Kurt

 

 

Life in The Village, through the eyes of a student at the remote school.
(This is a parallel story to “Schoolie”, but through different eyes.)
This `school holidays” chapter does not align, specifically, with any Chapter of “Schoolie”.

This is an original work of pure fiction (just an expression of a fantasy)
by Robert A. Armstrong (a pseudonym)

The resemblance of the characters by action, name, location or description to any real person is purely coincidental.

If it is illegal, or offensive, for you to read stories involving interactions of a sexual nature between adults and youths, then what are you doing here?

 

From Chapter 13:

I go to sit down again after taking a pee when Ron says, “Hey, little buddy. Come here.” He puts his arms out, inviting a hug, and parts his knees so that I can get close to him. With him seated and me standing, it”s now my head that is higher than his for a change. Nothing much is said except his `Thank You!” Then he adds, “Now you are a real Champ!”

He has his arms around me, pulls me in close and he drops one hand onto my butt and squeezes it. I rub his back.

I kiss the top of his head. “I like you.” I tell him. Then, I add, “And I prefer you alive! Despite what my brother might think!”

We joke about it as we pack up.

Chapter 15 � A Quick Learner

 

It”s still reasonably early when we finish the last line of fencing for the day, Ron says. I can feel the temperature beginning to dip.

“We”ve made excellent progress,” Ron says. “I thought that we might have had to do that last section in the morning, but we”ve worked great together!”

We open the door to the hut and the warmth greats us.

Boots at the door, inside – so that no snakes find a comfortable home in one overnight.

 

“Do you know what they do in Japan before they have a bath?” Ron asks me, totally out of the blue.

“No. What?” I answer.

“They wash themselves first, then rinse themselves so that they are clean before they get into the bath. And all the men bathe together.

“What? They all get into the bath together? Naked? Everyone?” I ask. I think of Karl and me in the bath together, and with Dad when we were little. But a whole group of people?

“Yep,” he answers, “and all naked.”

“How do they stop from getting… what happens if their … you know… what if…” I”m fishing for the right words.

“You mean, what if somebody has an erection?” he nails it.

“Yeah. Well, I”d be embarrassed in a big tub full of people,” I say.

“I don”t know,” Ron replies. “I”ll have to put that one to a man from Japanese one day. I imagine that it would probably happen so often that nobody would think anything of it. Just part of being natural.”

“Why did you ask me that question?” I say to him.

“Well, if I heat up a pot of water, we can wash ourselves first, then we can spend more time in the shower together. What do you think of that idea?”

“I”ll get the pot now,” I tell him. “How big? And where is it?”

Ron insists in getting everything ready for dinner. “We can cook after we shower,” he tells me. Then he fills the pot and puts it on the stove. Plus, he gets a couple of smallish basins. “One each,” he says. “Use the face washer to soap yourself up, and then rinse it in the water and use it again to clean it all off. Keep going until you are clean of dirt, perspiration and soap.”

We wait for the water to get hot enough without boiling. It doesn”t take long on the already-hot stove top.

I”m about to ask Ron a question when he actually asks me the same thing. “Would you like to undress me?”

“And I suppose that you would like to take my clothes off too?” I ask, knowing the answer already.

“Of course,” he says. “You OK with that?”

“Hell Yeah!” I tell him.

“Let”s start by taking off our own socks,” he says. We do.

“Can I start?” I ask.

“I”m ready when you are,” he replies.

I really just want to rip all of his clothes off and play with his Moby Dick, but I surprise myself by going slowly. Something I learned yesterday.

Button by button, his shirt reveals the most amazing set of chest and stomach muscles. “Turn around,” I tell him, and I slide his shirt down his arms, feeling his muscles as I go. “OK. Turn back to the front.”

I get rid of his belt. And start on his jeans. Even before I get his zipper down, I can see how excited he is. I peel his jeans away from his underpants and slide them down. I kneel down to help Erzincan Escort his feet out of them. While I”m down here, his bulge is right in front of my face. I”m really tempted to do something, but I don”t. I wonder, if I did, whether he would think that I”m disgusting! Instead, I just give him a good feel and jiggle as I stand up.

