This story contains descriptions of sexual acts involving a man, a teenager and two MINOR boys. Such descriptions are an integral part of the story. While the story may appeal to prurient interests, it is intended to have serious literary value. As a friend once said: "Everyone has the right to fantasy. No one has the right to censor an imagination, or dreams."
With that in mind, know that this story is not true, although it is based on fact and some real events! Further, it is not intended to promote illegal acts against minors, but to demonstrate that men and boys can love each other despite the prevalent attitudes of western society. It is my goal to help readers appreciate that love. The sexual acts described in the story are the result of my imagination. I have not performed these acts, and I do not encourage others to perform them with minors. If the subject of man/boy love offends you, if this material is illegal in your place of residence, or if you are under the legal age for such material, do not read further!
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Any similarity to individuals, living or dead, is entirely accidental. Reference is also made in context to movies, characters, and actors that have become part of modern western culture. No other implication about the true sexuality of the people mentioned or their private lives is intended.
Now that the preliminaries are out of the way.....
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Stroud, not all that far away from Bulahdelah, had a great collection of convict ruins that my mother took me to see a few years earlier when we were vacationing in Forster. I even mentioned it to Byron in passing, but we weren’t about to linger, not when surfing beckoned. Once the surfboards were checked for tightness on the roof-racks and we were back in the car, I had a chance to think about what Bruce and I talked about in the toilet. He had talked openly about things that Blaine and I had difficulty whispering to each other. I kept hearing his voice saying ‘it’s no big deal’. At the same time, I remembered Byron’s hand rubbing Blaine’s penis, the erratic jerks of Blaine’s hips as he thrust back and forth. Whenever I masturbated him, he always lay still and breathed deeply. As we left the park by the river, I realised that my testicles felt strange. They were tingling. It seemed like they were trying to tell me something. The same hand that stroked Blaine’s penis had also touched them. After a while I sat back, listened to the radio, and waited for the miles to pass.
Beside me, Blaine dozed in the morning sun. It was as if nothing had happened, yet time and time again all I think of was what happened in the toilet. And then there were the things that Bruce said to me after Blaine and Byron went back to the car. His voice repeated, ‘it’s no big deal’ until I was tired of hearing it, but it was a big deal as far as I was concerned. I suppose it appeared like I was sulking. They left me alone, staring silently out the side window at the tall eucalypts, at the endless fence posts and barbed wire. For a while I even began to think that I would have been better off spending Christmas at Brindajari.
Even driving at 60 mph for most of the way, it seemed to take us forever to get into and through Taree, although it was hardly a busy metropolis. It was a lot like Dubbo in that respect, although the streets were only about half as wide. I couldn’t help but think that at the rate we were going it would be midnight before we reached Coff’s Harbour. However, once we were out of Taree the traffic lessened to the occasional vehicle, the vast majority of which were headed north.
On the straight sections of road, Byron got the car up to cruising speed, somewhere between 70 and 75 mph, which was a lot faster than my grandmother drove on the way to Brindajari. Although the radio was turned up, eventually we were too far away to get good reception, and the static became unbearable. Bruce turned it off at Byron’s request. The silence was momentary. A few minutes passed while he searched through Byron’s collection of cassettes and found one to listen to. The sound of ‘Surfin’ USA’ filled the car. Again. It was almost too loud for me, although I liked the Beach boys and it was one of my favourite songs.
The miles slipped away. The next two hours passed while a half dozen cassettes were played. By the time ‘Surfin’ USA’ was played for the fourth time even I was getting tired of hearing it. I was content to sit back, keep my thoughts to myself and watch the mile markers by the side of the road. What I was thinking about didn’t change, but the scenery changed, from coastal forest to farmland, to prime dairy cattle farming, to sheep. Then, back to coastal forest. The road we were on was called the Pacific Highway, but the ocean it was named for was seldom within sight.
Once, on one of the many trips to Brindajari I estimated there were about 300 fence posts for every mile and then actually tried to count them to pass the time. At nine or ten years old I soon realised it was impossible to count to 300 in a minute, which was the time it took to travel a mile at the speed my grandmother drove. At the speed Byron was driving it was even harder. I calculated in my head that I would have to count six fence posts every second. I had just arrived at that conclusion when the cassette finished playing and Byron’s voice interrupted my maths-induced reverie.
“What’s up with our two boys in the back seat? I know Blainey’s catching up on his beauty rest but Cuddlepie’s being awfully quiet back there. You reckon he got out of the car, Bruce?”
It was funny. “I’m here,” I rebuked loudly from the rear seat.
“I think he’s sulking,” Bruce answered, half-turning his head but stopping before he saw me.
“Maybe he’s feeling left out because you wanked his best friend and not him,” Bruce suggested.
Byron laughed. “If that’s the problem, he’ll have to wait a while. I can’t drive and wank at the same time.”
They both laughed like it was a big joke. I scowled at the backs of their heads.
“I could drive,” Bruce offered.
“Yeah, you could,… when you get your fucking license.” Byron laughed.
“I’ve got my learner’s permit.” Bruce sounded hopeful.
“Yeah, I know. Only I want to be in Coff’s Harbour tonight, not tomorrow night behind a tow truck. I told you I’d let you drive once when we get there.” He glanced up in the mirror. “So is that’s what bugging you, Allan?”
I shrugged. “Nothing’s bugging me.”
Byron laughed again. I wondered whether he was laughing at me.
“I told him it’s no big deal,” Bruce added. “He’ll get over it.”
“Not wrong!” Blaine said. He yawned and stretched out.
Byron hesitated for a few seconds. My face was getting hot. I hated being the centre of attention like this. Some times, my mother and grandmother talked about me as if I wasn’t in the room. What was far worse was when they made a fuss over me when other people were present.
“Hm,… Maybe that’s it,” Byron suggested. “He’s pissed. I guess he doesn’t like sharing his best friend. Is that it, Allan?”
I sat up. Was that why I felt the way I did? I was jealous of Blaine. I glanced at him. He had a questioning look. Perhaps he was thinking the same thing.
“He can do whatever he wants,” I answered moodily.
“You know something, Allan?” Byron asked. He paused. “I did it to make him feel good, not to make you angry.”
“I’m not angry,” I answered curtly.
“Then stopping making a big deal out of it, Bunny,” Bruce injected.
“You want to prove it, Allan?” Byron said quietly.
“Huh?” I muttered.
Byron glanced up at the rear-vision mirror and met my eyes. “I said do you want to prove getting wanked is no big deal?”
“Hey Blainey, is that all he says? Huh, huh, huh?”
Blaine grinned sideways at me. “Nope. He talks sometimes.”
“Okay guys,” Byron began seriously. “Now you’re true-blue, Allan, I can say this,….”
“I said there’s a way how we prove getting wanked is no big deal, assuming you’re interested.”
He had trouble not laughing. “There he goes again. Are you sure his name isn’t Allan Huh-ding?”
Blaine giggled. “He only says huh some of the time, but he’s always hard!”
Bruce snorted. I rolled my eyes at Blaine.
“Here’s my plan,” Byron went on. He glanced up into the rear-vision mirror. “It’s very simple, Cuddlepie. All you have to do is,…”
“Is what?” I grouched.
“You let Blaine wank you,” he said in a blasé voice. “That’ll prove it, see. No big deal, right guys?”
“Right on,” Bruce echoed.
Blaine muffled another giggle. This time he didn’t look at me.
“I don’t get it?” I asked cautiously. I wasn’t sure I liked where this was headed, yet my heart picked up a few beats.
“Well, see if he wanks you off in the back of the car, with us sitting here in front, well it sort of proves that being wanked in front of your friends is no big deal, doesn’t it?”
“Um,…” I stalled.
“The thing is Allan, now you and Blainey are both true-blue, you have nothing to hide. Not that you had anything to hide from each other,” he added in a affable voice that sounded peculiar.
His logic was anything but indisputable, but it worked on me.
“Huh?” I muttered again.
“It’s not like you’ve got something to be uptight about, Bunny. You might have if it was the first time he’s done it, but we all know you and Blainey are a couple of wankers,” Bruce joked.
“Come on, let’s do it, Allie.” Blaine said without hesitating. He was always like that when a dare was made. “He’s right you know. It isn’t like I haven’t wanked you before.”
I gave him a ‘you’re out-of-your-mind’ look which only made him smirk again. He could be like that sometimes, as if there was nothing to be ashamed of. Perhaps there wasn’t anything to be ashamed about. What did it matter if Blaine and I masturbated each other under the blankets at night, or in the back seat of Byron’s car? Just listening to them talking openly about something had had been a secret for so long had that effect on me.
“I get it. It’s your the first time with an audience?” Bruce joked. His voice was one of exaggerated shock.
“Geez,” I growled.
“I think you’re onto something, Bruce. He’s embarrassed. You want to know something, Cuddlepie?” Byron asked.
“Actually, I’m surprised you Blaine haven’t used Edgecliff’s dunnies before now,” Byron hooted.
I reddened. Blaine and I had never done that, but some boys did. That last thing I would have done was to go into one of the toilet cubicles during lunch time. I had grown up in a very reserved home, to the point where people who didn’t know me very well thought I was shy. However, I had heard them, boys whispering together behind the door, their muffled giggles and rustle of clothing. Every boy in the school probably knew what they were doing.
“Come on,” Blaine said insistently. “We can do each other. It’s no big deal. It’ll be fun.”
“Hey Snugglepot. If you do, just take it easy. You’ll wear that cute little sausage of yours out if you’re not careful, ” Byron joked. “Not that it’ll drop off from too much wanking, but you’ll make the little fella sore for tonight.”
Blaine giggled. Already he was beginning to untie the cord at the front of his board shorts.
“Geez, Blaine,” I complained uncomfortably.
“If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I just want to see what my balls look like.”
With that, he pulled the cords apart and opened the front of his shorts. His lifted his bottom off the seat and wriggled the shorts down as far as his knees. I tried to look away, but instead I stared. His penis was limp and it snuggled sleepily between his thighs.
“Hey, I’m going to take them right off, is that okay By,” Blaine asked teasingly.
“Okay by me. I’ll just make sure not to go past any trucks,” Byron joked. “Otherwise we’ll have cars being run off the road.”
“It’s not like he’s got all that much worth seeing. Anyway, it wouldn't be the first time he’s been seen in the buff,” Bruce remarked off-handedly.
“Yeah, that's true. I forgot about that. So what about it, Allan? Are you going to join him and prove you’re true blue?”
“Um,…” I stalled.
Slowly Blaine pushed his shorts further down his legs. He stopped at his ankles so he could always pull them up quickly if he had to. His knees moved apart, wide apart so that his genitals were exposed between his slim thighs. He turned and smirked at me. I followed his glance back down. His scrotum was not the nearly black wrinkled ball it had been in the toilet. Instead, it hung in loose folds, the delicate, unnaturally dark-blue skin clearly revealing the shape and size of his testicles. They looked to be twice the size of mine.
I was envious. My best friend had functioning testicles that could produce semen. It was something that I couldn’t do, the only thing that separated us. There were some things that Blaine was better at, and some things that I was better at, but mostly we were equals in the things we did. It was one of the reasons why we were such good friends. However, being best friends did not stop me from being jealous of his recently acquired ability. As if to drive the point home, his fingers pushed into the blue skin, moving his testicles around as he inspected himself. His penis immediately began to get bigger. His wasn’t the only one. I could feel my penis getting hard again as well. It was strange, sitting there in the back seat of a car going 70 mph and watching my best friend’s penis become aroused.
“Cool huh?” Blaine observed. He glanced at me, looking for a reaction, and then went back to what he was doing. “My balls don’t look nearly as dark in the sun,” he announced.
Watching him had a powerful effect on me. I was away from the strict control of my mother and grandmother for three whole weeks. The freedom was mind-boggling.
“You really want to do it?” I whispered.
“It’s no big deal, Allie,” Blaine said confidently. He sounded a lot like his older brother. “Go on, let’s see yours. I want to see what they look like. Take your shorts off too.”
“No one’s ever going to know, mate,” Byron added supportively from the front seat.
“We’ve all seen your dong already, in case you’ve forgotten. See, because of what we did in the dunny, we don’t have any secrets between us. Isn’t that right, Bruce.”
“Trust me, wanking with your mates, it’s nothing. No big deal. Right Bruce?”
“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, especially for a kid your age. Every boy does it, you know.”
“I know,” I muttered.
“That joystick of yours needs taking care of on a regular basis, Cuddlepie. You might as well get used to it. It’ll be a real whopper in a couple of years.”
Again, I glowed with pride. Still, I stalled, but only for a few seconds.
“Geez!” I gave a frustrated sigh and pretended as if I had no choice in the matter.
“Don’t be a chicken,” Blaine teased.
Slowly, my hands moved to the laced front of my shorts. It was almost as if I had no control of them. I fumbled with the ends of the strings, still trying to decide. Part of me wanted to do it, if only to prove to them that I wasn’t chicken. The other part, that part that had grown up with my grandmother and mother always looking over my shoulder, was having second thoughts. Blaine seemed remotely interested in what I about to do. He was far more interested in his own almost erect penis. Suddenly, he looked over at me and giggled.
