Date: Mon, 16 May 2016 17:23:08 +0100
From: Gymnopedies <storiesbygymnopedies@gmail.com>
Subject: My Cousin Vanya - Chapter 2

Copyright of this story is retained by the author and it should not be
reposted to any newsgroup or website without permission. Any form of
commercial use is strictly prohibited without the express permission of the
author. The author can be contacted at storiesbygymnopedies@gmail.com

The usual disclaimers apply: don't read if you are prohibited by location,
are under legal age, or if you are likely to be offended by explicit
descriptions of gay sex. The story is pure fiction and is not based on any
actual events.

NOTE: This story will be posted in a total of 9 parts.



My Cousin Vanya: Chapter 2 by Gymnopedies


I was in school. At the front of the class a teacher was explaining about
how in the Ukraine everyone is a naturist, no one ever wears any clothes,
and they spend most of their time sitting in saunas. I tried to interrupt,
to tell the teacher that this wasn't correct and that they did wear clothes
most of the time, but for some reason my voice wouldn't work. I got to my
feet, but the teacher carried on talking, totally ignoring me, while the
rest of the class remained bent over their books taking notes. The teacher
then went on to say that at the end of the lesson we were all going to go
to the Ukraine and so everyone would have to take all of their clothes off
and leave them here in the classroom. Again I tried to interrupt, this time
to say that I didn't want to go, and there was no way that I was going to
be taking my clothes off. But as before, I couldn't speak and everyone
continued to ignore me. Then my friend Owen asked me why I was dressed the
way I was. I looked down at myself and saw that all I was wearing was a
pair of extremely tight white briefs. Suddenly everyone was laughing at me
as I tried as best as I could to cover myself with my arms and hands. I
desperately looked around for an exit and realised that I was completely
surrounded by laughing girls; the teacher and all of the boys had
disappeared. Directly in front of me stood Andrea Burke, a girl who I'd
secretly fancied for quite a while. She was pointing towards my groin and
laughing hysterically. Totally humiliated, I closed my eyes. The laughing
stopped. I opened my eyes again and the girls were gone. I found myself
back at home, standing in the lounge, but now my briefs had disappeared and
I was wearing nothing but a short vest. My mum and dad were also in the
room, and they were clearly annoyed with me for walking around without
undies on. My dad was shaking his head and Mum was muttering about how I
should cover myself up because no one wanted to see my privates. Then Vanya
came in. He was totally naked, but my parents didn't appear to care. Mum
smiled and offered Vanya some sandwiches. The scene changed yet again. Now
I was lying on my bed in my bedroom. I was naked. Vanya stood looking down
at me. He was also naked. Vanya frowned as he looked down at my body. He
shook his head and told me that now he'd seen me without my clothes on he
no longer thought that I was good-looking. He laughed and reached out and
took hold of my dick. He said that since no girl would ever be interested
in me, he'd show me what I was missing. I tried to push him away, but I
couldn't move. Vanya began rubbing my dick. I hated him touching me like
this but at the same time it felt amazingly good, and almost immediately I
became hard. I noticed that Vanya had also become hard. Keeping his hand on
my now erect cock, Vanya used his other hand to start rubbing his own
erection.

I was awake. What a relief. Thank goodness it had all been just a
disturbing dream. However, as I lay with my eyes closed, I realised that I
could hear something – it was the sound of heavy breathing interspersed
with the occasional gasp and groan. Was this still part of the dream? No, I
was definitely awake. Still groggy from sleep, it took me a moment to
realise what I was listening to. Shit! Surely not! But I knew that it
couldn't possibly be anything else. In the bed next to me, Vanya was
jacking off. Double-shit! What the hell was I supposed to do now? Lie here
and wait for him to finish and pretend that I hadn't heard anything? That
seemed like the best plan, since interrupting Vanya while he was taking
care of `morning business' would only serve to embarrass us both. Well, OK,
from what I'd seen yesterday maybe it wouldn't embarrass Vanya much, but it
would sure as hell embarrass me!

Except there was a small flaw in my plan: I was dying to pee. I also had a
rock-solid morning boner which I knew would not go away until I'd emptied
my bladder. I lay in silence, mentally urging Vanya to hurry up, and trying
to ignore my desperate need to relieve myself. But it was no good. Each
moment that passed was agony. It didn't help that my brain responded to the
pants and groans by creating an unwanted mental image of Vanya wanking his
dick, which, disturbingly, served to make my own cock grow even harder. Oh
sod it! To hell with the embarrassment; I needed the loo. I opened my eyes
and rolled over. "What...?" My eyes opened wider. Vanya's bed was empty. I
propped myself up on one elbow. Where the hell was he? The panting was
coming from the floor beyond Vanya's bed. Was he lying on the floor jacking
off? "Vanya?"

Vanya's head appeared. He was breathing heavily, but he gave a smile when
he saw me. With an effort he got to his feet. He was still wearing his
white briefs and there was no sign that he even had an erection.  "Good
morning, Robert. I am sorry if I wake you. I was doing morning exercise."
There were droplets of sweat on his toned chest, which was rising and
falling with each breath.

"Exercise?" I almost laughed in relief. "I thought you were... Oh, never
mind. I need the loo."

As I climbed out of bed, Vanya's eyes widened and then he giggled. "Robert,
you have hardness."

Yeah, I definitely had a `hardness', and it was forming a sharp tent in the
front of my boxers. It was embarrassing having Vanya draw attention to it,
but at this moment my need to pee overrode all else.

"I had hardness when I wake," said Vanya, brightly. "But you are sleeping
so I go to bathroom to..." he curled his fingers and mimed a wanking
motion. He giggled again. "I have no hardness now." He confirmed this by
pulling down the front of his briefs to show me his soft dick. "But maybe I
try to get hardness again and we can..." he again mimed the wanking motion
"...together."

"I don't think so," I said, hurrying past the boy to get to the door. I
stuck my head out to make sure no one was around, and then made a dash for
the bathroom, praying that no one was in there. I was in luck; the bathroom
was empty. I closed the door, fumbling with the bolt, then pushed down the
front of my boxers and pointed my erection towards the toilet bowl. Even
with my desperate need to pee there was still a long, agonising moment
before I got the flow started. But I managed to get it going and let out a
sigh of pure, contented relief as the yellow stream splashed into the loo.

My contentment didn't last long. Once my bladder was empty I was left with
a further pressing problem. OK, maybe it wasn't exactly a problem, but it
was most definitely pressing and required urgent attention. I idly stroked
my hand up and down my erection as I tried to decide whether I should jack
off sitting on the loo, or do it in the shower; when you're fifteen, life
is full of important decision like that. I decided that sitting down seemed
like the best option, so I lowered the toilet seat, pulled off my shirt,
then pushed down my shorts and stepped out of them. Lowering myself onto
the loo seat, I leaned back and started stroking.

It felt good. It always did. I closed my eyes and slid my free hand up over
my bare chest. I smiled to myself as I remembered Vanya's little joke about
us doing this together. He certainly had a strange sense of humour. I
paused in my stroking. He had been joking, hadn't he? Yeah, of course he
had. He couldn't possibly have been serious. Suddenly I wasn't so
sure. He'd shown that he had no inhibitions when it came to being naked in
front of other people, so maybe he had the same lack of inhibitions when it
came to jacking off. Damn, maybe he had been serious after all. I
grimaced. No way could I ever even think about wanking in the same room as
another guy. Then I remembered my dream. I recalled the image of Vanya
standing over me as I lay naked on the bed. I remembered the amazing
feeling of his hand slowly stroking my hard cock. Oh God! My cock lurched
in my hand, demanding attention. Moving on autopilot, I quickly resumed my
wanking, my hand settling into a fast, almost frantic rhythm. This was so
wrong. I was jacking off to the dream-image of Vanya stroking my dick. But
even though it was wrong, I couldn't stop myself. What the hell was wrong
with me? Gasping for breath I felt myself tensing ready to shoot and made a
frantic grab for some loo paper, using it to catch my cum so that I didn't
make a mess on the bathroom floor. Panting, I wrapped the cum-soaked paper
around the head of my dick, squeezing out the final drops as my orgasm
subsided. What I'd just done had been so sick. I knew that I wasn't gay;
I'd never even thought about other guys before – not in THAT way. So why
had I been so turned on thinking about Vanya?

I dropped the wad of paper into the loo and got under the shower, making it
as hot as I could stand it in an effort to burn away the guilt that I was
feeling. I suppose that I was at least partially successful, since I was
already starting to feel a little less guilty. It had been the weird dream
that had done it – it had to have been that. I knew that I wasn't really
interested in Vanya, or any other boy, in a sexual way. This had just been
a one off: a moment of insanity brought on by a strange dream. Feeling
better, I got out of the shower and dried myself off.

Then I remembered that I didn't have any clothes to put on. Usually when I
take a shower I take whatever I'm going to put on afterwards in there with
me. When you have a sister just a couple of years younger than yourself who
is almost guaranteed to be standing waiting outside the bathroom door when
you come out, you soon learn to go in there properly prepared. However,
this morning I had been in such a hurry to pee that I'd had no time to stop
to sort out clothing. I could, of course, put my shorts back on, but I
didn't like the idea of wearing dirty shorts after having just taken a
shower. I sighed. There was nothing else for it: I was going to have to go
back to my bedroom in just a towel and hope that I didn't meet up with
Lauren on the way.

