Tristan

Tristan by Henry H. Hilliard

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Chapter 39

"Circle Line!" commanded Tristan and Colton knew immediately which platform to take. They were wearing their backpacks and Tristan had said only that they would be away for two nights. Colton had told Sakura that she was to be in charge of the running group until he returned.

London was frantically busy at 7:00 am, but they made Paddington well before the 8:04 was to depart for the West Country.

"Well, can y'tell me now where we're goin'?" asked Colton looking up at the vaulted glass ceiling.

"To Cornwall. We're going to the surfing capital of Britain."

"They surf here?"

"Introduced by the Australians in the nineteen-twenties, but it's big now."

"So, it's a vacation resort?"

"Yeah, Newquay. I thought you'd like to see a coastline that was different from Miami."

"Why sure, that'd be great, Tris, and I'll be able to see somethin' of the countryside-- if'n the rain stops, that is."

They settled into their big airline-type seats with a table between them and watched the other passengers come onboard. The majority were business people but some were people going on holiday--two guys with surfboards confirming this.

"Y'know, Tris, until I came t'England I ain't never been on train--Greyhound buses, yes--but not on a train."

"Well, you're seasoned Londoner now, Cowboy. How do you get to Regent's Park?"

"Bakerloo Line from Piccadilly Circus or The Embankment," Colton answered quickly and with a grin.

"You've passed the test. You know, taxi drivers have to pass one they call, `The Knowledge?'

"Yeah? Hey, look at those two!"

Two girls came aboard just at the train started to move. They were both young, trim and had attributes fore and aft that distracted Colton away from geography. They disappeared further down the carriage. Tristan sighed.

They were off. Out of the window the first impression was of the busy lines of `The Neck' as trains jostled in and out of the huge terminus. London was indeed a busy city. Then the indifferent landscape of West London slipped by until the backs of houses and long, narrow gardens announced they were now in the suburbs.

"English folks don't talk on trains, Tris?"

"That's right, unless the train is on fire and then you might be allowed to say, Excuse me' or I'm terribly sorry'."

"Poppycock!"

Colton looked to his left. The elderly lady who was sitting next to him had spoken.

"Ma'am?"

"Isn't that so sweet!" she said to her travelling companion--another old lady. "You talk as much as you like, dear. `Flap y'gums'--is that what you say?"

"Yeah, that's an old-school Texas sayin'."

"You're just being friendly and don't mean any harm. My daughter lives in Texas..."

And thus Colton was occupied until they were well past Reading.

By the time Tristan was able to regain his attention they were in the country and the tidy `Toyland' of the rural England could be seen beyond the usual trackside paraphernalia.

"It sure is purty and so green!" said Colton.

"These are chalk downs. Grazing and horses."

They both stared out of the window and commented on the hedges and stone structures and other points of interest.

Nearly an hour went by, broken by another chat with the ladies in the next seats until they got off at Westbury. The rich green landscape of Wiltshire flew by and both boys dozed.

At Taunton some passengers alighted to be replaced by others. In their carriage three young men noisily appeared. They were perhaps aged between 17 and 25. They had shaven heads under baseball caps and were dressed uniformly in white Adidas trackies and hoodies.

"Tough guys?' whispered Colton.

"Chavs."

"What does that mean?

"Romany for boy', but many say, council housed and violent'."

"Like skinheads?"

"Yeah, their mums were probably `skins'."

The chavs were quickly forgotten and the landscape of Somerset claimed their attention. "It's really beautiful," said Colton with feeling. The trolley came by and they bought some sandwiches and drinks.

Then there was a noise.

They stopped talking and looked up and across the rows of the seats. There was an altercation going on and they saw that the Indian woman who was the conductor was surrounded by the three chavs. She was being called ugly names and apparently there was something wrong with their tickets or perhaps they had none at all. They took turns in shouting abuse, each tying to out do the other with foul language, and laughing at their impromptu competition. They now had the woman pinned against the bulkhead and were plucking at her headscarf. There was a murmur among the other passengers, but none moved. Then Tristan saw the women pushed and she stumbled and half fell to the floor as she tried to hold onto her head covering.

Tristan leapt up and in three strides was at he scene and he roughly pulled the attacker from her. He was the eldest one, but was skinny and had been taken by surprise. He hurled abuse at Tristan and spat in his face. His two companions jabbed Tristan in the ribs at close range. The eldest one never got to deliver his intended punch because Colton seemed to fall from the sky and took him down in a flying tackle, partly squashing the poor conductress who was still slumped in a daze.

The two younger ones set about Tristan and Colton somewhat ineffectually, partly because they didn't know whom to concentrate on. The youngest looked fierce, but was quite weedy. Tristan wanted to laugh, for their violent, expletive-filled language was undercut by comical West County accents.

Meanwhile Colton was holding the biggest one down. "Come on and help!" he cried in an appeal to the other passengers. They were slow to react except for a portly businessman and one of the guys who Tristan had seen with a surfboard, and the two attractive girls.

"His pocket!" cried Tristan.

Colton became aware of something protruding from the wide pocket of the hoodie. He wrestled it out while keeping the guy held down. It was an old fashioned razor. It couldn't be for shaving, thought Colton with grim amusement as the struggle went on, because he would have bled to death due to a face full of acne. He threw it aside and another passenger retrieved it.

