Date: Tue, 19 Jun 2012 19:01:18 +0000
From: Douglas DD DD <thehakaanen@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Big Time   Chapter 7

Greetings and welcome back to "The Big Time". This chapter will take
a look at what happens to some of the middle school incoming
seventh grade boys of Mayfield as they wake up on a summer
morning, full of a combination of tween angst and newly churning
hormones. I hope you enjoy it.

Please remember you must be 18 to read; this story is mine; and to
be safe always. Also, Nifty needs our donations to keep providing the
reading we all enjoy so much, so please donate.

I always enjoy getting emails about my stories, so please write me at
thehakaanen@hotmail.com.


State Semi-final Mustang Lineup

1. Jerome-Center Field (Senior)
2. Noah-Second Base (Junior)
3. Rich-Shortstop (Senior)
4. Marty-Third Base (Senior)
5. Scott-First Base (Junior)
6. Vince-Designated Hitter (Senior) (hitting for Kraig-Right Field)
(Junior)
7. Kevin-Catcher (Junior)
8. Eric-Pitcher (Junior)
9. Hunter-Left Field (Junior)


CHAPTER 7
A SUMMER MORNING

The third inning was good for me. I started out facing the number
three hitter for the Jackrabbits. He had hit me hard the first time,
belting the long fly that Jerome ran down. This time I got a 2-2 count
on him before he fouled a couple of pitches off and then hit a sharp
grounder to Noah, who gobbled it up and threw him out easily.

The cleanup hitter, who walked his first time up, was next. He was a
big kid, probably around 6'2. He had the makings of a beard as it was
obvious the Jackrabbits didn't have the same policy regarding facial
hair that the Mustangs had. I threw him a fastball, looking to hit the
outside corner, but I got too much of the plate as the batter hit it hard,
sending a line-drive out towards Hunter in left. He raced in and dove
for it. The ball hit his glove and stuck as he skidded along the grass. I
pumped my fist and pointed to him. My teammates were throwing out
some serious leather, all the more reason for me to keep my head
screwed on straight.

Their number five hitter had doubled off of me in the first, but this time
Kevin had me setting him up nicely and I got him taking a breaking
ball for a called third strike, my first strikeout of the game.

When we got back to the dugout, Coach Sanders pointed out that the
Jackrabbit pitcher had thrown nothing but fastballs so far. "It's time for
us to get aggressive at the plate and make him prove he can throw
something else for strikes."

"And they're not only `just' fastballs," Marty told Kevin as our catcher
went to the on-deck circle, "they are all straight fastballs. He's fast,
but there's not much movement on his pitches." Marty's comments
were aimed at me as well since I would be up following Kevin.

Kevin took a pitch down the middle for a strike, more because he
wanted to get his own timing at the plate than because he was
frozen. Kevin was a smart hitter just like he was a smart catcher. Hell,
he's really a smart all-around guy on top of being hot and sexy.

The next pitch was a fastball which Kevin pulled foul up the left field
line. He was quickly in the hole 0-2, but that made him no different
than our first six batters had been. He fouled the next pitch back and
then rapped a sharp grounder to the shortstop who threw him out
easily at first. That was the first pitch we'd hit fair.

I had watched Kevin's at-bat carefully from the on-deck circle. All he
saw was straight fastballs. I also time the pitchers by taking practice
swings. The Jackrabbit pitcher threw harder than anybody we'd seen
all year, but we ran into some pitchers just as fast or faster last
summer, and they had more than one pitch in their arsenal. I think we
all believed that once we got over our first at-bat jitters and we had all
seen what he had that there was no doubt we would hit him. I know I
had no doubt I could hit him now that my mind had moved from
freaked out mode to game mode. I was a good hitter and usually hit
in the two hole. But Coach liked his pitchers hitting lower in the order
so they could concentrate more on their pitching than their hitting.
There were not many times I disagreed with Coach Sanders, but this
was one of them. I felt that in a game like this you need to go with
your best lineup. I wasn't the coach, however, and besides I really did
have to hit in whatever spot he put me, so wherever it was I would be
doing my best. He was an excellent coach, so I guess I could live with
that particular quirk in his philosophy.

Unlike Kevin, I didn't bother letting the first pitch to go by. I'd seen
enough from the on-deck circle. The pitch was right where I liked it, I
had my timing down, and I hit it hard up the middle for our first hit of
the game. After I made it to first and time was called the Rabbits' first
baseman, who was a big, mean looking kid, said, "You fags are going
to lose."

As I headed back to the dugout and Justin, my designated courtesy
runner came out to take my place, I said, "You know, I really feel
sorry for you." He looked at me with a look that said, Where the fuck
are you coming from?


Hunter was up next. Hunter is an excellent athlete and a decent
baseball player. There is a lot I could say about Hunter and who he is
and the problems he's had and what he means to all of us. This isn't
the place to tell his story, but if you were to look into how our team
came together back in middle school you'd find out a lot of interesting
things, not only about him, but about all of us.