My luck held: there was no sign of Lauren. I entered the bedroom in a rush
and gratefully closed the door.

Vanya must have finished his exercises, since he was sitting on his bed
cross-legged reading a magazine. He looked momentarily startled.  "Robert,
you surprise me! Someone chase you?" he grinned. His eyes narrowed as he
looked me up and down. I realised that because I'd changed in the bathroom
last night, this was the first time that he'd seen me without a shirt. I
self-consciously folded my arms over my chest, then, realising that this
left me in danger of losing my towel, I quickly unfolded my arms again in
favour of keeping my lower regions covered. "You have good body, Robert,"
Vanya observed, critically. "Not `pale and bony' as Lauren says." He
frowned. "Maybe pale. You should get sun. You look better then."

"Yeah," I said. "Erm, thanks." I felt embarrassed having him staring at my
naked chest, especially after what I'd just done in the bathroom. I quickly
turned my back on him to look in the drawers for some clothes. I took out
some shorts, and allowed the towel to drop to the floor before stepping
into them. I was sure that I could feel Vanya's eyes on my bare backside,
but thankfully he didn't say anything. I found a shirt and put that on. Now
feeling a little more secure, I turned back to face Vanya. As I'd guessed,
he was still watching me. "Bathroom's free if you want a shower," I said.

"Yes, I get a shower," said Vanya, getting off the bed and stretching. "I
must get shower after exercise or I will smell bad." He lifted an arm,
sniffed at his armpit and grinned. Then he pushed down his briefs and
stepped out of them. He stood motionless for a moment, as though
deliberately giving me time to look at him, then gave me another grin and
headed for the door.

"Wait," I said, urgently, as he pulled the door open. Surely he wasn't
going to go to the bathroom like that. He paused in front of the open door,
looking at me. I sighed. "It doesn't matter," I said. And off he went,
completely naked and completely unconcerned. I shook my head. If he wanted
to walk around with no clothes on, why should I worry. I turned back to the
drawers to sort out the rest of my own clothes and finish getting dressed.

Once dressed, I decided that it might be best if I waited for Vanya
downstairs rather than up here in the bedroom. He was going to come back
from his shower naked – that was inevitable, given as he hadn't taken
any clothes with him – and then he would no doubt stand around with
nothing on showing off his body for a while. I suppose I was probably being
unfair calling it `showing off' since I don't think Vanya did it
deliberately; he just didn't worry about being naked. In any case, I wanted
to be out of the way. The memories of the weird dreams that I'd had, which,
thank goodness, were already starting to fade, coupled with what I'd done
in the bathroom, had left me feeling distinctly uncomfortable. I figured
that the less I saw of Vanya naked, the better. I think what disturbed me
the most, if I were to be perfectly honest with myself, was that I thought
he looked pretty good naked. Actually, it was more than that; I did sort of
like seeing him naked. I squashed that thought before it could go any
further. Shit, if I carried on like this I'd be turning gay and getting
boners when showering with the guys at school! No thanks! I reached for the
door.

However, as I took hold of the door handle I remembered that I'd promised
my friend Owen that I'd give him a call this morning. I released the door
handle, took out my mobile and punched in Owen's number. I could do this
downstairs, but it would be better to do it up here. He answered on the
second ring.

"Hi, Robert."

"Hi, Owen."

"Hey, what's up?"

"Not much. My cousin Vanya got here OK."

"So what's he like?"

"Yeah, he's OK. Maybe a bit strange, but he's from the Ukraine."

Owen gave a soft chuckle. "Can you understand him?"

"Yeah, he speaks good English. You coming over? You can see him for
yourself."

"Sure. When you want me?"

"Give it about an hour."

"Sure thing. I'll see you then."

"Yeah, see ya." I ended the call and put the phone in my pocket. I looked
at the closed bedroom door. No sign of Vanya. I hesitated then looked
around the bedroom to check that there was nothing that needed doing. I
noticed that my bed wasn't as straight as it might be. I reached out to
straighten it but stopped myself and sighed. My bed didn't need
straightening. What the hell was wrong with me? It was as though I was
searching for reasons to delay going downstairs. Shaking my head, I left
the bedroom.

I entered the kitchen to find Lauren sitting at the kitchen table eating
cereal. Mum was standing at the sink. She glanced round at me and gave me a
smile and then turned her attention back to the sink.  "Where's our guest
this morning?" she asked.

"Oh, he'll be down soon, I expect," I said, taking a seat opposite Lauren
and reaching for the cereal box. "I left him getting a shower." As I said
this last part I shot a glance at Lauren. She didn't look up, but her spoon
stopped on the way to her mouth. "He didn't take any clothes in with him,"
I added, mischievously, "So I expect he'll be wandering across the landing
naked."

This time Lauren did look up. She lowered her spoon into her dish and, with
a glance at Mum's back, she rose silently to her feet, turning towards the
kitchen door. Damn, but she was so predictable.

"Where do you think you're going, young lady?" Mum didn't even look
around. How do mothers do that? How do they always know what's happening
behind their backs? I'm sure there must be some sort of scientific
explanation for it. However they did it, it was a neat trick and, when it
affected someone else, particularly an annoying younger sister, it was
amusing to watch it in action.

Lauren froze. "I... need something from my room," she said, lamely.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure that it can wait for a few minutes. Now sit down
and finish your breakfast." Mum continued with what she was doing.

Pouting, Lauren sat back down. I gave her a grin, and she gave me a
glare. First point of the day to me!

"So what are your plans for today, Robert?" Mum asked. Finishing her work
in the sink she picked up a towel and turned to face me as she dried her
hands.

I gave a shrug. "Just hanging around, I guess."

"I thought you might like to take Vanya into town," Mum suggested. By
`town' she meant Chester city centre. Chester was only a small city, but we
lived right on the outskirts and a trip to the city centre meant a bus
ride. "You could show him around and maybe take him to the `Roman
Experience'."

I groaned. "Aw, Mum, the `Roman Experience' is for kids." The `Dewa Roman
Experience' was a sort of museum that showed how the city was back in Roman
times.

"It's not just for kids. And I'm sure that Vanya would love it."

I was sure that he would, but I'd already seen it. Several times! "But I've
already asked Owen over," I tried.

"Well he can go with you."

"We've no money," I said.

"I'll give you some money," said Mum. My shoulders slumped in defeat and
Mum gave a satisfied smile. "Good. That's today sorted then."

"Can I go as well?" Lauren asked.

"I don't think so, dear," said Mum. "I think that we should give the boys
some time to themselves."

"But that's not fair," Lauren pouted. "Vanya's my cousin as well; I want to
spend some time with him."

"You'll get to spend time with him tomorrow when we all go out together,"
said Mum. She finished drying her hands and put down the towel. End of
conversation.

Oh well, things could have been worse. At least I wouldn't be saddled with
Lauren for the day. Her expression was sour enough to curdle milk. I gave
her another grin. Score two to me!

Vanya arrived for breakfast a few minutes later wearing the open-sided
T-shirt he'd worn the previous evening and a pair of denim shorts. Lauren's
pout vanished instantly and she immediately went into `dreamy smile and
fluttery eyelashes' mode. She was practically gushing when he accepted the
proffered seat next to her at the kitchen table. Watching her, I felt
physically sick. For the next half-hour, while Vanya attempted to eat his
cereal and drink his orange juice, Lauren plied him with questions about
what it was like back in the Ukraine, interspersed with little anecdotes
about what she and her moronic girl-friends did in their spare time. Vanya
answered all of the questions politely, and smiled at her stories, but it
must have been obvious, even to a complete air-head like my sister, that he
was bored senseless.

Eventually I took pity on the poor sod and thought I'd better rescue
him. "Come on, Vanya. If you're done with breakfast, we'd better go and get
ourselves ready. We're going out."

"We are going on trip?" Vanya looked delighted, though maybe it was really
just intense relief at being pulled out of Lauren's clutches.

"Yes, we're going into town." I got up from the table and Vanya quickly
followed suit.

My timing was perfect, as it happened, since as we left the kitchen the
doorbell rang announcing Owen's arrival. I opened the front door and
invited him in. Vanya and Owen stood looking at each other in the hallway
while I made the introductions. "Owen, this is my cousin, Vanya. Vanya,
this is my best friend Owen."

Vanya stepped past me, his hand outstretched. "I am very pleased to meet
you, Owen," he said, vigorously shaking Owen's hand. Then taking both
myself and Owen by surprise, he grabbed Owen's shoulders and kissed my
friend first on one cheek and then the other. "You are Robert's best
friend, so we should be best friends also, yes?"

The look on Owen's face was priceless. He obviously had no idea how to
respond, so I decided to help him out. "You're supposed to kiss him back,"
I said, struggling to keep a straight face. Owen's eyes widened for a
moment, then, to my complete amazement, he shrugged and gave a delighted
Vanya a kiss on each cheek. Now it was my turn to stand with my mouth
open. Shit! I hadn't really expected him to do it. "Let's, erm, go up to my
room," I managed to say.

"So, what's with the dorky bracelet?" Owen asked, as he pushed past me in
the doorway to my room and threw himself down on the nearest bed, which
happened to be Vanya's.

