Date: Thu, 17 Sep 2015 21:53:01 +1030
From: Robert A. Armstrong <rob.aa@hotmail.com>
Subject: Schoolie - Chapter 46

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 45


"Can you guys keep the noise down?" we hear at one point from Marty's end
of the house. This acts as nothing more than waving a rag in a bull's face,
and Will makes a point of being very vocal about his sensory
stimulation. At the point of his release he actually screams out, "Oooh,
yessss!"

This is followed, almost immediately by a great splash of cold wetness upon
our naked bodies. Will and I both jump and squeal in shock.

"It's always worked on the dogs," Marty laughs, "so I thought that I'd try
it on you two animals!" He adds, "Now settle down and let me get some
sleep!"

"Fucking hell!" Will retorts. Then he warns, "You'd better sleep with one
eye open, cuz. That's all I can say!"

"That'd be twice as much sleep as I'm getting at the moment!" Marty
replies, and he retreats hastily. We hear his door close.

Will and I both needed a hot shower anyway!

There is hardly any residual wetness on the mattress as we had laid towels
beneath us earlier. Besides, Marty couldn't have used more than a coffee
mug full of water.

Sleep and dreams are sweet! Will isn't the only young guy who figures in
mine.



Chapter 46

The day has arrived. The horse, but first, the talk!

I haven't really planned what to say, but it must be predominantly for
Jake's benefit rather than Will's.

Breakfast done, Marty heads out of the door for town, brandishing my letter
for young Andy, as if to reassure me that it's not forgotten. I'm not sure
whether he's going to enjoy himself with both `him' and `her' this morning
or if it's going to be a male-only one-in-one experience. I chuckle to
myself that Will and I have given him plenty to `excite his juices' over
the past week, and especially last night.

Will disappears to pick up Jake and I decide to do a load of washing. I
also gather a few things from Marty's bedroom floor to throw in, including
a very damp, crumpled hand towel. Apparently he couldn't hold off before
getting into town this morning, especially after Will's stirring
performance. Oh, well, getting himself off at least once, maybe more, (or
perhaps, only one very `generous' release, judging by the wetness of the
towel) probably helped him to drop off to sleep!

Everything's clean and tidy. I've decided to have the boys sit on the two
corner lounges and I'll pull over a single chair from the dining table.

My car returns.

Will and Jake come in, somewhat more subdued than how I usually see the
pair of them together. I can't quite tell from the expression on Jake's
face whether he's expectantly excited or nervously fearful.

Jake opts for lemonade and I put the jug on for Will and me. Both boys
disappear into our bedroom. It's very quiet!

I unexpectedly hear Jake yell, "Hey!" This is followed by Will making a
flurried entrance to the living area, seeking immediate refuge on one of
the lounge chairs, his `innocent' eyes cast heavenward.

Jake, in close pursuit, looks at me and blurts, by way of explanation, "He
pinched me on the bum. Hard!"

Well, I think, at least that has broken the heaviness of the mood.

I reassure Jake, "Well, you can get even with him when I go up to your
place for my riding lesson. He'll be all yours, for at least an hour! Maybe
two."

Both boys look at me. Jake is exhibiting a cheesy, revengeful grin. Will
raises and lowers his eyebrows expectantly. Sexy beast! Maybe Marty was
right!

I indicate for Jake to take the other lounge. I give them their drinks,
pull up a chair, turn it backwards and sit astride it, with my arms resting
on the chair back.

We all know what we're here for, so I plunge right in. "Jake, when was the
last time that you watched two animals mating?" Nothing like breaking the
ice with a sledge hammer! And I deliberately chose the word `watched'
instead of `saw'.

"Um," he starts. "Yesterday afternoon." I say nothing. He breaks his
silence with, "Two of the horses."

I add, "So, we don't need to cover the `birds and bees' stuff do we?" He
shakes his head. Will looks bemused.

I simplify it, perhaps somewhat crudely, "Males and females of all kinds
were designed to do it just the way you watched the horses doing it: a hole
and a pole." He nods but says nothing.

Will cuts in, "Animals are always doing it - horses, sheep, dogs,
cattle..., "

"We're made exactly like that too," I put to them both. They nod. "So what
makes people different to the animals?"

I'm expecting a smart-alec and crude response from Will. After all, Marty's
told him that he's been acting just like another animal.

However, it's Jake who speaks, giving a sensible, considered answer. "I
think that animals, especially the males, just seem to do it whenever they
feel like it. People don't do that," he says candidly.

