Jeff was standing on a crack in the driveway, using it as a free-throw line. He dribbled the ball once, twice, then aimed and fired. It hit the rim and bounced back hard into his hands.

Basketball season was long over, and playing a sport off season was uncool. No one did. And he knew the neighbors must think him crazy for shooting baskets on such a hot day, but he liked the feel of the sun on his bare back and the prickly sensation of sweat dripping down his chest and legs.

Besides, what else was there to do? Scott, his best (and only) friend, was at a summer camp in the Sierra Mountains. Even his brother was at an uncle's farm in Iowa: anywhere but dull San Jose. His house didn't have a pool. There was nothing on TV except for game shows and incomprehensible soap operas. Of course there were cartoons, but his interest in cartoons had slipped away months ago without him even even realizing it.

Deep down Jeff knew he would make the team whether he played well or not, simply because he was a Tall Kid. (There were Blacks, Latinos, Asians and. . . Tall Kids.) After all, how many fourteen-year-olds measured almost six feet? Yet he didn't want to take any chances. He was weakest at free-throws, and before each shot the coach's instructions played in his head like a voice-over: "Use your left hand to place the ball and your right to push it to the basket." He had always thrown it with both hands, and now when he shot the ball it seemed heavy. Maybe he was a wimp after all. Another symptom.

He threw the ball again. This time it swished through the hoop.

He had really begun to grow three years earlier, and it was then that his relationship with gravity and objects unraveled. At first the changes were minor. He lost his footing, or things fell from his hands and broke. Soon nothing in the house was safe: his brother's eye glasses, the door to the dishwasher, the lawn mower. His mom tried to reassure him that this clumsiness was merely a phase, that in time he would adjust to whatever changes were taking place.

Control over his body seemed to disintegrate only further, though. His feet stretched out in front of him. He could no longer fit his fingers through scissor handles or between the black keys on the piano, and his dad grumbled constantly about how quickly he outgrew pants and shoes. What could he do to stop it?

Nicknames like Jolly Green Giant, stilts and string bean were beginning to stick. He was asked "How's the weather up there," or someone would joke that he wore clown shoes (size twelve). He had even been called "bean pole," whatever that meant. He was turning into a freak who would soon rise into the clouds like the vine in Jack and the Bean Stalk.

Not only did he have oversized hands and feet, but there was another part of his body that was taking on gigantic proportions: his penis. One time after PE when the class was taking showers, a kid named Stuart chanted "Jeff's gotta big dick, Jeff's gotta big dick," which drew the other boys' attention to him and made it fill with blood and rise dangerously.

He decided he had been in the sun long enough and was about to go inside when eleven-year-old Brian Turner came outside. Brian saw Jeff shooting baskets in the drive way and began walking across the street toward him.

Jeff had first noticed Brian and his twelve-year-old brother David soon after moving into the new house. They were both blond and blue-eyed (like him) and tanned easily and darkly (unlike him), and now that it was hot, they wore only ragged cutoff jeans. Jeff often spied on them through a hole in the backyard fence that looked onto the street. He watched undetected as they played catch with a baseball or football or helped their dad prepare their motorboat for weekends up the Sacramento Delta. Using a toy telescope, he had even tried zooming in on their bare chests and legs, but it was impossible to keep them in focus. Their quick-moving bodies were no more than jumbled fragments of brown skin and denim.

Jeff was intimidated by David. It had nothing to do with size: Jeff was older and much bigger and knew he could beat David up. Something else made Dave appear superior, a vague awareness that David could somehow unmask him at any moment. For one thing, he was cocky and so naturally like his dad. Having a father who was a police captain must give a kid an extra boost of confidence that Jeff felt he lacked.

Brian was different. He was not at all aggressive like David, but friendly and even a little shy.

At night in bed before going to sleep, Jeff closed his eyes and tried to communicate telepathically with Brian. He had once heard one of his mom's odd friends tell her that you could send messages to someone by picturing the person sitting in front of a TV and transmitting thoughts onto the screen. None had so far been acknowledged.

"Hi. Can I shoot a couple?" he asked. He was barefoot and shirtless and wearing a blue swimsuit. His hair was still wet from the pool and slicked down onto his head.

"Sure," Jeff said and sent the ball to him with a quick one-bounce pass. Brian tossed the ball to the hoop above the garage door. It hit the backboard and rolled down the driveway and into the street.

"You missed."

"Let me try again."

Brian fetched the ball and dribbled it back up the driveway. He raised it again and aimed carefully. Jeff saw that the skin under his arms was very pale compared to rest of his body. He also noticed that there was no hair. He wondered if Brian had hair elsewhere.

