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, not 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 like 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
“He’s a fag.”
“He is not.”
“Is, too! I saw him looking at our dicks!”
“So what? You never looked at my dick when we were doing it?”
“Well, that’s different.”
“Well, you know. It’s just checking out, you know. Come on. You know what I mean.”
Ricky Patterson was standing in the middle of Sequoyah Avenue playing catch with BJ Tharp. He was not in a good mood. After Michael had given him the brush off, he had gone fishing with Ronnie and Kenny, but it just wasn’t the same. It really irritated him that Michael was freaking out so badly about what happened. Man, what was wrong with looking at a Playboy? ‘Course you weren’t supposed to tell anyone, but still.
“Hey! Rickster! Time for supper!”
Ricky caught the last pitch from BJ and waived at his father, who was leaning out the front door. He waived BJ off and ran inside.
The evening meal was typical of the Pattersons: chaos. Everyone was talking at once, everyone was passing food. However, Ricky seemed quieter than normal, a fact that was not lost on his father. After the left the table and entered the kitchen with his dishes, his father followed him in with his.
“Rick, something bothering you?” he asked as he rinsed his plate and opened the dish washer. The boy sighed and shook his head as he rinsed his glass.
“Come on, man. It’s me. Talk.”
Ricky thought for a moment and then said, softly, “Not here.”
His Dad raised an eyebrow and then nodded. Louder, he said, “Ricky, I could use some help with the car. I gotta add a quart of oil.”
“Sure,” he responded as his mother entered the kitchen.
Several minutes later, as they leaned over the engine of the Mercury Comet, his Dad asked, “OK, Ricky. What’s up?”
Ricky swallowed and slowly replied, “I don’t think Michael likes me anymore. I mean, I want to be his friend and he’s a really cool guy. But, I think… I think I did something that made him think I’m… like BJ.”
His Dad looked at him curiously.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you know how BJ is. I mean, he’s OK, he’s just had it rough and sometimes you know how he gets. He acts all tough and rough and all, but he’s a good guy and I don’t think Michael’s had a chance to see that he’s OK and yesterday, like, BJ and I kinda gave him the wrong idea about something and… and now I don’t think he wants to be friends anymore.”
Ricky didn’t want to tell his Dad that they had been beating-off over a Playboy, but he had to say something.
“It’s kinda personal, if you know what I mean.”
His Dad looked thoughtful for a moment and then smiled on the inside. He was aware of the centerfold from the April issue that Ricky was hiding in the closet. He was pretty certain where Ricky had gotten it and had decided not to say anything. Ricky was a normal boy with a normal boy’s newly discovered interest in the female anatomy.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. Well, what can you tell me?”
Ricky sighed with relief and gratitude.
“Well, we we’re like over at BJ’s and you know their house is kinda like the city dump and Michael was trying real hard to be polite and everything and then, like , well, the something happened that bothered him and he, like, kinda freaked out and ran out and now he won’t have anything to do with me. I asked him to go fishing with me and Ronnie and Kenny and he said he wanted to go to the library. Man, who wants to go to the library instead of fishing?”
Ricky’s Dad chuckled.
“Well, he’s sure Dave Griffin’s son, all right.”
Ricky grinned for the first time in the conversation.
“Well, promise me you won’t say anything about this to anyone. I mean anyone, especially Michael or…” he looked around conspiratorially, “your Mother.”
Ricky smiled with eager anticipation.
“Alright! Scout’s honor!” he declared, giving the three fingered Boy Scout sign.
“Well,” his father began with a sigh,” you remember that tool shed behind Gramps old house over on Sycamore?”
“Yeah,” said Ricky, already imagining what was about to unfold.
“Well, Jack Hicks uncle used to own a garage over on Second, out by the Co-op. And, he used to have those calendars, you know, with the…”
He gestured with his hands, outlining the female shape.”
“Oh, yeah?” said Ricky, his grin even bigger, thrilled to be having a “grown-up” talk with the old man.
