Date: Thu, 6 Oct 2005 19:07:24 +0100
From: "David (Nifty)" <nifty@talesfromastream.co.uk>
Subject: Three Tears - Part 7

Three Tears

By David

www.talesfromastream.co.uk


Part Seven

The following evening Martin was up in his bedroom when his mobile phone
rang. He knew immediately who it would be before he looked at the
screen. It was Phil. Fortunately James was downstairs so he would have
privacy while they spoke, but he still spoke softly into the mouthpiece,
still afraid to be overheard.

     "Hi, Phil." Martin answered; a smile on his face.

     Phil seemed excited; he could not stop jabbering on about how much
he'd enjoyed their evening together. Unable to get a word in, Martin merely
stuttered his responses. But Phil was more eager to ask him out on another
date, this time he had it planned.

     Without drawing breath, Phil asked Martin out on Saturday. He'd
arranged to borrow his mother's car for the day and would pack a picnic. He
wasn't quite sure where they would end up, but he had a few good ideas of
secluded spots where they could rest, eat and perhaps make a few sketches
of the countryside.

     Even before Phil had said anything Martin knew he would say yes to
another date with Phil, whatever it would be. But as he described the
idyllic countryside and the fast flowing stream at the bottom of the field,
Martin felt his body lighten, almost swooning at the thought of the day
they would spend together.

     Meetings times and places were arranged and both expressed how much
they wanted to see each other again before Martin heard the telltale thump
of someone coming up the stairs. Quickly, he said his goodbyes to Phil and
the call just ended as James came into the room.

      Seeing the broad smile on Martin's face, James knew he'd got another
date. "Don't tell me, your date from last night wants to meet again, just
to be sure she likes you?" James smiled.

     "Yes." Martin fell onto his bed and lay still, staring at the ceiling
with James watching him for a few moments.

     "Don't tell me you're just going to lie there all night, all dreamy
eyed." James teased.

     "Uh?" Martin grunted.

     "That would be two nights you've not worked on my portrait. Don't tell
me now that you've got a girlfriend you're giving up on me?"

     "Sorry. I'll do some at the weekend. Sunday would be good, I think."

     Knowing Martin to be a lost cause, James left him to his day dreams
and tried to find some fun with his little brother, Tony, playing computer
games.



Friday night, Martin started badgering James about what to wear for his
second date. He lied that they were just spending the day in town,
wandering round the shops and grabbing some lunch. "All day" James
protested, wondering what on earth they could do in town for hours without
getting bored. He chose the same old faded jeans he wore previously, but
this time a nice pale yellow and blue sweatshirt.

     Martin baulked at the choice and wanted something less garish, so
James picked out a faded red short-sleeved shirt.

     Content with the look he had achieved, he hung the clothes on the
outside of the wardrobe, just in case he forgot in the morning what to
wear.

     Throughout the fashion lesson James was teaching Martin, he tried to
find out more about this girl and the previous date. His curiosity was
piqued by Martin's silence but he would still give nothing away, not even a
name. James gave up again, seemingly satisfied with Martin's promise that
he would tell him about it soon. But Martin was still trying to concoct
some believable story and was stalling for time, he did not feel it was
time to tell James about his possible relationship with Phil, especially as
he was not even sure there was anything between them.

     Eager for Saturday to begin, Martin went to bed early and lay awake
thinking, unable to sleep.  When James went to bed, sometime later after
joining his parents to watch television, he found the room in
darkness. Undressing, he discarded his clothes onto the floor into an
unseen heap and slipped under his duvet.



Martin woke at the crack of dawn on the Saturday. He knew it was too early
but his attempts to go back to sleep were in vain. For a while he lay still
and watched his brother sleeping from across the room, he looked peaceful
and, dare he say, sweet. His eyes were firmly closed but his mouth open
slightly, the faint sounds of his breaths creeping over to Martin's ears.

     He felt extremely lucky to have such a good and open relationship with
James. His friends (although more acquaintances) from school and college
all described their sibling relationships as fraught and stressful with the
usual rivalries and competitiveness. James and Martin always spoke to each
other as equals, more akin to twins than mere siblings; he supposed this
was due to their closeness in age. Even though James was the younger, he
could have easily overshadowed his older brother with his outgoing and
exhibitionist manner. But despite his gregariousness, he never made Martin
feel out of place or even second best. For that, Martin would always love
him.

     Finally conceding he was awake, Martin pulled himself out of bed and
rubbed some life into eyes. It was still early, so he went downstairs to
breakfast and quietly watch some early morning television.  Dressed only in
his boxer shorts, he felt a slight chill but delayed taking his shower and
dressing until closer to the time when he had to leave.

     He knew that he was early and Phil wouldn't be waiting at the bus
stop, as planned. But he rushed anyway, just in case, and felt a tinge of
disappointment when no-one was waiting. There was no shelter to sit in, so
he leant against the brick wall of the house outside which the bus stop
sat.

     As each car drove by, he peered into the windows hoping it was
Phil. When they last spoke, he had only said he would borrow his mother's
car but had not said what type or colour it was.

