Guidance (closed for ericrodman101) [M/M]

[ericrodman101]

They kissed, tongues working hard, saliva and cum passing between them. And when it was done, and Gerry was lying alongside Toby, their legs entangled, the older man felt the kid's hand petting his cheek.

"You can do anything you want..." Toby was saying. "...let me be yours...Daddy's toy..."

Gerry looked up at the ceiling, Toby's cum drying in his mouth, on his lips, his cock sore, his lungs heaving. This fucking a teen is hard work, he thought.

Did he need to respond? Did he love Toby? He loved fucking him for sure. But love? Did he love Andrea? Did he love himself? Gerry shut his eyes, listening to Toby's breathing beside him and outside, noises in the street. No, Toby knew what they meant to each other, and if it wasn't going to last, if this weekend was going to be the first and last for whatever reason, then there was no need to spoil it. Time and circumstance and other people, and all the obvious reasons why 53 and 18 year old men were not ideal partners, would intervene soon enough. Let them spoil it. Not Gerry. Sure the kid was overcome with teen love, teen lust. As Gerry was. But Gerry was experienced. He knew life was long and dull and seldom let you live on a high for long. If something was going to go wrong, it usually did.

And he needed to piss. Badly.

"Little Toby, I gotta piss," he said. "In a hurry."

Gerry curled onto the floor and stood. He looked back at the boy lying in the rumpled bed and smiled. And as he stepped into the bathroom, and up to the toilet, feeling the pressure of the urine in his bladder release, somewhere in the room behind him his mobile phone rang.

 

[tamgreen]

Toby worried he'd said too much, or said something crazy, and it wasn't helping that Gerry's only response was saying he needed to piss.

Or was that a signal? A tacit invitation for a little more debauchery?

As Gerry reached the bathroom, Toby quickly gathered what little strength was left in his spent body and pushed up from the bed, scurrying after him. The ringing of Gerry's phone made him pause, and he nearly tripped over the pair of trousers in whose pocket the phone had been sitting, forgotten, overnight. He ducked down to fish it out and pushed it into Gerry's hand as he arrived in the bathroom.

"Save some for me!" he giggled, peeking at Gerry as he pissed. He leaped into the shower and knelt down. "Come on, come on - piss on me while you talk on the phone!"

He grinned devilishly.

 

[ericrodman101]

It was just one of those things. Gerry was old school. He answered ringing phones. Without thinking about it. It was what you did, trained from childhood, like a dog. He was distracted by wanting to piss and his hand on his cock and taking aim. And a teenager pushing the phone at him and talking to him and his automatically accepting the call and putting the phone to his ear, all in the crowded bathroom, and that godawful ringtone which he'd meant to change but hadn't. What the fuck was Toby doing....crouching down like that, in front of him while he was trying to piss, grinning, and then, fuck!

"Piss on me while you talk on the phone."

Too late. Gerry unleashed his bladder. His cock was no longer aimed into the toilet, but at Toby's grinning face, making him step back and splash piss all over the bathroom. And all over the boy. All as he heard the phone line open at his ear, a faint click and then the sounds of life going on at the other end of the line. It was too much to process. Especially when he heard Andrea's voice.

"Gerry. Are you there?"

 

[tamgreen]

Toby had expected him to hesitate more, but all at once piss was flying at his face and he closed his eyes just in time. His mouth was still open with a grin, and some of it splashed into his mouth - he didn't hate the taste of it. He dared to open his eyes again and saw Gerry pissing wildly all over the place. He almost giggled again, but he saw that Gerry had already answered the call - he could faintly hear the voice emanating from the phone.

Gerry looked stunned. Toby blushed - maybe he'd done something totally over the line. He had a lot of fun pushing the envelope, but he didn't want to actually get Gerry in trouble.

Talk, he mouthed as Gerry stared at him. He mimed talking with his hand, as if it were inside a puppet.

 

[ericrodman101]

In his immediate circumstances, hearing Andrea's voice threw Gerry a curveball. He was pissing everywhere as if suddenly unable to control himself. It was splashing all over the bathroom, but he was drawn to Toby. The kid was kneeling in front of him, wedged between his knees and the toilet, mouth wide open. Gerry's piss was hitting the kid's face, his hair, running down his cheeks. It was carnage, nothing like Toby's deliberate pissing on Gerry which now seemed to have taken place a long time ago.

