Date: Mon, 29 May 2006 18:11:09 -0400
From: Jeff A <parrafan@ureach.com>
Subject: Bren's Games

Disclaimer: The events and persons described in this story are the product
of my imagination. Some of the places happen to be real. This story is
adult entertainment and not intended to be taken seriously.

* * *

Bren's Games

The two boys became friends by accident of surname - when they arrived for
their first day of school, Grade 1 at age 6, their teacher placed all the
girls in pairs on one side of the room, and all the boys on the other. Paul
Smith and Brenden Snedden were paired up in a double-seated wooden desk,
the kind that was so ancient, it had a circular hole up the front for the
inkwell, next to the groove for pencils. The old-fashioned desks were a
good match for their old-fashioned teacher, Miss MacKinson, who was a firm
believer in speaking only when spoken to, raising one's hand to ask a
question, proper deportment, and above all, separating the sexes.

Bren lived only a block and a half from school, and walked each morning by
himself. In most country towns in Australia kids could still do that
without fear, up until the late 1990's.

Paulie was a 'bus kid' - one of about fifty children who lived in the large
rural district surrounding the school. The further out you lived, the
earlier the bus picked you up on its circuitous route around the back roads
of Warrumbungle Shire. Paulie's parents had a beef smallholding - only
about 200 acres - where they bred and fattened cattle for the city
abbatoirs. The day Paulie stepped onto that old school bus for his first
day at school was also the first time he had ever met anyone who was not
related to him, so isolated was his parents' farm.

Brenden, by contrast, was as gregarious a six-year-old as you could wish to
meet. He knew the name of everybody in his street, all of the shopkeepers
on Station Road (the main street of Warrumbungle Village), the postman, the
milk cart driver, the garbage collector and even the old bloke that kept
the grass mowed on the town's cricket oval.

Bren was a born organiser. Paulie was as timid as a lamb. The two boys
somehow complemented each other, and were firm friends from that first
school day.

Even though their second grade teacher, Miss Whittle, seated them on
opposite sides of the room, the easy friendship of the two boys continued
at morning recess and at lunchtime, when all the boys played their
vigourous games and all the girls sat under the shade of the big poinciana
and talked about the many things girls talk about.

In third grade, their teacher Mrs Lawson followed the enlightened policy of
allowing students to choose their own desk partners, so Paul and Brenden
were reunited. Mrs Lawson was acknowledged by many as a good teacher, and
one of her classroom management techniques was to threaten to split up desk
partners if they misbehaved. She never had cause to worry with Bren and
Paulie. The two boys valued their friendship too highly to wreck it by
classroom misbehaviour.

It was inevitable that the parents of the two boys would meet sooner or
later. Mr and Mrs Smith did not get many opportunities to socialise, as the
farm took up all of their time. The occasion of Paulie's eighth birthday
provided the occasion for the Smiths to meet the parents of some of the
children their son talked about at dinnertimes.

Paulie's birthday party was a combination kids' party and adult social
event, running from mid-morning until mid-afternoon. The kids, mostly
Paulie's cousins, a few boys and girls from his class at school (and Bren,
of course), had their own party table, leaving the adults, mostly Paulie's
uncles and aunts plus the Sneddens, to sit around the barbecue and knock
back grown-up food and drink.

After lunch, Brenden organised the other kids in a peanut-eating
contest. He showed them how to throw a peanut in the air and catch it in
their mouths. All the kids had a riot of fun until one boy nearly
choked. Bren hit him on the back and the peanut spurted out, making the boy
burst into laughter. Brenden then poured fizzy soft drinks for all the
boys, and started a belching contest. The girls flounced off in disgust,
leaving the boys swigging soft drinks, burping and laughing.

By three o'clock, everyone had enjoyed their fill and the guests began to
depart in dribs and drabs. The Sneddens had given permission for Bren to
stay on a sleep-over, while all the other children left with their
parents. Since there was still several hours of daylight, Paulie suggested
that the two should ride their bikes out to the small dam which watered the
stock, about three hundred yards from the farmhouse.

"Want to go for a swim?", Paulie asked when they pedalled up to the dam
wall. "Dad's made a concrete ramp so it's not too muddy".

"Um, we didn't bring our swimsuits, Paulie", Bren pointed out.

"Don't need 'em. All the girls are gone", Paul replied with simple boy
logic, and began to strip off his shirt and shorts. Undies quickly joined
the pile, and a laughing Paulie skipped naked down the makeshift concrete
slope into the muddy water. Shrugging, and feeling a bit weird, Brenden
undid his clothing and made a pile of it next to his bike. Nudity in the
open air was an intoxicating new sensation for Bren, who laughed as he
splashed Paul and promptly fell over into the warm water.

After their swim, the two boys dried off by lying on the sun-warmed
concrete ramp, letting the warm air and sunshine evaporate the droplets of
moisture from their bodies. Each boy had a good look at the other's
nakedness, and decided it was okay to lie there nude.

The two boys slept like very tired logs that night, and had another nude
swim at the dam the next morning before Bren's dad drove out to the farm
after lunch to pick him up.

Bren's ninth birthday fell a few months later in the year. The only present
he asked for was to invite Paulie for a sleepover. Mr Snedden had to drive
out to the farm to pick him up, and drive him back the next day.

Paulie loved everything about his overnight stay in the village - the noise
of the big timber trucks as they plied their air brakes on the mountain
road outside town; not having to do farm chores for a whole day; riding
Bren's skateboard on the footpaths; so many different 'town' smells. He
envied Bren's lifestyle very much.

For his part, Brenden thought Paul was the luckiest kid ever - all the wide
open spaces of the farm to ride his bike; swimming nude in the dam whenever
he wanted; his pet galah and the cattledogs Jess and Jenn. Bren also
admired Paulie's parents, the Smiths. They were almost always cheerful,
even though the farm struggled to make a profit. They were very
affectionate with Paul, unlike his own parents who were somewhat reserved.

The alternating birthday sleepovers continued, and became a kind of
tradition. On Paulie's twelfth birthday there was no party, only a
sleepover. Paulie and Bren cycled out to the dam as soon as Bren's dad
dropped him off, and both boys had stripped off their shorts and tee shirts
and undies before the front wheels of their bikes, which lay on their sides
on the dam wall, had stopped spinning.

The two boys horsed about for fifteen minutes, splashing each other, trying
to push each other over, playing 'shark attack' or 'crocodile roll', games
that Bren made up on the spur of the moment. He was always doing that,
Brenden. Didn't matter if he was in the school playground, in church, or
walking along the footpath outside his house; he was always thinking up
games to play, ether solo or in company.