“What’s so funny?” I whispered.
“You are. He’s right on the money you know. You might as well get used to us seeing you in the buff.”
I wondered what Blaine was talking about. The beach place where we were going to be staying had a separate bedroom and a bathroom. There would always be somewhere to change in private.
Byron nodded. “Too right! I've always said that a boy with no shame's got everything to gain. That’s right, isn’t it Bruce.”
“Yep.” Bruce looked over his shoulder at me. “Be game and you gain. Hey, Bunny?”
He smiled at me. I could tell what he wanted me to do. He wanted me to be half-naked like his brother.
“Actually, I thought a motor-head like you would be into doing stuff in a car?” he taunted.
“I know a lot of guys at school who lost their virginity in a car,” he snickered. “Some of them weren’t much older than you.”
“Hell, there might even one or two who were younger, huh Bruce?” Byron added oddly.
“G-geez!” I said with increasing exasperation.
Still, I did what they wanted. I wasn’t sure it was what I wanted, not at first anyway. I unfastened the bow, pulled the cords apart to loosen the front, lifted my bottom up from the seat, and pushed my shorts down, a bit further than halfway to my knees. I stopped there, wanting to do it in the same casual way that Blaine had done a minute earlier, but it was impossible. I thought of my grandmother. Quickly, I moved back onto the sticky vinyl seat with my thighs pressed close together. Sitting that way made it impossible for anyone to see that I even had a penis, let alone see testicles that had been dyed blue. I glanced down just to make certain that there was nothing worth seeing. I thought I looked more like Katie Tattersall the one time when I saw her naked at the creek.
I glanced over at Blaine. His penis was fully erect. His blue scrotum was very exotic, more so than any of the outlandish tattoos on the U.S. servicemen who frequented Kings Cross on R&R. It had a strange effect on me. My curiosity began to get the better of me within a few seconds. I wanted to see what had been done to me. Did mine look the same?
“Push your trunks down. If you’re going to do it, Allie, you have to do it properly,” Blaine instructed with his familiar endearing grin. “Here, I’ll do it if you want me to?”
His hand reached over and tugged at my board shorts insistently. Until that point in time, I wasn’t at all sure about what was happening. Part of me insisted that it was wrong. I was doing something that I knew was wrong. According to my grandmother, that made it even worse. Yet, despite my nervous guilt, another part of me argued that I was doing the right thing.
“They won't care,” he said quietly. “Hell, By likes it when I strip off in the car.”
“But,....” I was close to giving in.
“Shhhh. They won't even know,” Blaine whispered. “They can't see us. Come on, let's get our duds down.”
What harm was there in letting Blaine take my board shorts off? No one would know. There had only been a few times when Blaine and I completely undressed each other. Usually we took our own clothes off. However, those few times were the most fun of all. There was something about having my best friend take my clothes off that made my heart pound. Needless to say, I got the same thrill from taking Blaine’s clothes off. What was it about revealing his slim early-pubescent body that so excited me that I could think of nothing else? Was it simply a matter of being able to explore him in the way that I wanted? It would have been so simple if that was all that there was to it, but it wasn’t. What was it about being naked with another boy that made my desire to do even more next to uncontrollable?
However, in addition to the deep-down thrill, this time I also felt uncomfortable. I wasn’t in the privacy of a bedroom late at night. Instead, I was in a car with Byron and Bruce sitting in the front seat. Byron probably couldn’t see down that far using the rear vision mirror, but Bruce could easily turn his head at any second and look back at us whenever he wanted.
I hadn’t decided either way when Blaine reached over pushed my shorts all the way down my legs, past my knees, then down to the floor. Smirking, he guided my legs apart so that we could see what we both wanted to see. I leaned forward in the seat and gazed down. That part of my body seemed incongruous. I was tanned all the way to where my Speedo covered. Not darkly tanned the way that I would be after a few weeks of summer holidays, but golden brown. From there, my skin became buff, not milky white like Blaine’s skin. It was probably why I tanned easier and faster than he did. There, between my thighs, that tiny dark-blue patch of skin stood out like the proverbial dog’s balls. For the first time I noticed that my testicles were not only quite a bit smaller than Blaine’s, but they only hung about halfway down. The skin beneath them formed two narrow creases. Maybe that was what Byron meant when he said my ‘balls hadn’t dropped yet’, I mused?
“It’s cool,” Blaine said admiringly.
“You’ve got blue balls,” he replied with amusement, pointing between my legs.
“Big deal. Your balls are blue too,” I said, pointing at his groin.
His penis, having already attained full erection, looked larger than I remembered. It was noticeably longer and much thicker. Only then did I realise that Blaine Junior had to be every bit of four inches long. It must have grown since the last time we measured it. My penis, on the other hand seemed to have not grown at all.
“Yeah, we're both true blue,” he giggled. “Hey, Allie-cat?”
“Why don’t you make yours hard too? Unless you want me to do it for you,” he offered, gratuitously I thought.
He smirked at my hasty response. Both of us knew that if we were by ourselves, I would not have said ‘no’.
"Okay then. Hey, I’ve got an idea. I bet I can make it stiff without even touching it. All you have to do it sit there…"
I shook my head. He smirked again. His head inclined as he leaned in closer.
"…. And look at me," he finished in a whisper.
Just sitting there, half naked with my best friend, was enough. My penis was already responding of its own accord. The sense of shame that came from knowing that he realised the effect he had on me was instantaneous and unforgettable. Until then, I always believed that I could hide my body's response to seeing him naked, or at least I managed to pretend that something else caused my erection. I tried to ignore him. I even stared out the window for a while. Yet, all the time I was aware that my shorts were bunched at my ankles. Finally, my eyes strayed to the nearly naked boy beside me. It was the last straw. I tried to think of something else as my penis continued to grow. I was embarrassed. I was old enough to realise that boys weren't supposed to get erections because of other boys, but my embarrassment was of no concern to the thing between my legs. It got harder and harder no matter what I did.
“See!” He grinned. “Keep on looking it'll get hard all the way.”
“Don’t be dumb, Blaine!”
“Getting a stiffie is no big deal.”
“So? Then do it, Allie.”
“What if I don’t want to?” I pointed at the seats in front of us.
“Like they care,” Blaine quipped.
“Hey, I don't want to interrupt you fun back there, but there’s nothing to be uptight about, Allan. Not when we’re all guys,” Byron challenged.
So they could hear, and they did know what was happening, and they didn't care? It was hard to believe.
“Geez, I’ll do it, okay,” I muttered. I stroked my penis a few times and wished it would go away.
“Now it’s really getting stiff,” Blaine observed with a leering smirk. “But it’s kind of hard to tell because it’s so tiny.”
“Bugger off,” I growled. “It’s not that much smaller than yours and I’m nearly a year younger.”
“Okay, but yours is a skinny dick,” Blaine snickered.
I tried to change the topic. I inspected my scrotum carefully, pushing my testicles around the same way that Blaine did. His testicles were huge compared to mine. Maybe there was something to what he said about a boy’s testicles becoming larger when he started puberty. We should have brought his booklet with us. He kept looking, making the obvious comparison to his own.
“They look sore. Do you think the dye stuff hurts them?” I asked nervously.
Blaine shook his head. “Nope. Don’t worry about it, Allan. Mine are like that too. It won't be long before they're back to normal. After a couple of days in the surf your balls won’t be nearly as dark. It fades pretty quickly."
"They look dumb." I had a tendency to be pragmatic at the most inopportune of times.
"Nah, the colour just makes them look weird. Different, you know. You aren’t used to it, that’s all.”
“And you’re used to it already?” I asked sarcastically.
“He fucking ought to be,” Bruce laughed.
“We did Blainey’s balls this time last year,” Byron commented. “Don’t sweat it, Allan. By the time we get you back to your mum, it’ll mostly be worn off.”
“It'll be hard to see in a couple of weeks,” Blaine assured me.
“He's right. There's nothing to worry about, Cuddlepie. Just remember to keep them covered when you use a public loo. If you’re anything like Blainey, you’ll get used to having blue balls pretty quickly. I expect you’ll be used to a few other things as well,” he laughed. “What do you reckon, Bruce? Do you think we can get him used to doing some other stuff? I mean with him being around us for three weeks…”
I wanted to ask ‘used to what other things’, and what ‘other stuff' entailed, but my confidence wasn't all that great at the best of times. I had a tendency to stutter sometimes when I was nervous. I wasn’t in the mood to be teased about that as well.
“He will,… if I get my way,” Bruce answered.
He waved his hand without looking at me, his thumb up, his fist closed. It was the ‘good luck’, ‘right-o, mate’ sign that all Australians used. Maybe Bruce was saying that he would teach me a few things about surfing. A boy could only hope, because usually older brothers didn’t give boys my age the time of day.
Blaine giggled all of sudden. He leaned closer, until his lips were almost touching my ear.
“See, I told you he liked you,” he whispered in my ear before he pulled back.
“Just remember, Cuddlepie, anything that happens between us guys, and I do mean anything, by the way,... Well, it’s no big deal, right boy-o?” Byron said.
He must have heard something, which surprised me because I barely heard Blaine.
I was beginning to get tired of hearing ‘no big deal’, but it was also having another effect on me. I was beginning to believe it.
I shared a glance with Blaine. He winked and casually stroked up, then down his erection. Then, with the thumb and first fingers of both hands, he squeezed the shaft of his penis just below the glans. It made the head swell up so that it was larger and darker than normal. The head of his penis was different to mine. We compared them often enough to know the differences by heart. For one thing, the skin on my penis was much tighter. There were brown rings on both of them, but while Blaine’s was about one third of the way down the shaft, mine was more than halfway down. The head of his penis was also noticeably larger than mine, swelling prominently out from the shaft so that it appeared to sit on top. Mine, on the other hand, was what Blaine aptly called the ‘streamlined model’, partly because it was narrower than the shaft, but also because of the collar of skin that formed when our penises were limp. The crinkled collar was almost non-existent on my penis.
We figured they felt pretty much the same for us, regardless of appearance and size differences. We were both very sensitive there, but Blaine was adamant that a big one would feel better for sex. He justified this by saying that there was ‘more to rub ’, which I really didn’t understand, although it seemed to make good sense to him. What I did know was that I didn’t like to rub mine in the same way that he did. Blaine used the full length and as many fingers as he could comfortably fit. For myself, I far preferred squeezing or rubbing on the upper part, either on the head or just below it. If I rubbed mine the way he did, the friction soon became uncomfortable.
“You want me to do yours, Allie” Blaine offered.
He said it quietly, but it was still loud enough for everyone in the car to hear. No one said anything. Not even Bruce, which surprised me. They seemed to be ignoring us. Maybe they were waiting to see if I agreed. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal after all. All I wanted was for Bruce not to make fun of me. On the positive side, he seemed to have stopped doing that after our talk in the toilet.
“Well”? Blaine prompted. At least he sounded as if he wanted to do it.
“I suppose,” I agreed, reluctantly, because it wouldn’t be very smart to appear to be too eager.
“Okay. Hey, let’s get closer, Allie,” Blaine suggested. He edged across the seat. I regarded him warily. “I can’t reach it properly from over here. Our arms will get tired otherwise.”
He slid across the seat, stopping when he reached the centre. He splayed his legs with his feet on either side of the transmission hump. There was do doubt that he was showing himself off to anyone who cared to look. He was almost making a spectacle of it because he was sitting right in the opening between the two bucket seats, right where Byron could see him if he as much as glanced in the rear vision mirror or turned his head. Needless to say, only a few seconds passed before Byron looked up at the mirror. A moment later, he took his eyes off the road and glanced over his shoulder.
“Nice view, Blainey,” he commented quickly before turning back to driving the car.
“Don’t be fucking wasting anything back there, Blainey,” Bruce jibed. “I reckon you’re going to need all of it tonight.”
Neither Blaine or Byron didn’t seem to mind Bruce’s language or what he said. Blaine grinned at me as if it was funny. I didn’t smile. I wondered whether Byron was referring to Blaine’s newly acquired ability to produce semen. I would have been as red as a beetroot if that was the case, but that was Blaine. Rather, it was the new Blaine. I was quickly coming to realise that the boy sitting next to me was quite a bit different to the boy who was my best friend since kindergarten. I liked both of them, but the new Blaine was more fun, I decided.
Without more warning than a devilish smile that my grandmother would have said meant that he was up to no good, Blaine took hold of my rigid penis and squeezed playfully.
“Man, you’re even harder than I am,” he observed.
His fingers relaxed, then slowly moved up and down my penis. Just once and very lightly, because he knew what I liked and what I didn’t like. Then, his thumb curled away and rubbed gently across the head. That was what I liked the most. He knew exactly what to do. Back and forth, tickling, lightly scratching where the tiny slit was, then moving down into the groove in the underside before returning. I watched him doing it, wondering whether he was tormenting me for no other reason than he was bored. After a year of playing with each other’s private parts, we viewed them almost as toys. Neither of us was willing to stop. It felt so good that within the space of just a few very short seconds, I trembled.
