Jeremy's Tale

  Part Fourteen

"That time, son," Dad said as he knocked on my door.

"Okay," I groaned.

So glad he doesn't open the door! I thought, as I sat up and noticed that I was naked and uncovered. I've got to be way more careful! What if they figure I'm covered and open the door and...

Oh, geeze.

It not only tingled this morning, it was twitching and throbbing, and there was that clear stuff leaking out of it. I wasn't surprised, not with the dream I'd been having when Dad knocked.

I fell onto my back and sighed. I wrapped my hand around it and my toes bent and my ankles popped. My whole body was tense and tingly. I really needed to take care of it. But I knew how great it would be later if I didn't. I grinned wider and just held it. I moaned softly and my body shuddered a little. It jerked in my hand and I knew it released more of that clear stuff. I wiped it up with a finger and tasted it. I wished that it was Mitch's.

I played the dream in my head, wanting to remember it. It'd been so realistic! We'd been talking at Chet's house, and Chet and Howie had left. Mitch wanted me to rub his sore leg. I did. I rubbed it higher and higher, until my hands were inside his short shorts, and then he had sat up and smiled at me, then kissed me, then took his shorts off. He undressed me, and we were kissing and touching. It'd been so awesome! We were lying on our sides, about to start sucking each other, when Dad had woken me up.

I sighed again, let go of my prick, and sat up. I shivered and stretched, and refused to give my erection any attention. I wanted to wait. I didn't know if Mitch would be coming over to Chet's today, but I was pretty sure he was. I hoped he wrestled with Howie again. If not, I planned on asking Mitch to show me some moves. I wanted to be the one he was wrestling around on the floor with. I planned on 'accidentally' touching his erection at least once.

I intended asking Chet about the ideas first. If he thought they were good, I'd do them. If not, I wouldn't.

I got dressed and headed out to do chores, giving Mom the new usual, "Morning," as I passed quickly through he kitchen. The smell of biscuits in the oven made my stomach growl. I was so hungry.

It felt like it was going to be as hot and muggy as yesterday. The animals were listless and slow, and I had to fill every water tub, as they had drank almost all of the water last night. By the time I was done with chores, and the sun was at the horizon, I knew it was going to be another miserably hot day. I smiled.

I took a quick shower, got dressed in some clothes that were nearly Sunday-best, and made sure my hair was under control and that I didn't have any acne. I put on the cologne my dad had given me for Christmas. It was expensive and smelled very nice. I even wore my good sneakers.

I went down for breakfast feeling great, and ready to devour anything and everything in reach.

"Uh-oh," Dad said as I sat down at the table, grinning at me.

"What?" I asked, making sure the shirt was buttoned and checking over the zipper and belt.

"Looks like our boy has an interest in someone," Mom said, grinning too widely for me to be comfortable.

"Oh, geeze," I groaned loudly, feeling my face heating up.

"What's her name?" Dad asked.

Her. He'd naturally assume it was a her. I felt torn in two. On one hand, it was kind of nice to have someone to be interested in who might be interested in me, too. But then, on the other hand, it wasn't a her, it was a he.

The thought that their son is a homosexual made me grimace. I couldn't hide it. I knew they would be so disappointed. Not only let down, but upset and probably disgusted.

I shouldn't have dressed any different! Idiot! How stupid! I should have acted totally normal. Not done anything different. Now they think I've got my eyes on a girl. Now I have to lie to them. Damn it. Damn!

I didn't answer their question, and I hoped they wouldn't ask it again.

"Now, don't embarrass him," Mom said, still grinning way to big. "He'll tell us when he wants to."

Yeah, Mom. When I want to, I'll tell you I'm in love with another boy. Sure I will. When pigs fly and geese lay golden eggs.

I'd lost all of the good mood. Now I felt like a heel. Even worse than a mere heel. I wasn't even hungry now, but I had to eat to keep them from asking more questions. The food was heavy and felt like cement in my guts. I faked a smile through breakfast, and was again really glad to get out of the house.

Mark and Chris were as normal as ever on the bus. I felt like I was lying to them and it was going to catch up to me in time. I had to fake my good mood so they didn't suspect anything. In homeroom, I kept faking the good mood. Then... Mitch.

White shorts and a tight red t-shirt. High socks that went almost up to his knees. Those shorts weren't nearly as tight as the ones yesterday, but they were so thin! I could tell where his briefs were and what was his skin. Even the material of the pockets was visible. The tight red t-shirt showed off his body, of course. Strong pecs, nice shoulders, his navel. And the arms of the shirt hugged his biceps.

I forgot not to stare. I couldn't think, anyway. I just stared as he walked in and sat down. Those white, thin shorts let the leg-bands of his underwear make lines under his buttocks, and his darker skin there was clearly darker than his briefs. And as he turned and sat down, his butt was just...

