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Grommet - Part One - Endless Summer
PJ Franklin <>


Author's note: Let's be clear. When it comes to the real world of any of the board sports, surfing, skateboards, snowboards and even wind boards, I don't even qualify as a kook or a poser. The one time I may have but briefly qualified as a grom was when I tried to get up on a friend's windsurfing board. It was grueling, the most difficult thing I had ever tried for fun. This story was born from internet research out of great respect for those who glide their boards on any medium, crash and get up to do it all over again, because boarding of almost any kind shall remain as the coolest thing any guy can ever do.

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Story Summary:  Fifteen-year-old Randy Hollis of Fresno, California is desperate to follow adored big brother Shaun to Huntington Beach, California, the heart and soul location of international amateur and pro surfing. In Part One, Randy endures eight weeks of elation and heartbreak, great joy and terrible gut wrenching tragedy. Randy lives the arduous boot camp life of a surfing grom, falls into lust and love, is cruelly hazed, finds both danger as well as accomplishment and then makes a life changing decision.

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"In the beginning, God created surfing, gliding within nature's oceans as one spirit inside of a liquid womb. Surfing liquid begat skateboarding on dry land's oceans, cement, and Tony Hawk. Boarding on cement waves begat boarding on frozen water, snowboarding and Shawn White. Then came longboarding, windsurfing and then the cathedral for all of it, ESPN and the X-games. Cowabunga, mother-fucker!"  -  Tommy Yau, surfer of water, cement, snow and life, philosopher and poet extraordinaire.

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Among the most important terms in surfspeak, grommet generally refers to a young surfer, one often, but not always, insolent or smarmy toward his elders.

Typically sporting sun-bleached hair, sun-split lips, baggy trunks and a goofy grin, the grommet has for decades been the subject of cruel and unusual punishments.

He is pantsed, suffers all manner of physical abuse (charley horses, purple Hermans, Indian burns), is routinely force-fed booze till the puking point and, perhaps most tragically, sits next to last in line (ahead of non-locals) for waves at his homebreak.

Extreme cases of grommet hazing are not rare. In some instances, as with the infamous "Grommet Pole" at North Narrabeen in Australia, it's common for hapless youngins to be tied to it naked, lashed with leashes and doused in doo-dee.

Yet the grommet represents the future of every homebreak. In him, the elder sees himself many years ago and therein exists an unspoken respect, that all parties are part of a rich heritage, tied to the ages.

Exact history of the term is hazy, but accepted theory has it being a bastardization of its 1950s California forerunner "gremmie," which itself was a variation of gremlin. And a gremlin is what little surf kids often look liked with sun blisters, dirty feet and salty skin.

Australians, genetically predisposed toward flavored slang (brekkie, dunnie), probably factored into the etymology as well. Whatever the case, the term is in no way related to the actual word, grommet. Webster defines the term as "an eyelet of metal, plastic or other material…" Variants, most notably "grom" ("Let's go beat those groms!") and "helgie" (a Santa Cruz amalgam of hell and grommet) abound, but grommet itself remains the perennial favorite.

It's worth noting that grommet does not imply that the kid surfs like a kook. In fact, nearly every legendary ripper (excluding Tom Curren and Dave Parmenter) was at one time a cheeky grommet ripe for the titty-twisting.

It should further be noted that how old one is isn't necessarily the issue. For festive, prankster-minded vets such as Corky Carroll, Rabbit Bartholomew or Robbie Page, grommethood is clearly more a state of mind than a reflection of age. – Greg Heller,

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Part One  -  Endless Summer

Mid-June, the mid to late 1990's …

"Shaun, please! Please, take me with you, don't leave me here for the summer bro, take me with you, I'll do anything, anything!" I begged my big brother, begged him. If he wanted me to get on my knees, clasp my hands together and yell it to the heavens in front of all of the guys at the skatepark that afternoon, I would do it, I would debase myself in any way (well almost, fuck almost, I would do anything!)

He sighed, no doubt tired of my pathetic pleadings, three days worth at least, "I told you Randy, dad won't let me. I'd do it. He won't fucking let me!" and Shaun was right about that.

Dad already hated the fact that my seventeen-year-old big brother had managed to talk him and mom into letting him spend all of his summer vacation until his senior high school year down in fucking Surf City USA, Huntington fucking Beach, freaking California. Since 1982, Huntington Beach had hosted twelve years of the biggest, baddest pro surfing competitions in the entire cosmos, the Op Pro (short for the original sponsor, Ocean Pacific). Op Pro was then replaced by the U.S. Open of Surfing in 1994 under the auspices of the ASP (Association of Surfing Professionals).

Any surfing grommet or grom (a newbie surfer or skateboarder male usually but not always under sixteen years of age) was a liar if he didn't tell you that he would give his right nut to surf Huntington.  I would, well, not my nut, maybe an arm?

As it was, I was so proud of and stoked for Shaun. I worshiped my big brother, always had, but now he was a God to me. Shaun was going to work that summer at a Huntington Beach surf shop, well almost. Northside break was a part of the many breaks (coastal places known for good and decent surfing of any level) up and down Huntington's nine-mile stretch of beaches.

Northside's skill level was somewhere between the crowded beginners beach at Huntington Cliffs and the vaunted Pier where the U.S. Open was held each August. Not a lot of groms were going to get in Pier line-ups, but there was plenty of other spots, Northside one of the better intermediate breaks. Shaun was going to work at a Northside shop called Sparky's Surfboards, apprenticed to a shaper no less, a man who is skilled as a surf board maker.

In this case, it was an old family friend, Sparky Parkes. Sparky and Mama Nadine Parkes, or just Mama, opened up Sparky's some ten years prior. Mama spent her early years at the shop helping Sparky make boards and sell ones made by other shapers. Then they opened the Bluefin Café right across the street, a place for food, drink and most importantly, it became a haven for a few of the many displaced and lost teenaged boys of both the surfing and skating worlds.

If a kid had been kicked out of his home, abused or in some kind of trouble, he could go to Mama and she would inevitably take him in if for just a short while to get back on his feet. Dad had no problem with Mama, but Sparky had been a pot-head, a rabble rouser and now-a-days, an invitation to a lazy and worthless lifestyle as a shiftless beach-bumming surfer, which is how dad perceived Shaun's upcoming trek to SoCal.

"Ask mom, she'll let me," I said glumly looking down at my old Van's, picking at the fabric with my chewed off fingernails.

"Yea, mom would, dad won't. Just leave it Randy, fucking leave it," and he got up placed his board on the edge of the skatepark's cement bowl and plummeted down into a graceful smooth arc on his way to do an acid drop, backside or maybe finally get that 360 that he had been practicing all spring.

Dejected, I was no longer interested in skateboarding that day. I stood up, tucked my short board under my arm and started for home, a good five blocks away on Tiller Street. We lived in California's stupid Central Valley, Fresno to be specific and it was already a typical valley summer, fucking hot, at least 93 degrees then and would peak at about 103 later that day.

Fuck Fresno. Fresno was lame. Oh, it wasn't as bad as Bakersfield or San Bernardino. Those places were donkey dick licking lame. Still, I wanted out of Fresno for the summer, I wanted to go with Shaun to SoCal, to Huntington.

If I had to stay home that meant fucking summer school. Talk about lame! Talk about geeks and fatties and stupid girls and stupider boys. Fuck! It also meant having to go to church and Sunday school and those lame religious bastards. God I hated church, I hated the youth pastor and the fucking regular pastor and his fucking sermons about … well about me.

Just then a bunch of young kooks (a kook being a poser or insincere skater) passed me by on their freakishly long longboards. I didn't hate boarders save that I was just three months short of sixteen years old and longboarders were usually ten and twelve, sometimes as old as thirteen or even more. Fucking posers.

I made it home, making sure dad was not around. If he saw me or Shaun in our saggy skater shorts and "offensive" faded "Quicksilver" or "XXX" T-shirts he would have a fit or worse. Those clothes are not "proper" and "offend" Jesus. Just how is a deity offended?

If we defied dad, it could mean a trip to the garage for a good hard dose of the belt on bare butts. Yea, Shaun and I had been spanked from an early age when we fucked up. Dad always did the honors and if I now got the belt, by now Shaun got the strop. Dad was at work of course and mom out shopping, good.

I retreated to my room, it was air conditioned thank God. I was angry and all wound up and that meant I needed to get myself off. I dug around in my closet and pulled out my single copy of Surfer Magazine. If you surfed at any level on God's green earth, you read Surfer Magazine, no excuses. Mine was an old one, April of 1985. It had been one of Shaun's burgeoning collection.

I took off my shorts, got down to my skivvies and sat up in my bed with it and found my special page in the magazine. I opened it reverently and carefully because the pages on either side were all wrinkled up. I smiled at how they had gotten that way. I sighed and recalled the very important moments of my life of the past several months …

It was six months before. I had just found out about Shaun's stash, that is to say, he would only let me look at one of his precious Surfer mags when he was there to supervise. Well, I wanted to look at one on my own. I wanted to stare and perv at the April 1985 side-by-side picture of duo skateboarder and surfer, Ty Whitehead. Oh … my … God. Bare chested, tanned, blonde, blue eyes, totally ripped Ty Whitehead.

I got carried away that afternoon. I put one hand down into my pants, made my meat hard and then shoved my shorts down and started to perv at Ty's pictures. I wanted to suck Ty off. I wanted Ty to fuck me up my ass. Hell, I wanted Ty to spank me, tell me that I had not done a board trick right or missed a choice wave at Huntington and deserved to be spanked, hard on my bare and he would do it, make me sorry, make me moan, fuck me … Oh God! And I lost control and raptured.

I ejaculated all over the two exposed magazine pages. I was well and truly fucked and only if Shaun somehow never knew or suspected why that issue's pages were not all pristine anymore, well, he might disown me. I quickly tried to get as much spunk off of the pages as I could and returned the magazine to the bottom of his collection. Two days passed, so far so good, but that was all my secret would last.

On the third day, I was alone in my room after school and in stormed Shaun holding up Surfer Magazine, April 1985 to the two sullied pages,

"What the fuck Randy!? What the fuck?! What did you do?!" Shaun screamed at me.

I started to tremble hard. I sat up at my bedside, head down, hands by my sides, fists clenching the bedspread and ready to die. He thrust the open magazine under my nose, "This is spunk you pervert! You spunked my magazine you faggot!"

I was now terrified and the horror of my action bore down on me in a way that I could not stand and I lost it, tears running down my face. I had made my big brother hate me! My face crumbled but I could not move. I was frozen and helpless and hopeless. I sobbed and shook and hated myself and my face bore the brunt of muscles strained into downtrodden clefts of hard regret.

I felt Shaun sit next to me, and his arm sought out my shoulder. I flinched away, sure he was going to hurt me or even kill me,

"Bro, it's OK," he said softly and his arm did not hurt me, it hugged me, "Shaun!" I squeaked, "I'm sorry!" I barely could get out of my mouth, my vision obliterated in more tears.

"Shhh, no, it's OK, I get it," he said, "It's OK Randy," and he kissed the top of my head and I finally stopped blubbering, "It's not what you think," I quickly warbled.

"Yes, it is. You're gay," He said, "No!" I said unconvincingly to myself much less to him.

"Yes, and it's OK. It's OK with me bro. I have your back. Just don't tell mom or dad or anyone else for that matter, OK?"

I dared to look at Shaun in the face and in doing so I crumbled again into his chest and cried my eyes out again as he held me. It finally stopped and I sat up and wiped my face. I was numb, empty and numb,

"Hey it's not so bad, you just are who you are, that's all, OK?" he said.

I nodded and he plunked the magazine closed into my lap, "It's yours, hide it. Hide it good. Dad hates that I have these," and he stood and turned.

I looked up at Shaun. If I had adored him before, now I worshipped him. I could never be this open with anyone, I was sure, not even mom, certainly not dad, "thanks," I said weakly. He nodded and walked out.

As I thought about it even now I could still get a little teary and looked at my adored image; but Ty Whitehead's wrinkled and somewhat worn picture no longer seemed to affect me quite the same anymore, how could it, especially today after leaving the park? Besides, I had an emergency plan to get to Huntington. It was sort of cruel and manipulative, but it seemed all I had now.