Somehow, Colton managed to knock the wind out of the middle one while still sitting on his confrere, while the others managed to subdue the youngest one.

"Give me your tie!" snapped Colton. To his credit, the businessman removed his silk tie and Colton used it to tie the wrists of his victim who was still writhing violently and spitting on anyone within range. Despite his kicking and aided by a few sharp punches, Colton managed to use the fellow's own Doc Marten's bootlaces to tie his feet together. Tristan and the surfer now held the middle one, the fight drained out of him, while the two girls--who might have been P.E. teachers--sat on the youngest one who still cursed and thrashed until they slapped him and gave back as good as they had got, if not better.

"Are you all right?" Colton asked the conductress who was still in shock but dry-eyed. Colton could see her uniform was covered in spittle. "Use your phone!"

She rose from her collapsed position but found her trembling legs would not support her. One of the passengers offered her a seat and she then apparently spoke to the driver. Half a minute later she looked up. "We are to make an unscheduled stop at Tiverton Parkway. The driver has called the police. Thank you so much," she said, her eyes now brimming. She tried to clean herself up with a handkerchief and retie her scarf. "I've been on this train for six years and this is the first..." Then she broke down completely and was comforted by one of the women.

The tied chav was still fighting and swearing at all and sundry. Colton looked at the other passengers and, receiving some sort of unstated permission, struck him a blow that rendered him semi-conscious. "Hope I didn't over do it," he murmured. "Are you all right, Tris?"

"Think my ribs will be bruised, but I'm okay."

Colton asked after he others. The girls merely laughed and the businessman aired his opinion of this class of person and what the government should be doing about it. The conductress then left her seat and went into the lavatory.

It only seemed a moment before the train slowed to a halt at Tiverton. Everyone in the carriage was now chattering in a most un-English manner. Two policemen and a policewoman were on the platform with some other people.

The police came aboard and the passengers made room. They had to untie the eldest. There was just the trace of amusement on the face of the policewoman. The man claimed his tie back. The eldest one came to life again and protested his innocence amid a constellation of curses and oaths. The other two were more subdued.

The posse and the conductress followed the group out. Tristan felt he may be overstepping the mark, but he authoritatively told the non-combatants to resume their seats.

The conductress gave her account of what happened. The police made notes and checked the time. Then the businessman was asked for his version. In a generous gesture he deferred to Tristan as their leader. The conductress--Aafia--was fulsome in her praise, singling out Tristan for commendation. The police were more neutral but took Tristan's terse statement. The others were briefly spoken to, Colton hoping that he would not be in trouble for using excessive force. Then their names and addresses were noted. Tristan and Colton were asked for further proof of identity as they were visitors and Tristan also gave the name of their destination.

When that was done, one of the civilians chatted to Tristan in a manner quite different from the police. He was from the Great Western Railway and warmly expressed the company's thanks, shaking Tristan's hand and then Colton's.

Then they were all back on the train and, as it resumed its broken journey, the three chavs could be seen being ignominiously loaded into a police van.

"Well, that was excitin'," said Colton, noting how quickly the hushed tone was resumed--perhaps some passengers at the far end not even being quite sure of what had transpired.

"Yeah. Thanks for saving my bacon."

"No, you're the man, Tris! The way you lit into them like a terrier."

"Well you..."

"Would have been too scared back home. They would have been packin' and the police woulda had guns. Prob'ly a passenger would have started shootin'. Woulda been a bloodbath. Course it woulda sure simplified thangs a heap," he said with gallows humour.

"Well, they weren't `proper hard',' he said, micking the vernacular. "I mean, who ever heard of skins from Taunton?" He chuckled. "Wannabees".

"What'll happen to them?"

"Not much, unless they have form. Community Service like Jay?"

Things quickly settled and the next excitement was the sight of the sea after Exeter where the railway ran within view of the coast. At Dawlish the line suddenly vomited from a tunnel just as the sun broke through the rainy skies to illuminate the amazing sight of the railway running practically at the water's edge, protected from the waves by only a stone wall.

"This is Devon?" Tristan nodded. "It's beautiful country."

Sometime later they crossed a bridge. "We've left England."

"Huh?"

"We've crossed the Tamar and we're in Cornwall. They like to think of themselves as separate. They had their own language--like Welsh--until the 1700s."

"No shit?"

They passed through towns with strange names like `Loo' or ones that were named after obscure saints.

"Is this where wreckers light false beacons t'lure ships onto the rocks?"

"I think Walk Disney made that up, but there were smugglers--brought goods across the Channel from France."

"And pirates?"

"As in Penzance and Johnny Depp? I think that was a joke."

At Par the train left the Penzance line and struck inland. "We caught this train so we didn't have to change," explained Tristan. "Newquay's about an hour."

"What's it like?"

"Well, you know Miami?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's nothing like that."

Colton snorted.

The single line passed through narrow cuttings embowered with greenery. Periodically, whitewashed stone cottages appeared, almost brushing the train. There were green fields latticed by hedges then an area of grassland with fewer trees. Here a tunnel, there a viaduct.

Then a scattering of nondescript houses appeared alongside the usual railside sheds. It was clearly the outskirts of Newquay. Then the train slowed to halt at a small, modern station.

First impressions were not encouraging. Certainly there was the smell of the sea, but any view of it was blocked by a line of shops along the high street. It was clouding over and threatening to rain again. "I think we'd better get a taxi," said Tristan.

