Date: Tue, 02 Nov 2004 12:12:12 +0800
From: James MacMannis <james_macmannis@hotmail.com>
Subject: Aboriginal-Farmboy/aboriginal-farmboy-05

Author: James MacMannis <james_macmannis@hotmail.com>
Subject: aboriginal-farmboy-05 (adult-youth, interracial, rural)
Archive; 'Aboriginal Farmboy #5'{James MacMannis}(BB, interr, rural)[]
Homosexual, young male sex
Adult-youth
Interracial
Rural setting

ABORIGINAL FARMBOY - PART FIVE

Copyright 2004 by James MacMannis
This document may be downloaded for your personal pleasure; however, you may
not place the document on a website or reproduce the story for distribution
in any media whatsoever without my permission.  Please email me at
james_macmannis@hotmail.com with constructive comments or criticism.


The eight-cylinder engine of my four-wheel drive came to life as I turned
the key.  We had put Connie in the front seat of the car because there was
more room for his incapacitated arms.  Chris and Nick were sitting together
in the rear seat.  Chris lit a cigarette for Connie and held it to his lips
as we drove out of the hospital car park, Connie, unable to hold it himself,
gratefully drawing the smoke deeply into his lungs.  "We should get
something to eat in town before we head home," I suggested.  The boys
agreed, although Connie once again made a comment about not wanting to cause
further trouble for me.

At the bakery we bought rolls and meat pies, taking them with us to the car
so we could eat on the way home.  Connie was surprised to see the damage we
had noted on our trip to town, not realising that the countryside had been
impacted severely.  Soon we arrived at my property, passed the smouldering
trees in the paddock and drove the Toyota into the vehicle shed.  Chris and
Nick fussed over their brother and helped him inside the house while I put
the coffee on to brew and stoked the fire to re-warm the house.

We sat beside the fire, the younger boys sitting nearer the TV, leaving
plenty of room for Connie to get his arms into a comfortable and safe
position.  I offered him cushions, which we arranged to prop his lower arms.
  After a sip of his coffee, I put Connie's mug down on the table.  "Thank
you, James, for everything you have done for us -- and particularly for me
today," said Connie.  "I really appreciate what you have done and hope that
we have some way of repaying you your kindness."  "Connie, there is nothing
to repay.  I have had the remarkable privilege in becoming involved with
your family, and it seems that it is all the more remarkable now that I have
met you.  The three of you are stunningly handsome, intelligent and great
for my aging confidence.  You can never know how much it has meant to me."
I looked at Chris and Nick before going on, unsure as to how much they had
already confided in Connie, and unsure as to how open he was to the
relationship that had developed between Chris and myself and the newly
emerging relationship I had tentatively begun with Nick.

"James, please don't be embarrassed about your relationship with Chris.  I
know that you love him and he has told me he loves you, too.  Chris trusts
you implicitly, therefore so do I.  It seems that Nick trusts you also."
Connie's analytical assessment was pronounced.  I did notice that he omitted
any reference to what had transpired between Nick and myself during the
previous night, so I guessed he was not yet aware of that development.  My
gut reaction was to keep that quiet until such time as there was a need to
discuss it further.  I helped Connie with his coffee, raising it to his lips
so he could drink it.  "Do you mind if I have a smoke, James?" Connie asked.
  I rolled him one and lit it before passing it to him to draw on.  I found
the proximity to him very exciting, although I had not imagined I could feel
any more than I already did in regard to his two younger brothers.  Chris
and Nick were busy watching news updates on the TV, drinking their own
coffee and smoking as they chatted between themselves about the storm,
seemingly forgetting that Connie and I were in the room.  We sat, somewhat
engrossed with the news broadcasts, until the session was finished and
another program came on.

"I am going to take Nick down to check the burning tree, James."  Chris,
keen to do some work, explained.  "Is there anything else you want us to do
while we are out in the fields?"  I asked them if they would do a check of
the boundary fences, as we had not had time to do that this morning.  "I
will look after Connie and start getting things on for dinner," I told them.