I froze, cringing. Owen had always had a habit of saying anything that came
into his head without considering the consequences – a habit that often
got him into awkward situations. I shot a quick glance at Vanya and saw
that his eyes had narrowed as he looked at me awaiting my reply. He
probably hadn't understood the word `dorky' but it had been clear from
Owen's tone that the comment hadn't been complimentary. "Oh, this?" I made
a show of looking at the bracelet admiringly. "Vanya gave it to me," I
said, brightly. "He made it himself. It means that we're good friends. I
think it's really cool." That last part was a lie: I actually agreed with
Owen that the bracelet was dorky, but I didn't want to hurt Vanya's
feelings. My cousin gave me a broad smile which made me feel good and
guilty both at the same time.

"Oh, right," said Owen. "I guess it is sort of cool." He sat up on the bed
and reached out for my hand, pulling me closer so that he could look at the
bracelet properly. "So this means that you're friends, huh? Like maybe
blood-brothers, but without the blood part." He grinned. "I think it's
kinda neat." He looked at Vanya. "Shouldn't you have one as well?"

Vanya lowered his head. Suddenly he looked sad, almost upset.

Damn! I cursed myself. I'd never even noticed that Vanya wasn't wearing a
bracelet. When I'd accepted the bracelet from him it had never occurred to
me that he might be expecting me to give him one in return. But I wouldn't
have a clue how to even start making one. Trust Owen to put his foot in it
again by pointing out my error. Though this time I knew it wasn't Owen's
fault; it was mine. "I'm sorry," I started to say.

But Vanya started talking at the same time. "I had bracelet. My friend
Anton give it to me a very long time ago and I wear it always, in day and
when sleeping. But before I go for plane to come here it breaks so I cannot
wear it. It feels strange when it is not there." He looked at his bare
wrist, then raised his head and forced a smile. "But when I go home I make
it good so I can wear it again. Or if not, Anton make me new one."

In the past couple of minutes I had come to realise just how much symbolic
importance Vanya put on the giving of a bracelet. I looked at my own again,
seeing it in a new light. Giving me this dorky-looking piece of plaited
leather hadn't been just a casual impulse; Vanya genuinely wanted the two
of us to be friends. I felt more than a little ashamed that I'd treated it
so dismissively.

"Hey, an iPad!" Owen's excited words cut through the somewhat uncomfortable
silence, instantly lightening the mood. He'd spotted my iPad on my bedside
table. He climbed over the bed and picked it up.

"Yeah, it was a gift from Vanya and his parents," I said.

Owen looked impressed. "They gave you an iPad? Fucking awesome!"

"Owen Jones, I don't want you using language like that in this house, thank
you very much!" Mum stood in the bedroom doorway, glaring at Owen. She came
into the room. "I'm sure your parents wouldn't be very impressed to hear
you talking like that." There was the implied threat in her words that she
might just give them a call and tell them what he'd said.

"Sorry, Mrs Fisher," said Owen, managing to look suitably abashed. It was
an act, of course; Owen was good at looking abashed when he needed to –
and he needed to surprisingly often, so he'd got lots of practice.

"I should think so," said Mum, keeping up the intensity of her glare –
Mum was even better at glaring than Owen was at looking abashed.

Behind Mum, I could see Vanya silently mouthing the words "fucking
awesome", a look of concentration on his face as though he were committing
the phrase to memory. He saw me looking at him and gave a grin. I
suppressed a sigh. Perhaps introducing Vanya to Owen hadn't been my best
idea.

"I brought you some money for your day out," said Mum, finally deciding
that she'd glared at Owen for long enough. She put some rolled up notes
into my hand.

"Day out?" Owen asked.

"Yeah," I said. "Mum wants you and me to take Vanya into Chester and show
him around and take him to `The Roman Experience'." I made it clear from my
tone that I wasn't exactly enamoured of the idea.

"Wow, cool. I totally love `The Roman Experience'," said Owen, excitedly. I
shook my head in disgust. Yeah, great, Owen, thanks for the support.

The corner of Mum's mouth was twitching as she tried not to smile. "There's
£50.00 there. That should be plenty to cover your bus fair and the
museum admission fees and leave enough to buy the three of you some lunch."

"Fifty quid? Wow, thanks Mrs. Fisher," said Owen.

"Just make sure that you behave yourself," Mum told him, with a short
laugh. She'd forgiven him already. Owen could get people to forgive him for
just about anything; it was his special talent. Sometimes I wished that I
shared it. Mum turned to Vanya. "Vanya, dear, I think perhaps that since
you're going into town it might be better if you were to change into a
proper T-shirt and some longer trousers. Those jeans that you were wearing
when you arrived yesterday would be fine."

"Yes, Aunt Alison, I will change," said Vanya. I gave him a disapproving
look. It wasn't good form to agree so readily to Mum's `suggestions'. She
always got her way in the end anyway, but he should have put up at least
some sort of token resistance.

Mum was hardly out of the door before Vanya had pulled off the open-sided
T-shirt and was pushing down his denim shorts. He kicked them aside,
standing up in just his skimpy white briefs.

"Not exactly shy, is he?" Owen observed.

"You don't know the half of it," I replied, dryly.

Vanya was looking in his drawer for his change of clothing. He paused and
turned to face me, looking thoughtful. "Robert, is `fucking awesome' a bad
word?"

"Yeah," I said, glancing towards the door to make sure that Mum really had
gone. "It's definitely bad. About as bad as it gets. Don't let Mum hear you
say it or she'll make you wash your mouth out."

"And it means really good, yes?"

"Yes, it means really good," I said with a sigh.

Vanya suddenly gave an excited grin like a kid who had just got a new
toy. "Fucking awesome!" he laughed. "I cannot wait to tell my friend Anton
that I learn bad English words. He will think it is fucking awesome!"

I didn't even try to hide my groan. If, no, not if, WHEN Mum heard about
this I was so dead!

Beside me, Owen was having a good laugh. It was alright for him, he'd be
well out of range when the shit hit the fan. I gave him my best glare, but
he ignored it; I wasn't half as good at glaring as Mum.

"Hey Vanya, you got some pretty good abs," Owen observed, his eyes on
Vanya's stomach.

Vanya looked puzzled. "What is abs?"

"Abs, you know," said Owen, a speaking little louder, as though this would
help Vanya understand. "Muscles, in your stomach." He patted his own
stomach.

"Ah, these are abs?" Vanya laughed, tensing up to properly show off his
six-pack and poking it with his fingers. "Yes, I do much exercise. You
feel." He moved closer to Owen.

Tentatively at first, then with more confidence, Owen poked Vanya's
tensed-up abs with his fingers and then put his hand flat on the boy's bare
stomach and pushed. Vanya's only reaction was to giggle. "Damn, Robert,
this is fucking solid," said Owen, admiringly. "You gotta have a feel."

"No thanks," I said. "I don't need to feel. I can see."

"Robert, you feel," Vanya insisted, turning in my direction.

Reluctantly I gave in and pressed at the boy's stomach with my
fingers. Owen had been right: Vanya's stomach muscles were like steel. I
pressed again, but this time with the palm of my hand as Owen had done. I
suddenly realised that I was holding my breath. Vanya's stomach muscles
were hard, but his smooth skin was soft and warm. My own stomach
fluttered. I snatched my hand away as if burned. "Yeah, you're really
hard," I said, forcing a laugh.

Vanya giggled again. "Now I see your abs."

"I've got no abs," said Owen with an amused snort. He lifted the front of
his T-shirt. His pale stomach would probably be better called a one-pack
than a six-pack. Not that I should comment, since my own was no
better. Actually, Owen and I were pretty much similar when it came to
build. We were both fairly thin and gangly, with a distinct lack of muscle
in evidence. The main obvious difference between us was that Owen's hair
was long – even longer than Vanya's – and was usually untidy. Also,
the girls seemed to like Owen more than they liked me. I don't think it was
because he was particularly better looking than me so much as it was the
glint of mischief that he always had in his eyes; Lauren had had a big
crush on him at one point.

Even though it was obvious that there was no real muscle there, Vanya
pressed his hand against Owen's stomach. He gave a laugh. "Yes, you have no
abs. You should exercise and you get abs like me. I see yours, Robert?"

"You've seen mine," I said, uncomfortably. "This morning when I got back
from my shower."

"Yes, but I look again and I feel them," said Vanya.

With another sigh – I seemed to be doing lots of sighing these days –
I lifted the front of my shirt just enough for Vanya to put his hand on my
stomach. Once again I held my breath. Once more I felt the fluttering as
Vanya's hand made contact with my bare skin. For some reason my heart was
thumping. "That's enough," I said, backing away and lowering my shirt.

Vanya giggled. "You should not be shy, Robert. You have nice body. I show
you how to get abs. When you have abs and are not pale then you have nicer
body."

"I'm not shy," I muttered, trying to ignore the amused snort that came from
Owen. "Get your clothes on, Vanya," I said. "We've got a bus to catch."