One was secured and set off through the town towards the harbour. They passed a big Victorian hotel and then they could glimpse the water and the masts of yachts. The taxi turned left into Tower Road and the road rose steeply. It stopped before a rather ramshackle structure.

Tristan and Colton got out with their backpacks and looked upwards. The house was obviously part of a group--not exactly a terrace--but sharing pebbledash walls and leadlight windows. It was probably built in the 1920s and was now rather shabby from its long confrontation with the sea winds. Their part was tall and narrow and rose to three storeys above brick foundations that compensated for the step site. Rickety balconies and an attenuated `sun bay' were jettied out over the road on brackets.

"Picturesque," said Tristan, trying to put the best spin on it. "You've no idea how hard it is to get anywhere at this time of the year. I only got a room because I was booking it from home."

"It'll be fine," said Colton. "Will have a view too. Hey! There's a pub." Tristan turned; The Red Lion was within stumbling distance.

One part was the owner's flat. They got their room key and tackled the steep stairs to the top floor. The room was tall but not large. There were twin beds and some non-descript furniture. A square bay window projected from one side. Colton had been right, there was a wonderful view across the tumbled rooftops to the old harbour that was protected from the sea by a pair of stone moles. To the right, one of the sandy bathing beaches could be glimpsed.

"No bathroom. Must be a shared one," observed Tristan. He went out on he landing to check.

"It's okay. I think we share it with two others. Was this a mistake, Colt?"

Colton was still standing in the bay transfixed by the scene "No, I think it's cool." He turned and grinned and Tristan relaxed. "Wanna go out?"

It wasn't actually raining so they walked down the hill to the centre of the town. There were plenty of people about--holidaymakers looking for something to do. "In here," said Tristan. They entered a steamy, crowded business. "I bet you've never eaten fish n'chips before."

"At Micky D's..."

"No, I mean proper British fish n'chips--out of paper."

Fifteen minutes later they were walking again, but this time burning their fingers on the hot batter. "You need the vinegar to kill the bacteria," quipped Tristan. "Open the paper more so they won't go soggy."

They walked out on the stone mole. There were a lot of people doing the same thing. They looked out across the moored boats and back up to the town, which was built on a series of cliffs. There were long rows of Victorian-era terraces and big guesthouses. There was a grey, square church spire. The cliffs were festooned with greenery, but the town itself did not boast many tall trees. It had a nautical bleakness that was quite different from sub-tropical lushness of Miami and was much more painterly.

Colton tackled his battered plaice. "So this is how British people enjoy themselves?" he said sarcastically.

"Shut up!" laughed Tristan, "Or I just might take you for a cream tea."

"Speakin' of that. I've been invited to go to Professor Hipwell's for tea on Sunday. What's that actually mean?"

"Well, did he say to come at 3:00 or 4:00?"

"3:00, I think."

`Well, you'll sit in his lounge, probably, and he'll give you tea and biscuits--maybe cake."

"I don't really drink hot tea."

"I'm sure he'll offer coffee. Sas's mum will probably be there--she's nice. You'll chat and after about forty minutes or an hour you'll probably sense that it's time to go. You'll just have to get a feeling for when you've done enough `visiting' as you say."

"Do I take them a present?"

"No, not just for tea." Colton nodded.

"Hey, what about some more Indian tonight? I saw a place on the way. And then maybe the Red Lion? I'd like to try as many pubs as possible before I go home."

They wandered back into the town and explored the incredibly narrow streets and the oddities created by the steep terrain. The wind started to get up and the sky darkened.

"Might get a storm," observed Colton as he finished his ice-cream.

"Just one more place I want to see before we go back," said Tristan. "We'd better hurry."

Tristan led the way past the old harbour and up the hill and past some modern hotels and the golf links. It was bleak and devoid of trees but the emerald grass stood in bright contrast to the charcoal grey clouds.

"Sure is windy! How'd y'play golf up here?" shouted Colton.

At The Headland was a marvellous view. Behind them was Newquay and the old harbour; in front of them was a small rocky cove and beyond that was Fistral Beach. The waves were dashing themselves on the rocks with great fury as they were whipped up by the winds of the approaching storm. High above the cauldron, drops of salty spray lashed their faces.

"Listen!" said Tristan.

They stood there for ten minutes, transfixed as the sea thundered.

"What are the wild waves saying, Colt?"

Colton stepped back from the edge. "They're sayin' somethin' but I just can't grasp the words. It's as if I sorta know--even oughta know--like when two people understand each other deep down without needin' words. It knows and understands me but the actual words is just on the edge of m'consciousness."

Tristan put his arm on Colt's broad shoulder. "Did you say something about Indian?"

They were quite damp by the time they regained their accommodation. Even before they had climbed the stairs they could hear voices--girls' voices raised in laughter. From their room they could hear banging and thumping coming from next door. Tristan shrugged as he pulled off his wet jumper and searched for something else in his pack. "Gonna take a shower, said Colton. He took his things and left the room.

Tristan fiddled with a funny-looking electric heater and managed to coax some warmth from it. It was worth the soaking,' he thought as he hung his jumper on a hanger and hooked it to the wardrobe door, for Colton to experience the sea again,' and he cogitated on just what the sea meant to him. And it was the proper sea--the sea of the novelists--unlike the groomed horizontals of Florida with its warm waters.