By then I was fully hard and nearly panting. And starting to sweat. The sweat wasn't such a big deal, as it was so hot and muggy anyway. The erection was hidden as I was sitting down, no biggie. But the panting was a problem. I made my eyes go back into my head, looked down at my books, and tried to make myself breathe like a normal guy, not a homosexual who had just stared at the most attractive boy he'd ever seen.

"Hi, guys," Mitch said, cheerfully. "Morning, Jer."

I looked up at him with as normal a smile as I could manage, and said, "Morning, Mitch."

His moist, dark-red, luscious lips were parted in a wide smile, and his deep-brown eyes were warm and wide.

I would have given up a testicle to be able to wrap my arms around him, and put my mouth on his right then and there, and no one bother us or even care.  I swallowed what felt like a golf ball.

He asked me about one of the lessons in a class we had together, then leaned over to point out the page it was on in the textbook. I smelled him. My stomach quivered and my breath caught. I had to concentrate to even follow the question he was asking.

"Yeah, I get that," I said, actually glad that I could help him out.

He scooted his desk next to mine and we worked on it together. Being so close to him was intense! It was almost impossible to talk. I had to answer and point out things with real short sentences, afraid that my voice would give away my thoughts.

And what thoughts! I mean, sitting next to him like that, and looking down at the textbook, his lap was right there in view! Oh, God! Those white shorts didn't hide anything! They were so thin, and so almost see-through! They were practically just long-legged briefs with a zipper and a button! I could tell what bulges were what! And I could tell that he wasn't all soft and shrunken. It wasn't fully hard, but it was more than normal. And mine was fully erect.

I glanced down at my own lap and could tell. I knew he could tell if he looked.

And in a sudden flash, I remembered that he might be like me! It made me flinch and my breath heave inward audibly.

"What?" he asked me.

"I... uh... I just remembered something I forgot," I said as quickly as I could, not able to meet his eyes.

"Anything big?" he asked.

Oh, man, and how! I thought.

"Nah. Just... no biggie. So, if you use the plural possessive on these, they still get the apostrophe in the same place. Get it?"

"I think. Why is this stuff so hard?"

Why are you so hard? I thought. Why is it so hard be queer? Why is it so hard to deal with it? To tell someone?

"Who knows," I answered.

We worked on the lesson until the bell rang, then walked to our next class together. I kept thinking how no one could tell that I was a queer, that I didn't have to worry about it. That so long as I didn't do or say anything to reveal it, there wasn't anything to worry about.

So why was I so worried?

It was another usual day at school. The new usual, that is. Classes with Mitch were dreamy and terrifying, and classes without him were empty and lonely.

Gym class was hard. Again. It was too hot to be outside again, so the volleyball nets were set up for the girls and the boys played basketball. I wasn't very good, but I wasn't really bad, either. Mitch was slow and uneven on his hurt leg. The coach had him sit out after a while, once Mitch told him he'd sprained a muscle doing exercises yesterday to get ready for baseball.

When we got to our lockers, I steeled myself for what was to come. I began thinking about players and stats, and kept my eyes in my locker as Mitch talked. I didn't even glance in the showers. When we were at our lockers again, I accidentally saw him bending over as he put his feet into his briefs. Okay, not by accident, but... never mind.

More classes, then baseball practice. Outside in the heat again. I was going to have to take all my gym clothes home to have them washed. We sweated them soaked in the first few minutes. Mitch had a little trouble trying to pitch with his sore leg. He could still throw far, though. We practiced throws and catches, and then did stretches. The coaches walked up and down the lines of us as we went through the stretches. They'd ask some guys to go further, other guys if that was all they could do, and some they said "Good work" to. Mitch was pushing down on my back as the coach came by, and I had my forehead almost in the dirt.

"Fine distance. Can you do that with your legs together?" he asked.

I nodded, then slid my legs together. Mitch pushed down on my back and my forehead hit my legs.

"Good. You were in front on the run the other day, weren't you? The both of you."

We said, "Yes," together.

"Good. Keep it up," and he moved on.

"I think you're the only one here who can bend that far," Mitch said behind me, leaning onto my back with his hands.

"Comes from all the work on the farm. Have to climb into the loft and back down, and move things around, and reach up and around a lot."

"Can you do the splits?"

I laughed. Only girls did splits. And me.

The coaches lined us up and had us go through tons of stretches together. Some in pairs, sometimes alone.

