Cultural Exchange

It was so unfair. Glad though he was not to have to face that horrible piece of music again, he was bristling that he'd been treated so unfairly. Mr Martin hadn't even wanted to listen to him explain his side; that it was just an accident, that he would never dream of acting inappropriately with anyone, particularly not with Samantha. Of course he wanted to touch her; but he would never want to upset her. What's worse, Jez and Emma had been literally fingering each other a few seats away, and Mr Martin had done nothing about that. It's like he had no idea what was going on right under his nose. The injustice made Paul's blood boil; a traitorous tear ran down his face as he stalked away, alone, back towards the coach.

///

They sat up in the Gods. A long, long way below there was a fan of green, and some indistinguishable figures, dressed in white, stood dotted around it. A huge screen projected close-ups of the players; you might as well have stayed home and watched the game on TV. At least that way you could be doing something else in the ten minutes between each time they actually threw and hit the damned ball.

Samantha was so very, very bored. There was some initial excitement; her vertigo triggering at the thought of tripping over and not being able to stop herself falling down the endless stairs and balconies to the field, maybe half a mile away. They all had to crouch to catch a glimpse of the message: "The Blue Jays welcome Townsend School, England!" as it briefly flashed over the screen. They gave a half-hearted cheer, then went back to ignoring the game and just chatting with each other, praying for the boredom to end.

She spotted Paul, seated away from the others, on the other side of the group. He's got the right idea, she thought, noticing the paperback in his hands. Bring along your own entertainment. She remembered watching him walk away, after the incident at the simulator. Guilt ate at her; he really hadn't deserved that telling off. Perhaps she should have said something... But what, without getting Izzy pissed off at her? Izzy seemed altogether too happy about making him miserable, and she was starting to wonder what this was all about. He'd done nothing wrong, yet he was the one suffering, again.

She shook her head, trying to clear the thought. Was she really feeling sorry for the poor dope? Maybe, maybe not... But she started to wonder - am I a bully? A little teasing now and then seemed like harmless fun - but getting Paul reported to the headmaster, or to the police, for sexual harassment? That was taking things too far. What was Izzy playing at?

I should talk to him, she thought. I should go over there and apologise. But how would I begin? And what would the others think if they saw me talking to him. She knew she shouldn't care so much about their opinions; but they were the only friends she had. It was way too late now to try and find a new social circle. Maybe next year, at University, things would be different.

She was still struggling with what to do when Emma came back, slumped into the seat beside her, and started fishing around in her handbag for a mirror and her lipstick - hers was rather smudged. Samantha caught a glimpse of Jez also creeping back into his seat and high-fiving the rest of his gang.

"You didn't," she said. The chaperones were all here, watching the game, so it would have been easy to sneak off unnoticed.

Emma was all attitude, as usual. "Fucking right we did. There's nobody out there, you know," indicating the concrete walkways that ran around the outside of the stadium. "Loads of little nooks to hide up in. And this is so fucking boring, I just needed a little something to get me through, you get me?"

Talk about inappropriate touching in public, Samantha thought. She looked over at Paul, again. He looked so sad and lost. What must it be like to live in his world, where everyone laughs at you? Previously, when she'd thought about it at all, she'd just thought he deserved being teased, that he brought it upon himself. But now... He just sat there, minding his own business, offending no-one. Yet everyone hated him, so much. It just didn't seem right.

///

Paul lay in bed, frustrated. His obsession with Samantha had affected his playing in the concert, which had got Mr Martin pissed at him, which perhaps had exacerbated the reaction to the CN Tower incident. Paul really hoped he'd calm down before they got back to England; that the matter would go no further. He really didn't want to have to have that conversation with his Mum - or for Mr Martin to have to speak to her about him.

He had noticed though that Samantha hadn't blamed him. He could understand why she wouldn't contradict her friend in the face of authority; he and Ben used to stick up for each other, too. Izzy just had it in for him; probably that absurd rumour about him fancying her. Maybe it was time to be a bit more proactive; go up to talk to Samantha, perhaps.

Yeah. Right.

But he was getting tired of being the person that events happened to, rather than being the instigator. Just riding along was the easy path. Maybe it was time to become more assertive.

