The following contains scenes of sexual activity between males. If it is illegal for you to read this in your area or if you feel you may be offended by doing so, please do not continue. This story is complete fiction and any similarities between the story and reality are purely coincidental. There is no Madison, Oklahoma. Some of the characters in this story may engage in behavior which could be construed as illegal or unsafe. This is not an endorsement of such behavior. The author does not condone the violation of any law, nor does he encourage unsafe behavior. Please do not copy or post this story without the knowledge or consent of the author.
Please send any comments to my new address, chriswriter @ operamail.com. Thank you for reading my story. If you enjoy it, please let others know about it.
A Curious Set of Misfits
“Sitting on the side,. Waiting for a sign. Hoping that my luck will change.
Reaching for a hand that can understand, someone who feels the same.
When you live in a cookie cutter world being different is a sin.
So you don't stand out and you don't fit in. Weird.”
Hanson. Copyright 1997, Jam 'N Bread Music
"Oh, my God! That's disgusting!"
Michael was appalled as he sat at his desk and listened. His father, seated across from him on the edge of his bed, grinned.
"Well, son, in a year or two, you might not think so."
"But, but, you? And, Mom? I mean, you and Mom, you know, did that?"
"Well, yes. In fact, at least three times."
"At least? Oh, my God!"
"Mikey, quit saying that."
Michael's mouth opened and closed several times, as if he was attempting to say something, yet couldn't.
"Um, tell you what," his father said standing up. "I'll just leave you here to digest this and, should you have any questions, um, just look me up and we'll run 'em up the flag pole and see what happens."
Michael nodded vaguely as he stared in shock at his feet.
"By the way," his father added as he walked to the door, "I like what you did with the room."
"Yeah," Michael replied in a distracted way. "It looks just like it did in St. Louis, except there's no little brother."
"Well, there you go!" his father replied cheerfully. "Life just gets better and better. By the way, now that you've finished unpacking, you might go outside and get to know some of the guys."
He pointed out the window.
"Ricky Patterson's out there playing catch with someone. Why don't you take you glove out and see if you can join them?"
"Dad, I hate playing catch."
"I know, but it might be a good way for you to get to know the guys in the neighborhood. Besides, I don't want you holed up in your room all summer. Now, get out there and have fun. That's an order."
Michael sighed and with a decided lack of enthusiasm, stood and grabbed his glove from the box beside his dresser.
"Its not going to be that bad," his father added, squeezing the boy's shoulder as he passed by. "You might actually enjoy yourself. Wouldn't that be awful?"
Michael rolled his eyes and grinned as he entered the hallway.
"Oh, and by the way," his father added as Michael passed into the living room and stood at the front door, "if you have any questions about what we talked about tonight, any questions at all, don't hesitate to ask."
He gave Michael an encouraging smile; however, Michael shivered as if he had just stepped in dog poop.
"I don't think I'll have anymore questions, Dad. That was enough. Believe me."
Michael didn't see his father's smile as he closed the front door behind him. His mother was just emerging from the garage carrying some empty boxes around the corner of the house to the trash cans at the side. He watched her for a second and when she turned around, she had a questioning look on her face.
"What is it, honey?"
"Um, nothing," Michael quickly responded as he turned and walked quickly toward the street with his glove. He was trying to erase from his mind the image that had popped in and it was not pretty. His mother shrugged and then saw the image of her husband in the living room window, laughing hysterically.
Michael could see Ricky Patterson down the street with several other boys. He was playing catch with one, a stocky boy with dark hair. Two others were sitting on the curb watching.
“Hey, Mike! Catch!” Ricky yelled as he approached. Michael jumped and, surprising himself, caught the ball.
“Hey,” he replied as he threw the ball back.
“Mike, this is BJ,” Ricky declared as he threw the ball to his partner. BJ had a rather goofy look on his face, as if he wasn't the brightest kid on the block; and, he didn't have the warmest smile. But, as Michael approached, he nodded and said, “Hey.”
“And,” Ricky continued, “this is Tad and Daniel. Not, Dan or Danny. Daniel. He hates to be called Dan or Danny.”
Tad was a very pale boy with raven black hair and dark blue eyes. His hair swept down over his forehead and actually covered the top half of his ears. Michael was sure he would be required to get a haircut before school started. He was really skinny and his white tee-shirt and black shorts hung loosely on his slim frame. His very pink lips smiled slightly as he shook his head and tossed his hair to the side. It was really weird the way he was looking at Michael, almost the way that blond boy outside the sandstone house had the day before.
Beside him, the boy Ricky had advised him to call Daniel smiled more cheerfully. He, too, had black hair, but his skin was a bit more tanned and his face was sprinkled with freckles. He fit his red and white striped pullover and cut-offs a bit better than Tad fit his clothes.
“Yeah, Danny's a genius, so he wants everyone to call him Daniel. He smarter than everyone else.