He was now searching for some underwear. He rejected the arseless ones and wondered why he'd even brought them. He was just sniffing the one's Colton had discarded--actually a pair of black nylon swimming trunks with a tie--when the door burst open.

"Tris!" called Colton, loudly. "Guess who I've met?"

Tristan turned in alarm, for there standing in only his towel was the quarterback and just behind him and to either side was two young girls--the girls from the train, Tristan realised with a shock.

"Shit, Colt!" he said scrambling. He hurriedly turned his back and pulled on the black trunks that he'd been holding.

"Too late!" said one in a north-country accent. "We've seen it, mate!"

"It's a grand arse," said the other. Tristan thought he could detect a Hibernian lilt.

Tristan was covered in confusion and little else, but the situation was so comical that he found himself spluttering with laughter too.

"Don't you worry, darlin'," said the Irish one, "we've had a good eyeful of y'sham in the bathroom."

"Towel came off," explained Colton.

"Kathleen pulled it off," said the other.

"Opportunity knocked."

"I thought we could all go and get an Indian meal together," said Colton enthusiastically.

"Colton, we haven't been formally introduced yet," said Kathleen. "We only know Tristan as da hero o'Taunton."

"We'll he ain' hidin' nuh'in'."

"You caught me with my pants down, girls, I'm Tristan--Tristan Isley," and wearing just the black shorts, he took a step towards the door and shook her hand.

"I'm Chel and this is Kathleen Breen. I thought y'were fookun fan'astic today. None of them other prats would move a muscle to help that poor woman."

"Oh, it was nothing..."

"He's always rescuing ladies," said Colton. "Sometimes two or three a day. Can't keep up."

"Yeah, Indian would be nice. Colt's fallen for it; they don't have many in Texas. I'll just get ready if you'll excuse me."

"Hark at how polite our hero is," said Chel, laughing.

"Well, ladies, I'll get ready too," said Colton. Kathleen, with an evil glint in her smiling Irish eyes, made a lunge for the towel and deftly whipped it off. Colton yelled, but that did not forestall Chel slapping his butt. The two girls made a hurried exit to their own room, which was just next door.

"Well!" said Tristan. "They're sure fun. I don't think we'll be bored."

Colton agreed and pulled on his jeans without the intervening impediment of underwear and pulled on a fresh tee-shirt.

"You'll freeze."

He picked up his new jacket. "They're sure hot-lookin' babes, Tris."

"I guess so--not that I'm a judge. They're very fit and curvy without being fat."

"Yeah! Great combo!" Colton's eyes were shining as he put on a large quantity of his new aftershave--perhaps a pound's worth.

They met the girls of the landing. They were dressed similarly in tops and tight elasticized pants. Kathleen wore a loose blouse and Chel was squeezed into a white tank top. The cold did not seem to worry them. They were in a good mood and even Tristan found it contagious.

Kathleen was from a small town outside of Dublin and was indeed studying Physical Education at Middlesex University. Chel was a personal trainer at a gym in Brixton but had been born and raised in Oldham and had come south for work. They were a very funny pair, Kathleen with her quaint Irish turns of phrase and power of mimicry and Chel, being from the north, could laugh at herself and the northern accent seemed to lend itself to humour.

"Why are you in Newquay?" Tristan asked as they settled into their seats at the Indian restaurant.

"It's m' cousin Ciara's weddin' tomorra. She's a pal of both of us," said Kathleen. "Weddin's in St Ives, but there's no accommodation so we're just stayin' here and they'll fetch us first thing."

"I know St Ives. It's lovely."

"You've been here before, Tris?" asked Colton.

"Yeah, when I was a kid. Gran's older brother lived in St Ives and we'd come and visit--but mostly we'd stay in Newquay. He was a painter and specialized in painting nude boys--quite good actually, but...well, he never married you know," said Tristan archly.

"You're a posh boy, Tristan, and no mistake. Public school...loaded parents...all that," said Chel accusingly.

"Guilty, but my parents are divorced and I was living with my dad in America. Came back to see Mum and my new little sister."

"Got a picture?" Tristan showed the girls Alice.

"And Colton, you play sport?" asked Kathleen.

"College football," admitted Colton and went on to give an account of the American game that was so mysterious to those of the British Isles. The conversation easily slid into physical fitness and exercise and the girls and Colton found much in common.

The first tranche of dishes came and were distributed across the table. "Am clamming," said Chel. They began dipping into them with the bread and explaining to Colton what their likely constituents were. They drank cooling beer.

"Tristan," said Chel, "You're a gay fellah, aren't you?"

"Yeah, is it that obvious?"

"No, you're a hot lookin' guy, but I've been givin' off vibes like crazy an' you haven't looks at m'tits once."

"Sorry, they're very nice and...er...prominent."

Chel almost choked with laughter and the others joined in.

"Colt's straight, though."

"Oh, we figured that, didn't we, Kathleen? Colton," she said turning to him then abruptly turning away, "Tell me about the tattoo I've got."

"Tattoo? Well, the one on your right breast is a tiny bird--a bluebird, a Western Bluebird I think, with one red wing and one blue wing and in its beak it's holding a little heart on a chain with the letter `D' in it."

"That's absolu'ly correct. It's for m'mam--Dawn--who died two years ago."

"Hope y'don't thank I was starin'."

"Y'just bein' a straight boy." She was laughing.

