Weetangera Boy

by Thole <poondu@bigfoot.com>

As soon as his truck was underway he told me to take off my shirt; a few minutes later the word sandals came from his otherwise silent lips and while we were still some miles from Woody End he indicated with a word and a look that I should remove my shorts. For the last ten minutes of the ride I was nude as a Greek statue. When I stepped from the truck in his yard he told me to take a shower. When I step'd out from under the spray he placed leather cuffs on my wrists with a thong between them only about ten centimeters in length and a collar round my neck, like what might be worn by a dog, to which was attached a leather leash that hung down my back and between my legs.

I was scared for a moment, not of him, I knew he would never hurt me, but of the unknown; and at the same time I was excited, aroused. He pulled me back into the shower and fixed the thong to a hook on the end of a line that went up to a pulley in the tree limb overhanging the enclosure and then he left me there. A few moments later the line pulled up on my arms and presently I was hanging in the late afternoon sun with only my toes on the deck.

Colin first met Mr. Forster when his patrol was assigned to that car for Whitsun camp the summer he was thirteen. Mr. Forster drove an old Volkswagen camper van. There was a split in the front bench seat to gain passage fore and aft and a tilt up roof section with room for a couple of small boys to sleep overhead; in the back four boys crowded with all their kit, Jason, their Patrol Leader, sat left front. Colin, by the luck of some obscure draw, sat on a sleeping bag wedged between the two front seats. He'd kicked off his sandals and now sat Indian style with the road map spread out on his lap. He was originally an Aussie boy from the 1st Weetangera Scouts newly transplanted to Sheffield when his mum choose to move back home after his dad died of cancer the previous year. He was still grieving that loss and having a difficult time with the reversal of the seasons. Back in Canberra at this time of year the kids were getting ready for midwinter camp, here he was in jumper and shorts looking forward to a bit of skinny-dipping on the Epsom Downs.

I felt him before I heard him, felt his rough hands spread lather on my arms and back; then I felt the edge of a razor scrape against my skin, one hand smoothing lather whilst the other guided the blade; I squirmed once and he slap'd me hard across my arse; after that I hung limp and he shaved every square inch of me from my neck down. My cock, at first shriveled with fright, now responded to his touch as his razor made short work of my first pubic hairs. It seem'd only a few hours ago that I'd first felt that rough hand on my knee and thigh but it was really three whole years from that Friday to this one.

Eventually, when Colin was convinced Mr. Forster really did know the way, and he himself was more familiar with the direction they were headed, he folded the map away and lean'd back against the edge of the man's seat. So like his dad he thought, he felt a comfort when Mr. Forster smiled at him and pet'd his knee.

They enjoy'd some fine weather and the camp went well; the boy fit in with his new mates. The kids would all strip off in the morning, those who wore anything to bed at all, and they would roll and slide in the tall wet grass of the hillside below their camp all the way to the stream where a quick swim washed away what remain'd of the fog of night's sleep. Once, at the end of the walk back to camp, he felt Mr. Forster's hand on his shoulder as he stop'd for a moment by the fire to smell the coffee and bacon; still naked he was at that moment.

—Run along and find your clothes, the man said, you can breakfast after you're dressed.

—Why do we have to dress? he asked, looking up at this man, Why can we not play like this all day? I think I'd rather like to try.

—Another time perhaps, the man said as he let his hand slide down the small boy's back.

Colin felt an electric thrill as the man slap'd his bum and he ran off to dress.

Now he has lower'd me to my feet and turned on the spray again. The hot water is washing away the shaving lather and my hard won boyish pubic hair; I have never felt so thoroughly naked that I can remember; just like the marble statue of David at the National Museum. I remember on that trip he had stroked the thigh of David just like he had once stroked mine and remarked how much he liked that smooth skin and how much like David I was then. But now he does not admonish me to dress, instead he tells me I am his catamite for the weekend, he says I will not need clothing, it will only get in the way, and in fact my cloths are gone, not where I left them. I followed him into the kitchen where he pointed at the sink and said one word —Dishes.

Colin saw Mr. Forster only a few times the rest of that summer; the boy spent most of his time at camp with the Scouts or at the beach with his mum during her holiday. Mr. Forster was a woodsman and gardener and the summer was a busy time for him. When school term start'd that Autumn Colin was a day-student and Mr. Forster began to appear more often at the Scout Hut meetings. During October there was a four-day trip to London; the group stay'd at the B.P. House Hostel and visited Gilwell, the Tower, Greenwich, the National Museum. Everywhere they went they were in uniform and whenever they took Mr. Forster's VW, instead of the underground, Colin rode on the makeshift jumpseat with that rough hand cup'd over his bare knee or stroking his tan thigh. In the Greek Hall of the National Museum the two admired the statue of The Young David; Mr. Forster ran his hand over the smooth marble. —You're smooth just like that Colin but in another year or so you'll be all hairy like your PL now. The boy laugh'd quietly, —If you like sir I'll let you shave me anytime you want.