About three months before Shaun and I were at our local skatepark after school. Matty Jensen offered some weed to Shaun right in my presence, "Are you stupid?" Shaun barked at Matty only because I was there, I was sure of it. I was shocked. Using or even having weed was next to just telling Satan to come into your life and throw Jesus out.

I pretended not to notice, "What's the big fucking deal Shaun? Shit! You said you wanted it, now take it. You already bought it you dipshit," Matty dumped the small bag in Shaun's lap and he quickly put it in his front pocket.

If I was shocked before, now I was afraid, "You keep your big fucking mouth shut, Randy," he seethed, "I … I won't say anything," I said shaking for fear of what I did not know.

"I'm serious! Dad would kill me!" Shaun said, his face looking angry and scared, "I know! I know!" I hissed.

I tried to just put it out of my mind and did, but two days later, shit and the weed hit the fan. I wasn't sure how, but dad found out that Shaun had the weed and the trouble with that was that he also knew I was with Shaun at the time. So why didn't I tattle on my big brother to save his immortal soul?

It was and remains the biggest, most awful family fight we would ever have. Dad was yelling at me and at Shaun. Dad wanted to punish us both, strop us both into oblivion or so it felt. Mom was yelling at dad to calm down. Dad did not want to calm down.

Dad wanted retribution and he wanted our asses fried in his skillet in the garage. I seemed as much to blame in his eyes, but Shaun would have none of that. Shaun told dad "in no uncertain terms" that the whole thing was his fault, that he would take a whipping but that dad would not be touching me at all. That made dad furious and mom's job all the harder.

"You touch him, I'll kick your ass to L.A. and back dad, I swear to God!" Shaun yelled.

"Now you listen here you Godless criminal," Dad started. Mom had enough,

"That's it. Both of you stop it! I will not have you calling Shaun names!" to dad,

"And I will not have you threatening your father!" to Shaun. Mom was pissed and when mom is pissed, everyone listens.

Calm was attained, Shaun sent to his room, me to mine and Dad to his work bench in his garage where he always went when he was upset. It was about an hour later when dad agreed that he would punish only Shaun.

I was not supposed to watch, but I did listen. Dad stropped Shaun that day, longer and harder than he had ever in both their lives up to that point. Shaun made not one peep that I could hear anyway. I dashed back into my room when I heard Shaun come into the house. I heard his bedroom door slam shut, and I mean hard.

I waited about fifteen minutes and quickly entered Shaun's room without asking, very, very risky on my part. Shaun had been lying face down on his bed, very upset, his bare sore ass very apparent.

Shaun saw me, "Randy!" he hissed, "get the fuck out of here, you make me sick!" he barked angrily. I didn't blame him for his words and was not offended and I was not going to leave.

He lay back down, his face red, wet and in mental pain if not physical. I walked over and knelt near to him, "I just … I wanted, to say thank you for standing up for me," and I felt my eyes water and face beg him for understanding no matter it was probably not fair that I did.

He swallowed. If Shaun had wanted to punch me in the face, I would have let him. He sighed and his hand came out, "It's not your fault," and fingers grazed my cheek before retreating.

I looked over at his ravaged ass cheeks, "You going to perv on your big brother now? Fag," he said but was smiling. I bit my lower lip. I was perving. I knew I was, on my own big brother.

Shaun rolled over, wincing a little from his sore ass as his big flaccid cock flopped into view and  to the right. Now I had something else to perv on. I tried not to look, but I could not help it. Shaun put a hand under his head,

"You know, what good is it to have a gay little brother if you can't get your dick sucked once in a while?"

If seeing Shaun buy weed from Matty had been shocking, then Shaun's question just then was positively mind blowing. He had to be kidding, bluffing, pulling my leg, giving me a bad time and he fully deserved to give it just as I fully deserved to have it; but I gamely shrugged, a bit battle tested by now.

See, ever since Shaun had pulled me kicking and screaming out of the closet, at least to him, he would tease me unmercifully with whispered taunts about it no matter where we were. We could be with mom at the store, "Do you think that cucumber would fit up your ass, little brother?" Ha, ha, very funny.

With both parents in a church pew or at the church pot luck, "Randy, who would you rather have fuck you, the pastor or his son?" Oh, that was a good one, Shaun! Bastard.

We could be together at the skatepark, "Hey Randy, do you think you could suck cock and skate at the same time?" That was lame, Shaun, just plain lame!

Anywhere, even at the dinner table when he knew dad and mom were not listening, "Pass the condom, I mean, cock, I mean … mashed potatoes, Randy," don't quit your day job, Shaun, sheesh!

"I don't know Shaun. I've never sucked dick, so it might not be very good," I countered and it was the truth.

"Really. You need practice. Come on, suck my dick," he said holding it up, face neutral.

He had to be kidding. I looked at the door, then back at Shaun and then at the proffered organ. Yes, I had not sucked dick. Yes, I wanted to and come to think about it, who safer to suck? It was the 90's and there was AIDS and shit around. I decided to call Shaun's bluff,

"OK," I stood up and at the bedside, leaned over and headed my mouth down for his penis, sure Shaun would flinch as in a game of chicken, I stopped and grinned at him.

"What are you waiting for? Suck … my … dick!" he said, the look on his face serious.

I stood up, blinked and looked at him, "What if I don't want to?" and thought that was a good come back.

He sat up on his elbows,

"I just took a whipping for you. I have a good mind to put you over my knee, spank the bejesus out of your bare ass with a belt, and then make you suck my dick, in fact, that is a very good idea," and launched himself out of bed.

My eyes got big, really big! I stood. Shaun could not be serious. He got his belt, he walked back over, "Strip, naked. I want you over the end of my bed, Randy, do it, now!"

"But Shaun!" I said and he came over and grabbed my arm and sat down and put me between his knees and pantsed me and I did not stop him. He stood and pushed me around to the end of the bed and forced me down over it. I did not stop him.

From there, my big brother gave me a well earned (and I might say, secretly desired) ass whipping with the belt. It hurt my ass like fucking hell. It soothed something so far deep in me that I did not know was there, only that I needed it to be gone and the belt's pain was doing it.

Shaun grunted with each of the last few strokes. I yelped and a few tears fell, but they were good tears, "Get up!" he said and pulled me up, "Get on your knees," he said.

My ass was on fire, but my love for my big brother just then was like a bright white light of redemption. I fell to my knees. Shaun had whipped my ass only wearing his T-shirt. That was all I was wearing when I carefully started my first ever oral service of any human. Shaun looked down at me, sternly at first, "Yea, that's it. Fuck, you're a natural Randy, suck that dick!"

His dick hardened after I finally got over the smells and really went to work in earnest, but I loved the feel and the taste of my big brother's penis and knew just then and for all time that I was indeed, a cocksucker, a fag, a queer and yes, gay.

To Shaun's credit, he let me beat myself off as I sucked him as best I could. I gagged a few times, but he was not critical of me and at the end, he pulled out and made me eat his sperm when he raptured. It did not taste bad, not at all. Then I shot my load into my own palm, "Eat it," he told me and I did.

One thing was for sure after those moments with Shaun. I would love spanking and sex together for a very, very long time, but back to the point.  I waited until after dinner when I could get some time alone with Shaun. Mom and dad were going to some insufferable chick flick at the movies. It was dad's periodic reminder of who was in charge type of punishment from mom if you asked me.

Shaun came into the kitchen. I was waiting for him. He went to the frig and got some orange juice as I stared at him, my mouth twitching, "What," he said and then double-taked, "Randy! No! You can't come with me!" he said.

I smiled sweetly, "Yes, I want to," I said and Shaun glared at me, "No," but his glare broke a little.

I tilted my head, "I'll do that thing you like. You can even spank me first," I teased him.

Yes, it was true. By now Shaun liked to spank me before I sucked him off as much as I liked it, so go figure. And that other little thing, where I take my tongue on a tour all over my big brother's balls and cock and between his balls and his hole and yes, over his you know what? Oh yes, he liked that a lot.

"Damn you Randy," he said and looked at me, but then his eyes narrowed, "You have to let me fuck you, up the ass."

Now anal was something else. I had never done anal, well, my finger, that stupid cucumber I tried once, but Shaun did NOT know about that and there had been the banana. Never do that again. Shaun was being a bitch. Anal? Letting my big brother actually fuck my asshole?

He grinned, "I knew it. Forget it Randy. No anal, no going to Surf City. Gotcha!" he said and started to walk away down the hallway in triumph, "OK I'll do it!" I yelped and blushed and thought I was nuts. So did Shaun who turned, "You are joking. You are fucking stupid," he said.

"Use … use a condom and go slow. I hear it hurts like crazy," I said with another bluff or was it?

"I don't have a condom," he said. Finally, a break, "Too bad then. I'm willing, you're not. You have to find a way to take me with you!"

"Fuck! You!" he said, turned and headed for his bedroom. I followed him inside, "You have to take me Shaun, please!" I pleaded for the umpteenth time, "I'll do anything, please Shaun!"

Shaun was on his bed, on his back and shaking his head, "Randy, it's … what will you do down there? It's not that easy. Those guys are serious. They will eat your ass … alive. Do you have any idea what they do to groms down there?"

"Tell me! I'll do it, I swear Shaun, I'll do anything. I'll lick dog balls, I'll eat girl pussy!" I joked. Shaun looked at me and burst out laughing, "Randy, you are one fucked up little queer!" the last word loud.

He sat up, patted the place next to him. I quickly sat. Things seemed to be looking up. His arm slung around my shoulders, "Randy. You want to go waltzing down there? Huh? Announce your ass? You don't even know how to surf!"

"I skate good on cement. You can teach me on water! You're good Shaun, teach me, please!" I begged him.

Shaun threw his head back, "That's not the problem. The problem is Greg Majors. He's the crew chief. He's the boss at Northside and treats the line-up like his own bank account. He'll take one look at you and you'll never get a wave, not at Northside."

"Can't I learn at the Cliffs?" I replied, "No, it's not like that. You have to be with me and I am going to be working at Sparky's at Northside and Greg will know even if you're at the Cliffs. I don't know Randy. He's a hard ass. He might make you lick dog balls and if he finds out you're queer … no, you can't go, I won't let you."

I knew Shaun had my best interests at heart and now I felt defeated. I no more wanted to be exposed and embarrass Shaun and myself because of my sexuality than I wanted to die. I stood and started for the door, no energy left to fight Shaun over it.

"Wait," Shaun said. I turned and looked at my big brother. I still worshipped him and hated myself for having begged him over several days like an immature poser and kook baby longboarder. That would stop now.

"OK, I'll find a way, somehow … BUT! … you will do exactly as you are told  down there, not one thing different Randy or I will punish your ass in a way that you will NOT like, got it?" he smirked baring his teeth a little.

"Yes, yes yes! Shaun! Thank you, thank you!" I said all the way to skidding on my knees in front of him, more like a puppy to its Master. Shaun shook his head, "Why do I think I'll be sorry?" he said, "You won't be, I promise!" I replied.

He sighed, "Well, one thing is for sure. Enjoy your anal virginity little bro, it won't last long now. I need to get some condoms," and I stood, held my backside in my hands, "It's OK if it hurts, it'll be worth it," I said not at all convinced. Shaun chuckled, "You are a piece of work you queer little grom. It will hurt and I will enjoy it," and I enjoyed that he called me a grom, queer or otherwise and yes, I knew it would hurt, a lot.

* * * * * * * * * *

But it never happened, losing my virginity, not then with Shaun anyway. The next few days were chaos. Dad had a fit of course. Shaun was going to Hell for even suggesting that he should take me with him to Satan's satanic den of depravity (also called Los Angeles) much less the Devil's personal sexual playground (Huntington Beach).

Mom rolled her eyes at dad, Called Nadine Parkes (Mama) the next day who promised that I would be safe from Satan or any other surfer who might try and corrupt me, give me something to keep me busy, feed me, and make sure I had a place to sleep.

Dad tried to play the summer school thing trying to get me back in Fresno in two weeks time, but was not willing to drive all the way to L.A. to get me fearing that Satan might somehow cause him to die and crash or some damn thing because he was cooperating in the Devil's work, but in the end he glared at Shaun,

"You will be personally responsible for your little brother. I will beat your ass black and blue if anything happens to him or he is corrupted by your little devil surfer friends!"