“Yeah. Well, one Saturday afternoon, we all met over at the tool shed behind our house and Jack brought the old calendar that his uncle had thrown away after the New Year. And, we were all checking it out. Well, Dave Griffin was one of the guys and, well, he kinda freaked out, as you put it, and got all moral on us and for days afterwards, he avoided all of us like the plague.”
“Yeah? Were they like, you know, like completely… naked?”
“We don’t need to get into that. The point of the story is that Dave eventually got over it. We just knew not to include him in anything like that again. Of course, our nickname for him was St. David.”
His Dad smiled.
“David Griffin was always doing things like taking up for the kids who got bullied and he was always playing by the rules. Everybody knew he was an altar boy at St. Augustine’s. In fact, I remember in the ninth grade when he talked about becoming a priest. He was just a real prude. Well, not really a prude, but, I don’t know how to describe him. He never tattled or ratted anyone out. He just… he just never got in trouble.”
“Did he like to go to the library instead of fishin’?”
His Dad grinned.
“Well, I don’t know about that. He was a pretty good fisherman. And, he threw a pretty mean curve ball. Yeah, I suppose he went to the library, a lot. We all knew he couldn’t wait to get out of Madison and that he was going to make something of himself. It sure surprised the hell out of me when he moved back.”
“So, whaddaya think I should do about Michael?”
His father thought a bit.
“Well, we’ve got the neighborhood cook-out tomorrow for the Fourth. He’ll have to show for that since its right in front of his house. Hey! I got it! You know you were asking me about those astronauts coming to Tulsa tomorrow morning?”
“Yeah! Can we go after all?”
“Well, if we help your mother out a lot tonight and get as much ready for the cook-out as possible tonight, we can go. Why don’t you go over and ask Michael if he wants to come? Hey, and invite his Dad along, too. Then, if Dave says sure, Michael will have to come along! Then you two can make up and he’ll see you’re OK.”
“Yeah! That’s great, Dad! Thanks! I’ll go tell him right now!”
With that, Ricky took off down the driveway, leaving his Dad holding a dirty rag, an empty oil can, and a proud smile.
However, as he was crossing the street, he saw the new kid from over on Shawnee, the weird one who was always sitting in the oak tree outside his house, reading. He was riding his bike up Thirteenth Street and as Ricky slowed down, the kid looked at him as he turned into Michael’s driveway. Ricky stopped in the middle of the street, uncertain whether to continue or to turn around. He looked back at his father, who pointed at Michael’s front door, urging him on. He took a deep breath, shrugged and marched on across the street.
Michael was shocked when Trevor’s mother approached them in the library and told them it was almost five o’clock. He and Trevor had so enjoyed looking at the various art books and discussing life that he had completely lost track of time.
“I need to get home or my Mom’s going to skin me alive!” he declared as he stood.
“Would you like a ride, Michael?” Mrs. Renfield offered. “Trevor is riding home with me and we’d be more than happy to drop you off.”
“Thank you, but I rode my bike.”
He turned to Trevor and with an eagerness he didn’t mean to be so obvious, added, “Hey, why don’t you come over to my place after dinner! I can show you my model airplanes! And, I’ve got this really cool model of the H.M.S. Bounty!”
Trevor smiled broadly.
“OK,” he replied in a way that just melted Michael’s heart.
“It’s the second house on the right from Thirteenth on Sequoyah.”
“Cool,” Trevor replied with a huge grin.
Michael turned around twice and waived as he walked to the front door of the library. Both times, he saw Trevor and his mother engaged in a deep conversation, even though both seemed to be looking his way as they spoke. As he closed the door behind him, he jumped down each step, joyously crushing katydid shells, until he came to the sidewalk. The ride up Shawnee back home seemed to take no time at all and as he sped into the driveway, his father was just climbing out of the car. He stood holding his jacket over his arm in the summer heat and smiled happily as he saw the look of peace and joy on his son’s face.
“Hey, Mikey. What’s got you grinning like a monkey?”
Michael parked his bike in the garage and ran back out onto the driveway.
“I made a really cool friend today!” he announced with a shining face. “His name’s Trevor and he lives over on the other block in that funny orange house with the big porch and the huge yard with all those flowery bushes.”
