Date: Thu, 03 Jan 2002 17:37:44 +0800
From: Colin Cleary
Subject: THE JASON CARTER STORY - 3

The stories included in this anthology are fiction, you might even say
fantasy, and have been written to amuse, intrigue, entertain, divert and
delight.  They contain scenes of graphic inter-generational sex; if these
are not to your taste, or if they are outlawed in your city, state,
providence, or country, read no further, but simply go elsewhere for your
entertainment.

All characters who appear in the stories are fictional, and any
similarities between them and the genuine living or dead are coincidental
and unintentional. The only exception is Aaron Carter about whose sexuality
the stories make no reference whatsoever; he does seem a nice kid and I
appreciate his bubblegum rap, but that's it.

Above all, if you have not yet reached the age of consent, read no further;
it is not the intention of the site nor the writer to fill your head with
dreams and desires which as yet may be only vague and inchoate. There's
lots of fun to be had on the Net; go and find what is appropriate for you.

To everyone else who takes some pleasure from this tale, may you and yours
live long and prosper.



3 - IN THE GOOD OLD SUMMER TIME


I lie on my back in the dry hay, watching the swallows swoop and dive
overhead. They circle the rafters, darting in and out through the open
window lancing across a dusty shafts of sunlight. The dust dances in the
hot air like a billion stars and I start thinking about the million billion
stars in the universe. And our planet, like a green-blue speck of dust
drifting in all this immensity. And me, a tiny speck on a tiny speck, lying
in the hay on a hut summer's afternoon.

In time the sun will set and mum will call me for dinner. Company's coming
for dinner, though I'm not sure who. Probably some of my parents'
friends. I'll have to sit around all evening on my best behaviour, bored to
tears. I linger in the barn. All the mystery of summer is encapsulated in
this afternoon.

I'm wondering what I'm doing here. I could have gone to Summer Camp with
Lee and Declan but I'd this urge to be alone. No, not to be alone, but to
be left alone; there is a difference. So I did what no self-respecting
teenage boy would do; I opted to spend the last of the summer holidays with
mum and dad though, I knew, there would be few people my age around. What
did it matter? I only wanted one person - a boy like myself who liked other
boys. There, I've said it, it's out in the open, at least to myself, and
maybe that's the hardest bit of all.

Ever since I can remember, I've liked other boys, I mean, really liked
them. But it's only in the last year or so it's become overwhelming, only
since I started getting erections - and do I get erections! - by simply
looking at boys has it become hard to take. I didn't choose to be like
this. I don't want to be like this. But this is the way I am, and I guess
I'll learn to live with it. After all, loving other boys is better than
loving nobody.

Sweat trickles down my back, gluing my Aaron Carter T-shirt to the skin
underneath. I itch slightly from bits of straw that have crept under my
clothes. The air is sweetly fragrant from the soft cushions of new mown
hay. I stretch my arms and legs luxuriously, wishing I could stay here
forever. Just me and my dreams - and the hard-on beneath the faded denim at
my crotch.

The barndoor opens, squeaking on rusty hinges. I freeze, resenting this
intrusion into my private kingdom. I creep to the edge of the loft and peer
downward through swirling columns of sunlit dust. A lone figure leading a
horse enters. The image of Shane pops into my mind; the movie was on TV at
the weekend; ancient but really good. Maybe this was my Shane coming backl
for me.

At first my eyes, unaccustomed to the brightness by the window, are unable
to make out details in the dimness below. The intruder unsaddles the horse
and begins settling him. I recognise Declan's older brother, Paul. Is that
why I chose to spend the last fortnight of the summer at this stud
farm. I'm about to call out a cheerful greeting to him, when something in
the furtiveness of his movements stops me.

My heart is thumping now. God, he is handsome. That thick straight auburn
hair. Wide-set eyes. Straight nose, a bit long, but it suits him. Tanned
skin. A fucking dimple in his chin! Paul should be in movies. If it was
porno, I could be with him! Stop day-dreaming, you idiot. Paul's the real
thing. You don't need dreams.

Paul tends to the horse quickly, glancing now and again at the door. As
soon as he is finished, he leads the horse outside and releases it into the
paddock. A quick, nervous look around, and he slips back into the barn and
hauls the door shut behind him. I watch curiously as he sits down on a bale
of hay, then pulls a magazine out of his shirt and begins to read. Why is
he so secretive? I slither closer on my belly, my hard-on pressing into the
wooden boards, trying to get a better look. His hand is inside his
chequered shirt. He's pulling the shirt open. No T-shirt. He is so
beautiful, all male and so beautiful. His nipples are dark against his
tanned skin; each one like an old bronze penny; each one three times the
size of mine. I don't understand why guys have nipples but I'm glad they
do.

