The Bus Stop

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 5

I'm looking at my laptop screen, upstairs in my bedroom, with the Next website up. I'm on clothing, obviously because that's what Next is all about. I'm on the Boys clothing section which caters for the age of 2 up to 16.

'May I used your Next store card please mum?'

'Of course darling. Add those things for Kerry you mentioned. And anything else he needs; within reason darling. Don't go mad with that card please. I saw Miriam yesterday and she admits she's in the dark about boy's things. It's not her fault. She rather got all this thrust upon her, the poor woman. Literally, the poor woman. She's eighty-two but you wouldn't think so. She's very upbeat about Kerry, but as she says, she knows her limits. She's never dealt with a man, let alone a young boy like Kerry. She's very fond of him but she needs help with a few things. I won't let her pay. I told her that it's part of my………mission.'

'Your mission to humanity mum?'

'Don't be silly darling. It's just that we want to help. That's all. And we are in position to be able to do that, fortunately.'

'They do them in packs of five. Shall I get two?'

'Yes darling, and a couple more for yourself. Yours are looking a little on the small side now and the whites are not very white any more. Some tee shirts as well. The grey ones you like are nice, but get them big enough. You're both growing like weeds.'

'Kerry will be here in any minute. I'll go through the order with him. Do you want to see it before I pay?'

'No. that's fine.'

I heard the gentle knock on the door. It was almost an apology for a knock. This is going to be exciting. He knows what we are doing this morning and he'll keep saying he doesn't need anything just so he feels he's not costing us money. But he's going to get what I think he needs.

I have him sitting next to me at my Ikea work desk, in his weekend clothes. It's a mild October so far so he's still in his shorts, but ones that are cut considerably shorter in the leg than those school things that come down the kids' knees. Well not far off. These look too small on Kerry although they are a nice colour, a sort of faded apricot. Very nice in fact. When he bent down by the front door to remove his tatty trainers just now, I noticed he wasn't wearing anything underneath. If he was I would see the evidence, and I couldn't see any of those tell-tale knicker lines. He needs help, and some clothes!

'You can have anything from this lot Kerry. Will you please concentrate? Do want briefs of trunks?'

'What do you think Arlo? What would I look best in?'

'It's not for me to say is it? I'm not the one wearing them.'

'No, but I want to know what you like.'

'Ok. Let's go for briefs for weekends, and or schooldays when you don't have to change into PE or Games kit. Here we go. These are nice. What colour?'

'What do you have?'

'White, and I'm…….this size and this style. What do you think?'

'Nice. What size do you think I am?'

'Ok. You're nearly twelve now, so you would be………this one here. 11-12 years. You can have ones in colours which are exactly the same style as the white ones. Dark colours like these, or lighter more pastel ones like these? Take your pick.'

'The white ones.'

'Oh good boy. Do you keep yourself clean back there?'

'What does that mean?'

I explained what I was encouraged to do from the age of twelve, which surprised him somewhat.

'Should I do that too?'

'It's a good idea Kerry, and that way you don't get ever get sore and you know you're clean back there. It's a nice feeling knowing that you could eat your lunch off it.'

'How?'

'Just a figure of speech Kerry. You'd have to get someone else to do that.'

He laughed. At least he got the joke. That's in the book, not that it appeals to me but it must do to some people. Putting your tongue in there? Around there is one thing, the general area, but actually inside it? I suppose it was totally clean it would be ok? Maybe.

'So, back to business. White, aged 11-12. You're very slim though. Maybe 10-11? Would you like them loose fitting or snug?'

'What do you think Arlo?'

'What do have on at the moment?'

'Err, nothing. I've got them in the wash. All last week's things. Every Friday night I do my washing. All my school stuff for next week.'

'How many is that?'

'Three.'

'What? Three for the whole week?'

'Yes.'

'Do you wear briefs, like the ones I showed you?'

'Yes.'

'Have you always?'

'Yes, always.'

I thought for a moment.

'I have some older ones in the other drawer there, to the left, underneath the others. Go and get them and we'll try you in one or two of those. Is that ok? You'll need to slip those shorts off for me.'

