Date: Fri, 17 Jul 2015 19:54:30 +1030
From: Robert A. Armstrong <rob.aa@hotmail.com>
Subject: Schoolie - Chapter 44

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 43


I stare at the headline that confronts me.

Without a spoken word, for I am unable to speak, I indicate for Will to
look at my screen as I turn it towards him.

It reads, << HELICOPTER CRASH NEAR CUNNAMULLA KILLS THREE>>.

For innumerable seconds my breathing stops, my heart pounds and my head
throbs. Then I hear the dogs bark.

Marty's home! At least, I hope that it's Marty.



Chapter 44

"Shut up!" I hear

The barking stops.

It's Marty.

My breathing re-starts, but my head is still pounding as I contemplate the
possible consequences of a helicopter crashing near Cunnamulla. Mind you,
it's not a big airport for domestic or international flights; more of an
airfield with some comfortable buildings for passenger convenience. It's
suitable for small aircraft, and strategically located for the Flying
Doctor Service. I Googled the town and its facilities when I first received
my letter of appointment to the school and when I read the words, `via
Cunnamulla'.

Maybe the helicopter wasn't the same one with Ash, Uncle Bill and Helen in
it.

But Uncle Bill did say that `his' was the only one based at Cunnamulla that
could seat more than two people.

Maybe a different helicopter flew in today! But why, out here?

Marty waltzes in. "Hi guys. Something smells good." Then he stops and looks
from me to Will and back. If our general mood hasn't permeated the air,
then our countenances must obviously convey some cause for concern.

"What's up?" he asks. "You two lovebirds have a fight, or something?"

Neither Will nor I respond before Marty continues, "You're not pissed off
about Ash being here with me last night, are you? I like him!"

"You don't say!" Will retorts, and Marty just smirks.

I hold up my tablet and allow Marty to read the headline.

"When did that happen?" he asks. The smirk has gone. He continues to read,
verbalising some key words. "Early today... male pilot... two passengers,
one male, one female."

His shock merges with our palpable grief.

"Wait!" he says. "Look! The article just updated... with a photo."

The three of us crowd over the screen. "Oh, no!" Will chokes out. "It's the
same helicopter. See those numbers on the wreckage?"

"Yes?" I comment, and add, "They're the Civil Aviation ID numbers. Every
registered aircraft has a unique number."

"I noticed and remembered the numbers on the one that our dad was flying,
because it's the year I was born. They're the same! It's his helicopter!"
He bursts into tears and throws his arms around me, sobbing heavily.

It's impossible not to do the same. And Marty wraps his strong arms around
both of us. Despite just wanting to comfort both of us, I'm sure, I can
feel a trembling in his own body.

We hold each other for maybe just a minute or so, but it seems so much
longer. Marty breaks away to reach for the box of tissues on the corner
table. There is much eye-wiping and nose blowing.

"Back in a minute," I tell them and dash to the bedroom. I return with my
phone and press Uncle Bill's number. It goes straight to voicemail. I try
again. Same thing, and I leave no message. "No answer," I tell Marty and
Will.

"Ring Ash's phone," Will says.

"I have his number," Marty offers.

"Oh, do you now?" Will comments.

Not to be outdone by this come-lately admirer of Ash, I say to Marty,
holding up my phone to display Ash's details, "So do we." I press the dial
icon and activate the `speaker' mode so that all may hear.

It rings out; nobody answers.

"Try again!" Marty insists. I press `redial' and count off the rings. It
disconnects.

"That's weird!" Will comments. "Ash said that he always has his phone with
him so that he doesn't miss important calls. He wears it on a pouch on his
belt."

"When did he tell you that?" I ask, suspecting some private conversations
between the two of them. No wonder he's pissed off about Ash spending the
night, naked, in Marty's bed! And, yes, I've noticed that pouch.

"I don't remember," Will replies. "Didn't he tell you the same thing?"

He's either attempting to cover his tracks or my memory is deteriorating!

"You want a coffee, Marty?" Will asks, heading away from possible
interrogation by me or Marty.

