Chapter 13
© 2006

My life and those of my friends fascinated G; a soap opera he followed with a passion as if it filled a void in his own experience. At the computer one day I was inspired to write him something of a précis.

I figure I got the coolest friends a guy could have. Frank? Well, he's a totally serious dude. But when he gets down to it, he can be totally loose; like on the last mountain hike, and the strip thingy the swim team did for the girls, and the nights we get together and go clubbing. My folks have known Frank's folks like forever and we're all pretty close.

Stuart and me? Well, I guess we're about as close as two guys can get. Mind you, we didn't hit it off right away. There were fights--serious fights. When Rick left Australia for Canada, I thought I'd never be as close to another guy as I was to him. At the airport, when he and his folks flew out, I felt part of me had been torn away--ripped like a shark would tear off your leg. No mercy. It was like Rick and I were the only two people on earth who really understood the pain and hurt back then. It almost destroyed us. Yeah, I do love Stuart and he loves me. It's weird `cause he's moistened just about every pair of panties in town. He's a macho guy.

Brett? He's the same--macho, tough, sporty, cocky--and all that shit. But he's starting to lighten up and he's arousing my curiosity big time. He's getting closer to me. Not so long ago he hid inside his shell and refused to open up about anything personal. The change in Brett is not just the result of our friendship; he's changed noticeably since the professor's lecture the other day at school.
"Graham? Well, what can I say about Graham? He's Graham and he's the coolest little dude on the planet.

Melanie? Well, Melanie made me feel a lot different about myself and I feel different towards her, too--not like the guys. She makes me feel good about myself and I think we're getting close to a time when the two of us are gonna get it on quite seriously.

And you, G? I know it sounds weird but you're pretty teeny for a fossil. You help me a lot. Hey, you saved my life. You own a big slice of my heart's real estate.

One hot afternoon after school Graham hopped the fence as usual and helped with my regular chores. "How come your dog craps so much? And how come there are so many sloppy ones?"

Later, I invited my little bud to cool off in the pool with me. He was about to go get his boardies when I stopped him. "No need for that. My folks aren't home so let's skinny dip."

In half an hour, the doorbell rang. I wasn't expecting anyone, so I stopped by my room to grab my boardies on the way to the door. Brett greeted me with a puzzled expression, noticing my dripping-wet skin contrasted by dry shorts. "Is it okay to come in?"

"Sure!" I beamed. "The little guy from next door is in the pool."

"Graham?" he asked as I led him to my room.

"Yeah, he helped with some chores. You wanna join us in the pool?"

"I'll need a pair of shorts or something."

Not in the least fazed by Brett's surprise arrival, the grommet continued swimming naked. Eventually, though, my young bud needed to return home, so I chose that moment to ask Brett if he'd like to stay for supper.

"You sure it's okay with your folks?"

"Hey, my folks like you a lot. You wanna check with your mom?"

"I'm seventeen not seven."

During the meal, my dad apologized for a problem with the stereo. "When I raise the volume, one of the speakers dies. Probably cost a fortune to fix."

"I'll check it out," Brett offered.

After coffee, my folks and I watched fascinated as Brett poked around with the internals of the stereo. Within ten minutes it was working perfectly, much to the delight of my dad who was highly impressed with my handsome friend.

"Where did you learn about that stuff?" I asked as we entered my room.

"I fix most things at home. No way we can afford trades people to do it. Sometimes I can, sometimes I can't. Depends on the problem."

"That was impressive! You scored big points with my dad."

"I like doing stuff for him. He helped big time at the boxing tourney. I'll never forget that." Then Brett revealed the real reason for his visit as I inserted a CD into my player. "Hey, about sleeping over at my place."

"I'll check with my folks." I left the room and approached my mom somewhat sheepishly.

"You promised your father and me you'd spend the weekend studying. You told us you'd work extra hard this term." Her voice was loud enough for Brett to hear and I was embarrassed at my own mental image of his reaction. But good ol' dad sprang to the rescue.

"The boy promised he will study at Brett's house. Does it matter where he studies? Besides, they attend the same school and share the same classes. It makes sense for them to study together."

Later, two beaming faces greeted each other at my mate's front door. We'd been apart for some hours but that was more than sufficient time to be pleased to see each other again.

"I organized a couple of movies," he announced as I followed him to the living room. "And I got some beers. They're in the fridge."

During the movies we chatted about Susan and Melanie, what we might expect from the swim season, mountain hikes and a range of mutual interests. Before we knew it, the VCR clock showed 1:30am. Brett stood, wobbled a bit from too many beers and headed for the bathroom to shower.

After my turn, dressed only in boxer shorts, I appeared at his doorway. Brett was already lying face-down on the bed, also wearing boxers. "Okay," he mumbled into the pillow, "now you can give me that body rub you promised."

He hadn't mentioned the body-rub all night, so I assumed he forgot about it. I wasn't willing to raise the topic either because I figured it might upset him and spoil the night's vibe. But there on his dresser was a bottle of scented massage oil. Apparently he gave some thought to my earlier promise in the gym. Hmmm.

After pouring a little oil onto the palm of my hand, I began by rubbing his shoulders and neck. "You must've done this before," he sighed. "Who else do you massage?"

"Nobody. Maybe it's a natural talent."

"Feels wicked."

"So do your muscles. They're helluva toned. I can trace every one of them." I continued to massage his powerful back, then concentrated on his legs right up to his tight butt cheeks. "Okay, you can roll over now."

