The Bus Stop

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 17

I couldn't tell Kerry last night about today's plan as he went to sleep early which was just as well. Another night of inactivity which will mean a more intense desire this morning for some sort of activity, but he's getting none of it. He needs to save himself for later. Now Henry and I have a clear idea of how our screen test is going to work. Kerry and I will sit in chairs opposite each other and we will conduct a conversation when we will reminisce about our chance meeting last summer, all fiction of course. I'll put questions to him and he will invent interesting replies, hopefully. He's quite imaginative and if he wants the whole scenario to lead us together down the right road, he will do well I'm sure.

'Do you get the idea Kerry? I ask the questions and you respond. For example, I say, do you remember that first time you saw me? And you say, yes I do. Where was it? And so on. You just need to be a bit creative. We are role playing. The idea is that you have been invited to stay with us and we are going to pick up our friendship again where we left off last summer. That's what you want and I want too. It's just a fantasy for Henry's camera.'

'Will it lead to anything?'

'That depends on how well you do. It's a bit of acting Kerry. Like a drama lesson dear boy. You have to get into your part for this to work. See it like a job. Henry is paying us, goodness knows why, but he is.'

'Ok I get it. I can do that easily.'

'Good. I'll give you all the leading questions, you just have to follow with useful answers. Just be yourself. Imagine it's just us so forget the camera. It's not there. Ok?'

'But it is, isn't it?'

'Oh Kerry. Yes it is there.'

'Good. I want to see it later. What happens after we've talked?'

'We get into our swimming stuff and go across to the beach. I've no idea how Henry will handle that.'

'So we undress do we? In front of the camera?'

'Yes. I will undress you right where we are, by the chairs, side on to the camera which will be static on a tripod so that won't move. We have to stay in that area marked on the floor and not go outside it. I'll do all the leading. Everything. All you have to do is follow. Easy peasy. He said he doesn't want us nude, so he'll have to divert the camera at some points during………I don't know, the undressing bit I suppose.'

'What are we doing now?'

'You're going to get out of bed and get dressed. Go to the loo first and then wash as usual. When you come back I'll have your clothes ready for you.'

'Will it be shorts weather?'

'Yes, for both of us. I'm choosing so just go along with it ok?'

I watch him get out of our bed and pull his night time tee shirt up and over his head to leave him standing nude. He has his normal morning wood reaching for the sky, very slightly curved towards his tummy pointing upwards and as perky as you could wish for. He'll be some time in the bathroom. His system is pretty reliable so he'll get done all the things he needs to get done in twenty minutes. With him, if you want some morning fun in bed you have to start early. If we don't get things done in bed there's always the bus to school and we can do something nice on the back seat. Holiday time is way better for us, obviously. It's better for all boys, that extra time to lie in bed. More time to invent yet more and perhaps new scenarios to make that time a fruitful time. But not this morning! The downside to any school holiday is mum's presence at home as she's on holiday too. But, she goes out.

Kerry holds up the shorts I've selected for him, an old pair of mine I used for athletics, made of a thin old-fashioned man-made nylon material that's slightly transparent so you really have to wear something underneath, which will show through, just enough. That's the idea. To tease. I have just the right thing for my friend which is guaranteed to turn heads, if there are any 'heads' about. There will be, if not this day in late May, but in the summer holidays proper when they are all out and about looking and being looked at. They come here, young and old, or are already here in Hythe, to look at the boys parading, unwitting models of pre and post pubertal perfection, or otherwise, boys just like Kerry; and me. If I don't get looked at I'm very disappointed. There is almost always someone to tease at a distance. Anyway our boy has returned all clean from the bathroom…….

'Have you done everything Kerry?' I ask, pretending not to notice.

'Yes. Everything.'

'Good.'

'Do you want to check me?'

'Yes please.'

What was excited a few minutes ago is now relaxed. The boy turns around and puts his hands on his knees so I can get a proper look at him. A short examination. I suppose they are all pretty much the same back there. The skin is so soft to the touch, around and about that part. And the thing itself, so beautifully designed for its function, like a mouth or an ear, when the internal workings can meet the world outside, as a river meets the sea. How the skin puckers and creases to lead my eye inside the boy's body. I gently touch the surrounding skin, making little circles with my fingertip, finally coming to rest against that most intimate place, applying just enough pressure to get the door ajar. Kerry emits a barely audible sound of appreciation. I often do this, something my boy enjoys so much. It's a kind of foreplay.