I can barely make out anything from this distance, but I see enough to
answer my question. Paul's reading one of those dirty magazines, the kind
with the naked pictures. His face is scrunched up, and at first I think he
must have a stomach ache or something. Then I notice that his jeans are
unzipped, his hand is down the front of them. His hand is moving
rhythmically, and I can hear him grunting and moaning in time with it.

Hypnotized, I hang over the ledge. A cloud of dust puffs up in my face. I
sneeze loudly. The noise echoes round the barn.

Paul freezes. "Who's there?" he calls hoarsely. He has such a comical
expression on his face, I can't help giggling. He's got that 'Caught you!'
look, like when I was taking a shit in the orchard two days before and mum
came strolling with with one of her friends! She still hasn't forgiven me!

"It's just me - Jason, Jason Carter," I stupidly add. Paul seems
relieved. He stuffs the magazine back into his shirt and clambers up the
ladder to the loft, his zip still open.

"Hi, kiddo!" he greets me cheerily. "Why didn't you say something when I
came in?" He ruffles my hair casually, just like he always does. Today,
this irritates me. I've had a crush on Paul since I was eight years old,
but he's never taken me seriously.

Now, Paul's a seriously good-looking guy. A slightly older version of Brad
Renfro, that kid who was in 'The Client'. I'd a crush on Renfro for weeks
after watching the video. Paul has the same open face, the same kind of
"well, fuck you" attitude, and the same smouldering looks that turn
people's heads for a second look. Got the same kind of body,
too. Well-built, but lithe. I mean, the kind of long-legged, long-torso
body that could wrap itself right round you and swallow you in a couple of
gulps, if it had a mind too. Shit, Renfro was way out my league - whatever
my league was! - but here was my Paul, caught with his pants wide open, if
not actually down.

"Why do you always hafta call me that?" I snap petulantly. "I ain't a baby
anymore! I'm a guy now! See? I've even got hair!" Impulsively, I push down
my shorts a bit to show a few swirls of dirty blond hair. Paul chuckles
appreciatively.

"Yeah, kidd- Jason," he corrects himself in time, "You sure do. How old are
you now, anyway?"

"Thirteen and a half!" I declare proudly.

"Well! Practically a grown guy!" He's teasing me. Angry, I wrestle him to
the hay strewn floor and begin tickling him. For a few minutes he tolerates
this, laughing. Suddenly, he flips me over, and before I know what's
happened, I'm flat on my back and Paul's sitting across my chest. I stick
out my tongue at him in mock anger, but I'm actually enjoying the attention
and the closeness. His knees are on either side of me, his zip open. If he
moved up only a couiple of feet, I could...

I try to maintain a frown, but something catches my eye and I burst into
giggles. Paul looks confused for a minute, follows the direction of my gaze
and flushes beet-red when he sees what I'm laughing at. Something soft and
pink is peeking out between the zipper teeth. I've never seen a big boy
blush before; the sight makes me giggle again.

Gritting his teeth, Paul quickly stands and closes his pants. He looks
uptight. I'm still lying on the floor, gasping for breath. Finally, the
alarming colour begins to fade from his cheeks and ears. Anxious to change
the subject, I glance nervously around. The magazine has fallen out of his
shirt during our brief scuffle, so I pick it up and begin flipping through
the pages. It's a dirty magazine all right, but everybody in it is male!
Not a single pair of tits in sight! These are all guys, big naked guys with
hard-ons! and they're doing things to each other! Dirty things! Things that
make my hard-on ache as I turn the pages in slow motion.

"What do you think?" Paul asks abruptly.

"Well... they're a little... strong..." My voice trails off weakly. He
gives me an encouraging nod, so I continue. "I mean... look at those
bodies! I wish I looked like that..." I sigh wistfully. "I'll probably
never have a dick like that..." Paul sinks down to lie in the hay beside
me, our backs leaning against a square, tied bale of corn.

"Hey..." Paul's voice is warm and soothing. "There's nothing wrong with
your dick. If you've got hair, I'll bet you've got a decent-sized
prick... " As if to confirm his words, his hand slides inside the front of
my baggy jeans. Shit, I'm wearing no underpants! His palm is rough against
my skin. His touch sparks strange tremors inside me, and I shiver slightly,
as if from a sudden breeze.

