The Bus Stop
by Rafael Henry
Chapter 15
Five months later. 10.15 one fine Saturday morning. An unexpected visitor.
We were all worried that Social Services might remove Kerry from our care. They weren't giving us any information about their efforts to try to get his natural parents to take back responsibility for him so we have all spent the last six months in limbo. Miriam's will, his granny that he stayed with originally, is still being sorted out. How long does it take those legal people for heaven's sake? We know Kerry wants to stay with us permanently, but what we all want doesn't necessarily mean we will get what we all want. Yesterday, A woman came to see him, officially, and privately. She asked to see Kerry's bedroom. Oh bugger. A double bed in a child's bedroom? What would you think? Why does he need one of those?
They have been up there for a whole hour so far, with the rest of us waiting downstairs. We had no warning of this person's visit, but that's how they do it I suppose. The element of surprise. Our bedroom was a mess when we left it this morning. Oh poo!
'Please will you tell Kerry I've gone down to beach?' I said to a worried looking mum.
I couldn't just sit there waiting for this thing to be done. It's April now and we've had days of showery rain but this morning has started off warm and sunny for once. Being England, it won't last. I need to get out.
I'm on the beach just over from the café at the end of Stade Street. There's a square of fine sand for children to play in bordered by granite rocks with about a meter between them that form a great stepping stones game, to hop from one to the next like an obstacle course, to see who can get round in the quickest time. It's a great athletic game we used to play with anyone who happened to be there. A great way for kids to meet and play together. I'm about half way down the shingle beach, or small pebbles that get smaller the closer you are to the water. I think the tide is rising, blown into white horses and creating a moderate wash some ten meters from my feet. The shingle feels damp but I'm not bothered. What bothers me right now is Kerry's meeting with this woman from the Social Services Department. They must be very experienced at interviewing people and finding out what they need to know, not that we have anything to hide. Do we?
Kerry and I have been doing things together, but so do loads of kids just like us don't they? Just before Christmas we went all the way for the first time. We'd been building up to it for ages but then one afternoon we felt incredibly…… worked up I suppose. With mum and dad out, Fiona too, we'd been kissing, and that has a profound effect on our mood. We had already talked about the best way to do it, lots of times. I would lie on my back and Kerry would be over me so he could control exactly what he thought he could cope with. It all ended up quite differently, but not in any way that Kerry didn't want. We agreed that whatever we did would be his decision, being the younger boy. It's his right, not mine. We tried one way first, that way, and then another, and another, ending with me………penetrating his bottom, right inside and most of me up there. There's no other verb to use. Kerry on his back with me over him and taking the deepest plunge into his warm and gripping enveloping pool of comfort and joy, just right for a bit of Christmas cheer. It worked for both of us I'm relieved to report. I had this fear that it wouldn't go well but it did go well. Very well. Perfectly in fact. It's a completely different feeling, that way, than the usual boy's way to get there. I think all ways must be good, but this way seems so much more grown up and strong and mature. I'm sure it has brought us closer together. Something has changed in us. I'm sure it has. Quite scary actually, but unbelievably good. Our first time together. Quite something and not to be forgotten.
I did feel guilty afterwards. I was a bit hard on him. He kept saying it, over and over again, to be hard on him. Almost rough with him, something I would never be in the normal run of things. It was the way he used his body, like he was forcing me to be what I was being. Like animals do it. We were like noisy animals in the jungle, getting what we needed most. Near the end it was raw and I suppose a bit unloving; perhaps a little brutal even. That's not a good word but how would you describe the way we did it to each other? I think sex can be like that, sometimes. It's the urgency of it all. The need to do it that way. I had this deep desire to……..what's the word here…….to dominate; he wants to be dominated.
And then the loving part, afterwards, the way we cried together, and kissed until we were ready again. We did it twice, the second time different from the first time but just as good because it took much longer. Kerry came the second time. I didn't. That was right. That was just right because it's so much more about him than me that time. But that was then.
