A lot of kids my age say that they have problems. Although that may be true, to an extent, I doubt that many sixteen-year-olds deal with the particular problem that plagued me at that age. Because of where you're reading this, I bet you'll assume I'm talking about the fact that I'm gay. Well, that's not it: first of all, I'm bi, and second, that didn't bother me too much, really. I liked girls as much as the next guy; I came to realize over time that both ways of interpreting that sentence were equally true. Not that there wasn't a lot of stigma against gays among teenagers, as there is everywhere (at least, everywhere I've been), but it just wasn't a big deal for me. I would never have dreamed of coming out, but, well, I accepted my gayness--biness, if that's a word--without too much trouble.

No, the problem I had was much bigger a deal than that. I...well, I might as well just tell you.

For as long as I can remember, though I'm told that I only moved there when I was eight months old, I lived down a suburban Connecticut street from a kid almost exactly my age named James. James was a cool kid; from second grade clear through high school, he and I were, and are, inseparable. Anyway, James was an awesome person, but this story isn't about him. No; James had a younger brother, Cody. Cody was four years younger than we were, and would hang out with us and our other friends sometimes if we were around. Embarrassingly, this little kid whooped me at soccer consistently, but in basketball he was nowhere near my match, so it was okay. Besides, he actually played soccer, and well: he was on all the travel teams and such, and starting in a few months, in seventh grade, he would be dominating in his school teams, and I didn't really play basketball, so no big deal.

Whatever. Cody was a good kid, though he did learn a lot of things four years before he really should have. Most of them were just from what we talked about in his presence, but one of them was something from me and me alone. Yeah, you've probably guessed it now.

Until I was thirteen or so, I had only the little-kid crushes on girls, which were in any case half-forged so that friends would think you were more into specific girls than you actually were. After that, I started seriously getting into this one girl, who turned me down flat (I'm not a bad-looking guy, but neither am I Adonis, and maybe I set my standards a little high that first time...). That sucked, I eventually went out with another girl briefly, made out with her some, et cetera. Around the time of my fourteenth birth, I started actually realizing that I really liked guys too. I had some brief periods of infatuation with various guys, and among them was James, but I was always too afraid to act on it. Even with James, my absolute best friend in the entire world--or maybe especially with him--I wasn't willing to risk it, fearing both the rejection and the exposure that were not only possible but probably quite likely. I did almost ask him once; I got as far as saying him name, but I wussed out at the last second and said "Never mind."

So my likes moved on; I had a couple more girlfriends but never did anything serious with them, romantically or sexually, though there was one interesting dry-hump session with my last girlfriend. I got into some pretty crazy obsessions on some guys and girls, but never acted on the guys and did little with the girls. Like I said, I was afraid. Who wouldn't be? Even in a relatively tolerant community like mine, there little jabs against gays were ubiquitous, so ingrained into the culture that the word "gay" became synonymous with "dumb." Kids suspected of being gay were completely ostracized.

Even so, I never had any real qualms about actually being gay, just about revealing it. I did, though, have quite a few qualms about the thing I've been dancing around actually writing down so far.

Okay, here it is: the summer when I was sixteen, between my sophomore and junior years, I fell completely and utterly in love with Cody, my best friend's twelve-year-old brother. But you would completely understand if you saw the kid. I said that I was no Adonis, but if no Greek goddesses fought over Cody, it's only because they knew I had claimed him. I guess he was in some ways the stereotypical ridiculously cute twelve-year-old, with dirty blond hair that got in the way of his big, beautiful brown eyes. But what can I say?

The summer before my eleventh grade, and before his seventh, I finally saw him not as my friend's little brother but as a person in his own right, and an amazingly sexy one at that. It happened to be while the three of us were just sitting around watching TV, I had to lie down on my stomach to make it at least slightly less obvious what was going on. I was sitting on one couch, Cody was on the other, perpendicular couch, and James was in a chair in front of us. My thoughts, and my gaze, drifted from the mindless comedy show to Cody, harmlessly, just for a second. I found myself staring at him, at the beautiful face, at the t-shirt which I knew concealed a wonderfully muscled chest and stomach for a kid so young, staring at the tiny bit of tanned flesh I saw poking out, from just below his belly-button to the waistband of his shorts, which were black athletic shorts bunched up on his thighs at the moment, at the little mound in his shorts that I wasn't completely sure was just the way his shorts happened to bunch, at the sharp contrast between his pale upper thigh and the tan that started around his knees, at his smooth legs, down to the ankle socks he was wearing with a hole in the toe. I really soaked him in for the first time. and found that I loved what I saw. I felt my shorts tenting.

Then, suddenly I realized who this was turning me on. This was Cody, of all people. My best friend's brother. He was twelve.