"So, do you think that there are times when people might feel like doing
it, but can't?" I put to them both.

Will and Jake look at each other. It's Will who responds. "Well, you
couldn't do it at school, or in front of your parents or friends or in
Macdonald's or places like that."

Jake adds, "And one person might feel like doing it but the other person
might not."

"And, there are times when you can easily tell that a guy's body is ready
to do it, but they may not be even thinking about it. Do you know what I
mean?" I ask.

Will has some expertise here, from his observations of horses. "Sometimes a
stallion's pizzle gets long and hard and there's not even a mare in
sight. Often, actually!"

"Yeh," Jake giggles in semi-embarrassed concurrence.

"So, can I ask you, does yours ever get hard at the most inappropriate
time, for no apparent reason, and embarrass you?" I have in mind, of
course, Reg's recounting of Jake's tented pants while talking to the girl
in Big Town.

"Every morning!" Will triumphantly announces. Then he turns to Jake and
asks, "What about yours?"

Jake hesitantly, but maturely, replies, "Well, it would only be
embarrassing if my parents or my sister saw it." Then he smiles wryly.

"It happens to all of us," I tell them. But, then, I don't need to explain
that to Will, with his ever-dependable alarm cock. "It's natural, Jake," I
continue, "when a guy's body is waking up: the heart pumps more blood
around his body and some of it wakes up our sleeping sausage." They both
laugh at my meaty allusion.

I add, "You know, sometimes, when we are scared, or nervous, or excited,
the same thing happens - the heart beats faster and, bingo! Up it pops!"
More nervous merriment. Or is it just polite laughter at my attempted joke?

I fabricate the next bit for Jake's benefit. "I remember going to a high
school dance when I was about 14. I wanted to ask an attractive girl to
dance and I was really nervous about talking to her, thinking about holding
her hand and having her body close to mine. And it happened! I tried to
cover it but that only seemed to make it worse. One of my mates noticed and
he stirred me for weeks after that."

"Did you ask the girl to dance?" Will asks, obviously enjoying my supposed
re-lived embarrassment.

"No way!" I reply. "I had to go to the toilet until `things' calmed down!"

"What happened after that?" Will is intent on pushing the point.

"Not much," I reply. "But that night I decided to swap from boxers to
briefs so that any future `swellings' would be restrained more closely to
my body."

I can see the wheels turning in Jake's mind.

"But, there's another whole side to the boy/girl thing," I say to
them. "Animals don't seem to have any regard for the other one's
feelings. However, people need to respect each other and follow the golden
rule: do unto others as you would want others to do unto you."

The blank stares that I'm getting tell me that I've missed the mark!

"Have you ever heard anyone say, `it's better to give than receive'?" I put
to them. An unintended bedtime meaning suddenly crosses my mind. I'm
definitely not going there! Reg was right - this talk is harder than
expected, an absolute mine field!

There are some non-committal nods. Maybe they're wondering where this is
all going. I'm beginning to doubt its clarity myself. I'm thinking that I'm
really struggling here!

"All I want to say is, as you get to know people better, especially girls,
it's much wiser to do things for them than to expect them to do things for
you. The happier you make them; the happier you'll be yourself." That
sounds pretty lame, I think to myself. Now I know that I'm in way over my
head!

I decide to cut to the chase! "Guys, there's more to a relationship than
getting someone into bed and mating with them, you know!"

"Really? Like what?" Will announces somewhat provocatively, for which he
receives a strange, inquiring look from Jake which says, `Who are you?'

I am stunned.

I think: is that all that I really mean to Will? Have I become to him just
a convenient sexual partner? What happened to the magnetism? What about the
love? I still feel it for him, profoundly.

His perhaps-flippant, off-handed comment has just hurt me deeply. I feel my
eyes mist up and I turn my face more towards Will, hoping that Jake doesn't
notice my emotion.

Will stares at me and the smug smirk drains from his face.

Spinning around on the chair, I rise and say, "Excuse me guys, I need to go
to the bathroom." The mistiness in my eyes becomes overflowing, silent
tears.

As I close the bathroom door behind me I hear Jake ask Will, "Did something
just happen?"

The face that lives in the mirror appears somewhat older than I remember
him, and far more melancholy.

I run the hot water, rinse out a face washer, and give myself a refreshing,
hopefully restoring, once-over.

I decide to take a pee, while I'm here. Then, as I'm washing my hands,
luxuriating in the comfort of the velvety soap and hot water, there is a
tentative knock at the door.

"Yes?" I say with little emotion.