Like the other day, with Zee. Who knows what they could have done if he'd been a bit more... cocksure? He certainly wouldn't still be a virgin. And all he would have had to do was just say no a bit less, and yes a bit more. Maybe he was wasting his time pining over Samantha, and should seize the moment with girls who did show an interest.

Girls like Zee. Or more to the point, girls like Sophie.

Ah, Sophie. Nice figure, fit, perfect curves, inherited from her mother. In public she didn't show any interest in him, but in private...

He relaxed back into the bed, took his cock in his hands, and thought about her body pressed against him in the shower...

///

She lay across her bed, stroking herself. It had been a few nights since she sneaked into the bathroom to touch him. Touch that poor shy boy, far from home, lonely but pining for romance. She couldn't give him that, but surely she could give him a few more nights to remember?

It had been too long since she'd last had sex. Having an available man in the house was too much to bear; his testosterone was calling to her, and her pussy was answering.

You can't, said her brain. You mustn't take advantage of our guest. And what if the family found out? They'd surely hear them; given the lust that burned through her, she wouldn't be able to keep quiet.

You must, said her pussy. You need his touch, his hands on you, his fingers inside me like your own are right now. Imagine how that cock will feel as it slides inside me. As you ride him, as you take and give pleasure to each other.

Do it, her pussy demanded. Do it now.

She threw back her duvet and slipped out of the bed, crept to the door and peeked out. Darkness, silence, other than gentle snoring coming from JP's room. On tiptoe she sneaked over to the guest room, ever so slowly turned the knob, and slid inside. Paul lay on his back, on top of the covers in the heat, erection tall and proud, pointing up towards his face. He must be having a nice dream, she thought. Let's make it a reality.

She sank to her knees at the side of the bed and leant over, brushing her lips over him. The cock twitched, balls tightened slightly, and that was all she could bear. She opened her lips, covered him and took a long, wet suck of his manhood.

Paul dreamed on. Back in the ruins of the abandoned houses, he was standing behind Zee, cock buried deep inside her, as she leant forward onto the bonnet of the pick-up truck. They were looking in through the windscreen, watching Kat ride JP, her screams urging them on. Zee came, howling like a wolf.

"Fuck her harder," shouted JP through the broken side windows. "Pound my sister, she needs it bad."

Paul flipped his girl over; she was wearing the bikini and denim jacket but sure enough it was now Sophie's exquisite face looking back up at him. She bit her lip as he drove into her, so wet but so very tight. The pressure on his dick felt incredible, like she was drawing his very soul out through his cock...

The sensation snapped Paul awake. It wasn't just a dream! There was a shadow kneeling by his bed; a mouth on his dick, soft boobs pressing against his thigh. He made out her short blonde hair on the back of her head as it bobbed up and down, her lips and tongue working overtime.

"Wha..." he started, but she whipped her hand up and clamped it over his mouth. Silence, yeah, I get it; he laid back and let her work. There was a musky scent on her fingers that called to him; once he was still he watched that hand go back down to her side, then felt her moving. Was she touching herself?

The dream had been so intense, he was already so worked up. Sophie wasn't as stacked as Zee, but she was prettier. And fuck, did she know how to suck a cock. Zee was all warm and wet and slippery with lots of hand action; but tonight, he felt his cock being worked over with tongue and lips and suction, no hands necessary as he slipped in and out of her throat.

She dived down onto him, lips crushed into his groin, as she brought herself to orgasm. So bad, so wrong, filling her throat with his meat, choking herself on someone she barely knew. So bad, so naughty, so slutty. She felt ashamed, and that made her come all the harder.

Paul heard her moans, felt them through his dick. Felt her body tremble. Was she... was she coming? Coming with his dick in her mouth? The thought was unreal, unbelievable - and hot. He could feel his own climax racing for him. She must have felt it, tasted it perhaps, as she pulled back and let the head of him rest over her tongue, lips locked just behind the head.

"I'm gonna..." he whispered.

"Mmmm-hmmm," she hummed onto his dick. Which was all the permission his balls needed; boiling over and filling her waiting mouth.