“Aw, lay off him, BJ,” said Ricky as he threw the baseball harder than he had to. “He's OK.”
“Shit, he's a fag,” BJ declared.
“I am not!” Daniel declared.
Ricky looked at Michael and shook his head as he rolled his eyes.
“Daniel's not a fag. But, he is totally smart.”
Michael looked at Daniel and smiled.
“That's cool. I actually like to be called Michael, instead of Mike.”
Daniel smiled at him and Tad nudged Daniel with his elbow. They smile at each other.
“So, Michael,” said Ricky pointing him toward a spot in the middle of the intersection. “You play baseball?”
“Not, much,” he replied as he caught the ball from Ricky. “I like soccer.”
“Soccer's for pussies,” BJ declared as he caught the ball from Michael. He threw it back to Michael with more force than was necessary, but Michael had no trouble catching it.
“Well, Dad used to take me to the Cardinals' games at Busch.”
This seemed almost to impress BJ, as his tone was less skeptical.
“Yeah. We got to go to the World Series last year!”
Michael looked around as he heard the profanity; but, he relaxed when he saw no adults were near enough to hear it.
“You go fishin'?” BJ's interrogation continued.
“Naw. Not much. There really isn't anyplace to go fishing in St. Louis.”
“You could fish on the Mississippi.”
Michael caught another stinger from BJ and tried not to show he was in pain as he threw to Ricky, who was watching his friend testing Michael.
“St. Louis bigger 'n Tulsa?”
"Oh, yeah. A lot bigger.”
“Bigger 'n Oklahoma City?”
Michael nodded as he threw his own stinger to BJ. Tad and Daniel grinned at Michael as they noted the surprise on BJ's face.
They were all silent for a few moments as the three threw the baseball among themselves and Tad and Daniel watched. The setting sun was casting a golden glow over the young trees along Sequoyah Avenue. The katydids were singing, in first one tree and , then, another. The muffled sound of traffic on the highway to Tulsa drifted over the neighborhood from the south. Michael sniffed at the smell of the freshly cut hay from the fields just north of the neighborhood. Now, that wasn't something you smelled everyday in Kirkwood, Missouri.
"So, what does BJ stand for?" Michael asked as he threw to Ricky.
"Blow job," Ricky answered as he threw to BJ.
"Fuck you, Patterson! I told you to quit sayin' that!" BJ snarled as he threw the ball back. it went flying past Ricky, missing his head by only a foot. Ricky turned and watched it flying up the street., making no effort to retrieve it. Tad and Daniel both looked at BJ nervously.
"Chill out, man," Ricky said. "It was just a joke."
"Yeah, well, fuck you."
Ricky frowned and shrugged as he turned to chase after the ball.
"Come on, BJ," Daniel said sympathetically. "He's your friend. Friends tease each other."
BJ gave Daniel a snarling look and then seemed to relent somewhat.
"Yeah, well, I don't like it and he knows it. Y'all just better lay-off me or I'll show every everone!"
Ricky finally caught up with the ball near the end of the next block. As he ran back, Michael repeated his question.
"So, what does 'BJ' stand for?"
BJ appraised Michael for a moment and when he was certain that of Michael's sincerity, he replied, "Billy Joe."
Michael nodded. "That's cool," which seemed to satisfy BJ.
As Ricky returned, he threw to BJ and the three silently resumed their game of catch.
"So, what do you like?" Daniel asked as Michael caught a throw from BJ.
"What do you mean? Like music or TV or something?"
"Yeah, like what do you do for fun?"
Michael considered what he should say that might satisfy the diverse set of boys in front of him. He figured that nothing he said would please all four of them.. He calculated who would be most valuable pleasing and decided it was everyone except BJ, who probably wouldn't approve of anything he said anyway.
"Well, I like to ride my bike."
"Cool," said Ricky with enthusiasm. "What kinda bike?"
"I gotta Stingray."
"Cool! Me, too!"
"What kind of movies do you like?" Tad asked.
"Well, 2001 was really cool."
Everyone except BJ nodded.
"And, Grand Prix."
Only Ricky and BJ nodded.
"And, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang was cool."
Much to Michael's embarrassment, no one nodded on that one.
"You like Christopher Lee?" Tad asked hopefully
Michael shrugged, but before he could reply, Ricky said, "Tad's a horror freak. He loves horror movies. The bloodier the better."
"Yeah," Daniel added. "And, he's addicted to Dark Shadows, too. He watches it everyday."
"Yeah," Ricky said. "He wants to be Barnabas Collins."
"No,' Daniel interrupted. "He wants to be David Collins."
Tad elbowed Daniel and squinted his eyes.
"Well," Michael said, hoping he was about to compliment Tad, "you kinda look like a vampire."
Apparently, it was the right thing to say because Tad's face took on a look of triumph and vindication.
