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

by FreeThinker

“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

Chapter Seven

          “Fifteen, fourteen, swing-arm back, guidance internal, eleven, ten, nine, ignition sequence start, six…”

            Fire erupted from the base of the most powerful rocket on earth. Steam and smoke billowed into the air as thousands of gallons of water poured over the launch pad and the shuddering service tower.

            “Five, four, three, two, one, liftoff! We have lift-off on Apollo 11.”

            “Roger, lift-off and the clock has started.”

            “Houston is controlling.”

            “Tower clear, roll program complete and we’re pitching.”

            “Eleven, Houston. Go at thirty.”

            The picture on the television screen was vibrating as the giant rocket roared into the air. Walter Cronkite, the most famous newsman in America, had turned his back on the camera and was watching through the window behind him as the first men to walk on the moon rose into the sky. His colleague, Wally Schirra, one of the original seven Mercury astronauts sat beside him, watching the Saturn V rocket thunder away from Pad 39-A at the Kennedy Space Center. He was crying, “Go, baby! Go!”

            Cronkite did the same.

            “Go, baby! Go.”

            On the floor of his living room, Ricky Patterson clenched his fists and watched transfixed at the sight of the first spaceship to land on the moon leaving the earth. His eyes were watering, but Michael and Trevor, sitting beside him, didn’t see. Their own eyes were locked on the amazing sight.

            “Go, baby! Go,” Ricky whispered.

            “Coming up on sixty seconds. Mark. Sixty seconds.”

            “Roger, Houston.”

            “Oh, wow,” Ricky whispered. “Oh, wow.”

            “Someday, Rick,” his father muttered behind him from the sofa, “that’s gonna be you.”

            Ricky was speechless.

            “Coming up on Max-Q.”

            “Roger.”

            “What does that mean?” Michael asked softly.

            “That’s the point of maximum aerodynamic pressure,” Ricky muttered.

            “Coming up on the point of maximum aerodynamic pressure,” said the NASA spokesman.

            “So, what does that mean?” Michael asked with a grin.

            “It’s when the air pressure on the vehicle is the greatest.”

            After a few seconds, the Capcom in Houston radioed, “Eleven, Houston, through Max-Q.”

            “Roger. Copy.”

            “Amazing,” Michael’s father said from an arm chair to the side. “Absolutely incredible.”

            “Coming up on two minutes. Altitude twenty-four nautical miles. Down range seventy-two nautical miles.”

            “They’re that high already?” Trevor asked with awe.

            The camera was having trouble keeping focused on the rocket as it blasted through the lower atmosphere.

            “Inboard out.”

            “What’s that mean?” Michael whispered.

            “The center engine is out,” Ricky replied.

            “Is that bad?”

            “No, that’s good.”

            A few seconds later, flames shot out sideways from the middle of the rocket and the first stage could be seen falling away as the second stage ignited. Then, the section that had separated the first from the second stage and the escape tower that would fire to blast the Apollo command module away from the booster in case of an emergency shot away.

            “Skirt sep, tower jett, mode two, Neil.”

            “Roger.”

            By now, the camera was having trouble following the Saturn V and CBS switched to an animation of the rocket.

            “Darn!” Ricky declared. “I want to see the spacecraft! I don’t want to see some stupid cartoon!”

            Michael and Trevor grinned at each other as Ricky expressed his frustration.

            Next to Ricky was an almost two foot tall plastic model of the Saturn V rocket. He disconnected the first stage and the escape tower and showed it to the others.

            “In a few minutes, the second stage will jettison and then it will be just this part,” he said, pointing to the third stage and the Apollo atop it. “Then the S-IVB, the third stage will finish putting them into orbit. Then two and a half hours from now, it will fire again and send them on TLI.”

            “What’s that?” Trevor asked, impressed with Ricky’s amazing knowledge of spaceflight.

            “Trans-lunar Injection. That’s when they fire the S-IVB again and leave earth orbit.  They’re actually on their way to the moon then. It’ll take three days. Then they’ll go into orbit Saturday afternoon. Then the Eagle will separate from Columbia on Sunday morning and then Sunday afternoon, it’ll land on the Sea of Tranquility.”

            “I don’t see the Eagle in your model. Where is it?” Michael asked.

