This is a series of stories about a number of boys growing up in a Midwestern college town in the eighties. There may be scenes which some could judge to be illegal, immoral, and/or unwise. If you fear it may be illegal, immoral, or unwise for you to read this, then don't! The author of this series does not encourage or sanction the violation of any laws. Don't try this at home; these are trained professionals
If you would like to comment on the story, please write to me at chrismac1787 at yahoo dot com. (sorry for the cryptic
address, this helps avoid spam)..
I woke up with such a hard-on the next morning. I couldn't help but grab it and do it again. And, when I was done, I went back to sleep. Until Mom banged on the door and ordered me out of bed.
I sat on the edge of the bed in my shorts, looking out the north window. It was already warm in my room and I knew it was going to be another scorcher. Then, I looked over at the window on my left.
My heart sank, and suddenly I felt weird. I felt... bad, naughty, dirty. I felt shame.
What was I going to do? I lived next door not only to a goofus but a pervert, as well. And, he had made me act pervy like him last night. I felt disgusted with myself, watching some dork beat-off in the window like a Peeping Tom. It was sick and disgusting.
I jumped up and walked over to the window. I didn't even look across as I pulled the fan out of the window and set it on the floor. I lowered the window to just a few inched above the sill and then lowered the blinds and closed them. I out the fan in the north window and turned it on. I would still gets some air. It wouldn't be as cool as before, but at least, I wouldn't be exposing myself to Dorkus O'Perv and he wouldn't be tempting me to watch him beat his meat.
Oh, God. I felt a surge in my dick as the image of Randy jerking it formed in my head. Quickly, I turned, pulled on a pair of khakis and a white Ralph Lauren Polo and some Topsiders, and before I could be tempted to look next door again, hightailed it out of the room.
Mickey was eating Pop-Tarts in the family room, watching The Munsters on cable. I toasted some bread and spread some peanut butter on it as Mom vacuumed the living room and spat insults about what pigs we were. I needed to do something today. I needed to get away, from Mom, from Mickey, and from the freak next door. I needed to do something that made me feel good about myself.
After washing down the toast, I bypassed the danger zone in the living room and went out to garage. Dad had left the door open when he left for work that morning, which always pissed Mom off. I walked my ten-speed out and lowered the garage door. Just as I climbed up on the seat and started down the driveway, I could see out of the corner of my eye the front door of the neighbors house open and Goofus come loping out. I kept on pedalling and turned to the left, away from Randy, my memories, and my shame.
School would be starting next Tuesday, the day after Labor Day. The end-of-summer weekend was coming up. Only Thursday and Friday left for freedom before three days with the family and nine-months in penetentiary. Actually, school was OK. I liked learning. It was just the shit that went along with it that I dreaded. And, this year would be worse. I would be entering the tenth grade, a sophomore, the first year at Allenwood High. No longer would I have the safety of being the top of the food-chain, as I was at South Haven Junior High. This was the big leagues. Everyone told me that if I thought life in the seventh grade was rough, I was going to love the tenth grade. Plus, I was a year ahead of my age group. Maybe the fact that I was so tall would help. I wasn't sure. Maybe not. Oh, well.
I turned left again when I came to University Dr. and rode along the sidewalk to avoid the traffic. Allenwood wasn't a really big city. In fact it was probably still under a hundred thou, but it had some serious traffic, especially along Uni because of Allenwood State College. ASC had about eight thousand and they all drove up and down Uni. Even now, a few days before everyone would start moving in over the weekend, the traffic was picking up over the usual mid-morning exodus of moms heading south to the mall and dads heading north to the office downtown.
I rode through Fast Food Hell, past Taco Bell and Pizza Hut and Burger King and KFC until I came to the South Haven Branch of the city library. I pulled up to the bike rack outside the front door of the flat, sixties-style yellow-brick building and looked across the street at the corner where the university campus started. One of the girl's dorms was right there, with a big parking lot separating it on the east from one of the guys dorms. There were a few cars already parked along 36th St., crammed with the crap college girls need for their life at school. A few in skimpy shorts and tight tee-shirts were walking back and forth from the street to the dorm, unloading their cars. On up the street, I could see some guys doing the same thing. I don't know what it was that impelled me to do it, but I climbed back up on my bike and, when the light changed, rode across the street.
