5. Explorations

I met Matt outside the gym right after school.  As we started walking toward home, he grabbed me by my shoulder, then put his arm across the back of my neck and around the other shoulder. Pulling me into him until we were side by side, he said, "Hey, loser, I've had a hard day at school, and I think you oughta carry my backpack for me, since we trashed your ass all over the court today."

"Yeah, that's gonna happen," I responded, pulling his arm off my shoulder and stepping away from him. I got a couple of armlengths from him and kept walking. Undeterred, he took a few large strides and caught up with me, and we continued down the road.

I looked over at him as we walked, waiting to see if he'd press the issue. Reaching for "sullen" on his face but not quite achieving it, he said, "Shit. Just goes to show you who your friends are."

"Damn straight," I responded. "I'm looking out for your ass. Your puny biceps need the extra workout or you're never gonna get any more women."

He frowned at me.  "Carrying a backpack doesn't work your biceps, moron. And I'll put my biceps up against yours any day," he said, flexing an arm.  "Anyway, you're sooooo fuckin' wrong about the women. Beth wants me, dude!"

Oh, brother. Matt's crush-of-the-week. He was making his way through the opening act of puberty in larger-than-life style. Matt was hopelessly, serially in love with the girls in our school, one right after another. Each week some new girl was "absolutely the love of his life." And every weekend he was getting a different one to hang out at the mall with him or go to a movie and make out with him. And each week I had to hear about it.

I could match him erection for erection in our relatively newfound interest in girls. And I had no trouble in getting them to pay attention to me, either. It was that way with most of my buds. The crew of young jocks I ran with was already "taking girls out"; that is, walking with them to hang out at the mall or the movies. We were all pretty fast for our age; there was usually some heavy making-out going on when my friends got together with girls. 

Matt and I had both had our share of experience in that area. But I tended to focus on one girl at a time, in one- or two-month time periods, rather than swapping out at the end of a week. At his current rate, Matt was going to go through all the girls at our school before I'd had my chance with them. And I didn't want to think of myself as getting Matt's leftovers. Lucky for me, I said to myself, that he isn't fucking them yet, or pretty soon virgins would be an extinct species.

Hearing him talk about Beth pissed me off.  She was on my radar screen right now. She was a cheerleader, and she was beautiful. Even at the junior-high level the jocks and cheerleaders seemed naturally to gravitate toward each other. So Beth was definitely in my sphere of influence, but for that reason she was in Matt's, too.  I didn't want to see those two get together. I hadn't gotten the nerve to make any moves on her yet, but in my mind, since I'd been interested in her long before today, she was off-limits to Matt. I didn't want to admit that to him, though; I mean, what if he'd already asked her out? I'd look pretty pathetic going on about some girl Matt was already hitting on.

So rather than admit my interest in Beth, I chose to focus on Matt's incipient "womanizing." I scowled at him and said, "Man, I don't wanna hear about it. It's always somebody new with you. Last week it was Julie, wasn't it? Week before that it was Jennifer."

"Okay, so I like cheerleaders," he said, laughing. "Fuckin' execute me! And speaking of Julie and Jennifer, you've been out with both of them too, so don't talk that shit with me. I can't help it that Beth's all about my gorgeous face and my hot body."

With that smart-ass remark I felt anger and jealousy rise up from the pit of my stomach.  All of a sudden, Matt was the last person on the planet I was interested in walking home with. I picked up my pace, creating a little distance between us, and mumbled, "Fuck you, I noticed her first," under my breath, not intending to be heard.

No such luck. Matt stopped me by grabbing me by the shoulders. Turning me around to face him, he asked, "So why didn't you just say that?"

I was embarrassed that he'd heard me. "Because you're the one who brought it up, not me," I yelled.  "You're all 'Oh Beth, she's got the hots for me,' so what am I supposed to do now that you've asked her out?  Like I'm supposed to say, 'You can't go out with her because I liked her first'?"

He looked at me with wide, disbelieving eyes, and said, "Well, I haven't asked her out, but as a matter of fact, yeah, that's exactly what you're supposed to say!"

I muttered, "Like that's gonna make a difference."

Matt's face fell. He didn't say anything for a minute. Then he shook his head and said, "Whatever, dude. Let's go." And he turned around and resumed walking.

I followed him, feeling vaguely guilty for reasons I didn't understand. I wasn't sure what to say, wasn't sure what to think. Once I'd reached his side again, he looked over at me and said, "Dude, between the two of us we'll probably date a million girls."

I stopped walking, crossed my arms, and said, "So?"

He didn't hesitate.  "I just think it ought to be an understanding between us. If we've got it bad for the same girl, neither of us asks her out."