            “It’s in here,” Ricky said, pointing to the conical section between the third stage and the Apollo. “The Command and Service Modules separate and turn around and these panels here open and there’s the Lunar Module. Then they dock with it and pull it out,” he explained as he demonstrated for his audience.

            “Ignition on the S-IVB,” said a voice on the television.

            Michael’s father grinned at Ricky’s, who smiled proudly.

            The gathering continued to watch until a voice on the television said, “Cut-off!”

            “They’re in orbit,” Ricky announced.

            “Well,” said Dave Griffin standing up, “that’s really something. Boys, we just saw history being made.”

            “Yep,” Bill Patterson agreed. “When we were kids, we used to read about this stuff in Amazing Stories and now, we’re seeing it for real.”

            “Yeah,” said Ricky grinning. “And, twenty years from now, Walter Cronkite’s gonna be covering me when I take off for Mars!”

            “I don’t know,” said his Dad. But, before Ricky’s face fell too much, he quickly added, “I don’t know if Cronkite will still be doing the news then!”

            Everyone grinned as Ricky smirked at his Dad.

            “Well, I’ve got to get to the salt mine,” said Michael’s Dad as he stepped toward the open front door. As he opened the screen door, Ricky’s Dad said, “Yeah, I’m following you. Rick, I don’t want you planted in front of that boob tube all day. I want you to go out and get some sun today. OK?”

            “How about after TLI? That’s about eleven-thirty. OK?”

            His father rolled his eyes.

            “OK.”

            “Hey,” said Michael. “We can go fishing. Dad and I went to OTASCO last night and got some new Zebco reels!”

            “Really? Cool. OK.”

            The fathers smiled as they made their way out the door.

000

            The temperature on the large round thermometer outside the Patterson garage had already risen above ninety as Michael rode up the driveway with his tackle box in his bike’s basket and his fishing pole leading the way in his left hand. Ricky was just running down the front steps.

            “Hey, let me check out the new pole,” he said approaching Michael. He took the pole and inspected it.

            “Sweet,” he said handing it back with a nod of approval. “This is boss.”

            “Yeah, its way better than my old one.”

            Ricky lifted the garage door.

            “So, where’s Trev?”

            “We can pick him on the way.”

            Ricky put his tackle box in the basket of his Stingray and Michael leaned back against his sissy-bar. Ricky snorted.

            “I was startin’ to think you two were married.”

            “What’s that mean?” Michael asked with a hurt tone in his voice.

            “Well, I never see you alone. He’s always hanging on you like you’re married.”

            Ricky picked up his fishing pole and, when he turned around saw the uncomfortable look on Michael’s face.”

            “Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s OK if you and Trevor are better friends than you and me.”

            Ricky sat down on the banana seat. Michael frowned and looked downward in embarrassment.

            “It’s not that. Its just that you’re good for baseball and space and stuff like that and Trevor’s good for music and books and stuff like that.”

            Ricky had started rolling forward, but squeezed his hand brakes and looked at Michael in anger.

            “Hey, I’m just as smart as Trevor. For your information, astronauts have to know about physics and chemistry and math and have high IQ’s. OK. So I talk like an Okie, but I’m plenty smart. I got straight E’s last year!”

            Michael was horrified.

            “I didn’t mean that at all, Ricky! I know you’re smart. That’s why you’re my friend. I think you’re super cool. I know you’re gonna be an astronaut and I think that’s way cool. You’re not like BJ, whose like gonna be diggin’ ditches or stuff and getting drunk all the time and causin’ trouble.”

            Ricky swallowed and looked down.

            “Don’t knock, BJ, neither. He’s OK. He’s just had it rough. He’s like that Jack London book you were reading’, ‘bout the wolf-dog that was trained to be mean. When they taught it to love, it did. BJ’s the same way. He just gets knocked around a lot at home, so he acts the same way out here. He’s really OK. You just gotta get to know him.”

            “Well,” said Michael. “Anyway, you’re my friend, just like Trevor is. And, you cool.”

            Ricky swallowed.

            “Sorry,” he said as he rode up beside Michael. He held his hand out.

            “Buds?”

            “Buds,” Michael replied, taking his friend’s hand.

            They both grinned at each other and pedaled out into the street. Heading out Thirteenth toward Shawnee, they saw Trevor approaching on his bike, a tackle box in the basket and a fishing pole in his left hand. He waved.