He had call'd me only that afternoon at the summer job he'd set me up with as grounds keeper at the small hospital in town and said that his usual helper would not be available and would I like to come out to Woody End for the weekend. He said I needn't bring anything; he'd pick me up right from my work. Early on in the Spring he'd mention'd inviting me out, right after we came back from the winter camp at Snowdon. That was where I met Galen, the boy he was just talking about. Galen said then he was going away to school soon, maybe he is the one who's the helper, he didn't say. In all the years, all three years, I've known Mr. Forster I'd never been to his house. That one time to Snowdon was the only time I had been with him anywhere that was not a Scout trip.

The Snowdon camp took place the winter after Colin was fourteen. Galen was seventeen then and it was just the two boys with Mr. Forster who went to the mountains for a late January weekend of skiing and camping in the snow. The mild day of skiing gave way to a chilly late afternoon twilight as they set a tent in a sheltering copse and made a supper of rabbit stew over a wood fire. After eating, Mr. Forster told Galen to arrange the bedding and get it warming whilst he and Colin cleaned up the meal. It was dark when everything was put away and tho the fire still blazed merrily and Colin was one of his troops best campfire leaders, tonight he was ready to sleep. Galen called from the tent to say everything was ready there and Mr. Forster took Colin by the hand, a move which surprised the boy only a little since the man had made that gesture many times before, and led him once more to stand by the fire.

—I want to teach you something you didn't learn in Scouts, he said, something maybe even a little contrary to what you did learn.

While he spoke he knelt by the fire and used a small stick to separate the flaming logs; in a few moments the flames had ceased and the logs, glowing dully, smoldered in the dark.

—Each of those logs is like each of us in our separate sleeping bags, he went on, you have only your self to keep the bag warm; but when we all sleep in the same bag—and here he pushed the logs together—we each help to keep the others warm. As he spoke the flames lept up again and chased back the night. He stood and turned to the boy,

—This works best when you sleep in your skin my boy and I know how foolish that may sound but you have to remember I have been at this a lot longer than you so take my word for it.

Right when I finished washing the dishes he came out from another room like he'd been watching me, or at least listening, and pointed to a tall cabinet next to the door out to the mudroom. Three words this time, —Bucket, brush, floor. For the next half hour or so I crawl'd around on the flagstone floor of the kitchen and scrub'd it with a brush. In order to get under and behind the big wood range I had to lie in the dirty water and slither over the wet stones. I have to admit I was enjoying the scenario of being his slave. I wondered how far I would go, how far he would take it. I was prepared for anything but then I had no idea at that time how far that would be. I was enthrall'd by the spell he cast, the game we were playing, and wondered what he would ask of me next.

By this time twilight had given way to a full moon rising over the low trees of the valley to the east of their hilltop camp. The little copse was lit some by the moon and some by the fire as Colin watched Mr. Forster strip down to his skin and walk barefoot over the pack'd snow to the edge of their camp to pee. He had seen the man nude only once before, when they were all swimming at Whitsun camp his first summer with the group, when they were all hairless boys except for this man who looked almost like a gorilla and he'd wondered and talk'd with his peers about how long it would be before they all looked like him. Now, in the moonlight, the man looked even more hirsute and then, without another word he pushed his clothing ahead of himself and crawled through the tunnel of the tent into whatever warmth awaited leaving the callow youth to contemplate the wisdom of the snow. Without consciously forming the thoughts Colin realised how much he loved this man, how much he trusted him, and he knew without telling himself that if Galen could do it, whatever the undefined "it" might turn out to be, he also could do it. After all, Galen was only three years older; he too was still a boy by some standards. For that matter, by some other standards, Colin was already a man.

He strip'd down and went to pee in the same place as his mentor. When he crawled into the tent wave after wave of shivers raised goose flesh on his skin as the chill nylon of the tent caressed his back and the hands of his companions guided his feet and then his legs and torso between them into the warm nest of the sleeping bag.

When the floor was washed clean and rinsed and towel'd dry Mr. Forster appeared again as if on cue and led me by the leash on my collar out into the warm night. A full moon shown into the shower enclosure now and when he spoke it was four words, —Undress me; bathe me. I unbuttoned his shirt and loosened his belt; his shirt fell from his back and his trousers drop'd around his ankles; as I bent to pick them up I felt his hand for an instant between my legs and I started at the surprise. He pointed to the floor in front of him,

—Bend over again, he command'd after I had placed his shirt and trousers on hangers near the entrance to the shower.

—A young boy like you ought to be able to keep his legs straight and his palms flat on the floor.

