The Bus Stop

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 13

Kerry's taking off his outdoor coat and hanging it up with the others near the back door in the kitchen. Mum isn't up yet thank goodness. If she was she'd demand to know where he's been. Out for a walk on his own, or something? She and dad lie in on a Saturday morning just as we all do. Mum and dad probably have a good productive cuddle. I've never heard them rowing, not properly, but I've heard them doing something else. Maybe I'm perverted or something but I stood outside their door one morning and listened for about ten minutes until………well, it was all over and everything went quiet! I had an erection listening to them doing it. I think the sound of sex going on is incredibly erotic, be it boys or girls or even your own parents. Maybe it was an empathy thing for dad, doing it while he did it with mum. A sort of boys' club thing. He let out a really loud gasping noise close the end. The end being when he put his sperm into mummy presumably. I suppose we kids think that after the age of twenty-five or thirty they never do that kind of thing ever again. It's perfectly logical that they go on doing it for as long as they can, or want to. I heard them several times now. Once mum made amazing noises, like almost shouting out. I think women can have some sort of come too but I think that's rare. Pretty good really. It's a bit shocking to think about your mum having a cum. I think she is still young enough to give us a baby and certainly not too old to enjoy making love with dad. I'd quite like that. Maybe I get it from them. Anyway I have my own baby now, Kerry, and all his loveliness. I look after him and love him like he's my wife. And I have sex with him now. We've finally made it. Yes, I put my penis in his bottom and rubbed it up and down inside him until I orgasm into him. Do I like it? Yes, I bloody well do! He loves it as much as I do, being wonderfully active while we do it, pushing up as I go into him until our pelvic bones crunch together. I never leave him without him coming at some stage, almost always after I have. There's a nice way to do that too. he doesn't want to do it to me so I kiss it for him. It's kind of kissing I suppose. The Book says to use your tongue as well as your whole mouth and lips. The first time I found it really hard work. That's only fair. He needs to as much as I do. He told me and it's not fair otherwise. Why should I get it and he doesn't? He's just started getting his own too which he's rather chuffed about. Before it was just me producing the cloudy sweet stuff. Now I can coax it out of him too, the best way. Well almost the best way. One day he'll get a feeling when I'm doing it to him. That's our aim, to get him to do that while I video the event. He's not going to be with us for ever, we both know that. We've had social services here a couple of times now, asking questions and having a general sniff around the house. Fair enough, it's good that they are at least interested in Kerry's welfare. From what we hear, far too many young people are consigned to inappropriate situations in which they can and do struggle to reach any potential they may have. Sad indeed. Our life chances are always in the balance it seems. I know I am one of the lucky ones.

Dad says that so much of our lives are made for us; by other people or just by accident. Kerry is a good example isn't he? I only know him because he turned up in Hythe.

Look, I'm sorry to bang on about sex all the time. The thing is………it's so much of what we think about, me and Kerry. I know it looks like we don't do anything else at the moment but we do. Most things we do are mundane and not worth talking about really, apart from our relationship which is not, as much as you might think it is, based on lust and all that sexy stuff we get up to. We are just two young boys finding out about interesting stuff we enjoy doing, as it happens. At least we're not addicted to screens like most boys are these days. All they do is play on Roblox or Minecraft. We play with ourselves. Far more interesting! Anyway I apologise for all the sex talk and how it might bore you, but I can assure you that it doesn't bore us simply because it is a natural extension to the other feelings we have for each other, just like it is for mum and dad. But where has that little scamp Kerry been this morning? He won't lie when I ask him where he's been. He's good like that. He'll just tell me.

I was right. He went to Henry's house that Saturday morning, very early, the ungrateful little worm.

'You've been to Henry's place haven't you Kerry. You might as well tell me you have because I followed you. I saw where you went.'