"Thanks, cuz," he says and, showing signs of obvious distress, flops into
his favourite armchair.

There is so much to say, but anguished silence prevails. Uncle Bill, Helen
and Ash!

Will and I both sit. The three of us stare blankly through each other, and
sip.

We all jump when my phone rings, shattering the stillness with the loud
tone that I had previously selected.

I grab it and look at the screen. "It's from Ash's phone," I tell the
others and switch so that they can hear too. I answer tentatively, hoping
not to hear a police officer or medic on the other end. "Hello?"

"Hey, Tom," Ash chirps. "How's it going?"

"Where the hell have you been?" I question him, then become suddenly aware
of the sharpness of my words.

"What's wrong, Tom?" the phone responds. "What do you mean? I was just in
the shower." Then he adds, "Alone... in case you were wondering!" I can
hear the smile on his face.

"Sorry, Ash," I begin. "I just... we just..."

I'm lost for words and Marty puts out his hand for the phone. "Ash, it's
Marty. Are you OK?"

"Hey, roommate! Yeh, I'm great, especially after last night." He doesn't
know that he's on loudspeaker. Will and I look at each other. Ash goes on,
"What's up, mate? What's going on with you guys?"

"The helicopter!" Marty says, without elaborating, as though that would be
sufficient to trigger an explanation.

"I don't follow you, Marty. What about the helicopter?"

"He doesn't know!" I whisper to Will. Will extends his arm and Marty hands
over the phone.

"Hey, dude!" Will says.

"Hey, big man!" comes the reply. "What's got into the two short guys?"

Will stifles a laugh and points to Marty's crotch and mine. I give him the
finger, and give it to the phone as well.

Will, ever the conversation saver, explains about the headline, the photo,
the registration number and the reported deaths, together with our concern
that it had been him, Uncle Bill and Helen O'Sullivan.

There is a moment of silence and Ash responds, "I don't know anything about
a crash. We're all fine. When we got back to Cunnamulla, we had a coffee
with Bill's friend and your dad returned the keys to him. Helen took the
council's SUV that she had parked there yesterday morning and left. Bill
and I flew back here to the Gold Coast in the Lear jet. He dropped me off
at my place and I've just had a nice hot shower.

While Will and Ash are talking, the subject of the curse, and its target,
re-surfaces in my mind. `...the discoverer himself... or one of his
relatives... or close friends...' I wonder whether the owner of the
helicopter fits into the category of `close friend'!

"Tom tried to call Dad, but it went straight to voicemail. Twice," Will
states, implying, but not asking for any known explanation.

"Yeh, well, he's told me that he often switches it off in the afternoon
until after dinner," Ash says, then adds, "unless he's `entertaining', then
it's really hard to get hold of him. Did Tom leave a message?"

"No," Will replies, "but maybe he should of."

"Should HAVE!" I correct him.

"That's what I said," Will replies. I simply shake my head.

"Maybe Bill's heard the news and doesn't want to talk," Ash comments. "If
something has happened to his friend, Bill will be shattered. I recall him
saying that they went to school together. He taught Bill to fly and helped
him to get his licences. He also lets your dad fly his helicopter and some
other aircraft in order to keep up the log of flying hours to maintain his
licences. And, he taught your dad a lot about business and making money,
and he introduced him to a lot of influential people."

Well, by its own conditions, it seems as though the curse has claimed
another victim!

I motion that I want my phone back.

"OK. We're gonna go, Ash. If you talk to our Dad, please ask him to call us
whenever he can," I tell him.

We all say goodbye and Marty adds, "When are you coming back?" There is an
air of impatient expectancy in his voice.

"Not soon enough!" Ash jokes. Goodbyes are expressed all around again and I
press the disconnect icon.

"Another coffee?" Will asks, looking to Marty and me.

"I need something stronger!" Marty tells him. "Will you join me, Tom? And
how about you, `big man'?" he asks Will, emphasising Ash's words. "You want
to join your `short cousin' and `short brother' in a can of beer?"