"So, d'straight boy and d'gay boy are best friends, right?" asked Kathleen.

"Yeah, we're besties."

"Well, how did you get together?"

Tristan answered between mouthfuls: "My mum had had enough of me and sent me to live with my dad in Dallas. I finished school somehow and then Dad enrolled me at a university. All first years have to live on campus and somehow I wound up with Colt as a roommate in the dorm for athletes--although I wasn't one."

"Tell 'em 'bout the house."

Tristan swallowed and began again: "Bought an old house with an inheritance and fixed it up. Nine of us from the dorm will be living there next term."

"Dat's so cool!" exclaimed Kathleen.

"Yeah, I'm hoping it will be a blast."

More rice was ordered and then Chel said, "You got a girlfriend, Colt?"

"I'm thinkin' of putting out a sign: `Help Wanted'."

"But y'sleep with girls?"

"When I get the chance."

"I tink dis one make his own chances, Chel."

"Well, he's all right if you like blonde ones with muscles. What about cute ones with black hair and pretty pink bums?"

"You're not sayin; you prefer him over me?" cried Colton. Tristan gave him the finger.

"I'm just sayin' he has hidden charms. Yours are all obvious."

"Well, I hate to disappoint you, Chel, but I'm gay remember."

"You've never fooked a girl, pet?"

"No!" laughed Tristan. "That's what being gay means."

"That's what it used to mean, but these days...I mean I've never fooked a queer, but perhaps I should broaden my horizons now that I've come south."

"And Colton, have you ever been fucked by a guy?"

"No."

"But have you done the dirty with any?" asked Kathleen.

"Not sayin'."

"Dat's so sweet!"

"Well, have you ever done it with another girl?" asked Tristan, "Seeing we're playing `truth or dare'."

"No," said Kathleen. "Not even at m' con-vent school."

"Ah..." said Chel, hesitating.

"Chel! You never told me, y'dirty slut. Who was it?"

"Years ago--never mind."

"Colton's very fond of lesbian porn."

"You know they're not real lezzos, pet?" said Chel condescendingly.

"Why does everyone keep telling me that? I still like to see two girls even if it's fake!"

"Would you like to watch Kathleen and me goin' at it?" asked Chel with a smirk.

"It might be hot," admitted Colton, non-committal.

"Hear dat? The cheek! It would be hot," said Kathleen with a laugh and waggled her breasts beneath her cotton top.

"Pity it won't happen," said Chel with a sigh." A signal was given for the bill. "Because Tris'an would be left out and I am not doin' nothin' unless Tris'an joins in."

"But I can't!" laughed Tristan. "Girls don't turn me on."

"Well, how about goin' for a drink at da pub?" said Kathleen.

"The Red Lion? That looked good," said Colton enthusiastically.

They made a dash through the narrow streets to the Red Lion, which was agreeably beery, noisy and warm. "I love British pubs,' said Colton and went on to describe their advantages over American sports bars.

"So how are we goin' t'do this?" said Chel.

"Do what?" asked Tristan.

"Get you to lose your virgini'y."

"But I'm not a virgin."

"You need to try havin' sex with a girl, Tris'an. You might be mis'aken about bein' gay, like."

Tristan could tell she was joking, but began to feel uncomfortable. "You need a breeder like Colton. He has testimonials from a dozen girls who believed they could never have an orgasm. Isn't that so, Colt?"

"Well, I..." he preened himself and Kathleen and Chel both hit him playfully.

"Most boys don't know how to give a girl one; they are too concerned with sticking things in holes," said Kathleen. "Girls aren't like that. They liked to be made to feel good. Relaxed. Loved."

"Ugh!" said Chel. "She's Irish and full of shite about romance. Sometimes a girl just needs a good fooking, straigh' n' simple."

"See, Tris?" Even girls don't know what they want," said Colton.

"I'm beginning to see the difficulties."

"Well, I think we should have a foursome," said Chel, flatly. "We want to explore Colton's muscles, don't we Kat'leen?" Kathleen drained her beer and nodded. "And I want Tristan to fook me."

"I don't think I could get it up--for even a hot girl like you, Chel," admitted Tristan.

"You leave that to me, pet. Colton, will you fook the both of us?"

"Sure thing, ma'am, but you've got to put on a little lesso act for us."

Chel and Kathleen looked at each other in concern. "I've never done nuttin' with a girl," said Kathleen. Then, maliciously, "But then I didn't know until tonight that my best friend was a lezzo slut."

"I'm not, bitch, that was just once. I like boys."

`Well, you boys have to do some gay stuff."

"Like?" asked Colton.

"I tink it would be hot to see two guys goin' at it--kissin' like."

"And you could suck each other's cocks," added Chel.

"I don't suck guy's cocks--as a rule."

"Well, I don't do dyke--as a rule."

"This is all very transactional," said Tristan, "and it's your round, Colt."

"I'm a little concerned where this is going, Colt," said Tristan as they stood side by side in the Red Lion's lavatory. "I don't think I can do stuff in front of an audience--unlike you. I don't think I want to look at girls' bits, either. I won't get hard and those two will put shit on me."

"Let's just play it by ear, Roomy. They've got smokin' hot bods. If you feel y' doin' somethin' y'don't like, I'll take over."

"I think they might be stronger than you."

"Huh! Don't make me laugh." Tristan saw Colton flex his pecs beneath his tee-shirt as he held his cock to piss.