I lied of course. If he asked me where I saw him go, I wouldn't be able to give him an answer, but he didn't. I didn't know he'd left the house. He believed me as I knew Kerry would believe me. He's not got a deceitful bone in his lovely body, and he's not a worm. He has one, a very pretty one he keeps in his pants, but he , his entirety, is not a worm. Henry fancied him big time. That was obvious to me, and everyone else probably. I fancy him too, come to that. Did Henry give him twenty-five quid for letting him have his wicked way with him? That would make Kerry some sort of rent boy wouldn't it? A rent boy! Maybe he's been one before, but I'm never going down that line of enquiry with him. That would not be right. His past is his to own, not ours. At least Henry would be kind to him. He's sweet really. The opportunity presented itself to him and he could not resist the temptation to go for it. A boy on a plate, just for him up there in his bedroom.

Kerry told me what had happened, right from the start. That was after mum had another of her talks with me.

'Darling I need to talk to you for a few minutes.'

Oh shit, another one of those talks. It's never good news, as every boy knows when he's summoned for a talking to by his mum. But this one was good news. Apparently my sister Fiona was on my side for a change.

'I've been talking to your sister darling. It's not fair that you have to sleep on the floor every night like you are now. We're getting you a proper bed.'

'Oh thanks mum!'

Then another thought strikes me. Where will it go. Next to Kerry's or in the opposite corner?

'With the furniture where it is, and the quite large space near your old bed, we thought next to his would be the best place for it. What do you think of that Arlo?'

Is the Pope Catholic? And I have my sister Fiona to thank. It was her suggestion that it should go next to Kerry's bed, and guess what my first thought was on hearing this good new? You've guessed it. The small gap between them can be surreptitiously closed when it suits us, which will be every night as far as I'm concerned, so we can have a little get together in comfort and according to mum, in more privacy too. Perhaps she won't feel compelled to check on us every five minutes.

'I realise that I've been a bit draconian Arlo, about constantly checking up on you. Your sister has convinced me. You two are entitled to your privacy.'

Hurray! At effing last. It's totally obvious both Kerry and I are as gay as large pink tents isn't it? Probably. And as such, we would quite like a little occasional intimacy. Actually I want lots of it.

So does the good looking and very sexy Henry. Kerry explains……..

'It was after the life drawing last night Arlo. Henry beckoned me over.'

'You make a perfect lovely model Kerry. And the way you very kindly took off your clothes at the beginning. I have to admit I thought that was very beautiful. I'm so sorry if what I'm saying offends you? I do hope not. It was just the way you did it. You look so good in those little pants. So pretty. You really are a lovely little boy.'

'No. I just had to do it. I don't mind doing that.'

'Do you not?'

'No, not at all.'

'Is that so? What if you were prepared to do that for me again, somewhere?'

'I could do. Where?'

'In the privacy of my home, I think. That would be a good place, don't you think? Just you and me?'

'Would you draw me?'

'Of course. A couple of quick sketches would be great. It would be so kind of you if you would consider it? Of course I would pay you for your time?'

'How much? I'm saving up for a phone.'

'Oh, would twenty pounds tempt you?'

Oh, so that's how it went?

'I didn't think you'd notice I wasn't here.'

'Well I did, and thank for telling me. I didn't follow you, but I had to know the truth Kerry. I always need to know. So what happened?'

'He gave me his address and explained where it was in relation to here. He lives on Albert Road so it's only five minutes from here. It's a tiny house. He was in his dressing gown. I could see he had nothing on underneath.'

'How?'

'It wasn't done up properly at the front so I got glimpses of his thingy.'

'Did he take it off at any stage?'

'No, but I could see him because it wasn't done up tight. You could see his………through the gap when he moved.'

'What's it like?'

'It was big. Bigger than yours gets.'

'Thanks Kerry. He's older don't forget.'

'He said he was twenty……..two I think. He told me after I asked him how old he was. He sat on his bed and I stood in front of him.'

'And undressed?'

'Yes. I put everything on the chair beside the bed. He told me I could keep my pants on. At least for a minute or two.

'You are a bit tasty in those Kerry.'