Will smiles. "Nah. But thanks for asking. Coffee's enough for me." Then he
adds, "Ash does have an impressive one, doesn't he?"

Marty's and Will's comment have lightened the mood, and I respect Will's
refusal of the alcohol, given his mother's history.

I, on the other hand, decide to join Marty. "I'll have one to celebrate
them being safe, Marty, but that's all," I tell him. "I wouldn't want you
to think that you can get me drunk and then strip me naked... again."

Will's face takes on a look akin to horror, so over the next few minutes I
explain what happened when I first arrived here. All innocent... I think.

He laughs, then shocks me with, "Hey, maybe we can do that to Ash when he
comes back! Wouldn't that be fun?"

Marty looks at me and raises a conspiratorial eyebrow. I know what's in his
mind and I nod. Then it's Will who gets laid on the floor and stripped
naked! Will doesn't seem to offer much resistance. Getting him off for the
second time in as many hours is a light-hearted and welcome release from
the tension of the moment, for all of us.

However, Marty keeps shifting the bulge in his jeans and now I'm really
horny too. He looks at me. "Bathroom?" he asks expectantly.

"Yep!" I reply, adjusting my aching confinement, knowing exactly what he's
suggesting. We leave Will on the floor, without a towel or tissues, to deal
with the puddle on his chest and stomach.

"Hey!" he protests. We ignore him amid our peal of `serves you right'
laughter.

Marty and I stand beside the bath, pants around our ankles and delight in
alternating between relieving our own, and each other's tension.

At the moment of impending ecstasies, broadcast by our moans and groans, a
third body pushes between us. Grasping one cock in each of his hands, he
finishes us both off, almost simultaneously. I suddenly imagine Kurt's hand
being on me instead of Will's, and my second thick ejaculate reaches the
wall beyond the bath and begins a slow, gravity-induced descent.

I think that I could be headed for big trouble in future - mentally,
emotionally and even legally. The kid's only 12 but he seems to want to
play even more than I do.

"Looks like you're on cleaning duty!" Marty jokes to me, pointing to my
befoulment of the wall.

"It was worth it," I tell him. "All good fun!"

Toilet paper cleans up both the running wall and my dripping cock. Then I
tell Will, "You need a shower, bro!"

He swats my bare backside and complains, "Yeh, thanks to you two."

"Hey, you loved it. I could tell." Marty tells him. "Don't worry, we'll
serve dinner while you're cleaning up." Then he adds, "If it's not
charcoaled by now."

Will turns on the hot water. Marty and I hitch up and secure our pants and
head for the kitchen.

Fears of a burnt offering are unfounded and Marty is even complimentary of
the cooks. We enjoy the meal.

We are midway through doing the dishes when my phone rings. My hands are
still in the sink. Will puts his tea towel down and answers it. "Dad," he
says. "How are you? We were worried." He switches the phone to `speaker'
while I dry my hands.

"I've had two missed calls from you, but you didn't leave a message. Is
everything OK?" he asks.

"Have you spoken with Ash?" Will inquires.

"No, not since I dropped him at home. Why?"

I'm not sure how I should break the news to him. Fortunately, Will is up to
the task. "Dad," he starts, "there's been an accident. Have you heard
anything?"

"What? Ash has had an accident?" he says, with a noticeable agitation in
his voice.

"No, not Ash!" Will says.

"Who?" Uncle Bill asks, then recites a list of possibilities including me,
Marty, Helen and Acacia.

"None of those, Dad," Will informs him. He takes a deep breath and says,
"The helicopter."

"What?" Uncle Bill exclaims. Then there is a period of silence and we hear
an emotional, "Sorry guys!" and he disconnects.

Few words are spoken for the next couple of minutes. We all go about
finishing our tasks.

Many thoughts invade my mind.

I've never heard Uncle Bill upset! He's always been a positive man. Joker?
Yes. Supportive. Encouraging. Energetic. Lovable rogue! Upset? Totally out
of character for the man that I know.

