The Bus Stop

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 11

With a little help from me, Kerry turns himself over onto his back, and on top of me, his legs astride mine so I can get one hand between his legs and start a very pleasant exploration of every surface there is to be experienced down there, and every feature of his body landscape. It's a glorious exploration of the sheer tactility of a young human body. He makes himself so accessible. Judging by those purring appreciative sounds he always makes when I touch him anywhere, even an ear or his arm, he's loving the attention I constantly want to give him, for the simple reason that I love everything about him. His bottom cheeks just as an example. Just to pass my palms over them in a rhythmic pattern, back and forth is almost as good as anything. They feel so firm and ultimately smooth as I travel to their limits, deep within, and then back to the lowest part of the boy's back, and trace a line upwards until I reach his soft neck and the back of his head and pass my fingers through his lengthy dark hair, and feel the deep breathing, the warm breaths as they move over my shoulder. Blissful indeed. And then back again, all the way down to where he knows I'm going to go. Deep between his buttocks. He knows alright, and it's exactly where he wants me. Yes, there . I know what he instinctively wants from me but I'm not to go further than I am now, circling around like a bird of prey waiting for his moment to do the deed. I've been here before a couple of times to show him how to clean himself there, very effectively which he now does as routine so I have no concerns about anything mucky lurking there. Nothing at all. Every boy looks inside his pants when they come off at night. I always checked Kerry's while he watches. They remain as white as the driven snow.

So I shall keep going, inducing those soft sighs as I brush a finger-tip where he needs and wants it most in that teasy way I do it for him, with the very lightest of touches that make him squeal with pleasure. What was soft rapidly becomes a rigid form, considerably larger, and looking decidedly ready, immediately after we started to play this new game. I make him giggle as I touch him again, just the lightest touches in that most sensitive place packed with nerve endings.

'Can I do it while you……….'

'Yes of course. Please do.'

I can see his progress perfectly as I look down his body, his back lying on mine now and three fingers and a thumb working the foreskin up and down the hard shaft moving both of our bodies in unison. I know this will be quick for him and I'll know as his orgasm approaches. He's a boy who lets you know! And when his moments have passed, the long creamy form will return to recovery mode as and when it wants to, as the lingering sensation gently disappears from this lovely boy's consciousness, his eyes closing. I could feel his orgasm happen, the pulses against my finger-tips as I gently pressed them into his perineum. I've done this myself and felt the pulses. If you press hard it prevents the escape of your semen through the urethra and out of the pipework. It works, but without any loss of sensation. I think it all goes into the bladder, or somewhere. I don't know where. Having said that, gleaned from a book, I'd far rather a boy's seed was allowed out into the world unimpeded.

It's quickly over for Kerry and soon he will turns his face into mine. He gives me a nice little peck on my cheek and tries to grab my phone which is still recording this event. Kerry wants to see the results of his labour and so do I.

It's about four minutes long. With my back to the wall now, I have Kerry where I want him, knees bent and I'm wedged against him and where I want to be. I've done this myself a couple of times, before guiltily deleting it, recording the very pleasant event just as it happened. I'm sure, at least with me, it happens quicker because it's just so stimulating, knowing you can look at it later. I always do it with my eyes closed whilst deep in thought about…….well, something interesting to help me get there.

I had set the camera to the highest quality which I know produces almost perfect detail. I'm looking down Kerry's body and we're getting four minute's worth of something pretty amazing, from the beginning of the process right to the final outcoming. Absolutely lovely, all enhanced by the beautiful sound effects Kerry lends the visuals. If ever anyone wanted inspiration, then this is it, but something that can never be shared.

I've got into a nice rhythm now, gently pushing at him rather than into him. In the Best Book, it calls this intercrural sexual activity, where there is no penetration but it is all about gentle friction between the penis and the tightly closed buttocks resulting in orgasm with your sperm on his skin rather than within your partners body. I'm sure it doesn't matter with us if Kerry gets it inside him. There's no way we could be infected with anything like you really would not want. But we are lacking something rather vital if even this is to work. Knect, our very personal lubricant, courtesy of the local Tesco supermarket where you might check out an item a young teen is not expected to buy and without anyone likely to know you are. But thereby lies a problem.

