Published: 19 Jul 2021

By the time Greg’s gang returned and regrouped after the mid-year break, Greg had growing cold on their plans to travel but whenever it appeared Travis despaired, he would once again kindle his friend’s smouldering desire. Greg’s attention also returned to the gang but it was obvious something was missing from its singularity. Now the conversation migrated away from childish pranks, becoming interested in girls and sex, while the changes in the boys had become most obvious if not a little confusing.

It was not only their bodies but their thoughts that were also developing, spending more time at the Tip-Top café talking to girls, with further interests towards hotel bars and alcohol, especially with Greg, as looking older than his youthful years gained access without question. Others depending on the mood of the barman on duty but even Travis managed at the Royal, although he was never a heavy drinker, preferring beer.

Greg appeared to be the most confident when it came to, as he called it, pulling the chicks and often bragged about his conquests while the others listened attentively to Greg’s exploits, sharing their imaginary deeds with much flair and crudity, disregarding the innocent persona of the young women they brought into their fantasies.

As for Travis he listened with enthusiasm to their blustering experiences while offering little of his own, finding difficulty in describing what he had not encountered. Yet except for a small tatty black and white photograph Greg kept buried deep in his wallet of an African tribal woman with her breasts bare, most likely cut from an issue of national geographic, none of the Greg’s mates had experience towards the subject.

Once the picture had done the rounds of the gang it was Travis’ turn to view but he had never encountered a naked girl nor as Greg constantly bragged, deflowered their virginity but did fake sexual excitement over Greg’s picture, to avoid creating attention towards his lack of experience.

“That’s gotya’ going,” Greg declared while displaying his crushed photograph.

“Nice breasts,” Travis says while attempting to put oomph into his expression.

“Breasts! What are you Brownie some kinda’ poof, they are tits not breasts.”

Travis attempted to laugh away Greg’s assertion but the narrowing of eyes and changed expression declared Greg wasn’t finished with him. “You’re not a poof are you Travis?” he maliciously demanded.

They all laughed towards Travis’ mounting discomfort.

“Of course I’m not,” Travis vigorously defended.

“Then prove it?”

“Yea Brownie, go on prove it;” Turner says in support of Greg.

“How?”

“Get a stiff over her tits.”

“Greg!” Travis protested loudly.

“Aw forget it,”

Greg returned the picture to his wallet and in doing so went any further expression of indict towards Travis’ character.

“Where did you get the photo?” Travis faked interest.

“Never mind where but my brother Wayne has a stack of man magazines, he keeps them locked in a tin box under his bed with the key around his neck on a leather string, as the old girl warned she was going to burn the lot.”

“Have you seen them?”

“Once I caught him pulling his pud over them and he gave me a right whacking, said I was spying.”

Greg paused and looked deeply into Travis’ eyes with quizzical gaze.

“What was that for?” Travis demanded.

“Do you pull your pud?”

“You really get personal at times Greg,” Travis complained as he broke away from his friend’s intensity.

“I think it’s a fair enough question, Sam does – don’t you Hindsie?”

“Yea twice a day,” Sam Hinds admitted in support and knowing Sam Hinds he was more than likely being truthful.

“Do you!” Travis flushed red and growled back at Greg.

“Come on, enough of this kid’s stuff, let’s go and see if there are any sheilas at the Tip-Top café,” Greg voice softened as he led away.

There was one member of Greg’s group who did not join in with the frivolity. Evan Williams was two years younger than the group and followed like a stray puppy. Being younger and not yet adolescent, Evan unlike the others, showed little interest in girls. He was a lean kid with perfect milk white skin and a slender but sturdy frame which showed promise for development when his time came. Evan’s most redeeming features were his eyes and his pitch black hair. His eyes were emerald green, searching and full of trust; a trust that was unappreciated by Greg, yet Travis sensed this trait and unlike the others gave the lad a measure of attention, although always cautious not to appear obvious in doing so.

Frank Stanley, Greg’s father had once been a biker in his youth and still had his motorbike, which he allowed his son to use with disregard to Greg’s age or the law, saying if Greg was silly enough to be caught it was his own doing. With that final school year coming to an end Greg now spent more time with the machine than he did with his friends. Often he would sneak his way out of town in the dead of night and with speed part the warm night air as he travelled without direction.