I want to feel the penile form on my tongue, just for a minute. No more. This is not the right moment, time or place for more this morning, but just to feel it resting on my tongue, please Kerry?

The boy complies as he always does, but an eleven-year-old boy cannot be a good lover, any more than I can be, but one day, for some other lucky person, he will be I'm sure. In the meantime he's a taste of honey, or not quite yet, but good enough for me right now. You only have to breathe on Kerry to bring him up all smart. But enough of this. Our acting career starts today, even without the benefit of a script. I need to get Kerry dressed in something suitable for the occasion and those nifty shorts will do very nicely, plus an old tee shirt of mine that doesn't hide anything and leaves a little of his lower back visible. But first things first, that item that goes on this lovely body first.

'Aren't they too small Arlo?'

'Try them sweetheart.' I say, holding them open for my boy to step into as he rests his hands on my shoulders, standing before me as I sit on the edge of our bed. Kerry rests easy now, upright in his pants. With the thin white material of the shorts thinly disguising what is underneath, he looks the business, a small amount of tummy showing too, and just to put the icing on the cake, a tiny wet spot has appeared at the front. I get it too, only more than Kerry does. If I get excited, this clear fluid appears shortly afterwards. A little darker patch appears, about the size of an old penny. It tastes different to the other stuff. Not better or worse, just curiously different.

Kerry looks down and sees it, touching that exact point with a fingertip.

'Should I see if there's any more?'

'No.' I say as Kerry ignores me and lowers everything to investigate. He works the skin back and gives it a gentle squeeze. Another clear bead appears. I thought it would and it would be another magic moment for the tip of an interested tongue. Kerry giggles.

'That tickles.' He complains. Oh does it? How nice for you. Nice for me too.

Henry has everything set up as he told me he would, camera, chairs, and everything.

'Ok boys, you're all set to go. Do you need anything before we start?'

Answer, no. Let's go for it. We won't use names, or faces. Henry has decided to make it dialogue only while the camera points seawards. Just in case. Lets see how our boy responds to this challenge.

'It's lovely to see you again.' 'Umm, you too. I can stay the whole week, unless you…….' 'Oh no, we want you for a week at least. We had fun last year, didn't you think?' 'Yes. Do you think……..it will be fun again…….as much fun this time?' 'I'm hoping so. We have this whole room to ourselves. You're looking well. Healthy and all that.' 'I am thanks. So are you.' 'I think you've grown a bit.' 'You too. Nice clothes. You look nice in those things.' 'Thanks. I thought we might go for a swim if you like that idea?' 'I would but I haven't brought any swimming stuff.' 'I have some spares that will fit you. The ones I had last year when we met.' 'Oh they were nice. I was a bit jealous of you. You looked really good in them.' 'It was amazing how well we got on, right from the start wasn't it?' A long pause. 'Do you mind sharing, like last time?' 'No, not at all. It was good wasn't it? Do you regret anything?' 'No of course I don't! I'm hoping that we…..' 'So am I. Do you remember everything we did?' 'I do. It's so great to see you again. It really is.' 'And you. Do you remember that time just before we all left for home? When we went for that last walk together?' 'I do. I couldn't forget that, not ever.' 'I told you some things.' 'And I told you things. What we did just before we left, at the end of our walk. Do you remember that?' 'Could we do that again. And all those other things we did?' 'Even the naughty things? I hope so. When would you like to get changed? Best do it here when you want to.' 'We could go swimming soon. Now?' 'Umm, ok. The naughty things were the best things. I was a bit sad when we left.' 'So was I. I thought about you loads ever since. Still we're here again now. It's fantastic to be with you again.' 'I missed you too Arlo. I cried when I got home.' 'I think I did too. A bit. I've missed you. Do you remember when I touched your face? You had sand on it so I gently brushed it off. Then you touched mine.' 'You can do it again if you want. It doesn't matter if there's no sand on it.' 'May I, now?' 'Yes please. Then you did it again.' 'Do you remember what happened after that?' 'Yes I do.' 'Do you want to again, now?' 'Yes I would like to.' 'Go on then.'