"You need to be limber to protect your muscles," one said. "Muscles have to be more than just strong. More sprains and tears happen because the muscle wasn't limber enough. Weight-lifters don't want stretchy muscles, but you aren't weight-lifters. You're baseball players, and you need to be able to have your muscles be able to take being stretched when that runner tries to take you down at first base, or when you make that diving catch, or when you lead off of a base. Not to mention having that dexterity will increase your speed and accuracy."

"Look at Jeremy here," another said as I was doing the hurdle stretch. "He's almost got his balls in the dirt." Everyone laughed. I felt my face go hot and red. "But when he reaches out to make that leaping stretch-catch in the outfield and comes down, he's not going to end up with a pulled hamstring or a torn tendon. He's going to make the catch and be there for the next one."

I looked at Mitch once the coach moved on. He was grinning at me. Really nicely. I felt my face go even redder and hotter, and looked away.

"Come on, Hatcher," a coach yelled. "If you're afraid your balls will fall out, no one's gonna notice. Get down!"

I looked over to see Hatcher Combs trying to stretch out his leg behind him. He had a lot of muscle, and it was obviously tight. He couldn't stretch much at all, but his leg muscles were bulging and straining.

"When you stride out to tag that base ahead of the throw, you're gonna end up in the hospital!" the coach almost yelled. "This is what we're talking about, gentlemen."

I went back to stretching out. Mitch gasped sharply. I looked over and saw him grimacing, trying to stretch his sore leg.

"Don't," I told him. "Don't push it too hard. You'll end up making it sore again."

He looked at me and snickered, then said, "At least I'll know where to go to get it rubbed down."

I felt my mouth fall open. He laughed and switched legs. Now I could see his stuff in his sweat-soaked gym shorts. If he stretched much further, some of his stuff would fall out. I suddenly worried if any of mine would, since I was able to stretch so much further than him. I couldn't tell by looking down at it. I hoped not and kept going.

I heard laughter and looked that way, and saw Davis Hampton tucking his stuff back up. He had quite a bit to tuck away. He was a senior, and well endowed all around down there. He wasn't the last one to drop his balls into the dirt, so to speak, either. Guys were stretching as far as they could now. The coaches were saying things like, "Good job," and "That's the way." I saw more balls hanging out of shorts that afternoon than I ever thought I would. And, of course, my own had to join the crowd.

I felt it happen the second one of them slid out of the leg of my briefs. I pulled my legs back and tucked it away. Out of embarrassment, and in hopes he didn't notice, I looked at Mitch. He'd noticed. He was red-faced, maybe from the exercise, and grinning.

"Knew that'd happen sooner or later," he said. "Too big not to."

I rolled my eyes, and looked back forward and returned to stretching. I was dying, wishing his would, but he had to take it easy with his sore leg.

Then we did motion skills. Quick changes in direction, short hops, things like that. Finally, practice ended.

The shower was bliss. A lot of guys groaned and limped. That made me laugh a little. Mitch did too, though. I kept my eyes off him. It was too tempting. We talked like we were sitting in a classroom, just as if we weren't naked and next to each other.

The tough part today was toweling off. Mitch left the showers with me. How do you dry your legs without bending over? You don't. And how do you not look at Mitch's stuff when you bend over to dry your legs? You don't. You look. And you try not to let your dong point up at the ceiling.

And you try not to look as you get dressed next to him. Oh, God, what a temptation. I managed it, though.

"So, guys, up for some more extra skills work?" Chet asked, as he walked up next to us.

"Sure," Mitch said happily.

"Sure," I agreed.

"See you guys at the car."

"This is so cool!" Mitch said, grinning from ear to ear at me. "Chet is a great guy. And Howie, too."

"Yup," I agreed, and thought, if you only knew.

We talked as normal as normal is as we finished dressing and stuffed our sweaty gym clothes into our packs and then headed out to Chet's car. I watched Mitch's butt as he got into the back seat. Those white shorts were... just... gosh! I could see his briefs, and where they ended, and his skin. God! And even worse, I could smell his gym clothes. I always though of a guy's sweaty clothes as completely disgusting, but suddenly, no more. At least, not Mitch's. The smell of his sweaty clothes was... I don't even know how to describe it. It made me feel horny and hungry and hot and... just... God! It was driving me insane!

I got in the front seat and covered my lap. No smirking grins from Chet today if I could help it.

"When my leg isn't sore, will you help me stretch? I'd love to be as flexible as you are," Mitch said.

I turned to see him in the back seat, and said, "Sure."

Images of stretching him out, naked, working his muscles and bending him into all kinds of positions filled my head.

"Great. I mean, I never seen a guy so limber. You have to do those stretches at home, right?"

"No. It's just from climbing around the farm. I mean, you have to squeeze between cows, under them, climb over stuff, lift things over other things, all kinds of stuff. I just got good at moving around and moving things around."