“It’s not so bad, is it?” Bruce asked.
I glanced up. Until then I hadn’t realised that Byron was glancing constantly up at the mirror. What could he see? I glared back at him, sending a silent message that I would be a lot happier if he and Bruce ignored us. Byron smiled at me.
“I keep telling you,….”
“It’s no big deal,” I finished. “I get the point, okay?”
“You know, Cuddlepie,…” Byron began. He paused. “As far as I’m concerned, it really isn’t a big deal what you and Blaine do together. Or what anyone else does with either of you prawns as well. Do you know why?”
Byron laughed. “The thing is, see, you have to learn about sex sooner or later, and girls, well they really don’t understand what us guys like. Never have, never will. That’s just the way it is, isn’t mate?” he asked Bruce.
“Yep. They’re fun to fuck, but that’s all.”
“I’m not even sure they’re that much fun to fuck, for that matter,” Byron interrupted. “You spend most of your time worrying about getting them pregnant. If you’re lucky enough to get them randy, you might be able to get it in for a quickie. All they want to do is get married and have kids.”
“Or you have to take them to expensive restaurants to get them in the mood,” Bruce cut in.
“Right on!” Byron exclaimed. “They cost a fortune and all you get out of it is a fuck now and then. I’ve always said it takes a dick to really know how to make another dick feel good. I can see why poofters prefer guys. At least your bum-chum pays his own way,” Byron added crudely.
Blaine and I laughed uncertainly. We were both distracted. His slowly moving thumb was making my penis start to tingle. Sometimes we did that to each other, not really masturbating, just playing with them without trying to achieve climax. The ‘jerks’ were nice, and we usually ended up doing that, but just lying close together and touching each other’s private parts was nice too.
“And the best part is you don’t have to worry about getting him knocked up,” Blaine giggled.
“The worst thing is you might get a dirty dick out of it,” Bruce added.
“Gross!” I called out loudly, because it was expected that every red-blooded boy react that way when the subject of homosexuality came up.
“Yeah, it’s gross all right,” Byron said. “Chasing a sheila is far better, right?”
“Even if she costs a fucking fortune to keep around?” Blaine asked. I wasn’t surprised to hear him swear. That was the mood of the situation.
“Yeah, well that's true enough. You might have a good point there, Blaine, especially when she’s on her fucking period. When you stop to think about how much it costs for an occasional stuff, a guy would be better off being a ‘perv’ and chasing after little boys. At least you're more likely to get a root, right guys?”
Bruce laughed, but then all of us laughed. ‘Perv’ jokes were almost as common as ‘poofter’ jokes at school. After that, the subject was changed, probably because no one in their right mind wanted to talk about poofters and perverts. Byron engaged Bruce in a discussion of the various merits of the techniques used by the other surfers who he competed with at the New South Wales Junior Surfing Championships at Narrabeen. I relaxed in the rear seat, perfectly content to listen to them and be the recipient of Blaine’s gently moving hand.
“Do mine,” Blaine instructed after a while.
“Sorry, Blainey,” I muttered. I had quite forgotten that a large part of our relationship was based on mutual pleasuring.
I took hold of Blaine’s penis and began to administer the same careful treatment, all the while thinking about ‘sheilas’ and the strange way that Bruce laughed when Byron joked about ‘chasing after little boys’.
That the head of Blaine’s penis was larger than mine, only made what I was doing that much easier. I liked how it bulged out from the shaft. It looked like a lot like a mushroom, like the mushrooms that occasionally appeared in the pastures at Brindajari after rain. It made me smile to myself. Only later, much later, would I learn that there was something of a disadvantage to having a penis with a widely flared head.
Occasionally, Bruce turned around and looked back at us. Every time he did so, he winked at me. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He could see that I was getting used to the idea that being wanked in front of him really wasn’t a big deal. After a while, I began to look forward to his glances. I began to exaggerate my enjoyment, making soft sighs and half-closing my eyes, or tensing up and breathing in gasps. Eventually, I wasn’t pretending .
“It feels nice, huh?”
I shrugged ambivalently, which only caused Bruce to smile.
“Old Blainey’s pretty good at it, isn’t he?” Bruce added.
I nodded slightly so that words weren’t needed. However it was only the truth. Blaine was good at it. He seemed to anticipate exactly what I wanted. When my penis started to become too sensitive, he shifted from rubbing the top inch to squeezing. When it ached from being so stiff, he transferred his attention to my testicles. His favourite trick was to place his fingers under my pouch and use his thumb to roll my testicles from side to side. Naturally, I did the same to him, feeling vaguely envious that his were larger. He was growing up while I wasn’t.
“Hey Bunny, you want to know a secret?”
“Do you want to know why he's so good at wanking? I taught him everything he knows. I did, didn’t I, Blainey?” Bruce teased.
Byron snorted in derision, then chuckled. “Actually, I think there’s someone else in the car who had a little something to do with it,” he said suggestively.
Blaine giggled and nodded eagerly. In truth, I thought Byron was talking about me, although I wasn’t at all sure that I could teach Blaine anything. As far back as I could remember, and I had been doing secret things with Blaine for about a year by then, it seemed that he was the teacher and I was the student when it came to doing ‘sex stuff’ together. However, whatever we did together, it was always a game, a game that two willing and adventurous prepubescent boys enjoyed playing. Now, the more I thought about it, the more I realised It was not a game that most best friends played. What we did together was a lot to do with having sex. It wasn’t a ‘big deal’, not as long as no one else knew about it. I was smart enough to know that whatever happened during the next few weeks had to remain a secret, and not just from my mother and grandmother.
And so on and on we went, passing by a blur of seemingly endless trees and fences, mile after mile, going much faster than we ever did during the long drive from Parkes to Dubbo. On the trip to Brindajari all I had to look forward to was riding my horse, usually to check the fences, and swimming in Callan Creek. It seemed boring by comparison with where we were headed. I was going to learn to surf like the pros in the magazines.
Between looking out the widows at the constant scenery, listening to the radio, or snoozing in the hot sun, Blaine and I played with each other’s penises on and off. We did it from somewhere north of Taree to the outskirts of Port Macquarie, where we stopped for a much-delayed lunch. Not that we wanked all the time, because we didn’t. A lot of the time, we merely sat side by side, holding each other. Blaine was the brother I never had. I was always content just to be close to him. Touching each others’ penises brought us even closer together, but what I relished was his friendship.
By the time we reached Port Macquarie, I was used to being half naked in front of them. Indeed, I enjoyed the sense of freedom. There was also the sheer naughtiness of being bare in a car doing 60 to 70 mph, something that was very appealing to a boy whose natural instincts for mischief had been stifled by living in a home dominated by women. It was fun, sitting in Byron’s car, the warm breeze blowing over my bare legs, my penis in that semi-hard state that came when it felt good but I was too lethargic to go the rest of the way and finish off.
My dyed scrotum was a source of continuing amusement. Every time I looked down and saw the patch of dark blue skin under my penis, I smiled. I smiled whenever I saw Blaine’s scrotum as well. That part of our bodies certainly looked funny, no doubt about it. However, it also marked us as being initiated, although what I had been initiated into was only slowly becoming apparent. So far, it seemed to be worth the doing.
“Hey Bruce? I think I finally found something smaller than your brain,” Blaine chortled.
Bruce swivelled around in his seat. Blaine was fondling my testicles at the time. He pulled the pouch outward, pressing one of my testicles into the skin.
“See,…. I’ve always figured your brain was about the size of a marble,” Blaine joked. “But now I see I was wrong.”
“You’re close,” Bruce warned.
“Don’ t you want to know why?”
“Why?” Byron asked with a chuckle.
“Well, see I reckon Allie’s ball is the same size as Bruce’s brain so we’re talking smaller than a marble.” Blaine laughed gleefully. “Actually, his nuts might even be bigger.”
“They probably are, but there are two of them,” Byron said, still laughing.
“So that means that Allie must be twice as smart as Bruce.”
“Mmmm. That must mean he thinks with his balls as well,” Byron joked. “I know Bruce does, especially when it comes to his sex life.”
“I didn’t know you had to think in order to wank,” I said.
There was a momentary silence and then everyone laughed.
“Yeah, go Allan,” Byron said encouragingly. “That’s more like my kind of boy. Now, if we can just get you to say ‘fuck’,…” he taunted.
“Go on, Allie. Do it. Say f-u-c-k,” Blaine teased.
“Rack off!” I had to take a breath in order to say it, so deeply ingrained was the prohibition against swearing in the home that I had I grown up in. “Okay. Fuck,” I said quietly.
“Don’t fart-arse around, Bunny. If you’re going to say it, it’s got to be loud enough to fucking hear. Say it louder,” Bruce laughed.
“Geez. I just want to make sure I heard you say it.”
He didn’t sound serious. It was all part of the game. However, if he wanted to make me say it louder, I was perfectly willing to oblige. I took another breath, deeper than before. I filled my lungs.
“FUCK!” I shouted at the top of my unbroken voice.
“Ripper mate!” Byron laughed. “Hey, now we got you started, let's hear you say,… Hm,… give me a sec. Let me think of a good one,… only nothing to do with sheilas, ‘cause we don’t want him getting embarrassed, do we? Hm, about,... I don’t know. What should we have him say next, guys?”
“How about,… ‘suck my cock’?” Bruce suggested. He made it sound crude, exciting too.
“Good one. That’ll be it then! Say suck my cock, Cuddlepie. We dare you.”
“Why do I have to say that?” I demanded.
It wasn’t so much the words as a part of me still didn’t want to accept that they knew what Blaine and I did, even though he told them that I had sucked his cock and he sucked mine. Saying it was like confirming it. It was supposed to be a secret. To make matters worse, the situation was getting out of hand. My face became hot.
“Why? Hm, because,…” Byron pretended to ponder the reason.
“So he’ll know what to say the next time he wants his dick sucked,” Bruce suggested brazenly. “He might as well practice saying it.”
Byron laughed so hard I thought he was going to let go of the steering wheel. “That’ll work. I can’t wait to hear him say it.” He raised his voice to a Tiny Tim falsetto, imitating my voice as best he could. It sounded funny even to me. “Suck my cock, please Blainey? Please.”
“That’ll be the day,” I returned, miffed that he would even suggest such a thing.
Byron ignored my reaction. “Okay, boy-o, let’s get serious here. It’s as easy as falling off a log. All you have to do is take another deep breath and say in a nice loud voice, ‘suck my cock’ so we can all hear it.”
I hadn’t realised that he noticed what I did in order to say ‘fuck’. Still, for some reason I didn’t understand at the time, and to this day I still don’t, I did what he told me to.
“Suck my cock,” I said in a rush.
“Okay!” Byron exclaimed. “That's my boy.”
Blaine guffawed. He smirked back at me, his eyes playful yet intense. “Yeah! Right on. I’ll even do it too. I’ll suck your cock, if you want me to, Allie.”
“I didn’t mean,…” I began.
“Hey, I dare you to, Blaine,” Bruce interrupted.
Blaine’s expression was mischievous. My expression was just plain embarrassed. I shook my head, warning Blaine not to try it. He kept smirking. Like most soon-to-be twelve-year-old boys, Blaine was always ready to take up a dare, but he had always been like that. It was one of the reasons why I liked him so much. He had what my grandmother called an overly adventurous spirit at the best of times, and a troublemaker at other times. It was no secret that she tolerated him only because he was my best friend.
“Let’s do it, Allie,” Blaine said gleefully.
“No way!” I almost said ‘no fucking way’ to express how I felt about it. There was no way I was going to that in front of them.
“It’s no big deal,” Byron reminded me, as if I needed reminding.
“It’s not like Blainey hasn’t given you head before,” Bruce added.
‘Head’? It was an expression I hadn’t heard before. “Huh?”
“He means I sucked your dong, you drongo,” Blaine explained. “It’s what they call it in the States. Come on, Al-man. All you have to do is sit back and enjoy it. You don’t have to do anything to me, not if you don’t want to.”
“Sheez!” I complained.
“Just for a jiffy?” Blaine said insistently. “For the dare, okay?”
“He’s not very keen on getting his dick sucked, is he?” Byron joked. “You sure he’s true blue, Blainey?”
“He is. He’s as keen as mustard to do stuff with me,” Blaine replied jovially. “The problem is he just doesn’t know about the rest of you weirdoes yet.”
“Okie dokie. Just don’t go getting him all hot under the collar,” Byron warned. “We don’t want him getting pissed off at us.”
“Sheez! I’m not hot under the collar.” My face was becoming hotter and hotter. I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t certain of anything at that point.
Blaine smiled at me and nodded slightly. Then, the bugger licked his lips, using his tongue to get them wet and slippery. I glared at him, my best friend. He nodded again and began to lean forward. We both knew that I would have to push him away in order to stop him. The excitement was overpowering. I wasn't about to do anything to stop him, even with an audience. The temptation was simply too great. It felt too nice. I tried to shake my head one last time. No way. I did the only thing I could. I looked out the window and tried to pretend it wasn’t happening.