His Dad nodded as the walked up to the steps.
“We met at the library. His mom’s a librarian there and she introduced us and he’s like really smart and knows all about art and architecture and all sorts of stuff. And, he’s like really funny and he really cool!”
As they entered the cool of the living room, his father chuckled at Michael’s enthusiasm. His mother peeked around the corner from the dining room.
“Well, what’s all the commotion about?”
“It seems that Mikey’s made a new friend,” his father replied with a meaningful look. His mother grinned and said, “See? I told you they would adjust.”
They kissed as Michael ran to his bedroom.
“I know. I was just afraid that Madison would do to Michael what it did to me.”
They hugged again.
“Dave, Its not the forties anymore. Things change. Madison’s changed. Michael’s tough. He’ll survive.”
As soon as Michael was excused later from the dinner table, he ran to his room and began to organize his models. He turned his radio to a top 40 station, KAKC, The Big 97 in Tulsa, and kept glancing out the window to see if Trevor was coming. He noticed Ricky across the street helping his dad do something to their car. Every once in awhile, they would look over at his house. Michael had the uncomfortable feeling that, perhaps, they were talking about him. He sighed. Ricky really wasn't that bad a guy. Yeah, the situation at BJ's had been weird, but...
A movement down the street caught his attention. It was Trevor! Michael jumped up and ran to the living room. He threw the door open and saw... Ricky.
Well, Ricky standing in the street and Trevor laying his bike in the grass by the front porch. Michael felt distinctly uncomfortable.
Ricky waived uncertainly as he approached the curb. Trevor's face looked curiously first at Ricky and then at Michael.
"Hi," Michael said softly to Trevor.
"Hi," Trevor replied.
Ricky cautiously stepped into the yard.
"Hey," he called out.
"Hey," Michael replied.
The three stood silent for a moment, Trevor sensing something strained in the other two boys. After a moment, Michael swallowed.
"Um, Ricky, this is Trevor. Trevor, this is Ricky."
"Hey," Ricky said quietly.
"Hi," Trevor replied casually.
After another uncomfortable silence, Ricky spoke up.
"Um, listen. Dad and I are goin' in to Tulsa tomorrow to see those astronauts from Apollo 10 that are at the airport. Um, you wanna go?"
Michael stood nervously in the door. He swallowed. He saw the earnest look in Ricky's eyes and suddenly felt an affection for the guy he hadn't felt before. Slowly a smile came to his face.
"Sure, that'd be cool."
Ricky sighed with relief and grinned.
"Cool. My dad was thinkin' maybe your dad might wanna come, too."
"Sure. I'll ask him."
Then, as the conversation, yet again, lagged, Michael looked up at Ricky and grinned.
"Hey, I'm getting ready to show Trevor my room. You want to see it , too?"
Ricky loped across the yard. Michael noticed that Trevor smiled, but that it seemed forced. He realized that Trevor was a bit disappointed at sharing the experience with Ricky. Michael smiled and winked at Trevor, who grinned back.
As they entered the living room, Trevor looked around and said, "This is really nice. You're parents have really good taste in furniture."
Ricky looked at Trevor as if he were strange and raised an eyebrow at Michael.
"Thanks," Michael replied. "I'll tell them." And, he then guided them to his room.
As they entered, Trevor was drawn to Michael's bookshelf, Ricky to the table in the corner on which his models were arranged.
"Oh, man! This is too cool!" Ricky enthused as he carefully picked up an old World War Two fighter.
"Thanks," Michael replied proudly. "That's a P-41 Mustang. And, this is a Corsair. How do you like my F-4 Phantom? This is my fave."
"Boss. This is what they use in Vietnam. Man, I wish I could fly one of these. They are hot! "
"You like planes?" Michael asked.
"Oh, yeah. Fact, I'm gonna be an astronaut. I'm goin' to the Air Force Academy and then to test pilot school and then I'm join NASA. I'm goin' to Mars."
"How do you know?"
