Date: Fri, 06 Jan 2006 23:49:41 +0000
From: rich h <palouse1@hotmail.com>
Subject: Seal Rocks, Part 1

The July sun was intense, the water dazzlingly bright with its
reflection.  The breakers were small - three footers at most, with
a shore break that made any sort of surfing or body boarding
dicey.  Jesse sat in a low canvas beach chair that belonged
originally to his grandfather, his feet splayed out in front of
him in a small depression he had dug in the sand.  He wore a dark
Surfrider Foundation baseball cap, Hobie boardshorts that came
almost to his knees, and a pair of cheap wraparound sunglasses
(less hassle if you lost them).  He was half awake at best; the
summer heat was making him drowsy, and a bit tumescent as well.
He was also very alone.

    He liked it that way.  This southern stretch of San Onofre
State Park, way past the end of the camper road and the power
plant, was a good place to be alone.  The bluff behind him was a
good seventy feet high, sheer except for the large gouges here and
there from seasonal creeks and drainage patterns.  The ocean in
front of him was likewise empty - not even a distant sail from a
boat out of Dana Point, or a kayaker from the surf beaches further
north.  It was him, the wind, and the sea, and he loved it.  It
was a good place to relax, and to think.  He had visited it often
during the previous two weeks, trying to make sense of what had
happened.  Trying to explain himself to himself.  It hadn't worked
- not yet, anyway - but the solitude and beauty of the place had
grown on him, to a point where he'd even stopped most of the
thinking.

     Feeling himself drowsily harden, however, brought everything
back.  He shifted in the chair, freeing himself from being bent
double, and hissed quietly as he sprang up against the inside of
his boardshorts.  His hips pressed himself up against the cloth a
bit, as his hands gripped the chair's arms a bit tighter.
Thinking about things again only made him harder.

     He had just been back from a trip to San Francisco, to visit
his older brother Ben at Berkeley, when it had happened.  Two
weeks ago Monday.  He had biked over to get Mike to hit Trestles
with him, because the waves were supposed to be up - a storm down
off Baja or something.  He had strapped his board onto the side
carrier of his bike (an absurd sight - his eight foot Stewart
protruding far in front of and behind the bike) and rolled down
the hill to Mike's house, just outside Riviera.  No one had
appeared to be home - no answer at the doorbell or to his knocks.
Knowing how loud Mike played his Ipod, though, he had decided to
slip around back and yell through his window to get his attention.

    Mike usually kept his blinds drawn, but this hot day they had
been wide open.  Jesse walked straight up to it, raised his hand
and opened his mouth to hail his friend, and froze dead in his
tracks.

     Mike was on his computer, facing directly away from the
window.  Jesse could see the monitor, though.  He was watching a
movie.  A movie of two guys sucking each others' cocks. Mike
himself was naked, his arm motions making it obvious that he was
jerking off while watching the movie.  His head fell to one side,
and Jesse heard him groan, "Oh yeah," as his forearm blurred with
the intensity of his stroking.

    The movie shifted now, and the people on the video -
not much older than Jesse was, it seemed - moved to each other and
kissed.  Really kissed, deeply, tongues plunging and everything -
even more deeply than he'd gone after Allie Fields that night at
Poche last month.  Then the darker haired boy lifted the other's
legs and stuck his cock slowly into the other's ass - the movie
showed the insertion in heartstopping detail - and started to
move. Mike groaned again, more loudly, and sat up very straight.
His back tensed, and Jesse saw a stream of ejaculate pulse upward
over his shoulder as he shuddered and cried aloud, slumping slowly
forward and visibly hitting himself in the face with later bursts.

     Jesse turned away, burning in his face, and leaned against
the stucco wall next to the window.  And then he realized that he,
too, was achingly hard.  His hand had grasped his erection without
his even being aware of it, and he was rubbing himself through his
shorts.  He felt wet down there, and dizzy.  He slid down the wall
to a sitting position just in time, before he came ferociously in
his pants, biting his lip to stifle his own whimpers of pleasure.
His arms and legs slowly relaxed, and he slumped, eyes closed,
gasping for breath.