Connie continued to watch the TV program as I put together some vegetables
and meat for a casserole.  Once that was complete I went back to sit with
Connie.  "Would you like a cigarette?" I asked him, knowing that he could
not smoke of his own accord and was probably embarrassed to ask each time he
wanted to smoke.  I could not help but notice the dark yellowish stains on
his fingers that lead me to the presumption he was a heavier smoker than
Chris or Nick.  "Yes, James, I would.  I hope it is not an inconvenience for
you to have to nurse me around like this."  I reassured him that everything
was fine while I rolled a cigarette and lit it for him.  Holding it to his
lips, Connie drew the aromatic smoke into his lungs then blew out a cloud of
blue smoke.  "I really love smoking," Connie said.  "I don't have any other
vices, although I do enjoy an occasional drink, but smoking is the one thing
I cant do without.  You probably have found out that all three of us smoke --
we learned it from Dad I suppose."  Hungrily he sucked at the cigarette
again.  "I probably smoke too much, but I found when I was at Uni that it
was the best way for me to keep awake and on top of my studies.  All my
friends were popping tablets or worse, but I never wanted to do that.  So I
just kept on smoking.  Dad used to say that a cigarette was the most
faithful friend you could ever find -- always there when you needed it, never
argued with you, and always gave you satisfaction!"

I enjoyed sitting with Connie while he smoked the rest of the cigarette.  It
gave me the opportunity to really have a close look at the guy, to hear his
carefully arranged grammar and to watch his mannerisms.  He was very
frustrated by having his hands incapacitated and I could see that, if he
were unfettered, he would have used his hands a lot in expressing the point
of his conversation.  A very neat and attractive person, Connie kept his
hair styled in a shorter arrangement than Chris or Nick while still managing
to maintain a similar goatee beard and moustache.  His eyes were the same
steely blue as his brothers, and I suddenly remembered that his father also
had blue eyes, although I could not recall if they were this remarkable
shade of colour.

Connie might have been reading my thoughts, because he said "Dad often told
me about you, James.  He said you and he worked together when you were
teenagers, out on a station somewhere.  I don't know why we never got around
to calling in on you, but I saw you sometimes when we were driving around.
Dad used to say to me that if ever I needed to find someone to depend on
when he was not around, then I should come and see you.  I must have
forgotten that over years since his death, but it has come back to me now.
And here we are, together in this rather awkward situation -- for me at
least."

I, too, pondered the years gone bye and how they led to this quite
remarkable moment when three young men had become my instant family through
amazing circumstances.  Once again I remembered the friendship and close
companionship I had shared with their father 30 or 35 years previously, a
memory that I had put into archive storage and not reinspected with the
passage of time.  As I looked at Connie, I looked at Nikolas, his father,
those many years before.  His father had been a more golden colour; perhaps
the darkness of these three boys came from their mother whom I had not met.
I met Nikolas when I was about 20 years old, he would have been a little
older, at the railway station in town.  We were both going to work at the
Sandplains Pastoral Company wheat and sheep station and were taking the
train to the railway siding closest to the property.

The train had been delayed for some reason or another, so Nikolas and I
passed the time sitting in the shade of the station platform, smoking,
drinking coffee (he had an endless thirst for coffee!), and talking.  It
became clear from the outset that we would be compatible as friends and I,
as a young man newly emerged from the comfortable enfolds of my parental
home, was happy to go into the world with someone I knew.  We had similar
interests and were comfortable with each other, sitting as we were with
duffel bags of clothing at our bare feet, bushman's hats perched on each of
our heads and our boots (I noticed Nikolas had rarely, if ever, worn his
boots either) tied by the laces to the sides of our bags.