They returned to the barroom.

"Right!" said Tristan in a business like manner that he adopted partly out of fear.

"Roight!" replied Kathleen. After that, `right' became a kind of joke among the four of them.

"Will this constitute an `orgy'?" asked Tristan as they climbed the stairs to their floor. "I mean, is there a quorum?"

"You're so cute, posh boy!" said Chel and slapped him on the bum.

They chose the girls' room, which was like theirs except that it had no bay window. Kathleen turned off the overhead light and turned on the bedside lamp.

"I see you girls got a double bed," observed Colton. "You sure you ain't a same-sex couple?"

"Take no notice of him, Tris'an," said Chel. "Girls often have sleepovers in the same bed." Tristan thought guiltily of his own sleeping arrangements.

"Now we start with d'tops," said Kathleen, rather like a primary school teacher. "We each take off the top of someone else. Come over here, big boy." Colton's top came off easily. He then took Chel's tight one off, with some prior experience being evident in his action. Her very large breasts bobbed free. Colton and even Tristan stared.

"What is it with boys?" asked Chel in exasperation. "They're fascinated by breasts--even the gay ones!" With that, she rubbed them sensuously, rolling the flesh and rasping her nipples with her palms. Then she seized her left one and put it to her lips.

"Fuck!" said Colton in admiration.

Kathleen stepped over to Tristan. "Come on, boyo!" she said brightly. She skinned his tee-shirt off and then kissed his chest where there was a central patch of dark hair. Tristan didn't know what to think. "Now take off m'shirt."

Tristan tried to keep his hands from trembling, but there were buttons and they were on the wrong side. At last it was removed, but then he was all at sea when confronted with a brassiere. He'd always avoided looking at these garments in department stores and didn't know whether to approach it from the front or the back.

"Here let me," said Colton, and in a trice and miraculously with just one hand, the thing was removed and now lay empty on the floor. Kathleen had large breasts too. She stood with her head thrown back and allowed Colton to feel them with both hands.

"Tris'an," invited Chel. Tristan tried to copy Colton, hoping that he was bringing her pleasure. "You can treat 'em a bit rough," she suggested with a smirk, so Tristan dialled it up a notch. "Nice, soft rich-boy hands." she said, but she wasn't moaning like in porn.

Chel took the initiative and kissed Tristan's pierced nipples, then moved up and kissed him gently on the lips. Tristan wasn't repulsed and kissed back.

"Ooh, you kiss nice." She then leant into his ear and whispered, "Did Colton teach y'that?"

"No, he doesn't kiss like that," said Tristan quietly, realizing that he'd perhaps said too much--but, he realised, it was far too late for perspicacity.

"Leave some for me," said Kathleen. They swapped with her adding, "You won't believe it, girl."

Kathleen kissed in a different manner, but rubbed her breasts on Tristan's chest while she did so. It was not unpleasant and Tristan found then he was now kissing her enormous breasts.

"Bite y'mammy's titties, darlin."

Tristan burst out laughing. "Oh my God, where did you pull that cheesy line from?" Kathleen only laughed.

Colton and Chel were going at it hammer and tongs then Kathleen said, "I want to see the boys kiss."

"Make it a good one, Colt," said Tristan, still laughing. It was a good one and Tristan and the two girls all agreed that Colton was an awesome lip n'tongue man.

"Right, get your kit off, fellas!"

Tristan slid his jeans down and stood there in Colton's black trunks, which were too big for him. Kathleen and Chel whistled.

"All the way, pet," said Chel. "Don't be shy."

Tristan tried to think of all sorts of things and then tried to think of nothing. In the end he just did it and stood there, making sure not to cover up, which he regarded as unmanly.

"Definitely sexy," said Chel.

"Lean an' vulnerable like," said Kathleen.

"Vulnerable to you two vampires," Tristan managed to muster.

"All right big lad, your turn."

"Use your teeth--both of you," commanded Colton. Tristan admired his chutzpah, but wanted to laugh at the porn cliché.

Kathleen and Chel did not demure, in fact they dropped to their knees, their boobs bouncing for an instant and they did indeed employ their teeth as well as their fingers to undo Colton's jeans, which they struggled to pull over his meaty thighs.

"Fooking hell!"

"Holy Mother or God! Ain't that a grand sight?"

"It would like a kiss from lesbian vixens." This did not make sense, but the girls touched it with their fingers and Kathleen planted a light kiss upon it.

"Now both together." Chel and Kathleen did indeed work together. "Now kiss each other."

The two faux lesbians left Colton's cock and touched lips.

"You're a rotten kisser, Chel," said Kathleen breaking the spell, to which Chel objected and went in harder for a second snog. "Better."

"I want to see how Tris'an does it," said Chel.

"What makes you think I know anything about his cock?"

"I'm not daft. He's got a porn star's wang and you have a lean and hungry look, Tris'an."

"Show them your talents, Tris."

Tristan tried to put shame and embarrassment aside and knelt before Colton as he had done countless times. "Wet, but not too wet at first..." He went on to give a master class.

Tristan relinquished the membrum virile to Chel. "Look up at me, Chel, while you suck my cock." Chel did not like being ordered around, but did so with doe eyes. "Play with her tits, Kathleen." The Irish P.E, teacher got behind her friend and manipulated her Mancunian mammaries--although Chel actually came from Oldham. "Tris, come and do something." Tristan kissed his chest and then his lips. "Stop!" gasped Colton. His penis was at full mast and throbbing.