     "Jesse?"  he heard dimly.  Mike's voice.  It was a second or
two before he realized what that meant.  Then his eyes sprang
open, and he clumsily scrambled to his feet, to get the fuck out
of there before he was caught.

     "Oh shit, Jesse," he heard Mike's voice again, and this time
his reaction was exactly the opposite:  he froze.  Then he turned
slowly, unwillingly, to see Mike's head and upper torso leaning
out the window.  Mike was flushed, and looking at him with a
mixture of fear and astonishment.

     "Jesse wh - how long you been there?"

           "Uh - not long.  I, uh, I just slipped walking down
here to - to find you.  You musta heard me fall and - and stuff."
He realized that his light shorts had a large and rapidly
spreading stain in front.  He yanked his Hurley T-shirt down in an
attempt to cover it.

          Mike followed the movement with his eyes.  "Oh shit,
Jesse," he said, his head dropping.  "You saw."

     "No! No, I didn't see it!  I mean," Jesse stammered, "I -
saw, I - I realized you - you were like jerking off, and I tried
to leave you alone - I was like embarrassed and shit. And and I, I
fell, and - "

"You saw what I was watching, didn't you?"  Mike's voice was low,
ashamed, miserable.

     Jesse said nothing.  Mike and he had been best friends ever
since he'd moved to San Clemente in second grade. Almost eight
years, he thought.  They'd played, fought, and laughed so much
together, gone to volleyball club and surf school and church camp
and everything.  He realized with a jolt how deeply he felt about
him.  And he found his voice. He spoke hoarsely, tremblingly, but
very clear. "It - it made me come in my pants, Mike.  I came too."

Mike looked up at him, his eyes wide.  Jesse realized his own eyes
were just as wide.  What did all this mean?

Then Mike ran his hand slowly over his face (Jesse noticed it
smeared some wet spots), and said, "You better get in here.  You
can't go around looking like that."

     Jesse walked slowly top the back door, which Mike had already
reached and held open for him.  He wore only a pair of boxers.
Jesse looked in nervously.  "Is anybody else here?"

     "Nah.  Ma's out with Karen Spivey at something or other.  I -
I never would have don't it otherwise," he added in a low voice,
blushing again.  How his high cheekbones could turn red through
the tan he had amazed Jesse.

          "Yeah, I can imagine," Jesse answered, and couldn't help
smiling a little.  Mike looked at him, smiled back sheepishly.
Then they started to laugh, losing control within seconds,
releasing all the tension and shame and embarrassment in long
chest rending howls.  They both sank to the floor, breathing hard.
Jesse saw Mike's light brown hair wisp over his forehead, which
was slightly sweaty from the force of their laughter.  He felt an
urge to wipe the hair away.

          Mike looked back at him, still smiling, then leaned over
and wiped some strands of Jesse's blondish hair off his brow.
Jesse's eyes widened, and Mike immediately retreated. "Sorry, I'm
sorry.  I didn't mean - "

     No, it's OK.  I was about to do that to you."  And Jesse did,
running his hand slowly over Mike's forehead and feeling his skin
as if for the first time.  Mike's eyes softened a bit at the
touch.

"This is really weird," Jesse said hesitantly as he pulled his
hand away.

     "Scary?"

     "Yeah, a little."

     Mike smiled.  "I'm not scared - not now.  I was," as he stood
up, "but not now."  He held his hand out to Jesse, who took it and
got pulled to his feet next to Mike.

They were very close now, and looked at each other.
"OK," Mike smiled again at him.  "Now I'm getting scared again."

     Jesse laughed, and Mike turned to go back to his room. Jesse
followed, hardly noticing that their hands were still clasped
together.

     Mike's room smelled of come.  Jesse noticed it at once, and
Mike seemed to as well - he blushed again and looked away.  Jesse
looked towards the computer.  The screen saver was on, but there
were runny blotches visible on the screen and keyboard.  He
couldn't help laughing.  "That is so gross, dude," he giggled.

    Mike's color deepened further, if that was possible. Jesse
thought fleetingly how great it made him look.  "Well, I was - I
was coming, fer Chrissakes."  He too started laughing, even as he
grabbed a T-shirt off the floor and wiped things off.  Jesse
started laughing harder, and Mike threw the T-shirt at him.

