Date: Sat, 9 Feb 2013 16:02:15 +0000
From: chuck haugan <chuckles97@live.com>
Subject: Boys by the Bay / Part 4 / Figuring It Out

This is a short story of the life of a kid growing up in the late 70`s.
This whole thing is nothing more than one big lie!  This is why we call it
fiction.  So, none to the names or places should be considered real.

Having said that, if you are prohibited from reading sexual content due to
age, banned by local law, or have issue with reading stories of people
engaging in sex within the following pages, stop reading now and go find
the Disney page.  This bit of fiction is not for you!  You are warned!

All the copy rights and legal crap that normally apply and sited for
stories posted here also apply to this story.  This story can not be
reproduced without the consent of the author.



Chapter 4: Figuring It Out....



I felt his hand stroke through my hair as he gently called my name.  My Dad
always woke me softly unlike my Mom who'd shake the living shit out of me.

"Jon, it's time for you to get going."

"Whhhhyy... Daaaaad?  It's too early. It`s Saturday," I complained and
tried to roll to the other side of the bed.  He flipped me to my back by
simply tapping my shoulder.  I loved to play with him.  The truth was, I
always got up early and would have crept out of bed in a half hour anyway.

"No.  You get going.  Eric and Kim quit this morning...  Our motel will be
a mess...  Sue, Mom and I are going to clean the rooms and all their
work...  You'd be going and making some extra money, if you'd done your
chores yesterday, like you're supposed to...  Now your reward is more
chores.  Weekends are your free days and now, you need to do what we
agreed.  You will edge the lawns with clippers, as scheduled and," He acted
like he was thinking about his options as he paused: what a dork, "Sweep
the garage and driveway as your payment for breech of contract."

"Dad!  That will take forever!"

"Don't you Dad me! You agreed to this contract of labor for allowance.  You
agreed to the schedule and even chose your free days... You willfully
defaulted your obligations to this family....  You have no dispute clause!"
He smiled at his last statement.  I had no idea what his babble of a
"dispute clause" was so the joke was lost. "If it happens again, you loose
25% of your allowance, there will be even more work and no camping with
your friends this September!"  He gave my thigh a playful slap and I rolled
my eyes in contempt.

"I'm getting you up early!  The sun's up 'n bright...  I don't want you
sweeping in the heat...  Get up and come for breakfast."  I rose from bed
because I didn't want to loose a dollar twenty five out of my allowance.
To be honest, I got out of bed because he asked me.  I loved him more than
my Mom and would do most anything to please him.

I went upstairs in nothing but my pajama bottoms to sit with my sister as
Mom fed us pancakes with blackberry jam, oranges, and ham.  My Mom
complained the entire meal about the husband and wife maid team quitting
with no notice other than a phone call at 6:00 AM.

My Dad shrugged it off.  He believed people needed personal time so the
idea of calling other employees to fill the slot, on short notice, probably
never crossed his mind.  At least that's what he preached to us and why we
had to choose our free days from chores.  We always had two consecutive
days off and tons of chores to do, in and out of the house, all summer long
to, "Teach us the value and reward of hard work."

The motel was his latest investment.  It filled his diverse portfolio of
other land and commercial buildings he picked up in the down economy.  I
kind of figured he liked this toy more than the buildings he owned since
this was more than maintenance and picking up rent checks: it involved more
employees, renovation of the structure, and meeting travelers from all over
the place.  He even moved his commercial offices into the building.  He was
like a little kid with a shiny new Tonka Truck: all play and smiles.

After they pulled out both Buicks and left for the motel, I screwed off for
a half hour in the bathroom.  I attempted to take a quick shower but it
went long as I thought about Dennis.  Having my Dad wake me and spending
time with him shelved my thoughts until now.

I washed my junk a couple of times as if cleansing would wash away his
knowledge of my nature.  "How could I have been so stupid?"  I thought.
Then I pretended to knock him over the head with the shampoo bottle which
had become a baseball bat of my imagination.  I pretend kicked him in the
nuts and used the soap as a 38 special to lodge a bullet in his brain.  As
I went through this play, my stomach cranked up with rage as I yelled and
imitated sounds of a gun blasts.  I wonder what the neighbors thought?

It wasn't what he did with me, it's what he knew- I concluded was the
problem of Dennis.  If I could off him, things would be normal, but how
could I pull off the perfect crime?  My mind raced with possibilities I
knew were just fantasy.

After slipping on a clean pair of shorts and my beat up Converses, I went
to the garage for the giant push broom.  Dad was right, after kicking up
the dust with the broom, I was sweating and could feel the grit of the dust
on my skin and crusting over my body.  I shouldn't have showered.

At about eleven, I was almost done.  One more patch of the lawn edge and it
was over.  The phone rang and I ran as fast as I could from the edge of the
beach to the house.  On the seventh ring, I had the receiver.

"Hello," I panted.

"Jon!"

"Crisco Disco!"  I gasped.

"Jooooonnnnnn.  What`s wrong with you?"

"I was on the beach working...  I had to run up the hill."

"Ohhh, sorry.  You okay?"  He laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"What's Brad's like?"

"Brad's like us with a big assed house and a pool...  He's cool.  Jan's
super cool.  He has a trampoline and...  I lied, it was weird."  Chris went
silent for a few seconds.

"I heard they have one of everything and all kinds of cars and-"

"Sure.  So what.  They're...  Just leave it alone, until we're on the
boat."

"Okaaaay."  Chris responded, as though I had lost my marbles.  "Ummm, you
done?"

"Almost.  Maybe another half hour."

"I can drop our boat... In say...  about forty five minutes, if you wade
out I can pick you up."

Then it hit me, "Can you ask to come over here?  Nobodies home."

"Big deal...  I thought we were going to the point?"

"CHRIS!  Nobodies home...  till like four!!!"

"Ohhhh!"  I heard his hand go over the receiver, "Dad!  Jon said he has
chores to finish up.  Can I go over and help a little so we can sail?
We'll take his boat instead."  Then I heard muffled shouts in the distance.

"Dad, said I could! But, I have to finish stacking some fire wood below the
deck and I have to shower," I couldn't believe it: all I did was attend one
service and they treated me like a trusted relative.

"Fuck the shower!  Just get over here!  We'll jump in the bay and..."

"Okay, that's great!  I get it...  I`ll hurry!" and we both hung up.

I finished edging and went to my room to make my bed, gathered my laundry
and dumped it in the big basket next to the machine in the utility room,
and went back to my room with the Electrolux in tow.  Dad bought the
Swedish canister vacuum for our Mom on their tenth wedding anniversary.
Dad told us boys about this as being the best buy of his life (in terms of
price and quality- he bought it in 1963) and being biggest mistake of his
marriage.  "Never give a woman appliances as gifts," he forcefully stated
while waiving his finger at me and my older brother a few years back.  As I
vacuumed, I realized Mom gave Dad a chain saw for his birthday last year
and before that a bunch of car wax and small shop vacuum.  "Women are
fucked up," I thought.  Fifteen minutes latter: I was done!

I was a sweaty mess, as I worked at triple my normal speed.  Half the time
I was boned up thinking about messing around with Chris and that did slow
me down a millisecond or two.  I headed upstairs for some water, just as
Chris pounded on the front door.  I opened it and there he stood: white gym
shorts, beat up sneakers, little silver orthodox cross hanging on his naked
torso, and his white tooth smile.

He stepped forward and playfully shoved me in the chest.  We wrestled
around for a minute and I finally leveraged him to a wall where his arms
wrapped my waist and I pressed into him with both of my hands stroking his
sides.  "If I were a girl," I mused as I nuzzled into the side of his neck.
We breathed heavily form our struggle.  He was ripe with the dirty, sour,
smell of a boy on the cusp of full blown puberty.  His dirty hair was the
strongest scent.  It was Chris, so in my mind, the stench was better than
anything.  I knew I reeked and hoped he thought the same.

"You'd what?" he whispered back.

We'd only messed around once yet his question was all the permission I
needed: he was game.  Our touch and breathing guided us past any rules we`d
set in the field.  My hand wandered to his hip and I pulled us slightly
apart so that my fingers could trace the waist band of the front of his
shorts.  I pushed my hand down to his crotch where I found his hardening
shaft.  I pulled from his neck and lightly kissed his lower lip as I
stroked up with my hand and dove it down into his shorts.  His cock was
pounding with his pulse as it rose and pealed away from his scrotum.  I
remember, not so long ago, when I didn't wash very well, how my little dick
would stick to my ball sack as the skin of my sack had loosened and
softened with the onset of puberty.  That sticky pealing of skin was
something I kind of missed.  The new hair on my balls and my daily baths
seemed to prevent that fun.  I looked into his eyes and leaned in to kiss
him on his cheek.  He was in a trance and my experience with Dennis popped
into my mind for a second causing a wave of guilt to wash through me.  Was
he feeling that numb, emotionless, zombie, state I had in the graveyard?
Sexual autopilot drove me to keep going and ditch all guilt and thoughts of
Dennis.

I stroked his cock with my palm against his stomach and leaned in to kiss
him again.  This time, he met me and sucked in my lower lip followed by his
tongue pushing into my mouth as he took a deep, quivering, breath through
his nose.  I responded by gripping his dick and stroking him tight and
fast: drawing his loose foreskin scar over his glands.  We broke our kiss
and he moaned as he shook with the sensations I gave him.  I placed my
forehead to his and our noses touched as I was about to kiss him again when
I remembered what I wanted.  I pulled back and brought my free hand up into
his hair as I locked my eyes to every changing feature of his face as I
stroked him.

He cocked his neck to rest his head into my hand as I stroked and circled
his ear with my finger.  His face still lacked mush expression since his
entire being was in total submission to his three inch cluster of nerves I
stroked in my hand.  His eyes focused on me with wide pupils as he breathed
rhythmically like a distance runner pushing for his final 400 meter kick.
His hips broke into gyrations, his eyes squinted and his nostrils flared as
his pre-orgasm dance began.  I watched his eyes close and his cheeks break
up as he grimaced and seemed to hold his breath as a jet splashed against
the front of his shorts and coated my hand.  I kept stroking his slimy
shaft as I felt three or four more pulse through him and add to the mess as
he began rapidly panting as his release was rewarded.  I pulled my hand
from him and wiped his deposit over the front of his shorts by rubbing his
still hard cock through the fabric.

"God, it's so much better, when somebody else does it," Chris said with
exhaustion as he caught his breath a minute later.

"Yeah," I gently cradled his package and gave it a jiggle.

"Ewwwwe...  Sick.  It's sticky and wet."  He grabbed for his waist band to
pull his shorts off and I caught his wrists stopping him.