Anyway, he had seen that the Jackrabbit pitcher wasn't unhittable
and we didn't have to stand at the plate watching fastballs go buzzing
by us. The pitcher's name was Paul and, like all of the starters for the
Jackrabbits, he was a senior. Paul fell behind for the first time as he
faced Hunter, going 2-0 before Hunter fouled off a pitch. Hunter didn't
get much of the next pitch, hitting a comebacker to Paul. Paul looked
to second and didn't seem confident that he could start a double play,
so he threw to first, putting Justin into scoring position with the top of
our order coming up.

Of course the top of the order had all struck out the first time around,
but I think those of us at the bottom of the order had given everybody
the message that we could get to Paul and to the Jackrabbits.
Everybody who plays the game knows that hitting is contagious.

Jerome apparently didn't get the message, however. He strikes out a
lot for a leadoff man, but we love him at the top of the order because
of his speed and willingness to make things happen. But sometimes
he tries to make too much happen, becomes undisciplined at the
plate, and starts flailing away. That's when Coach Sanders whispers
to him in his ear to slow the game down. Telling Jerome to slow
anything down sounds kind of silly in a way, but Coach seems to be
able to know when to say it to Jerome without beating him over the
head with his advice. Timing, as they say, is everything. Coach's
timing didn't include this at bat and Jerome went down swinging on
four pitches.

As Noah and I took our first steps out to the field he touched my arm
and said, "We did it all wrong last night."

"We did."

"So now we make it right."

"We do."

"And tonight we make it better."

"If..."

"Eric! No if. Now we make it right, we win the game, and tonight we
make it better."

I fought a grin. There was no getting around Noah's mental
determination.

"We do."

We ran out to the field. As I hopped over the baseline I wondered if
those of us wearing the Mustang uniform were the only ones in the
ballpark who believed we could win this came. After all, we were
starting the fourth inning down 4-0. What we didn't know is that it was
about to get worse.

++++++++++

<Seventh grade. July 1st, Sunday morning>

Some boys woke up as they normally did on Sunday morning.
Saturday night hadn't been much different or particularly special; it
was just a Saturday night. That doesn't mean they all slept in an
empty bed; for boys like Scott and Eric, sleeping together was
becoming more normal than sleeping alone, and waking up after
having had a round or more of sex the night before---to them that was
what life for a horny pre-teen boy was all about. But for some of the
boys Saturday night was different, or the partner was different; in
other words things were just different.

Three of the boys woke up with their little brothers in their bed.

For Rich that wasn't a planned thing. When he left Steve's party he
was upset. Upset with himself that he had agreed to go to begin with,
even though he did it at the time to bribe Marty into spending the
night with him instead of going home and getting drunk. But his
promise to go to Steve's party and get drunk had been a mistake. All
Marty wanted to do was guzzle beer and find a girl to fuck. It was like
he didn't even know who Rich was and Rich found himself standing
alone with a cup of beer in his hand. The only eighth graders there
were Marty, Connor, Vince, and himself.

He was angry---angry at himself and angry at Marty--- and had
decided to leave. As he walked home his anger didn't abate. His
parents were surprised to see him come home early. He told them he
didn't feel good and went to his room hoping they wouldn't dig
deeper.

He stripped down to his boxers and lay on his bed, staring up at the
ceiling wondering what he had done so wrong that Marty hardly even
talked to him at the party. He was almost enjoying feeling angry at
Marty and feeling sorry for himself when he heard a knock at the door
and a quiet, high pitched voice ask, "Can I come in?"

It was his brother Mikey, maybe the only person he wanted to see
less than he wanted to see his parents. "Leave me alone."

"Pleeease."

Rich loved his little brother, who, for a little 10 year old really wasn't
that much of a pest. When he did act like a pest, Rich almost always
found a way to con him into behaving. But at the moment, in a
perverse way, he was having too much fun stewing in the juices of his
own misery, and didn't want to deal with Mikey.

He heard another plaintive, "Pleeeease," and decided it couldn't hurt
to talk to his brother for a couple of minutes. "Okay, come in. But for
just a minute."

"Cool beans," Mikey said as he came into his older brother's room.
He was wearing a pair of Seattle Seahawk pajamas, with the shirt
unbuttoned, exposing his smooth chest and belly.

Mikey went right over to Rich's bed and lay next to him. "Did you and
Marty have a fight?" he asked.

Hmm, nothing like getting right down to business, Rich thought. He
decided to answer his brother's honest question with an honest
answer. "Yeah, we had a fight, bro."

"I'm sorry. Sometimes me and Drew fight, too, but we always make
up."

"I'm sure Marty and I will, too." Rich wasn't sure that he believed
those words.

Mikey leaned over and kissed his brother on the cheek. Rich felt a
warm glow from his little brother's innocent gesture. "Your breath
smells funny, like when mom or dad or Drew's brother drink beer."

