Such Stuff as Dreams are Made Ch. 02

But none of that mattered.

"Fuck you, Ben. I can't believe you are such fucking chickens. Honestly, what sort of pathetic twerps are you that you won't even fulfil your promise to a naked girl? You're probably all poofs, aren't you. Then you couldn't wait to get your fucking peckers out for each other. Who knows, you probably have been for years."

I was mad with desire and embarrassment and fury as I pulled my clothes back on. Fully dressed, I stormed past them and made my way back to the track home.

"When you little boys have grown up a little, I'll be back at the house."

I walked alone for quite a way, only vaguely aware of the route. It was good for me to have time to calm down after my outburst. The only thing I dislike about being female is that whenever you lose your temper, no matter how valid your reasons, men see you as hysterical. They shake their heads, roll their eyes, and share a glance between each other, as if to say: 'don't mind her, it's the hormones.'

As I calmed down I began taking in the scenery. The landscape was dramatic and beautiful: tall dominating trees, wind ruffling their newly sprouting leaves, cavernous valleys, the smell of earth. A shallow stream, no more than a foot and a half deep, ran slowly along the foot of the valley and I had to hop across it on a series of stones. The water was immensely clear. There were birds in the trees singing patiently to their kind, a blanket of undergrowth stretching all around. The wood felt deserted, no sounds penetrating its depths, no-one else seemed to come here. If Tolkien's Ents could be found, it would be in places like that.

When I came to the end of the river I turned onto the road, starting the slow climb back up the other side of the valley to the house. I wondered what to say when I got there. Should I claim illness and go to bed? Or hide here for a few hours? I was still trying to make up my mind when the tap of footsteps started to be heard on the road ahead. It sounded like they were running. I stopped dead in my tracks, unsure whether to run or hide. Then a voice:

"Amelia!"

It was Owen. He rounded the bend and saw me. "I hoped I would catch you."

"You didn't seem too keen for me to stay back there."

He winced, and seemed to pick his next words carefully. "I'm sorry, Amelia."

My face must have conveyed how weak his apology was.

"It wasn't a set up, honest."

"I hope it wasn't!"

"I was just scared."

"Scared? We were just kidding around."

"But..."

"I don't want to talk about it."

We walked a while, silent. I swung my arms gently, listening to the lull of nature all around us. Eventually I managed to smile. It was nice to spend time alone with Owen.

Our walk back alternated between eager chat and periods of silence. He came alive when talking about his plans for the summer and we joked that maybe he should spend some time at a nude beach to make it up to me. I told him that Anna and I were planning to go to university together, though we didn't know where. He said he wanted to be a skiing or surfing instructor.

By the time we got home I was in a better mood, though that soured when we walked in to find Ben and John watching TV as though nothing had happened.

"Do you want a hot drink, Amelia?"

"I'd love a hot chocolate, please Owen."

"Cream?"

"Definitely! I'll give you a hand."

"No, no, you sit there and watch some TV."

Owen left the room and the tension thickened. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt uncomfortable in Ben and John's presence. There was an episode of The Simpsons playing, and they were watching it intently. Lisa was showing her feisty mettle in trying to launch a doll that would live up to feminist ideals.

"Amelia. Can you come up here for a minute please?" It was Owen again.

I stood up and walked across the room to the back staircase. Ben and John did not look at me.

"Where are you?" I called as I got to the top of the stairs.

"In my bedroom. Come on in."

I walked along the corridor and turned the corner to see his door shut. I knocked and he repeated the invitation.

He was on the far side of the room.

"Hi."

"What's up?"

"Your hot chocolate is coming..."

"Good!"

"...but I wanted to apologise again for what happened back there."

"It's okay." I tried to smile comfortingly but my heart wasn't in it. He tried his own disarming smile back. I relented. "Thank you Owen. It means a lot to hear you say it."

"It's not right that we all saw you..., you know, and you didn't see any of us."

I shrugged. "What can you do?"

"Well that's what I wanted to say." He trailed off and looked into my eyes. Whatever he was looking for he found, as the next thing I knew he had reached down and loosened the chord that held his robe. "I hope this makes it up to you."

The robe fell open and I gasped. He was naked underneath. There was his chest with a thin wisp of hair above the breastbone; there was his stomach, not quite a six pack, but defined in its own way. He pushed the robe from his shoulders and my eyes darted down to his midriff, catching sight of his cock. It was soft and spiked with pubic hair, hanging limply. My mouth must have been gaping because his next words were full of worry.

