My Story, 23 (final)

There’s just no figuring people. When I was alone and lonely, with no friends but Dennis who was not gay, everyone figured that I was a gayboy. Now that I was with Joel, madly in love and bonking like bunnies, nobody believed that we were gay.

Joel was not gay, they knew that, (Hah!), so, by extension, I couldn’t be either. We were, they thought, just friends, very good friends – bosom buddies.

Len kept his distance and kept his mouth shut about what he thought. By the way, I was surprised that his car was insured, but it was. The insurance company coughed-up and he was soon madly in love with his new car – Loser!

Joel and I were included in everything that was going on. Well, he was the Head-boy and he was popular, always had been. I was always with him so I was, kind of, popular as well.

We had sleep-overs nearly every weekend, sometimes at Joel’s house but mostly at mine. He introduced me to tramping and we did a lot of that. We walked every track and climbed every hill for miles around. That was well worth it because we, mostly, went on two-day hikes and slept together in a small tent up on a mountain somewhere. Very cosy and lotsafun.

In the school holidays, we took a week to walk the Abel Tasman Track. That’s an easy-graded, spectacular, walking track down along the coastline through the Abel Tasman National Park, all the way from the Wainui Inlet to Marahau. We could’ve done it in, maybe, 3 days, but we took it easy, took 6 days and thoroughly enjoyed it. It was great!

The track was, mostly, flattish and followed along the golden-sands beaches. There were some short, sharp, climbs over the hills between the bays, but otherwise, you could do it in a wheelchair. The sea was calm and so clear that we could see fish in it when looking down from the high points on the track.

By then, in May, it was well past the peak of the summer season, and that was good. It was still not cold, winter hadn’t started to bite yet, but there weren’t many people about. For two nights we had the accommodation huts all to ourselves, so we could stretch out and play on bunks meant for maybe 40 or more people.

There were huts and, primitive, camping grounds in various bays along the way. Toilets were disgusting holes in the ground with wooden seats over them. At least paper was provided. Rough paper. Showers were cold water – Brrr! We were in and out of them pretty quick.

The main visitor information centre was at the National Park Headquarters at Totaranui. (A Totara is a tree, ‘nui’ means it’s big). The camping ground there was mostly empty and it was huge! Totaranui is the only bay with road access, everywhere else you can only get to by boat or by walking and carrying everything that you need.

In the summertime they restrict the numbers of visitors because, otherwise, they’d run out of fresh water. You have to book for months in advance, it’s that popular.

It’s a spectacular area. I didn’t know there was anything like it in New Zealand – golden sand, clear water, blue skies and lush, green bush. It looked like something in a Pacific Island paradise, which, I suppose we are really – we just don’t think of it like that, it’s just home to us.

Funny thing, most of the people we saw were Europeans and Asians. Where were the Kiwis? In Aussie, probably.

The other good thing about doing the walk in the off-season was that we could cook every night on driftwood fires on the beaches. You can’t do that in the summertime, fires are banned then – it’s way too dry.

That was a good week, one of the best weeks of my life and the best thing about it was that I was with Joel.

We suffered through winter. Hate winter! It snowed once, but it didn’t last long. We tried to make a snowman but it didn’t work, it was too icy. Life was good, but then, in September, it started going to hell.

We stayed at home for those holidays because Joel had to entertain his cousin. Sixteen year old, Sally Griffin was the daughter of the uncle who Joel was going to work for next year. She lived in Kaimoana, of course, and she came to stay with Joel and Uncle Dick for the holidays.

Sally was pretty cool, for a girl. I liked her. She was not the problem; the problem was the other girl who she brought with her, her friend Cynthia Lemon. “Cyn for short and Sin for sure.”

Whoah! Cyn was hot. If I wasn’t gay and seriously in love with my boy, even I’d be tempted, and I wasn’t the only one. She was an immediate hit with all the boys around the town.

What did she look like? Think a 16 year old Paris Hilton, but without the squinty eyes. Morally, she made Paris look like an old matron. She pretty much could have had any boy she wanted, but, being a girl, she only wanted the one she couldn’t have and she set out to get him – my Joel! Bitch.

She didn’t fool me for a minute; I knew right away what was going on. I tried to warn him, but Joel just laughed at me.

“No worries, Virgil. I’m gay and I’m all yours. It’s just the way Cyn is. She’s a flirt and she does it with everyone.

She did not. She didn’t do it with me, or any of the girls, just the boys and especially the best catch in town – my Joel. Dammit!

I guess he wasn’t as gay as he thought he was, and he wasn’t as much in love with me as I was with him, or it wouldn’t have happened – but it did. On their third night there, Cynthia went into his room late at night and climbed, naked, into Joel’s bed.

If it had of been me, I would’ve been out of there and up the road like greased lightning. But, Joel wasn’t me and he didn’t – he surrendered. She won and I lost. Dammit!

Being Joel, upright and honourable, he came around next morning and told me what had happened. I didn’t handle it well; I was pissed and I told him so. I called him all the stupid fuckwits under the sun, and then I said that I’d forgive him, maybe, one day.

“I’m sorry, Virgil. . .”

“Sorry? Yeah, you should be. I hope you don’t think that that makes it all right.”

“I don’t. I’m sorry, but we’re over.”

“We are what??”

“Over. Finished. What we had is gone. I’m sorry, Virgil, really sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“LIAR! You weren’t thinking about me. You were just thinking with your dick! I hope you’re happy with her. Make the most of it, she’ll drop you as soon as someone else comes along.

“Virgil!”

“Fuck off, Stafford. I’m better off without you.”

I shoved him out of my room and slammed the door in his face. He fucked off – back to her.

If ever I get another boyfriend, it’s going to be a bloody ugly one. Good-looking boys are not worth it! The higher they lift you up, the further you fall. Pricks!

I didn’t see Joel again. He didn’t come back and I didn’t go looking for him. Two days later, the girls went home to Kaimoana and he went with them. The story at school was that he had to leave because his uncle needed him to get ready for the summer season. I knew better. He just wanted to be with her. Fuck’im.

He left me a letter, but I didn’t read it. Mum handed it to me and I threw it in the fire.

Mum said, “That’s not nice, Virgil. Don’t you want to know what he’s got to say?”

“I don’t. I’ve heard all I want to.”

“You’re being silly, My Son.”

“I’m being me. Fuck’im anyway.”

So, that was it – the end of my big romance. I wish I never loved the Prick.

