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Part 9 - Aaron's Gift
PJ Franklin <>


I was sitting in the sand by myself near the base of the lifeguard tower at my homebreak that morning. The school year had ended just a few days before and I was resting between erratic wave sets otherwise enjoying the warm weather just two weeks into the month of June.

The choppy and disorganized surf had been caused by onshore winds, kind of odd for the time of day. Onshore means that the prevailing winds are blowing from the ocean towards or onto the shore and into the back of the waves, essentially breaking them down or outright ruining what might be a good surfing wave. Offshore winds on the other hand are winds that blow from the beach towards the ocean bolstering the front of the waves and improving them if just a little.

For some reason I felt contemplative that morning. I know, strange for a sixteen-year-old surfer kid, but that was just the way I was. I thought a little about Shaun as I always did. I thought about my progress surfing and how much I enjoyed it and how I had progressed and improved.

I had made my high school surf team and in general felt that I belonged in the local surf scene, a good feeling indeed; but there was this naggy feeling that something was missing. What it was exactly I didn’t know, yet.

As I sat I watched a kid around my age out in the surf flailing around with poor positioning on the board, his stance totally wrong. At one point he actually had the board upside down (oh yes, this really happens!). He was a cute kid, sexy even but had signs of kook written all over him.

Despite the less than ideal conditions, the kid just did not have a clue how to approach a wave and worse, kept on snaking the line-up which I was sure garnered him not a few rude remarks from the other surfers. I guessed that he just did not know how it all worked because he had not been taught correctly.

I wondered if he cared, really cared or would be content to be a kook like so many others. When he walked back onto the beach I could see that he also had his wetsuit on backwards and that he had his leash on the wrong ankle and had failed to remove it.

He finally trundled onto the beach and didn’t even know how to carry the board properly tucked under his arm instead of both of his hands awkwardly clutching the board ribs. That was in addition to the leash and other goofs. Yes, he seemed a bit beyond kook, into uber-kook.

His short board looked new, likely a gift from a parent and I’d bet a shiny nickel that he thought it would be easy to learn to surf with it when what he needed to learn was a longboard. I hoped the shortboard was borrowed, otherwise a surf shop owner who just wanted a high price sale likely had kind of taken advantage of him.

I’d also wager that he was a skateboarder and that would make him even more disappointed that the two skills did not crossover automatically. They just don’t, not for a beginner anyway.

He came up towards me looking discouraged, frustrated and even a little pissed off. An older man, I assume his father, met him close to me and within hearing distance,

“Did you enjoy yourself, Aaron?”

“No, I suck! I hate it! I don’t ever want to go out there again,” but it was the way he said it. He cared all right, but if he ever returned he would just do it all wrong again

“I’m sorry Aaron, do you want to look into lessons?” the man asked him.

“I don’t need any stupid guy teaching me. I can skateboard, I’ll figure it out,” which made me wonder just how well he skated. His attitude remained strictly kook at this point.

I packed up my stuff and started to walk away planning to return in the afternoon when the surf usually improved, but turned and looked at him one last time and he at me. Yes, he was a looker all right, probably straight; but I can have my fantasies can’t I? Our eye contact lasted but a few more seconds before he turned away and walked off with the man. I was pretty sure I would never see him again.

Later that afternoon I changed my mind and instead of surfing I headed over to the local skatepark and guess who I saw, kook-boy Aaron. I watched him skate. He was OK, no surprise there. I skated a bit on my own and then we bumped into each other, literally but not fatally.

“Hey, I know you, you were at the beach,” he said and now I could look at him close up.

He was handsome and cute at the same time, my height and even my build, just not with my muscular development. I had already spied his “vital statistic,” my little euphemism for a guy’s ass. It jutted out from his slender waist into a shelf that ended up in a curve of the buttocks to his thigh that would make any gay boy like me drool and I kind of was. Even his saggy skater shorts could not hide that beautiful hot ass of his.

I could also now see his eyes from closer up and was impressed with their intense green shade, but there was something else in his gaze, something deeper that I could not put my finger on at the moment. His hair was a very sexy auburn with fluffed thick locks lying across his forehead.  His lips were full, red, and with that pouty thing that makes you just want to do something with them.

“Yea, I watched you surf,” I said noncommittally, “I suck,” he replied, his honesty if it really was that, refreshing.

“Yes, you do,” I affirmed. He looked at me like “what the fuck?” I am sure expecting me to shine his knob, yea right. Well, not that kind of knob anyway.

“I suppose you’re good,” he rejoined, sort of sounding like he hoped that I wasn’t, “Northside High J.V. crew, we took second to Marina this year, my name is Randy, Randy Hollis,” and held out my fist to him.

He bumped it softly but quickly looked away, “Aaron Folkes. That figures, you live here?” he asked, “Yea, moved from Fresno just about a year ago.”

“Wow, Fresberg,” he said using one of many variations on a town not well respected this far south, “I’m from Bakerscrap,” which meant Bakersfield, a cow town just south of Fresno and even less respected than Fresno.

“Wow, that sucks, just like your surfing,” I said just to be snotty cool with him to see how he might respond.