'I came up a bit Arlo. I'm not sure why.'

'Did you indeed?'

'Umm. A couple of times. He just looked at me for ages.'

'He was admiring you. Who wouldn't. I do for a start.'

'Then he wanted me to show him. I did Arlo, with him watching me. Lying on his bed. I didn't look at him Arlo, inside his dressing gown. I didn't.'

'Henry knows what I know. You are, very simply, the best boy ever invented.'

'Am I?' He says, smiling and screwing up his eyes.

'You are. So what did he do while you were……….?'

'I don't know. Nothing I suppose.'

'You didn't see?'

'No, not then. I gave him my pants.'

'You gave them to him? Why?'

'I don't know. He just put them to the side.'

'Oh gosh. Where are they now?

'He still has them. I told him I had to go home otherwise I wouldn't be able to visit him again. He got off the bed when I did to get dressed.'

'Ok Kerry. So you got the money?'

'Umm. In an envelope. He said he was sorry for asking me. He said it wasn't fair of him to ask me.'

'And what did you say to that?'

'I said that you'd be cross with me if you knew. I said I didn't want any money. He said I had to keep it. I left it on the bed. I knew I shouldn't have gone there. I'm sorry. Are you angry with me?'

'No, I'm not angry with you Kerry but you have to learn a few more things about people. Come here.'

He deserved a punishment. More than a good telling off. All he got was a really hard cuddle. Nothing more. It was a strange feeling for me, like having a boy brought before you when he knows he's done wrong and is sorry for his mistake.

I was once on the receiving end of a very serious telling off by a teacher in my primary school. He was one of the young ones and although I didn't realise it at the time, I must have found him very attractive, thinking back. It was how he did it, my admonition, in a kind sort of way that made me feel ashamed and wanting to be forgiven by him, no one else, just him, at that moment. It was one of my earliest sexual experiences. I know it aroused me, the way he did it. I can remember standing and seeing him sitting in front of me. I can't say for certain but I think he may have had an erection. I suppose it's a domination thing, having that kind of power over a small boy. As I walked away I felt I had been beaten and enjoyed it. No boy was ever beaten. Odd that, but I was quite definitely aroused, fully. I had a full-blown hardon. Pretty weird when I think back, which I sometimes do, and those thought still have an effect on me. I liked him. A sort of early crush thing. I was nine at the time and without realising it, I must have wanted something physical with him, like a hug, or a 'there there, don't cry' sort of cuddle with him. If he'd carefully undone the front of my school short trousers there and then, lowered my brief pants and played with me, I would certainly not have stopped him.

I read an article recently in a magazine mum gets. I often read things in there. It's for girls and younger women. I learn a few things this way. The piece was about sex offenders and how they suffer guilt after doing something bad. It doesn't take them long to get over that and try to do it again with often the same person. Henry didn't touch Kerry, or so he says and I do believe him. He's a useless liar. Henry just wanted to watch Kerry doing something interesting, which he did. I've watched Kerry ejaculate onto his tummy and it's very enjoyable to see, and hear him do it. Just a couple of drops so far but I'm certain there's a lot more where that came from. Six months ago I was the same. Not now. There was a bit more of the Henry story……

'Henry asked about you Arlo. He wanted to know if we were doing things together.'

'And?'

'I said we did a few things, and how much I love you, and how grateful I am for being rescued. Do you love me Arlo?'

'Yes I do.' I said, stroking his face. 'Do you think he wants us both?'

'He might?'

'Well don't ask him Kerry. Not a good idea.'