"We're not doing laundry moron!  Don't you think it'd look funny if you
wore a pair of my shorts?  I mean... How would we explain that?  Nobodies
on the beach.  Let's go for a swim!  Wash that crap out and we'll clean up
a little after."  I said, as I gave his cock a tug.

Chris nodded.  We broke apart and I went to the kitchen sink to down some
water.  When Mom was gone, I never used a glass.  I turned the water on and
stuck my lips to the stream and drank.  We took turns drinking from the
flow of the kitchen faucet: alternating turns as we took long gulps and
breaths.

"Lets go.  This is kinda gross."  Chris said, pointing to his crotch and I
laughed.  The smear of cum from my wipe was being enhanced by the liquid
bleeding through his short's liner.

When we were younger, a swim in the bay with a rinse off was considered
bathing by us kids.  I think our parents went along with it because it was
easier than an argument.  What could one expect from a boy's logic, anyway?

We walked into the incoming tide, through the tiny rock crabs taunting us
with upraised pinchers, over barnacle crusted oysters, sand dollars, green
sea weed patches, and scaring few flounders into sprints.  We had to wade
out twenty five yards before reaching our knees.  Our beach gradually sank
into the depths of the Sound.  I loved this since splash fights and
horseplay were expanded to full contact, chase, and dodging on a grand
scale due to the huge range of running room.  There's no play as fun as a
foot ball game over 6" of water.

Dad bought the house, with this type of beach, so he didn't have to worry
about messy inconveniences.  On a deep, fast tidal plane beach, if a kid
drown and sunk to the bottom of the Sound, it could be a couple of weeks
before the body would bloat with decay enough to float to the surface and
wash up some 50 miles away from the scene of his demise.  "Too much work to
search for your body," He told us with an earnest face, "And, by that time
you`d be found, your body would be all scarred up from nibbling dog fish
and other bottom feeders.  It would be much easier to pull your corps from
a few feet of water then go through dental records and blood work to
identify an unrecognizable, waxy, white, pile of rotting flesh."  At least,
that's what he told his young children.  The thought always had me paranoid
about every ones water safety.  I had nightmares of one of those little
crabs crawling out my empty, dead, eye socket, after the Coast Guard tossed
my body on the Harbor dock for all to see.  Very embarrassing to be that
dumb assed kid who drowned for no good reason other than to look cool by
not wearing a life jacket or not partnering up to swim.

So, we wadded out into the bay until we were mid thigh.  The Puget Sound is
an odd creature.  The water temperature hovers in the low 60's, just eight
inches below the warm surface.  Young kids don't have much problem with the
coolness, but as a kid ages, getting his body conditioned is more
difficult.  Last year, the shivers would start as the water reached my
belly button.  This year, the spine jarring spasms started as the coolness
hit my privates.  We both dove in to get it over with.

We wrestled and splashed around for at least fifteen minutes as the tide
continued to rise.  Once we were out tit deep, Chris pulled his shorts off
and let the salt water work it's cleansing magic.  I pulled mine off, as
well, and we walked out further into the bay.  There was no fooling around
since people could see us, if anything below the waist rose even a foot of
elevation.  The only visual protection we had was the suns glare off the
water and grey blue color of the opaque water.  To anyone looking from the
shore, we appeared to be two kids wading as deep as we could go: nothing
out of ordinary.

We stood there, nude below the surface, watching the occasional car cross
the bridge and Chris scrubbed the cum out of his shorts beneath the water.
As he did, I explained to Chris: how lucky Brad's family were: all the toys
and crap they had at their estate; how I thought Jan was smart and mouthy
because of his competition with his older brother; how I couldn't tell
which brother I liked better; and that the toys couldn`t cover up that they
weren`t much different than us other than the statement Jan made of his
families entitlement to wealth.

"Other than that stuff, they're kind of fucked up.  Brad and Jan are nice
enough but there was something really weird: they never let me past the
kitchen...  You know...  How most of us show off our rooms to a new friend
we have over?  We didn't even go through the front door they walked me to
the back and, their Mom was home but she really never came out.  When
Mr. Carlson came home, he didn't even say "hello."  This dick named Dennis
picked us up, fed us, and dropped me home.  It was weird.  Like I didn't
belong or something."

"So...  maybe it`s like my Dad, they have to get to know you or something?"

"I don't think so.  I felt like I was just there for like a toy for their
kids.  I mean, most of the time I could careless about a kids parents but,
that`s cuz parents are always getting in the way.  It was like their kids
were...  like... I don`t know how to explain it: Dennis is there for extra
school work and look after them so it`s like, you know, our parents let us
run all over the place but they want to know what we`re doing?"  Chris
nodded, "It was like Brad`s parents didn`t give a shit and just wanted me
gone once they were through with me...  I guess."

"It`s simple: they have money."

"No shit...  I'm just saying they're fucking weird."

"I wouldn't mind, if my parents were like that."

"Yeah, right.  No way!  Well...  It was.  Brad told me I had to leave and
just kind of escorted me out after he told me I could sleep over.  It was
like I wasn't good enough to be there or something and... And... I know: it
was their Dad that made them do that since he just got home and then Brad
came down to tell me to get lost.  His Dad left it to Brad to make an
excuse...  Then Dennis drove me home...  He acted like I was such a
bother...  A waist of time...  Like I was fucking up Brad, or something."
This was a lie I could make stick without getting into their screwed up Mom
or my Dennis situation.

"So, are you saying you wouldn`t go back?"

"Nawh.  Brad and Jan are cool.  It`s like, I don`t want to be around their
parents or Dennis or anything like that.  I`m too old for a babysitter.
And, that Dennis guy's kind of snooty. He didn't say it to my face but he
made me feel like I'm a low class loser and shit like that.  He`s a fucking
dick.  I can`t stand him."

"He should talk.  He's Marry Poppins!"  We laughed at the truth.

I had to protect Chris, if he were invited over to Brad`s.  The idea of
Dennis messing with Chris made me boil over with rage.  Chris is mine.  I
figured that if I made to much of a stink about Dennis, it would get back
to Brad via somebody chatting.  Then, I'd loose my friends so I kept it
generic and something I could defend and define better as time went by.  My
mission was to plant a negative seed in Chris's mind and pound away to keep
him away from Dennis.

We soaked for a while longer then slipped our shorts on and began diving
for moon snails and large back crab.  The crab diving was a test of wits
since a pinch, form even a four inch crab back, hurts like hell.  We never
harmed them other than to bring them to the surface to show off our skill.
After half an hour, we made our way back to the house.

Most of the places along the water had an exterior shower for beach clean
up.  Showering a kid prevented mud and sand tracked through a house.  Just
three years ago, I'd shower in the buff after coming off the beach.  Now,
my modesty had risen to that of a Puritan.  Something about dropping balls
and sprouting pubes does that to boys.

The shower rained on us as we hip shoved each other to capture the full
spray.  I soaped up from head to toe and then took the bar of soap inside
of my shorts and washed everything including my crack.  Rinsing involved
opening the top of my shorts away from my body to let the pure water stream
flow through.  Chris watched my technique and mirrored my wash.  When he
rinsed his front, he pulled the front of his shorts down so I could see his
stuff flop around in the stream.

"Chris, the neighbors will fucking see!" I whispered.

He released elastic and they snap against his belly.  We turned off the
water.  I opened the side door that entered the basement utility room.
After closing the door, I dropped my shorts and Chris did the same.  We
placed them over the towel rack to dry.

I gave his hand a nudge and he followed me to the bathroom where we grabbed
towels to dry.  I turned him so that I could dry the remaining drops from
his back.  Chris was a sculptured kid.  His torso was solid to the touch
without an ounce of fat.  I had him raise his arms and dried his sides even
though they didn`t need it.

He spun around and turned me to dry my back.  He went a step further and
dried my ass, between my legs and down the back of my legs even though I
had already done this.  I guessed he was like me and wanted to really feel
another's body and explore even further than we had last week end.

He turned me around.  His eyes fixed on my face as he took me by my hips
and pulled me close.  I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and hugged him
tight.  I wanted so much to tell him how I felt, but, couldn't.  I closed
my eyes to hold him to feel his body against me as our chests pounded with
heat of our bodies and smell of the Ivory soap.  The feel of his breath on
my shoulder and chest as he nuzzled in was rapid as his excitement grew.
We were both hard.  I could feel the tip of his cock rub at the side of my
pubic mound as my cock pressed against his stomach.  I pulled us apart so I
could lightly kiss his cheek.

"If my Dad knew about this," Chris stated.

"No shit, me to," I panted and leaned in to kiss his lips.  Chris parted
his lips and gave me his tongue.  I took it between my lips and sucked.  We
broke apart.  I grabbed him by his shoulders and spun him toward the door
with a push, he began walking with his erect three inch cock leading the
way as I guided him out the door, through the hall and into my bedroom.  I
kicked the door shut and pushed him toward my bed where he spun and bounced
on his back on the mattress.

"I've been thinking about this stuff a lot." I admitted to him.

"Me to!  It`s like all I think about," Chris giggled.  I kneeled to my
knees and waddled forward.  As I did, Chris spread his legs apart and sat
up to the edge of the bed.  My hands found his hips as I was now a few
inches from his cock.

"I really like this... You.  I mean.  Jacking off kinda sucks after what we
did."

Chris smiled, "I think you should shut up," He placed his hands on the back
of my head and I dove to his penis.  Thanks to the shower, the taste wasn't
as rewarding as the first suck I had with him.  I slowly backed my way from
the root all the way to the tip where I flicked my tongue at his piss slit
and crease and then down the edges of this cock head.  I started up down
motions and thought about how Dennis had sucked me: his suction, movements,
and control of motion.  I turned this new knowledge to Chris`s cock.

I concentrated on feeling his pulse and thrusts of his body as I slowly
increased suction and constriction of my tongue along his shaft as I
bounced my head up and down his shaft.  He increased his pumping and I felt
him jab at me with force that made his ass lift off the bed.  I sped up my
rhythm and bared down on his shaft as hard as I could with my tongue.  His
penis seemed to expand and pulse with more force then the last time we did
this as I could feel every wade of cum course through his shaft.  I tried
to imagine how that tube could wind up and shoot cum out with such force.
How does a body do that?  The feeling of it and the visual are two
different sensations.  I preferred the feel of a guy's orgasm in my mouth
over watching it spurt.  Porn has never been a big deal to me probably
because of Chris and Jon.  I loved the taste of his salty watery cum and
slurped him down.  Chris fell back on the bed as I released his cock.

His chest heaved in the aftermath of his orgasm.  I rubbed his tummy and
lowered my head to his thigh.  As I sat on my heels, I watched his sack
turn from the leathery constricted pouch to soft skin as his penis dried
and wilted back to it's couple inches of length.  "He's beautiful.  I could
watch this all day," I thought.  I could smell my spit mixed in with the
growing smell of his sex as the soap wore away.  He finally raised his head
up and smiled at me.