While I feel a sadness for him in whatever loss he is experiencing, I am,
on the other hand, overwhelmingly relieved that the curse has not claimed
him or any of the people whom I know and love. And yet, I can totally
understand his grief at losing a close friend. I had really felt it when I
thought that it might have been him and Helen and Ash! I had a similar
scare when Marty was bitten by the snake. And, again when I thought that
Will had been taken by a shark. But, most of all, when young Andy was
thought to be dead at the hands of that murderous, low-life `friend' of his
mother's.

But, thankfully, I've never suffered the gut-wrenching pain of actually
having to bury a friend.

I ponder, how can families endure the suicide of a teenage son or brother?
How can parents withstand the pain of the abduction, brutalisation and
murder of a young child? How can God-believing people find it in their
hearts to forgive the mass murderer of their closest friends, if ever? How
can a man overcome the death of his loving partner from AIDS?

How can I ever adequately give support to the man who gave me life and gave
me a brother and a hope for the future, in his hour of personal tragedy?

Kurt's words of encouragement ring in my ears, `It'll be all right, Mr
Grant' and I re-live the ensuing wave of peace that washed over me from his
hug in my distress. I want to hug Uncle Bill. I wonder who is there to
offer him the same comfort and solace. I understand his inability to speak
right now.

I need to text him, <<Dad. I love you so much. I want to hug you and to
help ease your pain. Please call me when you can talk. Tom>>

I feel my body tremble.

What day is it? I can't even think straight. Umm... school resumed on
Monday. Uncle Bill, Ash and Helen came on Tuesday and stayed the night,
last night. Today must be Wednesday. I saw Ash's naked, cute arse and
flagpole. More than saw it! LOL. Today the J curse was activated and
claimed another victim - Uncle Bill's close school friend and mentor. And
today I sucked on Kurt's young cock for the first time, and blew a load in
my pants for the first time since... ever! Marty likes Ash. Did Uncle Bill
have sex with Acacia? What will I say to Jake and Will when I have `that
talk' with them about relationships? Saturday? My first horse riding
lesson! How sore will my arse be? Will may have to settle for a blow job!
And also be satisfied with ME spooning HIM. Maybe if Will and Jake get each
other off while I'm riding and then he plays with Karl and Kurt later, he
won't be so randy on Saturday night. As if! Hey! I'm not complaining! Will
Marty share Ash with Will and me?

I feel a sharp pain on my face and hear my name being called. I blink.

Will apologises for the slap. "Sorry, bro! Where were you?"

"You scared us, mate," Marty says. "What happened?"

"What do you mean, where was I? I was right here, thinking," I complain,
rubbing my cheek.

Marty replies, "It seemed like your body was here, but nothing else was. It
was almost as though you were unconscious with your eyes open. You didn't
blink and I even shook your shoulders. I was going to slap you but Will
said that he wanted to do it," he almost chuckles.

"Oh, he did, did he?" I answer, turning my gaze upon Will's attempted
angelic face, with his heavenward-turned eyes. He is, indeed beautiful!

He falls for the oldest trick in the book! I point my finger at him and
poke his chest. He looks down and I run my finger up his nose and, to
finish, I strike his forehead with the butt of my hand.

We all chuckle.

"Should I ring Dad back?" Will asks.

"Give him some space," Marty suggests. "He'll be finding out exactly what
happened. He'll ring you when he can talk."

There is a pause in the conversation. Where to from here? Will re-fills the
jug. Coffee is always good to help pass the time.

"Marty?" I put to him. "Can I ask how Ash ended up here? In your bed!
Naked!"

He looks at me, raising and lowering flirtatious eyebrows.

"Yeh. And what did you two do in bed?" Will throws in.

"Hey! At least allow me a little bit of privacy!" Marty directs at
Will. Marty turns to me. "But, I will answer YOUR question, Tom."

He says, "After you guys left the pub with Jan and the boys, we talked for
a long time then, when Julie Smith looked as though she wanted to close up
for the night, Mum invited everyone back to her place and said that I could
drop them back at the pub later.