When he released the ball, it sailed to the basket but hit the rim and bounced back into Jeff's hands. Brian reached for the ball, but Jeff held it out of reach.

"Come on," he said. "Just one more."

"Sorry. This court is for professionals only. You're too lousy."

"I'm not lousy," Brian said and charged Jeff and pushed him onto the lawn.

He grabbed Brian by both arms, and together they fell onto the grass. He held the squirming boy in front of him. The skin-to-skin contact was making it grow and push uncomfortably against his jockey shorts.

"Didn't know you were a sore loser," Jeff said, squeezing tighter, hugging him. One hand was wrapped around Brian's stomach, and the fingers from the other pressed against his naked chest. Brian no longer struggled to escape from his grip. Jeff closed his eyes, and for a moment they remained very still.

It was just like the fights on his old street, when two or three smaller boys would gang up on him and wrestle him to the ground. He started these battles as often as they, for it gave him the chance to rub "accidentally" another boy's crotch or pin him down by lying flat on top of him.

Changing schools and neighborhoods had thrown him off balance, though. He felt less sure of himself in class and no longer raised his hand, even if he was certain of the answer. He had become quiet and withdrawn, and although he was known around school, making new friends was still difficult. And this summer was the worst he could remember. His loneliness tightened his chest and made his eyes sting. But it was the burden of his... deviancy, the fear of being recognized for what he was, that had made him so timid around boys like Brian and David. Until that moment, he'd hardly dared speak to them, let alone wrestle with them.

A car drove past the house, startling Jeff. He looked up and down the street: the other houses, almost identical to his with their neat, trim yards, seemed vacant. Cars sat motionless like animals killed by the sun. The hum of swimming pool filter pumps was the only life sign emitted from the neighborhood. There was no one around, but had that driver spotted them sitting there like that?

"Do you give?" Jeff asked and squeezed him.

"Never!" he said, squirming once again.

Brian's mother came outside and called him home to go shopping.

"Lucky for you your mom's there to protect you."

When Jeff released him, Brian lunged after him again. He tickled Brian's ribs and stomach and inside his navel. Brian curled up laughing. Jeff's fingers explored further down and tickled him again, brushing against the blue swimsuit's waistband. His hands froze.

"Your mom's waiting for you," he said after glancing down at his crotch to see if his erection was showing. It wasn't. "We can play again tomorrow if you want."

"Okay," Brian said, out of breath and getting to his feet. "See you later." He ran across the street and disappeared into his house.

Jeff rode his bike to the library. Once inside, he headed straight for the card catalog and began scanning titles under the letter H, a section he knew by heart. He'd discovered the card catalog and the terrible knowledge it contained shortly after his family's move. He couldn't pinpoint when or where he'd first made the connection between what he felt and the H-word. There were about twenty books listed under the H-word, but nothing new since the last time he'd looked, only the week before. They were located on the same shelf, and even though they were for the most part psychological, their titles alone gave him an erection.

His hours spent at the library had taught him about theories and treatments. He now knew, for example, that a period of latency existed for most boys and that sexual experimentation among peers was common. Yet what he felt (sexual desire for others of one's own sex) was absolute. He figured that the time limit for his own period of latency had been exceeded. Just as his height, it was something he had no control over, a swiftly flowing undercurrent that constantly upset the surface, at times threatening to drag him down and carry him away.

Sodomy, fellatio, incest, transsexuality, bestiality, sadism. . . the private vocabulary was overwhelming.

The term deviant appeared on page after page. Its definition (a person whose behavior differs from accepted social and moral standards, esp. in sexual behavior) applied so much to him that he was convinced there was something wrong with him -- deviancy -- and he would have to learn to live with it like in those movies on TV where the patient learns he has cancer and has only three months to live.

Kyle Nemick and Paul Hopkins, two eighth graders from his previous junior high, had the reputation for being like that. Both boys held their books in one arm against their chest, and when they spoke their tongues seemed to get stuck between their teeth. Their movements were too slack. They didn't participate in any sports. They were constant targets of ridicule and contempt. Even Jeff laughed at the mean-spirited jokes told behind their backs. He did not see himself like them at all.

When he held a mirror up to his own image, he saw -- or thought he saw -- a normal boy. He walked and acted like other boys, he played on the basketball team and ran cross country, and some girls had even flirted with him. (He reckoned that if he could fool a girl, he could fool anyone.) No one had yet called him names, but he'd sworn to himself that he would commit suicide if he were ever found out.