"That was huge!  That was better than anything," Chris said punch
drunkenly.  It took him more then a couple of minutes to recover.  Anything
sexually new is mind blowing for such young bodies.  I was a few years
older but knew, from my few months of fooling around with Jon, that a new
grip or other discovery could blind a kid to just flashing lights and
tracer rounds of vision as an orgasm popped.

I smiled and climbed on the bed to straddle his body.  I bent down to kiss
him lightly and he closed his mouth on my tongue and sucked me in as his
heavy breathing blew over my chin from his nostrils.  I lowered myself to
rub my cock against his smooth skin.  I was leaking and smeared a deposit
against the base of his pubic mound.  I love the feel of our bodies merging
together.  His arms wrapped around my shoulders and then Chris began more
than simply caressing me.  His hands explored my back: feeling my shoulder
blades, he traced my vertebrae, back muscles, the side of my ribcage, and
the slope of my torso as it merged with my ass.  His hands gripped and
pulled at my butt cheeks as I was twirling my ass to massage my penis
against his pubic mound.

This is when I knew that what we were doing was more than simple fooling
around for fun.  He'd hold me in place or lay there like a corps, if it was
simply "my turn" to get some.  I think he was as attracted to me as I was
to him.  I stopped moving and peered into his eyes and face.  God, he was
breathing so heavy and everything in his face said, "submission for
anything and everything...  Show me!"

I brought my forehead down to rest upon his and closed my eyes.  I could
hear and feel my own heart pounding away as I basked in the feel of our
bodies full touch.  He wrapped his legs around me so that his heals were
locked behind my ass.  He didn't move.  We stayed together for at least
five minutes as Chris kept on running his hands around my body, into my
hair and even over my face.  "I love him...  Fuck Jon, this kid wants me,"
I thought.

I gave him a long kiss and broke us apart.  I startled his chest and
waddled up the bed, I bent my cock down and Chris stuck his tongue out and
licked the drop of liquid from the tip of my cock before it could dribble
down my shaft.  Pushing my hips forward, he sucked me in and I fell over
him to fuck his face.  His hands pushed my hips and I rolled off to fall
over on my back to allow him between my legs to resume the fun from the
top.

He picked my shaft up and gazed down at the head of my cock.  He stuck his
tongue out and nodded his head up and down just the sensitive head.  He was
watching me expression as he worked me over and started laughing.  I could
only imagine what my face was doing.  He then flicked his tongue over the
edges of the my cock head as he started to pump the base of my shaft with
his thumb and two fingers.  He wasn't kidding: he had this all worked out
as he had thought about sex for a week!

"Chris...  Please, please, suck it... Just suck it!"  I whispered.  He
pulled away and shook his head with a huge smile on his face.  The Bush
administration could learn a bit about torture from this kid: forget about
water boarding!

I couldn't last long.  His devilish smile above my penis as he flicked his
tongue at it without making contact drove me wild as I thought about what
he must be thinking.  I thrust at him and he planted the tip of his tongue
dead center of my piss slit.  His giggle and feel of his power and
excitement was too much for my mind to process.  I felt the first spasm
pound out the head of my cock.  Even though it was hard to concentrate on
him during orgasm, I watched that first rope force its way around his
tongue and ooze over the head of my cock as I watched the head flex with
the first pulse.  Chris pulled away as the second shot flew into the air
and then he dropped over my penis as he raced to gulp down the rest of my
seed.

I fell backward and took in the feel of his suction as he tried to slurp up
any remnants from my softening cock.  He then moved to slurp and lick the
spill of the initial blast. We were not mindless kids getting off.  This
was love, as far as I could figure at this age.  As every boy knows,
sometime you jack it due to boredom or you just want to get the feeling.
It's like business or homework: it must be done!  I realized, with Jon,
this was the basis of that relationship.  He never kissed or cuddled when
we had sex.  It was all about being or giving a blow job in return.  Our
mouths became a new way to jack off.  Chris enjoyed every second of what we
did for other reasons, to see me pleasured.

He crawled up the bed and we cuddled together.  His head lay on my chest
and I nuzzled into his freshly clean hair.  He's what I craved: "To have
another human care and share is the purpose of life," I thought in this
moment.  As we lay there, mother fucking Dennis popped back in my mind.

"Hey Chris, can I ask you something?"

"Anything." He replied with a giggle.

"When we were in the field and we started fooling around.  Did you really
want to?"

"Ummm.  Yeah...  Are you stupid?  Would I be doing this today?"

"Yeah but, I didn't make you, like, I didn't force you or anything?"

Chris was silent for a second.  "No.  I thought I told you I always wanted
to do stuff like this."

"Yeah, I know.  I just felt weirded out cuz I didn't really know.  I mean,
you may want this now but did you really then?  I don't want you pissed off
or anything. You know, when we went to the field, all you were doing was
talking about pussy the whole way there.  I mean, I didn`t want to make you
do anything you didn`t want to cuz I`m like older or something.  I mean,
you don`t have to."

"Are you nuts?  We've been through this...  I like this.  For the billionth
time, I'd do this with you anytime...  So, shut up."  He said with a
giggle.

"Sorry.  It's just that... "

"What, spit it out," Chris demanded this as he raised his head from my
body.  He must have sensed that this was more then my normal bullshit.

"You didn't ask for any of the stuff we did and I almost forced you to suck
on it...  I just kind of did it.  I guess...  And, I just had..."

"Ummm...  I... I didn`t want to at first.  I was going to tell you to go
fuck yourself but I kept staring at it.  I never thought about sucking one.
I can't explain it.  My stomach, my dick, my balls, and something deep in
here," he pointed above his pubic mound, "Started tingling like crazy and
all I could see was your dick.  I had to do it.  That's why I slapped your
hands away.  I felt like...  All of that tingly stuff...  It was like I
just never thought of sucking on one and all the tingles made me do it
because I wanted to.  Otherwise, I wouldn`t have felt all tingly...  Okay?"

"You weren't thinking about me doing you?"

"Not really...  I was trying to figure out what was happening down there,"
he pointed at his crotch.  "It never felt like that...  It was like when
you get a boner only stronger but not as strong as when you shoot," he said
with a nervous laugh.  "Does that happen to you?'

"Yeah...  That`s what I was feeling practically the whole time we were up
there."

"Why?  Why are you asking again?"

"I lied about some stuff... about getting jacked and stuff with a
girl... I'm like... I don't want a piece of shit girl: ever.  I fooled
around with another boy...  Not from around here," I had to protect Jon.
He stared at me blankly.  "It's like, I never have and never will.  I think
you said you might like boys, only, too.  I think I'm a faggot.  There's no
other way to put it, I`ve always thought about other guys... "  I finally
admitted to another human being.  "That's not to say you're one or
anything.  I think I may have fucked up by not telling you up there is
all."

"We just sucked dicks so if that makes you one, then I`m one too. I
guess...  I kinda like doing it to you," Chris said with a huge smile.
"Ummm...  I want to fuck.  But... I want this too...  It's like..."

"Yeah...  So?  Umm.  Good! So, our secret is ours?  Only OURS!"  Chris
blinked a couple of times as I cut him off.

"I think my Mom calls people like you paranoid."  Chris paused for a second
and I thought about that, "I think about both...  I mean shoving my dick in
and out of Nadia...  I want to know.  But, then there's you and that kid
Terry.  It`s like...  I`d do this with him to."  Terry was a cute boy a
year younger then Chris.

"Yeah.  I know.  I wonder about what a girl feels like on the insides and
stuff...  But, it's not about a cunt or tits for me.  I like everything
about us.  I'm queer.  What we just did... What girl could do that?"

"Girls have mouths, moron.  You don't want to fuck?"  I shook my head.
"Seriously?  Not even just to try? I mean, if you haven`t tried, how do you
know your queer?"

"Chris, I know.  Like I said: tits and pussy don't turn me on.  Nadia
doesn't turn me on.  Julie hugged me kissed me and tried to do more...
I...  I get hard sometimes but all I think about is other guys in my
dreams, at lunch, on the bus...  all the time."

"Like who?  I said a name.  Who?"

"You and Brad," I said with a red face.  He had propped his head off my
chest to look in my eyes to gauge my honesty.  It felt liberating and scary
to tell the truth.

"I thought you might be messing around with Jon and I kinda still do.
There's something weird when you guys are around each other.  The way you
look at him and stuff...  It's like, you don't stare but it's like when you
watch David do a trick move on the soccer field...  It's kind of the same
look, only a little different, and you do it for no reason with him.  It's
a weird look...over Jon doing nothing at all."

My heart sank.  Dennis popped into my head and I felt my chest tighten as
my sinuses and eyes began to tingle. "Even before we messed around you
figured I was messing with Jon even though I wasn`t?"  He nodded.  "So when
we were in the tree house you were like wanting to do it?"  He nodded.
"You knew Andy wasn't home?"  He smiled and a tear slid down my cheek.  I
reached up and wiped it as he continued to speak.

"I wanted to see your dick and feel it and stuff.  I just wanted to see
what another kid has... up close.  And, I kind of thought about other
stuff.  But, you like, showed me some stuff I never thought of," his voice
was bashful and honest.  He watched another tear roll away from my eye.

"Why are you... Crying?" the look on his face was a mix of fear and concern

"Like what?" I stammered.  He punched me on the arm and I understood: this
was an awkward conversation for kids who were raised to hide their emotions
and with me practically sobbing, it had now become unbearable.

He dropped his head back to my chest and I tried to gain composure.  My
paranoia set in deeper.  Scenarios raged in my head of discovery. "Say
Billy or Jan or Collin or one of the other guys were messing around
together and you came across them doing what we did, would you go telling
people?"

"NO.  Well, maybe.  I'd have to think about it...  If it was like Andy,
being a dick like he used to be, I could convince people...  Nahhh, he'd
just beat the shit out of me...  If I didn't like the guy and he did
something to me, yeah, I'd say something to mess him up."

"I wouldn't, ever, I wouldn't care, if it were me and only me that found
them, you know that right?"  Chris nodded, "Why would you do that?"

"Knowing what I do now, we might join in rather than pick a fight!"  Chris
said with a laugh and fell silent to think for a second.  "Ever have
somebody beat on you for being like this?"  He waved his hands over his
body identifying his over tanned skin.  "If I can force assholes to kick
the shit out of the fag instead of me, I think I would point my finger over
there.  Better them than me."

"That's fucked up."

"You don't know."

"Fuck you.  We've been fighting for you since you moved here."  I said,
with distain and disbelief of my little buddy.

"Yeah.  I know but, it's like..."