Somehow, I got through the rest of the year, alone again. I guess that I always will be. Then, the week before school finished, Mum came home with big news. She’d got another job, with more pay and in a bigger school.

“You’ll like it, Honey. It’s nearer to Christchurch too.”

“Well, good! I can’t wait to leave this place. Where are we going, Mum?”

“You’ll love it. It’s a little town called Kaimoana.”

“WHAT? We bloody are not!”

“We bloody are so. We’re moving to Kaimoana.”

We did.

That’s it. That’s me and that’s my story. Bummer, eh? Life goes on. David can tell you the rest. If he wants to.

‘Bye.

My Story, 22

Len came back and he was laughing, (the bastard!)

“Whoah. What a ride! Almost worth losing my car for. Okay are you, Virgin? Come on, we’ve gotta get out of here.”

“What??” I flared, but Joel, gently and firmly, pushed me aside.

“Wait,” he said, and he turned around and punched Crowe in the face. (My hero!) He sprawled on his back and looked up at Joel’s livid face.

“Kill yourself if you want to,” Joel roared at him. “But do it on your own! You come anywhere near this boy again and I’ll fucking kill you. Come on, Virgil, I will take you home.”

It was a miracle that no-one was hurt and we both walked away. You shouldn’t leave the scene of an accident, but we did. Blame Joel, he led me away. His father’s car sat in the middle of the road with the driver’s door open. He put me into the front seat, got in himself and drove away. We were going home.

A few k’s up the road, there was a turn-off where a side road went down to the river. I pointed to it.

“Stop there please, Joel.”

He stopped the car, turned the engine off and killed the lights. I sat there shivering and shaking. I was a mess and must’ve looked it. I swung around and faced him.

“Crowe’s an idiot,” I said. “He damm near killed the both of us. I was going to die. I was going to die and you saved me.”

“I guess I did. I’m just glad that I got there in time – very glad. If anything happened to you, Virgil, then I would die too, I know I would!”

“You said that you loved me.”

“I do love you. Took me a while to work it out, but I’ve always loved you.”

“Took me a while too, but I love you, Joel. I really, really love you.”

“You do?”

“I do. Kiss me.”

He did.

The Staffords have got a great old car. It’s old, but it’s a classic. You know the best thing about it? It’s big – very roomy on the inside. We climbed over to the back-seat where we could stretch out, Joel held me and we kissed and cuddled. It was great! I gave what was left of my virginity to Joel and he took me there. Yeah, I had a tube of lube in my pocket, don’t ask why.

Funny really, according to Mum, I was conceived on the back-seat of a Chevy. Guess what sort of car the Staffords had? Yeah, a Chevy. It’d be weird if it was the same one.

That was great. It was just about perfect actually. Joel was a wonderful lover; I could feel the love and I could see it in the tears on his moon-lit face. Damm, I loved that boy!

After we’d ‘done the deed’, we lay and cuddled and just loved quietly. After a few minutes, Joel said, “Virgil, make love to me.”

“Make love? We just did, didn’t we?”

“No. well, yes, but I want you to do it to me now.”

“You want me to fuck you?”

“No, I want you to make love to me. Please love me, Virgil.”

“Oh wow! I never thought you’d want me to do that. I thought I’d be the girl here.”

“There’s no girls here, My Love. There’s just us, two boys. Love me, Virgil.”

Oh, yeah! Was he great, or was he great? I loved him so much and I did make love to him. Awesome! We were equal partners and that’s the way it should be. Simply awesome.

He drove us home, to Tiroroa, and pulled-up outside my house.

“This is goodnight, then.”

“It is a good night – the best night of my life. Thank you, Joel. I love you.”

I kissed him.

“The best night so far. There’ll be many, many more.”

He kissed me.

“Woo-hoo! Do you want to come in and sleep with me?”

“I’d love to, but I’d better not. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“It’d be all right, Joel. Mum won’t mind, she likes you.”

“No, I’d better not. My father would mind. He’d mind a lot. Goodnight, Beautiful Boy. Sleep well.”

“I will. I’ll dream of you, I always do. G’night, Joel.”

And – what to say now? We lived happily ever after? That could work, if only it was true. We did live happily, no-one ever had it better, but it didn’t last forever. Nothing does. Dammit!

But, for a while, we had it good. Mum was perfectly aware of what was going on. She knew me too well not to. She didn’t mind a bit, which was great. Mum liked Joel and she never tired of telling me that he was good for me. Joel was “making me a man.”

(I thought that I already was!)

Mr. Stafford was a different story. He didn’t have a clue about what we were doing. He liked me, I think. He always made me welcome in their home. Sometimes I thought that he liked me more than he liked Joel. They had the strangest relationship.

When Joel was younger, he used to be beaten regularly. The smallest infraction of the many rules earned him a hiding. His father was a hard, short-tempered man and he demanded perfection from his only son.

Actually, Joel said he thought that was why he was so abusive towards me when we first met. He didn’t know how to love. He’d sure learnt a lot since then – his cousin, Gary, had helped a lot with that.

Now that he was older and bigger, his father didn’t beat him anymore. He hadn’t laid a hand on him since the time when Joel was 14 and he hit him back, but there was still a lot of tension between them.

Joel was just hanging-out until he could leave home, it wouldn’t be long now. This was going to be his last year at school and, come Christmas, he’d be gone. I didn’t like the sound of that, but he told me not to worry, we’d work something out.

Next year, he was going to be working for his uncle, his mother’s brother. Uncle had a small marine engineering business, down at Kaimoana, and he had a boat doing chartered fishing trips as well.

I knew of Kaimoana, of course, but didn’t know a lot about it. It was just a small town, bigger than Tiroroa but still small,. It was down the East Coast, between Picton and Christchurch. Whatever – it was a long way from here and I’d be here and Joel would be there. Bugger. I didn’t want to think about that, so I didn’t.

Mum and Mr. Stafford parted company. They were ‘just good friends’ now, which was good. I think. At least I could stop worrying about appearances of incest. Okay, it was not incest, we weren’t related in any way, but it, kind-of, looked like it. And – eww!

Okay, I’m going to wrap this story up soon – maybe next time. There’s not a lot more to say. Life was good. It was excellent. It was so good that I don’t like to think about it now that it’s gone, but for a few months we were together constantly and we loved.

My Story, 21

(Okay, here we go - hot off the - umm - keyboard).