And through the chaos Toby was mouthing the word 'talk' at him. Talk. Talk. Talk, you stupid fuck, Gerry thought.

"Gerry, are you there? What's happening, Gerry? Have you got the kitchen tap running?"

"Andrea..." Gerry heard his voice, squeaky and unnatural, coming from a long way off. "Andrea. No. Yes. Just a little accident."

His piss stream was subsiding, but he still felt an urge to aim for the toilet which he could just see over Toby's shoulder. Every time he tried to aim or step aside to get a better view, however, Toby would move too. The kid was determined to be pissed on.

"Accident..." Andrea was saying. Jesus, Gerry thought, his mind clarifying. She'll remember and want to know what it was.

"Nothing serious, honey. It'll all be cleaned up before you get home from your mother's tomorrow."

The piss stream subsided to a dribble. Toby leaned up, holding his mouth like a bucket under Gerry's knob, straining to catch the last drops.

"Tomorrow? I'm just at the supermarket, Gerry. Can you check the milk? Do we need anything else. I'll be home in ten minutes."

 

[tamgreen]

Toby was partially listening to the conversation, but mostly focusing on trying to catch Gerry's piss. He felt so goddamn filthy and loved it. He was dripping all over and would need a good long shower soon - so would the whole bathroom, by this point - but he wanted to get as dirty as he could before getting clean.

As he leaned closer to Gerry, getting right beneath his cock, he could overhear more of what the man's wife was saying.

"...be home in ten minutes."

Oh... shit. Had he heard that right?

"She's coming?" he breathed weakly, his eyes growing very wide and his cheeks paling.

 

[ericrodman101]

Gerry stood naked, silent phone in one hand, empty cock in the other, Toby kneeling at his feet and dripping with piss, the bathroom reeking of piss all around, and the bedroom no doubt reeking of sex behind him. Andrea would be home in ten minutes.

"She's coming?" Toby asked, wide eyes looking up at him with all the fearful innocence of the senior school boy he was.

"Jesus, yes," Gerry said. "Fucking Jesus....you gotta shower. Quick. Shower and then I'll hide you."

The older man pushed the younger one into the shower, then turned in a panic to leave.

"I reek of piss too,' he said, turning back at the door. Toby had turned on the taps and the room was quickly filling with steam. Gerry opened the shower door and stepped inside.

"I need a minute in the shower too," he said, pushing up against the boy. "Just a quick one before I work out what the fuck I'm going to do."

 

[tamgreen]

Pressing his lips together, Toby fumbled for the knobs with shaking hands and turned the water on, scrambling to get clean as quickly as possible. Just a short time ago, he had been gripping those same knobs while getting his cherry popped.

Gerry's panic was getting to him - he felt like the proverbial floor was crumbling beneath him. He didn't know how to handle Gerry Metzler, the older man, the one whose job was providing guidance, having no idea what to do.

At least he could cry in the shower and it wouldn't be too obvious.

He knew it would all come to an end, but he was at least supposed to have longer than one night!

He was already giving himself a once-over with a soapy washcloth when Gerry joined him in the little stall. He quickly turned to help Gerry wash off.

"Do you want me to clean the bathroom while you deal with... whatever else?" he asked in an unsteady voice. "Or should I just... get out of here as quickly as possible? I can just... grab my stuff and sneak out the back or something."

Just saying it felt like a rusty knife digging into his chest. Fucking hell... sneaking out the back door. He really was having an affair.

 

[ericrodman101]

Gerry thought hard while the boy turned and soaped him. It was soothing and nothing would have been better than to linger, letting the hot water and the soap and Toby's soft hands slide over him. And even as he knew his minute was up and he had to act, his cock stirred. Fuck it, he thought. Just when I don't need an erection.