"I get it.  I do.  I... " I was almost in tears again being let down by his
admission.  In my mind, it meant he could turn on me in a heart beat.  "I
think, if somebody finds out, there won't be anyone there for me.  I mean
all my friends gone...  My Dad would shit.  Forget about hockey for sure,"
my voice trailed off as I felt my chest tighten.

"I will, I mean we`re doing it.  Right?"

"Seriously?  I wouldn't give you up and I wouldn't expect you to come
fighting. I mean..."

"Dumby, If they found out about you, then they would know about me.  Right?
Ummmm.  Wouldn't David, Collin, Billy and the others be with you?  I mean
they're always with us."

"No way!  It doesn't work that way...  Well?  David would.  I know he
would.  But the rest...  Kinda like a kid who barfs on the bus."  Chris
started laughing.  "Shut up, dork!  Listen: a new kid shows up and makes
friends with him until some asshole says something to the new kid about the
puke and its over.  See?  Only, if you're a fag, it's with fists not words.
This ain't puke.  If we're fags, we're the lowest form of life."

Chris shrugged, "Are you saying you don't want to do this anymore?"

"Nooooooo.  I think I kinda love this stuff... and you," I admitted.

Chris quickly looked down at our feet, " I think you're a prick," He
replied, with a giggle.

"Fuck you," and I gave him a shove.  Dennis wouldn't leave me alone as my
guilt and paranoia wouldn't shake.  I couldn't talk my way out of it and
now the faucets opened and I started to shed more tears with the fact that
two people figured me out and I just spilled to a turn coat.  The lie of
"just for fun" was gone.  He had the truth.

Chris wrapped his arms around my chest.  "I don't care.  You think about
stuff way too much.  I like you... I like this.  I don't care.  It's the
truth.  Why are you crying?  Would you knock it off?"

"I just... If you knew before we did that stuff, then who else might?  I
mean.  Everyone I know will turn on me.  My Dad will fucking disown me...
I will loose every thing and everybody...  Even you!"

"I didn't really...  I just suspected.  I mean it's cuz.  You know.  And,
don`t be such a dick, I`m on the same boat!  Nobody will ever know."

He held me with his head nuzzled below my chin.  I didn't want to shed any
more tears.  It took everything I had to attempt to suppress chest pains
and body tweaks from showing.  If he only knew my emotion was of relief of
not forcing him into sex and my new found lack of trust of him, I wondered
how that would change our dynamic.  Before this conversation, I loved all
of him.  Now, I loved him for sex and had become fearful of him as a
friend.

We climbed under the covers to embrace and cuddle.  The conversation was
over and all I wanted was comfort and warmth from him.  I didn't care about
Chris's desires.  I needed rest.  "Fuck you Dennis," I thought as my secret
anger of the conversation bounced around in my head.

I woke at three thirty.  Chris was asleep and his body was spooned against
my back as we lay on our side.  My right arm and shoulder were sore so we
must have been in this position for our entire nap.  I could still feel the
heaviness of my cry in my eyes.  I couldn't get over that two people had
figured me out.  I hadn't put my puzzle together for myself and yet two
guys had defined me.  It never occurred to me that the only reason they
knew was due to their own sexual preference which included me.  I should be
flattered!

I thought about how they knew.  Which turned to thoughts of when did I
know?

When I was younger, the third grade, I started noticing boys beyond
comparing plumbing or playing firemen around a campfire.  There were boys I
wanted to be due to the way they carried themselves on the ice or field,
wit, courage, strength, and popularity.  I'd imitate everything they did
down to convincing my Mom to buy the same snacks they ate for my school
lunches.  I wanted to assimilate these chosen few boys into me so I could,
in my mind, be perfect.

Over a few months, my focus began to narrow.  I didn't know why, but my
game plan had changed from the chosen few to just him.  He was smart, kept
a select group of friends, and even though he was short, carried his boy
moxie to that of a seven foot giant.  His hair was typical of boys of the
seventies: shoulder length, dirty brown, but had thick natural waves.  His
nose had a distinct bump at the bridge as if it were once broken.  His eyes
were pale blue and seemed distant when he gazed at me.  He was unlike any
kid I had ever encountered in look and attitude.

I stayed in class, for a recess, telling my teacher I wanted to read "The
Fourth Grade Nothing" rather than play outside.  When she left the class
room for a smoke, I found his cubby (an open locker amongst twenty on the
wall of the classroom) to try and get some intelligence.  His first name
was unique in America: Ilya.  So finding his cubby was not a challenge.  I
scanned all the stuff and there was nothing of interest but library books
about World War II.  He had no lunch box, toys or left over school art
projects in there.  He was a neat freak.  However, on my second glance at
the name plate, his last name had way to many letters and to me was
unpronounceable. So, I copied them down and show my Dad that evening.  I
figured Ilya's parents were from Hungry or Finland, since that's where all
the weird last names came from.  Then I realized I didn't know of anybody,
anywhere, named Ilya.

I passed the paper to Dad at dinner.  His eyebrows raised up and he said,
"Russkie! Who's this boy?"  And, we had a conversation about the backward
state of Russia prior to the Revolution and how "Monarchist" fled
afterward.  How many Russians came to the States, before and after that
time, like all immigrants, for reasons of religion, economic, adventure and
so on.  Dad, being an immigrant himself, always pounded home that the
States are all immigrants with the exception of the Natives and we`d all
pay for their poor treatment, eventually, if things don`t change.

Dad always explained the world so I could understand it for my age.  He was
the best teacher I ever had.  He also informed me that Ilya might be Jewish
based upon the spelling of his last name.  I never met either kind of kid
before and Ilya instantly became my life: everything about him was special.

For many weeks, I spent class time staring at Ilya.  I became obsessed with
everything he did.  For reasons, at the time, I didn't understand, I
fixated on his neck: how his neck merged with his body, its smoothness, how
his hair landed on it after a hair cut and how his muscles contrasted
against his throat.  I'd place my hand on my neck and imagine the pulse of
his blood and the heat course through him.  A few days later, I'd fixate on
his nose, ear, fingers, elbow and so on.

Everything about him seemed unique and my stare deepened.  He twirled his
pencil during lectures and seemed not care what the teacher said yet he
always had the right answer when called.  His tongue would find it's way
out the side of his mouth when he pondered a story problem during math
class.

Once, when he caught me staring, he stuck his tongue out and crossed his
eyes in response.  I laughed uncontrollably and got detention of last
recess.  It was worth it.

Imitation is flattery.  That's what Dad always said when I mirrored what my
brother did.  So if I started mimicking everything he did, he'd notice that
I was cool, like him and that would cement us together as best friends.  I
figured David would be my "at home best friend" and Ilya would be my "at
school best friend."

I tried joining him playing basketball during recess with the mob of other
kids.  David thought I'd lost my mind and gave me shit about it, since I
really sucked.  I had no clue what the rules where.  If you gave a kid a
shove, it was a "fowl."  Such a pussy sport.  What's that challenge, if
there isn't a physical element to prevent the other guy from making a
basket?

Ilya seemed not to notice my play.  He seemed to always be a captain for
every recess team selection and he never chose me for his team.  A
testament to my court skills, I`m sure.  I spent most of my time catching
rebounds and throwing them out to the baseline.  What do you expect from a
kid that focused on defensive play since the age of five?

As time went on, my curiosity lead me to wonder about what lay hidden under
his clothes- all of him- not just his privates.  I'd wonder if it was
different to be inside of him rather than my own body.  What did he feel
and think?  I wondered how different it would be to experience life through
his eyes.  Did he know I wanted to be him for a test drive?

I knew my obsession was connected to my dick due to erections and
butterflies in my belly, when I stared at him.  I knew I'd like to get
naked with him and something deep inside me told me there was more to
getting naked then just looking but what could two naked boys do?  I knew
the basics of how a boy and girl possibly did it, but two boys?  Are you
kidding me?

Later in the year, we had mandatory swim lessons for a month.  A bus loaded
all the boys up and took us to the high school pool.  When we piled into
the locker room, I was pissed that I only managed to get a locker across
from Ilya rather than beside him.  And, frustrated even further when he
dropped his pants only to reveal he wore his swimmers instead of his
underpants.  After he stuffed his clothes in the locker, he turned and
began to jabber with us rather than go out to the pool deck.  I dropped my
pants and undies in one motion and quickly pulled on my swimmers.  Then I
took off my shirt as all the others were doing.  I figured they did that so
their shirt tails hid their junk.  There were only a couple of boys that
bared all in our row of lockers and everyone took a peak.  Ilya was the
only kid that waited for everyone to change before following the last kid
out.  I wanted to follow him out but felt weird about hanging around other
kids as they changed.  I didn't know them like I did the others on the
hockey team and with David next to me, it was not an option to hang out as
he split after his trunks were up.

We did our lesson and the last fifteen minutes of class was open swim.
Most of the boys went to the high dive to prove their bravery to each
other.  Ilya didn't and I abandoned David at the diving board to hang
around him.  We struck up a game of water challenges: holding breath, tread
water, swim under water, swim the fastest and so on.  It turned out, he
hated the high dive after doing a belly flop off of it a few years ago.  I
betted it was more about the embarrassment then a sore tummy.

When the life guard blew his whistle to pick up and get out of the pool, he
shuffled over to the far end and acted like he was looking for something.
I went to the showers and stood under a stream: waiting.  I wanted to see
him: all of him.  Was he like me and every boy I knew?  I had to know.

When he came in, he jumped under a nozzle and I walked by him to the
lockers to get in position.  He followed a minute latter as I was in mid
conversation with another kid on the same side of the isle as Ilya.  He
strolled to his locker and quickly organized his clothes to cover his body
as fast as possible.  I figured he wasn't on any teams that required a kid
to strip down.  Only girly boys hid everything from teammates.

He turned to his locker, dropped his swimmers and, I swear, it was like the
three kids on either side of him craned their necks and moved to get a
look.  All I could see was his little boy butt cheeks.  I was so
disappointed but realized I couldn't show any signs of it and dressed
quickly.  He turned to me, after his pants were up and the look on his face
told me everything.  He hated locker rooms, as indicated by the blush of
his face that looked like a sunburn.

As with most males, even young boys, our locker territories were marked.
Territorial pissing occurred the first day.  I never got a look at the
front of him.  But, I knew every contour of his back, calves, ass, and
every bit of his front with the exception of the most important square foot
of space.  It was driving me crazy wondering about what was below the front
of his waistband.

He never seemed to go to the bathroom!  He was like a camel!  If he did, he
must have done it before school or on the way out.  He was aggravating!

A few weeks after swim lessons were over, Ilya invited me to his house.
Most kids had others over on Saturday.  He invited me for a Sunday
afternoon play.  My Mom was mortified about it and Dad became my advocate
to let me visit.  I couldn't figure out why my Mom reacted like that: was
it the Russian or Jew part of Ilya she despised.  Apparently Dad had
figured out they were Russian Jews who's parents fled for the States after
the war.  Dad had connections everywhere in the City and always wanted
answers as much as I.