"Wow," he said, grinning nicely.

I grinned, too. He was so handsome! And he was maybe, maybe, homosexual, too. Wow! I couldn't wait to find out! But I knew to take it slow and easy, like Howie and Chet said to. If he wasn't, and I pushed too far too fast, I knew it would be a disaster.

Then things go so weird. I mean, weird. We just stared at each other. Grinning, hardly blinking, and just looking. Eye to eye. Silent. Smiling. Blushing.

Chet opened his door and we both sort of jumped.

"Okay, guys," Chet said as he got in. "Coaches noticed your dexterity, Jer's, and your long throws and balance even with a sore leg, Mitch. They had good things to say about you both. I think you're making your marks."

"Honest?" Mitch asked.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yup. I'm pretty sure you're both in, so long as you don't get hurt or screw up somehow."

"Great!" we both crowed.

"Howie has to do some things, so it's just the three of us today. I was thinking we could do the drill the coaches will throw at you guys next week. There's a couple that they do that aren't well known, and they like to trip the new guys up with 'em. I figure if you know about them and can do them, that'll be a big lead on the other guys and look good."

Who was gonna argue with that? Mitch and I were both really excited.

At Chet's place, we got fluids. Like Chet said, "Don't allow yourself to dehydrate." We drank an entire gallon of orange juice.

We laughed about the guys falling out of their shorts in practice. Chet brought it up, of course. Then he said, "And I saw a certain Jeremy's stuff dangling in the breeze," laughing.

"Hung almost to the dirt, like coach said," Mitch added with a laugh.

"Screw you guys," I complained, red-faced."I bet Chet's would have gotten dirty for sure."

"I can't stretch that far," Chet said. "Mine would have to hang down to my knees to hit the dirt in a hurdle stretch."

"Jer's really almost did!" Mitch laughed, turning redder.

"Mine don't hang down to my knees!" I argued, laughing.

"No, but you can stretch down almost into splits!" Mitch said.

"He can do splits, I bet," Chet said, looking at me in a judging way.

"Think so?" Mitch asked, looking from Chet to me.

I shrugged it off.

"Can you?" Mitch asked.

"Not in slacks," I answered.

"Take 'em off," Chet said flatly, like he'd said that the sky is blue.

I gasped, holding back some of it. I looked at him, and saw him nod just a little.

I couldn't! Not take my slacks off in front of him and Mitch! No way!

"Come on, Jer," Chet said. "You change clothes in gym and practice. We've both seen you naked. In your underwear is nothing by comparison."

But it was just them! Not the entire class. Just them, and me. No way!

"Don't worry about a boner, Jer. Guys get 'em all the time. And I want to see you do the splits. I've never seen a guy do one," Chet insisted.

"Me either," Mitch said, blushing darkly.

I was sure that Mitch was trying to hide a much bigger grin than the one he was wearing.

"Either you do them on your own, or Mitch and me take those slacks off and bend you into position," Chet said.

Even Chet was blushing now. I was shaking. I could tell he was going to. Even if Mitch didn't help. And one look at Mitch told me he was going to help.

"Fine," I said as firm and seriously as I could, and stood up.

I unfastened my trousers, unzipped them, glanced at Chet, who was watching Mitch, and at Mitch, who was almost staring at me, trying not to smile even wider.

I inhaled, then dropped my slacks and stepped out of my sneakers and then the legs of the slacks. I wasn't hard, all the way, anyway. I saw how it poked out, though. It was so embarrassing! I put my slacks over the back of the chair, stepped back a couple of times, inhaled again, exhaled, then slid my legs forward and back, until I felt the cold linoleum under my balls through my underwear.

"Holy shit," Mitch said in awe, his beautiful brown eyes huge.

"How in the hell do you do that?" Chet asked, standing up and looking at where my sack was lying on the floor. "Amazing!"

I felt my scrotum shrinking from the cold floor. But my dick was not only not shrinking, it was inflating. Which was nearly humiliating. I noticed that Chet had a boner. It was obvious, too. Even Mitch saw it and did a double-take, blushed even darker, and tried not to laugh or smile even wider.

I didn't know if that was the good sign I hoped it was, or not. I pushed up and pulled my legs together, which was a disaster! My underwear was loose from the stretch, and my erection was completely free to push straight out.

I almost dove for my slacks! I almost jumped into them and yanked them up. I had them fastened before Chet was done talking.

"That was awesome, Jer! When did you find out you could do that?"

"When I was about ten. Slipped getting down from the loft, and ended up in almost a split. Ripped my jeans," I laughed with them. "Sort of messed around after that, until I actually could."