     He was looking in the opposite direction when he heard a car pull up
and stop. Snapping his head round to see, his face gleamed at Phil as he
approached and got in.

     Their greeting seemed a bit formal and stilted, each not knowing how
familiar to be yet, there was no kiss or peck on the cheek, just a 'Hi' and
a 'Morning'.

     Pulling away, Phil drove to their destination. The sun had finally
broken through the early morning cloud and it began to heat up with the
possibilities of a warm, still sunny day. As Phil drove, he talked
excitedly about where they were going, a place he had been before for the
views and solitude; a place where his brother once took him to sketch the
countryside. He hoped Martin would enjoy the spot as much as he had.

     Half an hour away from the smog of the dense city, Phil sharply pulled
over onto a grass verge beside an unkempt hedge. It was not a proper
lay-by, but the grass was well worn by car tyres which occasionally left
their furrows when the drivers drove away too sharply or the ground was wet
from a night's rain. A gap in the hedge hid a stile, partially overgrown
with creeping bramble.

     Almost gasping at the valley hidden beyond the hedge, Martin gingerly
climbed the stile. Once safely over, Phil passed him the picnic basket and
a large rug.

     They walked across the field to the far end where they climbed a dry
stone wall into another similar fallow field. No crops or cattle grazed but
across the way, in other fields, they could see cows chewing the grass and
mooing leisurely. The field sloped downwards, not steeply but
noticeably. At the far end was a clump of trees which stretched along the
valley floor, Phil explaining that they hid a small river and suggested
they see it later.

     Laying the old rug on the ground, Phil secured one end with the picnic
basket and lay down. Martin still stood gazing around him.

     "Come sit down." Phil patted the space on the blanket beside him.

    Martin seemed to stumble to the ground with a heavy thud and stretched
his legs out in front of him.  "It's beautiful here." He said, looking out
to the horizon.

     Lifting his body, Phil propped himself up with his arms behind him to
try and get more on a level with Martin. "It's a bit early for lunch." Phil
stated and his gaze was finally met by Martin as he turned his head. He
sensed that Martin was uncomfortable, being alone with him.

     "Suppose so."

     "D'ya wanna get the sketchbooks out? There is lovely view over there
with a dilapidated cow shed."

     Passing the pad and pencils over to Martin, he seemed a lot happier,
content on concentrating on the task in hand and not the unfamiliar task of
being alone with Phil.

     For the next hour they hardly spoke, Martin engrossed in the
landscape. Phil sat a few metres from him always looking over in his
direction. When his stomach began to gurgle, he announced he was hungry and
put away his pad.

     "What do you think?" Martin proffered his pad.

     Looking at the pencil drawing, Phil's mind coloured it, imagining the
never to be completed water colour. "Beautiful." He said as he passed the
pad back.

     Wanting to see Phil's effort and sensing his reluctance, claiming it's
not finished yet, Martin playfully went to snatch the half concealed pad
from beneath the rug. Grasping the wire binding he slid it from the ground
and tuned over the cover.

     Martin sensed his mouth fall open, although he had only become
slack-jawed, as he saw the sketch that adorned the first page. Instead of
the undulating valley with its sweeping tree-line he saw his own face, his
eyes frowning in concentration, his lips parted and moist. He saw his face
as a mass of contradictions, from the dark flowing hair down the back of
his neck to his straight and pointed nose, the curvaceous lips to the sharp
angular jaw line.

     He had never observed himself like this before. It was not a reflected
image but how someone else saw him, a friend, perhaps a lover.

     "You've made me look handsome." He turned to Phil who now seemed
bashful.

     "I don't think I've done you justice yet, you are far more handsome
than that."

      Blushing, Martin closed the sketch pad and handed it back.

     "Let's eat." Phil declared.

     The picnic was basic but adequate. Sandwiches entombed in plastic
boxes, mainly ham and chicken, but, realising he didn't know Martin that
well, Phil hastily made some cheese just in case Martin was a vegetarian,
but he soon found out he wasn't when Martin appreciatively went for the
ham. Cans of warm coke and lemonade were strewn between the Tupperware
along with some fruit added for good measure; apples, oranges and
bananas. In pride of place in the centre of the basket rested a thermos
full of hot tea.

     Chatting as they ate and drank, Phil spoke of his visits to this area,
not just where they sat but years ago he would often come walking round
here with his parents and brother. His parents still came back here on
occasional Sundays, just for a run out and to stretch their legs away from
the urban sprawl. As a young teenager Phil had also spent hours at this
very spot, sketching the view Martin had just moments ago and wanted him to
see them. Phil assured him that he would take him back home one day to see
them, leaving the promise open for when they were both ready.

     "I always like a walk after a picnic." Phil said mockingly and smiled
at Martin, "Or so my father says at least. How about it?"

      They walked down the field and through the trees to the bank of the
small river. Although it was called a river on all the Ordinance Survey
Maps, it was more a steam. Two foot deep clear water babbled along the
stony river bed, lapping against the occasional boulder which broke the
surface to create its own miniature island. Bending down, Martin could not
see any life, neither any small fish nor any insect larvae.