The three of us managed to get a seat together at the back of the bus, with
Vanya in the middle and me and Owen on either side of him. Owen and Vanya
seemed to have definitely hit it off. In fact, they were getting along like
a house on fire. This had me worried. People got burned in house fires and
I was likely to be completely incinerated in this one if Vanya ever
repeated some of the new words that he was learning in front of Mum. My
cousin took an obvious adolescent delight in learning English swear words,
and Owen took an equal delight in teaching them to him, even after I'd made
it clear that I wasn't happy. The pair of them sat giggling like a couple
of naughty eight-year-olds looking up rude words in a dictionary. After
each new word, Vanya would conscientiously practise saying it over to
himself a few times, committing it to memory and then, ever curious, ask
what it meant. Owen's explanations mostly consisted of pointing to body
parts or using hand gestures; he demonstrated `wanker' using an appropriate
hand movement, much to the disgust of a middle-aged woman seated a few rows
in front of us, who, unfortunately, happened to glance back at us at the
wrong moment. Occasionally Owen would to turn to me for help with an
explanation, but I just shook my head; after making several attempts to
change the subject of the conversation and failing each time, I'd washed my
hands of the whole thing.

By the time we reached Chester city centre, Vanya had collected an
extensive vocabulary of English swear words, certainly more than adequate
for any situation he was likely to find himself in during his short stay
here.

"Vanya, you'd better not use any of those words in front of Mum or Dad, or
even Lauren," I warned the boy, grumpily, as we got off the bus.

"I know," said Vanya. He gave me what he probably intended as a reassuring
smile – it did little to reassure me. "I will be careful. I do not use
bad Ukranian words when my parents will hear me, and so I do not use bad
English words when Uncle Frank and Aunt Alison will hear."

I knew that I'd just have to be satisfied with that. I shot a glare at
Owen, who simply gave me a grin in return. "You won't be grinning if he
does slip up and use any of those words," I told my friend. "Because I'll
make sure Mum finds out where he learned them."

"I bet you would as well," said Owen.

"You can count on it," I replied. I felt my mood darkening even further as
we made our way towards "The Roman Experience". Both Owen and Vanya made
several attempts to talk to me, but each attempt was met with a curt reply
and they soon gave up, and just talked to each other. In fact, Owen seemed
to be ignoring me completely, though I noticed that Vanya did shoot
occasional concerned looks in my direction. Well, let them talk to each
other; I didn't care. Actually, I did care. I realised that what I was most
annoyed about was that I felt left out. It seemed that Owen and Vanya had
been chatting and laughing together from the moment we left the house and
I'd been just pushed aside. Deep down I knew that this was my own fault; I
could have joined in with them at any time, but I'd chosen not to. I also
knew that sulking would do nothing to improve the situation. However it was
much easier to blame Owen and Vanya for how I was feeling than admit that
it was all my own doing, and so my sulk continued.

We reached the museum and I paid the entrance fee and we went inside. Owen
immediately took off, but Vanya stayed back with me. "Robert, you are OK?"

"I'm fine," I said, testily.

Vanya frowned. "You are upset that I learn bad words. I will not use them
when Uncle Frank and Aunt Alison will hear," he promised me.

"It's not just that," I muttered.

"You tell me," said Vanya. "I do something wrong?" When I didn't reply he
took my hand, holding it in both of his own. "You tell me, Robert" he said
again, more insistently. "What do I do wrong?" He looked genuinely worried.

I shook my head. "You haven't done anything wrong," I said. I could hardly
come out and tell him that I was annoyed because he'd been talking to Owen
and not to me. Besides, being forced to confront my behaviour had made me
fully realise just how childish I was being. And on top of everything else,
I was now feeling guilty that Vanya was blaming himself for me being
upset. "It's not your fault. It's nothing. Forget it." I forced myself to
smile.

"Hey, are you two coming?" Owen must have realised that we hadn't followed
him and he'd come back to find us. His eyes narrowed as he looked as us
questioningly. "What's with the hand-holding?"

I immediately pulled my hand away from Vanya's feeling my face
reddening. "Yes, we're coming," I said, deliberately ignoring Owen's second
question.

Vanya didn't appear entirely convinced that things were OK between us, but
before he could push the issue I set off after Owen, giving my cousin no
choice but to follow along. However, once we got into the museum proper, he
soon appeared to forget any worries he may have been harbouring, moving
from one exhibit to the next with obvious excitement. Owen was almost as
bad, and I soon felt my own mood begin to lighten as I was caught up in the
enthusiasm of my two companions. The highlight for Vanya was the large
display of Roman armour and weapons and he took full advantage of the
opportunity to put on a fake helmet and have his photograph taken standing
next to a guy dressed as a Roman soldier. It was all really tacky and
touristy, and the cost of the photograph was a huge rip-off, but Vanya was
so thrilled with it that I had no choice but to hand over the cash.

By the time we left the museum it was past lunch time, so the first order
of business was to get something to eat. We decided unanimously that
McDonalds was the best option. We almost changed our minds when we saw how
crowded the restaurant was, but decided to go ahead anyway. The only
available table was one next to a family with two small kids – two
small, very noisy, very badly behaved kids. If me and Lauren had behaved
like those kids were behaving when we were small we would never have lived
to become teenagers! Still, there was nowhere else to sit so we had to make
the best of a bad job.

As we ate, Owen and I asked Vanya about the sort of things that teenagers
in the Ukraine got up to. I had an image in my head of the Ukraine being a
sort of grey, boring, even fairly primitive place, with nothing to do, but
Vanya soon managed to dispel that idea. He told us how he and his friends
would go bowling and skating, swimming in the nearby lake, or even
sailing. Then there were all the sports that he took part in – he loved
football, but also played tennis and took karate lessons. Hell, it sounded
like there was more to do in the Ukraine than there was here! Owen was
especially impressed by the karate and asked Vanya to show him `some
moves'. Vanya laughed and shook his head, telling Owen that if he wanted to
learn he would have to take proper lessons.

"Hey, I've had a great idea," said Owen, as he chewed on the last of his
fries. "Why don't we take Vanya camping?"

"I dunno," I said, uncertain. I shot a scowl over Vanya's shoulder to
where, on the next table, one of the little kids was having a tantrum
because she'd changed her mind about what flavour of ice-cream she wanted
and her parents wouldn't buy her another one.

"Come on, it'll be fun," Owen insisted, speaking a bit louder to be heard
of the little girl's shouting.

"Camping?" Vanya's curiosity had been aroused.

"Yeah," said Owen. "Sleeping in a tent. Me and Robert used to do it all the
time." That was a bit of an exaggeration; we had been camping together a
few times but the last time had been at least a couple of years ago. "I've
still got the tent and everything we'll need. We can set up in my Uncle
Jeff's field, like we used to," Owen continued, excitedly.

"If it's that same tent that we used to use, it's going to be a bit
crowded," I said.

"We'll manage," said Owen. "We can build a campfire and cook beans and
sausages, just like we used to. It'll be great. What do you say?"

Now Vanya was grinning. "Yes, let us do it Robert," he said. "Sleeping in a
tent with you and Owen will be lots of fun."

"We'll have to OK it with Mum and Dad," I said. I was starting to come
around to the idea. I'd always enjoyed camping with Owen, and as Vanya
said, the three of us together might be a lot of fun.

"It's settled then," said Owen. "One day later this week we'll all go
camping together."

Behind Vanya, the tantrum was continuing. In fact, it was getting
worse. The girl, who looked to be around three years old, was red in the
face as she literally screamed at her parents, taking no notice of her
mother, who was rather ineffectually trying to mollify her by telling her
about the nice things they were going to be doing later. Everyone in the
restaurant was now giving the family scowls and dirty looks. The father
looked thoroughly fed up, but the mother acted as though this were a
normal, everyday occurrence. The girl wasn't interested in what was going
to happen later; she wanted some chocolate ice cream and she wanted it now!
To illustrate her demands, she picked up and held out the cardboard carton
that contained her unwanted strawberry ice cream, ignoring the polite
entreaties from her mother to "be a good a girl and put that
down". Suddenly, in an act of ultimate defiance, she threw the carton
upwards. It sailed gracefully through the air, described a neat arc, and
hit Vanya directly between the shoulder blades.

"Argh!" Vanya gave a cry of surprise and lurched forwards in his seat as
the partially melted ice cream spilled onto the back of his shirt,
immediately soaking through the thin fabric.

"What the fuck...?" Owen jumped to his feet. I followed suit.

The girl's mother glared at Owen. "Would you please watch your language;
there are children here." She turned her attention to the girl. "Blossom,
dear, that was naughty."

"Naughty?" exclaimed Owen. "Look at the state of his shirt." He nodded
towards Vanya who was grimacing and pulling at his shirt as he tried to
look over his shoulder to see the back. "You should teach the little brat
to behave. She throws food at people, and all you can say is `Blossom,
dear, that was naughty'." He raised the pitch of his voice for the last
part in mockery of the woman's tone. "If she can't behave properly she
should be in a cage." Owen had a tendency to be outspoken, especially when
he was angry, and he rarely held back. Usually I would find myself getting
embarrassed and I'd try to calm him down, but on this occasion I agreed
with him and even felt like cheering him on. Go Owen!

"I beg your pardon." The woman spoke slowly, drawing out each word as she
incredulously straightened herself up ready for a confrontation. "Just who
do you think you are talking to?"

"I'm talking to you," snapped Owen. "What are you going to do about his
shirt?"

"I am fine, Owen," said Vanya. He didn't look fine. He looked
uncomfortable, which was hardly surprising considering he'd just had a
carton of half-melted strawberry ice cream tipped down his back.