The older man stepped out of the shower. "Good idea," he said. "Clean the bathroom. Just with towels. Wet them and mop up the piss. It won't be perfect, but I'll say I had an accident. Then dress and come downstairs with your things. I'm going to put you in the dayroom. Pretend you are resting. I will tell Andrea that you turned up this morning looking for a place to stay. Drama at home. That sort of thing."

Gerry was pleased with himself. A student had never turned up at the house before seeking shelter, but it was logical. And his address wasn't a secret. Maybe Toby had followed him home. Yeah, it all fitted together.

Or maybe he should just tell Toby to leave. Fuck off, kid. It's been great, but you can fuck off now. No offence intended. Jesus, why didn't he think of that first? The fucking daybed. Would Andrea buy it? Too late now. He'd suggested it to Toby and it made some sort of sense.

"Think you can carry that off?" Gerry asked. "Just keep your nerve and don't say too much. I'll do all the talking."

He leaned into the shower, kissed Toby on the mouth and turned back to the bedroom.

 

[tamgreen]

Toby nodded several times while Gerry spoke, hanging on everything he said in desperate need to salvage this potentially life-ruining situation.

"You can tell her the toilet overflowed, maybe!" he piped up hopefully. "That's like... a normal thing that happens to normal people, right? Not just in my mom's shitty apartment? Anyway, you can blame anything on me you like. I don't care. And tell her as much of the truth as you want. I mean, about my... home, and stuff."

He hopped out of the shower as soon as he was reasonably rinsed off and patted himself dry before throwing the towel on the floor, beginning to sop up the mess. He wet down a few more towels as Gerry had instructed and gave the whole floor and some of the walls a quick once over before shoving the towels into a hamper and scurrying out into the bedroom, and then into the hallway. Gerry had already gotten dressed and retreated downstairs.

I'm naked, his mind screamed at him. He was supposed to grab his things and take them with him. What things? Where? Where the fuck had he left his clothes?

Toby listened for the sound of anyone other than Gerry in the house before dashing down the stairs in his birthday suit. Where was he supposed to go? The 'dayroom'? What the hell was a dayroom? He realized quickly that that must be the room with all the windows and the weird bed.

The sound of a car in the driveway kicked him into a panic.

"Oh shit she's here!" he yelped. "Gerry, I don't know where I left my clothes - oh fuck, there's no time!"

He grabbed his shoes and his two bags from where he'd left them by the front door and sprinted to the room with the daybed. He had just enough time to drop his things in a pile and dive under the bed covers before hearing the sound of a lock turning a few rooms away. He trembled, curling into a ball beneath the blanket. He tried to calm himself, but panic clung to him.

At least, he reasoned to himself, if Gerry was going to say he'd come here because of a crisis or something at home - which, in truth, was the original reason he'd come - it wouldn't be strange for him to be visibly shaken.

Trying to breathe somewhere close to normally, he waited.

 

[ericrodman101]

Gerry pulled the cover over the bed. But where were the clothes he'd worn last night? Before....before he and Toby had....where were his fucking clothes? He looked under the bed, behind the door, under the blankets. Nowhere. Jesus! Gerry opened his closet, selected a T shirt and shorts, slipped them on and ran downstairs.

Toby had nodded when he'd outlined the plan. Gerry was reassured. A distressed student asking his counsellor for help. Sounded perfectly plausible. But would the counsellor put the student up in his own house? Maybe. At least while he sorted out something more appropriate. Something within the guidelines. Something which wouldn't draw unwanted attention. Hmmm.

He looked into the kitchen. Two glasses.Two plates. What the fuck was that all about? Into the dishwasher. He dropped a glass in the panic. It smashed on the tiled floor. Shit shit fucking shit...

And the dayroom. The daybed. All mussed up. Is that where he undressed? Nothing. Not under the bed or behind the door. Nothing. The sun streamed in. Frank next door was mowing the lawn right against the fence. He looked up and caught Gerry's eye. Smiled. Gerry forced himself to smile back. Jesus, the blinds were open....all night. What the fuck had they done on the daybed? And now Toby was supposed to be sleeping in there. He raced over, closer to Frank, gave him a little wave and drew the blinds. Jesus!