It was a tentative meeting of lips, just gentle touches until our mouths came together harder and with far more intent to please and with the usual movement turning the meeting of our mouths into something that means much more.

'That's great kids. Superb in fact. Now the camera will be looking at you two getting your swimming kit on, but only upper bodies in shot. No dialogue needed for this. I'll dub some sweet music over it later. Try not to say anything. Do this the way you would want to do it ok? Start with some face touching and whatever that led to in your conversation. I'd quite like to see that. Start as you are now, sitting on the chairs but then do the last part of this scene standing up if necessary. Presumably you will need to be standing up to change. Ok boys?'

'You don't mind?' I said.

'I don't mind anything Arlo. Just do what comes naturally to you both. You love each other. That's very obvious to me and that's truly wonderful. Believe me, it is. Now show that you really do love each other, so get loving please. You haven't seen each other for nigh on a year. Don't try to act, just do what comes naturally, and I don't mind whatever that is. If you want to get on the bed and make passionate love, that's great.'

Kerry looked at me, trying not to smile. Don't encourage him Henry.

'I'll start the camera rolling and then you can take it from there. Just remember what I said. Ok? Stay still as you are now, then count, in your head Arlo, to twenty and then start so we get a nice lead in.'

With my hands on Kerry's bare arms and having done the counting bit, I leaned forward to touch Kerry's mouth with mine, profoundly excited by the fact that all this is being recorded. I think that's key in this event, knowing that we can watch it all again. It'll probably come across as trite cliched rubbish. I've seen adult straight porn, and stuff between young guys. It didn't do much for me apart from enhancing my education and making me feel physically inadequate, but this stuff with Kerry might be different, more genuine and convincing. It ought to be because we really mean it. Practically everything we do is a form of love making. When I comb his lengthy hair and see his eyes looking into mine, to me that's making love to him, and he to me. Those little things we do all the time that actually mean so much to both of us. Climaxing in the broadest sense is another thing entirely, very necessary for us both, but that's not the be all and end all. One day when we are very old we probably won't be able to, but there will be other ways, other things we can do; I hope. Sex in some form need never end.

Kerry looks fantastic. Henry looked him up and down smiling and shaking his head.

'I'm not at all sure you two should be allowed out.' He says. He's probably right. The black speedo style swimming pants I've put Kerry in suit his skin colouring which is very slightly mediterranean. An Italian grandfather maybe? Or Spanish? Or even near Eastern. I doubt if he can elucidate me about his heritage. I'm in the same style of swimwear but a size larger.

Henry recorded the whole process of my revealing this boy in all his beauty. Kerry loves it. He sees it as an act of love, being undressed by me, standing before me looking down as I admire his bits, his feet apart, my fingertips supporting his little boy balls, and then his pale silky penis. He gently works the skin back and there it is. Sit down Arlo. There isn't time to go further than the lightest of tongue touches as he begins to react the way all boys would. The delectable little organ begins to swell and lengthen, triggered by that miraculous partnership between brain and body as it sends the signal downstairs to rise in glory, just as I have risen in glory, greater glory as it happens. Well, at the least, longer by a couple of inches but not with that wonderful upwards curve that Kerry can manage so nicely. I guess it's just how we are made. So long as it works, enjoy it while you can.

I stood up to confront the open mouthed and expectant Kerry, breathing just that little bit quicker now. Don't worry my darling sweet one, what you are expecting is coming, right now.

A kiss for the camera it has to be, hands behind heads and tongues deeply planted, deeply felt, deeply meant, and our bodies not touching. It's nice to leave something of a gap between us so we can be seen properly, albeit pressing against tummies.

The kiss goes on, and on, until we part breathless. Kerry looks away from me, sideway towards Henry's camera set up on heavy duty tripod. I don't but just continue to fondle his neck, face, and everything around the boy's head and shoulders. The camera won't see what's going on below.

'That was great boys. Lovely. Beach?'