We had been met at the railway siding by Mrs. Dawson, the wife of the owner
of Sandplains, who took us the seven or eight kilometres to the station
buildings in a light brown Landrover wagon.  I have no idea why I remember
the colour of the vehicle, but it is now as clear to me as the day we
arrived there.  Mrs. Dawson took us to their large homestead where we met
the boss, Nigel Dawson, and had lunch.  "You boys wont be needing your boots
out here," Nigel called after us as we headed to the bunkhouse.  "Just wear
what you will be comfortable in, but make sure you have a hat to keep the
sun off your head."  Nikolas and I were the only occupants of the small
bunkhouse, the full time other workers on the property being a stockman and
his son who lives elsewhere.  It took us a few minutes to stash our bags and
be back at the homestead so the boss could show us around.

"Are you okay, James?"  Connie interrupted my thoughts.  "Sure, Connie. I
was just thinking back to when I knew you Dad.  He was a great guy and a
wonderful friend to me.  We were together for seven or eight years out at
Sandplain, then he left and I never caught up with him again.  I heard that
he had married, then the next I knew he had been killed.  I did not even
know you boys existed till last week when I met Chris and Nick in town.  My
life has quite suddenly taken a new direction, and I am still trying to
catch up with it."

Maybe Connie misunderstood my meaning.  "I am so sorry that we have put you
to all this trouble.  It is not right that we just barge in and upset
everything.  When Chris and Nick come back from their chores we will go home
and leave you alone."  "Connie, Connie!"  I exclaimed.  "No way are you just
going to back out on me now.  You don't realise just how wonderful it has
been for me these past few days with Chris, then Nick and now you becoming a
part of my existence.  I have never had children of my own, and only
occasionally my nephew comes and stays in the school holidays, so you three
have suddenly become my kids.  It takes a bit of getting used to, and quite
a lot of adjustment, but I am not complaining one little bit.  It is a
remarkable privilege for me and I love every moment of it, just as I love
each of you boys."

The two of us sat in silence for some time, each digesting the ramification
of this strange new relationship that had developed.  I rolled another
cigarette and lit it.  This time I shared it with Connie, each of us
depending on the drug as we struggled to find the words that could best
describe the turbulent emotions in our respective hearts.  Connie spoke
first.  "James, I have no idea how to accept what you have said.  It is so
new for me to find the openness you have offered to me.  I have had to work
hard to care for the boys and to keep up my studies since Dad died, and,
apart from some help from our neighbours, I have had to do a lot of it
alone.  Now you come into the equation with not only open arms, but an open
heart as well.  It is almost too much for me to understand and to
comprehend.  I am afraid that I will say or do the wrong thing.  Please,
James, be patient with me as I try to get a hold of this thing."

"Connie, there is nothing more that we need to say or do except to be honest
and open with each other.  I have asked Chris and Nick to be like that to
me, and now I ask you also.  Let time teach us how we should react and
behave.  For now, the important thing is that you recover from your injuries
and that the boys continue with the things that are focal to their lives.
Nick is going to be an academic like you, he has a brilliant future ahead of
him and I want to help him get there.  Chris is a more practical person; no
less bright than you two but he has a different way of getting to where he
is going.  Besides, I love Chris very deeply and I want to be a very
important part of his life.  You and I need to have some time to work out
what our roles will be, but remember that you will be soon finished your
degree and will need to have an application for the amassed learning it
represents.  I just want to be part of it somehow."

Nick burst into the room, shattering the reverie but saving the need for
further talk in what was becoming a heavy conversation.  "I told Chris I
would beat him running up from the back fence," Nick proudly boasted.  "I
gave him a 25 metre head-start, but I still beat him."  He sat next to
Connie, barely panting from the exertion of the long run.  "How are the
arms?  Is James looking after you?" he asked his brother.  Connie had just
finished assuring Nick that he was fine when Chris arrived, panting from his
exertion.  "I am getting out of condition.  It is years since I ran
seriously and I forgot that Nick has been training for the City to Surf.
Oh, by the way, there is no damage to any of the fences."  Chris sat next to
me, trailing his hand across my leg and reaching for the tobacco to make
himself a smoke.