"Yeah, Tad's read everything Edgar Allen Poe ever wrote," said Ricky. Michael grinned at Tad and the raven-haired boy smiled.
"I like reading, too," said Michael.
"What do you read?" Tad asked, a hint of hopefulness in his voice.
"Well, I just finished Old Yeller and now I'm reading White Fang by Jack London."
"I seen Old Yeller on TV last year," said BJ, trying to get back into the conversation.
"Me, too," said Ricky. "I don't read a lot. Hey, you want to go riding around town tomorrow?"
Michael shrugged. "Sure."
A boy with black hair cut almost exactly like Paul McCartney's from a few years before sailed past on a Huffy along Thirteenth Street, just barely missing Ricky.
"Hey, watch it, Sheridan!" Ricky yelled.
The boy waived back and replied, "Yeah, watch your mother!"
"Don't have to.Your mother gave a really good show awhile ago!"
Daniel chuckled as Tad rolled his eyes as if he were too sophisticated for such a juvenile conversation.
"Who's that?" Michael asked.
"Craig Sheridan," Ricky replied.
"He's a fag," said BJ.
"He is not," said Daniel with exasperation. He turned to Michael. "He just likes the Beatles."
"Yeah," Ricky concurred. "A lot!"
"Yeah," Tad added. "He wants to be Paul."
"He's a fag," said BJ.
Michael decided that he really didn't like BJ, but he was going to have to get along with him.
"What's a fag?" he asked. Ricky and BJ chuckled. Michael noticed that Tad frowned at them and seemed to give BJ an evil look with his eyes.
"A fag is a homosexual," replied Daniel.
Even though Michael and his father had had The Talk earlier that evening, for some reason, the definition of homosexual, which Michael had asked the other evening in his grandparents' backyard, had been skipped.
"What's a homosexual?"
Michael didn't notice BJ throwing the ball to him and had to run behind and up the side yard of the house behind him. As he returned, Tad replied in a serious tone, "Its a man who is attracted to other men instead of women."
Michael paused for a moment and then tossed the ball to Ricky. Things were starting to come together in his mind. He stepped forward and walked to the curb and sat. Ricky and BJ continued throwing to each other as BJ added, "Yeah, like Tad."
Tad gave BJ another withering look and Michael could have sworn that Tad was sending a curse to BJ through his eyes. Ricky stopped throwing and stood in a very irritated stance, glaring at BJ.
"BJ, what the heck is the matter with you tonight, callin' everone a 'fag?'"
BJ glared back and then looked downward sheepishly.
"Nothin.' Look, I gotta go. See ya."
He turned and began walking slowly up the street to the west. His silhouette stood out against the vivid orange and pink of the sunset at the end of Sequoyah Avenue.
Daniel slapped his arm.
He turned his head and held his arm out to Tad.
"You vant to suck my blooood?"
Tad opened his mouth, baring his teeth, and let out a guttural hiss, his eyes glowing with desire. Michael grinned. Ricky sat down beside him, opposite Tad and Daniel.
"So, tell me about the other guys in the neighborhood," Michael said.
"Oh, there's lots of guys around. Everyone's pretty cool. BJ's big brothers are kinda scary sometimes. But, everyone else is OK. Once you get out of Western Hills, though, it gets different."
"What's Western Hills?"
Ricky looked at Michael as if he were crazy.
"That's the addition were in. On the other side of Twelfth Street, everyone hates us 'cause they think we're all rich. Except for the people in Brookhaven. That's the addition on the other side of Main Street. They're even richer than us. Everyone hates them. Even us."
Everyone was quiet while Michael digested this news.
"Eric Sexton's cool," Daniel added.
"Oh, yeah," Ricky agreed. "He's like 15, but he's really cool. He likes to hang out with us. He takes up for us when BJ's brothers cause trouble and when the townies go after us."
"Yeah," said Daniel with admiration in his voice. "He's a really neat guy."
"So, this is like a suburb of Madison. Like Kirkwood is for St. Louis," said Michael with dawning realization.
"Yeah, I guess," replied Ricky.
Michael was silent for a moment and, then, trying to keep his voice level and bored, asked, "So who's the kid over there in that orange stone house?"
"Nobody knows him," said Ricky.
"His name's Trevor," Tad said. "He's kind of a spook."
"Man, he must be a spook if you say he is!" Ricky said with a laugh.
"His Dad's the new superintendent of the schools," Daniel contributed. "But, he just moved here and he doesn't get out much that anyone can tell."
Michael cringed at his father's use of his nickname as he called from their yard. Ricky giggled as Tad and Daniel grinned. They turned and saw Michael's father standing in the yard with Ricky's Dad.
"It's almost dark. Head 'em up, move 'em out!"
"Yes, sir!" he called back, standing up.
He turned to Ricky and the others as they stood, as well.
"Well, see you guys tomorrow!"
"Yeah, see ya!" Daniel replied.