There was something wrong with him. The question was, just how long would he be able to conceal his deviancy from his parents and friends?

He removed two books from the shelf and carried them to a remote table. Once he sat down, he was careful to lean over them to hide their titles from anyone walking by.

The first book turned out to be of no interest. He had chosen it because there were photographs, but these were mainly of bearded men kissing each other during a parade or holding hands at barricades. It made no sense.

The second book was more exciting. He'd already read through this one several times because it contained what he liked the most: case studies, explicit descriptions of the sexual histories of various patients told to a psychologist. The chapter about the man who described how he used his mouth and then would lie down to be the female fascinated him the most. Jeff didn't understand what being the female meant, but the mention of a guy putting his mouth on another guy's dick made him hard. He couldn't believe how stupid he'd been for not thinking of trying that with Matt.

Matt was his best friend from his old neighborhood. Before he and his family moved to this side of town, he and Matt had often experimented sexually. The activities described in these books had never entered his mind when they had their pajamas pulled down to their knees and were caressing each other's naked bodies.

Matt's father was an air force captain whose jet had been shot down in Cambodia three years before they'd met. This seemed heroic and made Matt special. They both wore MIA bracelets ("Capt. John Larsen 07/66"), played baseball together, caught lizards, built models, spent the night at each others' houses. . . . They were inseparable.

One of the first times Matt came home with Jeff, they had a wrestling match in the backyard. It was decided that whoever won could make the loser do anything he wanted. Jeff was bigger and easily won. He remembered clearly Matt lying on the grass. His hands were clasped behind his head. Jeff was sitting on top of his friend's legs. It was the ultimate position of vulnerability.

"Well," Matt said. "What are you going to do?"

"Are you sure I can do anything I want?"

"Anything," Matt responded.

Jeff unsnapped Matt's jeans and repeated "Anything?" His hand was on his zipper. He slowly pulled it down.

"Anything," Matt said, giving Jeff an "I dare you to do it" look, but Jeff chickened out. He let Matt up.

Then there was the first time Matt spent the night at his house. They were wearing their pajamas, sitting on Jeff's bed. A few days before, they had learned a new game called "truth or dare" with Matt's sister and a friend of hers, doing stupid things like saying the name of the girl or boy they had a crush on or drinking toilet water. Jeff suggested they play it, and Matt replied, "Why not?" When Jeff asked "Truth or dare?" Matt chose " dare."

"I dare you to prove you are a boy," Jeff said.

"Of course I'm a boy."

"Yeah, but you gotta prove it."

After some coaxing, Matt slowly pulled down his pajamas. Jeff's sight had adjusted to the dark, and he could see the silhouette of Matt's hard-on. It was no more than a couple inches long. Then he pulled his pajamas back up. It was now his turn to ask Jeff "truth or dare." Jeff of course chose "dare."

"I dare you to prove you're a boy."

Jeff got on his knees, unsnapped his pajamas and let them drop. His hard dick sprang out. It was bigger than Matt's, but not by much. He batted it up and down, saying "boing boing boing." The naughtiness of what they were doing was making him giddy.

"Your turn to ask me something," Matt reminded him.

"Okay. Truth or dare?"

"Dare," Matt replied.

"I dare you to do this too," he said. His pajamas were still down to his knees, and he was still bouncing his cock up and down.

Matt let his pajamas slide down to his knees then batted his hard dick up and down too. Then he grabbed the tip and said "Look! It's a guitar!" and began strumming it.

It was now Matt's turn to ask a question. Jeff chose "truth."

"Okay," Matt said. "How big is your boner?"

"This big," Jeff responded, showing the size with his fingers. Then he asked, "How big is yours?"

"You didn't say truth or dare."

When Matt was asked, he giggled and chose "dare." Jeff told him to dance naked. Jeff could still remember Matt removing his pajama top and kicking off the bottoms. In the darkness Matt's pale dick flopped up and down as he waved his arms and kicked up his legs. When he returned to the bed, Matt said he'd had enough. Jeff pleaded with him for one last "truth or dare," but Matt refused. He wanted to sleep. They both climbed into their sleeping bags. Jeff's dick was still hard. Neither of them said or did anything.

When Matt and Jeff were nearly eleven, his parents let him invite Matt to Lake Tahoe on a ski trip. They slept in sleeping bags on twin beds in the same room. The beds were close together, and on the last night Jeff reached over, put his hand in Matt's sleeping bag and grabbed Matt's dick through his pajamas. Matt put his hand down Jeff's pajamas.

"Come over to my bed," Jeff whispered.

"Okay," Matt whispered back.