I leave him standing in his undies, cock bulging out in front.

“Do the same to me,” I tell him, without getting him fully naked.

“You learn fast,” he tells me, smirking. “Or, you”re just a natural at this!”

By the time that he removes my shirt, I can feel that my own penis is rock hard, if it wasn”t already. He rubs my chest and stomach.

“Nice firm muscles,” he says.

They”re nothing like his, though.

He undoes my belt and button and zipper. Instead of pulling my jeans down, he puts his hands down the back of my jeans and squeezes my butt cheeks. One side with each hand.

“Nice round muscles,” he says. “They fit perfectly into my hands!” and we both laugh.

Then my jeans come off slowly. While he”s on his knees, with my cock in front of his face, he looks up at me. Is he going to do it? But he shakes his head slightly, as if answering a question in his own head, and stands up.

He hugs me and our erections press against each other. He grips my `nice round muscles” and I put my arms around his hips to find a pair of rock-hard muscles, covered in soft skin and very short hairs. I rub them up and down.

“Nice!” he says in a very low voice, then starts to move his body from side to side, causing our two erections to mash backwards and forwards against each other. I think of two pirates practising sword fighting. Gently.

When he slides his thumbs into the waist of my underpants, I know that it”s time for them to come down. I do the same to him. He pushes slowly. I copy him. His curly, pubic hair comes into view before my own hair does.

He pauses before rubbing my hairs. “Nice chicken feathers,” he says.

“What kind of a chicken grows curly feathers like yours?” I respond, as I play with his mass of brown hair.

“Maybe a rooster?” he asks, smiling.

“Moby a rooster!” I tell him, laughing at my own words, and I reach lower, grasping his erection. “Cock-a-doodle-do!” I crow. His smile becomes a laugh.

“You are amazing!” he tells me. “How old are you again? Are you sure you”re not a sexy sixteen-year-old disguised as a very handsome thirteen-year-old?” He lowers my underwear and my cock springs free. Then, as he wraps his hand around it, he says, “Moby rooster Junior.”

“Cock-a-doodle-do!” we both crow together.

We repeat the sword play. He turns me around. With his `sword” pointing straight down, I can feel his curly `rooster feathers” on my backside. I like it and I move from side to side so that his wiry hair rubs against my smooth skin. It tickles.

“Come on. Let”s wash,” he says. He gives me some soap and a face washer and only half-fills both basins with very warm water. I copy his movements. He rubs the soap onto the wet face washer instead of his body, then, starting high, `washes” his neck, chest, stomach, cock a smart boy who never grew up, or an older guy in a younger body. Has your dad ever read you the story of Peter Pan and his adventures in Neverland with the lost boys? And their battles with the pirates?”

“No,” is my simple but wide-eyed reply. “I”ll have to ask him to get that one from the library in Cunnamulla. It sounds like something that I would enjoy.”

Ron tells me briefly about Peter and Wendy and the boys and the pirates and the Indians and Tinkerbell and being able to fly, but he doesn”t tell me the ending. “You”d better get that from the book,” he says. “I don”t want to spoil it.”

We continue working for a long time until we reach a familiar place. I know that we”re not too far from the farm house, at least by quad bike.

“It”s probably too cold to go swimming,” he says.

I feel the water. It”s only as cold as the cool shower water in the hut.

I agree. “Besides,” I tell him, “you don”t need to hide me under the water any more just to play with my dick.”

I look up at the weird expression on his face. I wonder, did I just say something wrong? Did I just offend him?

“I”m sorry, Ron!” I apologise. “I think that came out all wrong. What I meant was…”

“It”s OK, Champ,” he interrupts me. “It should be me apologising to you. I”m so sorry if I upset you that day, or scared you, or…”

“Hey! Cut that out!” It”s Erzincan Escort Bayan my turn to stop him. “I love the stuff that you and I have done together. And we have both promised to keep it a secret, right?”

He almost looks worried. “Can I hug you?” he asks.