A couple of girls glanced at me as I rode past. One, a kind of cute blond, smiled at me. I blushed and pedaled on a little faster. The guys dorm was a bit more interesting. I could already hear Van Halen blaring from one of the upper floor rooms. Several of the guys were shirtless as the walked along the sidewalk carrying their boxes or returning to their cars empty-handed. I caught myself staring at this one guy with the most beautiful thick dark hair, feathered back more in a seventies style than the short preppy cuts popular now that Reagan was President. he had a hairless chest, which I liked, and abs and pecs that seemed to breath as he walked like they had a life of their own. I glanced up just as I passed and saw him looking at me with a knowing grin. He even seemed to flex his pecs a little for me. I almost rode into the back of a station wagen parked illegally on the right side, but the angry yell of the parents just getting out, awoke me. Their geeky, red-haired nerd getting out gave me a serious up and down glance as his father warned me to pay attention. I apologized and sped away as fast as I could.
I was getting hard in my khaki shorts. Shit. That hot guy smiling at me.Was he gay? His hair looked kind of faggy to me. Maybe he was. Then there was that Randy clone getting out of Mommy and Daddy's Country Squire woody.He was sort of an older Randy without the zits. He looked kind of cute. I liked that red hair. In fact, if Randy would style his hair a little, he look a lot like that guy. He could be really good looking.
Oh, man! What was I saying? Shit. I pushed down harder on my pedals and raced around the field house, through the east campus dorms, past the library and back toward Uni. I had to get that kind of shit out of my head. I was NOT going to be pervy like Randy.
When I got back to the library, a couple more bikes were parked at the rack. I recognized the fancy Raliegh as Kelly Duncan's. He was a rich kid from that fancy area west of my neighborhood, South Haven Heights. I'd always thought he was the cutest thing on two legs, with stunning silky blond hair, always styled perfect, eyebrows only slightly darker, the sweetest smile and dimples you'd ever seen, and a box in his khakis that made me drool all day. He was my age, but would be starting the ninth grade now, where I should have been. I regretted that I wouldn't get to look at his cute butt working its way down the hall now. Kelly was a doll, and, unlike other guys who were dolls, and knew it, he still spoke to me.
The air conditioning in the lobby of the library felt so good and cold on my sweaty torso as the odor of books hit me. Some businessmen were gathering outside the conference room on the left as I walked past the check-out desk and entered the main room. The children's section was swarming with rugrats. I hurried past and wandered through the periodical section. I sometimes liked to read newspapers from other cities and so I walked up to the shelves and found the Times of London. That would be different, I thought as I started to pick it up. But, I stopped when I heard a giggle behind me. I turned, but couldn't see anyone in the aisle behind me. I knew that giggle though and, sure enough, when I checked the next aisle over, there was Kelly with a boy I didn't recognize, another hotty who looked just as cut as Kelly. They were looking in a thin blue colored magazine. I could just barely see that it was entitled Christopher Street. I'd never heard of it. Kelly was dressed almost exactly like me, khaki shorts, a white Polo, and sockless Topsiders. I loved gazing at him and the perfectly shaped calves, his slender arms with the almost invisible hair, his pink lips, his baby-face. How many times had I beat-off dreaming of laying with this angel, running my hands all over his body, running my lips all over his body, dreaming of wrapping my lips around what I knew had to be the most perfect penis in the world...
I realized I had been staring when suddenly the boy next to Kelly started and looked at me. Nervously, he nudged Kelly, who looked up and quickly closed the magazine, holding it upside down so that I couldn't see the title.
"Hey, Kelly," I said, feeling a little mischievous. "What's up?" I asked, knowing perfectly well what was up.
"Um, hey, Toby," he replied with the cutest blush spreading over his perfectly tanned face. "Just hanging out." (I wish). Then, remembering himself as his cute friend nudged him, he said, "Oh, this is my cousin, Terry. They're down from Boston 'til Monday."
Though our conversation may not have been the most literate and profound, Terry and I were have a very detailed and intense conversation with our eyes. His were just as blue as Kelly's, but there was a maturity to Terry that seriously got me going. His hair was just slightly darker than Kelly's, in a perfect preppy cut. His navy blue Brooks Brothers pullover contrasted hotly with his tan and the white tennis shorts and sockless Topsiders made me drool, (OK, this was 1981, get over it). I knew I was making a fool of myself gazing at him. I had never been so reckless in looking at another guy before, but I there was no way I could drag my eyes away. When I looked up, his eyes were devouring me just as hard. When our eyes met, a grin started on his cute lips when, suddenly, an older adolescent voice exploded from the end of the aisle.
