Green Room II
Chapter 30

During my rent-boy days, the first job organized for me was with an older guy. It was also the first time I'd been paid to let a guy play with me. A major concern at the time was my friendship with Kyle, which was still relatively new. However, by that stage, Kyle and I had engaged in sex. I enjoyed it so much I thought it would be like that with everyone, but I was too young to understand. Okay, so now I know better, but I nonetheless got off on the power trip. This older guy wanted me so bad that, instead of just one hour, I stayed the whole night and earned a fortune in cash. It was too easy, with no intercourse involved. The only downside was my red-raw cock in the morning.

However, I made sure I knew when that guy was due  in town again, and the same thing happened once more--except, this time, I refused to allow him into my mouth. He didn't complain, and paid even more than last time. I told him if he didn't, he would never see me again.

He never did see me again, anyway, because I hated him. And I hated him touching me. I never confided in Kyle about those times, but I suspected he was aware of my depressed state. Despite his sixth sense, however, he never figured out the real reason. Sometimes, to his bewilderment, I dumped my depressions on him.

At the time, it dawned on me that all was not well with my sexuality. At least, that's how I felt. I was 16; on the one hand naïve but on the other powerful. I used my looks to control people for money and drugs, not realizing the consequences. It was the beginning of all the crap I've dealt with since then.

Graham, his girl, Julie and I took in a movie Saturday night and afterwards dined on pizza and shakes. Shakes? Yeah! Can you believe that?

After we escorted the girls home, Graham and I rocked over to my house, where we watched a cool movie called Con Air. Later, we climbed into my bed, wearing our boxers. Graham snuggled up behind me and placed his warm hands on my abs. We both fell asleep.

Now, that was the route I took with Graham. If things graduated to something more erotic, it would need to be mutual. I needed his trust, and it was forthcoming. Sleeping in the same bed was just so normal, just like sharing the same bed with Kyle.

Surfed Saturday, studied in the afternoon,  visited Julie for an hour then resumed study. Sunday morning I slept in, unaware that the grommet had arrived. I was still in land of Zs when he jumped on my back, and sent a helluva fisty to my shoulder. I thought my arm would go lame. I grabbed him, and we wrestled. A minute later, my bed looked like it had barely survived a twister.

"I just popped in to say g'day `cause I'm going out for the day with my folks."

"Thanks for letting me know."

Sunday night I watched the Grand Prix on TV. Actually, things were deadly quiet for me, a guy used to action and excitement. I still had moments when I felt like a fix so badly but I forced myself to handle it. It drove me insane, however, when those dreaded feelings consumed me.

I miss Kyle so much when detailed memories of him invade my mind. He was beautiful, G, in every respect. I can still smell and taste him, and remember exactly the smooth texture of his skin. Hey, I know that Kyle's watching us down here. You take care, huh.

The rest of the week was stressful, it really was. So Friday couldn't arrive quickly enough. I needed to de-stress, so much so, I cancelled my date with Julie.

During the week, a chick at school showed a few guys and me some modeling pics taken of her by her `agent'. Yeah, right. One showed her in a mini school skirt with her shirt tied up around her tits. It was helluva horny, and had all the guys stiff as boards. Her boyfriend is a school jock. Go figure. This is the dude who gets totally pissed off about us gawking at the pics, but what could he do if she wanted to show herself off like that? "Hey, dude," I said to him, "live with it."

Father's Day was due shortly so I made a plan to visit Mr. T. I knew already that Graham organized a gift. Kyle would have also organized something for his dad; he always did. Often, the two of them went on a Dawn Patrol. Kyle had a very special dad, and his dad had a very special son. Dawn Patrols were their special times together.

I bought my dad a packet of Biltong, like beef jerky but a hundred times better--not so dry. Anyway, G, I want you to know that you really helped Kyle with your stories. You made him feel good about himself, and who he was. I know that if it weren't for you and Kyle, he and I would never have enjoyed the friendship we had. Through your stories, I got to know my friend much better, and appreciate what made him tick, even though, at the time, I didn't appreciate him as much as I should. Tell all your readers they need to get out there and hug all their friends, and to tell them they love them. And here's a special one for you, G. (O) HUGS! And thanks for everything. It's not over for me yet, but you made it easier in hundreds of ways by just being there. Thanks a stack.