Tired after a full day of school and a vigourous splashathon, the two boys
dragged themselves out of the water to dry off in the late afternoon
sun. They lay on the concrete ramp, hands behind heads for pillows and
looked up at the clouds, streaked red with the afternoon sun.

The two boys were lying so close together, their elbows touched. The touch
developed into a poke, then a jostle, soon a joust, quickly escalating into
an all-out elbow war. The two boys got tired of that, too. Paul, who had
been staring at Brenden's groin while catching his breath suddenly yelled
"Hey! You got a hair!"

"Bullshit! Where?" Brenden replied, looking down towards his crotch.

"Right there!", Paulie exclaimed, and without so much as a by-your-leave,
launched himself onto Brenden's stomach and thighs with both arms, pulling
Brenden's small penis and slightly saggy scrotum this way and that,
examining all around it for the filament he thought he just now saw.

"Hey! Watch it! They're the only ones of them I got!", Brenden giggled, not
unhappy that in his quest to locate the elusive precursor of puberty, Paul
was giving his tool a very pleasant twirling.

"Here it is!", Paul declared triumphantly, pulling Brenden's toyset to one
side as he pointed to a single follicle, half an inch long, growing out of
a crease of skin between penis and scrotum.

"Well, whattaya know! A pube! I always knew I had it in me!", Bren
joked. "Now, what about yours, eh?", he smirked, turning the tables on his
smaller friend, tugging and twisting Paul's dick about. He couldn't do much
with Paul's scrotum as it had not yet fully descended.

"Yer wasting yer time", Paul lamented. "I checked this morning. Still as
bald as a baby's butt". Paul was certainly no longer the shy child that
Brenden met when starting school six years earlier.

"Yeah, but it's fun to look, innit?", Brenden replied. He would have like
to play more with Paulie's youthful genitals, but Paul had never given the
slightest indication that he was into that, and Bren didn't want to do
anything to risk their friendship. He rolled back to lie alongside
Paul. The two boys looked up at the clouds again.

"Are you still on for the holiday at Coffs Harbour next month? You haven't
been grounded or anything like that?" Paul ventured.

"You bet! I can't wait! My folks haven't been able to take me to the beach
for ages", Bren replied enthusiastically.

* * *

"It's a bloody nightmare come true!" complained Paul when he met him at
school on the last day of Term.

The two boys' holiday at Coffs Harbour with Paul's parents was due to start
the next day. When he first heard Paul's outburst, Brenden thought the
holiday was off.

"Off? Nah, it's still on. But guess what? My butthead of a cousin, Tristan,
is coming too!" Paul moaned. "His parents, my Auntie Annie and Uncle
George, are looking after the farm for mum and dad while we're away".

"Tristan? Have I met him? What's he like?" asked Brenden casually, not
wishing to sound too interested.

"Er, he was at my party when I was ten, I think that's the only time you
woulda seen him. He was only eight then. He was the little dork who always
wanted to hang out with us, but every time you made up some cool game to
play, he ran crying to his mummy", Paul explained. "He'll wreck our whole
week, I know he will".

Brenden didn't want any dramas before the trip even got underway, in case
the Smiths changed their minds. "How about you just leave him to me? You
just ignore him. I'll keep him out of your hair", he counselled.

"Yeah, well, he's a bit of a spoilt brat. He's an only child, his olds give
him everything, I hope you know what you're letting yourself in for", Paul
replied.

"Hey, I'm an 'only child' too, remember", Brenden expostulated, but in a
light-hearted way. "You're nearly one too, both your big sisters have left
home".

"Just keep him away from me, and maybe we'll still have a cool time", Paul
muttered.

* * *

Brenden's dad dropped him off at the farm early the next morning. Tristan
was already there, having arrived with his folks on the train late the
previous night. With the car already loaded up, it only took fifteen
minutes to get on the road. One thing puzzled Brenden, who chose to sit in
the middle of the back seat to keep the sparring cousins apart - when
Brenden arrived at the farm, Tristan was wearing jeans and a checkered
western shirt; when the boys climbed into the car a few minutes later,
Tristan was wearing a tank top and boardshorts, the same outfit he and Paul
were wearing. "Kids!", he thought, dismissing the wardrobe change as of no
importance.

Twenty minutes into the three-hour trip saw the three boys playing
"rock-paper-scissors", with Brenden, who suggested it, in the middle
playing two handed. With his left he competed with Tris who sat on his
left, and with his right he played against Paulie. Actually, Brenden found
he was better at the game when he didn't think about what to choose, and
just made fist choices at random. The punishment for losing a round was a
punch in the thigh, but Brenden didn't punch Tris very hard - he was
beginning to enjoy sitting close to the younger boy, punching and being
punched. When the punishment got a bit too vigourous, Mrs Smith leaned over
the seat and told the boys to "Settle!", so they went back to watching the
passing scenery for a while.

It didn't take much longer for Tristan to fall asleep, his head leaning on
Brenden's shoulder. He'd had a late night coming in on the train, and an
earlier start that morning than he was accustomed to. Paulie was listening
to music on his mp3 player and watching the countryside slip by. A few
minutes later, Tristan, apparently still asleep, pulled Brenden's left arm
in to his chest and began cuddling it like a comforter. He curled his leg
over it to completely capture the arm, leaving Brenden unsure whether to be
happy or embarrassed. Mrs Smith twisted around in her seat to survey the
scene and just smiled. Tristan's mother was Mrs Smith's younger
sister. "Tristan's got a little crush on you, I think, Brenden", she
whispered theatrically. "That's so cute. He was so excited last night when
he heard you'd be coming along. I'm glad you're here to keep them apart",
she added. Paul looked over at the other two boys and simply rolled his
eyes.

Brenden took advantage of the quiet moment to give Tristan a closer
inspection than he had previously. The more he checked the younger boy out,
the more he saw to like. Tris had a ginger mop of hair, about the same
colour as Paulie, only a shade or two lighter. "Must get it from their
mothers", Bren thought to himself. The boy's skin was a pale golden colour,
even under the tank top, which drooped open at the top, allowing Bren a
good look at Tristan's chest. "He's got big nipples for a boy", Bren
thought again. "There's some girls in my class at school who've got them
like that. They poke out the front of their T shirts", he mused.

Moving his eyes lower, he gazed at Tristan's long, smooth legs. "A bit like
a girl's", he thought, as his penis started to swell in his
boardshorts. Just at that moment, Tristan stirred in his sleep and pulled
Brenden's arm even closer to his chest. Brenden smirked as his wrist was
crushed against Tristan's groin. He couldn't feel anything, only the warmth
of Tristan's close body. He sighed and tried to relax. Outside the car, a
summer shower suddenly erupted, blurring the windows.