"Helen looked around, obviously counting heads (6 people in an SUV that
seats 5) and said that she would stay and get a good night's sleep. We were
about to leave when Jan returned and chatted with Bill and me for a short
while, then I heard him offer to drive Helen out to Whispering Gums with
him in the morning. When Helen hesitated, Bill suggested that he could fly
the helicopter out there and pick up Helen and her gear in the morning then
continue on back to Cunnamulla.

"Helen wished the five of us `good night', thanked us for our hospitality
and said that she would come back to The Village once the work was ready to
commence. Mum bustled everyone else out to my SUV, leaving Jan and Helen to
continue talking about Whispering Gums, her father's work, the new owners
and what Jan does out there.

"Then, after enduring Mum's almost-one-sided conversation at her place for
altogether too long, I offered to take Bill and Ash back to the pub.

"Mum seemed disappointed and wanted to know even more. She said that if
Bill wanted to stay and talk, then he could sleep in the cottage out the
back. Bill agreed. Anna went off to bed.

"Ash and I left. When we got to the fork in the road, I switched off the
engine. Ash and I talked about his job and what, exactly, he would be doing
out here. Whenever he spoke to me, he would lay his hand on my arm, as if
to emphasise what he was saying. I could just sense something!

"So, the next time that I answered one of his questions, I placed my hand
on his thigh, just above his knee. He said nothing about it and just kept
talking about the work. It wasn't long before he started to put his hand on
my thigh too instead of my arm. We both seemed pretty comfortable with that
arrangement, patting each other's thigh.

"Then I asked, `Do you really want to go back to a cold bed at the pub?'"

"Why?" he asked, "Do you have a better suggestion?"

"There's half a double bed at my place," I said to him, nervously. "It'll
be warm, but it could get pretty hot."

"I thought someone would never ask!" he declared, lightly slapping my thigh
and running his hand right up the inside of my leg, brushing the lump in my
jeans, intentionally I'm sure! He added, "I actually expected to get an
invitation from Will or Tom, or both, the way that they've both been
carrying on since we first met."

Will and I look at each other. Ash was expecting us to invite him into our
bed? Expecting it? And, by the sound of it, very willing to oblige. And we
didn't! Shit!

Marty continues, "I said, `why should they have all the fun?' then I
re-started the engine and turned left instead of right. Then I patted his
thigh, higher than before, encountering a long, hard indication of his
willingness to share my bed.

"I wasn't sure whether you guys would be making your usual lot of noise so
we just went into my room and closed the door. The rest, as they say, is
history.

"Hey, I wouldn't object to hearing a quick history lesson!" Will quips.

"You don't like history!" I throw in.

"But, I think that I could get to like this kind of history, by the sound
of things," he replies, directing an imploring expression at Marty.

"Sorry, chum," Marty chuckles. "Besides, I don't think that this history
chapter is finished being written yet."

"You like him?" I ask, sensing that last night might be the beginning of
something special for Marty.

"Yep," he answers, then adds, "I sure do!"

"What about the guy and girl in Big Town?" Will puts to him.

"They're a lot of fun when the only alternatives are a friendly right hand
or a hole in the wall of the `Men's Room'," Marty replies, relegating the
sex with `him' and `her' to a mere enjoyable regular opportunity and
convenience. He adds, "I think that all three options will be getting good
workouts until Ash returns... especially since I have to listen to you two
going at it every night!"

"We don't do it every night!" Will protests.

Marty shoots back, "Oh, yeh. And which night did you skip? I must have
missed it!"

I chuckle. Marty joins me. Will's shocked expression softens and, upon a
reality reflection of our nightly escapades, generates a nervous giggle
which quickly morphs into an unrestrained laugh of acknowledgment.

I'm happy for Marty, disappointed that, apparently, I could have had Ash's
body if I'd just had the courage to ask, thrilled that I have a versatile,
sexy little brother who can't get enough of it and I'm hopeful that, with
Ash hanging around Marty, there might be the odd `opportunity' for Will and
me.