We left the OLH as decent as we could make ourselves, tee shirts, shorts and those rubbery Croc shoes that slip off easily and you can get them wet after a painless walk over the pebbles, so hard on the soles of one's feet early season before they have acclimatized and the nerves in the soles of your feet become far less sensitive.

'What's that thing over there?' Kerry asks. Pointing at the slightly tapered brick structure.

Martello tower number 15 on Hythe beach. Rough weather.

'Something they built about 1805 as a gun platform so they could chuck cannonballs at Napoleon.'

'Why?'

'Because we thought he was going to invade us Kerry. In our wisdom we thought we might try to stop him.'

'Did you?'

'A bit like Hitler a few years later, Napoleon decided not to invade us.'

'Oh good. Otherwise he'd be here now?'

'Actually no he wouldn't for technical reasons. He's rather late.'

'So he is coming then?'

'No darling. I'll explain later.'

Such a sweet boy, but his grip on English history is tenuous at best.

His shoulder feels deliciously warm under the late May sunshine. He's going to need that suncream, and so am I. Henry to apply it? That's my thinking right now as the three of us survey the beach before us. We need a spot less likely to attract visitors so we head for the area in front of the tower which technically is part of the Ministry of Defence firing range, but there are no red flags flying so no danger of being accidentally shot at by some less competent new army recruit not so handy with his rifle. With recent windy weather the sea has moved the shingle into a large bank at the highwater mark so if we get a little below that we'll be out of sight after our sea bathe. I've no idea how Kerry will take to immersing his body in the chilly English Channel or even if he can swim. His lovely lithe frame carries no superfluous insulation at all.

'Come on then! Baby.'

'It's freezing!'

'No it isn't. It's England. That's different.'

Is it? But he's right, the sea temperature is quite low even in late May, not getting to its warmest until mid-August, or later. Kerry is standing with the water, mercifully quite calm this morning just with a slight westerly breeze, just below his knees, his arms folded and grasping his chest. I've already taken the plunge, best done all in one single dive forwards to get the pain over in seconds rather than that long drawn-out process of gradual immersion, and I have just my head above the water smiling at my frowning reluctant friend who is finding all this not at all his cup of tea.

'Come on. Take my hands.' I say, holding my arms out towards him.

He edges closer, deeper, more painfully, in tiny increments as I edge closer to him. I know the best and most humane way to do this. When his hands are in mine, pull him straight in.

'Ow ow ow ow aaaaaaah!' He goes, but a few seconds later he's in my arms and against my warming chest, his teeth gritted and chattering away, his arms tight around me, his legs wrapped and locked onto my back. I put his face against mine, my nose in his ear. The worst is over for him as his body quickly accepts the sudden hostile environment it has been plunged onto.

His swimming is not all that secure, unlike mine. Never kind, this first dip will be short and sweet. I don't want to put him off sea bathing for life.

With our Crocs on for comfort, we struggle up the lowest shingle bank to a far more level part where Henry and the large bath towel is spread out, about to be used like wrapping paper on a parcel. Henry has followed our little sea caper with his hand-held camera, and continues to train it on us. There's no one remotely close to us so we safely remove wet swimming things, find our pants and get them onto damp skin. The material catches moist skin whenever and wherever it can. Kerry takes some time to unhook his pants which have got tangled in his toes presenting Henry with a rear view of peachy bottom as he bends double. He loses his balance and topples over and completes the job on his back finally getting the small garment up his thighs and into place. Now we can both get settled on the towel and warm up together, on our sides, close and decent. I've no idea what Henry is doing because he told us we must not at any time look at the camera. Maybe he's not even using it.

Henry has a nice way with him, softly spoken and I think, innately kind. Well that's what I like to think. This morning Henry's got himself done up in pale yellow shorts, and quite fitted ones, and by the look of him, he prefers the same style of clothing that we do, polo shirts and shorts. Football kits? I don't think so. He's around six feet tall, fair skinned, longish wavy blond hair and as I have mentioned before, a nice open expression. The sort of face you trust.

'Do you think he's handsome Arlo?'

'Yes.'

'Do you…….?' Kerry asks, not committing to the last word, but I can guess what that word is. I know Kerry well enough by now.