     "Aw dude, gross!" Jesse yelled and threw it back.  Mike
dodged it and leaped at Jesse, throwing him onto the bed, where
they wrestled as they had so many times, trying to tickle each
other, give Indian burns, whatever.  But the new subtext was also
there, and they quickly grew still, Mike atop Jesse, pinning hit
arms above his head against the pillows.

     "You give?"

     Jesse's smile faded, and he looked hard at Mike for a moment.
"Yeah," he answered, shifting his weight a bit to lie more
comfortably under him.  "Yeah, I give."  They were both hard
again, and knew it.

     Mike's head dropped slowly towards his, their eyes locked.
Mike's lips brushed Jesse's, then pulled away.  He raised one
eyebrow, questioning.  Jesse nodded almost imperceptibly, and Mike
dropped down again.  This time, when he pulled away from brushing
lips, Jesse's followed him up a bit, keeping contact.  Mike
smiled, a smile softer and more attractive than any smile Jesse
had ever seen, and kissed him.  This time their lips met for real,
and in a couple of seconds their mouths opened to each other, and
Mike slowly settled his bare chest atop him.  Jesse's arms wrapped
around Mike's slender shoulders, his hand began to move over his
smooth skin, and he moaned.  Mike moaned back into his mouth, and
his hands began running along Jesse's flanks. Soon they were under
his T-shirt, and Jesse was gasping and writhing under Mike, just
as Mike's hips had begun grinding against Jesse.

     Abruptly, Mike sat up, and Jesse propped himself on his
elbows.  Had he gone too far?  But Mike simply pulled on Jesse's T-
shirt, helping him remove it, then smiled.  When Mike's hands
spread over Jesse's lightly tanned chest, Jesse shuddered and fell
back.  Mike smiled again, then glanced down at Jesse's shorts.
"Oh shit, you really made a mess there," he giggled.  He hopped
off the bed and moved to retrieve the wiping shirt he had just
used.  For his part, Jesse could have cared less at that point -
he was instinctively sad that Mike had left.  But he returned a
moment later, and deftly unzipped Jesse's shorts.  "We gotta get
you out of these," he smiled, and Jesse allowed Mike to strip him.
His cock was fully hard, and he could see Mike's tenting out the
front of his boxers as well.  Mike followed Jesse's gaze down to
his boner, and smiled.  "You're right, I should be naked too."
Mike shoved the boxers to his knees, and Jesse stared transfixed
at Mike's erection.

            Mike now wiped Jesse, belly and pubic hair with the T-
shirt, rubbing against his cock in the process.  Jesse groaned,
and Mike smiled down at him.  He sat on the edge of the bed, and
looked away, towards the computer.  "I gotta tell you, Jes, I've
been thinking about this a lot."

     "Really?"

     "Yeah.  A whole lot."

     "Why?"

     Mike shrugged.  "Dunno.  It's hot to think about.  Even
better to do though, I think," as he turned towards Jesse again, a
lopsided smile on his face.

    "Yeah, that was hot.  I never - I never thought I'd,
y'know . . . "

    "Do that with a guy?"  Mike completed the sentence.

     "Yeah.  Never."

     "Yeah, I know," Mike said.  His eyes were traveling up and
down Jesse's body, and the attention flattered Jesse. "Me
neither."  He felt himself stiffen even further.


            "So - so what made you start thinking about it?"

     Mike smiled.  "You did."

     "Huh?"

    "The night at Poche when you were making out with Allie and I
was with Denise Joiner?"  Jesse nodded.  "I realized I was
watching you, I was more interested in - in what your body was
doing and all then in Denise.  And Denise is hot, man.  She was
like rubbing me and everything."

            "Yeah, I got to play with Allie's tits for a bit that
night."

           "I know.  I watched," Mike said with a smile.  "I - I
found myself thinking like I wanted you to do that to me instead
of her.  And I got all freaked out over it."

    "I can imagine."  Jesse shifted weight again, and his hip came
into contact with Mike's buttock.  Mike looked down at the point
of contact and smiled.