The flatscreen. The TV room. Gerry ran down the hall. His and Toby's clothes were strewn everywhere. And the stain on the carpet looked a million miles across in the morning light. And fresh, damp looking, like he'd just stood in the middle of the room in the last five minutes, jerking off. Gerry touched it with his foot. Dry, thank fuck. But not invisible. He stooped, pulled the footstool over the stain, gathered up the clothes.

A car sounded in the drive. Toby yelled something indecipherable from upstairs. "Shut the fuck up," Gerry said as loudly as he dared. He heard the boy clatter down the stairs and then the door of the dayroom slam. Gerry looked down at his hands, holding Toby's clothes. What the fuck was the boy wearing in the dayroom? What the fuck....?

He considered running down the hall to deliver Toby his clothes, but the key crunched into the lock. Turning, Gerry caught his face in the mirror. Tired. Old. Grim. Fearstruck. Too fucking late, Gerry said to himself, you sad fucking loser. He shoved his and Toby's clothes under the sofa, and stepped into the hall to meet his maker.

 

[tamgreen]

"Fuck," Toby whispered to himself. "Fuck fuck fuck."

He shut his eyes and pulled the covers more tightly around his thin shoulders, like a little kid trying to wish away the monsters under his bed. If I can't see them, they can't see me.

But Andrea was going to see him. He couldn't hide in this house. He felt sick to his stomach. And the worst part was Gerry yelling at him to shut the fuck up when he was desperately looking for help. For guidance. Was Gerry mad at him? All Toby wanted now was to curl up in the man's lap and feel the solidity of his body and remember that someone gave a fuck about him. Or at least pretend that someone did.

He pressed his face into the pillow, trying (and failing) not to cry. He'd just have to use the tears. Try to look like some poor neglected, abused kid who was desperately looking for a safe home.

Isn't that exactly what you are, loser?

Shuddering, he tried to listen to the voices in the other room as Andrea entered the house, but he couldn't make out any of the conversation. He desperately hoped that Gerry, at least, would be able to hold it together and give his wife a coherent story.

Even if he couldn't, even if the worst case scenario should come about, at least there was the fact that Andrea had cheated first. She had it coming, Gerry. The bitch had it coming. If she tries to give you a hard time, tell her to go fuck herself and toss her ass out. Then we can live here, just the two of us. Just us, Gerry. Daddy and his boycunt, just like you said.

 

[ericrodman101]

The front door swung open, banging into the rubber stop and springing back. Andrea, all 5' 4" exuding a bristling middle-aged maternity, bustled into the hallway, arms full of paper sacks from the market. Gerry stepped forward to lighten the burden, leaning in to kiss her out of habit. She pushed him away.

"Not now Gerry. I'm going to spill everything. There's more in the car," she said, nodding towards the open door.

There was no way on God's earth Gerry was going to step outside, what with a naked teen in the day room, his clothes under the sofa in the TV room, and who knew what debris in the ensuite bathroom. He stepped back to give Andrea space, temporarily blocking the door to the TV room. Blocking a doorway to an incriminating room, any room, made him feel a little safer. But only a little.

Realising he wasn't going anywhere, Andrea stopped in the hallway for a moment, eyeing Gerry suspiciously.

"There are sacks in the car, Gerry."

He almost expected her to say 'fetch'.

"Ummm, in a minute Andrea," he said in an exaggerated whisper. "There's a kid in the dayroom. Asleep. I'm trying not to wake him."

"A kid?" She passed a sack to Gerry and balanced the other on her knee. "A friend of Charlotte's?"

"No, a kid from school. Bit of a problem. Just turned up looking for guidance. He's showered and I put him to sleep in the dayroom."

He followed Andrea into the kitchen, setting his sack on the counter top beside the one Andrea was carrying.

"What do you mean 'looking for guidance'? Your students aren't supposed to come here. It's never happened before."

Gerry put his hands in his pockets. "No," he said sheepishly. "But it's happened now and what was I supposed to do? Turn him away?"

"Hmmm," she said. "Or call school security."

"On a Saturday?"

"They've got a 24 hour number," she said, taking items out of the sacks and transferring them to the refrigerator.

"Not a good idea," he said. "Not before I check out the problem. I don't want to make it worse."