"Yea, whatever dad," Shaun had replied. I winced, "I should take you to the garage and give you a whipping. I am tired of your insolence Shaun. You're too big for your britches!" Dad came back incensed.

Shaun stared at dad, "A lot of the time, I wish you were not my father. You suck," turned and tried to walk away. Dad pulled Shaun back and dad drew back his arm to throw a punch at Shaun.

"Dad!" I yelled. Dad looked at me, his eyes wild. His arm dropped. His eyes softened and he looked old and defeated. I felt sorry for him, and for all of the bad influence that his fucked up church had on him. We did not tell mom what happened that day with dad. Dad seemed to let it all go and two days hence I found myself in the passenger seat sitting next to Shaun in his beat-up old Chevy Blazer on Highway 99 headed south for interstate 5 and the Grapevine over the high foothills, into L.A. and then south to mecca, Huntington Beach, California.

On the way, I felt like a favored prince next to a King. Shaun treated me like a prince too. We laughed and he teased me unmercifully not about being gay, well some, but mostly about being a surf grom and how I would be treated by the local ruling older teen surfers. He told me all about surfing, how I would have to work my ass off learning how to paddle out into the surf beyond the shoreline on a longboard, that my arms and back would be sore for days.

He told me that even if I did manage to pop up on a board for a few glorious moments, that I would crash into the surf a thousand times and when I did finally get a chance to actually join a line-up, that first I would be hazed unmercifully by the Northside Crew, the gang of boys who ruled younger boys, groms like me who would not be getting to catch a wave without their permission.

"What will they do to me?" I asked ill-at-ease.

Shaun shrugged, "Nobody gets a pass. There's a pole on the beach. Groms are tied up there, stripped naked. I've seen guys get greased up with tanning oil or any oil really, coated in sand thrown at them, in their mouths, rubbed with disgusting rotting food or worse, spanked, whipped with a dozen leash ropes (the thin nylon ropes that tether a surfer's ankle to his board for safety) and then made to stay there in misery for hours, even overnight."

I felt glum at that point, "Maybe this was a mistake," I said quietly, my excitement drenched in disappointment, "What did they do to you?" I asked because Shaun had never told me about the hazing.

Shaun chuckled, "Don't ask, I won't tell you Randy, but I won't let them do anything to you unsafe or stupid. You won't be tied up overnight, that's for sure."

I really did want to know, but he would not tell me. Later I did find out and was glad he had not said anything, it was too gross for words and had I known, I would have asked Shaun to take me back to Fresno. Five hours later, short hours actually, we arrived in the late afternoon parking on the curb right at Mama Nadine's Bluefin café. I climbed out of the Blazer, felt the cool off shore breeze and seeing the Pacific Ocean felt that I was in Heaven.

We went inside and there was Mama herself. Shaun leapt into her arms, "Shaun! Oh it's so good to see you again, baby, I missed you!" Mama said, her large body wiggling with delight. I immediately felt at home just looking at her rough, sun leathery face and stubby fingered short arms.

"And you must be Randy, come here honey!" she said. Now I leapt into her arms and she hugged me and kissed my cheek, "Now you are going to be working back in the kitchen a few hours each day. It's hot back there, and the work is hard, but I promised your mama to keep you busy, OK?"

"Thank you, mam," I said softly with sincere gratitude, "All my boys call me mama, and since you're a grom, you're one of my babies."

Shaun just grinned ear-to-ear, but I was never happier to be called a baby in all my teen life, "Well, did you hear about Greg Majors?" mama then asked Shaun, "No," Shaun said.

"Honey, Greg broke his leg right in two about two weeks ago hand-gliding out of Mitchell break. He's still in the hospital. They say he is done until January."

I looked at Shaun. I didn't want anyone to be hurt, but after he had talked about Greg as if he was a Nazi, I didn't feel all that bad, "Well who's taken the crew?" Shaun asked. Mama smiled as if she was telling us a big secret, "Well, there was a big stink over it, but it fell finally to Garrett."

I watched Shaun's eyes light up, "Really?!" and then his face flattened and he looked me, "Oh, shit," he said softly and then looked at mama who tilted her head, "What's the matter honey? Garrett is a good boy. I thought you would be overjoyed?" and then Shaun tilted his head towards me as if he was trying to shake water out of his ear.

Mama's face lit up now, "Shaun. You mean," and she looked at me as if I were a ghost or something wrong with my face. What the fuck? Shaun sighed, "Yes," he said.

"What!" I said feeling very strange, "It's OK honey, nothing is wrong," Mama said to me as if something was wrong, "Do you want to tell him or shall I?" her voice at the edge of a chuckle.

"Randy. Garrett Starr is a great guy, verging on a couple of pro sponsors and all and he's … bisexual."

"Bi what?" I said. Yes, I was ignorant up to that point, really naïve about that kind of thing.

"Oh, I hear he's all for the boys now-a-days, but you didn't hear that from me," Mama said and suddenly I was fully educated about "bi." Then mama looked at me, "Oh dear. Randy honey. Shaun, he told me," Mama said.

Suddenly I knew what was going on, "Shaun?!" I said my voice rising, "It's OK, mama is cool, OK? Don't get your shorts all in a knot."

I felt suddenly guilty, chin down and mama's hand lifted my chin gently, "Baby, you're safe. Just don't go telling everyone or anyone. Well maybe Garrett, I don't know," she said looking confused or flustered and looked at Shaun,

"I'll tell Garrett if the need arises … um … OK, I didn't say that," Shaun grinned and I blushed, "Shaun!" and slugged him in the arm as hard as I could. Shaun winced but nodded appreciatively and could not suppress a big chortle.

I was now outed to mama and all because the new Northside surfer gang crew chief, Garrett Starr was half a fag, half-queer, whatever the hell that meant. I folded my arms, feeling grumpy and picked on. Shaun ruffled my hair, "Well, just look at it this way, now you are a two-way grom, right?"

I looked at Shaun, "Wha?" and then it struck me, "You asshole!" and he laughed so hard, mama with him that I had to sigh and chuckled,

"You got me. Two-way grom, he's bisexual, hey! I don't have to give anything up to anyone!" and knew I was right!

"Oh yea? You know that old magazine picture of Ty Whitehead that you have?" Shaun asked, "Yea? What about it?" I smirked thinking he was going to tell mama about my little accident with it. Well, Shaun had the last laugh,

"Garrett Starr makes Ty Whitehead look like a pimply faced kook face planted into a cement wall."

I gulped. I swear to god, my naughty parts tingled. What was going to happen? Was he going to rape me? Would I see him and want him to rape me? Can you rape someone who begs you to rape them and then helps? I blushed so hard,

"What's the matter sweetie? Sunburn?" Mama said straight faced and then she and Shaun had a field day and I could only stand there and take it.

Mama then shooed us both across the street to Sparky's Surfshop and I was so proud of my big brother as he quickly introduced me to Sparky, Nadine's husband, who was too busy to talk and then watched as he showed Shaun what he would be doing all summer long.

I watched as dozens of surfers, a few of them young anxious surfing groms like me if my judgment was any good at all, came into the shop, buying, consulting, ordering boards and a myriad of accessories. It was like everyone was Sparky's friend and good surfing buddy. The eye candy was fantastic, much better than anything in Fresno by a very long country mile.

I just browsed the shop, happier than ever. I guess I was thinking a lot about that Garrett guy. He was in charge. He was bisexual. Would he be hazing me if I made it that far? The thought had my head spinning.

Suddenly in back of me there was a huge commotion. I turned, everyone, like fifteen guys young and old were gathered around looking and talking with just one guy. Even Sparky, and certainly Shaun. I looked at the guy and I about lost control of my dick. He was beautiful. No, he was a God. No, he was God's answer to a gay boy's dream cum true. Who the fuck was that? I was too short to look over the taller surfer dudes, but this main dude, he was slightly taller than many of the rest.

Suddenly the group parted, right in front of me, "So Gar (short for Garrett), this is my little bro, rather our new grom, Randy."

I froze, deer in the headlight style. I was glad I had emptied my bladder at the Bluefin or I would be pissing my pants and it would be in a puddle at my feet. Garrett strode forward towards me, his entirely naked chest ripped in muscles I did not know existed, his longish sinewy arms as well.

Garrett's nearly shoulder length honey blonde hair was suddenly disturbed by a mysterious waft of air which made me look at his steely bluegreen eyes. I noticed his skin was deeply tanned as if by an artist. He wore board shorts no doubt from an interested sponsor and flip-flops on his big ass feet and I knew what that meant. He stopped about two foot from me, everyone as silent as if this was the reading of a dead man's will.

I looked up at him, knees a little weak, dick soft and intimidated, thank God. He looked at me, up and down, arms folded, checking me out. He reached out, felt my skinny pathetic arms, "Open your mouth," he said as if examining my dental health like I was a horse on display.

I did, he barely looked at my teeth and grinned and everyone laughed, even Shaun and Sparky. It was a joke on me. I blushed and felt like the most pathetic grom to come into Huntington Beach in a hundred years. I thought I was dead meat and would never get within a mile of the ocean.

"What's your name?" he asked, I opened my mouth, "Randy," and I was going to say my last name, Hollis, but he held his hand up, "Your name is grom. Just grom. Not Randy, not Hollis, grom, got it?" and he was dead-shit serious. I nodded, "Yes sir, grom," I said shaking visibly not knowing what the hell was going on just then.

Garrett then turned his head, arms folded again, standing very casual, "Sparks, you still got that old Hobie longboard?"

"Sure do Gar," Sparky said with a telling gleam in his eye, "Good, put it on my tab because it belongs to grom here until he washes out," and then Garrett looked at me as if the divine were speaking through him, "You gonna wash out on me grom? Because if you are, I want to know about it now and not waste my time on Shaun Hollis' little fucking brother! Shaun is good people but if you're not up to the task."

My stomach was clear up into my sinuses by now, "No! I am! I swear to God, I am … Sir!" I squeaked and another boy chuckled, "More like, I swear to Gar, not God, Gar,"and the place cracked up.

"You better be or I will kick your fucking ass from Huntington to San Onofre and back, twice, got it?" he said sternly.

I nodded like my life depended on it and I was so fucking stoked that I was sure I was going to piss or shit or something, "Good. Does mama have you doing anything right now, grom?"

"No sir! Not right now, sir!" I kept saying sir. I never called dad "sir" unless he was super pissed and certainly not another boy, not until now that is.

"Good. Take the board, get your ass out to the surf. Start paddling in and out and in and out and don't fucking stop until I get there and do NOT get up on that board or you will be sorry. Shaun? Show him?"

I looked at my big brother, not so sure that I should have forced him into this. I felt a certain kind of Sunday school hell starting to descend on me, a clear case of watch out what you wish for, you may get it and yet, it was Garrett fucking Starr who was going to teach me. Fuuuckkk!

Shaun got me ready. He made me carry the Hobie. It was long and heavy sort of, but OK. I followed Shaun and said nothing. We got to the surf line and he nodded, "Get your ass out there, paddle out about fifty yards and come back. Look at me and I'll show you how far."

I was super stoked. I was a grom, a real life fucking surfing grom at Huntington fucking Beach! And after about fifteen minutes of paddling in seawater I was a tired grom and after another ten I was an aching grom. I made it back to Shaun, "What are you doing? Get the fuck back out there!"

I swallowed, "It's hard, it's really hard!" I complained, "Yea, it is, I warned you Randy, you didn't listen to me. Surfing the right way takes no prisoners. It's not skateboarding, that's pussy work. You are with men now Randy, real men. Garrett Starr, are you fucking kidding me? Do you know how many groms he personally trains? Huh?"

I winced, "A lot?" I answered weakly, knowing I was wrong, knowing that I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer.

"One, two a year and that was a year ago. Randy, he's doing this because of mama and Sparky and yea, me."

I started to tear up a little, "Fuck" I said, disgusted with myself. I nodded, "OK," I said and turned and headed back into the surf with my Hobie, aching, but I could not let Shaun down, there was no fucking way. I would die out there, drown off the shore of Huntington Beach and be happier for it than let Shaun down, mama too and I had yet to really meet Sparky.