I rolled over on my stomach, hoping to conceal my arousal. I went back to watching the show, trying to put it off as just general horniness. But I kept on sneaking looks, and I kept on liking what I saw. I was so disturbed with myself that I made some excuse and went home. When I got home, of course, I immediately locked myself in my room and jacked off. I started off consciously trying to think about a girl at my school I found hot, and then a random guy, but my thoughts crept to Cody, and I loved it.

Almost angrily, I went and played video games. But Cody was on my mind for the rest of the day, and that night I again jacked off thinking of him. He was on my mind when I woke up, and all through the next day. I lied to James when he called and said that I wasn't able to hang out; instead I just lazed around my house. But TV held no interest, video games were even more mindless than usual, and I always zoned out while reading, reading the words and turning the pages but getting out of it only an image of Cody.

After a night when the only dreams I remembered involved Cody and a suspicious lack of clothing, I gave up. Maybe he was twelve. Maybe that made me, by some definitions, a pedophile. But I was in love with Cody. At eleven on the morning two days after I became obsessed, I gave James a call.

"Hey, Rick. What's up?" he answered. Caller ID.

"Hey; not much. You wanna hang out?"

"Sure. Cody's got some friends over, but they're playing basketball."

"Alright, cool. I'll be over in a minute."

I was a little disappointed that he had friends over, but basketball was good. Today was hot, so that made for a high chance of shirtlessness.

When I walked over to their house, probably literally a minute later, I heard voices and the sound of a ball dribbling from the back. They had a big yard, and behind it a big paved...place that their dad used to use to keep traps and stuff (he clammed and lobstered and did stuff like that commercially), but hadn't for a couple years. So now they had a basketball court in their backyard.

I fought back the urge to go back there, seeing as it would be kinda weird, and instead went inside, where James was sitting on the couch reading.

"Tolstoy!" I said, surprised. "Do you actually read that stuff? It's so dry."

"It's for English," he explained, putting in a bookmark. Summer assignments; oh how I loved them.

"Whattayou wanna do?"

"I don't know," I said, but then spotted the Frisbee. I picked it up and threw it to him. He caught it in his lap.

"Wanna just throw it around," he asked, "or see if Cody and his friends wanna play a game of Frisbee?"

"How many of them are there?"

"Four of them, counting Cody."

"Okay, cool. Want to?"


We walked out the back, and came just in time to see one of Cody's friends (his name was Bryon, I had seen him with Cody a couple times before) make a nice three-pointer. I clapped lightly.

There were indeed four of them, and my hopes had been affirmed. It was apparently shirts against skins, and to my delight Cody and a kid I didn't know were shirtless.

"Hey guys. Whaddup?" Cody asked.

"Wanna play some Frisbee?" James asked, holding it up.

"What do you guys think?"

The consensus was, eventually, that we would play one game of basketball and then Frisbee. Then I got introduced to all of Cody's friends; I might as well just get on with the descriptions.

Bryon, the kid who made the swoosh, was on the tall side for his age (at least, he was taller than his friends here) but also a little overweight. Even though I was once in his position, to be honest, I was kinda glad he kept his shirt on. He had black hair in that annoying style middle-school kids love, where they gel up the front and streak it blond. Danny, the kid on Bryon's team, was by contrast short but, as far as I could tell, in good shape. He had brown hair and very, very green eyes.

Cody, of course, was just beautiful, a little on the tall side but not very, in great shape. Something I noticed was that his nipples were, well, tiny; they barely stuck out and the brown (his were brown, not a dark pink like everyone else's present) covered only a tiny area of his chest. His teammate was named Kevin, and he was also a good-looking kid despite having hair in that same style I hated. It was brown, and he had the good sense not to dye it blond.

We decided that they would stay on the same teams, and that I would join Cody and Kevin and James would join the other two. That, of course, made me happy. I quickly took off my shirt, threw it in the direction of the other two (it was a relief; the day was really hot), and we started playing.

We were playing to twenty-one, with normal rules. James is helpless at basketball, but because we were both a foot taller than everyone else we were forced to mark up on each other. That meant, of course, that I stole it a lot. I did regret, though, that I was on Cody's team, otherwise I would have plenty of opportunities to move up close and brush against him. When I did find a way to "accidentally" rub against him, electricity shot through my body.

Anyway, even though Bryon was actually pretty good, my team still won handily. I hated to think it, but Cody was really the worst, by far; the kid had no idea how to shoot. I resolved to do something about that. Then we switched to Frisbee, in which there weren't very many chances to get close to Cody but plenty of chances to look--none of us, of course, put our shirts back on, and actually Danny took his off too. By the way, my initial judgment turned out right: Danny actually was pretty athletic.

It was a hot day; by the time we were done with Frisbee, about one or two, it felt like it was one-ten with the humidity something higher than that, though it was probably closer to just ninety and ninety or so. We elected to take a break and get a drink in the AC.

