In Trust

by PeterG09

"Why don't you go and play with the other children". It wasn't a question but a statement. If it was a question I could easily answer it: "I'm not a child, I'm fourteen. And we don't 'play'. We hang out. We chill. And we don't just walk in on each other's 'games'".

But it was more of a direction. The other children were much younger than me. Didn't she notice that I was growing up? That at the end of this term I'll need new shoes because I can hardly get into the ones I've got? Has she spotted that my voice is beginning to deepen? And anyway I don't need my mother to choose my friends.

Actually that's a lie. I need all the help I can get because I'm not very good at it. Not at all good in truth. There's goofy Colin who I hang out with at break, mostly because like me he gets picked on and he's pretty good at spotting the bullies coming and getting out of the way. So keeping close to Colin is a good way of keeping safe, but beyond that we really don't have much to keep us together. Then there's Avri who sometimes gets picked on because of his colour and the funny accent he has. But mostly the thugs make fun of him rather than actually bullying him. They get away with doing that to me but if they tried it with Avri it would be a racial thing and the brown stuff would really hit the fan. So my friends are really just misfits like me and that's what we have in common.

It would be nice to have a special friend. Some of the older boys in my class had girlfriends, or at least reckoned they did. I didn't know how to go about getting one and anyway I couldn't imagine any girl wanting to have anything to do with an obvious loser like me.

So here we are as we are on most Wednesday afternoons. It's my Mother's day off and I have half-day at school. She picks me up and we come to Morten Hall. She says it's a good safe place because it's the local Stately Home and mostly nice people go to properties like that. Well, mostly nice, but the people who come to the café here to have coffee and watch their kids on the swings look pretty normal and ordinary to me, and therefore not particularly nice. Anyway that's why we come here. There is a house to visit, but we've never been in it. Maybe that's where all the nice people are. Out here they shout at their kids and leave litter like everyone else.

Today the café was quite full so Mum had to sit at one end of one of those picnic bench things that already had two people on it. I drank the juice and ate the chocolate chip cookie that she always bought me. How about asking if I wanted something different? This is what I asked for when we first came here and now I get the same every time.

"Take care" she said as I wandered off down to the river and passed the time throwing twigs in the water. Take care of what? To get properly bored? To avoid being carried off but zombies? To avoid being eaten by crocodiles? That might be fun compared with nothing happening. A woman with a dog came up and the dog started chasing the sticks and she said it was OK so I started a game with the dog. But in the end she had to move off so the game ended. I wandered back to the café.

Mum was still sitting at the bench and seemed to be chatting to the two people there. I noticed that a boy had joined them. He looked about my age, maybe a bit taller if he stood up. He had longish fair hair. I couldn't see much of his face because he was hunched over his iPhone. The only place for me to sit was opposite him. The woman who was next to him nudged him in he ribs and said "Say hello Davy". He looked up at me. Quite a plain face, not much of a smile, warm brown eyes. "Hello. I'm David"

"Hi. Nat"

So that was introductions done. I asked him what he was looking at on his phone and he said it was just some texts he got. Gradually we got a conversation going. I said that I found the place really boring. There was nothing to do because the playground was for small children only He brightened a little and said "What about the gym trail?" I said I didn't know what that was and he said "Come on, I'll show you." The adults were talking about something or other so Davy led me to a bit of the grounds I'd never been to before. There were very few people around. In a clearing among some trees was a load of gym equipment just waiting to be used: parallel bars, beams, balances, monkey bars. It was definitely not for small kids.

We had a go on a few things. I had to strip off my top because I was getting hot. I asked Davy how long he'd been coming here. He said that he found it while exploring when he was bored one day. He said it was OK on your own but much more fun when you had someone to compete against. I looked at my watch and found we had been away nearly an hour and we probably ought to get back before the adults started making a fuss. We wandered back to the café area where the big people were still talking. They looked up in surprise when we arrived. They had not missed us at all.

My Mother was oddly quiet as we went home. She seemed to be thinking a lot. I was happy because I'd found someone to talk to. Then I realised that I 'd forgotten to ask for Davy's number. I quite wanted to see him again. I said something about this to Mm and she said not to worry, she had Mrs Bulmer's number. Apparently that was Davy's surname. So I could get in touch.

That evening when I was alone in my room I sent him a text about maybe meeting up sometime. He replied almost at one, and said that the parents had already made a plan to meet at the café the next Wednesday. Apparently they had got on very well together.

Davy and I swapped quite a few texts over the next week. I was getting quite excited about seeing him again.

When we met we headed straight for the gym trail and did a bit of a workout. We broke for a breather and sat on a bench nearby. Somehow I let on that I was having a real parent problem.

"My Mother doesn't understand me. Yea, OK all kids say that but I mean it. She's not noticed that I've grown a lot. I'm not her little kid any more. I feel like I can't talk to her about anything. And I'm feeling really different inside."