     "So you started like watching porn?"

     Mike giggled.  "Not like that moment - you didn't corrupt me
that fast, shit." They both laughed, and Mike lay down next to
Jesse, their faces very close.  Jesse turned on his side to face
him.

    "I sort of jerked off that night thinking about it,`cause it
really got me hard, and then I got online and started looking for
stuff.  Information, like.  And I found these teen chat rooms with
- with other guys and all, and talked with some of them, and about
a week ago a guy told me about the movies."

     "What are they?"

     "Porn, asshole," Mike giggled and pressed his temple against
Jesse's.  Their laughter died slowly and they looked at each
other.  Then they kissed, more slowly, but deeper, and their arms
and legs began to intertwine, and they moaned and rolled about the
bed, touching each other everywhere. The fever was on them now,
and Mike rolled atop Jesse again, humping himself against Jesse's
smooth stomach.  Jesse gripped Mike's butt tightly, pressing him
against himself, and kissed back as hard as he could, both moaning
loudly. It took only a few minutes before they came against each
other, their semen spewing up their chests and under their chins.
As they slumped down into lassitude, their bodies spread it over
themselves, making the skin shine like fine porcelain.  Their
breathing slowed eventually.


    "So," Jesse finally managed to croak, "did you learn that from
the chat room or the porn?"

            Mike laughed softly.  "That just sorta happened."

     Jesse swallowed, unsure what to say.  "I'm glad it did."  And
he was glad.  But now that the passion had faded away - now that
he was emptied of it, as surely as he was emptied of what seemed
like a gallon of come - he felt a desire, a need, to leave, to not
be part of this.  It was wrong, something was wrong.  He was
wrong.  The smell of their intermingled come was overpowering; he
suddenly felt almost nauseous as he realized that he had droplets
on his neck, and one large one on his left cheek.  He struggled
out from under Mike suddenly and stood up.  "Need a shower, dude,"
he mumbled, and hurried into the bathroom. As he stumbled away, he
hit the desk Mike's computer was on, and the screen clicked back
to life.

    Two other guys - different from before - were on a shady lawn
together, sucking each other.  Jesse stood frozen, watching them
go at it, for several seconds before turning bright red and
turning to look at Mike.  He was sitting on the bed; Jesse
couldn't tell if he was watching the screen or him.  The guys were
very young looking, but tall, lithe, lightly muscled, and smooth
skinned.  There was no dialogue, just soft, sort of cheesy music.
They seemed to know each other aside from their intimacy of the
moment - they'd pause now and then to speak to each other and
laugh.  Some of the closeup shots were eye-popping:  Jesse had
never even seen another guy hard before just now, with Mike, and
here these guys were taking each other's huge organs into their
mouths.  It must go halfway to their stomachs, he thought,
fascinated in a weird way.  How can they do that and not puke?

           He turned and looked again at Mike, who had not moved.
"It's something, huh?"  he said softly.

     "Um, yeah.  It is,"  Jesse said, turning back to watch as one
of the guys stroked the other to climax, watchingfrom no more than
a foot away, smiling with pleasure at what he was accomplishing.
Jesse felt tingly all over.  He shook his head.  "Mind if I use a
towel?"

          "Go ahead.  You - you'll need some shorts, too.  I'll
get a pair of mine."  Mike grinned a little at Jesse, who blushed
and turned out of the room.  He rinsed off quickly, but spent
extra time scrubbing his chest and belly, as if by lathering over
and over he could make himself clean again.

    Mike's silhouette appeared through the glass as he flung a
pair of boardshorts over the top of the shower stall. "These OK?"

    "Yeah, thanks."  Jesse dried himself behind the closed stall
door, almost afraid to step out.  He knew when he did things would
be irrevocably different.

    But when he did, nothing seemed changed.  He saw Mike walk
back into his room, munching on a microwave burrito like always.
"Want one?" he asked, his voice muffled by a mouthful.

    "Sure."

    "Go nuke it then," Mike shrugged as he disappeared into his
room.