"It was an accident," said the woman, her tone matter-of-fact. She gave a
dismissive wave of her hand. "There was no real harm done. I'm sure the
shirt will be fine after a wash."

"Oh, yeah, brilliant," Owen sneered. "And what's he supposed to do for the
rest of the day?"

"Erm, is there a problem here?" A nervous-looking guy in his early twenties
had appeared on the scene. He wore an extremely forced smile and a badge
that said that he was the manager and that his name was Gavin. He glanced
at Vanya's shirt, grimaced and then to my utter astonishment he'd leaned
towards us and said in a soft voice, "You three have finished your meal. I
think you should leave."

"What...?" The expression on Owen's face said that he shared my
shock. "You've gotta be kidding." I suppose we shouldn't have been
surprised. Three stroppy teenagers versus a family with two small kids. As
far as the restaurant manager was concerned it was a no-brainer, even if
the whole restaurant had spent the past ten minutes being forced to endure
one of the kids screaming her head off.

The manager stepped back to make room for us to get out from the table. He
looked nervous but at the same time resolute.

"This is so wrong," Owen muttered, glaring at the young manager. He stood
his ground and folded his arms. "We aren't going anywhere. We haven't done
anything wrong. We weren't the ones throwing food about."

"Yeah, that's right." I said, feeling that it was time that I did my bit.

The manager was obviously so stunned by the force of my oratory that he
totally ignored me and continued to focus on Owen. "You should leave," he
said again, though more uncertain this time.

"That's not necessary." It was the girl's father. "The boys did nothing
wrong. It was completely our fault. My daughter can be a little, erm,
difficult sometimes." Now it was the girl's mother's turn to look
shocked. She stared at her husband as though she'd never heard him speak
before. Maybe she hadn't. She sure looked the sort that would usually do
all the talking for the both of them. "I think we had better go," said the
man, gesturing to his kids to get up.

"I want chocolate ice cream," shouted the girl, waving the spoon that she
still held in her hand.

"Get up, Blossom," the man growled, glaring threateningly at his daughter.

Blossom hesitated for just a moment and then obediently laid the spoon down
on the table and climbed off her chair.

"Dan..." The woman didn't look at all happy about her husband's
intervention.

"Leave it, Belinda," said the man. "Let's just go before things become even
worse than they are." He started leading his family towards the
door. "Sorry boys," he said, as he past us.

"Yeah, right," Owen muttered.

The woman, following at the rear, shot Owen a venomous look. "You need to
learn some manners, young man," she snapped.

"Yeah, and you need to learn how to control your kids," Owen shot back.

After the family had gone, Owen inspected the back of Vanya's shirt. "Damn,
you're a mess," he said. He looked at the manager, who stood watching us as
though unsure whether he still needed to throw us out. "We're going to go
into the toilets and try to clean up our friend. If that's OK with you..."
He leaned forwards and made a show of reading the young man's name
badge. "...Gavin."

"Erm, yeah, I guess," said the man.

"Good," said Owen. "You'd better hope that your ice cream doesn't stain, or
we might be wanting compensation."

The man swallowed hard and moved aside. "The toilets are that way," he
said, pointing.

"Yeah, I know," said Owen. "Come on guys."

It was times like this that reminded me why Owen was my best friend. He was
always a joker and sometimes a bit of an idiot, but when the shit hit the
fan or, in this case, the ice cream hit the shirt, he didn't take crap from
anyone. When he was on a roll, like now, the only people that could make
him back down were his own parents and, strangely enough, my mum, who he
had often said scared the crap out him.

There was no one in the men's toilets; all of the cubicle doors stood
open. Owen once more inspected the mess on Vanya's shirt and decided that
the best thing would be for him to take it off. While Vanya held his arms
in the air, I helped Owen lift the shirt above the boy's head.

"We're getting some of the stuff in his hair," I warned.

"Do you have a better idea, Einstein?" Owen snapped. I didn't, so I shut
up. I should have known better than to say anything at all while Owen was
in full `combat' mode. When we'd removed the shirt, Owen handed it to me,
suggesting that I see what I could do with it. I looked at the mess,
wondering where to start; it was obvious that what it really needed was a
proper wash. Maybe with the help of some damp paper towels I could at least
make it wearable.

"It's even run down onto the back of your jeans," Owen told Vanya.

"I take those off also?" Vanya asked.

"Yeah, might be best," said Owen. "It'll be easier to wipe them if you
aren't wearing them."

"OK, I take them off."

"Do you think this is a good idea?" I asked, as Vanya kicked off his shoes
and pushed down and stepped out of the jeans. "What if someone comes in?"

"Oh, stop being such an old woman," said Owen. "So what if someone does
come in? It's no big deal." He took the jeans from Vanya and then stood
looking appraisingly at the boy, who now wore just a pair of tight, white
briefs and some short, white socks.

"You think I have nice body?" Vanya asked, with a mischievous grin. He
straightened up and struck a pose to show himself off.

"Yeah, you have a really nice body," said Owen, continuing to stare. There
was something in his tone that surprised me. Did Owen fancy Vanya? No, that
was ridiculous. I'd known Owen since we'd both started primary school
together. He'd never shown the slightest interest in boys. In fact, he had
a bit of a reputation for chasing girls. OK, so he'd never really had a
proper long-term girlfriend, but there was no way in the world that he was
gay. However, the way he was looking at Vanya was not exactly the way one
boy would normally look at another boy, especially when that other boy was
just a small step away from being naked.

Vanya responded to the attention by giggling and going into a couple of
body-builder poses to show off his muscles. Owen laughed appreciatively.

"Guys, come on. If someone comes in..." I wasn't at all comfortable with
this scenario. What was especially worrying was that Owen wasn't the only
one who couldn't take his eyes off Vanya. The boy was sexy as hell. Shit!
Had I really just used the word `sexy' to describe a boy? Worse, there was
a stirring down in the area of my groin. I was actually getting turned on!
"Guys?"

"Oh, erm, yeah." Owen shook himself as though coming out of a daze. "Let's
get on with this."

While I dabbed at the shirt, Owen had Vanya lean forwards with his hands on
one of the sinks. He then wet a paper towel and began using this to wipe
Vanya's back, which was sticky from the ice cream that had soaked though
his shirt.

At the first contact, Vanya let out a shriek. "Argh! It is cold."

"Stop being such a wuss and take it like a man," laughed Owen.

"Why not use warm water?" I suggested.

"Where's the fun in that?" said Owen. With an evil grin he pushed the paper
towel soaked in cold water right up against the middle of Vanya's bare back
causing the boy to give another shriek.

I glanced towards the door praying that no one would come in. Apparently no
one upstairs was listening to prayers – maybe they were all out taking a
late lunch – because at that very moment the door opened and an old guy,
probably in his 60s, came in. He took in the scenario of the moaning,
almost naked blond boy bending over the sink with another fully dressed boy
standing over him in a single momentary glance. If he were surprised, he
didn't show it; his expression remained totally neutral as walked over to
the urinals, unzipped and began to relieve himself. Owen carried on washing
Vanya's back as though the man weren't there and Vanya continued to make
uncomfortable groans, though perhaps not quite as loud as before – maybe
he didn't want to look like a `wuss' in front of an audience. The man
finished his business, gave it a shake, put it away, zipped up and then
came over to the sinks. There were three sinks. I was using the one on the
right to clean Vanya's shirt, and Vanya was leaning against the one on the
left. That just left the one in the middle. The man stood right between us,
glancing neither right nor left while he thoroughly washed his hands. He
then dried them, just as thoroughly, under the drier and casually walked
out, all without saying a single word or giving an indication that anything
unusual was happening. Talk about British reserve! I don't expect his
reaction would have been any different if all three of us had been sitting
in the middle of the floor totally naked and jacking off.

After that first intrusion it seemed that the floodgates had been
opened. Over the next few minutes there was a steady stream of men and even
a few boys using the toilets, appearing in ones and twos. Most of the men
were younger than the first guy, and a surprising number of them had a good
look at Vanya, though they mostly tried not to make it obvious that they
were looking. One boy of around four years old, who came in with his dad,
stood looking quite openly at Vanya. After a long, considering interval he
suddenly asked, "Why haven't you got any clothes on?"

"Because some stupid girl threw ice cream over him," Owen replied.

The boy appeared to consider this. After a moment he nodded gravely, his
expression serious. "Yeah, girls are stupid," he said, with the sort of
gravity and wisdom that only very small boys and very old men can
muster. "See ya!" He took his dad's hand and left.

I'd done just about as much as I could with the shirt. I held it up to
inspect my handiwork. Not a bad job; almost all traces of the ice cream
were gone. There was, however, just one small problem: the shirt was VERY
wet. There was no way that Vanya would realistically be able to wear it in
this condition, so what to do? A solution hit me almost immediately. The
hand-dryers. There were two hot-air hand-dryers mounted on the wall. If
they could dry hands then they could dry a shirt. Robert Fisher, teen
genius. Sometimes I'm so sharp it's a wonder I don't cut myself. I pressed
the button on one of the dryers and held the shirt under the blast of hot
air. It would be dry in no time.