Not a muff by way of objection from Kerry as I drew another deep breath and watched the boy do as he's been told. He's very biddable.

'And take your tee shirt off so I can you properly.'

He comes back with about six pairs, and then he stands close by me and pulls down his shorts so I can see him for all that he is. He's beautifully formed, the head prominent under that thin veil of skin that on him, overhangs a little. If he's not close to puberty, he certainly looks like he is.

Somewhat flustered I go through the possible sizes I can't get into comfortably now, and decide on the 9-10's.

'Try these.'

He does. Nice but just a little too fitted around the bottom. Not that that's a bad thing. 10-11's next. These look about right. I get him to turn around so I can see the fit over his bottom. Perfect. Unless they've gone into holes, I never throw the good ones away.

He knows he has a good body and all that goes with it. I know that because all his movements were confident, with no embarrassment at all. He's shown me what he is, on the outside, and now, fifteen minutes later in the bathroom, I have a bit more than a fingertip impression of what he's like on the inside too.

In our local library I found some books on photography. Boys with not much on and very much to my liking, so I sneakily snapped the pages of interest and made drawings from them. Mum hasn't discovered them; yet. At some point she will. Kerry would make a superb boy model to draw. I do Art at school but we never draw people. I'd like to try that. Maybe? Now there's a thought?

'You can keep those ones Kerry.' I said, checking our order again. I had added two pairs of shorts for weekend use and holidays, all on offer, both too long in the leg for my liking but mum can shorten them. She's good with stuff like that. Just cut them shorter and turn up a new hem. Simple. She's done that for mine enough times.

'Everything will be here in time for your birthday Kerry. When is it again?'

Following his question about hygiene, prompted by that section in the book about the dire necessity to be completely pristine, front and back before you stick your tongue in anything dodgy, I took him along to the family bathroom as opposed to mum and dad's ensuite. It was the ideal opportunity to show him my own body. He'd shown me his, so now it was my turn. Not only am I a few inches taller than Kerry, I'm further along the development road than he is. He's past the little boy stage which I was in not so long ago, but I'm into puberty now. My voice has not changed fully yet but it's noticeably lower than it was, but Kerry still has that bell-like treble quality I have lost.

'You could sit on the loo while I show you? More comfortable for you.'

To my surprise he did, after lowering his shorts leaving his bottom half for me to see again. The basin is next to the lavatory pan where Kerry is, looking up at me as I prepare myself, my shorts and pants now down to my ankles.

'Imagine I've just been Kerry.'

'Ok. What do you do now?'

'Just watch me.'

I have to place my feet apart. It makes access a little easier, and then I begin the simple process of cleaning myself, and not an unpleasant task at all. Rather enjoyable as it happens. The E45 works perfectly, both cleaning and moisturizing the delicate and wonderfully sensitive external and internal tissue.

'How far in did you go? I looked quite deep.'

'Only one or two centimetres. There's no need to go any further; unless you want to of course? You can go in as far as you want to.'

'Have you?'

'Yes.'

'Why?'

'Just curious I suppose. To see what it feels like? It's a very pleasant sensation, at least I think so. You might not like it.'

We let that tricky subject rest at that point. Kerry nods, which raises the question in my mind; has he? Or is that an unmentionable and taboo part of his body? It has never been for me. I'd been to the doctor about itching in and around that area, even to the point of a little bleeding, very occasionally. The solution to the problem was very simple. Keep it clean young man, and this is what you need to do. Her instructions were clear, avoid aggressive and irritating soap and use a light moisturizer such as E45 loaded onto your fingers. No need to go in far; but just enough. One thing I did notice though; my penis liked the sensation. I had discovered how the two parts are so closely linked. This new found procedure altered my masturbation technique too, and the important new knowledge I have acquired about the walnut sized organ we boys conveniently keep just up there; what it does, what it feels like, and what it likes being done to it. The book describes in detail how that part can contribute to great sex. But what will Kerry make of all that I wonder. He keeps on asking if we can go through more of the book.