The City to Surf has become something of an institution and inspiration for
West Australian, and an example that has been copied in many other cities of
the world.  Both seasoned and recreational runners take to the streets to
test their abilities and raise funds for a community foundation supporting
people with intellectual disabilities.  Runners have a choice of a four or
twelve kilometre run, commencing at different locations in the business hub
of the city and ending at City Beach Oval, almost on the shores of the
Indian Ocean.  There are categories of entrants catering for children,
disabled (wheelchair) people, walkers and runners.

I hadn't known that Nick was an entrant for this year's race.  "When is the
run?" I asked Nick.  "Next week," he told me.  "It is always run in August."
  I had known that, but had overlooked that we were already well into the
last month of winter.  The capital city of Western Australia, Perth, enjoys
a Mediterranean climate (it has more hours of sunshine than any other
Australian capital city) that lures locals and visitors to enjoy the city's
vast range of outdoor activities.  Central to the city is the most unique
natural bushland park of any city in the world, and many of Perth's
activities are based in or around King's Park.  People enjoy relaxing
picnics in many parkland settings and along the banks of the Swan River, as
well as more energetic pursuits, such as jogging on the beach or wind
surfing on the Swan River and the Indian Ocean.  The largest
community-sporting event in WA is the annual Perth City to Surf Fun Run,
held in August (perhaps the coldest part of winter, but still similar to a
mild summer day in some countries).  Ranging from professional athletes and
serious runners to friends, families and corporate groups, almost anyone can
participate in the 12 kilometre run

Nick told me that he was one of 23,000 starters in the Run.  "Runners are
placed into categories A, B, C or D.  "A" runners are expected to complete
the course in less than 48 minutes; "B" runners in 48 to 58 minutes; "C"
runners in 58 to 70 minutes; and "D" runners in more than 70 minutes."
Because of his age and experience in running, Nick went on to explain that
he was entered in the A group to run as a single entrant in the 12 kilometre
run.  The record time for the run is around 37 minutes.  "I want to win the
City to Surf for you, James," Nick exclaimed.  "Don't run it for me," I
said.  "Do it for yourself and your brothers.  Of course, I am going to be
like the proud father on the day.  But remember that whether you win or
loose makes no difference -- the important thing is that you want to try."

I glanced at the windows and saw that darkness had crept in while we had
been engrossed with the coming events, so I suggested it would be time for
us to break for dinner.  After the meal, Chris washed up the dishes, dried
them and put them away.  Nick made coffee and we returned to the warm
sunroom.  We ate some shortbread biscuits as we drank and chatted, Chris
sharing a cigarette with Connie, Nick thoughtfully refraining in deference
to his training program.

"Perhaps it would be best if we sort out the sleeping arrangements for the
time Connie will be incapacitated.  He can't have anyone sleep with him,
because the risk of hurting him is too high.  So I think it will be better
if he sleeps in one of the bedrooms with two beds.  That way, one of us can
sleep there in the other bed and be on hand for when he needs assistance."
Nick offered to sleep with Connie and Chris stated that he would be sleeping
with me.  Chris got up to take Connie in for a shower.  After taking off his
coat and shirt, we wrapped his arms in a garbage bag that I taped up so
water would not get into the dressings while he was showering.

When they had left the room, Nick cuddled up to me where I was sitting on
the couch.  "I really want to sleep with you again, James, but I know Chris
wants you by himself tonight."  He let his hand come to rest on my groin,
softly squeezing my lifeless penis.  "I want you to know that what we did
before was wonderful for me, especially because it was just us.  I know
Chris was there too, but what I did, I did with you.  I love you James, so
much."  Nick stretched out his legs, his feet reaching the rug on the floor,
and in doing so I could see his expression of love had stimulated a physical
need in his own body.  His loose trousers were tented, the peak of the tent
held in place by his man pole.  I moved my hand across it, feeling the
urgent throbbing as my fingers made contact with him.  Nick groaned, pushing
himself upwards to make the contact stronger, his stiff penis flicking to a
more acute angle towards his pelvis.