I wasn't sure I liked that proposal. "Why, Matt? It's like you said, there are lots of girls around.  We both do okay with girls.  Why not just say it's up to each one of us to make the first move and the other guy can't give him any shit for it if he does?"

"Because there's lots of girls to choose from," he said.  "But there's only one Matt-and-Andy. I don't want anybody to mess that up. He paused, looked down at the ground for a moment, then looked back into my eyes and continued. "My family's been fucked. I don't always deal so good. Sometimes you keep me in the game, you know?"

Jesus. There it was again. Why the hell was it that Matt always seemed years ahead of me when it came to matters of the human heart? Now I understood why I was feeling guilty. I wasn't clear with myself that I would put our friendship ahead of our sex drives. But he was plenty clear on the matter, and to hear me express the slightest doubt about him on the matter stung him a little.

I had to let him know that I was as loyal to him as he was to me. I also had to save face. "Yeah, okay, you're right, ya big asshole," I finally responded. "I guess if you can't handle the competition, I'll throw you a break."

Matt's eyes sparkled undisguised pleasure at that response, along with a hint of mischief. He grabbed me by the neck and put me in a headlock. "That's my man. Always lookin' out for his bud; after all, you have to give us guys with micro-dicks a fighting chance, big guy."

I was about to respond with "Damn straight," when he winked and added, "Not that any of that could have kept Beth from picking me if we both went after her!"

I was totally disarmed; he had me laughing again. "Oh, man, you are too fuckin' much!" I broke free from his headlock and tackled him, dropping him onto the front lawn of the house we were standing in front of.  After a short wrestling match, I got the upper hand, and sat on top of his chest. Holding him down by the shoulders, I dangled a wad of spit from my lips, right over his eyes.

Looking up into my face, he cocked an eyebrow and said, "Would the pleasure really be worth the pain?"

Considering for a minute, I decided against it and spit into the grass over his right shoulder, then let him up.

"Smart boy," he said. "Now let's go eat some fuckin' cookies."

We started walking again, side by side, laughing and trash-talking.


Matt's mom made the best chocolate chip cookies on the planet. She wasn't home from work yet, and wouldn't be until around five, but there were about two dozen cookies on a plate sitting on Matt's kitchen table. "Oh, man," I said. "Let's pig out!" We took the cookies and went upstairs to his bedroom.

When we got there, he went over and turned on the TV. We took off our shoes and socks and Matt went to his collection of video games to pull one for us to play; already sprawled out on his bed, I said, "Hang on, my man, what's going with homework?"

"Done and done," he replied.

I wasn't sure. Matt tended to loaf if I wasn't cracking the whip. "Okay, boy, this is not your mom you're talking to. Are you shittin' me?"

"Jesus, Phillips, you're such a little slave-driver," he said, rolling his eyes.  "Dude, my homework is done. I did everything I had at the end of math. We had time. You wanna check it out or something?"

"Nah, I believe you. I don't have any homework either. I'm just trying to save you from a life of homelessness and poverty." I took the game from him, loaded it, and sat down with a controller.

"Yeah, well, thanks for nothing, dickhead," he said, joining me with the other controller.

"Any time," I said, laughing.

We played a round or two. I didn't have this game at home, so he kicked my ass. After a while, he dropped his controller and said, "Dude, you need practice. Play one-player for awhile. I'll just watch." So I messed around with it for awhile, slowly improving my technique.

He watched quietly. Every now and then I turned to look at him or say something to him, and occasionally when I did, I noticed that he was staring at me instead of the video screen. But I was so engrossed in the game I didn't think anything of it.

After I'd had my fill, I put down the controller and said, "Let's go outside and shoot hoops."

He didn't say anything for a minute; he was still looking at me. The look on his face gave the impression of someone who has something on his mind but isn't sure about talking about it.

I looked back at him and asked, "What?"

Silence.  After a moment or two, he shook his head, looked nervously at the floor, and said, "Never mind."

I wasn't having any of that. "Okay, spill it; what's on your mind?"

His face still seemed tentative and a little wary. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, "We're best friends, right, Andy?"

Now I was sort of alarmed. This seemed way too serious for what we'd been doing the last hour. I quickly replied, "Shit, yeah, Matt, you shouldn't even have to ask."

"So like if I wanted to ask you something weird you wouldn't give me shit about it or go telling the whole fuckin' school?"

"No way, man," I said, calling on all the sincerity I had to bring to the response. "I would never do anything to fuck you over, and you know that."

"Okay," he said. "Here's what it is. I never...man, don't think I'm queer or anything, but I never seen a dick with all its skin, you know? And I...I guess it kinda freaked me out when I saw you today.  I mean...I'm not saying you're a freak! I just...well, I mean, we're so much alike about stuff...well, not everything but you know what I'm sayin'...and, well, we've been friends all this time. I guess I never even thought about it that you'd be...you know, like that.  Not that I go around thinking about your dick or anything."