On the drive over, Dad explained that my Mom's a dingbat.  There was
nothing wrong with being a Jew, Hindu, Muslim, Christian or anything else
in this world and the minute there is, there will be more wars and death.
He told me he'd explain the whole thing latter and not to listen to her.

Ilya's parents bought an old fire station and converted it into a house.
My imagination ran wild as we pulled up to the place.  A few years prior,
when the place was under construction, we'd pass by on our way to the
Harbor.  I'd try to convince my Mom that the bay was boring and a fire
house would be far more entertaining than stupid seagulls and dumb assed
sea life.  What boy wouldn't want a brass pole rather than a set of stairs?
My parents were convinced a bunch of greasy hippies bought it but as it was
reconstructed, it was obvious the people had money.  It turned out that
Ilya's Mom is an architect and his father is a professor at the university.
This explained much of his intelligence as he was surrounded by puzzles,
books, games and no television.  These people were all about cramming their
kids with intellect and life experience.

He was the oldest child.  His little brother was adopted as his mother
could have no other children due to complications birthing Ilya.  After a
quick tour of the house, that seemed to consist of miles of book shelves
and crazy modern art, we headed out back to his tree fort built over the
side of the hill on the edge of the property.

"Where's your room?"

"Latter, come on!"

We climbed a rope ladder to a platform that was only ten feet off the
ground.  We could see down the hill into the Harbor.  Ilya went to a corner
and moved a board to retrieve a set of binoculars.  He scanned down the
hill for a few seconds jumping from place to place: he knew what he was
looking for at what time or he wouldn`t have rushed out here.

"Take a look at the green house next to the blue one over toward the post
office...  In the front window right over there," he pointed in the general
direction.

After yelling, "Hurry up!" and frantically pointing directions, I finally
figured out where and peered at the house.  Inside, I could see Bobby Krist
watching TV with his little sister.  She was still in her night gown and
Bobby was wearing his tighty whiteys and a sweat shirt.  I could tell the
show was "Land of the Lost" because of the stupid dinosaurs and lame
characters.

Bobby was a dumb ass.  He ran around school giving every one the "Live Long
an Prosper" hand sign of Mr. Spock, from Star Trek.  Years earlier, he'd
run around the playground with his hands gripping imaginary handle bars,
his wrists working the imaginary throttle, screaming "I'm an XR75" and then
he'd make spitting sputters with his lips, as he ran all over the place.
We hated him for that dumb stuff: it made us seem like little kids compared
to the next grade up.

"Bobby?  Wow.  I didn't even know were he lived. ...  He runs around in his
underwear in front of his sister.  What a dumby."

"Yeah.  In the summer time they play in a wade pool all naked!  It's
funny."

I laughed, "You should get a camera!"

"I wish! I could make a fortune with blackmail money."

"What's that?'

"Make people pay so the pictures don't go to the wrong hands.  See?" he
said doing his best gangster voice.

"You'd do that?"

"Naaaaah...  I've seen naked ladies and all kinds of stuff from up here.
You should stay over in the summer...  Or, Christmas break.  It`s better
than anything on TV..  For real!"

"Why not the weekend."

"I can't...  We do stuff on Saturday... Every Saturday."

"Oh."  I didn't understand that their father took Sabbath very seriously.
Like my Dad, he wanted to set some values in his kid.  Although my Dad
didn't really believe one faith was better than another.  He felt they all
had the same motive at heart.

We tried to find naked people for a while.  We sat so close that we touched
shoulders and hips as our legs dangled over the side.  Once in a while,
he'd find a target and hop behind me, grasp my ears to aim my head so my
eyes lined up to the right spot.  Sometimes, he sit up on his knees as he
aimed and push his belly into my back to steady my body and head.  When I
think about it now, if this had happened a few years latter, I'd shoot in
my pants.  Back then, it was innocent play.  I think, in his mind, I was a
human periscope.  With no nudity or interesting stuff happening in the
hood, our nine year old attention went to what comes naturally: world
domination and destruction.

His little brother left his GI Joe action figures outside.  We found some
twine in his Mom's garden tools and made nooses.  We stripped GI Joe naked
and hung him head first outside his brother's bedroom window.  The other
dude, we dismembered and hung body parts in the tree that was in direct
view of his brothers window.  His Mom called us shortly after we started
working on digging a hole to bury Joe`s Jeep.

We had to go inside for a bowl of soup and salad.  I had no idea what all
was in the soup but wolfed it down since it tasted homemade and the
vegetables had no taste since the chicken stock was so strong yet not to
salty.  The beans, round things, carrots and the red stuff went down
without even a hiccup of afterthought from my pallet- unlike my Mom's soups
that were full of lentil beans and other disgusting stuff.

Afterward, Ilya led me to his room which was accessed by climbing up a
ladder and flipping open a trap door.  His Mother had turned the
observation and hose drying tower of the fire station into a boys dream
bedroom.  Due to rot, the observation deck was removed and replaced with a
copper roof so Ilya had to live with a two story bedroom instead of three.
The remaining clear space of the drying tower was turned into a two story
boy cave.  The first floor had a futon mattress, night stands and some
short bookshelves crammed with Mad magazines, Peanut's collection books,
other comic books, and kid novels as well as a set of encyclopedias.  I
looked around at his posters which were maps and some Super Sonics players.
I recognized Slick Watts and Fred Brown but I hated basketball so the
others were total strangers.

"Cool...  Super cool!" as I said this, my nose picked up the scent of stale
pee.  He's a bed wetter.  I felt sorry for him.  I couldn't imagine not
being able to go to a sleep over.  He practically invited me to one and now
my hope was shattered.  He'd be an idiot to invite a kid and end up in an
"accident" situation.  I banked this information and would never tell.  He
was my idol and even Superman had Kryptonite to worry about so I didn't
hold it against him.  When I turned to him, as my mind processed this, his
face completely gave him away.  I smiled and gave him a shove.  He laughed
and we didn't have to talk of it: to his relief I was sure.

We went up and through the next trap door.  This was his study and play
room: a desk, more small book shelves, his medals and ribbons from sports
accomplishments on display, more crappy basketball posters and tons of
board games.  This floor was cool because every wall had a window.  Through
the window facing the Harbor, the view was obstructed by fir and hemlock
trees.  He had to bare the cold and rain for his voyeur hobby in the tree
house due to his parents not removing any of the overgrown trees from their
landscape as part of the remodel.

"I'd kill for a room like this!"

"Best part is I can sit on the trap door and my dumb brother can't get in,"
he said as he dropped the door to the floor.  His mom even had the insight
to make the door seal flush to the floor and have a small rope as a handle
ensuring no trip hazard for her son as all young boys frolic around in
spasms of energy release as part of play.  She truly loved her kids.

"Cool."

"And, I can hear people come up the ladder when I'm up here...  Plenty of
warning."

"What for?"

"Stuff. You know, stuff you don't want your Mom to know about?' He looked
at me intently and I had no idea what you'd want to hide from Mom other
than candy, fireworks and BB guns.

"Ohhhh!" I faked.

"Want to have a sword fight?" he whispered very quietly.

I scanned his room and thought about it for a second, "What if he cuts me,
what if I hurt my hero, and what if we get in trouble?"

"Do you have shields?  Where are the swords?  This room is to small for
that."

He rubbed the front of his jeans and pushed his hips forward, "A sword
fight!" he exasperatedly whispered again.  I scrunched up my eyebrows at
him with complete puzzlement.  He sighed like I was the biggest moron on
the planet...  And, I'd agree, I was oblivious to anything involving my fun
zone that was more complicated than my right hand pawing away through my
Roebuck jeans pocket.  I didn't learn about masturbation until I had a run
in with a down comforter a year later.

We ended up playing a board game for the next couple of hours.  My dream
came true, by chance, as nature called.  The great thing about being a
young boy with interest in other boys is peeing.  Boys don't care about
showing cocks, if bladders are in need of relief.  When we had to piss that
soup out, he opened the window and we lined up, side by side, on a small
bench we pushed to the window so that we could piss out onto the roof of
the main house below.  Bathrooms are a hassle for kids in the middle of a
game.  Looking back, I wondered if his parents could hear the rain of our
streams on the metal roof below.  Our hips touched as we pissed in unison
out his window.  We arched our streams for distance and then attempted to
merged streams.  As we took aim, I got my eyeful.  At this age there was no
real difference in penis length, tactical size or any other part of two,
fit, flat tummy, kids.  The only real difference was his cock head was more
pink then my purplish nub head.  Other than that, he had a little black
mole on his hip that kind of enhanced my admiration of his uniqueness.  As
we shook off, his little dick stood straight up.

"It's alive!" he screamed and I busted up laughing.  Other than David, this
was the only other boy I'd seen with a hard one.  "Cool, huh?"

"Yeah.  Mine does that all the time!" I stammered as I felt mine stiffen as
I snapped the elastic of my underpants back in place as my eyes stayed
fixed to his dancing penis.

He rocked his hips a couple of times and I stared at his beauty.  I'm sure
he wanted me to show him my boner.  I'm sure he knew I had one but I was in
awe and in love: my brain shut down- gone numb- all I could do was stare.
He pulled up and we went back to the board game where Ilya kicked my ass a
few minutes latter as I lost track of his moves due to my minds constant
rewind and play of his performance.

As I thought about my memories of that day, it occurred to me this was the
first time I went into that numb trance I experienced with Dennis.  I also
remembered trying to sleep that night but couldn't.  My penis was hard.  My
thoughts were of his stiff dick and what it would feel like to pop a boner
if I were him.  The memory of him rubbing the front of his pants and
whispering "Sword fight" frustrated sleep even more.  I had figured out
what he meant on the drive home.  I knew what he suggested was more than a
game and something beyond being buddies.  Only the best of friends allow
inspection, touch, and what he suggested.  I loved the feeling of rubbing
the tip of my dick so that it stiffened to a hard shaft , at bath time.  I
could only imagine what it would feel like to rub my purple penis head
against his pinkish bulb.  I felt like crying after I realized my mistake.

I couldn't figure out why I just stared at him when we were in his bedroom.
I couldn't even feel my facial expression as I gazed at his shaft as I was
so numb to the world.  Was I smiling or blank?  I knew I had a boner, why
didn't I show him?  Maybe he knew what all the fun was with the tingles in
my belly.  He may have had all the answers!

The opportunity never happened again.  After the visit, Ilya distanced
himself from me.  He gave me the cold shoulder from Monday on.  And, a year
latter, his father transferred him to a private school to focus on
academics.  I was deeply hurt.  I couldn't figure out how to approach him
to patch stuff up or open it back up, if he were willing.  We lingered
apart due to my inability to find the right words or course of action.