Sometimes Greg would take Travis as pillion on his night rides. Travis’ arms wrapped tightly around Greg, his breath held deep in developing fear while the machine’s vibration sent sexual sensation through his body. In later years Travis would reflect on such rides and remember the power he felt in Greg’s body and how it comforted him, taking away the concern for his own safety.

“You’re not a flaming boa-constrictor,” Greg barked across his shoulder during that first ride, while removing Travis’ grip around his chest and placing his hands lower to rest below his waist, even lower than educate dictated.

Travis allowed his hands to remain.

“Scared?” Greg hissed into the wind and loudly laughed as Travis’ hold became a cup to Greg’s crotch. Travis didn’t reply; his fear neutralised by the furnace that burnt below a thin layer of denim and his urge to investigate further.

“I’ll throw her up a notch,” Greg shouted and twisted the throttle through a hundred.

“Scared yet?” Greg laughed.

“No,” Travis lied while gently squeezing the rising bulge as he cautiously fiddled with the buttons. One popped open and then another but the threat of rejection held him from advancing further while the machine’s vibration travelled through both bodies, seemingly to reach fever in Travis’ crotch as it pressed hard and obvious against Greg’s lower back.

Want to go for a ride?

Those words became etched within Travis’ pensive moods for years, while the memory of Greg laughing into the wind as Travis’ hands cupped his friend’s crotch would give longing to return to that final school year.

Those late night rides were as close as Travis ever got to his friend, creating a desire he could not control or understand. Eventually Greg reneged on their enterprise, shattering Travis’ dreams of adventure to despair, while building towards his own need to become one with the great expanse that beckoned beyond the perimeter of the town. Yet during his disappointment the youthful frame of Evan Williams was ever close, always volunteering without hesitation for anything that was offered, even when under ridicule.

Often Travis wondered why the lad accepted Greg’s rebuffing, then realised his own, as Greg wasn’t singular in his demeaning. To deal with Greg’s ever changing mood Travis soon discovered diversion and with a simple smile and self derogation, he would reflect his friend’s frustration away from the youthful seemingly fragile nature of Evan towards himself.

It was Evan who then suggested he could take Greg’s place and he and Travis could ride off into the sunset, ever west, ever travelling.

“Can you ride a horse?” Travis asks more out of frustration with Greg’s indecision than anger with Evan’s persistence.

“No.”

“Have you ever been on a horse?” Travis added shaking his head in disbelief.

“No but I once looked after my cousin’s pony while she was away and I can ride a bicycle,” Evan proudly admitted.

“A bike is a little different than a hose, for a start it doesn’t throw you,”

“Mine does,” Evan comically admitted.

“What about your parents? And school? You still have two years to go and you mum wants you to be an accountant.”

“Bugger school and my old man would be happy to see the back of me,” Evan answered with binding conviction.

“Don’t think so,” Travis snubbed without concern for Evan’s feelings.

“Then I could join you once I leave school?” Evan added eagerly but once again Travis ignored Evan’s offer.

Greg had become bored with the gang and male companionship although he occasionally enjoyed his night motor cycle rides with Travis as pillion and each time Travis’ grasp would be placed upon Greg’s crotch, his cupped hands would encase his friends developing erection but never taking that further step, not even when on one ride discovering Greg’s fly buttons had already been released.

“Go on,” Greg growled loudly across his shoulder, as they sped through the darkness towards the crossover of the Atherton rail line.

“What?”

“You dumb or something?”

“I didn’t hear what you said the bike is too noisy.”

“Forget it.”

Had Greg given instructions for Travis to take their relationship to another level or was his demand but one more of his cryptic remarks that if analysed meant nothing.

Greg had become more polarised over that final school term, although a natural extrovert he had become more so and often commenced to speak on some matter only to pause and refuse continuation. If pressured he would succumb to outbreaks of anger, even to violence. Occasionally he would disappear for days, sometimes missing school only to reappear with bruises and what appeared to be lacerations from a beating.