He hesitated a while. The reason why became obvious when he did somewhat reluctantly roll over onto his back. There was a tell-tale bulge in his shorts. Mine too, for that matter. My hand, of its own accord, touched his boner, which jumped. Uncertainty and nervousness caused me to instantly retreat. Nothing was said. Then I went about the business of massaging his awesomely defined chest. By the time my busy fingers moved to his abdominals, I could no longer resist the urge to comment.

"How come they're so flat?" I asked. "And how come mine aren't?" He didn't answer. I then worked the tops of his legs, occasionally placing my oiled fingers a little too close to his crotch, fascinated by the way his boner jumped. But I dared not go any further than that.

Eventually, I capped the bottle of oil and returned it to the dresser.

"Whoa, Kyle! That was awesome! For a mo there, I thought you were gonna jack me off, and I was getting ready to break your nose for you. Now, I'm gonna sleep like a baby." We both did, head to toe under the covers wearing our boxers.

Next morning, Brett was in unusually high spirits. After I showered, he asked me if it was okay to walk me home. "Sure, my folks think you're way cool. You know that already."

We arrived at my house to the sound of Graham and my dad arguing about a rugby football match on TV. A surprised Brett thought it strange that my dad handled the precocious grommet with such great patience and humor. As expected, my folks insisted Brett stay for breakfast and lunch before spending the rest of the afternoon with his girlfriend.

At first recess on Monday, Brett asked me to thank my folks for their hospitality on Sunday. "I had a really good time."

"That's cool. So did I."

"Do your dad and that lighty always fight like that?"

"Nah," I laughed. "They stuff around with each other. My dad's impressed with the way Graham comes back for more, and dishes it out."

"My dad would clout me big time if I spoke to him like that."

"My dad can lose it sometimes, but not for something like football on TV."

"I thought Saturday night was pretty cool as well."

"Yeah, I had a pretty good time," I answered casually.

"You were impressed?"


"My boner! I wasn't so pissed I didn't feel you touch it."

"Just wanted to feel if it was up to standard, and what Susan was getting so much of."

"And? Did it measure up?"

I studied Brett's eyes for a moment. "This doesn't sound like you talking."


"C'mon, Brett, you're like always so shy about your dick. You even sleep with boxers on."

"I guess it's `cause you don't give a damn. Anyway, you slept with boxers on as well."

"Hey, if you stripped, I would as well. Believe me, I hate sleeping with anything on. Ask my mom! She gets pretty red-faced some mornings when I've kicked the covers off." I waited a moment for Brett's laughter to subside. "And, if you sleep over at my place, NO BOXERS ALLOWED!"

"So? You never answered me. Did it measure up?"

"Pretty much. That is some damn weapon."

"Can I ask you something serious? You don't need to answer `cause it might be outta line."


We discussed this subject once before, but for some reason Brett re-introduced it. "You ever jack anyone else off?" Then he quickly backtracked. "Hell, you don't need to answer that."

"Yeah, I have," I said with a shrug. "It's no biggie. Had someone jack me as well."

"Me too. We were lighties," he explained, facing me. "Kids. Me and my bud. We just... did it."

"Just once?"

"A few times. It was the first sex I had, besides jacking myself."

"And you've been thinking how weird you are? Right?"

"Of course. How many guys do that kinda stuff?"

"Stacks! Believe me! Stacks!"


"No maybes."

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

"Yeah, right, Kyle," he said as the school bell rang for class.

The night of the Halloween party at my house was a riot. I did my best to remain anonymous, wearing a black cape and ghost mask, but my trademark spiky black hair gave the game away. Brett wore a black vest a couple of sizes too small, skin-tight black jeans and a faceful of black makeup courtesy of Susan. He came as a crow. Susan and Melanie resembled characters out of Frankenstein with hair dyed five different colors. But the most outstanding costume was Stuart's. He was covered in green body-paint and wore torn shorts and t-shirt. The Hulk with long blond hair? Oh, well...

Back at school it was down to the serious business of swim training. Frank selected Brett and me to compete, one on one, in the butterfly. When we reached the wall, Brett almost shoved an angry finger up my nose. "Don't you ever do that again," he snarled.

"What?" I asked, feigning innocence.

"Kick out a beat while we're racing."

"I didn't," I lied.

"Don't fuck with me, Kyle. I don't need that from you. I'll beat you fair and square in a race, but don't treat me like an idiot or I'll cream you."

After exiting the pool, Brett stormed off, leaving me standing there like a dork while Frank read the riot act. "If I were Brett, I'd smack you--one time."

My immediate reaction was to lose my cool and become defensive. "So," I threatened, "you wanna try, huh?"

"Don't push it, Kyle. I can take you off the team."

"Yep, but that would be a chickenshit move `cause you're too scared to smack me."

"You know and I know I'm not scared. But you also know I want to be the captain again next year. Are you trying to fuck that up for me?"

"Enough already," I said, backing off. "Brett's been feeling down lately and I thought I was doing him a favor."

"Yeah, well you have. You've stuffed the confidence he's been trying to build up all season."

Rarely had I felt so damn stupid or remorseful. At recess, Brett and I spoke again. "Sorry," I said softly. "You weren't supposed to see that missed kick."

"Yeah, and the whole damn team too. How was I supposed to feel, huh?"

"Hey, I was just trying..."

"I know what you were trying, Kyle," he interrupted, softening his anger. "Stop! We're friends, but shit like that doesn't help anyone. And I'm sorry for this morning. I got few friends as it is without driving you away."

I felt better immediately, even elated, and allowed a smile to spread across my face. "Me? Away? No way! I like your bod too much."

Brett returned my grin. "You're totally crazy. Cool, but way damn crazy."

"It's worth it just to see you smile. You got the most wicked smile, Brett."