"Dad says you gotta set goals and if you stick to 'em, you can do anything. I figure I'll be thirty by the time NASA's ready to send me to Mars. 'Course, I won't be ready for the first mission. That’ll be in 1984. I won't be thirty 'till 1987. But, I'll still get to go on the second or third flight, though. Probably go to the moon, too. We’ll have the moon base by then."
"Man, Ricky. You really know a lot about space," said Michael with admiration in his voice. Ricky simply shrugged.
"We drove down to Houston last summer and got to go to the Manned Spacecraft Center. They showed us the centrifuge where they teach the astronauts about high-g's and we saw some of the boosters laying on their sides on display and we even saw Mission Control! It was cool."
Michael saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Trevor was carefully holding the model of the Bounty and looking over the selection of books in Michael's shelf.
"You like my Bounty?" Michael asked, noticing how quiet Trevor had been. His new friend silently nodded and turned back to the shelves.
"You sure got a lotta books," Ricky commented as he watched Trevor perusing the selection. Michael shrugged.
"I like reading. I like a lot of stuff."
Trevor pulled out a very old book, a collection of English poetry, and opened the cover.
"That's over a hundred years old," Michael said proudly. "It belonged to my grandmother's grandmother."
"Wow," Trevor breathed. "This must be really valuable."
"It is," said Michael moving toward Trevor. "And, this was my Dad's when he was a kid."
He pulled out Works of Robert Louis Stevenson.
"It has Treasure Island and Kidnapped and David Balfour and Prince Otto and... "
"I liked Prince Otto," Trevor interrupted softly. "I thought it was funny."
Their eyes met and Michael grinned.
"Hey," said Ricky, turning attention back to him as he spied a framed picture on Michael's desk of the Griffin family at the base of the Gateway Arch. "I been there."
"That's the Arch in St. Louis," Michael explained to Trevor, who nodded.
"I know," Ricky replied, as if the comment had been directed at him. "I love the way it swings back and forth when the wind blows when you go up to the top."
"Yeah," replied Michael. "And, the windows are cool, too."
"Yeah, the way they slant in and you're looking straight down underneath."
"I hate the elevators," Trevor said softly. "They make you claustrophobic and I hate the way they rock back and forth when they’re going up."
"Oh, yeah," said Michael. "I know what you mean. So, you've been there, too?"
"Yeah," Ricky interrupted. We went last summer."
Trevor hesitated, then said, "We went in August when we took my brother to school. He's goes to Washington University."
"Really? We only lived about three or four miles from Wash U."
Ricky frowned. He leaned against the edge of Michael's desk and crossed his arms. With a suspicious, almost challenging voice, he asked, "So Trevor, you like to fish?"
Trevor looked at Ricky and was surprised by the almost belligerent stance in the boy.
"Well... yes. I love to fish. My Dad and I go fishing a lot."
"Really?" Ricky asked, surprised.
"Yeah. I love the country. I love nature. I love how peaceful and quiet it is. I love to watch the fish swimming around. I love trying to figure out where they're going to bite. Its fun."
"Oh. Well. Um, well, listen. Some friends and me like to go fishin' over on the Cherokee River. You ever been fishin' there?"
Trevor shook his head.
"Not yet. But, I'd like to go."
"Well, cool. OK. I been tryin' to get Michael to go, but he wanted to go to the library."
Trevor and Michael both chuckled.
"What's so funny?"
"Well," Michael replied. "That's where Trevor and I became friends."
Ricky smirked and rolled his eyes.
"You need to meet Daniel. He's a genius, too."
He turned toward Michael's model airplanes and added, "That's all we need in this neighborhood is more geniuses."
"Hey," said Michael with a grin. "What's wrong with geniuses?"
And, to make his point, he playfully punched Ricky in the shoulder.
"Oh, you think you're tough, eh?" said Ricky with a menacing grin. He started moving toward Michael with his hands ready for action and Michael grew wide-eyed as he backed up and prepared to defend himself.
"Uh, oh," he muttered.