As I peered at myself in the mirror, I realized he was my first crush- it
was a boy not a girl.  I knew I was to young, back then, to figure it out.
I kept thinking of a time when I even liked a girl in a sexual way.  There
was none not that opportunities weren't there.

I remembered the summer just before I turned ten, Julie and I were messing
about on the beach.  Not swimming or splashing around , we were walking
along the tide pools watching the mini marine life at work.  We wandered
all the way to the desolate, far side, of the Island and found ourselves
playing amongst the mass of driftwood and debris the storms would wash up
to the cliff.  These jams would stay in place for years before the right
combination of high tide and strong storm would sweep them back into the
sea.  We were competitive jumping from driftwood log to log to see who
could jump further, onto the narrowest log, or the greatest elevation
difference.

"I found something really cool yesterday," Julie proclaimed with
excitement.

"What?"

"It's kind of suppose to be a secret."

"Then why you spilling to me?"

"Ummm.  I think I want to show you but it's a secret.  If I show you, you
can't tell... Ever.  And , you'll have to do what I say just once, if you
want to see.  Okay?"

"Do what you say?  I can keep a secret.  But, if I have to do what you say,
it won't be anything that will get me in trouble or hurt or anything, will
it?"

"No. I wouldn't do that."

"Umm.  So where's this thing you found?"  I was excited because Julie
always found cool stuff.  She once came across her Mom's stash of Halloween
candy and we pigged out for weeks before the big day.  The down side was we
both were busted and weren't allowed to trick or treat that year.  It was
worth it because we shared the loot and secret for all that time.  We were
special friends in that way.

"Ummm...  I, I, brought it with me!"  She was wearing a one piece Speedo
that clung as if it were her own skin.  There was no way.  She took off
bouncing from log to log until she was behind some Alder saplings and
brush.  I followed her knowing it was going to be naked games!  I hadn't
played these with a girl yet and was so curious.  She turned to me, "You
can never tell anyone, not even David!!"

"Don't worry."

She sat on a log and spread her legs apart so that the little panel
concealing her pussy was revealed.  She pulled that flap of fabric to one
side and then spread the lips of her undeveloped slit apart with her index
fingers.

"Look.  There's a hole in there."  Her face was red from
embarrassment... "Just look at it..."

I got down on me knees, between her legs, to peer into her.  There was a
little hole in all of that pink and red flesh between there.  I was close
enough that I could smell stale piss remaining on her skin.  She hadn't
bathed that morning and apparently didn`t like the cleanup process of
pissing.

"Huh," was the only comment I could think of and then I asked, "Girls are
suppose to have that aren't they?"

"Yeah...  It's just that... What do you think?"

I had a boner.  I don't think any boy wouldn't bone up when another boy or
girl wants to play naked games.  "It's kind of neat.  How does a baby come
out of that little thing, anyway?  Isn't that where they come out?  Is that
hole supposed to be down here?"

"There's no way a baby could come out of there!  If that`s as big as it
gets, I`m not having one." She said with concern and sincerity.

I kept looking at it and the flesh bridge that separated where her asshole
was from that thing.  There was a bigger mound of wrinkled flesh above the
hole as well.  The whole thing looked disorganized and tossed together by
some drunk sculpting from a cows liver.  "Maybe God ran out of time," I
thought.

I waited for her to answer my other question about where her hole was
positioned and was afraid to ask again.  I thought quick, "How would you
know what it looks like?  You can't see it!"

"I got a make up mirror for my birthday and put it down there.  I can see
it fine."  She admitted with an annoyed voice.

"OOOHHH!"

"I think that's where your penis would go...  If we made a baby.  It feels
good when I rub on the top...  Above it.  Would your thing fit in there?"

"Weird.  It`s weird!  I guess it would fit...  but mine sticks up so
there`s...  It would never work," I was convinced she was deformed.
Actually that we both were.  I thought a penis entered a woman below her
belly button, in that thick patch of hair real women had I`d seen in a
picture the older boys handed around the bus.  They were gawking and
excited about that patch of hair below the lady's belly button so that had
to be where the opening was.  I never considered there was room between a
girls legs.  There wasn't between mine.  That's were your penis starts.  I
could feel that.  The hole, being between her legs, didn't seem right to
me.  This thing between her legs just seemed ugly, smelly and out of place.
Maybe she had an oversized pee hole.

I was very worried that my penis stood up at too steep of an angle for me
to have sex properly.  It never occurred to me that David and Ilya's cocks
did the same thing.  I knew that the thing got bigger as a kid got older
and figured it would level out at 90 degrees eventually, just due to added
weight and size, at least I hoped.

I reasoned I was too young to fuck.  I figured since parents get pissed, if
we played naked games, and they always tied getting naked to sin that God
would smack you down for, that maybe the creator designed kids not to have
sex.  Sex was something you had to wait till you were married to do and for
the sole purpose of making babies.  What else was I to conclude?

Julie was a freak.  With her sitting like that, I'd have to bend my penis
to put it in which would hurt like hell.  Plus, it smelled like piss.  She
pissed out of that thing with what must have been a stream twenty times the
size of what came out of me.  Girls must piss like an open fire hydrant.
No way was I putting the favorite part of my body up that hole.

She let go of herself and the panel of fabric snapped back in place.
"Okay.  Now, here's what you have to do: show me your penis," She asked
this with a little frustration in her voice.

I pulled my shorts down and my boner popped out.  That was all she'd get to
see.  She didn't ask for all of it and, fare is fare: She didn't get naked!
She stared at it.  She sank to her knees and studied my foreskin scar and
every millimeter of my little purple cock head.  She didn't touch it but
she came so close as she examined it that I could feel her breath.

"That would fit...  I think.  Don`t you?"  She asked with a smile as she
peered over the tip of my little stiffy.

I shrugged my shoulders and that was the end of show and tell as I pulled
my shorts back in place.  I didn't even ask to see if we could try to make
it fit.  At this age, I knew what sex was but had no interest after seeing
that hole.

If she were Ilya, I'd spend an hour staring at his body before my brain
would allow me to formulate a complete sentence.  I never chased her or any
other girl down like I did with Ilya.  Julie was a friend but in all
honesty, she was a friend I trusted to keep my secrets and was only fill
in, when David wasn't around.  Other than that, I had no use for her.

Then I thought about the porn me and Chris thumbed through a few days back.
Since stealing that sex education book, I knew how a girl worked so most of
my early childhood assumptions were dispelled.  The two vagina's I'd seen
in my life, didn't do much in terms of a sex explosion epiphany to crave
cunt.

The older boys on the bus talked about pussy: smell, feel, taste, wetness,
and slickness.  Although I doubt any had any experience with a live girl.
Their verbal was far more appealing than the visual, as far as I was
concerned.

Breasts were jugs of fat!  This was something those boys spoke of
endlessly: Farra Faucet, Brook Shields, Dolly Parton and Rachel Welch. I
couldn't figure out why large breasts were so appealing.  It seemed to me
they'd get in the way, somehow.  If you're trying to screw Dolly Parton,
wouldn't those things change the angle of penetration rendering the task
impossible?  At least that's what I thought, back then.

And, why are female legs more appealing than male?  Females have very
little muscle tone!  Girls don't workout (at least back then).  I loved
Collin and Brad`s legs.  Strong skaters who developed massive claves and
quads from countless hours of running, skating, and bike rides, with toe
clips, to work the entire leg muscle group.

The entire female body seemed inferior in everyway to the male form.  I
really believe God ran out of time and tossed some flesh together to make a
girl...  That's just me.

I then compared the two experiences of Ilya and Julie further.  I didn't
loose sleep or even have a hard on when I went to bed the night after Julie
showed me her secret.  I thought about her little slit and hole but I was
not "turned on" by it in any way other than seeing something new and naked.
She practically invited me to "see if it would fit."  There was no way I'd
stick my cock in that smelly thing, at least not at that young age or
anytime after.  To this day, I can't explain why.  After all, if as
advertised, the result should be the ultimate orgasm.  But, deep down,
something tells me it's another "New Coke."

Then, there was that numbness thing.  It occurred to me that the only time
I experienced this was with other boys, or Dennis.  It seemed to only occur
when somebody put a move on me.  Could it be that's what's supposed to
happen when a guy falls in love?  Had I over reacted to Dennis, after all,
his body is amazing?

The more I pondered all of this, the more I didn't want a girl.  I wasn't
convincing myself, making a choice, or anything of that nature.  I never
cared for girls, in the physical or intellectual sense.  Girls had
different agenda of everything than boys.

The idea that there was one out there for me was ridiculous.  How many
girls had I encountered in my life?: at school of all ages, camp, the city,
vacations, social events with the family, and everywhere in life I looked
there were girls.  Not one of them had ever turned me to rut like an Elk.
Not one had given me sleepless nights the way Ilya and other boys had.  I
had no desire.

I looked in the full length mirror that was attached to the back of the
bathroom door.  My body was becoming stronger with each week of work.  My
muscle tone became more defined as a few ripples could be seen on my belly
and my arms looked thicker.  My cock still seemed puny but Jan said it was
big.  Could it be as my body grew so did my cock and I hadn't noticed?

As I gazed at my body, it occurred to me how I didn't desire every boy:
Billy was a piece of shit; Collin and David were my close friends yet the
thought of sex with them was disgusting; there were few boys I'd want for
sex but was smart enough not to approach (Brad), and a host of other kids I
never touch because they just didn`t have "it."  Jon and Chris had it and
wanted mine.  If I were queer, there was no truth about fags doing it with
anybody with a dick.  Fag's couldn't join the Army because they'd have sex
with every dude in the showers and dorms.  I assumed that meant fags were
excluded from any job of any importance.  That's what I heard on the bus.
Now, I figured that was more adult lies.  Normal boys wouldn't look at
certain girls, after all, so how could this be true?

Years ago, when I heard this, I wasn't sure how sex between boys worked.

My first explanation of gay sex was revealed during a bus ride home.  There
were two giggling older girls, two seats in front of me, picking on two
fourth graders: Tom and Patrick.  I knew these kids from pick up soccer
games and was ready to defend them against those two cunts.  The boys were
like me and David were, as friends: glued together.  It was odd because
they were like us physically, as well: Patrick had long dark and Tom had
shortish blond hair.  The girls asked them questions about the their dicks,
hard ons, and stuff which is what drew my attention to the conversation.

"I bet they give each other blow jobs," the one with long hair giggled.

"We do not!" Patrick piped up.  He was turning red and angry.  It was
obvious he didn't understand or want any part of her teasing: he was
blushing and the tone of his voice was both defensive and angry.  Tom sat
with a stunned look as he took in the new information.

"You don't even know what that is...  Do you?"

