Three Tears
by David Heulfryn

 

Chapter Eight

Saturday morning, James woke to find Martin dressed in the clothes he had hung on the wardrobe door the previous night. Glancing at the clock, he turned to face the wall and went back to sleep. It was too early on a Saturday to be up and about, and he thought it strange Martin was up this early.

The whole house was in full swing the next time he woke. His mother was in the kitchen banging the cupboard doors in her usual loud manner, and his father was in the garden mowing the lawn, determined to get this chore over and done with. Many a weekend, he would try and bribe either James or Martin to do this, but most of the time, they managed to squirm their way out of it.

Oddly enough, the boys were the quietest in the household. Martin was out, he supposed; James was still in bed, and Tony, who was generally up earlier than him, was silent. James supposed he was transfixed in front of a television screen, playing computer games.

With the muffled din that crept into his room, James found he could not sleep, so in a fit of surrender, he flung the quilt from his body and dragged his feet to the floor.

Walking into the bathroom, he could still smell the humidity after Martin had showered and saw the condensation beading on the mirrors.

Saturday morning was not his usual time to shower, but as he was meeting up with a new friend, he felt he should at least make some effort. He had got on well with Tom when they met during the orientation day for the new programme and supposed it wouldn’t matter if he smelled slightly musty. But he thought it best to make the effort; besides, the noise from the shower drowned out the noise from downstairs.

As the warm water flowed down his body, he slowly began to awaken, ready to face the challenge of going downstairs.

 

James had arranged to meet Tom in the town square at midday. If only to get out of the house as soon as possible, James had grabbed a bowl of cereal, gulped down a glass of orange and left. Come eleven o’clock, he was wandering round the town square, just waiting.

After checking, Tom wasn’t waiting in the pre-arranged spot just in case he, too, was ridiculously early; James went over to the nearest fast food place and sat alone by the window drinking a coke. Ensuring he got his money’s worth, he chomped the half-melted ice cubes that clung to the bottom of the carton.

Shortly after half past eleven, as he gazed out of the window to avoid the stares and looks he was getting from a young child sitting in their pushchair being fed fries by his mother, he noticed Tom get off a bus and walk over to the bench were they we due to meet.

Realising he, too, was early, James bolted from his seat and walked, faster than usual, to catch up with Tom.

“Hiya, Tom.” He called as he approached from behind. “You early too, I see.”

Tom stopped and turned to see who had spoken to him. “Yeah, I was getting badgered by my mum and just wanted to get out.”

“I know the feeling. That’s why I was here half an hour ago.”

They both laughed at the desperation to be rid of their families.

Tom explained he had virtually had his orders written down for him. He was given a wallet full of cash and a list of all the new clothes he would need when he was away filming. Despite pleading with his mother that what he had was suitable, she haughtily exclaimed that no son of hers would be seen wearing old clothes in a major television programme; only new would do. The list was precise, and Tom knew it would not sit well if he chose to interpret it in his own manner.

At least it gave them something to do, James thought. He had half expected to spend the day just messing around, wandering from record store to record store and pointing out everything he had in his collection and everything he wanted.

As they trudged from shop to shop getting the jeans, shirts and t-shirts, they both felt like they were on a shopping trip with their mothers. Although neither was present, the list ensured neither was far from their minds. With only two items to get, the list was very specific on one of them. “Ten pairs of multicoloured boys boxer shorts, medium from M & S.”

Tom blushed as he placed the packets on the counter. The young assistant scanned them and bagged them without looking at him. They looked at each other only when he handed over a couple of twenty-pound notes. The assistant smiled as he took the money and counted out the change.

Virtually snatching the carrier bag as it was handed to him, Tom rushed out of the shop. James followed in his wake.

“I’ve never had to buy my own undies before,” Tom confessed as they dawdled along the street, knowing it was ridiculous, feeling embarrassed by it.

“So what’s next on the list?”

“The last thing is two pairs of swimming trunks. As it’s a desert island, I suppose we’ll be going into the sea a lot, and my old pair is getting a little small now.”

They passed miles and miles of racked trainers and gym equipment as they walked through the sports hyperstore to get to the clothing. James made a bee-line for a recent British Lions rugby top from their recent tour.

“You can get this five quid cheaper down the road; they’re selling this old stuff off cheap,” James commented.

Ignoring him, Tom picked up a pair of voluminous, low-legged swim shorts in garish colours. “What do you think about these?”

“They’ll be good to use as a rescue beacon in case we can’t get a fire going.” He quipped. “What sort you after?” He sidled over to Tom.