The zipper came open when I gripped the tab and pulled it down, instantly
opening his fly.  With little effort I found his penis behind a fold of the
trousers and led it out into the open.  He was desperate for release, the
head of his pulsating shaft very wet with precum under its protective sheath
of skin.  I manipulated the foreskin over his glans, causing Nick to writhe
in pleasure and his penis to jerk about like a thing possessed.  "Stand up,"
I told him.  Not sure of my intention, Nick nonetheless stood, slightly to
my side.  I guided him around so that his feet were on the floor between my
feet, his insistent tool pointing directly at my chin, bobbing up and down
with excitement and need just a few centimetres from my face.

Leaning towards him, I opened my mouth and took in the succulent head of his
penis.  Nick gasped.  "Mister James, what are you doing to me?"  I did not
reply: my mouth was otherwise occupied as it adjusted to the invasion of his
manhood.  His foreskin was soft on my tongue, the skin tight, yet supple as
it adequately covered his head.  The tang of his youthful liquid reached my
tastebuds and I swallowed a little of his precum, reaching behind him to
grasp at his bottom.  I pulled him towards me, his penis sliding easily
along my tongue, the foreskin rippling back slightly to allow pressure on
his frenulum nerve centre.

"Mister James," he gasped again.  "I am going to come very soon."  He tried
to pull out of my mouth, but I held him there.  I knew that he would
probably come quickly; he was already very aroused before we began, so I did
not try to slow down his event.  I pulled him further in to my mouth, the
slick head finding its own way into the recesses of my throat.  I had not
sucked anyone for so long that I thought I had forgotten the excitement of
the experience.  Now it caught up with me, forcing my penis to swell inside
my trousers and creating that yearning for male cream I had forgotten about.
  Nick totally lost control of his reaction as his penis erupted deep inside
my mouth.  Stream after stream of his pure seminal fluid jetted into my
throat and overflowed into my mouth, his youthfulness giving a delightfully
fresh taste to the salty liquid.  He bucked several times as the spasms of
his orgasm wrested for control of his young body, depositing more and more
of his beautiful juice in my thirsting orifice.  "Mister James," he uttered
one more time as he sagged, his knees seeming to buckle from under him.  His
penis, still rigid and squirting the residue of his juices, fell from my
mouth.  As I swallowed his gift to me I moved my grip so that I could catch
him and bring him down on to the seat alongside me, his legs over mine, his
feet ending up dangling somewhere above the floor between my legs.

Nick held me tightly.  "Oh, Mister James," was all he could say before a
trickle of tears eased from his eyes, obscuring his vision and softening is
composure.  His lips became attached to mine, I don't know who moved to
whom, the softness of his crying making them irresistibly sweet and tender.
I laid him down, leaning over him as our kissing and embrace continued, my
hard penis coming in contact with his legs through the material of our
clothing.  Knowing that I would soon not be able to control my own desire, I
released him and sat up, taking my penis away from its wanting connection
with Nick.  Nick's penis had deflated, so I kissed away the last bit of his
semen and put him away, zipping up his trousers again.  Soon, Nick had
stopped his show of emotion and regained control of himself.  He reached for
my penis, perhaps intending to show me some relief, but I held his hand
back.  "Not tonight, Nick.  There will be time for us to enjoy each other
tomorrow.  Please just accept what we have done as an expression of my
deepest love for you.  Besides," I added with a twinkle in my eye, "You wont
be able to get much release tonight, to that might help you sleep better."