He snorted, “For a guy from Fresno, you sure talk smack now,” he challenged. I liked it, “When you have the goods out on the waves like I do, you can talk smack all day long and until then, you’re just kidding yourself,” and I got up and skated away from him triumphant having just spanked his ass good!

Better yet, he picked up his board and walked off no doubt miffed. Yup, kook, poser, hodad, you pick the name of the shame trying to convince myself that I didn’t care anymore. Pretty soon though I felt badly for having given him shit at the skatepark, but figured I would never see him again in my life anyway.

Well, good Goddamn if Aaron from Bakersfield wasn’t out on the beach the very next day. Conditions were really good, but just like the day before things were not going right for him. Oh, he had his wetsuit on the correct way, but I would guess that was just luck. This time he stood on the beach seemingly in a huff as I was out doing my thing, ripping wave after wave after wave.

I put on a little show for the kook, cut backs, cut outs, even a drop knee or two and a near 360 that I almost caught but then wiped out. Then again by now even my wipeouts are class personified if I don’t say so myself.

I finished the set and then walked casually up onto the dry sand. He stood there looking up at me as I passed him by. I stopped, “Hey,” I said with no need to revisit the prior day’s showdown.

He just looked at me for a moment saying nothing. I wanted to say something but decided not to. He stood with a frowning face and took off a few seconds later. I didn’t blame him. He certainly didn’t need me giving him shit so I shrugged it off and walked into town to work at the Bluefin café.

That night in bed I thought about Aaron and how I had acted towards him. When had I become so arrogant? What a dick. If I had caught Ry acting like me towards a less skilled guy I would have lectured him, took his pants down and spanked his hot little bare ass good and hard.

As I lay there naked on my bed top I got an instant boner fantasizing about spanking Ry for misbehavior and then making him suck my dick. Then I fantasized about Aaron, about teaching him how to surf correctly and spanking his very hot ass just because.

Next I pictured Gar, Greg and Finn all lecturing me about my arrogant attitude and all three of them taking turns putting my naked ass over their knees, spanking the living Jesus out of me and then me face down and ass up getting a good butt fucking from all three of them in turn. Pretty hot, huh? I got off twice on all that before I got to sleep.

Well, it the third day in a row and I was out on the beach by myself again, just later than usual. What I saw and heard as I approached got my attention. There was Aaron Folkes again and with the man I guessed was his dad and they were not happy. I started towards them and heard,

“This board sucks dad, I need a new one,” Aaron chirped doing what all kooks eventually do and blame the equipment, “Aaron, do you know how much those things cost?”

“Dad! How am I going to surf if I don’t have a good board?” he bluffed and then they both saw me approach. I stopped just short of them, “Great, Mr. Surfer is here to solve all my problems,” Aaron’s sarcasm no doubt well earned on my part.

“And who might you be?” the man asked me.

I introduced myself to the man who turned out to be Vincent Folkes, Aaron’s father, “So you and Aaron know each other?” he asked and we talked about the content of the last few days but in a way to minimize total humiliation to Aaron. I also gave some advice to Aaron and Mr. Folkes about surfboards and that I worked at Sparky’s surf shop part time.

“Well, Randy here seems to think your board is just fine as is Aaron,” as Aaron picked at his fingernails, “Yea, well.”

I hadn’t been all that pleased with my attitude towards Aaron from the prior two days and offered, “I’d be glad to show him what is wrong with his technique if you like.”

“Aaron?” Mr. Folkes asked, “I’m tired,” Aaron sulked, “Aaron, we’re going back home tomorrow. This may be your last chance. I thought you wanted to surf?”

“I do! or I did,” he sulked. Mr. Folkes rolled his eyes, “Well, that’s it I guess, but thank you anyway Randy. Where is the surf shop you work?” and I gave him directions and that I would be there the rest of the afternoon if they changed their mind.

I returned to Sparky’s surf shop after that and on account that it was now summer the shop was pretty busied up and I was busy helping with the customers. So guess who wandered in hardly an hour after? Yes, you guessed it, Mr. I Do, I Did. His dad looked a bit put out. Aaron looked both sheepish and annoyed.

Sparky greeted them, but Mr. Folkes asked for me. Sparky grinned at me, “Have at it sport,” and Mr. Folkes stepped up, “Randy, I’m sorry to bother you, but Aaron has agreed to let you show him, you know, teach him some surfing.”

I looked at Aaron shuffling his feet uncomfortably, the picture of enthusiasm, not!

“That right Aaron?” I asked, “I guess,” he said if anything looking and sounding kind of resentful.

“You guess?” Vincent said not looking happy with his son, “You practically begged me to come down here Aaron and now this attitude? I don’t know what to say!” Mr. Folkes looking helpless concerning his teenage son.

I didn’t blame Mr. Folkes.  His son’s attitude was kind of hard to take. Despite that I had been kind of arrogant to Aaron the past several days, I decided that it was time to take the bull by the horns and try to turn Aaron-the-kook into Aaron-the-grom, but only if he agreed.

“Mr. Folkes, mind if I have a word with your son in the back, alone?”

“Be my guest, maybe you can talk some sense into him,” Vincent Folkes grumped with parental frustration.