I reply, “As a wise man said to me a couple of days ago, `Sure. But no need to ask. Anything you want”.”

That puts a smile on his dial. Then I add, “But be careful whenever you want to do anything, OK? You know… in case someone is around.”

I enjoy his strong arms pulling me against his body. It”s just how Mum used to hug me. Tightly, but gently. Safely. Warmly.

While he goes back to the Land Rover to gather all of the lunch things, I decide to quickly strip off all of my clothes and I stand facing in his direction.

He turns, takes one step then stops in his tracks when he sees me. “What the…” he starts but doesn”t finish. Then he says, “What are you doing, Kurt?”

This is the first time in the past couple of days that he has actually used my real name. It takes me a little by surprise. Doesn”t he want to see me naked in the middle of the day? Does he disapprove of my forwardness? Does he think I”m a bad person?

He repeats (almost), “What are you doing, Champ?”

That sounds better!

I tell him, “Do you remember that this is the place where you first saw me naked? And where I saw you too?

“Of course,” he replies, still looking confused. “But why have you taken all of your clothes off, now, when we”ve been naked together for the past two nights?”

It”s hard to answer. What was I thinking? Does he think that I”m really just some weird, over-sexed kid?

“Don”t you like me naked?” I ask him.

“Of course I do!” he says. “I just have no idea why you”ve stripped off all of your clothes, now. Did you want to muck around again, like this morning? You could have just asked me.”

“No. That”s not why,” I tell him. “I just thought that if I took my clothes off, then you would do it too.”

“And then what?” Ron asks, smirking. “What do you want to do?”

“Umm,” I start. “Would you think I was crazy if I said that I wanted to see all of your muscles in the daytime, instead of just quickly before we jumped into bed? And, maybe, feel all of them? And you can tell me what they are called.”

“Are you saying that you want a touchy-feely anatomy lesson?” he asks.

“Yeah, I guess,” I answer, hoping that he doesn”t think I”m a werido. “I know that some muscles have proper names, and I want to know what they are. And who better to teach me than the person with the best muscles? You do know all of their names, don”t you?”

He smiles for the first time in the last few minutes. “You”re serious, aren”t you?” he asks.

“Yes, Ron. Would you? Please? I want to know,” I answer.

Could he refuse a cute, handsome, sexy, naked kid his request? Especially with the way my blue eyes are pleading with him from under my blond fringe?

He says nothing but puts down all of the lunch things that he is carrying and strips.

“I like you, Champ,” he says, walking up next to me. “Anything you want! If I can do it for you.”

There is an awkward moment when it seems like he doesn”t quite know how to start. “Tell you what,” he says. “Why don”t you touch my muscles that you want to know the names of, and I”ll tell you.”

I think about it. That would be good. But I”ve got an even better idea.

“How about,” I start, “you touch my muscles and tell me their names, and then I will touch yours and repeat their names.”

“But which ones?” he asks.

“All of them,” I tell him. “And you can start anywhere you like.”

“There”s too many altogether. What if we just cover the main ones?” he suggests.

“That”ll do!” I say. “If you miss any that I want to know, I”ll ask you.”

He stands, almost facing me, but a bit to one side and starts by rubbing my chest. “Pecs”

I repeat the word and rub his.

“Nipples,” he says, pinching one.

“Hey!” I tell him, pulling a face. “This is serious! I”m not joking!”

“Sorry, but I thought that you should know, so you don”t have to call them `tits”,” he says.

He gets a slightly-harder pinch back. He winces then we both laugh. He continues down through `abs” and `quads”. He doesn”t just touch them; he rubs them, which I enjoy. It reminds me of Mr Grant”s version of my birthday bumps.

“I know about `penis” and `testicles” so you don”t have to do those,” I tell him.

He pouts in pretend disappointment, Escort Erzincan and again we both laugh.

He runs down my arm; `deltoids”, `biceps”, `triceps”.

“Turn around,” he says. He starts at `trapezius” and then turns his back while I repeat the word and copy the brief massage that he gave me.