"I do to.  Shut up... leave us alone," Patrick stood up to get his face
close to her as a prelude to war.

"Do not."

"Do to!"

"Dooooo Noooooot!"

"DOOOOOOOO...  TOOOOOOO!"

"Oh yeah?  Let's hear it," she demanded.  Patrick was flustered and he
peered around to see several boys and girls looking on.  He was on the spot
and had painted himself into a corner.

"Ummm...  Fuck you!  Leave me alone, if you don't know, it's not my
problem!"  He tried.

"I knew you didn't know...  You babies are sooooo stupid."

" Do too..."  I could see Patrick doing the math in his head.  "It's when
somebody blows on a boys dick!"  The girls laughed and bent forward
whispering between them.  "What...  What else could it be?"

"You dumb dumbs!"

"What...  Tell us," Tom said this with great concern.  I felt for him
because I had no clue either.

"It's when..." She broke into giggles as she delivered the rest of the
sentence, "Somebody sticks a guys dick...  In their mouth and sucks!"

Tom looked at Patrick and their eyes locked in disbelief.

"Sick!  No way!  Nobody would do that!"  Patrick screamed.

I watched Tom and it was obvious he didn't have the same thought.  I think
he was like me.  My instant thought was, "Ohhhhhh!  Why the hell didn't I
think of that!"

"We don't do that!"  Tom spoke with a flat tone.  "It doesn't make sense...
Why would you call it a blow and not a suck job?"  Their conversation/
argument continued and I sat back against the bus seat.  David was staring
out the window oblivious to the nonsense around him, as usual., he was
dreaming of things hockey or other.

As I sat there, I thought more about Tom's look at Patrick after the
epiphany.  The thought of those two exiting the bus, running home, dropping
pants to take turns trying it out, had me in sexual and emotional
frustration.  They were a year younger and probably would start fooling
around in as little as fifteen minutes.  That much was clear from that
look: no question, by any gay person, who witnessed it.  I had my own plans
for when I got home.

A few years back, during a sleepless night, I had an extreme struggle with
a really soft down comforter.  The velour cover felt so good against my
skin, that I wanted to feel it on every part of me.  I had my pajama
bottoms pulled down to my ankles in case Mom came in the room, a quick
pull, and she`d never know I was naked.  My hips pounded against the
fluffy, silken, fabric as new feelings began in the pit of my stomach.
Eventually, the feelings spread all over my lower body and into my toes.  I
rolled on my back and folded the fabric over my penis.  I then grasped the
fold from hip to hip and rubbed it back and forth over my cock.  As I
neared my first memorable climax my thoughts turned to a fantasy of dueling
with Ilya.  I remember my sight became so blurred, as the tingles went to
explosions of release, that my vision seemed to slam from side to side, as
my arms worked and hips bucked at what seemed hyper speed.  The next thing
I knew, it was morning: I had passed out as the electric tingling sent my
mind into overload.

I sat in bed wondering if I could duplicate that feeling again.  It was
like getting shocked without any pain.  It was like the feeling in the pit
of my stomach when a roller coaster bottoms out and flies up the next bank
only all over my body.  It was better!  I didn't have to pay three dollars!

I tried it again.  This time, I started by folding the fabric over my cock
and sawing away while my mind ran down the same Ilya fantasy.  BOOOOOM!  It
worked.  Only this time, I didn't pass out and it wasn't as powerful.  My
heart was pounding, my breath was rapid and when it hit, I had to attempt
to muffle a scream.  Mom didn't come running so, I was safe.  I uncovered
so I could examine my fun zone.  I couldn't believe something so amazing
was so easy to do.  Everything that was fun had a price which meant tons of
work to earn money.  This thing I just did was free.  I figured God
couldn't be that much of a prick, after all.

The feeling, fantasy, and discovery was something I knew had to be my
secret because it came from my body, it was my business.  I was smart
enough to know not to talk about it because Mom used to slap my hands away
from my privates, when I was a little kid or, even now.  You do not play
with that thing: ever!  And now, I was pissed that she prevented me from
this much pleasure years back.  What a bitch.

That morning, when I crept down the hall for breakfast, I overheard my Mom
telling Dad about noise coming from my room that evening and that she
thought it was time to move me to a basement bedroom.  Dad told her I was
too young for that.  A week later, I was packing my room up for the move
due to my sister's complaints about my "wrestling in my sleep."  Dad told
me it was time to move because I was almost a man and needed to be
separated from the women of the house for my own sake.  I didn't do it
every night but I guess I was one noisy kid, when I did.  I remember
turning red and being sheepish around Sue and my Mom after that.

I had the discovery of a boys life.  The only one that matters.  This gave
a hint of what sex would feel like.  It only made me want better
experiences and peaked my curiosity of how other boys did it and if they
experienced the mind blowing knockout punch.

I could hardly wait to get home.  My technique had evolved due to my Mom.
I started firing off cum about a month after my first run in with the
comforter.  It was stained, stinking, and crusty about a month after my
first shot.  My Mom never said a word about it's condition.  I came home
after school one day to find a corduroy duvet covering two wool blankets
over rough flannel sheets.  Her message was clear.  I had out grown a bunch
of pajamas and I found perfect fabrics in that bunch of clothes to slide
across my cock: silk and the softest cotton.

I sprinted to the house as my imagination played Pat and Tom sucking each
other down.  My hands shook as I fumbled with my fly and undies.  I didn't
even take my shoes off as I slid my ass on my bed to lay back for a
workout.  The silk polished my cock head as I slid that fabric back and
fourth at hyper speed.  I lasted about a minute.  My watery milk pushed its
way through the silk and down my shaft.  The only advantage to this
technique was the containment of my load.  My penis stayed rock hard so I
switched to the other leg of the pajama bottoms and started again.  I may
have lasted half a minute as I thought about Ilya.  We'd be the same age as
those two, if I had that sword fight.  In my new fantasy, I thought about
Ilya asking me for a sword fight and instead of doing it, I'd drop to my
knees to unzip his fly.  I came the second my mind imagined me pulling the
front of his tighty whiteys down the base of his junk.  The act of
undressing him was as potent to me as Pat and Tom sucking each other off.
Between that afternoon and sleep setting in, late that evening, I rubbed
myself off six times.  The only thing that prevented number seven was I had
a friction burn at the edge of my piss slit.  That night, I discovered the
downside of my technique.  The sting of that burn frustrated me for five
days: the day it healed I vowed not to exceed twice a day, at the most, for
my fun.

It wasn't until the first month of the seventh grade before I found out
about using my hand to get off.  I overheard two sixth graders talking
about why two kids were moved to the front of the bus.  One day, Mr. Nick
was driving along and just slammed on the brakes, through on the hazard
signals, and stormed past everyone, to get to the back of the bus.  As he
pasted me, I swear, I could feel and taste his anger as the hair on the
back of my neck rose to attention and a cold chill sprinted down my spine
in response to him storming past.

We watched him pass and head for the back where I focused in on two boys
from the top of the Island.  They were his obvious target as they were
squirming around as if trying to hide something.  I could see the fear in
their faces as he approached and slammed his huge hands down on the seat
back, in front of their faces, with a smack.

"You two keep those things in your Goddamn pants!  I'm not hear to clean up
your shit!  Yesterday, I damn near had to pull a garden hose in here.  You
may think it's fun and nobody will notice that stuff that comes out of
there but somebody has to clean it up!  It damned well have been you, if
you'd finished!  Do that shit in your bedrooms where you have some fucking
privacy!  Are you two the stupidest kids at school?  Are you retarded?" The
stared at the floor and shook their head.  "If I get any calls from any
parents about this, you two are off this bus and I'd like you to explain
that to your mother's what it is that got you in trouble!"  They were red
in the face and one of them started dropping tears.

"What were they doing?" Just about every kid asked Mr. Nick as he slowly
walked back to his driver's seat.  Before he sat down, he pointed at the
two kids and jabbed his finger at them as a final warning.

Kevin and Matt were sitting in front of me.  Matt turned to his buddy and
shrugged, "What was that about?" as the bus continued down the road.

Kevin giggled. "I think they were beating off."

"They were what?"

Kevin pointed at Matt with his left index finger, wrapped it with his right
index finger and thumb, and rubbed up and down.

"What's that?"

"If one of these fingers is your dick...  Think about it."  Matt looked on
blankly.  "Just go home and try it...  Get your dick hard and don't stop
stoking it... no matter what," Kevin said with a smile as he continued
stroking his finger.  "Call me when your done!"

I ran home and repeated my performance of when I thought about Pat and Tom
only using my right hand.  I made it to seven, with room for more before I
fell asleep that night.

Mingled into both techniques were thoughts of girls.  For a while, I knew
it was wrong for me to lust after boys.  Church, school, friends and family
told me so.  I thought if I worked girls into my masturbation fantasies,
I'd stop thinking about boys because boys are supposed to have sex with
girls.  I came a few times thinking about shoving my dick into Julie or
Nadia.  But, most of the time, my imagination morphed the fantasy into
Ilya, Tom, Pat, Brad, or some other buddy pounding on a girl.  My thoughts
were of what those boys felt as they pumped, their shafts glistening from
the girls slickness, and experiencing the boys body movement, if I were the
one being mounted instead of the girl.  I knew this was impossible because
I was a boy.  I didn't want to be the girl.  It was about experiencing the
intimacy of the boy: his skin against me and simply the experience of
closeness with a boy.  Girls didn't know how lucky they'd be, if they
landed one of my fantasy boys, because I knew what they were packing.  Or,
how jealous I'd be, if they did.

I smiled at my reflection as it sank in that two girls woke up my desire
for guys.  I guess females are good for something.  From that day forward,
I thought of those two sexing each other as I stroked my penis in the folds
of my down comforter.

There's no doubt, after all of this thought: I'm queer, I like boys and
when I'm older, I'll have men with monster cocks like Dennis`s!

My cock stood straight in the air as my life became clearer.  I broke into
a full smile as my thoughts were of the 2x4 wall that separated me from the
naked boy in my bed.  There was a naked boy in my bed who had sucked my
cock, not even two hours ago.  How adult is that?  Kids mess around in
bushes or hiding places.  My first sex in a grown up place was with Chris
before I turned thirteen.  It made everything feel right, somehow, to have
him on the other side of the wall as I contemplated all of this.

I walked back to the bedroom and climbed under the covers with my little
buddy.  Chris slept so deep.  He didn't even stir as the mattress shifted
and the covers were pulled back.  I was convinced no woman or girl could
rival his beauty.  The slow rhythm of his breathing revealed every feature
of his of his torso: mass and muscle with a few ribs showing right above
his flat tummy; two, dark, nickel sized, nipples that were being filled by
developing pecks of his active body, his shoulders that were beginning to
broaden with the onset of a growth cycle and, his bellybutton was an innie
that seemed to highlight his stomach muscle columns as he breathed.  To me,
it was like looking at Mr. Carlson's Jaguar: pure sex.