Aaron glared at his dad as he walked by and I directed him into the workroom. It was just Aaron and I as I closed the door. I walked right up to his beautiful face, eye-to-eye. He stared at me with his sexy look of defiance as if daring me to say something so that he could be a shit back to me. I just wanted to put the past couple of days behind us and be friends,

“Look Aaron, I think we got off on the wrong foot the last few days,” I offered, “Do you think?” he blurted with a pretty distinct scowl in his voice and a sour look on his face before I could continue. That was it. I didn’t know what his problem was, but I wasn’t going to put up with it,

“I know you bitch. You want to be told what to do don’t you. You’re nothing but a little kook-minded wanna-be grom aching to have your ass handed to you. Your dad is trying to tell you to get your shit together, so what’s it gonna be skaterboy, huh?” Aaron’s face turned from grump into a stunned “what?”

“I don’t have to take this shit,” and he started to walk past me, “Yea, that’s right, go back to Bakersucks to skate in your little backwoods park because you don’t have the nads to learn the greatest sport on the planet. You’re just a pussy, always will be.”

He stopped and turned, “Fuck you, fuck you and your … your,” and he stopped, half looking to cry, half looking to punch me out, “You want to go? You want to tangle? Pissed off?” I asked, “Fuck you!” he said, his face a mess of red frustration and now he did stomp out of the workroom and out of the shop as well.

I walked out into the shop after him once again pretty sure that was the last I would ever see of Aaron Folkes. Vincent Folkes stormed out of the shop after his son. The two of them then spent the next five minutes talking on the sidewalk out of earshot. Rather it was more like Mr. Folkes was doing all of the talking, lecturing Aaron and Aaron helplessly gesturing as any hapless boy does who knows he’s in the wrong.

Finally, Mr. Folkes pointed very hard at his son, gesturing to inside of the shop as well. I chuckled as Aaron then came back into the shop tail between his legs and came up to me, “Fine, teach me,” he sulked still not making eye contact with me.

“No way, your attitude sucks,” I said, “Please! Come on, my old man is on the warpath,” he said with not a little plea in his voice finally looking at me, “Oh yea? What happens if I say no?”

This got Aaron’s attention if his glancing around the shop as if we could be overheard was any indication, “I’ll get into big trouble,” he replied worriedly as if telling me a classified government secret. I grinned ear-to-ear, “Oh yea? What will happen?” I asked with relish.

“Please don’t ask,” his voice a loud whisper his eyes darting about as others were starting to look our way now, “I’m asking, what … will … happen, will little Aaron get a spanking over his daddy’s knee?” I suggested just to tease him and not at all caring if others overheard.

Aaron’s worried expression deepened and now his head dropped, his body language markedly changed. He blushed a beautiful shade, slipped his hands into the back pockets of his board shorts and shuffled his feet, “Something like that,” he said with quiet chagrin, his embarrassment out in the open for me to enjoy.

So, this hot sexy boy in front of me still got spanked? Very good! I grinned all the more at the thought of Aaron Folkes’ hot, sexy and hopefully bare bottom high over daddy’s knee getting a good hard spanking, a sight I would love to see.

So you’d think that I would become my normal nice guy self just then and let bygones be bygones? Wrong! It was time to kick some kook ass and go for a new status, newbie grom; but even I was tired of others in the shop creeping closer to us to listen. I took Aaron firmly by the arm and marched his ass into the workroom in the back of the shop closing the door behind us,

“So, do you still get spanked by your old man?” I asked, hands on my hips, my voice sterned-up a bit.

Aaron’s face did not harden. His gaze flitted up and down, his blush still solid, “Yea, sometimes,” he said quietly with proper humility. Once again, I could empathize but now was not the time,

“Good, because you do need an attitude adjustment, a good hard spanking. I should do it myself, spank your bare little bitch ass over my knee!” I threatened, again really just to tease him, my cock hardening in my shorts. Now he looked alarmed, “You can’t do that!” he said looking like he thought I was serious. Was I?

Then out of the corner of my eye I spied an old friend, Gar’s paddle. The handle was sticking up out of the same box of junk as it had at Gar’s house. Why was the box here in the shop anyway? No matter. I strode over to it and grabbed the paddle handle and brandished the weapon in front of Aaron’s face,

“Here, this ought to do the trick. A nice hard bare butt paddling,” I smirked with enjoyment tapping the business end softly against my palm. Aaron jumped back, the palms of his hands decidedly protective of his backside, “No!” his higher pitched voice squeaked mirroring a forehead wrinkled with great concern.

Then luck would be mine as I looked down. Aaron’s shorts were as tented as mine were now. He saw that I saw, but he saw mine as well. I felt a slight concern then that he might react poorly, but it was too late now, “Oh yes Aaron, a good hard ass busting paddling will put you right,” I said quickly and as stern as I could hoping for the moment not to pass too soon.

The rap on the closed workroom door about sent us both up to the ceiling as fast as it sent my hard-on quickly down, “Hey Randy, I need to get back there, OK?” Sparky shouted from the other side. Shit!

I felt a keen disappointment and expected Aaron to look relieved if not triumphant, but he didn’t. Was that also disappointment I saw on his face just then?

I quickly strode to the junk box, “Come on in Spark,” I said replacing the paddle into the box, handle up.