I did that easily and he stood so his toes were on top of my fingers, my head between his legs, I felt the hairyness of his chest on my nates as he bent over me and peer'd down at my face from between the cheeks of my ass. His hands stroked the backs of my thighs.

—Remember little one, you are my slave, I will touch you anywhere and anytime I please and you will not be surprised. His beard tickled my bum as he spoke and I had to smile; he stood and smacked me hard with his hands on the cheeks of my arse and then he let me stand and continue my task.

I took down his thong style briefs and placed them with the rest of his clothing and then took his hand and led him to the shower. After I'd washed him with only my hands, no soap, we soaked in a hot tub for a while and he dozed while I massaged his shoulders and then we took another short rinse under the shower before going to bed. His bed was a loft of sorts in a brick and stone room with windows that looked out into the garden; it was not a real bed, but a shelf that took up the whole space. He climb'd onto the mattress and pulled me by my leash down beside him and covered us both with a light flannel sheet. I felt the presence of his erection between my legs and his hands caressing my belly and crotch as I drifted off.

Colin had always been a heavy sleeper and never was aware of the jokes while his fun loving peers in the Pewit Patrol were perpetrating them upon his young body. While it is not recorded anywhere if the other Scouts ever violated his portals they certainly had ample opportunity and he did on more than one occasion awake to find his nude self, resplendent with body paint and such other decorations as could be found around a camp, laying in one pose or another on the grass long after the camp had been removed from around him. On one such occasion he woke to the pain of hot wax dripping on his foreskin from a burning birthday candle standing up in the glans of his morning erection. The boys restrained his efforts to remove the candle or blow it out whilst they finished singing Happy Birthday but he managed to seize the day by pissing it out.

Now as he dreamily tried to hold up his end of the conversation, chicken sandwiched as he was between the course rye of Mr. Forster and the plain white, with crust trim'd, of the smooth, hairless young man laying in front of himself, he was dimly aware, as if from the viewpoint of a pewit looking down from the roof of the tent, of Galen placing their hands in an arrangement suitable for mutual masturbation. All that was required to make the night go smoother was a little dressing and that would come soon enough. But Galen did not get the satisfaction he wanted from the hands of Colin so he turn'd to come between the sleeping boy's thighs.

In the grey half-light before dawn I woke beside him and felt a dry crustyness on my belly and his hand holding my penis. I rolled slightly away and went back into the fog of sleep and dreamt a collage of remembrances that all seemed to have me naked in them. Some I recalled vividly, of others I was only dimly aware; a few would make stories of their own such was their length and importance to me but in all I was nude. At the end I was lying on my back in the grass of a warm spring morning surrounded by the rest of the Pewits who were also nude, their arms were linked and they were peeing on me and each other and laughing. I woke with a start and found my body soaked with a warm wetness. Mr. Forster was gone. I gathered the bedding and took it all to the shower to rinse and then after, stood in the warm sun of the back garden. Presently Mr. Forster appeared in the garden wearing the shorts and shirt of yesterday and took me in tow by my leash and led me to a woodpile where he indicated I was to labour until he called. All morning I split wood and stacked it and thought about breakfast. There was a water bottle I drank from but it was not until the sun was near overhead that he came again and led me to the kitchen and said

—Lunch.

I prepared what appealed to me and served him first and then sat on the floor next to his chair to eat what remained. During this time I would feel his hand in my hair or caressing my shoulder and after eating, while cleaning up from the meal, he stood behind me petting my nates and sides and generally keeping me in such a state of excitement that I found it difficult to concentrate on the dishes. My erection had never been so hard nor standing up so.

When Colin woke in the sleeping bag, still sandwiched between the two men, it was with his stiff penis in the mouth of Galen. After the boy came they obliged him to hold their erections, one in each hand, and make them come onto his belly where they mixed their cum together and anointed him after the manner of priests anointing an acolyte. He pushed all that into the realm of another strange dream where it would recur from time to time but lay waiting for resolution until a subsequent visit to Mr. Forster's home.

The three eventually woke again and led by Galen went for a roll in the snow before dressing and skiing out to the VW for the long drive home. Months later, at the start of yet another weekend camp, Colin, not truly remembering all his body had been through at Snowdon, yet perhaps subconsciously longing for more of that sort of attention, contrived to present himself to Mr. Forster for further consideration. To begin with he wore loose green cotton shorts and a baggy wool jumper when he sat in his usual place in the VW, and following in kind, once the car had reached speed on the motorway, Mr. Forster placed his hand on the boy's knee and gradually moved it up along his thigh over the nascent glow that would one day soon endow those beautiful legs with a golden coat.