Over at the other sink, it looked as though Owen had finished cleaning
Vanya's back and washing the ice cream from his hair. And a good thing as
well! There had been far too much laughing and larking around going on for
my liking. Owen had certainly appeared to be enjoying the job far more than
was appropriate, encouraged by Vanya's constant giggling. I suppose what
annoyed me was that once again I felt left out. Owen got to wash Vanya,
while I was stuck washing a stupid shirt. I'd certainly drawn the short
straw on that one! Shit! Yet again I realised my thoughts were straying in
a direction that I really did not want to go. Was I really feeling jealous
that Owen had got his hands on Vanya; that he'd been able to touch my
cousin's bare back? I swallowed hard. This was ridiculous. There was no way
that I was going to allow myself to be jealous over something like that.

"Looks like your undies have got a bit wet," said Owen, as Vanya
straightened up. It was true. The back of Vanya's briefs were wet and
clinging to his backside.

Vanya twisted to try to get a look. "Yes. And front is wet as well." He
turned to allow us to see that there was also a wet patch on the front,
though not as bad as at the back. "I take them off?" His hands went to the
waistband.

"No!" I shouted, feeling a sudden moment of panic. As though having Vanya
standing around in his briefs wasn't bad enough, he was now about to get
totally naked. If someone came in and saw him... I had a vision of trying
to explain to Mum how Vanya had been arrested for exposing himself. She'd
kill me. "No, I don't think that's a good idea," I said, a little more
calmly.

"If I take them off you can dry them like you dry shirt," said Vanya, as
though this was the most reasonable suggestion in the world.

"I think maybe Robert's right," said Owen, staring at Vanya's damp
crotch. "There could be trouble if someone comes in and sees you
naked. Better keep them on." His expression seemed to indicate that his
words didn't exactly reflect his feelings.

"Come and stand under the other dryer," I suggested. "The hot air will soon
blow you dry."

Owen gave a snort of laughter. "Yeah, go over to Robert and let him give
you a blow-job."

"Very funny," I said, giving Owen a glare.

I got Vanya positioned under the other dryer, bending forwards slightly,
with his backside under the blast of warm air. He started to giggle. "That
is nice," he said. "I like blow-job."

I shook my head and glared at Owen again. He seemed to find it amusing, so,
to wipe the smile off his face, I suggested that he take care of cleaning
the dribbles of ice cream from the back of Vanya's discarded jeans.

While I continued to dry the shirt, Vanya stood under the dryer next to me
laughing softly and wriggling his backside. After a moment, he reached back
and pulled the waistband open allowing the warm air to blow down inside the
back of his briefs. "That feels very nice," he sighed. I glanced down,
taking in the sight of the smooth mounds of Vanya's arse cheeks. I
smiled. This was probably a good idea of Vanya's, since it would let the
briefs dry faster. And the view wasn't bad either. I bit back a groan –
there I went again. I tore my eyes away and concentrated on drying the
shirt.

"I think these will do," said Owen, bringing the jeans over to the
dryer. "They weren't bad, just a few marks. I don't want to get them too
wet." He pushed in next to me, to hold them under the drier, chuckling as
he looked at Vanya's arse. "Cute," he said.

"I think I am dry at the back," said Vanya. He let his briefs snap back
into place and turned around. "Now I dry front." He thrust his hips
forwards placing his groin under the hot air. Then, with a giggle, he
pulled open the front of his briefs.

"Whoa!" Standing between me and Vanya, Owen had a perfect view down inside
the front of Vanya's underwear. He gave a laugh, which sounded somewhat
forced. I followed his gaze downwards. Vanya's dick was fully visible,
lying limp inside his stretched-open undies.

Vanya saw where both Owen and I were looking and he giggled again. "I like
this blow-job," he laughed. He pulled the front of his briefs all the way
down below his groin, completely exposing his dick. He shook his hips
causing his dick to flop from side to side. "It feels nice and warm on
my... you say, cock?"

"Yeah. Cock, dick, todger." Owen sounded distant, as though his voice was
on autopilot and his brain was occupied with other things. He nervously
licked his lips, and then visibly gave himself a shake and stepped back
away from the drier. "Fuck, it's hot in here."

I bit back a gasp of surprise. As Owen had turned away I'd noticed a
definite lump in the front of his trousers; he had a boner! I also realised
that my own dick was headed in the same direction. "Vanya, cover it up
before someone comes in," I heard myself say.

Vanya laughed and pulled his briefs back up. "You are not fun, Robert."

As it turned out, Vanya had covered himself up just in time. A McDonalds
employee came into the toilets. He was a young guy, no more than eighteen,
with short, spikey, bleach-blond hair and a face with more than its quota
of spots. His name badge said that he was called `Dustin'. As soon as he
saw Vanya, he froze, his eyes widening. I sort of got the impression that
he wasn't used to walking into the toilets and encountering
incredibly-good-looking, blond-haired fourteen-year-olds wearing nothing
but a pair of skimpy white briefs. Maybe he needed to get out more. "Holy
shit!" he muttered. Vanya responded to the attention by giving the guy a
friendly smile.

"You want something?" Owen asked, when it became clear that, without some
prompting, Dustin might just stand there ogling Vanya for the rest of the
day.

"Erm, yeah." Dustin gave a start as he was pulled back into the real
world. He turned his attention to Owen, though his eyes still kept darting
back to Vanya. "Gavin sent me in to, erm, see if there was anything that
you guys needed."

Yeah, right. I silently shook my head. More like Gavin had decided that
we'd been in here long enough and had sent Dustin to make sure that we
weren't ripping the soap-dispensers off the wall.

"We're fine," said Owen, coolly. "Tell Gavin, thanks for all the help," he
added, sarcastically.

"OK." The sarcasm passed Dustin by completely. His full attention was now
back on Vanya.

"So was there anything else?" asked Owen.

"What?" Dustin again looked at Owen.

"I asked you if there was anything else you wanted," said Owen. "Or are you
just going to stand there perving our friend?"

Dustin's face reddened. "I wasn't... No there's nothing else. I'll tell
Gavin you're almost done."

"You do that," grinned Owen as Dustin hurried out. "What a creep," he
added, as the door closed.

"Owen, what is `perving'?" asked Vanya, with a slight frown.

"Perving is looking at somebody in a creepy way like you want to do stuff
with them," Owen explained. "You know, like sex stuff."

"Ah, so that is perving." Vanya gave a grin. "So when you look at me
before, you are perving me, yes?

"What? No way! I wasn't perving. Fuck!" Owen turned away, his face
burning. "Fuck!" he said again as he walked away. I choked back my
laughter. My respect for Vanya had just gone through the roof. I'd never
seen Owen go that colour before.

Vanya's comment about perving had certainly taken the wind out of Owen's
sails, since he hardly said a word as Vanya put on his now dry shirt and
jeans. For a while it was as though he was trying to avoid looking at Vanya
altogether. However, it didn't last; with Owen, that sort of thing never
did. By the time we were out on the street and headed for the shops, my
best friend was almost back to his usual joking, out-spoken, irreverent
self and he was chatting away to Vanya as though nothing had happened.

Our first port of call was HMV to look at the music. It turned out that
Vanya and Owen had a mutual love of heavy metal music, and since it wasn't
really my thing, I was once again side-lined as the two of them browsed the
CDs and enthusiastically discussed their favourite bands and albums. In the
end I grew bored and, leaving them to it, I went off on my own to look at
the computer games.

Vanya and Owen joined me a short time later. "We could not find you. We
looked and you are gone." said Vanya. "You buy game?" he asked, looking at
the box that I held in my hand.

"No, I was just looking," I replied. "I don't think Mum would be too happy
if I blew the money we had left on a computer game. Besides, there isn't
enough to buy anything decent."

"Perhaps that is best," grinned Vanya. "You are not good at computer
games. I always beat you."

"Yeah, sure," I said. "I was going easy on you last night. Next time we
play I'll show you how it's done."

"We will see," Vanya laughed.

We wandered around more shops. Vanya found a T-shirt that he liked, so I
used most of our remaining money to buy it for him – Mum would
definitely approve of that. The woman on the cash desk put the shirt into a
bag for him, but the minute that we were out of the store Vanya took the
shirt from the bag, pulled off the shirt that he'd been wearing and put on
the new one. Right there in the middle of the street, with everyone looking
– and plenty of people did look. I just gave thanks that we hadn't
bought him new underwear! The old shirt went into the bag, which was
probably the best place for it since it still bore some marks from our
lunch-time adventure.

The rest of the afternoon passed more or less without incident, though we
were perhaps a little noisier than we should have been on the bus home,
which may have annoyed some of the other passengers. That was mainly down
to Owen who spent much of the journey telling jokes to Vanya, which Vanya
mostly didn't understand and so Owen had to then start explaining them, by
which time they had ceased to be funny to anyone but Owen. Sigh. It was a
LONG journey!

We parted company when we got off the bus. Vanya insisted on giving Owen a
hug, which Owen accepted with only mild signs of discomfort. I'm sure he
was hoping that no one he knew was around to see him being hugged by
another boy in the street. I promised to give Owen a call to let him know
about the camping trip and then Vanya and I headed home.




Dinner pretty much followed the same pattern as the previous evening, with
Vanya being the centre of attention. Everyone, and Mum in particular,
wanted to know how he'd enjoyed his visit to Chester. Vanya spoke
enthusiastically about visiting the museum and took delight in passing
around the photograph that he'd had taken with the Roman soldier.