            “We were just coming to get you!” Michael said as they met halfway.

            “I just saw Eric and Daniel heading out on Twelfth Street as I was leaving,” Trevor said as he turned around.

            “Cool,” Michael replied. “I like Eric. He’s a really nice guy.”

            “Yeah,” said Ricky. “He’s like everybody’s big brother. If I had a big brother, I’d want him to be just like Eric.”

            “I like my big brother just fine,” said Trevor as they turned onto Shawnee. “But, I know what you mean. Eric’s pretty cool.”

            “He and Daniel sure spend a lot of time together,” said Michael as they came up to the corner on which Trevor lived.

            “Well, they’re both altar boys at St. Augustine’s,” said Ricky as they cut across onto Twelfth, heading north out of town.

            “Yeah, I know,” said Michael. “They do a really good job. I think Eric wants to be a priest when he grows up.”

            “So does Daniel, but his parents want him to be a lawyer,” said Ricky as they rode past the sunflowers along the road. To their left, a small herd of cows lowed lazily in the field beyond the barbed wire past the drainage ditch. Only a few small clouds marred the perfectly blue Oklahoma sky. Trevor wiped some perspiration from his forehead.

            “That’s why he and Eric are such good friends,” Ricky continued. “His parents sure ride him hard. I don’t think they act like they love him much.”

            Michael frowned as he thought of Daniel sitting on the curb reading Boysworld, or watching Ricky and he playing catch but never participating; just watching.

            “I don’t think Daniel’s very happy,” said Trevor.

            “I know he isn’t,” said Ricky. “That’s why I always let him come over. Even though he never plays with us and just sits and watches. He acts happy, but I know he’s really not. He’s really nervous.”

            “Man,” said Michael with wonder. “It seems like everybody’s family is messed up except ours.”

            “Yeah, I feel pretty lucky,” said Ricky.

            “Me, too,” Trevor agreed.

            They rode along in silence, passing a farmhouse and the transmitter for the local radio station, “Radio 1490, the voice of Madison,” a small, squat, cube of a building next to a tall red and white metal tower. The road then curved to the right and soon they came upon a rickety and rusty metal bridge with wooden planks crossing the Cherokee River. Ricky was in the lead and headed off the road onto a well-worn path leading away into the grove of cottonwood trees lining the south bank of the river. They came to a clearing and braked to a stop in a cloud of dust. Ricky picked up his pole and dropped his bike in a patch of vines and weeds. Michael set the kickstand on his; Trevor carefully leaned his against the truck of an old water oak.

            “Careful of that poison ivy,” Ricky called to him as he made his way to the bank.

            “That’s not poison ivy,” said Trevor. “But, that is,” he warned as Ricky was about to step where he was pointing. Ricky jumped to the side as Michael laughed.

            Soon, the three boys were sitting on the bank overlooking the green, slow-moving water as it flowed to the southeast. Hundreds of little puffs of white from the cottonwood trees floated through the air as a couple of crows cawed at each other from their perches high up in the trees, debating which of them had dominion over the bend in the river. As Ricky reeled his lure in and cast it out again, Michael, sitting between his two friends, looked around him.

            “Where do you suppose Eric and Daniel are?”

            Ricky shrugged. A mysterious, strangely knowing look passed over Trevor’s face as he looked off toward the opposite bank and remained silent.

            “There’s another place up by the highway over there. They’re probably over there.”

            They remained silent again until, after several minutes, Trevor’s line jumped. He jerked the line and then began reeling in his fish. As it emerged from the water, Ricky chuckled.

            “Whoo! Look at that prize catch!”

            Trevor grinned as he reeled it in and took it in hand. Slowly, he removed the hook from the mouth of the little perch and threw him back in.

            “Hey,” Ricky declared. “That’s small, but not small enough to throw back. You coulda cooked him.”

            “Naw. I don’t like to kill ‘em unless I have to.”

            Michael smiled at his friend on the left as his friend on the right sniggered.

            “You’re getting philosophical again,” Ricky said with a grin.

            Trevor smiled back.

            “I really just like to come out and enjoy nature. When I was younger, Colin used to put me to sleep at night reading this book by Henry David Thoreau called A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers.”

            Ricky looked meaningfully at Michael, raised an eyebrow and circled his index finger around his ear. Michael gave him a look as Ricky grinned.