I was sitting down by then, and Mitch was looking at the top of the table, red-faced and fidgeting. I was worried that Chet had made me go too far and Mitch was uncomfortable or beginning to think that Chet and me were queer and he really wasn't.

"Hey, Jer, can I ask you something?" Chet asked, sounding very serious.

"Uh, sure, I guess," I replied, watching Mitch out of the corner of my eye, still worrying that he was uncomfortable and thinking Chet and I were queers.

"You're fourteen, right?"

"Uh, yeah."

"So, um, have you ever measured it?"

The room was silent. I was stunned. Mitch was staring at Chet like he'd asked how big my dork was. Well, he had. I didn't know how to react. I looked to Chet for help. I was desperate! We couldn't scare him off!

"Just wondering. I mean, you're a freshman, but you're hung like a senior. More than some seniors have. Most, I think. Just wondering if it's as long as it looks."

He knew how long it was, he'd seen it plenty of times! I knew what he was doing. But I was worried that it was too far for Mitch so soon! Mitch was still staring at Chet like he'd asked how big my dork was.

"I think you've got more than I do," Chet said.

Then, to my absolute horror, Chet stood up, unfastened his pants, and pulled it out.

"Oh, my God!" Mitch said, and not in a good way.

He looked like he was going to get up and run. And I wouldn't blame him. I was, too.

It was hard. Fully hard. All hard and long.

"I'm just curious. I've compared with guys before. It's not that big a deal," Chet said. "And I think you two guys are way bigger than anyone else in your class."

Chet looked back and forth between Mitch and me. Mitch couldn't seem to take his eyes off Chet's erection. Not until he looked at me. His eyes were huge! I'd never seen them so big! And I'd never seen him so red! He didn't even seem to be breathing. I got so worried, and so angry with Chet.

"Put it away, Chet!" I said, nearly yelling at him. "No one wants to see your dick. And no one wants to pull it out to compare with it."

"Hey, no offense, guys," Chet said, putting it away.

"None taken," I said softly. "Just put it away."

"None taken," Mitch said just as softly.

"Okay. Sorry, guys. It was probably after freshman year when it happened, anyway. Don't mean to push you guys. If you're not ready to not act like kids, you're not ready."

"Kids?" Mitch asked.

"Yeah. Kids?" I asked.

"Yeah, kids. You're only fourteen, after all. I shouldn't expect you guys to be adult enough to handle that kind of thing, I guess."

"I'm not a kid," Mitch said.

"Just because we don't want to compare dicks?" I asked.

"Yeah. I guess it's something older guys do," Chet said with a shrug. "No offense. You're just not adult enough  yet."

"Stand up," Mitch said to Chet, then he stood up, unzipped, and pulled his out.

I gasped out loud. Not just because he dared, but at what I saw. He was fully hard. He didn't have to hold it up at all. It stuck out and pointed up a little all on its own, bouncing a little with his heart beat. He unfastened his white shorts and then pushed them and his underwear down to mid-thigh.

Chet stood up and dropped his jeans and underwear, and walked right up in front of Mitch, almost dickhead to dickhead. Chet was taller, and a tad bit longer and thicker. And his balls were way bigger and hung way lower. They leaned toward each other, almost touching the tops of their heads, and looked down at their dorks. Then Chet stepped even closer to Mitch and slipped his dick right next to and alongside of Mitch's. Mine started doing that dance it does sometimes and tingled like mad!

"It's actually longer than mine," Chet said with a nod. "I thought so. How do you guys get yours so big?"

Mitch laughed and said, "Natural, I guess."

"So lucky," Chet said, now shaking his head. Then he looked at me and waved me over to them, and said, "Come on, Jer. Let's see."

I swallowed. It wasn't easy to do, either. I felt my guts shaking and my muscles trembling. This was insane! Pure insanity! Chet and Mitch were standing there, dick to dick, and they were waiting for me to come over there and pull mine out. What could be more insane?

"Come on, Jer. I've seen it already in class and practice. I'm sorta curious if it's as big as it looks," Mitch said.

He was so red-faced. He was smiling so widely. He was so cute!

This is nuts! I thought. But I pushed myself up out of the chair, walked over between them, and unfastened my slacks, unzipped, pushed them down, then my briefs. It popped up, bounced a little, then settled. Chet swung to face me and I stepped forward and put it right next to his.

"Geeze," Chet groaned. "Not fair."

We all laughed, and all our dorks bobbed and bounced around.

"See if it's the same size as Mitch's," Chet said, nodding toward him.

I swallowed, afraid to look at Mitch's face. I kept my eyes on my dork as I swung to face him. He stepped up and slipped his right next to mine. His head touched my skin next to my dork! Oh, God! Mine was barely brushing against his skin near the base of his, touching the short hairs there. Oh... My... God!