We agreed that the recording of an event, Kerry and I fucking our brains out for example, not that we have or even will do, could be done using my phone, but certainly not Henry's! Occasionally, just for fun, we have these extreme thoughts with no intension of ever actually doing it, please rest assured! It is fun to make up scenarios like that, the obvious one being getting the horn during a life class, which is by no means impossible. Quite likely actually. Another one is to sea bathe nude down on Hythe beach. That might well increase visitor numbers for the town. As it is, boys in attractive bathing knickers get looked at. I know because I've done it. Very few boys these days actually wear brief bathing kit, and ditto their underwear. Maybe there will be a come-back for proper pants one day as fashions change. But that's all due to the sex scandal stuff that we've all heard so much about recently. The Churches for example. Bishops fucking boys. Scout masters fucking the likes of me and Kerry? Cub scouts parading nude for them on camps and the like and sleeping in their tents. I'm not at all sure I'd like to be fucked by a bishop, would I? I think not, on reflection. By a boy scout? That would be different. But please, not the scout master! Unless………? Only joking.

So if we ever do 'do it' as Kerry puts it, who wants to be the one doing it, and will the other one like being 'done to'? I asked Kerry which arrangement would suit him, doing it as opposed to being done to? I pretty much know the answer to that question, he's definitely in the 'done to' camp.

And he knows exactly how he wants to do it. There is a drawing of that position in the Book. The boy, in our case, sits on your tummy facing you so the boy underneath, me, can see Kerry's face, plus his penis. If he leans forward we can kiss, another bonus. I can also get to his bottom and between and under him if I want to while he can play with himself in an attempt to orgasm simultaneously, all in an ideal world. All that appeals to us. Kerry can do himself, should the desire take him, while I'm actively inside him, pushing upwards and hard inwards. I can't wait! There's quite a lot of fun studying the possibilities afforded by that very Good Book, the Art of Gay Sex. Was it dad who brought that into the house, or a Christmas present from mum?

'I know you have a gay side to you darling so I've bought you a book to get you on your way with the next young bit of stuff you pick up in Brighton.'

Perish that particular thought, but seriously, why is that book in our house? I mean the Joy of Sex is one thing, but that? Umm.

On the other hand, Andrew Motion, an former Poet Lauriate, said on a CD I have, that he thinks all straight men, and boys too, have a bit of gay in them. Some more than others it would appear, thank goodness.

Then there are the gay boys who want to hide that fact, and they should if they want to. And then there's me. I'm not going around the place telling all and sundry I'm gay. That's for me to know and only me, plus Kerry. That's why I don't wear my nice silky 'panties' when I know I have to publicly change for Games or PE. The others would think certain thoughts and no doubt voice their concerns to others.

But what about our dads? Mine went to boarding school and we all know what that meant in the nineteen eighties? Lots of unrestricted sex going on; little boys with other little boys in the 'dorm' at night, or little boys with admiring big boys too. Beatings with your pants down, freely and lovingly given by the Under-Housemaster. I think you'll be the one underneath. Actually I'm sure that's a pernicious myth but it's quite fun to imagine the goings on at Do The Boys Hall, little Johnny being shagged senseless each and every night whilst wanking himself into oblivion. I know I have asked dad before but I must quiz him again sometime, exactly what his experience was at Aldeburgh Manor School for boys. I know he enjoys his weekend sessions with mum so as a boy he must have had those feelings just as I have now. So did anything happen for him? I'd love to know.

Now there's a pretty thought. Ooh, that inspires me to ask Kerry a silly and naughty question……

'Do you think we should let Henry fuck us?' I asked Kerry.

'Together?'

'Err, that might be tricky for him sweetheart.'

'Oh yes I suppose he couldn't could he.'

'Are you sure you did well in your 11+ exam Kerry?'

Bless his little cotton knickers. And one less pair of them now. I wonder if Henry will return them next week? And in what condition?

I think my mother must have thought that very brief underwear sexualized boys and made them look like girls. So if girls can, why not the boys? So my own early examples were those voluminous classic briefs for boys that had an opening at the front, probably from that non-sexy clothing place Marks and Whatnot. When she agreed to buy me what I really wanted I would wear them to bed and enjoy abusing them on a nightly basis. By morning you wouldn't know anything had befallen them. Then I might do the deed again!