"Lad's got a great body," said Kathleen to the room at large as she sat back on her heels, "And he tastes grand."

"Get your gear off ladies. Us guys wanna see the goods. Make it a little show."

Chel and Kathleen gave each other a glance and then sashayed themselves out of their pants and eventually out of their string-like panties.

"Nice!" said Colton.

They did have beautiful bodies, Tristan freely admitted to himself. He marvelled how they could have such fleshy breasts and yet such trim waists. They shaved their `pussies'.

"I've never really seen a naked girl before--I mean in the flesh," said Tristan with commendable frankness.

"Pet!" said Chel. "Come closer and have a really good look." Tristan did and Chel took his hand in hers and used it to explore.

"Girls are more streamlined than boys," Tristan observed. "Boys have more angles and dangling bits."

"Colt's bits aren't dangling."

It was true and Colton was exploring Kathleen, without the need of invitation or of a guiding hand. He was doing something with his fingers that Tristan couldn't quite see.

"Here, like this," said Chel gently and taking his hand and moistening it with her own spit. "Here is nice. And here. And here. Tap it and then rub gently in circles. Now do anything." On his own initiative he combined this with kissing her breasts. "You sure you're gay?"

"Definitely."

"Right!" said Colton at last. They all laughed. "Lezzo showtime. Do you have any high heels?"

The girls in fact did --their outfits for Cian's wedding. They spent too much time discussing the shoes, but eventually they strutted otherwise naked to the centre of the room.

"Now, do girl stuff," said Colton. The girls laughed but rubbed each other's breasts. "A bit of tongue action."

"I'm never tasting her twat," said Chel.

"And hers stinks from that `Fannyfresh' spray she uses--smells like m'gran's wardrobe."

"Well, if you don't do it, Tristan and I aren't going to do you."

Tristan didn't think he'd be able to take that step and started to get worried, but this emotion was offset somewhat by wanting to see what the girls actually did.

After much humorous arguing, Kathleen was persuaded to lay down on the bed with her legs held high and apart and with her feet encased in stilettos in awkward conformity to Colton's fantasy.

"Come an' have a deek, pet," said Chel to Tristan, like some perverted primary school teacher. "This is what your typical Irish brazzer looks like." Kathleen laughed and told her to shut up. Tristan's sex education lesson continued with Chel parting various bits of flesh to reveal the interior of her friend. She gave each part it's vulgar name, with Colton supplying the anatomical one from somewhere behind him.

Tristan looked on in numb curiosity. While girls were more curvaceous and streamlined overall, he found it very had to think of their sexual organs as attractive in any way. A man's penis and balls might not be pretty, but they could fairly be described as `handsome'--just as a carpenter's hammer could be a handsome tool.

The handling of Kathleen was making her moist and Chel explained that was how you could tell if some girls were excited. Colton confirmed this.

"Are you one o'them squirters, Kat'leen?" asked Chel of her friend.

Kathleen was starting to go into her own place, but murmured that she might be.

Chel removed her fingers and went to work with her tongue. She licked slowly at first, but then sped up, flicking her tongue in obscene fury. Kathleen seized her skull and held her fast.

Tristan turned and saw that Colton was watching closely and stroking his cock. Tristan didn't want to watch all that greatly, so he took over manipulating Colton.

At last Chel came up, her face all wet. Colton was invited to try while Chel sucked upon Kathleen's large breasts.

Colton clearly knew how to make a woman orgasm and he was licking and slapping in a very commanding manner. Kathleen's vocalization could not have been faked.

"I want some of that," gasped Chel. She hopped up on the bed. "Get me ready, Tristan."

Tristan didn't really want to, but he liked Chel--she was funny and obviously cared for him, and he didn't want to let Colton down, so he manned-up and planted his face in the girl's most intimate and, until recently, most sequestered region and went down on her. He closed his eyes and held his breath and licked blindly. It seemed to work and then Chel grabbed him by the hair and ground his face onto her pubic bone, which she seemed to get off on.

"I need you to fook me, pet," she gasped at length.

"I don't think I...I don't have any condoms," said Tristan.

Colton heard him and broke off to run naked next door with a dripping erection and returned with his packet.

"They're too big!" lamented Tristan, secretly glad of any obstacle. Indeed the condom was more like a windsock on Tristan's penis, which to his credit was still hard.

"In my bag!" gasped Kathleen as Colton resumed. She indicated with her foot. It took Tristan several minutes to root through the portmanteau until he found them--an unfamiliar brand and packaging. However, when he unrolled it--recalling Colton's lessons--the prophylactic was a snug fit.

Tristan was now committed. He used his spit to add lubricant and, like a soldier going over the top, pressed himself into what he vaguely hoped was the right locality and slid into Chel.

He felt good when she let out a moan. It was the same moan that Kathleen was now emitting, for Colton was now fucking her. The sight to his left spurred Tristan on and Tristan concentrated on the mushy sensation of a girl's vagina around his male penis.

Perhaps he was doing something right, because Chel was now clinging on to him, pulling him in deeper by the buttocks. Tristan looked to the left again and noted that Colton was performing like a well-oiled machine, with his dimpled buttocks flexing and a sheen of perspiration gilding his muscles. Colton had no qualm about flipping the compliant Kathleen onto her front and then into various other positions. Tristan wondered if this was for his own pleasure or for Kathleen's. Tristan was pleased that he kept his erection, in spite of everything.