Colin picked up the lower hem of his jumper and lifted it over his knees thus obscuring the man's hand and any further exploration, from the sight of the rest of the rest of the boys, while at the same time drawing that hand further along his own thigh and into his crotch where it found its own way under his shorts. Mr. Forster, for his part, was not surprised to find there a stick shift rivaling that of the VW and as he played with it much to Colin's delight he turned to the boy and gave a slight wink.

We worked together in the garden of Woody End most of the afternoon. I spent most of my time crawling around on my hands and knees doing his bidding or squatting on my haunches or sitting in the wet loam at his feet; while he pruned over my head I weeded or planted. Occasionally when I made a mistake he would lay a switch of tree smartly across my bum and while it truly hurt and nearly always brought tears to my eyes I know I did not make mistakes just to gain his attention. He would caress my stinging bum, wipe the dirt from my legs, pour water over my head or spray me as he watered the plants. Nearly all the time I was erect from his attention and he seemed to enjoy that tho he never touched me there.

Towards evening we repeated most of the ritual of yesterday except for the shaving part. I undressed him and we showered together and then soaked in the hot tub for a while. After the soak and rinse he indicated I should dress him in a short silk robe and then he read whilst I prepared a light supper of bread and salad. Again I ate at his feet and again I enjoyed his massage while I washed the dishes. In the evening we walked through the copse behind the house, he leading me by my leash along tended paths that presented no obstacles to my bare feet or skin; from the far side of the thick hedge I could hear the shrieks of neighbor children at play. Soon we came to an overlook, which would have afforded a fine view of the sunset had we been earlier but now offered only the afterglow of midsummer twilight. He sat on a cushion of stone and brought me to rest in front of himself with my head between his legs. He caressed my hair and face while we watched the sky together, I could feel the heat of his hardness expanding against my ear and ever so wanted to take him into my mouth that the thought surprised me. What was it like to suck a man, to be sucked? It surprised me more that I was not repulsed by these thoughts and was suddenly aware that I knew my own answer from times in Scouts, from experiences I'd not thought about for a long while. Presently we returned to his house and his bed and though I wanted and even tried a little to lie facing him so I might take him in my hands and maybe in my mouth he put my backside to himself and placed the thong between my handcuffs on a hook beyond my pillow as if he'd read my thoughts and had other plans.

As the camp progressed Mr. Forster found several occasions to be alone with Colin, but each was only for a moment and all he did was look. At one point when all the boys were swimming the man walked a little ways off into the wood and shortly the boy followed. As they pee'd together onto a bush Colin asked why it was all right that the boys could swim nude but that the adults all wore swim suits. Mr. Forster replied that most of the boys were so beautiful that some of the men would be excited at the sight of them and were obliged to cover that excitement. The boy was puzzled. Mr. Forster told him to stand on a small rock, —like that statue of the Young David, you remember, from the museum.

Colin did so and the man stood back and admired the form and beauty from this side and that; then he came closer again and stroked the boy's thigh as he had the statue, —So like the marble yet this is real flesh, real boy.

Colin felt the man's love and began to have an inkling to what that meant in the relationship between men and boys; he felt his self begin to stiffen in response and it was not lost on Mr. Forster who invited Colin's fingers to touch the bulge in his own crotch. —There is a time and a place for the love of boys to flower but it is not at Scout camp, he said, now run along back to your swim.

Sunday morning I was dry and no longer tied to the hook but there was a curious dry crustyness on my belly and an overall itch of new hair finding its way to the surface of my skin. After I had showered alone and served my master his breakfast he let me alone to clean up and then we worked together again in the garden and at the woodpile. Late in the afternoon he removed the cuffs from my hands as we showered and said I would find my clothing in his truck; I could dress while he drove me to my home. I looked carefully for some nod of approval, some sign that he was satisfied, but even as I sat naked in his truck and then began to dress slowly as we drew closer to my home he remained stoic while I was ablaze with passion, unfulfilled, eager to continue to be his slave. When I finally stepped from the truck the sky was dark again and I could not see his face.

—Make no plans for next weekend, he said, I will call you later.

Never did a week go by faster for me, before or since. During the days at my work on the hospital grounds I had time to think about Galen: He had never been a Scout, he must have met Mr. Forster some other way, perhaps through his school, or maybe he was once one of those shrieking neighbor children, but it was clear to me now that I was replacing him as the boy of Woody End. He was going off to college where I guessed he would find himself a boy. If I did choose the course open to me now it would mean all my weekends would be full, either with Scouts (and how would this new arrangement affect the way Mr. Forster and I would work together there) or with his tasks at the End. I smiled at that and wondered anew if he would ever take me whilst I was awake and what it would feel like. During my nights alone I would will my hair to grow back faster so he would have ample reason to shave me when we next met. On Thursday he called.

—Do you want to come again?

I smiled at the play on words, the double meaning, and answer'd —Yes! too fast.

He said he would pick me up right from work and as before I needn't bring anything.