Davy said "Have you got a Dad to talk to?" I started to tell him about how my Dad was dead and how he'd died two years ago and how we used to do things together and maybe I could have talked to him and then suddenly I collapsed in tears. I don't think I'd cried that much since Dad had his heart attack and then was gone. All my feelings about it being unfair that he died, and Mum being in her own misery and difficult to talk to, and the sense of total loss and emptiness as we tried to live through the time after Dad's death all came out. It felt like I cried for hours. I was shaking and my chest hurt when I stopped. I felt exhausted. Davy had moved close to me as I cried and had put his arm behind me, just resting on the bench back and lightly touching my shoulders. I don't know when he did that, but it felt nice and friendly.

"Sorry about that. It's my problem, not yours." I'd made myself vulnerable by showing a weakness. He probably wouldn't want to see a cry-baby again so I got up and started to walk away. Davy ran to catch me up and fell in step alongside as I angrily walked back to the café. He stood in front of me to block my way. "Come on Nat, let's talk about this. It kind of is my problem as well because you told me about it and it is hurting you." He was almost pleading.

I felt defeated, as if there was nothing more to lose. Nearby there was a fallen log that someone had trimmed to make a kind of seat and we sat on that. I kept silent while Davy told me a bit about himself. Gradually he drew me in to talking. He told me about things he and his Father did, and I told him some of the things that Dad and I got up to, and how I thought I could talk to him about anything but that was before I began to feel different inside, because he died when I was still a child. Davy didn't put his arm across my back this time, but he did sit very close so that I could feel the warmth of his body where our legs touched each other. He was so easy to talk to.

On the way back to the café Davy stopped me at a water-fountain and told me to wash my face. "You're a bit puffed-up." He got me looking presentable and we went back to the parents. Mum noticed I was subdued but didn't say anything about it. Davy just said that we'd been working out quite hard and were tired.

For several weeks this same pattern went on. We'd meet the Bulmers. Sometimes one of them, sometimes both. Davy and I would head off somewhere to talk

One day I asked Mum if Davy and I could just go out together some time. I felt a prat having to ask her but she insisted on always knowing where I was and what I was doing. It seemed easier to ask now instead of there being a scene. Surprisingly she was quite happy with the idea, and even suggested that we make it the next Wednesday. She claimed she had some shopping to do. I thought she was making that up but it was too good a chance to miss so I went along with it.

During the week we made a plan to meet. As Wednesday got nearer I was getting funny fluttery feelings like nothing I had had before except perhaps when waiting for Christmas one year. I spent a lot of time before the day wondering what of my non-existent collection of clothes I should wear. Every time I made my mind up I changed it. Eventually I decided that clean jeans and a proper shirt would be alright.

I got home from school and had a shower before getting changed, even though I knew I would be a bit sweaty by the time I cycled to the Hall. It was quite thrilling and felt a bit grown-up to be going out on my own.

Davy was waiting when I got there. He'd dressed pretty much as I had . He showed me where his bike was chained up and I put mine with his. Then we wandered off towards the wooded area where the gym trail was. I did not want to go to the café, at least not straight off, because that felt too much like doing what I always did. As we walked I could feel Davy really close at my right side. Our arms brushed against each other. It was comfortable.

We sat talking for a long time. He asked me about myself and what I liked doing, and he told me about his family and his annoying younger sister. It felt like he had a much better family deal than I did. We were sitting, still with Davy on my right. I glanced over at his profile and saw with a twinge of shock that he had a small stud in his left ear-lobe. Even I knew what that meant. Was that why he was so comfortable to be with? But if that was the case then why did I feel good in his company? Was I also that way? My confusion must have shown itself because Davy stopped chatting and asked if I was OK. I couldn't tell him what I thought, at least not just then. To break the way this was going I got up and started using some of the gym equipment. I'd not meant to do this because I had decent clothes on, but I needed to change the mood. I got up on the parallel bars with my arms lying on them so that I could swing my body back and forth.

Then for a while the world went black. When I came round I was lying flat on my back. An out-of-focus man was kneeling at my side. He wore a green uniform. Somewhere in the background I was aware of Davy. In the foreground was the pain. My right shoulder ached. My left arm was held across my chest and I could not move it. My jaw and face ached and my right hand was on fire. What the hell had happened?

I was in hospital for three days. Davy came to see me every day but it was only on Day 3 that I really realised that he was there. My Mother seemed to be there a lot of the time. From Davy I pieced together what went on. Apparently when I swung my body back and up until I was parallel with he ground, the bar under my left arm came away from the posts holding it up. The bar fell and I face-planted on top of it. That accounted for the split lip, lost tooth, swollen eye and fractured cheek-bone. As I went down I still had a hold of the right bar, hence the wrenched shoulder. The broken right wrist was from trying to fend off the ground. The strapped-up left arm spelled out broken collar-bone. Ludicrously when I learned all this my first thoughts were for my smart shirt and trousers. Apparently there was a lot of mud and blood and they were not going to be best any more.