I was relieved and amused at the same time. What a stupid-ass thing to get all serious about! Matt was my best friend and I'd never hurt or humiliate him, but damned if I wasn't going to have at least a little fun with this one. I wasn't sure where he was going with this, but I was going to make the getting-there a little bit of a trip for him.

So I smirked at him and said, "So what's your point?"

He said, "Okay, I guess I..." he paused; then, turning red, he said, quietly, "Could I see it again?"

I burst out laughing. "You wanna see my dick?  That's what this is about? Oh, man! I woulda never guessed it!"

"Oh, fuck you, Phillips," he snarled, getting even redder.  Snatching up the game controller I'd just laid down, he faced away from me and focused his attention on the video screen, muttering, "Just forget it, goddammit." Then he turned back to face me and added, "I swear I will fuckin' beat your face in if you tell anyone about this!"

I stifled my hilarity a little.  After I'd gotten some control of myself, I thought about it for a minute, and, still working hard to keep from laughing, I said, "I'm sorry, man, it just seemed funny. You gotta admit it's kinda 'out there.' But, really, dude, it's all good. If you wanna see my dick it's fine with me, I don't give a shit.  You know I'd never tell anybody shit like that, and if you don't believe me--well, tell you what: you drop the trousers too, and that way it'll be safe."


"Well, if I were gonna be a total asshole jerk and tell the school you were pervin' on my dick, you could say I was pervin' on yours."

Matt grinned sheepishly at me and said, "Yeah, I guess so. Okay. It's just that I never seen one and I'm really curious and you're my best friend."

"Enough already, I said I'd do it," I replied, and started unbuckling my belt. Matt began to strip down with me. We got down to our boxers.

I looked at him, put my thumbs inside the waistband and said, "Here goes." Then I pushed my boxers down, let them fall to the floor, and stepped out of them.

Matt followed suit. We stood there facing each other, less than a foot and a half away from each other, naked from the waist down, eyeing each other's dicks. Matt had a good bit of dark brown hair surrounding a cut dick of greater-than-average thickness that was maybe three and a half inches soft. His balls hung loosely in their sack. My own equipment wasn't too different. I didn't have as much hair down there as he did, and it was a lighter brown in color; my uncut dick, soft, was about four and a half inches, with about the same proportion of length-to-girth as his.

The absurdity of this little tableau was threatening to make me laugh again, but Matt seemed genuinely interested in checking out my dick. Which, of course, was threatening to make me laugh even harder. Still, I managed to hold it in.

After a few moments he asked, uneasily, "Does it just like, skin back? I mean, can you move it below...below the...you know...the head?"

This was Weird Planet as far as I was concerned; I mean, I didn't think any the worse of Matt for it, but I wouldn't have ever expected to be in Matt's room with him comparing dicks. There was something kind of perversely riveting about it, though, and in my typical balls-to-the-wall attitude, I decided to myself, well, shit, why don't we make this interesting?

I raised an eyebrow and replied, "Why don't you see for yourself?"


"Put your hand on it yourself," I said. "Slide back the skin. You wanna know how it works, try it out yourself."

He stepped back a couple of steps and shook his head. "No fuckin' way. I'm not gay and you know it. I'm not gonna have you blabbing all over town that I got queer with you."

"Dude, I know you're not gay," I said.  "Don't be stupid. And I'd never do that to you, asshole. I totally get it: you wanted to check my dick out because you never seen one like mine. Well, here it is. I just figured, why not satisfy your curiosity all the way?"

He hesitated for a few minutes, staring at my dick the whole time, but unable to cross the line.

I urged him on. "Look, Matt, I know you're not gay, and I know you want to touch it. I'm telling you it's okay, and if it'll make you feel better I'll touch yours too. And nobody has to know anything about it."

Matt eyed me warily, then relaxed and said, "What the fuck. Okay, come here."

I stepped closer, still facing him. He reached out and touched my dick. He ran his fingers from the base of my shaft up towards the tip of the foreskin. Then he looked up at me and asked, "Can I, like, skin it back?"

"Yeah," I said. "Just be careful. Don't pull too hard or too fast. And also, a promise is a promise, so..."

I reached over and grabbed his dick, feeling up and down on it. Matt slowly, almost gingerly, skinned back my foreskin. "Wow, the head of your dick is so friggin' shiny."

"Yeah, well, it gets more protection than yours does."

He pulled the foreskin back into place slowly, then slid it down again. It didn't take long at all before my dick started getting thicker and longer. "Oh, shit," he muttered when he realized what was happening, and he let go of my dick like it was a poisonous snake. I dropped his too; it was starting to respond just like mine.

