The Bus Stop

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 19

Wednesday the 30^th of May 2025

Today is my birthday, fourteen years ago, at approximately 3.15 in the morning, in Folkestone General Hospital. Me, arrived on earth, a boy. Mum said it was like shelling peas.

'You were a real cutie right from the start darling.' She says, kissing the top of my head when eventually Kerry and I turned up for breakfast, dad long gone to work and Fiona, my sister, elsewhere for reasons I know not.

'Sleep well boys?' She asks.

'Fine thanks mum.' We say in unison. That's interesting. Kerry said mum too. That's the first time he's ever called her that. He realised his little slip of the tongue immediately and blushes. I'm careful not to look at him which I know will embarrass and annoy him. Interesting. I looked at mum and she had noticed too. For a few moments she didn't know where to put herself. It must have been a bit of a moment for her. I know my eyes went a bit misty. Mum loves him dearly, of that I have no doubt at all. She would love anyone who needed that from her.

Smiling she asks 'What would you two like to do today?'

I looked at Kerry, who has recovered his equilibrium and is just pouring out some fruity muesli into a cereal bowl.

I said 'We thought we'd go somewhere by bus.'

'Oh. Where had you in mind?'

'Rye I think. Kerry's never been there.'

'Good idea darling. Let me give you some money. Get yourselves something to eat.'

I packed a rucksack. A small towel, our swimming things just in case, two apples, two packets of crisps, and some sunscreen. The weather is forecast to be pretty warm today, around 28 degrees. The 102 double decker bus goes along the coast all the way to Hastings if we want to sit on it for a couple of hours, not that I do. Even Rye will take us over an hour. I've got clothes for my birthday, all from Jack and Jones. I like their stuff for boys. I also ordered some new retro shorts from an online company, all nineteen seventies and eighties sports kit, even old school uniforms, kids shorts and that kind of thing. Mum gave us ten pounds each which was generous of her. We're just in sleeveless tops and my new shorts which fit nicely around the bottom but flair out a bit. I got the same for Kerry. They're made of a kind of satin textured material and very lightweight. Quite exciting stuff. Kerry looks amazing in his. White pants underneath of course. Nothing exotic. I can see Kerry's through his shorts, the tell-tale triangular shape a shade whiter than the rest. Perfect and just as I intended. I know what gets looked at. With those long slim legs of his? Neither of us are cursed with flat bottoms, thanks to mum and dad, both of whom have nice rounded examples without being any sort of 'bubble'. I don't like those either. There are one or two of those at school and their pants always look too tight on them, like they're cutting into their buttocks. Worse still if they have their hands in their pockets, if they can get them in. Henry reckons we have good bottoms. He found the online shop where I got the stuff from.

We said goodbye to mum.

'Are those shorts old ones darling?'

I hedged the question, 'Umm, probably.'

'Aren't they a little…….obvious darling?'

'They're just plain ordinary things mum. Who's going to be looking anyway?'

I'm not sure she would agree with that. She's not that naïve. It's the beginning of the promenading season here on the south coast. Hopefully there will be someone looking. I've looked up the tide times on the Easytide website. When we get there it will be more or less low water and then coming in which drives everyone up the beach and far less spread out. On a Bank Holiday at high tide there's very little room at all. All the better to get near likely candidates, that's to say, other kids our age enjoying the sun on their almost naked bodies. Sod going on to Rye.

