Andy Pt. 01

Foreplay: What started out as a simple idea just grew longer to the point where I felt I had to stop. This is a complete story but it leaves me a chance to do a continuation subject to there being sufficient demand. 5 stars always helps!

All characters in this story are over 18.

"Fantasy is hardly an escape from reality. It's a way of understanding it."

― Lloyd Alexander

"ROBIN!" The shout from his mother was more urgent than the previous three requests from her, "We don't want to be late to the church." She paused for a moment while he replied.

"Yes, I'm coming," he said, for the fourth time. He just wasn't used to looking smart in trousers rather than scruffy jeans and having to wear a shirt and dark blue tie. The tie wasn't even his, borrowing it from his dad for the funeral.

"And don't forget your little speech," she continued.

"No mum, it's in my pocket." More correctly it was an eulogy, a few words to remind all at the funeral service how Andy had spent his 19 years on this planet helping anyone who needed help, studying to make a future for himself, loving - both his admiring parents and, in a different way, girls who he'd allowed to spend special times with him. These were just three of the many attributes his popular friend had. Rob's tie, topped by a Windsor knot, was finally fastened correctly. He came downstairs to face his frowning mother.

"Come here," she demanded, further adjusting the tie that had taken him a good ten minutes to knot, despite expert tuition from his dad the evening before. Finally certain that Rob's appearance was as good as she could make it, they set off to the church.

The church was full and they took their reserved places on the second pew from the front. Rob was a little nervous, never having spoken in front of so many people before and he was glad when his contribution to the service finally came around. Donna, Andy's mum, had near insisted that Rob should contribute. He and Andy had grown up together, been at school together and at times had been inseparable. The service ended, the interment followed in the graveyard outside; "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," the vicar recited and it was all over.

At the funeral tea, served up in the adjoining church hall, Rob got to talk to a number of Andy's relatives he'd only seen occasionally; his granddads and grandmas all had reddened, tearful eyes just like Donna and, he had to admit, he himself. One by one he shook hands with or kissed the cheeks of uncles and aunts, cousins, friends of the family. It was a sad, sad day.

Although inseparable, Andy and Rob were totally different in nature. Andy was outgoing, bright, he loved sports and had been the captain of the school rugby team. He was popular, serving his old school as Head Boy in his final year, which was no mean achievement. Girls admired him, both for his tender nature and for his physique and Rob knew that neither Andy nor some of his girlfriends were virgins.

Andy worked hard on his physique, both in the school gym and exercising at home. Rob envied him at times but could never bring himself to copy his lifelong friend. Word had quickly spread about that singular part of Andy's physique that stood out from the rest - 6 inches was Rob's estimate, having accompanied Andy many times to the town swimming pool, and that was in its cold, hung state. Swimming was the sole sport they shared and enjoyed, although Rob had to admit that Andy was far and away the best swimmer. Of course, one didn't carry a ruler or measure tape but how it hung was what many girls talked about. Following a long hot refreshing shower to ease the muscles after a good swim, Rob had to admit Andy's equipment fell into the super family size range but his own barely avoided being classified as a reject. It had been said, and Rob had no reason to doubt it, that girls creamed their knickers just thinking about him.

It had been the end of term and many of the Sixth Form Academy leavers celebrated in style. Yes, there was the formal school dance, but both Rob and Andy had been invited to the second party a week later - the real party with alcohol, willing girls and no school staff to dull the enjoyment. Although quite shy, Rob had joined in the fun and mum had provided his transport home. Tragically the car transporting Andy and several girls home had been involved in a bad accident. The crowded car had meant Andy was the only one without a seat belt or the protection of one of the car's airbags. The collision was head-on, a drunken driver had turned quickly the wrong way into a narrow one-way street, the driver had lost control and both cars were a complete write off. Andy, unprotected, had suffered severe head injuries. The life support machine was switched off two days later.