Travis kept his quiet on Greg’s changing attitude but had heard the rumours referring to Greg’s old man being somewhat free with his fists and strap and when Wayne was home both he and the father would physically punish Greg for the slightest misdemeanour. As for the gang there was one final exploit which was instigated by Greg after that Friday’s conclusion of their final English examination.

Raelene Simmons was approaching her birthday and through her teenage years had become besotted with Greg, hanging onto his every action. While at the Tip-Top café, Greg had asked Raelene what she would like for her birthday. Her answer came as a whisper close to Greg’s ear, bringing his face to beam with excited disbelief. “I reckon I can arrange that,” he answered with an impish laugh. Sam Hinds who was with Greg at the time pressured for disclosure but Greg refused to divulge more than admitting it could be interesting.

Greg didn’t much like Raelene; she had freckles and wore her hair somewhat pageboy with a fringe, making her look boyish and somewhat common. Greg declared to anyone who chanced to ask, or not, he was a tit man and Raelene was somewhat flat cheated. Also Greg liked the chase but Raelene was much too submissive and clinging.

Friday evening with the light fading found Greg and his mates, now down to four including Travis, along the grassy verge of the Barron River. Greg was first to arrive and soon after, like compliant puppies, came Sam Hinds with Brian Turner quietly mumbling about nothing which was his usual tic and when questioned would become obdurate without explanation. Hinds immediately took what he believed to be his rightful place on the grass besides Greg while Turner advanced to the water’s edge, kicking at a tuft of grass until it dislodged and fell into the water.

“Hey Turner,” the voice came from a little upstream as a makeshift canoe fashioned from a sheet of corrugated iron silently followed the run of the river.

“Hi there Jonesy’ who owns the canoe?” Turner returned the greeting and picking up a small stone threw it with much force at the canoe. It hit its side with a thud and sunk into the water.

“You missed you clown.”

“I’ll getya’ next time.”

“Right-on, it’s mine. Or mine now, I found it up past the bridge in the long grass beside the brewery hole.”

“I reckon it’s the one I saw Ray Simon’s brother with the other day.” Turner suggested.

“Could be,”

“Any leaks?”

“A few, I think it will sink before I reach the hospital bend, so best I keep paddling.”

“See ya’ tomorrow,”

“What are you thinking?” Hinds spoke feeling somewhat uncomfortable with Greg’s silence.

Greg turned to face Hinds his eyes burning deeply into those of the lad without speaking.

“Just asking,” Hinds continued with a measure of nervous tension, expecting a cutting remark.

“Shut it Hinds I’m thinking.”

Hinds cowered from further questioning and turned his frustration towards Turner, “hey Turner I saw you talking to Liz Miles yesterday,”

“So?”

“Has she let you in yet?”

“Stinky finger,” Turner called back without turning from the water as the canoe passed into the Hospital bend.

“Liar,” Hinds accused.

“How would you know?”

“I tried; she’s still a virgin,”

“With you she would say that,” Turner protested.

“Shut it, both of you,” Greg demanded.

Both fell silent.

With the water level down somewhat for that time of the year, it was suggested by Turner, seeing the ambience was hot and their hormones raging it was time for a swim in the cooling waters.

“Who want’s to see your skinny bare arse,” Greg callously remarked.

“It was only a thought,” Turner collects a small stone and with building frustration hurls it violently into the water. Tension broken he settles.

“Then stop thinking, I’ve other plans but you lot can,” Greg answered from his relaxed position on the sloping grassy bank.

None ventured into the water instead they lay back on the bank listening to the banging of the loose boards on the Barron bridge as vehicles crossed towards the Cairns road, while waiting eagerly for Greg to divulge his plan.

“I like the sound of that?” Turner incidentally mentioned.

“What are you fucken’ on about?” Greg demanded.

“I like the sound of wheels on the bridge planks.”

“Why? You goose.”

“They are going somewhere and we’re not. I like to imagine where they are going.”

“You’ve got a dumb imagination there Turner.” Greg cruelly laughed and by his tone his mood was on the turn.

“What are your plans?” Sam Hinds enquired lifting from the grass and taking up a close by twig. He broke it with a loud snap. As he did so Travis appeared coming from the road.