When Matt climbed into his bed, Jeff slipped his hand down Matt's pajamas and took hold of his cock. It was very hard. He removed his hand.

"Pull them down a little," he said. In the dark he heard Matt unsnap his pajamas and the rustling of the fabric sliding down his legs. Jeff pulled his pajamas down too. They moved close together until their bodies were almost touching, and little by little they felt each part of the other boy's body. When Jeff fondled Matt's balls in his hand, Matt took hold of his. When Jeff ran his hand over Matt's rear, Matt ran his hand over Jeff's. He inserted a finger into Matt's moist, warm crack and then grabbed hold of his dick. He spent a lot of this time exploring the head of the circumcised cock he was holding and feeling the hole where pee came out. Matt continued to copy Jeff's movements.

"Two inches," Jeff whispered after wrapping his hand around Matt's cock.

"Three inches," Matt whispered and giggled.

The combination of Matt handling his cock and balls and Jeff feeling his best friend's body was making him feel funny. His mouth filled with saliva and he was getting hot and his stomach felt like it was dropping down to his knees. He didn't understand what was happening.

"I think I have to take a leak," he said.

"Me too."

Jeff's parents were asleep in the next room, so they tip toed quietly down the stairs in the dark. He reached back and grabbed Matt's dick. It was still hard. Once in the bathroom, Jeff turned on the light, and they both pulled out their cocks. Matt's softened a little, and eventually he began to pee.

Jeff's dick was still sticking straight out, and it wouldn't go down. He pushed and pushed, but nothing came out.

"I guess I didn't have to go after all," he said and pulled his pajamas back up and watched Matt finish.

They crept back upstairs and returned to the bedroom. Matt climbed back into his own sleeping bag. When Jeff asked him if he wanted to stay on his bed a while longer, Matt replied that he was tired and wanted to sleep. Jeff reached over to Matt's sleeping bag again, but Matt pushed his hand away.

When they first began fooling around with each other, it seemed that they both had the same thing on their mind. Sometimes Jeff was the initiator, sometimes Matt suggested they skinny dip or play "truth or dare." They understood that their needed to be kept secret.

Then came a change.

Sometimes Matt came home with him after class to watch TV. (His mother refused to have one in their house.) Jeff's parents were at work, and his brother was still at school for another hour, so they were alone. Jeff suggested they play a game of strip poker, but Matt said he didn't want to. Jeff then declared that saying no meant that he automatically lost and would have to take off all his clothes anyway. Jeff pinned him to the floor and reached back and unsnapped and unzipped his jeans. Matt struggled to break free, but Jeff was easily able to pull both his jeans and underwear down to his knees. He sat on Matt's legs and played with his cock, which was hard despite his refusal to play.

"Let me up," Matt said in a tone of voice that Jeff didn't recognize. Matt's face was red. "Come on, Jeff, get off!" He didn't even try to unzip Jeff's pants.

This happened twice, and each time Matt cried. Finally, Matt stopped coming over. Once they began junior high, they made new friends and drifted apart. Then half way through the eighth grade, Jeff's family moved to the other side of town.

By the time he was twelve, he had shot up to five foot ten and was wearing size twelve shoes. Pubic hair had sprouted first around his dick and then under his arms. He began having wet dreams (nocturnal emissions) and often woke up with his hand full of sticky sperm.

During the showers at school--fifty naked boys standing close together under streams of steaming water -- he compared penis sizes and kept track of those who also had pubic hair. For reasons beyond his comprehension, he was drawn to the boys who had no hair at all. He envied their smoothness, and once he had even shaved his pubic hair. The area had turned red and itched so horribly afterward that he vowed never to do it again.

He pinpointed this behavior as the first sign of his deviancy.

"Reading porno in the library, eh?"

Jeff shut the book and turned around. It was Sean.

Sean had black hair, green eyes and a face covered with freckles. He lived a few houses down the street, and Jeff had watched him play with David and Brian. He knew that Sean's parents were divorced and that he lived with his father and an older sister. His dad owned some kind of chemical supply company. They too had a boat and a swimming pool. He also had what his mother called a "bad mouth" for a twelve-year-old: he talked about "pussy" and told people to "fuck off." Sean, like David, intimidated Jeff.

"What are you doing here?" Jeff asked. "I didn't know you could read."

"Very funny. I came to bring back a book for my sister."

Jeff glanced down at the books on the table. Their titles were not visible.

"I was just about to go back home," he said, standing up.

"Are you on your bike?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Wanna go with me to the mines?"

"The mines? What's up there?"

"Something me and a friend discovered. Come on!"