            “I have to pee,” said Michael reeling his lure and setting his pole on the ground. He stood and walked behind the boys. As he stood on the other side of a water oak relieving himself, he looked beyond into the trees.

            “Hey, I think I see Eric and Daniel down there,” he declared pointing downstream to the east.

            “Go get ‘em and tell ‘em to come up here,” said Ricky.

            Michael nodded as he zipped up and started down the path.

            When he was out of hearing range, Trevor turned to Ricky, who was gazing across the river at the trees on the north bank.

            “Listen, Ricky, I know you really don’t like me all that much and that you just hang out with me because Michael and I are friends. But, I just wanted you to know that I appreciate you being so cool to me and that I think you’re really a good guy. I really like you and I’m going to be really proud to tell people someday that I knew Rick Patterson before he went to Mars.”

            “Aw, Trevor. You’re OK. I like you,” said Ricky looking down at the river. “You’re kinda different, but then most of my friends are kinda different. I mean Kenny and Ronnie are pretty normal, but Daniel’s like a genius and quiet and Tad’s like a vampire freak and BJ’s… well, BJ’s BJ. But, you’re cool.”

            “Thanks,” said Trevor with an embarrassed smile. “Listen, I’ve got this really cool book my brother gave me called Stranger in a Strange Land. It’s really cool. Michael’s reading it right now. He’s almost finished with it and when he’s done, would you like to read it?”

            Ricky shrugged.

            “I don’t really read much,” he said in a non-committal voice. “What’s it about?”

            “Well, the members of the first expedition to Mars all died but left a baby to be raised by the Martians. And, when the second expedition goes, they bring him back to earth. But, he’s been raised like he’s a Martian and it’s about how he adjusts to earth and how earth adjusts to him.”

            “But, their ain’t any Martians. The pictures from Mariner 4 proved that there ain’t any canals and that Mars is pretty much like the moon with craters and stuff.”

            Trevor shrugged.

            “This was written before Mariner 4. But, it’s still interesting. The philosophy is really cool and if you read it, you might understand better about Michael and me being friends.”

            Ricky shrugged.

            “I’ll give it a try, but if it’s real stupid or it doesn’t make any sense, I can’t promise anything.”

            Trevor grinned.

            That’s cool.”

            Just then, the sound of twigs breaking from behind alerted them to Michael’s return. They turned and saw a strange look on Michael’s face.

            “What’s up?” Ricky asked.

            Michael shook his head and as he sat between the two, replied, “Nothing.”

            “Where’s Eric and Daniel?”

            Michael looked down at the water for a moment and then picked up his pole. As he cast, he muttered, “They’re down the bank. They’re… talking. I don’t think they want to come up here.”

            Trevor looked at Michael, but his friend simply looked out at where his fishing line entered the slowly flowing water of the river.

            Ricky seemed confused.

            “Are they OK? Is anything wrong?”

            “Nothing’s wrong!” Michael barked. “They’re just talking. OK?”

            “Hey, sorry I asked! Jeez.”

            Ricky started quickly reeling in as if he were packing up and leaving. Trevor nudged Michael’s arm and the boy looked nervously over at Ricky.

            “Sorry. I didn’t mean to jump on you.”

            Ricky looked uncertainly at Michael and then cast his line again. After a few minutes, Ricky asked softly, “I guess Daniel’s probably upset again. Is Eric trying to make him feel better?”

            “Yeah, I guess,” Michael replied.

            Ricky nodded and said nothing further. Trevor simply observed and remained silent.

000

            Michael wiped perspiration from his forehead and eyes as the three boys rode their bikes back into town. They had all been subdued after Michael’s return and were still strangely silent as they approached Trevor’s house.

            “I think I’m gonna go over to BJ’s for awhile,” Ricky said as they came to the stop sign at the corner on Shawnee. Michael said nothing, but Trevor looked at him and replied to Ricky, “That’s OK. I’ve got something I need to show Michael.”

            Ricky nodded and rode on across the street without saying anything else. Michael looked at Trevor.

            “So what do you want to show me?”

            “Well, I think we need to talk about something,” Trevor replied. “Come on.”

            Michael followed him around the end of the fence as they rode their bikes across the Renfields’ front lawn and around to their driveway. Trevor put his fishing pole and tackle box away in the garage as Michael set the kickstand on his bike and leaned his pole against his bike.