“Everything OK guys?” Sparky grinned as he brushed past us, “Sure Spark,” I smiled and gestured for Aaron to follow me. I thought that we had not worked things out completely, but the shop was buzzing with customers now and if Aaron did not get my message by now, it was hopeless anyway.

Mr. Folkes quickly found us, “Well, is it settled now? Everything OK? Are you going to get some surf lessons?” he anxiously asked his son.

It was like time froze for a long moment, the proverbial moment of truth. Would he stay or would he go? I quickly guessed go, but I had been wrong for three days running and I was wrong again.

“Um, yea dad. Randy is going to teach me, it’s all cool,” Aaron said looking right at me, I thought with genuine intent. I jumped all over it, nodded and smiled,

“Um, yes sir. It was all just a little misunderstanding. I’m going to teach Aaron,” I said looking at Aaron who now sported a smile with a little twinkle in his green eyes. Damn his smile was so sexy!

“Ah, excellent! When do we start?” Mr. Folkes said sounding both relieved and excited, “We dad? Are you trying to tell me something?” Aaron shot back, but was still smiling, “I mean, I want to watch of course, I can can’t I?” Mr. Folkes asked his son politely.

“Sure dad,” Aaron said with a roll of his eyes, “Wait here,” I said kind of stoked myself, glad the drama was over. I went and fetched that old favorite Hobie longboard that I had used as a newbie, in fact still did use and not infrequently. I loaded Aaron up with that and a skimmer under his other arm, “Follow us Mr. Folkes, it’s time to surf,” and then I led Aaron and his father back out to the beach.

Aaron was animated as if a completely different person, grinning and asking me surfing related questions as was his father. For nearly all of the next hour, Mr. Folkes seemed content to sit on the beach watching his offspring learning, playing, grinning and laughing with me.

Despite his skateboarding experience, Aaron was not that good on the longboard, but kept trying again and again and didn’t get grumpy when he fell and wiped out prematurely each time. I switched us to the skimmers just to play in the waves and Aaron whooped and hollered like he was a little kid. He horse-played with me in the ankle and waist deep surf like Ry had and as if none of the prior dysfunctional hours or days before had ever happened.

We didn’t yet talk about what had happened to us inside of the surf shop workroom, but suffice it to say that I was more than a little intrigued with this sexy boy from Bakersfield. I silently willed him to stick around for a few days more before he went home and I might never see him again, but said nothing.

Finally we walked back up to his dad who stood and put his hands on Aaron’s shoulders, “Aaron! That was great! You did fantastic!”

Aaron then looked at me, “Dad, I want to stay a few more days and learn more from Randy.”

Wow, what a difference just an hour had made. He wanted to stay! Wish comes true, right? “Can I dad? Please?” he asked anxiously and it was all I could do to not blurt out the same request, “Can he stay Mr. Folkes, pretty please?”

“Well, I don’t know Aaron, where would you stay?” Mr. Folkes rightly asked. I was on that like white on rice,

“He could stay with me sir, I live in a house that belongs to my surfing teacher and …” I went on to explain things ending up taking Aaron and his dad back over to the surf shop and then across the street to the Bluefin café to meet the adults with whom I was associated.

Mama Nadine charmed Mr. Folkes to the hilt of course, serving up orders of delicious burgers, shakes and fries to all of us. She reassured Mr. Folkes that she would help to keep an eye on his son and keep Aaron busy as would Sparky if they chose to let Aaron stay with me in Huntington.

I was sitting across the table from Aaron who sat by his father. He had not been cruising me during our meal together or I didn’t feel like he was, but I had a little I admit. We talked about school and our lives in Fresno and Bakersfield, nothing heavy.

Then about halfway through the meal Aaron stared at me, kind of weirdly actually. His face paled. He looked at and away from me several more times looking distressed and then started to fidget, appearing increasingly uncomfortable and distracted.

Suddenly Aaron abruptly bolted out of the booth, “I’m going to be sick!” and headed the direction of the bathroom.

“Aaron?” I yelped after him and went to get up and follow Aaron, but Mr. Folkes put his hand on my arm,

“It’s OK Randy, he’ll be fine,” Mr. Folkes said, himself looking very, very strange. Mama walked over, her head turning to watch Aaron disappear and now she looked distressed and a little odd as well, “What’s going on?” I asked concerned, “Is Aaron sick?” looking at Mr. Folkes and mama for answers.

Mama cocked her head and looked at Mr. Folkes, “Maybe it was something I fed him,” but Mr. Folkes shook his head, “No, the food was wonderful. This … um … happens sometimes,” Mr. Folkes said hesitantly.

What happens? What was it? I looked at Mr. Folkes feeling that I did not have the right to pry about his son, but I could and did feel terribly concerned and badly for Aaron. I had no choice but to wait patiently and soon Aaron returned. He barely looked at me, however, rather at his father, “Dad, maybe we should go,” he said.

Go? After all of this, go? Something was wrong. What had I done wrong? I didn’t want Aaron to go! Why didn’t he want to stay?

“Aaron, are you alright?” I did ask. He nodded, “I’m OK Randy, I just need to go lie down and be by myself,” he explained, but the explanation didn’t satisfy at all.