* * *

The rain storm lasted the last half hour of their trip into Coffs
Harbour. The family arrived at the resort and checked in to their room. Mr
Smith asked the boys to put all the clothes and gear into the respective
bedrooms while he took Mrs Smith to the resort's bar for a much needed
pick-me-up after the long drive.

"We won't be long, boys, just need a little something to wash down the dust
of the road", he explained. Bren thought this a strange thing to say, given
the rainy weather, but adults always said strange things. "We'll come back
for you at lunchtime, by then you should have all the gear stowed
away. Don't leave the room please, until we come for you. It's still
raining anyway", he added, ushering Mrs Smith to the door.

When the adults had departed, Brenden organised the unpacking of the
suitcases, making it into a challenge between Paul and Tristan. With
nothing else to do, the boys were finished in five minutes. "What about a
game, Brenden?" suggested Paulie. Tris looked to Brenden, interested.

"Hmm", the older boy mused. "We're stuck inside, there's only three of
us...I know! What about 'Blind Man's Buff'? It's fun!", Bren enthused.

"How do you play?", Tristan asked timidly.

"Well, it'll be easier if I go first. That way you just do what I do when
it's your turn. First, I take a blindfold-", here Brenden pulled a clean
handkerchief from his pocket with a theatrical flourish "-and cover my
eyes. You two go into the bedroom and try to make yourselves different
somehow - maybe kneel on a chair, muck up your hair or swap clothes or
anything like that - because when I come in there and catch one of you, I
have to try to figure out who I caught, by using the sense of touch
alone. Don't make a sound, or I'll be able to hear who you are".

"What if you can't find us?", Tris asked with a giggle. His laugh sounded
like a tinkling bell, Brenden thought.

"Well, obviously, if you hide in a cupboard or something I'll never find
you and there wouldn't be any game. That's no fun. No, you have to let me
catch you, that's part of it. If I guess who you are, then it's your turn
to be the Blind Man-"

"And if you don't, we get ta punch ya", Paulie interrupted. "Come on, Tris,
it's even easy enough for you to play", he added, dragging his cousin into
the bedroom. Brenden waited in the kitchen, tying the hankie around his
head to cover his eyes.

In the bedroom, Tristan began pulling tentatively at the hem of his
shirt. "Do we swap clothes now?", he asked his older cousin.

"Nah", scoffed Paulie. "He'll be expecting that. Let's just pull our shirts
out and pretend like we swapped 'em. Let's mess up our hair, too. You kneel
on this bed, I'll lie on that one, that way he can't tell who we are from
our height". Tris was happy to comply, grateful his cousin was including
him in the game. A yell of "Coming!" from outside made the two boys scamper
to their positions.

Blindfolded, Brenden walked into the bedroom like a sleepwalker, both arms
outstretched, feeling for furniture that Paul might have 'accidentally'
left in his way. His sense of hearing was sharper, but the rain on the roof
drowned out the sounds of breathing he was hoping to hear. His knee bumped
one of the beds so he began waving his arms around like an insect's
feelers, trying to touch a body. Tristan saw Brenden getting very close to
him, so he moved one knee back but the mattress squeaked and Brenden closed
in on him and caught him by the arm.

"Aha!" he declared. "I've got one of you. Now I only have to figure out
which one it is". Brenden guessed that Paulie, who enjoyed comfort more
than almost anything, would probably be lying down rather than kneeling up,
so he decided he probably caught Tristan.

Brenden began his inspection by ruffling Tristan's hair. "Hmm", he
noted. Tristan suppressed a giggle, thinking this game was more fun than he
thought it would be. Brenden moved his hands to Tristan's face, feeling all
around it with his fingertips, touching Tristan's eyebrows, nose, lips and
earlobes.

Brenden's fingers travelled over Tristan's neck and shoulders. They
touched, they tickled, and they stroked. The fingertips soon reached the
hem on Tristan's tank-top, and ran all the way around it to his back.

"Hmm", Brenden murmured again, as his hands pushed their way up inside the
light cotton top, making Tristan flinch with a mild ticklishness. Brenden's
fingers reached Tristan's nipples, and began to circle and probe. Tris gave
a little moan, then stopped himself. The fingers were making his nipples
stiff and aroused, but he clamped his mouth shut. He was determined to show
the two bigger boys that he could play any game they made up.

Brenden sensed a kind of eagerness within Tristan, a fervent desire to be
touched and fondled, so he decided to make the most of it. He moved one
hand around to the small of Tristan's back, to support him, then began
stroking his chest and little tits in earnest, all the while making soft
inquisitive noises to try to give the impression that he was trying to
figure out whom he had caught.

Tris couldn't help himself. Turned on by Brenden's groping, he began
whimpering like a puppy that is being petted by a beloved master. His
whimpering soon became a panting, as the hand that was in the small of his
back dropped down to his bottom, and the hand that was on his chest and
tummy dropped down to...to...his...

"Oooh!" Tristan gasped, unable to keep quiet any longer, as Brenden gently
groped his crotch and had a generous feel of Tristan's stiff little poker,
and a tickle of Tristan's little balls.

"Aha! It's Tristan!" Brenden declared triumphantly, tearing off the
blindfold. His plan, had Tristan objected to being handled, was to make out
that he only did it to get Tristan to speak, and thus discover who he
was. But there was no need for subterfuge - Tristan was delighted with the
whole experience.

"Okay, you got me! My turn now! My turn!", he yelled, bobbing up and down
on his knees on the bed.

"Allright already!", Brenden yelled over the top of Tristan's yelling. "You
go in the kitchen, and I'll put the blindfold on you for your turn. Scoot!"

Brenden followed Tris out of the bedroom, Paul right behind them. "Okay,
Tris, tell me if you can see", Bren ordered, tying the handkerchief around
his brow.

"I can't see anything!" he yelled in reply.

"We're not deaf just because you can't see!" Paul yelled back. Brenden
shushed them both, and made a sign to Paul to follow what he was
doing. Brenden took off his tank top and dropped it on the floor. Shrugging
his shoulders, Paul did likewise.

Creeping quietly around behind Tristan, Brenden said "Okay, Tris, we're
ready." Tristan wheeled around at the sound of Brenden's voice. The two
shirtless boys stood in front of the Blind Man, awaiting his next
move. Tristan raised his arms and felt about in the empty air. Paul did not
much feel inclined to be caught by his younger cousin, so he fell back a
little. Brenden stood his ground, and was immediately caught by the arm by
the younger lad.

"Aha! I got you! Now to figure out who you are!" Tristan shouted
triumphantly. He began with Brenden's head, just as Bren had done to
him. After feeling Brenden's face, Tristan moved to his shoulders, giving a
little gasp when he realised that Brenden had removed his tank top.