The door begins to open. Will sidles through the narrow opening then closes
it behind him. I stare into his face, joylessly, as I towel my hands dry.

He looks at me then attempts to stifle a couple of serious sobs. He's hurt
me and my reaction appears to have permeated his feelings too. This is the
exact opposite of what I wanted to convey to both boys today - to be kind
to other people in thought, word and deed.

However, the pitiful sight of his genuine anguish is breaking my heart. I
extend one arm to him invitingly.

He rushes to me, flings his arms around my neck and begins crying
unrestrainedly on my shoulder. I wrap my arms around my still-immature
little brother's beautiful body as it convulses and I comfort him.

It seems a long time before any words are spoken.

"I'm sorry," Will begins. "Tom, I'm so sorry!" Then, by way of explanation
he adds, "I didn't realise what I was saying. I was just trying to be
funny. It was just one of those guy things!"

"Maybe I'm just too sensitive," I reply. "But you hurt me. Your words
conveyed to me that you must think of me as an always-available fuck buddy
and that we have become nothing more than just another pair of farm
animals." I'm actually shocked at my own choice of words. I add, "I'm sure
that's how Marty might think of us."

"Oh, Tom," Will sobs. "I didn't mean you and me. I'm sorry that I hurt
you. The words just kinda slipped out. I used to hear the farm hands saying
that there were only two things that a female was good for - one was
cooking and the other was... you know. They used to joke about it all the
time; slipping their cock into some `little filly'!"

"You mean a girl, not a horse, right?" I ask, recovering some composure and
rubbing his back, trying to inject a little humour.

"Yeh, but I saw one of the younger hands actually doing it with a horse
once," Will replies. "He screamed at me when he saw me watching him, and I
ran off."

"What did you think about that?" I ask him.

"Well, he seemed to be really enjoying himself before he saw me, and the
horse didn't seem to mind at all," Will tells me.

There is a silence. "And...?" I prompt him. I can feel that there is more
to be said.

"Well, I thought about trying it myself," he confesses. "But I never
did. It just seemed... I don't know... not appealing and not right
somehow."

"Many people think that two guys having sex is wrong too," I prompt for his
reaction.

"But you and I love it, and love doing it together. And we love each
other. Is that wrong?" he replies.

"Some people think so. Not everyone is like Uncle Bill or my Mum and Dad,
or Marty," I tell him. "I'm sure that there are many people around here who
would not be at all happy if they found out about us. That's why we need to
be very careful about what we say and do around people, even Jake."

"Yeh. I get it. Jake said that Uncle Reg would go berserk if he ever found
out what him and me do, so we are always very careful at his place.

I ignore his bad English.

"OK. That's what I wanted to tell you and Jake... Be careful. Be
respectful. Be restrained. Do you know what that means?"

"I guess so," Will replies. "Don't just do stuff whenever you feel like
it."

"Or somebody may get hurt!" I add, looking at him and raising one
admonishing eyebrow.

"Tom, I'm so very, very sorry that I hurt you. I didn't mean to," he
delivers with genuine remorse, and wipes his eyes. Then he adds, "You can
punish me tonight, if you like!" He grins.

Happy mood restored, and I swat his tail as he heads for the door.

Jake knows that something happened, but he doesn't ask. He looks at Will
and me, both smiling, and he relaxes. Will gives him another lemonade and I
do the coffees.

We settle back into our positions - they in their lounges and I in my
counselling discomfort.

"Now, where were we?" I ask.

Jake replies, "It's OK, Mr Grant. I get it. You don't have to say any
more. I do get embarrassed when it gets hard, especially if I'm talking to
a girl, but I have learned something useful this morning." I smile at him,
comforting myself that I must not have been so bad after all. "I think..."
Jake continues, "that I'll be changing my boxers to tighter underwear." He
smirks.

I commend him on his `wisdom' and ask if he has any questions about
`relationships' as opposed to just `poles and holes'. He laughs and says,
"No, but thanks for asking. Can I come and ask you stuff if I need to? I
could never talk to my dad about some things."

"Of course, you may, Jake," I encourage him. "But, don't think that your
dad couldn't give you some good advice, too. In fact, I think that he would
be very proud to share some father / son discussions with you."

"Yeh, I guess," Jake replies, hesitantly. "But it's easier to talk to
you. Dad gets angry when I ask him `stupid' questions."

"Jake, questions about relationships and growing up are never stupid," I
encourage him. "If you like, talk to me first, and maybe I can feed you
some simple questions for your dad. What do you think?"