"Come on, you fags. This place sucks. Where can you get a good burger in this dump?"
A taller guy, with an older version of Terry's face, framed thick dark blond curls peered around the end of the shelves. Man, what was it with that family? They were all sex gods.
Before I could say anything, Kelly said, "Well, there's Murphy's over by the frat houses. Its pretty good."
"Aw right, lets roll."
But, before anyone moved, the older kid looked at the lumps in Kelly's and Terry's shorts and rolled his eyes and muttered, "Shit, what is it with you fags?"
Kelly blushed severely again and rushed away. Terry paused at the end of the aisle and looked at me with a grin before disappearing.
I was left standing alone in the library with another hard-on, wondering why God was teasing me. Once again, I was so horny. Man, how I would like to have gotten together with Kelly and Terry. As obvious as they were about getting boned together and based on the way that older kid, who must have been Terry's brother, joshed them about their bones, they had to be doing together, especially when you consider the way Terry looked at me! Man, he wasn't just taking my clothes off with his eyes, he was ripping them to shreds and throwing them out the window never to be seen again.
My earlier plans for self-improvement went out the same window Terry would have thrown my clothes when I saw that Kelly had replaced the magazine backward on the shelf. Curious to see what had given them such intense boners in the middle of the library, I looked around and quickly stepped up to it.
I couldn't believe it. Christopher Street was a gay literary magazine. This was an intellectual magazine for gay people! There was actually such a thing! I couldn't believe it. It had some hot looking , though tasteful, ads, and short stories. I rolled it up and peeked around. There was a college age library assistant of indeterminate sex stacking books toward the front, but no one else around. I took the magazine and ran to a table in the corner, grabbing a Newsweek at the same time for cover.
I read the whole magazine, cover to cover. I was stunned. It wasn't pornographic. it was literate. It was cool. And, I suddenly realized that there was a whole world of gay people out there who didn't hide in public bathrooms or lurked in parks at night, as my parents had warned me. They were successful and happy and participating in their communities.
I sat back in my chair, feeling pretty good about life all of a sudden, when a librarian straightening up the newspapers looked over at me and frowned as she saw the closed cover of the magazine. I blushed and picked it and the Newsweek up and quickly replaced them in their respective slots. But, glancing at my Timex, I almost shit a brick. It was ten to three! I have been here since ten-thirty! Mom was going ripped my guts out and stuff them down my throat for not being home for lunch or calling.
I ran out the door, hopped on my bike, and pedaled as fast as I could down Uni.
Mom was just unlocking the door to her Buick as I rolled into the driveway.
"Where the Hell have you been?" she demanded.
"I'm sorry. I was at the library. I lost track of time."
"Why didn't you call?"
I sighed as I climbed off the bike.
"I told you, I lost track of time. I forgot."
She looked at me with irritation and then shook her head. As she climbed in the car, she said, "Go take a shower. The O'Neils have invited us over for a cookout tonight. I'm going to get some wine and dessert. Stay out of trouble."
With a scowl, she gunned the engine and whipped out of the garage.
Great. An evening with the O'Dorks. Just what I needed.
However, the thought of a shower was particularly inviting. Despite Mom' obsession with bathing, it would be the perfect opportunity to indulge in a little fantasizing about Kelly and his sweet-thing cousin!
I was already starting to bone as I walked through the cool kitchen, the air conditioning making my sweating body shiver. Mickey was nowhere to be found. I had the house all to myself!
I stripped off my Polo as I climbed the stairs and was already slipping off my deck shoes as I walked down the hall. I threw it all on the floor at the foot of my bed and ripped off my shorts. I was hard as granite. I glanced over at the window. The shade was pulled down and only a few inches of window was open for circulation. I turned the fan in the north window on, enjoying walking around the rook naked with my hard-on. I was pretty certain Goofus couldn't see me, although...
No! Angrily, I thrust that thought out of my head, and walked naked down the hall, my hard dick leading the way, to the bathroom and my dreams about Kelly and Terry.
Actually, I had found a lot of fantasy material today. Not only did I have those blond godlets in the library, but that hot dark-haired dude at the college and that cute redhead. Well, no. I wouldn't think about the redhead. In fact, I wouldn't even think about the dark-haired dude. As I got the water adjusted just right, visions were dancing in my mind.of laying on the bed sandwiched in between Kelly and Terry, their hard dicks pushing against my hips, their arms wrapped around me, their sweet lips loving my cheeks and throat. This was really going to be a great beat-off.