"See ya," Tad said in his strange, almost dreamlike way.
"Hey," said Ricky, "maybe we can go fishin' tomorrow?"
"Yeah, that'd be cool. I don't have a fishing pole, though."
"That's OK. We got lots."
Both Michael and Ricky grinned and as Michael walked back toward the house with a waive to the other three, he felt a good warmth inside that he hadn't known since the awful day his Dad had broken the news they were leaving Kirkwood.
That night, as he lay in bed, he processed all he had learned that evening. So, your penis got hard when you were ready to have sex. Homosexuals liked to have sex with other guys. Michael's penis got hard when he looked at cute guys. Therefore, Michael was a homosexual. Well, maybe not. It was all a bit confusing and complicated and, quite frankly, his penis was hard again and he really didn't care about what it all meant at that moment. All Michael was concerned with was making his penis feel good the way he had the previous night at his grandparents'. And, when the same actions had resulted in the same result, and Michael lay there in the warm afterglow of amazement and bliss, he drifted away with images of Daniel and Tad and Ricky in his mind; soft, happy images. And, Trevor. Yes. Trevor. What a strange name. He had never heard of anyone named Trevor before. Maybe he was foreign. Wait. That guy who played Captain Bligh was named Trevor something. Maybe he's English. Maybe he...
"Come on, Michael! Hurry up!"
Ricky was sitting on his gold Stingray at the foot of the Griffin's driveway. Daniel was next to him on his red Huffy imitation Stingray. Tad was in the street on a beat-up old Schwinn Varsity ten-speed that was almost too big for his slim frame.
Michael had just finished his lunch of a cheese and bologna sandwich and a Coke and as Jimmy sat in the dirt of the flower bed with Ricky's little brother playing with their G.I. Joes, Michael ran down the steps from the front porch and over to the open garage to retrieve his own Stingray.
"Cool bike," Ricky said with admiration as Michael rode down to him. Michael was proud of his bike. It was green five-speed with a sissy bar at the back of the banana seat. Ricky's was a three-speed with an elastic flag pole on the back.
"Where we going?" Michael asked as they headed east toward town.
"Well, we gotta pick up Craig and then we're gonna take you on the tour of the town and show you where everthing is."
They four of them pedaled up to the Twelfth Street, the border between Western Hills and the older part of Madison and then turned right. They stopped in front of a white cracker box house with turquoise trim. Craig was just coming around the corner of the house. He waived and picked him battered Typhoon up from the grass and joined them.
"Craig, this is Michael," Ricky said as Craig came up beside Michael. "He just moved here from St. Louis. He's cool."
"Hey," said Craig smiling beneath his mop of dark hair. He did kinda look like Paul, Michael thought.
Craig gave Michael a big grin.
They headed into town on Church Street, a block from Main, past older houses than the cracker boxes on Twelfth. The trees were older and bigger along here.
"My grandparents live down here," Michael said. By Sixth Street."
"In those big old houses?" Daniel asked. "Are they rich?"
"I don't know. My Granddad owns the Griffin Insurance Agency."
"Really?" Craig replied. "Wow. He probably is rich."
Michael had never thought about it. He had seen the really big houses back in St. Louis, in places like Clayton, where the really rich people lived and it didn't seem like his grandparents were that rich. Maybe for Madison they were.
They came upon a schoolyard and a small church in a fake Gothic, red brick facade. There was a building behind it that looked like a school.
"That's where I go to school and to church," Daniel announced. "St. Augustine's."
"That's where my grandparents go," Michael said.
"You're Catholic?" Daniel asked eagerly.
"Cool! So's Craig!"
"Yeah," Craig said. Pointing to the building behind the church, he added, "That's where we go to school. Course, its only to the sixth grade, then we have to go to public school."
"Like all the rest of us normal people," Ricky said with a grin. "Say, why do you people say 'Ah-GUS-tin' instead of 'AW-gus-teen?"
"Because its supposed to be 'Ah-GUS-tin," said Daniel with a slightly condescending tone.
"Oooh, well," said Ricky with a grin, running a stop sign on Ninth Street. "Pardon me!"
Michael gave Daniel a wink and a grin.
"Where do you go to church, Ricky?"
"First Baptist. Its the biggest church in town. Its the big one in the middle of downtown. Most of the people in Madison are Baptists."
"Yeah," said Craig, adding, "and they hate Catholics."
"They do not," Ricky objected.
"They do, too," said Tad. "They burned down the Catholic Church back in the twenties. That was when the KKK was really big."
"They did not!" said Ricky defensively.
"They did," Craig and Daniel replied, with Daniel adding, "I read it in the History of St. Augustine's. They also burned down Willietown."
"What's Willietown?" Michael asked as they stopped at the corner on Eighth Street.
"That's where all the blacks live, over on the other side of the tracks," Ricky said softly. Apparently, this was a sore subject for Ricky. Michael hesitated before asking, "They really burned down all the black houses?"