He says, “erector spinae,” and I have to ask him to repeat it.

“I though you said `erection” something,” I tell him, then getting the words right.

“Well they both come from the same word meaning `stand up”, because that”s what these ones do, stand up right along your spine.”

“That”s as funny as `public hair”,” I say. He looks at me, smiles and shakes his head.

He squeezes my butt and says, “Glutes”.

“Glutes?” I ask.

“Short for `gluteus maximus” actually,” he says, “but it”s easier just to say `glutes”.”

“I have wondered if there was a better word instead of `bottom” or `backside” or `butt” or `buns” or `bum” or `arse”,” I tell him. “You”ve got nice glutes, Ron.” That brings more laughs.

“So have you, Champ,” he says. “Really nice glutes.” He squeezes them.

“Yeah, I kinda worked out that you like my glutes,” I tell him, squeezing his in return.

We have an extended lesson on `glutes”.

He finishes on `hamstrings”, even though he says that there are many more muscles that he could tell me.

“OK. Let”s see how good your memory is,” he tells me. “I”ll touch one of your muscles and you have to tell me its name, OK?”

“Then I”ll touch yours back,” I say, offering my preferred process.

I get them all right. Some occur more than once, including `glutes” and `penis” and `testicles”.

“Erection,” I tell him, taking the initiative. He copies that.

 

“OK. Lunch,” he says, and we spread the blanket and the food.

We eat and, probably because there is no more sex talk, including our night-time fun, our erections shrink back to their normal sizes.

We discuss, instead, what we have accomplished. Star pickets. Wires. My cooking ability. The snake and the first aid lesson. And the fact that I can now drive the automatic Land Rover.

We finish eating and pack everything up. Ron says, “You know, even when Junior is not excited, you are very handsome. And at the moment your aura is really shining!”

“Thank you, Ron,” I tell him. “As a matter of fact, I like your whole body when Moby is his normal size too. I know that I can”t see your aura, but I do feel something instead. It”s sort of like you”re a magnet and I”m a piece of metal. Mr Grant taught us about magnets in Science at school.”

I can”t explain what I feel for him any better way.

“That”s interesting,” Ron says. “I would have said that it was the other way around. You”re the magnet, with your blond hair and blue eyes and small, perfect muscles. Nice glutes, by the way! And your smile, and your aura. No, I think that I”m the metal and you”re definitely the magnet, attracting me.”

“Mr Grant also showed us that two magnets can attract each other,” I say.

“That settles it then,” he says. “I guess we”re just a pair of magnets!”

“But we”re still two white wales as well,” I tell him. “A big one and a not-so-big one.”

“How about a grown one and a growing one?” he asks.

“Deal!” I say, and we bump fists on it.

“OK,” he says when everything is packed. “Time to return the whales to where they belong.”

“Why don”t they belong out instead of in?” I ask, smirking.

“You know why!” he tells me.

My mind plays a debating game between `out” reasons and `in” reasons. I think of people whose bodies I would like to see naked, including Mr Grant. `Out” is leading. But when I count all of the people whom I wouldn”t like to see my willie, soft or hard, `in” wins! Jane is top of that list.

We dress. I continue driving. Ron continues walking and checking. We both continue our mending jobs.

By mid-afternoon Ron says, “OK, Champ, we”re finished. The rest of the fencing from the farm house up to here was done last week. Do you mind if I drive the rest of the way?”

We cross, by walking around the front of the Land Rover. He stops me and gives me a squeezy hug. “Nice glutes!” he says.

“Yours too!”

 

(to be continued)

 

The parallel version to this story, is told through the eyes of Tom Grant, the `Schoolie”.
Find it at https://www.//gay/adult-youth/schoolie

If you”d like a full picture of their lives and thoughts, you should read both concurrently.

—–

If you like the story, and haven”t said “hello” yet, please take a couple of minutes to email ail

I try to reply to everyone. Please be patient.

—–

Please support the efforts at Nifty. Every little bit helps to ensure that

our stories are posted. Do it here: fty/donate.html