So we were talking about the changes and especially the big change in my life. It was huge. I was like a different person and I would never be the same again. I fell in love, you see – fell like a tonne of bricks. Did you see that coming? I didn’t. I was more than surprised, I was flabbergasted! (It’s a word – look it up).

He came to me one night, in a dream. I don’t remember much of it, but I know that, in the dream, he was holding me – so close. I was clinging to him and I knew. I knew that he was the one; the one person who I would love for the rest of my life. He was meant for me and I was born to love him.

We smiled together, our lips met, he kissed me and I woke up crying. Damm!

Dreams could be weird sometimes. Okay, most times, but when they’re good, they’re really good and this one was perfect. I so wanted to go back to sleep, to go back to the dream and never wake up again. I just wanted to dream with him, to live and love like that forever.

My heart was bleeding and I wanted that feeling back. I’d never felt so loved and I loved him so much, I really did. But, of course, I couldn’t sleep now. I was awake and crying for my loss.

Oh, fuck! I loved him. This was not lust, not just liking and it was no boyhood dream, there was nothing childish about it. This was grown-up stuff, too grown-up for me, I just wanted to be a kid. Dammit!

But it was real, I loved him. I think my heart was giving my mind a wake-up call.

Outside of my dream, in the real world, he was not perfect, I knew that. He had his faults and flaws, like anyone did. He wouldn’t be human if he didn’t, and I’d seen more than a few of them lately. Even so, I loved him. For me, he was perfect.

Would my life ever be as perfect as my dream was? No, it would not. Our relationship was not like that and it never would be. He didn’t love me like I loved him. Dammit!

One thing I knew, and that was that I could never tell him. I could never let him know how I really felt. F I did and he said that he didn’t love me the same, I would die. I would just curl-up and die, so I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t, tell him – ever. Dammit.

I didn’t think I would, it took ages, but eventually, I went back to sleep but not back to the dream, that had gone. I woke in the morning, still feeling sad, and went back to school where I spent the day trying not to drool when I looked at him, or to faint when he looked at me. Damm. No-one ever told me that love could be like this. This sucked – but, I loved him.

Okay, enough of that. Back to the backtrack now. The week ended, the weekend came and I went to the Speedway, with Len and his dumb mates. This was not what I really wanted, but what I wanted, I couldn’t have. All I could do was to carry on and keep on pretending that my life hadn’t been totally derailed.

The Speedway was the same – same cars, noise and smells and the same people watching. I was probably the best-dressed person there. That makes a change.

Then, I saw Joel there. Bloody Joel Stafford was there! Dammit. What was he doing there? This wasn’t his world. It wasn’t mine either, but that’s different, I was invited, he wasn’t and no-one wanted him there.

What did he think he was doing? (He was just sitting there watching the cars actually). I hoped that he didn’t think that he was there for me. He was not my father and I didn’t need a babysitter. He got me so mad! I felt like going across and telling him to fuck off. But, I couldn’t do that, I didn’t own the place. Dammit.

Throughout the meeting, I paid hardly any attention to the races, I was too busy watching Joel and making sure that he wasn’t watching me. He didn’t seem to be, he just sat there watching the action. He was alone, I thought, his girlfriend wasn’t there and he wasn’t with anyone I knew. I would, wouldn’t I? Yes, of course I would, Tiroroa was a tiny place.

On the way out afterwards, I looked around the carpark and, yes, Mr. Stafford’s car was there. I’d know that old tank anywhere. Dick wasn’t there, I hadn’t seen him, just Joel. So he must’ve had his daddy’s car for the night. Whoop-de-do. Len had his own car and he was only 15. Joel must’ve been 17 by then. Dork!

I was not having a good night. Yes, it was my own fault, but it was his fault too – he shouldn’t have been there. He hadn’t said a word to me, he didn’t have to, just seeing him was enough to wreck my night. However, the night wasn’t over yet, there was still more to come.

Len, finally, dragged himself away from his mates, we got in the car and headed out to Waitere, for the drag-races.

We arrived, at Lower Waitere actually, according to the sign. There wasn’t much to it, just a few houses and a, closed, shop. Don’t know why they bothered giving the place a name, it’s no town. Shit, even Tiroroa looks big in comparison.

We stopped, with a string of other cars and petrol-heads. Len said, “Okay Guys. Wait here while I go and do some business.”

I said, “Okay, I’ll just sit in the car then.”

“No. Don’t do that. Stand up here, near the front.”

“It’s not warm, Len. Why can’t I sit inside?”

“Because you can’t. Nobody can see you in there. I want you standing out here where everyone can see you.”

He did? Cool! I was pleased with that. I thought he wanted me to be seen because he was proud to be with me. Dork that I was. Told you that I was dumb!

People were wandering up and down, checking out each others’ cars and the people there. I felt like a nun in a whorehouse. Everyone seemed to be looking at me. They knew that I didn’t belong there.

Len came back, grinning from ear to ear and he was, like, hyper-excited.

“Way to go! She’s all on Guys. We’re going to clean up here. Go and make your bets if you want to be rich.”

“They liked your trophy then?” Larry asked.

“Are you kidding me? They loved it! This is going to be the best Chicken Run ever!”

I wished that they’d speak English. I didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. Dork! I didn’t know what was going on but I seemed to be the only one. I just stuck close to Len and followed him around.

Everyone seemed to have arrived, so they all got back into their cars and moved a couple of kilometers up the road, away from the houses. On a straight section of the road, they started taking turns at doing doughnuts and mega-noisy burn-outs, and then some short one-on-one races over a couple of hundred meters.

Len didn’t take part in any of that. “Fuck no! I need some tread on my tyres.”

We leant against the car, standing there watching the warm-up events. They went on and on and it all got a bit boring. Joel was there, alone in the crowd and looking as out of place as I was feeling.

They all got sick of that and got back in their cars, going back to Waitere. It was time for the main event. Len stopped, joining the line-up, and got out to let the others out of the back seat.

I was going to get out to, but he told me to stay where I was. I was going to be his ‘co-pilot and good luck token’. (‘Cool’). He got back into the car and moved to the front of the crowd. I figured that this had to be a race. Not everyone was participating, there were only 7 cars in the line-up and some cars were moving off up the road already.

“Buckle-up, Virgin, and hang on tight. This is it!”

“Len, I wish you’d tell me what’s going on. What is the Chicken Run?”

“You don’t know? It’s a race, 15 kilometers up the valley from Lower to Upper Waitere. No holds barred and winner takes all. I’m gonna make a fortune tonight.”