I couldn't breathe or think! Nothing! Nothing but stare at our almost identical dicks there next to each other. He was a fraction of an inch longer than me. He had a little more foreskin that bunched up a little more than mine. His head had softer edges and a blunter tip. And mine wanted to point more upward than his. 

"Cripes," Chet sighed. "How the hell do fourteen-year-olds have such big ones?"

Mitch and I snickered, making our dicks bounce again. I had to fight not to sigh and groan at the touch of his warm skin on the tip of my dick as I held it out level. His head against my skin felt so warm and soft! It was hard to keep steady on my feet! Our heads touched each others skin again and again. It was hugely insane! I felt my dick tingle, and I knew it was going to leak. How humiliating! I yanked my hips back and jerked my underwear and slacks up at the same time as Mitch.

"I wish I had a dick like that when I was fourteen," Chet said, putting his away.

"What was yours when you were almost fifteen?" Mitch asked, finishing up.

"I think it was just under six inches," he said with a shrug. "Just barely seven now."

I wasn't going to say it, but Mitch did.

"Mine's just over seven."

"No kiddin'?" Chet asked.

"No kiddin'," he said, red-faced again.

"You?" Chet asked me.

"Uh... I measured it the other day. And, yeah, just over seven."

"Geeze! The girls will kill each other to go out with you guys if that secret ever gets out!" Chet said, laughing.

Mitch and I laughed and glanced at each other. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing I was.

It was really tempting to say it. I wanted to. It would be so easy to just say, 'I'm not interested in if the girls want it.'

No it wouldn't. It was impossible to say it. Impossible. But so tempting.

"So, I gotta ask," Chet said, actually blushing. His grin told me he was about to have some fun, which worried me. "How much do you make when you cum?"

He was looking back and forth between Mitch and me. Mitch and me kept looking back and forth between each other and Chet. Mitch looked even redder, and was grinning and trying not to grin even more.

"I don't know," I said when I worked up the guts, sounding like he'd asked if a giant's turd smelled bad.

"Ever shoot up past your navel?" Chet asked us.

"I do it in the shower," Mitch said. "I don't know."

"Do it lying down?" Chet asked me.

I felt my face go hot. This was crazy!

"Sometimes," I said, almost having to clear my throat first.

"So? Go past your navel?"

"Yeah," I answered while snickering.

"Ever hit your chest?"

I nodded, trying not to laugh.

"Get any on your chin? Face?"

Geeze!

"Well?" Chet asked.

I looked at Mitch. He was looking at me. He was grinning that grin that meant he was trying not to grin even wider. And he was blushing so darkly!

"Once," I said, looking at the top of the table, and trying not to laugh.

"Wow," Mitch sighed.

I looked up at him and he looked incredibly embarrassed, like he hadn't meant to say that out loud.

I was so embarrassed! I had to turn it around on Chet somehow.

"What about you? Ever hit your own face?"

"All the time," he answered easily. "Sometimes I blow it over my shoulder."

"Do not!" Mitch said as if awed.

"Sure do. If it's been a couple days, and I do it right," Chet said, looking right at him.

"Geeze! Don't that hurt?" Mitch asked.

"No! Feels so great!" Chet said, his grin spreading. "The longer you go without doing it, the better it is. And after a couple or three days, it's so good it makes your head spin."

"I couldn't not do it for three days!" Mitch said. "I can hardly not do it twice a day."

We laughed. I felt so much better seeing Mitch laughing now, and not looking so worried or scared, or like he was about to run out of the house.

"What's your record?" Chet asked. "Once did it five times."

"Four a few times, once did it five," Mitch said, nodding.

They looked at me.

"Six," I said.

"No way!" they said together.

"It was after staying at my cousins over the summer. Couldn't do it very often, and the last few days, other cousins came over and I couldn't do it for days. When I got home..."

I stopped, blushing and feeling like my guts were going to spill out of my ass.

"Six times," Mitch said in awe. "Did it hurt the last time? That fifth time for me was like... almost pain!"

"I know!" I said quickly. "It felt like my balls were gonna implode!"

"Yeah! But man! It was so worth it! I try for four times almost every weekend now."

"Yeah, me too! As many as I can, anyway. I can do five if I don't do anything the day before."

"I really gotta try not to one day. But how do you not do it?"

"It's hard," I said, and we laughed. "You just gotta be the boss."

"But it's so tempting!"

"It is! You just have to hold off."

"I'm gonna try not to tonight."

"I didn't yesterday," I said sort of proudly.

"Cool. No wonder it's hard so often."

"You'd notice!" I said, and instantly regretted it.

He lost some of his grin. But I was so glad when he said, "Hard not to notice. It's too big not to."