"So what did he say was the problem?" Andrea arranged fruit in the bowl, then bent to make space in the cupboard under the kitchen sink.

"It's a bad home situation," Gerry said. "Violence. Neglect..."

"So you know what the problem is," she said. "It doesn't need checking out. And he's asleep on the daybed?"

"Yeah. I don't want to disturb him. Just let him rest and then I'll work out what to do."

Andrea turned and drew herself up to full height. "Well, if he's resting and you don't want to disturb him, you can fetch the sacks from the car."

There. She's said it. Fetch. Given him his instructions. Fair enough.

"OK," he said. "But don't you disturb him either."

Gerry backed tentatively out of the kitchen and into the hallway, keeping an eye on Andrea busying herself with stowing the groceries for as long as he could see her, then turned and bolted for the front door. Fifteen seconds was all it would take to fetch the sacks and be back in the house. It was unavoidable, but what was he to do?

The street was quiet. He could hear Frank mowing his yard unseen next door. Andrea had left the rear door of the car open. Gerry collected two more sacks from the back seat and returned inside. The house was strangely quiet. No sounds of domestic activity from the kitchen. Just the sound of a door clicking. At the rear of the house. He raced along the hall, bypassing the kitchen, just in time to catch sight of Andrea's back as she tiptoed into the dayroom.

 

[tamgreen]

Toby bunched the covers around his fists and pressed them against his mouth. He heard footsteps approaching from the kitchen. He wasn't sure how he could tell, but he immediately knew instinctively they weren't Gerry's footsteps. He didn't want anyone but Gerry in this room - why would Gerry even let her barge in?

He clenched his fists so hard he could feel his fingernails digging into his palms, even through the sheet he was squeezing. The door opened, and he didn't know whether to pretend to be asleep or not.

Instinct, for better or for worse, decided for him. He lifted his head slightly to make sure it wasn't, in fact, Gerry coming in. It was not.

He stared in morbid fascination at the wife. The horrible monster who had hurt Gerry. His stomach roiled. He hated her looking at him. He hated her being in this house, in this room. God, he was going to have to suck up to her, wasn't he?

"Hi," he mumbled into the bundle of blanket he was still pressing against his mouth.

 

[ericrodman101]

Gerry made it to the dayroom door and looked inside. The room was dark, curtains drawn. Andrea was standing over the daybed. He could just make out Toby's face, deep in the blankets. The kid said 'hi'. Tentatively. Who wouldn't be tentative? Jesus!

Gerry stood in the doorway. Do I go in, he thought. Do I flee?

"The kid's awake," Andrea said, without turning to look back at him, but sensing he was there. Had he made this much noise following her down the hall? "You know you can't be here. This is my home. What's your name?"

Gerry waited for the explosion.

 

[tamgreen]

For several moments, Toby was frozen in place as if the woman standing over him had been Medusa. There was a severity to her expression that gave him a chill. Was this how she looked at her husband, with those cold, uncompromising eyes? Had she been cowing him all these years with that unsettling gaze?

"T-Toby," he finally stammered, hating that he, too, was cowed, but he knew if he had any chance of staying here even for a little while, he would have to make himself as non-threatening as possible. He took hold of the instinctive terror and went with it.

"I'm sorry... for intruding. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... cause any trouble. I just..."

His eyes flicked across to the silhouette of Gerry in the doorway. Why wasn't he saying anything? How could he be sure what Gerry had even said to his wife during that brief minute or two?

"...I just needed... a safe place. Mr. Metzler helps me a lot at school, and... I had nowhere else to go... no one I could... trust. I won't bother you any. Please... I'm tired, and I'm... scared."

He continued to stare up at the woman, his eyes as large and desperate as those of a Dickensian orphan.

 

[ericrodman101]

Gerry's eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. He could make out Toby's face peeping from the circle of blankets. The boy was telling Andrea how scared he was. He sure sounded scared. Plaintive. Desperate. And who wouldn't be with the lady of the house standing there, and you naked under the blanket, fresh from the shower and fucking her husband?