“You’ll see – Hey Brownie where’s that scrawny mate of yours?” Greg called as Travis approached.

“Who Evan?”

“Yea Evan.”

“Dunno’ he said he was coming, why?”

“Maybe his mummy wouldn’t let him out,” Hinds laughed as the outline of a youth appeared against the brightness of the dipping sun some distance along the bank. By his nervous swagger it was Evan and as usual, displaying his eagerness to be part of the gang.

“What’s up?” Evan called while still some distance from the group.

“Wanna’ go for a swim?” Turner suggests; now back at the water’s edge, still contemplating taking a swim but not wishing to venture into nakedness on his own in fear of ridicule.

“Hey Evan have you ever dipped your wick?” Greg crudely demands.

“What do you mean?” Evan shyly questioned.

“Had a root yet?” Turner called back from paddling his feet in the shallows allowing the upturned cuffs of his jeans to soak up water like blotting paper, his shoes tied by their laces around his neck.

Evan didn’t answer.

“Probably too busy pulling himself,” Sam Hinds added as he sat picking at a scab on his arm. The scab came away drawing fresh blood.

“I don’t do that,” Evan quietly protested and halted his approach.

“You’re a fucken’ liar,” Greg blustered somewhat cruelly.

“Give the kid a break,” Travis objected and was immediately censored with a look of displeasure.

“He’s a Christian,” Hinds says mockingly and made the form of a cross with his hand.

“Even Christians pull their dicks,” Greg admitted.

“How do you know that?” Sam Hinds questioned.

“I’ve seen it,”

“It?”

“Yea I caught Len Biggs at it in the school dunnies when I was on playground duties, shitting and pulling at the same time and he’s in the church social group,” Greg related in derisive tone.

“That’s sick,” Hinds grumbled and pulled a face.

“What are you gunna’ do next year Greg?” Turner enquires.

“Find a job I suppose,”

Greg’s confession caught Travis attention.

“Like what?” Turner asks.

“How the fuck do I know, it’s not yet next year and there is still the end of year exams to complete and the holidays.”

“I hate exams,” Hinds admitted.

“Coz’ you’re fucken’ dumb,” Greg accused.

“I’m not that dumb; I beat you in the mid-year’s.”

“Greg’s eyes narrowed. If there was one thing that boiled his blood, it was someone getting the better of him.

Hinds realised his error and backed off, “in history anyway,”

“History, I wasn’t trying who fucken’ needs history.”

“I like history,” Evan admitted.

“You would, it’s a girl’s subject,” Turner accused.

“What about you Travis, gunna’ work for old Jack Johnson?” Sam Hinds asks to break the developing educational impasse.

Travis shrugged his shoulders while waiting for Greg to admit their travel plan but Greg remained silent on the matter.

“I guess I’ll go into the old man’s business,” Sam Hinds admitted with a discouraging sigh.

“Trucking?” Turner asks.

“Not driving, he wants me to learn accountancy and run the business, or a new depot he is developing in Cairns.”

“You couldn’t manage breakfast,” Greg snarled.

“What about you Evan?” Turner asks.

“Suppose,” Evan simply answered not wishing to relate his parent’s wishes for his future.

“Suppose what?” Turner demanded.

“I don’t know, I have two more years of high school and mother wants me to go down to Brisbane and university.”

“Mother wants me to -,” Turner mocked.

“Well,” Evan softly answered.

“I hear your old man is a right mean bastard,” Greg suggested.

“He’s alright,” Evan protected but except for privacy would have agreed with Greg’ portrayal of his father.

“Alright if you like a surely old fart for an old man,” Greg continued.

“What about your father,” Evan protested then realising his blunder quickly recoiled, “dunno you may be right,” he but agreed.

“What about my old man!” Greg demanded.

“Greg, Evan, why don’t you both of you give it a miss;” Travis broke across the developing impasse, realising Greg’s rawness when questioned about his family.

A moment of silence as Greg’s eyes dangerously narrowed.

Travis laughed, it worked and broke Greg’s building annoy.