However, it was happening. He blew warm air over my penis as his nose came closer. Suddenly, I realised it was moist air from his open mouth, and he was doing it deliberately so that I knew what he was about to do. Then, just as I was about to say ‘don’t do it’, the warm slipperiness of his tongue slid over the head of my penis. I tensed, waiting, anxious, afraid that he might really put it into his mouth and actually suck it, or worse, that he would not do it.
His lips nibbled on the head of my penis for a second or two as if he was kissing it. I could be sure of anything. Then, he popped the first half-inch of my penis inside his mouth. He held it there for a few more seconds, pulling his lips onto the head as if kissing it. When I didn’t stop him, his tongue began to move. He sucked and slobbered over the head. Just a little further inside and his teeth closed behind the rim, chewing lightly on the tender swollen bulb. I did the only thing I could under the circumstances. I closed my eyes and rested my right hand on top of Blaine’s head. His lips slowly sank further down my shaft, pulled back up just as leisurely, and then repeated the downward slide. The second time was better. It was slippery. I trembled at the feeling. I didn’t like rubbing my penis with long strokes because it made the skin sore, but it was different in Blaine’s mouth. There was no other feeling quite like it. It was warm and slimy, mixed with that wonderful softness inside his mouth, and above all, the delicious sensation of his tongue as it moved back and forth over my penis.
“Are they doing what I think they’re doing back there?” Byron asked Bruce. He sounded amused, even interested.
“You better believe it, By.” Bruce’s voice sounded like he had a bad case of holding back the giggles. “Right now, Blaine’s going down on him. It looks like he’s doing it all the way too, at least from where I’m sitting.”
“Now, that’s what I call pure boy joy,” Byron announced. He sounded amused.
“Yeah, I’d say that’s pretty much right on the mark. He’s got the biggest grin plastered on his mug.”
“Which one’s got the grin?” Byron teased.
“The birthday boy.”
“Yeah. He looks like he’s as happy as Larry about now. Besides the board up top, getting his dick sucked will probably the best present he'll get this year.”
“Ha! From that description it sounds a bit like you at Narrabeen in '65.” Byron laughed.
“Of course, you. I seem to remember you got sucked pretty good after it was over, Brucey. “
“Yeah, I did, didn't I? I didn't believe he'd do fucking do it either.”
“I’d sure like to see what’s going on back there, but I’m afraid if I take a gander I’ll prang the car. So how's it going, back there? Feels pretty damned nice, huh Allan?”
I ignored him. It was difficult enough, sitting there with them knowing what Blaine was doing to me. I felt my face getting hotter and hotter, and it wasn’t from the sun.
“There’s nothing to be ashamed about, you know mate. It’s not wrong for a normal healthy boy to like having his cock sucked.” He paused, letting that sink in for a few seconds. “Even if it’s with another boy,…” he added as he pointedly turned to look at Bruce. “That’s right, isn’t it mate?”
“Yep,” came Bruce immediate response. “You know Adam, just about every guy I know has done something with his mates. It’s cool. See it’s not like they all do it the time like poofters, so it’s okay.”
There was that word again. It stung, even when it wasn’t used in reference to me. I had a vague feeling, my instincts telling me to make Blaine stop while I still had some control over what was happening. I tensed, considering whether I should push Blaine’s head away. My penis was beginning to tingle the way it did when I started to get close to orgasm. I felt the first warning throb as the pressure grew in my groin. Blaine felt it too. His head moved slightly, lifting back until my penis was no longer pressed against his tongue and cheek. I quivered, wanting him to continue, to stop. I didn’t know what I wanted. My hand moved of its own accord, then tightened on Blaine’s shoulder to stop his gentle up and down movements. I wasn’t certain of anything any longer.
“It’s okay, Allan,… Don’t get uptight on us. Bruce’s right on. Guys mess around all the time. Sure, a few of them are poofters, but it’s not the same, not when you’re as close to each other as you two are,” Byron said softly. He seemed to understand what I was thinking.
I glanced up to the mirror and met his eyes. He was an adult, yet I saw reassurance, even encouragement
“You’ve only just turned eleven, Cuddlepie. Hell, it’ll be five or six years before you have a fucking girlfriend, especially going to Sydney Grammar.”
Sydney Grammar School, like Edgecliff Preparatory was all-boys. There wasn’t a girl to be seen, unless you included a few women teachers who dared to venture into the otherwise all male precinct. There was a sister school, and an occasional dance, but those were for older boys, the fifth and sixth formers. It was common knowledge at Edgecliff that younger boys made do with each other, although no one ever admitted to it.
“My point is, mate, getting off with your best friend is the next best thing to getting laid. There’s nothing wrong with a couple of guys doing stuff when they’re young and horny.”
“Then why does everyone make jokes about homos?” I blurted out.
“Because they don’t know what they’re missing,” Bruce joked.
Byron laughed. “Yeah, you got that right. See, Cuddlepie, Bruce knows what he’s talking about. A lot of guys are too uptight to try stuff with their mates, but not you. It’s one of the things I really like about you. The point is, messing around with another guy is not something you want everyone to know about, that’s for sure. Don’t start telling, otherwise the word will get around, guaranteed. What Blaine’s doing to you isn't something to be ashamed about, that’s for sure,” he continued.
Blaine was obviously listening as well. Even though his mouth was full and he couldn’t answer, he still bobbed his head up and down. It felt wonderful, even better than the first time, although his lips were barely moving on my penis. I patted his head like he was an obedient dog and murmured ‘good boy’. I did it quietly so that Bruce and Byron could not hear. He giggled from around my penis, lifting higher until his lips pressed into the groove below the head. His tongue wriggled over the tip and then he slowly eased back down, further and further until my penis was all the way back inside his mouth. He held it there for a long while before he began to vary the suction. It felt nice, infinitely better than using his hand, there was no way of getting past it. And it felt natural too, as if my penis was supposed to be inside Blaine’s mouth. It felt a lot better than masturbating, although with seemingly constant practice Blaine and I had developed wanking to a high level.
With growing amusement, I actually wondered how we were able to go so long without doing it in each other's mouths. I put it down to ‘ignorance is bliss’, but ignorance was long gone. Bliss was now a matter of sitting in the sun and getting your penis sucked by your best friend. I watched the back of Blaine’s head. There were curls of hair at his ears, but the rest was straight and shiny. It was bleached lighter at the ends by the surf and sun, but it was still a long way from being blond like mine. Minutes passed, perhaps longer. The tingles returned, became throbs, exquisitely sensitive, almost painful. His mouth came away, his hand sped up, then slowed suddenly as my body suddenly tensed. Blaine stopped only seconds before my penis began to jerk. The feelings of an imminent explosion faded away. There was one time before when he did that, teasing me until I could barely stand it. That time, my penis became bloated and didn’t resume its normal size until late at night.
I groaned and nodded, signalling that he wasn’t to stop, that I wanted him to keep on doing it. Instead, he licked it like a lollipop and used his lips in a different way, working up and down the shaft in dots. It felt like he was kissing it. In a matter of a few seconds, I wanted him to do that forever it because it felt so nice. Without much interest, because my mind was in that semi-conscious state of sexual arousal, I half-tuned into the conversation in the front of the car.
“…. So what do you reckon? Am I on the right track, or headed to Bullamakanka?” Bruce asked quietly.
“Hm, let’s just say that from where I’m sitting, I’d say you’re onto something good for sure. Maybe even your very own little Honda, I reckon. Red hot and throbbing, I reckon.”
Bruce laughed. “For real?”
“Yes, for fucking real. What’s more, I’ll give you damned good odds it’ll go exactly the way you want, mate. Ten to one says you'll make out big time before too long.”
“You reckon?” Bruce sounded hopeful, even eager.
“Reckon? Bloody hell! It’s as obvious as a fucking turd in a bathtub, man.” Byron glanced at Bruce. Perhaps he winked, but from where I was sitting I wasn’t certain. He certainly smirked.
“So, um,… well what do you reckon I ought to do?” Bruce was so nervous he didn’t sound like Bruce at all.
Byron laughed softly. “Jesus! Do I have to write it down for you? It hasn’t been that long ago since you were on the receiving end yourself,” he added with a sly chuckle.
His eyes flicked up to the mirror and after a momentary surprise he smiled back at me. From my confused expression he could see I was listening, but not really understanding what they were talking about. Were they talking about surfing? The competition was always extreme at Narrabeen. My ears pricked up for helpful hints. I was eager to learn all there was to know about surfing.
“Yeah, trust me. Your chances are real good this trip. I’d say you’re in like Flint. Just don't screw it up when you're getting close,” Byron added quietly. His eyes flickered away from the mirror.
Bruce laughed without warning. Whatever it was that was funny completely bypassed me. He twisted around just as suddenly in his seat and for several seconds his eyes wandered over me. I had the distinct impression that he was trying to see what his brother was doing to me, trying very hard to see what was hidden by Blaine’s head, although there could be no doubt from his bent-forward position. Fortunately, Blaine’s head was positioned so that he couldn’t see. His brother’s lips were cushioned against my crotch. My penis was all the way inside his mouth. If felt like something melting, both soft and mushy as his tongue moved over my testicles.
Even if he couldn’t see anything, Bruce still grinned at me. It was only for a moment. When he was certain that I was aware he was looking at me, he deliberately licked his lips. It made me feel uncomfortable for a reason that I did not understand. For an instant, I wondered whether it was supposed to mean that he wanted to be doing what his brother was doing. I shrugged, not believing that was even remotely possible, yet deep inside I think I wanted to believe that was what he meant.
"It’s looking real good if you ask me, especially from where I'm sitting. Just remember that patience is a virtue, mate," Byron said quietly.
“Yeah,…. so far….,” Bruce said pointedly.
Then, turning, he gave me a knowing smirk. I frowned back at him, not because I realised what they were talking about.
“No shit. Just trust me on this. You'll be doing it all before much longer."
"Yeah. In fact, from the looks of it I’d say you’re off to a gang-buster start already.”
“Yeah, I hope so.” Bruce almost sounded breathless.
“Too bloody right. I reckon you’ll be doing the biggie before too long, no more than a couple of days, that’s for sure.”
“Yeah. Remember what I said yesterday. Take it slow and work up to it, mate. Don’t rush it. There’s no surer way of ruining your chances. There's nothing scarier than your first time.”
Bruce nodded thoughtfully. “So, um, like when do think I ought to make a move?”
“That's up to you. I can tell you one thing and it’s about as obvious as the nose of your face,” Byron said mysteriously.
“Yeah? What’s that”
He laughed suddenly. “Hm,... Let’s put it this way. It’s not like you need to be worrying about competing with sheilas.”
It took a moment or two before Bruce laughed in response.
“For sure, I reckon. I’d say 100 percent sure based on what I’ve seen so far,….” Byron added as he glanced up to the rear vision mirror. He was still smiling like something was amusing me. “How’s it going back there, Cuddlepie?” he asked me.
“Um. Okay,” I replied as nonchalantly as I could under the circumstances.
Byron laughed. “I can’t fucking believe it. He’s getting his dick sucked by a McIntyre and all he can say is ‘okay’? You’d better work on your technique, Blainey. You’re not still embarrassed, are you?” he asked me.
“No!” I answered guiltily. I felt my face getting hot again. Part of me wanted Blaine to stop. The rest of me wanted him to keep on doing it.
That produced another laugh. A few seconds passed. “I reckon I know your problem, mate. You’re uptight!” Byron said.
“Uptight. You know,…” He searched for an explanation. “Uptight. It means, well, like you’re worried about doing stuff. Mostly it's because you don’t know very much because you're still so young. You just need to learn a few things about sex and you’ll be okay.”
I shrugged, but when I looked up I met Byron’s reassuring all-knowing eyes in the mirror. He was watching me. He seemed to know exactly what I was thinking.
“After you spend a day or two hanging around these two pervs, she’ll be right. So tell us what you know about s-e-x?”
He spelled it out using a sing-song voice that made it sound ridiculous.
“Um, like it’s no big deal?” I parroted.
“Ha! Hey, the country boy’s smart as hell as well as being a real cutie pie. Most boys would have forgotten that by now.”
“So which is it, By? Cutie pie or Cuddlepie?” Bruce asked.
“I’ll tell you after we’ve cuddled for a while, mate. Actually, I wasn’t thinking of it being a big deal, even though it’s true. What I was going to say was that despite what your oldies might say, having sex is a hell of a lot more fun than not having sex."
That made me grin. It also made sense. It explained the 'big deal' that was always being made about sex.
"See, they have to tell you a bunch of lies and shit so you don't do it, because, see, they know if you get some, you’ll want to get some more. So you keep on doing it. Now grown ups, having told you not to do it, they go off and fuck each other stupid. What you have to keep in mind, mate, is the sooner you start having sex, the better you are at it.”
“Geez, lay off it, By. You’re making it sound like he needs to get himself laid by some sheila or something,” Bruce interjected. He sounded bitter.
“Yeah, right, like I even mentioned the subject. Hey, Cuddlepie, you got a girl friend yet?” Byron asked boldly.