If we sit on the beach, regardless of the time of year, it's here in this spot so he'll know where to find me, as and when he escapes the clutches of the zealous Social Services woman.
I heard the crunching of the shingle behind me as Kerry makes his way carefully down the bank, his feet going deep into the loose fine material leaving deep depressions behind him. Coming down is easy. Going back up is much harder work!
The boy sits himself down beside me but I won't be in a hurry to question him. I'll let him tell me in his own time, but I will extend a hand on his shoulder as a show of solidarity.
He turns onto his side to face me so I do the same so we are close. I can see he's after a cuddle. That could be both kinds of news, good; or bad. I'll wait but I can't wait for long for this game to end.
'Well? Can you tell me please?'
'She was nice. Really kind. She wanted to see the room, my clothes, everything. What books I had, and why I had a double bed. It was obvious someone else was sleeping with me. She saw your things too.'
'Oh goodness. So she saw everything?'
'Yes. Just about everything.'
'Did she look in the bedside cabinet? In the drawer?' I asked, anxiously. That's where we keep our essential supplies.
'No. She asked me who slept in the bed with me. I said you did but only when I was upset about something and couldn't sleep. I told her how kind you all were to me, especially you Arlo. I told her I was very fond of you which I am. You know that by now. I love you Arlo. I do. I do.'
He broke off and looks down, pushing a finger into the small brown pebbles, working his finger deep inside. My tummy turns over at this gesture. Then he looks back at me. It's a sort of smile, not quite a smile but enough to excite me. Is he going to tell me something good? Or something terrible.
'I can stay with you Arlo, at least for now I can. She told me I could, until my real parents want me back, if they ever do. They can't have me back yet. She didn't tell me exactly why not but I know anyway. I told her that I was the happiest I have ever felt in my life Arlo, here with you. I told her you look after me so well. I told her all about my new life here, and how you got me through my exams for the Grammar; everything. Except some things I left out. That's between me and you Arlo. No one else. Just me and you. Apparently I'm a case now. One of her cases she has to deal with. She said she has loads of kids to keep an eye on. That's sad isn't it……that so many children need to have her eye on them? Parents don't care about them. They're not loved Arlo. I know I am and I'm grateful. I am, really I am. I'd like to be one of those people who want to make sure children are…….ok I suppose. Maybe I won't ever be ok, but I know you'll keep trying. You're like that, you don't give up.'
'You will be alright Kerry. I know you will. You just have to believe. I'm not going to leave you, ever. We may not always be physically together but that won't matter. There are other ways, other things that bond us, and will do for as long as you want me Kerry. You just have to believe that. Do you think you can do that?'
He's crying in my arms; my dear, dearest boy. It's relief more than anything, and I'm crying with him. They are joyful tears, not sad ones. These are good ones, and surprisingly, very sexy ones. Tears can be sexy! Yes they can be, at least they are for us. Feeling and touching and doing, are things that are never far away, for us. We like those things and want to do those things as often as is possible. I'm going to feel him right now, where he wants me to. His face, his neck, his hands, his fingers, his nose and ears, his eyebrows, his lovely long dark hair, his nostrils even, his lips, even his teeth. Everywhere! He's mine to love, all mine to share his bed and his body. I love his body, every bit of it, even that bit.
All physical sensations acting upon Kerry's body translates into sound. If I touch his face he will make a sound. He's like that, responsive with sound. On the couple of occasions we have gone all the way, bound together in deep and loving sex, we have done it in an empty house. There's no way on earth I can keep him quiet, which is a joy to me, any more than I want to suppress my feelings, especially just as I approach a feeling. That's all very much part of our fulfilment. He wants to know how I'm doing just as I want to know how he's feeling, and progressing sensation wise. Sound, as much as possible, binds and encourages us both to grow in our love for one another, quite an adult thing possibly. When we are completely done, so to speak, we tell each other the thing we both need to know most.