“On the subject of fathers, did you hear Willy Jenkins’ old man fell out of a tree and broke a leg and an arm?” Travis relates with a measure of humour.

“What the fuck was he doing up the tree?” Greg asks.

“He’s a tree-lopper, it’s his job,” Travis says.

“He calls himself a tree surgeon,” Hinds interjects.

“He appears to be more a tree idiot,” Greg contradicts as his attention is diverted from Evan’s remark on his father.

Evan’s family were city folk with uptown ideas, his father had taken a promotion but with it came a so called tree-change, believing a move to the country would be good for his children but Evan, unlike his younger sister and brother, found difficulty adapting to the polarised existence of a captured population within the boundaries of but a square mile or so. Also friendship was difficult and being a new kid on the block he found acceptance of an outsider somewhat limited. As for Evan’s father, he was finding the change in lifestyle even more gruelling than his son and almost immediately his attitude changed towards his family.

“Typical of city jokers you were always too smart for your own good,” Greg says with resentful overtones.

“What does that mean?” Evan quietly questioned.

“Whatever you want it too.”

Evan became quiet and moved to distance, his gaze on Travis who nervously disengaged.

“Hey Brownie a question,” Greg commenced to giggle being his obvious introduction to something distasteful.

“Go on,”

“What do you call nuts on the wall?”

“Don’t know,”

“Come on think,”

“Where is this leading?”

“Just answer the fucken’ question.”

“Walnuts I suppose.”

“So what do you call nuts on your chest?”

“It’s getting silly but I’ll play along to satisfy your twisted sense of humour – I guess chestnuts.”

“What do you call nuts on your chin?”

“Chin nuts,” Travis answered for no other reason than to amuse Greg.

“No you goose a gob full of cock.”

Hinds and Turner with Greg fell about in laughter.

“You’re gross Greg and it isn’t even funny. Where did you hear that from, one of the fifth graders I should think?”

“Hey Turner, you reckon Liz Miles sucks cock?” Hinds questioned in relation to Greg’s childish humour.

“She would mine but no sheila would want to go down that tortured slug of yours.”

“It’s bigger than yours,” Sam protested.

“It’s not longer and its length what gets sheilas going, not someone prodding about like using a broom handle.”

“Shut it you two,” Greg barked.

It was then and for the first time Travis realised he had outgrown Greg’s gang and its childish antics. Possibly he had also outgrown Greg but for the sake of friendship he would endure. As for Evan he held the lad with true fondness even as far as attempting to warn him away from the influence of the others.

“Hey boys;” The sound of a girl’s voice came from the developing shadows beneath the mango trees at the top of the bank. She faltered for a moment before advancing.

“Raelene,” Turner called recognising her voice and knowing her parent’s attitude towards fraternising with boys was somewhat surprised to see her out without a girlfriend or her sister to chaperone.

Raelene slowly approached until she stood over Greg’s head as he lay back on the grass.

Greg lifted his eyes and smiled widely, “I can see right up your dress.”

Immediately Raelene moved away, “I thought you said you would be on your own?” she quietly demanded.

“So?” Greg answered humorously.

“What about your promise?” Raelene’s disappointment was obvious and strongly directed towards Greg while disregarding the others.

“It still stands but what about my mates?” Greg demands.

“What about them?” Raelene removed her hands from her waist and folded them across her breasts. Her head tilted to one side as she waited for Greg’s answer.

“You will have to take them on before you get me,” Greg cheekily demanded.

“All of them?” Raelene gasped, her vision falling onto the surprised face of Sam Hinds, who understanding Greg’s suggestion began to fondle himself while crudely laughing.

“Him!” Raelene sneered pointing a slender painted finger towards Sam.

“That’s the deal; one in all in,” Greg answered as Raelene sat to Greg’s side.

“Greg!” Travis complained.

“Don’t worry Brownie you’ll get your turn,” Greg assured.

“It isn’t right,” Travis hoarsely protested, while nervously scuffing a shoe across the surface of the grass.

“Don’t worry Brownie she’s old enough to know her mind.”

Travis took a number of paces away before returning and positioning further from the group.