I went out and back, paused and did it twice more. I was so tired, I had never been so tired. Maybe I was not cut out for this. I raised my head as I finished my last trip to shore and saw Garrett standing with Shaun. Great. Now they would find out that I was a poser, a kook, just plain a loser.

I would be dignified and carry my board and if Garrett or Shaun said forget it, I would take it like a man and then find a quiet corner and cry like a baby, like Mama said I was. I walked in and stood before them.

"Finished? Already grom?" Garrett asked. I nodded, "It's more than I thought. It's really hard and I'm not in good shape," but I did not say I was sorry. I had a feeling that Garrett Starr was not interested in sorry and groms that felt sorry for themselves.

"Feeling sorry are we?" He asked, "No sir. I did my best, but it's not a lot, I know," I said and looked at him.

He smiled, "Yea, you did. It is hard. Where you staying tonight?"

I looked at Shaun who replied,  "We have him on a couch in mama and Sparky's room out back."

"No, he's gonna stay with me. I'm going to teach and train him and I don't have time to go around finding him. I'll make sure he keeps his work schedule with mama. You guys cool with that?"

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh shit. I looked at Shaun who shrugged, "Um, yea, but there is one little thing," Shaun said. Oh fuck, oh shit, oh crap!

"Yea?" Garrett asked, "I'm gay," I blurted to spare Shaun. Garrett blinked, "That's cool, just don't go blabbing it around, gay is sometimes not appreciated and some guys will get a bit bent out of shape. I'm bi," he said.

"I know," I said and he smiled, "It's all cool, come on. Get your ass back to mama's for now, I'll come get you later."

* * * * * * * * * *

Garrett lived with two other guys in a nice house about three blocks from the main Pier break in the City of Huntington Beach. One of the guys was seldom there, the other was a pro surfer sponsored by a couple of clothing lines and a sunglass line as well and seldom actually slept at the house.  I forgot their names immediately.

Garrett put me in my own bed in his room. The place was a mess. Surfers are not clean people, nor tidy. For the next three days, it was get up at 5:30AM, surfing lessons on land with Garrett (who is a surprisingly patient teacher by the way), paddling in and out in the early morning calm surf until you almost puke.

Go to the Bluefin, eat breakfast, take a nap in the break room, work for three hours in the kitchen, go back out to the surf with your longboard, paddle your ass off up and back fifty fucking yards until you almost puke, go back to the Bluefin, assure mama that you are all right and eat.

Think about extra paddling in the surf, but change mind, take board back to Sparky's to store, walk to Garrett's house and fall on your face, get up, eat old pizza and drink older left over awful tasting lemonade and then fall into your bed face down, dead to the world until 5:30 the next AM.

The weekend came, Friday, thank God. Though I didn't wish I was dead or back in Fresno, I was not the same boy that had driven in to Huntington three days before. Shaun had been right, this was work, it was fun sometimes, but a lot of it was just ass-busting work. How had they all done it? But they had.

By Friday afternoon, I was questioning my own choices and felt sorry for myself. Maybe I should pack it in. I sat on the beach waiting for Garrett, looking at all of the boys going to and fro with cool shortboards, grins on their faces. I was just a kook from Fresno, nothing more and probably would be the rest of my life.

Suddenly sitting down next to me was Gar, at least I could call him that now. He had a short board with him. I had seen him only during lessons and maybe once more during each of the last three days. I had seen Shaun every time I fetched or brought back the Hobie for storage. He was so happy working with Sparky and I was happy for him. Shaun deserved what he had earned. I felt I had earned nothing.

I hid my feelings and smiled, "Hey," trying to sound enthusiastic, but I felt he saw right through me.

"Tell you what grom, get your board and follow me," and I did. I did my best to keep up with Gar as he walked us a fucking long ways down the beach away from the Pier. On the way he told me about his best runs, most of them not tournaments. He told me how surfing made him feel. He slowed down as he talked,

"It's like I'm nobody out there. A good eight footer, locked in the barrel, tubed, and I'm just a … a biologic, at one with the wave, the water, hell the moon. I forget about everything, and yet it's like I suddenly know everything and then it's all gone in an instant, but it is worth it every time." It was mesmerizing, he was mesmerizing, "You ever scared?" I asked.

He chuckled, "I've pissed my shorts so many times. I think once I shit myself. It was a fifteen foot giant in Hawaii, north shore after a storm. Nobody wanted to go out there, said I was crazy for trying and I was. I think I almost died out there that day, but Randy … I would never give up that run or its memory."

He called me Randy, not "grom." His hand squeezed my shoulder, "Don't let this go to your head, but I've been watching you. You're working hard and you got potential. You deserve some play, come on," and he took up his board and headed for the surf.

He said I had potential! Fuck! I followed, my heart beating so fast. We hit the water and I paddled and I kept up! All that hard work had paid off! Fuck! We made it out to the line-up. About six guys were out there and all of them recognized Garrett at once, "Hey Gar! Sup!"

"Hey guys, how's the action?" Gar asked, "Sets are outrageous man, you want to take the lead?" meaning did Gar want to go ahead of the line-up, a really, really big show of respect.

"Hey thanks guys, that's boss. I got a grom here, he needs to get his ears wet, but it's not official," and only later did I find out that "not official" meant that until I was hazed at the grommet pole, that my runs did not count for shit in front of others.

"No problem, man," the other lead guy said and Gar looked at me, "Watch me. Try and pop up, you won't make it, just keep trying until you hit the shore."

I nodded. I was so fucking scared as I bobbed about in the surf hanging onto my Hobie. I watched, we all watched Gar take off when a good three footer formed. The guys stared at Gar as Gar wowed all of us. Gar could make a three footer look like the best damn wave in the ocean.

"Hey, grom, your turn, go for it. Hey, how the fuck are you his grom anyway? You sucking his dick or something?" the hot surfer guy asked me.

I let the sexual comment pass, but in my mind, I would suck Garrett, give him my cherry, have his children and all of the above, "Just lucky. Friend of the family I think."

"Fuck," was all he said, envious as all get out.

I thought it best to get the hell out of there and watched for a wave, thought I found one and did. Lucky indeed. I paddled, tried to time it like he taught me and tried to get up on my board, fell off, got up, fell off, got up, fell off a last time and finally slogged with my board onto the shore.

Gar stood there and smiled, "Fun?" and I nodded and sighed, "Fun. Thanks Gar. I really … I really appreciate it," again making sure not to apologize for my meager effort.

"Enough grom. Come on," and followed him clear back to Sparky's and put up my board. I was so tired. Shaun asked me "how was it?" and I smiled, "I got to try a wave. I was crap, but I got to try," and Shaun grinned, "That's my grom," he said.

I sat down and Sparky came up and introduced himself, "Say little fella, is it what you thought?"

"No, not at all. It's way more. It's hard and I'm a pussy when it comes to hard work."

Sparky laughed, "But you're real Randy. Just be patient. Garrett is the best," he said and I nodded, "Yea, that's the problem. I don't know why I deserve to have him teaching me," not sounding ungrateful, just tired and kind of emotional.

Just then Garrett and Shaun were right there, "So, grom you interested in a beach party?"

"Tonight?" I asked stupidly, "No, three days from next Tuesday. Jesus grom, are you that lame?" Garrett asked. I grinned, "I'm just a fucking grom," I said shyly and they laughed. Of course I wanted to party with the big boys.

Energy restored from excitement alone I followed my big bro and my teacher, God himself, called Gar. I felt like a puppy dog following the big dogs and it didn't feel so bad either. Gar drove us in his really cool late model yellow Nissan XTerra SUV, two boards on top.

It was so fucking cool. We picked up three more very hot guys on the way and I found myself sitting on a guy's lap to make room. I swear to God his dick was hard the whole time but mine was too intimidated to respond and he seemed not to notice.

We got the beach and it was dark by now, maybe thirty guys there, but few girls. I would learn over the coming weeks that girls were OK to party with and fuck, but not to seriously surf with. Things were not all that diverse in the mostly male surfing world, at least in Huntington and since there was nothing I could do about it, I just enjoyed the male company.

The party droned on around the big camp fire. I sat between Shaun and Garrett most of the evening. I even got to drink a beer (please don't tell dad) and was treated like a grom, kidded and teased all night long, but as the night progressed, Garrett's hands got more and more subtly familiar with my body and I loved it and wanted more.

He drank a lot of alcohol too, which bothered me, but if I wanted to get along and get Gar into my pants, oh well. Shaun left the party around ten that night I think. I would not see him again until the next morning. I was kind of glad for it. If something might happen between me and Gar, I didn't really want Shaun to know.

Around eleven I kind of gave up when suddenly Gar leaned over and whispered in my ear. God he looked so fine in the camp fire light, the orange color setting off his tanned skin so much better than my own early tanned version.

"Hey grom, Randy. Um … want to have some fun, on our own?" he said so nobody could hear. I should have felt shocked that he was making a big ass pass at me, but I was not. My dick got hard. I had not jacked off in three days and was so horny,

"Yea, I mean, I don't know squat," I confessed. His arm pressed around my shoulder and his hand squeezed, "Don't worry. I can teach you to surf. I can teach you to please a guy. What you into?" he asked, nobody around us now, just us in the camp fire light.

I decided to tell the truth, "Spanking, sex, anything, I'm just a grom at all of it."

"Hmm, spanking. Good, very good. Sucking? You a virgin?" he asked and I was rock hard and dared myself to rub up against him and laid my hand on his strong bare thigh. I felt him press back into me, his hand on my shoulder slipped down to my ass still in the sand sitting, but that did not stop a finger from a little probe at my ass crack.

My chest heaved. I leaned into him, "Yes. It's yours. Please?" I whimpered, I actually whimpered and so felt like a helpless, hapless grom in the presence of a man.

"Hey, grom, Randy, it's OK baby. I'll take care of you, no worries, OK?" he looked into my eyes. I nodded, "yes," I said and he kissed the top of my head. He stood and nodded me to go with him. I did, but only after adjusting my shorts because of my woodie and then saw Gar's cock, hard as a board tenting his shorts as well.

We got into his Nissan, me in the front seat. All of the other passengers were elsewhere, Shaun I didn't know and didn't care if Gar didn't. It was quiet as we sat awhile,

"Gar, you don't have to, I'm just … I'm just a," and he stopped me, "That's enough grom. Do you want to do this? If you don't say so," and he was being honest and direct and not mean or selfish.

"Yes, I do. I'm just … so pathetic!" I smiled finally. He ruffled my hair, "Yea, but you're a good kid Randy. I like you," he said and then he started up the SUV and drove us out and to his place.

There was nobody home, good. He told me to strip naked. We would shower together first. I was glad for that, "How did you get into spanking?" he asked me as he soaped me up, my hands up on the shower wall, my dick hard as nails.

"I dunno. Dad spanked us, belted me and stropped Shaun. After a while I just jerked off after and then sometimes I would fantasized about spanking with other guys, but I never got spanked for sex," I said realizing it was true.

"Good, you are going to get spanked tonight and then you are going to suck me. Maybe we don't fuck tonight. That's like getting up and staying up on a board, so no hurry, right grom?"

"No hurry," I smiled so glad for my teacher's patience, but little did I know what I was in for.

Naked Gar was even more hot than clothed Gar. He was hung, but so was I. He praised me for my natural prowess and I finally allowed my eyes to look and leer at his magnificent body. Gar smiled and was animated as he dried me and then himself off and then draping his towel onto the toilet seat and sat,

"Over my knee grom, time to get spanked!" he said. I started whimpering and did not stop as I flopped over his knee and presented myself, thighs spread wide as I had always wanted to do,

"Oh yea, let me see that boy pussy, oh my god grom, you are gonna get eaten out," and then Gar's face was in my ass crack and his tongue pushing into my hole and tongue fucking me.

"Nah! Ah, hah Gar, nah!" I whimpered like a fucking bitch. All of a sudden his mouth was sucking my balls, his hand pushing my cock between my thighs and he sucked on my cock. It was hole, taint, balls and cock, then back to my hole again in a cycle like three times.

Then Gar unexpectedly pushed his thumb, his fucking thumb into my hole. I gasped, "Gar!" with a high pitched voice, "Like it grom? Want me to take it out?" he asked.

"No! Fuck me with it!" and he did and I started to get in rhythm and felt like a slut, Gar's slut, a fucking slutty grom.