“I’m eleven. I go to an all-boys school in case you forgot. I don’t even know any girls my age so I’m not going to get a girlfriend in the foreseeable future,” I rebuked
I felt like pointing out that other than little Katie Tattersall, I didn’t know any girls, full stop. Still, my reply earned a laugh which made me feel a bit better. I thought about adding that I didn’t even like girls, but I wasn’t sure that was funny.
“Pigs will fly before Allie get a girl,” Blaine snorted amid a fit of giggles.
“That’s kind of what I thought. Just play it loosie-goosie, Brucey. Anyway, if you must know, I wasn’t talking about him having sex with girls,” Byron replied casually.
He glanced at Bruce before he turned back to driving. A few moments later he laughed.
“That’s the last thing he's interested in right now. Don’t get me wrong, Allan, but getting a bit of fanny every so often is important when you get to be Bruce’s age. If you don’t, well, people might start thinking you’re a poofter.”
“I’m not,” I retorted.
“I didn’t say you were. The thing is, see, you’re better off giving the opposite sex a wide berth for as long as possible. Your dick’s a whole lot happier in your hands, even if you have to wank a dozen times a day,” he added with a chuckle.
“There he goes with the ‘huhs’ again,” Bruce teased. “You’d better spell it out for him, Byron, or we’ll be here all fucking day.”
“Okay.” Byron paused to get his thoughts in order. “First off, Cuddlepie, if you get a girl knocked up, your life is fucking over,…Speaking of which, have you guys heard this one? What's the difference between a pregnant woman and a light bulb?”
“You can unscrew the light bulb,” Blaine and Bruce chorused.
“Gee, thanks for spoiling it. Okay, how about this one? Why was alcohol invented?”
“So fat, ugly women can get a root too,” Bruce chimed in.
“Fucking hell. I only just heard that one myself,” Byron complained.
“Actually Dad told us that one last week,” Blaine laughed.
“Trust him to spread my jokes around like confetti. I should have known with you two dick heads. Speaking of dicks, Why do dogs lick their dicks?”
“They like the taste?”
“Fuck no. Because they can. Now, if dog food tastes so bad, why do dogs eat it?”
“To get rid of the taste of their dicks.”
We all laughed.
“Anyway, where was I going?” Byron asked when the noise ended.
“Why women were a problem for guys,” Bruce suggested
“You know why God invented them, in the first place don't you? Because sheep can't cook. I bet Allan's heard that one lots of times. Anyway, Take it from me. You get married and right away she drops a baby in your lap. The next thing is you have more kids.”
“We’re talking your worst fucking nightmare,” Bruce interjected.
“It's a bad scene all right, but that’s not the worst of it. There’s lots of other reasons.”
“Like what?” I asked curiously.
“Well,….” Byron paused again. “For one thing, girls don’t understand anything of what guys feel. Not a damned thing. They have no idea what we need. For them it’s all about the fucking relationship, and nothing about the fucking.”
He stressed ‘relationship’ so much that it sounded ridiculous. I smiled, paying more attention, vaguely wondering why my mother and grandmother never remarried. Fortunately, my concentration was aided by the fact that Blaine stopped sucking my penis. Instead, his lips were barely closed over the tip, teasing it very lightly with his tongue. His warm cheek was resting on my thigh. It still felt very nice. I tried to decide whether a girl would do what Blaine had done, what he was still doing even if it wasn’t quite as enthusiastic as earlier.
“For instance, most guys don’t know it, but the last thing a girl wants to do is suck your dick,” Byron said quietly. It was as if he could read my mind. “Most of them will do it if you ask, but it’s not the same.”
“Plus you have to take them to some posh restaurant or somewhere to get them in the mood,” Bruce added.
“You got that right, Bruce. And even if she does it, it’s pretty much a waste of time. Hm, how best to put this? See, guys have the same equipment so they know exactly what to do to make it feel good.”
“I suppose,” I ventured warily. It seemed to make sense.
“Okay. Let’s take you and Blaine. You both have pretty much the same equipment,… well, different versions of it anyway.”
He laughed. So did Bruce. I wondered whether he was laughing at me.
“Blainey has the standard McIntyre dick, see. It’ll end up about average length, but it’s a hell of a lot thicker than what most guys have. By the time he’s full-grown it’ll hurt going in and you’ll end up with bruises, but you’ll know you’ve been fucked afterwards.” He laughed. “Nothing like being bow-legged after a good fuck, is there Bruce.”
“Too right,” Bruce agreed.
“On the other hand, you’ve got the sporty model, Allan. It’s made to go fast and furious, and the best thing is, with a good push it’ll slide right on into the tightest hole. You’ll be able to get it into Blaine as deep as you want and still have an inch or two left over.”
I gulped. My face was getting hotter and hotter and it wasn’t because of the sun coming through the window, although that certainly didn’t help. It sounded as if he was talking about Blaine and me having sex, doing what poofters did. Until then, I couldn’t even begin to imagine doing something like that with Blaine, and yet,….
Without warning, Blaine began sucking and nibbling on my testicles, pulling against the skin with his teeth as his tongue prodded and poked. In an instant, I wanted Byron to stop talking, to let the subject drop, but he was on a roll and wasn’t about to stop. Like the car, he was doing seventy miles an hour. I felt like I was rushing headlong into the unknown. Perhaps because I was so young, I really didn’t understand, but that didn’t stop me from being embarrassed.
Bruce swivelled around and laughed crudely, more at my expense, I thought, than at anything that was amusing. Perhaps it was the expression on my face that made him laugh.
“See, I’m not sure he gets it, By,” Bruce said suggestively.
Blaine ceased sucking on my testicles and lifted his head away from my saliva-covered groin. He wiped his lips, grinning at me.
“The only thing Harding gets is cars, By, so he probably doesn’t,” he joked.
He flipped at my wet penis. It was so stiff that it barely bounced. I could not remember it being hard for so long.
“Cars,… and getting his dick sucked,” he snickered.
“Cars huh? Okay, I reckon I can work with that. Hm,… let me think about it. If dicks were cars,… hm,… let’s use Ford since we’re sitting in one right now. Okay, I’ve got it. The McIntyre dick would be a station wagon pretty much like this one, wouldn’t it Bruce?” Byron guffawed. “It would have to be fitted out with a 302 for those really hard drives.”
He laughed. So did Bruce. I didn’t see what was so amusing .
“Or when you need to make long trips,” Bruce suggested.
“And don’t forget the times when you need some extra power to get up to speed quickly,” Blaine added boldly.
Both Byron and Bruce laughed. I didn’t get the humour in Blaine’s comment, yet I still smiled because it was obviously supposed to be funny.
“Especially when it's tight.”
“Yeah, man you got that right. I know what I'm talking about when it comes to fucking tight ones, Bruce. You're talking with one of the world's leading experts on the subject, right Blainey?”
Blaine didn't answer. Instead, he nodded energetically.
“I reckon he's pretty much got himself a mouthful back there,” Byron laughed. “See, Allan, the McIntyre might not be all that much to look at, but it’s a whole lot bigger than most guys where it counts.”
“He's not talking about wanking either,” Bruce cut in.
“Too right mate. When it’s inside, I reckon it's just about perfect.”
Byron stressed ‘inside’ as if it was somehow important. I had no idea of what he was talking about, however, Bruce almost gagged. He laughed so hard that it was impossible not to laugh as well. It took a long while before anyone could speak.
“Yeah, but especially inside a little cutie, huh Bruce?” Byron said very quietly.
Again, I didn’t understand, but I didn’t think much about it at the time except that they were talking about me. It was obvious I wasn’t supposed to hear what followed because he whispered it. I even learned forward, worried that they would find me eavesdropping. However, it probably wouldn’t have bothered either of them.
"I’m not joking, mate. You better be real fucking careful when you do it the first couple of times. It's going to as tight as a two-year-old twat."
Again, I didn’t understand. More than likely, Byron or Bruce didn’t realise that I overheard either comment. On the other hand, it would not have mattered because I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Okay, I get it.”
“I hope so, mate. Just don't go getting all excited and forget the whole point is for him to like doing it.”
“So what about Allan’s spaghetti dick?” Bruce asked suddenly. “What would that be?”
My penis was thin, but it wasn’t so thin that it could be called 'spaghetti dick', at least as I thought about it. Not that I’d seen a lot of other boys’ penises to know otherwise, but the few that I had seen weren't a whole lot different to mine. Whenever we went surfing at Maroubra, we had to use the changing room at the beach before we were allowed to get back in the car for the return trip. There was often a period of a few seconds while we were naked when we checked each other out. However, of the few penises that I had seen, mine was definitely the thinnest.
“Hm,… Help me out here, guys. What’s a small car with high performance. It’s got to be a Ford that’s capable of bigger things?” Byron joked. “And don’t say a GT-fucking-40!”
I would have liked to have said an E-type Jaguar, since it was my favourite car. However, it had to be a Ford. For a moment I thought about a Falcon GT like the one Allan Moffat drove at Bathurst. I liked to pretend that I had been named after him. Although I hero-worshipped Allan Moffat, my fantasies never extended as far as him being the father I never knew.
“How about a Cortina GT?” I suggested after a little more thought.
“What?” Bruce joked. “You’re joking.”
“A pissy little Cortina with high performance?” Byron asked.
“The GT’s got a 1600 cc engine you know,” I reminded him with surplus confidence. I took my cars very seriously. Then, realising that they probably thought that a Ford 1600 cc engine was next to useless, I added, “And it comes with extractors and twin Su carbs. It’ll do over 95. If you get it fitted with a 45 mm Weber and a head job it’ll do close to one-ten.”
One hundred and ten miles an hour wasn’t an exaggeration. Only the last month there had been a test track report on a GT Cortina that recorded 109 mph. It was almost in the realm of Lotus Cortina performance, and it did it without the twin overhead cams.
“Yeah. Down a fucking hill," Bruce sneered.
I giggled, but not because of anything that Bruce said. I felt fingers tugging at my testicles, then a feeling of being enclosed, very hot and almost uncomfortably compressed down there. A moment passed before I realised that Blaine managed to get both of them into his mouth, along with my penis. Oh my God, was the only though in my mind! It was the strangest feeling. For a second or two I wondered whether that was how a baby felt when it was still inside its mother, a warm contained feeling, a sense of belonging. It was all I could do not to sigh contentedly, or worse, to groan as the best feelings I had ever known surged through my body.
Byron laughed. Luckily, no one heard me.
“A Cortina GT? Yeah, I guess that comes close to Allan's skinny dick, at least for now,” he added slyly. Just give it a couple of years though and Master Harding here will be more like a Falcon GT. Actually, I was thinking of something even sportier for him,… um,… like that new Yank car.”
“The Mustang?” I suggested hopefully. I liked the Mustang’s shape even though I yet to see one in the flesh.
“Yeah, that’s the one. The pony car, that’s what they call it in the States, don’t they?” He didn’t wait for my answer. “See, the thing is, mate, all those cars may look pretty different, but they’re still Fords, right?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” I ventured.
“Well, the same is true of dicks. All guys have the same parts. We’ve all got dicks and a pair of balls. They work pretty much the same, no matter what the look like. When Blaine plays with your dick and you play with his, you get the exact same feelings. It doesn't matter if one's bigger than the other, or one's fatter. They're still dicks.”
Without thinking why, I glanced down at Blaine. I worshipped him. There was no other way of expressing my feelings for him. His hair was unkempt and badly in need of a comb, as my grandmother would say. Tousled, mussed up, shiny in the sun, burrowed between my thighs, his tongue swirling and slurping, and always that fabulous wet heat inside his mouth. We were best friends, or were we more than that? Sometimes we were even teased about being twins that were separated at birth. We were that close.
The strangest thing of all was that he always seemed to know what to do before I wanted him to do it. And not only when we did sex stuff, but everything. It was as if we communicated without words, as if we were so close that our minds were tied together. And now, as he held my sex organs inside his mouth, it wasn’t bad or wrong, but intensely satisfying. It wasn't like he was discovering how to make me feel good there. It was if he already knew what to do. It was only the second time that he had done it yet somehow, I knew that it would happen again and again.
“See, with both of you being guys, you and Blaine know what you like”
“Huh?” I came back to earth.
“Only guys know how to make each other feel good, Cuddlepie. There’s no way a girl knows how to do that, at least not nearly as good as a guy.”
Byron nodded convincingly. “You got it, boy-o." he paused for a moment. "Now, the other thing about having sex, despite what your friends at school might say, is that it’s normal for guys to play around together. Right Allan?”
He waited for my reaction. “Yeah, I guess,” I answered uncertain as to what I was agreeing to.
“Trust me, Allan, messing around with a mate or two doesn’t mean you’re a poofter. All it means is you’re horny and you need to get off. And I’ll tell you something else in case you haven’t figured it out for yourself, okay? It’s a hell of a lot more fun doing it with someone else than wanking by yourself. I reckon just about every boy your age messes around with his friends. You and Blainey-boy are no exception. It’s even more important not to have hang-ups about sex when you're young. You know why, don't you?”