The games we play. I think it's called foreplay.
'You'll have to catch me first.' He says with a broad smile. 'I'll stand behind your mummy. You can't get me there.'
If there's one thing that brings tears to mum's eyes, it's when Kerry goes up to her and quietly places his arms around her middle, his face against her breasts. It's all unprompted and spur of the moment stuff but deeply stirring when I see him do it. We all cry easily I'm glad to say. I got over the 'not showing your sad' stuff at an early age. If you need to, then do it is the way in our household, even dad. I've seen him weep in response to his music.
Wendy, the Social Worker, wanted to talk to mum when she had finished her time with Kerry, so he got packed off to find me down at the beach. Mum and Kerry had hugged, at Kerry's instigation, which Wendy would have seen as significant surely? Then Wendy was gone. Time now for a longer hug.
'Are we going to church tomorrow mum?' Kerry asks.
'Of course Kerry darling, but only if you want to.' Mum replies.
Kerry had asked if it was alright not to pray.
'Yes Kerry. Don't ever feel you need to do that. You are there; that's the important thing. God will see you there. He will see you everywhere. Just let Him look at you, and maybe one day you will see Him too. That's all you have to do. Let Him look at you. That's all darling.'
Blessed be the pure in heart for they shall see God. One of the Beatitudes set to music by Arvo Part. One of my father's favourite pieces of music. At first when he tried to get me interested in it, I didn't like it, but now I'm coming round to all that stuff…….gradually. He said it would be a slow burn. He's right, it is a slow burn!
I've watched mum praying, and not just at St. Leonards up there on the hill with all those bones underneath it. I know what and who she's praying for. She prays for us; and the whole world too, with all its injustice and cruelty. I've watched her in church when everything is quiet, her head bowed down, her eyes tight shut, trying her very best to speak to her god, maybe ours too. I wonder if he hears her? And if he does, what will he do for us poor mortals? I'm horribly afraid that the answer to that question is very simple.
Kerry hides behind mum. Every time I try to catch him, he retreats behind her. Finally he bolts for the stairs and hides so I have to find him. This little game can go on for a few minutes until even he can't wait any longer. So I catch him but he still resists prizing my hands and arms away from his face and body, even biting my hand or arm like a playful puppy might do. And then…….I win. I get him in a lock of some sort and take a liberty with him, like a hand on his bottom. Slowly, so slowly he gives in, presenting me with his beautiful face and an open mouth all too ready to feel mine against it. And so we begin yet another kiss that won't end, ever, until it does and we move on, perhaps to our bedroom for more, and more. He already has an erection, long and hard these days, deep inside his pants. He's like me, a pants boy. It's all part of our playfulness, all part of our plan for each other, the feel of his and the feel of mine in his palm, the smoothness of the fabric, the first sign of wetness in mine which tells him I'm excited and ready for more. Yes, Kerry is a pants boy alright, just as I am. The last item of clothing to be removed, ritually, to reveal the holy grail, the source of our pleasure together. A boy's best friend I've heard it called. They're right, it is.
When our crying stopped, that late morning on Hythe beach, I wanted to kiss his good news from Wendy, the social worker, deep into his mouth and face but he resists me.
'My eyes Arlo. They're sore now.' He says, looking mournfully into mine, like a puppy dog might. He's going to make me fight for him.
'I can sooth them if you want?'
'How?' He asks, smiling.
'Like this.'
I'm smothering his face with my tongue, all over it, his eyes, his ears, around his nose, and finally his mouth. I've slipped my hand under his jumper and tee shirt and onto warm bare skin. He can't prevent me from getting him there, or where my hand slowly travels to, downwards, onto the gathered waistband of his little brief pants which, as it happens, are just like mine. In fact they were one of my old favourites, and then onwards, southbound to where I want it and he wants it. On the two cheeks of his firm and tightly closed eleven-year-old bottom. This won't do at all Kerry. Little persuasion needed. He'll like this. Going to this particular part of Kerry's anatomy gives him the signal of where we are going.