I placed my ear to his chest and listen to his slow beating heart, as he
slept.  Somehow, hearing him in this way made me feel more connected to
him.  We all have the same sound as our hearts beat in our chests yet, when
you love somebody, there seems to be a difference I can't explain.  I don't
know why I constantly wanted to hear my lovers inner works when I was a
boy: it was a sound I'd steal from them when I could.

 My hair must have tickled him.  He mumbled something and turned to his
side.  Remembering how a woke earlier, I spooned up his back.  My cock rode
along his ass crack with the tip at the hollow where my midsection met his
ass cheeks.  It felt exquisite to feel his skin and warmth against me.  I
rested with him and draped my free arm over his side to cradle his chest.

We were laying still.  His breath was so slow as mine accelerated with
excitement.  Our scents were now raw from the sex we had earlier.  I didn't
know then how different the scent of dirty man was from that of a guys
engaged in what we did until that moment.  Raw is the only description that
fits.

My boner was not going away and seemed to grow in intensity.  I rocked my
hips, at first to adjust, but the sensation rippled to my toes from my
thoughts and now our scent.  I kissed his neck and rocked in earnest.
Chris awoke in a shot.  He jarred forward for an instant to regain his
bearing.

"What are you doing?"

"It feels really good to rub on your butt."  I said with a nervous laugh.

"Hunh?...  You scared me.  I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"Me either... Sorry."

"Ummm...Do it some more?  If you want?"

He pressed back against me and I reached down to adjust my cock against his
backside again.  I started mini thrust that placed most of the friction
against the base of my shaft with a bit of his cheeks contacting the head
of my dick on the down stroke.  The skin was so soft and fleshy.  Not
squeezing like my hand when I jacked.

"Wait," Chris tuned to his stomach with his legs closed.  I startled him
and only allowed my penis to contact his crack so that I could run my cock
head from between his legs over the crest and as far as I could to the
small of his back.  Then, I lay on him.  My dick settled into the seam of
his butt cheeks.

I began again, as I settled down on my elbows and kept my legs out side of
his.  As I thrust, I brought my legs tight along his.  The sensation was
much like what we did facing each other yet different in the amount of
contact my penis had with his body.  I preferred to face him and feel our
junk slap and slide around as we both could move.  I loved the smell of his
breath and feel of his heart pounding against my chest.  I continued to
pound away as the feeling built.

There was an urgency as my stomach muscles worked into rhythm.  I was
sweating, it seemed, from every pour in my body as I pounded away.  Even my
feet felt slick. Muscles in my stomach pulled me from angle to angle as
twinges of orgasm went into the root of my torso.  My penis felt numb and
jumped to 100 volts as my body went to hyper gyrations.  I raised up to jam
the head of my cock though his crack as fast as my hips could churn.  My
first shot happened at the end of an upstroke and the stream of cum
splashed his hair and down his spine.  The next three or four shots fell
into the small of his back.

I collapsed onto him.  My cum was squashed between our bodies.  I tried to
roll off him but was spent so I stayed in place as my cum pressed and
spread between us.

"I can feel it... Your heart.  It's beating like a billion times a minute!"
Chris whispered.

I panted.  After everything I thought about in the bathroom, I wanted to
tell him I loved him again.  I wanted to explain what we were doing was
more than just messing around for fun to see if he`d at least acknowledge
that.  But, he was silent when I confessed a few hours ago. I decided not
to push it, as my breathing became close to normal, for fear of scaring
him.

I pealed myself off of him and cum was plastered to us in a sticky mess.
He probably didn't know about the stuff in his hair and I decided not to
tell him.  There was something about the thought of him walking home with a
piece of me still attached that seemed like ownership.  I didn't feel this
way about Jon.  I was building a house with a white picket fence for us to
live, in my mind.  I just had to figure out how to make it work.  Maybe our
secret had to be kept all the way through university or the rest of our
lives.  I was willing to do that if it meant having him.

I sat back on his thighs and slapped his butt cheeks like bongo drums to
watch them jiggle.  I started kneading them like bread dough.

"Knock it off... Could you get something to wipe your stuff off my back?"

I walked back to the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth I soaked under the
hot water faucet.  Chris had turned his head to watch me return to the bed.
I sat beside him and gently wiped his back.

"That feels good...  Warm."  He closed his eyes.  I focused on were the
stuff was smeared and then stroked his shoulders down to the small of his
back.  Then I wiped myself.  I settled back down with him and kissed up his
shoulder and over to his cheek as I stoked his back from his neck to his
ass.  Chris smiled with affection.

He gave me a shove and I stood up.  He climbed out of bed and stood in
front of me.  I lightly kissed his lips as I lowered myself to kiss his
Orthodox cross.  It just seemed like fun.  I hit my knees and rubbed my
nose across his testicles and up his shaft in an attempt to replicated what
Dennis did to me.  I understood the second his scent hit my nose and the
texture of his moist balls spread across my face that it was all about
becoming as close to your lover as possible: scent, flavor, and feel.  I
inhaled deeply as I rubbed my nose away from his balls and up his shaft.

Just as I was about to slurp down on his cock, the front door swung open
and slammed against the door stop, waking us from our trance, as three sets
of feet pounded on the floor above our heads.

"Shit!" I said as I looked at my alarm clock that read 5:14.  Chris had
jumped, into the center of the room and cupped his privates as his eyes
were searching for clothes.

"Stay here.  I'll get your shorts... Our shoes are up on the deck.  Don't
worry they won't think I'm down here this early...  Stay put."

I could hear groceries and boxes hitting the counter as my family unloaded
the Buicks.  If I had shut the garage door, we would have heard the opener
and had more time.  I banked that new knowledge for later fun.

I quickly and quietly retrieved our shorts as I overheard my Dad comment
that there were two pairs of shoes on the deck as I could hear the Weber
BBQ being pulled from under the eve out on the deck.  I tossed Chris his
shorts and we slipped our now dry clothes on.

"What do we do?"

"They don't know what we did," I said giving him a playful shove.  "We just
go up stairs...  I'll do the lying.  You suck at that.  Go through the
sliding glass door...  It doesn`t make any noise and we`ll head up on the
deck.  We`ll tell them we were hanging out, in the shade, under the deck.
Don`t worry."

We went up and my Mom was shocked to see Chris without David in tow.  Dad
had never met him before.  I caught a look my Dad gave him after he watched
the boy for about five minutes that was of approval.  My Dad always said
that a man defines himself within a few minutes of interaction.  Chris
passed the test as he`s always respectful and thinks before he speaks.

Mom pulled me aside and scolded me for forgetting deodorant again.  "If she
only knew that smell wasn't all me," I thought as my sister sprinted to a
ringing phone.

"Jon, it's for you."

"Who is it?  I have company," As I tried to point out to my parents that
she broke a rule of the house.  Ignoring a guest was one of my Mom's pet
peeves: phone calls, ditching company for a TV show, or just not catering
to a guest mad Mom insane.

She shrugged her shoulders and stormed past me to get to her room.  I
glanced at Dad and he rolled his eyes.

"Hey Chris, I have to take the call.  I can't leave the guy hanging on the
other end," Mom didn't even react.  "Women have an alliance," I thought.

"Hello"

"Hi Jon, it's Jan!"

"OH!  Johann!  My buddy, what`s happening?"

"Ummm..."  I could hear his Mom whispering instructions in the background.
"I'm calling about the 4th.  We're having a party... And, What? (to his
Mother), It's at two o'clock and I wanted to know if you can... Sorry (to
his Mother, again) Be so kind to come over and spend the... 4th of July
with...  My family and friends?"

"I get it...  Don't you hate it when they try to do that?"

"Yeah!  Can you come over?...  Please, come over.  It will be fun...  This
is our annual party... And," His hand cupped the phone and I could hear him
tell his Mom, "I can do it alone!"  and then he was back.

"Sure.  Ummm, I think they'd let me but my parents are gonna want to know
who else will be there," I needed assurance of no Dennis.

"It's a bunch of people from my Dad's business and stuff.  Some kids I
don't know will come with those people...  Kenny, that guy I told you about
from down the beach, and that's it for now...  Mom wants me to pick people
from outside of the Academy this year.  You're my first call."

"Oh!  Wow! Ummm.  Thanks!  What about Brad and Dennis?"  Since the 4th was
on Wednesday, I figured he didn't invite anyone and his Mom came unglued.
I figured rich people did the RSVP thing.

"Brad's going to Calvin's house this guy who lives in Seattle.  He gets to
see the big fire works.  Oh, Dad goes to the Indian Reservation as well as
some of the other people so we have unsafe and insane fire works. Dennis
get's the whole rest of the week off to go home or whatever."

"Hold on," I cupped the phone to ask permission.  As long as Dennis wasn't
in the mix, I'd do anything to hang out with Jan.  My parents considered
the 4th a colossal waist of money.  Fireworks were for morons to throw away
their hard earned money.  We spent most 4th's on the sundeck watching other
people light up the night all around the bay.

"They said okay."

"Really?!  Cool! Alright!"

By his excitement, I could tell I truly was his first call and this
experience was new to him.  I couldn't imagine being in his shoes, if his
parents controlled his friends, as old as he was.

"Hey, ummm...  Could you do me a favor?  I mean, I know this is rude," that
drew my Mother's attention and she took a couple of steps toward me.
"Could...  Could you invite Chris?"  My Mom slapped me across my shoulder
and gave me the look of death.  Chris looked over at me with astonishment.
It wasn't like me to be bold and rude to both boys in one question.

"The kid from the park?"

"Yeah.  I apologize for asking it`s just that...  I thought you guys..."

"No, it's okay.  Sure...  I need to invite one more plus Kenny and I was
going to invite one of his friends anyway but it doesn`t matter.  You don`t
know anyone else but me who will be here...  Kenny knows half the people
from last year.  That makes sense and was stupid of me not to think of it."

"Oh.  Well as long as you're sure."

"Yeah!  I forgot about him cause you did most of the talking...  He's
cool."

"Okay... Cool...  You have to call in a couple of hours...  he's not
home..."  And, I gave him the lowdown and phone number.  I explained that
he'd have to have his parents talk to Chris's Dad and tell them I'd be
there as well as assure them of all the guests good character.

I received a ration of shit from my parents, after Chris left, about being
rude to Jan and Chris.  Dad didn't want me to go after I framed Chris's
parents as nut jobs in front of my guest as well as being disrespectful of
Chris`s wishes and potential plans for the 4th of July.  I didn't care
because it was all true and I knew Chris wanted to see the Carlson's
estate. I accomplish my goal.  It was worth it to have Chris with me and no
Dennis.