Slowly, he circles my pubes with fingertips that seem to trail fire behind
them. My prick stiffens as his fingertips brush the head. His left arm is
across my shoulders, his right hand is in my shorts, I turn the pages of
the magazine. We gaze at the pictures while Paul feels and fondles my
erection. I'm looking at the guys in the pictures and wishing there was a
picture of Paul. I want to see him nude, naked, posed like that, with a
hard-on. My breathing's a little jerky now.

Paul slips my cock out of the opening at the front of my shorts. It is red
and hard, hot and slippery. I am acutely embarrassed. I watch his big
fingers and thumb close around the shaft; he jerks me gently. Paul turns my
face towards him. I am solemn and serious; he is grinning. "Nice, real
nice," he whispers, squeezing my cock. "Nothing to be ashamed of here,
kiddo. Good-looking boy, good-looking cock."

I snuggle into him, reassured. There's a pressure building up down there,
in my cock and balls, in my stomach, it makes me tighten my asshole. Of
course I know about ejaculation and stuff like that, but knowing about it
isn't the same as feeling it. What will it be like to 'cum', to squirt my
stuff with an older guy watching? Will I be embarrassed? Will Paul be
embarrassed? It's all so scary; all so thrilling; all so right.

A loud snorting sound interrupts us. Paul jumps guiltily, stuffing the
magazine back under his shirt. "It's okay," I whisper. "It's just Morgan."
I lead him to the window, pointing out the familiar sight of Morgan, our
bull, mounting one of the cows. Today he has selected Maggie, a fat reddish
cow who placidly ignores his attentions. Morgan's cock dangles grotesquely,
all pink and slimey looking. I pick up one of the pebbles I keep by the
window and throw it at him. He ignores it, as usual.

The is a strange gleam in Paul's eye as he watches the rutting bull. His
arms slip around me, one hand low enough to stroke my ass, and I see the
acts before me with new eyes. What has previously been just a disgusting
ritual assumes new meaning, and a strange thrill courses through me. A
sudden thought strikes me, and I turn to Paul, eyes wide with wonder.

"Is your...I mean...is it...like...that?" I stammer, blushing furiously.

A grin splits Paul's face. "You've never seen a big one before, have you?"
he asks. I shake my head. His grin broadens. "Want to see mine?" I nod, and
he hauls it out of his jeans. His cock reminds me of a thick salami sausage
as it stretches out from his body, seeming to defy gravity. It makes my
four inches seem puny. "Touch me..." he urges. I reach out carefully and
touch just the end of it. It's getting hard, slightly rubbery, and hot. I
snatch my hand back guiltily. It's so more intimidating than my own pale,
pink column. Will I really be like that one day?

Paul is laughing softly. "Here..." he urges, taking my hand in his. "You
hold it like this." He curls my hand around his cock, then begins moving my
hand slowly up and down his shaft. It feels alive, the way it pulses and
throbs under my fingers. The skin is smooth and soft, radiating a fierce
heat. It swells at my touch, growing harder and hotter by the minute.

Paul isn't laughing anymore; instead, his eyes are closed in fierce
concentration and his jaws are clenched. I touch something slippery and
look down in confusion. Beads of clear liquid are seeping slowly out of the
slit. Paul moans softly, then opens his eyes and stares piercingly at me.

"Do you like that?" he asks gently. I hesitate a moment, unsure, then nod
slowly. "Would you like to try something else, something that would really
make me happy?" I nod again, slower this time. He takes out the magazine
again and flips purposefully through the pages. "Here," he says, extending
a picture toward me. "Think you could do that?"

I look at the picture in bewilderment. It shows a teenager sitting on the
edge of a bed, and a guy kneeling on the floor between his legs. They are
both naked, and he seems to have his...thing...in the boy's mouth. My
stomach lurches uncomfortably at the idea, but Paul is staring expectantly
at me. I don't want him to think of me as just a baby! Defiantly, I say,
"Sure, I could try - But you'll hafta tell me what to do..." From the grin
that spreads slowly across his face, I know I've said what he wanted to
hear. His smile causes a warm, bubbly feeling to creep through my groin,
stomach and chest.