“You’ve been betting on yourself? You must be confident, some of these guys are twice as old as you are.”

“They are, but I’m faster. We’re unbeatable, Virgin.”

“I hope so, for your sake.”

For answer, he just revved the car and roared a couple of times. All of the other cars responded and it was deafening. The old biddies in the houses would be on the phone to the cops. But, no matter, we’d be well gone before they could get out here.

A girl walked out and stood on the white line, in the middle of the road. She held both hands up over her head.

“Len, someone said there’s a trophy?”

“Yeah! I’ve put up the best trophy ever.”

The girl dropped her hands and they all roared off past her. I swear, I could feel the G-force pushing me back into the seat.

There was something I didn’t like here. Well, there was heaps of things I didn’t like – like the speed! But, there was something he wasn’t telling me. “What trophy, Len?”

“The trophy, my Little Virgin, is you, of course. Whoever wins gets to take you home and do what he likes with you.”

“You WHAT? Seriously?”

Pennies dropped and suddenly I saw what was going on. How could I have been so bloody thick?

“No way! No fucking way am I having anything to do with that! You stop this car, you Bastard. I’m outta here.”

“Settle down. We’re not stopping ‘til it’s over. You try getting out and you’re dead. Don’t worry, Virgin, I’m gonna win this. Your arse is mine!”

“You stop this fucking car, Crowe. Stop it now!”

“Oh, grow up! You want it, you’ve been begging for it, well, tonight you’re going to get it.”

I was so wild, I couldn’t speak. I felt like crying like a baby. The Bastard! The Absolute Bastard. How could he think he’d get away with this? How could I be so bloody stupid?

All I wanted was to get the hell out of there, but that was not going to happen, not at the speed we were roaring up that narrow, back-country road. It twisted and turned as it followed the curves of the river valley. Some of those corners had no camber on them at all. The road was never built for those kind of speeds.

There was a car right on our tail, breathing down our necks, and another guy in front of us, weaving to and fro to stop him from passing. He slowed for a tight curve, the sign said, “Slow 60k” and we were doing more than twice that.

Crowe saw a chance and he accelerated past him. He almost made it, but he stuffed-up, and the car skewed in the loose gravel on the left side of the road. He over-compensated, clipped the rock-wall on the right, and we rolled.

The car rolled, over and over. I think that we even went end over end. The world was a mess of screams, lights and the screeching of metal.

Finally it stopped, upside-down and, incredibly, still on the road. The engine was still running, don’t ask me how, and there was the stink of petrol everywhere.

“Oh Fuck! She’s gonna blow!” Len screamed. He got his door open, spilled out and took off running.

I was left there alone, hanging upside-down and I couldn’t get the stupid seat-buckle open. I thought I was going to die and I was furiously fighting the buckle and screaming my head off. The door was wrenched open and strong hands reached in for me.

He lifted the weight of my body and got the buckle undone. He pulled me out and dragged me away from the car just as it burst into flames.

The heat was incredible, it hit me in the back. I was terrified, screaming and crying. I would’ve collapsed on the ground, but he didn’t let me. He kept me moving until we were a safe distance away, and then he held me up. I wrapped my arms around his neck, clung on tight and bawled.

“Joel! Oh, thank God! Thank you, Joel, thank you! Hold me.”

“It’s okay, Virgil. It’s all right. I’ve got you, I’m holding you and I’ll never let go. I love you, Virgil. I love you,” he sobbed.

“Joel! I love you, Joel. I love you so much!”

I kissed him, frantically, and we clung together; sobbing together.

My Story, 20

We’re back! *listening* No? Dammit!

Sheesh, will you look at that? Part 20! Wow.

Where were we? Oh, yeah – here, talking about changes, and the big one in my life. But, first we’ve gotta backtrack a bit.

After Greg and the others had ‘outed’ me as not being gay at all and a bullshit artist to boot, (Hah!), there was one person who didn’t want to believe it. Len came around after school and took me out for a ride in his car. Way cool. It was he first time he’d ever asked me.

I told Gran that we were going out and, “Len’s just going to race down the highway, miss a corner, wrap us around a tree and kill us horribly.”

My loving grandmother replied, “That’s nice, Dear. Have a good time.”

Phaw! She’d be sorry if he did. I guess I would be too. Gran could drive like a maniac herself, sometimes. Just as well the truck’s not turbo-charged.

We got into the car and Len drove, quietly and smoothly, up the main road through the village. He turned left and went down and across the bridge over the river. No, he didn’t want to go swimming with me. “Some other time, maybe.”

He turned into the back-country road, planted the boot and we took off. We were low-flying. It was great! Funny really, now that I’m older and wiser, well one year older and wiser, I’d be worried, but I wasn’t then. It was fun!

We zoomed up the road, passing farm after farm. It was a back road and quite narrow, which made it feel like we were going even faster than we were, which was a lot anyway. Len seemed confident and he said that he was a good driver.

I wanted to believe him, and I did after we careened around a corner and there was an old horse and cart in the middle of the road! Len didn’t even hesitate and certainly didn’t slow down. He just flicked the wheel to the left and back to the right, and we were around them, somehow, and speeding away up the road, laughing like loons, leaving the horse wondering what the fuck had just happened? Coolness!

A few kilometers up the road, there was an old, derelict, church sitting in a paddock. Len turned in there, spun around, and parked facing back towards the road, underneath the overgrown hedge of macrocarpas.

He shut the engine off, killed the music, and it was very, very quiet. We sat looking at the local crowd. They all had four legs. Damm. I’m never going to get used to living in the country.

“Have I got a cool car, or have I got a cool car?” Len grinned widely. He reached across and squeezed my thigh. His hand rested there a minute, and then slid up and he groped my crotch. Bloody bucket-seats didn’t make this easy.

It would’ve been better in the old days when they had bench-seats in the front. The house-truck had a bench-seat, but, hopefully, no-one was groping anybody in there.

I undid the seat-belt and pushed forward to make it easier for him. I lifted my hips when he tugged on the top of my trackies, and he slid them down, exposing my upright dick and dangling balls. He started fondling and wanking me.

‘Oh yeah!’

“”You like this, don’t you, Virgin?”

“Oh, yes. Lotsafun.”

He released me, unbuckled his own seat-belt and whipped his pants down below his knees.

“Come over here and sit on my knees.”

I took my pants right off, crawled across and sat straddling him. I wrapped one hand around his dick and held it firmly while my other hand roamed around his smooth belly, thighs and balls.