10.30 is early for Camber so the place is fairly empty despite today being in the middle of the summer half term, or Whitsun as mum calls it. The bus drops us off on the Lydd Road so we have a stroll down a sandy unmade road before we reach a left turn for the main beach carpark which has around twenty cars in it, one disgorging its contents of two mums with two boys and one girl in a pretty dress. The boys are in summer shorts that almost hide their knees, as is the fashion these days, topped by brightly coloured tees and nothing on their feet. The boys are carrying buckets and spades and one of those stripy windbreaks. The girl has the mallet for driving in the wooden poles into the sand for the windbreak. They make a handsome group, apart from the mums. One boy, he looks around ten, blond and already with a light tan, attempts to hoist up his yellow surfer style shorts unsuccessfully, still displaying a distinct shadow between his buttocks. He looks like that kind of boy, probably a refugee from a boarding school, who reject mum's offer of a towel to hide their modesty because they don't care who sees them nude while they get changed into lighter swimwear. I have always wanted to go to one of those places where, according to Henry, everyone gets naked all the time. Wishful thinking on his part probably. Seeing Henry naked was a bit of a revelation the other day. How could you have proper sex with something like that. He told us that his honourable member for groin south was not out of the way, size wise and he could show us pictures of way bigger ones. Really? I think I would rather not know.

We kept a discrete distance from the family group until they finally, after some discussion, settled on where they wanted to be, about half way between the dunes at the back of the beach and the sea which is quite a distance away now.

'Are they ever going to settle Arlo?' Says Kerry. He's been eyeing up the little blond boy. My preference is for the older dark-haired boy who coincidentally looks a bit like Kerry. I get our towel laid out as close as we dare to the group about ten metres away. If I were they, I would be wondering why those two boys have set up their base so close to them. All we have to do is to start sand play, with no spades just our hands, and try to attract them to our game. This strategy can be very effective I've found. Many a time I've attracted other boys that way, not to have some lightning sexual encounter but just to be a bit more social. A day on the beach is a long time not to be talking to someone new. I almost always find someone at Camber, even it was just a girl, so long as it could climb the dunes and surf down sand slides and bear the cold water.

My target, the darker haired boy, is about to get changed. Oh good. Mum offers the lad a towel which he has declined to use. Ok, go for it young man!

They look very middle class this lot, hence no need to be bashful when it comes to anyone seeing their bodies. Off come the shorts giving us a view of his little clad bottom. So far so good, but what nasty things; more like skin-tight shorts, and sadly what most boys prefer to wear these days, just so they look like all the others. Kerry and I celebrate our differences. But how about Kerry's choice?

Oh yes, sensible lad. That's a lot better! Pale blue and very sexy if you find an eight-year-old sexy. A bit too young for me. Mum gets out the swimming kit, again the shorts style. Never mind, we're about to see a couple of bare bottoms, or more, not that I don't know what the younger kid will look like at the front. A pencil penis with a skinny overhang no doubt.

Cracking bottoms they are too, if I may put it that way, as both boys, still with their backs to us, get shot of their jazzy shorts, get their swimmers round the right way and then get their already sandy feet into them, finally pulling them up into place, and like us, survey the sea some two hundred metres away across an expanse of sand, some dry patches, some still textured by that uncomfortably hard to walk on in bare feet, ridged pattern left by the retreating tide. I've never understood how the sea shapes the sand like that. Sometimes it totally smooth and sometimes it gets those painful to walk on ridge patterns. Mum's holding the suncream bottle but the two boys appear reluctant. Both mums insist so the boys wander over and get their shoulders done, followed by arms, backs and tummies, and then finally a cursory wipe of the legs working the white cream up the boys' thighs as high as they might, the boys' faces looking down and watching.

'Castle building time Kerry?' I suggest, keeping one eye on those boys. I've noticed they have spades for digging, left sticking up in the sand, plus a couple of buckets, one red and a smaller yellow one, but neither one castellated .

A half hour later.

'We need a moat too. It's not a proper castle without a moat.' The younger blond boy insists. There are a few grains of sand on his nose as he starts work on the moat construction. The boy wipes his nose with the back of a sandy hand. More sand on his face now. He's very sweet and getting on with Kerry like a house on fire. Two boys in their element and lost in a world of castles and fairies. Meanwhile I have another fish to reel in as we both watch the boys play, less engaged with sand play, and more engaged with planning another separate activity.

I get asked the first question 'What's your name?'

'Arlo.'

'What?'

'Arlo. What's yours?'

'Rolfe. I'm thirteen. How old are you?'

'Fourteen today as it happens.'

'Where's your mum?'

'At home.' I say nonchalantly.

