action!

Instead, I make some inane remark, "Oh, well, you'll get yours tomorrow."
Then I feel myself blush again at my boldness.

As I head for the bedroom to collect my `enema kit', I say, "Excuse me,
gentlemen. I believe that I have an appointment," and I give Will a
withering stare.

Marty, catching my expression, turns to Will and announces, "I think that
you're in big trouble, mister!"

When I emerge from the bathroom, some many minutes later, Will and Marty
are just sitting, talking. I say quite emphatically to Will, indicating the
bathroom with a nod of my head, "Your turn!" leaving no doubt in anybody's
mind what my intentions are!



To be continued...

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