"Here..." he whispers, gripping my shoulders gently. He pushes me slowly
down to my knees, so that his erect cock bobs directly in front of my
face. It bounces off the end of my nose a couple times. I'm trying hard not
to giggle. "Now, open your mouth..." I do as he instructs, and he slowly
eases himself into my mouth. The liquid at the tip is warm and salty, not
at all unpleasant to taste, though I'm not so sure I like its slimy
consistency. He feels bigger than he did when I held him in my
hand. Hotter, too. I feel like I'll choke in another minute, but I'm trying
not to. I don't think Paul would like that. "Close your lips round it, and
suck gently..." he instructs.

Hesitantly, I do as he says. He begins moving slowly in and out of my
mouth, sliding over my lips and tongue. At first, I just kneel there. Then,
as I gain courage, I begin exploring his hot shaft with my tongue. He
groans. Encouraged, I begin flickering my tongue over the smooth head,
feathering it along the sensitive underside of the shaft, and even darting
the tip of my tongue into the tiny hole at the end. I am taking my cues
from Paul; whatever he seems to like, I repeat or explore further. He's
breathing hard now, and I can feel him pulsing gently. The salty fluid
begins to flow more rapidly, first one drop and then another.

Suddenly, he wraps both hands tightly in my hair. I gasp at the brief pain,
then forget it as he thrusts firmly into my mouth and holds me there,
pressed tightly against his groin. He is all the way inside my mouth, his
curly, dark pubic hair tickling my nose and lips, and the head of his cock
rubbing the back of my throat. A hot throbbing begins, and I feel it all
along my tongue and the insides of my cheeks and on my lips.

He's jerking my head back and forwards now, so his cock pushes deep inside
my mouth, draws back to the head, then pushes halfway in again. I'd like to
take him in all the way, but as the shaft bends into my throat, I've to gag
and push him away again. Paul finds a nice, easy rhythm, and it becomes a
pleasure to feel his thick, sweaty shaft sliding in and out of me. I become
less passive; sometimes I squeeze hard with my lips, other times I let it
slip in and out easily.

My hands seemed wasted, so with one I squeeze his left buttock, with the
right I cup his balls and squeeze them, too. I'm pulling him onto me,
pulling him into me. I seem to be doing something right; Paul's breath is
coming in gasps, like he's been swimming underwater too long and has to
come up for air.

Spurts of warm liquid spurt from him into my mouth and throat. The jets are
thick and salty and have a familiar smell that I can't quite place. But
they smell of sex; all around me everything smells of sex. My eyes are
watering terribly, and I begin to choke. Will it ever end? Finally the
throbbing dies down. A few erratic spasms shake him, and then he is
still. He draws a deep, ragged breath and I realize he has been holding his
breath for a while. With a deep sigh, he withdraws himself from my mouth
and draws the end of his semi-hard cock along my cheeks as if he is
cleaning himself. I don't mind. I quite like it. It seems part of the act
itself.

Then I turn away and spit out the liquid that remains in my mouth. It forms
a small, slimy puddle that is quickly absorbed by the dusty hay. I'm not
stupid. I know what it is. It's strange to think there's millions of sperm
down there, and down my throat, all swimming around blindly looking for
something they'll never reach. Is that what boys like us do - swim around
blindly, thrashing our little tails, looking for the way to fulfil our
destiny? Shut the fuck up! That's me to me. I've always suffered from
babbling inside my own head.

"Excellent!" Paul sighs. I nod shakily, not altogether certain that I
agree. It was different, yes, and even a little exciting, but I'm not sure
I'd care to try it again right away. At least he'd enjoyed it,
though. Maybe now he'd see me as a real guy, rather than just a pesky kid.

My own cock is so hard it hurts. I look down and see the bulge tenting my
shorts. Paul's eyes follow mine. He eases me backwards until I tumble in
the hay. Then he follows, lying along side me as, looking into my eyes, he
undoes the buttons of my jeans and slips them off, disposing of my socks
and trainers as he goes.

"Mmmm," he murmurs, "you sure ain't a little kid anymore." I blush with
pleasure, then blush even more as his lips graze my throat, my chest, my
nipples, my tummy - and yes, yes, he slips the head of my cock into his
mouth easing back my foreskin with his lips. I'm already wet and slippery
down there with sweat and what I learn is pre-cum. He takes my whole length
into is mouth, his head bobbing up and down on my erection. I stiffen for a
moment as I feel the fingers of his hand reach into my crack. What must be
his middle finger strokes my dirtiest bit, but it doesn't seem dirty and I
relax as he whispers in my ear, "Relax, baby, take it easy."