    Jesse followed Mike back into his room a few minutes later,
chewing on his burrito, trying not to burn his mouth on the
specially hot parts.  Mike was sitting in front of the computer
playing Sims.  "What the fuck, dude?"  Jesse asked, laughing.

    Mike shrugged.  "What can I say, I got hooked.  This is the
mature version anyway - they can like have sex and shit."

    Jesse laughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist.
"That's kinda weird, making the fake people fuck and all."

    "Yeah, I don't do it much."  Mike seemed nervous again. "I
can, uh, put something else back on if you want."

    Jesse's breath caught.  He tried to make himself sound casual.
"Nah, not now.  The, uh, the whole reason I came over was to get
you down to Rivvy - waves are supposed to be up."

    Mike looked at him for a minute, then nodded and turned back
to the game to log out. "Cool," he said quietly. "Jes?"

    "Yeah?"

    "I'm sorry, dude.  I didn't mean to freak you out or
anything."

    " `S Ok," Jesse said in a strained casual tone. "We just got
horny, right?"

    "Yeah.  Horny.  I'll say," Mike almost whispered.  He turned
off the computer and ran his hands through his hair. A small voice
inside Jesse's head noted how handsome his hair was, but he
suppressed it. "So you got the Stewart?"

    "Yeah, on my bike."  Jesse was feeling guilty for not saying
something more, but he didn't know what to say.

    "Cool."  Mike looked up at him and smiled, a warm friend's
smile that made Jesse want to cry out with joy.  "Let's book."

    They spent the afternoon surfing the shore break at Riviera,
which was better than normal given the size of the waves - five,
six footers, nicely shaped, and regular.  A bunch of their friends
were there, and they lost themselves in the day and their
activities.  Only occasionally would they make eye contact, Mike
smiling slightly with the knowledge of their secret.  Jesse,
however, would turn away when he saw that, and over the day their
eye contact lessened.

    They walked their bikes up the steep first hill from the
access cul-de-sac slowly, silently, at about 5.  At Ola Vista,
Jesse climbed onto his bike and moved to ride on home.  Mike
looked surprised, and a bit hurt. "You want some food or
something?"

    Jesse shrugged, not looking at Mike directly.  "Nah, just head
out here.  Later."

    Mike nodded jerkily, feeling the distance between them.
"Right. Well, see ya in a few I guess.  I, uh, I'm headed to Santa
Barbara to see my grandparents tomorrow.  I'll holler when I'm
back, OK?"

    "Cool.  Have fun."

    "Yeah.  You too." Mike opened his mouth as if to say something
else, but then turned away towards his house.  "OK.  Later."  And
he rode off with his head down, or so it seemed to Jesse, who sat
rooted on his bike until Mike turned the curve at the bottom of
the hill and went out of sight.

    He had started to go alone to south San Onofre the next day.
After all, he did have a lot to think about.

    The wind had almost died out now, and he felt sweaty.  He was
still hard though, aching to get off.  He had been popping boners
like this at the slightest provocation ever since that day with
Mike, and jerking off didn't seem to make them any less demanding.
He groaned softly, surrendering to its demands, and slid the
boardshorts down to his ankles.  His cock jutted out towards the
ocean until he took it in his hand and began stroking.  The
feeling was immediate and intense, he knew he wouldn't last
long.his eyes closed and there again were the images - the movie
on the computer, Mike's face above him as they came, Mike and he
on a shady lawn fellating each other, Mike lifting his leg softly
and moving up against him -

    His body tensed and sprang free, the come shooting up onto his
face as he aimed it in his last extremity, the spurts showering
down onto his neck and chest as they decreased in strength, his
body shuddering and slowly sinking back into the chair.  He tried
to catch his breath as he carefully spread the semen over himself
- face, neck, chest, belly.  He licked his hand off, tasting his
own salty bitterness.

    What was happening to him?  What had happened?  What did it
mean?  How could he face Mike again?  How could he not see Mike
again?  Was Mike back yet?  Should he call, stop by, check out
Rivvy for him?  What should he do when they met - blow him off,
say something, kiss him . . .  He closed his eyes against it all.

    "Oh, fuck," was all he could say.