Jeff left the books on the table. He was relieved that Sean didn't turn back to read their titles.

The mines were located in a nature reserve about a quarter of a mile away from the library. It was a rough, hilly area covered with giant oak trees and sage and paths leading to reservoirs and large, crumbling smelting ovens abandoned long ago.

Jeff rode behind Sean. Now and then Sean pedaled standing up and made his bike pop wheelies over cans or rocks. Jeff watched his butt move back and forth in his faded cutoff jeans. Then they veered off onto a smaller path, and when the trail became steep, he skidded to a stop, kicking up dust. Jeff didn't have time to brake and avoided crashing into Sean by riding into a bush.

"Where did you learn to drive?" Sean asked.

They walked their bikes up the path for a while before locking them together and hiding them in some bushes. They climbed a narrower trail that ended in a thick group of bushes.

"Where are you taking me?" Jeff asked. He ducked to avoid snagging his shirt on some thorns. His eyes never left the ground; he'd already seen rattlesnakes up there and didn't want to be surprised.

"You'll see. By the way, you're not allergic to poison oak, are you?"

"I don't think so. Why?"

"Because there's poison oak all over the place. I just thought you'd want to know."

"You allergic?"

"Shit yeah!" Sean replied. "One time I got it so bad it was even on my dick."

"Sure you weren't playing with it in the bushes?"

"Only one thing's on your mind, you pervert," Sean retorted.

"I bet yours is dirtier."

They walked a little further then stopped in front of a cave entrance. "Here we are."

"This looks cool. How'd you find it?"

"A kid named Eric showed me."

"Is it deep?"

"Not really. We had flashlights. It goes back only about ten feet or so."

"Are you sure it's not a coyote lair?" Jeff asked, hoping he didn't sound like a wimp.

"There weren't when we were there. We found some Playboys, though."

"Oh yeah? Are they still there?" Jeff tried to sound interested.

"Are you kidding? Eric took 'em home. They're under his mattress. This one chick had real huge tits. Man it was great. Come on!"

"You're going in there?"

"Don't be such a pussy!"

"You lead the way. You've gone in there already."

Sean entered the cave first and told him to duck. Jeff bent down, and they slowly advanced in the dark. Jeff felt a little nervous about being in the cave, but he couldn't admit it. He was supposed to be a big sports hero.

"This is where it ends," Sean said. He cried out "ooeeeoooeeeoooee" and laughed at the echo. Jeff stuck his hand out and instead of hitting the wall tapped Sean in the stomach. "Watch it, you homo, you almost got my balls there."

"Even in broad daylight you couldn't see them."

"Hey fuck you." He felt Sean grope him near his thigh.

"Miles away. Come on. It's hot in here. Let's go out."

They were both dusty and dripping with sweat. Sean pulled off his shirt and tucked it into the back of his shorts. Jeff stared at the tiny brown nipples, the outtie belly button, and the dark tan that disappeared into his cutoffs. Jeff removed his shirt and tucked it into the back of his shorts too. His skin looked so pale next to Sean's.

"We should come back some time with a flashlight," Jeff said. "I'd like to see what it looks like."

"There aren't any cave drawings, if that's what you're looking for."

"Well, if you found some magazines, maybe there's other stuff."

"Forget it. Let's get outta here!"

They rode their bikes to Sean's house. Jeff followed Sean up the driveway.

"Man it's hot. I'm going swimming," Sean said.

"That sounds great. I'll catch you later then." Jeff turned his bike around and started walking it down the driveway.

"Don't you wanna swim?"

"You mean here? Sure, that'd be great. I'll go home and get my suit."

"It's cool if you swim in your cutoffs. I always do."

They parked their bikes in the garage and went inside.

"I've never been in your house before."

"Oh yeah? It's no big deal. Wanna see my room?"

Sean led Jeff upstairs to a door with a sign that read "Warning, disaster area." When Sean opened the door, Jeff was hit by the reek of dirty clothes and stale air.

"Don't you ever open the window?"

"Not with the air conditioning on," he said and jumped onto the bed, landing on his back and bouncing a couple times on the mattress.

Jeff looked around. Dirty socks and underwear were on the floor. Covering the walls were posters of the Giants and Forty-Niners. Folded up papers and a couple comic books cluttered a desk. In one corner sat a crate with a baseball bat and a skateboard sticking out. Jeff picked up the bat and tested its weight.

"Except for the smell, not a bad room." He swung the bat then put it back in the box. "Who does your laundry?"

"A lady named Rosa comes in once a week to clean and wash everything. Hey, wanna see my Playboys?"