True Raelene had that day turned eighteen although in veracity a somewhat young and naive eighteen but such a suggestion was most repugnant to Travis’ values and the respect he had been taught to deserve towards others and Greg being older should have enough intelligence to comply to common decency.

Greg noted Travis’ protest with a scowl.

“She wants it,” Greg turned to Raelene, “don’t you Raelene?” he softly spoke, taking her hand he lead her down beside him then leant in and gently kissed her on the neck. Raelene didn’t answer, her eyes fixed on the smirking Hinds. Greg once again kissed her, this time full on the lips. Raelene’s besotted devotion to Greg accepted his advance. Greg then pulled away and laughed, “see;” Greg says supposing Raelene’s acceptance of his kiss to be agreement.

There was something menacing in Greg’s laugh; almost manic. Travis began to feel uncomfortable with his friend’s attitude and treatment of Raelene while quickly backing away from involvement. In truth Travis lacked a positive opinion of Raelene as she was much too forceful, trying too hard to be one of the boys. He also felt a spark of jealousy brought on by her interest in Greg but the morality in his character wouldn’t accept his friend’s treatment of someone who was considered to be a mate and somewhat vulnerable to Greg’s bidding.

“Greg Stanley you’re a real mongrel,” Raelene growled angrily, giving Greg a slap to the face. It was a light slap that didn’t bring flush to his cheek, building in him courage to continue with his intentions, while both Hinds and Tuner watched the expanding drama with growing eagerness although disbelieving in its outcome.

Moving close Greg placed his hand above Raelene’s knee, slowly walking his fingers under her short dress before raising the light material until her underwear came into view. Greg paused, giggled then teased the pubic mound below. Silently Raelene retained her unrelenting gaze upon his face. She appeared despondent but reluctantly willing.

“You want me don’t you?” Greg whispered as he gently removed her underwear. Raelene modestly folded her dress between her legs to protect her privacy. Standing away Greg comically smelt her underwear and placed it into his jeans pocket while Raelene kept a silent gaze on him.

“Greg!” Travis complained and moved even further away from the developing situation as if to display his disassociation.

“You first,” Greg demanded of Brian Turner, who without hesitation and with his pants around his ankles, fell upon Raelene. Turner although a virgin, instinctively found entry and as quickly was spent. Without invitation Sam followed, his size hurt and he smelt of stale cheese but still Raelene kept to her silence, her gaze fixated upon the face of Greg, showing obvious signs that her admiration for him was quickly becoming contemptuous.

“Travis,” Greg called without breaking his eyes from Raelene’s gaze.

“No Greg, it isn’t right,” Travis protested lowering his head away from the procedure.

“You’re next Travis,” Greg demanded.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Travis answered and commenced to walk from Greg’s callous performance.

“Travis!” Greg called again but Travis didn’t respond while Greg remained straddled over the shoulders of Raelene, his face displaying anger at Travis’ refusal. Again he called his voice now more demanding and intense.

“Ah shit!” Hinds grunted as he climaxed.

“Get off!” Greg demanded of Sam while keeping his eyes on Travis as he departed. “Travis!” Greg called one last time.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow Greg,” Travis answered from the now darkening shadows beyond the mango trees, leaving Greg to fulfil his birthday promise to Raelene. Instead without speaking further, Greg also departed into the opposite direction, with Hinds and Turner close behind laughing and bragging about their potency, while an apologetic Evan remained to attend to Raelene’s injured pride.

Raelene commenced to softly cry.

“Sorry,” Evan apologised in an attempt to comfort Raelene with an arm across her shoulder.

Raelene rejected his approach.

“Sorry,” Evan repeated but Raelene refused the apology as she sat, her face buried in her hands as if to hide her shame.

“I’m sorry,” Evan repeated.

“Go away,”

Evan was confused having little experience with female emotions, he did realise what Greg had done was wrong and wished to put it right but words could not do so. Evan again reached out and placed a comforting hand on Raelene shoulder she flinched away and deepened her sobbing.

“Sorry,” Evan repeated but was once again rejected his sympathy.

Evan then departed.

Gary’s stories are about life in Australia as a gay man. Your emails to him are the only payment he receives. Email Gary to let him know you are reading: Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net

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