"Oh." Rich wasn't sure what to say here. What he knew was that if he
admitted he'd had a beer he would suddenly be in his little brother's
power.

"It's okay, though, I won't tell mom and dad if you did."

"I had one is all," Rich said, as he was pretty much forced to be
honest. "And I didn't even drink all of that." He had to trust his brother
not to say anything and since the sexual things they had done
together seemed to make them a little tighter, he was pretty sure his
trust was well-placed.

"Did Marty have one?"

"He had a lot more than one."

"Is that why you had a fight?"

"Yeah."

Mikey chewed on the information for awhile, then rolled onto his back
and looked up at the ceiling just like his big brother was, with his
hands behind his head. Out of the corner of his eye, Rich could see
the pajama tops opening wider, exposing Mikey's thin, lithe, torso.
He caught a glimpse of Mikey's little dick through the opening in his
pajama bottoms. The close proximity of his brother was giving Rich a
boner. Mikey's chaste kiss had somehow dissipated his anger and
the situation was making him increasingly horny. He could see that
his boxers were tenting out some and he wondered if Mikey noticed.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" Mikey asked.

"I doubt mom and dad will let you."

"Who says we gotta ask them?"

Rich looked at his little brother in surprise; Mikey was proving to be
much more devious than Rich ever suspected. There was much more
to him than the naïve 10 year old he pretended to be in front of their
parents. Well, their parents' bedroom was on the other side of the
house, and once the two boys told them goodnight they never came
in to bother them, at least as far as Rich knew. He had no idea what
parents did after he fell asleep. If not for the party, he figured he
would have been sleeping with Marty tonight, so why not sleep with
his brother?

Mikey, who had become an endless source of surprises, unsnapped
the button on his pajama bottoms and revealed a pencil thin three
inch boner, tight little balls, and a smooth, hairless pubic area. Mikey
had come into the room with a definite purpose in mind.

"You got a boner just like me," Mikey said. Obviously he had noticed
the bulge in the boxers.

"Let's go tell mom and dad goodnight," Rich said. "Tell them we're
gonna play a game or something before we crash. Then they'll know
why you went into my room." It was around ten o'clock, a good time
to say goodnight, even on a Saturday. The first thing Rich did was
pop a couple of strong breath mints to try to hide his beer breath.

Rich slipped on a t-shirt and the boys went downstairs to say
goodnight. He used the long t-shirt to cover the front of his boxers .It
wasn't quite as easy as they'd anticipated. Their mother wanted to
know how Rich was feeling and if he felt better and other endless
questions. His mother even made him come close so she could feel
his forehead to see if he had a fever. Rich held his breath as he stood
next to his mother. They finally made it back to Rich's bedroom. They
had no intention of playing a game, except maybe a game of sex, a
desire that had gone unspoken, but both knew was going to happen.

They got naked, turned out the lights, and crawled onto Rich's full-
sized bed. Rich wondered what they were going to do together, but
Mikey quickly made it apparent what the agenda was going to be and
foreplay wasn't a part of it. He draped his arm around his 12 year old
brother and started humping his leg. From there it didn't take long for
their dicks to meet, for Mikey to end up on top Rich, and for the
younger boy to grind his cock into his older brother's crotch. Rich
ground back, both young boys loving the feeling coursing through
their smooth, developing bodies.

Rich used his size to move Mikey off of him, to roll him on his side
with him rolling along with his little brother. They were still face to
face, but now Rich was able to push hard against his brother's velvet
smooth skin, against his little cocklet; he could wrap his arms around
his little brother, could kiss his brother's lips, his face, his chest, could
feel his brother's soft, smooth ass, could move his fingers through his
crack, could feel his little brother almost rabbit fucking him. The
senses of the two boys were soon on overload and they both went
flying over the top, Mikey with the comforting clicks of a dry cum and
Rich with his light cum shooting out over his brother in squirt after
squirt.

As they caught their breaths Mikey started rubbing Rich's cum all
over his chest and belly, his balls and dick. Rich knew that since the
first time Mikey had seen cum (it was Marty's, not Rich's) he loved
rubbing it into himself. He thought it was a little weird, but accepted it.
He was finding out that everybody had their little sexual quirks, even
10 year olds.

Rich pulled the sheet and blankets over the two of them and the two
pre-teen brothers fell asleep in each other's arms. Rich was thankful
about how his brother had kept his night from being miserable.

The other boy to wake up with his little brother was Noah, but he did it
without the emotional angst that was afflicting Rich. Noah did it
because eight year old Nicky had asked for it.

Simply put, Nicky had had fun with Eric and Kraig the night of Noah's
party and wanted some more fun. Since Bobby was on restriction and
couldn't spend the night, Noah told Nicky he could sleep with him and
they could have fun and fall right to sleep together. Nicky was all for
that idea. Nicky had wanted to sleep with Noah all month and now he
would get his chance.

