Chapter 2

A year had passed since Ben and his mates had stripped me and made me suck them off. I had managed to dodge any further encounter with them and, mercifully, my mother informed me in the Christmas holiday break, that she and my Dad had decided to send me away to a Catholic boarding school for my last two years at college. What a relief! A new school, in a city three hours away from my tormentors.

Great also to get away from my father and his strict religious bullshit.

I settled in quickly at boarding school. Some really cool boys in my class, all of whom were again at least a year and a half older than me, but nevertheless made me welcome. Three of them were accomplished musicians. When they discovered my prowess on the guitar and my singing voice, they were quick to suggest we form a band and “Four Wheel Drive” was born.

I had changed physically as well. I was six foot two inches tall and as skinny as a rake, tipping the scales at a tad over 60 kg. Paul, the drummer in the band and a natural comedian, suggested that if I stood side on and poked my tongue out, I looked like a zipper! Ha Fucking Ha!

My penis, while very small when flaccid, grew to an impressive six and a half inches when erect. Unfortunately, the pubic hair was still non existent apart from some very sparse fluff at the base of my shaft. I had become adept at hiding this fact at shower time and in the dormitory so no worries there. The girls at the local Catholic college visited our school for French and History classes. They seemed to like my appearance - either that or being the lead singer guitarist in our pretty impressive band - and it wasn’t long before I had my very first girlfriend. Nothing went beyond kissing however. She was a good Catholic girl and I was still brainwashed enough not to push for more.

I was sad to have to leave my newfound mates and girlfriend and return home for the term break. My parents had planned a trip to my auntie’s home for a few days. She lived on a farm four hours drive from the city where we lived. I liked my auntie and always enjoyed visiting her and feeding out the animals and horses. Dad was always nicer to be around when he was with his relations. Intent on leaving a good impression of what a perfect father he was. Yeah right!!

When it was time to return home, Auntie had a whole pile of clothing and stuff - hand me downs for me and my siblings. There was fuck all room left in our car anyway so I volunteered to hitchhike home. Back in those days hitchhiking wasn’t considered dangerous and the highways were always lined with broke students with thumbs out eager to get a ride somewhere at no expense.

Dad dropped me off on the highway at 10 am. It took just thirty minutes before a middle aged lady with two teenage kids pulled up and offered me a lift. She lived in a neighbouring city just an hour away from home so I was glad to be on my way. She was a lovely friendly woman and her kids were heaps of fun. The two hour ride was really enjoyable and she was kind enough to go out of her way and drop me on the outskirts of her city where the road headed home.

The next hour was frustrating. Not much traffic and nobody interested in picking me up. A blue Ford Falcon passed me then slowed down and pulled over about three hundred metres ahead of me. I thought it was strange that the car didn’t pull up earlier, but presumed they were offering a ride so I hurried down the shoulder towards it.

When I got alongside, I saw a man in his forties or fifties hunched over a large map spread out on the steering wheel. He didn’t look up so I tapped on the window.

He wound the window down and asked what he could do for me. I said I was sorry but I thought he had pulled over to give me a ride.

“Where you going?” he asked.

“Wanganui”, I replied.

“Actually” he said, “I pulled over to see how far away I was from Duddings Lake. I’m meeting a guy there to look at a boat he’s selling”.

“It’s about twenty minutes from here I said “and it’s clearly signposted”.

“Well I can give you a lift to Wanganui, I was heading there anyway, if you don’t mind waiting at the Lake for quarter of an hour while I view the boat”.

“Cool” I said, “I like boats. What is it?”

“Crestacraft. Pretty old but he reckons it’s a goer. Climb in”

The Falcon had the old style bench seat in front. I got in and the car moved off. The guy was more likely in his fifties than forties, almost as tall as me, large and muscled up. We chatted away about boats, water skiing (a popular sport at Duddings) and fresh water fishing. When we were about five minutes from the Lake entrance the atmosphere in the vehicle changed dramatically.

The man, whose name I didn’t know, suddenly became quiet and I noticed his hands were gripping the steering wheel really tight. Something was not right. I thought about asking him to pull over and let me out but I could have been wrong and it would have been impolite for me to ask since he’d been kind enough to give me a lift.

I gazed out the side window in silence. I saw up front the archway over the Lake entrance come into view. The car slowed down and made the turn onto the gravel road which led to the Lake Reserve. I was now seriously concerned. My imagination had clicked into overdrive and the tension was palpable.