Craig, Tad, and Daniel all nodded. Ricky frowned as he looked back at the three of them.
"Its not as bad as they make it sound," Ricky said. "They started it."
"How?" Tad said. "Because they didn't want the whites to lynch Elmer Gibbs?"
"Well, he raped that white girl!"
"He did not! She even admitted he didn't!"
Ricky was clearly upset by the conversation. Michael stopped beside him and decided to help the situation.
"So, where are all the cool places in town?"
"Well," said Ricky, trying to overcome his irritation, "the skating rink is over there on Main Street. You skate?"
Michael nodded and grinned.
They continued on their tour, riding past Michael's grandparents' house, though Madison's small downtown, past the old library, and through Maplewood Park. They stopped for Cokes at the Dairy Queen on Fourth Street. Michael leaned back against his sissy bar as the hot early July breeze and the wind of the passing cars blew a slight cloud of dust in his face. He could feel the start of a sunburn on his nose and cheeks. In the distance, to the south of the main intersection of Fourth and Main, dominated by the pillars of the town, the First Baptist Church, the First Methodist Church, and the First National Bank, the dusty white towers of the Co-op grain elevator rose over the road leading to Lake Sequoyah.
"What's the matter?" Ricky asked as he pulled up beside Michael.
"What do you mean?"
"You're thinking. You're looking around at Fourth Street and the Co-op and everything. You sorry you moved here?"
Ricky smiled again.
"It's OK. I understand. Dad said that when they were kids, your Dad couldn't wait to get out of Madison."
"That's not true!" Michael lied, knowing it was. His father had never said so, but he knew that he hadn't really wanted to come back and that he had done so just because he felt he had to. Ricky didn't say anything as a big cloud of dust blew over them from a truck roaring past of Fourth.
"You know, its really cool that I've got friends here. I miss my friends back in Kirkwood, but you guys are like really cool and I'm like real glad that you're my friends. And, I like Madison. We used to come here like four or five times a year to see my grandparents."
He looked around.
"Its just that its so different than what Kirkwood and St. Louis are like, you know? There's a million people there and there are freeways and parks and Busch Gardens and the Gateway Arch and the Cardinals and... "
"I understand. But, there's cool stuff in small towns. Like you never been fishin'. Its fun to sit on the river bank and fish. And, you can see the stars so good at night here. You ever seen the Milky Way?"
"Only in Madison," Michael said with a grin.
"Ya see! You don't have the Milky Way in St. Louis. Besides, if you like the Cardinals, Dad and I drive in to Tulsa sometimes to see the Oilers play. They're a farm team for the Cardinals. And, Tulsa's got museums and malls and stuff. And, so does Oklahoma City."
Michael smiled gratefully at Ricky.
"Yeah, you're right. It'll be OK."
Tad rolled up beside them.
"Hey, I gotta get home. Its almost time for Dark Shadows !"
"OK, Barnabas. Get outta here before you burn-up."
Tad winked at Michael and shot off across the street and up Shawnee.
"Now, I'll bet you didn't have any vampires for a friend in Kirkwood, did ya?"
"No," Michael replied with a chuckle. "But, there was one guy who was always breaking a leg or an arm and because he was always wearing a cast, we called him The Mummy!"
"Well, I ain't breakin' a leg just to make you feel at home."
Michael looked at Ricky in shock.
"Well, what kind of friend are you?"
Daniel and Craig, who had been arguing about the merits of Tastee-Freeze over Dairy Queen, came up along side Michael and Ricky and the four of them headed back west along Shawnee.
Daniel and Craig regaled Michael with stories about the brothers and sisters who taught at St. Augustine's and Ricky described the other guys in Western Hills, who was cool and who wasn't. Soon, however, Michael's attention began to wane as he realized they were approaching the corner of Twelfth and Shawnee. Up ahead, he could see the giant oak tree in the center of the yard around the sandstone house. Soon, the purple and red crepe myrtle came into view and finally, they were actually passing the house.
Michael eagerly looked around the yard as they passed to see if he could spot Trevor, the blond boy he had seen Sunday as they had arrived in Madison. With disappointment, he realized he was nowhere to be found. But, just as he was about to look forward again, a movement up in the huge old oak tree caught his eye. He looked up and there saw Trevor, barefoot, in cut-offs and a white tee-shirt, sitting with his back against the main truck, his legs hanging over a large limb. He was holding a book and was watching Michael pass.
For a second, their eyes were locked until Trevor's grew suddenly wide with alarm.
"Michael!" Ricky cried. "Look out!"
But, before Michael could turn, he suddenly felt himself lurch forward and tumble over the handle bars. He found himself laying in the drainage ditch that had just opened up alongside the road.
His four companions all jumped off their bikes. Slowly, in a daze, Michael staggered up and looked around him.