'Are you here on your own then?'

'Looks like it. We came on the bus from Hythe. Where are you from?'

'Hastings. We drove here.'

'Oh. Where do you go to school?'

'Hastings Priory. Where do you go?'

'Folkestone Grammar. Kerry goes to a prep school. He's eleven and eleven months. He's not my brother.'

'Where does he live?'

'With us in Hythe. He hasn't got any parents down here so he lives with us.'

A silence follows as we watch the two boys industriously dig away. The moat is taking shape.

'Do you want to play?' The other boy asks me.

'What do you want to play?' I ask, not looking at each other, our arms folded.

'We could play in the dunes up there.' Rolfe says, pointing.

'Ok.' I reply, trying not to sound too interested.

'I just need to tell my mum. Do you have to share a bedroom with Kerry?'

Two totally separate things there which makes me smile.

'Yes, we share.'

Another silence while Rolfe takes answer on board as I wait for the next question.

'Do you have separate beds?'

'No, as I said, we share. I look after him. We get on really well.'

'You must like him a lot.'

'I do. He's like a brother, only it's different. Better than that.'

Another silence.

'Why is that better?'

This time we do look at each other. I keep looking at him because he's interesting to look at but he looks away, then back again. I smile at him. He smiles back at me. That was a good little exchange. He walks over to his mum and seeks her permission to go off and play with me in the dunes.

'Don't go too far Rolfe, please.'

I walk over to where the two mums are sitting, both with paperback books.

'Hello.' One says.

'Hello. I'm Arlo. Is that alright if we go and play up there in the dunes?'

'Yes of course!'

'Would you mind keeping an eye on Kerry please? He's with me. He'll be fine there, playing with……..'

'Kim. He's my one.' The other mum says, smiling up at me, still holding her open Joanna Trollope paperback. The Choir.

'I've read that book.'

'Really? Did you enjoy it?'

'Yes. A bit dated but yes I did thanks. The choir gets saved in the end. Sorry I shouldn't have said.'

She went on smiling at me in that way that mothers might when really they just want you to go away and play. I think I've handled the mummies rather well, apart from telling her what happens at the end of the book. I know that look that asks; is there anything else? Ok. Off you go then and play; for as long as possible please. I'm good at manipulating mothers. The trick is to show willing by engaging them in polite conversation first. That wins them over immediately.

'What a nice young man, and how convenient for Rolfe too!'

It's easy enough. The other good thing about it is that Kerry will get his feet under the table too. Kim, whatever his name is, will need mummy from time to time and Kerry will go with him. It's called social integration, or in plain speak, making a nice new friend even if it's a very temporary arrangement.

One last look at the boys playing sand castles. They're fine for the duration of our stay here I'm sure. Kerry's got a mate now, and so have I. Rolfe. I think he's excited to have met an older boy, just as I always was at that age. He has that sparkle in his dark blue eyes, this one, and reminds me of Ralph, our hero in Lord of the Flies. I'll never forget that last scene on the beach when he looks up at the perfectly dressed British naval officer in those immaculate white shorts British sailors wear in warmer climes. He was the Authority Figure, to be respected and looked up to, literally. Ralph's beautiful sandy face as he looks up from where he is, like Jesus at Calvary, shouldering all the sins of mankind, his innocence destroyed, persecuted and shameful of his savage and cruel human kind. Yes, that's who Rolfe reminds me of. Like me, he's lean and hopefully suitably hungry.

'That's an interesting name….Rolfe.' I said as we strolled towards the back of the beach, passing two or three family groups as we get closer to the high sandy dunes with distinct pathways up the steep slopes that wend their random ways through the thick clumps of marram grass having produced their seed heads now we're not far off June, fine grey-brown swishes of softness as they brush against your bare legs. These dunes are a playground for children, using the sand hills as slides, the sand getting into every crevice of a body, and making one breathless in the process of reaching the summits, and rewarding us with a great view over the silvern sparkling sea.

'Do you think so?'

'Yes I do. Not sure why.'