He did the same to me and carried on wanking me. Yes!

I tried to kiss him, but he wasn’t having that. He turned his head so that I finished-up kissing his cheek.

He was wanking me fast and furiously now and I was close to cumming, so I forgot about doing him, just held on to his shoulders, threw my head back and enjoyed. His other hand left my balls and slid around behind them and up underneath me. His finger found my pucker, teased there, and then slid up into me.

Graeme and I had never gone any further than that, but right then, I didn’t care – Len could do whatever he liked to me. I was bouncing up and down, like I was fucking on his finger and I gasped and squealed as I came explosively. “Yes!”

“Oh yeah. You’re a bit of hot stuff, Little Virgin. Suck my dick now.”

That was it? No loving words, no ‘please’, just an order to suck his dick? Whatever. I wanted to. I sucked his dick. I got down on my knees and I, gleefully, went to work on him.

“Oh, yeahhhh!” Len sighed as he came and he pumped his seed into my mouth.

He still didn’t want to kiss me, just pulled his pants up, started the car and we went home. He didn’t even wait for me to get my clothes together, so I had to do it on the way. We didn’t talk on the way home. The music was loud and I was feeling that something was not right.

He pulled-up outside my house. I opened the door and said, “Thanks, Len. See you tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Little Virgin. We’ll go to the Speedway tomorrow night, okay?”

“The Speedway? Well. . .”

“Oh, come on. You’ve gotta come. It’ll be fun. We’ll go to the drag-races after, that’s even better.”

“Well, all right, thanks. I guess the races will be a new experience.”

“They will. See you then, Virgin.”

He pulled away with a roar. I went inside, to my room, to sit on my bed and have a think. Did I have a boyfriend now, or what? I didn’t know and it felt like I was being used.

“Ah well. It can only get better, I guess. At least I’m getting sex.”

Damm! I was a dumb kid.

Next day, after school, I had yet another row with Stafford. I wished that he’d mind his own bloody business! I told him that too. He started it by following me out of the school, with the same old song. “Virgil, I thought I told you – be careful with that Crowe.”

“Fuck off. You don’t tell me how to live my life.”

“It looks like someone has to. He drives like a bloody maniac!”

“Oh, don’t be such an old woman! What I do and who I do it with is none of your business.”

“You’ve made that clear enough. Do what you like then; but stay away from the Chicken Run, or you’ll be sorry.”

“The only sorry thing around here is you. Fuck off Stafford!”

He fucked off.

The Chicken Run? What the hell was the Chicken Run? I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. Bloody Old Woman. Damm! There was no-one who could get me as mad as Stafford did. Prick!

Friday lunchtime, Len met me going back to school. “Hey Virgin. We’re still on for tonight, are we?”

“For the Speedway? Yeah, I’m looking forward to it.”

“That’s good. Me too. Listen, wear your nice clothes, okay?”

“My nice clothes? You want me to dress up? Nobody else does.”

“They don’t, but I like it when you do. You look good.”

“You think? Well, that’s good! Okay then, I’ll dress up, just for you.”

“Cool. Thanks. I’ll pick you up about 6, okay?”

“Very okay. See you then.”

Cool, there was hope for us yet. Len could be a nice guy, when he wanted to.

After school, Mum and Gran were both out somewhere; I probably wouldn’t see them until the morning. That was okay, I could look after myself. I took Jimmy for a swim down at the river, and then went home and showered.

I put my best clothes on, so I’d look good, and I even splashed some after-shave on my face. Yeah, I had a bottle of after-shave lotion, even though I wasn’t shaving yet. Mum bought it for me for Christmas. I think it was a joke.

I rushed eagerly out the door when Len arrived, and was disappointed to find that he had 2 other guys crammed into his tiny back-seat. At least I got to sit upfront with the driver.

“Hey Len. Hey Guys.”

“Hey Virgin. You’re looking good.”

“Thanks! It’s going to be a good night, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Yeah, it’s going to be great,” Julian Harris agreed. “Especially the Chicken Run – awesome!”

There it was again. The Chicken Run? I swung around to look at him. “Excuse my ignorance, but what the hell is the Chicken Run?”

“You don’t know? You’ll see. The Chicken Run is the big race of the night – out on the back-road to Waitere. There’s a special trophy tonight too.”

“Harris,” Len interrupted. “Shut the fuck up.”

There was still something they weren’t telling me. Oh well, I’d soon find out, I was going there – with Len.

I felt over-dressed again. No-one else had dressed up, they were all in t-shirts, jeans and boots. We arrived at the Speedway, I got my money out but Len told me to put it away. I was his date for the night. Cool. (I think).

Okay. That’s the end of the backtracking. Forgot I was doing that, didn’t you? Yeah, so did I. Got a bit carried away there.

My Story, 19

I didn’t see a lot of Len over the weekend. That was not my fault. I tried, but he was busy.

His dad took him to town, on Saturday morning, for a ‘surprise’. It’s hardly a surprise when it’s something that you’ve been hanging out for. Yes, they bought his car at last. It was a Camarro – silver-grey with red pin-stripes, and it cost far more than they’d planned, but whatever! It was an ace car and Lenny was in love.

He came around to show it to me, at around dinner-time. He didn’t take me for a ride, didn’t even offer to. He just wanted to show it off and then move on and show it somewhere else. Dammit.

On Sunday I walked up to Len’s house in the late am. He was there, but he was still busy. The car was in a hundred pieces and he was working on it, doing some fine tuning and making adjustments.

The Camarro had a crappy sound system, but, no problem. He had an awesome one just waiting to be installed in his first car. Actually, that was not all – he had a heap of stuff that he’d been collecting, new headlights even. Sheesh! With all the money he’d spent, he could’ve probably could’ve bought a car. Well, a cheap one.

I didn’t stay long, he was way too busy for me. He had a couple of other potential Petrol-Heads there helping him. I left them to it and went home to play with Mrs. Palmer.

At school on Monday, in the morning announcements, the Principal told us who the Head Boy for the year would be – Joel Stafford! Well, it was not such a surprise really. There were only 4 boys in the senior class and it had to be one of them.

Joel deserved it; he was a great person really, when he was not bugging me, and he was popular with the kids and staff. A no-brainer really, he was the obvious choice. He was a good guy, when he left me alone. He was very good-looking too, have I mentioned that? Well, he was!

I was pleased for him anyway. His father was bursting with pride, it was written all over him.

After school, Mum came home with a letter for me. It was in a plain, white, sealed envelope with just my name written on it. No return address.