"I can't believe you got one of these," said Lauren, looking critically at
the picture. "They're so tacky. They're for the tourists."

"Vanya is a tourist," Mum pointed out. "And that'll be a nice souvenir for
him to show his friends when he gets home."

"Yes, and I tell them all about the Romans," said Vanya. "Today has been
good because I learn so much. I learn about Romans and also I learn lots of
new English words from Robert and from Owen."

I froze, my fork halfway to my mouth. Oh God. Surely he wasn't going to
mention the swear words. If he did, I was dead. Vanya glanced in my
direction and gave the barest hint of a smile. Damn. The evil bugger was
teasing me!

"With the help of Robert and Owen I will be the best among all my friends
at English when I return home," Vanya smiled.

Dad gave an unimpressed sniff. "You'll be lucky if any English speaker can
even understand you if you use those two as role models."

"So what else did you do?" asked Mum.

"We went to eat at McDonalds," said Vanya. "We have McDonalds in Ukraine,
but do not go... often? Yes, that is it. We do not go often. Eating in
McDonalds was good. But I have accident with ice cream."

"Oh? What sort of accident?" Mum asked, sawing at her pork chop like a
surgeon performing an amputation.

"I get ice cream on me," said Vanya. "But it was not problem. Robert and
Owen take... took – they took me into toilets. They clean up ice cream
for me and then Robert give me blow-job."

I started to choke.

Other than for my coughing and spluttering, there was suddenly complete
silence at the dinner table. Everyone but me was staring at Vanya; I
couldn't stare at anyone because my eyes were watering as a result of my
choking.

Vanya was looking uncertainly from one person to the next unable to
understand everyone's reaction. "I say something wrong?"

Mum ignored the question. She slowly turned her head to look at me. "Would
you care to explain, Robert, or would it be better if we changed the
subject at this point?"

I finally managed to swallow the piece of potato that had become wedged in
my throat and fought to catch my breath. "He means..." I gave a cough. "He
means the hand-dryer. I put him under the hand-dryer. He was wet after
washing off the ice-cream that the girl had thrown over him. The hand-dryer
blew hot air down and dried him off. That's what he means. The hand-dryer
was the blow-job. Nothing else. Not what you're thinking, anyway."  I was
gabbling, but I had to get the explanation out as fast as possible before
anyone got the wrong idea.

Lauren was giggling softly. Dad hid a smile behind his hand. Mum just
continued to look at me, her eyebrows raised so high that they'd almost
disappeared under her hair-line. "Need I even bother to ask where he
learned the term `blow-job'?" she asked me, in a dangerously neutral tone.

I lowered my eyes. I was going to kill Owen when I next saw him. I was
going to slowly dismember him and make him eat his own limbs. That's if I
managed to survive the next few minutes myself. I could feel Mum's gaze
burning into me.

"So what is really blow-job?" Vanya's innocent question cut through the
silence.

Lauren dissolved into hysterics and dad choked back a snort of laughter and
turned away from the table. Mum, however, remained steadfastly calm. "Vanya
dear, I think it's perhaps best if you ask Robert to explain that one to
you. You'd better ask him later, though, when the two of you are alone. I
doubt that he would want to share his great wisdom on the subject whilst
sitting with the rest of his family at the dinner table."

I sank down in my chair, my head in my hands. Was it possible to die of
embarrassment?




One good thing, at least, came out of the extreme embarrassment of the
`blow-job' incident: I was able to talk Dad into putting some credit onto
my iTunes account, which meant that I would be able to download some music
onto my new iPad. Dad had been in a really good mood all evening, due
entirely to what, in his own words, had been "the best laugh he'd had in
ages", so I shamelessly took full advantage of the situation. Then, buoyed
up with my success at actually getting money out of Dad, I decided to make
the most of his good mood and asked him about the camping
trip. Unfortunately, I wasn't quite so lucky this time. In fact, I was
rebuffed with those five words that, over the past fifteen years, I'd come
to dread perhaps more than any others: "You'd better ask your mother." It
was Dad's standard answer to almost any question, and I should have
expected it.

Not exactly brimming with confidence, I decided to give it a go anyway. I
went into the kitchen, where Mum was doing the dishes, helped by
Lauren. Vanya stood watching, leaning against one of the worktops. I
quickly came up with a strategy that I felt would give me the best chance
of success.

"Mum?" I tried to sound as casual as I could.

"Hmm?"

"I was thinking," I said, as though about to share an idea that had just
occurred to me. "It might be fun to take Vanya camping while he's over
here. Just for one night. Not the whole family, just, you know, maybe me
and him. What do you think?"

Vanya stopped leaning against the worktop and stood up straight, suddenly
looking interested. "Please, Aunt Alison. Camping sounds like much
fun. Please say we go." Perfect. I'd hoped he'd say something along those
lines. That had at least doubled our chances.

Mum turned to face us. I held my breath as I awaited her verdict. Maybe
this hadn't been such a good idea after all. My mum can be an intimidating
force at the best of times, but when she's wearing her rubber gloves she's
positively scary. She stood with a frown on her face and her hands held up
in front of her, like a surgeon about to start an operation. I swallowed
nervously as I wondered which part of my anatomy she was considering
removing. "Camping." She spoke the word as though testing to see if she
liked the flavour. "And would this little camping trip by any chance
involve Owen?"

"I suppose we could ask him if he wants to come along," I said as though
the idea hadn't previously occurred to me. This wasn't good; I'd been
hoping to avoid mentioning Owen's name.

"Well, considering he's the one with the tent, asking him might be a good
idea," said Mum, with more than a hint of sarcasm. "Unless your idea of
camping happens to be sleeping out in the open."

Damn! Rumbled! The look on her face made it obvious that she knew that Owen
was already involved. I gave a weak grin. "Yeah, good point."

"Where were you planning to go?"

"We thought we'd use the field on Owen's Uncle's farm. Where me and Owen
used to go before." She hadn't said no yet. That had to be a good sign.

Mum kept us waiting for what felt like forever. Then she gave a sigh and
nodded. "I suppose after a full day with Owen any damage has already been
done." She looked from Vanya to me. "I hope I don't regret this. Yes, you
can go camping. When were you thinking of going?"

"I dunno. We're out tomorrow. How about Wednesday?" Had she really just
said yes? I was in shock.

"Wednesday should be fine."

"Great. Thanks, Mum. I'll call Owen and give him the good news."

"Yes, thank you, Aunt Alison," Vanya grinned. "We will have such good
time." He went up to Mum and gave her a hug. She giggled girlishly. It was
a disturbing sound. Still, we'd got what we wanted; we were going camping
the day after tomorrow. Having Vanya around clearly had its advantages.

Lauren had been watching the conversation with great interest. "Can I go as
well?" she begged.

Mum gave an incredulous snort. "A girl in small tent with three teenaged
boys? I really don't think that would be a very good idea."

"Please, Mum. I can ask Lucy if she wants to come," said Lauren, almost
desperately.

"And you think that having TWO girls sharing a small tent with three boys
would make things better, do you?"

"We could get our own tent," said Lauren. She must have known before she
made the suggestion that she was beaten, but, all credit to her, she was
determined to go down fighting.

"No, Lauren. You're not going camping, and that's my final word on the
matter. Now finish drying those dishes." Mum shook her head and turned back
to the sink.

Pouting, Lauren shot me a glare. "It's not fair," she muttered. "I never
get to have any fun." I gave her my best condescending smile.

For the rest of the evening we sat in the lounge and watched TV. I played a
few games with Vanya on my iPad, and he soundly thrashed me every
time. Then, partly at Mum's suggestion, and partly because I'm a nice
person, I allowed Lauren to play a couple of games against Vanya. She beat
him! Actually, I think he must have let her win, because Lauren is rubbish
at video games.

When it got to about 9:30, Mum suggested that it might be an idea if we got
an early night, since we were going to have an early start in the
morning. It seemed like a good idea to me, since I was feeling pretty
tired, probably as a result of the restless night I'd had last night. So,
while Vanya gave his parents a call, I went up to the bedroom, grabbed the
shorts and T-shirt I wore to bed, and raced to beat Lauren to the
bathroom. In the bathroom, I quickly stripped off my clothes, used the loo,
and then decided that maybe I ought to get a shower. The hot water felt
good and I was soon feeling pretty relaxed – relaxed and hard – my
cock was standing proudly to attention and I gave it a few firm
strokes. However, since I much prefer to jack off sitting down rather than
standing up, I forced myself to stop playing with my boner and instead
concentrated on washing myself. Leaving the shower, I turned off the water,
lowered the seat on the loo, and sat down. I was so eager to take care of
business that I didn't even take the time to get dried. It occurred to me
that if I jacked off now, maybe I wouldn't have to face the embarrassment
of walking to the bathroom with a boner in the morning. That thought made
me smile; fat chance – I couldn't recall the last time I'd woken up on a
morning without a boner, so jacking off tonight was unlikely to have any
effect at all on my condition in the morning. Still, why should that stop
me? I leaned back and started to stroke, conjuring up an image of Andrea
Bourke, standing naked in front of me, running one hand over her tits, the
other hand stroking down between her legs. Fuck, but that girl was hot. I'd
give almost anything to really see her naked. Almost anything. My hand
slowly stroking up and down my hard cock felt so good.