"Uh, oh is right," said Ricky with a bit too much cockiness. He lunged at Michael and in a second, the two were rolling on the floor, struggling to pin the other to the carpet. Unfortunately for Ricky, the aspiring astronaut didn't consider the possibility that the skinny, almost delicate-looking Trevor might even consider getting involved. But, as he had almost pinned Michael's shoulders to the floor, he suddenly heard a loud, "Yaaaah!" in his ear and found himself flung backward. Michael immediately jumped up and, in a moment, Ricky found an insanely grinning Michael sitting on his chest and an equally grinning Trevor holding his hands to the floor, outstretched over his head. Ricky was desperately trying to buck Michael up and off his torso, but his foe chose to cheat by tickling him under the arms.
"AAAAAAAH!" Ricky screamed between uncontrollable laughs, "that's cheating!"
"It certainly is," Michael's father declared in the doorway of the bedroom as the boys froze. "I strongly urge you three to take this out to the front yard, where Rick won't have the disadvantage of this being Michael's room."
Michael grinned at his father.
"Alright," he agreed enthusiastically. "Come on!"
Michael was the first to burst through his bedroom door as his father jumped backward to avoid being run down by the three boys. As he reached the center of the yard, he turned and found Ricky running full-tilt toward him with Trevor just emerging from the front door. Michael jumped to the side, but not before Ricky, unable to change direction fast enough, threw his left arm out and caught him by the shirt, spinning him around as Ricky stopped and spun. Soon, all three were in a wildly gyrating tangle of arms and legs in the grass.
After only a couple of minutes, as he lay atop Ricky, trying to hold his arms down to the ground as Trevor tried to twist him off Ricky, Michael ground his crotch against Ricky’s hips and suddenly gasped at the incredible feeling. He realized that he was fiercely hard and a sudden burst of feeling that exploded in his penis as he twisted against his friend left him more breathless than the exertion of the wrestling. Taking advantage of his momentary lapse in concentration, Ricky suddenly bucked upward with his hips, causing Michael to gasp both from the shock of the maneuver and from the sudden added sensation in his loins. He landed on his back as Ricky landed perpendicularly on his chest and Trevor jumped on his legs. In the ensuing struggle, Michael thought he felt the palm of Trevor’s hand twice slide across where his shorts were not so successfully hiding his rigidly stiff penis. It sent a thrill through him and he found himself not struggling quite so much as he might when some part of one of his friends came into contact with that special place.
The boys froze as Michael's mother leaned out the front door.
"Don't you get grass stains all over those new shorts!"
"Yes, ma'am," he replied as the heap of struggling arms and legs resolved itself into three panting eleven year-old boys.
As the screen door closed and the slam of the front door could be heard, the three stood grinning at each other. Michael was thrilled to see that all three of them had lumps in their shorts. Ricky seemed completely oblivious of his and his friends’ states of arousal, however. Michael could see, though, that Trevor's eyes kept darting downward to their crotches and once, after a quick glance downward, their eyes met. Trevor blushed furiously as he quickly looked away. Fortunately, their attention was diverted by Ricky, who invited the two to check out his own bedroom across the street.
It was not until later in the evening, when the three had said good-night and Trevor had accepted an invitation from Ricky to join them in the morning on their trip to Tulsa that Michael had an opportunity to take care of his throbbing boyhood.
He was amazed that Ricky had not seemed once to notice the conditions in which both he and Trevor had found themselves. Twice more, however, Michael had realized that Trevor had caught him stealing a glance at the rise in his friend's shorts even as he, himself, was doing the same. It had left him in a state of mind-numbing consternation and when Trevor's father came strolling around the corner to retrieve his son and Michael's father announced from across the street that it was time for his shower, he was not as disappointed as he might have been, grateful for the opportunity to find a moment of solitude and relief. His father was slightly surprised at his son's eagerness to shower.
"Hey, slow down, there, Andretti!" he declared as Michael hurried past him from the living room into the hallway.
"I have to get ready for bed," Michael declared disingenuously. "We're getting up early tomorrow to go see the astronauts!"
His father raised a curious eyebrow and shrugged.