'Umm, a bit.'

'What do you think he's like?'

'Underneath?'

'Yes.'

'I'd say interesting, by the look of him. I suspect there's quite a lot of him.'

'So would I.'

'Not that I'll ever know. Do you know?'

'No. How would I know?'

'No I don't suppose you would know.' I said, looking away.

Henry is holding a bottle of sun protection, his body casting a shadow over us.

'Would you two like to unwrap yourselves and get creamed up please. First time out in the sun this year so we need to be careful.

We had the towel over us, enjoying the warmth of the sun coming through to warm us after that incredibly cold sea bathe.

'Have you ever swum in the sea before Kerry?' I ask, as we lie facing each other, ignoring Henry's question.

'No never. But there's a first time for everything isn't there?'

I smile because I know exactly what he's referring to. Henry knelt beside our heads.

'Come on you two. Do you want me to do it? Who's first then?'

I said 'Kerry should be first. Lie on your back now. Henry, you could do one half and I'll do the other half.'

It's really a body massage when it comes down to it, and an erotic experience at best, very much depending on who is performing it. If it's a sexual partner then it is, but if it's your mum [or dad] with both hands all over you, it tends not to be, presumably, unless you're sixteen and it's your very attractive young stepmother [or stepdad].

Lying on his back, Kerry's tummy subsides nicely leaving his pubic bone prominent, as is that other bit of him, neatly sleeping to one side and out of sight inside his white pants with the Next logo sewn into the front of the waistband.

Henry and I are on our knees either side of Kerry, lying with his arms to his sides, eyes closed, waiting. We are all going to enjoy this, not least Henry, still in his pale-yellow shorts but now bare chested, a decent covering of golden hair on his forearms and legs.

Henry says 'Go easy with this stuff please Arlo, it's a bit pricey. Kerry, we might need to lower your pants a tad. Is that OK?'

Our boy nods his head, and we begin. I have responsibility for his lower half, starting with the tops of his feet, then moving up to the knees on both legs, and ditto for the tops of his thighs and then all the more interesting places under the elastic seams of his knicks and working my way deeper down; and just a little under, almost to the buttocks; but not quite. These are pleasant thoughts, where I am to go, all witnessed by Henry who was already anointing Kerry's mask-like face, eyes tight shut in anticipation, but both Henry and I are glancing north and south respectively for any signs of life amidships. But if I know Kerry as well as I do, it won't be too long before the mysteries of pre-puberty will begin to reveal themselves.

I glance at Henry as he works his way down the boy's body, the neck, the shoulders and now those two round dark circles on Kerry's chest that I know will respond and become two hard little beads enjoying the tips of fingers [or a tongue gently making tiny circles around them]. Henry smiles and whispers…...

'How are you getting on Arlo?'

'Alright thanks. I'm not far away now.'

Kerry is getting to that stage when he can't keep still any longer. Good. Everything is working nicely. His mouth is wide open and he's taking bigger and bigger breaths, and his toes have started twitching, something Kerry's toes usually start doing when he's getting excited fit to bust. But more tellingly, he raises his knees and places them wide apart. It's a reflex with him, that move. I know the effect all this has had on me, just as it has on Kerry who is showing small signs of a re-awakening inside his knickers, a pair my old orange ones, but perfect on him. Henry has stopped playing the game and I'm not going to look where he is now because I know what he's doing.

Kerry puts his right hand into his pants in frustration. He hasn't had anything for three days and he's desperate for a quick and essential release. I know how he feels.

'Leave him now Arlo. Don't touch him now, please.'

I can see the boy's chest rising and falling, his tummy sunken in and then pushed out and then in again, the eyes tightly shut, the open mouth, the breathing into the soft sea air, the gentle relentless waves and the whooshing sound of the backwashing of the shingle. And then all the movement stops. The boy holds his breath for a second or two, and then the sound of exhaled air, more drawn in again to be exhaled with sound.

I'm stroking the boy's inner thighs, to the very top where I can go no further.

He's quiet now, as we listen to the gentle sounds of the sea.

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The Bus Stop

by Rafael Henry

Chapter 17