After that, we went outside and played some quick football, two-hand touch, but then Kevin had to go. That pretty much destroyed our ability to play anything that needed even teams. I was about to volunteer myself to just watching, but Danny suggested something more interesting: a wrestling tournament.

"Can you guys actually reasonably wrestle us?" James asked.

"Bring it on, big man!" Danny laughed, and they went.

After agreeing on quasi-real rules, and no WWF bullshit, we marked out a ring with sticks. Danny kicked off his shoes and stood in it; James walked over, leaving his shoes on.

"First rule of Fight Club: You do not talk about Fight Club," Cody said. "Second rule of Fight Club: You do not talk about Fight Club. Third rule of Fight Club: No shirts, no shoes. Get 'em off!"

We laughed. I was starting to like Cody more and more. James complied, throwing the offending articles of clothing to the side.

Danny said, "Yeah, but you're wrong. No shirt, no shoes is number six, idiot."

"Oh yeah? What's three then?"

"'If someone says 'stop' or goes limp, taps out, the fight is over.'"

"Maybe," Cody said. "But we're not playing with that rule."

That elected a few more laughs, then Danny said, "Yeah. Anyway, let's go, big man!"

They went to shake hands, and Danny took the opportunity to grab one of James's legs and then swing it around until James fell. I was impressed. James was down and Danny was on top of him, but then James just rolled over and held Danny there. Kevin called the pin, about twenty seconds after he was officially pinned, but as soon as James let up Danny had jumped on his back. They laughed and fooled around for another minute or so, then Danny finally gave up when James was holding him down with just his fingertips.

After they were done, and James had run inside to get paper and a pen to write out the chart for the tournament, Cody said, "Alright, other big man. I got you."

"Alright, little boy. Let's go."

We set up in the proper positions and everything, then Cody just charged me. I laughed and let him take me down. We ended up with me on my stomach and Cody on my back, lying on top of me.

This was wonderful. Just the bodily contact, his skin on mine, was bliss. He was sweaty and so was I, so he slipped a little around on me. Cody shifted around, trying to turn me over, but I wouldn't let him. I was enjoying his struggle.

Then Cody got creative. I clearly wasn't going to turn, and he wasn't strong enough to make me, so he had to find some other way. And oh, did he find it. Cody put himself completely on me and ground his crotch into my ass. This was beyond all reasonable expectations. I felt something distinctly hard against my ass cheek, more than once. But as much as I was enjoying it, and as much as I hoped Cody was, Cody's friends (and now James, too, I noticed), were watching. So I did something I've had to do many times, as a closeted bi teen: I was a bi guy pretending to be a straight guy pretending to be gay.

"You think that's gonna help?" I pretended to lie. "I'm loving it!"

I hoped that Cody was pretending too, and that he said only for his friends' and brother's benefit: "Damn. You fag," and he stopped.

Then he just laid on my back, apparently thinking of what he could do. He laid, intentionally or not, in such a way that his crotch was still against the top of my ass (I could clearly feel his cock outlined against my lower back; he was semi-hard, as was I, though the warmth was just a couple of inches against me), and that his breath was brushing against my neck. I could barely stand it.

Finally, he said, "Why you just lying there, huh, big man? Cuz you know that if you do anything I'll pin you?"

I laughed and reached my right arm over, squeezing it in under his waist, then I flipped him onto the ground to my side. He hit the ground with a thud and breathed out sharply, so I waited a minute to make sure he was okay, but when he immediately started struggling I decided that he was. I shifted my body onto him and laid down, keeping most of my weigt off of him. This time it was my mostly-hard cock pressing into his stomach, just the thin layers of my boxer-briefs and athletic shorts between our bodies; his face was against my chest. When he breathed I felt the air run along what chest hair I had (not too much; I didn't like the way it looked, so I shaved it every once in a while).

Cody squirmed under me, attempting to get out, but all he accomplished was making me entirely hard; there was no doubt that he felt my cock, now rock-hard, running from his belly button to almost nipple-level. His squirming seemed to be especially prominent in that area.

After maybe thirty seconds, Bryon ruined our fun: "Alright, boys. Break it up, break it up."

Reluctantly, I stood up and took a few steps backward. "Good match," Cody said in mock-seriousness, and we shook hands with a formality that made him giggle. Disappointingly, he sat down opposite the circle from me.

Bryon was apparently more serious than the rest of us, which I guess is a good trait to have sometimes but kinda ruined the atmosphere in this case. Then again, he knew his stuff when it came to wrestling, and his match against James was a serious one. It was experience and being in shape against sheer size; in this case, experience and fitness won out easily. He did something tricky that involved slamming down James's head, then when James popped up he grabbed his leg out from under him and jammed it upward. When combined with a good sweep of his own leg to the back of James's knee, he was down in seconds. I had been impressed with Danny before, but this was really good stuff. When James went down on his back, Bryon, unlike James, was actually able to keep him there. He immediately got on top of James, hooked his ankles in under James's knees, held down James's wrists with his hands, and pushed forward, his back arching and his head into the air. James was clearly trying his hardest to escape but couldn't.