Then the thumb came out and he spanked me, spanked me hard with his hand all over my ass and my thighs too, "Take it grom! Take it, you need it, a grom needs spanking, lots of it. Get him ready to be poled, grommet poled, lashed and hazed!" he said with a low growling sneer.

"Yes, yes, please," I said unable to deny that I wanted all of it, the hazing, the spanking, anything if Gar was on the other end of it, but my ass was getting really sore now! He stopped,

"Beautiful, nice, yea, grom you are a fucking hottie," he said feeling me up, rubbing my sore ass, me wiggling it like a whore and moaning and then I felt his hand bring mine to his cock.

He let me stroke his monster a short while and then he pushed me down off of his lap and to my knees. I immediately started to suck Garrett's cock like I really knew how and apparently I did,

"Oh yea, suck that pole, suck it, all the way grom!" and then he gagged me with it. God help me it was like that fucking paddling in and out on my board. I hated and loved it. I gagged again and again and felt I was so fucking abnormal.

"Fuck, grom, you are a dream come true," when I finally could do it no more he stood me up, held me and went down on me, and when he shoved a finger up my ass so hard and so far that I thought it was touching the back of my front teeth, I shot my load into his mouth without nary a warning, the orgasm passing through me like a hard four footer that you had to paddle to catch up to. I stood there dazed and then found myself back down on my knees, mouth gaping sperm shooting into it from Gar's angry, red and spurting piss slit.

"Shit, grom, fuck," he said with a satisfied grunt.

I thought I would collapse, but he picked me up and carried me into our bedroom and dropped me on his mattress, climbed in, covered us both up with a single sheet and then cuddled me up into his big strong arms from behind, "Sleep good grom, sleep good," he said. I pushed my ass back into his limp genitals, "Thank you Gar," softly. He squeezed me, "You're welcome Randy," just as softly.

* * * * * * * * * *

That first weekend then passed with a blur. Saturday I spent all day working for mama in the café. It was when they made big money and that saved the week from profit loss. I worked my ass off and loved it. I even got to work the tables taking and delivering orders and boy that was fucking fun.

Girls, boys, all flocked to the Bluefin for grub. The tips were paltry, but that was OK. I met so many cool guys, surfers and skaters both. Mama even made me a nametag with big letters, "GROM" on one lapel and on the other, "Property of G.Starr" and boy did I get razed by the older surfer guys, but the youngers just drooled over the fact that I was a grom for THE Garrett Starr of Huntington Beach.

The Bluefin was an early breakfast and lunch stop, usually closing at around 2PM during the week, but stayed open until 5 on Saturday. I worked the whole day and after closing, mama gave me a twenty-dollar bill, shit!

"Mama, that's not mine. You need it," I pled, "No honey, you earned it. Didn't you know that a couple of those boys tipped big because of you and your name tags?" she grinned.

I blushed and took the twenty from her hand and then marched right over to the special tip jar by the register labeled, "For Mama's Lost Kids" her fund for the lost and abandoned skater and surfer kids of Orange County and city of Huntington Beach.

The jar was stuffed already from the brisk day and grinning proudly I pushed my twenty-dollar bill through the narrow slot. Mama was at my side, wiping tears, "Oh Randy honey, bless you," she said. I hugged mama so closely, "I love you mama, and I'll do anything to help" and shed a tear with her.

And then it hit me. I had not told anyone about my dalliance with Garrett the night before. He had awakened before me, woke me up, told me that he had surfing business that whole day and that he would see me that night. I nodded. It was none of anyone's business who I had sex with, except I wanted mama to know, "Can I talk to you about something?" I asked.

"Of course honey, let me get us some pie and ice cream," and she did and it was so good, mama's pies were all wonderful treats and so was the ice cream.

"Mama, I had sex last night," was all I said, "Oh Randy, Garrett?" she asked. I smiled, "Yes, and he was so nice and it was so fun. I liked it. I like him," I said. Mama sighed, "Be careful honey. Summer romances don't often last, but Gar is a good boy, a good person. You know, he was a grom once, just like you."

"Tell me, please!" I grinned, excited to know anything about Garrett's past and she told me, "I remember that first summer. They gave that boy such a hard time. He was in tears a couple times, bawling his eyes out on my bosoms, but he got through and then he fell in love once to a girl and once to a boy and they both left him, more tears," she chuckled, "Just follow your heart honey, listen to it careful and it won't steer you wrong."

I ate more pie and gave mama's advice a lot of space in my own heart as well as realized that maybe Garrett and I were more alike than anyone could know. I walked over across the street to the surf shop and Shaun showed me a couple of his early board projects,

"Man, you were born to do this Shaun, Jesus!" and I was amazed. Shaun glowed with pride, "Thanks. How's the grom business?" he asked.

I smiled, "It's good," but I never felt compelled to tell Shaun about what I had done with Garrett, it would just worry him and I had mama to lean on, "So what did you do last night? I left early with Garrett."

"Oh, met a girl, got drunk, passed out, the usual," he smiled. I nodded and was glad for him, but Shaun still never asked me about Garrett.

I really didn't see Garrett again until Sunday afternoon. Shaun took me to the local skatepark on Sunday morning and it was fun. The guys there were not a lot different then back at Fresno, just a lot more and a lot hotter I might add. That afternoon, Garrett put me through my paces, but we spent more time learning how to pop up on my board.

The next few weeks would settle into a routine. There was training, land and in water, with and without boards, but now I was using both a long and short board. I was working at the Bluefin, out front and in back and learning how to cook just a little when Fred, mama's long time cook, needed me. I could see myself working there forever were that possible.

Within the next month I finally got up and stayed up on my longboard with 2-3 foot waves, even one four foot wave, for about ten seconds and yet I had done it. Garrett and I had sex about three times a week now, me sucking him, him sucking me. I learned how to rim, I loved it. We would suck each other off or masturbate the other. The subject of my virginity came up a couple times, but Garrett seemed not in a hurry and so neither was I.

Garrett spanked me and used a belt, but not hard, just to get me tuned up for sex. It was just foreplay until one afternoon, I was feeling my oats a little too much. I was actually with Garrett up at Huntington Cliffs, the beginners break. I was getting a little cocky about my ability to stay up on my long board and complete a nice run on a three or even four footer.

I was in a line-up Gar watching me from the beach and I was getting impatient. I don't know why, but I took off ahead of the guy ahead of me and caught the wave. I rode the board well but Garrett saw the whole thing and met me right as I walked up in the foam,

"What the fuck grom? Do you know what you just did? You never snake, cut in on another surfer like that! Are you nuts? Don't you know better?" Gar was livid and I already knew that he was a stickler for surfing and especially line-up etiquette and I had fucked up badly and everyone knew I was his grom, worse yet.

"But, I … I thought … shit, I did," I said, "Bring your fucking board and follow me!" he snarled and I did.

We walked into a very public place where a lot of older boys were hanging around just talking and laughing. There was a bench there,

"Put your board down and come here," he said and by now, about a dozen guys, hot looking guys, a number who acknowledged Gar, "Hey Gar, sup!" and Gar smiled, "Hey guys, what's hangin'?"

I put my board down and humbly walked to him. He looked up at me, "Tell everyone what you did, grom!" he sneered and all the guys around me stared silently.

I sighed and at least remembered the lingo, "I snaked the line-up," and quickly heard a collective groan with a bunch of snickers and a couple of, "Fucking grom,"  "Should know better," "Should kick his ass off the beach," and so on and so forth. I had no idea that surfers took their rules so seriously, but they did.

"You are going to drop 'em and get a spanking, right now!" and now it was, "Give it to him Gar, tan his worthless hide," "teach the grom a lesson, put him in his place Gar!" they said.

I dropped my shorts, bared my bottom and flopped across Gar's knees. Gar spanked me, tanned my hide and blistered it with his hand and then with the rubber sole of his sneaker, in fact two of them, one handed to him by one of the onlookers.

I kept my cool as best I could. It was humiliating and painful and I knew I deserved it for embarrassing Gar as well as myself. At the end, he stood me up, "Now go stand against that light pole, touch your nose to it and don't fucking move!" and as I did, the other boys surrounded me so that there would be no intrusions by beach cops or other authority figures,

"Your turn boys. Punish him, take turns and we'll keep an eye out," Gar ordered.

I stood, closed my eyes and took my punishment. The boys, all older, took turns spanking me with their hands, with rolled up newspapers, crushing my nuts with their fists just short of me crying for mercy. They stuck their dry fingers up into my butthole hard and high lifting me up to my tiptoes and then made me clean their fingers inside of my mouth. They whispered taunts and humiliations into my ears.

Yes they called me a worthless faggot grom and a useless scum bottom feeding good for nothing shit head and even a gay turd and I was not offended. I knew it was all a part of fucking up within a culture of stern toughness, that was what belonging and being in the company of the hottest and best young and upcoming surfers in the world was like if you fucked up as a grom at Huntington Beach.

Finally, upon spying a couple of City of Huntington Beach's finest strolling down towards them, my shorts were thrust into my face with urgency to put them on,

"Any problem here boys?" one of the officers said and looked at me, "How old are you son?" he asked, "I'm fifteen sir, I'm a grom," I smiled.

"And where are you from?" he asked, "Fresno sir, visiting with my brother who works at Sparky's. I work at the Bluefin," I answered.

"Are these idiots hazing you?" he asked, "No sir. We're just having fun, I'm taking in the sights down here for the first time is all," I said making things sound harmless, "OK, I would suggest you morons disperse, now," the officer said and we did, sort of anyway as the policemen wandered off.

The funny part of it all was that later that early evening I was still with Garrett at the same beach. All was forgiven as I had manned up and took my punishment and we were partying with the same guys that had punished me at the light pole.

I had gotten up to take a leak at one of the permanent out houses. They were disgusting but another part of beach life. I had just finished and backed out the door and suddenly there were two pairs of hands on me from boys I had never seen,

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? A pretty boy, by the looks of it. How you doing pretty boy? Need to suck cock?" he said in a very threatening manner.

"No, let me go please," I said starting to get afraid as I was a good fifty yards from Gar and the other boys, and suddenly one produced a knife blade, "Oh, I think you're going with us!" and I started to panic, "Please! No!" and started to drop down towards my feet so that they would have a hard time kidnapping me and then suddenly we were surrounded by a lot more bodies and very loud and angry voices,

"Fuck off Henderson! You know we'll fuck you up, get the fuck out of here asshole!" and just then Gar pulled me to standing and out of the morass of angry older teens facing off.

I was shaking like a leaf and listened as Gar just held me fast with his hands on my arms. My assailants fled and I relaxed but my face fell and I must have looked bad,

"Hey, grom, you OK?" a guy named Riley asked, one of the bigger boys who had really beat my ass extra hard at the light pole earlier.

"Of course he's not all right shithead. Jesus Riley, he was held at knifepoint!" the other boy, Vinnie who had read me the riot act and had painfully fucked me with his finger and made me clean it off,

"Come on kid, next time, let one of us go with you. It's not safe around here at dark, OK?" he ruffled my hair. I nodded, "Thanks," I said still very upset. All I wanted was to go home with Garrett and have him cuddle me, but knew we couldn't do that here in front of everyone.

"Randy, Vinnie is right. This is my fault. I should have warned you, I'm sorry," Gar said as we walked back to the small campfire.

"No, it's OK. I get it. I'll be more careful. Who saw me get attacked?"

"Actually Riley did. He has eagle eyes. Boy did he and Vinnie move fast. See? It pays to be a part of a crew and know guys. They really do care even if you didn't like what they did to you today."

"Oh, I deserved that. I'll learn. It wasn't so bad," I said with a shy grin, "Oh yea, well guess what, Riley and Vinnie both have the hots for you."

"They do?" I replied, "Yea, play your cards right and maybe you can have three of us with the hots for you if you're into it," he said. I smiled and just the thought of it made me smile more.

I sat right between Riley and Vinnie at the campfire. Slowly both Riley and Vinnie sort of scooted into me on both sides. Gar was on the other side of the campfire watching. I didn't know what the fuck I was doing, but I finally let my hands drop one in back of Vinnie, the other in back of Riley.