Unlike Rich and Mikey, Noah and Nicky didn't have to be sneaky
about sharing a bed. Their parents didn't have a problem with it,
figuring that with an 11 and an 8 year old it was all just brothers
bonding. At least that's how their mom saw it. Their dad suspected
there might be a little bit more to it, but as long as his youngest son
wasn't forced to do anything he didn't see an issue. Then again, he
could be wrong and it all might be purely innocent.

What happened in Noah's bed wasn't purely innocent, though there
was a certain innocence to it that only a couple of young boys could
bring to a sexual situation. To them it was all very uncomplicated. It
was see boner, feel up boner, suck boner, have a feel good dry
orgasm and do it again; three cums each before the night was over.

They snuggled at times and they slept a distance away at times, as
they rolled into each other and rolled away from each other. For Noah
it was a satisfying night as he was able to feel even closer to his
brother. It wasn't as satisfying as when Bobby slept with him, or even
as satisfying as that one night with Eric, but it was still good---it was
very good in fact.

In the case of the third boy who slept with his brother, it wasn't all that
unusual for a brother in that family to sleep with a brother, although it
was usually the twins who slept together. On this night it was 12 year
old Kevin sleeping with his 10 year old brother Korey. They were the
only ones of the three pairs of brothers to engage in anal sex as
Kevin fucked Korey and then sucked his younger brother to a dry
cum. It was good for both, sensual for both, something they had done
before and would do again, but something that would never become
routine.

Kevin's twin brother Kraig woke up in bed with his friend Hunter, but
not quite in the way he had expected to when he agreed to spend the
weekend at Hunter's house. He woke up on his side, facing Hunter,
with his arm wrapped around him, both of them naked. He could feel
Hunter's breath softly blowing on him. He loved the feel of his friend's
naked body against him, loved it better than the body of his brothers
Kevin and Korey, mostly because Hunter in many ways kept his body
a mystery.

The night before had been interesting. Kraig was happy that Hunter
had decided to leave the party. Kraig was worried that when Hunter
had seen their classmate, Vicky, bare-chested, he was going to want
to stay and try to have sex with her. Hunter had talked about trying
beer, but didn't do it. He had talked about making out with a girl, but
he didn't do that either. Instead, Kraig thought he looked very
uncomfortable and said he wanted to leave. They'd been there for
only fifteen minutes.

Kraig wondered what a kegger like that was, but after seeing his
topless classmate and after seeing kids his age and a little older
already drunk and acting stupid he realized the whole scene didn't
interest him. It obviously bothered Hunter as well.

What Kraig didn't know was that Hunter was bothered by more than
seeing a half-naked girl and a drunken Marty. What bothered him
more were the thoughts going through his own confused 12 year old
head. The big problem for him was that seeing a girl he knew who
was topless and it didn't give him a boner. It should have given him a
boner, but it didn't. He knew girls gave him a boner because he had
one when he was naked with Tama, so why didn't he get this one?
Maybe it was everything else going on at the party, but still, he
thought he should get a boner every time he was in that kind of a
situation.

When the boys got back to Hunter's house they were happy that
Hunter's dad didn't quiz them about where they'd been. That was one
positive about not staying out too late.

They grabbed some soda and some snacks and headed to Hunter's
room. Hunter's parents were happy to see him with a friend he liked
to be around. Hunter ran around with the jock crowd. He was a good
looking, athletic boy, and a decent enough student, but for some
reason he never seemed to have close friends who he liked to have
over at the house. He spent the night away from home on occasion,
but, other than Kraig over the last month or so, he hadn't had anyone
stay with him. Hunter tended to be somewhat of an introvert and his
mother, especially, thought having a friend with Kraig's outgoing
personality would be good for him.

After settling in Hunter's room, Kraig followed his friend in seeing how
comfortable they would get. He was pleased when Hunter stripped
down to just a t-shirt and his boxers so he did the same.

"That was really a lame party," Hunter said.

"I guess. We weren't really there long enough to really find out."

"Everybody was getting drunk. Crawford was like just in his
underpants and then Rory and Vicky...I don't know, it was all pretty
lame."

"Did you bone up looking at Vicky in her panties?" Kraig asked.

Hunter hesitated, wondering whether or not to lie, then said, "I didn't
see her long enough." He knew that sounded really stupid, but at
least he didn't lie to his friend.

Kraig decided to change the subject. He downed a handful of Doritos
and took a long swig of his soda. "Eric is really taking his whole Go to
State thing really serious. I mean by-laws and officers and
everything."

"I know, but it won't go anywhere. Like my dad says, the coaches at
the high school are stupid. They're just collecting their checks and
winning enough to keep people happy. He says they won't put in the
time they need to make Mayfield good enough to try to win a
championship."

"Do you think your dad would be willing to sponsor us?" Hunter's
father owned the sporting goods store in Centralia. He was a Mayfield
High graduate and played on one of their State Championship
baseball teams. He then played college ball, got drafted by the Cubs,
and worked his way up in the minor leagues until a knee injury ended
his pro career.

"I don't know, and I don't care. All I know is if he sponsors us then I'm
not playing."