"Thanks, Mister James.  I will be fine.  You are teaching me a lot of new
things, and I love every bit of it."  Nick yawned.  "Can I use your bathroom
to have my shower?  The other boys are taking so long and I need to get some
sleep."  I hustled Nick off to the shower and I tidied up the room while I
waited for Chris and Connie to reappear.  I had just sat down with a smoke
when they came in, freshly clean and ready for bed.  They were both wearing
just a towel wrapped around the waist.  "Nick is having a shower in my room,
so if you want to go to bed, Connie, he will be there very soon."  Connie
did want to go to bed and Chris led him off, returning in a few minutes with
the towel which he hung out, along with his own, to dry by the fire.  He
sat, naked, alongside me and rolled a cigarette.  Nick finished his shower
and brought his towel to dry, making his way off to bed as soon as he could.
  I took the opportunity to shower and it was not long before I took Chris
up to my room and we crawled between the sheets.

Immediately Chris slid fully alongside me, pressing every part of his body
against mine as he drew me into a total embrace, arms and legs entwining to
increase the contact surface area.  His virile penis began to grow against
my own still partly aroused organ, aided by the thrusting and general
movement of our bodies as we settled into our cuddle.  I felt every bit of
his growth, from almost flaccid to totally rigid, in the short space of a
few heartbeats and deep breaths.  My own reaction was as strong as I took my
lover into my heart again.

Chris pulled me into his groin, encouraging my gentle thrusting against his
maleness, enjoying the feeling of our duelling rigid shafts as they collided
headfirst into each other.  I was already in a state of excitement from my
encounter with Nick, and I could feel the semen boiling in my tight ball
sac.  I rolled Chris on to his back and mounted above him without
diminishing the tempo of my movements.  My penis found its way into the
cleft of his thighs and began a steady course towards an inevitable climax,
rubbing in long hard thrusts up the smoothness of his legs, not stopping
till it came to the obstruction of his testicles.  Chris pushed upwards to
meet every thrust of mine, amplifying in me the tiniest sensory reactions
till they boomed in my ears and thrummed in my brain.  Pistoning like a
steam locomotive, I drove into him until I knew there would only be one
ending.  My semen erupted in a gush, quickly lubricating the area of my
activity because it pooled rather than shot out, making the final thrusts
slippery and silky smooth against his welcoming skin.

Sexually spent and physically exhausted, I collapsed on Chris's chest, my
breathing somewhat ragged and my heartbeat erratic.  Chris held me to him,
putting his lips to my ear and whispering sweet sounds that could have been
indecipherable except for the undertone of love that carried through them.
I rolled off him, expecting Chris would roll on to me for his own release,
but he remained laying beside me, his lips caressing my ear with his
whisperings.  His hand found the wet pool of semen on his thighs and he
dabbled the fluid onto his tool.  Using my semen as his lubricant, Chris
wanked himself in deliberate long strokes till he shot his massive load.
The first shots, as I had previously seen, travelled a considerable distance
up his chest, some landing as high as his shoulders.  The impetus
progressively weakened as his spasms decreased, nonetheless leaving a
clearly marked trail of ejaculate all the way down his upper body to his
navel.

We lay together, both totally depleted, yet totally satisfied in our sexual
bonding.  I grabbed a handtowel that is usually next to my pillow for such
purposes and wiped up as much of the semen from him as I could find.  There
was hardly anything on me, because Chris had received my load as well as his
own.  Pulling the covers up, we snuggled into each other to find our own
dreams for the night.

Nick was able to go back to school the next morning, leaving to catch his
school bus soon after we had eaten breakfast.  Chris, Connie and myself
enjoyed another cigarette and decided to get around to their place to check
on the damage.  I got the Toyota out of the shed and the boys climbed
aboard.  Their property, as it turned out, had not suffered any serious
trouble.  A few trees had been uprooted, but the house and outbuildings were
all fine.  Chris asked me inside and put the kettle on to make coffee while
we sat and talked.  Photographs of a much older Nikolas than I knew with a
beautiful lady were on the wall.  Connie noticed the direction of my stare.
"That's Mum and Dad not long after Nick was born.  It seems so long ago that
I can hardly remember it.  That's why we keep the picture there."  I felt
stabbed through my heart, looking once again at the face of my first love.
His wife was, indeed, a beautiful lady of stunning looks.  Swarthy of
complexion, particularly in comparison to Nikolas, she was the obvious
source of the darker colouring that became manifest in the three boys.