I so slowly let my hands touch their backs and when they didn't flinch I kind of moved my fingers and let them "know." Vinnie finally leaned over, "What's your pleasure grom?" he whispered. I leaned back after making sure that others seemed occupied, all save Gar of course who watched me carefully, "I'm horny. I want to suck you off, Riley too, more if you like."

Vinnie said nothing at first distracted by a girl on his other side and then leaned into me, "Be cool, it'll happen," he said. I was so fucking excited. I looked over at Gar and barely nodded. He barely nodded back. I loved this! The guys who had punished me so severely and publically earlier had not only saved my ass from harm, but now were going to sex me up. Fuck … yes!

We piled into Gar's yellow XTerra and took off down the highway south back towards the main Pier area. I was in the back seat with Riley and could not pull out Riley's cock from his shorts fast enough,

"Yea kid, do it!" he hissed. I went down on Riley, all the way and gagged, "Slow down baby!" he said sounding like he was smiling, "Fuck, Gar, this grom is a fucking hot little cocksucker!" and I popped up, "You think?" and then went down and got a smack aside my head for my comment as the guys all cracked up.

Riley's hand was down the back of my shorts and I lifted up the best I could given the seat belt but a finger wiggled onto and then inside my butt hole. I love it and sucked all the harder, "Oh fuck yea grom, suck that shit good!" and he finger fucked me in the back seat.

Suddenly I saw reflected light, red and blue, "Shit!" Gar yelled and the car slowed, "Oh wait, it's just fucking Blake. He always does this!" Gar's voice seemed light and not upset, "Quick, get up kid," Riley said.

"What's going on?" I asked excitedly, "Nothing. Local cop name's Blake. He's cool, just likes to fuck around when he's bored. Hey Randy, want to have some fun?" Gar asked.

"Sure!" I grinned, "OK when he asks who you are and how old tell him and then talk back a little. He'll pull us all out and frisk us and if you play your cards right, he'll feel you up and he'll end up at my place with us and he is a hot fuck to play with."

"Are you fucking with me?" I asked incredulous, "Um no, he is not, Just do it grom, it'll be fun!" Riled advised.

Gar rolled his window down and up strolled this hot, hot looking older guy, maybe twenty-five?

"OK, who's got beer, weed, underaged boys maybe? Hopefully?" The man said and then grinned, "What are you fucks up to anyway, that you Riley?"

"Fuck off Blake," I gamely said and then the flashlight was in my face, "Oh, what's this? Who are you?" the officer asked me, "I'm Gar's grom, I'm Randy from Fresno," I said smiling sweetly.

"How old are you Randy from Fresno?" he asked, "Fifteen sir," I replied and the guys hooted a bit, "Fifteen. I see, do you have I.D. Randy from Fresno?" and I did not, "No sir, it's back at Gar's place … as is my virginity," and everyone laughed their asses off. It was not true, but I said it anyway and hoped it was not over the top.

"Gar! You fucking child molester and you didn't call me?" Blake said, "I lied sir, I'm still a virgin, but you know, I'm just a fucking grom," I said.

"OK, everyone out!" Blake said and we piled out and lined up hands on the side of the XTerra on the off highway side. Blake seemed not interested in frisking anyone but me and when he did, he groped the shit out of me. My dick got hard and Blake found it, "You seem to have contraband Randy from Fresno, I should take you in for further investigation."

I heard sniggers and chuckles, "Yes sir," I said, not really feeling afraid, just entirely excited is all.

"Hey Blake, you pervert. Show the kid some respect," Vinnie teased.

"Fuck off Vinnie," I said, "I got him, he's mine. Arrest me officer and molest me in your car please?" I said and everyone cracked up, even Blake. He leaned over, "Randy, if I could I would. OK, see you fucks later, about an hour. Save some hot boy pussy, OK?" and I stood up and turned around in the darkness, cars flying past us on the highway. Blake winked at me. I looked both directions and then leaned over, groped his big package, kissed his cheek and said, "Cavity search later?"

"Fuck yea," Blake said and I quickly stepped away.

We got back in the XTerra, this time Vinnie in the back seat with me, "Nobody please tell my dad about all of this. He would birth a cow, maybe an elephant," I said aloud, "Shut up and suck my dick," Vinnie smirked and I did, all the way back to Gar's place.

When we got back, clothes quickly disappeared. I ended up on the couch between Riley and Vinnie, Gar at my feet. Vinnie and Riley had me up on top, kissing me, tweaking my nipples and pawing all over me. Gar was on my dick, sucking and then they lifted my legs up and Gar was eating my pussy and Vinnie was taking turns with Riley sucking my cock and sucking on my nipples and kissing my mouth. My hands were doing stuff to all of them, mainly just fingering hair and hot muscled surfer bodies.

"He likes to be spanked," Gar finally said and I quickly found myself stretched across Riley's knees with my mouth on Vinnie's cock, sucking and Gar's hand was spanking me and pulling on my erection, Riley spanking me as well. This went on for awhile, me climbing up and down on the couch getting spankings from all of them, my cock sucked, me sucking, them licking out my ass,

"You want to get fucked tonight?" Gar asked me, "Yup, fucked, by all of you," I said and grinned at Riley and Vinnie, "Fuck yea grom, what the fuck, you are one hell of a hot little fucker!" Vinnie chuckled.

The knock on the door startled all of us, but I jumped up, "let me," and I went to the door and opened it. It was Blake. I grinned opened it a little more, pulled him inside, closed the door and put my lips on his, "Oh fuck!" he mumbled and I kissed the cop's mouth and he kissed me back,

"Well, if it isn't Randy from Fresno, hello beautiful!" Blake said. I grinned and pulled him into the room, "Everyone else is going to fuck me tonight, you want join in?" I asked. He nodded his approval.

"He's still a virgin," Gar said. Blake's eyes got big, "Well then, we have to do it right, nice and slow."

I admit I was very nervous, but with four experienced tops, how could anything go wrong, except them arguing how best for me to lose my cherry. I ahemed that this was my virginity and I would lose it how I wanted. They all shut up. Good.

"I am Gar's grom. He has been … well, the best damn teacher of anything I've ever had. I'm gonna get fucked by him first, OK?" and there was no argument.

Gar laid on his back after everyone piled up pillows and bed covers on the front room floor. I straddled on top of Gar and told everyone to come in close to us. They did. I looked around, "Lube everything up please. I'll need help. I expect you horny fuckers to help me through this, OK?"

"Fucker knows what he wants, I like it!" Riley said.

When I started to sit on Gar's monster dick it started out easy and then quickly got painful. Blake, Vinnie and Riley all talked to me, encouraged me, pulled on my dick and helped with one and two fingers before and during when I could not get Gar inside of me. Nobody got impatient, nobody got greedy.

"Easy grom, easy Randy, just let it happen baby, you are so beautiful. Gar, you are so fucking awesome man," Riley said to Gar. Vinnie kissed Gar and Blake and Riley. They kissed me, deeply and passionately. Blake rubbed and massaged me and then it got to the point I was sick and tired of my sphincter being a bitch.

"OK, fuck it. Gar, just do it. You guys, hold me down on it and just let me feel it, hold me, I'm gonna scream like a little girl, I know, on three … one, two … "

I did scream like a girl, because nothing had ever hurt so much. I pled and begged to be let off, but the guys just coaxed and distracted and Vinnie was sucking my dick and Blake was telling me what a stud I was and Gar was holding me and urging,

"You're doing great Randy, hold on buddy! Hold on grom, keep up on your board! It's a ten foot wave damn it, ride the mother fucker!"

And finally the awful ass spasms subsided and calmed, the wave went away and I was still up on my board, still with Gar's cock buried deep inside of me and I was wet with sweat as if with seawater.

"Shit, you did it grom! You fucking did it!" Gar grinned up at me. I high-fived everyone, "Good, finally, now fuck me, fuck me Gar, fill me up, and don't take too long please. I want everyone to get a turn. You are all my friends and teachers and law enforcement," I smiled which gained me a big long mouth kiss from Blake.

That Sunday night, I lost not only my virginity, but my naiveté. I did it all without Shaun, on my own. I guess I was lucky that I ran into the right guys. I had four dicks up my ass that night. I got spanked, paddled, belted but not hard. I got ass-fucked, face fucked and got sucked off, three times.

At the end of the night, Blake gave me his card, "Anything at all, anyone giving you shit, call me 24/7, OK?" and we hugged, "Thank you Blake, I will!" I said and he smiled, "Nite, baby."

I crashed with the guys to sleep, all of us in a happy heap, legs and arms all mixed up. I was so sore inside and out but so happy, inside and out as well and hoped to hell that it all could somehow last.

* * * * * * * * * *

I was working the register and tables at the Bluefin that mid-week morning. Customer traffic was light, so when I looked up and five hot surfer dudes plus one law enforcement officer all of my acquaintance walk in through the door en masse including Garrett, Greg Majors (still limping from his broken leg) and most importantly, my own brother, Shaun, I felt something deep down into my young grom surfer soul and it was not customer service.

"Oh shit," I said. Mama was quick to my side, a big grin on her face, "Good luck honey, this is your day," and I felt something so proud and frightening in my chest just then. Blake walked up to me, a huge smirk on his handsome face, "hands behind your back grom. You are under arrest for evasion of style, lack of cool and most importantly impersonating a proper surfer."

I put my hands behind my back as I caught Shaun's face sporting a big wide cheesy grin. Blake slapped his chrome cuffs on my wrists. Garrett came up and divested me of my apron and hair net I wore because I was working the back. Garrett then took my arm and the boys parted and walked me outside where another twenty surfers, groms and elders alike joined the procession down to the beach.

"This is it grom, you are going to pay for your mortal sins, God help your fucking grom soul," Garrett said with a satisfied smile.

They took me to the grommet pole at the far end of the beach and stood me by the pole. Yes, Blake was there, off duty. He uncuffed me and would ignore what happened next because it was illegal, "Drink up grom," and I was presented with a can of cheap beer.

Everyone cheered and laughed as I downed the first can, then the next and uttered a huge belch which garnered me a lot of razing. Then, I was stripped naked, as naked as a newborn and that was what I really was just then.

I didn't see what was coming next, only felt it. They had brought a three gallon white tub of cooking oil and dumped it over my head. "Fuck!" I yelled as the liquid goo drenched me head to toe and then it was a sand storm, everyone throwing beach sand all over my body. It stung like hell. I turned my back, bad idea as not only was the sand flying, but I was pushed up against the pole and my wrists lashed with leash rope and I was tied to the pole, though loosely.

The sand sticky goo dripped down into my mouth and down over my body getting into sensitive places. I was made to drink a third and last beer and then a towel wiped my ass and then I was spanked, paddled with something hard and plastic, razed, called all manner of names, poked, prodded, pinched and my nipples twisted until I screamed.

"Kneel grom!" Garrett shouted at me. I kneeled and it hurt like hell because the sand ground into my skin on my knees and then six guys surrounded me and the next thing I knew they were pissing on me! Urinating all over me including my head, "Fuck!"

I just closed my eyes and mouth and took it but for some reason I did not now feel afraid. I kind of felt good, painful in places but I had made it, made it to the pole. If you did make it to the pole, you were shit and not considered worthy. I just had to endure.

"Don't get up!" like I was thinking of it and the next thing I was cowering as they all shouted names at me as they pelted me with all manner of garbage, rotten food, left over crap including lotions and sun tan oils, an old shoe, a box of breakfast cereal, Cheerios I think, a box of horridly smelly mothballs, you name it, they threw it at me. At the end, my own brother, Shaun, held a big bottle of chocolate syrup over my head, doused the whole bottle onto me and then plopped a maraschino cherry on top, "Grom sundae! Yea!" and everyone clapped and cheered.

I looked up at Shaun and the others and I could not help but grin as I tried like hell to at least get some of the chocolate onto my tongue.

"OK grom, you are grounded until noon and then, you will be freed to surf as one of us," Garrett said.

Noon, that was three hours that I was to sit in the filth of my gromness, but as I sat there and boys passed, some laughed but more shown the faces of groms not worthy and they admired me, I could see it. They wanted to be me, soon to be one of the Northside crew and accepted as a surfer for life among them.

At the crack of noon, they all re-appeared. Garrett unshackled me, stood back, "Randy Hollis, get your lousy, stinking naked ass out into the surf, now!"