"You OK?" Ricky asked with concern as he climbed down into the ditch. Daniel and Craig had jumped off their bikes and were standing beside the ditch, ready to jump down if they were needed.
"Yeah," Michael said with embarrassment and irritation.
"You sure?" Daniel asked.
"Yeah! I'm sure!"
Both Daniel and Craig took a step back. Ricky put a hand out to Michael's shoulder.
"Hey, its OK. We're just concerned about our new friend."
Michael swallowed as he picked up his bike.
"Sorry," he replied contritely. "I'm just embarrassed."
"Hey, don't be," said Craig. "Once, I rode my bike right over the edge of the Cherokee River."
"Yeah," said Ricky. "Now that was pretty stupid."
As they all climbed back on their bikes, Michael tried to look out of the corner of his eye at the oak tree. He felt his face burn as he saw Trevor had climbed down and was standing beside the trunk of the oak. He must have seen the whole thing. Michael pushed harder on the bike, trying to get away from the scene of his humiliation as quickly as possible.
As they turned onto Thirteenth Street and started heading back into their neighborhood, Michael saw BJ standing in front of the Patterson house.
"Where the hell you been?" he called as they approached. "Hurry up! The bros are gone and we got a new Playboy! Come on!"
"Alright!" Ricky replied. "Come on, guys"
A Playboy? A new Playboy? Michael looked at Daniel and Craig in alarm. Daniel frowned and slowed down. Craig looked curious.
Ricky looked back and saw the others hanging back.
"Come on! He's got the new Playboy!"
"Um, I think I'm going over to Eric's. I'll see ya."
"Pussy!" BJ yelled as he looked back over his shoulder.
Craig looked at Michael as they sat in the intersection.
"It might be cool."
"I've, um, I've never seen a Playboy."
"Me, neither. But, I want to. Come on. It'll be cool."
BJ was running up the street and Ricky was following closely on his bike. He turned back and saw Craig and Michael at the corner.
"What's the matter? Come on!"
Michael shrugged. Craig started off after the others and Michael followed.
BJ's was the last house on the street, at the edge of the addition. It was built just as the others had been, red brick ranch style. However, it was a slum. The grass had not been cut or watered in quite awhile. There was trash in the yard, junk flowing out of the open garage, and cardboard over one of the bedroom windows. BJ and Ricky were already at the front door, Ricky having dropped his bike amidst the detritus of the yard, as Michael and pulled up. Craig laid his bike in the grass beside Ricky's. Michael set the kickstand on his as he parked on the walk from the driveway to the porch.
BJ was already inside as Ricky stood at the door watching Michael reluctantly approach. He smiled in understanding.
"Just go with it, Michael. It'll be OK. BJ's really a nice guy, once you get to now him. Just go along with it. It'll be fun."
Michael smiled, though his heart was not in it. He was curious about what was about to happen. There was a thrill that he was about to do something forbidden. Yet...
Craig walked past them into the house. Ricky smiled and turned. Michael followed.
The living room didn't look much better than the front yard of the house. There were clothes strew across the room, dirty dishes and beer bottles on the tables, and a rotten, fetid smell that was faintly nauseating to Michael. Politely, he tried to avoid showing his disgust on his face as he followed Ricky into the hallway.
At the end of the hall, he found BJ and Craig already standing at the side of an unmade bed. There were clothes strewn around the room, more dirty dishes on the floor and nightstand, and roaches crawling along the window sill. Michael was revolted by the scene, so much so that he nearly turned around and walked out. He tried to be polite, but only because Ricky was his friend and had asked him to deal with the situation.
BJ was holding a Playboy magazine open with the centerfold hanging down. Craig was staring in amazement. Ricky walked over and whistled.
"Sweet," he said.
Michael swallowed and approached. There was a long-legged blond woman, naked, he huge breast exposed, with hair between her legs and...
Michael turned away, his face burning. It was difficult for him to breath. The guilt, the sense that this was wrong, that he needed to get out of there was almost overwhelming.
"Man, wouldn't ya love to fuck that pussy!" BJ said softly.
"Oh, man," Ricky whispered. "I want to suck those tits."
Michael was trembling.
"Come on, Michael," Ricky said encouragingly. "Have a look. Ain't she hot?"
Michael moved closer and looked again at the naked woman. He felt funny, all of a sudden. There was still the guilt and disgust; but, there was something else. He couldn't believe it, but, yes, he was getting hard again. This revolting situation was making him hard.
"Man, wouldn't ya love to shove your dick in and out of that sweet pussy," BJ said. His voice had a strange quality to it, one Michael had never heard, but which seemed to add to the feelings he was experiencing. He looked at Ricky. His friend's eyes were locked on the centerfold, but his right hand was squeezing his crotch.
Michael allowed his eyes to roam to Craig's and BJ's crotches and saw both were tenting outward.
My God, he thought. They're hard! More pieces of the puzzle were falling into place for Michael.