Kerry's gone to sleep, the ungrateful little tyke, so I've gone back to my makeshift bed on the floor to finish off for the night, re-running the video on my phone to help me on my merry way. One and a half minutes it took. Not a record but close. One thing was a record though; how far it went. For the first time it was an 'over the shoulder' event. Was it the quality of my little fantasy, or rather the memory of it, or my body is continuing to surprise and delight me? There certainly seems to be more of it each time after a disappointing start as it was when I began my journey towards sexual maturity around the age of eleven, not that long ago. That's where Kerry is now.

He is however showing encouraging signs but there's nothing to get excited about as yet, apart from a couple of drops of the clear sticky stuff which I always get well before the main event. It tastes quite different if you've never tried it, less sort of, bitter. Or something. Has anyone put into words, a description of it? Maybe I'll find one online.

Am I encouraged to try someone else's? It's not an issue for me with dry bone Kerry, but I'm hoping in the not- too-distant future it will be. Anyway, my view at the moment is the act of doing that to someone nice outweighs any not-so-nice effects on my delicate palette! Given the chance I'd give it a go for sure. Come on Kerry, don't make we wait for ever, please!

I found these descriptions, below, for your possible delectation, amongst many others.

I've found that the hotter the guy, the better it tastes…smells and tastes like spa water…..deep fried mushrooms covered in dishwater soap……sometimes it's tangy, but in a good way……if I use flavoured lube, it often tastes like the lube, which is a bonus……to me. It tasted like snot…….for me, beer makes it taste foul……s weet, slightly salty, and bitter, like dark chocolate with sea salt……creamy to liquid consistency…….bitter, salty, slightly lemony, a faint floury taste………

I don't know what you make of those impressions? It doesn't sound all that good to me but I can certainly tolerate mine, no problem. I'm wondering what Kerry will make of mine, if and when that ever comes about? How might I put it to him. He has it in his hands sometimes, examining it in detail with questions like…..

'Where was the skin attached, before they cut it off?'

A good question. And what is the extent of the attachment? I really don't know.

A nice feeling makes me sleepy and as usual it worked. Eight hours of lovely sleep before I wake up Kerry in the best way possible, the lucky boy. I wish I got woken up like that. First, the initial encroachment under the duvet, to find a thigh or part of his hip, being careful not to get too close to anything more sensitive. Give the tummy a gentle massage too. Then, slowly and stealthily, move nearer to where you want to be. Being careful not to tickle or be too firm about it, begin to fondle him, the little oval forms first, and then moving on to the penis itself. Feel him as the smooth as silk organ gets the message and begins to grow within your fingers. Gradually the boy comes out of sleep into the conscious world, begins to move his body this way and that, and then finally realizes what is going on, and either lets you have your way with him, or he might just turn over onto his tummy telling you that what you are doing with him is not welcome. There's only one response from Kerry. If he wants you to, which almost always he will, you take him all the way there. Anyway, that's the theory!

A night's sleep shall intervene.

I woke to seeing mum giving me the evils.

'Get up Arlo. I need to talk to you.'

I knew this could not be good news. What had she found out?

I was just in my dressing gown with my hand over what I still had, and probably have had for a while. These things or more specifically this thing between my legs, takes a while to subside.

'What mum?' I said, rubbing an eye.

'Yes Arlo. What? What's this about?'

'What's what about?'

I checked with the school. There are no clubs, or societies that meet after school on Fridays. Where have you been? It's not just you now Arlo, it's Kerry too. He's living with us which brings us certain responsibilities, in case you haven't worked that out yet. Where have you been, because I know you've not been in the school? You cannot tell me lies Arlo. So, where have been and exactly what have you been doing?'