Or maybe it was acting. Gerry really couldn't tell. Not yet, anyway. Toby was a marvel at spinning a story and getting his own way, and at the same time, was young and vulnerable and had a crap life behind him and who knew what ahead?

"Mr Metzler helps me a lot..." Toby was saying. Mr Metzler. Thank Christ he didn't say daddy.

Gerry realised Toby was looking from Andrea to him and back again, pleading, trying to look forlorn. Fuck! It's working on me, Gerry thought. Just don't make him get out of bed now, Andrea. Just don't....

"Well, Toby," Andrea said, without a shred of empathy in her voice. "There's nothing to be scared of in here...except me." She looked fiercely at Gerry. "You sort this out."

"Sure darling. Leave it to me."

Gerry took his cue, stepped into the room and used his weight to push Andrea back towards the door. He looked down at the boy who continued to gaze back, a little less the scared orphan now, with a slightly more 'I know where your cock has been' look in his eye.

"You pop upstairs and unpack, and I'll deal with Toby."

 

[tamgreen]

Toby stayed tightly curled up until Andrea sourly left the room, and they both listened to her footsteps retreat. Then, he let out a long breath, paling as he looked up at Gerry and let the covers fall free of his bare shoulders.

"Holy shit," he whispered. "Talk about your ice queens! She almost makes me think living with my mom wasn't that bad."

He sat up fully and momentarily lifted the sheet to give Gerry a peek at his naked body.

"Gerry, what the hell are we gonna do? And I don't mean just this very moment, not knowing where the fuck my clothes are. She wants me out of here A-S-A-P!"

The frightened, forlorn look returned to him at the thought of being forced out of the house, suggesting that it was not just an act.

 

[ericrodman101]

Gerry watched Toby uncover his bare shoulders, then lift the blanket to display his naked body, and felt a wave of desire. The kid was one hell of a flirt, even after all that grovelling to Andrea. And then to call his wife an 'ice queen'. Gerry couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, she wants you out of here ASAP. But you played it cool, kiddo. Cool as a cucumber. You sure you haven't seduced old men and then cucked their wives before?"

Toby looked so frightened that Gerry regretted joking around. He pulled the blanket back up over the teen.

"Sit tight. Your clothes are under the sofa in the TV room. Andrea's gone upstairs. Listen? I'll fetch your clothes. Get dressed, but stay in here. OK?"

Toby nodded and Gerry returned to the hall. He could hear Andrea fussing about upstairs, probably their bedroom, or maybe the spare room where she'd been sleeping lately so as not to wake him on her early starts. He found Toby's clothes under the sofa, and his own. Better to leave mine for the moment, he thought. Gerry was returning down the hall when he heard a shriek from upstairs, and then "Gerry" screamed at the top of Andrea's lungs.

He rushed through the open door into the dayroom and threw the clothes at Toby.

"Here. Dress, but stay here. OK? I'm off upstairs to quell the savage beast," he said, turning and running.

 

[tamgreen]

Toby felt a small burst of pride when Gerry praised him for "playing it cool", but it was hard to be outwardly cheerful after how the interaction with the wife had gone. He was somewhat relieved when Gerry gave him firm instructions, needing his confidence and leadership, especially after those panicked few minutes surrounding Andrea's unexpected arrival in the middle of their kinky sex games.

His fragile bit of confidence shattered when he heard Andrea shrieking upstairs as if she'd just found a dead body. Oh, shit - what had they left behind? Did she find a mess of cum? Or was it just the pissy towels he'd hastily cleaned up the bathroom with?

He was breathing hard in short, frantic huffs when Gerry tossed him his clothes. He was surprised to see Gerry remaining reasonably calm and collected despite his wife screaming bloody murder. Maybe he was used to this - did she scream like that anytime he left his underwear on the floor, or dirty dishes in the sink? Fucking hell. Why was he with her?

Quickly he scrambled into his clothes, and then paced back and forth across the room. He could hear faint strains of voices upstairs, but he couldn't make out any of the conversation. For lack of anything else to do to pass the time and distract himself, he turned to make the bed he'd been lying in, carefully smoothing out the sheets. It didn't look great - he'd never made a bed in his life - but he thought it was at least worth trying to show he could be a decent houseguest.