"So! You're trying to trick me! You guys didn't swap clothes at all!" Tris
exclaimed, running his hands over Brenden's chest and stomach. When he felt
the waistband of Brenden's boardshorts, his shoulders slumped a little in
disappointment, a reaction that made Bren raise an eyebrow.

"But I still think I can figure out who you are!", Tris stated smugly. He
ran his open palm over the front of Brenden's boardies, feeling an element
of stiffness beneath, and moved on to Brenden's bare thighs. Brenden had
been holding his breath, expecting this to happen, forcing himself not to
flinch or make a sound. But Tristan outsmarted him, a good trick for a
ten-year-old. As soon as Brenden released his pent-up breath, thinking that
he had outlasted Tristan's search, Tris brought his hand back up to Bren's
crotch and grasped Brenden's stiffened rod.

Brenden was shocked that this sweet, innocent looking little boy could be
so bold. He grunted in surprise, but did not flinch as Tristan held his
tool firmly. His surprise jumped up a level when Tristan's little hand
dropped lower and grabbed Brenden's balls.

"I wonder who this is?" Tristan mused out loud and he squeezed and
released, squeezed and released. Brenden started to puff with discomfort,
trying to keep from making any recognisable sounds, finally relaxing when
Tristan let go of his nuts. But he was not finished there. Tristan's
fingers fell to the leg hem of Brenden's boardshorts and began to worm
their way up his smooth thigh. As the legs were very loose, Brenden
realised that Tristan's fingers would reach his groin in about two and a
half seconds. He gasped "Oh!" just as the little fingertips grazed his
undies.

Tristan grinned broadly in triumph. "It's Brenden!". Ripping the hankie off
his eyes, he yelled "I guessed! I got it right! Ha ha ha!", capering madly
around the small kitchen. Mr and Mrs Smith chose that moment to return to
the unit to take the three boys to lunch. Mrs Smith gave Paul and Brenden a
funny look as they pulled their tank tops back on, but Tristan distracted
her by his obvious happiness. She was relieved the three were getting along
so well.

* * *

Lunch in one of the resort's restaurants was a cosy affair. Tristan
insisted on sitting next to Brenden at the dining table. Mr and Mrs Smith
invited the boys to outline their plans for the afternoon over their buffet
lunch. Between mouthfuls of food, Paulie suggested that he urgently needed
to check out the local amusement parlours, to see what new video games
existed in the big wide world outside Warrumbungle Shire. Tristan, who had
been bumping Brenden's knee with his own all through lunch, wanted to go to
the beach for a swim. Brenden, of course, bumped right back.

"But there's a pool here at the resort, darling", Mrs Smith countered.

"I know, Auntie, but I hardly never get to swim in surf. Can I please?
Brenden can come with me to look after me. Please?" he whined, and looking
to Brenden for his concurrence, Mrs Smith gave in.

"All right, but I'm making a firm rule here and now. Nobody goes near any
kind of water, whether pool or ocean, by himself. You always have to go in
pairs, or all three at once. No discussion, no exceptions!". She glanced at
Mr Smith for affirmation, which he gave with a nod of the head, his mouth
full of food.

* * *

A sandy track led from the back entrance of the resort, through some sand
dunes that were lightly forested with scrubby melaleucas, to the
beach. Tristan held Brenden's hand as they skipped along the makeshift
path, swinging their arms wildly as they went. Tristan seemed as happy as a
dog with two tails.

"Can we play that game again, the blind man game?" he chirped.

"Well, it won't really work with only two people", Brenden explained. "How
about we get off this track and play another game", he suggested, spotting
a slightly larger tree among the low shrubs. He guided Tristan off the
track about twenty metres to a taller paperbark, where the wind had made a
natural bowl-shaped depression in the sand around the base of the tree.

"This looks like a good spot", Brenden noted, letting go of Tristan's hand
and dropping his towel. "Now, what can we play?" he mused aloud. "I know -
how about we play The Animal Game?"

"Sure", Tristan replied eagerly, throwing his towel on top of
Brenden's. "How do you play?"

"Well, it's a bit like Blind Man's Buff because we need a blindfold",
Brenden explained. "I've got a clean hankie in my pocket. Now we just need
some rope or string...hmm..."

The two boys looked around for something suitable, but found nothing, until
Tristan exclaimed "What about the cord in my boardshorts? Will that do?"
Brenden's boardies had a Velcro fly, but Tristan's were of the old style
with a long thin shoelace passing through eyelets on either side of the
fly. He began excitedly unthreading the white cord, his boardshorts
threatening to fall down as he did so.

"Um..." Brenden began, "Won't your boardies fall down if you take that lace
out?"

"It's okay, I got cozzies underneath", Tris replied, pulling the cord
through the last eyelet. His boardshorts promptly fell to his
ankles. Tristan giggled as he stepped out of them, kicking the discarded
garment towards the base of the tree. He held the cord out for Brenden to
take, but the older boy was distracted by the sight of what Tristan had
called his 'cozzies'. It was a speedo-type garment, pale green in colour,
in the scanty European style.

"Gee, Tris, I like your speedos" was all Brenden was able to say. The
garment was a micro-bikini style slip, barely covering Tristan's
bubble-cheeked bottom in the back, hanging low in the quarter-inch
spaghetti-straps at the sides, and about the size of a triangular postage
stamp in the front. The material was so thin it looked like it would go
transparent when wet. To add to the sexy effect, it was not a tight fit, so
that it appeared liable to fall off the boy's hips at any moment.

"Oh, these? My Uncle Leo brought them back for me from France. He said all
the boys over there wear them. He got me an earring, too, but Mum won't let
me get my ear pierced, until I'm fourteen" Tristan confided.

"Wow, he must be a cool Uncle", Brenden replied.

"Yeah, he's my dad's younger brother, so he's my Uncle but not Paul's. I
stayed at his place for a weekend once, it was cool."

Brenden shook his head to clear it of a whole bunch of images of what
Tristan might have gotten up to while staying the weekend with a friendly
Uncle, then said "Okay, the Animal Game. Here's how you play. First I have
to blindfold you-", he tied the hankie around Tristan's forehead, "-and I
also have to tie your wrists to this branch here-", he looped the cord over
a conveniently low-hanging branch of the tree, then tied it loosely around
the boy's wrists, so that both his arms were raised to their full extension
over his head.

Tristan stood like an almost nude ballet dancer performing a
pirouette. Brenden admired the younger boy's smooth body for a moment, then
continued with the rules, which he was making up as he went.

"Now, I am going to imitate...um...three animals, and you have to guess
which animals they are. You have to get all three right to win", he
declared.

"That sounds too easy!", Tristan protested. "What's to stop me from just
guessing a whole bunch of animals until I get them right?".