I already knew that the Folkes were staying in a nearby hotel, but were planning on returning to Bakersfield the next day. Before the Folkes left the Bluefin that late afternoon, Aaron promised to meet up with me in the AM at Sparky’s still trying to reassure me that everything was OK.

He didn’t say if he still wanted to stay and learn surfing or not. I had the awful feeling that something much more important than surfing was at stake, but it was none of my business to ask more questions.

Strangely, I noticed that Mama Nadine took Mr. Folkes aside and they talked in low tones for a few short moments, about what I didn’t know. Then Aaron and his dad left, Aaron telling me he had a great time that day. It no longer felt so great to me much less weird and not right.

“Mama? What was that all about? Is he OK?” I asked her. Maybe she knew more than I did, “He’s fine Randy, he’ll be fine,” she said, but not with much conviction. She obviously was not telling me something important about Aaron. Why I did not know and I didn’t feel right begging her to tell me.

That night I didn’t sleep well at all. Shaun was on my mind yet again, but that night was especially intense and even disturbing in a way that I had not felt since the prior fall. I tried reading or watching some T.V., anything but about Aaron or even Shaun and finally got a few hours sleep. I arose early as usual the next AM, a little hung over feeling. Greg offered me breakfast, but I had no appetite. I went to Sparky’s shop early that morning.

I continuously thought about Aaron the entire morning while trying to help Sparky. I really wanted him to stay with me in Huntington at least for a little while longer if not the entire summer; but if there was something else going on, I at least wanted to know what it was so that I could put it all behind me.

I was not surprised that when Aaron finally appeared at Sparky’s Mr. Folkes was with him. Aaron came right up to me, “Randy, can we go down to the beach alone to talk, please?”

Talk? Alone? At the beach? This felt bad. This had the dark clouds feeling of when I found out that Shaun had been killed. OK, not quite that bad, but almost, “Um, sure,” I said kind of glumly and we left the shop, my mind reeling with thoughts of sickness, even a fatal illness. Was Aaron sick? Like with cancer or something else equally as bad?

Aaron and I made useless small talk as I walked him way down the beach, south and away from the Pier and we finally sat on the sand alone for fifty yards on either side of us. We watched the morning low tide, the water barely active that morning.

“Won’t be good sets maybe until later,” I said feeling very nervous and uncomfortable, “You’re a good surfer. Maybe I’ll be half as good some day,” he said. Those two words, “some day” made me feel a little better. I would guess he would not have said them if it was something fatal about his life, “About yesterday,” he started.

I didn’t have to look at Aaron, we were sitting hip-to-hip practically touching, “If it’s something you don’t want to talk about Aaron, it’s OK,” I reassured him and then glanced at him silently begging Aaron to tell me as much as he could.

“Look Randy. I want to stay. My folks said it was OK. My dad really likes you. He likes mama Nadine as well,” he smiled a little, “Yea, she’s like my second mother,” I said feeling better again and less nervous.

So whatever this was with Aaron, it was not going to be fatal. I had overreacted thank God. “So stay,” I said trying to get even further past the uncomfortable feelings of the past 24 hours.

“There’s something you need to know first. It’s not easy for me to talk about,” he said.

Oh, now I got it! Duh! What an idiot I had been. His boner while I was threatening to paddle him in the surf shop workroom yesterday. He was gay just like me but obviously only out to his folks, maybe not to anyone else yet. Why had I not thought of that before? Stupid me and after all that other worry. Fuck.

“Well, OK,” I said with cautions excitement.

“Randy, I have this gift … since I was about seven,” he started.

Gift? Now I was back to confusion. Being gay can be great or at least OK after a while, but a gift? “Oh yea?” I replied and looked at him for more. He looked at me,

“It’s umm … it’s a spiritual gift. I can sense spirit beings and sometimes, like yesterday, the spirits of souls who have passed on sometime come near to loved ones while I am present.”

I looked at Aaron, my blood chilled, my mind instantly empty and voice speechless. A rogue tidal wave wiping out a beach I was standing on would have gone unnoticed by me just then.

“I know what you will probably think Randy, that I’m crazy or just making this up. I’ve had to live with this most of my life and I’m used to it and know how to deal with it, but sometimes I just want it to go away and never bother me again.”

I had heard of the claims of spirit psychics of course, even that stupid Psychic Friends Network and their infomercials on T.V. Who was their spokesperson? Oh yea, Dionne Warwick, the black pop singer from the 70’s and 80’s.

No wonder everything was so strange the day before, all the hush-hush. Obviously Aaron’s parents knew about this. Also obvious, this was what mama and Mr. Folkes had talked about in low voices. So what had happened to Aaron in the booth at the Bluefin? And then it dawned on me. Oh … my … God.

I stood up. I just could not sit. Aaron stood with me. I looked out to the ocean and tried to be calm and not upset, but it was difficult, “Shaun. You saw … I mean, you think you …” and I did not have the words.

“Yes. I take it he was your?” and he stopped.

I got the chills again and it was warm out. I had not told Aaron about Shaun. I supposed that cynicism would have me think that the Folkes or at least Aaron knew about Shaun’s death through the newspapers, the Fresno Bee.