I climbed into the shower, soaped up my dick and allowed myself just to fantasize about how the guys must look naked, their slim bodies, their hot tans, how their boners must look with that blond hair around the base. Maybe it was brown; some blonds had brown hair around their cocks. Or, maybe, it was red, like Randy's. Yeah, that would be hot.
What was I thinking? No, it wouldn't! it would be gross. Anything that resembled Randy the Pervert would be gross. I forced myself to think to about Kelly's pretty hair and what it would be like to hold his head and caress his face and run my fingers through his silky hair as he sucked my boner. God, that would be so hot, fucking that pretty face. Then, while Kelly was sucking me, I could suck Terry. Yeah, that would be hot, wrapping my mouth around his hard boner. I wondered how big it was? It looked like, from the bulge in those tennis shorts this morning, that it was pretty good-sized. Probably not as big as that elephant dick of Randy's. Man, that was the biggest dick I had ever seen. And, it had to be the hardest looking dick, too. Fuck, I'd like to feel that thing, run my hands all over it, run my fingers through that hot red dick hair, get down on my knees and lick all over it.
Shit!!! What the fuck was the matter with me?!? All I wanted was a nice hot and horny jack-off, thinking about the two hottest blond boys I had ever seen. Why did that fucking, doofus, goofus perv keep getting in the way?
I was starting to get pissed off and it was not helping my horniness. I focused my mind on that grin Terry gave me as he turned the corner in the library. If that wasn't a message that said, "Let's get naked and nasty," I don't know what was. God, it would be so hot to get naked and nasty with him, just roll around naked, feeling each other off all over, our hard boners rubbing against each other, our mouths locked and tongues fucking each other's throat. I bet he is one horny fucker. I bet he beats it every chance he gets. Man, it must be so hot to watch him jack that boner. I'll be he stands up sometimes and spreads his legs, those long lanky legs, and fucks those hips out while he jacks on that hug, long elephant dick. I bet he breaths hard and talks dirty to himself.
I gave in. Randy was hot and it felt so good and horny and nasty and I gave into it. I replayed every detail I could remember from last night and it felt GOOD. And, when I came, it was GREAT. I shot cum all over the tile of the shower and on the opaque glass of the shower door. I stood panting as hot water and bitter shame flowed over me.
Normal people don't stand in a window and beat off like a fucking pervert. Of course, normal people don't beat-off watching perverts beating-off in a window. What would my parents think?
I stood in the shower soaping myself, scrubbing, washing, cleansing the guilt and shame away as much as I could until the water turned cold and my brother was beating on the bathroom door demanding to know if I was still alive. I rinsed off, turned off the water, slowly opened the door, and stepped out, dripping onto the mat. Gradually, I dried myself and then wrapped the towel around my waist. As I opened the door, the cold air conditioning hit me like the winter wind. So did my brother's scorn.
"Fuck, it took ya long enough! Can't you cum any faster 'n that?"
I looked at him in stunned silence as he stormed into the bathroom.
'Wha... what the heck is the matter with you, talking like that? What makes you think that was what I was doing? And, by the way, how do you know about that kind of stuff?"
Mickey looked at me as if I were a complete idiot.
"I know about beating off. I know about cumming. I'm not your little brother."
He started to close the bathroom door in my face, looked at the shower, smirked, and then looked back at me.
"By the way, ya forgot to rinse the cum off the shower door again.
My humiliation was total and complete as he shut the door in my face. Shivering, I turned and stumbled down the hall to my room.
It was a couple of hours before my mother banged on the door and demanded I return to the world of the living and join the family as we trooped next door for a scintillating evening with the O'Dorks. To make all the adults happy, I had put on another pair of khakis, but for at least one sign of slight rebellion, instead of putting on a nice pullover, I donned my yellow OP and my Adidas. Mom was about to snap at me to put of socks when Dad interrupted her with some comment about the wine as I came downstairs. They started trading nasty barbs with each other as I followed them across the yard and between the two houses, (and below the windows through which Dorkus and I had perved each other). Miraculously, however, as soon as we turned the corner of Casa Goofus and came in sight of Randy's dad at the charcoaler and his mom setting the salad on the picnic table, they became the most gracious and polite couple in Allenwood. I rolled my eyes and started to shake my head but stopped just as Randy emerged from the patio doors carrying a bag of ice. As all the adults greeted each other and made polite talk, Randy smiled at me with the most good-natured and friendly grin. I had to smile back and wave. I felt obligated to following him as he carried the ice to the edge of the patio away from the adults. As he started to open the bag before pouring the ice into the bucket of an electric ice cream maker, he grinned at me again and said, "How's it going, today?"