"Well...because every time you get an animal wrong...your speedo gets
pulled down a bit", Brenden improvised. A shiver ran though Tristan's body
as he said this, which reassured Brenden that this was the kind of game
Tristan wanted to play.

"When you get the animal right, I'll click my fingers, so you'll know",
Brenden added, for good measure. He had thought of some elements of this
game before that day, but never dreamed he would get such a beautiful body
to play it on.

"Okay", Brenden declared. "Now the game has started, I'll stop talking, so
you wont be distracted. I'll just be animals", he explained, then dropped
onto all fours and crawled around Tristan's legs, brushing his bare
shoulders and ribcage against Tristan's calves and shins.

"Hmm", the near nude boy said aloud. "I can feel you against my legs, like
a...a...feels like...a Cat! You're a Cat!" Tristan yelled
exultantly. Brenden clicked his fingers once, then stood up.

Tristan had a huge grin on his face at his first correct answer. "I wonder
what you're going to be next?", he mused aloud. Brenden knelt on the sand
in front of the younger boy and formed his fingers into a tight
cluster. Beginning at Tristan's foot, the fingers 'walked' up the boy's
leg. The sensation of the light fingertip touch was immediately felt by the
ticklish Tristan. He squirmed around, but not so much as to dislodge the
walking fingers. When the fingers reached mid-thigh, they stopped. Tristan
breathed a sigh of relief, but his respite was only temporary. With his
other hand, Brenden commenced another set of walking fingertips, up the
boy's other leg.

"Oooh! It's like...um...tiny little feet...walking on
me...like....um....Ants! It's Ants! Oh!" Tristan's shock was caused by
Brenden pulling the nearest speedo strap down three inches. The boy
flinched a little when he felt his flimsy clothing descend, but did not
protest.

"Okay. Okay. Not ants", Tristan reasoned aloud. "But it's something
with...er...little feet that walk all over a person..." During this
monologue, Brenden was having the time of his life, making his twin sets of
fingers walk all around the expanse of bare skin on Tristan's exposed, but
willing, body. Up his ribs, under his armpits which were fully exposed by
Tristan's position, over his shoulder, across his throat, down his back,
even across the front of the speedo. They marked time on Tristan's big
puffy nipples, which caused a quickening of the boy's breathing, before
cascading down to his belly button, an innie.

"Shit!" Tristan gasped as his navel was explored by the marching
fingertips. Brenden was amused to hear one so young resort to
crudity. "What else...oh! Is it a cockroach? Oh!" Tristan gasped again as
the thin strap on the other side of the skimpy bathing costume was lowered
a similar amount. By doing the same action on both sides, Brenden had
established the 'currency' for incorrect guesses - three inches apiece. Now
the only things holding the swimsuit in place were Tristan's rounded bottom
cheeks in the back, and his cocklet in the front, which had naturally
firmed up considerably under all the attention.

"Right! Not ants, not a cockroach", Tristan voiced his thoughts. "What else
walks all over a person, with little feet? A Spider!" he exclaimed, almost
regretfully as the fingertips left his body and he heard the Click! of
correctness from Brenden. "One more, and I win!" he bravely asserted. But
he was completely unprepared for the next and final set of stimuli as
Brenden did what he had been wanting to do since the car trip up from the
farm at Warrumbungle Shire. He formed his lips into an 'O' and latched onto
Tristan's right nipple and began to suck, gently but insistently.

"Gawd!", groaned the boy as he felt like his whole body was being sucked
out through his nipple. "What the...what...sucks? Is it...one of
those...African things with the long nose that eats ants...an Aardvark?
Aagh!" A wrong answer allowed Brenden to reach around behind Tristan and
pull his swimsuit all the way down over his left buttcheek. His only regret
was that he was busy in front, so he couldn't see the boy's exposed
bottom. He switched to the other nipple.

"Aargh! Still sucking. Not an aardvark". Tristan continued his verbal
logic. "Maybe it's only Aussie animals? That would rule out...er...an
elephant, I guess. Oh! That wasn't a guess!" Tris protested as Brenden
reach around and pulled the other side of the bathing suit down until it
rested below his right bumcheek. His bottom was now fully exposed, the
swimsuit only held up by Tristan's stiff, finger-sized penis. Glancing
downwards, Brenden could easily see the outline of the shape of Tristan's
circumcised glans (as was the custom for Aussie boys at the time) through
the almost-gauze-like material. He decided it would be his next target.

Poor Tristan was a collage of emotions. He was excited by the game,
specifically by the sensuality of it, he was thrilled by the touching from
his new friend Brenden, he was determined to win, he was scared of how the
game would turn out, and he was getting twitchy from standing still with
his arms straight up and tied to the branch overhead.

"Okay. Okay. Aussie animals that suck. Jeez! Plenty of them bite, or
scratch, or sting! What sucks? Wait a minute! Maybe it's a baby animal -
they suck their mothers' teats! Is it a...lamb?", he whispered, fearing the
worst.

But Brenden was enjoying his open access to Tristan's body way too much to
stop now. He curled his index fingers and hooked them into the little
spaces between the swimsuit and Tristan's smooth groin, and pulled the
front of the suit straight down to mid-thigh. As the blindfolded boy let
out a gasp at being thoroughly pantsed, Brenden's lips caught hold of
Tristan's flailing stiffie and continued their inexorable sucking.

"Oh God! Oh God! Oh Jeez!", Tristan cursed and muttered, tossing his
handkerchiefed head from side to side. If the sucking on his nipples was
sensuous, this was sensational! Brenden maintained a steady vacuum, and
supplemented his lip action by tonguing the boy's sensitive little
knob. Tristan was not completely unhappy though. Despite squirming a great
deal, he made sure his pricklet didn't fall out of Brenden's mouth.

"Well, nothing worse can happen now, so I might as well guess all I want!"
Tristan moaned. "Is it a Vampire Bat? Oh!" The cause of Tristan's dismay
was his little swimsuit. Brenden had pulled it right down so that it now
pooled around his ankles. Brenden's mouth had released its stiff little
captive and moved a bit lower to Tristan's scrotum, engulfing both
testicles easily, and continued his sucking.

"Oh Jeez! Not my balls! Oh! I give up! I can't think of any more, Bren!
Please tell me what it is!" Tristan begged.

Brenden was turned on, but he wasn't cruel. He released Tristan's tasty
little sack from his mouth, pulled the skimpy briefs up his smooth legs and
back into place, removed the blindfold and undid his wrists from the simple
loop of corded string. Tris was a bit unsteady on his feet as the blood
rushed back into his arms, so Brenden supported him by holding him in a
very friendly embrace. Finding his mouth near Tristan's ear, he whispered
"I was a leech!"