What’s this then?”

“Obvious, isn’t it? It’s an envelope for you. Open it up. Maybe you’ve got a letter.”

“Don’t be smart, Mum. It doesn’t become you. Who is this from?”

“If you read it, you’ll see.”

“You think?”

“I know. Oh, okay, it’s from the new head-boy of Tiroroa High.”

“From Joel? What’s he writing to me for? I see him everyday.”

“Well I don’t know! He just asked me to give it to you, that’s all. Read it and you’ll know.”

I took it to my room to read it. Why? I don’t know, it just seemed the right thing to do.

“Hey, Virgil. You’re probably wondering why I wrote you a letter. The thing is, every time I try to talk to you, we finish-up arguing, so you might hear me in a letter.

I know you don’t like me, and you probably never will, and I know that’s my fault. Please believe me when I say that I have got your best interests in mind and I’m worried for you.

I can’t choose your friends, wish I could, but be careful with Len Crowe. Very careful. I could tell you stories that I’ve heard, but you probably wouldn’t listen. So, I won’t.

You’re not stupid, you’re a bright kid. Keep your eyes open. If ever I can help you, you’ve only got to ask. Your Friend, Joel S.”

Oh yes? It was nothing new then, just the same old story. Why couldn’t he mind his own business? He was just jealous because Len could have what he couldn’t. It’d be a frosty-Friday before I asked Joel Stafford for anything. Prick! I screwed the letter up and threw it at my, overflowing, waste-paper basket. It missed.

A couple of weeks went by, as they do. I didn’t get to study with Len anymore, he’d lost all interest in that. I saw him a few times, away from school, but it was just frustrating. I always felt like a spare part, and he had lots of those. He was way too much in love with his car to have time for anyone else.

Friday nights, he went to the speedway meets, without me. I didn’t care about missing Bogan City, but it would’ve been nice to be asked. I wasn’t.

Joel left me alone and he seemed to have found himself a girlfriend. He was spending a lot of time with Jillian Carew, Mega-bitch. No, she was not so bad really; she was being quite friendly to me lately.

What Joel was doing with a girl, I don’t know. If it was just to get his father’s approval, it was obviously working. I was pretty well-up in Mr. Stafford’s good books too.

We had an inter-school sports meeting, with Motueka High when they came to visit. I wasn’t that keen, but they insisted and I was entered for 4 running races. I’m glad I did; I was the school’s hero for a day – I won all of them! Way cool. In every other event, they pretty much creamed us.

Mr. Stafford said that he wished that he had 6 of me. I tried to be modest. (‘Oh, yeah!’)

There was a big change in my life too. I wasn’t gay anymore, or so they all thought. The day after my heroics in the racing, I went to school in the morning and was met by Greg Brown and a couple of others. As far as I can remember, the convo went something like this:

“Morning Virgin. How’s the legs today?”

“They’re fine, thanks Greg, still working.”

“They worked bloody good yesterday. You’re a star, but we didn’t know that you’re an artist as well.”

“An artist? What do you mean? I’m useless at art.”

“Aren’t we all? But you’re still an artist – a bullshit artist.”

“A bullshit artist?”

“Yeah. You and Dennis Archer. That act you two kept up all last year – the gay queen thing –it was all bullshit.”

“It was? What makes you say that?”

“We’ve heard it from Archer, haven’t we? My cousin, Pete, goes to Wellington Boys’ where Archer is now. Dennis Archer is a legend there already. He’s a top student, he’s got two girlfriends at Wellington Girls’, and he’s screwing the wife of one of the teachers.”

“Yeah, I know. He told me.”

“Sounds like he’s telling everyone – lucky bugger! Pete told me all about it, I told him how Archer was when he was here, with the gay thing and Denise and Lizzy and everything. Pete asked Archer, probably trying to bring him down a peg or two. He’s as jealous as fuck.

Anyway, Archer laughed in his face and said that he was putting us on. It was all an act and we bought it, hook line and sinker, because we’re all so bloody thick. Do you think we’re thick, Virgin?”

“No Greg, I don’t. But, we’re all thick compared to Dennis.”

“I think you’re right. The two of you had us all going – bastards! You did damm good in the sports yesterday, winning all four races. No way a gayboy could do that. Just keep your hands off my girl or we ain’t going to be friends.”

“I don’t steal people’s girls, Greg.”

“No, you don’t. You’re okay, Virgin, and it’s better with no Denise and Lizzy too.”

So, that was it. I wasn’t gay after all, or so they decided. I couldn’t be! Whatever. If that’s what they wanted to think, I wasn’t going to stop them. That’d be asking for trouble. I was getting on all right there now, so – whatever.

If the US Navy could get away with their ‘neither confirm or deny’ policy about whether they had nukes on their boats, well, I wasn’t going to confirm or deny either. Fuck ‘em! (Or not).

Changes! There were changes going on all over the place. Life’s all about changes – if it’s alive, then it changes, especially the young because they’re all so full of life and stuff. Look at me – philosophising! (That’s the cool word for the day – look it up).

Anyway, Graeme had been making changes in his life too. The Dork thought that his girlfriend might be pregnant, didn’t he? I didn’t even know that he had a girlfriend, he never told me anything about that, but he did. They’d been girlfriend and boyfriend ever since they were little, since forever.

When he went home, he told her all about his holiday – that is, he told her everything, including the sex with Virgil. They screwed, for the first time, with no protection or anything. He didn’t even think about that, and now they thought that she might be pregnant. Dork!

I told him off and he laughed. He thought that it was funny that he was 14 and he, maybe, was going to be a father. I knew he was not too bright. I hope it works out for them.

While we’re talking about changes, there was one more change in my life and it was a big one – the biggest one of all. It was huge. What was it? I’ll tell you next time. ‘Bye.

(Yeah, I’m a swine!)

My Story, 18

So, we went to the Speedway meeting on Friday night, Len, his dad and me. Mum went out with the Staffords. Well, she went with Dick, I’m not sure if Joel went or not. None of my business anyway.

I was standing out by the main road, waiting, when they came along promptly at 5.30pm. Len was driving and his dad was riding shotgun, so I got into the back seat. They both turned around to look at me and Len introduced his dad.

“This is Virgil Cain. Virgil, meet my dad, Brian Crowe.”

“Hello Virgil, nice to meet you. We’ve heard all about you and thanks for helping Len with his maths. He’s hopeless, isn’t he?”

