So finally, after he had tried everything else, Tim tried stealing. The carburetor theft, although unsuccessful, had made him a hero at school, and he...found that all the praise and support he had been missing at home was available in the schoolyard. It seemed that every boy in school was eager to hear the story of Tim's caper, of the arrest and the overnight stay in Juvenile Hall. Girls he didn't know would point at him in the halls and whisper excitedly to one another, and Tim did not fail to. "You see, you slide the key in, give it a twist, and take it out again. Sort of like the keys for your home or your car." Fuck you man, these things are heavy. And why am I carrying all of this. It's your cottage." Exactly," you reply "It's my cottage, so if you want to party here, you have to carry."Steve looks at you and laughs, "Ya, well all the booze and shit is in MY car; so unless you want to invite everyone into a dry cottage, you'll be doing a little bit of carrying yourself."You see. Ryan was home. 'So have they gone?' He asked, waltzing into the living room. I looked up from my seat, 'Yes Ryan they have'. He sat on the floor opposite me; in fact it made me feel slightly strange as if he shouldn't be sitting like that even though it was perfectly normal. He lit up a cigarette, before offering me one. 'No, you know I don't smoke Ryan' I snapped at him as he watched me with a glint in his eyes. He looked at me for what seemed like minutes on end. I could feel so much tension. I can keep a secret and I like older men. I’ve been fucked by lots of older married men, and I never say a word about it to anyone. Do you want to fuck me, Professor Evans?”He looked down in shock at the girl’s beseeching eyes. “You mustn’t say such things,” he said.“Why not?” she said. “It’s true.” Then, almost as an afterthought, “I hope you want to fuck me, Professor. I want you to fuck me.”She let the tip of her tongue work its way round the underside of his helmet. “Maybe if I suck you.