Oh shit. Tell her we've both been modelling for a life class? Or lie? Nice choice eh? I sat there, my penis complaining that it wasn't getting the attention it deserved this morning due to this untimely interview.

'And if your explanation is not convincing, I shall ask Kerry what you're both up to. And if he is not completely honest with me, he will not stay here. The Local Authority will have to take him on and get him a temporary foster home. Get it?'

One needs to be fully conscious to deal with this onslaught. But I'm not so I have to do my best to think straight and quickly……

'I've got it mum. You know I told you I needed more pocket money? Dad said we couldn't run to any extra expense what with the interest rates going up and the Budget coming soon. Then as we were walking back from church last Sunday I saw that advert on the gate outside that house? It wanted a Saturday boy to do a bit of cleaning. I phoned the number and the guy said we could both have a trial but it had to be during the week. So that's it. That what we are doing.'

'Ok. Now tell me where this place is and who this guy is please?'

'It's near the church. It's an art studio. They do courses in there.'

'What sort of courses, exactly?'

'Drawing and painting classes. Tuesdays it's portrait drawing. We get there after school and clear up after the last one. There's loads of charcoal all over the floor all trodden in. We get the tea things ready and wash it all up after their break. We're there about an hour. The same thing on Thursdays.'

'And how much do you get paid for this?'

'Eight pounds each. In an envelope. Cash. Kerry hasn't any money. It embarrasses him because we pay for everything. It's humiliating for him. Cruel in fact. It's not his fault either. I'm doing it for him mum. Trying to be supportive, against all the odds.'

I'm trying to turn the tables on mum; appeal to her generous side if you like. It usually works and I suspect it's going to work this time. I just need to lay it on a bit thicker, but not overdo it, and try to divert her. Get her off balance.

'Imagine how you would feel mum, if you were in his position. I know I would feel pretty small. I've found out when he gets his results by the way. In two weeks. Because he has no phone or email he will have to wait longer before he finds out. Of course he can't afford a phone. But if he had some money of his own he could buy a cheap one and use our connection here; and have an email address…….all to himself and build up just a little self-esteem. Couldn't he?'

And now for the jugular!

'He loves you mum; for everything you've done for him, and us. And for what you will do for him. Please mum? Not for me but for Kerry? We'll do anything you want, like help more around the house. Anything mum. Please?'

With tears forming in my eyes.

She's looking at me with that look she gives me when she's not sure where to go with the issue next. I think I'm winning, possibly.

'Alright. But I'm concerned for Kerry. Are you sure about this Arlo?'

'Yes mum. It's fine. You know I'll look after him. He's with me all the time.'

'Well, if you're sure.'

I am sure. But unfortunately that's not the end of our little talk.

'There's something else Arlo. I was back early today and I was going through your room.'

Oh s……h……i……..t. I know what's coming next.

The book on gay sex was one thing and the other was the container of the personal lubricant, Knect. How will I explain that away? Basically, no way can I.

'It was in the bookshelves mum. I saw it and as it was in our house and just there, I thought it was something any of us could look at. That's what I thought mum. I mean why would we have it in the house if we weren't supposed to look at it? Perhaps it should have been locked away or something, if it's something banned from us? And Kerry has had a bit of a problem. With his foreskin. You know, when it doesn't come back properly. It's fine now but he just needed something to ease it. I asked the nurse about it at school. She told me that he needed some stuff like that. He's much happier now mum. I've got him sorted so there's no need to worry. Is it alright if I keep it please, just in case he gets a recurrence? He didn't want to bother you with it. Sorry if we should have done. It's a sort of boys' thing mum. Things like that can be embarrassing for us.'

I think my mum is ever so slightly shell shocked by my argument for a bit of independence and self-sufficiency. And here come's my check-mate move.

'And dear mum, I've been praying for Kerry, really hard. And for our family that are so supportive him, and me, and Fiona too, and you too. I've been praying really hard every day and night. We all love you so much.'