"Yeah, so's yours."

We were quiet then. And I noticed that Chet was gone. I looked around but didn't see him in the kitchen.

"Where'd he go?" Mitch asked.

"Dunno."

We shrugged.

"It's really embarrassing in gym, when it gets hard. I can't help it," he said.

"I know what you mean. Like when we were doing sit-ups the other day. I mean, we both were, but... how can I not notice?"

"I know. I saw, too. Just have to ignore it, I guess. Happens."

"Yeah."

I can't help be hard seeing your body, I thought, looking at his eyes. He looked back at me and I wondered what he was thinking. We snickered together.

"Will you really help me stretch when my leg isn't sore?" he asked.

"Sure. Nothing to it. I'd be glad to."

Oh, God, would I be glad to!

"Great. I'd kill to be as limber as you are."

"Wanna learn the splits?"

"No! I'd rip up the middle if I tried!"

We laughed together again. He was so cute. And sitting there talking to him was so much fun.

"Not if you worked you way up to it," I offered.

"As long as you help."

"I will. We'll get you doing splits and dragging your nuts in the dirt in hurdle stretches in no time!"

We laughed again, really hard. God! He was so cute! And his laugh was just so... sweet and musical and rounded.

"You've got the nicest eyes," he said suddenly.

I felt a massive warm wave of... something rush through me.

"So do you," I heard myself say, to my utter shock.

I could tell that he was embarrassed as I was. We sort of looked around then.

"Can I ask you something?" he nearly stammered.

I looked back at him and nodded, then said, "Sure," as calmly as I could.

It was so hard to hold his gaze, and I could tell that he was struggling.

"Well, you don't have to answer if you don't wanna. I just... you ever gone out on a date with a girl?"

I grinned out of instinct I guess.

"Naw," I said, trying to sound confident and sure, but I thought I sounded like a little kid.

"Me either," he said softly. "Guess I'm just too shy."

"Shy?" I asked. "You whipped it out and compared it with Chet like it was nothing! That wasn't shy!"

I wished I hadn't brought that up. He blushed and grinned that grin, then shrugged.

"Already seen his stuff in gym and practice. No big deal," he said smoothly.

"Yeah, guess you're right. No big deal. Just guys comparing. Not like we were kissing or something."

I instantly regretted saying that, too. I wished I knew what to say. I knew that Chet or Howie would know, and would have him saying things that would tell them things. I was totally lost.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "I heard sometimes guys jerk it together."

I didn't have a clue how to respond to that! I wanted to say that it was normal, that guys did that, that it wasn't queer or mean anything. I just couldn't, though.

"Don't mean they're homos," he said.

He glanced up at me. I was suddenly certain that he was trying to figure me out. I didn't know exactly why. I was worried that he was trying to make sure I wasn't a homosexual, because he wasn't and didn't want to have one around him. I hoped he was one, and was hoping that I was, but I couldn't be sure. I had to be sure which it was. It was too huge a risk!

"Yeah, don't mean it," I said, very slightly emphasizing 'mean.'

"Not like Chet and me touched each others. Or we all jerked each other off or something," he said.

He glanced at me repeatedly. I knew he was testing me now. I just didn't know why. I wanted to leap over the table and wrap my arms around him and kiss him and tear his clothes off of him. I wished I could. I wished he would. Anything.

"We did touch them together," he said.

"By accident," I said.

"Yeah."

We were quiet again. I wished I knew what to say. I wished I could just tell him that I loved him and wanted to have him.

We glanced around a lot, taking quick glances at each other. We were both blushing darkly. I saw beads of sweat on his forehead. I felt it on my own. I forced myself to swallow.

Chet walked in. He was in old gym shorts that were too tight and too short, and a tight t-shirt. He was very attractive. But he was no match for Mitch.

"So, you guys wanna try those skills the coaches are going to pull on you next week?"

"Sure," Mitch and I said together.

I was both relieved and let down. I wanted to continue talking together and see where it went, but I was afraid of where it could end up.

Chet showed us what moves and skills the coaches were going to have us do next week, including the ones that were new to both of us that the coaches hoped to trick all the new guys up with.

"Remember," Chet said after showing us the special skills. "Don't let on you know them. Make it look like it's the first time you've ever done them. Or else they'll know you were tipped off."

We agreed, and practiced how to do them just good enough to not look clumsy and awkward doing them. The only problem was that one of them was using your hand to pull one leg up to the side as high as you could while standing on the other leg. One of the stretches that I'd seen the cheerleaders doing. I had to take my slacks off to do it. And Mitch had to take his white shorts off. And doing it made things fall out of our underwear. We laughed, and we got hard.