I took off screaming into the sand and towards the ocean like a naked crazy banshee freed from a thousand year prison, everyone right beside me including Shaun, Garrett and the others, save Greg who walked fast, but did not yet run because of his leg.

I hit the salt water and gratefully bathed in its eternal nutrients, surrounded by boys splashing me and I them. A huge wonderful water fight broke out as the sandy goo fell away and I was free, like from a life cycle cocoon and when it was all mostly gone, Garrett shoved a beautiful new shortboard into my hands.

"Whose is it?" I grinned, "Yours man, we all chipped in!"  and I let out another big war hoop, hugged Garrett, "Thanks everyone!" I shouted and then paddled out to the line-up. There must have been thirty guys out there and they all cheered my arrival.

Greg Majors was now the chew chief again, Garrett second in command, "Hollis! Get your ass first in line, catch a wave boy!" Greg shouted at me. I fucking blushed. I now knew that this was a rare honor, a show of respect that I had indeed arrived.

I quickly paddled as humbly as I could to the front, high-fiving the boys in front of me, grins given and taken. When I reached Garrett, I almost lost it. He but nodded and I nodded back wordlessly. I looked at Greg. I did not know him very well yet, but he had orchestrated nearly the whole thing. I swallowed thickly, nodded respectfully to him and he held his fist out. Fuck! I fist bumped him, my heart racing with a depth of joy that I did not know existed and then turned may attention to the surf.

I waited and it was like the Pacific Ocean granted my wish. An unusual five footer started to form. My eyes grew big, but my surfer brain kicked in. I paddled out for it hearing cheers behind me. I caught it, popped up on my new shortboard and surfed the ever living shit out of that watery gift and then paddled back out to the end of the line-up. When Shaun, Greg and Garrett caught up with me, I hugged my brother, hugged Gar too.

"Hey, that was … passable," Greg smirked at me, "Thanks," I smiled and we fist bumped again.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next weeks flew by too fast. September was approaching which meant school back in Fresno, but there was still the U.S. Surfing Open in late July and early August, one week of incredible fun. It was exciting and so very busy. We were swamped like mad both at the surf shop and at the Bluefin.

My mentor and best friend Garrett Starr was competing in the junior division. He was on the verge of a couple of pro sponsorships and intent on doing the world tour. I so wanted him to do well, but if he did, he would be leaving Huntington for at least a year and I would lose the most important guy in my life for a long while. That part sucked, but I would have to go back to Fresno until next summer anyway, that part sucked more.

Greg Majors was in a terrible funk as he could not compete in the ASP juniors at Huntington or anywhere else for that matter on account of his broken leg, but Sparky, God bless him, put Greg to work in the surf shop which seemed to enliven his spirits. Mama hired extra help at the Bluefin and put me in charge! We stayed open all day and all night now. Greg would come over to eat and I would serve him personally.

Before my hazing at the grommet pole, I kind of avoided Greg unless we were out in the surf of course, but since then, we had developed a passing friendship. During one mealtime in mid-week, Greg even told me about when he was a grom and what they did to him at his pole hazing. We laughed, it was not a lot different in his day than in mine really.

Shaun was designing his own boards and surfers were starting to put in orders. It was totally awesome. My big brother had finally found what he wanted to do for the rest of his life, but he still wanted to go back to Fresno so that he could finish his senior high school year. Then, after graduation the following summer, return to Huntington Beach to work in Sparky's surf shop as a shaper.

"What's going to happen after that?" I asked Shaun during a short break on the last Friday of the week's festivities,

"I don't know, but Sparky hinted that he needed to retire in a few years and maybe, just maybe I could take the shop over," and the gleam of pride and excitement in Shaun's eyes, a look I would recall many times in the difficult times ahead.

* * * * * * * * * *

Shaun was all packed and ready to drive back to Fresno. We were all standing at my summer home, Garrett's house of course, me, Garrett, Sparky and mama with Shaun.

"When you coming home bro?" Shaun asked me, and I shrugged, "soon, I guess. I wish I could stay here, go to high school here in Huntington," I moped.

"You know mom and dad won't let you," he said. I sighed, "I know, well, at least you're a senior, right?" I managed a smile and he smiled and ruffled my hair and then opened the driver's door and got in. He started the engine, looked over at me, "See you soon Randy," he said.

I stepped back and he started to drive away. Something inside of me felt strange and foreign. I don't why I did, but I took off and raced after the car running like hell. Shaun must have seen me because he slowed and stopped. I caught up to him and he looked at me out the window.

"Shaun! I love you big brother!" I said and put my hands through the window, grasped the sides of his head and kissed his forehead, "Love you too Randy!" he said, his eyes slightly glistening, his smile, his warm smile making me feel something deep and unidentifiable. I stepped back and watched the car drive away.

The U.S. Open finished and the week afterwards was like this huge let down. I was going to have to return to Fresno very soon for school. My surfing sucked, but Garrett had done great and he boosted my spirits and my game out in the water. Even Greg helped me, telling me that there is always a let down after a grom graduates to human again. I laughed at that.

That night, the following Sunday I had gone off to bed, but something was keeping me awake. I felt strange, odd and that something was not right. I had just closed my eyes to try and sleep again when the flash of red and blue lights caught my vision. Garrett had just appeared in the doorway to hit the sack,

"What the fuck? Is that Blake? What the hell is he doing screwing around with us at this hour?" Garrett grinned. I grinned too, good old Blake, always good for a laugh or a blow job, didn't I know. I followed Garrett to the front door to watch, but I saw not one car, but two.

Blake was standing on the sidewalk, but so was Sparky and Mama and the looks on all of their faces was not laughing, no. Mama's was sad and drawn, Sparky's serious and Blake's flat and professional. I felt a deep, bad feeling in my guts. Garrett went up to them. I could not hear what they were telling Gar.

Suddenly, Gar squatted, his hands covering his face. I started to shake, something was bad and wrong, very bad and very wrong. Then everyone looked at me. Gar got up and started walking towards me, his chin quivering. I walked out into the front yard and backed away from him, "No!" I said putting my hands out.

Gar reached me, tears streaming down his drawn face, "Randy," he said, "Nooo!" I yelped and crouched defensively onto the lawn because I was trembling so hard that I could no longer stand. Gar squatted with me and hugged me, "Randy, it's Shaun," he said breathlessly, "he … he's gone Randy. He was killed in a car crash tonight."

I crumbled into his body, "Nooooooooooooo!" I screamed into the worst possible feeling I had ever felt in my young life, pretty sure that my life had ended as well.

* * * * * * * * * *

I don't remember everything of the twenty-four hours after Gar and the others somehow guided me back into Gar's house. I remember talking to mom on the phone, her tearful voice begging me to come home, saying that my father was in a desperate abyss of grief or words to that effect.

I do recall instantly blaming dad for Shaun's death from the get-go. I not only blamed dad, I was going to kill him with my own bare hands, strangle him and then kill myself so that I could see my adored big brother in Heaven, having sent dad to Hell.

I can recall only bits and pieces of the long and horrible car trip to Fresno, me huddled in a ball in Gar's lap in the back seat of Blake's cruiser. I also recall pulling up to our house on Tiller street, a dozen cars of grieving relatives and friends lining up and down for several houses on both sides of the street, people all over the lawn and inside the house, faces sad, whispering quietly.

I remember Gar protecting me, arm around me as he led me out of the car, mom grabbing me, taking me and Gar inside and right into my own bedroom where I fell apart again, crying and sobbing disconsolately in Gar's arms.

But I'll never forget almost thirty minutes later when I finally encountered my father. Leonard or Leo Hollis was not a bad father, he just had his ways. He always loved me and Shaun, but he hated how the world had changed around him from his own "safe" childhood and adolescent upbringing. He did not like if not quite despised his sons' love of skateboarding and now surfing of course, but maybe that was to be expected.

I was all ready to unload on dad, yell angry words of hatred to him as loud as I could so that the whole world could hear me much less everyone in the house, but all I saw was man as broken as I knew I was. He looked up at me, his face crumbled. He rushed out of the room pushing past well wishing friends and out of the back kitchen door towards the garage, his haven in his own times of need.

I rushed past the same persons, not knowing what I felt, only that I needed to follow. He had closed the garage door, I opened it and passed through, and closed it. Dad already stood facing the garage door away from me. His face was down, hands on his face, his shoulders shaking.

I started to sob a little, rushed up to his back, hugged him, "Dad," I said through my thickened throat and started to sob harder. He turned, "Oh Randy," he said and we stood crying together, hugging hard our bodies shaking in unison.

After a long moment, he held me a little away, "It's my fault Randy. You can blame me. We had an argument, Shaun and I about you. The pastor at church, he gave a sermon against homosexuality. Shaun was there …" and dad paused as my blood ran cold, "Shaun stood up right there and interrupted the sermon and defended gay people because Shaun knew about you. I didn't, not yet," Dads voice quieted and his hands dropped as he paused again,

"Shaun left the church and went home. When I got there, he told me that you were … gay. We got into it very badly. Shaun got into his truck and drove away from the house and I didn't see him alive again. What the police say is that he probably got drunk sometime that day or night and went driving. His car hit the tree, destroyed the car and killed Shaun," and at that, dad's face and body slumped and he started to sob again, "It's my fault Randy, my fault. I should have never,"  but dad could no longer control himself and started to cry again.

I was numb, numb and had no words, but I hugged dad and for some unknown reason, I could no longer cry, at least not then. I hugged my father, "It's OK dad. It's not your fault, it's nobody's fault and yes, I'm gay. I'm glad you already know," because if now my big brother was gone, I really did not want to lose my dad too.

Later that evening, it was only me, mom and dad, Sparky and mama. Blake had left, but not before I had hugged him so hard, kissed his cheek and thanked him. Blake had tears in his eyes as he kissed me back, "Come back to Huntington Randy," he said breathlessly, "You belong there baby, not here, not anymore," and I nodded. I thought he was crazy, but I sure did love that big hunk of a man just then.

The conversation was about Shaun's funeral. I listened. I hated it. I hated the thought of burying my big brother in Fresno. That was not where Shaun ever intended to be. I interrupted all the talk about cemeteries and headstones, open caskets or closed ones,

"We're going to cremate him and take most if not all of his ashes back to Huntington Beach. We're going to have a traditional Polynesian burial at sea, a paddle-out," I said with more determination than I had ever said anything.

Everyone stopped talking and looked at me, "Shaun wanted more than anything else to go back to Huntington to be a shaper, making surf boards for the rest of his life. He would not want to be buried here. This was not his future, it was on the beach, with surfers and sun and the waves and ocean."

I watched intently especially at my mother and father. They looked at each other, then at mama Nadine and Sparky, "Randy is right. That is what he wanted," mama said quietly and very respectfully.

I expected dad at least to argue with me, but he didn't. He just didn't and looked at me, tilted his head and even smiled a little,

"Then I want what Shaun would have wanted. Randy is right," my dad said and just then I knew that dad and I would be all right again.

Dead bodies are like wax figures. I looked at Shaun's and felt nothing that day because I knew that my big brother was not in that thing. We sat in our small group, me, Gar, mama Nadine and Sparky, mom and dad as Shaun's body was reduced to ash.

We smiled and told stories about Shaun back and forth, in Fresno and in Huntington if for just that summer. Gar praised me up and down telling dad and mom how good a surfer I was and in his opinion how good a person I was and how respected I was among a group of boys that was damn difficult to impress. I blushed, but accepted his praise and could tell how much it impressed my father.

Just a little bit of Shaun's ashes were left behind in Fresno for my parents to do as they wished later. There was a memorial service that next day, in the morning at mom and dad's church, but I paid little attention. Later that afternoon, Gar sat with me in my big brother's bedroom. I looked around. For me, it might be the last time in that room and Gar helped me to gather up things I wanted of Shaun's, things I would remember him by, things I needed because I already was planning a year ahead for the one year anniversary of the day of Shaun's death.

Then there was a caravan of two cars leaving Fresno, Sparky's and mama's and also my dad's and mom's me and Gar in the back seat, the box containing Shaun's remains sitting between us, my hand on the top the whole way. We all drove back to Huntington Beach, Northside, to the front of Sparky's surf shop arriving around four in the afternoon.