Tristan giggled as he slumped to the sand, but Brenden caught him and made
him stand while he spread the towels out for them both to lie on. Still
rubbing his wrists, Tristan raised his head to look back at the track they
left earlier. "Do you think anyone can see us from the track?", he asked
Bren.

"I don't think so - we're pretty low behind this dune", was his reply.

"Well, I know a game too - but it's kind of a secret", Tris added.

"Yeah?" Brenden sat up, his interest piqued. "Are you allowed to tell me?"

"Um, I guess so. My Uncle Leo showed it to me", Tris confided.

"The same Uncle who gave you the swimsuit?" Brenden guessed. This could
prove very interesting.

"Yep. It's called 'Doctors'. Ever heard of it?" Tris asked, his voice
dropped to a sly whisper.

Of course Brenden had heard of 'Doctors'. Practically every boy and girl in
the world has played this game at some time or other. Some kids enjoyed it
so much, they studied at University to become doctors as adults, so they
could keep on playing it, and get paid for it. But Brenden thought there
might be some merit in ignorance.

"No, I don't think so. Can you show me?" he asked, all innocence.

"Well, okay. I'll show you like how Uncle Leo showed me. Lay back on the
towel", Tris ordered.. Brenden complied. "Now, I'm the Doctor, and you're
the patient. You've got something wrong with you, and I have to find out
what it is, and cure you. Okay?", Tris explained.

Brenden nodded. "Sounds easy enough", he added.

Tristan sat up, and squirmed over so that he was sitting alongside
Brenden's hips. He placed both sets of fingers on either side of Brenden's
throat and pressed lightly. "Does that hurt, young man?", he asked, trying
to deepen his voice.

Brenden suppressed a giggle, but shook his head in the negative. Tristan
moved his fingertips to both of Brenden's small brown nipples and
pressed. "What about here. my boy?" he asked in his gruff voice.

Brenden shook his head again, and watched the fingers as they moved down to
the bottom of his ribs. In his prone position, the older boy's ribcage
stood out a little from his abdomen. Tristan pushed gently at the softer
flesh just below the bottom rib on either side. "And here, does it hurt?",
he asked again.

"No, Doctor, not there", Brenden replied, just to find out whether Tris
wanted him to have a speaking part in this game. Tris nodded his approval
at Brenden's answer.

"I'll have to go a bit lower, then, my lad", Tris advised. He placed all
his fingertips in a line from waist to waist that crossed Brenden's flat
navel, and carefully pressed down. "How about here, my boy?"

"Ooh, that does hurt a little bit, Doctor. I think you're getting close to
where the pain is", Brenden feigned. He was still sexually charged after
the previous game, and it appeared that Tristan wasn't going to waste too
much time in preliminaries. He wondered some more about Uncle Leo, but was
jolted back to attention by Tristan, who pulled the waistband of his
boardshorts outwards and, feeling underneath with his free hand, grasped
his hard tool and gave it a light squeeze.

"And what about under here, young man. Is your p-p-penis sore?". The
excitement of what he was doing made Tristan a little short of breath, and
he gasped as he asked the vital question.

"Oh, yes, Doctor, now you mention it, it does feel sore", Brenden replied,
trying to sound shy.

"Well, I'll just have to take a closer look", Tristan stated gruffly. He
released the waistband, but then set about unclasping the top button and
ripping apart the Velcro fly of Brenden's boardies. Pulling the two sides
wide apart, he yanked the garment down to Brenden's knees, the older boy
helping by raising his butt a little. Brenden wore a pair of conventional
speedos under his boardshorts (because you never know when soggy boardies
are going to come off in the surf). He had long ago lost the cord to his
speedos, but they stayed up because they were a snug fit. His cock tented
the blue nylon upwards, a sight not lost on Tristan, who licked his lips
before proceeding.

"I'm going to have to remove these as well, my lad", he cautioned, grabbing
the sides of Brenden's briefs and drawing the garment down Brenden's thighs
to join the boardshorts. Brenden lifted his bum even higher this time, to
show he was happy with the direction the game was taking.

Brenden's hard rocket seemed glad to be exposed to the dappled sunlight
beneath the tree, and pointed proudly upwards. Tristan took hold of the
stiff stalk in one hand, and lightly squeezed the exposed knobhead with the
fingertips of his other hand. "Is th-this part sore, little boy?", he
asked, still feeling around the glans.

Squirming under the sensations being generated by Tristan's soft little
hands and fingers, Brenden managed to make his voice sound a bit more
childish, to fall in line with what he thought was his expected role in
Tristan's fantasy game. "Oh, yes, Doctor, that's where it hurts the most,
right there at the top of my little penis. The part where my wee-wee comes
out. Why does it go all hard like that, Doctor? Is it serious?", Brenden
fluttered his eyelashes as he looked up at Tristan.

"It's a bad illness called Rigger Morris", Tristan sagely advised. "It
makes you go stiff all over, starting right here with your p-penis. There's
only one known cure".

"A cure? What is it, Doctor? Please, cure me!", Brenden simpered.

"The only cure is - saliva! I must apply it directly to your sick penis, to
make it better. Lie back while I cure you, little boy". With that startling
prescription, Tristan bent down and engulfed as much as he could of
Brenden's four-inch boyhood, then slobbered all over it, tonguing the head
and licking up and down the sides. The suddenness of the oral attack left
Brenden gasping, as he slumped back on the towel. It was all he could do to
restrain himself from grabbing Tristan's head and guiding it up and down on
his sensitised rod. But the younger boy seemed to be doing well enough on
his own. So well, in fact, that Brenden quickly reached a climax, jerking
his hips upwards and spitting a single clear drop of pre-come into
Tristan's mouth. The young Doctor raised his head and swirled the droplet
around before swallowing, smiling and declaring "I think you're cured!"

Brenden held his arms out to his young medico, who eagerly accepted the
embrace, falling onto Brenden's chest. "You're a good Doctor", Brenden
sighed, patting Tristan's bare back.

"And you're a good Patient", Tristan replied, snuggling in closer.

* * *

The two boys never got to the surf that day. After lying on their towels a
while longer, Brenden suggested it was time to head back to the
resort. Tristan jumped up and grabbed his towel, found his boardshorts and
re-threaded the cord (but only in the top eyelets - he put the rest off
until later) and dressed himself. Brenden similarly readjusted his
clothing, and, hand in hand again, they picked their way back to the track
and strolled to the resort.

"I wanna sleep with you in your bed tonight, Bren. Can I?" Tristan asked as
they skipped along the rough path.

"Do you think your Aunt and Uncle would be cool with that?" Brenden
queried.

"Leave them to me. You just play along", Tris replied.