 Meanwhile, I feel guilty about sharing a joint with Graham on Friday night. He had two in his pocket. I remembered how Kyle got so pissed at Graham for smoking weed, and that's what triggered the guilts. Kyle would have been pissed at me too.

Don't even think about saying what you're thinking, G. I know already. I didn't tell you about it on the weekend because I didn't need you to be pissed at me right then.
Julie and I played pool and had a really nice evening together. She didn't want a late night because she'd been working her backside off with school studies. She's attending her first year of varsity and finds it difficult.

Outside the pool hall, Graham was with his grommet mates doing their `hanging out' scene, conning the older guys into buying their beers, and sneaking them out. Graham had obviously drunk too many beers by the time Julie and I caught up with him, and she was NOT impressed! He tried his macho thing with her and she thought he was too big for his boots. Anyway, I told her to lighten up, and explained that Kyle and I always treated the grommet like one of us, one of the big guys.

"I don't need a kid coming on to me, Stuart."

"Just take it as a compliment, okay? You thought he was cool before."

"Before he got tanked."

I saw Julie home, then walked with Graham to his place. I told him what Julie had said.
"Hey, if she wants to bitch, let her. She's just pissed `cause I won't let her into my pants." At that point, he grabbed his crotch and simulated a sex movement.

"Quit being a jerk, Graham."

"Okay, Bob."


"Babes over buds."

"Hahahaha! Stuff you!" That's when Graham produced the joint from his pocket.

"Okay," he said as he shoved it under my nose, "so here. If you're my bud, you'll share it with me."

"If I'm your bud I should throw it away."

"I got another one." He was in an aggro, cocky mood, probably due to Julie's comment. He saw his need to take control of the situation, which made me uncomfortable and a tad angry.

I watched as he lit the joint, which seemed so wrong. He was still just a little guy despite his well-developed body. Anyway, I shared the joint with him as we walked home in the darkness. "Sorry, Kyle."

After reading G's account of the time Kyle was raped, I easily understood why he was vehemently anti-drugs. I guessed someone needed an experience like that to fully appreciate the evil.

Once Graham was safely home, I walked the long walk back to my house. I sensed the THC wave enveloping and spinning my brain, and I felt so damn guilty.

My dad was blown away by his Father's Day gift, the Biltong. According to my recollection, it was the first time since age 14 that I'd given him anything. Back then, my mom bought things for me to give him.

Graham, in his usual style, gave Mr. T a hand-made card. "From your other little boy. Thanks for everything you help me with." He'd obviously made something else for his own dad, rather like trying to diplomatically balance two sets of folks simultaneously.

After my surfing session with Graham on Sunday, I rocked over to the Ts to wish Kyle's dad happy father's day. "How are you doing, Mr. T?"

"Today could be better but I'm doing okay. Brett phoned early this morning as well. So I reckon all my boys are keeping in touch. And you? You're looking good, Stuart."

"Getting there." He and I spoke for a while about surfing conditions and the weather. It was a good relax. Kyle's dad was the coolest. My boys? Yeah, we were all his boys; all Kyle's bros; all Mr. T's sons. He loved us all, and we loved him.

The next day, I invented an excuse not to see Julie. Instead, I took Graham to see Star Wars II. It was a total blast. We enjoyed it so much, we planned to see it again. Kyle was a major Star Wars fan, and he'd have loved this new one. He probably would have done the popcorn trick again: opening the bottom of the cardboard cup and putting his dick in there before offering the popcorn around. Hahahahaha! If only...

A few days later, I wrote G again. The exams were almost over, only one more paper to go. I reckoned I should have creamed this crap the second time around (repeating the final year). Yeah right. Why was I battling so bloody much? My science paper was crap. I couldn't believe it! I knew I'd battled with the questions but I crapped out badly. I failed to make the high grade, and only just managed a standard grade mark. That sucked big time. Worse still, our science teacher was a prick. I'll live, I thought. I already knew the reason I'd stuffed the paper, and threw 100 marks down the toilet.