What I saw made me smile, smile and get a little teary, Gar too. There were at least two hundred folk gathered on the sidewalks in front of both the surf shop and the Bluefin waiting to greet us. When we got out of our cars, we were mobbed with hugs, tears and condolences.

I left the box of ashes in the car for safe keeping. I kept watching dad especially as surfer after surfer, blonde headed, tan bare chested boys, groms and older boys alike, boys that dad would have sneered at and despised before, greeted him and mom, shed a few tears, and hugged him and mom.

One even put flower leis around my parents' necks. I watched. Shaun would have been so proud of dad as he smiled, hugged back, even put his hands on their shoulders and asked them about their lives, what they loved about surfing and they replied with grinning faces.

Then, while Sparky and mama Nadine continued to introduce my parents to their beloved surfing community, Gar and I saw Greg Majors standing off by himself. I took a big breath and we started to walk to him. When we got up to Greg, he looked at Gar, "Glad you went with Randy, man," got this funny look on his face and hugged Gar. Gar hugged back, "Yea, right thing to do."

Then Greg and Gar parted and Greg looked at me, "Give me your wrist grom," he said voice thickened. He called me grom. I thought I would never miss ever being that, but now I would have given anything to turn time back to when Shaun was alive, shaping boards in Sparky's shop, me a pathetic newbie grom getting my ass handed to me again and again and again.

"It's not much," he said quietly and slipped one of what would be just the first of many friendship bracelets onto my right wrist. I fought back tears and hugged Greg, hard. He hugged me back and then held me at arm's length, "Anything I can do?" he asked.

And suddenly, there was, "Yes. I want to have a paddle-out burial for my brother. I don't know how to do it and I need to have dad out there with us. I don't even know if he can swim!" and let out a mournful chuckle.

Greg chuckled back, "Stupid grom. You're as good a surfer as anyone out there. You concentrate on teaching your dad. Gar and I will get with mama and Sparky and make a big old-fashioned paddle-out that everyone is going to fight to be in."

The very next day, dad said I was crazy for trying, but did not resist me as I took him to Sparky's. He looked lost, so very lost, "OK grom, listen up," I said and he looked at me and smiled with a kind of gratitude that I'll never forget.

I spent the next few days, just dad and me, Leo Hollis turned into a kid again. He had never spent hardly a few hours total on beaches within his forty something years, much less paddling in and out on a longboard just off of our Northside break. He was dead tired at the end of each of those two days, but mother later told me that she had never seen him looking and feeling so good as a person, and never closer to me, but he told me that himself at the end of the second day,

"Randy. I want you know, I'm so proud of you. I hope you find love some day, a boy who will love you and dedicate his life to you." I can tell you that right at that moment, I wondered about the purpose of Shaun's death and maybe it was to bring my dad back home to me. It would have been just like Shaun to do that.

We sat there in the dying daylight, side-by-side on the beach in the sand. Dad then slung his around my shoulders, "I wonder where I can get drunk?"

I looked at dad. Drunk? After what had happened to Shaun? And yet, dad's question seemed so rebellious, so grom-like, so Shaun-like!  I laughed my ass off but dad just looked at me, "I'm serious Randy!"

I stood up, "Come on dad, I'll show you," and could not stop laughing. I took dad back to Sparky's and told him and Sparky's eyes lit up,

"Leo, you and I are going over to the Silver Parrot," a local dive for adult surfing men, pros and wanna-bes alike.

I left dad in Sparky's capable hands and walked back to Garrett's, feeling a strange sense of peace. I did not doubt that there would be difficult moments remaining in the next few days, but not this evening. This evening I felt happy.

When I got there, Greg and Gar were at the end of planning the paddle-out. It was going to be a massive and wonderful send off for my big brother.

"How you doing?" Gar asked me, Greg waiting for my reply. I grinned, "My old man is doing great and he asked to get drunk! And Sparky is taking him to the Silver Parrot, yes!" I yelled and we all high-fived.

"You didn't answer the question," Gar repeated sort of like he used to in my grom days.

I sighed, "I don't know. Seems like some bad things have to happen, so that other good things can happen after," and felt a sadness creeping back into my body.

"Fuck that," Greg said and I looked up at him a little taken aback. He looked at me, "Fuck … that. You think Shaun would approve of all of this maudlin shit?" and I had no idea Greg even knew that word.

"Greg," Gar stared at him and Greg stared back, "Gar … it's true. Tell me it's not. Your big brother loved life, loved the surf game, Randy. He got drunk. He partied with the best of them. You need to party Randy, celebrate like a mother-fucker, starting now man, cause if you don't, you'll miss the only chance you might get to really honor your bro right when it counts, got it?" his words impassioned.

"He's right," Gar said and they stood up and helped me to standing, "Come on!"

They guys threw some stuff I could not make out into Gar's XTerra and Gar drove us down the highway to our usual party spot. We got out and stripped naked, all three of us and then ran, screaming like banshees through the night and into the surf, naked. We had a water fight. They ganged up on me, and then started to haze me, spanking my ass, pinching my nipples.

Even Greg did it and I had no idea Greg could ever touch a guy like that, but he did me. I could not help myself. I got a huge boner, so did Gar. Greg seemed OK with it and in fact right there in the surf up to our knees, Gar pushed me to my knees, "Suck my cock!" and I did, right there in the dark open air, the surf going in and out nearly up to my shoulders, Greg right there.

"Suck his cock!" Gar then told me and turned me around. I looked up at Greg. He smiled, "Suck my cock, grom!" and I did. I sucked Greg's cock and he smiled down at me and then pulled me up to standing, "Kiss him!" Greg told me.

I turned and kissed Gar, kissed him hard and then turned and looked at Greg. I hugged Greg just then, my sandy wet and yes cold body against his big muscular one, "Don't worry, I won't kiss you," I said and then out of nowhere, Greg Majors kissed me on them mouth, not a long kiss and no tongue, "Don't go making more of it than it is, but I love you Randy, you're my bro."

I paused, nodded and enjoyed what he said and then grinning ear-to-ear, said, "Fuck the both of you!" and started running for the sandy beach by myself knowing I would not be alone very quickly.

The boys captured me from behind tumbling us all into the sand. They rubbed sand all over me, swatted my ass, rubbing sand into my cock and balls and asshole and pushed my face and mouth down onto their sandy, dirty cocks, making me spit and gag and hazed the shit out of me and I loved every single disgusting and hot moment of it.

Then we built a small fire and sat huddled together me in the middle. They made me (as if I didn't want to all ready) drink the beer they brought with them. On my own then, I went down and sucked on Gar's cock for awhile, but whispered in his ear, "Later," then looked at Greg. He was drunk, "Suck me off grom," he said. I did. I gave Greg Majors a full blow job. He shot his load into my mouth as Gar urged me on, "Suck him off grom, suck his juice, swallow it!"

Gar dropped Greg off where he was staying and then drove me home. We showered and got cleaned up. Gar asked me what I wanted. I told him I wanted to be treated like a needy grom, spanked and belted, and then fucked, fucked hard up my ass.

Gar treated me like the scum of the grom earth. He whipped my butt with a belt until I screamed. Then he forced me down on his cock and gagged me, threw me around the room like a rag-doll and then onto my back. He fucked me, fucked me face-to-face, slapping my ass, my flanks, my face, pinching my nipples until I teared up and at the end, he pounded my butt, pounded me as all I could do then was whimper and whine, beg to be let off and then he pounded me more.

I started to flog my own cock, it got hard. Gar pounded me, I pounded my cock and then he drew out of me and we shot our loads at the same time, his all over my face, me all over my tummy. At the end of all of that, we kissed and kissed and kissed and kissed. No words were said, none were needed.

I did not realize until at the very end of it all as I lay there in Gar's arms, him already asleep that I had needed every disgusting moment of that evening with Greg and then alone with Gar. Without it, I might have gone insane because of some fucked up imbalance in my life, maybe or maybe not. It was also then that I knew that I would never return to live in Fresno again. My dream was to stay on at Northside, go to high school at Northside High and live the life that had been Shaun's dream, just in my own way.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was time to say good-bye to Shaun. My mother with Sparky and Mama stood in calf deep calm waters in the early AM hours just a short distance from the paddle-out. My father at my side, Gar, Greg and a host of other invited surfers, we paddled out and made the circle of life, holding hands.

My dad had spent considerable time with the Northside Community Faith church pastor who preached diversity, kindness and love for all of God's children, gay and straight. Dad told me later how wrong he was about religion in general and about his specific church experiences in Fresno.

Dad tried once more to express heart-felt regrets and take blame for the loss of his eldest son, my big brother, but I would not let him. My dad had already confessed those sins and he had already paid a very dear price, we all had. I wanted nothing but forgiveness and healing for Leo Hiller, maybe for myself as well.

We all sang the traditional song, Kanaka Wai Wai, even me. Yes, it expresses beliefs about Jesus Christ that I do not believe and never would, but it meant something to my dad and to my mom and I watched tears stream down dad's face as we sang it. Then when it was time, dad and I paddled out to the center of the circle. I had Shaun's ashes with me in a plastic bag.

I nodded to dad, we lowered our snorkel gear and then together plunged down into the waters below the circle. I would recall the coldness of the water's temperature that hit me as we quickly hit the bottom as well as the warmth of the filtered light that somehow penetrated the depth nonetheless. Holding our breaths, dad and I opened the bag together and strewn Shaun's ashes into their final resting place, the light grey ash quickly dispersing around us.

I looked up at dad, his hands outstretched palms up. I put my palms down into his and he squeezed my hands and I his. We pushed up broke through to the surface, right at our boards, took in big breaths of fresh air and one hand each on them we hugged each other tightly and around us traditional hoots, hollers and praises were shouted out to speed my brother's soul into the ages.

I kissed my dad's cheek, "I love you dad," I said, "I love you son," Leo Hollis said to me and it was done. We all paddled back to shore where dad and I hugged mom, mama and Sparky. Greg and Gar came up and joined us as well.

That night there was a party, a celebration of Shaun's life. Everyone, including me, got shit faced drunk. Yes, I sat right next to my old man, my father, Leo Hollis and he fed me beer, after beer after beer no matter my age. Fuck … I shared a hangover with my old man the next morning. It hurt, it was painful and I reveled in it and dad with me.

A few days later, I was at the curb saying good-bye to my mom and dad as they would be making their way back to Fresno. Dad had not said no to my staying behind in Northside to start my sophomore high school year. I would be using mama and Sparky's address to register. He and mom encouraged me to do well, hell, I would have anyway, but to have dad's blessing meant the world to me.

I looked at dad, a recollection suddenly coming to my mind of what seemed like a decade ago, but had only been barely eight of the longest weeks removed in recorded human history. I remembered the moment I had begged Shaun to take me with him from Fresno to SoCal and the memory choked me up. I spoke to my dad,

"Dad, don't go. I don't want you to go, please stay, stay here with me, please!" I pled with him in earnest.

"Randy! Son! … I … I can't … I," I made my old man sob a little. He looked at mom, mom tilted her head, "Leo honey, follow your heart," she said impassioned and he looked at me, reached for my head, drew me to his face and kissed my cheek, "OK. It will take time, a lot of time, but I'll make it happen son, I promise, I promise that we will return to be with you, son," he said and then sat back.

I nodded, happy and satisfied and wiped my face of  as they drove off. Instead of walking back into the surf shop or the Bluefin, I walked by myself to the beach and out onto the warm sand squishing it between my toes. There were groms everywhere, buzzing about, some with surfboards alone or clutched together with brightly colored skateboards.

There were kooks and posers too, boys who had no skills, they just wanted to hang with the real males of surfing, the boys who patiently waited in line-ups and then tested their skills, fell off of their boards and got up to do it all over again. I felt at one with all of them, even the kooks. They were now my community and I would defend their right to the death to be assholes, posers, or the real thing.

Then I thought about Shaun. I looked out at the spot we had buried him. I smiled. I would always have that spot to look at, that spot in the ocean to remember Shaun. Shaun Hollis would forever be young. Shaun Hollis would always be in my heart. Shaun would always be a part of summer, it would never end for him, his endless summer into eternity.

Next: Part Two (Title to be determined)

© Copyright PJ Franklin July 15, 2014

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