I couldn't help being hard. Seeing Mitch in just that tight t-shirt and his underwear, pulling one leg up sideways, his dick erect in his white briefs, his nuts falling out the side, how could I not be totally hard? The only question was, was he hard for the same reason? I saw how he looked at me a lot. And at Chet. But where else would he be looking as we tried a new stretching exercise? Where else would he look anyway? And maybe it was just one of those erections you get when you're doing exercises.

Still, nothing we had done before made me feel so sure that Mitchell was like us. Not the talking in the kitchen alone, not the comparing with Chet, not the message from Howie. Standing there, facing each other in a triangle, pulling our legs up with and arm crooked under it, our nuts falling out of our underwear, getting hard, and laughing.

I was almost certain that only homosexuals would laugh and get hard doing that.

Once we went through the exercises, and were sweating a little, and had our pants back on, we had some water, and cooled off in the kitchen.

"Tomorrow," Chet said, "I've got tons of things to get done, so I won't be able to take you guys home unless it's right after school."

"Oh," Mitch said, sounding disappointed.

"I can get the bus, I guess," I said, rather disappointed.

We talked about practice and baseball until it was time to head home.

The ride was fun. Chet played the radio, and we sang along to some good songs. When we dropped off Mitch, he patted my shoulder again as he said, "Bye, guys," from the back seat. We met eyes this time as he did that. His big smile and his touch were both so... electric!

I couldn't take my eyes off of him as he walked up to his front door. His body was so great. The way he walked was even sexy.

"He really is something," Chet said.

"I know," I agreed with a sigh.

"And I really think he's like us."

I looked over at him, then punched his shoulder almost as hard as I could.

"What the hell?" he asked, grinning.

"That's for that thing with your dick! Comparing. Geeze!"

"Hey, it worked! He did it. And before you did! What does that tell you?"

I thought about it for a second, then saw what he meant.

"Oh, wow," I said softly.

"Yeah. Either he really hates being considered a kid, or he's got more guts than you do and he's interested and like us."

"Wow," I sighed.

"So, you owe me for that, Jer."

He grinned at me.

"What do I owe you?" I asked, grinning.

"We can figure that out later," he answered with a wink.

I felt my face get hot, and tried not to grin as much as I could have.

"Hold off on pulling it tonight," he said, as he backed out of Mitch's driveway.

"Why?"

I wasn't sure I could.

"Because you'll be glad you did after school tomorrow."

"Why? You're busy."

"With you," he said, grinning at me as he put the car in drive.

I felt my face get even hotter, and I didn't bother hiding how huge the grin was.

He wouldn't tell me what he had in mind for tomorrow, but he loved joking around about it. I couldn't get a hint or a clue, but I was sure excited.

On the way home, I thought of what my parents had said over breakfast, and of how Chet and Howie had the girl problem pretty much taken care of. I could use his advice, so I told him what my parents thought about why I had dressed up some today.

"Uh-oh. Yeah, been there. Well, best way I handled it was to say it was my own business. Nicely, ya know? Don't get angry or anything. Grin and act shy about it. Just say it's your business, and maybe hint they can meet her if things work out."

It sounded good to me. We talked about Mitch the rest of the ride.

"Save it up," was his last words to me after I had said, "Bye, see ya tomorrow."

I nodded, then nearly ran into the house. I tore through my chores and then showered. I got incredibly hard in the shower, thinking about seeing Chet's and Mitch's dicks next to mine, and touching my dick with Mitch's. I managed not to do it.

Dinner was awkward. My folks asked about the girl again. I said it was my business, nicely and with a smile.

"Well, just remember that talk we had, son," Dad said, meeting my eyes.

I blushed furiously. That talk would never be forgotten! It was easily one of the most embarrassing things in my life, right up there with Mom seeing me with an erection one morning.

"I will," I said, unable to meet his eyes now.

After dinner, I did homework. And thought about Mitchell. And seeing his dick next to mine. And it touching mine. And that talk alone in Chet's kitchen. And seeing his nuts fall out the side of his underwear, and his erection as he pulled his leg up sideways.

It was one of the most difficult things I had ever done not to stroke off. I mean, it was just so... hard. Tough, I mean. I was alone, clean from a shower, in bed, hard, and horny as hell.

I tossed and turned, trying to sleep. It was almost impossible to sleep. I kept thinking of Mitch. How likely it seemed that he was a homosexual too. How attractive he was. How deeply I was falling for him. How much I wanted him. How happy and safe I wanted to make him feel. The things I wanted to do to and with him.

Somehow, eventually, I did fall asleep.

---

Thoughts and ideas welcomed at the feedback page located here
More stories, poems, and ramblings at Ray's Stories
Click here to show up on my visitor map

And don't forget to support Nifty! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

web counter