After a few minutes he sat down on the floor next to his bags and stared at them, considering just taking his paltry possessions and leaving. He could just slip out the front door and never come back. He could quit school, quit this city, quit everything.

Hugging his legs against his chest and blinking back the tears that rose in his eyes, he waited for Gerry, waited to find out how much trouble they were in.

 

[ericrodman101]

Andrea stood in the door to the ensuite bathroom, her back to him. Gerry could smell the piss as soon as he entered the bedroom. As he stepped up behind her, she gave no ground, staying put and blocking the doorway. She knew he was there.

"What in God's name have you been doing in here?"

"Doing...?" Gerry knew he was playing for time. It wasn't even subtle. What had he been doing? Pissing on an 18 year old student, and spraying it all over the room. And Toby had cleaned it up. Or at least he'd asked Toby to clean. How good a job had he done in the few minutes available? Asking the question was sufficient for Gerry to answer it, to himself at least.

"I had an accident...."

"Where did the kid shower?"

Has she seen straight through me, he thought.

"In here," he said. There seemed no point saying the downstairs bathroom. Andrea would see on the briefest inspection that it hadn't been used this morning. And he wasn't thinking quickly enough to compose a coherent story.

"So the boy slept downstairs, but showered up here. In my bathroom," she said with added emphasis.

He muttered a sound which might have indicated the affirmative or might not. Gerry guessed that Andrea hadn't completed the interrogation.

"So let me get this straight. He arrived this morning. You brought him upstairs to shower, then put him in the dayroom. Is there something wrong with the downstairs bathroom?"

Gerry tried to think of something to say when she paused. But Andrea continued before any words emerged.

"And then...." He watched as she walked into the bathroom and kicked a pile of wet towels. "And then you came back up here and pissed all over the place. You really think I'm going to believe that?"

"Ummm...." Believe what, Gerry wondered. Jesus. Fucking Jesus.

Andrea turned, pushed past him and stood in the bedroom.

"Shut the door, Gerry. You can clean it up properly when I'm done."

He followed her, shutting the door as directed.

"I know what these rotten teenage hooligans are like," she said. "And I know how weak people like you respond. You molly coddle these teenage terrorists, you make excuses for them, even when they break into their teachers' houses and make a mess like this. Don't worry about telling me the truth. I'll find out how he got in later. But pretending you had an accident and pissed everywhere when that punk has done it to make some juvenile point, or get you back for something. I don't know why you can't just open your eyes to what's going on here, Gerry. You clean it up properly and I'll go downstairs and phone the police. We'll see what they have to say about some kid who thinks having a hard life means he can vandalise his teacher's house."

Andrea marched out of the bedroom and down the stairs, Gerry in tow. Would she turn right at the bottom and phone the police, or left into the dayroom to interrogate Toby first?

 

[tamgreen]

The voices upstairs became more distinct - it sounded like they had left the bedroom. Toby stood and edged toward the dayroom door, pulling it open just a couple of inches to listen to what Andrea was going on about.

"...downstairs and phone the police. We'll see what they have to say about some kid who thinks having a hard life means he can vandalise his teacher's house."

Toby's heart leaped up into his throat. Fuck - the bitch was going to call the police on him? Of all the ways Andrea could have interpreted the piss mess, he wouldn't have expected vandalism. It could have been a relief if she didn't jump to kinky conclusions, but if she was going to get the police involved, that was no better than her finding out exactly what he'd done with her husband.

Get out! his mind screamed. Get out now!

He shoved his feet into his sneakers and, leaving behind his backpack and sad grocery bag of trashy possessions he could certainly do without, darted out into the hallway. He slid to a stop when he realized Andrea was already halfway down the stairs, and the path to the front door was compromised - he turned to go the other way and took random turns until he found a side door that led outside.

Wiping the bleariness from his eyes, he exited, leaving the door wide open, and hurried along the side of the house until he'd reached the street. He started to run in a random direction, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his ass that reminded him of the fucking he'd received. He didn't know where he was going or why, but simply followed his base panicked instinct to put as much distance between himself and his lover's wife as possible.