Graham visited after school, and raised my testosterone level instantly. He's just so incredibly good looking! He wore blue jeans with a dark-blue fleecy pullover surf top with hood attached. The day was cold and the little dude looked invitingly warm and cuddly. When he dressed that way, he didn't appear to be all that well built. But under all that nice warm clothing...

"You look all warm and cuddly."

"I'm cold, so come keep me warm." Then he kidded around and pushed me back on the bed. He laid on top of me and said in a mock child's voice, "Okay, I'll keep my baby Stuey all nice and warm, `cept my baby Stuey is getting a boner."

I packed up laughing at his joke, and the way he acted so cute and cheeky. Then he suddenly lifted himself and sat on the bed. "I can't even touch you without you getting a boner," he complained.

"So? What's wrong with that? You turn me on."


"Because you're a hunk."

"So tell my girlfriend."

"She knows already."

"Yeah, but now she's getting all uppity because she watched a program on tele about guys taking advantage of girls to get blowjobs. So she asked me about my hygiene `cause they said teen guys didn't care much about hygiene. What a load of crap."

I knew Graham was as fanatical about cleanliness as Kyle was. The two were responsible for using half the neighborhood's water supply. And Graham's hair always smelled of shampoo. Oops! But he had a few zits. Hahahaha! "Want me to check if you're clean? Then you can check me."

"No, because you just wanna gawk at my cock."

"It's not a cock, it's a wiener."

That dented the little dude's ego. He jumped at me and punched the crap out of my arm. I pulled his top over his head to blind him, then threw my arm around his neck and held him in a headlock. I tickled him, which made him giggle, but he struggled nonetheless, and hit out and kicked in all directions. I quickly released the writhing, wriggling bundle of energy before I copped a flying fist.

He laid on the bed, laughing his tits off. "Are you wearing briefs?" I asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"I couldn't see your boxers. Thought maybe you weren't wearing anything under there." I stood, leaving the grommet lying on the bed. He placed his hands behind his head, an action that caused his top to rise and reveal about two inches of tanned, velvety belly. "Have you ever eaten pussy?" I asked.



"And ... what's it like? I figure if I get to eat my girl she'll go down on me."

"She's got a problem with you not washing--the hygiene thing. There's no way she's gonna blow you."

"I DO wash!"

"Lemme check."

"Stuff you! Go check yourself out. I heard that uncut guys grow cheese under their foreskins."

"So you dig cheese? Hahahaha!"

"Har-de-fucking-har. Cheese dick."

"Uncut guys get to last longer. You cut guys just go into pain spasms and fake it."

"Cheese dick, cheese dick, hehehehe!"

"Got nothing to say because you've never been there, huh?"

"Bugger off, cheese dick."

"Pussy virgin. How come you've never `done it' with a girl? I can't figure that because you're so hot looking and all."

"Because I'm fussy."

"I think you're scared."

"Yeah, right," he said defiantly as he rubbed his crotch. "This is pussy eater right here."

I sat beside him and sent my hand under his top, and felt his nipple harden. "Want a hand job?"

"No, it's cool."

"I love to watch you enjoy this. Did Kyle do this a lot?"

"Massages." Then the kid's eyes became teary as his voice faltered. "Kyle loved to give me a massage. He was ace at it."

"You okay?"


"Want a massage?"

"I gotta get movin'."

I walked my mate to the door, then to the road. "Hey, Graham, I'm not Kyle, and I know how you feel about him. I'm trying real hard just to be your friend. And I want to say thinks for the past couple of weeks. I dig you a stack. I need you to know that. I understand how you miss Kyle, and so do I. Remember his dog Roo?" He nodded silently. "It took quite a while for Kyle to get over that loss. But everything--life itself--carried on. You remind me so much of Kyle. Bet he wished he had your sixpack, though." At least that got a giggle out of him.

He turned and began to walk home. I watched his broad shoulders that appeared even broader in contrast to his narrow, butt-hugging jeans, and those awesome legs of his. But, in truth, he was a little bloke, a grommet, a kid of 14. And my heart followed him down the road as he bounced into the distance, then disappeared.