As she swallowed him down, and the endorphins drained away, all she was left with was the guilt and shame. What was she doing? What was he going to think of her? Embarrassed, she got to her feet and made for the door, not looking back.

///

NIAGARA FALLS TRIP

Paul rose early and made his way downstairs. Annabelle was busy preparing breakfast for the family. "Big trip today, eh? Off to the Falls!" Paul nodded. "It's been months since I last went," she said. "We usually get over there during the summer."

What a place to live, Paul thought, where it was a once-in-a-season opportunity to visit one of the great national wonders of the world, rather than once in a lifetime; and with one of the world's tallest buildings here, too. But then he realised: I live on the doorstep of London, but how often do I visit St Paul's Cathedral, or any of the other tourist attractions? He could go any time, so he never did. He supposed it was the same for most citizens of Toronto. That's probably why so few of the host family students were coming with them; but he was glad that Sophie was.

Sophie... Paul sighed. Beautiful, intelligent (by all accounts), sexy, yet still a mystery. For all their secret trysts, he still didn't know much about her. He was hoping that today would change that.

She came down the spiral staircase into the kitchen, in tight jeans and a sensible top. They'd be out in the cool mist later, so they had all been advised to dress appropriately.

"I was wondering if you would show me round today," Paul said. "You know where the best views are, what's worth seeing and what isn't." And, unspoken, I'd like to spend more time with you. With our clothes on, for a change.

"Sure," she mumbled around her croissant.

Paul smiled. It was a sunny day, he was going on an epic trip, and he had an attractive tour guide to spend the day with.

He wanted to mention the night before. He couldn't say anything here, with Annabelle within earshot. And it would be awkward on the coach, with all his fellow pupils around. Or worse, if Mr Martin or one of the other chaperone teachers overheard - he was in enough trouble with them already. Maybe there would be a moment at the Falls. It felt like it would be rude not to acknowledge their nocturnal activities, but how exactly could he bring it up? "Hey Sophie, thanks for the BJ" didn't feel right, even if he thought he'd actually be able to say it. Hopefully the right phrasing would come to him before the opportunity arose to use it.

Paul was all in favour of sitting up at the front of the coach - a better view through the windscreen in case there was anything worth seeing, and it would keep them well away from the Bad Kids who'd be making a beeline for the back seats. But Sophie would have none of it, and dragged him back towards the rear of the coach. "There's more legroom here," she said, pushing him into the row behind the mini stairway that led to the tiny onboard toilet. To be fair, she did have long legs. Long, long, shapely legs.

The coach slowly filled, then they were off westward around the Great Lake. The trip would take well over an hour, probably closer to two given they were heading into morning traffic, although most of that should be heading in the opposite direction. Plenty of time for a chat. But Sophie had plucked a paperback from her handbag, and was absorbed. An avid reader himself, he didn't want to disturb her. He stole a few glances at the text, but it was in French, and well beyond his high school understanding. He broke out his own book and made himself as comfortable as the journey would allow. He was very aware of her shapely thighs pressing against his, and that he could see quite a long way down her top from this angle. He shuffled in his chair and tried to concentrate on his own story, since a two-hour hard-on would get really painful.

He didn't get her. Such a contradiction; last night, and previously in the shower, she'd been so forward. And his heart still skipped when he recalled her prowling towards him, eyes on fire, at the karaoke. But then she'd slapped him in front of everyone, and had been so stand-offish with him since. Was she just shy - something he understood well - or was it something else?

Eventually the coach pulled up in a parking lot. Paul couldn't see anything like what he was expecting - just a gorge, and a mall. Others bundled off the coach, heading for the toilets or the tourist-trap shops; he had no interest in either, or money for that matter. All his mementoes were inside the little cartridge camera his mum had lent him. He rushed over to the gorge, keen to see the river; glancing down, and down, he saw the green and white of the angry flow as it tumbled over the rocky bed. Click.

Everyone back on the bus, they headed further along the gorge road. With a start, he suddenly realised that on the other side of that gorge, it was America. He'd probably never get this close to the good-ol' US of A again. Shame that all he could see was rocks and a few trees.