'My surname is Messenger. I would have thought that more interesting, not that I have any messages for anyone!'

'My body is sending me a message right now Rolfe.'

'What?'

'I need a pee.'

'We can go anywhere around here. Shall I find a place?'

'You need one too?'

'Umm. Come on, over there will be fine.'

We're at the top and overlooking the beach down below, and the sea beyond, making slow progress towards us, creeping in with the tide. If someone down there looked towards us they might just see what we are doing. I can see our boys like two distant shapes, dark shapes against the bright light, Kerry and Kim, still on their knees absorbed in their sandy construction.

'Those people down there Arlo. They could see us, just.' Rolfe says, pointing his pale creamy coloured penis seawards, the golden shower welling up inside him about to reach the outside world and leave a dark patch of wet sand.

'Who cares. They can if they want to.' I said, pointing mine in the same direction. I can feel the breeze on the pale ultra-sensitive skin.

I looked at Rolfe's and then at him looking at mine. Boys always do that when they stand to pee together. They just have to know, and I can't say I'm not interested too.

My golden shower came a little after Rolfe's, his probably more urgent than mine. Mine came down to a dribble quicker that his, thus proving that point. We both shook off, his slightly enlarged due the pleasurable feeling of warm water passing through it I suppose. I think circumcised boys are very much in the minority these day in England, unlike the USA, probably. Rolfe had a very good look.

'Do you want to go back now?' He says doubtfully.

'No not really. Not at all actually. It's nice up here.'

We looked at each other. He looks down coyly.

'What's the matter Rolfe? Is there something you want to do?'

'No.' He says in a way which makes me think there is something he's not saying.

'Yes there is. Why don't you just say it? I won't mind whatever it is. Whatever it is I'm fine with that, honestly! I am. All you have to do is to say.'

'It's a like a bed isn't it. Where we are now.'

'Umm, not as good as my one.'

'Why?'

I said 'Oh, I have to share a big bed with Kerry.'

He said 'I know. You told me. I'd like one to share.'

'This is like a bed don't you think?'

'But does it feel like one?'

'Only one way to find out.'

'Yes, it's just like one. Where we are now. Right here. Do you want to stay up here for a bit?'

I said 'Good idea. No one can see us.'

If he has an itchy back I can scratch it for him, so I said 'This grass is itchy don't you find?'

'Umm. I've got some tickling my back right now.' He says, smiling at me. There's a twinkle in his eye I recognize, the naughty boy. That marram grass does tickle.

'Oh dear. Can you reach it?'

'No. Will you do it for me?'

'Of course! Then when I've done it for you, will you do it for me?'

'I will.'

'Or we can do it together if you prefer?' I said as we laughed together.

Togetherness is everything don't you think?

It doesn't take long once the seed is sown. Once you both know what you want, it will all slot into place easy-peasy.

If you pee up there in the dunes, or do anything else , you can just kick some sand over the top of the evidence and no one will ever know what just happened. Or alternatively not bother. I've seen couples up here doing it in broad daylight and not concerned about a stray boy waking nearby. You just walk past, slowly, taking it all in, like the girl is. I think that's how we got the idea. They were doing it so why not us?

We half walked and half stumbled down the steep slope back onto the dead flat sands, hot from the sun, our feet digging in deep, but a little less beach now. Already the tide is forcing beachgoers to move nearer to the dunes, still with a couple of hours to go before high water. Kerry and his new best mate Kim are still building their impressive structure, now adorned with an array of turrets, hand formed and topped off by a few small pebbles, a gateway and a deep moat plus a channel to allow the rising tide to access the moat before it arrives at the main building. I'll give it a half hour before it gets demolished, as they all do. A bit of a metaphor there.

I kept with my new mate while he spoke to his mother…..

'Can I bathe again now?'

'Yes darling. Take Arlo with you please. Is that alright Arlo?'

I seemed to have acquired some small status now.

On the way down to the water Rolfe said he liked my swimming kit.

'To be honest Rolfe, I prefer it to yours. So does my mum. They dry quicker.'