Dad wears the modern man's kit. My sister Fiona very cute little knickers, and mum……..the same but a bit more of them. In summer it all gets hung on the line in the garden. Fiona also wears those thong things which do not appeal to me one bit. No, not for me. I like the idea of something encroaching between my buttocks but not that. It can't be hygienic surely, in most cases, but it wouldn't be a problem with me or Kerry. We are most particular! I can't imagine many boys sticking two fingers up there every morning, or girls. I'm wondering if girls like to play with their bottoms as much as boys do? I ought to ask Lilly on our bus some time shouldn't I.

'Lilly?'

'What?'

'Do you like putting a couple of fingers up your bum?'

'Do you?'

'Umm. It feels sort of…….interesting.'

'Fuck off Arlo!'

I laughed quietly to myself. I bet that Lilly is a filthy little girl. She likes Kerry, so he better watch out.

I told Phil at the Art studio that we would not be there next Thursday because Kerry gets his dreaded exam result that day, not emailed to him because he has no email account, yet, so he has to wait until he gets it verbally delivered to him in the afternoon. Everyone else will know before that, around midday. We won't know until he sees us later to tell us the good or bad news. Me first as I will see him on the bus. We will go straight home, and it happens to be the same day when my new bed is delivered. Hopefully two bits of good news I've had the temerity to pray for. I don't know what God thinks of me these days having fallen from grace a bit lately, what with lusting after a boy. I'm told by the Vicar at St. Leornards that He [please note my tactful use of the capital 'H'] will still love me even though I am indeed a sinner in thought and lately, in deed as well. But He was human. Did He ever get what boys get in the morning? I hope so, then He can still love me despite my failings. Anyway, He might grant my humble petitions. And what should I do if He does look kindly upon this miserable sinner, his humble servant? Go on loving Kerry. That's what He wants me to do. He's told me in so many words. Thank you, I will.

I've realized something just now; I would really love to know what my dad's school was like and who his friends were. Perversely I hope he had a couple of affairs. That's what mum calls them…….affairs. It's a good word for it. Yes, did my dad ever do it with anyone? I hope he did, but whether he would ever tell me is another thing altogether. Would you tell your son you played naughty games with a few boys? I'm not sure I would, but if your son was obviously 'that way inclined' I might well tell him, then he would know that those genes ran in the family, a sort of excuse if anyone ever needed one, which they don't.

We have various old family photo albums too, going rith back to mum and dad's childhood. Maybe I might find some evidence, incriminating or otherwise, in those large scrapbooks all kept in big cardboard boxes in the drawing room cupboard to one side of the marble 1910 fireplace? In due course I shall look, and learn! In the meantime, did Kerry learn enough?

Thursday the 22 ^nd of October. 15.55. Deliverence Day.

To say I'm nervous is something of an understatement. I'm on the bus home and there are two minutes to go before we arrive at Kerry's stop to pick him up. If he passes, and gets a place at the Grammar, he'll be with me for years to come. Maybe travelling on the same bus too, depending on what social services decide where he's to go on a permanent basis. They have contacted a relative, the whereabouts of that person or persons gleaned from something found in all his granny's papers that she left at her house after her passing. I don't think mum and dad really want long term responsibility for him either. If he has to go somewhere else altogether that will be a dreadful day. Quite awful. Please God, don't allow that to happen. Something to ask for next Sunday. You never know, He might exist, or rather to be respectful, He does exist. Right now I'm going to assume He does. One minute to go.

The bus draws up to the stop and I'm looking for him. He's not there. Oh for Christ's sake, he not there !

I ran to the front of the bus.

'Can you let me off please? I need to get off now. I need to find my friend.'

I must have sounded pretty urgent because the driver did stop the bus, and I got off. The girls just carried on chattering as always. I saw Lilly's face in the window, the stupid little girl, still looking daft. I stood on the pavement wondering what to do. Where to go next. Where would he be, or gone to?