            “Come on,” Trevor said. “I need a Coke. Mom’s still at the library, so we have some privacy.”

            Michael frowned as he followed Trevor across the back yard to the back door.

            “I don’t think I’m really in the mood to… well, you know.”

            Trevor looked back at him as he climbed the steps to the back porch.

            “I know. But, I want to talk about something.”

            Michael followed him into the kitchen. Trevor removed a couple of Cokes from the refrigerator and they walked back to Trevor’s room. Trevor kicked off his sneakers, peeled off his socks, and climbed onto his bed, sitting Indian style. Michael pulled the chair out from Trevor’s desk and turned it to face the bed before sitting down.

            “So what did you see back there when you went looking for Daniel and Eric?” Trevor asked. Michael frowned and looked down.

            “Daniel… was sitting in Eric’s lap and Eric was hugging him and… I’m not sure, but I think they were kissing.”

            Trevor waited a moment and then quietly asked, “What’s wrong with that? You and I kiss.”

            “Well, yeah. We’re like water brothers. We’re like special, super special friends and… well, you know.”

            “Well, I’ve been thinking for a couple of weeks that Eric and Daniel were probably like water brothers. I mean, they’re always together and you can tell when Eric looks at Daniel that he loves him. And, the same for Daniel. So, what’s the problem?”

            Michael scrunched his face into a look of profound concentration.

            “I… I don’t know. It… just doesn’t seem right. I mean, Eric is like four years older than Daniel.”

            “So?”

            “Well, it… it just isn’t right.”

            “Well, come on, Michael. Most people wouldn’t understand you and me, either. I mean, we kiss and hug and love each other. We grok each other. Don’t you think Eric and Daniel probably grok each other?”

            Michael was silent as he looked down at the floor.

            “Besides, you know Eric is a good person. He’s probably the nicest guy in the neighborhood. He would never do anything to hurt anyone. He loves Daniel. You can tell. I think it’s cool.”

            Michael sighed.

            “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s just different and I guess it’s hard for me to get used to this new way of thinking about stuff.”

            Trevor smiled.

            “Take your shoes off and come here.”

            Michael smiled weakly in response and slowly slipped his sneakers and socks off before trudging over to the bed. Trevor set his Coke on the night table and lay down. Michael lay beside him and the boys wrapped their arms around each other. Trevor gazed into his eyes and gave him a short, sweet kiss.

            “Now, don’t you feel better?”

            Michael grinned.

            “Yeah, a little.”

            “A little?” Trevor demanded with mock outrage. He reached down and grabbed Michael’s stiff boner through his shorts.

            “Well, I know something’s feeling better!”

            They both giggled and Michael smiled and squeezed Trevor closer.

            “So, how come you looked so funny awhile ago when Ricky said he was going over to BJ’s?” Trevor asked softly.

            Michael was enjoying the sweet smell of Trevor’s breath, but this was not something he wanted to discuss. It would ruin the moment and make him feel badly again.

            “No reason.”

            Trevor narrowed his eyes.

            “Michael, we’re water brothers. You can’t keep secrets from me, like I can’t keep secrets from you.”

            Michael swallowed and looked down at the white tee-shirt around Trevor’s slim torso. He took a breath and replied, “Well, I know what he’s gonna do and I think it’s kinda gross.”

            Trevor raised his left hand and traced his finger around Michael’s face, making him shiver with delight.

            “What?”

            Trevor paused a second and took another deep breath.

            “Him and BJ are beating-off over a Playboy.”

            Trevor was so surprised that he forgot to correct Michael’s grammar.

            “What? How do you know?”

            Michael frowned and blushed.

            “Well, the day after we moved into the house, Ricky and the guys, you know, Daniel and Tad and Craig, all took me riding around town to show me around. Well, Tad had to go watch Dark Shadows, of course, and then we ran into BJ and he said he had the new Playboy and Ricky and Craig got all excited and Daniel said he was going to see Eric and Ricky talked me into going over with them. So, anyway, we got there and went into BJ’s room and he pulled out this Playboy and opened it up to the centerfold and him and BJ got all excited and started talking about what they wanted to do with her and then they pulled their dicks out and started beating off. And, Craig did, too, though he wasn’t talking about what he wanted to do to the girl. You know, now that I think about it, he wasn’t looking much at the centerfold. He was looking at everyone’s dicks.”