"You and him get along that bad?"

"It's not that we don't get along, we just don't get along when it comes
to baseball. He is always on me about it, which is why I worked to get
cut from the team when I turned out." Hunter had quit baseball
because of the pressure being put on him by his father. He was told
to turn out for the Mayfield Middle School baseball team, but he tried
to be as bad as he could and ended up getting cut. Coach Ecklund
and Coach Sanders both couldn't figure out why a player with his
talent did everything to hide it and to look bad in practice.

"But you're playing this summer."

"Yeah, in the rec league instead of with you guys on a select team.
And that really pisses him off, especially since I said I'd only turn out
if he didn't come to the games, which pisses him off even more. So,
yeah, I guess maybe you're right---we don't get along too good right
now."

Kraig knew what Hunter was talking about. He and Hunter had been
on the same rec team the summer before and his dad seemed to be
on his ass about something every game.

"You know," Hunter went on, opening up to Kraig like he never had to
anybody, "if I have a bad game in any other sport he'd say, `Bad days
happen. Go get them next time.' But if I strike out in a baseball game
you'd think the whole world came to an end. One fucking at bat is like
the same as the whole season to him. He wants me to be what he
wasn't and that's a Major League player. I like playing baseball, but
it's not my favorite sport and it sure as fuck is not my whole fucking
life." Hunter seemed almost out of energy when his little tirade ended.
He sat on his bed waiting for Kraig to tell him how stupid he was.

Instead Kraig, who was not sure what to say, moved on. "So you
don't think we should add his name to the sponsor list?"

Hunter was confused by the change in direction of Kraig's question,
but he answered it. "Do whatever the fuck you want, but he'll say no.
He puts his money into Centralia teams. He doesn't want to get
involved in Mayfield stuff. He says if he did he'd get all upset with the
coaches and how bad things are getting and then they'd go to
Olympia to shop and he'd lose all their business."

Kraig decided he'd add the name anyway. He was on the
sponsorship committee and he figured they should get every potential
sponsor on it. He just wouldn't tell Hunter what he was doing. He
could see that Hunter was a little upset and that another change of
subject was needed. That change meant cranking up Hunter's Play
Station.

When they were finally ready for bed Hunter pulled off his t-shirt and
Kraig did the same. Kraig figured they would sleep like last night, in
their underpants, keeping their distance, so he was quite surprised
when Hunter pulled off his boxers. Kraig loved looking at Hunter's
cock with its nice nest of pubic hair at the base. Kraig was willing to
bet that Hunter had the most pubic hair of any seventh grader. He
knew Hunter had the most of any boy in their group. He was so
pleased that Hunter had taken off his underpants that he almost didn't
follow suit as he got caught up in ogling at Hunter's toned naked
body. He also didn't take his briefs off because seeing Hunter
suddenly get naked had him starting to bone up.

Well, fuck it, Kraig thought. It's not like he hasn't seen my boner
before. Hell, he's made me cum more than once. Kraig couldn't figure
why he got so shy around Hunter sometimes when he had no
problem with anybody else. He finally got out of his chair and yanked
off his red and yellow briefs, his four inch boner popping up proudly.

Neither boy talked. Hunter stayed silent because he was afraid of
what he wanted and Kraig stayed silent because he knew how moody
his friend was and he didn't want to break the spell. Hunter crawled
under the covers of his full-size bed, leaving plenty of room for Kraig.
Kraig filled the space, unsure of himself and of Hunter. He lay on his
back, staring up at the white ceiling. Once again Hunter surprised
Kraig, taking his hand and laying it on his crotch, letting Kraig feel his
now hard cock. Kraig wrapped his fingers around it, feeling a light film
of precum on the tip of his index finger.

"Turn off the light," Hunter whispered, the first words by either of them
since they had started undressing for bed.

Kraig reluctantly let go of Hunter's cock and rolled over on his left
side, reaching for the switch on the desk lamp on the nightstand. He
started to turn back on his back when Hunter told him not to move.

Kraig couldn't help but wonder if Hunter was fighting his sudden
horniness and was trying to move him away. He was used to Hunter's
ups and downs, but that didn't mean he liked dealing with them. He
could feel Hunter rolling onto his left side, his boner pushing up
against Kraig's ass. Kraig didn't move, wondering what Hunter had in
mind. Kraig thought that maybe Hunter was going to try to fuck him.

Instead Hunter spit on his hand and rubbed his saliva over his dick.
He then pushed his dick against the crack between his friend's legs.
Kraig raised his right leg and Hunter pushed his dick between the two
legs. Kraig could feel the hardness and dampness of it.

Hunter then took it a step farther by wrapping his right hand around
Kraig's boner, slowly jerking him off while humping between Kraig's
legs. Hunter's body was tight against Kraig's and he grunted as he
his boner moved between Kraig's smooth thighs.