'Do you go to a swimming club? Is that the reason?'

'No. I just like them. And with my other things. Same reason.'

'I'd like some like that. They're sexy.'

'That's what I think too. And Kerry. You'd look great in them.'

'Do you think so?'

'I know so.'

'Are you coming here again?'

'Probably. If Kerry and………Kim get on well enough. Definitely. We would. Do you want me to let you know if we are?'

'Yes. I can give you my mobile number if you want? When are you leaving this afternoon? Maybe we can go up on the dunes again? I'd like to; if you want to?'

'I do want to. It would be fun. Like being together in a double bed; or any bed, like that couple we saw up there.'

'You and me?'

'Yes. We could lie together.'

'What would we do?'

'Dunno. Anything we wanted to. I'd like to. Do you think you might want to?'

'Yes.' Was the answer I wanted, and got. A green light if ever there was one. We had unfinished business up there, so our 'bathe', as we always call a swim in the sea as opposed to a 'swim' in the small and rather poky local public swimming pool in Hythe, will be a short one. In fact it was a short but a sweet one as I felt Rolfe's hands stray when we play fought in the water just up to our shoulders. There was that mischievous look again in those dancing eyes of his. Boy sex, just like it was with Alan when we had that elicit lunchtime adventure up there in his bedroom, a pleasant but short 'session' together, a 'session' meaning what boys do together to mutually enjoy that short-lived but wonderful sensation, resulting from a few minutes of gentle, often quite frenetic, friction. Never a disappointment!

Our last climb up to the sandy heights didn't reach anything you might call the dizzy heights of sexual pleasure but it was more than satisfactory, for a start. Rolfe is a bit curious down there. He has probably the smallest penis I've ever not seen on a boy that age, judging from what's pressing against the front of his trunks, and that on a really impressive body. I've been incredibly lucky to have had contact with such lovely examples of human flesh in my short life, what with Kerry and latterly, Henry. As we play tickled with each other up there in the sand dunes, the first time, massaged by the seed heads of the marram grass, Rolfe did appear to be excited but you'd hardly know it. Small does not disappoint me. I love the feel of anything, hard or soft, large or small. That's what I am and that's what I want.

We are nicely tucked away up there in a hollow, and away from anything that looked like a pathway that someone might come down and notice us. I would never risk putting my mouth on any part of anyone else's body unless I'd had a green light for a little while and I certainly hadn't from Rolfe. But there was one thing; I touched his top lip, that little indentation in the middle.

'That's cute, that bit. You have a lovely shaped top lip Rolfie.'

'Rolfie?' He smiles, not objecting to my touching him in that way, or my playing with his name.

'Sorry. A bit presumptuous of me.'

'No, I like it. Go on.'

'Go on with what?'

'I don't know. Anything you want to do. Anything. Go on, please.'

You can't say to a boy you've only just met, may I suck your penis? Well, my manners are a bit better than that. That's what I wanted to do, just the gently lowering of the front of those horrible swimming trunks of his and extract his wee willy winkle and massage it with my mouth, lips and tongue until he reaches a writhing noisy and ecstatic orgasm. No.

So I put my hand on his chest while he lay back with his hands behind his head. The chances are that he's never had any kind of sexual encounter with anybody. I think I've just been lucky in my few encounters.

'Is that nice?'

Rolfe smiles and nods. Good. I'm liking this too. I shall add him to my list of nice things to think about, the feel of his warm skin and a different person, a new personality and character inside this body. I like him. I shall just keep going like I am and see what else he shall be desirous of.

'It's like a bed here.' Rolfe announces. 'Is it like the other one that you and Kerry sleep in?'

'Not quite the same Rolfie. We don't get sand all over us like we're doing here.'

'Do you keep a space between you in there?'

'Not always.'

'Do you touch then?'

'Oh yes. You can't help it; anyway we want to.'

'Why?'

'Oh maybe you can use a bit of imagination Rolfie. Anyway you already know the answer to that question. Shall I stop now.'

'No, keep going. Willy likes it.'