I wiped an eye. But have I overdone it?

'Have you darling? That is so sweet of you. I didn't think that you……..'

'I've been thinking about it quite a lot recently. And then we went to church. Things rather flooded into my mind. And now there's Kerry. It's quite hard to bear sometimes. What he has gone through, and still going through. Is there any news about his granny's funeral yet?'

Another clever diversion. I think I must be headed for the Civil Service one day as a diplomat. I think I could rival Nigel Hawthorn's act any day. I think I'll aim for the PM's PPS, and for the uninitiated, that stands for Personal Private Secretary, in my case, to no one less than the Prime Minister himself. At least it won't be Boris now, or Liz, or that posh one from Winchester College; Rishi was it? I liked him. I can't remember who we got after that. I know it's the honest lawyer Kier now, but I'm not sure how long he'll last. Anyway……..

'No darling, nothing yet, but the time it takes for these things to be decided seems to be getting longer and longer.'

'Right, so there's a long waiting list is there? Seems rather grim, people being made to wait around for three weeks or more before they can get themselves done.'

At least Kerry didn't really know his granny so he had just a little time to get attached to her, emotionally. He seems to be dealing with it all pretty well. Actually I'm not sure who is dealing with it. Mum has been round there and met the social services person who knew about Miriam, how or why I'm not privy too. The less I know the better, and Kerry needs to know even less than that.

I'm feeling elated after my talk with mum, and very randy towards Kerry. I'm wondering if he's still asleep. Maybe I'll video him waking up? I could gently remove the duvet off him and reveal all. Actually that idea rather appeals.

He's still sleeping but he needs to get up pretty soon, the scrumptious little scallywag. Let's have a look shall we?

Oh yes, very nice. His pyjama bottoms are nicely out of the way of all things and he looks very perky between his legs. My guess is that he was fiddling last night and fell asleep mid-feel, bless him. Anyway that's very convenient for me. It's all there right in front of my nose. I can actually smell the warmth coming off him. It's a strange mixture of boyish scents. He's got a horn, as we boys sometimes call it. Very young boys have 'morning wood' apparently. I must ask mum if I ever had morning wood! Kerry's is, as I mentioned, intact, as opposed to my long circumcision scar, probably about three centimetres of it when I'm up properly. I had some sort of infection a couple of times so they decided I needed to be rid of the skinny bit which should prevent any recurrence of that problem. In my class I'm the only one like that. In the Good Book it has an illustration of the various parts of the male anatomy, all labelled so I know what and where the frenulum is. Mine seems intact, but sometimes they can be accidentally damaged, so I read. When Kerry's skin is drawn back, his penile head is slightly more pointy than mine which looks a bit stubby to me, but perfectly formed with a very definite corona surrounding the head part, the glans. I'd love to draw it, amongst one or two other things I'd like to do with it.

We've looked at the section in The Book about what the author calls 'mouth music'. It says that is the standard way to give pleasure to your partner and more fun for both of you than just a hand, and then there's a whole lot on how you might want to deal with the product of your guy's orgasm. It's a no-brainer as far as Kerry is concerned. When it wants to come, just let it come. I'm kneeling here wondering if I might try it. I suppose I had better not. I'll give him a nice gentle kiss instead. He'll like that. I know I'll have to think hard before I dare put his willy in my mouth. He absolutely adores kissing does Kerry, and we have a new plan for our bus journeys too. Now it's colder weather we all wear coats to school, even those bastard vain girls we are forced to travel with. With those on, no one can see a boy's horn. So our bus journeys might just be getting more interesting.

I'm leaning over Kerry and as I lower my face towards his, his eyes open. He screws them up a couple of time and uses a hand to gently rub them. Oh he's so lovely! I love him, I love him.

'Hello sleepy boy.' I say quietly.