"I thought Eric took them all."

"Sure, the ones we found in the cave. But I get 'em from my dad."

"From your dad?!?"

"Yeah. He gives them to me when he's tired of them."

Sean pulled out a magazine from his closet and sat back on the bed. Jeff sat next to him and looked as Sean slowly flipped through it until he stopped at a page with a large-breasted nineteen-year-old named Tiffany.

"Look. You can almost see her pussy."

Tiffany's hand was covering her crotch but, sure enough, there was a small bit of fleshy pinkness exposed between her thumb and index finger.

"Wouldn't you like to fuck a chick like that? Hustler's better, though. You see everything."

Talking about pussy with foul-mouth Sean was giving Jeff an incredible hard-on. He stuck his hand in his pocket and tried to rearrange his cock so it wasn't pressing down.

Sean looked at him and grinned. "Looking for something, Jack?"

"At least I have one," he replied. It was a lame response.

"Fuck you. Just because you're older doesn't mean you know what to do with it, you know." Sean made a swipe at Jeff's crotch and grabbed hold of his hard-on. He gave it a squeeze.

"Jesus," he said. "That sure is king sized."

Jeff reached over and squeezed Sean's dick through his cutoffs. "That's not too bad," he said. "Regular sized."

"Man, how big is it?" he asked. He was moving his hand up and down the length.

"How should I know? I never measured it."

Jeff decided it was now or never. He started pulling down Sean's zipper.

"Hey, what the fuck are you doing?"

"We're going to compare."

Sean didn't protest. He watched passively as Jeff unzipped his cutoffs all the way then undo the top button. Jeff slid them down his legs, and Sean lifted his butt, and they slid off easily.

His dick was tenting out of his white jockey shorts. Jeff ran his trembling fingers over the soft cotton fabric. Sean's cock jumped with the contact.

His hands were shaking as he pulled down Sean's underwear, and his dick sprang out. It was milky white and no more than three inches long. A few hairs were growing on either side but none directly above the shaft. Jeff began to rub the swollen head. It was warm. He could feel Sean's body shudder.

"What about you?" he said. He put his hand back on Jeff's dick, feeling it through his cutoffs.

"What about me?" He wrapped Sean's entire dick in his hand, and when he gave it a squeeze, Sean sucked his breath in.

"Come on! Let's see yours!"

"If you want to see it, you have to dig it out."

Sean took hold of Jeff's zipper and quickly pulled them down then unsnapped the top button. He tugged both the cuttoffs and his underwear down at the same time. Jeff's hard cock rose tight against his belly.

"Jesus Christ that's huge." He pushed it down and laughed when it sprang back up. "I wonder if it's as big as my dad's. You even got some hair on your balls."

They were now facing each other. Jeff was feeling Sean's dick, moving two fingers up and down the thin, hard shaft. With his free hand he felt Sean's balls. The skin was so soft.

Jeff couldn't believe this was happening. It was what he had been fantasizing about with Sean since he'd first seen him. It had all seemed so impossible but happened so quickly and easily. But didn't Sean realize what they were doing? Had Jeff finally been identified as a. . . deviant?

"This sure as shit feels great," Sean said. His hand was slowly moving up and down Jeff's cock. "Just think if there were chicks here!"

"Yeah," Jeff said, finally understanding. This was merely sexual experimentation. Sean was still undergoing his period of latency; he was biding his time until he would score with a girl. "Go a little faster."

Then neither boy said anything. As the feeling mounted they quickened the pace. Sean closed his eyes but Jeff left his open. It was an incredible turn-on to watch the younger boy grimace and gasp for air with his mouth open.

And then it happened. The cum shot out of his balls and burned a path up his shaft, and as it spurted out he pushed Sean backwards onto the bed, lying completely on top of him, their cheeks touching, and grabbed both their cocks and squeezed them together. Sean grunted and wrapped his hands over Jeff's back and pressed their groins tightly together and humped up and down. Their dicks slid easier against each other in the cum. Then he lifted his head slightly, grunted again and pushed his hips up and wrapped his arms even tighter around Jeff as he had a second orgasm.

Jeff unglued himself and rolled off Sean. Sean's eyes remained closed. His dick was hard too and there was a puddle of sperm near his navel. Jeff grabbed still swollen head and he watched as Sean sucked in his breathy and his whole body shook with another spasm. Jeff rubbed his fingers again over the pink, cum-slippery head.

"Jesus, don't." Sean said. He pushed Jeff's hand away. "It hurts too much."

"You mean it's sensitive."