            “Did you do it, too?”

            Michael didn’t want to admit it, but Trevor was his water brother. He grokked Trevor and Trevor grokked him. He swallowed.

            “Yeah,” he whispered.

            “So what’s the matter?”

            Tears were forming in Michael’s eyes as he remembered the incident. The two intervening weeks had done little to ease the memory of the incident.

            “It just… seemed… so… dirty. It just didn’t seem right.”

            Trevor saw the pain in Michael’s eyes and heard the pain in his voice. He raised his hand again and placed it softly on Michael’s face.

            “But, you don’t feel that way when we do it.”

            “It’s not the same,” Michael replied vehemently. “When you and I do it, it’s not dirty. It’s… its beautiful and clean and… I don’t know. Maybe I’m sounding silly, but it’s pure. It’s not like it was at BJ’s.”

            Michael gazed at Trevor’s face, at the clear perfect skin, the blue eyes, the slightly brown eyebrows and the lighter, thick hair hanging over his forehead. He felt an emotion so strong that he wanted to cry.

            Trevor kissed him and they closed their eyes as their lips made love to each other. If someone had told him in St. Louis that he could kiss a boy and cry over the beauty of it, he would have punched them in the face. But, that was before he met Trevor.

            After a long moment, Trevor broke the kiss and smiled.

            “All boys beat-off.”

            “I guess. I just figured it out my first night here in Madison. I know everybody does it. But, it just didn’t seem right that day the way…”

            “I know what you mean,” Trevor interrupted. “And, you think Ricky is doing that right now over at BJ’s. Did you all do it to each other?”

            “No! In fact, Ricky never looked at any of us. He just looked at the centerfold. Craig never looked at the centerfold; he just looked at us. But, now that I think about it, BJ did something really weird. I was looking at his dick and he caught me and gave me this weird smile. I was afraid because I thought he would beat me up for looking at his dick. But, he just gave this weird smile, like he was looking inside me and was laughing at me. It was like he was teasing me and looking down on me all at the same time. I think that’s what made it all seem so… so dirty.”

            Trevor frowned.

            “I don’t trust BJ. There’s something about him that’s not right.”

            “Yeah. I know Ricky likes him and everything, but, he really makes me feel weird. Like he’s… I don’t know how to say it without it sounding silly. He reminds me of Satan.”

            “So that’s why you feel weird right now. You don’t feel right about Ricky beating-off over at BJ’s.”

            Michael nodded and then scrunched his face up.

            “Is there something else to call it besides beating-off? That sounds so… dirty.”

            Trevor nodded.

            “Masturbating. That’s what it really called.”

            Michael nodded.

            “I don’t like Ricky masturbating with BJ.”

            Trevor smiled.

            “He’s you’re friend. You care for him. He could almost be a water brother, right?”

            Michael’s eyes opened.

            “No. Well, maybe. No. But… I like Ricky a lot. He’s really cool.”

            “He is.”

            “And…” Michael blushed. “It would be kinda cool to… you know… do it with him. I mean, I’d like to hug him and stuff.”

            “He’s really good looking,” said Trevor.

            “But, its not like with you. You and me grok. I don’t think Ricky and me grok. You know?”

            “But, I think Ricky is almost a water brother. I talked with him this afternoon when you went to look for Daniel and Eric. We’re OK with each other now.”

            “Good,” Michael whispered. “I was worried.”

            “I’ve got an idea,” Trevor whispered with a smile. “Maybe Sunday night, when we sleepover at Ricky’s to watch the moonwalk, maybe after, we can make Ricky a sort of half water brother.”

            Michael’s eyes opened wide.

            “You mean…”

            Trevor smiled.

            “I think Ricky’s a really neat guy. I think he’s special. Not as special as you, but…”

            “Wow, I never thought about it.”

            Trevor smirked.

            “Well,” Michael replied with a blush, “OK. I thought about it.”

            Trevor grinned and kissed Michael on the lips.

            “Now, about that boner in your shorts. You still not in the mood?”

            Michael growled and rolled over on top of Trevor.

So, there is the long delayed Chapter 7. I hope you have enjoyed it and the hints of things to come. Please let me know what you think at chriswriter@operamail.com.