* * *

Dinner was taken in one of the resort's restaurants, the three boys filling
their tummies at the All You Can Eat buffet. After two bowls of ice cream,
Tristan turned a white-moustached face to Mrs Smith. "If I get frightened
in the night, can I get in your bed, Auntie Jean?" he asked, as Mrs Smith
wiped the remnants of ice cream off Tristan's upper lip with her napkin.

"Oh, darling, there's nothing to be frightened of here. I know it's
different to home, but Paul and Brenden will be right there nearby, you'll
be all right". She glanced at her husband and caught a look of horror from
him. Paul just rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Well then can I sleep with Brenden?", he whined. Mrs Smith looked
relieved, but asked Brenden if that would be okay with him.

Playing his part, Brenden made out that he was thinking about it for a
couple of moments, then conceded. "I s'pose so, as long as he doesn't wet
the bed", he grudgingly agreed. Inside, he was marvelling at the
manipulative power of the ten-year-old.

"I won't, Auntie. I'll be good", Tris assured her.

"That's very nice of you Brenden, thanks very much. I know the beds are
only small, but he's only a little fellow, and it would mean a lot to me if
Mr Smith and I could have an undisturbed night". Paul shuddered at the
thought of his parents wanting to have some privacy, then put it out of his
mind. At least the little twerp didn't ask to sleep with him.

Following dinner and a lengthy game of three-handed Monopoly on the floor
of their family room, the three boys prepared for bed. Paul was surprised
that Tristan brushed his teeth without being told, but dismissed it as he
kissed his mother goodnight and wandered to the second bedroom the three of
them shared. Tristan and Brenden did likewise, but after closing the door
behind him, Brenden suggested airily to Tristan that as it might get a bit
warm with both of them in the same bed, he should remove his pyjama top so
he wouldn't get too hot. Tristan couldn't completely hide his smile as he
dropped the garment onto the floor and climbed into the narrow bed where a
similarly topless Brenden awaited him.

Paul was last to get into bed, so he turned out the light. Brenden and
Tristan, spooning under their cosy bedclothes waited a few minutes for
Paul's breathing to deepen before talking. Brenden already had his outer
arm draped over Tristan's bare chest, and was idly fondling and tweaking
his young friend's nipples.

"I know another game we can play", Tristan whispered, turning towards his
friend. Brenden was not at all bothered that his role as instigator of
games was being usurped, especially since Tristan's games had a more adult
flavour, coming (indirectly), he suspected, from Uncle Leo.

"What is it? Brenden whispered back, as he dropped his hand lower to rub
Tristan's tummy.

"Mummies and Daddies", Tris replied, reaching down to pull his pyjama
shorts down to his knees. He kicked his legs to push the shorts all the way
down to his feet, then off. "You take yours off too", he whispered. Brenden
squirmed his PJ shorts down his legs and kicked them off to join Tristan's
in the bottom of the bed.

"I'll be the mummy. You be the daddy", Tristan explained. "You want me to
suck you before we start?"

"Uh, no thanks, I'm already hard", Brenden muttered, a little embarrassed
that a boy younger than him was taking the lead in a way that suggested he
was more experienced in these matters.

Tristan giggled softly. "Okay, daddy, I'll roll on my back, and you get on
top of me. You sort of hafta lean on your elbows". Tristan edged over to
the middle of the narrow bunk while Brenden cautiously climbed over the top
of him, fearful of making the bed squeak. It was more like a complex
gymnastics routine than a game, Brenden thought. Driven on by curiosity as
much as lust, Brenden manoeuvred himself into the missionary position above
the smaller boy, who then wrapped his legs around Brenden's waist, locking
his ankles in the small of Brenden's back.

"Mmm, daddy, you're so big and strong. Give mummy a kiss, then you
can...fuck me", Tristan's sultry voice urged, barely audible. Brenden was
shocked at Tristan's crude language, but also fiercely turned on. He had
never kissed a boy before, but in view of what they had already done
together. it didn't seem too much to ask.

Puckering up, he lowered his hips and lips to the prone boy lying beneath
him. At the same time as the tip of his now pulsing erection touched
Tristan's bare groin, his lips touched the younger boy's. He felt Tristan's
little tongue poke out and part his lips, and realised that they were going
to "French kiss", an activity that he had only previously overheard about
in giggled whispers among the girls in his class at school.

Brenden was momentarily distracted into immobility by the sensation of
Tristan's swirling, darting tongue in his mouth, so Tristan decided it was
up to him to accelerate the proceedings. He lowered his heels from where
they were locked, in the small of Brenden's back, down to the crack of his
bottom and began squeezing and flexing, urging Brenden's hips into
motion. Brenden might never have contemplated this activity intellectually,
but his hips instinctively knew what to do, and began pumping. A small
amount of Brenden's pre-come had leaked out of his tool and made the motion
of his penis alongside Tristan's more slippery, but after only four or five
pumps, the bed began to creak, so he stopped suddenly.

"Slowly", Tris whispered, unlocking lips for a second.

"Okay, mummy", Brenden replied, trying to keep in character. He made a deep
thrust, the tip of his tool reaching almost to Tristan's ribcage, then
stopped. Then retracted. He plunged again. Stopped again. Tristan's arms
were around his neck, pulling their faces together. Only one more plunge,
and Brenden's hips quivered with a spastic ecstasy. He squirted a single
drop of clear fluid onto Tristan's tummy, then exhaled deeply. Realising
that Tristan had not yet climaxed, he slipped under Tristan's grasp and
dived for his penis. Grabbing the throbbing finger of flesh, he rubbed and
sucked on it until Tristan's hips jerked upwards and froze. Bren slid back
up the bed to cuddle the sated boy.

"You fucked me good, daddy", Tris whispered, a contented smile in his
voice.

"You're...uh...really good at this...stuff, Tris. I really...uh...like
you", Brenden faltered.

"I like you too, daddy", Tris replied, keeping the game going. "I'm going
to be sad when this holiday is over, and I have to go back home", he
sighed.

"Let's enjoy it while we can, er, mummy. Do you want to...er...hang out
with me tomorrow, and...do stuff?", Brenden eagerly whispered.

"What about Paulie? Won't he...get jealous or something? He's your friend,
isn't he?" Tris whispered back.

"Yeah, he is, but...hey, that reminds me. Why doesn't he like you? Did
something...happen between you guys?" Brenden asked.

Even though it was nearly pitch dark in the room, Brenden could sense that
Tristan's face fell. "It's my fault", Tris explained. "One day I was
visiting Auntie Jean's place. I was only about seven. I was a real
goody-goody back then, before Uncle Leo- er, before...um, anyway, Paulie
took me behind the cowshed and pulled his pants down. He wanted to compare
his dick with mine. But I cried, and ran to mum, and told her. She told
Auntie Jean, and Auntie Jean went crook on him. Ever since, he hasn't liked
me. I don't blame him".