"Yeah, whatever," he said weakly. His eyes were still closed and he put an arm across his face.

With his left hand he rubbed his own dick and with his right he played with Sean's smooth balls. He loved the feel of that skin. Sean opened one eye and looked up at Jeff massaging his hard-on.

"You're going to kill a chick with that, you know," he said then closed his eye again.

Jeff slowly moved two fingers up and down the shaft of Sean's dick. He wanted to try his mouth, like in the book at the library, but he sensed that it wasn't a good idea. But thinking of putting his mouth on Sean's dick and bobbing his head up and down on it until Sean squirted into his mouth put him over the edge. With each spasm a blob of sperm shot onto Sean's chest. He speeded up his hand movement on Sean's dick, and soon Sean was grunting again and kicking his legs as only a few transparent drops shot out onto his stomach. Sean pushed Jeff's hand away and opened his eyes. He kept his own hand on his dick and gently squeezed. Then he ran his hand across his chest and felt the cold sperm.

"Disgusting," he said, sitting up. "Let's jump in the pool. That'll clean us off."

A hundred thoughts and images were spinning through Jeff's brain. Instead of feeling any kind of relief or pleasure from what had happened, Jeff panicked. He was terrified that Sean would realize he was a deviant and that he would tell the entire neighborhood about what had happened.

Sean, however, didn't seem bothered at all. In the pool, he made some playful grabs at Jeff's crotch and told he would like to see Jeff "stick his cock up a chick's cunt."

Fifteen minutes of swimming was all Jeff could take before guilt and turmoil rose above him like a tidal wave about to crash down and drag him to the bottom of the pool.

That night in bed, he sent Brian another telepathic message on a TV screen. He imagined them both doing what he and Sean had done, but this time using his mouth. Before he could complete the message, however, he had wrapped his fist around his dick and had begun pumping his hand up and down.

Jeff went into the front yard for the fifth or sixth time with his basketball and shot a few baskets. He hoped the sound of the ball hitting the backboard and bouncing on the driveway would bring Brian outside, but his house was just as silent and empty as the others. Except for the ball slapping the concrete, the street was quiet.

He was about to give up when Brian rode up on his bike.

"Hi. You wanna play for a while?" he asked.

"Sure, if you want."

"Great! First let me tell my mom I'm home."

Brian walked his bike across the street and leaned it against the garage door. He went inside the house, and five minutes later he came out. He ran across the street and arrived with a big smile on his face.

"I'm back," he said. He had on a pair of red satiny soccer shorts and a red jersey with the name of his team. He was wearing white socks that were pulled up to his knees.

"Want have a one-on-one?" Jeff asked.

"You mean you against me? You'll cream me!"

"It's just for fun. I'll play using only my left hand."

Even playing with his left hand he defeated Brian easily. They were both out of breath, and his was tee-shirt sticking to his back.

"Not too bad."

"You beat me my twelve points!"

"Don't worry. I always win. That's why I'm on the team. Want a root beer?"

"Sure. Okay."

"Follow me. The air conditioning's on. It'll be cooler inside."

They went into the house and Jeff pulled two cans of root beer from the refrigerator.

"You guys have a pool table. Can we play?"

"Sure, if you want. But lets rest first."

Jeff pulled off his shirt and wiped off his face with it. He sat down at the kitchen table and leaned back in the chair. He was hoping Brian would copy him and take his off, but he didn't.

"Is it cool enough in here for you?" Jeff asked.

"Yeah, better than outside."

"I have something that will cool you off even more." He took an ice cube from his glass and put it down Brian's shirt.

"Hey!" he yelled out, laughing. He stood up and shook the ice cube from his shirt. He picked it up from the floor but didn't know what to do with it. "No fair. You're not wearing shirt."

Jeff wrestled the ice cube from his fingers and put it down Brian's shirt again. Brian grabbed the ice and began to chase after Jeff.

Jeff fled upstairs into his room and Brian followed him. Once in his room, Jeff wrestled away the ice cube again and stuck his hand up Brian's shirt and rubbed the ice on his chest. Brian was giggling and twisting.

"Cut it out! Cut it out!" Brian shrieked. "It's cold!"

Then he pulled back the elastic band of Brian's soccer shorts and dropped it down.

"Hey you," Brian cried out. He pulled the cube out and tried to put it down Jeff's cutoffs, but Jeff got it away and pulled back the soccer shorts again and this time the elastic band of his underwear and stuffed what was left of the ice down.

Brian got hold of the ice cube out and this time Jeff let Brian put it down his pants. His cutoffs were a little tight and tighter now with his hard cock pressing against the zipper.