The sucking, the stroking, the probing goes on and on making my cock ache,
my stomach flutter, the perspiration stand out on my forehead and
chest. I'm going to explode and implode at the same time.... then Paul
takes his mouth away and sits up. I'm sick with disappointment till he puts
his arm around me and whispers, "'S okay, I'm going to finish you off. I
wouldn't leave a guy strung out like that." I'm thrilled to hear him call
me a guy, that makes us sort of equals. "But c'mere," he continues I want
to show you something. He stands and pulls me up by the hand. It's funny us
standing there, me with a hard-on and Paul's big cock hanging between his
legs.

Outside, the bull is still grunting and pumping away. We creep over to the
window to watch. After a moment, I feel Paul's arm slide around my
shoulders. "Looks like they're having fun, doesn't it?" he whispers. I
shrug noncommittally. "Like to try it?" he asks. I turn and look at him in
shock.

"What, just like that?" I gasp, incredulous.

"No, silly, of course not!" he replies teasingly. "People do it a lot
differently. You'll like it. Come on..." he urges.

"Well... okay..." I agree. I'm not really sure I'll like it, but Paul wants
to and I do enjoy making him happy. He beams at me, and I know again I've
said the right thing. I turn to face him and am surprised to see he has
removed his shirt and shoes, and is completely naked. Not only that, but
his cock is again pointing straight out from his body. It bounces comically
as he walks.

He's beautiful. That's not a word I often use, but I can't think of any
other word that will do. Paul is beautiful. He's got a deep chest, narrow
waist, strong hips bones, a tight little butt, masses of hair below his
belly button, and big cock and a scrotum that actually swings between his
legs. He's tanned all over, I mean all over. I make a mental note to ask
how he managed that - tanned all over.

He runs his fingers lightly up my leg, tangling them among the wispy curls,
then runs them along my erection. Tiny electric shocks surge through me,
weakening my knees and almost causing me to collapse. Paul notices and
guides me over to a bale of hay near the window. The hay prickles a bit on
my bare bottom, but I don't care right now. Paul's fingers have continued
their lazy exploration of my private regions, slipping between my buttocks
and even probing at my naughty hole.

Pressure on my shoulders indicates I should kneel, get on all fours
actually, which means I've to sling myself over the bale of hay so my bum
is high in the air. I can lean my arms and elbows on the wide window sill
and look out over the farm. It's such a perfect day.... problems all left
alone, weekenders on our own, having fun. Where did that come from? I pray
Paul's not a member of the Four-F Club: Find 'em, feel 'em, fuck 'em and
forget 'em. I heard that at school last term. Neat, or what?

From where I am, I can see Morgan is taking a lively interest in Maggie,
sniffing at her rear and raising his front legs; he means business. With a
shock, I see the bull's cock has hardened, lengthened to enormous size. How
is he going to something like that inside the cow's fuck hole!

His hands are firm against my shoulders as he adjusts my body to make it
more comfortable for both of us. The hay is soft and deep here, though it
tickles slightly. It makes a fine nest for us.

Paul slowly runs his hands down my body, leaving tiny trails of goosebumps
behind. I'm breathing as hard as he is now, and I know I want something -
I'm not sure exactly what - very badly. There is a deep, sweet ache inside
me,a void yearning to be filled, and I know somehow Paul will be able to
fill it.

At last his hands reach my thighs, and very gently he draws them apart. He
kneels between my legs for a moment, then stretches out on top of me. For a
moment his weight forces the breath from my body, but then I become
accustomed to it and he no longer seems heavy. His hands fumble between my
legs.

At first I am perplexed, but then I realize his intent as I feel the head
of his cock, hard and hot, pressing against the entrance to my bottom.. It
seems so big! There is no way it could fit, but still he presses against
me. He withdraws one hand and I turn to see some slippery fluid glistening
on his fingertips. It is thick and slimy and I realise it is the goo my dad
puts on a cow's private parts before Morgan does the business!

I feel Paul smooth it between my buttocks, over my hole and then with a
couple of fingers push a gob inside me. I jump with pain, but as he holds
his fingers there, I relax and let his fingers do the walking. He uses two
fingers to make circles round the inside of my lips, the bum lips, I
mean. It's dirty, I know, but there's something really exciting about the
whole thing. For a moment, I want to go 'Moo!' very loudly, but this is
serious business so I stifle the sound and the thought. Still, I can't keep
it completely at bay: Paul the Big Bad Bull is about to fuck Jason the
silly little Heifer!