Hunter wasn't sure why he was doing this. He told himself that this
wasn't his thing, that he should be at the party in bed with Vicky,
getting his first fuck, losing his cherry to a seventh grade girl. Instead
here he was in his bed with his spit slicked dick thrusting between the
legs of the boy who was becoming his best friend while he was
jerking him off. Yet somehow this seemed much more right than what
he had seen going on at the party.

Hunter grunted and moaned as he humped and jerked off his friend.
He could hear the contented squeaks of his friend and somehow they
made him feel good. He could feel the tension build in him and he
upped the pace of his thrusts and the speed of his hand.

He uttered his second words since they started undressing as he
groaned and then said, "Oh, fuck, I'm cumming, Kraig, I'm fuckin'
cumming." And with that he started squirting, his cum coating Kraig's
legs as well as the sheet. Hunter's orgasm was all it took to set Kraig
off and he shot his lighter and clearer cum over the sheets. There's
gonna be pecker tracks all over these sheets was the oddball thought
that shot through Kraig's head, but Hunter wasn't bothered by it; he
was required to do all of his own washing.

Hunter pulled his dick out of the gap between Kraig's legs and rolled
away. Kraig missed the weight and warmth of Hunter's body. Kraig
knew that if he rolled onto his stomach he would roll right into their
combined cum. He didn't care. He rolled into the mess and it felt
sticky and warm and good.

When Kraig woke up he was face to face with Hunter and Hunter's
arm was draped over him. He scooted in a little closer and put his
arm around Hunter, but his movement appeared to wake up his
friend.

"Hey," Kraig said.

"Morning."

Kraig wondered if he should say anything about what had happened
after they went to bed, but once again elected to say nothing. Kraig
could tell that his legs and belly had dried cum on them. He waited for
Hunter to realize how close the two of them were and realize that
their arms were draped around each other. But Hunter didn't move.
He just lay still looking at Kraig in the dimly lit room.

"Last night...I was horny," Hunter said.

"Yeah, I know."

"It didn't mean nothing."

"I didn't think it did." But Kraig wished with all of his might that it really
did mean something. He knew that his brother Kevin was falling for
Lars, a boy who lived in another town, and he knew he was falling for
Hunter, a boy who might as well live on another planet.

Hunter didn't know what else to say. He wanted to say it wouldn't
happen again, but he was afraid that wasn't true. He knew he had
feelings for Kraig he wasn't supposed to have. He knew that he
should let go of Kraig and get out of bed and he knew he didn't want
to. Worst of all, he knew those were feelings in him he shouldn't have
and were wrong. It was time to get untangled from Kraig before there
was a repeat of last night.

"I gotta get up and pee."

"Okay."

Hunter pulled the covers off of them and got off the bed on his side,
walking away to the bathroom, his gorgeous boy ass teasing Kraig.
Kraig rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling, wondering
why things seemed so complicated all of a sudden. He wished he
was 11 again when his thoughts of sex was how long it was going to
be before he and Kevin would do something with each other again.

At Steve's house the party had ended in the wee hours of the
morning. Marty woke up wondering why his bed was so cold and hard
and why his head hurt so much. With a great deal of effort he opened
his eyes and saw nothing but white. He slowly realized that he was in
a bathtub. He was in the fetal position and squeezed into the tub.
Something had dried on his face and in his hair.

He tried to stand in the tub but he was too shaky. He realized that he
was naked. He crawled over the edge of the tub and eased himself
onto the floor. He finally managed to work his way to his feet and
stood over the toilet to take a pee. He was worried for a moment that
he was going to puke instead as he spit a ton of saliva into the toilet.
He managed not to lose whatever was in his stomach and finally took
his pee.

Without bothering to cover himself he staggered into the hall and
headed for the living room. The house was dark, but he could see
daylight coming through the slats in the blinds as he entered the living
room. He had no idea what time it was.

Two boys were sleeping on the floor. Marty was able to make out that
they were Connor and Vince, the only eighth grade boys other than
him at the party. He needed some water badly and he headed for the
kitchen. The entire house was a mess with clothes and beer cups and
paper plates strewn everywhere.

He grabbed one of the beer cups and filled it with water from the sink.
He wondered if there was any beer left in the keg, but he had no
desire to drink any. In fact he felt so miserable that he promised
himself he would never get drunk again. As he guzzled down the
water he heard somebody entering the kitchen. He turned and saw
Steve and Crawford.  The only thing they were wearing was boxers.
Marty couldn't help but wonder if they'd slept together.

"Well, look what came crawling out of the swamp," Steve said. Marty
could tell that they were both hung over. He wondered if they felt as
miserable as he did.

"What the fuck was I doing sleeping in the bathtub?" Marty asked.
Morning formalities had been tossed aside.

"You don't remember?" Steve asked.

"If I remembered I wouldn't need to ask."

"You managed to puke your guts out in the back yard and we were
afraid you'd just keep puking so we put you in the tub." That there
was no logic to what Steve said went right past Marty.

"You could've at least put a blanket over me or something. I was cold
when I woke up."