Tom picked up a pair of black Speedos after replacing the hideous eyesore he’d shown James. Ever since he was very young and had been taught to swim, he had taken it seriously and often spent the occasional evening doing some lengths in the local municipal pool. He never thought he was good enough to try out for the county team and, quite frankly, didn’t want to, but he did train as a lifeguard and intended to try and get some work when he was in college.

In his mind, Tom had decided to get a pair of Speedos and some swim shorts. He picked a mid-thigh length style that was not too baggy, the style of shorts he liked. He continued flicking through the rails, picked various colours and sizes, and headed to the changing rooms.

James waited as Tom tried on his swimwear. Bored, his eyes wandered around the store at the various shoppers buying their fitness equipment and clothes, which he knew might only be used and worn once or twice.

He looked at the tennis equipment and saw the boom of customers that Wimbledon Fortnight had created who pawed over the rackets and lazily fondled the balls as if they knew how to tell if they were good. Behind him, he heard Tom call out his name.

“James, come here and tell me what you think.”

His head poked around the changing cubicle, beckoning for James to come over. As he approached, he opened the door so that James could slip inside.

The changing cubicle was big enough for both boys to have ample elbow room. James looked over at Tom, who had taken his shirt off and stood bare-chested in his black Speedos.

“Very fetching.” James laughed as he saw the waistband of Tom’s boxer shorts poking above the speedos and the legs poking out below. He looked like some village idiot who couldn’t dress himself.

“I know,” Tom smirked, “there’s a big sign saying to try on the swimwear and athletic supports over your underwear. But there’s no way you can check the fit and comfort like this.”

“You’ll certainly get noticed if you spend those few weeks on the island looking like that.”

“Sod this,” Tom said as he pulled down the speedos and placed them on the seat on top of his shirt and trousers. James was about to unlock the door and leave when he saw Tom slip his boxer shorts off so that he stood in his white socks.

James uncomfortably watched as he pulled the black Speedos back on, tucking his dick and balls neatly into place.

“That’s better. Now, what do you think?”

“A vast improvement.” James kept his eyes glued to Tom’s crotch and the bulge it made. Turning around, James took in the firm, round backside Tom showed him for a few seconds.

Twanging the elastic and grabbing his crotch, Tom said. “Nice and snug. I think these will do.”

“What about the colour?”

“I always have black. It makes your bulge less noticeable.”

James pondered this sense of shyness as he thought it strange since he had just exposed himself and stood stark bullock naked in front of him just seconds ago.

Tom tried on and chose a pair of lime green swim shorts to accompany his speedos.

With all the shopping done, they finally headed for something to eat. It was too late to have lunch, but they both felt hungry. They chatted as they ate burgers and stuffed fries in their mouths, five or six at a time, to get some taste from them.

 

When Martin came home, James was slouching on the sofa and watching Tony play on his favourite computer on the television screen. Their parents had just nipped out to the garden centre as their mother had a notion that she wanted a couple of hanging baskets on the porch this summer.

“I’m back!” Martin shouted.

“Where the bloody hell have you been all day? We’ve been worried sick.” James called out in his mock parental tone.

“Ha, bleeding, ha,” Martin responded as he climbed the stairs.

“They’ve gone out, but they won’t be long!” James shouted back.

Martin changed his clothes in his bedroom and put on his comfortable cords and shirt. He changed his underwear as his little accident had now dried and glued the fabric to his dick and balls. Peeling them off, he felt guilty putting them in the dirty linen basket to be washed. He thought that his first orgasm at the hands of another should be kept somehow. But he knew it to be weird and perhaps a little obsessive, as if never expecting it to happen again, wanting the proof to be around forever that it once had done.

Very little was said about the day’s events. There were a few polite enquiries about how everyone’s day went over the dinner table, but neither James nor Martin expanded beyond a dismissive fine. Tony seemed most excited about the day as he’d finally beaten his previous high score on the computer. He was very proud of this moment and wanted everyone to congratulate him. His parents did say well done but, as usual, qualified it by suggesting he get out more and that perhaps he shouldn’t spend such a long time sitting so close to the television screen, his thumbs twitching the controls.

“You hear so much about repetitive strain injury these days…” Their mother began, but all three boys cast their eyes downwards as they ate, intently watching as they picked up each morsel on their fork, fully intending not to hear a word she was about to say.

James stacked the plates when they had all finished. Martin quickly chimed up. “You wash, I’ll dry.” To ensure he got the most pleasant of the chores.

As James stood, his hands immersed in hot, soapy water, he finally asked Martin where he’d been.

“Never saw you in Town today. I thought I might. Mind you, you were gone for a long time. What on earth did you find to do all day?”