I couldn't help but smile back and shrug.
Randy chuckled and poured the ice into the bucket.
"I hear ya."
I could hear Supertramp from Randy's bedroom competing with Tony Bennett on the portable eight-track near the lawn chairs the 'rents had settled in.
"Randy, my man," said his dad as he closed the charcoaler and joined the others in the chairs in the grass, "why don't you go upstairs and close your window. You and Toby can listen to your music then without getting it polluted by our geaser tunes."
My parents chuckled appreciatively; I was amazed. If had been my parents, my mom would have barked, "Turn that shit down!" Maybe the O'Neil adults, at least, weren't too dorky.
"Sure thing, Dad!" Randy replied as he sprinkled rock salt on the ice and flipped the power switch.
I wasn't totally certain I wanted to follow Randy upstairs, but there was no polite way to avoid it, so I bit the bullet.
"Come on," he said enthusiastically. "I've got some really cool stuff."
As he loped toward the patio door, I caught all the adults grinning condescendingly at us. The last thing I heard was Randy's dad saying, "Boys," to the appreciative chuckles of the others. Good grief.
The O'Neils house was a carbon copy of ours, except in reverse. As we went through the kitchen, which was decorated much more "cutesy" than my mother's taste would have allowed, Randy asked, "So, where your little brother?"
This perv wasn't wanting to put the moves on Mickey was he? I'd beat the shit out of him if he did. Mickey might be a first-class asshole, but he was my little brother. Of course, Mickey would probably beat the shit out of him before I could, and probably do a better job of it.
"He's at football practice," I answered warily.
"Ah, a jock."
I couldn't tell if he was saying it with lust or just commenting. He continued.
"I'm just a band nerd," he said with good-natured self-deprecation. For a dork, he seemed pretty confident and self-accepting. He didn't seem to act like he thought of himself as a dork. He was just happy and goofy.
And a perv.
Before I could stop myself, I was admitted, "Yeah, I'm a band nerd, too."
Randy was climbing the stairs and I was right behind him, with his cut-off clad ass right in my face. I felt a surge in my dick. I closed my eyes until we reached the top of the stairs.
"Yeah?" Randy asked with excitement. "Cool! What do you play?"
I shrugged with the typical resignation of a band nerd admitting he's a band nerd.
"NO SHIT!" he declared with genuine enthusiasm. "Me, too!"
It was really weird being in a reverse of my room. He still had the fan in the window, the east window this time. I could see my closed window. He went over to the north window and closed it and then went to the AC vent above the door and opened it before closing the door. I wasn't too certain about that, but, once again, he gave that good-natured grin, again.
"So, I haven't seen ya at band practice," I said.
"Yeah, well, we just moved here, dork," he replied with a goofy grin.
Oh, jeez. He was calling me a dork.
"Besides," he continued, "I talked to Mr. Jennings, today. I've got all the music. Its easy."
I was skeptical.
"Well, we open with Mussorgsky's 'The Great Gate of Kiev.'"
"Yeah. That' nothin'," he replied. If it had been anyone else, I would have considered it pretty cocky, but he said it with such a matter-of-fact tone that I couldn't take offense. "Our orchestra played that last year in the ninth grade back in Michigan."
He sat down in the chair by his desk and motioned me over to his bed.
"Well, whadaya think?" he asked gesturing around the room with his arms open wide. "Pretty cook, huh?"
I had to admit it wasn't bad. Above his bed was a huge poster for Pink Floyd's album, The Wall, one of my all-time fav's. To the left was a huge poster of Susanne Sommers from Three's Company while to the right hung a huge add for Soloflex with that hot model's torso. I realized my eyes rested for too long on the Soloflex poster. Quickly, I turned back toward Randy, who was grinning. I flushed and turned quickly to the National Geographic world map on the west wall, which I had already seen through the window last night. Between the north window and his desk, in the same place I put mine, was his stereo. It took my breath away. A JVC receiver and turntable with Bose speakers! Man, this was great! I just had a serious piece of shit from Target. I dropped to my knees in front of his stereo.