I managed a feeble shrug.
“Because messing around with your best friend is the only sex you're going to get.”
I gulped and kept my face averted as heat travelled up my neck. Like hell they weren’t going to talk about what Blaine and I did together. No one noticed my embarrassment.
“As far as I’m concerned the guys who don’t like doing it with their mates aren’t worth knowing. That’s true, isn’t it Bruce?”
“Too bloody right!”
“See, Cuddlepie, the one really important thing about is sex is this. Whatever you do with your mates, it’s okay,… just so long as you both want to do it. Like when you and Blaine wank each other. It’s okay because you both want to do it. That’s why it’s no big deal. Sucking each other’s dicks is no different. You just use your mouth instead of your hand. If you want to do it and you enjoy it, then I say go for it!”
He made it all sound so simple. I swallowed. At the time, I didn’t know what a hedonist was, but that was what Byron was. He lived for life’s pleasures, unlike my grandmother, and my mother too, to a lesser degree. To my slowly maturing mind, it was becoming increasingly obvious that they lived to avoid the pleasures of life. My grandmother blamed her prudence on the Depression, when Brindajari was in dire straits, as she put it, and they had to go without things like soap. She used to make lye soap from lamb fat. As her only child, my mother had no choice but to follow in her footsteps.
“Man, I’m getting bored looking at fucking gum tress,” Byron announced.
He had one hand on the wheel. His other hand seemed to be in his lap, but I couldn’t see what he was doing, short of looking over his shoulder.
“You know Allan, sex and surfing are a lot the same,” he said after a while.
I fell for it. “How so?”
“Well, it’s all about getting off. They both give you a release, you know what I mean? The thing is learning how to do it properly. Like with surfing, see? Just about anyone can get on a board, but it’s a whole different can of board wax when you can do it properly. Once you learn how to catch the perfect wave and ride it all the way to the shore, your heart’s pounding non-fucking-stop because there’s no other thrill like it.”
“Once you’re up and you’ve got control of the wave, all your problems go away and you live for the moment,” Bruce added.
“Ain’t that the truth. It’s what life’s all about, except having sex, that is. And fucking, well it’s always over too quickly, just like riding a wave.” Byron laughed at that and nudged Bruce with his elbow.
“Yeah, you got that right,” Bruce agreed wholeheartedly. “Now he can spunk you better teach Blainey how to make it last.”
“I plan on doing exactly that once we get settled in.” Byron shared a sideways glance at Bruce. They smiled at each other.
“Hm, okay, now we’re on the topic, what else does an eleven-year-old cutie-pie need to know about sex?” Byron joked. “We can’t have him staying all innocent for the next three weeks, now can we?”
“No way,” Bruce chorused.
“Well, like I said, it’s just like surfing, Al-baby, so you need someone to teach you how to do it properly. That’s especially true if you’re going to be good at it,… like Blainey. I’m assuming you want to get past pounding your pud?”
“He means wanking,” Bruce explained.
I gave another feeble, but very embarrassed shrug. With Blaine’s mouth around my private parts, and having done the same thing to him only a night earlier, it seemed that there wasn’t much else left for me to learn.
“See, Cuddlepie, there’s lots of guys who get on a board and teach themselves how to stand up. I’m not saying that’s bad, and most of them eventually ride okay, but they don’t have technique. Along the way they learn a lot of bad habits, because there’s no one around to teach them how to do it properly. They do all right, mind you, but there’s never any style worth looking at, at least not the kind of style at that wins championships.” Byron paused for a while. “Do you know why Bruce got his third place at Narrabeen, mate?”
“Because he was the best surfer there,” I returned promptly. “He would have won if he had a better wave at the end.”
“Right on. That would have helped no end. His last ride was a bitch for scoring points. It broke way too early. Fucking suds all over the damned place. The thing is, he still scored points because he had style, Allan. Sure, there were other guys who had lots better waves, and most of the finalists were getting better rides at the end of the day, but they looked bloody awful compared to him. The two who beat him had style too, so they weren’t just lucky. They just didn't have as much style as Bruce. The thing is, luck helps, but it’s style that counts…” Byron chuckled and nudged Bruce’s thigh. “See, well, what I’m trying to say is it’s the same with sex. To be able to do it properly, what you need is someone to teach you.”
“Right on! They ought to teach fucking at high school instead of P.E.,” Bruce joked.
“That’ll be the day. Talk about the blind leading the blind,” Byron quipped. “Most of the teachers I had at school wouldn’t know what to do with a dick, not even their own, let alone someone else’s. Here’s my point. If you want to learn how to do something properly, you need a good teacher, someone who's young and knows what to do, not some old pervert who only wants to get his hands on your dick.”
Bruce laughed in agreement. I smiled uncertainly. If he thought what Byron said was funny, then so did I, even if I couldn’t see what was amusing.
“Ahem. See, Blainey knows enough now to give you a few pointers about surfing. The same pretty much goes for doing sex stuff with him. That’s true for most guys your age. Boys mostly learn about sex by messing around with their friends, Allan,” Byron continued. “Now don’t go getting me wrong. There’s nothing wrong with guys wanking with their mates, that’s for sure.”
“Just about every guy alive has done it with his mates at some time or other, but you sure wouldn’t know it from talking to them,” Bruce agreed wholeheartedly.
I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to comment or not. None of my friends at school talked about what they did, or didn’t do, but then Blaine and I didn’t talk about what we did together either. The ‘poofter’ epithet was all too quickly applied.
“See, it’s like you and Blainey right now. I can guarantee he’s giving you a blow job that better than any girl could,” Byron added pointedly.
He nodded his head up and down, mimicking Blaine, making certain that I got the point that there was nothing wrong with what Blaine and I did.
“I guess,” I said reservedly. Blaine’s head almost stopped moving, which was probably a good thing because my penis was getting sore, even waterlogged. Still, I didn’t want him to stop, not completely.
“Too bloody right!” Bruce cut in. “Most girls are too hung up to do it properly.”
“The only thing I’ve got to say about you learning about sex with Blainey, Allan,… well,….” He paused and seemed to choose his words carefully. “… well, I mean it’s a bit like him teaching you how to surf, isn’t it?”
He gave me a few seconds to think about it. Sex was like surfing? It didn’t make much sense to me.
“Let’s put it this way. Would you rather have Blainey teach you how to surf,…. or someone older,… someone who really knows how to do it? Um,… Like me say, or even Bruce here?”
“You guys, of course,” I replied unequivocally. “There’s no comparison. You’re one of the top surfers in Australia.”
“See, that’s my point, mate. You wouldn’t want someone your own age teaching you how to surf instead of us, now would you? Even though Blainey’s your best friend, and he’s real good on a wave, especially for his age. I mean I reckon he’ll probably pick up a place in the top ten at Narrabeen in a year or two, but you’d still want someone to teach you who knows what’s what. That’s right, isn’t it Bruce?”
Most of what I knew about surfing was what Blaine taught me. He was a good teacher, but it was only because Bruce and his uncle taught him just about everything he knew. I was learning second-hand, but second-hand was better than nothing. Unquestionably, I also learned a few bad habits along the way. Having Byron and Bruce teach me how to surf was my dream come true.
“Fair go. He’s doing okay, but don’t push it,” Bruce agreed reluctantly.
At the time, he was staring out the window and did not seem to be paying much attention to what Byron was saying.
“He’s probably taught you a few things about sex by now too. I bet he has, hasn’t he?” Byron went on regardless.
I smiled, but I didn’t answer. There was too much going through my head at the time. Byron was right. Over the past year, Blaine taught me everything I knew about sex. For some reason I wasn’t embarrassed about that. My problem was that I wasn’t at all sure where the conversation was headed. I sat still and tried to understand why sex was so important. It seemed that sex was all we talked about since waking up. I didn’t know what to do, or say, or even think.
What I did know was the Blaine’s head was moving rhythmically, bobbing slowly up and down, his lips pulling firmly, then softly against the swollen head of my penis. If he kept doing I would ‘get the jerks’ before much longer. I could feel it happening in slow motion, getting closer and closer. The tip of my penis seemed to be a lot more sensitive than the rest of it, but when it was in his mouth instead of his hand, it was all I could do not to groan and sigh. By then, there was no friction at all, just slipperiness. No discomfort, just the wonderful soft wet heat inside Blaine’s mouth, the firm pressure of his lips just sliding up and down, up and down. It was so different to being rubbed by hand that I wanted it to never end.
“So, Cuddlepie, who do you want as a teacher?” Byron prompted.
I landed with a thump. “Huh? You, of course,” I answered promptly. “Or Bruce.”
Suddenly, I wasn’t at all sure that was the right answer because the analogy between learning about sex and learning how to surf was too close to be certain. What was he asking about? Surfing or sex? I had lost track, which shouldn’t have been surprising given what Blaine was doing to my penis. Both of them laughed, making me feel uncomfortable that Byron was referring to sex. The pressure faded. I wanted to groan. Instead, I closed my eyes and tried to block out what was happening. Things couldn’t get any worse. At the same time, they couldn’t get any better. Blaine’s tongue swirled over the tip of my penis as he held it gingerly between his teeth. He wasn’t biting, at least not hard enough to hurt, but I still winced. It was extremely sensitive there on the very tip.
His cheeks pulled in and he applied ever greater amounts of suction. Without warning the tingle was back, this time with a vengeance. I had to close my eyes and clench my jaws to avoid whimpering. The pleasure began to build, slowly at first , then in an endless rush that always preceded the climax. It seemed as if Blaine was drawing the strength out of my body simply by sucking on my penis, weakening me so that all I could do was to lie there and watch him do it. It was even better than what he’d done to be in his bedroom. How did he know to do it like that? I didn’t want to think about it.
It wasn’t just his mouth, I realised in a daze. His fingers cradled my testicles, squeezing them just hard enough that I wanted to squirm on the sticky sweat-slicked vinyl seat beneath me. However, if he showed any hint of stopping I would have demanded that he kept going. I was beyond stopping. I was getting close to the end. One of his fingers came dangerously close to my anus. It made me tremble. I was so close, so close to climax that my penis throbbed urgently. It grew even stiffer in his mouth. And in response Blaine squeezed harder, and sucked harder and faster, and bobbed his head up and down until I had to close my eyes and clench my teeth together so I wouldn’t cry out. Waves of delight surged through as my body strained upward, trembling constantly. The pressure grew and grew inside me. I could not remember it ever being like that. I did the only thing possible.
With my eyes closed I was able to concentrate a little more. It wasn’t much but I was able to use the muscles in my belly to lever my penis deeper into Blaine’s mouth. Sometimes we mimicked fucking when we masturbated each other, holding each other’s penises in our clenched hands and thrusting wildly. My pelvis jerked spasmodically, trying to find a rhythm amid a cacophony of sensations. I ached inside, straining to hold it back, or to get it out. It felt so good that it hurt. At that point I didn’t know what I wanted.
As if that wasn’t good enough, it kept getting better and better until the muscles in my thighs tensed and quivered from the stress. The explosion was inevitable. I felt like I was being lifted up, like I was going to burst at any moment. I gasped and finally began to groan, not knowing at the time that I was calling out Blaine’s name as I began to lose to control. My penis began to pulse wildly, sending feelings through me that were almost foreign. This wasn’t just the over-in-seconds tingling jerks that happened when Blaine and I masturbated either each other. This wasn’t the one or two quick spasms I was used to, but a frenzied series of erratic quaking bursts from deep inside me. I writhed frantically and grabbed Blaine’s head while my hips pumped and my penis stabbed back and forth through his lips.
Blaine’s head continued to move, but not as violently or as fast as it had been moving a few moments earlier. I stared down, watching it happen; my penis, shiny and wet, jumping up and down of its own accord as it slid in and out of Blaine’s mouth. The veins were swollen and purplish. It was bloated, the shaft bulging out just like the end of my penis. If the skin had been any tighter, it would have ripped. It glistened, stretched so taut that the head stood out even more. Painfully hard, red raw, throbbing. It had never been like that before. It disturbed me because the sensations that were centred on my groin were anything but painful. My testicles had shrivelled up so much that I couldn’t see much of anything underneath. There was just the slightest glimpse of blue skin on either side of my aching-with-delight penis.
Finally, when the throbbing between my legs stopped, I flopped back into the seat. Mostly, Blaine licked, dragging his tongue slowly up and down. I shuddered, still not believing that anything could feel like that. I was drained. I felt like I could barely move. Even my breathing was laboured.
Awkwardly, I pushed Blaine’s head away. His saliva drooled down my penis even as it began to wilt. For some reason I didn’t understand I covered my private parts with my hands. Blaine sat up and wiped the back of his hand over his lips, smearing away the wetness that had gathered there. He smirked at me knowingly, and for an instant we shared something that would always be special. Boys could be best friends, but they could never admit they loved each other. He licked his lips deliberately.
“Pretty good huh, Harding?” Byron asked with a giggle.