“Not much, we just hung around.”

James laughed incredulously. “Is that all I get after sixteen years of being a devoted younger brother? There must have been more to it. I couldn’t spend nearly six hours just wandering around Town.”

Martin stayed silent.

“I bet you two found some nice bench hidden away so you could smooch.”

“Where on earth can you find anywhere out of the way in town?”

James just winked at Martin, winding him up further.

With the dirty dishes washed and dried, Martin went to his room to escape the family. There he lay, pondering what happened while Phil was kissing him. He felt he needed to speak to him again; he just wanted to know everything was still all right.

Picking up his mobile phone, he rang Phil’s number and waited for him to answer, his foot nervously tapping the end of his bed.

“Hi, it’s Martin.” He spoke softly.

The conversation was short, and Martin thanked him for the lovely day they had together. He wanted to do it again, and soon. As Phil couldn’t be sure when he was free, Martin left it with Phil, saying he would ring him the next day.

As he ended the call, Martin clutched his mobile and curled up on his bed, Phil’s voice still fresh in his ear.

 

Knowing he wanted to be alone, James had left Martin alone in their room for several hours. It was getting late, and Tony had just been told to go to bed. Displaying his usual annoyance of being the first to bed all the time, Tony only delayed the inevitable by a few minutes. James said he would go up with him, as he too was quite tired after the day he’d had, and they both bounded up the stairs. They screamed goodnight to each other as Tony closed his bedroom door. James entered his bedroom and saw Martin lying down, reading a book.

“Mum and Dad say they’re off to some antique fair in the morning.”

“Uh-huh,” Martin grunted, hoping not to get into a conversation with James that would lead to what he was doing that day.

“Tony’s going with them for some reason. It might have something to do with him badgering them as he’s after something. It’s probably some new game. So he’s being especially nice to them.”

“Right.” Martin turned over a page.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to carry on with the picture. You said it wouldn’t be much longer, and if you’ve got all tomorrow morning, you should be able to make a good stab at it.”

Martin looked over at James. “You don’t mind then, you’ve got nothing better to do?”

“No plans whatsoever.” James smiled at his brother.

“Alright then. It’ll be good to spend a few hours solidly on it without interruptions.”

James nodded to Martin, then stripped to his briefs and sat on top of his bedclothes.

Reaching under his mattress, he began to write in his diary.

 

James’ Diary
Today has been one hell of a day. I woke up to find Martin naked and drying himself after his shower. He must have thought I was still asleep as he didn’t rush to dress like usual. I only opened my eyes slightly to see him so that if he looked at me, it looked like my eyes were closed. He’s actually got quite a nice body; it’s a shame he’s so shy about it.

Not only did I get to see my big brother in all his glory this morning, but later, when I was with Tom, he stripped down to nothing in a changing room while trying on swimming trunks. I was a bit shocked as it was only the second time we’d met, and already he was parading his tackle in front of me. Not that I complained; he’s quite a sexy-looking boy and is very well-developed. But as soon as I saw his cute little dick (not that little, really, as it must have been about four inches), my own went rigid. It hurt as it pushed out right against the inside of the zip on my jeans. Good job, too, as the pain caused it to deflate. For a good ten minutes, I stood watching him take on and off swim trunks and shorts, trying to look nonchalant and giving my opinion on the style and how good he looked in them. I don’t know if he’s just naturally uninhibited or he was trying to tease me. As we really don’t know each other that well, I suppose it’s the former. Besides, if he’s that uninhibited, our time on the island might be interesting.

I might ring Tom tomorrow to see how he’s going and see if he wants to meet again. Do something fun this time instead of just plodding around Town with a shopping list from his mother.

Martin’s still being very coy about what he’s up to. I just wish he’d talk to me, as I get the feeling it is something he’s afraid of. If he’d talk, things might clear up. Besides Martin’s emotional well-being, I am bloody nosey and just want to know.

We’ve planned to spend tomorrow morning working on the painting again. It was my idea, as I think Martin needs to get his mind out of the cloud it’s currently in. During the other sessions, he’s also opened up a bit more to me, so perhaps he might feel more comfortable tomorrow when I’m resting perfectly still on my bed, naked in front of him.

I’m beginning to think that writing this on top of my bed in just my underwear was a bad idea. Ever since writing about Tom, I can’t get the image of him naked out of my mind, and I’m hard again. If Martin wasn’t a few feet away…

I’ve just had an idea. I’m going to suggest that Tom and I try out his new swim gear. It’ll be fun to mess around in the water and go on the log flume. It might also settle the question of whether he is just uninhibited or something else.

 

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