"You sure changed since then", Brenden whispered, reaching down between
their bodies to caress Tristan's tool to comfort him.

Tris snuggled closer and gave Brenden's nose a playful lick. "Can I give
you that suck now?", the younger boy asked. Brenden's grin nearly lit up
the room as Tris disappeared beneath the sheets. Lying back on the pillow,
feeling the exquisite mouth and tongue of the ten-year-old sex fiend
working on his knobhead, he began to devise a plan to bring Paulie and his
cousin back onto good terms with each other.

* * *

Breakfast was another buffet affair, the three boys between them eating
enough food to last a regiment of soldiers for two weeks. "Have you boys
made any plans for today?", Mrs Smith asked the three of them broadly when
the ravenous lads returned to the table from their third trip to the hot
food bar.

Brenden spoke first. "I was going to ask Paul if he wanted to hang out
around the resort today, maybe check out the pool and the gym. I hear the
pool's got a cool spa".

Paul looked interested at this suggestion, so he just nodded to save
spraying his mouthful of food all over the table.

"What about you, darling, what will you be doing today?", Mrs Smith asked
Tristan.

"Um, I got a bit too much sun yesterday, Auntie Jean, I thought I might
just hang around the room and read a book", Tris answered. Paul smirked,
revelling in Tristan's discomfort.

"Oh, that's a shame, such a nice day, too. Do you want me to put some
sunburn lotion on you?" she solicited.

"Oh, er, it'll be okay, Auntie Jean. I'll ask Brenden to put some on me
later", he evaded. Mrs Smith simply smiled at this.

"Thanks again for looking after the boys for me, Brenden, Mr Smith and I
really appreciate it. It's been a while since we had a restful holiday",
Mrs Smith sighed.

Brenden was a little embarrassed at this praise, and blushed sweetly, which
made Mrs Smith smile. "I'm grateful Paul invited me, and thank you for
having me, Mrs Smith", he replied.

After downing several of those tiny motel-sized glasses of fruit juice, the
three boys excused themselves and headed back to their room. "I think
they've got a sauna here, Paulie. Ever been in one? They're great", Brenden
asked as the two boys changed into their swimwear. Tristan lay on his
stomach on the bed, deliberately turned away from them, reading a Phantom
comic book. Paul glanced over at Tristan, to see if he was listening in,
then nodded in agreement. The two older boys quickly finished dressing,
then left the room, leaving the younger lad alone.

"Race you to the pool", Brenden exclaimed, running down the hallway that
led to the resort's recreation area, Paulie right behind him. The two boys
leapt into the pool, discarding their towels on the deck in mid air.

Surfacing, a splash fight immediately erupted between the two
friends. Quickly tiring of that, they swam a few lengths of the
irregularly-shaped pool before swimming to the side and clinging to the
edge.

"It's good to get away from the dork for a while", Paul declared, watching
Brenden's face closely for signs of disagreement. "I'm impressed that you
put up with him for the whole afternoon yesterday, then, you let him sleep
in your bed! The little baby!"

"We had a bit of a talk. You could say we came to an understanding",
Brenden suggested suavely. "He told me about how you two...er, had a
disagreement".

"I don't wanna talk about it", growled Paul.

"That's cool. It's just that Tris told me that he's sorry for what happened
back then, he was young and scared, and one day he hopes to make it up to
you, if he gets the chance", Brenden invented.

"He said all that?", Paul queried, amazed.

"Well, not in those words, but it's what he meant. Hey, you wanna check out
the sauna?"

"Cool!" Paul responded. "I never been in a sauna before. What's it like?"

"Well, it's a hot wooden box full of steam and you sweat a lot", Bren
explained.

"Uh...huh - and the good part is?" Paul retorted, hauling himself out of
the pool.

"It's a lot better than it sounds. You're supposed to spend a bit of time
in the sauna, then plunge into cold water, then back into the sauna to
sweat some more", Brenden elaborated.

"You're making this up, aren't you", Paul asserted.

"Serious, man, people in Europe think they're great. In Russia, they go in
naked. Kids and everybody. You know how we chill out in the nude at the dam
at your place - well, in Europe, most people don't have enough room for a
dam, so they all go to the sauna. Wanna try?", Brenden urged as he
clambered out of the pool and shook the water off himself like a big pink
puppy.

Cringing back from the cold droplets Brenden was showering about, Paul
relented. "Okay, already! So where is this torture chamber?"

"I think it's down this way", Brenden directed, leaving moist footprints on
the concrete as he walked alongside the pool to an unobtrusive hallway
leading to a wooden door. Paul followed behind, towelling his wet hair as
he walked.

"This is it!", Brenden declared, hauling the heavy door back on its
hinges. A blast of hot, humid air greeted the two boys as they crowded into
the doorway. "Look! You sit on these benches", Brenden explained as they
let the door close behind them and climbed onto the wooden slats.

"What about the 'nude' bit?" Paul asked, spreading his towel on the lower
tier of the sauna.

"I'll just latch the door. No-one can come in without knocking", Brenden
assured his friend. But when he reached the door handled, he only mimed
throwing the latch, leaving the door unlocked.  Turning back to Paul, he
saw that his friend was pulling off his boardshorts and speedos, ready to
stretch out naked on the towel. Brenden quickly shucked his own swimwear
and sat beside Paul.

"How is it so far?", he asked.

"I s'pose it's okay", Paul drawled. "This wood's a bit hard on the bum", he
added, lifting his hips to settle into a more comfortable position.

Paul's head was away from the door, and he was looking straight up, so he
did not notice the 'locked' door quietly open, and a small figure slip
inside. Brenden distracted him further by asking "How's the pube hunt
going? Had a look lately?"

"Not since we got here", Paul replied lazily.

"Well, I think I'll just do a spot inspection. I hate being the only one
with hair", Brenden smirked, waving his hand at Tristan, who had slipped
off his own skimpy speedo and was crouching on the floor below the level of
the bench seat.

"Yeah, I just bet you do", Paul answered, as he felt a hand that he assumed
was Brenden's carefully grasping his soft tool and levering it back and
forth. He closed his eyes to enjoy what he thought were Brenden's
ministrations, then suddenly opened them with a start. His penis was being
sucked!

"What the f-!" he began, trying to sit up, but Brenden rested both hands on
his shoulders and lowered him back to the bench.

"Shh, it's okay. It's only Tristan, apologising. He's pretty good at it,
eh?", Brenden soothed.

"Tris? Apol-? Shit, that feels good! I suppose you cooked this up, Bren?"
Paul guessed.

"Me? It was all his idea. And while he's doing that, I got another
idea. Wait a sec while I lock this door properly".

* * *

End