***

Within two weeks Rob was totally at a loss. Long gone were the times Andy had borrowed one of his dad's 'special' magazines and the two boys had wanked themselves senseless, aided by a pair of Helen's skimpy knickers, discarded after an early morning shower. Helen - Rob's elder sister by 3 years - had unknowingly provided that 'je ne sais quoi' that enabled the boys' full satisfaction after frenzied attempts to shoot cum the furthest in Andy's parents luxury bathroom. Of course when erect Andy had a big advantage over Rob, his blood engorged member poking out proudly and further from underneath his tanned, tightly toned stomach. THAT, thought Rob, gave Andy an unfair advantage in life. Andy didn't need to go out on the pull, the girls pulled him. Andy had mentioned to Rob on many occasions how he'd liked to have a sister but he was an only (and often spoiled) child. Andy was never short of money in his pocket.

It was hot that week. What was the point of going to the swimming pool alone? Rob smiled; at least at the pool when, say, one girl became attracted to the bulge in Andy's swim shorts, her friend might settle for the less attractive attributes of Rob. Even given Rob's shyness, girls were often eager for a kiss in the privacy of a changing cubicle - sometimes more - and in fact some girls, thought Rob, actually enjoyed his meek manner.

That particular day Rob had to settle for a lounger in his garden, taking in the sun alone. Not for long though; with Helen at work his mum brought him a cold beer from the fridge. She pulled up another lounger.

"You can't just mope around," she said, "Surely you can get some exercise somewhere. You never know, you might meet a girl you like."

"Maybe," sighed Rob, "But maybe not. I guess I don't have the charm or the chat up lines that Andy had."

"Why do you always have to put yourself down? Even Helen says you can be a total wimp at times." Christine cursed herself for the reminder. She immediately apologised, "Sorry Rob, I shouldn't have said that."

Rob took another swig from the can. The amber liquid felt good, cooling the heat inside him.'Mum's right,' he thought, "What a wimp, Helen spoke the truth. She was fitter and healthier than him. She always had a boyfriend and all he had was a good sprinkling of teenage acne. His waist was too big, his cock too small. How often had Helen waved her little finger during an argument? Baby peepee she said - Rob has a baby peepee.'

"Come on, snap out of it," Christine growled, "Go for a walk, read a book, go for a swim. Do something." The lecture didn't work and even a light hearted pep talk later in the evening from big sis didn't work. Only Andy could cure his bad mood - and Andy was no longer there.

Tuesday gave way to Wednesday then Thursday. Rob's mood was just the same. Friday morning he casually picked up the Gazette, the local rag; who'd done what to who, the weekly list of how well the town council was improving the lives of its' citizens, letters to the editor that spoke the opposite - how local taxes were frittered away. Then just before the sports pages were the hatches, matches and dispatches which, 2 weeks ago, had confirmed Andy's death. The classified ads: each car salesroom competing to sell you the latest model at a monthly payment you could afford. Then a large colour advert caught Rob's eye:

'Simon Beswell, Clairvoyant, Spiritualist Medium, Experience a roller coaster of emotions, comfort and joy.'

The price for enlightenment, for some contrived unspecific message from a loved one in heaven or hell, was £15. Ouch! 15 quid just to hear a load of baloney. Rob neatly folded the newspaper (dad hated it being 'messed up') and put it, again neatly, ready for his dad to read later.

15 minutes later he picked up the newspaper again, turned to the advert, decided £15 might at least, if he was open minded, just give Andy the chance to convey some belated message from the far side of his grave. The following Thursday evening, £15 lighter in his pocket, Rob sat with the other hopefuls in a local hotel meeting room.

"Ladies and gentlemen," began Simon - for he insisted on first name terms, "Cast your doubts aside while I try to make connections with the people who were most near and dear to you."

The meeting went on ... Ada, with a message to Frank. Diane looking to convey some words to a grieving Adrian ... and then ...

Simon held fingers to his temples, closed his eyes as in deep concentration and began to speak, "I'm getting confused ... do we have someone in the room ... a birdwatcher? I keep getting the word 'robin' over and over."

Rob, suddenly wildly aware, raised his hand, "That's my full name. Most people know me as Rob."

"Rob ... I'm getting an image of a car crash ... a young man in distress ... Andy. Do you know someone called Andy?" Of course, anyone could have read the front page story in the Gazette but 'Robin'? Very few people knew his full name. Simon continued, "You were good friends. You both went to a party. You left earlier than him." He screwed up his eyes in deep and uncomfortable concentration, "Your friend Andy is sending me urgent messages, very forcibly, he has so much to tell you, so much he wants you to do, to say to his girlfriend Emma."