Suddenly, I realised that we weren’t alone. Bruce turned to look over his shoulder, and Byron was watching me again in the rear vision mirror. I didn’t like Bruce staring at me like that, or Byron either for that matter. It seemed like they were fascinated, that they liked what they saw. I glared back at Bruce, showing my displeasure, and he still stared. It took a while before anyone spoke.
“Man, that was a lot better than watching the telly,” Byron joked.
“It was neat, all right. Hell, I thought you were going to spunk at the end, Bunny.” Bruce sounded impressed, almost as if what Blaine and I had done was something to be proud of, not ashamed.
At that moment I wasn’t certain of anything any more. All I wanted to do was close my eyes and go to sleep.
Another fifty miles north on the Pacific Highway and I woke up. I raised my head enough to see out the window. Not much had changed although it was more than an hour later judging by the position of the sun. There were the same scraggly gum trees, the same barbed wire fences, the same dusty grass, the same everything. You had to travel a thousand miles before anything changed in Australia, and even then there was no guarantee. Even I was bored by the scenery. For a while I dozed, half awake, half asleep, vaguely aware of the warmth of the sun on my bare legs, that Byron and Bruce were talking, yet not paying attention beyond appreciating the soft drone of their voices.
“…. He’s got a nice bod, hasn’t he?”
“You’re not wrong. Yeah, a bod for a god, you might say.”
“Sh,… Man,… I can’t believe he’s starkers on the back seat. You’re right though. He’s so fucking sexy.”
“That he is, Brucey. That he is. He’s the fucking cat’s whiskers. And he’s as bald as a bandicoot to boot. I might have to swap you for a while, mate.”
“Fat chance! You’ll be waiting till the cows come home for that to happen. Eyes are one thing, but that's all. I don't mind you looking, but keep your hands off him, okay?”
“Okay, but now you see why I like ‘em young, don’t you mate?”
“Like? Man, is that the understatement of the year or what.”
“The way I see it, young means more fun.”
“Don’t you mean fuckable?”
“Yeah, that too. He’s hot and it isn’t from sitting in the sun! And the best thing is there’s no change of getting him up the duff.”
“Yeah, he's safe even if he looks like a girl. He’s hot all right.”
“So who needs birds, huh?”
“Not me. I still can’t believe he let Blaine suck him off for the best part of an hour with us sitting here. ”
“It’s not that surprising when you think about it. They’ve been best mates for ever.”
“He’s coming out of his shell too.”
“So you think I’ve got a shot?” Bruce asked anxiously.
“Jesus! On a bad day, we’re talking better than fifty-fifty. I can spot them like flies on a jumbuck, Bruce. It’s not like it’s rocket science. He’s been around women all his life, right?”
“Yeah, there’s just his mum and gran, at least that’s all he ever talks about. I don’t know exactly what happened to his old man? Mum said something about him being killed before he was born.”
“Okay, so no dad. The way I see it, he’s been babied non stop. More than likely he doesn’t know if he’s Arthur or Martha. Trust me, mate, he’s a poof. He’s not a pansy, that’s for sure, but he’s still as camp as a row of tents. If you ask me, he’ll jump into bed with you the first chance he gets.”
“Be sure of it. If I was you I’d start keeping some Brylcream handy just in case.”
“You reckon?” Bruce repeated. “Really? You’re pulling my leg.”
Byron laughed. “I’ve done that enough already, mate. Now it’s Blaine’s turn. Think about what happened earlier.”
“You mean in the dunny?”
“Yeah, that and Blainey’s blow job. You saw how long it took to get him out of his shorts.”
“Like ten seconds or less?”
“Not wrong. Man, you did see that tan line? He must have the cutest little cossie.”
“I've seen it before. It’s pretty tiny. He’s a real doll when he's wearing it. He's something else, isn't he.”
“He just needs a little shove at times to get him going in the right direction, Bruce. Just play your cards one at a time and don’t carry on like a pork chop. It’s all yours for the taking, mate. I give you a hundred to one, not only will he not be going home a virgin, but he'll be doing it as much as Blainey.”
“Break it down! No way.”
“You better start believing in your Uncle By. If you follow my advice, it’ll be a breeze getting into his pants.”
“Man, and I thought I had Buckley’s. You’re not having me on?”
“Nope. It’ll be Narrabeen round two, but you won’t be getting third place this time, Brucey. You’ll be in first place. Get it? In first?”
“Like shit on a dick! I can’t believe it.”
“Hey, take a gander back there and make sure he’s still out. I don’t want him hearing this. Blainey’s still off in la-la land too, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. They’re snoozing like babies. Blainey must have worn both of them out.”
“Yeah, I know that feeling. A good blow job will put me out for an hour. Now listen, you dopey bastard. He’s already got it bad for you, in case you didn’t know.”
“He fucking worships at your feet, mate. He’ll be all yours in a couple of days.”
“How can you tell?”
“Jesus, one look’s enough. He bloody idolises you, Bruce, and not just because you’re Blainey’s big brother. In case you haven’t noticed, he’s also as nervous as hell around you. I think that’s why he stammers when he’s speaking to you. He doesn’t do it with me or Blaine.”
“I sort of noticed that, but I wasn't sure. I don’t want to scare him off.”
“You don’t scare him. I said nervous for a reason, mate. See, I know why he feels like that. It’s because he doesn’t understand what’s going on. You were a bit the same way.”
“For a while, but you got over it pretty quick. Remember what Blaine said when we first talked about bringing him with us. He’s a bit of a loner. Plus he's a year younger than Blaine too, so he doesn’t know shit about sex.”
“So it’s our job to teach him, right?”
“See Bruce, this is all new to him so we need to go slow. Don’t spoil it by trying to jump him too soon. Let him hang around you for a while. Do that, and take it slow and I can just about guarantee that you’ll get it. His pants will be off in no time.”
“I figure the two of you will become mates in a day or two. It won’t take much longer than that before he wants to get it off with you.”
“You’re pulling my leg.”
“No way. Anyway, you’ve got too much hair on your legs. I like it smooth down there, remember?”
“Like a baby’s bum.”
“You got it. My advice is to be really nice to him, Brucey.”
“You think I ought to stop teasing him then?”
“Hell no. He might not act as if he likes it, but he wouldn’t be happy without it. You’re older so he expects to be treated like a kid. There’s something else you need to do. Tease him a bit about sex as well. He’s ready for it, only don’t make fun of him still being a kid.”
“So I shouldn’t say he’s got a tiny little dick?”
“Ha! That skinny dick of his will never be much of a bum stretcher, but give him a few years and it’ll be longer than yours is, Bruce. “
“So what else should I do, By?”
“Not a lot. He’s ready to fuck around, just like Blaine was this time last year. All it’s going to take is for someone like you to come along and give him a little push in the right direction.”
“More like a shove.”
“He won’t need a shove. I figure he’ll get more interested once he sees me doing stuff with Blaine. I expect he’ll probably have some hang-ups about it to start out. If he does, you need to reassure him.”
“The main thing is to let him know it’s what Blaine wants. Hell, tell him you messed around with me too when you were a kid, if you want to. He’s not going to tell anyone. Unless I’m as blind as a bat. It won’t take long for him to want to do the same things with you.”
“God, I hope so.”
“Just be patient for a couple of days, Bruce. After spending some time around us, he’ll be into it even more than you were the first year. My bet is he’ll be curious about what Blaine and I do, so that’ll be your chance. Play it cool, but your job is to take his mate’s place. It shouldn't be too hard.”
“He already likes being sucked off.”
“Who wouldn’t when they’ve been sucked off by Blainey. He’s even better at blow jobs than you were at that age, but then he’s had a lot more practice.”
“No shit. I can’t believe they did it with us sitting here.”
“I can. I was surprised it lasted that long. The horny little buggers were at it forever. Are you sure they’re still out to lunch?”
“Yes. He’s out for the count. He’s sleeping like a log back there.”
Then, I yawned, but it was only because I couldn’t stop myself. I was sufficiently awake, at least for the last few minutes to realise that they were talking about me even if I wasn’t tuned in more than that. My face was flushed and not from the heat.
“Am not asleep,” I mumbled.
Then, I started to wake up even more. Another yawn, a stretch, a gradual realisation that the heat on my legs extended up to my lower belly. I was sitting in the sun. Although I wasn’t completely naked, I wasn’t far from it.
“Where’s my shorts?” I grumbled.
“Assuming you aren’t wearing them, mate, then I’d start looking wherever you last saw them,” Byron joked from the front seat. “Of course there’s always the chance that old Brucey here gave your daks the heave-ho out the window.”
I scowled at Bruce. He smirked back. He gave me the thumbs up after he had a long look at my exposed parts. Then, he casually pointed to the crumpled clothing on the floor between the seats.
It was only then that I remembered what had happened before I fell asleep. I remembered things I would have much preferred to forget, like taking my board shorts off in the back seat of Byron’s car. That was embarrassing enough, but there more. A lot more. What I remembered next was much worse. Blaine sucked my penis and they watched. ‘Oh my God’, was all I could think of. I blushed and hastily dove down to retrieve my shorts.
“No sweat, Bunny. We’ve all see it by now,” Bruce joked. “It’s not like you’ve got something you need to hide from us.”
“He’s got a point there, mate,” Byron said. “See, the way I’ve got it figured, now that we’ve seen your dick up close, there’s no need for you to be wearing shorts, at least not when there’s just us around. You’ve not nothing to be ashamed about, that’s for sure, not when it’s hard enough to make dents in a tinnie (can of beer).”
Byron paused, glancing up into the rear vision mirror. Satisfied that I was listening, he added, “The deal is see,… How to put this? Um, the thing is, see, it’s part of a long tradition,… We all go naked at McIntyre Beach. Of course, we don’t do it surfing because you need board shorts, or when any one else’s around. Isn’t that right, Bruce?”
“Right on,” Bruce agreed. He grinned at me from the front sheet.
“From what I’ve seen so far, you’re already pretty brown on the bum, but we’re going to turn you into a real little nudist by the time we get you back home.”
“After a couple of weeks with us even your own mum won’t know you. You’ll be so brown she’ll think you’re an abo,” Bruce added.
I wasn’t sure what I thought about that, particularly when my grandmother believed that aborigines weren’t something that one aspired to become. For a while I thought about telling them that I often went swimming naked at Brindajari. Of course, it was different because it was never where anyone could see me. By the end of the previous summer, it was difficult to tell what my swimming costume covered, but no one knew that except Blaine and me. Increasingly, I found myself wondering just how much Blaine had told them about me. There were a few things that we had promised never to divulge about our friendship, but even that was beginning to be questionable.
“Struth! Look at them. Bloody sheep everywhere. I didn’t know there were so many fucking sheep,” Byron remarked offhandedly.
He gestured at the side window. There was a herd of about five hundred middling sheep gathered close to the fence that ran alongside the road. Two sheep dogs had their hands full as the sheep milled about. It only took two dogs to keep them in line. Sheep were too dumb to make a break for it, and too smart to challenge the dogs. The dogs were mixed breed, mostly kelpie. I could tell just by looking at them that, like the dogs at Brindajari, they were far better for herding sheep than any pure-bred.
“You have sheep up at your station don’t you?”
I glanced away from the window at the sound of Bruce’s voice.
“As many as these?”
“A l-lot m-more,” I answered with some pride.
At 67,000 acres, Brindajari was a relatively large station for that part of New South Wales. It was vastly bigger than the farms we were passing. If my grandmother’s plan succeeded, Brindajari would soon be much larger, nearly 100,000 acres.
“How many?” Bruce asked.
“Well, w-we had around n-nine thousand ewes l-last s-spring,” I explained. “B-but we’re d-down to about eight now b-because of the d-drought and all.”
With a couple of good seasons in a row we could be running 12,000 ewes. That meant about 20,000 sheep, including lambs and rams, which was a lot for Brindajari. Usually, we took an agistement on the Tattersall's station. Sheep took a lot of work and the return wasn’t consistent. The profitability varied based on the price of lamb, more so than wool, which was mostly the result of how much rain we got. Wheat, on the other hand, was usually worth the effort. On a good year, Brindajari had 10,000 acres of wheat. Our yield was one of the highest in the district. It took a bad drought before we worried. This year looked like being another bad one.
“And the rabbit plague too, right Bunny?” Bruce added with a teasing lilt in his voice.
He had a good memory, but for some reason he seemed to think that a rabbit plague was amusing. It wasn’t. In my mind, what happened earlier in the year was right up there with plagues of mice, locusts and grasshoppers, which were only slightly better than bush fires and droughts. Put them together in almost any combination and you had the typical year at Brindajari, I thought wryly.
I nodded absently. “Yes. But, w-we were p-pretty lucky c-compared to s-some stations.”
“Yeah, I can imagine. All that underground mutton for the taking,” Bruce joked.
“No w-way. Besides you c-can’t eat them b-because they might h-have m-m-myxom-matosis,” I added seriously.
Not that I didn’t like rabbit stew, but when times were bad everyone in the country suffered. Without wool and lamb sales, Brindajari had to depend on the annual wheat harvest. There had been a few years when the drought was particularly bad and there wasn’t enough to pay the bills.