"Rainbow bridge coming up on your left," Sophie said. Now they were getting close, she'd packed away her book. "They call it that because of the spray from the falls. That road goes straight into New York state." This sounded famous, so Paul took another shot out of the window.

Then, there they were. But again, not what he was expecting - it was a long straight curtain, falling two thirds of the way to the river before crashing over a rockfall. Impressive, yet somehow disappointing at the same time. Had he looked up the wrong thing in the library? Surely not. The horseshoe shape was famous, he'd seen it on Superman II. He looked at Sophie, puzzled.

"Those are the US Falls," she explained. "The Canadian Falls are just up there!"

And true enough, as the bus continued onwards, that spectacular cauldron came into view. Paul's jaw dropped as he took in the sight and extent of that great curve of water, spray boiling hundreds of feet into the air from the centre.

Sophie watched his eyes go wide, taking pleasure in his delight and surprise. "Just wait until we get up close," she said.

Just being here seemed to have lifted her spirits, Paul noticed - perhaps this was her happy place. Her eyes shone, and she was actually smiling at him for a change. The coach pulled up, and she was on her feet, taking his hand and pulling him down the steps, desperate to be first off.

My hand! She's holding my hand!

How that seemed more intimate than their nights together, he wasn't sure. Maybe it was that she was acknowledging him as a person rather than just a cock. He smiled back, curious where this was heading. He'd been in unrequited love with Samantha for so long, now that someone was responding to him, his emotions were all in a spin.

Don't get carried away, he told himself. She's probably just excited to be here. But her enthusiasm was infectious. She pulled him along, from viewpoint to viewpoint, heading along towards the famous horseshoe. She picked out spots she'd stood with her parents, talked incessantly about her father, on whose shoulders she'd sat as a little girl, getting the best view. A childhood vacation, hours from Montreal, had kindled a love affair of this natural wonder. Paul felt a twinge; his own father having passed so recently. But he, too, had great memories of Dad, and those cheered him. It was hard to be sad in Sophie's presence, in any case.

He was breathless, felt himself trembling. Was that due to the incredible sight, the force of millions of gallons of water plummeting down to the basin below? Or was it Sophie, gorgeous sexy Sophie, absentmindedly touching and holding him in her excitement? They stood arm in arm, backs to the falls, while some kind stranger took their picture. Arm in arm! For a moment Paul didn't ever want to go home.

He looked down into the cauldron, and only then did the scale of the falls hit him. Those tiny toy boats were huge tourist ferries - he could see people there, wrapped in ponchos. Tiny people. "That's where we're going!!" she squealed. "I've not been down there since I was a little girl!" If anything, she was more excited than he was.

The classmates gathered at the top of the ramp down to the tour boats. He saw Simon and the gang, looking at him. At them. Paul's chest swelled - yes, she's with me - and looked away, giving the impression of not caring what they thought, but inside he was high-fiving himself. He saw the twins milling around; Izzy's face like a slapped arse when she saw Sophie. What's up with her? And the expression on Samantha's face was unreadable. Jealous? Angry? Surprised? Right now, he wasn't sure he cared.

He pulled out his waterproof jacket and trousers and pulled them on. He may have dropped out of Scouts - the incessant physical bullying had worn him down - but the mantra of being prepared had stuck with him. The others laughed at him, pulling on the cheap plastic ponchos that were being handed out. He consoled himself with the thought that he wasn't the one going to spend the rest of the day all soggy.

They boarded opposite the US falls. From the riverside, they were considerably more impressive. Paul used up another precious shot trying to capture their majesty. He watched people climbing down the steps along that rock face, and wondered what their view from the side of the falls would be like.

The boat made its way upriver towards the Canadian falls, fighting the churning water, spray splashing over them. The sun shone off the curtains of water, and rainbows flashed around them. It was a magical place. He wiped the spray from Sophie's face; water was beading in her short blonde hair, settling on her eyelashes, sparkling like jewels.

"It is very romantic, yes?" she noted, in her rich French accent. Was she coming onto him?

Lost in these thoughts, surrounded by beauty, he didn't notice Simon and his cronies plotting further along the boat. "Who does he think he is, strutting about with that slut?"