Pretty soon both our dicks were at full attention. As Matt watched, his eyes got even wider. "Damn; you're fuckin' huge! How big is it?"

"Almost seven and a half inches," I said with some pride.

"Wow, you're almost an inch and a half bigger than me," he said.

"Well, you're not really little either. I read somewhere that six is average and we're only in junior high."

Somewhere in all of this I started getting really horny. I was kind of freaked out, but I thought to myself, hell, let's just go for it. So I said, "C'mon, Matt, it felt good in your hand. Do it some more." I reached for his dick to give him some encouragement.

"We're gonna jerk each other off now?" he said with a mixture of horror and fascination.

"Your call, bro. I'm game if you are."

"Okay, cool. But you better not tell."

I rolled my eyes at him.  "How could I tell? I'll be doin' you just like you're doin' me."

He put his hand back on me and slowly started sliding my foreskin back and forth on my hard cock. For a guy who didn't have a foreskin, he figured out quickly how most of us uncut guys do it.

For my part, I noticed that it didn't work quite as neatly with a cut guy. I said to him, "Got any Vaseline?"

"Just use your spit," he said, already breathing heavily.

I spit into my hand and started jacking him off slowly. The room was silent except for some occasional moans and our increasingly heavy breathing.

By his facial expressions it was clear Matt was feeling the same pleasure that I was. As we increased the speed and intensity of our hand-action, it was obvious I was getting closer, faster. When we could see that I was about to shoot, Matt said, "Let go of me and let me finish you first."

I was in no condition to argue. I let go of his dick, closed my eyes, and concentrated on the sensations. "Keep going, dude, I'm almost there," I moaned.

Matt continued working my dick furiously. Finally, I felt my whole lower torso tense up. I was dizzy with the need for release. Matt kept pumping and my dick began to spurt its juice. The first three squirts shot all over his shirt, at first right below his neck, then at chest level, then at his waist. After I was all drained, he continued to jack me, but my dick was getting supersensitive. "Stop, dude," I said.

He let go of me and I fell to the bed for a minute, spent. He was breathing as hard as I was, and his erection still pointed angrily toward the ceiling, aching to be finished off. I was kind of past the mood, and the "gayness" of the encounter was beginning to freak me out a little, but fair is fair, so I gripped his dick again and began pumping him. His breathing got even more ragged and he gasped, "Faster." I increased my intensity and worked on him about another minute. Then I felt him tense up and his dick spat three good-sized sprays of cum on my shirt and all over my hand.

I continued to work him with my hand until his dick stopped spasming. Then I let him go and he sat down hard on the floor, breathing slowly and deeply. I sat on his bed and he sat on the floor, both of us naked below the waist and tired. We were silent for a while. Then Matt got up and left the room. When he came back he'd brought a couple of damp washcloths. He threw one at me and, grinning, he said, "We don't wanna leave that on our shirts."

We got cleaned up, then he took the cloths back into his bathroom, washed them out in the sink, and hung them up on the towel rack to dry. When he came back into his room, he looked at me with a sickly expression and said, "Man; that was pretty queer, wasn't it?"

I looked at him and said, "Yeah, maybe." Then, after a pause, I added, "But I don't give a shit. It was fuckin' hot!"

Matt rolled on the floor laughing; I rolled on his bed laughing. We must have belly-laughed and joked around for a good five minutes, until Matt looked at his clock. A look of terror gripped him, and he said, "Shit! My mom's gonna be here any second. Get your fuckin' clothes on!"

We both jumped into our clothes and started straightening up his room a little. And in fact we'd barely been dressed for sixty seconds when, through his bedroom window, we saw Matt's mom pull up into the driveway. We turned his TV on again, popped in a video game, and tried to look like we were deep into it.

When Matt's mom got into the house she came upstairs and greeted us. "Hi, sweety. Hey, Andy. Are you staying for dinner?"

I grabbed my backpack and said, "Not this time; I need to get home tonight 'cause I told Mom I'd be home for dinner. Thanks for the cookies, though; they were awesome!"

"No need to thank me Andy, sweetheart; if you boys liked them, that's all the thanks I need."

I rolled my eyes furtively at Matt. His mom was always calling me "sweetheart" or "honey" or something like that, and it was kind of embarrassing. Matt just grinned and gave me one of those "deal with it" looks.

"Okay, Mrs. Price," I said. "I'll see y'all tomorrow. See ya, Matt."

"Not if I see you first, cowboy," he quipped.

With his mom in the room, I decided not to make the reply that came into my head.
Copyright 2003 by Adam Phillips.  Emails are welcome at aaptx28@yahoo.com