The bathroom door rattled as someone tried to come in. Holy fuck! I started
so violently that I almost fell off the loo. "Robert, is that you in there?
Are you almost done?" It was Lauren's voice.

"Yeah, just give me a couple of minutes." My heart was pounding so hard
that it felt as though it were about to leap right out of my chest.

"You've been in there ages. What're you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing? I'm on the loo. You want a full description?
Go away Lauren. I said I'll be done in a couple of minutes."

"Well hurry up. You're not the only one who wants to use the bathroom." It
all went quiet. She must have gone back to her bedroom.

After waiting a few moments just to be sure that she really had gone, I
once more leaned back, tried to relax, and picked up where I'd left off. It
didn't take long for me to get back into the flow of my fantasy. A few
minutes later I was spurting my load into a wad of toilet paper. Damn, that
had been good. I cleaned myself up, flushed away the evidence, washed my
hands, cleaned my teeth, and then pulled on my nightwear. As I carried my
clothes back to the bedroom I felt pretty good about myself. I'd just
jacked off while fantasizing about a girl. I hadn't thought about Vanya
once. This morning had obviously been a one-off, brought on by the strange
dreams I'd had.

However, as I entered the bedroom I was brought up short by the sight in
front of me. Vanya was lying face down on his bed, reading. And he was
naked! His legs were bent at the knee as he absently kicked his feet in the
air. I felt my breath catch and my heart was suddenly beating faster. Why
the hell did he have this effect on me? I'd never had any interest in boys
before, so what was it about Vanya that some hidden part of me appeared to
find so exciting? Apart, of course, from the fact that he was extremely
good-looking, he had a great personality, and he looked totally amazing
naked... Shit! I forced myself to take a step forwards. "Bathroom's free,"
I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "But you're going to have to be
quick if you want to beat Lauren."

"OK, I am ready, so I be quick." Vanya rolled onto his side and climbed off
the bed. He got to his feet and stretched. I made a conscious effort not to
look at his groin. I clearly didn't make enough of an effort, since I ended
up looking anyway. "You are perving me, Robert?" he asked with a grin.

"Eh? No!" I quickly shook my head. "No way!"

Vanya's grinned broadened. "I think you are perving me. But that is OK. You
can perv me if you want." His grin turned into a frown as he looked at me
standing there in my grey T-shirt and shorts, blushing like a naughty boy
caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Why do you change in bathroom,
Robert? Why do you not change in bedroom?"

The question took me by surprise, and I struggled to come up with an
answer. What could I say? That I was shy about Vanya seeing me naked? That
seeing his perfectly-proportioned, nicely toned body made me feel ashamed
of my own?  No, I couldn't say either of those things. I didn't even like
admitting those things to myself. So I settled for a shrug. "I dunno. I
guess it's because I'm not used to sharing a bedroom. It feels strange."

Vanya put out his hand and lightly touched my bare arm. I felt an electric
tingle and tried not to flinch. "I am sorry if sharing bedroom makes you
feel... not comfortable?" He looked at me as though asking whether the
phrase was right.

"Uncomfortable," I said.

"Yes, uncomfortable." Vanya gave a grateful nod. "Maybe after few days you
not feel uncomfortable anymore and not have to change in bathroom, yes?" He
gave a sudden grin. "Then you change in bedroom and then I perv you." He
took his hand from my arm and headed off to the bathroom. Naked!

I stood for moment totally confused. Vanya had just told me that it was
alright for me to `perv' him – not that I really had been perving him –
and that he wanted to `perv' me. Had he been joking? I already knew my
cousin well enough to know that underneath that apparently innocent looking
exterior he had an offbeat and totally wicked sense of humour. Yes, I
decided, it had been another of his jokes. One thing that he had made me
realise, though, was that this business of me getting changed in the
bathroom so that Vanya didn't see me without my clothes on was totally
stupid.

"Vanya!" A frustrated shout from Lauren interrupted my thoughts. The shout
was immediately followed by the sound of the bathroom door being firmly
closed. I gave a smile. Apparently Vanya had managed to beat Lauren to the
bathroom. I glanced out onto the landing. Lauren stood outside the bathroom
door, her hands on her hips. The look on her face said that she couldn't
decide whether to be annoyed that she had to wait a little longer, or
thrilled that she'd just got another look at her cousin's dick. Knowing my
sister, I think I'd put my money on the latter. She was clearly going to
stand there until Vanya came out in the hopes of getting another look at
him naked; I hoped he had the sense to at least wrap a towel around himself
before he came out. Chuckling softly, I pushed the bedroom door closed and,
turned on the bedside light. Turning off the main light, I climbed onto my
bed, lying on top of the thin duvet. I wanted to check out a comic-reading
app that, at Vanya's suggestion, I'd downloaded onto my iPad.

Vanya returned to the bedroom about ten minutes later. He did have a towel
around his waist.  He was giggling. "I get to bathroom before Lauren," he
laughed. "She was – how you say – pissed?"

I grimaced. `Pissed' was one of the words he'd learned from Owen on the
bus. "Don't let anyone hear you say that word," I said. Then I gave a small
laugh of my own. "Yeah, I bet she was pissed. But I bet what she was most
pissed about was that you came out wrapped in a towel."

Vanya giggled again. "Yes, Lauren likes to perv me." He took the towel from
around his waist and began drying his back, his dick flopping from side to
side. "You are playing game?"

I tore my eyes away from his body before I once more got accused of
perving. "No I'm reading comics. This app is really good. I've found some
free comics already; no Batman though. I'll look for some of those later."

"I have lots of Batman comics," said Vanya. "When I go home I send them to
you."

"Thanks, that would be great." I concentrated on the comics while Vanya
finished drying himself, though I couldn't resist shooting an occasional
glance in his direction.

Done with his drying, Vanya draped his towel over the back of my desk
chair, then he pulled out a pair of his white briefs and stepped into
them. He climbed onto his bed and shuffled over until he was lying right
next to me. He lay there for a moment and then decided to adjust his pillow
before wriggling even closer and turning onto his side. "Now I see
picture," he said, looking at the screen of my iPad.

I was immediately all too conscious of just how close he was to me; the
lower part of his bare chest was actually pressed right up against my
elbow, skin touching skin. I could even smell him: a warm smell of soap
and... something else. I felt my pulse rate quicken. Suddenly I was feeling
incredibly nervous. I realised that I was holding my breath. Oh fuck! I
turned off the iPad and sat upright, breaking the physical contact. "I
think we should get into bed," I said. "Mum will have us up at the crack of
dawn in the morning. She's always the same when we go anywhere. She has to
be ready to set off hours before we really need to. We'll probably get
where we're going before anything is even open. That's what usually
happens. Then we have to sit around waiting."

I don't think Vanya was listening to a single word of my prattle. He lay
looking up at me, his expression a sort of half-sad, half-thoughtful
smile. After a moment his lips tightened and he nodded. "OK, we should go
to bed."

Placing the iPad carefully on my bedside table, I climbed under my
duvet. My heart was still beating ten to the dozen. I lay on my back
staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell was going on and why I was
feeling this way.

Beside me, Vanya got under his own duvet. He lay quietly for a long moment
then: "Robert?"

"Yeah?"

"What is blow-job?"

Shit! I'd forgotten about that. "It's when a girl sucks a boy's cock."

There was a short silence as Vanya thought about this. "If she sucks, then
why is it called blow-job? Is not suck and blow different?"

"Yeah, they're different. They actually mean the opposite of each other," I
said. "I dunno why it's called a blow-job. It just is."

"OK. So blow-job is really suck-job. English is strange language." Another
short silence. "Robert?"

"Yes?" I suppressed a sigh. Now what?

"Blow-job is when girl sucks boy, yes?"

"Yes," I said.

"So is it also blow-job when boy sucks boy?"

"What?" I turned my head to look at Vanya. He was grinning at me. He
obviously already knew the answer and this was just another of his attempts
at being funny. "Yeah, it's the same thing," I growled, not really in the
mood for humour. "Now let's get to sleep." I reached out and turned off the
lamp.

As I lay there in the darkness, I became aware of a slight movement, almost
like the bed was shaking. There was also a barely audible sound. Was Vanya
crying? The sound grew a little louder. No he wasn't crying. He was
laughing. I turned the lamp back on and propped myself up, glaring at my
cousin. "Now what's the matter?" I asked.

Vanya was laughing so hard that there were tears running from his eyes. I
just lay there, looking at him. Eventually he managed to get himself enough
under control to speak. "I am sorry, Robert," he said, panting and wiping
his eyes. "I think it is very funny."

"You think what's funny?" I asked, not even attempting to hide my
impatience.

"I tell your family that you suck my cock." He started to laugh again.

"Oh yeah, very funny," I said. "Absolutely hysterical." I turned the lamp
off once more. "Goodnight, Vanya," I said, sourly.

"Goodnight, Robert," Vanya chuckled. "Do not worry; now I know what is
blow-job, I not tell anyone else you give it to me." He chuckled
again. "Blow-job you give me today was very nice, but maybe I like real
blow-job from you even better." I heard him roll over and snuggle under his
duvet.

I lay awake for a long time trying to convince myself that I'd heard
wrong. And if I hadn't heard wrong, then Vanya must have been making a
joke. And if he hadn't been making a joke, then why did the thought cause
my heart to beat faster?

**********

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