"What and mess up a perfectly good blanket?" Steve asked. He tried
to laugh but it hurt too much. "You were funny last night."

"Hell, he's funny now," Crawford said. "He's still got our cum in his
hair."

"And on his face," Steve said.

"Your cum? What the fuck are you talking about...your cum?"

"Oh, that's right, you don't remember nothing," Steve said with a bit of
a sarcastic tone.

Connor walked into the kitchen, naked like Marty was. Marty couldn't
help but notice his swinging cock, three inches soft, and his hairless
hanging balls. The pubic area of the 13 year old had a nice little nest
of hair covering it.

"Hey, where are my clothes?" Connor asked.

"How the fuck should I know?" Steve said. "There's clothes
everywhere. At least you know you can skip looking through the bras
and panties." Some of the kids were sleeping in the parents' room,
but most were in the family room, scattered around the floor. "Unless
you're one of those faggots that likes to dress in them."

Connor gave Steve the finger.

"What about your cum?" Marty asked again, getting a bit more
insistent.

"Well, you came out in the kitchen after your adventure with Becca,"
Steve said. "Or is that misadventure?"

"I fucked her," Marty said, unconvinced since the last thing he
remembered about last night in bed with her was shoving his limp
dick against her cunt.

"Not with your limp dick. So you grabbed a beer and went looking for
real dicks and did what you do best."

Marty didn't want this conversation to go any farther. He was afraid to
find out what he had done, afraid he'd done exactly what he was now
thinking he had done.

"So, there you are wearing nothing, drinking beer, and asking who
wanted their cock sucked."

"Uh, uh, no way I did that."

"It's true," Connor said. "I didn't know you were into that, but damn,
you're better than any girl that's done me."

"I did you?"

Steve nodded yes, indicating that he had. "And me, and Crawford,
and Vince. Kinda."

"That's enough, I don't want to know any more."

"You almost choked on Connor's spunk you were so fucking drunk,
so the rest of us shot our wads on you," Steve went on.

"Shut up!"

"You had so much cum on you we called you cum baby. And you
were even boning up but you got sick before you could do any more.
Then you walked into the backyard and fell on the ground and puked
your guts out." Marty recalled a little of that part of the night.

"Shut the fuck up! And where are my fucking clothes?" Marty asked.

"Probably hiding under Conner's."

"Fuck you." Marty wanted to yell out, but he didn't have enough
energy to do so, and it came out as a quiet croak. He walked out of
the kitchen and headed to the parents' bedroom. That was where he
had gotten naked with Becca, so he figured they were probably still
there.

There were three girls sleeping on the bed, Becca, a 9th grader
named Carla, and a high school girl whose name Marty couldn't
remember. He started sifting through the clothes on the floor and
found his jeans, t-shirt, and shoes. He couldn't find his underpants or
socks, but he didn't care. He picked up his clothes and started to step
out, but Becca was awake and saw him.

"Sorry you're still a virgin."

"I got too drunk or I would've done it."

"You weren't too drunk to give your friends blow jobs."

Hearing Becca's words caused his knees to buckle and he had to
brace himself against the dresser to keep from falling to the floor. He
could feel his face burn with shame. Marty said nothing and left the
bedroom, leaving Becca thinking that even though Marty was only 13
he did have a fine looking ass.

Marty sat on the couch and yanked on his jeans, fuming over Becca's
comments and over his inability to fuck her. Steve and Connor came
into the living room. Connor was still naked.

"Hey, cocksucker, you going home?" Connor asked. It was bad
enough to have sucked Steve and Crawford. At least he'd sucked
them before, even though he really didn't like them. In fact, Steve
promised to suck him in return a couple of months ago. It was a
promise he still hadn't fulfilled. But Connor and Vince were
classmates and teammates in sports, and he thought of them as
being his friends. He had to live with them every day in school. The
feelings of humiliation he felt were overwhelming. His stomach
lurched as he felt like he had to puke.

"I was wasted," Marty protested. "You've never been wasted before?"

"Whatever."

Marty wanted to say how Steve owed him, how Steve had promised
him a blow job in return for the one he had given, how he wasn't a
cocksucker, faggot, queer, fairy, or anything like it. Instead all he
could say was "Fuck you."

He had his shoes and pants on and stomped out of the front door
carrying his shirt. He hadn't seen Rich all night and wondered if he
was in the back room, but he didn't care. He could take care of
himself. Hell, Rich probably watched him suck everybody's cock and
laughed at him. He wondered why Steve never mentioned Rich's
name, never said that he'd sucked his friend's cock. Well, fuck Rich,
he thought. I'm done with him. He's a fairy, what with his kissing and
his "I love you" shit and his butt fucking. He couldn't believe he'd
fallen for all of that crap.

Marty walked home, his head hurting, his stomach upset, his knees
shaky, feeling defeated and humiliated. He tried to remember if he
had a game that afternoon, but his mind still wouldn't function right.
Oh, well, he thought, if I got one...fuck it, I won't be there.