“Hey Mr. Crowe. I wouldn’t say he’s hopeless. He just needs to work on it a bit.”

“Yeah, well, you keep him at it. We really appreciate this, don’t we Leonard?”

“Yes Dad. He knows that, I’ve told him a hundred times. No offence Virgil, but I think you’re a bit over-dressed. The Speedway crowd are pretty casual you know.”

“Leave the boy alone, Len. He looks good.”

Well, at least somebody thought so, but it was the son I wanted to impress, not the father.

To say that the Speedway crowd were casual was a uber-understatement. The place was full of bogans! Petrol-Heads, Rough-Arses and Rednecks. I didn’t know that there were so many rough-looking characters in the Nelson District.

Every one of them must have been there and Len was right, I was over-dressed. Whatever. Next time I’d wear my oldest clothes, everyone else seemed to have done just that. Greasy old jeans and t-shirts were definitely the uniform of the day, or night.

They seemed to be a good-natured crowd though. Everyone was greeting each other, loudly. It was a, (rough-arse), family affair. Some of the families seemed to have more kids than the parents had teeth!

The arena was rapidly filling up – there were hundreds of them. It looked like there were more people than seats there, but that didn’t seem to worry anybody. Half of the crowd, especially the kids, were walking around and socializing.

We found front-row seats, way too close to the dirt-track. Then we left them to go and get some food. There wasn’t a lot to choose from, the stalls were selling buckets of hot chips and hot-dogs, sausages and bread and meat pies. I was still off pies and the food-stalls seemed to be manned by the roughest looking characters in the crowd. At least there was a Billy’s Burgers caravan there, so that’s what I had. Simply the Best.

We made our way back to the seats, it took a while. Len seemed to know everyone there. He was definitely no stranger there.

The loud music stopped and the announcements began. I put my ear-plugs in. The mini-stocks lined up and, with a roar, the first race started. I knew we were sitting too close to the track. We got pelted with gravel every time they came past.

Between races, the water-truck came around, spraying the track to settle the dust. We got sprayed as well, but that was okay, it was a warm evening.

I wouldn’t say that it was my best night ever, but it was definitely an experience. Len was loving it anyway; this was his world and his people. He was right at home there. I got some funny looks from people walking past, but I stuck close to Len or his dad. One or the other of them seemed to be always on the move. I kept my mouth shut and didn’t look back.

I, kind-of, enjoyed the night, but wasn’t sorry when it was time to go home.

The races, finally, came to an end. I didn’t know any of the winners or losers and didn’t care much anyway. We slowly made our way back to the car, that took a while too. Len had to stop and speak to a hundred people on the way. A lot of the younger ones were going on to the, illegal, drag-races out on a back-road. We weren’t, I was pleased to hear. We had to go home with Len’s dad.

They just had to wait until Len got his car, and then he’d be there ‘with bells on’. He introduced me to a few of his mates, telling them that I was ‘a newbie – fresh meat.’ It was a bit odd. I felt like he was showing me off, like I was a trophy or something. There was a strange vibe and I was glad to get back to the car where Mr. Crowe was waiting for us.

The best part of the night was on the way home. That bit I enjoyed very much. Mr. Crowe was driving. He wouldn’t let Len drive because he was too hyped-up after the races. Also, “This is not a stock-car.” So, he drove and Len sat in the back with me, which was good. Very good actually.

Len was full of talk about the cars, the drivers and the races. He sat close to me and, as soon as we were away from the lights of the city, he started feeling me up!

I was delighted and way excited. He’d never shown any interest in sex up until now, but now his hand was inside my clothes and feeling around. Instant hard-on!

I tried to do the same back to him, but he pushed my hand away. Without saying anything, he made it clear that I was to just sit back and let him do his thing. So, I did. I laid back, pushed my hips forward, opened my legs and let him go for it. It was great!

I don’t how he did it. It was like there were two different people in there with me. One was keeping up a stream of chatter about the world of cars and the other was quietly, feeling and fondling me and, slowly, masturbating me in the darkness.

It was a real effort to keep quiet when he brought me off, but I had to – his dad was right there in front of us. Luckily, I had a handful of tissues in my pocket and I used them to clean myself up as best as I could. The soggy tissues went out of the window.


I took a couple of minutes to calm down, and then I was allowed to open his jeans and have a feel around. Nice dick! It was upright, long, thick, hard and hot. Len’s was much bigger than Graeme’s, or mine! It was, maybe, even as big as Joel’s. I wasn’t sure, I’d only ever seen Joel’s one once and that was a long time ago. It was big though; I definitely remembered that.

All too soon, we reversed roles again. He pushed my hand away and went back to fondling me. Still good though. I loved it! So we drove on through the night while Len and his dad talked about cars and Len’s hand played with my dick.

It was normally a 45 minute drive from Nelson but, I dunno, I think Mr. Crowe went much faster than that. Maybe he was hyped-up from the Speedway as well? After we passed the turn-off, just 8 kilometers from home, Len started wanking me furiously and I came just as we arrived in Tiroroa. Gushers!

“And, we have touchdown,” Len grinned and he wiped his hand on my leg and left me to tidy myself up.

We stopped outside my house. I said goodnight and thanks to both of them for a good night. They pulled away and drove home. I went inside for a shower, and a wank, and to go to bed. It was a pretty good night all around.

My Story, 17

Len came home with me after school that day. We had a drink and a sandwich, and then went into the living room, put some music on and did maths for a couple of hours.

Much as I would’ve liked to, we couldn’t do it in the bedroom. (That’s Maths in the bedroom – keep it clean!) Mum, Mr. Stafford and Miss Simons were there, in the kitchen, so we sat, all innocent, in the living room.

(Yeah, right! Man, I would’ve liked to run my tongue all over that body. But, I couldn’t.)

I don’t know how productive a couple of hours it was. I’m no teacher and Len was no student. He really was hopeless. I enjoyed it anyway. It was a good way to kill an afternoon, sitting next to a sexy boy.

Mum asked him if he wanted to stay and eat with us, but, no, he couldn’t. He had to get home and get dinner started before the ‘rents got home. They both worked.

“Some other time, maybe?”

“Of course. You’ll always be welcome.”

As he was leaving, Len said, “Thanks for helping me, Virgil.”

“Not a problem, it was fun. Thanks for coming over. Thanks too for talking to me at school today. That took some guts.”

“I’ve got a lot of guts, you’ll see. I’m not sure whether you are really gay or not, but I don’t care, it doesn’t worry me. There was a gay kid in my old school.”