 

[ericrodman101]

Gerry heard as much as glimpsed Toby running about in panic. The kid had obviously heard Andrea's proposal. He followed her downstairs even as Toby appeared briefly in the hallway, turned and reversed his steps. The poor kid is looking for the door, he thought. A way out. Jesus.

Andrea gave no indication of changing her mind now that Toby was legging it. She simply marched into the now empty dayroom and stopped, hands on hips, to survey the scene. The blanket had been thrown aside from the rumpled daybed. Toby's backpack and grocery bag were half spilled on the floor. She pushed a toe into the sad pile of belongings.

"He's gone, thank goodness. Clean up this mess, Gerry, and then the bathroom. And then we'll have a little talk about making sure this doesn't happen again."

But Gerry had already decided to follow Toby. The kid was emotionally vulnerable enough without having to flee. Not to mention physically sore, he thought. What happens when you've been fucked up the ass for the first time? Should you go running? Or rest and let things settle down? And what if Toby did something stupid? Hurt himself. Put himself in danger. Sought help. Went to the police, now that the idea was in his head?

The front door was closed. Gerry went through the TV room to the annex. The side door was open. He ran into the alley and then to the street. Empty. Which way had Toby gone? Gerry thought for a moment, his guidance counsellor training for dealing with runaways kicking in. Running after the boy wasn't going to help. The kid had a start, but was unfamiliar with this part of town. He'd probably just run around in circles, tire himself out, and find a park bench. Or a ride. The training said 'follow in the car'. You go in circles too, but you can cover more ground.

Gerry returned to the house via the side door. He could hear Andrea in the kitchen. Should he tell her he was going after the kid? Or would she guess? She'd left the car keys on the hook by the front door. Let her guess, he decided, taking the keys, slamming the front door, and sprinting to the car.

 

[tamgreen]

Toby had never felt so conspicuous and so out of place as he did while running through a quiet suburban neighbourhood. The streets were lined with tidy, clean houses with tidy, clean yards. Everything was bright and pleasant. There was no trash lying around; there were no dark places. Even the alleys seemed cheerful. It was all a disorienting contrast to everything he'd ever known, and to everything he felt inside. There was no place to hide.

And oh god, his ass hurt. He couldn't run anymore. He just wanted to lie down on his front in a soft bed and forget his entire life. He'd had that for one night, sleeping next to Gerry, and just as quickly as it had happened, it had ended.

He realized tears were pouring down his cheeks, and he quickly ducked his head down, letting his overgrown hair fall across his eyes. Hunching his shoulders and crossing his arms, he limped along, looking only at the sidewalk in front of him. He would just have to decide what to do once he ran out of sidewalk.

Before this happened, he heard a car slow down next to him, and his stomach twisted. He kept shuffling along for a few steps and glanced aside, recognizing Gerry's car but not looking any higher than the fender. He slouched down even lower and just kept walking, trying to pretend the car didn't exist.

 

[ericrodman101]

Gerry found Toby in no time. The kid had simply turned left and run along the street. He'd managed a few blocks, but when Gerry pulled the car alongside, Toby was slouched and shuffling, head down, miserable. And in obvious discomfort. You didn't go for a run after being fucked up the ass for the first time.

Gerry pulled over a little in front of Toby, leaned across and threw open the door. "Get in," he said as the kid came alongside. Toby stopped, but didn't look up. "Come on, get in. You'll be more comfortable sitting down." Or maybe lying down in the back, Gerry thought.

Toby made no effort to move or respond. "Andrea's bark is worse than her bite," Gerry said. And immediately wondered why. Her bark and her bite were about even on the badness scale. And he had no idea how she'd respond when he brought Toby home with him, assuming that was actually going to be today's outcome. It was his house too. What the fuck? His house. And where was Toby to go today, or anytime on the weekend? The selfish bitch could let some poor kid stay in her house, his house, for a couple of nights.

Gerry turned off the engine and stepped out of the car. He walked over to Toby, still head down, and cuddled the boy tightly.

"You're feeling bad, I know," he said. "We had the best time and now it's spoiled...and...why don't you get in the car?"