Then there's Kurt. Will and Karl make no secret of playing with each other
(at least to Kurt and to me). I don't know what Karl's attitude would be to
his teacher mucking around with his 12 year old twin brother, but Will has
made it clear that he's happy for something to happen and surprised that it
hasn't already.

Will nudges me in the ribs.

"What?" I ask.

"Just checking that you're still with us!" he replies, cheekily. "You were
starting to get that far-away, glazed look again."

We chat for a while. I switch from beer back to coffee. Still no call from
Uncle Bill!

Marty heads off to bed.

Will and I give the squeaking bed spring a real workout but try to keep the
other noises down to a minimum. At least I do!

Thursday passes as `another day'. Marty, conveniently parked at the pub,
picks me up from the school so that Will can drive home after his fun with
the twins. His excuse to Marty is that he's teaching Karl and Kurt to play
some of the games on his tablet. Is Marty so gullible?

Maybe not. He comments to me on the way home, "Will seems to be getting on
really well with Jan's two boys these days." I can't tell whether he's
hinting at suspicions of sexual interplay between them of if he's just
commenting on Will's change of focus from Jake to them. But, then, knowing
what Will and Jake have done together, and cognisant of Will's high libido,
he must suspect something! I think that he would certainly be more
forgiving of Will playing with Karl that he would be of me molesting
Kurt. I have to be extra careful! And Kurt will have to be ultra-patient.

"He loves his computer games," I tell Marty, hoping to steer his thoughts
in that direction. "He complains that I'm no real competition for him but
it seems that Karl and Kurt have taken to them very quickly - Jake less
so."

"How hard are they?" he asks. He means the computer games, but I think of
Karl and Kurt and smile.

"I have the same games on my tablet," I tell Marty. "I'll show you, and you
can tell me what you think. Maybe it's just me!"

After an hour of concentration and frustration, Marty pants, "They're doing
my head in! I think I'll stick to cards."

When he says that he looks me in the eye. I'm not sure what he's thinking
but I ask, "Do you think that Ash would like to play four-handed strip
poker?"

"How the hell could you tell what was going through my head? Have you
become a mind reader, like Mum?" He appears happily shocked.

"Just a hunch," I reply and smirk at him. "I'll bet that Will would be
dealing the cards even before you've finished asking the question!" We both
laugh.

The dogs bark at the approach of my car. "Better put dinner on," Marty
comments, standing up.

I'm about to shut down the tablet when I notice that there are email
notifications. I ignore others and open the one from Ash which has arrived
mid-afternoon.

<<Hi Tom and Will. Your dad dropped in to see me. He's
devastated. Apparently, just after we returned the helicopter and left in
the Lear jet, his friend took two passengers up for a joy flight. Witnesses
said that it just seemed to fall out of the sky. No explosion. No
smoke. Totally silent. Your dad, apart from finding it difficult to bear
the grief of his friend's death, was extremely upset at the thought that it
could have happened with some of the school kids on board, or even us with
Marty or Helen inside. There is going to be full investigation to determine
the cause. He said that he would ring you and talk when he could control
his emotions. Maybe Saturday. Love to you both. And Marty xxoo. Ash.>>

Will waltzes in and drops my car keys onto the corner table, instead of
handing them to me as usual. What? Communal property now are they? His
smile and the residual chunkiness in his shorts indicates that his fun was
not computer-based. Besides he owed Kurt a `favour' from yesterday.

"Been flogging both of them, have you?" Marty asks as he collects things
from the pantry.

"Whaaat?" Will says, falteringly and giving me a filthy stare as though I
had told Marty of his intention to jack off both Karl and Kurt, and of
letting them do him.

"The computer games." Marty says, busying himself. "Thrashed both guys did
you?"

Will looks at me, mouths `thank you', then winks and smiles. He tells
Marty, "Yep. Kurt once and Karl twice. One of our longer sessions. They're
getting really good at it." Then he adds, "I did let them do me once,
though. Got to encourage them, you know!"