"Okay," Jeff said. "This means war."

Brian got up and Jeff chased him around the room a couple times before Brian fell back onto the bed.

"I give," Brian said, out of breath. "I give, I give."

"If you surrender, then I get to put it down one last time."

Jeff reached for his soccer shorts and Brian made no protest. He pulled down the waistband of both the soccer shorts and his underwear. He saw that Brian's cock was standing straight up.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure you're a boy."

"That's stupid. Of course I'm a boy," he said, watching Jeff handle his dick. It was almost as big as Sean's but there was no hair. The skin seemed so white next to his tan stomach and thighs.

It was now or never. "Want to see mine?" Jeff asked. His hands were shaking. Brian said sure. He fumbled with the top button of his cutoffs then pulled the zipper down. Jeff got to his knees and let his shorts drop. The head of his dick was peaking over the top of his underwear.

"Wow. You really have a boner," Brian said after Jeff pealed back his underwear.

He told Brian to lay on the bed. He slipped Brian's shorts and underwear completely off and then pulled his shirt up.

"What if someone comes?"

"Don't worry. My parents won't be home for a couple more hours."

"Maybe we shouldn't be doing this. . . ."

"Doing what?" Jeff asked. They were side by side facing each other, and he was running his hands over Brian's chest and thighs. He played with his balls and ran his fingers over the flared head of his cock. Brian's eyes were glued to Jeff's dick. He reached out and touched it.

"What's this stuff leaking out?" Brian let go of Jeff's cock and rubbed his fingers together.

"It's my sperm."

"What do you mean, sperm?'"

"Sperm contains the little eggs that when put in a girl it makes babies. A little always leaks out before orgasm."

"Before what?"

"Orgasm. You know, when you ejaculate and you get that feeling. Don't you know anything?"

"It sounds kinda gross, if you ask me."

"It's not gross, really."

Using his new vocabulary words with another boy was strange, but it didn't seem right to talk about "pussy" and "fucking" as he did with Sean. It was more adult. He was teaching Brian things.

Jeff was breathing hard. He pushed Brian's hand away from his cock and began moving his own up and down, watching Brian who was watching him. Then he groaned and threw his head back and squeezed his eyes tightly shut as the cum went spurt spurt spurt from his cock. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw that he'd splattered Brian's chest and thighs. Jeff tightened his grip around his dick, giving it a final squeeze, and shuddered.

"You should have seen your face! I really wanted to laugh. But now I'm covered by your sperm."

He took his underwear and wiped Brian's chest clean.

"Will any come out of mine?"

"I don't know. We'll have to find out. Do you want to try something?" Jeff asked.

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Lie down and close your eyes."

Brian followed Jeff's instructions. His dick was jutting straight up. It was maybe as long as Sean's but a little thicker. Jeff leaned forward and looked closely. It didn't smell like anything. Then he opened his mouth and closed his lips around the head of Brian's cock.

At first Jeff put only the head into his mouth and made it wet with his tongue. It was warm and tasted a little salty. Then he slowly swallowed the entire shaft. He was able to put his mouth all the way down. His lips touched the smooth skin of his balls.

Brian opened his eyes and propped himself on his elbows and watched Jeff's head go slowly up and down on his dick.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Then he fell back onto the bed. He was starting to get a feeling coming from somewhere. He legs were rubbery and he wanted Jeff to stop. And then it hit, a spasm and an intense tickle where Jeff's wet mouth was sucking hard. He breathed in noisily as the tingling hit again.

"Stop!" he said and pushed Jeff's head away.

Jeff laid down flat on Brian. Both their cocks were still hard. He pressed his groin into Brian's, and Brian responded by pressing back.

"Did any sperm come out?"

"I don't think so," Jeff said. He wondered what a psychologist would write about him, now that he was a full-blown deviant. He used his mouth, probably, and "initiated sexual experimentation with peers." It no longer seemed to matter. His anguish had disappeared, for this -- lying naked on top of Brian -- somehow seemed right, more right than with Sean, or Matt.

"I'm not too heavy, am I?"

"No, it's okay. You can do what ever you want."

"You don't think I'm weird, do you?" He was putting his face closer. Brian's breath hit his cheek in hot bursts. A feeling he couldn't recognize swept through him, something warm and soft at the same time that made him want to pull Brian closer to him.

"No. . . ."

"And you won't tell anyone?" He ground his hard-on into Brian's dick. Brian pushing back again.

"Are you crazy? Of course not." He took hold of Jeff's neck and drew his head down until their noses were touching. "What else can we do?"