Danny whistled his admiration and James smilingly congratulated him. Now it was to be Bryon against me. I was actually worried.

To tell you the truth, I have no idea at all what happened. One second we were shaking hands, and the next I was lying on my stomach in the dirt, with Bryon's arm hooked under mine and across the back of my neck. He pushed and I had to turn, for fear of breaking my arm, but instead of staying on my back I just kept on going, rolling Bryon over me and onto his back. I immediately laid on top of him, holding him down. He struggled but couldn't get out.

"Nice," Bryon said simply, and I was the winner of the tournament.

"Where's my trophy?" I asked, to a little bit of polite laughter.

We played a quick game of basketball, three against two with Cody now on James's and Bryon's team, though this time everyone just left their shirts off. The pavement was hot on bare feet, but nobody cared enough to get their shoes. Bryon and I continued to be the stars, and Cody was again by far the worst. He was definitely trying, but he couldn't shoot worth a damn. We then went inside, got some drinks, and just watched TV for a while. Well, most of us watched TV; except when I knew someone was looking at me, I was watching Cody. Bryon had to go after twenty minutes or so, and then eventually Danny left too.

It was just the three of us, still watching, for maybe ten minutes, then James excused himself to take a shower.

Another minute passed, then Cody asked, "Nick?"


"Would you mind teaching me to shoot? Basketball, I mean? I'd ask James but he's barely better than me."

I laughed. "Sure." We grabbed the basketball and went out to their court. I taught him some basics--he really didn't know anything--then had him take some foul shots. On the fifth one, I walked up behind him, put an arm on either side of him, then corrected his hands' positions on the ball. Instead of taking the shot, we just stood there wordlessly, my arms wrapped around him and my hands on his. Cody took a tiny step back, into me. I felt myself growing hard again, and I pressed against his back. I hooked my chin onto the top of his head; we were just the right heights for that. His back was hot and moist against me.

We must have stood there like that, his back pressed against me, my chin on his hair, for a good two or three minutes. Then finally, Cody said, "Nick," and I snapped out of it. I realized that, despite how horny I was and how much I liked this kid, he was still a fucking kid, a little boy. He was my best friend's twelve year old brother. What right did I have? Michael Jackson had just been acquitted, but everyone thought that he was a pedophile and everyone, including me, thought that was disgusting. Maybe we were only four years apart, but this difference between a twelve year old and a sixteen year old is infinitely more than the difference between a twenty-two year old and a twenty-six year old.

Reluctantly, I stepped back and took my arms off his. I walked a few feet to the right.

Cody took his shot, and it was a complete airball, didn't even come close to the backboard. Of his three shots before this, one had gone in and two had bounced off the backboard.

"If you don't mind," Cody said, and his voice cracked on the word "mind." He started again: "Thanks, but if you don't mind, I kinda wanna go inside now." His voice was shaking.

"Okay," I said, and my voice was also uneasy.

We went inside, taking in the basketball but leaving our clothes; we were both still only in shorts. I was pretty sweaty and I could see that Cody's body was glistening a little with his sweat, too.

When we got in, James was lying on the couch in his boxers, which were tented significantly. A year ago, when I was into James, the sight would have set me well on my way to an orgasm; even a week ago, I would have been turned on. Now I felt nothing, nothing at all.

"Nick, if you wanna take a shower, go ahead. There's towels and stuff in there."

"Alright, I will," I said. "Thanks."

I went up to their bathroom and closed the door. After verifying that there were in fact clean towels, I stripped and turned on the water, setting it cold. After a minute I stepped in, and just let the cool water wash away my sweat.

Their shower had a see-through door instead of a curtain, and the toilet was in full view of the shower, so I was surprised when Cody walked in and started taking a piss. I forced my eyes away from him, but did catch sight of just the tip of his dick through his shorts. He wasn't circumcised, unlike me.

"Nick," he said when he finished. His voice sounded almost pleading.

"Cody," I replied, in the way I usually do when people say only my name.

"I...would you mind if I, uh, got in the shower with you?" He was quick to add, almost defensively, "I'm really sweaty, and don't wanna have to wait for you to finish, because I know you'll take forever."

That was true; I did indeed take long showers. This was almost literally a dream come true, but I was reluctant nonetheless.

"I; well, we really shouldn't."

"What's the big deal?" Cody asked. The fact that his voice was still high, like the little kid he was, dissuaded me further, but after taking another good look over his glistening body I found myself unable to resist.

"Well...okay," I said.

Cody grinned and ran to lock the door.