"Do you want me to put it back on?"

I didn't. But I wanted him to be comfortable. And I wanted to do the right thing. Dumbly, unable to say anything, I shook my head. He lifted his hand from his shoulder and let the robe fall to the floor. I returned my gaze to his crotch as the shaft twitched. I was seeing my first live penis. If I wanted to I could reach out and touch it. I did want to but could not bring myself to do so.

I returned my gaze to his face and smiled. He smiled back, and pirouetted slowly, as if displaying a new outfit. First I saw the curve of his hip, then the roundness of his bum came into view. As he continued to spin, the crease came into my line of sight. There was a little fluffy hair at the base of his spine, and a shadow of hair running down the crack. My eyes were wide as he finished his twirl and came to a standstill in front of me. His penis was definitely a little fatter now, and it seemed to be drawing towards me like a magnet. It occurred to me that he was aroused at being naked around me! I looked into his face and saw that he was smiling, and looking back at me. More than anything I wanted to reach out and touch him, any part of him. Draw him to me and kiss him as hard as I could. I longed to be closer to him. His penis twitched and rose a little higher.

He looked down at himself.

I was about to step forward, had already lifted my right foot, when we heard a scampering noise on the steps.

"Owen, the milk's boiling over!" John's annoyed voice called from halfway up the stairs.

"Shit," Owen called. I grabbed for his robe and handed it to him, then turned and headed out the door.

"Thanks Owen. I guess we are even now." I turned and walked back down the corridor with Owen close behind me. Close enough to imagine him pressing his still firm cock against the back of my jeans.

Later that afternoon we sat in John's bedroom. A cordial though chilly détente had formed between us. Owen's actions had calmed my sense of outrage to the point where it no longer bothered me that Ben and John had seen me naked, though their response to it still hurt. Owen's nudity had been intimate, generous, and (dare I say it?) loving. I was quiet, reflective, somewhat in awe.

Rain fell outside. Not hard, but enough to keep us inside. A spring shower. We had already played a game of Risk, which John had, amazingly, let me win. And now we were sitting around not doing much. It was one of those afternoons where teenagers have too much time and not enough to occupy them. Time passed, but barely.

"What shall we do?" Ben asked.

"Not another game." Replied Owen

"How about a movie?"

"No, I can't be bothered."

"Cards?"

"That's a game isn't it?"

"Fine, do you have any suggestions?"

"Afraid not," John replied.

"I might go and read," I sighed.

"Oh come on, Amelia. We should do something all together. We go home tomorrow."

"Oh yeah? I know what your 'all togethers' mean."

He shut up then. We all did. Eventually I got up and went to read.

Later still we regrouped in search of a fix for our fractured group.

"How about a game of truth or dare?" suggested Owen.

"We're not thirteen any more," taunted John.

"I think it's a great idea," I said, smiling at Owen. "Besides, what other suggestions do we have?"

A flick of his hand and a deep sigh let us know just how pathetic John thought the idea was. But he did not oppose.

"Who wants to go first?"

"Owen should, since it's his idea."

"Okay," replied Owen.

"So," I began, fixing my eyes intently upon him. "Truth...or...dare?"

"Truth," he replied, decisively.

"Well then," John began, sardonically. "Why don't you tell us all exactly why you wanted to play this silly game in the first place?"

Owen was quiet. John added: "Truthfully, now. Remember."

"Honestly? I hoped we might get me chance to make up for earlier."

Silence.

"I think that might have been a bit too honest for these too. They look a little scared by that!"

"Well, they'll have to grow a pair then, won't they. Anyway, it is John's turn now."

"Truth."

"Okay, John, have you ever kissed a girl?" I felt certain that he hadn't and wanted to make him squirm.

"Yes, of course I have. Two in fact. Owen knows all about them."

I turned to Owen.

"It's true. At least one of them is anyway. He had a girlfriend for a few weeks last summer. Blue eyes, wishy-washy, dazed look. Wet kisser, I bet."

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, Owen."

"That's a yes then!"

John turned to Ben. "What about you?"

"Truth too please! After this morning, I'm a little scared of what Amelia will have us doing for dares!"

"Okay, have you ever kissed anyone?"

"Sure."