Once I was moved home it all felt a lot better. Medical things and me don't mix well, and being home was great even if I could not move around much. I needed some support just to stand.

Fortunately it was half-term. Davy was around so much that Mum started calling him Nurse Davy. I discovered, when I could think straight that he was actually sleeping in the spare room. This was very exciting but at the same time frustrating because he was under our roof and I could not take advantage of it. But at least I saw him most of every day and that was better than nothing. He got so good at looking after me he seemed to be able to know what I wanted before I did. We played lots of games, watched some TV, and he even read to me.

Going to the loo was difficult because I could not stand upright without using both hands to support me. In the first couple of days Davy gave me an old 1-litre plastic milk-bottle to pee in to while sitting down. Then when I could stand he came with me to the loo and directed my stream of urine while I concentrated on not falling over. It felt very strange to have someone else handle me like that, but at the same time it was a very special feeling.

Towards the end of the first week at home most of the pains had become just aches and I had some pain-killers to use if things got bad. Mostly they just slowly got better. My Mother said that she had to go out for the afternoon but that Nurse Davy would take care of me. She made sure that Davy knew where everything was and that his phone was charged in case he had to call her. Davy brought our lunch to my room on two trays and we talked about the accident and how I felt. He had heard that the dodgy parallel bars were supposed to be roped off but no-one had got around to actually doing it. He told me that he noticed when I started swinging that the left-hand bar was wobbling and he called to me to look out, but then it was too late. Then he cleared the lunch away.

I was lying on my bed propped up against two pillows when he came back. He stood by the bed and said "Your Mother told me to take care of you and I'm going to do that." "What do you mean?" I asked. "Well" he said, "there's something that I'd like to do for you that you can't do for yourself". "Easy" I replied. "That's most things". "No" Davy answered, "this is something I really want to do for you." And he started to undress.

I was surprised, of course. I'd dreamed of seeing his body but I had no idea it would happen like this. When he was wearing just his white briefs he came over to me. "Your turn now. Let's get those pyjamas off you". The top was easy because I was wearing it across my shoulders, but the trousers were a little more of a problem. He helped me wriggle from side to side until he could get them off my legs. Whatever was going to happen I was not going to stop it.

He knelt alongside me and stroked my belly and legs. While his hands were busy he nuzzled the skin at my waist and hips. He was just beginning to grow facial hair and I could feel the fine fuzz tickling my skin. I could not react except in the obvious way and soon my erection was pointing straight up. Davy gently placed his right hand around it and began to stroke up and down. Not hard like I do when I want to relieve myself, but an altogether different feeling. He looked up from his kneeling position.

"Is this all right?"

"Yes. It's wonderful. It's amazing."

On the bedside table was a jar of cold cream that I was using to soothe my bruised face. He opened it and took some out on his fingers. He spread it along the length of my penis and over my balls and the skin below. Then his left hand cupped my balls. I was aware that a finger was pressing on the skin underneath, near my hole. With his right hand he started to make long rhythmic strokes along the length of my penis, each time finishing the upstroke with a bit of pressure on the end. The finger found my hole and pressed on it. The cold cream made a great lubricant and I felt the finger go in to me. I had no idea how much, but it felt wonderful.

Davy must have been able to sense me stiffening up and changed his movement so that there was a lighter upstroke and a firmer down one over the head. When I came it was an incredible feeling. He knew not to touch the tip for a few minutes afterwards while it was still tender. Then he lay down alongside my hip while his right hand continued to softly rub my stomach.

"I'm sorry I can't do anything for you" I said. I really wanted to thank him by giving him the same treatment, but it wasn't possible.

"Shh. No worry, when you're better I'll let you do what you want. Now tell me when you're ready again if you want some more."

We lay still for about twenty minutes while he patted and rubbed me then I began to feel an erection starting. Davy had me put my legs together while he straddled my hips. He had taken his pants off and his balls rubbed against mine. He moved upwards a little so that my penis lay between the cheeks of his bottom. Then he took some more cream and began to stroke himself while he rocked back and forth. We came almost together from the strong feeling, making a joint puddle on my stomach. We lay together for a while without speaking, overwhelmed with emotions. Then before cleaning me he knelt up, leaned forward, and kissed me. I may not have been prepared for what else had happened but this was quite unexpected.

When Mum came home she found us both lying on the bed watching TV.

"Did he look after you?" she asked me. "yes", I said, "he took really good care of me." Maybe she knew why we both started giggling like little kids with a secret.

Three weeks later I was just about recovered. My right wrist was strapped and my left arm was in a sling and apparently all the rest of me was healing as it should. Davy and I went to town on a Saturday afternoon. Before going to the burger bar for lunch we paid a visit to a nail bar.

The pain of having my ear pierced was nothing like what I expected, and I was very careful to choose a stud as most like Davy's as we could find. I'd had to get Mum's permission for the piercing and I suddenly understood that right from the start Mr and Mrs Bulmer knew about Davy, because they would have to give permission for his stud. And then at last I understood what the parents had been talking about all those times.

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