“Lucky how?” Bruce asked. He sounded interested.
“Mostly b-because Nana m-managed to s-sell almost all of them b-before the p-price dropped,” I explained.
I took a deep breath. My heart was fluttering. I think it was the most that I had ever said to Bruce.
The price dropped from $10 to just over a $1 a head by the end of the previous summer. That always happened in a drought. Anything less than a dollar and it wasn’t even worth shipping them to market. There were even a few years when the price hit 10c. I’d only seen that happen once. I was five or six. A lot of sheep died that year, but not very many died at Brindajari. We didn’t over graze like some stations, we had ample water, and we had the wheat to get us through. My grandmother used the money she’d saved over the years to improve the lines and to bring in feed from less affected areas.
“Did you ever shear one, mate?” Byron asked.
Finally, I felt better. The relief was very welcome. “Yeah. A couple of times.”
“Cool. So, what’s it like?”
“Okay, I guess.”
“Really greasy, I bet,” Bruce suggested. “Baaaaaa. Watch out! Baaaaaa. Here comes Allan. Baaaaaaaa!” he added, mimicking a sheep in pain.
I concentrated on talking to Byron, even though Bruce was busy making fun of me.
“Actually, it’s n-not as b-bad as you m-might think,” I explained seriously despite my nervousness.
One of my jobs at Brindajari was mustering the sheep before they went into the shearing shed. I was good on a horse, which was only to be expected given my age. I was always exhausted at the end of each day, riding from daybreak to dusk, sometimes even well into the evening if the shearers had to move on to another job the next day.
“Why’s that?” Byron asked.
“We always dip them first. The worst thing is the smell afterwards when they’re wet. They stink pretty bad for a while.”
“I can imagine.”
“The other thing is they’re dumb as rocks,” I joked.
“Like you and Blainey,” Bruce teased.
I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t worth responding to, because he’d only come up with something else to say to insult me. Besides, I’d break into stuttering again and I hated doing that.
“It’s dirty work, huh mate?” Byron asked.
“Yeah. It’s dirty sometimes , but it’s a lot of fun too.”
“Mustering the sheep is my job. I’ve been doing it by myself since I was eight. I really like doing it.”
“Hm,… sitting on a horse all day, huh? That sounds like something I could do.”
“It’s hard work riding all day,” I said defensively. “You really have to know what to do.”
“Yeah, I bet it isn't easy.” Byron laughed. “It’s got to be worse than sitting on a board all day. I bet your bum is real sore afterwards.”
“Yeah, sometimes it is, but it’s better than working in the shed with the shearers. It’s hot as blazes in there and it gets pretty disgusting when there’s shit all over the floor and you slip on it.”
Everyone laughed. I liked being the centre of attention. It was the same at school. Despite Australia’s farming heritage, I was the only boy in my class who came from a real country family. A few of them were what my grandmother called Pitt Street types, where their fathers had purchased farms for tax reasons. There was only boy who even came close, Barry Rickard whose parents owned a large dairy farm at Bowral. None of the other kids came from a part of the country that deserved the name ‘outback’, even if they talked about their ‘stations’. Part of me liked being the ‘cocky’. I was the son of true grazier. When other boys grew up in the suburbs of Sydney, I learned how to ride a horse and shoot a rifle. Most of what I shot at were rabbits and trees.
“Gerr-rossss,” Bruce emphasised.
‘So tell us mate. What it’s like shearing?” Byron said.
“Well for one thing you have to careful because they’re dumber than Blaine.”
Again, they laughed, especially Bruce, who baahed loudly. I was in my element.
“They can move around a lot too,” I added, reflecting. “The last time I was in the shearing shed I was knocked down by a big merino ram. I had bruises just about everywhere. They’re much stronger than you think.”
“I guess he didn’t like going to the barber,” Bruce joked. “Or maybe he thought you were a ewe, Bunny. I bet that would hurt.”
We laughed, although part of me wanted to hit him. He probably thought he was trying to be friendly.
“Are you any good at it, mate? Shearing I mean,” Byron asked.
He seemed to understand the effect that Bruce had on me, or perhaps it was just my imagination. However, a moment later, Byron surprised me with a loud laugh. It wasn’t funny the way he said it. For that matter, there was no reason for it to be funny. Bruce made a strange snorting sound like he was trying to keep from bursting into laughter. I glanced at Blaine. He was still sound asleep.
“What’s so amusing?” I demanded.
“Nothing,” Byron cackled. “Nothing at all.”
“Somehow I don’t believe you.”
“Okay, Cuddlepie. You really want to know?”
His voice lowered. “Let’s just say that I’ll find out from Bruce it you’re any good at the other it,” he confided.
He clearly emphasised ‘it’, and I wasn’t at all sure why. It sounded as if ‘it’ was supposed to be something that was very important. Whatever ‘it’ was, it didn’t sound as if he was talking about surfing. ‘It’ was something special, something that I wasn’t supposed to understand and therefore I was not supposed to ask about.
“I do okay,” I muttered to myself.
“So how are you at shearing?” Byron asked.
More than a few times I had been allowed to butcher the back and sides of a sheep in the shearing shed. The shearers enjoyed trying to teach me how to do it. One of the regular shearers at Brindajari was Peter Blake who’d won the shearing competition two years in a row at Sydney’s Royal Easter Show. Next to Blaine’s father, he was the most important man in my life. I quickly learned that it took a surprising amount of skill and strength to shear a sheep properly. I told them so.
“Yeah, I expect so,” Bruce laughed. “It takes a lot of skill to do it properly, doesn’t it By?”
“You should know.”
Then, both of them laughed. I still didn’t get it.
“Wha’so funny?” Blaine slurred sleepily.
He turned over from where he’d wedged himself against the back of the seat and the car door. He pushed his dishevelled hair back, blinking like an owl. It always took a while for him to wake up.
I shrugged. “Nothing. They’re just being a couple of drongos up front.”
I shrugged again, less interested in talking with Byron and Bruce now that Blaine was awake.
“They’re asking about sheep and shearing and stuff cause we passed a bunch back there.”
In the process of waking up, Blaine’s legs had dropped apart. Casually, almost oblivious to where he was, or that I was sitting next to him, Blaine caressed his penis. Suddenly, he smiled slightly, catching my gaze. Together we looked down. A half-dozen tiny pigmented hairs, none of them longer than a quarter of an inch, glistened around the base of his penis. They were almost invisible in the bright sunlight, but they were there nonetheless.
He started slowly, fingering the sides and the helmet-head, then as it began to stretch out once again he started stroking along the length of it, making longer and longer strokes until his fingers reached the darker band near the tip. At the time, neither of us knew that the discoloured ring was all that remained of our circumcisions. The usually frilly skin just beneath the head was the only mark to show what had been taken from us when we were barely out of the womb. However, it didn’t go unnoticed. Once we realised we both had it, we speculated on the reason why it was there. It wasn’t long before we observed that the ruffled skin became puffy after prolonged rubbing sessions. It was about then that we came to the conclusion that the brown ring was the result of playing with our penises too much. For two boys who were beginning to experiment with their sexuality, it was the only logical explanation, but it wasn’t enough to stop us from doing it. It felt too good to stop.
Blaine winked conspiratorially as his fingertip scratched lightly at his broad helmet-headed glans. It was starting to swell outward and become darker in preparation for the final stage of becoming erect. He looked up and smirked at me. Having achieved my undivided attention as always, he squeezed the head slightly so that the little lips opened on the end. It looked like there was a tiny crimson mouth where his pee came out. Despite what his booklet said, it didn’t seem possible that his semen came from the same place.
“Hey By?” Blaine asked blandly. He sounded slightly bored despite his amused expression.
“Yeah, mate. What is it? You want to know when we're making a pit stop?”
“Yeah, but that's not it.”
“You starting to get hungry or something?”
“No surprise there. He’s always hungry,” Bruce interjected.
“Ha-ha. Man, you’re so funny.” Blaine rolled his eyes for added effect. “By,.... so you know when we were talking last night our house?” Blaine asked mysteriously.
“The foreskin thing? Yeah? What about it?”
Blaine fingered his penis thoughtfully. “I want to know why it has this ridge?”
“Huh? What on earth are you talking about, Snugglepot?”
“Christ! His dumb dick, of course,” Bruce guffawed. “He’s playing with himself again.”
“Geez, shut up boof-head. I’m asking him a question. I want to know about the groove thing that’s behind my knob,” Blaine added. “It sort of makes a ridge, see,” he observed.
To make his point he squeezed his penis again so that his glans became even more bloated. When he did that it looked even more like a fireman’s helmet.
“Ah, okay. Now I understand what ridge. Well, mate, I’m not sure. The way I see it, it’s probably there so that when guys have sex, it doesn’t pull out without some effort. It’s a bit like a barb on a spear. You stick it in and it doesn’t come out until you’re done fucking. Once you spunk, your dick gets limp again so it comes out easily.”
Bruce guffawed again. “Except slipping out is not a problem when it’s got a nice tight grip, right By?.”
“That’s true,” Byron said flippantly. “There’s nothing like a tight grip on the old dong. Hey, here’s a thought. I know why it’s there at your age, Blaine. It’s mostly so you don’t have to worry about it slipping out of your hand when you wank.”
Then, they laughed. Blaine and I both exchanged a glance. He smirked first, his eyes sparkling with that mischievous look that usually meant that he was about to have some fun.
“Okay. That sort of makes sense I suppose, but wouldn’t it be easier to put it in if the ridge wasn’t there?” he asked with mock seriousness.
“I reckon so,” Byron answered. “But it would pretty much depend on where you were putting it,” he added with a smirk. “Some holes are harder to get into than others.”
“That wouldn’t be a problem if it was smaller, say like the top of Allan’s dick.”
I shook my head. Blaine had no shame. He emphasised his point when he squeezed on his penis again. The head was almost twice the size of mine. It was much wider than his thumb. Again, the slit opened up and swallowed air, like a little mouth.
“I reckon it'll be a few more years before it's big enough to be a problem for either of you. You got plans to put it some place in the near future, mate?” Byron asked.
Bruce laughed. “He'll probably be aiming it at your bum before much longer. If not you then he’ll have a go with Allan. You better be careful when you bend over in front of him, mate.”
“No way!” I retorted.
I made my voice sound as disgusted as I could, even though the thought wasn't as disgusting as it should have been, not after what Blaine and I had already done together. What would it feel like?
For the first time in my life, I actually contemplated the possibility of anal sex. There, sitting in the back of Byron’s station wagon doing sixty m.p.h. up the Pacific Highway, with my shorts off and the sun beating down on my bare legs, I thought about it for all of five seconds. However, at that moment in my life, doing what poofters did wasn't something that I intended to do with Blaine, or anyone else for that matter. How quickly that changed.
“Come on. It's not that bad sticking it in a bum, Cuddlepie,” Byron joked.
“Yeah, it is,” I returned instantly.
“Not if you wash it off afterwards,” Bruce added.
“It's what poofters do. It’s gross, man!” I said emphatically.
Blaine giggled next to me. “Hey, don't knock what you haven't tried, Allie.”
“And I suppose you have, huh? Maybe you're a poofter?” I suggested boldly.
Even as the words left my mouth, I knew I shouldn't have said it. There was a sudden silence, a silence that seemed to go on and on. Blaine stopped playing with his erection and glared at me, but he said nothing. I tried to look out the window. My face was flushed. Something was happening between us, but I didn't know what it was. The number of times that Blaine and I fought since we were five years old could have been counted on the fingers of one hand. We never fought.
“Sorry, Blainey,” I muttered.
“Yeah,” Blaine answered glumly.
“I mean it.”
He glanced at me. “Maybe,....” he began.
He stopped. He looked disappointed. He changed the subject. I wished I hadn’t said it.
“By, how long before we stop?” I asked awkwardly.
“I'm waiting for the next town, mate. You boys need to take a whiz, huh?”
“How about you, Blainey? You got something that wants to come out of your dick besides spunk?”
Bruce snorted derisively. Blaine ignored him.
“Yeah, I'm dying for a leak. I'm hungry too.”
“What's new? Okay, we'll be coming into Macksville in a couple of minutes. I'm sure you guys can hang on for a while longer. Just play with those cute little dongers for a few more miles. We'll be there before you know it.”
“Can't you drive a bit faster?” Blaine goaded
Byron laughed and put his foot down sharply. We were already doing close to sixty miles an hour, but as we crested the hill, the station wagon took off like a Falcon GT coming into the downhill straight at the Hardie Ferodo 500. I craned my neck to see over the seat. The speedometer touched eighty-five before Byron’s foot eased off the accelerator. Judging from the sound of the engine, there was still a lot of power in reserve, but the road had a habit of suddenly becoming narrow and twisting. Still, he kept the speed over eighty for nearly a minute, hurtling along the highway to a much delayed lunch. I could tell we were getting closer to our destination when we passed through a rain forest. Another few miles and the brilliant green pastures lining the river came into view, and in the distance, the first glimpse of a town. Blaine and I hurriedly put on our shorts, giggling our heads off.