When he walked in the door his dad took one look at him and said,
"Must have been quite a party. Bad hangover? So bad you couldn't
even dress." Marty never did put his shirt on.

"I'm going to bed," was all Marty said. By now he was sure he didn't
have a game or he wouldn't have gone to a party to get drunk the
night before, but he glanced at the calendar on the kitchen wall
anyway. The next game was tomorrow.

After spending part of the night in a bathtub his bed sounded perfect.
Nobody commented on the dried goo on his face or in his hair. He
remembered as he sat on his bed hoping for some energy that Rich
had left the party early. Well, so what? he thought, goddamn Rich
should have been there to help him.

He stripped naked, pulled Mortimer, his teddy bear, down from the
shelf above his desk, and fell onto his bed. He pulled the well worn
bear tightly to his chest and fell asleep feeling lonely and friendless.

The last boy to wake up under abnormal conditions was Bobby. He
woke up in the loft of the barn he had entered in the middle of the
night. Sunlight was leaking through gaps in the wood. He knew he
had to get out before the owner of the barn showed up to feed his
horses. The barn was warm as was the hay he'd slept on. He still
wished he'd had a blanket covering him.

Bobby climbed down the ladder, grabbed his bike and pushed it to
the barn doors. One of the horses snorted nervously as he went by.
He edged the door open, squeezed through the opening with his bike,
closed it, and hopped on his bike, heading down the dirt drive to the
road.

He didn't have far to ride, but even so he was passed by a car
coming the other way. He wondered if whoever was in it gave any
thought to passing a boy on a bike who was wearing nothing but a
pair of pajama bottoms.

When he got to his driveway he checked to see who was parked
there. His mom's car was there along with Lenny's truck and Duke's
crew cab. He didn't think Duke would be gone this early, but he could
always hope.

Bobby knew he couldn't go into the house as long as Duke was there,
so he pushed his bike into the woods across the drive from the trailer
and then walked to the field that was behind their property. He found
a soft spot in the grass and went back to sleep.

He woke up a couple of hours later and snuck up to the trailer, hiding
behind the rotting wooden shed. He patiently waited for Duke to
leave. Bobby wished Noah was beside him right now, to help him feel
safe. A couple of times he thought about getting on his bike and
riding to town in his pajamas, running to Noah's room and jumping
into his bed.

Bobby was a hyper boy and waiting for Duke to leave was not only
hard, it was nearly impossible. He finally decided he would grab his
bike and ride somewhere, anywhere, when the door to the enclosed
porch built against the trailer opened. Duke stepped out with the two
young girls he had brought with him. Bobby knew they had come
across the mountains with Duke. He hoped that the three of them
were returning home.

He waited a couple of minutes after Duke left and then went into the
trailer. His bare torso had dirt, and grass, and hay on it and his
pajamas bottoms were damp and dirty. His feet were almost brown
with dirt.

"Well, Cindy, would you look at what the cat drug in," Lenny said as
Bobby entered the trailer. "You're a mess boy."

Cindy, Bobby's mother, got up and gave her son a big hug. "Looks
like you didn't go to your friend's house," she said. "You're a dirty
mess."

"I slept in a barn."

"I thought about calling your friend's house. I was worried sick." But
not worried enough to make the call, Bobby thought.

"Sorry, mom, I couldn't stay here. Duke was gonna rape me."

"Oh, bullshit," Lenny said. "He just wanted to have a little fun."

 "Shut up, Lenny. You know I don't want him here. Him and those
girls he brung. They was just babies."

Bobby got some cereal and milk and wolfed down a quick breakfast.
"I'm gonna take a shower," he said, wanting one as much as he ever
had in his life. He stared at Lenny, his freckled face red with emotion.
"And if you try coming in I'll kick you in the nuts."

Lenny let go with a huge belly laugh. "Don't you worry your nuts
about it, boy, you're safe from me."

"You're full of shit." Bobby wanted to say more, to call him an
asshole, a fucking piece of dog shit, whatever he could do to let
Lenny know how he felt about him. Instead he went into the
bathroom, yanked off his dirty threadbare pajama bottoms and took
one of the best hot showers he could ever remember taking. He went
across the narrow hall to his room and put some clothes on.

He walked back into the small living area. "You can go to your friend's
if you want," his mom said.

"My friend's name is Noah." He showed no emotion over his mother's
surprise decision.

"Fine, you can go to Noah's if you want, but you gotta be back tonight
when I get home from work." His mom worked from noon to eight on
Saturdays. "Then we'll talk about your restriction."

"You said it was over after the weekend."

"But you ran away last night and I am giving you the afternoon off
with your fr...with Noah, so that's something for you."

"Whatever, see you tonight." Bobby ran out of the door before
anybody could stop him, retrieved his bike from the woods and
peddled into town. He wasn't quite sure what he would do if Noah
wasn't home, but he'd worry about that if it happened. Right now he
was just happy to be free.

Next: Skipping Away