I decided to set off towards the seafront, and then tripped on an uneven paving stone. My rucksack containing several text books and a couple of exercise books, all tumbled out onto the grey paving slabs, and my head with them, thus starting a close relationship between my eyes and cold grey damp concrete. My mind went blank through the shock of it, until the pain started. I had grazed both hands when I instinctively tried to break my fall forwards, but despite that effort, I hit my head hard on the ground. I must have lain there for two or three minutes trying to reorientate myself out of this mini nightmare, a sort of miasma of horrible images of Kerry's lifeless body swirling around in a cold grey sea just a few hundred yards away on the far side of the shingle beach I knew so well, mixed with surreal images of hospital workers in masks staring at me as I slowly, oh so slowly, passed out of this life.

He had grey hair, almost white, this man with a kind face. I looked up at him.

'You alright down there? I saw you fall.'

I tried to sit up and did with his assistance. He helped me gather up my books as I packed them back into the bag, and then took an arm to get me on my feet again. My knee hurt.

'Look, my car is just here. Let me take you home; please.'

I saw the car. It was a Range Rover. Black. They are nice vehicles that tend not to be owned by weirdos.

'I lost someone. My friend. He should have got on my bus back to Hythe. He didn't get on. I have to find him. He might have………'

'Oh he might not have. Perhaps he's walking home? Maybe along the seafront? Is he at your school? Maybe not. I went to your school many years ago. I shall help you find him if you'll allow me to? Shall we make a start? What's his name? Or is your Houdini a girl?'

'Kerry.'

'Right. And yours?'

'Arlo Templeton…….sir.'

'Oh, do I still sound like a teacher? Come on, hop in. We'll go and find him. Kerry; that's a nice name for a boy.'

I looked at him blankly, and got into the very smart vehicle. Do as you are told Arlo. As he started the engine, he glanced sideways at me, smiling. It's odd how one trusts someone, albeit a stranger, instinctively and completely. This man can take me anywhere.

The road goes all the way, literally along the beach, not far from where we were, roughly parallel with the main road from Folkestone, to Hythe. It was an awkward climb up into the passenger seat being quite high up, and a little painful too, but the pain was gradually dissipating as was the stinging grazed hands and one elbow. The grey-haired man gave me confidence, strangely, that I would find Kerry. The whole desperate situation made me weep I'm afraid. Who is he, this person?

'Seek and you shall find, young man.' He said, just after I had spotted a figure that looked like Kerry, sitting alone on the shingle beach close to the siling Club on Hythe seafront, a particular place we would go to.

I threw my rucksack onto the pavement and climbed down, my eyes not leaving the dark image not fifty yards away towards a calm deep grey sea. When I looked back, the kind man I trusted implicitly, was gone. I looked along the road towards the Martello Tower. There was no sign of the black car. It was just seconds ago he was here so there's no way it could have got that far. There was no sign of him. A shiver went through me.

I wiped tears away, trying to see the dark shape that I had thought might be Kerry. By now I knew it was him.

I am in no hurry now because I know it is Kerry sitting, knees raised with his hands clasped behind them, staring seawards. It's getting dark already, but as the gloom increases, so mine begins to lighten into a nervous euphoria which I have no right to. With the sound of the waves rolling into the shifting pebbles, the backwash louder still, Kerry doesn't hear me even when I'm just a few feet away.

Now he does, as I sit beside him. His face is tear stained but he manages a smile.

'Sorry Arlo. I shouldn't have done this. I'm sorry.'

'It's alright Kerry. I knew where you were. Is it alright if I sit with you?'

'Umm, yes please. I just needed a little time. I'm ok now.'

'Good. Let's just be quiet for a while.'

We listened to the rhythm of the waves, and that lovely sound of the backwash and the pebbles rolling back underneath the next incoming wave, just to be washed forwards again with the next one, all part of the inescapable and perpetual rhythm of life in all things, like the sea's heartbeat, an everlasting pulse with no beginning and no end.

The wait is unbearable. Quite suddenly he turns his face towards mine…….

'I passed Arlo. I passed.'

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The Bus Stop

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 13