'Does he?'

'Yes. Look.'

Rolfe puts his thumbs into the waistband of his swimming trunks, lifts up and over his three-quarters formed bone, but still with a length of foreskin overhanging the inconspicuous head. I think some boys have loads of excess in that department, not that I'd know. I just wish I had some myself.

'That's nice Rolfe.'

'Is it like Kerry's?'

'Yes, a bit.'

'Does he let you play with it?'

'Yes, if I want to; and if he wants me to.'

'Do you get feelings?'

'Yes, sometimes.'

He's feeling himself as I stroke his tummy. Most of the skinny overhang has gone now as his penis lengthens fully. It's a little on the bijou end of the scale but it's a boy's thing isn't it? Therefore it's a good thing in my book.

'What happens when you get a feeling?'

'I ejaculate semen, as you well know Rolfe. That's what happens. Is that what you do, or don't you do it?'

'Yes, tons of it.'

'I'm inclined not to believe you Rolfie, you little liar.'

'How do you know I can't?'

'Simply because you're not old enough yet. I can see that, silly boy.'

'So I'm no good then?'

'I'm not saying that at all , in fact you are good; very good. One of the best. That's what you are, without any doubt at all.'

'Really?'

'Yes you are. Have you got a phone?'

'Yes.'

'Here with you at Camber, today?'

'Yes.'

'Text me your number when you get a chance just in case we come back here this summer. I'm sure we will. We'd better go back to the camp now. They'll be wondering about us.'

'Can I feel you; just for a mo?'

I looked at Rolfe. Ok. If it's quick. I had glanced down at the beach a little anxious about Kerry and Kim because I had lost sight of them both. If he's gone down to the water, I should be with him. He's not at all secure in the sea.

He gets a good handful of my not really very hard bits, gives all three items a nice fondle and then lets it all go. I was just enjoying that.

'Alright Rolfe?'

'Umm, thanks.'

'Look, there isn't time now. We need to go, really we do. I'm a bit worried about Kerry.'

'I saw them. They've gone into our camp. Mum will look after both of them. Can't we stay up here a bit longer?'

No we can't! But he's right, both Kerry and Kim, apart from Kerry's head and shoulders are hidden from my view by the windbreak around the camp, something usually needed at Camber to make a beach trip tolerably comfortable. I can just see the top of Kim's head and his mother's. I'm guessing he's getting out of sandy trunks into something else, with mummy's help, and Kerry looking on.

I glanced at a still perky Rolfe on our now short walk back to base camp. A nice sight that is but I'm not sure what his mum is going to make of it. I ought to mention it.

'Do you think we should delay a bit Rolfe? Look at you. Your mum might not like……..that.' I gesture with my head, looking down at Rolfe's small bulge at the front.

'So what?'

'Ok, fine.' I said, carrying on walking, thinking that my mother would not approve and wouldn't be able to resist some sort of comment. It happens of course, especially on the beach for some reason. I suppose we spend lots of time just dreaming about nice things as there's nothing else to do. She'd say 'oh darling, must you?' I'd just reply 'sorry mum.' I think, secretly, she was quite chuffed that her son looked on occasions like boys do look. Always the chance of a grandchild or two, or three, in the fulness of time if his equipment is functioning. Being what I am, I rather enjoyed prancing about rock hard in swimming briefs or even worse due to the thinness of the cotton material, just in my pants. I'd get a few looks from disgusted mummies as you might imagine, telling their daughters not to look at that naughty boy over there, whilst they continue to look themselves just to make sure it was what they thought it was, a young teenager with a handsome erection poking out alarmingly through his knickers. Boys will be boys, as they say. Sporty shorts, hitched up tight with no pants on is even better! That's exactly what I have in mind for Kerry this summer, and I have just the things for him. I suspect we are going to make an interesting prospect as we promenade up and down Hythe seafront. I cannot wait!