He grips my thighs tightly, spreading them further apart, and positions
himself over me. He is now centred on my tiny hole, pressing firmly against
me. I'm glad I've used Lee/Declan's dildo quite a bit that summer;
otherwise it would be impossibe.

It hurts like hell, but with the promise of pleasure to come. I press back
against him, anxious to feel him inside me. Slowly, he begins to slide into
me. I whimper softly. It feels as if I'm being ripped apart. I want him to
stop, to withdraw, yet paradoxically, I want him to continue. The pain
grows sharper, and it seems I can feel delicate tissues tearing as he
forces his way into me, but I match him push for shove.

Suddenly there is a wave of greater pain, and then he slides easily in as
if whatever had blocked him had been torn away. Now he pulls back, nearly
withdrawing completely from my body. I moan weakly, not wanting him to
leave me. In answer, he drives easily into me again. This time there is no
obstacle, and he buries himself to the hilt.

Again and again he lunges into me. I raise my hips to match his thrusts,
reacting to the same primitive instincts I've observed so many times in the
livestock. A fierce pressure seems to be building up inside me, until I
feel as if I'll burst. Another thrust, and I can scarcely contain
it. Another, and I am shoved over the brink. Every muscle in my body
convulses. My toes clench and my thighs twitch wildly.

I'm looking out of the window, sometimes eyes open, sometimes eyes clenched
shut. Paul's hand is below me, jerking at my erection. I've never felt my
cock so hard in my life. I know I'm going to spurt the hot gooey cum for
the first time in my life. My eyes open. It's blurry, but I can pick out
Morgan and Maggie. The bull's humping the fuck out of her now. That's the
phrase that springs to my mind: humping the fuck... My gaze wanders across
the field. Shit!

On the other side of the field, I see mum and dad! They must be out for a
stroll. mum raises her hand. She is giving me a wave. Dad joins in. It must
be fucking weird for them to see their beloved son's head popped over a
window sill on the upper floor of a barn on a hot sunny afternoon. I grin
weakly, wave, then jerk as Paul stabs into me again and again. mum and Dad
are heading this way! No! mum's a bit squeamish; the sight of Morgan
humping the fuck out of Maggie's a bit much for her. I wonder what - uh! -
her reaction - uh! - would be -uh! - if she saw - uh! - Paul - uh! uh! -
humping the fuck out of me!

I can feel my inner muscles contract fiercely around Paul's cock, gripping
it tightly with almost the same movement I use to milk the cows. And it
seems to have a similar result on him, because he plunges deep into me and
holds himself there, throbbing wildly as his juices spurt into me.

No sooner has Paul finished than he pulls out and grabs me. He turns me
round and bends my body backwards over the bale. I'm helpless. My groin is
on the centre of the bale, my cock sticking straight up. Almost in the same
movement, Paul kneels and sucks me straight in, to the bottom of my
shaft. I I feel his lips on my pubes. He's sucking hard and fast. It only
takes seconds, then I'm spurting and squirting my stuff into him. It's
shattering, just shattering!

In the distance we hear a voice: Paul's mum: "Paul! Jason! Time for tea!"
We jump guiltily, grabbing frantically for our clothes.

"We'll be right there!" I shout back in the general direction of the
house. Hastily, we brush the dust and hay from our hair and sweaty bodies,
then dress.

Paul pauses to give me a quick kiss, then we scamper down the ladder. As we
leave the barn, Paul whispers we can come back this evening. He puts his
arm over my shoulder as we wander out of the barn. I can feel his cum
squelching in my butt. I tug his sleeve.

"What?"

"When we come back this evening, Paul, it's my turn to be the bull."

He grins at me: "Sure 'nuff, kiddo, sure 'nuff." Then he pauses, stops and
looks at me. "Done much riding this summer, Jason," he asks.

"Naw, nobody seems to have time for me."

"I've," says Paul. "All the time in the world. You're having your first
lesson after tea. We'll go riding to Donnelly's Farm. Maybe cadge dinner
over there. What do you say?"

"Great," I say. "But what about the other stuff? You know, in the barn?"

"That can wait," says Paul. "We've got two more weeks left."

We turn and stroll on. As we go, Paul gives me a hug and whispers, "Declan
is right. You are one helluva sexy guy. And tell you something else, you're
a far better fuck than that little tyke."