"Thanks, Mr Grant. Thanks heaps!" Then he adds, almost as an aside, "You
are one cool schoolie! No wonder Will likes you so much!"

I ruffle his hair. Boys seem to like that.

I finish my coffee and tell them, "OK, guys, I'll leave you two alone to
have a bit of fun and I'll go and visit Reg."

Jake stares at me. "Mr Grant," he begins hesitantly. "Can I ask you one
question?"

I think, `Well, that didn't take long'. "Sure Jake, what would you like to
know?"

"Mr Grant, is it true that you've never ridden a horse?" His question seems
tinged with apologetic disbelief.

"Not exactly, Jake. But I'm sure that Will can fill you in on the details
while I'm away." I smile and he flashes me a toothy grin in return.

Will interjects with, "You won't believe it when I tell you, Jake!" I give
him a filthy look then, after a short silence, we both burst into laughter
at the reality of my horsey experiences.

Reg has a horse saddled and ready when I arrive. It's much smaller than I
had imagined... and feared. Thank you, God!

Reg is in a good mood. I've never seen him so light-hearted
previously. Perhaps he's anticipating some hysterical moments to use as
life-long anecdotes. He doesn't ask about `the talk', and I don't raise the
topic.

He treats me like a 5-year old and makes sure that I know which end things
go into and where things come out. I don't get the full equine anatomy
lesson, but he is thorough on a need-to-know basis, including what horses
like and what they don't.

He shows me the saddle, stirrups, bit and bridle but then switches to
talking about `the steering wheel', the `accelerator' and the `brake' and
he warns me about accidentally pressing the `accelerator'. He'd make a
great schoolie!

He tells me that my first lesson is primarily about mounting, sitting and
dismounting. Petting my new (four-legged) friend is included. We practise
at least a dozen times. He explains how to minimise the pain on the inside
of my legs as they rest in such an unaccustomed position, assuming that
I've never stretched them around another animal before. I can't let on
about riding my favourite 'animal', and just go with the flow.

He corrects my posture, even though I'm only sitting. He entrusts me with
the reins and walks around. The horse follows him.

The lesson is short and uneventful. I dismount for the final time, pet the
old girl and she nuzzles me as a sign of acceptance. Then she lets fly with
a stream of yellowness.

"That's why it was important to get the ends right and where to stand,
first up," Reg laughs. "Come into the house. Di has been cooking. Best to
get in for your share before those two young locusts come back." It's only
then that he asks, "How did the talk go?"

I confess to both him and Di that it was harder than I had anticipated, and
that while I'm rarely lost for words, I certainly was earlier!

Reg responds with, "I know. After my brother died, Acacia asked me to talk
to her three sons. Chad and Sean were fine. Marty was the hardest. He kept
asking me relationship-type questions that were really awkward to
answer. However, in the end, we concluded that the guys seemed to know
almost as much as I did, anyway."

"I felt that I didn't want to go through that pain again, especially with
my own son! Thanks, Tom, for getting me off the hook!" He laughs at my
shocked reaction.

"I've learned one thing today, Reg," I reply. "I won't want to be repeating
this experience with my own children. I guess that I'd better get some
unsuspecting schoolie to do it for me, too!"

He and Di both laugh. It's hard not to join them. I add, "Actually, I could
avoid the whole situation altogether - by having no children of my own!" I
think that it's never going to happen anyway!

Having enjoyed Reg and Di's hospitality and potentially doing extreme
damage to my waist-line, I head out.

"Hey, Tom," Reg hails me as I'm about to get into the car. "You did well! I
think that we can turn you into a horseman without too much pain!"

"Thanks, Reg," I say. "It wasn't as bad as I had expected."

"If we take it slow and steady, you'll be fine. Don't be in a hurry. You'll
get there!"

I arrive home, earlier than any of us had anticipated, thinking that I
might `catch' the boys having a bit of fun. But, instead, the car is
greeted by the pair of them rushing out to greet me, in obvious
pre-discussed expectation of watching a semi-invalid emerge.

They stop short of the car, nudging each other mirthfully and pointing
towards me provocatively.

I decide not to disappoint them, calling upon my best acting skills to
feign a bow-legged, arse-sore city slicker!

I emerge slowly, clinging to my car body and door for apparent support and
I edge my way in their direction.

Their joy erupts in disdainful jibes.

"Do you need help to get inside, Mr Grant?" Jake asks, cheekily but
politely.

"When you are able to step away from the car, you'd better just hand over
the car keys!" Will adds.

Time for my fun!