BJ suddenly set the magazine down on his bed, with the centerfold prominently displayed. He grinned at Craig and Ricky and suddenly began to unzip his pants.
Michael watched, mesmerized. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. BJ's hands seemed to move at microscopic speed as they first unsnapped his cut-offs and then slowly, ever so slowly, lowered the zipper. In reality, he simply ripped them open and dropped them to the floor. Michael was stunned.
BJ wore no underwear and Michael was stunned at the sight of his hard penis. It was a lot bigger than his, at least an inch or two longer and a lot fatter. Plus, it had dark hair at the base of it; not a lot, like his father, but still a patch. It was shaped a little differently than his, as well. It didn't have a cone at the end, as did his. Nor did it have a pink and white area behind where the cone should have been. However, what really seemed different to Michael was that BJ's penis seemed to curve in the middle toward the right. It was crooked.
He couldn't take his eyes off it.
BJ sat down beside the magazine and kicked his shorts away.
"Come on, guys. Let's have a little fun," he said with a strange, inviting voice.
Craig immediately unsnapped his Bermuda shorts and lowered the zipper. He didn't drop them to the floor, but he lowered them and his underwear to reveal his own stiff penis. It looked more like Michael's, about the same size, straight, though it pointed upward, and with the cone and pink area. Craig sat opposite BJ on the other side of the magazine.
Ricky was next. He grinned again at Michael, who was still just standing, watching the proceedings in utter astonishment. Quickly, he opened his shorts and dropped them to his feet. He pulled a plastic chair toward the bed from the cluttered card table at the side, sat down, and spread his knees wide. Ricky's penis, also, was like Michael's and Craig's: no hair, straight, about three inches, (perhaps just a little longer than Michael's), with a cone and a pink area at the end.
BJ suddenly grabbed his penis and began pumping on it as he looked at the centerfold. Michael watched, trembling, hardly able to breath. The house was not air-conditioned at the heat, combined with the stench in the room was nearly overpowering. He felt dizzy, yet he knew it was not from the environment, but from the excitement of watching BJ.
The boy was doing exactly what Michael had just discovered over the last two nights. He was rubbing his penis and, apparently, judging from the way he kept moaning the word "yeah" over and over, making it feel good. Michael wasn't the only boy who did this. Others did it. BJ was doing it. In fact, so were Craig and Ricky! All three of them were rubbing their penises! They all knew about it!
BJ was doing it differently from the way Michael had tried it. Instead of rubbing and twisting, sideways and up-and-down, BJ was moving the skin up and down. Michael realized, suddenly, how BJ's penis was different from his. Apparently, there was skin over the tip of BJ's and he was moving the skin up and down over the cone at the end. He could see the cone appear and disappear and the skin moved back and forth.
BJ spread his legs wide, as if he were showing off his pumping. He started talking again, commenting on how he would like to suck the woman's tits and lick her pussy. The comments he was making seemed so strange to Michael, so wicked, yet so exciting.
Ricky was gazing raptly at the centerfold, biting his lower lip and working his hand back and forth on his penis really slowly, then speeding up before slowing down again. His breath was raged and Michael could see his face was flushed. Craig, however, was not looking at the centerfold. Michael could see his face was aimed downward, but his eyes were glued to BJ's penis. His mouth was open and his eyes were wide with wonder. He was rubbing his penis with his fingers, not in a fist the way Michael had been doing it and as BJ and Ricky were now, but with the tips of his fingers sliding up and down the hard shaft.
Michael was fascinated with the three hard penises in front of him. They looked so amazing. He couldn't take his eyes off them. The picture of the naked woman was certainly different and curious; but, the penises where right there and they were hard and big and... exciting. Far more exciting than the naked woman.
"Hey, Michael. Aren't ya gonna beat off, too?"
Ricky's breathless question startled Michael out of his reverie. He looked at his new friend in surprise.
"Its OK. Nobody's gonna say anything."
"Yeah," said Craig. "Do it. It'll feel good. Come on. Pull your dick out."
Michael had never heard his penis referred to as a "dick" before. It sounded nasty, exciting. He bit his lower lip.
He couldn't pull his "dick" out in front of the others. It would be too embarrassing. Yet, he wanted to rub it so bad. He needed to. He realized for the first time that his dick was hard, so hard, harder than it had ever been and he felt the feeling stronger than he ever had before.
He knew that this was so wrong. He knew he should turn and get out of there. He knew that he wanted nothing more than to "beat off."
Even the phrase, "beat off," made him feel The Feeling more. Beat off. It sent a surge of The Feeling all through him just to think the words. Beat off.
"Come on, man," said BJ softly, almost hypnotically. "You know you want to do it. It'll feel good. Just look at those big ol' titties. Just think about suckin' down hard on those big ol' titties. Wouldn't that feel good?"