I stare at Will and shake my head at the brazenness of his double
entendre. I hope that Marty is too pre-occupied to take too much notice and
to interpret Will's comments as anything other than about playing computer
games.

I text Uncle Bill. No reply.

I call Ash's number then hand the phone to Marty. "Here, you might want to
take this outside and chat to your `roommate'. And, while you're about it,
can you see if you can find out any more about how Uncle Bill is?"

He puts the phone to his ear and walks towards the door. "No. It's Marty,"
I hear him say. "I'm just using Tom's phone. Mine gets no reception at home
here..." His voice fades.

I figure that so long as I can't hear Marty, then he won't be able to hear
what I have to say to Will. I'm about to caution him regarding his choice
of words because one day Marty is bound to twig to what he is actually
talking about. However, Will gets in first...

"Bro," he says, "We really need to talk... about you and Kurt."

I'm stunned. What has Kurt told him?

"What...?" I start, feeling very nervous.

"Just shut up and listen!" he tells me. I suddenly feel as though I'm being
chastised by an older brother instead of the younger version! "Kurt is
really upset with you!"

"What...?" I start again.

"Don't interrupt! This is hard enough as it is," Will says, somewhat more
emphatic than necessary, I think. "When Karl and I were playing with each
other earlier, Kurt was sitting in front of us after he got his turn, and
Karl suddenly stopped and asked him, `Do you and Mr Grant ever muck
around?'. Karl knows that Kurt has the hots for you and I've told you that
already, haven't I?"

"What...?" I attempt for the third time.

"And what do you think Kurt said? Wait! Don't answer that! Just listen to
me. Kurt said nothing. He just burst into tears!" Will says to me with a
stern look on his face. "Karl asked him what was wrong and I reached for
him, hugged him and asked whether you'd hurt him!"

My heart is pounding. Has Kurt had second thoughts about letting me suck on
his cock?

"He was crying, Tom. Then, when he stopped, he said, `I think Mr Grant
doesn't like me'."

I open my mouth to speak, but, this time, nothing comes out.

"Let me finish," Will says. "Kurt told us that even though he's tried, he
can't get you to do anything with him. He said that you told him that it
would be unprofessional and illegal. That's bullshit, Tom! He wants you to
muck around with him. He needs it. I can jack him off, and so can Karl, but
he want you. Do you hear me? He wants YOU to play with him! And I know
exactly how he feels because you're the sexiest guy I've ever seen!" Then
he adds, "Ash might come a close second, and then Sam at the motel, and
Jarrod at the Games Shop. But, hey! I don't blame him for wanting you!
Especially after how we all played around, naked in the weir. If you don't
mind me mucking around with Karl, why would it bother any of us if you and
Kurt had a bit of fun together? So, I'm pleading with you... please let him
`get lucky' with you! Karl and I will help to ensure that it stays a
secret."

My first reaction is to be mortified at making Kurt so upset. How did he
get the impression that I don't like him? I know that I've told him to be
careful and he seems to enjoy finding opportunities to be daringly sexy
with me. Or has he reached the point of frustration with me for not
responding how he wants me to?

A dozen thoughts are processed by my brain in the space of a few thumping
heart beats. Then it hits me. Kurt's not distressed at all! It's got to be
one big smoke screen for Will and Karl's benefit! He and I have a pact not
to tell, and the little rascal's done a great job of throwing the dogs off
the scent!  But, how on earth did he make himself cry so realistically? And
it's not him suggesting that I should play with him!

Will finally lets me say something. "This isn't something that I've thought
of doing!" I lie. "And I know that Kurt has been trying really hard to
... seduce me ... into doing something with him, but..."

"But, what?" Will asks, sour-faced.

"But I still feel bad about it. With you it was different. You were almost
17." I suddenly realise that Karl might think that I'm pretty
straight. Yeh, there was a bit of a romp in the weir, but that could have
been just guys goofing off. Only Will knows the truth. I wonder what he has
told Karl.