We started with the hygiene section. That's interesting in itself as a thing to do with your partner. Next was the chapter on foreplay, beginning with the art of kissing. All that was new to me simply because I have never before had anyone to practice on. As my mother had told me, be careful with Kerry. He's not twelve yet. For some reason twelve seems to be a significant age. Once you get to twelve you can start thinking about sex apparently. So I was duly presented with the All You Need to Know book the day after my birthday. Needless to say I was very interested! I had been thinking about sex for a good while already. I asked Kerry whether he thought about it.

'Umm, yes I do, a bit before I do it.'

'What sort of stuff do you think about?'

'I make up nice stories. I meet someone somewhere. On a walk or something. Or when I go down to the beach. I meet a………boy down there. It sort of goes on from there.'

'I do the same.'

'Do you have sex with them?'

'Yes, always. Well, some sort of sex. You know, simple things like……..'

'Do you make him come? It is a boy isn't it?'

'Yes, almost always.'

'Not always?'

'No. Sometime I try to make it a girl. I heard they will do things that boys won't do.'

'What things?'

I turned to that particular section in the book. Kissing generally, first on the mouth and then other bits of a boy's body. I've always wondered what that must feel like. Ears, and chest and nipples and tummies, and then lower still, my front bits, and then that tickly back part.

I've got Kerry transformed. He's got a perfectly good pair of my now redundant pants on under a pair of my old faded apricot summer cotton shorts, plus a nice old tee shirt that leaves some tummy showing. And the really good news is the fact that he's completely absorbed by the book. It tells you the best ways amongst different ways to do everything your heart might desire.

'Do you want to try this?' He says, pointing at the two figures locked together.

'If you do Kerry?'

'Where should we do it?'

'I don't know. Anywhere I suppose.'

'Lying down?'

'Yes, or just sitting here as we are; to start with. We should read what it says first.'

I read out the two pages on the subject of how best to use your mouth and tongue. You start with the lightest of touches, and some key words. Words of love. I'm not sure about Kerry, but I know how I'm feeling about him. I'm going to let him know, now.

'Of course I do Arlo! I do like you. Lots.'

'Enough to do this?'

'Yes! Please can we? Now?'

So we got down to the task of kissing one another. It was the acid test of what's going on between us, and just how deep our feelings are running. Apart from the obvious there can be no touching except ears, and eyes, and hair, and neck. Nowhere else. Not yet.

We sat side by side on my single bed which is fine for that purpose, him to my right which seemed to suit us both, that way around. From our tentative beginning, we gradually progressed through the stages of making love to each other. That's what the book said it was. Making love to each other. Saying the right things, things you want and need the other person to know. How you feel about them. How you care about them and how you have a great need to show them in this very physical and emotional way, by putting your mouths together as one complete and binding entity.

Kerry has beautiful legs, and arms, most of both I can see as we break for a rest. I'm sure he's pleased with our progress so far. It was lovely. Sheer pleasure all the way. He' fallen back onto the bed now as I look down on him. His eyes look watery, as mine are. Bless him, he's……….so lovely. Exactly that. Lovely.

Something else too. I'm looking at those old shorts he's gladly accepted from my wardrobe. There's something in there under two layers of material that also likes what we've been up to for the past ten minutes, and surprise surprise, precisely the same thing has happened to me too! Well well.

Kerry's shirt has ridden up his tummy leaving an expanse of bare skin, very slightly coloured by past summer sun, and at the lower end a width of paler skin before I see the gathered apricot material that adorned my own loins not so long ago.

I put a hand on that bare flesh and felt it warm and soft. I felt inside his navel which made him smile. And what a smile he has, the lucky boy. It's like an invitation to share with him all our joyfulness at knowing each other. Just our being together. Even on the bus. Especially on the bus. Just an ordinary place made extra-ordinary by our being together there.

So here we are now. We've shared our mouths and tongues and got ourselves thoroughly messed up with excess saIiva and all that. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. That was a sweet moment, utterly mundane and funny.

'Sorry.'

'I like it.'

'Oh good. So do I.'

We looked at each other with fading smiles, me above him, he submissive, obviously, endearing, and waiting.

'What now Arlo?'

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The Bus Stop

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 5