There had been just one small article in the Bee about his fatal crash, but what were the chances that Aaron or his folks would have stumbled onto it by accident in Bakersfield? Or worse, that Aaron had done research about me to try and convince me that he had this gift? That’s would people said about psychics as a group, that they knew about the habits and details of the lives of folks’ dead loved ones beforehand and took advantage, a potential huge and profitable scam if there ever was one.

“My older brother,” I finally replied and just could not bring myself to believe that Aaron was scamming me. That made even less sense than anything else so far; but by now my emotions were on tender hooks concerning my brother.

“I’m so sorry Randy,” his voice caught. I glanced at him. His face mirrored mine; sadness and his beautiful green eyes glistened red just like I could feel mine.

I sat back down into the sand and drew my knees up to my chest. I had not had to think so intimately about Shaun in quite a while. I thought I was past crying about him, but apparently not. I buried my face into my hands and felt a sob and a wet face. I felt Aaron’s arm slide across my shoulders.

I needed Aaron right then next to me just as he was and let my hand go to Aaron’s thigh where it was met by his other hand. His hand squeezed mine and that squeezed a few more tears out before I could look up at the ocean again, “And here I thought you were going to tell me that you were gay, you know, come out to me,” I said just to say something.

Aaron chuckled, “Well, I am gay, but I guess that was obvious yesterday, are you?” he asked.

I nodded, “Yea, I am. Boners don’t lie,” I said and finally looked at him and sighed.

I was ready, “Tell me more. Not about being gay. About you and what happened yesterday.”

Aaron patiently told me about spiritual “vision,” and the so-called “third eye” and how it was not like physical vision. That no matter how hard he tried to stop the intrusions, that they came at regular intervals, had for years. He and his parents had spent thousands of dollars on medical doctors and psychiatrists only to be led down paths of ignorance and even a serious bout of side effects from a trial with psychotropic medication.

The Folkes finally had to give in to the reality and fact of their son’s psychic talent and gift only to find out later that Aaron’s aunt, Mrs. Folkes’ own sister, had hid the fact of her own powerful psychic gift from Aaron’s mom for decades for fear of censure or worse.

Then Aaron told me that Shaun’s energy had “stood” by me at the booth at the Bluefin, that he had guessed that it was my brother. Then I told Aaron about how it was that I came to be in SoCal, moved from Fresno and the role that Shaun had played before his tragic death.

“Happy,” Aaron then said rubbing my back lightly, “Excuse me?” I replied, “Your brother’s spirit, happy and vibrant, ready to cross over,” Aaron said. I didn’t have a clue about all that and decided to just trust Aaron and why not?

“Sometimes spirits linger a bit. It seems they want their loved ones to know that they are there and OK and that it’s OK to move on and be happy too,” Aaron explained.

“Is he? Happy I mean?” I asked and felt very weird to even think such a thing.

“I think so. I can’t really tell clearly, few can; but if I had to guess, I think he wanted you to know that it was OK to be happy Randy. That he would …” and Aaron hesitated.

“He would what?” I asked anxiously, “Well, this is just my opinion, but I think he wanted you to know that you will meet him again when it’s your time,” Aaron said.

Meet me again, huh? I didn’t know what I believed about the hereafter, what happens after a person dies. I did know many people did believe what Aaron just suggested to me about Shaun; but right then, it just didn’t make the pain of Shaun’s passing less painful if not more.

I felt overwhelmed and buried my head into Aaron’s shoulder and lost it completely for just a few short moments, sobbing deeply. I missed my big brother so much still. Aaron just held me, “Must be hell for you,” I finally managed with halting voice,  “having death around you so much,” I finally raised my head, the really bad part of missing Shaun suddenly passed.

“It’s why I wish I did not have the gift. You don’t get a choice. Everyone has gifts, even you Randy,” he said.

“Yea, the gift of finding boys like you hot and sexy,” I replied. Aaron grinned and hugged me, “I was hoping you would. It was really the reason why I wanted to stay, that and the paddle you threatened me with. I might have busted a nut over it until Sparky about gave me a heart attack!” he laughed.

I laughed too, but it was not funny. It’s not that easy to find boys who like boys who like spanking though I seemed to have a “gift” for that too!

We stood. I slid my arm across Aaron’s shoulder, “I don’t know what I believe about death, Aaron, about what happens after. I sure do want to meet Shaun again. I think I like that idea quite a lot. Come on sexy boy. Want to stay on here for a while? Learn how to surf?” I asked, “I sure do. Come on.”

As we walked back to the Bluefin café to find Aaron’s dad, it was Aaron who took my hand into his. Was Aaron Folkes what was missing in my life? I didn’t know, only that it felt so good for him to make that first move, holding my hand. That meant something, something good I hoped.

* * * * * * * * * *

Mama Nadine fussed over me for nearly thirty minutes as Aaron and Mr. Folkes listened in making sure that I felt comfortable with the whole spiritual gifts thing. I confessed that I still felt ignorant, but that if I could just live with it awhile that I would be OK. Then, as if something or a certain someone was helping it along, all of the Ridgers showed up at the café about ten minutes later for a meal.

I was so happy to see them all. I jumped up and fist bumped Finn. He slapped me on the butt affectionately. I put Ry into a soft headlock and slapped his ass and then we fist bumped and then I picked up mini-grom Luke and tickled him into hysterics all as Aaron watched, grinning.