He smiles as his left hand finds his horn. I suppose it's the first thing our hands do once we're half conscious. I'm gently stroking his cheek and it's not the one on his face. With the duvet drawn right back and his pj's halfway down his thighs, he's made himself available. His smile lingers on as I continue to move my hand around and around the beautiful form, occasionally straying behind and between. When I stray into that region the smile widens, the head goes back, and I can see his pearlies shining white in the dimness. This is all about tactile sensation so we don't need to see anything. It's all about feeling; and hearing my boy's little appreciative sounds he always makes. What a way to be woken eh?

Kerry guides my hand to where he needs it. What a delicate object it is, almost hot to the touch, and when I squeeze, there's no give at all. It is just like a hard bone, wanting.

'Can we kiss again please?'

'No. You have to get out of bed now Kerry. We're going to be late for the bus if you don't get a move on. Come on!'

'On the bus then. Please?'

'Alright, on the bus.'

I swing both of his legs out and off the bed and pull his arms so he's sitting up now as he rubs his eyes again, his legs wide apart as I sit between them, my fingers tickling him in that tantalizing place under his very mobile little balls of fire. He likes it when I jiggle them about. Kerry moves his body forwards. I know what this means. A bit of delving required.

It's too tight to make any significant progress here but nonetheless a good omen for what one day we might enjoy, fully.

Last night we played with the clear and ultimately slippery substance in the tube of Knect. Kerry wanted to know what it would feel like when he was anointed, shall we say, in order to receive a similarly anointed middle finger.

'Should I be on my back do you think?'

'Maybe, but I want to see your face Kerry. We could kiss then, at the same time?'

'Ok. Where should my legs be?'

'Just with your knees up I think, and wide apart. Something comfortable for you.'

'Will it come?'

'No. That would take ages. The book said it can take twenty minutes or more.'

We had been ready the bit about prostate massaging. I had no idea you could get the feeling that way. It said that some boys can get a feeling when they do it and not just the boy doing it. The one being done to can as well. It was best if the boy sat facing you and sitting on you, or the other way around with him lying back on you. It said that creates a really good angle and the boy on his back can be played with while you do it. Either way is great. But for us? And when?

I kissed Kerry all the time I was doing it. I didn't need to go that far to reach what I assume was the little nut shaped thing a little way inside Kerry's bottom. The Knect stuff was perfect. It was so simple, the whole operation. I did it for him for about ten minutes but he didn't get a feeling.

'I think it nearly came Arlo.'

'So it felt good did it?'

'Oh yes, lovely. I'm sure something was happening. Why did you stop?'

'I didn't think that…….'

'It was Arlo. I think something was just beginning. I'm sure it was. And look.'

His bone had diminished to a soft pale skinny thing, the foreskin covering part of the head.

'What's this stuff Arlo?'

He's holding himself. The aforementioned 'stuff' has dripped down onto his thumb, a perfectly clear viscous liquid, the same 'stuff' that I get.

'Do you know what that is Arlo?'

'Yes I do Kerry. It's good. It shows you're getting there. It won't be long now.'

'What won't be long?'

'Until you start getting like me, you beauteous wonder.'

He smiles again and I get that deep feeling inside me when I see him smile like that. I love him absolutely to the hilt, deep down inside me, deep within me, and perfectly.

'When will I?'

'Soon.'

'Like this?' He says looking at his wet thumb.

'Like that and different. More.'

'Like yours?'

'Yes, like mine.'

'When can I see it?'

I fetched a pair of pants from the chest of drawers. This morning ritual is always a pleasure as he presents me with two feet. He doesn't wipe his thumb on the duvet. He puts it to his mouth, a far better choice.

Kerry stands so I can finish this simple job, the one and a half inches of that part of him still extending to what I estimate to be four, in old money. I get it nicely tucked in and perfectly contained, and vertical. I'll see that item again on the bus.

We shall rest and we shall see. We shall see and we shall know. We shall know and we shall love. We shall love and give thanks for it. And for our ending which shall have no end.

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The Bus Stop

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 11