"But none of this was printed in the Gazette," Rob muttered to himself, "And Andy could be very forceful in putting his point across." He raised his voice so the room could hear. "What does he want me to say to Emma?"

"This is difficult," said Simon, "Andy's message is so strong, so urgent. He wants you to look after Emma. He wants to share something with you."

"What?" asked Rob, totally dumbfounded. Andy and Emma had been longtime friends but only a week or so before had Andy told him they were now an item.

Simon screwed his face. His head throbbed. Never before had a 'voice' been so powerful. "He won't tell me ... it's private ... he's just repeating 'will you share?'"

"Yes," answered Rob, in a quiet voice, "But how?"

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than the room rapidly chilled, the people around him disappeared into a haze, his whole body shivered, a tingle passed through him and then, all at once, everything was normal again. Spooked? Rob was well and truly spooked.

Sweat poured from Simon's brow. He took a long drink from the glass of water on his desk. "Can I please apologise to you all. I'm going to have to end the session and I'll arrange for you all to attend a future session free of charge." He looked totally drained. His secretary handed out vouchers as Simon retreated, as it turned out, to the hotel bar. The spirits he needed now were alcoholic ones.

Rob only told his mother the very basic details of the Clairvoyant session. His dad just grunted "Waste of good money" before watching the late night sports news on TV. Rob slept uneasily that night, thoughts of 'what the fuck happened?' rolling about in his mind. Friday morning he awoke with the most stonking sizzler of a morning glory. He stayed in bed until it subsided.

"There's toast or cereals," advised Christine when he finally arrived downstairs. Rob's usual 4 slices of toast always had thick layers of butter and marmalade on top. That day he only ate a small bowl of Crisped Rice. He wasn't hungry, though he did get through 3 cups of strong coffee and hell, he didn't know why but for the first time since Andy's death Rob actually felt positive. Out for a walk on that warm early summer day, Rob chewed over what had happened the evening before. How could that man know about Emma, and very few people knew him as Robin - he hated that name. The chill, the haze, the tingles - all special effects? And that great stonker of an erection, a full woody - somehow he could have sworn he was a little longer - how?

By the time he returned home, Rob still didn't have any answers. Either Simon was a very clever conman or he really was able to contact the dead and Rob's mind was settling on the latter. How could he contact Emma? Should he tell her about the Clairvoyant? Should he try to convince her he'd dreamt that Andy wanted her cared for? Rob gave up trying.

Dad and Helen often arrived home roughly the same time - Dad in the comfort of an air conditioned Jag, Helen on the 138 bus. When Helen walked in, hot and sticky, Rob noticed for the first time that she had loosened whatever clothing she legally and morally could to keep her as cool as possible. He also noticed how short her skirt was. Hell, he thought to himself, how fucking sexy she was. On the pretext of getting closer he grabbed a small towel and offered her it to wipe the copious sweat from her face and neck, kissing her on the cheek as he did so.

"What was all that about?" she asked tersely. "You've finally realised you have a sister and that she works damned hard?"

"Well yes," he replied, with a smile to counter her scowl. "I guess I've taken you for granted and it's taken Andy's death to make me realise how friends and family are so special."

Helen's scowl changed, "Well," she said, her mood lightening a little, "Let's hope you remember that," and she returned the kiss on his cheek. The day had been hot, the humidity from Britain's surrounding waters was relentless. The family sat down to enjoy the salad that mum had prepared.

Rob tried hard, so very hard to sneak a peek at his sister's minimal clothing, or rather the generous proportion of exposed skin, without being too obvious. Fuck, fuck, fuck - what was he doing? He'd seen far more of Helen in her bikini or partially clothed hunting for this or that blouse or skirt to go out in. She'd ironed stuff in bra and thong and he hadn't batted an eyelid. Why now? And why was he getting ... he sneaked a hand under the table to check. My god, he was almost solid.

"How did you get on with the Clairvoyant," she asked, almost casually. Dad muttered something unintelligible.

"Uneasily," replied Rob, and he went on to explain.

"Will you try to phone Emma?"

"I don't know." Rob simply answered, but he knew he would. "I don't know her surname, where she lives or her mobile number."

"Surely it will be in Andy's phone. Can't you ask his mother?"