I hugged Mike and Mickey and then looked over at Aaron, “Mickey, I have a problem,” and introduced her as well as Finn and Ry to my problem, Aaron Folkes. Like I knew she would, my grommom added Aaron to her list of surfing orphans whenever Aaron needed her.

The Ridgers certainly made Mr. Folkes feel that his son would be well cared for and then soon after I went down with him and Aaron to their hotel to meet Aaron’s mom. She was relieved that Aaron’s spirit contact with Shaun had not derailed her son’s need for friendship and felt comfortable about Aaron living with me even as long as the entire summer as long as the Ridgers and mama Nadine kept watch.

Aaron gathered up his gear and said red-eyed good-byes to his folks. I hugged them both too and promised I would take care of Aaron, “I mean make sure he’s safe and all,” and they laughed. They knew what I meant.

Let me tell you that once Mickey found out about Aaron’s gift and his contact with Shaun she later sat in a booth with him in animated and serious conversation, mama Nadine sitting in as well. Mike took me aside and told me that Mickey’s great aunt had been a famous spirit medium and that her sister had “talked” to dead spirits as well. By the look on Aaron’s face, he looked very happy to have understanding and sympathetic adults around him besides his parents.

I felt glad for Aaron and kind of thought that maybe the things that happen in people’s lives both the good and the bad don’t necessarily happen randomly and for no reason. Maybe all things are meant to be and that is when it stuck me. Like I said, was Aaron what or who was missing from my life? Was it fate? Was it just meant to be?

I had great friends and had been very intimate with many of them. I felt lucky in that regard. There had been Rory Lind and of course Finn and little bro, Ry. There was Gar and Greg and my extended surf family from the J.V. and varsity surf team at school like Adam Kazwell, Kaz, Matt Zuziak and of course, Kelly Smith. I even counted Amanda and Mindy as well as my weird experiences with Jonathan Teel.

I didn’t have a boyfriend despite all that. Was Aaron it? Was he more that just that? Was I just horny again, and what did it matter right then? I was only sixteen for God’s sake. Maybe Aaron didn’t want a boyfriend, but I suspected (and wished) differently.

Even I knew you don’t make a life long commitment to anyone at our ages, but you could play house for a while couldn’t you? Anyway, all I knew was that Aaron Folkes was someone special, whether for me or for somebody else, the guy was special.

“Nice catch!” Finn teased me later, “Yea, won’t be seeing you around for a while,” Ry teased, “We’re not boyfriends,” I complained, “Yet,” Ry said, “Yea, like by tonight,” Finn teased and I blushed. I guess I wouldn’t mind that development.

Both Greg and Gar happened to be at Gar’s place when I showed up with Aaron. Oh boy was it fun telling them about the past three days and all the drama, “Um sorry Gar. I should have asked you first before inviting Aaron to live here with us,” and I was truly chagrinned. It had never dawned on me.

Gar smirked at Greg, “Should I spank him for being rude or should you?”

I couldn’t disagree, “I think both of you should. I want to watch!” Aaron grinned, his tongue wagging shamelessly out the corner of his mouth. Any such development would be welcome in my book of course. Gar and Greg gave us the thumbs up and I showed Aaron my bedroom where he would be staying with me.

“How long are your parents going to let you stay?” I asked finally getting us alone behind a closed door. Aaron shrugged, “No plan, just kind of whenever,” and I was happy with that.

We just stood there, kind of awkwardly actually until Aaron shuffled his feet, “So, about my attitude?” and that left me a little dumbstruck until I caught on and smiled, “Oh that. Totally sucks. Needs adjusting,” I suggested just to see if that was where he wanted things to go.

Aaron looked down at himself. I looked down at Aaron and then we looked down at me. It would seem that our little selves wanted to play, “Too bad you left that paddle back at Sparky’s” he grinned.

“You really into that?” I asked feeling incredulity, “Yea, kind of. When guys get the paddle in P.E. class from Coach Strickland I fantasize about it later, that it was me and I jack off like twice.”

“How about from your dad?” I asked groping at myself in front of him, “Oh, dad gives me the belt,” he said also groping, his voice a little shaky. I walked over to my closet and got my belt and doubled it up,

“Aaron Folkes, you need a good whipping. Strip!” I ordered to get things started snapping the belt, filling our ears with the lusty sound of leather. Aaron stripped like in two seconds, his erection high and proud.

I stepped out of my shorts and boxers, leaving only my T-shirt, my cock equal to his, “End of the bed, bend over. Ten licks,” I said ready to not do it if he objected. I heard no objection, only watched as Aaron’s hot rounded bare ass was finally mine, angling up and ready to be punished.

Oh it was so damn hot, each belt lick making him groan, his ass if anything wiggling, begging for the next hot red stripe. He would look back up at me, both pain and pleasure on his face. Unlike surfing, getting an ass whipping seemed to be no problem at all. I even wondered if he liked giving as much as taking.

“Ten!” I said at the last lick. He just froze and looked back up at me, “Thanks. I feel a lot better,” and he surprised me by not moving, “You can get up,” I said. He did, stood, craned his head to look at his red ass and rubbed on it too, his cock so hard, so leaky!