This morning I helped Kerry get dressed after we had both done what we needed to do in the bathroom as usual. We have our own facilities which is great so we can take as long over matters as we want to, or need to, provided we get out of bed early enough. Kerry tends to take his time sitting on the loo because he wants to get that function done before school. This habit doesn't change at weekends. He can do his bottom himself perfectly well these days but for some odd reason he prefers me to see to that little job. He's half hard when he gets himself off the loo seat and presents himself to me, expecting the usual, which he gets. Not a bad way to start the day, feeling inside Kerry's back passage, always a nice place to explore for n'th time, but it has its down side. We woke up late this morning being a Saturday and then it's straight to the bathroom having missed out on our usual play together. On a school day it's just that, a bit of playfulness, nothing more. There just isn't time for anything more absorbing , shall we say? Saturday mornings give us a bit more time, usually. Performing that task for Kerry always gets me going. When I look at Kerry he playing with it. He's grown recently and I reckon puberty is just around the corner for him. His twelfth birthday comes up in May so that's about right.
'Shall we do it?' Kerry asks, smiling in that naughty cute way of his, tempting me to masturbate with him into the loo. Ok, why not? It's always stimulating to do it with another boy, not that it's happened very often. Alan was the last one and that was ages ago and that wasn't into a loo or the long grass at the end of the playing field one lunchtime. It was into the safety of our pants. Kerry has occupied my time very satisfactorily since then.
I'm waiting for Kerry to come as he works the thin covering skin back and below the corona showing me the shining penile crown, covering it all again, making me wish I wasn't this circumcised boy that I am. Does it make any difference to the quality or intensity of my orgasms? It better had not. The Book says it might well do as uncut boys are more sensitive. Lucky old Kerry.
He grabs my hand. Oh good, he's decided he wants this to be a mutual experience which will be quicker.
It's such a simple procedure, this one, uncomplicated and indulged in by countless boys this very morning no doubt, producing nothing at the end of it, or a little dribble, or several pulses creating puddles on their smooth creamy tummies to be played with and wondered at, little fingertips delving and spreading their goodness around until it's all gone. Then the curious boy has that first taste of this new stuff he's created. It's nothing like anything he's ever tasted before, that's for sure.
'Is that it……..you're finished?'
'No, there's more.' The boys says, still gently working his foreskin back and forth. 'But be quick.'
I sat on the loo seat with Kerry in front of me. In he goes, as far as I can take him, wrapping hard between my lips and working my tongue all around the underside of his delicious exposed penis head. I can taste it already. Please be as long as you can, I'm very much liking this.
Needless to say my boy couldn't take this for more than half a minute, probably less before he gave me the benefit of his rapidly maturing sexual works. I felt six or more pulses via my finger gently pressed against his perineum as it bulged out pumping the warm watery semen into my mouth. Twenty seconds later he's done but I'm not letting him go just yet. Oh no. I moved my attention, whilst keeping the still solid organ in my mouth, to the anus, feeling him in there, easily. The icing on the cake. This is far too good to stop now. So I go on, and on, his fingers embedded in my hair.
'Stop now…..please!' He orders me, unable to take more of what I was giving him. I think it's entirely possible that a boy at this stage, just before puberty hits him, can be so sensitive that an extended sexual experience can send him into overload, to the extent that there's a limit to what he can cope with. Kerry is drained in every way, and I'm thrilled to have done it. We're both breathless and if we're honest, a bit surprised at the intensity of what we have done together. Open mouthed, Kerry has a question……
'Was it ok?'
'Yes it was. It was good. You're going to be good Kerry; very good. Where are your pants? We're a bit late already.'
'I'm just wearing shorts Arlo.'
'Which ones?'
'Those ones you used for running. The athletics ones.'