"If you want them, you'll have to catch me first!" I tell him.

He and Jake look at each other.

"I'm not gonna crawl on all fours, you know, just to give you a sporting
chance!" Will jokes, earning a high-five from Jake.

Will takes a step towards me and I straighten and step backwards.

His next two, measured paces are matched by my own movements, in reverse,
away from him.

"You are joking, right?" Will says.

"Nope!" I reply. "You'll have to chase me if you want them." I then focus
past him to Jake, and I smile.

Will's sudden movement triggers my own. I dash directly towards the high
windmill and water tank next to the river, across the paddock.

I don't look back, but I can tell, intuitively, that the gap between us is
widening.

"Hell, yeh!" I hear, not from Will, but from Jake. He claps and hoots and
is obviously enjoying the sport, like encouraging a dog after a rabbit. In
this case, the rabbit is winning.

I reach the tank well ahead of my little brother. I turn to face him and
lean on the stand much as Marty does on the bathroom door frame.

"What kept you?" I tease as he slows to a walk, approaching me cautiously
lest I bolt away from him again. I hold the keys at arm's length for him to
claim.

"How the hell could you run like that?" he asks in amazement. "Especially
after..." He's not quite sure how to describe his anticipated,
horse-induced debilitation of my body.

I reply with, "Not everything is as it may seem, you know, little brother!"

A thought crosses my mind. Impulsive, but necessary!

As he reaches for the keys, I snatch my hand back. He looks at me
cautiously as if preparing himself for me to initiate another flight.

I tell him that I need the car for a while because "Something has come
up. I'll drop you both up to Thunungara then pick you up later."

He looks as though he is about to either argue the point or wanting to
pursue the reason why. But, perhaps reading something in my eyes, he meekly
acknowledges, "OK."

We walk back together and are greeted by an enthusiastic Jake. "Nice work,
Mr Grant! You're the only person that I've ever seen outrun Will!"

"Thank you, Jake," I reply. Then I add, "I represented my school in 100m
and 200m sprints. Looks as though I've still got it, eh?"

"But how could you run so fast after..., you know..., with the horse?" he
asks, having witnessed my miraculous `recovery'.

"Ask your dad," I say to him. "He'll tell you all of the details." I smile
at him and wink, and he realises that my acting aspirations, although not
up to Oscar standards, are not to be quickly dismissed!

On the journey back to Jake's, I fill them in on my athletics career,
medals and awards for other things. I add, "Nothing for horse riding
though... yet!" Subdued chuckles.

I tell them that I'll probably be an hour or more and I head back towards
The Village.

About 500m before the school, I take the road north towards `Whispering
Gums', crossing the river at an old, solid timber bridge, held together by
huge bolts and nuts. Something from the last century. The roughly-hewn
beams are at least 30cm square. My crossing speed is 10km per hour but
there seems no reason for any apprehension. I reckon that this bridge could
withstand a force-5 cyclone. My car would be nothing more to its load that
a mosquito would be to a water buffalo.

About 300m up the road there is a track which branches left, due west. I
had seen it from the helicopter - a well-defined trail at the road end,
but, westwards, disappearing totally in the formless dirt plain. Its
presence has troubled me and drawn me ever since. Why?

I pause to ponder my impending action.

I know what, last week, lay due west of this point!

My skin tingles.

It can't be back so soon so, surely, I am safe from the curse!

I want to know what else is out there. What holes? Any fence posts? Maybe
some aboriginal artefacts? I have to know! Why? I have no idea why!

I check the digital compass on my phone. Due west. At least, when I return
I'll only have to travel due east to connect with the `Whispering Gums'
road. Then I realise, Hey! I can just follow my tyre tracks back!

I drive.

I check the compass. Heading due west. How far?

I do some mental calculations on what I've heard at the pub and from what I
saw from the helicopter. Perhaps I've already missed the site
altogether. Five minutes more and I'll turn back.

The ground is so dead flat and devoid of obstacles that I could probably
take my hands off the steering wheel and nothing would happen. So, while
still holding my foot on the accelerator, I fossick around for one of my
favourite CDs, push it into the slot and then focus back in front of me.

What's that in the distance?

I take my foot off the pedal and allow the car to slowly succumb to the
friction between the tyres and the dirt until it slows to a stop.

The surrounding dust settles and my vision clears.

I stare.

It looks like a homestead.

But there are, supposedly, no buildings out here.

Except for...

But, that would have disappeared after the helicopter crash claimed the
curse's latest victim, wouldn't it?

Unless...



(To be continued...)

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