“Damn, you are into it, just like me,” I said, the belt dangling from my fist still, “Can you take it like you give it?” his question hitting me between the eyes in a really good way, “Have at it,” I said and handed him the belt.

“Over the end of the bed, now Randy!” Aaron said commandingly, almost like Gar or Greg would. I got the chills in a really good way, but suddenly it was like the energy in the room totally changed.

Was this the Aaron of three days ago? The former kook, Aaron? The whiny Aaron who had bitched at his dad in front of me on the beach? Did he want some payback and revenge or was he just being playful or more likely a bit of both? I quickly bent over anxious to find out just what this side of Aaron might be like, what it would feel like to get a whipping from my new friend and surf grom.

I quickly found out. Aaron’s command of the belt across my bare ass made my eyes water from the get go. Each of his ten licks were stingers, but not harsh. They hurt, but Aaron took the time to rub the hurt out each time, “Like it?” he would pause and ask and rub over the fresh throbbing stripe, his fingers dangerously close to my pucker as well.

“Yea, I do. Do you like doing it?” I asked back, “Yea, I do, a lot. Damn you got a hot ass Randy,” and then bent over and kissed it and then stood back up, “More?” he asked, “More,” I replied.

The next five belt licks had me groaning and a tear coursed down my face. He saw it, “I made you cry, I’m sorry,” he said, bent over and kissed on the tear. I turned my head further, “Don’t be. I feel like you kind of owe me or I, you,” and then our lips touched for the first time.

We kissed, just a little one and then he stood up, “Better not start that. Something could happen,” his voice playful, but also serious.

I looked at him, that something in his eyes that I wasn’t sure about a few days ago kind of taking shape, “Yea, I know,” I said and then I recalled how brave and manly Aaron had been telling me about his spiritual gift.

The feeling I had about Aaron just then was respect, but more than that. Admiration. In a way, I could see me being Aaron’s grom, spiritually speaking. Maybe I would ask him to teach me how to be aware of my spiritual gifts, if they really existed and all.

“Aaron?” I asked, not moving, my cock thrumming with desire, my ass still throbbing with delicious heat, “Yea?” he replied not moving.

“Know what I really want right now? For you to pull me across your lap, and spank the hell out of me with your hand, until your hand hurts and you can’t spank any more,” I quickly asked or rather blurted to make sure I didn’t chicken out of what I really wanted him to know.

Now I was awash with instant humiliation as well as chagrin and a helpless feeling that I could have just fucked up. Aaron reached down, “Up,” he said and helped me to stand.

Then Aaron hugged me, closely, I mean tightly. I was shaking, shocked at my confession about what I wanted from him, but why? I had been spanked hard and long by Gar and Greg and Finn; but this felt totally different.

“Can we kiss first?” he asked me. I nodded, “Yea,” I replied breathlessly, “Good, cause Randy. I really do want to wear out my hand on your ass. Make it hurt really hard and really good. Is that what you want?” he asked.

I felt better, “Yes, very much. Don’t ask me why,” and he didn’t. His lips did all the talking then as did mine. We opened our mouths and our tongues said a deep and delicious hello, swirling and dancing as was my mind just then. Was this how love felt? Was that what I was feeling just then, love? Real love with another boy?

His hands were all over my seared bottom. My hands clutched onto his back and cradled his head as we kissed, “Hmm,” he said. I moaned my reply and then the kiss parted, “I liked that,” he said, “So did I,”  I said and we were nose-to-nose now, touching the tips.

I could smell him, feel his breath, smell it too, sweet as it was, “Still want that spanking?” he asked. I nodded, “Yes, no holds barred,” I said.

“You OK?” He asked just then. Nobody had ever said it to me quite that way, “Yea, are you?” “I’m scared,” he said, but looked calm, “Why?” I asked, “Don’t know. Or yes, I do, it’s like I’ve wanted to relate to a guy like we are for quite a while, only most guys don’t like this stuff.”

“I know. I’ve been lucky. My friends and I, we spank a lot, but not like this, not really, like you and I are,” I said.

Aaron then put his hands gently and softly aside my lips and he kissed me chastely without tongue a long moment and then parted, “Randy Hollis, you need a long, hard spanking over my knee, now,” with a firm sexy tone. I nodded.

For the next I would say five minutes, it was all I could do to stay put as Aaron Folkes spanked the loving shit out of me only with his hand. My tears ran and I howled, but he didn’t stop and when he finally did, I was worn out, he was worn out (as was his hand) and my ass was way worn out.

Yet, as we then cuddled afterwards in my bed, my ass feeling like the heat could compete with a range top, all I could say was, “Thank you Aaron,” and he said, “You’re welcome,” and then I turned to on my back, him on top and we kissed, our hard cocks rubbing up against each other.

We humped on each other and kissed and without words, Aaron reached down and as we continued the deep soulful feeling kiss, he grasped out cocks together and jerked us off, our mouths never stopping the kiss, our grunts of pleasure muffled by each other’s mouths until we came. Then the kiss parted, he rolled off of me and spooned me into a wonderful nap.

© Copyright PJ Franklin October 27, 2014

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