'No pants?'
'No. I want to go down like this.'
'Why? You're showing a bit Kerry.'
'Am I?'
'Yes! Go and put some pants on please.'
'Why can't I wear just these? They're comfortable.'
'They may well be, but you're growing up fast Kerry. You're not a little boy any more. Those satin effect shorts are……..a bit rude. I can see you through them.'
'Please? Just while we have breakfast?'
He gets his way as usual. When mum saw him, she raised her eyebrows as if to say……that boy needs something underneath those shorts. Then mum asks……..
'Are you going to put something else on Kerry, if you're going out somewhere?'
I think that said it all.
'I've told him mum.'
Kerry changed after breakfast and just as well because Wendy the social worker turned up unannounced a half hour later. Mind you, he did look good! It's April now, and come warmer times in May and beyond, he'll make a fine sight wandering along Hythe seafront. I can't wait for our first wander along the warm tarmac; a whole half mile of it. Every now and then we'll lean on the railings about the beach and look down on the figures below. It's terrific fun.
When we got home on Monday afternoon, the letter was on the kitchen table. On the back of the envelope was printed Kent County Council Education Department. Mum told Kerry that what he has been waiting for has arrived. Kerry walks round the kitchen table and picks up the foolscap sized white envelope, and rips it open unceremoniously.
He has his first choice of school, my school, to start in September. Great. He'll be a happy boy now, and the bonus is that we travel together each and every day. More hugs and tears, all round. It's bloody marvellous news!
We've been lectured at school again today in Personal and Social Education, PSE for short, an annoying feature of our overloaded curriculum, to the extent that Art and Music are being virtually phased out, or at the very least sidelined what with staffing reductions and a voluntary redundancy. That's a shame because a lot of our boys find both of those subjects a welcome diversion from a heavy dose of science, mathematics and difficult languages like German or even Latin. The heavy lecture came in the shape of a social worker who came in to tell us that a growing number of children as young as six are making selfie videos of themselves and posting them on social media sites at worst, or sending them to friends who can do what they like with these things unbeknownst to the film maker. At lunch time I did a random survey of other boys in my class whom I thought prime candidates for such a creative enterprise. I spoke to ten classmates and six told me they had made videos of themselves. Five of them admitted to being naked at some point in the video. Two told me they developed erections because it was all so exciting and had masturbated, one to orgasm. I've seen all those boys in the showers and I know that not one of them has any significant pubic hair. Needless to say they wouldn't answer unless I told them if I had made one myself. I have. In fact I've made several, all with my very own boyfriend. I didn't admit to sending them to anyone, or posting anything on social media because I haven't. One boy said he had. He'd sent a video of himself undressing in his bathroom and then masturbating very close to his phone all the way.
'It was a fantastic feeling…. And quick too. It was the most exciting thing I've ever done. I sent it to a girl I like.'
'What has she done with it?'
'Fuck knows.'
So there we are folks. It's now in her hands and there's nothing he can do about it now, apart from ask her to delete it. She might say she has when in actual fact, she hasn't. Be warned all you boys out there! The human race is not to be trusted.
I told Kerry about this growing habit that boys and no doubt girls too are developing. He looked guilty.
'Why are you looking so furtive Kerry? You've got me worried now. Have you been up to something like that?'
'No. Not really.'
'Right. You had better tell me now, or your social worker is going to hear about it. Are you getting what I'm saying to you? I'm serious Kerry.'
'Henry.'
'What about Henry?'
'He asked me. I posed for him that afternoon. He asked me if it was alright.'
'If what was alright?'
'If I would take off my pants. He wanted see me like that. He said I was very interesting to look at; he meant to draw, I think. I said I would ask you.'
'And did you? Take off your pants?'
'Yes, but he didn't do anything. He didn't have his phone or anything. He didn't Arlo. He wants both of us to go there. He said he would pay us really well if we went there. Did I do wrong?'
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