"Shit," Randy said with a chuckle. "Ya don't have to worship it, man!"
I couldn't help grinning at him.
"Moron, I just wanted to look at it. It's so cool. Mine's just a Soundesign."
You can play with it, if ya want."
If that had come from anyone I knew at school, I would made a sexual joke. As it was, I kept my mouth shut and changed the station from Q-102 and checked out the others. It sounded so clear and strong. I couldn't believe it.
"Man you are so lucky," I breather. I stopped at 90.7, the college station at Allenwood State just as the announcer, a typical college student amateur who could never pronounce the names of the composers or artists correctly, was introducing the next selection, Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue, one of my favorites.
"Oh, wow!" Randy shouted. "Leave it there!"
Suddenly, he jumped up and opened a black case near his bed. He started taking pieces of a clarinet out and putting them together.
"Listen to the clarinet part at the beginning," he said. "I can do that!"
He started sucking on a reed as the announcer finished his intro. Randy was so pumped, I couldn't help feel his enthusiasm.
The beginning of Rhapsody in Blue has one of the great clarinet solos of all time, and one of the most difficult to do with style and grace. It starts with a low trill that turns into a slur all the way up from the lowest notes to the highest in the upper register. To do it smoothly and with perfect tone is hard. I had tried to do for a long time, but it was too much for me, as yet.
Randy finished putting his clarinet together, but stopped. He dropped to the floor next to me and said, softly, "I'll show ya later. This is too cool to interrupt."
I couldn't help nodding and grinning at him. I had to admit that maybe he wasn't such a dork, after all, (though he was still a perv!).
We sat and listened to this classic, scat singing along together at some points, Randy conducting, (and really getting into it), at others. But, just before that beautiful part toward the end, we heard Randy's Dad calling us from the bottom of the stairs. We both looked at each other and smiled with resignation as Randy flipped the power on the stereo off.
"Hey," said Randy as we descended the stairs. "After dinner, why don't you go get your clarinet and we fool around."
Was he deliberately using double entendres or were all these comments perfectly innocent? I wasn't certain, but I was beginning to doubt that he was really as duplicitous and perverse as I had originally judged.
Dinner consisted of the best steaks I had ever eaten with incredibly huge potatoes baked in foil on the barbecue and roasting ears with salad. The adults even allowed Randy and me a glass of Zinfandel, which we guzzled after dinner and before the cheesecake, not appreciating it for anything other than the fact that it was alcohol and we were permitted to drink it!
Somehow, the subject of Gershwin and the clarinet came up in conversation. Randy's Dad, announced, "You would not believe how dedicated Randy is to his clarinet. He has practiced that intro to Rhapsody in Blue until we're all blue!"
Dutifully, all the adults laughed as Randy and I grinned and rolled our eyes. It was then, however, that Dad dropped his wet rag on the festivities.
"Well, I wish we could get Toby to show some motivation like that."
I was stunned that Dad would say something like that in front of everyone. Randy looked at him with a expression of amazement.
"Didn't you say you play first clarinet?" he asked me.
I hadn't said so, but I did play first clarinet.
"Yes," I responded, amazed both at my Dad's heartlessness and Randy's defense.
"Well, if he plays first clarinet and he's a year younger than everyone else, I think that's pretty good!"
I was stunned at Randy's taking up for me, but even more stunned at Dad's response.
"Well, I suppose that is pretty good. Toby is a pretty good player, I suppose."
Gee, thanks, Dad, I thought to myself. Randy, obviously, wasn't impressed with Dad's reply, I could tell, because he turned to me and said, "Go get your clarinet and we can jam!"
I was feeling pretty good about Randy about then. He was a pretty goofy guy, but he was also pretty understanding and pretty loyal. And, then, he ruined it all.
"Say, why don't ya sleepover tonight! We can jam, play a few games, have a pretty good time!"
I could just imagine what kind of games Randy would want to play. There was no way on God's Green Earth I was going to spend the night at the O'Neil house. For some bizarre reason, however, my dick was suggesting something else. It was saying, Hey, dorkbrain, this could be really hot! I, however, was determined not to listen to my dick. That is, until Dad spoke up, knowing not was he was saying,
"Yeah, Tobe! That sound's like a great idea! You need a good pal!"
And, so, as I tried to smile through my desire to murder every living being in the O'Neils' backyard, I agreed to spend the night with Randy.