     Delving his hand into the clear waters, Martin disturbed the fragile
layer of pebbles and sediment and silt swirled around his hand before the
current washed the dirt away. Phil was sitting on the bank, removing his
trainers and socks and rolling up his trouser legs.

     "How about a paddle?" He said as he walked barefoot past the crouching
Martin and into the river.

     Instinctively, Martin was about to so no until he saw that Phil was
already ankle deep and proclaiming how refreshingly cool the water was.

     Why not, he shrugged and joined Phil splashing the water and dampening
the curls of the trousers which hung heavy just below their knees.

     "When I was about ten," Phil remembered, "Me and John were paddling
here and splashing each other, when I slipped and fell backwards onto my
arse. The thing was, my legs skidded into John, pushing his feet from under
him and he fell as well. Mum wasn't too please, I can tell you. As we were
soaked to the skin, she made us take our clothes off and we had to sit on a
rug on the back seat in just our underwear. Both of us shivered all the way
home and all Mum could say was it served ourselves right for messing
about. We made her feel very guilty a few days later though, when we both
came down with stinking colds."

     Martin smiled at his story. "My feet are bloody cold. It's no wonder
you slipped, I can't feel my toes anymore."

     "Come on." Phil beckoned his and they both stepped onto the grassy
bank. The grass was quite long and dry which partially dried their feet as
took the few steps to their trainers, the warm air drying any parts not
touch by the grass.

     Although he was quite thin, Martin's lack of fitness showed as they
climbed the incline back to where they left the picnic basket and the
rug. By the time they reached it, he was not wheezing, but was breathing
heavier than he should have been. Lying back on the rug, Martin tried to
catch his breath; Phil lay on his side beside him, watching his chest rise
and fall.

      As Martin recovered, he turned to see Phil watching him, their heads
facing each other. Phil leant forward and placed a gentle kiss on Martin's
lips. As their lips parted, Martin turned again to look at the sky.

     Inching closer, Phil raised himself and leant over to place another
gentle kiss on Martin's lips. He hoped the feeling was mutual and was
trying to push through Martin's barriers as he knew how scared he must be
feeling, he felt the same way after his first kiss.

     "Are you ok?" Phil asked.

      Martin nodded, almost imperceptivity, his mind racing through what he
wanted and gathering the courage to act.

      Holding his breath, he momentarily closed his eyes and took the
plunge, leaning over to Phil and just grazing his lips with his own. Phil
parted his lips slightly and as Martin pulled away, he closed the gap until
they touched again. Taking a breath, Martin relaxed and his jaw slackened
allowing Phil to push his tongue through, tickling his lips and playing
with his tongue.

      Pushing Phil away, Martin gasped for air. "Oh god." He whispered and
smiled.

      That moment Martin realised how good he could feel with another
person; his previous flings with girls were disastrous and left him feeling
empty, especially while in the relationship and he only felt happy again
once it ended. His biggest fear was that this thing with Phil would make
him feel the same.  It was such a surprise to him how different he felt and
finally realised how a kiss should make him feel.

     Caught in his elation, Martin went back kiss Phil again. There mouths
opened as their moist lips caressed, their tongues flicking against each
other. Moving his arm around Martin, Phil pulled himself closer. His hand
caressed Martin's chest and twisted his erect nipple as he felt it beneath
the fabric, causing him to gasp, almost sucking Phil's tongue deep into his
throat.

      Phil too was caught in the moment, he didn't want to push Martin too
fast but he couldn't help his hand slipping down to tease his navel before
tickling his skin beneath the waistband of his trousers. Not daring to
delve within, his slid his hand over the bulge which had grown, cupping
it. Martin was hard and Phil could feel it strain underneath the fabric, we
wanted to touch it but daren't. Instead he gently rubbed for a few seconds
but was shocked as Martin grunted into his open mouth and he felt his hard
bulge spasm beneath his fingers.

     Breaking off the kiss, Phil watched as Martin had is eyes closed and
let out a stifled groan. Keeping his hand on Martin's crotch, he felt the
spasms subside. He expected to feel a coolness as the moistness seeped
through but, thankfully as far as Martin was concerned, it was all
contained and didn't show.

     "I'm sorry." Martin looked at Phil.

     "I think I'm quite flattered."

     Phil leant over and hugged Martin, whose arms wrapped themselves
around his bag. They lay quiet and still in their loose embrace.

     To be seen from afar, the scene below looked very touching and
romantic, two young men in the first throws of love enjoying each others
touch and comfortable in the silence between them. For Martin the embrace
felt reassuring, a love he hadn't felt since a child when his Mother would
hug him to make him feel better after a fall or graze. But it was now
slightly different, that familiar and unconditional love was tainted with
the frisson of desire; a sexual desire he had never felt before, a desire
which had caused his dick to erupt at the slightest touch.



Thank you for reading.

Comments are welcomed and gratefully received.
Please email me at nifty (at) talesfromastream.co.uk

There are further chapters of this story, and other stories, on my website
www.talesfromastream.co.uk, some of which have not been posted here,
yet. Why not take a look and let me know what you think.

The author retains copyright.