I was about to argue. It was embarrassing being the only one who hadn't kissed anyone. But I kept my mouth shut. I knew him well enough to know when he was telling the truth, and he had that fearsome "challenge me if you dare" look in his eye. Lucky him. I was jealous.

As all faces turned to me, I knew I was going to be asked next, I thought I would own up straight away. "Well, I guess it's my turn now. I know what my truth would be and I don't want to waste a go on such a pointless question, I'll answer it now. Unless you are all lying, I'm the only one here who hasn't kissed anyone? I guess that puts paid to the theory that girls do these things younger than boys."

"You've never kissed anyone?" John said.

"Nope."

"That's cool, sis. No shame there at all," offered Ben encouragingly.

"Yeah, exactly," chimed in Owen.

"I know! It's not like I've been turned down by anyone either."

Still, I wanted to cry.

Ben continued. "Why don't you kiss Owen? If he wants to make things up to you, maybe he should start right now."

John laughed.

"I'm not having my first kiss bartered by my brother!"

"Fine, don't say I didn't offer though. So, truth or dare?"

More than anything I wanted to let me people in, to feel emotionally close to somebody for once in my life. But which would facilitate this better? I was also sad and lonely and wanted to feel normal again.

"I'll take a truth," I sighed. "No way am I letting you force me to kiss Owen."

No-one said anything. "Come on, we don't have all day."

"Okay, I've got one," began Ben. "Actually, no. It's too personal."

"You've started now."

"Okay, Am. Don't be mad at me though."

"Just get on with it."

"Um, well. I was going to ask: do you masturbate?"

"Ben! You can't ask your sister that!"

"She said ask anything!"

"Yeah but she's your sister!"

"Oh come on Owen! I did say he could ask me anything."

"Yeah, and who else am I going to ask? So, what's the answer then?"

"Sure I do. Don't you?"

"This isn't my truth. I can't believe you admitted it though."

"What? Girls aren't allowed to get horny?"

"NO! Haven't you read your classics? Girls are at their most attractive when they're demure and whimsical. You should be waltzing round the may pole with other women in white cotton dresses, and discussing boys and kissing in your rooms at night."

My heart felt like it had been bludgeoned once more.

"And what do you think those women did after discussing boys and kissing? Come on, Ben, it's not like sex is a new thing."

Owen butted in. "What do you do when you, you know?"

"What do you do when you masturbate?" I fired back.

"Who said we masturbate?" Owen replied.

"Oh come on. 90% of boys masturbate, and the other 10% lie."

"I don't," said John.

"What? Don't talk rubbish, John."

"I don't. It makes your penis shrink and you become infertile."

"Are you serious? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. It's an old wives tale."

"It's true."

"Oh and how are you going to prove it?" countered Owen.

John shrugged. "It's true."

"Whatever."

Then Ben butted in. "None of which brings us any nearer to hearing Amelia tell us what she does when she masturbates."

"No. Not until you guys admit that you look at page 3, and watch Live TV on cable, and masturbate all the time."

They looked disappointed, but this one-way titillation had to stop. I wasn't going to be their dream prostitute.

"Yeah, okay. 'Course we masturbate," Ben said.

"Owen?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"And what do you do when you masturbate?"

"Well...you know. The usual."

"Oh come on, Ben, you can be more graphic than that!"

"Yeah I could. But this is YOUR truth. "

"I already admitted to masturbating. That was all your question was. Now, I think, that makes it Owen's turn."

"Oh dear. I think I know what's coming then."

"That depends on whether you choose a truth or a dare though, doesn't it Owen."

"Well I know what the truth will be. I guess it's better to go for that than risk your filthy mind on a dare."

"Okay then, Owen. Tell us all, in explicit detail, exactly what you do when you masturbate."

"I don't want to hear that," said Ben.

"Then you better close your ears," I replied. I looked at Owen and smiled encouragingly.

"Well..." he looked around for support. "I guess I like to masturbate when I wake up in the morning. I don't know what I've been dreaming about but I always wake up horny. When my alarm goes off, I like to turn over, shut my eyes, and imagine having sex with a beautiful woman. Recently, she has had long hair hanging down all around her face and is crawling up my body, kissing my stomach and thighs. And then she takes me in her mouth and slowly sucks me off. I can feel her hot breath on my cock, and the way she licks the head with little flicks..."

Owen trailed off.

"Wow, that's hot. But what do you do with your hands? You haven't said how you bring yourself off."