Kathleen was cumming. Her noises advertised it and a subtle change in the sounds of their congress indicated an increase in moisture--the sounds became quite sloppy. She fell back, exhausted.

Tristan felt he had had enough and quickly kissed Chel, then pulled out.

"Colt, please," he said.

Colton whipped off his old condom and fitted a new one within seconds and entered the receptive Chel.

"Fooking hell!" gasped Chel as Colton pushed his big cock into her.

He fucked her hard and fast until she was practically screaming. Then he pulled out and set to work furiously with his fingers. "Finish me off, Tris!" he commanded, pulling off the condom. While Colton brought Chel to a shuddering climax, Tristan sucked his cock and extracted a load that was too volcanic for him to tidily ingest. His face was messy.

Even so, Chel reached for him and pulled him in for a kiss. Tristan thought that this was generous seeing that it was Colton who was responsible for her ultimate pleasure, but she was a generous girl and Tristan felt oddly proud that he had helped get her off.

"Wey aye! You're no longer a virgin, Tris. Thanks for being such a nice bloke." She kissed him again and pulled him properly onto the bed next to her.

Meanwhile, Kathleen had regained consciousness--as it were-- and had risen and was now kissing the standing footballer in an increasingly urgent manner. She was athletic and managed to wrap her legs around Colton like a pole dancer. Then Tristan, who was now laying next to Chel and watching them, saw Kathleen rubbing herself on Colton's meaty thigh with its dusting of course honey-coloured hair, getting herself off rather like a dog mounting a leg--however it was more sensuous and also more depraved than that and Tristan made a note to try it himself, as Colton had great legs. Kathleen came again and it was clear that she was indeed a squirter because Colton's leg was now dripping.

"Fookin' hell, what a belta!" exclaimed Chel. Tristan agreed that it was hot.

Then Chel indicated that the evening's entertainment was at an end.

"You'll be too knackered for Ciara's weddin'," she said to her friend. "Get those shoes off and come to bed." She turned to Tristan and Colton. "Good night, pets, off t'y'own room now."

There was a knock at the door. Tristan got out of his own bed and held a tee shirt around himself. He noticed the sun was out and cheerfully illuminating the bedroom.

"How do we look?" It was Chel followed by Kathleen. They were in their wedding outfits complete with little hats called `fascinators'.

"Wow! You scrub up well. You both look beautiful."

They did a little twirl.

"Wake up, Colt. Have a look at our gorgeous visitors." Colton was sleeping sprawled on his back. He was naked of course and his cock was tenting the ratty English blankets.

"He's a hot guy," said Chel in admiration.

"Looks like a perfect angel layin' there," said Kathleen. "Who would think he could throw such a good fuck?" She giggled. "I'm still tinglin'."

"Wake up, Colt!" insisted Tristan, shaking him.

Colton roused. "Good mornin'. There's no need to dress up, girls. Get naked and jump in."

"And I thought he was a gentleman," said Chel.

"We're bound to score something better at he weddin'--best man behind the marquee or a drunk cousin, or somethin'.'" said Kathleen with humour.

"You look beautiful. Have a great time today. And thanks f'last night--it was smokin'."

"T'anks, Colt. You were a stud," said Kathleen with a grin. "And you were his apprentice," she said to Tristan. He took that as a compliment. A car horn sounded impatiently. Then they were gone.

"Come and sit here," said Colton. Tristan sat on the edge of Colton's bed. Colton reached out and wrestled him on top of him with ease. "You okay about last night?"

"You mean, did you push me to do something that will fuck with my head and I'll probably need psychotherapy?"

"Well, yeah, I guess I did."

"Nah, it was okay, but I won't be turning straight any time soon. It was a bit `cold mutton' as Oscar Wilde said."

"Who's that?"

"Author from Kathleen's home town who was convicted under the Criminal Law Amendment Act of 1885."

"What's that?"

"Law against gays. I'll tell you about sometime."

"So you were okay? I mean it was fun, wasn't it? And the girls are real nice."

"Yeah, they were and very broad-minded."

"Stick with me, Tris. We could have lots of nights like last night; we'd make a good team."

"I think not, Colt. I'll leave girls to you."

"Well, I might still call on you if I need help."

Tristan didn't think that likely and reminded Colton that he alone hadn't `gotten off' the previous night and further that Colton still smelled like the female of the species and should take a shower before he fucked him.

It was pleasing to report that the day was fine and warm and Newquay was at its best. They went to the beach, but lacked swimwear. They poked about the quaint town and they were at the Aquarium when Tristan received a phone call. Colton was absorbed in the stingrays and took little notice until Tristan had finished.

"Guess what?" he said. "That was Great Western Railways. They've offered us an upgrade. If we get the train to Par, we can have an overnight sleeper from Penzance. That means we can leave later tomorrow and you'll still be back in time for Professor Hipwell, Colt."

"We sleep on the train--like in films?"

"Yeah, like in `North by Northwest' said Tristan with a smirk, but Colt hadn't seen the film.

"Right, minigolf and then the pub," said Colton.

Please look for the next chapter. Henry would love to receive feedback and will endeavour to reply. Please email h.h.hilliard@hotmail.com and put Tristan in the subject line.