Dad mumbled again, "Can't you two talk about this later?"

"Leave them," said Christine, but dad wasn't having this mumbo-jumbo at the table.

"My room," said Helen as soon as dinner had ended. Andy had eaten only half of what was usually piled on his plate.

"So, how do you think he does it?" big sister asked, well away from their father's ears.

Rob shrugged his shoulders. "I guess it's similar to ouija boards. Some people have been scared shitless. Either you believe or you don't."

"What about you? Are you going to look after Emma for Andy? Oh, and stop looking at my tits. It's distracting ... you were doing it all through dinner."

"As I say, I've been taking too much for granted. I mean, you're beautiful and I never tell you so." Rob just couldn't believe the words had come out of his mouth.

Helen smiled, "Thank you. No one has said that to me recently." She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. As she leaned, her cleavage showed a little more. She cupped her breasts and laughed, "They're too big and they're not even."

"No, they're perfect."

She smiled again, a beaming smile. "Thank you. That's so nice, especially from you. You've never complimented me before. A girl needs that." She stopped, thought, then reached around to unclasp the hook "Shut your eyes."

When Rob next looked the bra was on her bed. He mouthed, "What?"

"Oh you men don't know half the problem. I have to wear the damned thing to stop men ogling. My tits move as I walk if I'm not careful. The bra rubs and it makes them hot and sweaty."

Rob noticed another button was undone and her erect nipples pushed against the cotton. He could make out the dark bullseyes surrounding her nipples and felt himself stiffen. Suddenly his underpants felt too small. "That," he admitted, "Is just going to tempt me to look more." Helen just smiled. They talked for a while ... a long while. They talked far more than they'd ever talked before.

***

"I was at the funeral," said Emma, "Sat right at the back. I cried a lot and I didn't want to draw attention. I thought your few words were brilliant. You really summed up his life as best you could. How long had you known Andy?"

"Since we were kids at infant school," he said. He was glad that he'd finally rung Emma. Of course her number was in Andy's contacts and Donna was pleased he'd asked her for it.

"You must have been very close. Are you missing him too?"

"I am, a lot," admitted Rob, "And there's something I have to tell you that I can't do over the phone."

"Sure. Why not offer me a drink?" said Emma, "But I know Andy said you were very shy."

Rob laughed, "That's true, but I'm having to learn." He'd been in Andy's shadow too long. "How about the Pickled Piglet, tomorrow evening? 7.30?"

"That sounds great. Cya there."

***

All day Rob had wondered how Emma would be - still depressed about Andy? Very likely. Trying to move forward? It was too soon. Anxious to hear what he had to say? She sounded as if she wanted to know. Emma had a smooth, seductive telephone voice and Andy was popular both for his friendly, helpful personality and his well above average baby machine.

He took a long time to shower, trying to relax. Soaping his balls and letting a closed, well lathered fist run along his semi, Rob soon had his best friend stood to attention; strange, he thought, was his hardened, blood engorged friend thicker and perhaps an inch longer? He knew his cock well, having wanked so many times in private and other times in the company of Andy. He closed his eyes and the image of his beautiful sister came focussed in his mind. His fist speeded, his seed splattered on to the glass of the shower cubicle.

Fuck, what had he been thinking? He'd wanked with his thoughts fully focussed on his sister ... HIS SISTER for fuck's sake. He dried himself off and walked through naked to his room. He chose his clothes carefully, took his time to shave, added a generous touch of an expensive aftershave given to him at Christmas, scrubbed every last remnant of food from his teeth lest his breath interfered in the conversation. What would, 2 weeks before, have been trepidation and nerves became anticipation; wild anticipation.

The pub was full, mainly due to soccer on the big screen. It was noisy, the barmaid leaning forward to hear his order. Shit, even more tits. How the hell hadn't he noticed before ... First his sister, then the barmaid and now ... WOW. Emma had waved him over as soon as he'd entered the pub. He only had a fair idea of what Emma looked like - despite his friendship with Andy - but of course he had done the eulogy in church and Emma must have recognised him without a shirt and tie. What a girl! Flawless face with just the minimum of makeup, bright topaz blue eyes, long blonde hair flowing over her tits, short pale blue dress shaped to emphasise her slim waist.