As Michael closed the door to the bathroom, his hands were trembling. He turned on the water in the shower and quickly undressed. He stood naked before the shower curtain, breathlessly staring at his rigid stiffness. It quivered in the cool air of the bathroom and he had to fight the urge to grab it and wildly rub it. He reached inside the shower, adjusted the water, and stepped in.
Immediately, he wrapped his fingers around his penis. He gasped in pleasure and closed his eyes as he held it.
Trevor had rubbed his crotch. It was no accident. He knew it wasn’t. It just couldn’t have been. He had to have done it deliberately. And, Trevor had been hard, as well.
He thought of the sight of the rise in the boy’s shorts, pointing upward and to the right, very obvious as they had stood in the yard. Of course, Ricky had been hard, too. He could see, once again, the image of Ricky’s stiff penis pointing downward and to the left, pushing his shorts outward just a bit more than Trevor’s did.
Michael began to slowly twist his hand around the rigid penis, feeling it pulse and stiffen even more in his hand. He thought of the three of them standing there, all three hard.
He wondered what Trevor’s penis looked like when it was hard. He had seen Ricky’s; it didn’t look too much different from his own. He wondered if Trevor’s looked like his and Ricky’s, with a cone at the end and that pink area behind it, or if it looked more like BJ’s, with that skin covering the cone.
He felt dizzy as his hand began twisting faster and pumping up and down on his penis. He steadied himself against the wall of the shower as images of Ricky’s penis and of what he thought Trevor’s penis must look like swan before him.
It was becoming difficult to rub his penis as the water flowed over his body. He opened his eyes and saw the soap lying in the indented dish in the wall. He released his penis and took the soap, lathering up his hand as he felt a thrill of anticipation in his chest. His penis jumped expectantly as it stood up and outward from below his tummy. He closed his eyes as he reached downward and then…
He almost fell over as he wrapped his soapy hand around his penis. He couldn’t help it. He lost control and began rubbing, squeezing, twisting, pumping his penis with complete abandon. He thrust his hips outward and threw his head back as images of Trevor’s pretty face flew before him.
Yes, Trevor was pretty. Pretty. Oh, God, Trevor was so pretty. And, he looked so hot with that lump in his shorts. Trevor had felt him. Trevor had felt his hard penis. Trevor had blushed when they caught each other looking. Trevor wanted to touch his penis. Michael wanted to touch Trevor’s penis. Oh, yeah. Michael wanted to wrap his fingers around Trevor’s penis the way he was doing to his own right then. He wanted Trevor to feel him, too.
He wanted to get naked with Trevor and Ricky. He wanted to stand naked with their penises hard and stiff and sticking out. He wanted to reach out and feel both of them, wrap his fingers around both of their penises. He wanted to look at their faces, Ricky’s cute face with his reddish, brownish, blond hair, his freckles, his grin. Ricky was cute. Yeah, Ricky was cute. But, Trevor! Oh, man, Trevor was so pretty with that golden blond hair hanging over his forehead and those long eyebrows and his soft-looking face and that cute blush and…
Oh, Trevor!!!! Trevor!!!! Trevor!!!!!!!!!
Michael felt the feeling start deep within. He felt his penis become so rock hard and then, suddenly, it seemed as if his body was exploding and he couldn’t help himself. He jerked and quaked and almost slipped in the wet tub as he twisted and thrust and writhed in the hot water that flowed over his naked body.
He fell against the tile wall of the shower, panting, his eyes wide with wonder that anything could feel so good, so incredibly good, so absolutely, fantastically wonderful. He gasped for air as he felt the water start to turn cold.
“Hey, Mikey! You drowning in there?”
The voice and knock of his father awoke him.
“Um, no. Um, I’m done.”
He rinsed the soap off his penis and turned off the water, standing for a moment dripping in the shower.
Gosh, he felt good. And, his penis was still hard as a rock! Surprisingly, he didn’t feel dirty or wicked or gross, the way he had before. In fact, he felt like he needed to do it again! Well, he slept alone. He could do it again as soon as he climbed into bed!
Life was good.
And, so, we leave Michael as Chapter Four ends. I hope you are enjoying the story and will let me know by emailing chriswriter @ operamail.com. Thank you for reading my story!