Kim has his hands on mummy's shoulders while she sees to him, first job being getting his swimmers off him, then the problem of getting him sand free which involves her hands brushing it all off legs, thighs, bottom [because he sat down at one point] and worst of all, the boy's feet. Socks are quite a good tool for the job of removing sand from damp flesh. Meanwhile Kim is nude and pretty, his near-infant sized skinny cocklet poised at the horizontal, not having any weight in the thing to make it dangle, unlike Kerry who is about to be naked too. That's typical of him, he wouldn't care two hoots about being nude in front of two mummies he doesn't know. He's still sans any pubic hair so child nudity is considered acceptable on a public beach here in good old England, thank the Lord.

'Oh hello boys.' The mummies say in unison as we hove into view, just in time to see Kim's mum attempt to get his vile trunky underpants over his damp and still sandy feet and up his quite thick thighs. Thick thighs and tiny cockle seem to go hand in hand, so to speak. Overweight boys too. But skinny ones often have what the boys call a donkey dick, for obvious reasons, when the foreskin can't possibly cover the whole end part even when flaccid. I rather wish I had one of those, but I have not got one of those. Very average is me, with no skinny bit to stretch and play with, or pull back to entice a new lover. Dream on Arlo!

'You can get dressed here boys if you'd prefer? It'll be easier for you this side of the windbreak. A bit more privacy.'

Thank you, we will, not that I'm a privacy seeker when it's unnecessary; or not what I want, like now.

Rolfe's mother says 'Darling, why don't you give Arlo your mobile number, just in case they plan to come again?'

I picked out my phone from the rucksack and took it back round the to the 'privacy' of the walled camp, still in my damp 'speedos'. Kerry was just getting his pants up his thighs, noticeably observed by Kim who like most boys can't resist looking to see what the boy next to them looks like down there. Kim's mouth is literally hanging open, unblinking eyes as he looks and learns what this boy has in his pants, and how he differs from his own example. Being probably at a guess three years older, Kerry is indeed a bit different. Good for the mums too, to see what older boys look like. The shape of things to come, literally. Anyway I gave them a sight of what I look like, not quite flaccid. I enjoyed that. It's the exhibitionist in me.

So our day was filled with promise that didn't quite evolve into anything tangible, apart from a new contact in the shape of Rolfe Messenger, a rather wonderful surname don't you think? No?

We waited at the bus stop for the 102, due at 16.10. Kerry still has sand on his face, slightly reddened from just a tad too much sun and the lack of re-application of the suncream we had brought with us plus strict instructions from mum to use it . It arrives bang on time and we gravitate to the back seat which is not favoured by anyone save the youngsters. Small children, there were several, all very quiet and tired and flushed, sit with their people, holding their sea washed out buckets and spades looking hot and tired after a hard day in the sea air. They'll sleep well tonight, and probably be back again tomorrow. We won't be. Kerry has an appointment at a local firm of solicitors who are finalizing his grandmother's will. He's been named in it, but what that will mean for him we do not know. Yet. I'm hoping and praying that it will bring him some good news. He deserves it.

On the bus back I got one of those love surges for him and put my arm around his shoulder and true to form he responded as he almost always does, by resting his head sideways onto my upper arm. Even a gesture like that turns me on to him. I could feel that warm glow of love deep within me, as it spread all over me; to all parts. I had to look away from him. I feel like crying, not from any kind of sadness but from the love…….of him. Tonight in bed, as ever we are now, I shall tell him for the umpteenth time how I feel about him. The kingdom of Kerry shall have no end. It's about an hour's journey back to Hythe on this double decker bus. I'm curious to know how Kerry got on with Kim.

'Ok thanks.'

'Not much of an answer. Did you like him?'

'He's ok. Quite nice actually.'

'So you did like him?'

'Umm, quite.'

He's blushing whilst trying not to smile, the naughty boy, a sure sign! Good, that augers well for the next time does it not?

If there is a next time, Rolfe is going to get lucky.

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We support Ukraine — Мы поддерживаем Украину — Ми підтримуємо Україну

We support the Palestinian people in their struggle against oppression

Iomfats.org

The Bus Stop

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 19