The thought of "suckin' down hard on those big ol' titties" was faintly revolting, like much of this experience. Yet, the entire scene was about to make Michael faint with excitement. He reached down and unfastened the belt on his Bermudas, unbuttoning them and lowering the zipper.
He was trembling and the very act of unzipping his shorts seemed to send a surge through him. He was about to expose his penis, his "dick" to the other boys. He could barely breath.
"Come on, Michael," Craig whispered. His eyes were locked on Michael's crotch, no longer even feigning looking at the centerfold. Even Ricky, whose eyes had never left the centerfold even once since he asked Michael if he were going to join them, looked over.
Michael's shorts were open, revealing his Fruit of the Loom briefs. The thick rise of his penis was standing upward beneath the tight white cloth. His left hand was holding his shorts up. With his right hand, he pulled the elastic band of his briefs outward, as if he were about to pee, and freed his rigid penis. It felt cool in the hot, sweltering air of the fetid bedroom. Staring at Craig's penis, at Craig's "dick," he hooked his left thumb over the elastic. His balls rubbed against the elastic band as his right hand wrapped around the hard shaft of his penis.
He groaned as his hand came into contact with his dick. He began twisting his hand around his dick and pumping it up and down as he had done Sunday night, Monday night, and that morning before he had gotten up. His fourth time to rub his dick was the best. This was the best feeling yet.
He could barely stand. His legs were weak as he worked his penis, his eyes darting back and forth between Craig's long and thin penis, BJ's big and fat and hairy dick, and Ricky's cute, stiff penis. Yeah, it was cute. His penis was cute. So was Craig's. BJ's was hot and exciting.
Oh, God, this was so hot. This was so exciting, so intense. He worked his dick faster and faster, his fast flying back and forth and around his hyper-stiff dick, beating off. Oh, yeah. Beating off felt so good! Oh, this felt so darn good. So damn good! Yeah. It was damn good!.
BJ groaned and let go of his dick. It bobbed and pulsed angrily, red and hard and standing straight up between his legs. The skin was now pulled back behind the cone and his balls, big fat balls, much bigger than his or Craig's or Ricky's, were pulled up tight at the base of his dick.
Michael looked up and saw that BJ's eyes were on him. He flushed with embarrassment as he realized he had been caught looking at BJ's dick. The look on BJ's face told Michael that he shouldn't have been caught. It was a grin, but it was a sneering grin, like a "caught you, I know about you" kind of grin.
Michael tried to focus his eyes on the nasty picture of the naked lady in the centerfold, but after only a few rubs on his penis, his eyes went back to Craig's penis and his pumping fist.
"Uh, uh, UH," moaned Ricky. "Oh, man, she is so fucking hot! God, I wanna fuck her so bad! AH, AH, AH, AAAAAAAH!"
Michael watched with an excited thrill as Ricky's hips moved to the edge of the chair and his hand pumped faster and faster. then, all of a sudden, his whole body seemed to stiffen. Ricky closed his eyes and threw his head back as his face took on a look as if he were in absolute agony. Then his whole body started bucking and jerking as he groaned and grunted and moaned.
Craig did the same thing almost immediately, jerked and twisting and crying out. Michael knew what was happening to them and the thought of them feeling that and experiencing what he had felt and experienced three times, pushed him over the edge. He fell to his knees. He seemed to lose all control and all conscious thought as he wildly rubbed and pumped his penis, wanting only to feel those spasms, those wonderful spasms.
When it was over, he became aware of BJ groaning in front of him. Michael was too exhausted to look up and watch. He didn't see spurts of white goo shoot out of BJ's dick all over his t-shirt and hand. He was looking at the filthy carpet between his legs, panting and trying to catch his breath.
Suddenly, he looked up in horror around him.
Oh, my God. What had he done? This had to be bad. This had to be really bad. He looked around at the disgusting mess and the half naked boys around him and shuddered.
"Hey, Michael," said Ricky with concern. "What's the matter?"
Michael looked at Ricky in revolted wonder. Quickly, he stood up and zipped up his shorts. He buttoned them and without a word, turned to the door. He fastened his belt as he quickly walked to the front door.
"Michael! Wait!" Ricky called as he desperately tried to put himself back together. But, Michael was already on his bike and pedaling down the driveway as he emerged from the front door.
"Michael! Come on, Michael! Wait!"
But, Michael was tearing down the street as fast as he could, tears pouring down his cheeks, a feeling of nausea welling up inside.
Ricky looked down at the dirty concrete of the porch. Suddenly he felt dirty. And, ashamed. He just wanted Michael to have fun.
He was confused. And, hurt. And, for the first time in his life, Ricky Patterson didn't feel in control of his life. And, it scared him.
Thus ends Chapter Two of A Curious Set of Misfits. I hope you are finding this interesting and enjoyable. Please let me know what you think by writing to me at chriswriter @ operamail.com. Thank you for reading my story.