I could not comfortably look at Nikolas any more.  Memories flooded back to
my mind in a remorseless attack.  Things I though had been forgotten were
again vivid.  My mind took me back to that first day.  The boss was out the
front at the house and, for the first time, I noticed he was dressed very
much like we were, with a check shirt, denim jeans and bush hat.  His bare
feet were swinging freely where he sat on the veranda railing smoking a
cigarette while he waited for us.  We used a Holden utility to take us
through the various sections of the property.  It was quite different to the
hilly country of my hometown, but in its own way, very beautiful.

The great West Australian sand plains stretch from Esperance on the Great
Southern Ocean coastline to north of Geraldton on the west coast where the
land meets the Indian Ocean, spanning the latitudes from 28 to 34 degrees
south.  These are among the finest farming lands in the world, fertile,
sufficiently watered and relatively easily managed.  As we drove around the
property I was impressed by the flatness of the landscape, punctuated with
occasional rivers and minor waterways each lined with trees and thicker
scrub.  Water for the property was not supplied from the watercourses,
however, but from numerous well drilled into the aqueous reservoirs beneath
the earth's surface.  This water was pumped to the surface by windmills and
either stored in large tanks or fed directly into distribution systems.

Nikolas and myself were to be responsible for the agricultural aspects of
the property, including maintaining machinery and fixtures.  We had been
chose, the boss explained, because of our good reports from technical
college.  I had been attending the Government technical College in my town
while Nikolas had been to a church mission college in another town some 150
kilometres away, hence we had not met before our encounter at the railway
station, even though we had both been studying similar aspects of
agriculture.  Neither of us had worked before, except the usual school
vacation work experience that all kids took on to earn some pocket money, so
we had lots of theory and very little practical knowledge.

It was late afternoon when we returned to the homestead.  The boss dropped
us off at our bunkhouse and said he would meet us at the workshops first
thing in the morning to get us started on our work.  We were both dusty from
driving around the dry paddocks (there was no air conditioning in vehicles
in those days), and we both thought at once of getting cleaned up.  There
was a small creek a few hundred metres from our home and we had seen a nice
pool there when we were driving around, so we decided to go there for a
swim.  Inside, we rummaged around in our bags to find shorts and, neither of
us being shy, we took off our dusty clothes and out on the shorts.  It took
just a few minutes for us to run down to the creek and splash into the cool
water.  Frolicking around like kids, we enjoyed the refreshing coolness and
rinsing off of dust.

Darkness is not sudden in the summer months, so we found our way home again
easily even though the sun had set while we were still swimming in the
waterhole.  Nikolas stripped off his shorts and hung them up to dry out on a
wire set out on the veranda.  He was totally naked, and I got to have a
brief look at his beautiful golden skinned body for the first time.  Picking
up his tobacco, he proceeded to sit down and enjoy the evening breeze on his
body.  I realised that this part of the bunkhouse faced away from the
homestead and we could not be seen, even if we had put on the lights, so I
chastised myself for my foolish hesitancy and did as Nikolas had done, my
shorts joining his on the wire clothesline.  He offered his tobacco pouch
and I made myself a cigarette and sat down with him.

Chris sat down beside me.  "What is wrong, James," he asked, his eyes
searching mine to find a hidden clue.  I had not realised that I had drifted
off again into my memories, silent tears running down my face as I saw again
the events of long ago with the one I loved.  "I am okay, Chris.  When I saw
the photo of your Dad there I remembered a lot about when he and I were very
close many years ago.  There are some beautiful memories held up here in
this old head of mine, and maybe one day I can share them with you."

We drank the coffee Chris had made for us and the three of us shared
cigarettes.  I wanted to look at the vegetable beds that Chris had told me
about and I suggested we all go for a walk to see them.