"Usually I just try to copy the movements of what is happening in my mind. I run my hand down my stomach and then start to stroke slowly. I like to take my time, holding my, you know, balls in my hand and all that stuff. And then, eventually, I come."

"Where do you come?"

"Usually over my stomach, and then I have a shower to wash it all off."

"Well thanks Owen, I'll never look at the shower in the same way again."

"Oh don't listen to him, Owen. That was the sexiest thing I have ever heard."

Owen blushed further, and I wondered whether he had ever imagined me moving slowly towards his cock, taking him in my mouth and then drinking down his come.

It was John's turn. "Dare."

"Okay John," Ben began, "I think its time for you to make it up to Amelia for earlier. You have a choice: We can either go back to the tree and you can get your kit off and swing naked, or you can do it here."

"And what's the forfeit for not doing a dare?"

"Being lame and pathetic. Or else you have to go into the bathroom, wank, and then come back with the evidence on a tissue."

"Well I told you, I don't masturbate. So I guess I have no choice." I was surprised at how easily he had accepted his dare. Well, go on, get out of here. I'm not doing this in front of you guys as well!"

"Oh come on, John, get your kit off already."

"No. It is Amelia I wronged, not you. I don't owe you anything."

Uncertain about leaving such a situation and worried, I suspect, that they were leaving me to some horrible ordeal which I could not face, Ben and Owen looked to me for confirmation. I shrugged and they left.

When their footsteps had died down I turned to John. "Listen, John. I appreciate your willingness to do this and all, but you don't have to."

"No, Amelia. They are right. We did you a horrible disservice earlier, we took advantage of you and now I want to make up for that."

"We could just sit here a while and then say you did it."

"That wouldn't be right."

"Do you want me to shut my eyes while you undress?"

He shook his head.

He removed his clothes, pulling the sweatshirt and t-shirt over his head at the same time. It was hardly a sexy, erotic strip. I leaned back on my arms and watched him kick off his socks and pull down his jeans. There he was, once more in his unremarkable underwear. At this point he froze, and looked up at me, seeking assurance that I wanted him to continue. I tried to offer a reassuring smile and nodded my head, making sure he knew he now had no choice but to go ahead.

Taking a deep breath, he bent his legs and pulled down the underwear. He did it quickly, without ceremony, and once he had removed the pants from around his feet he stood there for an instant, naked before me. His penis was shorter than Owen's, but with a bulbous head poking out from his circumcised shaft. It was the second penis I had seen that day, and I now felt a little more composed in its presence. Or maybe it was the person who the penis was attached to. Instead of the overpowering sense of desire that I felt when Owen exposed himself to me, the emotion that assailed me at this moment was of clinical interest. I wanted to reach out and touch it, to feel it in my hands, weigh it, and taste it. It was as if John's penis was completely cut off from the rest of him, a separate entity completely. I wanted to make it jump and spurt and grow firm, but it would be a purely physical connection; I felt no particular emotional attraction to the boy it was attached to.

But before I had time to consider this John had done a quick spin and was dressing once more.

When he was fully clothed he looked me in the eye, intimately, seriously. "There you are, Amelia. I hope that wasn't too traumatic." He flashed a self-deprecating smile and bowed his head, as if in shame.

"Nonsense, John. You have a very attractive body and I'm sure I enjoyed looking at you as much as you clearly enjoyed looking at me this morning."

"Yeah, well..."

"Don't be embarrassed, it's natural. You don't need to be so uptight. You are a great guy. And good looking too. Some day a girl is going to wet herself seeing you naked."

He blushed. "Alright, alright, no need to go overboard." But he smiled all the same.

Ben and Owen came back into the room, and things went back to normal. It was Ben's turn.

"Truth."

"Okay Ben," John started immediately, "question is: have you ever fantasised about Amelia?"

It was a sign of how far we had come that this didn't strike anyone as inappropriate. Perhaps they expected me to pipe in with righteous indignation? If so, they clearly hadn't learned anything from the day so far.

Ben made as if to deny it, but nodded.

"What do you imagine when you fantasise about me?"

"Oh, no, it's your turn now. You'll have to wait a while to get that."

"Fine! Play hard to get. Well I'm not giving you guys what you want this evening. I know you'll ask me to tell you what I do when I masturbate, and what is the fun in that? I think I'll be brave and go for a dare instead."