“’Kay. Thanks anyway. See you tomorrow.”

“Chances are. Can we do maths after school again?”

“Sure thing.”

He started walking home and I watched him go. He looked back, smiled and waved when he crossed the road. Damm, I liked that boy. Gay or not, at least he had no problem with gay people, apparently. It was good.

At school next day, Len greeted me as soon as I arrived. He thanked me again for helping him and asked if we were still on for today? I said sure we were, and he said that he’d told his parents what we were doing and they wanted to meet me. They were in love with me already.

As the day went on, I found that I was actually being included in conversations and stuff. I think they forgot to be nasty to me.

When I was going back to school after lunch, Joel was standing by the gates waiting to talk to me.

“Hey Virgin. How’s it?”

“It’s fine, Joel. How’s yours?”

“I think the word is fabulous, isn’t it?”

“I’m not doing that campy stuff anymore, I’m sick of that.”

“Good job too. How was your holiday?”

“It was great, best holiday ever. How was yours?”

“Pretty good. I’d do it again. You seem to be chummy with the new kid.”

“With Len? Yeah, we’re getting on okay. I’m trying to help him with his maths.”

“Good for you. You’re good at maths aren’t you? Actually, Dad says that you’re good at most stuff. Now that Denise has gone, you’ll be top of the class.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“You will be. Virgin, be careful with the new kid. There’s something about him. I dunno. Just be careful, that’s all.”

“You think? He’s just a friend, Joel. I need a friend.’

“You’ve always had a friend, Virgin. You always will. Don’t go doing anything silly, that’s all.”

The cheek of it! What made him think he had the right to interfere in my life? My temper flared.

“Fuck off, Stafford. When I need advice from you, I’ll ask for it.”

“That’s the trouble, I don’t think you would. You’re never going to forget that day down by the river, are you?”

“why the hell should I? I won’t forget my first day in this school either.”

“I’ve told you, I wish that never happened and I’m sorry that it did.”

“And you think that makes it all right? I’ve got news for you – it doesn’t! You worry about your life and I’ll worry about mine.”

“Okay then, if that’s the way it’s going to be. But, do worry about your life, be careful with him.”

“Oh, Fuck Off!”

“Fuck off yourself. You’re a pretty awesome kid, Virgin. Shame that you can also be such a bitch.”

I stormed away and left him there. He didn’t try to stop me, which was just as well. The way I was feeling, I probably would’ve hit him, and that wouldn’t be intelligent.

Prick! What did he think Len was going to do? Rape me or something? (I should be so lucky!) Anyway, Stafford would know all about rapists, wouldn’t he? Prick!

You’ll never guess where Len and his family used to live. Whakatu! And where is Whakatu? It’s a bloody suburb, kind of. It’s an area out at the north-end of Nelson.

Sheesh! Fancy moving from Nelson to bloody Tiroroa! His parents must be thick or something.

Len said, no, they don’t hate him. They moved out here because the houses are so much cheaper. (There’s a surprise). Anyway, his mother quite fancied the idea of living in a village; she didn’t like city life. I still think that she must be thick.

Len didn’t mind moving to Tiroroa, it would only be for a couple of years and, besides, there was a pay-off in it for him. As soon as the money came through for the sale of their old house, the parents were going to buy him a car. He couldn’t wait. He loved cars and, at last, he’d have one of his own.

I could take them or leave them. To me, a car was just a machine, something to get you where you wanted to go. Not Len, he was seriously in love with cars, and speed and racing. Cars were his world. (Whoop-de-do!)

He’d only been in Tiroroa for a couple of days and, already, he knew who drove and who didn’t and what sort of car everybody had. He wasn’t impressed that I was driving Gran’s housetruck when I was 0 years old.

“You can’t race in a housetruck, but, hey! At least you can drive. I knew you were smart.”

It all got a bit boring really. All he wanted to talk about was cars ad all their accessories – the radar-detectors, sound systems, and all the other bells and whistles. I did try to take an interest. At least he was talking to me. I got a date out of it too – kind of.

The week went by quite fast, so that was good. It was the best week I’d had yet at Tiroroa High. Len and I studied after school on 3 days, always in the living-room, dammit! At school I was included in the small group of ‘petrol-heads’ that he was gathering around him.

I didn’t talk to Joel at all, but he was around. He was always around, just watching. ‘Hah! Let him watch. The Prick! I’ve got friends here.’

When Mum told me on Friday lunchtime that we were going out for a meal and a movie with the Staffords, I was delighted to tell her, “Sorry Mum, I can’t. I’m busy tonight. I’m going to the Speedway with Len and his dad. I thought I told you that.”

“Well you didn’t. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“I told Gran anyway. She said that it’s okay.”

“All right then. But, the Speedway! You hate the Speedway. We took you once, when you were little, and you hated it. The noise of the cars racing was all too much for you and you cried all the way through it. You’ve always hated loud noises.”

“Gran said that too. I don’t even remember that, I was just little. I’m not little now, I’m big and I can handle it. I’ll wear ear-plugs.”

“Okay then. As long as you’re sure. What about Joel though? He’s going to be all on his own.”

“Not my problem. He can take someone else. Joel Stafford has got lots of friends, but I’m not one of them.”

“I wish you were, Honey. Joel’s a nice boy. I like him.”

“Well I don’t! He’s a drunk anyway. He’s way too into booze and dope for my liking.”

“You’re a bit behind the times, aren’t you? Joel’s given all that up. He hasn’t had a drink since Christmas.”

“Hasn’t he? I didn’t know that. It’s none of my business anyway, but it won’t do him any harm to knock it off. The way he was going, it was only a matter of time before he got in trouble. Anyway, I’m going with Len. I’ve already told them that I’m coming.”

“Okay, go then. Virgil, you know, there’s nothing wrong with having a drink or a joint or two. Everybody does it.”

“Everybody does not! I hate the stuff.”

“Shit! You can be such a little prude at times.”

“A prude? I’m not a prude. I’m gay you know.”

“You’re not gay.”

“I bloody am!”

“You’re gay? Oh well. You’re still a prude. Gotta go, Honey. I’ll see you tonight.”

Mum headed back to school and left me sitting there, bemused. (Yes, ‘bemused’ – it’s a word. Look it up).I just ‘came out’ to my mother. I didn’t mean to, it just slipped out, and she didn’t react at all. She’s a cool mum, I think. Isn’t she? Yeah, she is. I think.