There is a period of silence. Will speaks up, "Tom, what if tomorrow after
school, Karl and I go back to his place and let Kurt stay with you? You
could pull the blinds down and muck around for a bit. Then, when you're
finished, pull up one of the blinds and Karl and I will come back and we
can all leave together in the car. Nobody else will know. They won't be
able to see anything from the pub!" Then he adds, "Actually, why don't I
drive the car to Karl's and back? That will make it even harder for anyone
to see who's coming and going."

"I'm tempted to give it a go," I say to Will. "But what if Kurt doesn't
want to muck around?"

"You've got to be joking!" Will says sarcastically. "Haven't you heard a
word that I've said? Promise me that you'll do it!"

I pause, as if deciding whether or not to `give in'. Haha. "OK. Just for
you!" I tell him blandly, trying to disguise my enthusiasm and hoping that
he doesn't observe the tightening in my pants which would betray my true
feelings.

"Not for me!" he says. "For Kurt!" I nod my agreement. Will hugs me, kisses
my neck and whispers, "Thanks... from Kurt."

I hear Marty's voice. Perfect timing! He disconnects and hands me my
phone. "Thanks for that," he says. He has a goofy expression on his face. I
wonder whether that's what I look like after mucking around with Kurt. Will
has commented on it... twice.

Marty adds, "Ash says hello and is really looking forward to coming
back. He's heard nothing from your dad, but said that Bill had previously
spoken about his friend many times. It was he who encouraged Bill to follow
his passion for photography and even supported him financially in the early
years. Bill had become like one of his family, a real `pretend' uncle to
his kids who have now grown up. In recent years, Bill has been able to
return many favours. Bill said that he felt closer to his friend that to
his own brother."

It runs through my mind that my Uncle Bill (my genetic father), while he
didn't know that he had two sons of his own, poured out his attention and
love on a surrogate family. I'm a little jealous and I feel bad for Will,
but, hey, Uncle Bill's done a lot of good for a lot of people! He's a good
man.

We chat as Marty finishes cooking and the talk continues as we consume
it. I fill Marty in on my relationship with Uncle Bill and share that I
think Mum and Dad would probably know his friend too because, as teenagers,
Mum said that they often did things with a group of close friends -
swimming, bushwalking, ten-pin bowling, tennis, movies, parties...

Marty's fondness for Ash becomes evident through his body language at every
mention of Ash's name. Touching his nose, mouth and chin are not as obvious
as groin clutching, but when I become aware of it, I even deliberately
mention Ash a few times to test, and confirm, my hypothesis!

After another bed-spring-squeaking night, Friday morning, by contrast,
appears gloomy and dark. I immediately think of rain and peer out through
the window but, although it's cloudy, the ground is still dry.

After relieving my bladder, I join Marty in the kitchen and accept a
pre-breakfast coffee.

"Won't be long now!" he chirps.

"What?" I ask. "For breakfast, or until Ash returns?" Cheeky of me, eh?

He touches his nose with one hand and points to me with the other, as if to
say, `Spot on!' However, he tells me, "No... until the rains come. Maybe
not today, but soon."

I recall our previous discussion about rain. While I hope, for the sake of
these wonderful country folk, that rain will bring them relief from the
drought, I really don't want the building project to be delayed, although,
I guess, that's inevitable!

I am subjected to more country-babble about weather patterns, most of which
I don't hear as the anticipation of two things permeate my mind - my first
horse riding lesson with Reg tomorrow, and, foremost, my alone-time with
Kurt today. I allow myself to mentally visualise exactly what I will say to
him and what we will do together. I feel stirrings of arousal. And, being
naked, it's not what I want Marty to see.

I'm aware of the shower running although I don't recall hearing Will turn
it on.

My phone rings in the bedroom. I jump at the suddenness of it. Finally!
Uncle Bill.

I hurry to answer it before it rings out, savouring a glimpse of Will's
wet, defined musculature as I pass the bathroom door.

Looking at the screen, I see that it's not from the person I was expecting
and immediately wonder what the reason is for the call.

I answer, "Hi Mum. How are you? What's up?"


To be continued...

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